8:00 pm (20:00)
Ventrue
As if a storm blew into the manor, the loud rap of metal against metal blasted throughout the hallways. The form of Louis Ventrue held two waste container lids, beating them together like cymbals.
“Wake up, you mongrels! It’s time for glory! It’s time to show me what you chumps can do! Slay the Kraken! Build a monument in testament to your honor! Do what you do best and do it with the strength and courage within your very souls! YOU HAVE 10 MINUTES TO GET THE HELL OUT AND ACCOMPLISH A FEAT WORTHY OF A GOD BY THE END OF THE NIGHT! Happy Wednesday!” he roared out along his way, ensuring that everyone got his message.
The strange man roved through the halls, watching his “children” scamper every which way with a gleeful smile adorned on his face. It was very obvious he enjoyed his job.
Ravnos
Ravnos began to make the descent from his perch on a tall wooden ladder. He had just finished hanging an eye catching scroll from the centermost support beam in the middle of the main hall. The scroll was held aloft by clear fishing line, so it appeared to float in thin air. Giving his work a second glance, he nodded in acceptance. Another look went to the large, bulky ladder. For a moment, he deliberated on putting it back where he had found it, but after the work he had put into hanging the parchment, he was in no mood to be doing such menial things. One of the others would surely do it. Dallying not a moment later, the dignified man marched off to his study.
The scroll reads in the most graceful handwriting:
Dear my beloved pupils,
I met with the King of the Underworld today. In sad news, he is to be leaving London at some point in the future to travel back to his homeland. He has tasked the great Houses to accomplish something grand, something worthy of legend, something that proves that we can rule while he is away. In return, we might show that we are the appropriate House to lead vampirekind. I ask this of you all: take tonight to conjure up an idea that we can work upon. At the end of the night, we will all gather here and discuss our proposals.
Love,
Your Maester
Malkavian
A thunderous slam reverberated throughout the entire church as Francois whipped his door into place, fury radiating from his veins. The first thing he saw was a lone chair in the corner of his room, peacefully pushed under a table. At once, his feet thudded over to the chair, his firm hands took hold of it, and he tossed the thing at the wall, a shower of splinters raining down onto the floor.
“FUCK YOU, GRANGREL. I’LL KILL YOU IF IT’S THE LAST THING I EVER DO!” the bestial howl echoed through the room and down the halls.
A meek and rightfully terrified servant entered after hearing the commotion.
“S-Sir, are you alright...?” she asked him. She was as close to the door as she could be, just in case she needed to make a quick escape.
The handsome blond turned and faced her, his expression still filled with malice. Instinct told him to kill her, to vent all of his anger and frustrations on her. Alas, he was not that kind of man. He was not like that bastard Grangrel. Sighing and running a hand through his hair, he swallowed his rage and nodded.
“Yes. I’m quite alright. It’s just been an off night for me.”“Can I bring you anything to liven up your night, master?”
The Elder stopped and thought for a moment. Tonight was definitely a drinking night. Perhaps he would get so intoxicated that he would just stop feeling entirely.
“Ah… Now that I think of it. Yes, yes you can. Bring me several bottles of Bourgoigne noir and something of your choosing. Would you care to spend tonight with me?” he cooed, dropping his wrath for the time being. The lady seemed to blush for a moment and prepared to fetch her lord what he asked.
“Oh, and tell the fledglings to go out tonight. Tell them to do something important. Impress me, or something along those lines. I’ll tell them more when I feel better.” he added before she stepped out the door.
The servant woman nodded and hurried out the door, spreading her master’s word as she was told to do.
Grangrel
A deft hand ever so slowly opened a door to a darkened room, not a single sound made as the unseen man crept inside. Though not much could be seen within, there was a clear silhouette of a bed. As the man drew closer, he saw the form of a sleeping woman, her head nestled against her pillow. She was gorgeous, a dream come true. Curly, blonde hair bordered her face, a tiny, sharp nose sat center, and her rosy red lips dared to be caressed. His hand lowered down to her leg, skirting up slowly and sensually up her body. The woman’s breathing escalated, lost in euphoric dreams now. As he ventured past her chest and up to her neck, she whispered
“…Francois…”.
Suddenly, the masculine hand clenched around her jawline and she was taken from her wonderful dream. Her emerald eyes flew open, forced to stare into the grey eyes of her tormentor: Amaury Grangrel. Chills went up her spine, the daggers of his visage enough to bring back horrors of the past. An unnerving silence dawned upon them, and fear inched its way into her heart.
“I-I-I…” the woman stammered out before Amaury put a single finger up to his lips, silently telling her to shut up.
He begins to move her head to the left, exposing the flesh of her neck, as if examining her like a fresh cut of meat.
“I saw Francois today… He was a sniveling wreck as always.” he spoke with the tone of a ghost. Her head is shifted to the right, and his face got close to her flesh, inhaling her scent.
“I saw the others and my Liege as well. It was how you would expect. Yet… it was also different.” Finally, his grip loosened and his hand dropped to his side, a look of disgust on his face as he looked down at the poor woman.
“Persephone, I was born to lead. No one can take that right away from me. My Liege has given me an opportunity to seize control over this city, and I will not let that go to waste. He is leaving this place, vacating his throne in London. You will tell my whelps to prepare themselves for war. We must accomplish something… Magnificent that will shame the other Houses, that will impress Vlad. There are no rules in this game, and I’ll crush anything that gets in my way. Even your precious Francois.” Amaury uttered, a hint of insanity radiating from his voice.
Before the beautiful Persephone could respond, the shady Elder dismissed himself. Alone once more, her eyelids clenched together, fighting back tears. She never wanted this life, but she was trapped. Things wouldn’t ever get better would they?
As her husband commanded, she moved over to a strange horn-shaped contraption that seemed to lead into the walls. From what she was told by Amaury years ago, this was an “intercommunications system”, designed so that everyone within the underground castle would be able to hear the speaker when she spoke into the horn. In every room, except hers, there was a exotic golden tube protruding from the walls, which would project her voice. She was the lady often heard, yet almost never seen.
“Good evening, everyone. Our lord has a message: You are to plan and execute a magnificent achievement. A competition between the Houses has begun, and the winning House…” she tottered off for a moment, realizing what the ramifications would be if House Grangrel were to gain control of the city.
“The winning House will rule London.” She finally stated clearly and concisely.
[Post by Co-GM, with input from GM]
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