Lord's Arrival
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Lord's Arrival
Edwin Hunter arrived at the destination shortly before his grand-sire's letter told him to. It was a long drive to Detroit from Salem, but one that he would gladly do over again. His Blue Cobalt SS did just fine on the drive. He took with him the keys to the apartment in Detroit, a suitcase, his pistol (hidden under the seat), hid lorica segmentata and his gladius. He opted to leave them in the car as he got out of it and walked to the door to the place.
He was wearing designer jeans, a form fitting black shirt and, black sport jacket. On his right hand was his silver Senex signet ring as it usually sat. He took off his designer sunglasses before he knocked. He forced blood through his veins.
(Presence 4, Blood Potency 1, Blush of Health)
He was wearing designer jeans, a form fitting black shirt and, black sport jacket. On his right hand was his silver Senex signet ring as it usually sat. He took off his designer sunglasses before he knocked. He forced blood through his veins.
(Presence 4, Blood Potency 1, Blush of Health)
Re: Lord's Arrival
Roosting birds careen off in the direction of dark, distant trees as you knock. A small spotlight light stretches and contorts Edwin's shadow across the aquarium facade. It's a modest brick building from the turn of the century with a large sandstone arch framing the front doors. Soon, a kine opens the front door, middle-aged, but built like a brick wall outfitted by Hugo Boss. He gives Edwin a taciturn, expectant look.
Re: Lord's Arrival
"Good evening," he said. "I was told to be arriving here at this time." He was a little uncomfortable with this, not expecting a kine.
Re: Lord's Arrival
The brute's brow knits together as he looks you over, squinting until apparently. He's fair-skinned, with a swollen, craggy face framed by close-cropped hair. You're the appointment, then." The walking wall motions you past the Aquarium threshold. It's mostly bare inside, like the place was closed down. You can see small empty tanks at the end one of three corridors.
The guard closes the door behind you. "I'll need to search you before you're presented," he says candidly.
The guard closes the door behind you. "I'll need to search you before you're presented," he says candidly.
Re: Lord's Arrival
Edwin raises his arms to the side in submission of the request. In a pat down all that will be found is a two sets of keys, a copy of each letter sent, and a prepaid cell phone. There wasn't anything else on him beyond the clothes.
Definately not Salem, Edwin thought.
"Do what you need to do sir," he said.
Definately not Salem, Edwin thought.
"Do what you need to do sir," he said.
Re: Lord's Arrival
Having patted you down, the man inspects the cellphone and each letter. Satisfied, he hands them back to you.
"Ok, let's go."
You're led down a narrow, glass-flanked corridor and through a side-door. The air becomes musty and still as you descend a renovated spiral staircase. The guard lets you go first, and locks the door behind the pair of you. You're shown to a sort of makeshift waiting room. A basement lined with chairs. Only one is occupied, by an adolescent black boy. He has no beast to him, but neither does he breathe. He eyes you over, but then stares into space. He's got earbuds in and a tinny, bass hook is just about audible to you.
The guard places a hand on the door, but pauses, turning to you. "You should address the Prince as Sovereign Nejem, or just Sovereign. I'll have to ask you to switch off your cellphone before we enter."
"Ok, let's go."
You're led down a narrow, glass-flanked corridor and through a side-door. The air becomes musty and still as you descend a renovated spiral staircase. The guard lets you go first, and locks the door behind the pair of you. You're shown to a sort of makeshift waiting room. A basement lined with chairs. Only one is occupied, by an adolescent black boy. He has no beast to him, but neither does he breathe. He eyes you over, but then stares into space. He's got earbuds in and a tinny, bass hook is just about audible to you.
The guard places a hand on the door, but pauses, turning to you. "You should address the Prince as Sovereign Nejem, or just Sovereign. I'll have to ask you to switch off your cellphone before we enter."
Re: Lord's Arrival
Edwin followed and listened closely. He turned off his cellular phone when the guard looked at him.
"Yes sir," he said.
Last time I was before a prince in a domain, he thought. I was forced to cut my tongue out. Let's hope this doesn't happen again.
"Yes sir," he said.
Last time I was before a prince in a domain, he thought. I was forced to cut my tongue out. Let's hope this doesn't happen again.
Re: Lord's Arrival
The large usher gives a slight nod and a sincere smile, as if to wish you luck. He pulls back the door, leaving you to walk alone into the lion's den.
The room is a sprawling rectangle, stretching far to the right. Ebbing light filters through the large tanks lining the far walls, accompanied by the gurgling din of unseen filtration devices. Perfume fills the air and jumbled décor furnishes the area; silken tapestries and expensive cushions, at odds with the concrete and glass filling the gaps in the grotto.
You pass a trio of harpies wearing Vera Wang frocks and plague-masks, all of whom watch you closely while water-tinted light plays across long porcelain beaks. As you walk across layers of patterned rugs, the area around you is plunged into shadow to a dull thrashing sound as a convulsing body eclipses the light source. It sinks, but then raises its head just to stare at you. You can feel the thing's beast as his empty eyes begin to follow you. Other silhouettes occupy some of the tanks.
In the corner a snaggle-toothed hag sits cross-legged, emaciated frame swaddled in dirt-caked rags.
The Prince sits at the end, draped lazily over a battered old fainting couch. She's young, wide-hipped and olive-skinned, with subtle middle-eastern features, dripping in gaudy rings. Nejem wears a patchwork of veils and jewellery, like a transparent cloak over a designer dress. At the end of her outstretched arm kneels a male kindred with an unhealthy grey pallor and a vacant expression, as if in a half-minded, larval state.
Nejem opens her eyes and stares in your direction as though waiting for you to announce yourself.
The room is a sprawling rectangle, stretching far to the right. Ebbing light filters through the large tanks lining the far walls, accompanied by the gurgling din of unseen filtration devices. Perfume fills the air and jumbled décor furnishes the area; silken tapestries and expensive cushions, at odds with the concrete and glass filling the gaps in the grotto.
You pass a trio of harpies wearing Vera Wang frocks and plague-masks, all of whom watch you closely while water-tinted light plays across long porcelain beaks. As you walk across layers of patterned rugs, the area around you is plunged into shadow to a dull thrashing sound as a convulsing body eclipses the light source. It sinks, but then raises its head just to stare at you. You can feel the thing's beast as his empty eyes begin to follow you. Other silhouettes occupy some of the tanks.
In the corner a snaggle-toothed hag sits cross-legged, emaciated frame swaddled in dirt-caked rags.
The Prince sits at the end, draped lazily over a battered old fainting couch. She's young, wide-hipped and olive-skinned, with subtle middle-eastern features, dripping in gaudy rings. Nejem wears a patchwork of veils and jewellery, like a transparent cloak over a designer dress. At the end of her outstretched arm kneels a male kindred with an unhealthy grey pallor and a vacant expression, as if in a half-minded, larval state.
Nejem opens her eyes and stares in your direction as though waiting for you to announce yourself.
Re: Lord's Arrival
"Sovereign," he said, "I am Edwin Hunter of the Ventrue clan. My grand sire alerted you of my arrival, sir." He stood straight, despite the desire to run screaming. He kept his eyes forward in a place where the Prince could easily make full eye contact.
"I gladly place myself at your service and at the service of your domain," he said.
"I gladly place myself at your service and at the service of your domain," he said.
Re: Lord's Arrival
Nejem stretches out, leaving the disquieting kindred at her arm to go limp. She gives Edwin a passing glance, then looks at the Harpies, all of whom shuffle behind Edwin, their gowns jangling with jewelery with each soft step.
"At my service," the Sovereign murmurs sleepily, as though testing the words. "At my service," she repeats, with vague approval. Her voice is both silky and deep; deeper than her short frame would suggest. She glances at the grey child, with contentment, before her eyes snap back onto you, filled with hollow hunger.
"Your grandsire's letter imposed a great deal on me, Edwin. Who is she? Why does she think that her name would ring out within my courts? Does this reflect upon you?"
Her questions are delivered in quick succession, like fencing thrusts, with an idle sort of contempt that doesn't seem entirely rhetorical.
"At my service," the Sovereign murmurs sleepily, as though testing the words. "At my service," she repeats, with vague approval. Her voice is both silky and deep; deeper than her short frame would suggest. She glances at the grey child, with contentment, before her eyes snap back onto you, filled with hollow hunger.
"Your grandsire's letter imposed a great deal on me, Edwin. Who is she? Why does she think that her name would ring out within my courts? Does this reflect upon you?"
Her questions are delivered in quick succession, like fencing thrusts, with an idle sort of contempt that doesn't seem entirely rhetorical.
Re: Lord's Arrival
Damn it, Edwin's mind cursed. Julia did it again.
"Seneschal Comitor holds her station in Rome, Sovereign," he said. "I cannot speak as to her reasoning as to why her name would hold any power within your sovereignty but I can assure you that her actions, while in an effort to represent me and cast a positive light upon me, are not to be taken as reflections of myself or rather the behaviours I would be expected to exhibit whilst I reside in your domain, assuming, of course, you grant such."
It was a mouthful for sure, but Edwin spoke it clearly and with pauses placed in the places that etiquette demanded.
"Seneschal Comitor holds her station in Rome, Sovereign," he said. "I cannot speak as to her reasoning as to why her name would hold any power within your sovereignty but I can assure you that her actions, while in an effort to represent me and cast a positive light upon me, are not to be taken as reflections of myself or rather the behaviours I would be expected to exhibit whilst I reside in your domain, assuming, of course, you grant such."
It was a mouthful for sure, but Edwin spoke it clearly and with pauses placed in the places that etiquette demanded.
Re: Lord's Arrival
"Family is important." the Sovereign muses, absently. "But yours is a world away. Their words ring hollow here."
The Hag's head twists like an owls as she peers over at you, through eyes like dull glass beads. The Harpies surround you now, and the Prince glances at each before smiling at you strangely.
"How can you serve me?"
The Hag's head twists like an owls as she peers over at you, through eyes like dull glass beads. The Harpies surround you now, and the Prince glances at each before smiling at you strangely.
"How can you serve me?"
Re: Lord's Arrival
"I have served as a sheriff in a previous domain," he said, "and I am skilled in the art of debate. I could at teeth to any political argument you may have. I can also provide my utmost loyalty to you and your domain. "
He stood and kept his calm as he way being watched by many eyes.
He stood and kept his calm as he way being watched by many eyes.
Re: Lord's Arrival
"I have no arguments. None." Nejem answers, glaring up at you.
"No one argues with her," one of the plague masks parrots, in a breathy falsetto, apparently intended to disguise their voice.
The Harpies encircle you with a jerky synchronism that could be interpreted as ritualism. The youthful hag's face is obscured as she roots about in her bundle of rags for something buried. The Prince locks eyes with you.
"I have a Sheriff, Mr Hunter. He's effective." The Harpies nod their beaks in unison with one slow, sleepy arc. The grey catatonic tenses up and loosens with a caress from the Sovereign.
Lazy hunger swims brightly in Nejem's eyes. She slides her legs off the fainting couch, using the headrest as support for her side. Her rings jangle as she pats the empty space next to her.
"Your letter mentioned an artifact. Sit with me a while. Tell me all about it."
The Harpies disperse to the far ends of the room, taking sentry before the back-lit tanks. The silhouettes of their beaked masks carve up the room, framing the Prince's contented features in a polygon of shifting light.
"No one argues with her," one of the plague masks parrots, in a breathy falsetto, apparently intended to disguise their voice.
The Harpies encircle you with a jerky synchronism that could be interpreted as ritualism. The youthful hag's face is obscured as she roots about in her bundle of rags for something buried. The Prince locks eyes with you.
"I have a Sheriff, Mr Hunter. He's effective." The Harpies nod their beaks in unison with one slow, sleepy arc. The grey catatonic tenses up and loosens with a caress from the Sovereign.
Lazy hunger swims brightly in Nejem's eyes. She slides her legs off the fainting couch, using the headrest as support for her side. Her rings jangle as she pats the empty space next to her.
"Your letter mentioned an artifact. Sit with me a while. Tell me all about it."
The Harpies disperse to the far ends of the room, taking sentry before the back-lit tanks. The silhouettes of their beaked masks carve up the room, framing the Prince's contented features in a polygon of shifting light.
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