Sheriff's manor - Culture Tour After-Party

[Bitterglass]

[L .]

“I don’t take other sources of it, I find it less palatable. Thank you.”

She lifts the cup to her mouth, suddenly debating the wisdom of being high around this particular group, and with the current circumstances.

[Madam Zaragoza]

Raising an eyebrow at Durham’s comment regarding the book, “Truly? Well then I thank you.”
She sways a little and looks between Durham and Aldrich wondering which shoulder to lean on. She looks longingly at Aldrich but remembers that he did not seem to take to it well earlier. So instead she rests her head in Durham and rests her hand on Aldrich’s arm, gently stroking the fabric of his jacket.

[alanwrotethis]

Dukes regards the group.
"Fellow kindred, this tale comes to you, paid collectively for by the good grace of Elders Beaufort and Aurelia and Ancilla Audley."
He clears his throat, closing his eyes.
It was a night dark and gleaming, the moon baleful and awake, tinging the woodland in silver shadows. I traveled paths crook'd and winding, o'er hill and dale, through copse and forest, past Bristol, and onto Gloucester. A few weeks earlier the region had been overrun by the sect of the Sword, the sworn enemies of the Tower, but in one night-"
He clicked a finger.
"They vanished. They left no shadow, no dust, no trail of egress. But the land stood uneasy, it pulsed with energies unfamiliar. Something had willed these beasts away, and that will was enough to make them simply disappear.
"My mission then, was to visit the city of Gloucester, now empty of kindred, and see for myself what magics had been enacted there. I traveled on horseback, long with me rode Ancilla Knox and a retinue of twenty kine guards.
"In the wilderness between places known, we rode, single file, through the treacherous paths. Our first warning came from the wind... the wind is still on nights of dark portent. Our second warning came from the birds. The birds are silent on nights of dark portent. Our third warning-"
He claps his hands sharply.
"The snap of a twig, a silent predator, a wolf. No growl came from its throat, no gentle pad of feet on the ground. No husky draw of breath, this wolf was as alive as you or I.
"It set upon us in an instant, shearing the head from one of the kine like a scythe crossing wheat. Another beast loped out, another."
Dukes rests his hands on the lectern.
"My audience... we had unwittingly trespassed on the sacred Althing of the Gangrel, taking place in those very woods. Scores of the Outsider clan lay in wait around us. Already agitated by other kindred intruding on their sacred rites, and the loss of clanmates in the disupte, they saw us as an infraction too far.
"Knox gave the order to form a perimeter, rifles out, torches lit. His men aimed in unison, firing as a group, blindly, into the night. Their eyes could not pick out their foes... mine could. I stared into the dark, and dozens of pairs of red eyes stared back. They walked on legs of two and four, and they were gathering. They did not howl. Animals howl, and they were more cunning than any feral beast.
"Wolves, bears, all manner of hirsute beast bore towards us on all sides. Left and right their claws rended. For each that was driven away with musket fire, another had overtaken the line, snatched up a soldier, and retreated back into the night. Our efforts to call for diplomacy had failed us, too many of our assailants were given over to the Beast to reconcile.
"Snatching a torch from one of Knox's men, I brandished it at the oncoming tide and called upon an old pact. From the small flame, a monster emerged. A horned creature, somewhere twixt goat and salamander, formed from the flames. It started small, no larger than a kitten, but when it drew eyes on the assembled therianthropic horde it hissed in fury, and soon towered over them, twice the height of the tallest creature in this room."
Dukes pauses. He consider summoning the spirit now for effect. In a moment of uncharacteristic common sense, he does not.
"This fire spirit, known as Skafti in the lands of the Rus, and endured for centuries as a slave to the witches of the Tzimisce, the elemental tyrants. His hatred for vampires of inhuman mein was indisputable. Only once before had I seen Skafti manifest at such power and wrath. That is another story.
"The Gangrel halted, senses returning when confronted by a pyroclastic behemoth. One moved forward, and with a wave of his claw Skafti incinerated him. Another moved forward, met the same fate.
"The Outsiders circled the spirit, attempting to goad it, taunt it, lure it away from the fight, but its hatred of them was matched by its debt to me, so it stood as sentry, lashing out at all assailants. A neonate Gangrel, Regulus, since lost to us as a servant of the Tower, leapt forward with spear in hand, his flesh burning as his blade pierced the spirit's ever-burning hide. He fell back sorely wounded, but now the Gangrel knew the spirit could bleed.
"From behind them an old man stepped forward, his clothes decayed and adrift, his hair tangled with twigs, his beard rimed with frost. He screamed at the sky, and a cloud blotted out the moon. That cloud, a flock of crows moving in unison, circled overhead.
"One of the crows descended, aiming straight for the spirit. At the moment of impact it shone white, coated in ice, and flew cleanly through Skafti's fiery form. Hitting the ground, the frost-crow had taken the form of a child, and injured in the impact it crawled awy from us. Another bird strike in the same way. Two more, four more, a dozen all at once. Skafti, stabbed with ice many times over, staggered in pain.
"Beasts broke through the opening, bearing down on Knox. Their claws and fangs were sharp enough to pierce kindred flesh. I ran forward, past Knox, meeting their charge myself and-"
Dukes strikes his hand into his palm.
"With a fist of meteoric iron I struck at the beast. I had willed myself into a body of stone, turned my running form into a battering ram, and stemmed the tide.
"The old man saw this, and his eyes locked on mine with an intensity known only to wizards meeting for the first time. He leapt into the sky with trivial ease, overhead, bearing down on me, and the body that collided with me was not human, not animal, something older than both. Feral flesh struck stone, and the firmament beneath us fractured. The ground gave way, and we both fell into the earth...."
Dukes pauses, deciding now is a good time to sample his second cup of tea.

[L .]

"Evidence is a splendid thing to indulge in... Pity there's none." From across the crooked shack, Beckett's voice was dry. "We will find nothing here. It is the oratory style that my Clan favour, in beastial cahoots. I think I saw one, once, burn a book. What say you both, time to leave?"


Aurelia watched Dukes throughout his tale, thinking on Gangrel and Arimane,the smart females lights in the liquid dark eyes. She left a respectful silence.

She'd barely noticed that she'd been sipping from her own cup throughout, her attention fixed.

[Manacledairman]

[Valentina Audley]

Valentina is listening wide eyed with interest to start with, but as the tale unfolds and ahe realizes when and who he's talking about her aura flickers with fright.

She too, has seen the Gangrel Althing, and it is not pleasant to remember. Unconsciously she tales a step back, pressing up against the bookcase, one hand going to cover her mouth, her eyes fixed on Dukes.

[alanwrotethis]

Dukes sits down on one of the long chairs, among the audience, drinking slowly.
"Mmmm..." he mutters, savouring the taste. He glances over at some of the kindred. Nodding.
A minute passes, and Dukes looks around.
"Oh, sorry."
He gets back up, returning to the podium.
"Sorry, where was I? Ah yes-
"We fell, the two of us, into the Below, snapping to our senses as we fell into a chasm deep under the earth. The monster resumed his elderly form as-"
Dukes looks critically at his torso.
"-I did mine. We regarded each other. The old man nodded at me and sat, crossing his legs.
"How did ye come to kenning of the shaping arts? he asked me. There was no tension in his question, no condemnation. He had seen something old and familiar in me, so I sat in mirror of his stance and we talked awhile.
"We spoke of old journeys, hikes across frozen tundra, conversations with the half-formed things which still linger on the periphery of settled lands. In this story, I told many other stories, but to tell you that now... is another story."
He smirks.
"The old man offered me safe passage to the surface in return for a service, a message he bid me relay to an ancient hero in high esteem among the Camarilla. I accepted his terms, and we left the caverns behind us.
"Reuniting with Knox, the losses had been grim. Of his men, nary four survived, the rest now food and tribute. The survivors were sworn to secrecy and escorted to nearby Bristol to maintain the masquerade. The Gangrel, brought back to sanity after counting coup, accepted our claim to pass through their sacred lands.
"Knox and I carried onwards, through copse and woods, o'er hill and dale, and we followed our feet to Gloucester. There, I spent many days patrolling the outskirts of the city, digging up the fresh bones buried under stone circles, wiping away the bloodied runes which had incinerated every Sabbat within the city, and I made it once more a seat for the Camarilla."
Dukes smiles.
"And did I repay my debt? Did I act as messenger to this ancient hero? Well, that is...."
He sighs.
"... that one is not for sale, sorry."
He takes up his cup and walks over to a long chair, collapsing into it.

[L .]

Eventually: "A grand tale, Elder." Her voice was abnormally quiet. "And well spoken."

Aurelia drains the last of her cup and then squints at it - looks to the clock on the wall - and makes a face.

She closed her kohl-rimmed eyes and spent, what seemed to her, an inordinately long time closing and opening her eyes in a blink that carried with it all the horror and weariness of someone who hadn't realised how fast they'd been drinking.

"I came to England not two months after that shockwave hit; even Mithras felt it, in London."

[alanwrotethis]

"It was... something else..." Dukes says, stretching out on his chair, shedding his shoes with practiced ease. "Magic like that doesn't happen anymore... when it does it doesn't curl your toes, it curls every damned fiber of your being."
He chuckles, distracted by his own levity, the smile slowly turning downwards as his thoughts catch up with him.