GrueMaster

Tak'we cheered as his clutchmates hit the centers of their target, obviously enjoying the display as he rose after both rounds. *WEE!* the thri'kreen whistled from underneath his hood. "Go, Nawen!" He was especially cheering for dark pointy-ear. Conall may worship Mother Moon, same as he, but the dark pointy-ear was among the first to treat him nicely, thus the thri'kreen wanted her to win. He sat down and munched on another bacon-wrapped sausage he had bought earlier between rounds, the softskin from yesterday having come back again today, and now waited impatiently for the next round. ------------------------------------------------------------------ Saris gave a shrill shriek of anger as she kicked the ruined spell components across the room. "DAMN IT!" She was trying to perform a complex ritual meant to bolster the magical defenses of the new body she had prepared for Valthanarax, but the blood she had used wasn't a pure enough substance. Now the rare and rather costly gems she had procured were ruined as well. "Godsbedamned!" In a rare fit of emotional pique, the Culler stomped around, further kicking the detroyed remains of her ritual across the floor. How am I to replace all of this!? She thought furiously for a bit and nearly continued on her childish rage when an alternative suddenly formed in her mind. "That will work," she spoke to herself, and went for Kalin's cell, sending a telepathic command to Zuir to prepare the Rack. Kalin was wincing with pain when he noticed Saris burst into the room, her cheeks still flushed with anger . Zuir had been in the middle of providing another round of "entertainment" when he suddenly ceased and left. But judging by the look on her face, Kalin wasn't reassured by that small reprieve. Unfortunately, Kalin couldn't keep his mouth shut all the same, the previous tendays of torture making him careless for his situation. "What's wrong, Saris? Something else didn't go as planned." A deeper color of red was rising to Saris' cheeks. "Uh-oh You should be careful. Your control on your emotions is slipping. That wouldn't be goo--" "SHUT UP!" Saris screamed and with that telepathically ripped Kalin, chains and all, straight from the wall into the one across the room. "WHOAAA--*THUD! CRUNCH!* "Ooof!" Kalin coughed out as the breath was knocked out from his lungs and felt a few ribs crack as he hit the wall. Saris repeated this twice more, each one causing him more and more pain. Finally, her rage played out for the moment, she let him drop to the ground, his arm and a few more ribs broken by the punishment she gave and blood running down his face. "You won't be so glib after today," she said coldly, her calm exterior reformed. At that, she lifted Kalin once more telepathically and began to move him towards the Extraction Room. Kalin was barely conscious, dimly aware that he was being moved somewhere but he felt he was in too much pain to be able to care. After a while, he saw Saris pull him into a room and savagely slam him into what felt like a rack of some kind, eliciting another groan of pain from him. He looked around and saw a conglomeration of tubes, needles, and hooks. He tried to rise, but Zuir forced him back down and securely strapped him to the rack. "What-- *COUGH!* "-is this thing?" he asked, a note of panic beginning to rise in his voice. "Ah, not so full of bravado now, are you, grandson?" she asked, sickly sweet venom in her voice. "If it will make you feel better, this wonderful contraption--" she waved at all of the tubes with one hand while another grabbed a very large plate with hooks and needles on it and was connected to the tubes. " -is known as a Pain Extractor. As its name suggests, this machine, through magical means extracts..." She paused as she approached with the plate and smiled sadistically at Kalin. "Well, I don't want to leave you in the dark, but you'll learn what it does soon enough." She suddenly lunged and Kalin screamed as he felt multiple barbs dig deep into his flesh. Saris nodded to Zuir, who pulled a lever, and suddenly Kalin's pain was increased tenfold, his screams echoing throughout the fortress as the machine seemed to dig even farther and drain something from him. Saris smiled eagerly as a viscous black fluid was pumped from Kalin and into a large flask. Liquid pain, she thought excitedly. Exactly what I need. She sent a ray of electricity through Kalin's body, creating even more pain and making the extractor work faster. She swapped out the rapidly-filled flask for an empty one and stoppered it, enjoying Kalin's agony as she did so. Kalin couldn't believe the sheer agony coursing through him. Gods... He wanted so much to pass out, but something from the machine was forcing him to remain conscious. He desperately wished it would all end. Lathanar...Ilmater...Kelemvor...anyone... please... just make it stop...

Thanks. :D Now y'all have a new bad guy (girl) to curb-stomp. XD

Okay, then, I've finally got 'round to this. Here's a fully-updated list of all of my characters, plus one for Saris, our new sadist: Saris:

Graham gave a sigh, contemplating this new development. Well, this is bloody wonderful. He liked Ivy, which surprised him slightly, but she obviously didn't know how to hide herself very well, which would cause some difficulties in getting back home. The Malkavian wouldn't be much of a problem though. But he also couldn't take them to the Catacombs; while there were a number of hiding places there, it became difficult to hide multiple people there. At least I have a fall-back, then, he thought, then spoke aloud. "Okay, then. There isn't much good I'd be able to do for the two of you in my personal home, but I think I have something that'll do just the trick. Follow me, then, and closely, please." The Nosferatu began to lead the way through the alleys, following a route that had no security cameras covering it. Eventually, he came to a place that was partially hidden in a back alley. All the windows were dark-tinted and there was a dim sign on the front door that read "G. Alwood, Private Investigator." Underneath there was a faded "Sorry, We're Closed" sign. "Here we are," Graham said with a whimsical rumble. "My little slice of mortal life and an excellent source of business." He pulled out a key from his jacket and opened the door. Despite the run-down appearance of the exterior, the inside of Graham's place of business was the complete opposite. Clean tiled floors, pale green-colored walls, and a old-style mahogany desk with a few scattered notes could be seen from the entrance, with a hallway extending a good twenty feet back. "We'll be staying here for the time being. There are rooms in the back with beds, and if anyone is hungry," he paused as he sorted through the small pile of mail that had accumulated in his mailbox, "there is food in the fridge back there as well. Need anything else, just let me know."

Dri woke up groggily the next morning, stirred by what sounded like a couple of women in hysterics. What? She looked out the bedroom window of the small house she was in and squinted, seeing off in the distance what looked like two men who'd been tied up in a tree while they slept. Can't they let a girl get some sleep? she wondered bitterly. Oh, well. Might as well get ready for the day. She got dressed quickly, ate one of the bacon-snacks she'd nabbed yesterday, then headed out the door with her scribe kit. Tak'we couldn't stand it anymore and burst out in hissing laughter, marked by shrill whistles from him trying to breathe. *SSs-sss-sss, WEE! Sss-sss-sss!* "Grey brothers..." Sss, WEE!* "Sound just like females in heat! *WEE! Sss-sss-sss!* Still holding his sides in laughter, the thri'kreen walked off to find some food again. All that sceming made me hungry! He really wanted to see the competition today, so he just grabbed a few apples he had managed to get last night and went to the challenge grounds, eating along the way and then waiting for the day to begin.

The thri'kreen smiled, or, at least gave the equivalent of a softskin smile, and nodded in excited agreement. *Wee'Tck!* "Yess, Tak'we will help!" he answered, and left Amendale in his wake while he moved to grab Arland. He stepped lightly into where the Grey brothers were sleeping. He paused for a moment though when he heard those strange noises he always heard coming from the two softskins while they slept. How do they stand such noise? he wondered, then picked up Arland tentatively. Surely enough, his clutchmate didn't awaken. This is too easy. He began to walk away when he stopped to look at Weyland for a moment, stifled a laugh, then decided to take the other Grey as well. This will be so much fun! He walked away, motioning for Amendale to follow and trying to avoid as much attention as possible, and found one of the tallest trees he could find. Setting Weyland down for a moment, he grabbed a length of robe tucked away in his robes, then leapt up to a tree branch easily twenty feet up, then leapt again for another twenty, all the while holding Arland in his sleeping roll. Finding a branch strong enough to hold Arland's weight, the thri'kreen tied him upside-down from it tightly, making sure the knots were, at least by his reckoning, firmly secured. He then leapt down, grabbed Weyland, and repeated the process, save this time at a branch much lower to the ground. Done with the prank, Tak'we walked away hissing with laughter, trying to keep it quiet and not attract anyone to the hilarious scene. Oh, I can't wait unitl they wake up!

Tak'we gave a menacing hiss as the armored softskins walked away. *Tcktck!* Good riddance! he thought as he threw his cloak and hood back on. He watched as Rhaine spoke angrily to Azuris, slightly confused as to why she wouldn't defend a clutchmate. Attributing it as yet another unknowable characteristic of softskins, the thri'kreen simply shook his head and went back to their tents, buying himself a dinner and later spending a night of solitude in his own tent. When it was close to morning, Tak'we got up and ate breakfast while waiting for the rest of his clutchmates to wake up. He was eager to see today's challenge; archery always fascinated him. Why do softskins have to spend so much time sleeping? he wondered, then dug into the extra helpings of bacon he'd ordered.

Kalin was walking with his fiance, enjoying a lovely evening with her. His heart felt like it was soaring; he had managed to kill Zuir and Saris and escape from his prison, and enough of his memories had returned that he could remember his beloved's name and had her resurrected, able to hold her in his arms once more. "I am glad to finally be with you again," he said, holding her hand in his. "We have been apart for too long." She smiled, moonlit shadows falling across her features. "Indeed, Kalin, she said, "far too long." They stopped and she gave Kalin a deep kiss for a moment, then began to kiss him again afterwards, but something caused Kalin to hesitate a moment. Wait... something's not right here... Why can't I remember her name? "What's wrong, my beloved?" his fiance asked, a frown replacing the smile she had. "I don't know," Kalin replied, confusion running through his mind. "Aren't you glad to see me?" she said. "Don't you love me anymore?" "Well, of course, I d-" he began to say, but was cut off in frightened bewilderment when a change in his fiance began to take place: thin lines of blood began to run down her limbs. "I missed you so much, I felt so weak and hollow, like I wasn't alive anymore..." she said with a sad tone, her skin turning deathly pale and the blood beginning to run faster; deep claw marks appeared on her body. She began to fall to the ground and Kalin caught her in a panicked rush in his arms. "I don't understand!" Kalin said, a horrified expression on his face. "I simply couldn't live without you, Kalin," she whispered weakly, as though she barely had the strength for the words. Tears ran down her face and her skin and flesh began to turn to ash as Kalin held her. "No, no, no, nonono...," he cried out, quiet sobs beginning to rack his body. "Why... did you... let me die..., Kalin? I... loved you..." she shuddered one last time, then her body turned to ash and fell apart, nothing but a pile of dust and ash covering the front of Kalin's arms and clothes before being blown away by a sudden gust of wind. "NOOOO!" he screamed through choked sobs, reaching out for the remains of his beloved. "COME BACK!" He grasped for the ashes, but all of it was gone, and so he collapsed in horrified tears, crying out over and over again for his dead fiance.... "Heheheh," a sweet voice chuckled throughout Kalin's surroudings. "Now that was especially entertaining. The way you can't let go of your dead bride was quite amusing." Kalin's eyes snapped open, confusion plaguing his mind for a moment as he took in his surroundings. "What-, where am I?" Then he finally realized what had happened and his mind instantly turned white-hot with anger. "GODS DAMN YOU, SARIS!" he raged against his chains, knowing now that it was all an illusion, Saris' sick way of unraveling his mind. "Ah, now you figure it out," Saris tutted as if disappointed. "I thought I was overdoing it, but not everyone is as perceptive as myself, I guess." She gave a sadistic smile. "The turning to ashes was particularly dramatic, I thought at first, but I absolutely loved it." "Why, Saris!?" Kalin said through clenched teeth as he tried to hold back tears. "Why did you do that? All this because your stupid pride couldn't handle you being spared? You couldn't stand losing to a weak abomination?" Saris' smile disappeared, a venomous glare appearing instead. She sent a ray of electricity running through his body, causing him to cry out in pain once more. "No, you ignorant child. This hate is much deeper than that. I have hated the Orus family for the past two hundred years, dreaming of the day that I could finally destroy the descendants of our family." Kalin's eyes widen in shock. "No... it can't be..." Saris gave a cruel grin. "Why, Kalin, that's no way to treat your grandmother, is it? After all, I'm all that's left of your family." She stood up from the chair she'd been sitting on and stepped closer to him, sending excruciating telepathic needles through his mind. "You see, over two hundred years ago, I fell in love with a young man who had moved to Neverwinter, and spent many an... intimate... night with him. Of course, I couldn't let anyone know such scandalous behavior was going on between a stranger and the heiress of the house of Orus. But, nature being as it was, eventually it was found out once my belly began to swell." Saris sent even more pain coursing through Kalin's head as she talked, eliciting groans of agony from him. "Oh, I tried to run away with my beloved, but alas, young men being as they are, I found myself alone and abandoned. My parents were terribly angry with and shamed of me, but I thought they had gotten over it when they allowed me to stay afterwards. I was so foolish... Once my child was born, rather than letting me have him, my parents threw me out with naught a word or coin, banishing me forever from the family, and kept my son to raise as their heir. I lived in misery, and scraped a living off of running the docks as a filthy prostitute. I was forced to turn into a thing, something to be payed for and used just so I could live!" "Then I found an escape, having been offered a chance at a new life. The Cullers accepted me, and made me more powerful than the Orus family ever could. And ever since that day, I had thought only of the extinction of our bloodline." Saris gave a maniacal giggle. "One day encountered the one I still call my master. He gave me the means needed to kill you all without revealing myself. It was too easy to give your friend that book..." She frowned for moment, as if she'd forgotten some important detail. "Oh, yes, I was the one who gave your wizard friend the means to summon the demons that murdered your family." She giggled once more to herself. "That was a stroke of brilliance, don't you think?" Kalin could barely contain his torment, anger, and hatred. "You... monster! You foul, damnable bi- ARRGH!" She cut off his sentence with yet another wave of pain. "Please, Kalin, at least try to show some respect for your elders." She gave a sigh of disappointment, not unlike a child told playtime was over as Zuir entered the room and whispered some unintelligible message to her. "Well, as much as I enjoyed this, I'm afraid I have some business to attend to once more." She turned to leave, speaking as she went. "Don't go anywhere, my dear grandson. I'll be back later." And with that left with Zuir in tow. "I'LL KILL YOU!" Kalin screamed in rage as the door to his cell shut, then let exhaustion take him, sobbing ever so softly as he fell into painless oblivion...

Tak'we gave an angry hiss at the softskin called Roland and gave him a hard shove in response to his comment about Rhaine's companions. *NRAK'TCKTCK* "Do not sspeak to winged pointy-ear or Tak'we with such dissrepect!" *TCKTCK* He brought himself to his full height, towering over the offending softskins. The thri'kreen was trying to keep his temper, but when Azuris mentioned the killing of hatchlings without proof, and they admitted to it, it became settled for Tak'we. "You murdered hatchlingss!?" *TCKTCKTCK!* Throwing back his hood and cloak, Tak'we brandished his quarterstaff (he'd left his gythka at the inn) and positioned himself between the five softskins and Azuris. He spat a glob of venom on the ground in front of Roland, intending to insult to the softskin by not using on him and wasting it. "You sssoftskinss... *NRAK!* " You are just asss cruel asss dark softskin sslaversss! You will not hurt Azuris!"

Tak'we cheered as loud as he could without giving himself away for Tannin and Aurora. *Weee!* He was so happy for them that he failed to notice that Azuris was no longer by his side. Where did the he go? He wondered as he looked around for the softskin. The thri'kreen didn't see anyway, but he did see Rhaine and the five suspicious softskins that Azuris seemed to fear by his clutchmate's horse and so he shuffled over to them. "Greetings, Rhaine," Tak'we spoke, "What is winged pointy-ear doing?" He looked over at the armored softskins near her and recognized that they wore the same symbol as Rhaine does. "You follow same spirit as clutchmates," he observed, addressing the newcomers with questions. "Are you brothers of Rhaine and Azuris? Azuris seemed scared of you. Men aren't here to hurt clutchmate, are they?" Dri gave a silent cheer for Tannin, really liking his performance. Glad he won something. He definitely earned it. They ALL earned it. Finishing off a few more elegant scriptures on her scrolls for the tournament records, she packed up her things and headed for the tavern to get some food. As she walked away, the young woman failed to notice two men shadowing her in the crowd.

Graham had almost left the alley when he heard the footsteps far behind him. Turning around, he was startled to see little Ivy stepping into view. What in the-? The Nosferatu moved closer and released his concealment. "Ivy?" he asked, his surprise showing. "Good lord, what are you doing here?" Calling inside the still-open door to Harper's office, he inquired rather bluntly, his voice rumbling like thunder in the distance. "Ahem. Would someone like to inform me of any details here?"

Graham remained silent, taking in everything that had been said so far. Obtenebration... he pondered. Even among the Nosferatu there isn't much well-known of it. And if the Sabbat leadership are using it for something like this? What are they planning? Shaking his head and saving the question for later, he spoke to the Settite, agreeing with Whitelock. "I wouldn't worry too much. Tonight was a special case, and I certainly don't expect to be playing cover-up quite so bluntly next time." He grabbed one of Harper's maps that would send him relatively near his destination and walked towards the exit. "I'll start investigating where I can," Graham spoke as he was leaving, "I'll try to find any information, ask my contacts if they've heard anything." After setting the map on the door, he turned as he opened it, a dark alleyway ahead. "Oh, one last thing." He threw a small business card towards Whitelock and Harper. It had a number and an address written in a simple script. "If anything important comes up, either contact me or stop by the address on that." With that, the Nosferatu erased all traces of himself and stepped into the darkened alley, slamming shut the door. Time to get to work.

Tak'we found a place where he could get a quarter-staff for his height (it was closer to a full staff, in reality) and after buying it went to see his clutchmates play. After the strange furry softskin and the new softskin clutchmate Aurora played, Tak'we was holding one sleeve to his face. He liked the songs, but... By the spirits! he thought. So many mating scents! He was about to put on something to block out the smell when a very delicious scent caught his attention. It smelled like... Bacon! With that realization, the thri'kreen started moving rather quickly towards the smell, and began drooling when he saw the wheel barrow of some delicious-looking bacon-wrapped meat. He was disappointed at first when he noticed that they were no longer being sold, but immediately cheered up when he figured out Arland and Weyland had bought them all. "Greetingss, clutch-matess!" he said happily and took several handfuls of the food and stuffed them in various pockets in his cloak while the two were fighting. "Thank you!" After walking away, Tak'we ate his fill of the meats as he went back to watch Tannin, delighted at learning they were full of melted cheese. He eventually found himself at Azuris' side. "Greetings, Azuriss," the thri'kreen spoke between handfuls and held out one of the bacon-wrapped delicacies. "Want one?" He paused in both eating and talking, however, when he noticed the softskin's suddenly acting as though he trying to hide... almost as if he were... afraid. Following where his clutchmate had looked last, Tak'we saw the 5 black-armored softskins looking back at them, then leaving. Giving a low hiss, he looked at Azuris with concern. "Iss everything alright?" Even Dri felt herself blushing ever slightly at the satyr's song. Oh, snap out of it! she scolded herself, instead focusing on a bacon-wrapped sausage she managed to nab from a couple of feuding brothers, not realizing they were the same ones she had disturbed last night. She found her way back to the judges' booth and ate her meal while waiting for the bubbly woman to perform. After listening to her sing, Dri felt even more embarrassed that she'd pick-pocketed her, and also felt a little envious, one hand rising to her throat while wishing she could sing as well. Seeing Tannin start to play, the scribe finished off her meat snack and went back to recording the judges' decisions.

Graham noticed another Kindred, a professionally-dressed Tremere, enter the room and drop a file on Harper's desk, which immediately piqued his curiosity. Wonder what's in that? but he filed the question for later as he listened to Harper's decision. You have got to be bloody joking! Graham thought as he heard Harper's 'judgement' concerning Nathan. I can't wait to see how that will turn out. Graham barely suppressed a growl when the new Gangrel Primogen stepped near him. Normally, he would just ignore others he didn't necessarily care for, but this particular one had made a hell of a mess for him to clean up. He felt Ivy huddle close behind him. Poor child, he thought, and was about to console her, but Graham's attention became completely focused on the file Whitelock brought when she started to speak. Bloody hell... That was the only thing he could think as he saw the picture on display. He had heard of the latest killing, one of his wayward kin, but hadn't managed to see any pictures yet. Kendra... Graham recognized the name, and simply found it impossible to match this... butchery to the same woman. He'd done a check-up on her last month, for, though the Nosferatu were hardly the most sociable of folks, even among themselves, they did try to keep track of kin. "Damn," he said, and that's all he could say, for he hadn't seen this sort of barbarism since WWII. But his inquisitorial side came to the forefront and he began his own analysis of the photo. The surgical precision of the cuts, the purposeful order of said cuts... "This person really hates us, don't they?" Graham spoke softly to himself. "I've heard of holding grudges, but this puts even the Sabbat to shame. Hmm... Ms. Whitelock? Was there anyth-" He cut himself off at the sound of Ivy retching and turned, which was not the wisest of maneuvers, as he stepped in some of what was once Ivy's meal. "Oh, bugger all." Taking off the now puke-lined shoe, Graham hopped out of the way and looked at the little girl with a concerned glance. "Harper," he spoke up, trying to catch the Prince's attention, "I think Ivy needs some assistance here." At that, he walked over to Ivy and took out an old (but clean) handkerchief. Trying to add a little humor, he quoted a line from some absurdly funny zombie-spoof movie. "You've got red on you, " he tried to smile as he handed the handkerchief to her. "Here, you can use this." Hoping she'd be alright, he turned back to Whitelock. "As I was trying to ask earlier, were there any other clues to who'd done this? Any details or oddities where... he gestured at the projection, "this... occurred?"

Tak'we felt a sense of relief after Nawen helped with the signing. As soon as they walked a decent ways away from the booth, the thri'kreen gave the dark pointy-ear a rib-crushing hug in thanks. "Thankss!" *Tcktck!* "Now, I need to get a different weapon." With that, he shuffled off to see where he could get a plain wooden staff for use in the fighting. Dri had trouble concealing her guilty blush when the bubbly woman she robbed last night stood in front of her and signed the roster. Oh, Tymora, please don't let her notice! she thought, turning away so her reddened cheeks weren't showing. This is embarrassingly ironic! Dri was working as a scribe for the duration of the first few days of the tournament, recording whatever she was asked to record. She just happened to be in the lute-master's tent when the woman from last night came in. Thankfully, she didn't recognize or suspect Dri and left, leading the thief to let loose a mental sigh of relief. Thank goodness! she thought, then went back to work, scratching away with her quill.

Tak'we gave what might have been a cross between a sigh and a hiss, relieved he'd finally found his clutchmates. "Weyland! Arland! *Tck!* "I am having trouble with joining the fight." He glanced at the melee challenge line, then turned back to the Greys. "The chief softskinss are saying that everyone hass to ssign, but thiss one cannot understand. I,-" The thri'kreen gave a down-turned look from under his hood and slumped his shoulders, finding it difficult to admit his ignorance. "This one cannot read or sign." He looked at his clutchmates in askance. "Could you help this one?" Seeing Nawen show up, Tak'we gave a half-hearted hello, obviously distressed at his current situation. "Hello, Nawen. I am trying to join the fighting, but this one iss having trouble."

Nikov woke immediately when one of Cameron's men stopped by and told him he'll be leading the infantry to Builin. "Wonderful." Stretching out for moment, the smith began organizing his men, no more than a dozen. It was a motley collection of veterans, a handful of Vaegirs, a few Rhodoks, and some of the Nords that hadn't followed Beowulf and Hroar. He'd take more if he could, but with the garrison already depleted as it was by the other groups, it would have to do. But, he thought as he inspected them with approval, this group is experienced. They'll do. "Alright, lads," Nikov said, waving them to start heading out and began giving orders. "Fall in and listen up. We have fewer men than the others, so we'll have to be more careful of whatever mess we get into. We'll follow after Cameron's group and let them clear the way for us, then we break off and head to Builin. Understood?" A series of acknowledgements answered him. "Okay, then. Lets pick up the pace a little. Cameron's already ahead of us." The group came across the remnants of the skirmish the Swadian had run into and saw several looters trying to scavenge what little was left. Nikov ordered the Vaegirs and Rhodoks to attack at range while he and the Nords moved in and engaged at close quarters. It ended as quickly as it began, the looters all dead under their combined effort with no injuries. Well, maybe an injured pride, Nikov thought with annoyance; one of the looters had chucked a rock at him and bruised his arm, much to his chagrin. Banishing the thought, he turned to collecting whatever was left at the scene. Surprisingly, there were a few weapons of decent quality among them, a war scythe and a few spears. Nothing he'd give to veteran soldiers if he wanted to remain on good terms with them, but still in working condition. Gathering these, Nikov and his men turned away from Cameron's path and began moving towards Builin, the smoke from village cooking fires drifting upwards ahead.

Graham suppressed his feeling of shock at seeing how young the little girl was. What sick bugger did this?! Noticing how fearful the girl looked at him, which was probably only amplified by his proximity, he knelt down to one knee, trying to make himself less imposing and introduced himself. "Greetings, little darling," the Nosferatu spoke gently to her, a rare soft smile showing on his face. "My name's Graham Arlington. Don't worry. I don't bite." Wanting to put her more at ease, Graham searched through his pockets looking for an old trinket of his. "Ah, here we are." He pulled a small object, a charm on a short chain with a Celtic Knot pattern on it. He'd often held it to comfort himself back when he was human, but now it seemed like the little girl needed it more. "Here," he whispered, handing the charm to Ivy. "It's not much, but I've found some comfort in it when I've felt scared. Now," he stood up, returning his attention back to the others as Harper tore into Nathan. "lets see how this turns out." Curious and incredulous at Nathan's boldness, Graham almost didn't want to see what Harper or Edison did next to the Gangrel. Almost...

Graham stared for a moment at the gateway, quietly impressed. At Jack's behest, he followed the Gangrel through the doorway to Harper's office. "Evening, Edison," he spoke quietly with a nod, then went and stood in one of the far corners of the room, his hands clasped behind his back as he waited for the others. He was trying to keep as much distance between him and everyone else, as they might eventually start to get agitated with him around. As if we're not agitated enough... Returning his attention to Nathan, Graham pondered the Gangrel's fate. I wonder what will be done with this fool...

Tak'we couldn't help but feel bewildered by the sheer amount of softskins running to and fro. He had seen big crowds before... But I still am not used to them. Trying to find his way through the crowd, it took him sometime to get to where the melee participants were joining the tournament. Ah, there it is! Finally spotting the place, Tak'we shuffled up in his old man's guise and stood in the small line that had formed. The warrior stopped in his tracks when he heard the softskin in charge asking each fighter to sign their name on a piece of paper. Tak'we felt a sudden disappointment taking root in his heart as he realized that he'd never be able to join if he had to write those strange softskin symbols. *Katch'tck!* he cursed quietly, then took off looking for his clutchmates, needing their help with something so basic hurting his pride. Stupid softskins...

Tak'we gave with a chattering laugh, then gave a nod of his head. "Yess, that iss fair. This one acceptss." He got up quickly, threatening to undue his old man disguise, and grabbed an apple as he shuffled out of the inn, leaving to go join the competition. "Well, letsss go! There iss a bet for Tak'we to win!"

It didn't take long for Nikov to ready his things. He sorted out the extra equipment they had into two even piles, one set for Builin, the other for Gisim, and wrote down instructions on where each were to go. Satisfied that that was dealt with, the smith prepared his own gear, slipping on the worn breast plate he always wears and slung the short bow and quiver of arrows and his short spear on his back. He grabbed his longsword and tied it to his waist, and finally slipped his forge hammer onto a loop on his belt. "There, all ready." Nikov grabbed the pack of food he'd sat outside his forge and sat there in the door way and closed his eyes, determined to catch a little sleep before the group for Builin left.

Gets right to it, doesn't he? Graham thought, eyebrows raised at Jack's directness, but didn't waste any more time than necessary and began sharing what he'd found. "Well, then, since she is dealing with our rogue kin, here's what I've got." The Nosferatu pulled out a small jump drive and the sample of vampire blood. "Here," he said, handing the jump drive over, "is a copy of the security footage from the cameras here before I wiped them. I figured Edison would be interested in having this, since the cameras managed to catch everything that our unknown trouble-maker did." "Unfortunately, the only details of the one responsible are minor; the cameras didn't get a clear view of the face, only generic physical details such as body shape and such, though I have my suspicions." Graham glanced over at Nathan, letting Jack know what his 'suspicions' were before continuing. "Luckily, I managed to collect a fresh sample of vampire blood." He gave Jack the blood sample. "Seems the guy was shot before draining one of the humans here. Should be pure enough to serve as proof. And that's everything. The cameras are successfully wiped, the bodies" he looked over at the burnt remains, "sufficiently marred to disguise their true demise, all of the blood destroyed, and enough evidence here that should suit the Sheriff."

Nikov gave the Khergit a narrowed glance, wondering briefly what the man had against him, but let it go; he had other, more important things to worry about as it was. He did like part of the man's raiding idea, just not the caravan part. "Claressa is correct there; attacking caravans could very easily bring too much "aggressive attention" to our plates. But, these bandits will most likely have supplies, supplies that would be rather handy if they were to come into our possession. Just food for thought." With that said, the Vaegir left it hang in the air and turned to Cameron. "I'll go with the group going to Builin," he spoke. "Their location seems the more exposed. Once there, I could help them build basic defenses and aid in their training, if they will have us." Nikov turned and began to walk back to the smithy. "I will be in my quarters readying the supplies we'll need. If anyone needs me, I'll be there."

Did you even read one bit of what's been said, Altmer? We DO realize that WoD is dark, but some of what you have is TOO much. Some of us are deeply disturbed by some of this, and have, very calmly, I may add, asked you to please tone it down a little, and THIS is how you react? Yes, I've posted bits of torture, I'll admit it, but I didn't go into extreme detail, and I certainly didn't include something so disturbing as child rape. "Have to accept all of WoD to play a true WoD game" ? This isn't a true WoD game, it's an RP set in WoD among people who want to have fun, not get sickened or leave feeling violated. It's completely possible to have a character with depth, WITHOUT such horrible details that you so whimsically throw about, regardless of how others feel about it. It's morally wrong, in my opinion, and down-right disrespectful of your fellow RPers. The very least you could do is grant us just a little mutual respect.