2015-10-20-MeetingStone
| Meeting Stone | |
|---|---|
| Stone invites the local Sabbat for a parley | |
| IC Date | October 20th, 2015 |
| IC Time | Evening |
| Players | Anezka, Faqirah, Void, Stone |
| Location | Old Cobre Saloon |
Old Cobre Saloon - Parking Lot
The gravel road leads to an open area that is scrub grass and gravel. This large area has some wire fencing around it to keep out at least some of the wandering animals. There is an area used for parking where everything from old, beat up trucks to Harley Davidson motorcyles rest while their owners are inside the bar. Looking around the area, it is easy to see that there is often activity out here. Old fashioned party lights are strung around on poles to keep the darkness from being too imposing once the sun goes down. There might be a burned out light or two on each of the strings but overall they all work.
There is a big ass BBQ pit ready for action on the days that The Road House sponsors throw a party. It looks about the right size to roast a frakkin' ox. There are old chairs surrounding it, and assorted picnic tables to further lend the out of doors party atmosphere. Patrons are as welcome to have their drinks and food out here as they are in the battered, weathered building that dominates the area with its flickering neon sign that reads 'Old Cobre Saloon' over the top of a roofed porch.
Begin Log
Anezka opens the door of the black Durango, stepping out of the truck. The first image everyone have is her bare feet on gravel. The extremely pale teenager slides from her seat and closes the door behind her. She walks toward the large fire pit, where the others are converging. She nods politely to Faqirah and Void, then to the others. In this specific order. The fact that she looks somewhat under-aged, and is clad in black supple leather (prolly tanned human skin) BDSM gear makes quite clear that the girl is, indeed, a Fiend.
Faqirah inclines her head to the anarch baron. "You wished to meet Mr. Stone?" Her cold gaze pans over the revelers. But this is not a woman looking around to see who has come to the party, she's looking for danger. People who are watching Stone or her and trying to be nonchalant, snipers on the roof if any, Faqirah's world is grim and trust is a rare commodity outside the sword.
<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Faqirah rolls Perception + Alertness vs 6 for 3 successes.
2 2 3 3 3 4 5 +7 +9 +9
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->
Stone lifts a hand to tip the brim of his dark stetson in Faqirah's direction, "Thanks for coming."
Faqirah adjusts her hijab and flexes her fingers for a moment.
<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Stone rolls Perception + Alertness vs 6 for 1 successes.
2 2 +7
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->
<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Void rolls Obtenebration vs 5 for 1 successes.
2 +7
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->
Void follows Faqirah, still silent. He stops when she stops, a short distance away from the still smoldering fire pit. His black eyes turn briefly to notice Anezka, who he offers an incline of his head to, a brief glance, and then nothing more. His head then turns back to stone, watching the man silently, barely moving. His eyes flicker to Faqirah's hands briefly, then up and over at something far away.
A few of the nearby shadows flicker, and a brief shade passes across the fire-pit, a cold caress, and then the fire inside dies and the coals turn gray and silent.
Faqirah nods and looks meaningfully back at the car for a moment. "Good evening to you. Are those your friends across the street? I’m not sure here is the best place for this."
Anezka stands a couple steps behind Faqirah, at her right. Glacial blue eyes roaming the parking lot of the saloon. She raises a hand to her chin, thin and unnaturally long fingers scratch her chin. She smiles as Stone greets her leader, a purple tongue at least 10 inches long slashing out of her mouth. The appendage has at least three barbells adorning it, plus a ring on its tip. She doesn't speak, letting Faqirah do her thing.
Stone glances at the dark car parked across the street, "Hmm...no that’s not any of mine"
Faqirah motions to her brother and sister and moves inside, ignoring Stone's query for now. She isn’t going to be on display for the cops.
Old Cobre Saloon
The bar is dimly lit to give the illusion of being even older than it really is. Tables are arranged around, leaving the middle clear for the catwalk. It ends in a circular stage with a pole in the middle. The music comes from a MP3 player probably hidden under the bar, speakers are hung up on the walls around to help spread the sound. While the place is clearly dingy, and old, it is also kept neat as a pin. The floor is frequently swept, the tables are cleaned and wiped down.
The bar is made of old wood, it looks likes its material has been scavenged from other things and pieced together. Its pedestal is made of sheet metal that has aged so much that it has a dingy patina on it. Dents and scratches on the metal give it character, as well as tell a story of the bar's many years. The counter is polished by many elbows resting upon it over the years, and it is kept clean by bar rags constantly being swiped over it by the bartenders. On a shelf behind the bar rests a velvet board, there are pinned the patches of the Motorcycle Clubs that felt welcome, and decided to mark the place as common ground. The board is surrounded by many bottles of booze. Nothing exotic or out of the ordinary. Simple drinks for simple people. On the left of the bar are the taps beer, and between them a sink of sorts. If someone wants fancy, they are in the wrong spot. Clean and tidy yes, fancy no.
There is a pass through to the kitchen from which the smells of delicious food drift into the bar. Burgers, fries, steaks and that sort of thing all find their way to the Saloon's menu. The food is simple, fresh, and tasty. Good food, good drink, and fair prices are Old Cobre's claims to fame.
Resume Log
Void looks to Faqirah briefly, but then back to Stone once more. He takes a slouch position again then, slipping both of his hands in the pocket of his hoodie and just standing there silently. He doesn't seem...anything, really. But he does move to follow after Faqirah, rather quickly, when she motions for him to do so.
Faqirah says, "Freedom an illusory concept that all chase and none truly have until death, but the chase is what matters. To not die on your knees."
Stone hms, "Perhaps I am fool than, for I believe anything obtainable with enough effort."
Faqirah shrugs. "As admirable as your vision is, I think you did not call me here to merely discuss philosophy."
Void stops short of Faqirah, and slightly to the side again. He turns his head to glance around the interior, slowly. There's a little cold breeze that follows him, and some of the lights begin to flicker gently every now and then. He's still silent.
Stone brushes a long errant lock back behind a shoulder. "In the spirit of cooperation and friendship have I called you here. I want to ensure that my people are aware what is and is not, and what goes and goes not in your domain. I believe you to be an honorable ally, and honorable people are worth cultivating. This is of course not possible if one is disrespected."
Anezka opens and closes her fists, swaying a little behind Faqirah. She listens to the conversation, but adds nothing. She seems to be in a trance, a thin film of blood-tears turning her eyes crimson. Her smile is wide, freakishly wide. Attack on Titan wide. It's a far idea, but if her jaw continues to stretch, soon she will be able to eat a human with a couple bites. Who needs pigs to dispose bodies? This little teenager has enough teeth to make a shark ashamed of itself, and the will to use them to rend, tear, rip, and consume.
Stone says, "And in like fashion I will tell you what we request of those who visit the desert."
Faqirah says, "My agreement with you is simple. We do not harm or kill you in exchange for the same courtesy. When at times our interests intersect, we will perhaps cooperate. The spirit of the Sabbat is freedom. I make no demands upon outsiders and few on my own people. It was my estimation that no disrespect had occurred.""
Stone nods agreeably, "None has yet that I am aware of."
Void reaches a hand up and out of his pocket to adjust the hood of his hoodie. There are soft whispers, almost inaudible, coming from some of the nearby shadows, and their edges flicker gently every now and then, as if being disturbed by the breeze. His eyes turn to look to Faqirah briefly, ninja-like, with only that thin band of flesh visible around his eyes. Then...both hands slip back into the pocket of his hoodie.
Faqirah says, "And we are one in our hatred of the Tremere and the tower that is its marionette. If you will not join us that matters little in the grand scheme of things. In Gehenna no one will care that I am archbishop. The strong will stand against the thirst of the elders and if you should be so fortunate to see that day, I’m sure you will stand with us to transcend fate."
Stone nods faintly. "I shall stand as I have always stood. We are united in this noble purpose," the musician smiles a sharp-toothed grin, "And I am glad that you share the spirit of freedom. Freedom is very important to us. Especially freedom of will. Things like Thaumaturgy, Sorcery, and Dominate, the tools of the puppet masters, are expressly forbidden in the desert. I would take it as a sign of cooperation and goodwill if you would spread word of this to your brothers and sisters that we might continue to live in harmony and freedom."
Faqirah scowls. "I seem to see some justice in disallowing mind control. For indeed if I were to find any of yours attempting to usurp our will I would usurp the offenders blood. The desert is a big place. It stretches from here to Las Vegas. You don’t have the manning to own all of it. While Id certainly take offense to sorcery being used against me, Id never be so foolish as to forbid it outright. What if someone flees through the desert on the wings of the air to inform you of a Camarilla incursion? Will you kill them for using powers on themselves or on the Camarilla who happen to be in your domain? Certainly you are not so naive to think that all practitioners of magick are attempting to enslave you by their very existing..."
One of the neon signs on the bar begins to flicker intermittently, along with the cold rustling of the breeze. None of the words have seemed to move him so-far, he just continues to slouch there, hard-eyed and immobile, and otherwise silent. Has he said anything this entire time? He might not even speak...English or otherwise.
"I shall send the tower a notice in this regard in case they wish to preserve the observers they send among us," the Baron adds, "We have learned the hard way that Magick from the puppet master sects is rarely benign in nature despite its outward appearance.. It almost always has a more sinister motive at heart."
Anezka snaps out of her trance, paying attention to the words exchanged between the Archbishop and the Baron. Her expression changes from interest to boredom, and she uses her nail to start drawing a bloody spiral on her bare pierced chest, feeling more glee in such self mutilation than partaking in politics.
Stone spreads his hands as he continues, "So unless it is shown to be necessary to prevent death, we would prefer that Magick and dominate not be used in the desert. Some ask that you remove your shoes before entering a house for fear of what the dirt upon the soles may do to the floor. We ask that the tools of the puppet masters be left outside for fear of what they may do to the soul"
Faqirah nods. "You seem to forget that you exist today because the tower is afraid of us. I have said my peace. I will tell my Sabbat not to use offensive powers or Thaumaturgy on your people as a sign of respect in your domain. I will not tell them to refrain from using it on themselves or on our enemies which at present does not include you. If you kill any of my people for something which does not in my eyes amount to an attack, we will all come and scatter your ashes to the four winds. You seek to create a new tyranny from your rebellion but I will not order my people to hobble themselves in your domain. I carry countless charms on my person alone crafted by a sorceress from the mountain and I shall not leave them behind. It must be enough that we do not use it upon you as long as our respect holds. I must go." She turns as she curbs her anger and heads toward the truck.
Void, without saying anything, turns to follow Faqirah as she goes. He takes his hands back out of his hoodie pocket, and remains silent. After he's gone, the lights stop flickering, and the air returns to its normal temperature.
Stone frowns, "You have not been listening to me or you would have recognized that I said no such thing as you suggest"
Stone says, "Unless it is -shown to be necessary to prevent death- indicates that you should not hobble yourselves yet refrain from using these tools unless the need is dire. A weapon carried does not have to be a weapon used.""
Anezka bows politely, but her eyes and expression are not respectful. A dribble of saliva falls from her pornographically long tongue, the smile in her face as inhuman as it can be. She backsteps, and turns to follow her leader. Looking at her back, a line of Thagomizers is visible. (A thagomizer is the distinctive arrangement of four to ten spikes on the tails of stegosaurid dinosaurs. These spikes are believed to have been a defensive measure against predators.) Freaky little girl.
The Assamite speaks not further and the trio of cainites disappears leaving nothing but the afterglow of tail lights watching, like the malignant eyes of a monster in the darkness.
