The Wandering Monster
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Kine
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Post by Aodhfin on Feb 18, 2015 19:52:35 GMT
The members of the First Estate were by no means thugs that lacked intelligence or fools that believed no fault would occur during these Grand Gathers. The Invictus were cunning and clever, and as such there were certainly members of the Thorned Wreath and Catechism present on these grounds, kindred and ghouls alike with watchful eyes and all-hearing ears.
Would the Father of the Invictus have such guards and knights looming in his presence though?
Aodhfin did not have the answer from such a question, nor did he care. The meeting he sought was one that few outside of the Gangrel would understand. This was not a meeting of kindred that shared the same Covenant, nor was it a meeting of just a lowly kindred introducing himself to a prince.
This was a meeting of Savages; a meeting where all parties would know there is a difference between ‘losing control’ and being ‘out of control’. A meeting of Ferals, where words would be used and yet the composure and bestial grace in the words not said carried more weight. This was when one wolf stepped into the territory of another, where growls, howls, words, claws, and fangs might be used and referred to as a 'polite' conversation.
There were so few that honored their clan over their covenant, and so many who valued their chosen family over the family they were born into. The Gangrel that pushed open the doors to the private backroom of the Theater was not one of the flowery beasts that longed to be dressed in lust or shadows, this Gangrel proudly wore his savage nature. As he let one loud foot fall pass over another, the rhythm of his thudding boots took over the distant echo of decadent music and whispers. He did nought let his eyes stray from their intended audience, once he acquired as such — even should a blade find its way in his back.
The Gangrel standing before Sir Prince Hermann, and whatever company he had elected to the honor of keeping him amused, was dressed heavily in what may have been conceived as a Night Hunters garb. His face was all but masked by a heavy black hood that wrapped across his shoulders and feel across his back. The durable and reinforced coat he wore concealing his body, yet left unclasped to display the numerous wooden stakes and blades. The most prominent of weapons was likely the axe handle that spilled out beneath his coat, always within arms reach.
“I am Aineislis McGriffin, known as Aodhfin, former member of the First Estate and member of the Gangrel. I am here, in your territory, to search for and destroy another kindred which you have blood hunted within your domain. I am not seeking acknowledgement in this city or favor and boon for my action, only the right to feed until I achieve my ends and sever the Requiem of another.”
His voice carried a deep and Irish rasp through the short and sweet pleasantry of words. A guttural rolling growl of a hunter that seemed forever attached to every sound that oozed and dripped from his lips.
—— ooc
Gangrel Status 3
Vengeful Childe of the Unholy.
Known as a ‘Savage Duelist’ ( Kills Draugr, Larvae, and ‘Loss’ Kindred)
Mentored other Gangrel in Dueling and 'Savage Combat'.
—— ooc
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Post by Admin (Daniel) on Mar 1, 2015 4:19:43 GMT
A shred of savage filth barges into the exquisite lounge, its walls papered with elegant designs and hung with savage landscapes. Seemingly deserted except for Prince Sir Hermann, the room is noteworthy in its shocking emptiness. The relic himself sits on a stately golden throne, which in the humming electric light lacks its luster. The Prince is adorned in a dazzling variety of sashes, rings, pins, and other trinkets, marking him as the purest paragon of the Invictus, and he hardly seems to care. Although Aodhfin seemed to be operating under some amusing assumptions, it is only the Prince's utter disinterest that keeps the Irishman from being reduced to a fine, red paste.
The thin, short vampire regards Aodhfin with unblinking, bored eyes. His nails hang like claws against his seat, and Aodhfin feels acutely aware of being a very small thing. "Approach, Aineislis McGriffin, 'former member' of the First Estate, and kneel. Say on, and tell us more of how you intend to achieve your ends."
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The Wandering Monster
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Kine
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Post by Aodhfin on Mar 7, 2015 6:31:14 GMT
The humiliating act of kneeling was something Aodhfin had expected in some form or another, but his expectations did little in helping to stomach the growl that wanted to rip its way out. Still, the growl was stifled and kept silent as the kindred moved to one knee out of respect for the domain the other gangrel held. The covenant held no concern for Aodhfin at this point, and was a simple matter of fine print in an otherwise savage document, "I am tracking the Unholy."
Those words leaked out from his lips and were cause enough for praise or scolding; a challenge many gangrel uttered and none had ever achieved. Aodhfin lowered his silverish and amber eyes after that statement, keeping them towards the ground in a futile attempt to play a game of etiquette he had already loss. After a short stay of silence and time to let the words settle, the raspy irish tone would continue, "And that Storm is on its way in this direction."
Prince Hermann surely knew what could occur when the Unholy appeared, "I may be fool enough to reach for her final death, I am not fool enough to believe a carefully laid plan would survive a maelstrom or force of nature." There were domains with kindred dedicated to simply predicting when she would appear in a domain at any given time, and these soothsayers or new age mystics weaved webs of words together that were as accurate as a weather forecast. This time the prediction came from a kindred with whom was believed to have a direct tie to her, and that kindred motioned upwards to point at a wall to the south-west; his indication coming with a certainty.
When his arm lowered back to the ground, Aodhfin still kept his eyes to the ground, "If you are under the assumption she will simply pass through, or that you and yours will put an end to the troubles she may cause, I will offer up fair trade for wasting your time and depart from your domain." The simple fact was that the situation was far from simple, if taken as truth and a serious matter. If Aodhfin were to defeat the Unholy, what claim would that give him? Did Aodhfin freely give Hermann an out so he wouldn't have to risk his own unlife, or was it a simple back-handed compliment in some capacity? Would Aodhfin set off the Unholy's temper, give her a target to sate her hungry against, or would his folly determination change her course?
Ooc ----
Blood Sympathy between Sire/Childe is +3, using Wits + Blood Potency
Blood Sympathy between clanmates with no relation is made at +0, using Wits + Blood Potency
Ooc ---
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Post by Admin (Daniel) on Mar 9, 2015 4:25:20 GMT
Again, the Prince stirs with emotion - this time, a discordant echo of something almost (but entirely unlike) amusement. He glances to one side, eyes fixed on a seemingly vacant point. A rictus-like grin reveals yellow, jagged teeth.
"The storm is coming, you say," the creature asks. "Tell me, Child of the Unholy, with your unique perspective: Have you have considered that your Sire is coming here for you, to reclaim the Blood she gave you? Perhaps we should cast you out, and see if this storm follows?"
He pauses for a moment, his fingers templed and his posture tightened. "Perhaps one should chart your path, and see if Her steps align with your own?"
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