#camarilla politics

[inquisitor-of-hearts]

Escalate (3)

After some consideration Galeb decides to not follow the Beckoning. Hazel is quick to act and entrusts him with a new task for the Camarilla.

Spoilers for all of Vampire the Masquerade: Swansong.

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1,631

Link to Chapter 1 Chapter 2

on Ao3

Can't you feel Electricity It's dripping through my veins The syzygy It's twisting me endlessly, endlessly

Like you don't know what they said a couple of nights ago But you didn't hear that one

Galeb was ravenous. Although his skin colour had faded to grey the moment he had walked the secretary back inside the club, the whole act had pushed him to his limits.

As he looked at the woman seated next to him, it hit him suddenly. He felt it in his whole being. It was his Ventrue nature that was making him so tense around her, giving him these visceral reactions. He craved her blood; the purity, the class. And the fact that he could not have it only intensified his desire.

“The usual?” Emem asked with a cocky grin as she stepped closer to them.

“Yes. And a gin and tonic for her.” he answered.

As Emem was about to turn around, Galeb rose from his seat.

“I must excuse myself, Cyrene.” he said, “I will be back momentarily.”

Emem turned back towards Galeb, he overcame the distance between them.

“I need a real drink” he spoke through clenched teeth. Drained of vitae, the beast in him had become far too impatient.

“Did you not eat before coming here?”

“I did” he hissed, “I didn’t think it would take that much convincing.”

“Well I don’t have anything for you. Go and serve yourself.” Emem hissed back. “Be careful with what you pick though.”

Without another word he disappeared into the darker corners of the club. His mind was racing, consumed by the desire for only one thing. But it could not just be anyone and he had to be careful it was not a ghoul. So he lurked in the dark, watched the prey and fellow predators. His gaze wandered back and forth between people, then fell back onto Cyrene. Her blood was perfect, truly, but he could not risk it. A soft growl escaped him. His trained senses made him aware of a human not bound to anyone. A man in a business suit -- dark brown hair, swept back, an expensive silver brand watch around his wrist, the old money kind not the electronic touchscreen trash -- walked towards the restrooms. Galeb followed him at once.

A deep sigh of relief escaped him as he regained his composure and left the stall with the man behind. He centered himself as he adjusted the collar of his shirt in the washroom, making sure his clothes had not been soiled during this moment of weakness. A quick glance reassured him of the fact that the bathroom stall doors were closed and the Kindred walked off.

“I made a bit of a mess in the men’s washroom” he confessed discreetly once he had arrived back at the bar.

“Ugh” Emem rolled her eyes, “Seriously?”

“He’s alive.” he reassured her firmly, “Just some stains on the floor.”

“I’ll have someone get it.” she sighed and shook her head in disapproval.

Galeb noticed their drinks that had been served as he lowered himself onto the bar seat next to his new acquaintance.

“I’m so sorry I made you wait.” he spoke softly.

“Oh don’t worry about that at all.” Cyrene replied with a smile towards him, her demeanour friendly, less suspicious. Now it seemed like a perfectly normal thing that this man wanted to get to know her.

“I’ve been thinking” Galeb spoke, “We should spend more time with each other until you feel comfortable with me. And then you could introduce me to Mr. Hartwell.”

Cyrene set down her glass that she drank from.

“I would like that. I think that might work.” she answered. Galeb could feel that she was honest, even less careful than before. His dominance over her mind was still apparent.

“You think?” Galeb checked. “You’re not sure?”

“I don’t know. I will have to make sure he doesn’t feel suspicious about anything that you do.” she answered.

“Maybe it’s better you manage our assets. Inofficially at least.” the Kindred suggested.

“Oh I can’t do that” she laughed casually, “I’m not in that position.”

“You give yourself far too little credit, Cyrene.” Galeb spoke, his influence over her strong.

“Maybe.” she chuckled, “But I can’t be doing anything like that behind his back.”

“Do you have access to his clients’ files?”

“I do.” she responded, “In case of emergencies. Or an urgent meeting that he doesn’t agree to.”

“What about confidentiality? How much trust does he have in you?"

"A lot. I don’t want to betray him. I wouldn’t-- I can’t--” There was a certain agitation in her voice, like her own will that struggled against Galeb’s influence.

“It’s okay” he calmed her with a soft voice, his eyes flashing just for a second. “You’re safe. You are not betraying Hartwell. Everything is alright.”

She visibly calmed again, her breathing and heartbeat normalizing. The Kindred watched her fingers wrap around the glass and drink from it again. He leaned over, his body turned towards her.

“Where does he live?”

Slowly her gaze was drawn from her glass towards Galeb. A smile formed on his lips before she could even answer.

“Where do you live?”

With his head lowered Galeb returned to Hazel’s quarters.

“What is it? You don’t look like you have good news for me.” Hazel spoke, behind her was the moon shining in through the tall windows, the light being reflected on the sleek surface of her desk.

Galeb sighed, shaking his head before speaking.

“It’s not the best news. Hartwell has turned into a recluse. He doesn’t take any new clients it seems. And the secretary,  Roberts, she is very careful. I think I can gain her trust but it will take some time.”

“Unfortunate news” Hazel spoke and turned around towards the windows, her arms crossed in front of her chest, her gaze lowered. “Is that all?”

“My Prince, forgive me the suggestion, but would it not be easier to find someone else?”

“No. I want Hartwell” she insisted, “All others out there are not malleable enough. I’ve seen the prospects.”

“This will not be easy.” Galeb suggested.

“But once we have him, he is ours. We can use his paranoia against him.” Hazel explained, turning around again.

“What if we use just the secretary? She does most of his business for him these days anyway.”

“But in his name, right?”

Galeb tilted his head, watching her as she paused.

“So it will be him either way. If she has access to everything, I’m not against it.” Hazel explained, her hand outstretched in a presenting fashion, “But remember, she can’t be influenced if she is the one working with us. And Emem told me you already forced your will onto her.”

“Of course she did.” Galeb sighed and looked down for a moment.

“Her bodyguard was at her heels and she was extremely cautious. I could not let her go just like that.”

“Galeb, I’m not mad at you.” Hazel reassured gently, shaking her head. “I just want to make sure you know that going any further than that will be out of the question. Especially if you choose her as the one to work with us.”

“We will never get our hands on Hartwell.”

“You don’t know that” Hazel disagreed with her voice a tone higher, trying to persuade him. “Maybe we just have to be careful and watch Roberts and Walker for a while. Why don’t you become friends with them?”

Galeb coughed up a laugh.

“You say that like it’s so easy.”

“You’ve done it before.” Hazel reminded him. “Just go slow.”

The pressure of her gaze made the man look away.

“Have you set up another appointment with her?”

“I have. I was worried she would not let me meet her again if she wasn’t under the influence of my power.” Galeb confessed.

“Smart move. I am sure you will be able to make her trust you and then in no time, she will be introducing you to Hartwell, you will see. Or, she will the one handling our finances. Your choice.”

“Would you at least consider giving this task to somebody else? Anyone else, in fact. Emem Louis could do this easily with her connections to the--”

“No” Hazel responded firmly. “It has to be you. Emem doesn’t even come close to you in strength. You can protect these people if anything happens. Don’t you think they will be swarmed with ghouls and other agents soon enough? You can sense them. You’re the only one I can rely on for this task.”

Galeb sighed in defeat.

“I hadn’t considered that.”

“I know it’s hard for you. She’s probably all a Ventrue like you could want in a vessel.” Hazel chuckled. Galeb’s eyes widened.

“It’s not-- it’s not that. That’s not a problem at all.”

“Oh come on now. Don’t be shy about this. We’re birds of a feather, you and me.” she reaffirmed with a smile. “Go downstairs to the lounge and have a drink. Ask Sylvia for what I had them prepare for you. It will relax you. I know your type.”

Galeb stood in shock, at a loss for words but finally spoke, unable to decline.

“Thank you, my Prince.”

“And then focus. We need these people.”

“Of course, my Prince.”

The following night a black car with tinted windows was parked in front a high-rise apartment complex at 10:30 pm. The front doors of the building opened and Cyrene walked out into the night. Her steps brought her to the car, she overlooked the license plate quickly before she opened the back door from the side of the pedestrian walkway. She climbed in, greeting the man that was sitting inside with a smile.

[kavalyera]

enir and vivienne with their big coats :3

[blanketempress]

assuming that he has to be of one of the clans available in Bloodlines, Fledgling Lorenzo would be a Tremere and he'd very much do the same run as my fledgling Amber, killing everything and everyone, just a bulldozer through the narrative, trying to get everything done as fast as possible

Strauss and Nines would be the only bitches in town he'd have an ounce of respect for and he wouldn't be bound by the Giovanni clan upbringing/traditions like he is in canon, so he'd very much skip being polite to anyone

I think he would side with the Anarchs, not because he really likes them better but because he hates the other factions more

[faerune]

the last round coterie: discussing what to bring up at the next anarch movement meeting

valentina: do you have anything to add seth?

seth: ...what were we talking about?

[limblesstar]

i think writing the most NICHE au ever is kind of the funniest thing i could do. 1000 words already written with all the weird vtm lexicon. i dont need to be so specific with the terms but im going to for me, for the self indulgence of it

[cavegirlpoems]

you know what? I'm nailing my colours to the mast:

The default rpg that's used as a yardstick, in my view, is not D&D. It's Vampire The Masquerade 20th Aniversary Edition.

It has everything: Action! Melodrama! Politics! Intrigue! Horror! Romance! Bleak Social Realism!

Still want a fantasy game with swords and dragons? We got that, it's called Dark Ages Vampire!

When pitching me a game, the big hurdle you need to overcome is "why am I not running this in Vampire?" Call of Cthulhu? Vampire has plenty of cosmic-horror tentacle monster cults, just throw a hidden baali cell into your setting. D&D? Play a dark ages game and all be members of a vampiric order. Monsterhearts? That's just standard Camarilla Toreador behaviour! Paranoia? The prince is a malkavian, have fun. Rolemaster? That's just dark ages again, and trust me our mechanics are fiddly and pedantic too.

Being picky and don't want to play a vampire? No problem, there's a splat-book for playing as regular mortals, who may or may not have psychic powers.

Seriously, Vampire: The Masquerade has so much range as a game. Even more if you throw in bits of other WoD gamelines or elements from v5. Mage even has sci-fi space explorers fighting tentacle monsters on the surface of jupiter and I am not joking.

This is not a bit or a funny joke. I genuinely, 100% believe that Vampire is a better Default Game that can Do Everything than D&D and its imitators.

[deathandthesoul]

Hey you! Do you like LA by Night and NY by Night? Want to branch out into watching more VtM actual plays? There's a few I really enjoy that I'd like to share. They are all 5th edition

Blood on the Grand Strand/Are We Dead Yet? from Huddyvonschland Coterie clans: Ravnos, Tzimisce, Salubri, Tremere, and some more regulars who swap in and out. And then also oops all Thinbloods! The tourist town of Myrtle Beach enjoys a vibrant nightlife. An eclectic Anarch coterie must contend with the Camarilla (and later Sabbat) making moves in their city while the Second Inquisition begins their operation. There's funky cults, a suspicious drug operation, weird Thinblood stuff, and a lot of juicy worldbuilding which sometimes brings in other elements of the World of Darkness. The players are an absolute delight, Huddy's storytelling is fucking delicious, and the table has a ton of chemistry. The atmosphere is moody and it's a very chill time. I consider this my comfort chronicle

Vegas by Night from Mayday Roleplay Coterie clans: Ravnos, 2 Malkavians, 2 Gangrel, Warrior Salubri, Lasombra This show is nuts. It has everything. Vividly gritty ST narration, occult mysteries, a coterie of forcibly Camarilla kindred in way over their head, wacky Vegas hijinks, lifelike and captivating characters, a meat house, Lake Mead being terrifying, so much buck wild combat. A gospel singer Ravnos who sounds like Elvis and the world's horniest Malkavians. Every plan goes haywire. They always pick the solution that will create the most consequences for them. It's super high energy but man it's fun. Caleb has spread such a wide web of plots that all somehow interconnect. It's really impressive seeing it all gradually unveil and all make sense together in the greater scheme of things. His brain is seriously huge

Legacy of Bulls from Adventure Tavern Coterie clans: [Spoiler], Hecata, Brujah, Toreador A Birmingham coterie inherits the grudge of their forebears and has to race against the clock to solve a mystery and prevent any damage. I'm in love with CT lmao he's my favorite representation of that clan I've ever seen. The chronicle has elements of the occult/magic, investigation, and an atmosphere that is often moody and tense with the occasional chaos. I love the drama in this one

ATL by Night from the Facility Productions Coterie clans: Brujah, Tremere, Ventrue, Gangrel. And some more regulars who swap in and out. In later seasons there is a new coterie: Lasombra, Thinblood, Hecata, Tremere, Gangrel, Ravnos After taking heavy losses during the Final Nights, kindred society in Atlanta must rebuild. Many were hastily embraced during those confusing times and the coterie is tasked with bringing those lost childer into the fold. There is a focus on character development and kindred Politics with heavy Second Inquisition involvement. All in all I find it to be very cozy and intimate, it's really relaxing to watch

The Rook and the Rascal: Montreal by Night from ThreeKingsLoot (audio only) Coterie clans: Tremere, Toreador, Nosferatu It's been a while since I listened to this one so I forget a lot but I remember there were werewolves, Pentex, and a lot of over the top violence. And something about a cult leader, I think? But it's also very cozy and has themes of community and friendship. They utilize True Faith in a novel way and the characters and narration are very charming. They don't follow the game mechanics exactly but it makes things way more high stakes and dangerous and interesting. I had a good time listening to this

[organovore]

samar… a brand new character i’ve been cooking for a new chronicle. he’s an ex-sabbat lasombra who’s attempting to navigate the political landscape of the camarilla for the first time. everyone wants him dead but he could really care less <3

[informaltorching]

OC Deep Dive: Vesper Tagged by (and dividers by) @diableriedoll as well as @hlozt Art by bugcouncil

What common/uncommon fear do they have? Most of Vesper's fears are rooted in his inability to have control of himself. He tried to die on his own terms and was embraced. The person he relies on the most has not only used disciplines and blood bonds to control him, but also stalked and to an extent groomed him when he was still human. He has a lot of difficulty trusting his own feelings, but tries desperately hard to have some sort of faith in others because what choice does he really have? He led a miserable and lonely life. - Only now has he found things to "live" for. He needs to keep what he loves safe. They need him. He cannot fail. ...But he is so scared he will.

Do they have any pet peeves? Pretentious theatrics when talking about something important. Do not doll it up. Get to the fucking point.

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom? Vesper moves between more than one haven. So his stuff is a little scattered around London, but you're likely to find (amongst all the packs of cigarettes and weapons): An assortment of drawings given to him by a vampire child. A shirt that says Stoned Henge. (A gift from Owen.) A watch that belonged to his father. (A gift from Amare.)

What do they notice first in a person? Do they have any decency? Do they listen or do they wait their turn to talk? Do they acknowledge others? How do they acknowledge them?

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure? (or freeze and fawn) Eerie Demonic chanting/whispering? Gather up your coterie (literally in your arms) and prepare. Possessed corpses ranting to you on moving tram? Wedge your body between them and your Owen and be ready. Tar like rain melting the roof of the car? Use your blood to cover everyone. Guy with a shotgun charging at your fellow combatants? Go for him. Fight. Fight. Fight.

What animal represents them best? Wolverines. The word wolverine means "Little Wolf". Its scientific name Gulo gulo means glutton. Fitting as a creature known for savagery and ferociousness - taking on wolves and bears if necessary. Vesper is that "little wolf". Hunting kindred in life. Fighting back against those "larger" than him in death. It is that ...and how wolverines eat and eat and eat. Vesper is not human. Underneath the parts of him that fight and strive for some vague concept of righteousness and morals is something else entirely. Something he desperately wishes to keep down. But it will always be there. Always quietly working against himself to not devour the very ones he swore to protect. "But no vampire is free of self-interest. The uncomfortable truth is that the Children hide their uncontrollable lust for diablerie behind a strict idea of right and wrong." - P. 156, Camarilla Vesper is no exception to this.

How would a stranger likely describe them?

Broody, quiet, polite...maybe shy. Honestly, not too differently from how anyone would. He is just...like that.

Do they have any hobbies? He likes sports, arguing with his girlfriend, and being laughed at by God.

Tagging: @crovvbaar , @kavalyera, @storyowls, and @porcelainseashore (idk who has been tagged but ik all of you have multiple ocs so >:D but no pressure )

[gorbalsvampire]

You know what I can't stand about VtM?

Camarilla apologism.

The Camarilla are monsters with rules, and they will use those rules to justify slavery and exploitation and abuse and control and murder, for ever. And people tell me these are the good guys. They're absolutely not. The Beast is sitting down at table and wearing a pretty dress and her table manners are ever so lovely and her dinner conversation sparkles, but you're still getting eaten alive. And you have to love it. They have made you love it. Nothing in their rulebook says they can't.

I have never actually run a Camarilla game. Not properly. I think it's because that level of authoritarianism makes me urge. It's weird, because I love Dark Ages Vampire with all my soul and those are the same rules, but Dark Ages Vampire doesn't have the "default sect" phenomenon, the expectation that you the players are going to be aligned with this side and therefore that's the right side because you the players are on it.

Woobifying the Sabbat and apologising for the Camarilla makes the real default protagonists of V1 - the Anarchs - even more toothless than they already are, burdened by their writers' failure to imagine a way out of the status quo (not blaming them for that, progressive politics are hard and it's only a bloody game, innit?). And as the game drifted more and more into Camarilla-as-default-vs-Sabbat-the-Anarchs-are-also-there... I don't know where I'm going with this, I was just confronted by the monstrosity of the Camarilla before I'd even had a cup of tea this morning and it's great horror but don't ever tell me they're the good ones. Don't you dare.

[mystickingstuff]

NY by Night's first season is legit my favorite. Of course I love season 2, but season 1's last episode is just a rollercoaster of amazing moments. From Fuego side-eyeing Rey when Isaac asked them to be polite in his sire's presence to their whole talk with Vaclav to their discussion about Reyes's shady deal with the Camarilla. Like, it's everything. Man, I miss that coterie SO MUCH.

*and I miss my ships, okay.

[inquisitor-of-hearts]

Escalate (7)

After some consideration Galeb decides to not follow the Beckoning. Hazel is quick to act and entrusts him with a new task for the Camarilla.

Spoilers for all of Vampire the Masquerade: Swansong.

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1,747

Link to Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

on Ao3

Heavy is the head that wears the crown Handed on a plate but I love the chase

You don’t wanna dare bite the hand that feeds ya

Galeb scoffed as he recognized the woman, his feral instincts calming.

“You’re not so delirious that your senses aren’t working anymore, good.” Emem mocked, the hint of a grin on her lips.

“What are you doing here? Who sent you?” His tone was professional, although with a sense of hostility in it.

“Sent me?” She tilted her head at him. “I am a lover of the fine arts as you know. And tea ceremony is one among them. I did not take you for a connoisseur though.”

“Why hide then if you’re not here on business?”

“Is it just me or are you more tense than usual tonight?” she questioned in a teasing manner, her voice a pitch higher. “Fine, so followed you. Got curious about your retainer, but didn’t want to make it too obvious. ”

“She is not my retainer.”

“Oh. Good to know.” Emem spoke softly.

He sighed, looking away. He should have known.

“Get out of my sight, Diva.” he commanded.

“Don’t worry, I’m gone already.” she yielded, nothing but thin smoke remaining in her wake.

Galeb pushed the elevator button and waited. Internally he cursed himself. She had not been here by chance, that much was obvious. He knew the Herald, just as well as he knew the Prince. It was nothing but praise and sweet reassurance that he could take as much time as needed, but in reality they had started to doubt him, they had become impatient; so impatient they had sent someone after him to watch his every move. Trust was indeed hard to come by. He could hardly believe that the Prince had started to question his moves. But to send Emem Louis? Stepping inside the cabin, he thought about her words, how she had seen him with his guard down. He snarled in disgust while the elevator descended. She must have been in the same room with them, he realized.

At his arrival in the lobby he walked towards Cyrene who got up from her seat at once. Together with his ghoul they walked to his car. After they had dropped her off, Galeb felt weakened. Once again he felt the hunger pangs, just like after every night he spent with her.

In the wake of their farewell he arrived at a luxurious hotel downtown. He had promised the Prince to drop by at an event that was held as a second attempt of the reunification party, although on a much smaller scale. Iversen had after all secured the blood trade with the Hartford Chantry, although the trust once given had eroded and some ties had been severed. As he knew her, these days she wanted to be rather safe than sorry.

“Looks like Siaka hasn’t come.” Emem casually remarked towards Hazel as they stood at a cocktail table. Her black suit presented a sharp contrast against her fair complexion. It gave the Prince an aura of dominance and fearlessness, especially given the fact that the other women around her were clad in more vibrant colours.

“Yes, he has-- … Galeb” Hazel’s gaze was drawn to the man who had casually approached them, her tone friendly and upbeat suddenly. “I’m very glad you could make it. I was almost worried.”

“As promised, my Prince.”

“I know you would never neglect your duties.” the Prince remarked, then stretched her hand out, pointing around the place in an inviting fashion. “Please, grab a drink. Enjoy yourself.”

“I come just to oversee things, as discussed. There’s no need to accommodate me.” he reassured.

“Oh come on now” Emem, still standing next to the Prince on the other side, rolled her eyes. But she spoke no further word as Hazel’s gaze met hers for a moment. It had the power to silence, after all. The Prince turned towards Galeb again.

“I’ve already given my speech. So far everything is under control. Not all of the members of the Chantry are here.”

“Precautions I would guess.”

“I would guess so too.” Hazel spoke with a certain disappointment in her voice, just short of a sigh. “In any case, enjoy yourself.”

“Thank you, my Prince.” Galeb knew it was no opportunity to talk business, at least not about his. These parties were for show. Influence, power, connections. Sometimes gossip. Who was he trying to convince -- it always involved gossip. Exchanging secrets that later could be used for some political agenda or another. It was not his game. Not tonight at least.

“Bazory. Glad you could make it.” April spoke as she approached the three, her face not showing any hints of a smile despite her almost affectionate tone. She leaned over towards the Prince, whispering something. Hazel nodded, setting her glass down on the tall table.

“I have something to attend to, but I will surely see you around later.” she announced and walked ahead. Both pairs of heels clicked against the glazed white floor that showed faint reflections of the two women walking off, leaving Galeb and Emem behind. He shot her a glance. The corners of her mouth creased slightly, her eyebrows raised expectantly. It was the kind of gaze that told him she was ready to hear him out but would not start a conversation. The man walked off wordlessly. There was no point after all.

He detested these parties. It was always the most decadent of the most decadent, and if not on open display like the vessel that was just close to being sucked dry on a nearby couch in the corner, then it was something even worse behind closed doors. Doors he did not want to open, not even peek into. But there had often been cases when it had been his duty. Out of politeness he had taken a glass when next to the prince, but he could not stand the concoction. On top of that, the decadent display of seemingly endless blood supply. At the next table that he passed, he put the glass down again, deciding to watch the room from a darker and more quiet corner. He was hungry of course. But the display of all the excess, the vessels infused with various drugs, no doubt prepared by Richard Dunham with deliberate precision, made his stomach churn. He was a really picky eater anyway, but had he not been, it would have still sickened him. At this kind of buffet the mere presence of the guests and their taste made him lose appetite.

He should have become used to it long ago. He was used to it. Something had changed. It made him thoughtful. He had tasted innocence, a sense of hope and purity for too long. It had tainted him in a twisted way, a way that could not stand the sight of these carefully prepared vessels anymore.

“Ah, Galeb. We were just talking about you.”

Speak of the devil. Richard Dunham caught him just when he was passing through the room.

“We?”

“Yes, the Prince and I. That reminds me, did you enjoy the vessel I prepared for you?”

Galeb was taken aback momentarily, remembering the night.

“But of course.” he answered automatically. Richard must have known he could not answer in any other way, given that it was a gift by the Prince. He also most have known that he could have not possibly refused. What he could not know and could merely suspect was that Galeb hated this unnatural charade. He preferred a clean hunt, albeit the time he took watching his prey was unusually long and strangely intimate at times.

Richard’s face remained unmoved and Galeb ran a hand through his hair in an impatient manner, unusual for him.

“I enjoyed the subtle traces of caffeine. Not too strong, just barely a kick.”

“Ahh, I knew you would.” Richard spoke triumphantly. “I was thinking if you ever come by the Red Salon, we could look for something more refined for you.”

“Thank you, Richard, that is very kind. But I’m quite busy at the moment.” he declined politely. Of course this was all politics. Richard tried to make himself useful, the new Red Salon had been decided to be a much smaller space. Funds were directed elsewhere after what had happened at the old location. Galeb knew all too well that if Richard found a way for him to approve of the Salon, he could convince the Prince of further funding of his research, which must have been proven increasingly difficult after the loss of Leysha. He could not blame Richard. The man just tried to get by doing what he deemed needed to be done.

“I understand. But all the more, I could offer something that is more refreshing during these trying times. When I heard about Xu Feng-- That must have been a difficult situation.”

Galeb’s features turned sour. He had hoped the topic would not be brought up anymore but it seemed the Doctor had different plans in mind; possibly even to rile him up on purpose.

“And I’m very sorry about Leysha. It must have been painful to lose her.”

“Oh well” Richard sighed now, “It might be for the better in some ways.”

Galeb remained unfazed but the Doctor’s tone carried some empathy, causing him to think that maybe he had misjudged him for a moment.

“Either way, I would be happy to see you at the new location when you can find the time.”

“I really do not think I will be able to make it.” Galeb declined politely. He had enough and decided to cut it short at last. “Regardless, thank you for the invitation and I wish you a pleasant evening.”

“Likewise.” Richard responded. “But Galeb, just one more thing -- if you ever need my help, or anything really, please. Do not ever hesitate to reach out.”

There was a softness around him, almost that of a whelp, that he was not used to seeing. It was becoming clear that he had lost influence in the Court.

“Of course, Richard.”

As he looked up, he saw Prince Iversen leave a secluded room, nodding towards Delsin who was guarding the doors. Discreetly she wiped the corner of her mouth, her lipstick remained slightly smudged. She shot Galeb a glance, a subtle grin on her lips before she disappeared behind a different door.

[milk-crafting]

Watching tumblr kill the quality on this even when it's not great in the first place is insane to me, but here we are

This is Rosin, a Lamia neonate who was embraced when she ran off to the woods (in Sequoia/King's Canyon National park because that's my fave hehe) in 1990. She was running away from a shitty relationship, planning on not coming back if you catch my drift, and was jump-scared by her sire-to-be. She fell down a cliff, hence all the scars, and her sire (who was an Autarkis and had planned on embracing her much more 'gently' than that) ran to the bottom to embrace her before she could bleed out.

Her sire, Beryl, lived in the national park with a Harbinger named Alessandro, staying in a couple different caves and old, long-abandoned cabins where the both of them could work on Allessandro's research away from the Camarilla and its political machinations.

Rosin would set out on her own after 20 years, and would join the Camarilla to find a sense of stability. She'd become a bodyguard for hire, a pit fighter, and an occult scholar. She's trained in Camarilla dueling, and uses a hunting knife that was a gift from her sire.

She's loyal to the Family first and the Camarilla second, and finds herself in San Diego currently, but she's bound to set off and travel somewhere else if the city doesn't have the purpose she's looking for in her unlife.

[chiss-ticism]

OC Deep Dive: Judith "Moody Judy" Margolis

🩸Brujah Antitribu. Pack Ductus. Convention of Thorns historian. Anarch infiltrator. Remover for the Black Hand. 🩸

I was tagged [three days ago now, lmao] by @kentuckycaverats. Tysm! 'twas very kind for you to include me :D

🎨Art masterfully drawn by @/crownedinmarigolds!! 🎨

💣 Judy's Main Post. 💥

what common/uncommon fear do they have?

Ghosts! - Camarilla elders? Manageable. - Lupines? Maybe not an easy fight, but manageable with sufficient enough preparation and cold bodies to put between you and them. - Antediluvians? When we get there. But ghosts? I find that the mental image of a battle-hardened, 'Know No Fear' 2x Death Cultist with a fear of ghosts brings me no small amount of joy 😌 "The fuck am I supposed to do against a Wraiths?" She sulks in the far flung recesses of my mind, malding about an explicable inability to punch or politic her way out of the problem.

do they have any pet peeves?

Brujah. The whole clan. Main clan, Antitribu. It hardly matters. Why? She despises the hot-headed, always-needs-to-be-in-charge, 'only I know the way forward'-ness of her broodmates. The Anarchs - helmed in no small part by arrogant ""philosopher kings"" who can't even agree on what it even means to be an Anarch beyond criticisms of the system as-is - are trying to play at the Jyhad two steps behind everyone else. The Antitribu are, by and large... how did Gehenna: Time And Judgement put it? "better suited to stabbing itself in the eye and setting itself on fire than... well, anything of actual value." Those seeking refuge within the gilded cage of the Camarilla aren't even worthy of a passing thought. You see, my friend, you simply have to follow the hot-headed death cultist who, none too dissimilar to an Evil Advisor™, humbly whispers in the ears of Barons and Anarch Councilmembers to get anything of value done! 😌

what are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

1.) A necklace infused with her sire's ashes. 2.) A three-ring binder full of rough drafts [speeches, dissertations on Cainite history, her attempts at learning other languages, etc.]. It only seems organized to her eye. 3.) A cardboard box overflowing with CDs from the late 90s to the early 2000s.

what do they notice first in a person?

How willing they are to underestimate their allies and opponents! She, in spite of genuinely enjoying the hallmarks of her aesthetic, also uses it as a litmus test for those who're unfamiliar with her positioning as a member of the highly vaunted [and/or feared, depending on who you are] Black Hand or even, simply, as a member of the Boogeyman that is the Sabbat. Dressing [and sometimes behaving] like Jesse Pinkman is not - in most situations - likely to command immediate respect. Do they presume her to be a rowdy neonate who is simply pushing her luck? Noted. Do they treat her with cautious apprehension? Curious...

on a scale of 1-10 how high is their pain tolerance?

I'd wager a solid 7-8, given: - She's dead. While only Ida - her Tzimisce Pack Priest - has completely deadened her nerves, being clinically dead has to count for something. - Black Hand training. - Black Hand training at the hand of Teresita "Godmother of the Damned", a Nosferatu Antitribu who claims residence in Mexico City. A relevant quote for you: "You call neonates and your Black Hand soliders "darling child" (niño querido) and similar endearments as you pinch cheeks, tidy their clothes, and crush the bones of anyone who fails you." [Mexico City by Night, p. 81] (Revised Edition sourcebook.)

do they go into fight or flight mode (or freeze or fawn) when under pressure?

Fight! I wish that I could attribute it to her being a Brujah but, no, she's always been like this. She's always been fond of biting people, too.

what animal represents them best?

A Pit Bull, I'd wager. Not Mr. Worldwide.👨‍🦲

how would a stranger likely describe them?

Knowledgeable. Arrogant. Malicious. Context - Obvious Predator [2 pt. Flaw, V20]: "Your innate Brujah rage always percolates below the surface no matter how hard you try to project an image of calm. Mortals find you intrinsically menacing, and instinctively fear you for the violence you promise to unleash."

do they have any hobbies?

Most of her time is spent tending to co-opting Anarchs or guiding her Pack, but when she has a moment to herself she prefers to spend it: - When the Sabbat has a High Holiday that involves re-enacting historical events or scenes from the Book of Nod, she loves to act as an advisor! - Learning languages. [albeit still in service to the Black Hand.] - Stockpiling of homemade explosives. - Refreshing herself on Cainite history. - Performing Pack Ritae with, well, her Pack. Those Lupines aren't going to dog-tag themselves! - She spends an inordinate amount of time at ""gentlemen's clubs."" 💃

[inquisitornocturn]

≪─ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍɪᴅɴɪɢʜᴛ: ᴄʜ. 15 - ɢʜᴏꜱᴛ ─≫

⋟ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sebastian LaCroix/f!reader the Ventrue neonate

⋟ ᴛᴀɢꜱ: y/n etc is not used, overall story rating - E, none for this chapter.

⋟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Needing to pursue the Nosferatu, you travel to Hollywood. You seek out Velvet Velour because of the tip from Bertram, but you find more than just information.

⋟ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3,240

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: This chapter was intended to deal with more, but it came to a natural end and I decided to leave the rest for a following chapter. It's a little shorter but hopefully not disappointing. Sebastian will return in the next chapter as well. Enjoy~

⋟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ʟɪꜱᴛ: [link] | on AO3 [link]

You slam the door behind you and don’t even look back when the taxi driver wishes you a good night and drives off. Looking in front of you, first you see a convenience store, then when your eyes sweep to both sides of the building you notice other businesses, most of them having dark windows and locked doors. Only makes sense at this hour, especially at Hollywood.

Hollywood. You’ve been here before, many times, just not exactly… here. Your visits consisted of skyscrapers, elaborate mansions that cost millions of dollars, expensive parties where one bottle of champagne or wine cost almost a yearly salary of a middle-class worker and the rest that comes from being rich, powerful and young: sex, drugs and political games.

Yet that past seems so distant to you now, like it happened not months but centuries ago. A life that belonged to someone else. Someone who is not a kindred or a so called Ventrue. Who is not a plaything to a spoiled vampire Prince or a pawn to those sitting in the Ivory Tower. Someone who was somebody before. Is that woman still alive, somewhere? In memories or in wills, in documents that you signed and contracts that you made. In deals that you shook hands over and fucked for, selling if not your soul then your body for more profit, for more power, for more influence. Do you still exist, as you were, or is that all gone? Forgotten, swept away like a pile of dirt by the corporate broom that has neither mercy or empathy for those who fall, disappear, vanish.

Are you any more free now than you were before? You had shackles before, you do have them now, just of a different kind. The shackles of hunger, the Beast, the Camarilla and… the shackles of your own, still very human, desires.

With a sigh you lower your head for a moment, feeling the hunger gnawing at you somewhere deep inside and far away despite the fact that you fed before leaving your apartment at Skylines. That hunger is always lingering, always just a whistle call away, like a monstrous animal ready to pounce upon you the moment you don’t pay enough attention. No, you can’t focus on that now. Neither the blood or the fact that you had an unpleasantly long time to ponder your strange, twisted existence while on the way here. Someone busted the tires of your car, again, and the taxi driver, for some reason, refused to turn on a radio, one thing that would’ve helped you drown out your thoughts.

“Watch it!” A man in semi-expensive sportswear runs his shoulder into yours, forcing you backwards and off the cerb where you almost lose your step. He doesn’t even look back at you while you try to momentarily find your balance and when you find your footing, the middle finger rises on its own.

“Fucker!” You yell, but the stranger doesn’t react even to that. Someone else passing by snickers and you lower your hand, feeling foolish and too emotional once again. Maybe Sebastian is right, maybe you’re not too far from a damned Gangrel with your temper.

Looking around once again, trying not to think what exactly is it that allows you to show your temper like this when before, in your mortal life, you were never so hotheaded or so angry, you try to remember what Tung’s text message said. Something about a strip club, so you pull out your phone and after few clicks on silicone buttons you bring up the singular sentence that the nosferatu deemed you worthy enough of receiving last night:

“Vesuvius, meet VV, she might know something.”

You only heard about VV, the Toreador that found her place here in Hollywood. Some suspect she’s Abrams’ childe, but the truth is that she has been adopted by him, just like you are going to be adopted by Sebastian. You wonder if the news spread here too, in the Anarch territory, but you can worry about that later. Only if you are confronted with such information, but if not, you are not going to be the one presenting the facts to the people who might as well become your enemies at the turn of heart.

Soft clicks of your heels on the concrete begin to give you more confidence the further you walk and thankfully you don’t need to wander the streets of Hollywood forever because the green, neon sign of Vesuvius appears quite quickly before you. The closer you draw to it, the louder music inside appears, yet when you push open the door – it’s not as deafening as you thought it will be.

At your entrance, the woman at the counter just glances at you and says nothing else, returning to read the pop culture magazine that you recognize only by name. Maybe because you’re not a man she sees no reason to accost you, shake you down for anything suspicious, or maybe she’s one of VV’s girls and knows a kindred when she sees one. Whichever the case is, you are glad not be forced into yapping needlessly. You have a suspicion that you will do this plenty while here.

Entering the main floor you see the usual. Countless strip clubs looks the same: scantily dressed young things, swinging their goods for the patrons that either haven’t seen a clean shirt in a week or have so much spare cash they don’t even see these girls as people. You also easily notice how Vesuvius is trying to look more high-class than what it actually is. The paint is peeling in places, the seats look worn from the scrubbing of cleaners and the stages look dull. You don’t feel good here.

Making your way through the club that you don’t expect to be any fuller than what it is on a Wednesday night, you try to find anyone who looks like they stand out. Or rather, you are looking for VV and if you know anything about Toreadors, which is not much, she should be the prettiest flower in this garden.

Approaching the main bar, you ignore couple patrons who are trying to cheese the bartender out of cheaper drinks and then stop in your tracks. Out of the doorway to the right of the bar a figure emerges. Voluptuous and alluring like a sin wrapped in silken ribbons. Woman’s hair is bright red and her lips match the color. The lingerie she’s wearing leaves almost nothing to the imagination, the top pushing her breasts up like two pale mounds that countless people, you are sure, wish to climb. Her thong strings are hiked up high over her hip bones and stockings only add to the sensuality of her visage, all topped off with tasteful heels and a choker.

This must be VV.

You walk towards her and the woman does not seem surprised to see you. In fact, she smiles with the most welcoming yet seductive smile you’ve seen, and you’ve seen some high-class escorts in your previous life.

“Ah, you must be the famous fledgling, are you not? I knew you will find your way to my club.” VV begins and you smile to her in return.

“VV, I presume? Yes, it is me. Mind if we speak somewhere private?” Your eyes involuntarily turn to the closest patron, a man in black shirt on a bar stool. He doesn’t look like he’s paying attention, but you don’t want to take any chances. Any risk of breaking the Masquerade makes your muscles tense.

“So eager to have me all to yourself, sweet thing?” With a chuckle VV draws your attention back to her and you can clearly envision just how many mortals she enchants exactly like this. “Very well, I have been meaning to talk to you as well. Follow me.”

Turning on her silver heel, the Toreador walks back through where she emerged and you are having a hard time trying not to stare at her pale, round ass, swinging seductively right in front of your face, as if VV is climbing the stairs as slow as possible on purpose. You clear your throat, your cheeks begin to burn if not with a real blush then at least with the memory of being so flustered, and you try to keep your eyes to the ground, but it’s almost impossible.

Where Velvet leads you appear to be her private ‘dancing’ room. There’s a small tub, a pole, comfortable couch that looks much better than the ones downstairs. She gestures for you to sit, but you just shake your head.

“I’ll pass.”

“If you prefer to do it standing, I can fulfill that wish. And… many others.” She smiles and puts hands on her hips, pushing her chest out. “So, little Camarilla snack, what can I do for you?” VV gives your figure a long, slow one-over and you swallow dryly.

“I heard that you might have information where nosferatu have tucked themselves away?” You fight yourself to keep your eyes on VV’s, but her breasts keep enticing you like a siren call. VV herself seems not to mind your staring one bit. Instead she chuckles and steps a little closer, her slender finger adorned with crimson painted nail, pushes your chin up and forces you to meet her heavy-lidded gaze.

“Did you now? And who exactly told you this, hm?” She speaks in a voice as rich and smooth as velour. How fitting. You wonder if she truly is trying to seduce you or is it just how she is.

“Doesn’t matter.” You politely push her hand away and VV pretends to pout for a little bit, then she chuckles.

“Unfair. How about this, honey buns, you give me information, I give you information.”

“Does that mean you do actually know where nosferatu are?”

“Maybe. But…” She sighs and for a moment the act drops, Velvet’s smile disappears and she crosses arms under her heavy chest, pushing her breasts up even more. You swallow again. “Seems you have come here knowing who I am and knowing what I might know. If you do me a favor, I will share with you what I know.”

“A favor.” You echo and frown, seductive charms dissipating like cigarette smoke in the night air. “You want me to do some dirty job for you and I don’t even know if you are not bluffing.” You mirror VV subconsciously, folding your arms as well and she smirks at you.

“Let’s speak plainly then.” Velvet begins and you see the apex predator in her at last. Beneath the charms, the undress, the words, there she is – the vampire, huntress of the night and much more experienced than you are. “I don’t know where nosferatu are, but Isaac does. Help him, he will help you.” The woman pauses and taps one perfectly lacquered finger against her painted lips. “It is most curious that you didn’t go to him first though, I’m sure those have been your orders?”

You can’t mistake the taunting in the Toreador’s voice and try to keep yourself cool, relaxed, at ease. Being honest with yourself, you didn’t expect her to taunt you, try to provoke you, but you probably should have.

“Yes, those have been my orders. However, I would prefer not to deal with him.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“I don’t believe he would be very much willing to share what he knows without, just like you, sending me on million errands first.” Your smile is bitter and VV’s eyes narrow at that, but she keeps the smirk on her lips.

“So you’re trying to cut corners with me. Clever, little morsel, very clever.” At last Velour seems to relax a little bit and waves her hand as if trying to make a point. “Unfortunately, you will still have to talk to Isaac. But I have other information that could serve you and your dear, dear Camarilla. Only if you do that one, little, teensy, tiny thing I asked of you.” The seductress returns and you slowly exhale, your shoulders slump and you accept defeat. It’s always like that. Anyone with one rung on the ladder above you feel like they can send you around doing their dirty work.

“Just tell me.”

You only half-listen to VV detailing and lamenting some sort of amateur script writer and how he is most likely working with a kindred to write his latest horror flick or something. You nod and agree to help her, if not for Velvet’s own benefit, then for one of the Camarilla. You’re about to turn away and head out, when something snaps you out of your thoughts that already drifted to how you are going to deal with Abrams.

“You know, I went through adoption myself.” She says and you stop, then turn halfway to her, your eyes fixating on VV’s and you see mischievous sparks in them. “Very much like yourself, don’t you think?”

“And what exactly do you mean?” You’re aware that your voice sounds harsher than you intend, but that doesn’t appear to perturb VV in the slightest. She just chuckles and taps her bottom lip just like she did earlier.

“Oh the entanglements with Sires, or would-be-Sires.” Leaning slightly in your direction, Velvet narrows her eyes in an expression that is full of smugness. “Do you think Prince really wants you?”

You try your best to school your emotions, not to show that her question caught you off-guard and poked a sensitive spot, but you know that she noticed. You know that she’s aware just how much this little probe rattled you. Clearing your throat, you turn to her fully once again and rise an eyebrow, tapping into your defiant nature like it’s your sword and armor.

“Why would he suggest adopting me if he didn’t.”

“Maybe he just likes putting reigns on the fiery ones. Or shutting them up. In more ways than one.”

Good Lord, you wish you could wipe that smug smirk off her face, but you just momentarily clench your jaw and offer a smirk in return.

“Just like you have been by Abrams?” You think this will hit the sensitive spot in VV as well, but you clearly are wrong because she just laughs.

“Yes, exactly like that. Don’t be ashamed, sugar plum, we all want power. If we don’t have our own, we borrow it from others, by any means necessary. But-“ She straightens her back and looks away, to the stripping poll, then back at you. “I do not judge you, just so you know. Let’s stay good, good friends, okay?” Biting her bottom lip, VV appears like she’s undressing you with her eyes alone and you can’t help but chuckle.

“Take care, VV. I will come back with that script you wish for.” When your back is turned to her, you hear her parting words, but don’t look at the Toreador again.

“Your adoption is big news, you know. Be careful out there, you don’t know on who’s toes you might be stepping, my love.”

You walk out.

With your thoughts reeling like a hamster’s wheel, you barely notice how you make it down the stairs, across the club and outside, into the not-so-fresh Hollywood’s night air. Paranoia gnaws at you for a moment, VV’s words haunting you like shadows of the past and you quickly look around, almost expecting to see a glow of vampiric eyes or a barrel of a gun aimed at you. Maybe even a stake launched in your direction. But there’s nothing. Some late night strollers and hookers is all you see around.

You need a break, you know it.

Letting out a tired sigh, you rub the bridge of your nose, trying to regain your composure. Trying to regain the sense of self. Focus on your tasks, you remind yourself, focus on your goals. But then, a familiar voice calls your name and your head snaps up in attention. You glance around and immediately notice a figure rushing towards you. The closer it gets, the more your unbeating heart sinks. It’s one face you were hoping to never see again.

Samantha.

“Oh my God, it is you!” She rushes from the restaurant entrance and you nearly reel back from the woman, but stand your ground. You knew this day might come, one where someone from your past runs into you, yet you are not sure just how ready you are to deal with this. “Everyone’s so worried about you! What happened? You just vanished after that last party! You know what, nevermind, let’s just go, I will call the others, we have been looking for you for so long!” Samantha reaches to take your elbow but you step aside and avoid her touch, making the woman look at you with concern. “What… happened to you?” She asks again but this time her voice sounds sad.

“I cannot talk. Whatever it is you thought you knew about me – forget it.” With a frown you look at her and Samantha gives you an even more worried look.

“What do you mean, forget it?” She then changes her mind and tries to get a hold of your arm again. “Let’s go, whatever happened, we will help.”

You avoid the touch again and noticing some people walking in your direction, begin to feel the rising panic. You need to shut her up, before she causes the scene and possibly gets you both killed.

“Samantha, look at me.” You demand and the woman is clearly about to take out her cellphone, but now she rises her dark eyes which show nothing but concern and confusion. “You will walk away and forget seeing me. You will never come here looking for me again. You won’t let others to look for me either.”

The fount of your power increases your hunger when you tap into it, but you can worry about it later. Kine are getting closer and you are not sure if your attempt even worked, but at last Samantha’s shoulders relax and she looks dazed, like she’s experiencing a dream.

“I won’t ever… come… looking for you…” With a slow drawl the woman replies and you sigh slightly with relief. So it did work. Glancing around you at last see that it’s just a prostitute with some John and then look back at Samantha.

“Go now, leave. Don’t ever come back.”

Samantha’s head bobs on her shoulders for a moment, then she nods, even her actions betraying her dream-like state, and at last this shadow of your past departs. Slowly, step by step, the woman you once called a friend walks away and out of your life. For her sake you hope permanently. The couple pass you without even giving you a second glance and you exhale with relief. Crisis averted, Masquerade protected. For now.

Yet as you watch Samantha disappear into some side street, the reality of what just happened threatens to come crushing down. Your past, your present, the hunger, the vampires, the fragile balance between your world and hers. No, you can’t allow yourself to sink into these musings, you know they will only make you miserable. So you shake your head, roll your shoulders and exhale in a self-soothing attempt.

Focus. Proceed. Seek.

Abrams. You need to see Abrams after all.

And you still have enough time to do just that tonight.

[jenofthefar]

Started playing Vampire the Masquerade recently and I don't know where this game has been all my life! I'm having so much fun it!

Here's my character, a Toreador of course, his name is Maurice Louviere. A French actor of the Stage and Screen, who has found his way to New Orleans and got himself caught up in a strange political game with some Kindred of the Camarilla

If you're a VtM player and like this, my commissions are open if you would like a portrait of your own dastardly Vampire! You can find my price list pinned at the top of my page and my DMs are always open for enquiries 😊