(IC) World of Darkness: Hunter RP

[Mστh]

George looks in surprise.

"What wait no, I meant cruiser as a general navy ship term. It's not a cruiser classed ship, it's class is a corvette, they're basically like patrol boats, just a little larger. I'm not insane - yet - and I highly doubt the U.S. Navy would sell one of those to civvies even without the armament. Here, take a look,"

George slides a docket over towards Ted.

A picture:

Spoiler

"She's not massive enough as to attract attention. With the main armament stripped out you'd never even had known she used to be a warship. Now, she served in the Second World War, participated at the Battle of Midway, and was built in Great Britain and then shipped off to the United States Navy as part of the reverse lend-lease program in payment for other goods given to the UK. After the war she was brought back to the states, served until 1951 as a patrol boat, and then after that was decommissioned and served as a museum right here in Seattle, though the US Navy still owned her. Well, as part of the recent Presidential administration the Navy received some budget cuts, and when finances were audited to see where they could save money they found out that she really wasn't doing all that well as a museum, and would better be sold."

"They refurbished her hull and replaced the engine, and was planning on selling her to the Greece Navy as a reconnaissance vessel as a result of their recent issues with Turkey over islands in the Aegean, until the whole... y'know... recession thing in 2008. After that deal fell through, they stripped out the armament and decided to auction her off. I purchased her at a discount, using nearly over half of the cash I've, err, collected and stockpiled - over the years. Sometimes, some of the creatures you hunt have very expensive and lucrative items in their homes. But funding yourself a lesson for another day."

"Now, with crew, back in the Second World War she could be crewed with a skeleton crew of eight if she had to. However, with modern computational systems, and navigational computers, that eliminates a large workload. All we really need is a man on the wheel, a man on the engine, a man on support/lower deck duty, and finally a coordinator. In short: a captain, a first mate, a bosun, and a boatswain. Four people. Anything extra would be exactly that - extra. That's it.

She's also going to be docked most of the time, I don't expect us to constantly be on the move."

"Now - further questions?"

 

[TorontoReign]

Hell why didn't you say all of that in the first place?

Caleb smiles.

OOC: Had to get my last word in.

 

[TheGM]

Ted chuckles a bit.

Does that mean we have to get one of those little hats with an anchor on it for Melvin to wear?

Ted takes another sip of coffee before putting the cup down, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

Now I can only guess how long you've been out in the wild hunting these freaks but you may have lost a bit of perspective about how things work these days. 20 years ago this wouldn't even gets us a glance from the Coast Guard as long as you weren't sailing in circles. Nowadays DHS will be all over our ass in the name of fighting the war on terror, especially this close to the border. I've been on enough task forces to see how this works. We need to get our story straight. We can't claim commercial since Customs will want to search us at some point...which I think we all can agree would be a bad idea. So we say we are monitoring saline effects on the coast line wild life...lot of big words, the bigger the better. file for a bullshit grant. don't need to get it, doesn't even need to be legit just something to make us look legit enough when some bureaucrat glances at us. And also I used to own a fishing boat to get drunk on memorial day weekend and drop bottles into the long island sound so do expect the coast guard to show up every now and then to shine lights at us, gives them something to do and make themselves feel special.

 

[Mστh]

George puts out his finished smoke, immediately lighting a new one after. The group is beginning to see why he got lung cancer...

Hell as for ship size, there's yachts that are larger than our ship. I'm sure we'll do fine in that regard. We just needed a ship large enough to fit all our equipment in, and that could accommodate us as a proper home. Remember: we're going to be living in this for the foreseeable future.

But yes - you're correct. We need a backstory, because you being my four kids that came out to work the docks with me during the recession is fucking stupid and anyone with a brain would be able to see through that a second after taking a look at us - even if we try to play the "terminally ill old man needs help" card.

Now - the way I see it, we've got two cover stories that we can make a reliable back story out of.

We're either coastal sea fishermen... and by outfitting our ship with a bit of gear we can pull that off. We don't have to use, it just has to be there for looks.

Or, as Ted suggested, we're aquamarine biologists, and we came here to study the ecosystem of the olympic coast coral reef off the shore of Washington state.

Either/or will work for a backstory in which we need to move around a bit.

 

[TheGM]

Ted smiles as he lights up a post breakfast cigarette.

Well Mister Coast Guard, Me and my Boy here *pats Caleb on the shoulder* decided to help my old man finally catch The Big One, as you can tell from the size of the boat he's a fucking monster. Bite your goddamn head off he will.

 

[Mστh]

"That's the spirit," George quipped. "We're hunting sharks in the water, alright. Mean enough to chew through your damn neck, just ask my son."

"Now... she used to be named the Temptress. It's a fitting name, but I figured I'd see if anyone else here had any other ideas."

 

[Alphons]

Melvin scratches his cheek, looks at the group and finally speaks.
I know it's cheesy, but how about something from the mythology? Diana for example is a Roman goddess of the hunt.

 

[Mστh]

George points at Melvin with his two forefingers, a cigarette clutched in between.

"No, that's pretty good. Either Diana or her Greek equivalent - Artemis. Both were revered hunters in mythology, and often hunted mythological beasts. That's definitely one option. Any other choices, or is everybody in agreement with Diana/Artemis?"

 

[TorontoReign]

Spoiler

"I've always been fond of the moon. I vote Artemis. Nice pick Melvin."

Caleb puts his arms around Melvin giving him a bear hug.

 

[Mστh]

Well then - if no one has any objections, our new ship shall be the SS Artemis.

OOC: Went to sleep (for like 14 hours jesus almost slept through work) - woke up, didn't see any posts so I'm assuming that indeed, no one has objections

 

[Mστh]

"Well, alright then." George states, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

"Let's move on t-"

Suddenly, a howl rings out.

George looks over towards the cell, and popping his smoke into his mouth.

It's dimensions are nearly that of a phone booth, just a little bit larger. It's made of military grade fiber glass, reinforced on the sides with heat treated steel. At the bottom is a grating with holes in it. Underneath that grating, beneath that holes, are large pilot lights connected a latch on the side of the cell - which has a furnace underneath. On the sides of the cell, embedded in the steel girders are UV light bulbs.

"Looks like our guest is awake. Perfect timing." George says and he gets up from the meeting table in the center of the warehouse.

As over the group walks over to the cell, George presses a button on the side of the cell, momentarily lighting the UV bulbs, harshly burning the Nosferatu in the cell as he screams and writhes in pain.

"Don't make me say it." George points to a sign near the cells.

The Sign: Screams are loud. Do not do them.

George pulls up a stool from the nearby chemistry work table and takes a seat.

"Now - first thing I want to know," George says, lighting a new cigarette. "Is how you managed to find a nice, cushy life style in a goddamn Seattle sub urban mansion while the rest of your clan, Clan Nosferatu - that's correct blank, we know what you are - is forced to hide in the sewers, scurrying around in every dark shadow in every abandoned place beneath the Earth lest your very appearance reveal the existence of your kind. Your own brethren forbid you from revealing yourself to humans because of your twisted appearance"

"And so, while the rest of your clan move in society freely, those of the Nosferatu bloodline are forced to remain in the shadows, hidden away. What I want to know is - how did you manage to live such an extravagant life in a mansion while your kind are condemned to live in the sewers, in caves, in musty old basements. You must be a big shot in Clan Nosferatu. So tell me blank. Who are you really?"

"Fuck you shitbeard - I won't break the Masquerade."

"That's unfortunate." George pushes the same button once again, this time holding it for just a little bit longer. The others can see the pure delight reflect in George's eyes at watching the beast squirm and writhe in pain.

"The fun thing about these bulbs, is that I made sure not to buy too high of a wattage. Oh no, they're just right. I can hold this button down for an hour before you crisp, and I'd enjoy ever second of it. Now - listen. You've been captured by hunters. You're already dead in the eyes of your overall community, blank. So - you tell us what we want to know, and we'll release you." George eyes the furnace lever carefully, before pulling his eyes back to the beast. "It'd be easy to convince them that you escaped, killing us all in the process."

"So, let's start with a simple question. What generation are you?"

"Fuck. You."

George sighs, taking a drag on his cigarette.

OOC: The rest of the group is participating in the interrogation. You can ask a question of your own, however you'll have to make a roll against your charisma in the process.

 

[TorontoReign]

OOC: Rolled 10 with Charisma of 3.

"Tell us about the names on the list and we might even give you a snack."

 

[Mστh]

OOC: 10 - 2 = 8. Failed Roll.

The Nosferatu looks at Caleb.

"How about you stick your neck in here first, and then I tell you? Maybe an arm? Don't be shy, I'll even take a leg."

OOC: You can go again if you want, before we stop to wait for the others to ask a question. Ted would probably do well here.

 

[TheGM]

While George and Caleb talk with the Vampire, Detective Stozak has been reading a file, glancing up every now and then but immediately returning to it. Caleb jumping right to the book gets a slight head shake from Ted. after the quip about Caleb putting his leg in there is a few moments of silence. Then Ted begins to speak.

Ok let's see here. James LeMont. do you prefer James, Jim, Jimmy? You look like a Jimmy. Ok Jimmy let's see here. Jimmy you live at.....Jimmy you work at....

Detective Stozak lists off a bewildering long list of benign information. every so often he takes a sip of coffee or drag from a cigarette, sometimes he pauses for minutes at a time flips through the pages on his folder. he starts to do a brief recounting of what happened at the house. he now nears the end of that encounter.

....and right here Jimmy is were I....*flips a page and begins to scan left to right*....let's see, I uh shot you right in the head. So while you were laying the ground with a couple holes right in your melon, Jimmy, we had a look around the house there. We found your little set up in the basement. I keep hearing the words cows and blood farm in relation to a set up like that. Honestly it looked like a chicken farm. Are you a chicken farmer Jimmy? Are you the Colonel Sanders of Vampires? is that how that works?

Ted leans forward and clasps his hands together on the the table.

Honestly all that right there is enough of a reason some of us here need to drive railroad spikes through your testicles. *Motioning with his head to the direction of Bob* and that is just going a little to far in my opinion. But my partner here says you're fucked, you messed up and you got caught. You went from the penthouse to the gutter, back to gutter is that it? I'm sure one of you, looking the way you do, that you had to work your ass off to get where you were and now do the rules it is all gone. We may have found you out, but you've been hiding in the open for all these years, Why now? You should ask yourself that right now. Why Now. So answer some simple questions for us here James. What Generation are you. How did you you rise above all your fellow clan members to get a better life... and is there someone who doesn't like you running in their social circle?

(OOC: Charaisma rolled 16 + 1)

 

[Mστh]

OOC: Roll Result - Success.

The Nosferatu begins to chuckle.

"I like you - Ted, was it? I knew a Ted once, great guy. Dead now. But listen, Ted, I'm a salesman, a businessman. So there's going to be a little give and take here. So, what was it you wanted to know?"

The Nosferatu scratches his chin with his long, spindly clawed finger and thumb.

"Ah, yes. Generation. I'm an 9th Generation Cainit-" he stops himself. "Excuse me, 'vampire'. As for how I've landed myself in the lap of luxury- well. Contrary to shitbeard's belief here," he nods towards George "I never did dwell in the gutters. Now, it is true that most of my Clan's bloodline, Nosferatu, are forced to such despicable living situations, living in sewers and feeding from rats because of our appearance, I never lowered myself to such disgusting lengths. I however, was rich before I was embraced by my sire."

The Nosferatu continues,

"I've been around for far longer than any of you- including the old man shitbeard here, as hard as that may be to believe. I was embraced in Orléans, France, in 1927. Before then, while the rest of the world had been hit by the Great Depression, I had made my fortune through a rifle and munitions factory my family owned, selling weapons and ammunition to the French and British governments during the First World War. I've always been of a higher class than you peasant filth, and I saw no reason to stop that after I was embraced. I had agreed to be embraced - immortality was an enduring prospect and I always knew I was better than you lowfolk anyways, so I claimed my birthright and became a Cainite willingly."

At this, George's eyebrows furrow and he lets loose a quiet gripe. His eyes reflect hate.

"Unfortunately what I didn't know is that due to how vampiric bloodlines and clans work, I would take on the same gruesome appearance as my sire, who was as well a Nosferatu. I simply opted to stay out of public sight, having ghouls and servants do my bidding for me when interacting with the public. Usually, personally feeding is beneath me- though I will admit," the Nosferatu points to Ted.

"You DID taste GREAT. My business these days is no longer weapons of war, but rather I buy and sell cattle globally. I believe those were your first questions?"

The Nosferatu leans forward.

"And now, the first ones free - sweetmeat. What are you going to give me for the rest?"

OOC: Any reply to get information from here will need a further charisma roll.

 

[TheGM]

(OOC Rolled a 20 + 1)

Ted leans back in his chair. nodding.

Well what would I could do right now is to ask you to stop spouting all this bullshit.

The Vampire's eyes grow wide while Stozak's grow sharp.

There are a couple half truths in there. 1927 is probably correct, little over 80 years but I'm guessing in bloodsucker years that makes you some punk kid, is that what you are? A Punk? Acted like a Punk back at the mansion. Sure as shit screamed like a Punk when I shot you in the face.

Ted rubs his forehead while the Vampire stares indignantly.

It is all a big act with you. The masks, hiding. pretending to be things you aren't. You play dress up and like to act but I think you are a poser. You act how you think a rich person would act. probably worked on people who were scared shitless of you. But the second he *points at Caleb* opened his mouth you lost your cool. That sounds like something Trash would do. Were you monied? New Money maybe. Or were you some back swamp bootlegger smuggling hooch who took a wrong turn into something really sinister and came out the other end looking like a hairless burnt dog. Is that it? You used your smuggling money to buy yourself a seat at the big boys table and have been using those skills for decades.

Stozak stands up at this point.

So how about you start telling the fucking truth. Like what really is going on and what is the deal with the names in that book or I could have George here turn on his Lite Brite Ten Thousand.

 

[Mστh]

[OOC: Roll Result - Critical Success]

"Oh ho ho, the balls on this one! You picked a good one here, shitbeard! You've got a mouth on you for such a lowborn cattle."

George walks away momentarily to go get a cup of coffee and another cigarette out of his pack. As he walks away, the group can hear him slightly mumble under his breath, "...waste of our goddamn time..."

The Nosferatu however, continues. "That the same mouth that screamed and cried as I bit into your neck? We both know your little friends had to weaken me before hand, you would be dead meat, as all kine eventually are. Because that's what you are, kine. Prey. Cattle. You can hunt, and kill as much as you want, but the Camarilla play your entire society like puppets on strings."

The vampire leans in closer to the glass. "Your kind are just livestock. That's it, I'm sorry. It's just the way of things. No matter what you do, mortals are just... meat."

He leans back, and lets a moment of silence pass. "Of course, there is a way out. The only way out, is the Embrace. So- if you want liberty... well... I can give it to you." He beckons with the pale skin of his hand, long spindly fingers ending in thick sharp blackened nails as strong as bone.

"Yes, I can give you freedom. Eternal life. Freedom - for freedom. We are the children of Cain, and our manifest destiny is to rule. And listen, I like you. Fair's fair. You did beat me. I'll even tell you what you want to know. In that book, my black book, are the names and prices of kine which I've had captured and then sold off the world over, from Russia, to Europe, to China, to North America. At the end of the book are purchasers... customers."

He continues. "So, I want to extend the offer. Why don't you join us?"

He laughs a ghoulish laugh, noticing George is out of ear shot. "Come on. The old man would never expect it. Not that he can't be forced to join as well. Oh, I'm being serious. Immortality. Supremacy. A new family. Or would you rather spend the rest of your life living out of some shitty rat infested Second World War tub that even the Navy didn't see fit to serve as a fucking museum anymore? Purge your degenerate human filth, and live as your forefathers did!"

He leans in as close as possible, locks the white orbs in his skull he calls eyes with Ted.

"So what do you say? Are you in... or are you - out?"

 

[TheGM]

(OOC: Charisma Rolled 18+1)

That offer might hold some water if it came from somebody other than you, honestly from what I've seen I'm not that impressed, Jimmy. You haven't done anything I haven't seen before. You had women chained up in your basement, Seen it. You drank people, I knew a guy who ATE people. You aren't the only monster I've been in a room with. And with all your powers and mind tricks you even said it, you got beat by little ol' me, a washed up old man took down a creature of the night.

Detective Stozak smirks a bit while doing his best power stance.

So this is how this works, you start naming names of compadres because right now we could be going in circles until the sun comes up and I don't think you would like that. So we want details, names, dates, who, what, where, when. because Washington state might not have the Chair, but it is sure as shit has a Tanning Booth.

(OOC: I want to roll perception on the state of the vampire. rolled 9+4)
(OOC: thank you for reading another Ted Talk)

 

[Alphons]

Melvin heads to another room to crack the hard drive on his laptop.
I hope they didn't put any malware on it...
OOC: Rolled 11 + 3 from INT + 2 from CN= 16

 

[Mστh]

OOC: For Melvin - Roll Result - Success.

You hook up the necessary connections to scan through the hard drive. A password comes up, but with skill gained through years of performing such routine tasks you crack it easily within minutes using a codebreaker program you coded and designed yourself. Booting in safe mode and running through command prompt, you begin to comb through the hard drive.

Spoiler

Microsoft Windows [Version 7 04.0.34193]
(c) Microsoft Corporation. All Rights Reserved.

> C:\Users\Monty>
> Chkdsk /c

Scanning...
15031 Files. All drives working.

You realize combing through this might take awhile...

About an hour and a half later, you've come up with a few things of note. One is a digital diary that was being written using Notepad. You quickly skimmed through it, realizing it's long. The bastard's been documenting every detail of his life and business for the past two years, which is how old the hard drive is. Skimming through you read a few notes on his interactions with Seattle's "high society". Something about a possible Masquerade breach... and here, finally something interesting.

The two women found in the basement. The one whom you released was apparently a Russian woman who was abducted from St. Petersburg about a month ago, apparently LeMont is very picky about the blood he consumes and required specifics, such as young age, they must be healthy and not be diseased, come from middle or upper class backgrounds, or "healthy stock" as he puts it. Apparently, she was meant to replace his previous personal captive used as cattle, who had developed a form of blood poisoning.

Reading through the diary further, it appears you saved that Russian woman from a rather gruesome fate. In order to keep his captives subdued and docile he has several procedures performed on them, such as the removal of various organs. Finally, a form of lobotomy is performed on them rendering them effectively brain dead, as to which afterwards they are strung up from the ceiling with some IV tubes stuck in them, some for drawing blood while others for feeding the comatose body nutrition to keep it alive. Pretty grizzly shit.

Reading further on, you find information about the other captive. The one George had Caleb kill, then burned their body in the basement. Apparently, she's US native. Born and raised in California, she was captured and then forcefully embraced by James. What's interesting though is that James clearly states in his diary that he didn't receive permission from the Camarilla to embrace her, and that she was to be kept a secret from the overall vampire society in Washington. Apparently he was planning on using her as a spy of sorts, someone who could do things his human and ghoul servants couldn't. He notes that because of his bloodline she too would have been a Nosferatu, noting that he would also have to keep her hidden from society as well.

Skimming through the last of it, you take note of something interesting. Notably the mention of the "Prince". You're not sure what is entails to, and LeMont never mentions an actual name in his journal. All that is mentioned of the Prince is his ties to the local area of Seattle and the surrounding towns, called a "Barony" in the journal.

Other than that, you come up on some information of someone who is a confirmed vampire, from what the journal reads, and they're very close by. Victoria St. John, a woman who owns a night club in downtown Seattle.

* * * * *​

OOC: Ted's Second Roll Result - 13 - Mild Success.

Studying the Nosferatu closely, you can gather from him a few things. First, he appears to be in distress that his plan of convincing Ted and possibly the others to turn on George did not work out so well. One thing Ted notes however though is that while that may have put him under some stress, he also now seemingly has realized this won't end well for him, either way.

OOC: Ted's First Roll Result - 19 - Success.

After Ted finishes speaking, he leans back in defeat.

"You have the book, and you know what the names are for. I'll give you one last piece of information, and then you'll get nothing from me." he says as George returns with a cigarette and cup of coffee.

"Many of the names in the back of the book are those you seek. Who is which, that you'll have to figure out for yourselves. But there are several here... right here in Washington."

"Huh. Well, I'll be damned." George says, looking surprised. "That's some damn fine work detective. I suppose we'll have to have a look at that book and see who's closest. And then - well, then the hunt begins. Now, if you're finished here, I'll say we've had this dirty bastard in our cell for long enough, and the movers are coming here in a few hours. There will be some things they can't see. So, if you're done chatting with your pal here..." George leans a hand on the furnace switch.

"Heh. I know I'm already dead, but so are you folk. Now that I'm missing the rest will know that hunters are here in Seattle. And then from there it'll only be a matter of time..."