Richard shut the door behind him and breathed a mental sigh of relief. As he walked across the Persian rug, his step light and careful, his Primogen fell in beside him, but did not speak. The two walked quietly and respectfully out of the mansion.

Outside, a car waited. Richard opened the back door for his senior, and got in the front passenger seat. The car drove off, and in the back the sounds of hushed conversation as the Ventrue Primogen discussed some business deal or other on a mobile telephone.

Ten minutes later; he spoke.

[i:b1ddc0ddcf]"Well, boy, what did she have to say?"

"Not much really, sir. Mostly a wrist slap for what happened. I assued her it wouldn't happen again, and of course, my actions were purely in defence of our clan."

"Hmmm, very well. I understand what happened there was between you and her Majesty..."[/i:b1ddc0ddcf]

The two spoke fluently, fully aware that the vehicle they drove in was probably bugged, and the driver almost certainly beyond loyal to the Prince.

[i:b1ddc0ddcf]"However, I must make my own opinions hear, as your Primogen of course..."

"Of course..."

"What you did was, whilst honourable, bloody stupid. Insulting someone of DuMonte's status like that was asking for trouble. Our two clans are enjoying a venerable period of peace. Such events are a trifle too close to a breach. I know my words fall on reasonable ears, Richard, but I must emphasise them, nonetheless."

"I fully understand, Sir."[/i:b1ddc0ddcf]

The Ventrue replied with indifferent agreement. His attitude perfected to a state of obediance with an undercurrent of nonchalence.

Here the conversation ceased, and the car drove onwards to its destination. The abode of the Ventrue Primogen, where by now the entirity of the clan should be awaiting for their weekly assembly.

Richard scowled as the driver lit up a cigarette. Though the smoke was harmless enough to him, the odour held too many bad memories for him. He momentarily lapsed into one of those memories, getting as far as a prison cell, back when air had been vital to him; but fortune smiled, and drove him from a waking nightmare into the courtyard of his clans Primogen.

[i:b1ddc0ddcf]"Shall we, Richard?"[/i:b1ddc0ddcf]

The clan leader stood outside the car, with a text-book look of impatience.

[i:b1ddc0ddcf]"Yes, sorry Sir..."[/i:b1ddc0ddcf]

Of a sudden, the younger Ventrue really needed to feed. Sweet blood... Yet, he knew it to be impossible. He had been restricted from feeding for two nights - he found it hard enough in such a place at the best of times; he decided the Prince was being spiteful, with there being lots of celebrities in town this weekend for some Film Premiere, his desired vessel would be in abundance, but no luck.

He walked behind the Primogen, following him up the steps and into the impressive household. As they entered the foyer, he nodded to his clan-mates scattered around. Each in their own conversations and business deals. Richard was by no means old, compared to his Primogen and the senior clan members, he was a newt; but of the dozen or so Ventrue in the Amsterdam principality, he was older than most.

Age, however, did not concern Richard; but the personality of those he mixed with. As a rule, he got on with his clan; a lot of them were decent people, not the sort you would trust, but the sort you knew would help you out [i:b1ddc0ddcf]if[/i:b1ddc0ddcf] you could help them out too. Fortunately, Richard DeLisje was in a position where he could often repay debts - but still, better to be the indebted than the debtor.

He walked over to one of the few undead he would call [i:b1ddc0ddcf]friend;

"Evening, Anders... How goes it?"[/i:b1ddc0ddcf]

He sat down beside Anders Green, slipping his jacket off as he did so. He scanned the room, not seeing any new faces - a small blessing. Introductions always took so long.

[i:b1ddc0ddcf]"Yeah, not so bad, Rich. Heard you got into a bit of shit with the Prince, eh?"[/i:b1ddc0ddcf]

Richard nodded, and was about to reply, when the usher opened the large doors leading into the ballroom. They were prompted to move into the hall as quickly as possible, the meeting was due to start.

The two stood up and walked into the ballroom. Another month, another meeting. Inevitably they would discuss such intricate affairs as the state of the clan, the state of the clans finance, the state of the clan members finances, and the relationships with other clans, and the state of the relationship with other clans finances. Whilst money was a wonderful servant, it made a poor master - and Richard, unlike many of his clan-mates, was no boardroom trooper.

----

OOC: Well, hope no-one minds me writing in Amsterdam, but I was getting tired of wondering when we could do it. Delete it if you want, I suppose. Nothing controversial mentioned at all, just so im not overstepping any potential barriers. Just scene setting.
If anyone else is interested, itd be nice to get an account of all the Hierachy done, so we can know what were RPing with.
sorry if this pisses people off, ill delete id it does...
(PS: im euryon)

((don't delete it, i'm joining in shortly

(( Nice post man , don't delete it like Gabriel said , as for Hierarchy , it will be settled once the Kabal thread is over lol , there is still much to come before we change any Hierarchy :) , you'll see hehe ))

Jeurgen Nemos gave that same unsettling smile that had been driving Heidi's nerves for the past hour. His jet black hair whipped and fell upon his perfectly structured shoulder as he turned from the window overlooking the Amsterdam nightlife. Physically, he was a gorgeous specimen, stark gray eyes, a chiseled face that bore the fire of youth and the wisdom of age. A faultless goatee lined, pale yet supple lips that hid a wolfish smile. He was dressed casually, the same outlandish type of clothing she had always seen him in.

A hideously bright hawaiin shirt hung from his torso, only the middle buttons holding it shut. A pale chest and carved stomach were clearly visible, perhaps from carelessness or perhaps for his own vanity;s sake. Charcoal dress slacks rode low on his hips, and the "V"of his pelvis shifted as he moved towards the plain card table that sat in the otherwise barren hotel room. His cheap, "Puma" tennis shoes shuffled as he sat over the seat where he had draped his oversized black trench coat. The sight of him was certainly unusual, but something about him wore an air of mystique and charisma that attracted Heidi.

True, he was simple a tool to achieving a goal, and that's how she had treated him up until now, but each week as they met, she found herself falling further and further into the depths of his granite eyes. He lit up a cigarette, exhaling a feathery cloud into the air.

"So Jeurgen..." she said, leaning forward in her chair. She could smell his cologne, a deep musky smell that set her senses as well as her loins on fire, "...don't keep me waiting. Who is she?"

"Well, she's certainly more than we thought she was..." he said with a smile, his eyes drifting in and out of view behind draped strands of black hair. A flick of his wrist and ashes scattered across the table. Heidi shot a glance towards the ashtray that sat on the nightstand only several feet away, and then back to Jeurgen. He had followed her gaze and now looked squarely at her. He flicked another ash onto the table. "Anyway, point is I can't complete the assignment."

"WHAT?!" Heidi stood up, sending the chair tumbling over. She waved an accusatory finger at Jeurgen, who sat puffing silently"Do I have to remind you of our agreement?! You find out who my husband’s been sleeping with, and you kill her!! It's already taken FAR longer than I've expected and I've already paid you more than..."

"You only paid me what I deserved..." Jeurgen stood at last, smoothly and nearly faster than Heidi could follow with her eyes. As he stood directly before her, she noted that his chair had not even moved as he stood. "You were not the one digging through people's trash and shit for three months" His eyes were harsh and unforgiving, but they did not convey anger, only gravity. "Besides, she's too high profile for me to touch."

"Well who the hell is she?" Her voice was notably hushed, her anger replaced with fear. His cologne was different now, a bit staler. "You have to at least give me THAT!"

"No one you'd know." he replied. He stalked past Heidi to the bed, where his beat up blue duffle bag had been placed. Unzipping it, he removed a length of black rope and draped it casually over his shoulder. Heidi took a cautious step towards the door as he drew the curtains of the room closed and turned back to face her.

"W...what are you doing?" she stammered, her heart now pounding. The sweet musk that had once been so pleasant now reeked and set her stomach turning.

"I'll be frank with you," he said, drawing a pair of garden gloves from his pant pockets and slipping his hands into them. "I've had another offer."

"What? Who?! My husband?! Did he offer you money to kill..." she stumbled once again towards the door, her hands outstretched behind her. She wanted fully to turn and flee, but for the love of God, she was too frightened to turn away from him. He continued moving towards her, stretching the rope between his hands.

"No no, not your husband," his eyes shimmered in the lamplight, cold and lifeless, "And who said anything about killing? In my world some things are worse than death."

"Your world...? What do you mean?" Before he could answer, Heidi wrenched a nearby lamp from the wall and heaved it through the air towards him. Turning, she dashed toward the door, her breaths shooting in hot spasmatic gasps.

Jeurgen appeared in front of her, impossibly fast. She felt her eyes well up with hot stinging tears as he grasped her arm tightly with his free hand. The rope was once again draped over his shoulder, and in his other hand he held the lamp she had hurled at him.

He set the lamp down and cupped her mouth. She bit and kicked, struggled and jerked, but could not break free of his grasp. Within moments she found herself being tied to the chair, helpless to do anything but fall to his mercy.

"Jeurgen...please!" she gasped, sobs threatening to drown out her reason completely"I...I can pay you more! More than he's offering!" Jeurgen looked up, and for a moment she was paralyzed. His eyes were dark, unexplainably dark.

"For Christ's sake it's not your husband. Now shut up." As he worked at her feet, securing the final knot in the rope, he began to shift. His once flawless skin began to droop, flowing over his bones like jelly on a hill. His features elongated and deformed, hideous scabs and abrasions covering his dark brown flesh.

His once trademark smile was now jagged and crooked. His raven black hair deteorated, leaving nothing more than a bald, diseased skull. His arms were too long for his body now, she could see that as he worked diligently at the ropes. The rank odor that seeped from his oozing skin now caused her to gag, forcing her to choke back her screams. Finally, as her terror peaked, she began to cry uncontrollably.

"Oh Jesus...Jesus what ARE you?" she wept, her frame shaking in fear. What she once knew as Jeurgen looked up for a moment, his gray eyes still visible beneath a low hanging brow.

"You really want to know?"

The final hues of amber waned as the velvet shroud of night began to take dominance over the sky. Serrated clouds shrowded the horizon, the sun making them look dark as coal. The winter evening battle lit up the sky as only a Toreador could envision, sending a spectacular prism of colors arching through the air, eventually ascending into blackness.

The promoters and organizers of the grand gala at the Royal Bolivian Hotel could not have asked for a more suitable backdrop for their event. Even as the limousines edged up to the media filled porte cochere, the cameras were beginning to flash, lighting the front of the hotel. Various figures emerged from the vehicles much to the general excitement of the gathered crowds. Politicians, stars, starletts, art moguls...all strode down the red carpet, impervious to the calls and beckons of reporters and photographers desperate for attention.

As the high profile guests made their way into the lobby, stopping only to make idle chit chat with one another, another figure arrived. He was naturally beautiful, his dark eyes framed by shalks of black hair that curled perfectly around his angular jawline. His tuxedo was flawless, and although there were several in the room identical to his, it stuck out. Even as he passed some of Amsterdam's elite and most beautiful mortals, all eyes were drawn to him.

As the stars moved past the various ballrooms, the man glanced at his surroundings. The hotel was obviously posh as they came, but he could see the tell tale signs of redecoration everywhere he went. Obviously someone went through a lot of expense to host this gathering. It seemed marble and gold lined everything as he passed through. Massive crystal chandelliers glittered far overhead, serving as lighting now that the sun had finally disappeared totally from sight, and the hotel sat emersed in darkness.

As the night wore on, he began to set himself apart from the crowd, hanging back and eyeing the various swarms of people. Finally, as they all stood in the grand ballroom, a voice cooed over the microphone, it's tenure silky smooth.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen....thank you for attending our Christmas Party! We're so glad to have you all here!" he turned his attention to the stage which sat at the far end of the massive room. At the podium stood two identical women, both stunningly gorgeous. They wore tight ebony dresses which clung to their smooth forms. White creamy skin contrasted with their crimson lips and made them the center of attention. Their hair was pulled back into identical buns, and held in place by engraved chopsticks.

As they began their speech about the gala, the figure emerged from the crowd, now standing directly before the podium and gazing up at the two figures. As they spoke, one of the twins caught his eye and stumbled over her words, coughing them out for a moment before regaining her fluidness.

By their smiles and the titter of applause, he figured their speech was over. As they stepped down from the stage to mingle, he quickly approached them. The undercover security, which was pathetically disguised complete with a headset and all, veered towards him to stop, but suddenly found himself uninterested.

The two women walked without looking at the figure who trailed behind them.

"Nemos...what an unpleasant surprise." the Elder chirped. Indeed, the twin Harpy's of Amsterdam had always worked as a team. Although beautiful, the Toreadors had been ruthless and unforgiving in their tactics and had established themselves early as a figure of power within Amsterdam. They had Prince Voorhies favor, and were thus untouchable.

"Come now Debbie..." Nemos cooed, his facade grinning coyly. Deborah faltered only momentarily, her temper flaring. She had not used her real name since her mortal days, feeling it lacked sophistication and presence. "I thought you'd be happy to see me."

He followed them closely as they made their way through the crowds, greeting and mingling with well known, yet sociably enept artisans and celebrities.

"Nemos...I don't know who let you in, but I'd appreciate it if you left."

"But Shirley, I've only just arrived."

"What are you DOING here?" Shirley, better known as Louraine DeVille, kept her voice restrained. Nemos shifted in front of the two women, blocking their paths and demanding their attention. Although he was enjoying watching them squirm, he had other engagements.

"I brought you a gift." he whispered, his smile ever widening. Suddenly the two women noticed a duffel bag in his hand that wasn't there before.

"Now is certainly not the time." Deborah hissed.

"Well I have no intention of toting it around anymore...this constant facade is making me hungry and unless you stow this somewhere your 'beautiful' guests, and I use the term lightly, are going to be in for a hell of a shock." even as he spoke the duffel bag seemed to grow slightly, showing it's true colors. Shirley moved forward.

"Alright alright, follow me." they moved through the ballroom exit to a storage room, where Nemos set the bag down. They all watched as the blood magic wore off and the bag lengthened into a full size body bag. Inside, Heidi squirmed and kicked, but was held tightly by old cable wire.

In truth, Heidi was an amazing artist and had quickly drawn the attention of the two sisters. But she was strong willed, and would not be easily pulled into the fold. Thus it was necessary to ghoul her husband and put an old favor into service. That old favor, as it turned out, was Nemos.

"I consider our boon settled," Nemos growled, his voice now beginning to sound raspier. He was hungry, and his obfuscate was waning. The brilliance that had shone upon his arrival was gone and he now looked somewhat average. He opened the storage closet door and looked back once more. "as should you."