A History of Sin
18th of December 2006 A.D.
"No list?" Maeve asks, a pout upon her borrowed face in response to your nod and instructions to the elves to 'do their thing'.
"I have a good memory,"
and do not want you reading over my shoulder, you add mentally. There are some things you would be fine sharing with her, concert tickets, the addresses of vampire hideouts, coupons for body bags, if you had any of those maybe, but not Christmas shopping, not for anyone you actually like.
"So, who are you planning to kill?" you ask, echoing a question she asked at your last meeting and calling back to the malk's message last month.
Her laugh is bright and cheery, like someone invited to a picnic. "I found out where a certain rat whose fate is of interest to both of us has gone, false friend and foolish plotter both?"
"Sandra," you spit the name, unable,
unwilling really to keep the venom out of your voice and not just to play up to Maeve's predilections. "Where is she?"
"Where every failed gambler goes eventually, Las Vegas." Saying the name she props herself up on one of the tables and pulls a cigarette out of...
somewhere, those shorts certainly do not come with pockets. "One more petty wilting flower in the court of the Dragon, or so the others would count her."
"Wait, Dragon?" You have been hearing a lot about those lately.
"Hmm—" she takes a long pull of the cigarette, thin blue smoke taking flight like misshapen birds from her lips. "Not the kind your father might be interested, he's merely called that. He is a Vampire of the Red Court, a count, perhaps he would me more, but he cannot leave for the weight of his
true master's chains."
She is practically vibrating with eagerness for you to ask the obvious question, heck at this point she would probably take a question from one of the elves, but alas for her they have all taken the sensible path of staying clear and avoiding eye contact at all costs.
"Wait, you said court. This false 'Dragon', the vampire, he is operating openly?"
"Openly,
defiantly," the Lady of Winter snarls as the cigarette is starting to smoke alarmingly the tip smoldering blue.
"Why hasn't the White Council done anything about such a high ranking member of the Red Court in a seemingly exposed position?" you ask careful of the minefield you may be walking into.
"Ha, good one, a bunch of doddering old fools dealing with one whose master staves off Winter itself," she laughs, catches herself. For a moment you can practically see the wheels spinning behind her bright blue gaze, damage control kicking into high gear. "I say this to you due to sharing common foes and out of respect for thine deeds."
Instinctively you know she would take even polite agreement with suspicion, mounting annoyance at the acknowledgement of her weakness. "Sure, sure,
what does this have to do with that bitch Sandra?"
Lost 1 Essence -> Now at 13/15
She laughs, shakes her head as if to clear it and starts again. "The Dragon's been there since 1905, this dragon at least, but his liege's been there since the youth of the world when men were just another hunter in the deserts and scrub lands. Ever wondered why among all the boring names this country has, or worse the insipidly 'inspiring' meant to trick some cretin to go out west and die to dysentery there's a place called Death Valley still on the maps?"
"The false dragon's master?" you prompt when it becomes clear she is not going to keep going without audience participation.
"You wish. No this was something from Outside, a being, a pathway, maybe both, Those old medicine men knew enough to be afraid for their lives and souls, for the lives and souls of their children and grandchildren unborn. So they called up a spirit of darker sort a sin eater and they bid it to hold the gate shut, bidding it to devour the unworthy who came close."
"There is a sin eater under Las Vegas?" you ask with dawning understanding, and not a little horror.
Lost 1 Essence -> Now at 12/15 (Occult Excellency)
"Yeah, turns out holding fast the gates of madness can't be done on the strength of eating the odd shifty wanderer forever. Back in 1905 the spirit started getting antsy, get weary maybe. He offered old bat ears a bargain: power, wealth, blood and sex, the works if he would help build a city of sin to feed it into the spirits black heart. Yeah, that's right, middle aged execs blowing their kids' college funds on coke and call girls have been keeping one of the backdoors of reality safe. 'Just one more round of blackjack,' they cried and the world got to keep spinning one more day." Maeve giggles."The Dragon's a cup-bearer, no more and no less, but it gives him great power in his domain, enough that it would be difficult to shift him and even if we did..."
"Your prize would be brand new front, assuming the changeover would even work out cleanly," you finish mind whirling with dark imaginings. "I assume you sent a message about what Sandra is." Truth be told you would not put it past Maeve to not have done that just so she would have her vengeance, but Mab has more sense than her daughter.
"The message has been sent, no answer has been received. Don't know what the old vamp of Vegas is playing at, but Sandra is still there and a Winter warband not be welcome to deal with her. The only fey in the city are a band of wyldfae who are part of his game. But none of that applies to you... You are new. I want you to chase Sandra out of the city so we can both have a piece. I'll consider that a favor to be repaid in kind."
What do you reply?
[] Agree to Maeve's terms (Costs 1 AP next month)
[] Refuse Maeve's terms, there are other means of dealing with this, you could alert the White Council, the White court, there is more at stake that Maeve's vengeance or yours
[] Write in
OOC: The basic premise of this is from the RPG book Paranet Files, but do not assume everything in there is accurate and of course we are pre-Changes so the circumstances will be different because of that too. 
