Enchanter's End Game
13th of January 2007 A.D.
Staring at the blackout curtains seven stories above you ask not about this vampire, this thread in the blood-soaked tapestry, but all of them.
Where does the Red Court of Sin City stand? Almost you wish that you had not asked...
Chaos unfolds before you like a deadly flower, the Old Guard and the New Blood, like a parasite wasp hollowing up its host the infiltration had left most of the outward facing elders in place even as they surrounded the Dragon in a ring of treachery waiting for the appointed hour. Names flood your mind without the pretense of nobility or the sonorous syllables of colonial Spain people who were talking abroad in the sun twenty years before, maybe twenty. Of the more than fifty vampires huddling in the tunnels there are still more loyalists than traitors and they are certainly more powerful, but they are fractured, sire reft from childe, puppets with their strings gathered in a fragile human fist.
Lost 1 Essence -> Now at 7/15
"Does anyone have a red pen?" you ask. As it turns out Lydia has on average three for every color of the rainbow. "You draw?"
She shrugs, a touch of color in her pale cheeks. "I annotate, not for the very
old books of course." From the speed of the confession you guess Arwan probably caught kid-Lydia making multi-colored markings in at least one antique text.
Eighter way you take your red pen and proceed to write. In artful script, in cunning hand you make no pretence of why the letter was being threat. The Baron's court was in mortal peril and it would drag the whole of the city down with it if not adressed. You ask for an pass to the court and make it crystal clear that you and your companions will be going there regardless.
The bird goes up and though the curtains. For whate feels like an age nothing comes down. The lying screen of the car's clock claims it's only twenlve minutes.
Finally the bird comes down, an invidation writ in a shaky hand, to your surprise it's for all of you to come up and speak to him.
***
"Well I'll give him this much, he has better taste in interior decorating than most of his kind," Tiffany says as she sinks into a leather armchair that fits snugly into the dark wood and whisky aesthettic of the rest of the appartment.
"What vampires have bad taste on top of everything else?" Harry asks dorlly.
"Nouveau riche," she answers with a tilt of the head, and a smile that makes it clear she's doing it in play. Part of you wants to join in, another part is grossed out that you can find things to joke about now of all times.
Am I growing too used to this?
Thankfully Jerome Bouchard steps in from what you assume is the kitchen with glasses and a smoky glass bottle with some kind of fancy vodka in it. You are reminded of Sanya making a joke once about premium vodka being like prize-winning turnips, all tastes the same. Still you take a glass and talk, well he talks, you mostly listen. Thankfully he seems to have gotten the screaming into his pillow or whatever vampires do for stress relief out of his system already so what you are left with is mostly a factual account of what must have bappened to the local Red Court.
Sandra, as it transpires had not come alone. As she wove her enchantments over the students of UNLV as she spun enchantments over Little Tommy and his men more vampires had come to bow their heads to the Dragon, exiles and runaways they claimed from a war going ill, but they were all of them pawns of greater horrors. In soirées mingling blood alcohol and substances more illicit they clawed their way up the ladder, to reach high enough to sink the dagger home.
"It's been too long since we got into a fight, not since, not since we drove the the last of the fucking Summer Fairies out of Paradise proper, that's how the lickspittles got to be in the war-packs. My guess is it was more than Orpheus' illusions that did in Louis and some of his childer..." What follows is a long and somewhat disjointed jaunt down memory lane about his dead companions, but the point is rather clear of the fifty vampires down in the tunnels more than half are still loyal to the dragon, but they are leaderless and under the command of traitors, the Dragon himself is lost on the nightmare of Orpheus' final curse. Worse yet attacks on the Xanadu and, you now learn other Red aligned businesses on the strip have drawn away most of the Infected who are almost all loyalists since the process of inducting one by the strictures of the Red Court takes a year and a day, they have to prove among other things that they will not murder someone for gratification for that long,
Regained 2 Essence -> Now at 9/15
What do you do next?
[] A trap's not a trap if you know it's there, meet the Red Court head on
-[] Try to rally those vampires in outward-facing positions who you still know to be loyalists
-[] Bring in some of your own fire teams from sanctuary, they might be trouble in public, but those tunnels should be private enough
[] Try to sneak though the tunnels making yourself unnoticeable and inform the loyalists that they are being played
-[] Ask Lash if she can do something to make you more stealthy
[] Write in
OOC: The breakdown of loyalists to traitors among the Red Court is about 60/40 with the loyalists being more powerful, but they are scattered and have been pitted against each other.