Now now, let's be reasonable. If they just want to have a chat about it they should get to keep their unlife.
Blood and Madness: A Vampire Quest
- Thread starter Magoose
- Start date
- Original Fantasy
Sertorius
Rebellious Legate
- Location
- Roma Invicta
Of course.
The idiots have already been punished.
Hopefully the lesson has been learned. We just have to remind the Council of that.
- Location
- Wherever I feel like being
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I mean, that's kind of what my "kick in the front door" vote is for. Intimidation without the out and out rampage.
Solarstream
It's all in the cards
- Location
- Zombie World
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Kick Down the Front Door: The Council apparently wanted your attention. They have it. And will be shown why this is considered A Bad Idea by wiser heads than theirs.
Vote closed
The Council
Magoose
SV's Questing Fanatic
- Location
- California USA
- Pronouns
- He
The Council:
Kick Down the Front Door: The Council apparently wanted your attention. They have it. And will be shown why this is considered A Bad Idea by wiser heads than theirs.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
San Francisco had lost much of its charm since the last time you visited. The once-vibrant city now seemed tainted, its streets filled with unappealing subjects poisoning their blood with drugs or succumbing to the madness that seemed to plague the mortal population. It was a far cry from the other great cities of the past, where humanity had thrived despite its flaws. Here, mankind was happily drowning in its vices, abandoning any hope of redemption.
The sight of the destitute and addicted wandering the streets stirred a little pity in you. These poor souls lost to the city's underbelly, were often easy prey for fledgling vampires or those needing a quick feed. A dead homeless person, after all, was usually just another statistic—unnoticed, unmourned, and quickly forgotten.
Despite the city's decay, the fact that the council chose to meet and headquarters here was a blessing. It was a convenient location, accessible within a night, and the magic in the air crackled with a palpable energy. Stepping out of a shadow, you dusted yourself off, feeling the familiar tingle of the city's arcane presence.
Your attire was understated yet elegant: a jacket without a tie and simple black pants without a belt. It was a modest outfit, practical for blending in, yet still carried an air of sophistication. Despite your age, you managed to carry yourself with a timeless grace, an appearance that could easily pass in any era.
You made your way toward the old hotel, a grand structure now closed to the public except for those invited to its exclusive gatherings. The building had a faded grandeur, its history woven into the very fabric of the city's supernatural underworld.
As you approached the entrance, you noticed the bouncer—a large, imposing man you hadn't seen in some time. His presence was a familiar one, though time had not been kind to him. "Joe, how has it been?" you greeted him with a toothy smile, your fangs glinting briefly in the dim light.
The vampire before you gulped, a flicker of fear crossing his face. It was a subtle reaction, but one you caught easily. Your reputation preceded you, and even those who had known you for years couldn't completely mask their unease in your presence.
"Good evening, sir," Joe replied, his voice steady but laced with caution. "It's been... Lord Norton." He gulped, visibly anxious, knowing that a wrong word could seal his fate. "I... didn't know you were here."
"Obviously, or you would have been expecting me," you said, your tone calm but carrying an undercurrent of authority. "I need to enter and speak to the council. Are they in session?"
"They are, but you know the rules. I can't just let you in without—"
"Joe," you interrupted, your voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. "Do you know how many vampires can kick the door down and just... walk in without permission? Please, tell me, how many?"
Joe hesitated, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "Five. But—"
"I am going to count to three, Joe... and you don't want me to reach one."
The threat was clear, and Joe's eyes widened in fear. Without another word, he ran to the door and hastily opened it. You watched as he fumbled with his cell phone, pressing the speed dial in a panic. The tension in the air was palpable, a mix of his fear and your restrained patience.
As you stepped through the entrance, the ambiance inside shifted. The opulent surroundings contrasted starkly with the dire mood of the situation. The lobby, adorned with lavish decor and dim lighting, seemed to hold its breath, anticipating the events to come. Joe's nervous energy lingered behind you, a reminder of the respect—or perhaps fear—you commanded among the city's supernatural beings.
You walked confidently toward the meeting room, aware of the curious glances from the hotel's staff and guests. They knew better than to interfere, understanding that tonight's gathering was not a social event but a council session of the utmost importance.
Well, it would now be sidelined with other… matters.
The Door: D20 => 18
The door before you was a grand and opulent masterpiece, its design a testament to both wealth and craftsmanship. The wood was polished to a deep, rich hue, its surface gleaming with a glossy finish that spoke of careful maintenance. Embedded within the wood were intricate patterns of gold leaf, creating a stunning contrast that caught the eye and reflected the soft lighting of the hallway.
The gold shone brilliantly, casting a warm, luxurious glow that seemed to illuminate the entire entrance. It wasn't just a door; it was an imposing barrier, a symbol of the exclusivity and power that lay beyond it. The ornate carvings, depicting scenes of myth and legend, added an air of mystery and grandeur. The craftsmanship was exquisite, each detail meticulously rendered, giving the door a sense of life and history.
As you approached, the golden elements seemed to shimmer, capturing the ambient light and casting a subtle, ethereal glow. It was almost as if the door itself was alive, breathing with the secrets and power contained within the room it guarded. This was no ordinary entrance—it was a statement, a declaration of the importance of what lay beyond.
The handle, a large and intricately designed piece of metalwork, gleamed as brightly as the gold inlays. It was cool to the touch, a reminder of the formidable barrier it controlled. The door's weight was palpable, not just in its physical form but in the symbolic significance it held.
Without a moment's hesitation, you reached out and pressed the symbol etched into the door's ornate surface. As your finger made contact, the golden glow that had been radiating from the symbol immediately ceased, the intricate patterns darkening. The soft illumination that had once imbued the door with an ethereal quality vanished, leaving it looking like any other grand entrance, albeit one with an imposing presence.
In one swift, fluid motion, you kicked the door down. The sound was explosive, a sharp crack that echoed through the hallways and into the chamber beyond. The door, despite its grandeur and weight, gave way under the force of your kick, swinging open violently and crashing against the walls. The noise reverberated through the building, an audible testament to your sudden and forceful entrance.
It had been far too long since you'd reminded these self-important bastards of who they were dealing with. The council members, who had likely been enjoying a moment of complacency, were now abruptly jolted out of their comfort. As you strode into the room, their expressions shifted from mild annoyance to outright terror. It was a look you hadn't seen in ages, a mixture of disbelief and terror as they confronted the reality of your presence.
Damn, you still got it.
The first was the Esteemed Archduchess Elizabeth von Hapsburg, a relic of European nobility forced to adopt various humiliating, common aliases over the centuries. What was it this time? Elizabeth Harper? Lisa Hampton? The specifics hardly mattered; you decided you'd call her whatever you pleased to irk her. It was a small act of defiance, a reminder of the irrelevance of titles in the shadowy world you all inhabited.
Next was the old Blood Knight, William Marshal, a former knight of England turned vampire warrior. Once a paragon of chivalry, now a creature of the night, he had traded his mortal honor for immortal existence. Despite the centuries that had passed, his transformation had not dulled his martial prowess or his rigid sense of duty. Yet, the fact that he still greeted you with a stony face, barely concealing his resentment, was almost laughable. After all, you had been the one to free him from his enslavement to a particularly cruel sire—a liberation that had saved him from an eternity of servitude and allowed him to reclaim a semblance of autonomy. It was more than a fair exchange, and the lingering bitterness he harbored was, in your eyes, an unforgivable ingratitude. He owed you a debt, one that he seemed content to ignore.
Then there was Tim. Ah, Tim—the one person who made these council meetings bearable, perhaps even enjoyable, in their twisted way. You couldn't help but smile at the thought of him, the closest thing to an ally you had among this self-important lot. Tim was a delightful contradiction in every sense: a vampire with a genuine sense of humor, a wit as sharp as his fangs, and an uncanny ability to navigate the treacherous waters of undead politics with a lightness that often bordered on irreverence.
You had placed him in his position years ago, intending to set the stage for your retirement from the relentless grind of supernatural power plays. It had been a carefully calculated move, a final act of manipulation to ensure that at least one voice in the council could be trusted, or at least counted on not to actively work against you. The fact that he was still here, holding his own amidst the power-hungry and the paranoid, was a testament to both his cunning and your foresight.
"Well, I was expecting the full council tonight, given the circumstances, but I'll have to make do." You said as you walked in.
What do you say to them?:
[]Say nothing, stew in their fear as they begin this conversation. Let them dig themselves deeper into this hell they have created.
[]Write in
Kick Down the Front Door: The Council apparently wanted your attention. They have it. And will be shown why this is considered A Bad Idea by wiser heads than theirs.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
San Francisco had lost much of its charm since the last time you visited. The once-vibrant city now seemed tainted, its streets filled with unappealing subjects poisoning their blood with drugs or succumbing to the madness that seemed to plague the mortal population. It was a far cry from the other great cities of the past, where humanity had thrived despite its flaws. Here, mankind was happily drowning in its vices, abandoning any hope of redemption.
The sight of the destitute and addicted wandering the streets stirred a little pity in you. These poor souls lost to the city's underbelly, were often easy prey for fledgling vampires or those needing a quick feed. A dead homeless person, after all, was usually just another statistic—unnoticed, unmourned, and quickly forgotten.
Despite the city's decay, the fact that the council chose to meet and headquarters here was a blessing. It was a convenient location, accessible within a night, and the magic in the air crackled with a palpable energy. Stepping out of a shadow, you dusted yourself off, feeling the familiar tingle of the city's arcane presence.
Your attire was understated yet elegant: a jacket without a tie and simple black pants without a belt. It was a modest outfit, practical for blending in, yet still carried an air of sophistication. Despite your age, you managed to carry yourself with a timeless grace, an appearance that could easily pass in any era.
You made your way toward the old hotel, a grand structure now closed to the public except for those invited to its exclusive gatherings. The building had a faded grandeur, its history woven into the very fabric of the city's supernatural underworld.
As you approached the entrance, you noticed the bouncer—a large, imposing man you hadn't seen in some time. His presence was a familiar one, though time had not been kind to him. "Joe, how has it been?" you greeted him with a toothy smile, your fangs glinting briefly in the dim light.
The vampire before you gulped, a flicker of fear crossing his face. It was a subtle reaction, but one you caught easily. Your reputation preceded you, and even those who had known you for years couldn't completely mask their unease in your presence.
"Good evening, sir," Joe replied, his voice steady but laced with caution. "It's been... Lord Norton." He gulped, visibly anxious, knowing that a wrong word could seal his fate. "I... didn't know you were here."
"Obviously, or you would have been expecting me," you said, your tone calm but carrying an undercurrent of authority. "I need to enter and speak to the council. Are they in session?"
"They are, but you know the rules. I can't just let you in without—"
"Joe," you interrupted, your voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. "Do you know how many vampires can kick the door down and just... walk in without permission? Please, tell me, how many?"
Joe hesitated, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "Five. But—"
"I am going to count to three, Joe... and you don't want me to reach one."
The threat was clear, and Joe's eyes widened in fear. Without another word, he ran to the door and hastily opened it. You watched as he fumbled with his cell phone, pressing the speed dial in a panic. The tension in the air was palpable, a mix of his fear and your restrained patience.
As you stepped through the entrance, the ambiance inside shifted. The opulent surroundings contrasted starkly with the dire mood of the situation. The lobby, adorned with lavish decor and dim lighting, seemed to hold its breath, anticipating the events to come. Joe's nervous energy lingered behind you, a reminder of the respect—or perhaps fear—you commanded among the city's supernatural beings.
You walked confidently toward the meeting room, aware of the curious glances from the hotel's staff and guests. They knew better than to interfere, understanding that tonight's gathering was not a social event but a council session of the utmost importance.
Well, it would now be sidelined with other… matters.
The Door: D20 => 18
The door before you was a grand and opulent masterpiece, its design a testament to both wealth and craftsmanship. The wood was polished to a deep, rich hue, its surface gleaming with a glossy finish that spoke of careful maintenance. Embedded within the wood were intricate patterns of gold leaf, creating a stunning contrast that caught the eye and reflected the soft lighting of the hallway.
The gold shone brilliantly, casting a warm, luxurious glow that seemed to illuminate the entire entrance. It wasn't just a door; it was an imposing barrier, a symbol of the exclusivity and power that lay beyond it. The ornate carvings, depicting scenes of myth and legend, added an air of mystery and grandeur. The craftsmanship was exquisite, each detail meticulously rendered, giving the door a sense of life and history.
As you approached, the golden elements seemed to shimmer, capturing the ambient light and casting a subtle, ethereal glow. It was almost as if the door itself was alive, breathing with the secrets and power contained within the room it guarded. This was no ordinary entrance—it was a statement, a declaration of the importance of what lay beyond.
The handle, a large and intricately designed piece of metalwork, gleamed as brightly as the gold inlays. It was cool to the touch, a reminder of the formidable barrier it controlled. The door's weight was palpable, not just in its physical form but in the symbolic significance it held.
Without a moment's hesitation, you reached out and pressed the symbol etched into the door's ornate surface. As your finger made contact, the golden glow that had been radiating from the symbol immediately ceased, the intricate patterns darkening. The soft illumination that had once imbued the door with an ethereal quality vanished, leaving it looking like any other grand entrance, albeit one with an imposing presence.
In one swift, fluid motion, you kicked the door down. The sound was explosive, a sharp crack that echoed through the hallways and into the chamber beyond. The door, despite its grandeur and weight, gave way under the force of your kick, swinging open violently and crashing against the walls. The noise reverberated through the building, an audible testament to your sudden and forceful entrance.
It had been far too long since you'd reminded these self-important bastards of who they were dealing with. The council members, who had likely been enjoying a moment of complacency, were now abruptly jolted out of their comfort. As you strode into the room, their expressions shifted from mild annoyance to outright terror. It was a look you hadn't seen in ages, a mixture of disbelief and terror as they confronted the reality of your presence.
Damn, you still got it.
The first was the Esteemed Archduchess Elizabeth von Hapsburg, a relic of European nobility forced to adopt various humiliating, common aliases over the centuries. What was it this time? Elizabeth Harper? Lisa Hampton? The specifics hardly mattered; you decided you'd call her whatever you pleased to irk her. It was a small act of defiance, a reminder of the irrelevance of titles in the shadowy world you all inhabited.
Next was the old Blood Knight, William Marshal, a former knight of England turned vampire warrior. Once a paragon of chivalry, now a creature of the night, he had traded his mortal honor for immortal existence. Despite the centuries that had passed, his transformation had not dulled his martial prowess or his rigid sense of duty. Yet, the fact that he still greeted you with a stony face, barely concealing his resentment, was almost laughable. After all, you had been the one to free him from his enslavement to a particularly cruel sire—a liberation that had saved him from an eternity of servitude and allowed him to reclaim a semblance of autonomy. It was more than a fair exchange, and the lingering bitterness he harbored was, in your eyes, an unforgivable ingratitude. He owed you a debt, one that he seemed content to ignore.
Then there was Tim. Ah, Tim—the one person who made these council meetings bearable, perhaps even enjoyable, in their twisted way. You couldn't help but smile at the thought of him, the closest thing to an ally you had among this self-important lot. Tim was a delightful contradiction in every sense: a vampire with a genuine sense of humor, a wit as sharp as his fangs, and an uncanny ability to navigate the treacherous waters of undead politics with a lightness that often bordered on irreverence.
You had placed him in his position years ago, intending to set the stage for your retirement from the relentless grind of supernatural power plays. It had been a carefully calculated move, a final act of manipulation to ensure that at least one voice in the council could be trusted, or at least counted on not to actively work against you. The fact that he was still here, holding his own amidst the power-hungry and the paranoid, was a testament to both his cunning and your foresight.
"Well, I was expecting the full council tonight, given the circumstances, but I'll have to make do." You said as you walked in.
What do you say to them?:
[]Say nothing, stew in their fear as they begin this conversation. Let them dig themselves deeper into this hell they have created.
[]Write in
[X] "Congratulations, you have my attention," I informed them with a calm rage. I let that sink in while they formulate a response. They managed to pester one of the most ancient and powerful beings on earth enough to get his attention, now what? I let a small smile form as I watch the council grow to appreciate more and more just what they've done.
- Location
- Belgium
[X] "Congratulations, you have my attention," I informed them with a calm rage. I let that sink in while they formulate a response. They managed to pester one of the most ancient and powerful beings on earth enough to get his attention, now what? I let a small smile form as I watch the council grow to appreciate more and more just what they've done.
Sertorius
Rebellious Legate
- Location
- Roma Invicta
[X] "Congratulations, you have my attention," I informed them with a calm rage. I let that sink in while they formulate a response. They managed to pester one of the most ancient and powerful beings on earth enough to get his attention, now what? I let a small smile form as I watch the little archprincess, the ingrate Le Maréchal and... Tim grow to appreciate more and more just what they've done "I would like thank you for providing me with excellent nurishment during the last couple of nights. It is only fair to repay such un unexpected visit with one of my own, so that I may ask you a simple question: has the lesson been learned?"
[X] "Congratulations, you have my attention," I informed them with a calm rage. I let that sink in while they formulate a response. They managed to pester one of the most ancient and powerful beings on earth enough to get his attention, now what? I let a small smile form as I watch the council grow to appreciate more and more just what they've done.
[X] "Congratulations, you have my attention," I informed them with a calm rage. I let that sink in while they formulate a response. They managed to pester one of the most ancient and powerful beings on earth enough to get his attention, now what? I let a small smile form as I watch the little archprincess, the ingrate Le Maréchal and... Tim grow to appreciate more and more just what they've done "I would like thank you for providing me with excellent nurishment during the last couple of nights. It is only fair to repay such un unexpected visit with one of my own, so that I may ask you a simple question: has the lesson been learned?"
- Location
- Belgium
Well this vote is already united in its decision for now.
- Location
- Wherever I feel like being
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X]"I suppose I should have expected this from the two of you but Tim I thought I had mentored you better than this." Look around casually. "Given that the rest of the so-called Council isn't present am I to assume that those appetizers you threw at me were sent via a closed session 'vote'?"
We're split between two votes, granted one is expanded from of the other. I'd argue that they have a different enough intent that they shouldn't be lumped in. I'd personally prefer that we don't say much, seeing how everyone reacts and allowing Norman's presence to do most of the talking. They're also a lot less likely to say anything that gives us insight if we steer the conversation. Don't get me wrong I want to make sure they learn just how dumb means with us is, but we should let them get in their own heads first and hear their interpretation of the situation.
To be fair this might have been the doing of one independently acting council member.
- Location
- Argentina
[X] "Congratulations, you have my attention," I informed them with a calm rage. I let that sink in while they formulate a response. They managed to pester one of the most ancient and powerful beings on earth enough to get his attention, now what? I let a small smile form as I watch the little archprincess, the ingrate Le Maréchal and... Tim grow to appreciate more and more just what they've done "I would like thank you for providing me with excellent nurishment during the last couple of nights. It is only fair to repay such un unexpected visit with one of my own, so that I may ask you a simple question: has the lesson been learned?"
[X] "Congratulations, you have my attention," I informed them with a calm rage. I let that sink in while they formulate a response. They managed to pester one of the most ancient and powerful beings on earth enough to get his attention, now what? I let a small smile form as I watch the little archprincess, the ingrate Le Maréchal and... Tim grow to appreciate more and more just what they've done "I would like thank you for providing me with excellent nurishment during the last couple of nights. It is only fair to repay such un unexpected visit with one of my own, so that I may ask you a simple question: has the lesson been learned?"
lockingbane
If you're crazy and you know it clap your hands!
- Location
- Waxahachie tx
[X] "Congratulations you have my attention." Smile in a manner similar to a predator about to take a bite "Now, which among you decided to strike at one of my few existing friends? Which among you has decided it was worth the risk of rousing me from my enjoyable, quiet retirement?" Look around "Come now, speak up, I may have eternity to wait that doesn't mean my patience is equally infinite."
Solarstream
It's all in the cards
- Location
- Zombie World
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] "Congratulations you have my attention." Smile in a manner similar to a predator about to take a bite "Now, which among you decided to strike at one of my few existing friends? Which among you has decided it was worth the risk of rousing me from my enjoyable, quiet retirement?" Look around "Come now, speak up, I may have eternity to wait that doesn't mean my patience is equally infinite."
Honestly no subtlety with you people. The more you threaten people the less likely they are to reveal something you'll be mad about.
Vote closed
Sertorius
Rebellious Legate
- Location
- Roma Invicta
Subtlety is for rats and skulking children.
A thunderstorm needs not to be subtle. It just exists and does what's in its nature. We are above the petty squabbles of lesser vampires and can do whatever we want and have the power to enforce that. A lion does not bargain with its prey, nor does it negotiate for its place at the table. It just comes, takes and goes at will because it is the strongest and doesn't have to be nice.
Collateral
Magoose
SV's Questing Fanatic
- Location
- California USA
- Pronouns
- He
Collateral:
"Congratulations, you have my attention," I informed them with a calm rage. I let that sink in while they formulate a response. They managed to pester one of the most ancient and powerful beings on earth enough to get his attention, now what? I let a small smile form as I watch the little archprincess, the ingrate Le Maréchal and... Tim grow to appreciate more and more just what they've done "I would like thank you for providing me with excellent nurishment during the last couple of nights. It is only fair to repay such un unexpected visit with one of my own, so that I may ask you a simple question: has the lesson been learned?"
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You took a deep breath—not out of necessity, of course, but as a deliberate gesture, a signal to those around you that something monumental was about to unfold. The air was thick with anticipation, and you could almost taste the unease permeating the room. This breath was more than just a pause; it was a calculated prelude, a psychological tool to heighten their anxiety. You reveled in the subtle shift of energy, the way their eyes darted nervously, their bodies tensing ever so slightly as they waited for you to speak.
It wasn't that you needed to breathe to speak—vampires had long since transcended such mortal requirements—but the act itself held power. It was a reminder of the human habits you had once possessed, a relic of your past life that now served as a weapon in the art of manipulation. As you exhale, you can sense their collective discomfort, a delicious tension that feeds your already considerable ego. The anticipation was almost palpable, and you could see it in the way they shifted in their seats, their nerves fraying under the weight of your impending words.
This wasn't just a meeting anymore, of you having power over them and meeting them; it was a performance, a stage set for you to orchestrate their downfall with calculated precision, and to get them to leave you alone. You had no intention of killing them—not tonight, at least. There was no need for more blood on your teeth, no hunger gnawing at your belly that couldn't be satisfied by your well-stocked reserves. The temptation to indulge in their fear was there, of course, but it was tempered by your self-control, honed over centuries of practice. After all, what was the point of being immortal if one couldn't savor the psychological games that came with such power? From time to time at least.
Instead, you would break them. Not physically, but mentally and emotionally, stripping away their defenses layer by layer until they were nothing more than trembling shadows of their former selves. The thrill lay not in the act of violence, but in the slow, methodical dismantling of their confidence, their sense of control.
The Beginning:D20 => 18
"Congratulations, you have my attention," you said, a smile playing at the corners of your lips as you glided into the room. Your footsteps were nearly imperceptible against the cold marble, a calculated grace that made your presence all the more unsettling. As you moved, the shadows in the room seemed to follow your lead, subtly thickening and dimming, as if they were bending to your will. The light itself seemed to retreat in your wake, a silent prelude to the darkness you were prepared to unleash.
The room grew colder, the atmosphere more oppressive with each step you took. The others sensed it—the inevitable storm brewing just beneath the surface of your calm exterior. They could feel the encroaching dread, the sense that something far more terrible than they could comprehend was about to unfold. There was no escaping it, no running from your wrath. They knew, without a doubt, that they were trapped within your web, at the mercy of your power and your will.
The Archprincess, ever the cautious one, was the first to speak. Her voice, usually so steady, carried an edge of uncertainty. "The Code dictates that any magical deviation from—"
"Do not quote the codes to me," you interrupted, your voice sharp as a blade. The room seemed to darken further at your words, the air growing heavier with an almost tangible menace. "I was there when they were written. But please, please, try to hide behind the law, when you broke even more rules that would need to be followed that even you, in your infinite wisdom, knowledge, and centuries of life, would know."
Your smile faltered, a crack in the facade that sent a ripple of unease through the room. The shift was subtle—a slight twitch at the corner of your mouth that exposed a single, gleaming fang. It was a deliberate move, calculated to remind them of what you truly were and what you were capable of. The room, already thick with tension, seemed to constrict further as if the very walls were drawing in closer to witness the unfolding drama.
Your eyes narrowed, and you let the moment stretch out, savoring the growing discomfort that settled over the council members. The shadows, though slightly receded, still lingered menacingly in the corners of the room, waiting for your command to engulf the space entirely.
"What is the first rule," you began, your voice low and dangerously smooth, "when entering the domain of an elder? A title not lightly granted, but earned through centuries of life, experience, and the rank bestowed by this very council?"
The question hung in the air like a guillotine, the weight of your words pressing down on them. You weren't just asking for the sake of formality; this was a test, a challenge. The rule was ancient, older than most of the beings in the room, and it was woven into the very fabric of their existence. To disregard it was to invite death—or worse.
The Archprincess hesitated, her eyes darting between you and her fellow council members. She knew the answer, of course, but she also knew that answering incorrectly, or with anything less than absolute respect, could be fatal. The others remained silent, unwilling to draw your ire further by speaking out of turn.
Finally, she spoke, her voice trembling slightly. "The first rule is... to show respect. To acknowledge the authority and power of the elder whose domain we enter."
You took a slow, deliberate step forward, your gaze never leaving hers. "Respect," you repeated, the word rolling off your tongue with a chilling finality. "Respect is not just given; it is earned through fear, through power, through the understanding that you stand in the presence of something far older, far stronger, and far more dangerous than yourself."
Your voice hardened, and the room seemed to grow colder with each word. "Yet, I see little respect here tonight. Instead, I see fear, I see desperation, and I see a blatant disregard for the very laws that I helped to create. Especially when I had long since retired, to take a leave of absence from the world I helped create… and instead to seek solace, in nature, in the mortal realm."
The Archprincess flinched as if struck, and the other council members shifted uncomfortably in their seats. The truth of your words cut deep, and they knew that any attempt to defend themselves would be futile.
"You have forgotten the first rule," you continued your voice now a deadly whisper. "You have forgotten that in my domain, my will is absolute. You do not question it, you do not challenge it, and you certainly do not presume to hide behind laws that I wrote to just… hunt for a child that is now under my protection, his sister… and you certainly shouldn't have sent another group of hunters to do the same thing."
Who did it:D6 => 2
The ingrate, Le Maréchal, had slowly sunk into his chair, his posture betraying the guilt that now weighed heavily on him. Ah, so he was the one who had sent the second group. The realization settled in your mind with a dark satisfaction. The first group, at least, had an excuse—they were hunters, reckless perhaps, but unaware of whose territory they had trespassed. Their ignorance, while costly, was forgivable. You had dealt with them swiftly, their deaths a necessary reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows they dared to cross.
It was a mistake, one that could be rectified. If the grievances of their sires or masters were brought before you, you were confident that an agreement could be made. Honor could be restored, reparations made, and the matter put to rest without further bloodshed. It was the way of your kind—a balance of power, tradition, and respect, carefully maintained over centuries.
But the second group was different. They knew. They knew that this was your domain, a territory claimed and protected by one far older, far more dangerous than themselves. They knew you would be there, watching, waiting, prepared to defend what was rightfully yours. And yet, they came anyway. Not out of ignorance, but out of arrogance. They did not seek your counsel and did not approach you with the respect due to an elder of your stature. They did not ask for permission to hunt, to share in the spoils of your land.
Instead, they came to kill.
Your eyes flicked back to Le Maréchal, who seemed to shrink further under your gaze. He had sent them—those fools who dared to challenge you, who thought they could outwit or overpower you in your own territory. The audacity of it was almost laughable. Almost.
But what was truly infuriating, what really stoked the fires of your wrath, was how they had tried to distract you. They had thrown a boy into the fray, a mere child in comparison to the ancient beings they sought to confront. A daywalker, a Dampier—an intoxicating blend of mortal and vampiric blood, so that they could just walk in and slaughter your new charges? They used him as little more than a cattle for slaughter.
They had hoped the boy would divert your attention, perhaps even be enough to weaken you, to make you vulnerable. How wrong they were. You had dealt with him quickly, effortlessly, and now he was yours. Perhaps he was in better hands than his parents, in fact, he probably was.
"You," you finally said, your voice a low growl that reverberated through the chamber, "sent them to their deaths."
Le Maréchal's eyes widened in fear, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for words that might save him. But there were no words that could undo what had been done. He had gambled, and he had lost.
"They came without my permission," you continued, your tone growing colder with each word. "They knew I was there. They knew this was my domain. And yet, they did not come to me. They did not seek my counsel. They did not ask for my blessing."
You took a step closer, your presence looming over him like a dark cloud. "Instead, they came with the intent to kill. They disrespected me and dishonored the very laws that bind us all. And for what? A boy? A Boy not grown, who does wield the power he has fully, who when grown could kill us all?"
Le Maréchal's fear was palpable now, his hands gripping the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles turned white as if they were the only things anchoring him to this world. His bravado had crumbled, leaving only a hollow shell of the once-proud knight who had dared to challenge you. He had made a grave error, and now the consequences of that miscalculation were bearing down on him with the weight of centuries.
"A boy who is now mine," you finished, a cruel smile playing at the corners of your lips. The words hung in the air, a reminder of the power you wielded—power that had been underestimated, to their eternal regret.
"I would like to thank you," you continued, your voice smooth and venomous, "for providing me with excellent nourishment during the last couple of nights. Your gift was unexpected but most appreciated. It is only fair, of course, to repay such an uninvited visit with one of my own."
You paused, letting the words sink in, watching as Le Maréchal's breath quickened, his composure shattering piece by piece. The shadows in the room seemed to grow darker, more oppressive, as if they were a manifestation of your will, pressing down on him, suffocating him with the knowledge of what was to come.
"So," you said, your tone deceptively casual, "I must ask you a simple question: has the lesson been learned?"
The question was a trap, and Le Maréchal knew it. There was no right answer, no way to appease you without acknowledging his failure. But he was cornered, and he had no choice but to respond.
His voice, when it finally came, was barely more than a whisper. "Yes, my lord."
You raised an eyebrow as if considering his words, though you had already decided his fate long before. "Is that so?" you murmured. "And what, precisely, have you learned?"
Le Maréchal hesitated, his eyes darting to the other council members, seeking support where there was none. They were as silent as the grave, unwilling to intervene, too afraid of drawing your ire upon themselves.
"I… I have learned to respect your domain," he stammered, his voice trembling. "To acknowledge your authority. I swear… it will not happen again."
You let the silence stretch, watching him squirm under your gaze. The tension in the room was suffocating, a heavy blanket of dread that seemed to stifle all other emotions. Finally, you nodded, as if satisfied with his answer.
"Good," you said, your voice as cold and final as the grave. "See that it doesn't. For if it does, Le Maréchal, the next time we meet, you will not be sitting in that chair. You will be begging for mercy that will not come."
"As for the rest of you." You pointed to Tim and the Archprincess. "I will be in touch. If another event occurs… I will make sure it will be the last."
You then turned your gaze to Tim, your voice smooth and commanding, yet laced with a familiarity that hinted at the years you had known each other. "Walk with me, Tim."
Tim nodded without hesitation, his loyalty evident in the simple gesture. In an instant, he melted into the shadows, reappearing beside you as if he had always been there, a silent sentinel at your side. His presence was a comfort, one of the few things in this ancient and ever-changing world that remained constant.
As you exited the chamber, the heavy doors closing behind you with a resounding thud, the atmosphere shifted. The whispers of the council, barely audible behind the closed doors, were left behind as you entered the dimly lit corridor. The shadows clung to the walls, moving almost imperceptibly as you passed, as if they, too, were drawn to your presence.
Tim kept pace with you, his steps measured and confident. He was not a man who needed to prove his worth—he had done so countless times before, and you both knew it. His dark eyes glanced at you, awaiting your words, knowing that whatever you were about to discuss was of great importance. "I take you are not pleased with this… formality?"
As you walked, you spoke in a low, controlled voice, just loud enough for Tim to hear, but not so much that the lingering spirits in the corridor could eavesdrop. "No, I am not."
Tim nodded, his expression serious. "They've forgotten who truly holds the power, my lord. They've become too comfortable, too secure in their positions."
You let out a small, humorless chuckle. "Comfort is a dangerous thing in our world. It breeds carelessness. And carelessness, as we both know, is fatal."
Tim's eyes flickered with understanding. "What would you have me do?"
You paused, your footsteps echoing softly in the corridor. "Watch them closely, Tim. Especially Le Maréchal. He's been rattled, but fear alone won't keep him in line forever. If he starts to move against me again, I want to know about it. And make sure the... others do not catch wind of my new wards. least until I deem it such."
Tim inclined his head, a gesture of acknowledgment. "Consider it done, my lord."
You continued walking, the conversation shifting from the matters of the council to other, more personal topics. Tim was one of the few you trusted with such things, and in these rare moments, you allowed yourself to speak more freely, to let down the walls that you had built up over the years.
"Do you remember the last time we were in San Francisco together?" you asked, a hint of nostalgia creeping into your voice.
Tim smiled, a rare expression for him. "How could I forget? The city was… different back then. You rather missed the fires that "
You nodded. "Yes, it was. The world has changed so much, and yet, in many ways, it hasn't changed at all. The power struggles, the politics, the betrayals… it's all the same. Only the players are different."
Tim's smile faded slightly as he regarded you with a thoughtful expression. "And what of the new players? The boy, for instance. He's different. Dangerous, perhaps."
You sighed, a sound filled with the weight of centuries of experience. "He's no more different than others we have had in the past, he's an opportunity. One that I intend to use to its fullest potential. But first, we must ensure that the council understands its place. They need to be reminded of who holds the true power in our world."
Tim's eyes gleamed with a dangerous light. "And if they don't remember?"
Your smile was cold, predatory. "Then we will make them remember."
You then reached the door, and the night was still very young, but you had others to reach. Responsibilities to care for.
"Farewell Tim." You said with a smile.
"Farewell Lord Norton." He replied.
"I'm not a Lord anymore Tim, do I look like I sit in a stuffy council chamber clamoring about politics and laws and other needless bullshit?"
"No sir you do not." He replied. "You look like a hermit who lives in the desert, enjoying his retirement."
"And I hope to stay that way if only to have some time to myself." You replied. "Good luck my friend."
And as you disappeared into the shadows, you could see a small smile on his face.
----------------------------------------
You were home, with three children who were day walkers, this was going to be trouble.
Training, they needed training.
What do you do?:
[]What do you begin to train them in? (Write in Option)
[]Allow them to enjoy a mortal life: let them have no fear for a time. They deserve that much.
"Congratulations, you have my attention," I informed them with a calm rage. I let that sink in while they formulate a response. They managed to pester one of the most ancient and powerful beings on earth enough to get his attention, now what? I let a small smile form as I watch the little archprincess, the ingrate Le Maréchal and... Tim grow to appreciate more and more just what they've done "I would like thank you for providing me with excellent nurishment during the last couple of nights. It is only fair to repay such un unexpected visit with one of my own, so that I may ask you a simple question: has the lesson been learned?"
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You took a deep breath—not out of necessity, of course, but as a deliberate gesture, a signal to those around you that something monumental was about to unfold. The air was thick with anticipation, and you could almost taste the unease permeating the room. This breath was more than just a pause; it was a calculated prelude, a psychological tool to heighten their anxiety. You reveled in the subtle shift of energy, the way their eyes darted nervously, their bodies tensing ever so slightly as they waited for you to speak.
It wasn't that you needed to breathe to speak—vampires had long since transcended such mortal requirements—but the act itself held power. It was a reminder of the human habits you had once possessed, a relic of your past life that now served as a weapon in the art of manipulation. As you exhale, you can sense their collective discomfort, a delicious tension that feeds your already considerable ego. The anticipation was almost palpable, and you could see it in the way they shifted in their seats, their nerves fraying under the weight of your impending words.
This wasn't just a meeting anymore, of you having power over them and meeting them; it was a performance, a stage set for you to orchestrate their downfall with calculated precision, and to get them to leave you alone. You had no intention of killing them—not tonight, at least. There was no need for more blood on your teeth, no hunger gnawing at your belly that couldn't be satisfied by your well-stocked reserves. The temptation to indulge in their fear was there, of course, but it was tempered by your self-control, honed over centuries of practice. After all, what was the point of being immortal if one couldn't savor the psychological games that came with such power? From time to time at least.
Instead, you would break them. Not physically, but mentally and emotionally, stripping away their defenses layer by layer until they were nothing more than trembling shadows of their former selves. The thrill lay not in the act of violence, but in the slow, methodical dismantling of their confidence, their sense of control.
The Beginning:D20 => 18
"Congratulations, you have my attention," you said, a smile playing at the corners of your lips as you glided into the room. Your footsteps were nearly imperceptible against the cold marble, a calculated grace that made your presence all the more unsettling. As you moved, the shadows in the room seemed to follow your lead, subtly thickening and dimming, as if they were bending to your will. The light itself seemed to retreat in your wake, a silent prelude to the darkness you were prepared to unleash.
The room grew colder, the atmosphere more oppressive with each step you took. The others sensed it—the inevitable storm brewing just beneath the surface of your calm exterior. They could feel the encroaching dread, the sense that something far more terrible than they could comprehend was about to unfold. There was no escaping it, no running from your wrath. They knew, without a doubt, that they were trapped within your web, at the mercy of your power and your will.
The Archprincess, ever the cautious one, was the first to speak. Her voice, usually so steady, carried an edge of uncertainty. "The Code dictates that any magical deviation from—"
"Do not quote the codes to me," you interrupted, your voice sharp as a blade. The room seemed to darken further at your words, the air growing heavier with an almost tangible menace. "I was there when they were written. But please, please, try to hide behind the law, when you broke even more rules that would need to be followed that even you, in your infinite wisdom, knowledge, and centuries of life, would know."
Your smile faltered, a crack in the facade that sent a ripple of unease through the room. The shift was subtle—a slight twitch at the corner of your mouth that exposed a single, gleaming fang. It was a deliberate move, calculated to remind them of what you truly were and what you were capable of. The room, already thick with tension, seemed to constrict further as if the very walls were drawing in closer to witness the unfolding drama.
Your eyes narrowed, and you let the moment stretch out, savoring the growing discomfort that settled over the council members. The shadows, though slightly receded, still lingered menacingly in the corners of the room, waiting for your command to engulf the space entirely.
"What is the first rule," you began, your voice low and dangerously smooth, "when entering the domain of an elder? A title not lightly granted, but earned through centuries of life, experience, and the rank bestowed by this very council?"
The question hung in the air like a guillotine, the weight of your words pressing down on them. You weren't just asking for the sake of formality; this was a test, a challenge. The rule was ancient, older than most of the beings in the room, and it was woven into the very fabric of their existence. To disregard it was to invite death—or worse.
The Archprincess hesitated, her eyes darting between you and her fellow council members. She knew the answer, of course, but she also knew that answering incorrectly, or with anything less than absolute respect, could be fatal. The others remained silent, unwilling to draw your ire further by speaking out of turn.
Finally, she spoke, her voice trembling slightly. "The first rule is... to show respect. To acknowledge the authority and power of the elder whose domain we enter."
You took a slow, deliberate step forward, your gaze never leaving hers. "Respect," you repeated, the word rolling off your tongue with a chilling finality. "Respect is not just given; it is earned through fear, through power, through the understanding that you stand in the presence of something far older, far stronger, and far more dangerous than yourself."
Your voice hardened, and the room seemed to grow colder with each word. "Yet, I see little respect here tonight. Instead, I see fear, I see desperation, and I see a blatant disregard for the very laws that I helped to create. Especially when I had long since retired, to take a leave of absence from the world I helped create… and instead to seek solace, in nature, in the mortal realm."
The Archprincess flinched as if struck, and the other council members shifted uncomfortably in their seats. The truth of your words cut deep, and they knew that any attempt to defend themselves would be futile.
"You have forgotten the first rule," you continued your voice now a deadly whisper. "You have forgotten that in my domain, my will is absolute. You do not question it, you do not challenge it, and you certainly do not presume to hide behind laws that I wrote to just… hunt for a child that is now under my protection, his sister… and you certainly shouldn't have sent another group of hunters to do the same thing."
Who did it:D6 => 2
The ingrate, Le Maréchal, had slowly sunk into his chair, his posture betraying the guilt that now weighed heavily on him. Ah, so he was the one who had sent the second group. The realization settled in your mind with a dark satisfaction. The first group, at least, had an excuse—they were hunters, reckless perhaps, but unaware of whose territory they had trespassed. Their ignorance, while costly, was forgivable. You had dealt with them swiftly, their deaths a necessary reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows they dared to cross.
It was a mistake, one that could be rectified. If the grievances of their sires or masters were brought before you, you were confident that an agreement could be made. Honor could be restored, reparations made, and the matter put to rest without further bloodshed. It was the way of your kind—a balance of power, tradition, and respect, carefully maintained over centuries.
But the second group was different. They knew. They knew that this was your domain, a territory claimed and protected by one far older, far more dangerous than themselves. They knew you would be there, watching, waiting, prepared to defend what was rightfully yours. And yet, they came anyway. Not out of ignorance, but out of arrogance. They did not seek your counsel and did not approach you with the respect due to an elder of your stature. They did not ask for permission to hunt, to share in the spoils of your land.
Instead, they came to kill.
Your eyes flicked back to Le Maréchal, who seemed to shrink further under your gaze. He had sent them—those fools who dared to challenge you, who thought they could outwit or overpower you in your own territory. The audacity of it was almost laughable. Almost.
But what was truly infuriating, what really stoked the fires of your wrath, was how they had tried to distract you. They had thrown a boy into the fray, a mere child in comparison to the ancient beings they sought to confront. A daywalker, a Dampier—an intoxicating blend of mortal and vampiric blood, so that they could just walk in and slaughter your new charges? They used him as little more than a cattle for slaughter.
They had hoped the boy would divert your attention, perhaps even be enough to weaken you, to make you vulnerable. How wrong they were. You had dealt with him quickly, effortlessly, and now he was yours. Perhaps he was in better hands than his parents, in fact, he probably was.
"You," you finally said, your voice a low growl that reverberated through the chamber, "sent them to their deaths."
Le Maréchal's eyes widened in fear, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for words that might save him. But there were no words that could undo what had been done. He had gambled, and he had lost.
"They came without my permission," you continued, your tone growing colder with each word. "They knew I was there. They knew this was my domain. And yet, they did not come to me. They did not seek my counsel. They did not ask for my blessing."
You took a step closer, your presence looming over him like a dark cloud. "Instead, they came with the intent to kill. They disrespected me and dishonored the very laws that bind us all. And for what? A boy? A Boy not grown, who does wield the power he has fully, who when grown could kill us all?"
Le Maréchal's fear was palpable now, his hands gripping the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles turned white as if they were the only things anchoring him to this world. His bravado had crumbled, leaving only a hollow shell of the once-proud knight who had dared to challenge you. He had made a grave error, and now the consequences of that miscalculation were bearing down on him with the weight of centuries.
"A boy who is now mine," you finished, a cruel smile playing at the corners of your lips. The words hung in the air, a reminder of the power you wielded—power that had been underestimated, to their eternal regret.
"I would like to thank you," you continued, your voice smooth and venomous, "for providing me with excellent nourishment during the last couple of nights. Your gift was unexpected but most appreciated. It is only fair, of course, to repay such an uninvited visit with one of my own."
You paused, letting the words sink in, watching as Le Maréchal's breath quickened, his composure shattering piece by piece. The shadows in the room seemed to grow darker, more oppressive, as if they were a manifestation of your will, pressing down on him, suffocating him with the knowledge of what was to come.
"So," you said, your tone deceptively casual, "I must ask you a simple question: has the lesson been learned?"
The question was a trap, and Le Maréchal knew it. There was no right answer, no way to appease you without acknowledging his failure. But he was cornered, and he had no choice but to respond.
His voice, when it finally came, was barely more than a whisper. "Yes, my lord."
You raised an eyebrow as if considering his words, though you had already decided his fate long before. "Is that so?" you murmured. "And what, precisely, have you learned?"
Le Maréchal hesitated, his eyes darting to the other council members, seeking support where there was none. They were as silent as the grave, unwilling to intervene, too afraid of drawing your ire upon themselves.
"I… I have learned to respect your domain," he stammered, his voice trembling. "To acknowledge your authority. I swear… it will not happen again."
You let the silence stretch, watching him squirm under your gaze. The tension in the room was suffocating, a heavy blanket of dread that seemed to stifle all other emotions. Finally, you nodded, as if satisfied with his answer.
"Good," you said, your voice as cold and final as the grave. "See that it doesn't. For if it does, Le Maréchal, the next time we meet, you will not be sitting in that chair. You will be begging for mercy that will not come."
"As for the rest of you." You pointed to Tim and the Archprincess. "I will be in touch. If another event occurs… I will make sure it will be the last."
You then turned your gaze to Tim, your voice smooth and commanding, yet laced with a familiarity that hinted at the years you had known each other. "Walk with me, Tim."
Tim nodded without hesitation, his loyalty evident in the simple gesture. In an instant, he melted into the shadows, reappearing beside you as if he had always been there, a silent sentinel at your side. His presence was a comfort, one of the few things in this ancient and ever-changing world that remained constant.
As you exited the chamber, the heavy doors closing behind you with a resounding thud, the atmosphere shifted. The whispers of the council, barely audible behind the closed doors, were left behind as you entered the dimly lit corridor. The shadows clung to the walls, moving almost imperceptibly as you passed, as if they, too, were drawn to your presence.
Tim kept pace with you, his steps measured and confident. He was not a man who needed to prove his worth—he had done so countless times before, and you both knew it. His dark eyes glanced at you, awaiting your words, knowing that whatever you were about to discuss was of great importance. "I take you are not pleased with this… formality?"
As you walked, you spoke in a low, controlled voice, just loud enough for Tim to hear, but not so much that the lingering spirits in the corridor could eavesdrop. "No, I am not."
Tim nodded, his expression serious. "They've forgotten who truly holds the power, my lord. They've become too comfortable, too secure in their positions."
You let out a small, humorless chuckle. "Comfort is a dangerous thing in our world. It breeds carelessness. And carelessness, as we both know, is fatal."
Tim's eyes flickered with understanding. "What would you have me do?"
You paused, your footsteps echoing softly in the corridor. "Watch them closely, Tim. Especially Le Maréchal. He's been rattled, but fear alone won't keep him in line forever. If he starts to move against me again, I want to know about it. And make sure the... others do not catch wind of my new wards. least until I deem it such."
Tim inclined his head, a gesture of acknowledgment. "Consider it done, my lord."
You continued walking, the conversation shifting from the matters of the council to other, more personal topics. Tim was one of the few you trusted with such things, and in these rare moments, you allowed yourself to speak more freely, to let down the walls that you had built up over the years.
"Do you remember the last time we were in San Francisco together?" you asked, a hint of nostalgia creeping into your voice.
Tim smiled, a rare expression for him. "How could I forget? The city was… different back then. You rather missed the fires that "
You nodded. "Yes, it was. The world has changed so much, and yet, in many ways, it hasn't changed at all. The power struggles, the politics, the betrayals… it's all the same. Only the players are different."
Tim's smile faded slightly as he regarded you with a thoughtful expression. "And what of the new players? The boy, for instance. He's different. Dangerous, perhaps."
You sighed, a sound filled with the weight of centuries of experience. "He's no more different than others we have had in the past, he's an opportunity. One that I intend to use to its fullest potential. But first, we must ensure that the council understands its place. They need to be reminded of who holds the true power in our world."
Tim's eyes gleamed with a dangerous light. "And if they don't remember?"
Your smile was cold, predatory. "Then we will make them remember."
You then reached the door, and the night was still very young, but you had others to reach. Responsibilities to care for.
"Farewell Tim." You said with a smile.
"Farewell Lord Norton." He replied.
"I'm not a Lord anymore Tim, do I look like I sit in a stuffy council chamber clamoring about politics and laws and other needless bullshit?"
"No sir you do not." He replied. "You look like a hermit who lives in the desert, enjoying his retirement."
"And I hope to stay that way if only to have some time to myself." You replied. "Good luck my friend."
And as you disappeared into the shadows, you could see a small smile on his face.
----------------------------------------
You were home, with three children who were day walkers, this was going to be trouble.
Training, they needed training.
What do you do?:
[]What do you begin to train them in? (Write in Option)
[]Allow them to enjoy a mortal life: let them have no fear for a time. They deserve that much.
I'm sorry, but I want proper revenge. Some of the pests are hidden and finding them could require subtlety. Even if we went full scorched earth and destroyed the Americas entirely our enemies would simply plot elsewhere and there'd be nowhere for our retirement. Other continents have powers that can actually be a threat, so our influence is much less there. And of course we'd very much like to ferret out the sea people, who we KNOW are involved. We have immortal nemeses who have managed to evade us for too long and will be at the very least a pain in our rear as long as they exist.
Sertorius
Rebellious Legate
- Location
- Roma Invicta
And I want peace and quiet, not burning cities to the ground like in the old days. I mean this is Norton's aim right now. To be left to his own devices without outside interference. Do not poke the bull, leave it be in its very own little pen and it won't trample you, simple as that. This was the goal of our little visit.
I must really hand it to you @Magoose, your way of adding the write-ins into the fabric of the post is magnificent. A real pleasure to read.