Watching the Watchers
12th of January 2007 A.D.
One does not usually imagine arcane travel as slinking out of a golf course's water features, but such is the way of Henderson NV, a strange mix of foreign and familiar sights: palm trees sway over the even driveways of three bedroom houses, nary a dream of winter in the air. Somewhere just around the corner one can hear the distant sounds of traffic, muffled by distance and bylaws meant to keep any daring drivers off the roads Even plots of land sprawl along the shore of man-made Las Vegas Lake, cleaner by far that the Wash you had passed through and yet one cannot escape the sense that all of this is in service of someone else, something else which the good people of Henderson would not entirely approve of.
The golf course, still in construction, which is why you choose it for your means of egress, seems almost cyclopean compared to the quaint little town around it. Maybe it's having recently
been water, but you wince inwardly at just how much has to be pumped to make these hillocks green.
Can't the whole thing be sand traps?
As you ponder the matter you allow the fierce hot sun to try you off, arcanely unnoticed by any of the residents. Granted anyone magically sensitive would have felt the waters heave then, but the particular poise with which you hold yourself cares nothing for the nearness of the observer or the means by which they do so. A wizard and his scrying globe or someone watching a live feed on their security camera is just as vulnerable as that fellow over there in the Hawaiian pants looking with longing at the halcyon glory of golfing-to-be.
Lost 2 Essence -> Now at 13/15 (ATP and Etiquette Excellency)
Of course the issue is that everyone else isn't going to benefit from as solid of a veil, so instead of ducking into the nearest shed to get everyone here you decide to wait and watch, see what kind of welcoming party the whirling of the waters may have elicited. At firs the answer seems to be nothing, perhaps all the movers and shakers are busy on the Strip. Then, about forty minutes after you had come on the scene, a 1983 Chevy van trundles down the street, looking rather lost since it seems to be older than anything in this neighbourhood. Then the headlights flare on not the washed out white one would expect, but a ghostly blue... that no one else on the street seems to notice. Where you had crossed the road to get a better vantage point it marks splotches of glowing green.
Two men leave the van, wearing polo shirts and cargo shorts, in a manner that is anything but casual. Though unalike in features they are so similar in manner as to be confused for brothers. Partners then... and not in any peaceful trade from the bulges each keep at their hips. Intrigued you look deeper... and find the swirling red-black auras of the Red Court marked with the even white flashes that show them too be alert, motivated, but not overly worried.
They actually are brothers, you realize after a moment,
not in any mortal manner, but by the tainted blood that made them as they are. As for the van, well its a lot more interesting even than you first thought: Glamor
Alive-not a van-not-made-a creature bound to serve, a colossal hunting hound, almost.. fey. Fortunately it seems entirely baffled by the trail in front of it.
Lost 2 Essence (Hellscry and ATB) -> Now at 11/15
You revise your estimation of the two vampires' bravery up two notches and their wits down the same amount, to be willing to ride around in what you are pretty sure is the creature's mouth, particularly as the false-car bears them clashing auras of bruise purple and and poisonous yellow, hatred and disdain. The closest comparison you can come to is how one might feel about an infestation of tapeworms
What do you do?
[] Leave and find a quiet room to bring the others through, you are satisfied that at the very least you will not be easy to track
[] Trail the strange trio, maybe the opportunity will arise to question them or save the 'van'
[] Write in
OOC: Well someone noticed the magical disruption , but they hit a dead end entitled Anonymity through Propriety 
