King's Knight (Raz0r) - Dragon's Lair

The call came during the day, the soft British voice asking for Q to arrange for a meeting between each of their 'employers' that evening.  The usual vehicle would be sent to either the Hotel or at another cross-street nearby of their choosing, but the time was rather short after the Nosferatu was expected to wake.

Raz0r was prompt, and dressed in a tasteful suit when she stepped into the vehicle Q had told her would be waiting in the garage of the Hotel for her. She carried her messenger bag with it's usual assortment of tech gear, though she would allow it to be searched with no hesitation once the car got her to wherever it was going.

There were no requests to look in the bag or anything else on her person, but the reason behind that became obvious enough as soon as the door was shut behind her. If she looked at any phone, checked any radio, the signal was utterly and completely dead, evidently the interior being a literal dead-zone of signal for any type of communications.

The drive was pleasant enough, however, even if a bit lengthy in its obvious doubling back upon itself multiple times before arriving at the walled estate. Outside stood a trio of guards at obvious heightened attentions to their surroundings, although the vehicle was not stopped as it moved inside the gates.

Waiting inside the gate, a few steps ahead of another pair of armed guards, was a woman who was most likely one of the ghouls of the house. She stood even more attentive than the paramilitary-garbed guards, though she only seemed to hold a clipboard with a few sheets of paper attached to it.

Once Raz0r had exited the vehicle, she took a step towards the Nosferatu. "Welcome, Miss Raz0r, I trust that the travel arrangements were satisfactory?" Her tone and accent held the same as the phone call that had been made previously.

Raz0r nodded.

"As far as secret travel is concerned, that was a pretty comfy trip."

"Excellent, excellent," her smile was rather... cheery, despite their surroundings. "Is there anything that I can get you before your meeting? If you have not fed this evening, Mister de Sforza keeps sufficient stock on hand for his guests."

Raz0r shook her head.

"I, too, keep a stock on hand in the lab. I was able to feed before I came."

She nodded, the smile still quite bright and genuine. "I'll bring you to Mister de Sforza, then, if you like?" She held her free arm out towards the south end of the main building, though it was noticably not at the building itself.

She nodded.

"Please, lead the way."

Still smiling, she nodded and gestured across a lawn, already a path clearing of the guards patrol. "Of course. This way, ma'am." And she began to walk when the Nosferatu started. The walk was short, but between the obviously man-made hill, the walls and an assortment of trees, the clearing that she was led to was quite out of sight of the main entrance, patrols lightening in this particular area though not seeming to stray into the clearing itself.

Within the center of the clearing sat a large rectangular stone table, surrounded by thirteen stone seats that seemed more throne than chair, if for no other reason than their massive construction. Six of them, all towards one end, held overstuffed cushions between the arm rests, while the remaining seven held no such comforts of humanity. At the head of the table, where one of the seven 'chairs' was, stood the Ventrue in his normal black-on-black suited appearance. When they reached the edge of the clearing, the ghoul stopped, but gestured forward with the same smile. "Mister de Sforza waits for you here, ma'am. If you need anything, please let me know."

Raz0r smiled her thanks to the ghoul and stepped into the clearing. She walked around the table towards Anton, stopping a few steps away.

"Evening Anton. You wanted to see me?"

He nodded, gesturing to the table-at-large with the surrounding chairs. Oddly, there was no seat at what was likely the foot of the table. Conversely, it could be considered to have no head. "Yes, thank you for coming Razor. Please, have a seat. There is quite a bit of business that has crossed my personal desk that I believe will interest you greatly."

Raz0r nodded and took the chair closest to him, setting her bag down on the table.

"Please, do tell me what you think I would find so interesting that it requires a private meeting and a long, private car ride?"

Yep. There was the attitude. She just couldn't keep from being the little bitch she had been raised to be.

He sat as she sat.

"Your clan is not the only that favors privacy, the trip was necessary for that and security alike. I presume that you have heard of the demise of those responsible for your former domitor's murder, yes?"

He paused only long enough for the statement-question to register, knowing the answer already. The networks of information the Nosferatu commanded were beyond legendary among their kind.

"I have been approached by the parties responsible for the acts, and they seem to be very interested in having words with those of the leadership of your clan, and could think of none better to bring their proposal to those ears than yourself."

Her face tightened at the mention of the demise of those who had killed Nobody in a way that showed that she wished they were still alive so that she could kill them herself.

"What, precisely, do they mean by leadership of my clan? And what is their proposal?"

"I have been assured that their unlives ended much in the way that one would wish their enemies to leave this world. There was screaming, fear of the unknown, a lack of understanding of what was happening. None have escaped this particular method of ritual assassination, and none have experienced it with any thought of comfort.

"They wish to bring their clan -- bloodline, if you prefer -- into the welcoming arms of the Camarilla. Because of your and their shared animosity towards the worst of the culprits' clan, they feel it was best to approach through your Justicar. In exchange, they are willing to prove their potential loyalty by extending the same method towards the Camarilla's worst enemies, populated on the Red List.

"The potential targets on the Red List were of their own idea, apparently quite confident in their abilities against such foes."

Raz0r nodded.

"Thanks for the assurance as to the manner of death. I just wanted to see the looks on their faces as they died."

She paused to consider the proposal.

"What particular bloodline are we speaking of here? Kinda need to know that before I start going up the chain of command."

"They are Tzimisce, led by the individuals Charnabon and Dromichaetes. According to their words, they have walked since before the discipline Vicissitude infected their line's," he shrugged almost dismissively. "The pair are also accomplished Kolduns, according to my sources. Likely how they were capable of the feat, and what they propose, if I had to guess.

Raz0r pulled out her phone and began making notes.

"Don't worry about what I put on here. It's completely secure. What else can you tell me about them?"

He turned his head to the right, at the now-filled seat across from Raz0r. There sat a man in a plain white tunic, obviously weathered with the ages, and a pair of equally plain charcoal trousers. There were no pieces that might indicate any importance of the man. No rings, necklaces... not even shoes, but instead, bare feet. He sat looking at the Nosferatu with solid -- yet caring -- eyes.

When he spoke, his voice was much softer than the Ventrue's. More welcoming, almost eager to please whoever would listen. "What would you know of myself and my sire, dearest Raz0r?" His lips settled to a calm smile. Sedate, yet clearly at ease.

She returned his smile.

"Anything and everything that you'll tell me. You would be..." she paused, as she had not yet been told which was the childe, and which was the sire.

He nodded. "I apologize for my rudeness. I am Dromichaetes, my sire is Charnabon. I fear that simply beginning with the start of my life would not prove beneficial to our limited time this evening, perhaps there are more direct questions you would like to ask instead? Our war rages even now, martial progress that demands political advancement on my part to match that of our dear leader's."

Anton, for his part, seemed content to watch matters progress from his place.

Raz0r nodded.

"Of course. Perhaps you could tell me why you and your Sire wish to join with the Camarilla? And why now? If you've walked as long as you say, you have had ample opportunity before this."

"The pieces are always moving, as your clan understands better than most. The climate between the multitude of factions in play were not ripe for the opportunity. It was not to be for some time yet, unfortunately the rising of certain ancients necessitated an earlier time table. Those of unclean blood are purged nightly, while those worthy ascend to a higher place among us. It is far more than my sire and I. We untainted by the Eater of Souls seek new bastions that would stand against Caine's coming, and while the Camarilla is imperfect, its likelihood of survival is much higher than that of the Sabbat, who shelter those so debased and most unclean," he inhaled deeply before continuing.

"Those who claim the name of the Eldest of the Founders, Tzimisce, are the infected. They wrongfully claim the disease to be amongst His gifts upon his children, when it is a thing much more alien, far from simple. It seeks to infect and overtake all, supernatural and mundane alike. Vicissitude is a plague that will be stopped, whether your Inner Council sees the wisdom in our proposal or not." His voice remained calm, though it still held emotion far more readily than the still-silent Ventrue.

She typed away in short hand on her phone as he talked, nodding as if it all made sense to her.

"I can understand that. Do I take it from your words that you do not wish to be called by the same name as the ones tainted by Vicissitude? If so, what do you wish to be called?"

Her words were blunt and to the point, but there was nothing but curiosity behind them. She was obviously not judging anything he said, merely noting it down for future weight and those higher up the chain of command than she.

He shook his head.

"We are the descendants of the Eldest, we are of Tzimisce's blood. Unlike so many other differences of blood, our number acts upon this nightly. By blade and spell, tooth and recitation, their numbers decrease. And with their numbers, so too disappear their allies amongst the first Anarch revolt."