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Oct. 27th, 2004 @ 09:40 pm News and Rumors
In the newspapers:

Benedict Arnold defeated at Lake Champlain on the 11th of October.
American retreat at the Battle of White Plains (10/28)

Benedict Arnold's fleet of naval ships were defeated on Lake Champlain on the 11th of the month of October in the year of the Lord seventeen hundred seventy-six. The war rages on traveling closer occassionally to our fair city, issues also abound in the areas of the port. Having lost the lake in Ohio, Americans grow anxious over the issues that are threatening the country.

Americans retreat from the British in White Plains. On the 28th of the month of October in the year of the Lord seventeen seventy-six, General George Washington retreated from a British on slaught in the White Plains of New York.

In Philadelphia a meeting was held earlier this month to discuss the issues of family's missing individuals. Results from this town meeting have not yet been reported to the staff here.


************


Kindred Rumors: The Camarilla and Sabbat have been warring, the independentants grow more and more annoyed at the lack of leadership on both sides. The Gangrel are around still, ignoring for the most part the issues of the Court and the problems they seem to have with building up a structure. The Sabbat has been also around pushing towards taking over a larger part of the city, will they enter into the lands forbidden to all?

Camarilla Rumours: The Sabbat had been attacking yet now, suddenly silence engulfs the domain. No one has seen the Don of the City. A new Kindred has appeared in the area and recently was wedded to another Kindred. Odd things abound, as the strangeness continues in the domain. There's been 4 Princes in 4 weeks, Diana Kensington, Ceaser, Matthew, and now Abdullah, but yet none has truely successfully claimed praxis without it being disputed by another. What will the latest grouping bring? Who will succeed in retaining Praxis. Who is this Ceaser guy who claims to be Prince? Where did Matthew wander off to and where are the rest of the Ventrue Clan?

Sabbat Rumours: The Camarilla has been annoying again recently. Already the Sabbat grows weak in a loss of infiltrators and leadership. The Archbishop orders all who are Loyal Sabbat to her gathering to be held in a undisclosed place at an undisclosed time (If you play a Sabbat PC contact the ST Staff in regards to this please)
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franklinspapers:
Oct. 10th, 2004 @ 12:29 pm Mingling
After spending some time to establish her husband's business, Phoenix has decided to acquire an escort and travel to meet other Kindred in the city. She feels a bit awkward, because after all she is not used to leaving estate, much less leaving without her husband. She assures herself nightly that though this bold move will surely incur his mighty wrath, it will be worth it.

The first night she entered the selected site to find no one. She was informed by the bartender that they were all at "the church." Somewhat pleased by this she then traveled forth to this church to find that there was some disagreement over leadership. Phoenix remained out of the way until the crowd had dispersed. She made introductions to one veiled lady and a good gentleman, assumed to be of the Kings. The gentleman promised to introduce her to her Speaker, and in few nights she will return the site of Elysia again.
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phoenixfire23:
Oct. 7th, 2004 @ 05:13 pm The next two rocks in the pile
*She sat there carving into the next couple of rocks in the pile, her eyes focused on her work, her carvings but crudely drawn figures as she desprately tried to express the ideas of the next two concepts over a course of nights in her mind, trying to make the pictures represent what she understood the concepts to be. She silenced her mind focusing only on the task at hand, trying to express Ikhwan in a way that would be acceptable, that would be suitable. She drew pictures of people and tried to draw them close together, overlapping even, as the rock was made to symbolize such a concept as brotherhood. Trying to express peace between the assamites and the forbidden nature of combat between the two. She worked on drawing chores that they assisted each other with, leaving out the only task that was forbidden to have assistance in, Assasinations. She tried to represent this in a picture of a cell.

Her mind blanked at the next one, briefly, for she hesitated on how to draw such a concept, she knew not how to write it in pictures. She drew two individuals, standing tall and noble, and finally a third one head lower then the other two. She drew a picture of a group of people with weapontry decending upon the third one, which she placed horns upon. Muruwa was a hard concept to depict. She sat there her mind focused still strongly upon her task as she worked towards showing the picture for what it was, what it had to be. She thought about the individual, which was what this focused on and tried to figure out how to show such, how does one show truth? She drew a circle around individuals to represent such a thing, trying to make each part of the concept stick, trying to show honor in the picture.

She took the rocks to Abdullah's room when she was done, and then returned to the barn to sleep for the day.
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hiddenofhaqim:
Oct. 4th, 2004 @ 06:29 am The Truth
Current Mood: melancholymelancholy
*She sat there, silently, her knife striking into the stone she was working on, drawing on, trying the best she could to fulfill the task set before her, she sat there - lost deep in her mind thinking to herself focusing on each word as she tried to explain them in this strange and forgien manner to her. Each word of the Khabar stabbed at her, each like a sword twisting around her, she carefully tried to draw thier meanings in a way to convey them, slowly, meticulously drawing the thoughts that came into her mind attempting to express concepts with pictures.

She lowered her head, once again, in shame, she knew the nature of her crime, she lied, not once but twice, worse she knew, she had lied not only to her clan but to herself, trying to think herself worthy of being thier equal if only they would see her as something more then the slave she was bound to be. Her own mind, had betrayed her, she should have never made the attempt to hunt the Sabbat as her true self, this was her own folly, but somehow she had hoped that it would have worked. They reconized her far too easily as Abdul, knowing far more about her then she wanted them to, but they, nor her own blood had known the truth about her. She pulled upon her own strengths and felt the tug of that persona come upon her, but even he at this point had abandoned her.

She carved into the stones, trying to make the pictures in her mind show on the stone- she understood her crime, her punishment, her disgrace - she had expected that sooner or later they would find out. Her tongue was a small price to pay for such a lie, she pushed the knife into the rock, trying to draw stick figures to represent the picture of the clan and the picture of the individual, she knew the meanings, yet her own lack of knowledge would prove the challenge here. She knew the only skills she possessed were on the battlefield or in the Manor, besides that she had no skill at the task set before her, her hands once soft, now calloused from years of being a slave to years of being a soldier, were use to the hard work, the tasks that were neigh impossible to complete she had no intention to fail at one now, not now, not when she knew in the balance her existance hung.

She remembered the pain of the lashes she received and cringed slightly, thinking back and remembering ever scar that ran up and down her body. Remembering how her own brother had determined that she would be worthless forever and threatend to sell her simply to pay off the costs of trying to raise his own family if she would have been worth anything. She had hoped this would have turned out differently, she had hoped that of all things, she would have been able to rise above the upbringing that foreshadowed her every moment. She knew her brother had money and had no need for anything, yet she sat in the barn, huddled in a back corner to protect the cattle at night.

He came to her, she was sleeping for once, in the corner. His eyes settled upon her and he yanked her up by her hair, anger and rage growing in his eyes as he accused her of allowing one of the Horses to be stolen. She cried out, horrified at such an accusation, none were missing she tried to convince him, but he knew she failed in her tasks. He gripped her throat, pushing her against the back wall of the barn, choking her his gaze unrelenting, his power too much - she knew he was angered with her, but as she glanced in the barn all the animals were there.

"You are worthless, a girl not even worth so much as a single coin. Not worth so much as a scrap of bread. And yet, when I grant you kindness you repay it by falling asleep while you are to be guarding the horses we rely so heavily upon." Her eyes grew black and the world started to spin, slowly it was falling away from her, he took her and threw her to the ground, kicking her until finally she crawled outside the barn, struggling and gasping to catch her breath. She cried out to Allah for assistance, and again he kicked her until she moved away from him, she looked up into her brothers face with tears streaming across her face, shamed for his own shame of having such a sister stand amongst him. Shamed for his having to pay for her own well being.

She fought back the self-pity that she felt, she took every blow that he gave her, staring at him, wishing for it to end, hoping that he would simply take her worthless life so that she could find peace, instead he tied her to the ceiling of the barn and left her hang there for several days and nights, brused, hungered, thirsty and tired, she glared out the door, watching each day as her own brother would come with water, stopping briefly enough at her to sit there and torment her already weakend soul with such succor, yet never giving in to her whimper. Each whimper only brought her more pain, more force taken upon her body, more lashes from his whip. She knew not how many days exactly passed but the sun rose and set many many times. Her mind uneducated even for the wealth of her own family, she had been born worthless and as such was relegated to such a position in society.

Finally, peace came, her sister in law came to her and set her free from his shackles one night, giving her a knife to protect herself with and food and water and a horse to get as far away as she possibly could, the last gift, the one that she knew would forever condemn her in the eyes of Allah and her own society was a pair of pants and a shirt that belonged to her brother. She worked hard, first using the tack to tape down her body to make her appear more masculine, and finally learning to be a man in thier society, her face, for once uncovered, daunted and revealed, hardend and perhaps aged far more then what it should have been. She blended into thier society, thier world of men, as a soldier. No one knew she was female and a run away slave, Nadia hadn't even known until recently, when she went hunting. She had hoped to bring one thing - honor to herself, instead she found herself only bringing more disgrace upon herself lowering herself to the tactics of the munafiqun, having to lie contunally against herself nightly.


Her knife carved pictures, deep into the stones, as she expressed herself with each stab and dragging of the knife. Finally she hoped that she had at least written something to express Asabiyya to the point of which she understood it, knowing that there was no way she could ever truly express such with the disgrace she had wrought upon herself. Hoping that somehow these lines would express the bond of loyalty that she was to have for her own clan and thier interests over her own. That somehow, her still lines would express the feeling of obedience to Abdullah.
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hiddenofhaqim:
Oct. 3rd, 2004 @ 03:00 pm New beginnings
Current Mood: optimisticoptimistic
With the help of that odd but delightful Mr. Aldridge, Lady Phoenix of DeMarco was able to acquire transport to the New Worlde. It was most humorous kidnapping, a daytime escursion with the help of the estate staff. She hoped that her beloved Antoine would forgive her one day. After all, she is doing this for him. Generating his profits from the New Worlde may not be customary for a lady, but what a lovely surprise it will be!

Shortly after their arrival, Phoenix managed to acquire some servants, a comfortable home and a base of operations. Shortly after that, dear Mr. Aldridge disappeared. With a manservant, the Lady DeMarco now seeks out fellow Kindred in the areas instructed by Mr. Aldridge.
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phoenixfire23:
Oct. 2nd, 2004 @ 09:17 pm As he sits in his haven
:::Terrance sits, tending to his rapier, and mending his clothing, humming quietly. He finidshes his maintenance, and places his things away, drawing forth an Inkwell, sand, lapdesk, quill, and parchment:::

Well, I should write a missive I suppose...

:::Begins scribing a missive to pass to the Independent Kindred of the city, should he be able to find them:::

((OOC: see IC missive on list))
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bjornagain:
Oct. 1st, 2004 @ 02:37 pm Julian - Last Words (2nd to last)
Current Music: The Living End - Staring at the Light
Julian frowned, sealing the last envelope.  Letters written in haste were not truly the best of things, but they would have to do.  There was no more time.  There never seemed to be, but now this was even more true.

He held his ring ot the cooling wax long enough to carry his mark, and looked over to the stark German woman standing by the door.  Julian stood, and handed a dozen of the letters to her.  A single name was on each, and Julian felt some relief as he did so.

"Matron," he said to her.  "Thank you.  Please, see that these are delivered."  She nodded, and after she left the room, Julian nodded.  That was done, then.

Father, Graham's voice said.  You don't have to do this.  Fight it.

"Graham.  No...we can't.  Ultimately, we must each accept our fates.  It is as God wishes it to be.  Our brothers and sisters will welcome us."

No one will ever know, father.        "Those who need to know will know."
We will be forever lost.                      "We will be one at last."
Salvation will be denied.                  "We shall find salvation in sacrifice."
You do this because you have no choice.   "Not the situation I would have preferred, but we must accept what life gives."
YOU ACCEPT DEFEAT!                    "It is what I make it."

And what is to become of me?  Is my soul finally to rest, or are you to bring me on your quest and deny me my salvation?

"Once I am gone...so shall be you.  Worry not, my son.  You have done what you set out to do, and I am greatful.  Rest now, and dream of your reward."  Julian nodded as the feeling of Graham, as the presence of his son dwindled.  Poor Graham had been dead for two centuries...they both had to accept that now.  There was no choice of doing anything else.

Julian pulled on his gloves and reached for the last letter.  This one, he would deliver himself.  Some things were too important to entrust to others.  A look at his clock, his prized possession, made him smile slightly.  A few hours yet.  It was bittersweet.

Everything was settled, though.  More than most people get.  Now, just one last thing to do.
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Mortals
warrenswod:
Sep. 23rd, 2004 @ 11:49 am Julian - Family Ties Part 1
Current Mood: optimisticoptimistic

Julian looked over the maps again, his scribe having carefully copied down all of Abdul's notes.  Somewhere here, there was a pattern.  Somewhere.  He just had to find it.  When the door opened behind him, Julian didn't turn.  He heard the heartbeat first...it was familiar, the not quite true beat of an immortal focusing themselves on...certain things.

"Father?" the rich male voice said.  Julian turned with a grin, maps momentarily forgotten.  "I came, as you asked."

"Graham!"  Julian smiled as he looked upon his favorite childe, now here at last.  "When did you arrive?"

"Recently, sir.  The Matron directed me here.  What is this location?"

"This is my meeting site, and our planning...house, I suppose.  I recently met with the Primogen.  There may yet be an end in sight."

"Wonderful!" Graham exclaimed.  "And congradulations upon your ascent.  I told you that you would desire it again, did I not?"

"Yes."  Julian nodded.  "You did."  Silence for a moment, Julian looking down.  And then he smiled at Graham in what could be mistaken for an apprehensive fashion.  "I...really am sorry about what happened.  What I had to do.  You know it pained me to do so."

"Father, you do what you must.  I understand, and I am no longer angry.  I love you for the gift you have given me.  The Insight, my Family...it is glorious..."

A smile crept onto Julian's face, a true smile.  "Graham, that is wonderful to hear.  One of your sisters is here, you know.  I had thought her lost to me, but fate has rewarded my patience and my virtue with her return.  You must meet her."

Graham shared in Julian's joy.  "Oh, excellent.  Yes, absolutely.  And I wish to be of service to you, Father."

Julian walked to Graham and put a hand on his shoulder, smiling.  "There is much that we can discuss, my son."

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Mortals
warrenswod:
Sep. 19th, 2004 @ 07:24 am Another week
Current Mood: aggravatedaggravated
*Abdul sits in his barn, his mind rambling on for a few minutes as he listens to the gossip the other slaves tell him. They talk about becoming free men and Abdul, smiles slightly. He watches them with interest and they talk about the war that is going on, and what the revolution means to each of them and about freedom - he has spent so long, he has forgotten his own battle for such. His mind, wanders - back in time.

She stood there, weak and pathatic, the second born female, a slave - she knew she would not amount to anything. Her eyes dark and she hated the path that Allah placed before her, condemning her to this slavery. He came to her and he held in his hand a whip and she knew she had spoken back one too many time, she glared at him - her own brother - she couldn't believe he would do this. She stood there and took his lashings, and that night while he slept she ran away.

He understood the place of a slave, more so then what others thought, he could feel her in his mind, and understood each marking that scarred her skin, that damaged her. He thought back to after that.

Abdul stood there, on the front lines, suddenly the attack began, he loaded his crossbow with percision and fired, and loaded again - mechanical, unfeeling. She was testing him. He fired finally one shot - and it struck right - she dropped to the ground - dead he had thought.

He laughs at this memory briefly, and then it was gone, only to be replaced by yet another haunting memory.

It was the battle he wished for, a sword fight, he stood there and battled with expertise, his movements flowing, his actions cunning, his battle plan perfect. Except..... except.... suddenly a sword peirced into his side, he reared back in pain, biting back the agony he was feeling - he eyed his enemy - and attacked with a fercoity that he still ponders where the strength came from. His sword it seemed ended up with a mind of it's own, and he could feel the blood loss from the mortal wound. His eyes in anger lashed onto the enemy and suddenly in one swift movement his enemy's head lay at his feet. He walked off, into the sands to die respectfully and take his place with Allah.

His eyes hardened as he listened to the newest weapons that the British had presented and without much thought he knew what must be done. He noded and excused himself and went to see Nadia.
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hiddenofhaqim:
Sep. 18th, 2004 @ 09:33 pm Havens
Current Mood: mischievousmischievous
Current Music: Waterfalls TLC
A young woman of an apparent age of 16 walks slowly down the street. Her dark raven locks are carefully curled, trapped by a stylish blue hat, overflowing with feathers. She is dressed in savoy dark blue skirts and a matching frock. In one hand she carrys a cloth luggage bag, in the other a matching dark blue parasole. Under one arm is a small leather bound book. She walks causually down the street, turns down another, seeming to wander aimlessly until she comes upon a small house. She looks at the house, the same one that she had visited last night.

For a long moment, she stands there, as though trying to make up her mind. Finally, with deliberate purpose she knocks firmly on the door, then steps back to wait for the master of the house to open the door.


cc
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WhiteDawn
ceterose: