Logs:Primogen de Vercelis

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Primogen de Vercelis


Characters: Nicolo, Pan as ST/Info Dump
Date: 2020-06-26
Summary: Nicolo is inducted into the ranks of the Primogen Council.
Disclaimers: Possible addiction, blood drinking, snark, a probably unwanted arm around shoulders.

Crown Pleasure Club Sitting Room.jpg

The letter that Nicolo receives is from the desk of some no-name ghoul with a nack for calligraphy and flowery language, letting him know that his request to become Primogen has been received and evaluated, and that he should arrive at the Crown Pleasure Club at midnight on June 26th - as in the -evening- of the 25th, morning of the 26th.

The private rooms at the CPC are -very- private, quiet little rooms off of a gorgeous marble hallway. In wood and warm brown earth-tones, the room has a fake fireplace and bookshelves filled with hedonist philosophy and the diaries of past members of the CPC. And the vampire waiting for Nicolo? Conquista del Pan, in a pale blue suit over a pink-checked dress shirt with a bow tie, hair done up in a messy bun and with a fangy smile on their face.

"Nicki! So good to see you. I feel like we were -destined- to meet again."

Nicolo, pleased to have received the letter, walks right into the designated room and is... jaw-on-the-floor, surprised-as-hell, knock-him-over-with-a-feather, blown away to see the vampire in the blue suit. Maybe not the last person on earth he expected... but close!

The inquisitor has come in a black suit with black button down, no tie. Their expression is also considerably /less/ smiley than Primogen Pan's is. He actually looks just slightly grim before carefully forcing his face to a neutral position. "Good evening. I understand congratulations are in order; well done." He forces a smile, and it's 'almost' believable.

The Carthian crosses the room, drawing close enough to hug. The vampire does -not- hug Nicolo, but they draw close enough to do so before lifting a hand to offer it to shake to the Inquisitor. "You mean on my new position? Nah, no congratulations on that. Like I said when we met: they'll take -anybody-. Even me. And you." If Nicolo takes Pan's hand to shake, he'll get a squeeze, then an all-too-familiar arm around the shoulder to lead him over to a seat. If he refuses, well - that's much safer, Pan will just turn and head back to the little sofa across from an armchair and drop back into it in a sprawling drape. Their jacket is unbuttoned already, so no need to adjust for comfort. Regardless, their next words are: "So obviously you're in, if you pass the test. You ready to know what you've got to do?"

Nicolo, for better or worse, takes Pan's hand to shake and is then led to the chair where he amicably takes a seat. This is why he's here, after all, and manages to get the front button open on his suite before being seated and crossing his legs; ankle over knee. "I'm in, it's true. Providing I pass the test, of course." He looks to the other vampire with slightly narrowed eyes, unsure how wary he needs to be, if at all. "I'm ready. What do I need to do?" He asks politely.

The Daeva reaches into an interior pocket, and draws out a little glass vial (a little glass vial) and tosses it, casually, over to Nicolo to catch or let fall into his lap. "You drink that. The mingled blood of all three of the Triumvirate. You prove your loyalty, your willingness to bind yourself to them, and you're in. Otherwise? You're out. I text the vampire obfuscated in the hallway. He comes in, and looks you in the eyes, and you walk away thinking you turned it down for some other reason, but you know that you'll never be able to take the seat. Destiny over. You drink, and then I answer any questions you have about your new job. Then we go our separate ways." Pan crooks an eyebrow up. "Unless you wanna fool around first. A shame to waste a nice private room."

Nicolo easily catches the vial and examines it. He has his concerns though. "How do I know this is indeed the blood you say it is and not, say, your blood? And, how do you know I'm not already fully bonded to, say, someone in the Church? My bonding tonight would be quite useless, then, wouldn't it?" He offers those up to Pan as possible wrenches in the works. "Otherwise? I'm fully prepared to bond myself to the Triumvirate tonight and accept this position."

"I don't care if you believe it's the Triumvirate's blood. I don't care if you're fully bound to someone else and immune. I don't care if the Triumvirate have some kind of psycho-powerful blood magic that will shatter whatever bond you've got or whether this is purely symbolic. I don't care if you become Primogen or not, Nico. I'm just the member of the Council all the shit work goes to even though I've got better shit to do with my time. They don't care about me, and if they cared about -you- they'd have had literally anyone else do it. Drink it and I report you drank it. Don't and I report you don't. I'm just here to make the offer and answer questions."

Nicolo shrugs. Without any further questions or such, opens the little vial and drinks down the content. It's delicious and he smiles. "What is expected of me, when and how often do we meet, anything you can warn me about? Land mines and pitfalls?" Nicolo doesn't fully trust Pan to answer any of these questions honestly or truthfully, but keeps the smile up for them. He listens carefully anyway to hear Pan's responses.

"I mean, we meet whenever we all decide we need to meet. Of course the last big Council meeting -I- know of? Four members were killed and a fifth was executed for the murder, so I think we're all a little wary. If you want warnings: I've had two assassination attempts since I took the seat, so. Did Longinus ever diablerize anybody? Look out for your churchmates deciding you're crunchy and delicious." Pan pushes themself up to their feet, grinning down at Nicolo. "Your job is -mostly- to watch over your flock, Inquisitor. Decide who gets what territory. Appoint folks to Praxis positions. Decide who in the Lance gets to Embrace new childer or not. Mete out judgment. Punish those who break the rules. We're not -technically- allowed to announce blood hunts, but I've always found it interesting that there's also -technically- no laws against murder. When that gets punished or not tends to depend on how folks feel about who got killed. Like, if I drank you to death, who would -care- is what's important, not that I did it."

Nicolo gives Pan a toothy, fangy grin. He's... enjoying this. "No one would care. You're right. I'll keep that in mind. Alright then, can you quickly tell me about the territory? What does the Lancea et Sanctum currently hold? The area around the Church? I don't know because nobody was here when I got here and we've just been basically winging it since then. So having a clear idea with what we're dealing with would be helpful."

"I have no idea. I don't know of -any- territorial claims. I mean, I'm sure von Krieger has somewhere she considers hers, but she's not telling -us- about it. She kind of just gets to kill anybody who stumbles into her lair, I bet. I don't actually know any other members of the Lance than you. I think I met your predecessor once or twice? But she disappeared. -Mysteriously-. I've endorsed the Savages' claim in New Aurora so far. I'm about to lay down some territory of my own. Other than that? Do whatever the fuck you want. There are written down records, ask the ghouls at the LCL they'll get you a list so you don't overlap anybody. Keep your claims small enough that nobody'll kill you for overreaching, if you wanna stay alive. It's what I'm doing."

"Excellent. Well then, I suppose I get the gist of this, Primogen, and I thank you for meeting with me tonight. I'm sure you must have drawn the short straw." It's a little joke. A little attempt at some humor. "Is there a list of all the current primogens, or can you name them off for me? I'll try to get around to meeting everyone. Other than that, I do appreciate this. I'd like to be able to call upon you if other minor questions come up? Not sure you'd be up for that, but I'd consider myself lucky to have you as ally. Or at least not an enemy."

"Everyone's public, but yeah, I've at least heard of all of them. The Order is still unfilled. You and me, for Lance and the Movement. Ghandara Sinclair you've met, of the Nosferatu. Aurelie Fontenot, my coterie-mate, heads up the Circle of the Crone. Lady Madeleine Rapace-Roberts, although she's not answering texts and I worry she's fucked off or died, holds the Invictus seat - her husband, Lord Malcolm Roberts, who decided not to hyphenate -his- name? He's the Sheriff. No correlation I'm sure. A lady named Tomasson holds the Gangrel seat, uh. Ewart, Chantel Ewart, in the Daeva seat - she's Invictus. Fadi Ely runs the Ventrue, he's -also- Invictus, some member of Aelius's lineage I think. Nevin, I've never met her but she is one of yours, a Lance? Runs the Mekhet. Then there are the three Seneschals - Molloye for Aelius, Camp for von Krieger, Allsopp, the creepy fucker, for Hartford. There's a wolf named MacCailin, a Beast named Provenza, and Baak Mingzhu for the Changelings - she's cool. All black and white like she got out of a movie, hot as fuck, style like whoa." Pan pushes hands back into pockets, rocking on the balls of their feet.

"That's extremely helpful. Thank you. I'll move forward and deal with whomever comes along in my covenant. But I appreciate this greatly and will see you around." And with that, Primogen de Vercelis rises gracefully, offers his hand if Pan is interested and then makes his way to the door.

Another shake is had, and when Nicolo heads for the door, Pan says to the retreating Lance: "Welcome to the front lines, Primogen. Watch your back."