Smoldering Ruins

::Primogeon Clark Winston stands on canal street looking out towards the old mill buildings while fiddling with his phone some. His overtly nervous demeanor seemingly heighten this evening. The other night a building had been burnt to the ground and it was time for damage control. Primogeon Priscilla and the Prince would be taking care of the mortal circles involved and it would be up to Clark to deal with the kindred backlash. Dresden was really starting to get to Samuel and Clark knew it. With the upcoming Prince's conference, security would be at an all time high for priorities. He finished the text he was working on and looked back over to the now ruined mill building. How much more chaos would reign in Manchester before this maniac was brought low?::

"Reminds me of my time in the C.C.C."

::Clark moans to himself.::

*A voice seems to speak out of nowhere behind the kindred, the accent thickly accented with a scottish brogue*

Cannae say I'm familiar with that abbreviation. Couldn't help but notice ye were lookin' 'round where the bastard until recently resided. Any revelations?

*Andrew MacGregor is standing there dressed in the same pair of black slacks, vest and tie over a pressed white shirt that he was wearing in Elysium the other night. A green swiss army jacket covers his torso against the light rain that seems to be falling around Manchester as of late and a bowler hat is cocked slightly to the side on his skull. A light mist seems to exhale from his lips as his chest rises and falls gently and a slight flush suffuses his features*

::Clark seemingly cowards away from the other kindred and eyes him over. He frowns some and tilts his head to the side.::

"Now there's something I don't see every night. Someone I don't actually know."

::Clark says and plays some with his smart phone.::

"And you are?"

*The Elder smiles some and offers a slight nod, tipping his bowler with one gloved hand while closing the front of his jacket with the other as if to ward off the rain*

Andrew MacGregor, at yer service, sir. Now, as one civic minded citizen to the other, I repeat, any revelations?

*The man's brogue is light of tone, nonthreatening. In his past line of work, it paid not to come on too strong with seemingly skittish suspects. More than once, he'd scene some pigeon try to fly when faced with too forceful a line of questioning. Also, it paid to keep your big stones in your pocket in case you needed to break someone later. For now, he stood at ease, his deep set blue eyes observant of the scene and the kindred before him*

::Clark blinks a few times as if trying to place the other kindred but seemingly gives up after a little bit. He motions back to the smoldering ruins and makes the effort to sigh.::

"This Dresden character is a very scary guy. He did far worse down I. Springfield and I fear there is worse to come to Manchester. There's nothing left of a lead in the warehouse and it doesn't look at any of his men have been by either."

::The primogeon says and adjusts his long coat some.::

"The courts of the north east have all issued a blood hunt on him. Now you know why."

::Clark says and looks back out onto the ruins.::

*The man shakes his head some and turns to observe the warehouse once more*

Disagree, friend. So far, all I've seen is that he set his house on fire, defended himself from a group of folks bent on doin' him harm an' dressin' himself in a garish fashion. Pretend I've been asleep for a century. Enlighten me as to the particulars, sir. If it's not too much trouble.

::Clark casts a susious gaze over to the other kindred and frowns some more.::

"Sounds like a line of logic you should keep to yourself. If the prince heard you questioning his orders he would not take it lightly."

::Clark said and crossed his arms over his chest.::

"why don't you look into this Dresden fellow of you think he's on the level. See the terror he's brought to the courts of the north east."

::Clark said and edged away from Andrew.::

*The Pinkerton simply shrugs and continues to watch the building, almost as if it were somehow shifting and changing before his eyes. Without looking at Clark, he speaks again, his tone carrying that same neutral, nonthreatening tone*

I'm an investigator, sir. A Pinkerton once and an Inquisitor after that. If yeh want tae find out the heart of a criminal, yeh have tae establish motive. Even one that's strange or obtuse still can tell yeh volumes about the man and, more often than not, will reveal why he chose tae sin. I dinnae want tae hear propaganda or merely an edict. I want tae know what people know of the man we're huntin'. Yeh were here, so I asked.

*With this, he turns to face the other kindred and his voice takes on an edge*

One thing we need tae get square between us though sir is this: I am of the Second Estate, chosen by God tae be the instrument of salvation and wrath on a world that continues to forget His majesty. As Longinus damned himself in carryin' out the orders he was given so too do we follow the world of Law in all we do. In this fief, Dillinger rules and so I obey as ordained by the Laws of our kind. An' as sure as Cain slew his brother out of love for the Lord Almighty, so will I serve up what I have if ordered tae by those He has placed above me.

*he smiles a bit*

Dramatic I know, but have I made my point, sir?

::Clark is silent for a long time and then simply nodded his head.::

"You're certainly not like the others then."

::Clark says in a much less aggressive tone.::

*charles walks over*
*He looks at the pile of ruins like he searching for something.*


*seeing the two talk he waits for a pause*
*Looking at both of them*



Have one of you asked the rats what dresden smells like?

Good cop need leads, a wise man only needs evidence, and this looks like evidence.

::Clark skittishly edges away from the second kindred and frowns some. Groups made him nervous and he showed only a blood potency of one himself. He eyes over chuck and tries to place him.::

"I don't believe we've been formally introduced?"

::The primogeon said to chuck, ushering him on to introduce himself.::

Bryan O'Leary while on his errands to gather needed materials came by the ruins where that blasted warehouse once stood and saw from the corner of his eye a most peculiar sight. There were three figures standing at the rubble,two were standing while the third looked like he was scrounging through the remains.

The Hound raises an eyebrow at this and walks over. It takes him only a second to recognize the individuals.

"Well, well gentlemen what you all up to tonight?" The Gangrel asked making his way over to the other kindred grinning

::The primogeon gives the hound a shallow nod and waits for the other kindred to introduce himself. Clark grows even more antzy with 3 other kindred around.::

*Charles in low voice speak*

I am Charles Robins, The Priscus of Clan Venture and a member of the Invictus.


*Charles reaches a hand forward to shake toward Clark and Andrew*
And you gentlemen are ?

*MacGregor felt his irritation rising. Four kindred gathering in full view of any passing kine...any passing skinwalkers or Hunters would be able to feel the taint in the others from a mile away. His sire held nothing but contempt for humanity...to them they were sheep to feed the Sanctified wolves. But one thing he had a healthy respect for was the Masquerade and he drilled it into the Mekhet over decades of very harsh instruction. None of this played over his countenance. Instead, he adjusted his hat and offered a nod to the two other kindred who approached*

MacGregor...Sanctified Inquisitor. Pardon me, but I cannae say as I do well with public gatherings.

*he offered his hand to Clark, the black leather preventing any true contact between the two and smiled a bit*

Perhaps we'll have time tae speak later, Mr. Clark. Midnight Mass perhaps?

::Clark takes note of the Priscus and nods to him. He had heard about the man, but had never seen him. Now he knew who he was. He gave an other nod to Andrew.::

"Agreed, lots of us out tonight."

::He says and starts to leave.::

O'Leary chuckles quietly to himself.

Everyone seems a bit edgy lately not that he blamed them. Hunters, Lupines, and now a bat-shit crazy elder running loose in the city and things were sure to only get crazier too. The Hound thought to himself

He watched as the other two started to leave but simply shrugged at this. he looked to the third.

"Be sure not linger here too long alright." Giving the kindred a friendly warning as he started to depart pausing only for a moment to glare at the charred ruins before leaving.

*The fact the other kindred didn't shake his hand gave him pause. Etiquette had changed. Had to keep reminding himself of that. Still, a man who doesn't return a handshake is usually a man with something to hide. As a Mekhet, he supposed, he could understand. With a casual nod to the others, the scotsman placed both hands behind his back and strolled into the Manchester Night*