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This log is backdated to the middle of January, but was played and posted March 5, 2011.

Von Richter's Study

The room is remarkably large, but well appropriated. A dark hardwood floor is broken only near the small hearth by stone tile meant to protect the wood from the heat. It is covered with rich Persian rugs for the sake of warmth, though the temperature of the room remains constant year-round. The walls are lined with mahogany shelves from floor to ceiling, all of which are filled with books of various ages from various eras. Two shelves are are hidden behind ornate glass doors reinforced with wood and brass and opened only by a key. The glass is smoky, making it difficult to identify the contents within.

A large desk sits off to one side, a high backed chair behind it. Upon it sits a green-and-brass banker's lamp beside a remarkably modern laptop computer and a scattering of stationary across the green and brown leather blotter. By the hearth at the far end is a cluster of arm chairs and a small love seat, all fashioned of leather and wood, bespeaking a gentleman's study from a much earlier age.


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Erik Elspeth

Christmas has come and gone — not that it made the slightest difference to the denizens of this manor. The celebration of the New Year has also been observed by those that care to mark such things. Being over 600 years old, Erik von Richter is long past such trivialities. And, indeed, on this mid-January evening, he sits at his desk, leaning back in his leather chair, and scans a piece of correspondence that's come to him in a remarkably archaic way… via hand delivery. It was left with his Human Servant, Tanith, earlier in the day, rolled up in a cardboard tube and sealed with fibrous tape meant to impede easy opening.

Within was a piece of parchment, of all things, rolled up neatly, sealed with wax — the insignia ancient and instantly commanding of respect — and locked within a light scroll case. The case sits discarded on the desk, flakes of blood red wax scattered along side it. With both hands, Erik holds the missive open and silently reads the equally ancient Latin script. His expression remains neutral, save for the faint narrowing of dark brown eyes the further down the page he scans.


Christmas in Peru. The New Year in Prague, where she was intending on remaining until the Spring Fashion Week in Paris commenced. Elspeth is nothing if not finely tuned in with the image she is meant to project — "celebutante" society photographer.

Regardless of her plans, there was a request made of her. One that she cannot so easily put aside as she might others. Which is why she's come a day earlier than expected and is shown in without much pomp or circumstance.

Arms slowly cross over her chest as she silently makes her way toward the desk. Idly she reaches down only to nudge aside the discarded case.



Erik finishes reading the small scroll, releasing the bottom of it with one hand so that it springs back up into a loose roll in his other. He turns, now, to acknowledge his 'Daughter' with an unnecessary smile. "Schöne Mädchen," he greets her, his first term of endearment for her rolling easily off his tongue. He rises from his seat and scoops up the scroll case. "Welcome to London."

Deftly, he slides the parchment back in the case and tucks both together in the drawer of his desk before he sweeps the crumbs of wax aside and deposits them in what might once have been a shallow metal ashtray — though it doesn't seem to have seen much use for that in recent time. "Your journey was pleasant, I trust?" His accent is continental, rather than particularly English. "It is good of you to come."


The scroll is scrutinized with a critical eye while an amused smile tugs up the corners of her lips. "Gràdhach athair," comes the reply to his greeting, as easily as though it has been far less than the near three hundred years since they have spent any consequential amount of time with one another.

Seating herself upon the corner of the desk she watches where the scroll is placed. Elspeth may never really consider double-crossing her sire, but it suits her to be prepared should a situation arise where the information is needed and Erik isn't available.

"Pleasant enough." Right leg crossing over left, she nods. "I could hardly deny your invitation."


That assumes the scroll will be left there, of course. Which is, as she might well guess, doubtful.

"I have always appreciated your sense of duty," Erik replies, a bit of lightness to his tone. He knows full well how rebellious she's been in the past. Indeed, she would not be here today, were it not so. He steps towards her and places his hands on her shoulders. "Let me look at you."

A smile touches his lips. "It has been far too long since your last visit. I wonder, how stands the world beyond England's green shores? You've been to the continent recently, yes? Anything of note?"

He has an extensive eyes and ears network, to be sure. It is thorough, efficient, and astute. But, that doesn't mean he'll pass up her impressions of the state of the game. Her unconventional thinking has often stood her — and consequently him — in good stead.


Elspeth lifts her eyes to his face, nodding once more. Finally her arms uncross, and she leans folds them neatly in her lap while he completes his inspection.

"The city and I have yet to make our peace," she offers by way of reasoning for her failure to visit more frequently. "The world stands much the same as always. Political upheaval, general unrest, power struggles." A pause of consideration. "You may wish to keep an eye on Prague. They have recently acquired a new Master of the City. Vorjta Novak. Has a penchant for the younger ones." A flicker of disgust in her eyes, then she's still again.


A dark brow drifts faintly upward, as Erik releases Elspeth and takes a step away. "Novak in Prague, hm?" He nods faintly. "I had heard rumours of some unrest there. I am sorry you were caught up in it. Still… perhaps we can discuss it later. I am always interested in your impressions of such things." Particularly if it can further his own ends.

"If he becomes a problem, he will be dealt with."


"Younger, Erik," Elspeth corrects. "My only involvement was attending the soiree he hosted two weeks ago." They both know where her allegiances lie. "I would have avoided even that had I not been stopping in to pay my respects to Sobek, only to find that he was no longer overseeing the city."

A sly smile appears. "I do not doubt that he will. Already there are some plotting against him. As I said, it was business as usual."

Which reminds her of their current business. "Speaking of which, your request came as something of a surprise."


Erik lets out a trace of a smile as Elspeth corrects him. He tries not to chuckle. To him, she's younger. But, no. She's no child. "I imagine it did," he says in response to her comment on his request. "I have not had much cause, or need, to demand overly much of you since your last sojourn in this city, but I would like you to consider returning, at least for a time. I have need of your abilities, your way with the humans and your eye for detail. Something… is amiss. I can sense it, but I cannot yet define it. The humans also know there is something wrong, but like me, they cannot say what, either. Nevertheless, we need to find out what they know. You are better at mingling with them than many others currently in the city."

And he trusts her.


"They will be expecting me, I suspect," Elspeth replies. A frown darkens her features as she contemplates his words. "If you are having trouble defining it, then it is definitely cause for concern."

Remaining motionless, she studies him silently. Trying to determine if he's withholding anything from her. When she seems satisfied that he isn't, she allows a slow nod. "Do you have a cover in place or will I need to formulate one?"

This time, Erik permits himself a dry chuckle. "How long has it been since you and I have been in the same city for more than a handful of days at a time? A century or two? Three, I think. And how much time have you spent in London? Precious little. I doubt, my dear, that the humans will at all realize who you are." He waves a hand arily. "Oh, they may discover it, soon enough. But, that's of little import. Very few of them would be foolhardy enough to engage in any sort of direct assault against us, and even fewer have the skill and resources to attempt a successful indirect attack. And, when it comes to them… you need be nothing other than what you already are."

He crosses now to the hearth, above which hangs a long, narrow sword with an ornate haft. "However, there are those of our kind, that will not take so kindly to your sudden reappearance after so long — particularly since I have only held my Seat here for a brief span of time, myself."

In Vampire terms, twenty-five years is nothing.

"But, that is a difficulty of my making, not yours. You see," he takes the sword off its display hooks, and holding it lightly in his hand, presses a brick between the hooks. With hardly a scrape, it slides easily out from between its brethren. "I recently had cause to dispose of one who had thought unwisely to challenge me. That has made the others nervous." Deft fingers fish within the revealed hole in the mantle. Presently, they catch up their prize and he pushes the brick back into place, replacing the sword on its hooks without ceremony.

"The whole matter was a rather tiresome affair, the details of which I would be happy to share with you over a bottle of wine or a bloodier feast sometime soon. Suffice it to say, however, that my challenger was dear Alecto. Consequently, I am in need of a new Voice." The Voice of the Master of the City, of course, is effectively his sheriff.

Erik holds up a golden ring between two fingers — a signet ring of some significance, since it bears his coat of arms. "And, you, my dear, would fit role nicely."


His dialogue is replayed in her head at least twice before she even thinks to speak.

"The majority will not, true." Elspeth knows that a few will be expecting her, and while that does not necessarily worry her, it will make things a little more bothersome.

"Those who are nervous of such things are foolish. A display of survival, of dominance, is not something to fear." She has seen far worse over the years so thinks it of little consequence. It is not until everything has sunk in that she slides herself off of the desk and raises her right eyebrow at him quizzically.

"Which is where the nervousness will settle in with the others." It is on the tip of her tongue to say no, but she knows well enough that the words will not come. He's never asked much of her in the past.

"As you wish, then."


Once again, Erik smiles. "Excellent," he nods, placing the ring without further ceremony into her palm. It is not a heavy ring, but it may need to be resized for her to wear on her finger. On the other hand, he is also not the sort to insist she wear it. That she has it is enough. She will know when it is important to display and when it is best left hidden. He knows that.

"Welcome home, Schöne Mädchen."

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