In the wake of the attack, Lux was already planning her next five moves, calling her compatriot so that the Anarchs might keep some record of the preceding events and telling him: keep the chip. Everett didn't see the text, but if he had - if he'd known what it meant - his reaction would likely not have been pleasant.
Many of those gathered there that night were thinking about how to save their own skin. Most of them, probably. Idealists didn't last long in the world of the undead. They learned to adapt, or they flared out young, or they let the horror and disillusion drag them into a different, darker life.
Blame it on youth then, because what Everett did next was more than certainly going to mark him for an early death one way or another. (But he'd already done that years ago, so maybe it was nothing new.)
First: he whistled. High, shrill, commanding. Maybe it was meant to gain the attention of those around him, but the creature that responded wasn't one of the gathered kindred. It was a dog (a malamute, to be precise.) Huge and muscled and dangerous enough to give an enemy pause. It leaped out of the back of Everett's truck in the parking lot and came running to its domitor's aid. Perhaps it would find a way into the castle, or maybe it would find its way barred. Either way, it would try until its claws and teeth bled.
Second: Everett discarded his jacket and stepped forward, standing tall and bright and angry.
"If you care about this city, don't run!" he shouted across the hall, projecting his voice toward those on the fringes who were already slinking into the shadows. "If you care about your humanity. Hell, if you care about your fucking dignity. The wolves are at our door, and you're going to just let them in without a fight?" He pointed at the Sabbat, at Henrietta and her war-pack, and in that moment he was exactly what an Anarch and a Brujah should be: impudent and bold and lit with passionate fire.
"They would burn Denver to the ground and feed us all to the vultures. And look! They'll laugh while they do it. Because they think that our humanity makes us weak. Let's show them exactly how wrong they are! Stand with me!" He turned his gaze to Rasmussen and gestured toward the Elder. "Stand with your Prince!"
-----------------------
Everett
[Cha (captivating) + Leadership, +2 from natural leader, -2 diff from enchanting voice]
Dice: 8 d10 TN4 (3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 7, 9, 9) ( success x 7 ) [WP]
Tithe
[Witnessed!]
[Note: I also have a transcript and a screenshot of the roll if you need it Joey. Also, let me know if I should retract anything here - if, say, someone would just shoot him in the head once he started talking. *g*]
Many of those gathered there that night were thinking about how to save their own skin. Most of them, probably. Idealists didn't last long in the world of the undead. They learned to adapt, or they flared out young, or they let the horror and disillusion drag them into a different, darker life.
Blame it on youth then, because what Everett did next was more than certainly going to mark him for an early death one way or another. (But he'd already done that years ago, so maybe it was nothing new.)
First: he whistled. High, shrill, commanding. Maybe it was meant to gain the attention of those around him, but the creature that responded wasn't one of the gathered kindred. It was a dog (a malamute, to be precise.) Huge and muscled and dangerous enough to give an enemy pause. It leaped out of the back of Everett's truck in the parking lot and came running to its domitor's aid. Perhaps it would find a way into the castle, or maybe it would find its way barred. Either way, it would try until its claws and teeth bled.
Second: Everett discarded his jacket and stepped forward, standing tall and bright and angry.
"If you care about this city, don't run!" he shouted across the hall, projecting his voice toward those on the fringes who were already slinking into the shadows. "If you care about your humanity. Hell, if you care about your fucking dignity. The wolves are at our door, and you're going to just let them in without a fight?" He pointed at the Sabbat, at Henrietta and her war-pack, and in that moment he was exactly what an Anarch and a Brujah should be: impudent and bold and lit with passionate fire.
"They would burn Denver to the ground and feed us all to the vultures. And look! They'll laugh while they do it. Because they think that our humanity makes us weak. Let's show them exactly how wrong they are! Stand with me!" He turned his gaze to Rasmussen and gestured toward the Elder. "Stand with your Prince!"
-----------------------
Everett
[Cha (captivating) + Leadership, +2 from natural leader, -2 diff from enchanting voice]
Dice: 8 d10 TN4 (3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 7, 9, 9) ( success x 7 ) [WP]
Tithe
[Witnessed!]
[Note: I also have a transcript and a screenshot of the roll if you need it Joey. Also, let me know if I should retract anything here - if, say, someone would just shoot him in the head once he started talking. *g*]