Chaos reigns in Denver on the night of August 3rd. What was ostensibly a cold war between the Ivory Tower and the Sword of Caine has ravaged the once-secure building known as Richthofen Castle and left an as-yet-unknown quantity of the city's Kindred as desiccated corpses or even less. The mortal police state has clamped down and reasserted its authority but it's just a bandage on a sucking chest wound, something to cover up the damage without actually fixing anything. Amid the police sirens, firefighters, EMTs, panic and worse that has spread throughout the city, the Kindred on both sides scurry away to gather themselves up, count their losses and either hope that they can live a few more nights or plot to strike again.
Amongst it all, a single Rroma woman escapes out of Richthofen half-carrying a Brujah and following a Gangrel with a newly-acquired shotgun trophy. Kali is a bloody mess, her skin ravaged by a ghoul crafted into an inhuman form before it was put down. Her leather jacket is tattered in spots, her dusky skin blotched with smoke and soot. That red hair—obviously not her natural color—is singed in spots and a bit of blood (not hers) smears her lips. She looks like a war survivor. In truth, she is a survivor of a war, and not just this one. She lived (relatively speaking) through one of the greatest horrors the world has ever known; she survived a brutal and horrifying encounter with members of what she likes to call "the assholes South of the Border" decades later. And she's survived this one.
After helping Everett out and seeing him off, and arguing with Mercy not to pursue Gui (probably failing), she told the Gangrel that she had to go; she has a ghoul she needs to ensure the safety of. She has a sense of responsibility toward her Bo, and now is not the time to pursue grudges for the sake of bloodlust. The smart ones know when to retreat from battle and ensure that another battle can take place. Even if Mercy plans on pursuing, Kali will not. She tells Mercy that if she needs anything she can go to the apartment, she'll be there or have contact details there. And with that, she departs.
Kali lives in the underworld of Denver; she knows it like the back of her hand. Times like this make that an exceptional benefit to her; her knowledge of the back streets of the city likely saves her life. She avoids the main streets, both due to her appearance and the increased chance that she'll run into more trouble there. She's healed by now but she's low on the blood which gives her life and it's not an optimal condition. She slips up to her apartment in the Downtown area, which doubles as her office, and once she's safely inside she checks it out with a drawn gun to make sure no one has snuck up and is lying in wait. Once she's sure that she's safe, she's making calls.
First a text to her loyal ghoul. Bo's cell phone, the burner she has that is their work number, goes off. Her own personal cell goes off seconds after, just in case she only has one of the two. They contain the same message.
Shit's gone down Boberino. Need you at the office. Keep your head down and your wits sharp. Be careful.
While she waits for Bo to arrive, she starts making calls. First to Baja, her clanmate within the city. Then to Lux and Jack. John St. German follows, then Rasmussen and that kooky Sheriff Narcisa. Finally Lucille, the Keeper of Elysium. And anyone else she can. Basically, if she has your phone number and you are Camarilla or Anarch, she's calling you.
Her side of the conversation is the same in each instance, and they go something like this (with personalization and witticisms for each person):
"Hey, it's Kali. You hanging in there? …Good, glad to hear it. So I've gotten in touch with [Insert all people before that character on the list.] I've taken it on myself to try and help coordinate who made it and who's taking the final dirt nap. Yeah, I know...I'm good like that. I'm also calling to extend an offer of safe haven within my domain. Let anyone who is [Camarilla/Anarch, depending on sect allegiance] that you trust know that if they need a place that's safe to crash then call me, I'll arrange something. I have some resources, I can make sure we're set up at least in the short term until a regular locale is known. I'm free to serve as a contact point for organizing it all. Anything I can do—safe haven, aid, anything else—I'm happy to provide. Let other people in the club you know—again, if you trust them—the same. Keep safe and let me know, I'll keep y'all in the loop."
Once that information delivered to each and every person, she starts making calls to her people. She tells them that with all the craziness tonight, they need to scatter the warehouse for the time being. Get the shit out, guard it with your lives. Yes, she's paying them a bonus for it. Yes, it counts as hazard pay. She takes care of her own. No, she's still not providing health insurance. Keep a lower profile but stay out there, we need a good show of confidence. Just for the sake of every god you've ever screamed to mid-coitus, don't get caught.
And with that done, she collapses on the couch and lights up. Everyone should smoke after something that exciting; whether it relaxes her or not is beside the point.
Once again, she survives a situation she probably shouldn't have. Kali 5, Universe 0.
Amongst it all, a single Rroma woman escapes out of Richthofen half-carrying a Brujah and following a Gangrel with a newly-acquired shotgun trophy. Kali is a bloody mess, her skin ravaged by a ghoul crafted into an inhuman form before it was put down. Her leather jacket is tattered in spots, her dusky skin blotched with smoke and soot. That red hair—obviously not her natural color—is singed in spots and a bit of blood (not hers) smears her lips. She looks like a war survivor. In truth, she is a survivor of a war, and not just this one. She lived (relatively speaking) through one of the greatest horrors the world has ever known; she survived a brutal and horrifying encounter with members of what she likes to call "the assholes South of the Border" decades later. And she's survived this one.
After helping Everett out and seeing him off, and arguing with Mercy not to pursue Gui (probably failing), she told the Gangrel that she had to go; she has a ghoul she needs to ensure the safety of. She has a sense of responsibility toward her Bo, and now is not the time to pursue grudges for the sake of bloodlust. The smart ones know when to retreat from battle and ensure that another battle can take place. Even if Mercy plans on pursuing, Kali will not. She tells Mercy that if she needs anything she can go to the apartment, she'll be there or have contact details there. And with that, she departs.
Kali lives in the underworld of Denver; she knows it like the back of her hand. Times like this make that an exceptional benefit to her; her knowledge of the back streets of the city likely saves her life. She avoids the main streets, both due to her appearance and the increased chance that she'll run into more trouble there. She's healed by now but she's low on the blood which gives her life and it's not an optimal condition. She slips up to her apartment in the Downtown area, which doubles as her office, and once she's safely inside she checks it out with a drawn gun to make sure no one has snuck up and is lying in wait. Once she's sure that she's safe, she's making calls.
First a text to her loyal ghoul. Bo's cell phone, the burner she has that is their work number, goes off. Her own personal cell goes off seconds after, just in case she only has one of the two. They contain the same message.
Shit's gone down Boberino. Need you at the office. Keep your head down and your wits sharp. Be careful.
While she waits for Bo to arrive, she starts making calls. First to Baja, her clanmate within the city. Then to Lux and Jack. John St. German follows, then Rasmussen and that kooky Sheriff Narcisa. Finally Lucille, the Keeper of Elysium. And anyone else she can. Basically, if she has your phone number and you are Camarilla or Anarch, she's calling you.
Her side of the conversation is the same in each instance, and they go something like this (with personalization and witticisms for each person):
"Hey, it's Kali. You hanging in there? …Good, glad to hear it. So I've gotten in touch with [Insert all people before that character on the list.] I've taken it on myself to try and help coordinate who made it and who's taking the final dirt nap. Yeah, I know...I'm good like that. I'm also calling to extend an offer of safe haven within my domain. Let anyone who is [Camarilla/Anarch, depending on sect allegiance] that you trust know that if they need a place that's safe to crash then call me, I'll arrange something. I have some resources, I can make sure we're set up at least in the short term until a regular locale is known. I'm free to serve as a contact point for organizing it all. Anything I can do—safe haven, aid, anything else—I'm happy to provide. Let other people in the club you know—again, if you trust them—the same. Keep safe and let me know, I'll keep y'all in the loop."
Once that information delivered to each and every person, she starts making calls to her people. She tells them that with all the craziness tonight, they need to scatter the warehouse for the time being. Get the shit out, guard it with your lives. Yes, she's paying them a bonus for it. Yes, it counts as hazard pay. She takes care of her own. No, she's still not providing health insurance. Keep a lower profile but stay out there, we need a good show of confidence. Just for the sake of every god you've ever screamed to mid-coitus, don't get caught.
And with that done, she collapses on the couch and lights up. Everyone should smoke after something that exciting; whether it relaxes her or not is beside the point.
Once again, she survives a situation she probably shouldn't have. Kali 5, Universe 0.
"The anger of a good man is not a problem. Good men have too many rules."
"Good men don't need rules. And today's not the day to find out why I have so many."
"Good men don't need rules. And today's not the day to find out why I have so many."
