hopefully nobody minds, I am gonna roll time until Cheyenne drops off our stuff
"Thank you Cheyenne, now go Tend to your duties." Conner says with a nod to his ghoul.
"Mister Russel will you take this please." Conner said and tossed him one of the duffel bags. "Ms. Lawrence, lead the way." Conner said.
Josephine peered at the duffel bags which, she presumed contained the camping equipment and dresses. She supressed a bemused smirk at the idea of an unfortunate Nosferatu skulking around wearing? a...pretty dress and camping gear.
"I'm not even gonna ask what he does with the dresses," she remarked, an eyebrow arching high. Josephine pushed off from the wall, where she had been reclining and ignoring the specialised ambience and prepared to traipse through the sewers.
"You will find out..." Conner said without a trace fo a smile on his face.
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The weather has taken it's toll; where before running water carried refuse through the sewer, now it flows around and between piles of built-up... nastiness. The result is much like trudging through a compost pile, but the group can see that there is a path, of sorts.
Eventually the grate is reached, and passed through and the Kindred climb up into The Fishbowl. It's a massive room for collecting water; steps lead out to a walkway that leads to scaffolding. There's also another huge drain pipe. Essentially, they've just climbed up and out of the sink drain.
Or toilet. Depends on if she's a girl who see's the glass half full or toilet half flushed.
Posts should address how each character is seeing in the darkness; The Fishbowl is lit, but the connecting tunnels have not been. Also feel free to address the sewage however you will.
Sidor carried a flashlight, the light of it creating a strange effect as it only seemed to pronounce the blackness that studied his face. It was easy not to breathe when one was dead, but the sewage, and the dripping was provoking a powerful sensory memory anyway. A distant dark basement swam in his mind, and it took all his self-control not to move as if he was restrained by an invisible weight, as it had been at the moment of his embrace, when the bat-like, tumorous face of his Sire had torn away the arrogant pride of the Man he had been. The Man who he still restrained within himself.
"Up from here?" the Russian Haunt said levelly, his shrouded eyes flickering around. He kept his voice low, avoiding echoes as much as possible.
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The lack of large caliber rounds lodged in her torso and the addition of a light source made the climb much easier for Brenn this time around, but she still moved slowly, most of her energy devoted towards keeping the press of unwanted memories at bay. She had to hold her plastic-wrapped flashlight in her mouth, so that both hands were free to grasp the crudely made handholds on the inside of the tunnel, but stoically continued climbing up and up. Finally, when she cleared the tunnel, the flashlight was transferred to hand once more and she swam to dry land, offering a hand to help her companions out of the vile collection of sewage. She spit putrid, brown water out, thankful that, since her body didn't need to breath, she hadn't had to swallow. Or perhaps more importantly, she was thankful that she didn't feel the need to retch after such a disgusting ordeal. Being Damned had its bonuses, she reflected dryly.
"Um, no, we're not going up further. At the end of the catwalk is a vault door, like you'd see on a submarine, and that leads outside. We need to search for signs of Sunshine and the Mole now. The last time I was here there was a shabby metal plate with ten finger holes punched through it. That had been blocking some sort of tunnel, but who knows; all this gunk wasn't here either, last time. Just look for any sign," the young Haunt said, her eyes already flickering over their surroundings.
3 successes to Investigate
Conner wades around, making sure to shut off his nose as best as possible, and assists in the searching for any signs of Mole or Sunshine, and which way to go to find them.
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Sliding the duffel strap over his shoulder, and tightening it securely, Russell trudges off with the rest of the group. He takes great care not to breathe, shutting Auspex away from his sense of smell. What with the others wielding flashlights, he's more preoccupied with keeping them to his back, or the shielding hand up, not trusting them enough to take of his sunglasses. Still yet, he manages to check for clues, examining anything that looks to show a sign of recent activity with a careful lift of the specs.
As the darkness ate away at the light, Josephine reached into a pocket and yanked free one of the flashlights. She panned it around their... pleasant surroundings until they reached the Fishbowl. She kept it in hand as she moved around, but with the dim light of the new area it was less necessary.
"Nice digs," the good doctor murmured under her breath as she studied the damp area, searching for any trace of this Sunshine character.
Sidor's shrouded gaze moved over the Fishbowl, searching out any indication of the Unfortunates. He had been in places like this before. He had been embraced in one, the only Nosferatu of his brood to be almost publically acceptable. Almost. He idly wondered if the sewers of Sverdlovsk still held the remnants of that group, clinging on beneath the Crone ruled city, still praying.
He hoped so. He hoped his pilgrimage was not in vain.
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