(Skeleton Keys) Princes and Rabbit Holes

[West]

The steel door opens to a ladder. Light spills from from the square opening above down into the concrete tubing of the sewer system. Aside from securing the entry, it's immediately obvious why it was sealed over: dank, fetid odors hang thick in the air, the slightly nauseating wet scent of things rotting and long forgotten.

A thin film of water covers the ground, and the tunnel stretches outward in two directions. Fact-checking against the map shows that one of the directions leads towards CHiPs.

Pausing for entry declaration, maybe a little bit of lol'ing at whoever fell :P

[Josephine Sterling]

Well, it seemed that Regan got his wish and they would be delving into the sewers after all. The Ventrue had no wish to enter the bowels of the city, truly she did not, especially not without some form of weapon, but a crossbow was just too difficult to conceal without the shadow powers of the blood. That, and the Archon sniffing at their asses didn't exactly inspire her to take that sort of risk. Risking the sewers was one thing, but risking them, and whatever infernal engines Brady stored within them, only to later become trapped by the autocratic punishments of the Domain had no appeal to her. Better to let the safe wielding demon and her murderous knight lackey wade ahead of them and deal with any material danger themselves. For, no matter what they would find down in those sewers, it was only the knowledge which was precariously stored behind her eye sockets that would truly avail her, and the domain. Better that she not delude herself with desires for righteous bloodshed. Such would never be her path.

Thus, with olfactory senses protesting, her visage twisted into a grimace, Josephine lowered herself into the sewers after the Daeva and Knight and then turned to the Shadow Priscus.

"My tools, please," she requested, holding out a gloved hand. Her coat had been donned before she'd clambered down beneath the earth, so pockets were readily available to store the picks once again.

[Cabochard]

Rina follows Josephine down into the sewers, hopping down without too much ado, her baton still held in one hand. Concerned eyes flit to Twist, but she doesn't say anything, instead staying crouched down in the watery something-or-other that she really didn't want to think about. Asking the Duchess Archon if a few-foot drop had hurt her? Could easily be taken as an insult. She would most likely be fine, after all. Rina herself could have taken that fall without issue, and she was nowhere near the Alder.

Eyes jump between Josephine and Regan, noticing a distinct lack of drawn weapons. Or any otherwise visible ones. Good thing she brought extras. She reaches down to her boot, drawing the knife and turning it over to hold it by the flat of the blade, careful not to cut herself. She offers it up to the two silently, not differentiating between which one should take it. Whichever reached first. Either way, she certainly wasn't letting two unarmed Priscii wander about the sewers, literally looking for trouble. She might let one wander around, though.

[Kenneth Gilroy]

Gilroy had stood watching Twist lift and slam the safe into the ground with a kind of morbid fascination. It was truly amazing to witness how much power the Blood could provide despite all appearances that such efforts should be physically impossible. Amazing up until the moment the floor caves in and you're left scrambling and skittering for some sort of hand hold.

He'd fallen in heap of legs and elbows and tangled bag handles. Once he had regained some sense of body orientation, before even checking himself over, he checked in his chemical kit if anything had broken. Only after being satisfied it had survived intact, did he brush himself off and make sure he was alright. Some of the skin had been scrapped off his fingertips and there were places that would have bruised given actual blood flow. Nothing too serious though. His clothes were a little damp and would need to be cleaned. His shoes weren't any better off and looking at the path ahead, were likely not going to be salvageable by the end of the excursion.

"Or close the wall up with our dead," he whispers in response to Regan's words. It's almost absent-minded as he glances around fervently in either direction. He certainly didn't hope this mission would come to the point of blockading the enemy into the sewers with their own party's deceased. Being one of the lesser Kindred in the group, the task would surely fall to him.

  Know the Quote

Date		Action		Roll		Result
2015-04-28 01:47:02		Kenneth Gilroy rolls 7 to Int+Academics (10 Again)		2, 1, 5, 8, 1, 7, 10, 4		2 successes

[Hildegarde Bingen]

Hildegarde had taken up a watchful stance away from the rest of the group, a frown forming deeply on her face as the noise continued. On and on it went, ratcheting up into a steady hammering...

What are they doing in there?

...Until the care the cracking and the roar of tumbling concrete. Silence. Hildegarde tasted rock dust on her tongue; a faint rank odour growing slowly stronger.

Reluctantly, she returns to the room and surveys the damage: the hole, the shaft, the glint of liquid. Her companions are already descending, slowly, into the now revealed sewer.

"I see you have found the entrance," the Lord observed dryly to any who listen. "I hope we don't have to come back this way. It will look terribly obvious." Pale fingers fumbled in her clothing as she drew the knife she had purloined from the Chapter House: it wasn't much - a kitchen knife; but at least it was sharp. The paucity of her armoury was starting to sink in.

Without waiting for assistance, the Lord scrabbled down into the sewers. Hildegarde hissed as she slipped and slid into the noisome waters. The mannikin was only dimly aware of her dead flesh and frothing waters the bubbled and oozed around her; her Beast however... the caged thing with the grasping fingers and quivering phantasmal flesh... was not impressed; it shook the trunk of her spine as it clambered furiously to the top of her head: it voiced its displeasure through her lips.

[Twist]

Brushing dust and small pieces of debris off of herself, Twist idly wondered if maybe she had gone a step too far. It wouldn't be the first time she had. Of course... it also likely wouldn't be the last.

She ended up deciding it didn't matter if she had or had not, it was done. Straightening, she moved back away from the hole where others were begining to filter in from the top, wrinking her nose as the smell finally made its presence known.

"Yes." A simple answer to Angel's voiced question.

As the numbers below grew larger- some with more grace then others it seemed, Twist took note of the drawn weapons and took the opportunity to pull her own. Holding the blade comfortably in one hand, she scanned the local region, waiting for the next move to be declared.

Hopefully she would be able to follow it better this time around.

[West]

The trek isn't pleasant.

Decades of neglect are apparent everywhere. From crumbling concrete that raises questions about the tunnels' safety, to offal, small animals and trash everywhere, it's clear that this portion of Sacramento's underground has been left to slowly rot away. Close quarters and im light tickle at the senses. The further in, the worse it gets. Few are comfortable in such spaces, ignoring thoughts of cave-ins or becoming lost. Even if the tunnel is a singular path, the receding exit slowly disappears. Out of sight, yet not out of mind.

Maggots roil over small corpses. Rats. Larger things; castaway or lost domestic pets. Glassy and cloudy dead eyes watch, the truly dead observing the half-dead. Occasionally, evidence is seen of other visitors. A rotting, moldy nylon backpack, half submerged. A rusted shopping cart with a broken wheel.

Dead things, lost and forgotten but for the parasites.

The unrelenting architecture toys with the senses. Time and distance become will'o'wisps, flickering away, with fleeting moments of clarity as this or that is seen, and used as a marker. Until it, too, disappears behind. Water slowly creeps up clothing, a splash here or low point there, slowly matting cloth to skin in a clammy embrace.

A branch. A door. Both times, the choice which leads them to their destination is chosen.

Finally, another door that opens to a larger area.

I'm not giving you guys the runaround, just wanted to stop and give you a chance to make any declarations. Time and distance would indicate you're very close to being below CHiPs.