Monomacy - Josephine v Marco

[Martha Villiers]

The Asylum.

Most evenings, it's a freak show. Half costume party, half fetish scene. You're almost certain to find anything you're looking for.

It is not for the faint hearted.

Yet, tonight, it's closed for a very Private Party.

Tonight it provides a service closer to the Imperial Games of Rome. A Bloodsport. Likely a combat to the Death. An event appealing to those most depraved souls who seek out snuff films or those demanding maximum justice for some terrible, irreversible, wrong.

Security is attentively at the door with a list of names. For those not on the list, their entry will be barred. For those permitted entry... Welcome.

The usually bustling club is empty. Though all of its accoutrements are on full display. Suspension gear, oddly shaped furniture, rings set in walls that affix to shiny chains, and more than one Saint Andrew's cross. All of this furniture is peripheral to the set piece erected for the evening: a floodlit metal cage.

Gripping her metal cane, tiny Martha, dressed in a simple black knee length gown with matching modest black shawl, is on sentry - standing along with the security team, trying to carefully vet those who wish to enter.

Will any Requiem completing this evening end in diminuendo or crescendo...?

[Phoenix]

As she was a neonate, it seemed only fitting that Gabrielle arrived early, at least before the elders did so themselves. She was feeling uneasy about the whole monomacy thing and certainly didn't think it was appropriate in any sense of the way. But it was too late to steer the event in any way, all that was left to do was pray that Josephine got overconfident and that Marco would prevail.

Seeing as he was both a clan and covenant mate, she was feeling very motivated to see Josephine getting ashed, hopefully, the dark prophet would hear her prayers and smith that hypocrite Ventrue who said she wanted to address the so called insults to her faith and yet decided to join a non religious covenant.

She had no weapons when she presented herself at the asylum. Not the kind of place she was keen to visit even without a duel to the death. She remained silent for the moment, and will not address the other kindred present at the time.

Perhaps later ...

[Josephine Sterling]

The sound of clinking metal rings announced the arrival of the Challenger, Josephine, Reeve of Sacramento. Potentially the second shortest appointment Reeve, depending on how the night went, yet Josephine had Faith that she would be carried through the evening. Not just faith in the Almighty, but also Faith in her preparation. Hence the chain-mail which clad her form, and the shotgun and shells which rested in the duffel bag on her shoulder. Together, the steel and the infernal engine should guide her through the evening, along with the blessings of the blood.

If not then the simple wine red tabard over the chain and a golden spear necklace would make her funeral clothing.

Et, apres elle, le deluge...

Alas, should that be the case, she would have other matters to occupy her soul. Thus, as soon as she was safely inside the Asylum, Josephine found a spot to sit down and begin to load her shotgun. Eventually Vivian York , David Regan , and Konrad Roth would arrive, as would her opponent, that damned Marco Fernandez .

Equipment: Chainmail Armor, Shotgun, Ammo.

[Konrad Roth]

Equipment: Reinforced Clothing

Konrad arrives tonight feeling anxiety in the pit of his core. The presence of Beasts stoke the flame of his fury, only creating more tension within him. How might he convince all those who've gathered to enter the cage with him tonight to prevent their escape. Ridiculous, he knows, a fantasy of inconceivable violence. Tonight is the third Monomacy since his arrival set in the same place it's always been. He's come to associate the Asylum with grotesque displays of Final Death. Whether by savage beating with a pistol, or a clean slice through flesh, it would all turn to ash and crumble away.

He wears black under his long leather jacket, as if he were attending a funeral rather than a fight as tonight it is both. There would be no wake for the loser. Around his neck is a small brass cross necklace which he works between his fingers to calm himself. One way or another he would lose an ally tonight and be rid of a rival. But who? Josephine, his spiritual confidant who held wisdom regarding the Lancea Sanctum's teachings. Or Marco, his Covenant member who held resources to aid their cause.

He observes the gathered and walks to the challenger, Josephine . "Chain-mail, huh?" he remarks in place of a greeting.

So she had decided to go with the next best thing. She probably couldn't gather up the funds fast enough to afford the request she made to him. The shotgun looked nasty though. He'd felt the sting of their shot before, but he wonders if it'll be enough to take down a Kindred in close combat.

"Would you welcome a prayer before the fight?" he asks seriously. They had never had a chance for her to teach him any, or for him to earn the right to perform Ecclesia, but it never hurt to ask.

[Asa]

Asa arrived dressed in dark clothing. Some might see the black jeans and midnight purple pullover as an ode to the Blood that would be spilled; others, that he was feeling particularly Vampire Emo. Only the ghoul that had laid out the clothes could answer that with any certainty.

Or the predator within.

That answer, of course, would clothe him in the Vitae and detritus of destroyed flesh. The only raiment that would soothe the rage within at the sight of the other Predators; weak, arrogant things who offended by simply existing. A hand wrapped in a dark glove slowly curled, leather too expensive to creak but far too fragile to contain his rage, were it let loose.

Asa's eyes picked out the weapons, lips thinning slightly.

Then again, the one with the shotgun is the Reeve, and is already trying to kill the one with the sword.

It didn't stop him from stirring his Blood, invoking the legendary durability of Lords through their personal curse of Stagnation. One never knew. A nod was given to each combatant, then another to the Seneschal. Each, easily found among the handful of Kindred.

We used to number dozens -- and now maybe a single dozen.

And one less by the night's end.

-1 Vitae for Resilience