Note: This game is translated into modern English for easier reading, with all the appropriate sensorship. Quality of the translation may vary. Enjoy the reading

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Welcome to Rome. The year is 336, the Roman Empire reaches from Britain to East Africa. In the whole Empire, Rome is the only place considered civilized, at least by Roman standards. Constantine unified the Empire in 327 and has been Emperor since.

Welcome to Necropolis. The one true city of the dead. Located underneath Rome, Necropolis is forever dark haven for the undead. Without torches, nothing can be seen in the dark corridors. The Camarilla is in control of the deep dark city of Necropolis, and the Senex is in control of the Camarilla. The Senex is the law of Necropolis, and the Legio Mortuum, the Legion of the Dead, is its muscles.

Some of Rome's senators have turned up dead as well as few members of the Senex and the Legio Mortuum. Murdered is the term. Rumours are abound in Necropolis about monsters worse than the Kindred hiding in the city's dark corners. Rumours about political scandals and even usurpation have risen as well. Rumours about pretty much anything have made appearances among the citizens of Necropolis, but they are agitated and paranoid. Something's out there, and it's not even being subtle in what ever it's doing.

Things are bad and they are about to get worse.

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You start the game where ever you want, seperated or together. As soon as I have accepted your character you'll be allowed to start post in this game. And I do know I overused the word "dark" in the intro post. Try and live with it

Stirring from a deep and feverish slumber as the last wan rays of sunlight dwindled and faded overhead and the earth began to cool about him, Deodatus was restored to full consciousness in the claustrophobic pitch-black of a sealed grave. The vampire turned and twisted angrily in his underground cocoon, the densely packed dark earth hemming in his every movement as he struggled to find the space and leverage to rise.

Scrabbling fingers, ragged nails already thick with grave dirt, met with matted soil and small, sharp pebbles as the vampire pulled and clawed his way towards the surface. Every muscle in his upper body was coiled like a spring as he willed it upwards, his ascendant form finally bursting through the surface with the force of an arrow and a brief, satisfied grunt of effort. The emerging vampire allowed his body to lay still among the scattered soil for several long moments, his long-dead muscles still burning from the force of this unnatural effort, before hauling himself stiffly to his feet to kick in the sprawling crater which marked the site of his passage.

The night air was cold and clean on his broad face, a cool night breeze playing through his short soldier’s beard and tangled hair. From somewhere in the near distance, he could make out the pungent reek of stale urine and burning pig fat on the wind, and his nostrils flexed slightly, taking in the slightly salty, unsavoury aroma… there would be a tannery not far from here. A series of deep-throated yapping howls rent the still night air from somewhere not too far off, and the hairs on the back of the hulking vampire’s ox-like neck bristled sharply to attention, as his inner beast brindled slightly at this obscured animal’s challenge.

Shrugging the moment off with a frustrated scowl, Deodatus strode swiftly onwards. The sheathed blade of the veteran’s gladius swung rhythmically by his side as he walked, a cumbersome but reassuring weight, until at last the warm orange light of his destination loomed brightly before him. A battered wooden sign swung and creaked noisily on its rusted hinge overhead, and without much thinking the dead man glanced up. The faded depiction of two muscle-bound Olympian youths, apparently sporting with woodland nymphs, greeted his indifferent gaze as the vampire stepped inside. He was here at least.

The smoke-filled air inside tasted of sweat and spilled wine but, even through the haze, he spotted his man readily enough. Manius, the contact he’d come here to meet, sat alone at a table on the other side of the room, mulling over a beaker of acrid red wine and idly watching the waitresses go by. The vampire thumped a fist against his hollow chest in an ironic military salute as he approached the table from one side. “Salve, Manius,” the vampire barked, watching as the short, wiry man started slightly in surprise. “Heard you might have some work for me this evening,” Deodatus continued by way of explanation, a blunt smile playing across his thin lips as he waited for an answer.

“Quit your pleasantries,” Manius said nervously. He may talk all big and mighty, but Manius knows who can kill him and he knows not to be too mighty in their presence. “I mean, we have business to discuss and get over with. I’d offer you wine, but you’d just say no like you normally do.”
Manius leaned forward to make sure no one else could hear him. “Some legionnaires came to Rome from Germania the day before yesterday. They’re only stopping for few days before leaving to Parthia in the southeastern corner of the Empire. They brought back something from Germania that my patron is interested in. It’s some sort of a tome which he is willing to pay a lot for. Are you interested?”

Rising from the depths of the Necropolis Amhoset emerged into the shadowed alleys of the Roman streets, dark eyes darting about, surveying the arena. Alone. She smiled and made her way slowly from the alleyway to the main streets of the city. The cool breeze of the mediterranean night kissed her copper skin, dancing through her long black hair and rustling the fabric of her fitted white robe. Much time had passed since she could feel the coolness of a breeze. The vampiric embrace had heightened her senses, and yet she felt distant from them. Little of that mattered now, she was what she was.
Amhoset ignored the leering gazes of the few Roman soldiers that littered the streets. Men often leered at her. She possessed an unholy beauty which had become her greatest tool in the hunt, but tonight she hunted more than blood. Information was her prey, and where information was hidden there often was blood.
She made her way to a tavern, it didn't matter which one. The rumors and gossip of the commoners often revealed more truth of the darkness than any dared to realize. Her eyes surveyed the tavern as she walked in, taking in the rough tables and the rushing waitresses. It was then the familiar feeling of feral revulsion came over her, there was another vampire in the room. Biting back a snarl she let her eyes drift to the wirey man and the burly bearded vampire who sat with him.

As Amhoset looked over to Deodatus's table, three legionnaires walked up to her with a perverted look on their faces. They were obviously drunk as they staggered towards her. "So, I wonder," said the one who had the most comprehending speach, "how much a whore -hic- such as yourself is worth to three of the -hic- greatest soldiers in the Empire. Or perhaps you want us for free. Or perhaps it is you who should be paying us. Or perhaps... -hic- damn, I forgot what I was saying. HAHAHA!"

Back at the table, Manius couldn't help but be distracted by Amhoset. "Wow," was the only thing he could get out from his stupid mouth for a while before saying "the imperial soldiers always get the most beautiful trophies."

Deodatus shrugged his broad shoulders, slumped heavily into the empty seat before him and poured a little of the sharp, vinegary wine into a leather tankard from the table. Draining the flask in a single throaty gulp, the vampire had to fight back a sudden urge to vomit as the offending liquid flooded in a solid rush to his dead, empty gut. Not an experience the dead man relished by any means, but he had sense enough to avoid offending the local gods.

“Now, let’s talk brass tacks,” the revenant suggested, turning back to face Manius. “Where are these soldiers, and how will I know when I see them. Of course,” the vampire admitted with a nonchalant grin, “I could probably find them anyway, but it’d cost you extra for my time.”
Settling back casually into his chair, like some great cat at rest, Deodatus took a second pull of the bitter wine as he waited dispassionately for Manius to offer him adequate remuneration for the task. The vampire’s ruthless gaze appeared at odds with his otherwise easygoing manner, steely blue eyes never once leaving his contact’s face as he committed every word of the man’s answer to memory against some future indiscretion.

The door swung open and slammed shut somewhere behind him, and along with the sudden gust of chill air the indolently seated vampire was struck by a sudden and unexpected tremor of instinctive animal fury – there was another of the Damned, here in his favourite watering hole. Seemingly indifferent, Deodatus barely shifted a muscle, save to lean forward and casually pour himself another drink, but the coarse black hair on his hulking arms bristled angrily to attention, and it was all the vampire could do to keep his hand from shaking as he held the heavy metal jug aloft. It was perhaps the veteran’s good fortune that Manius seemed equally distracted by the intruder and, a heartbeat later, once he had regained some measure of self-control, Deodatus shifted slightly on the bench to follow the man’s lust-filled stare. He was greeted by the site of three drunken legionaries harassing a slender, olive-skinned beauty. Deodatus shrugged, if she was Kindred then it seemed more likely than not that the trespasser could look after herself, but felt his dead frame rising heavily from the bench none the less.

The vampire allowed his dark, winter cloak to fall open as he sauntered idly towards the four, revealing faded military tattoos – SPQR – stretched tightly across the skin of cumbersome shoulders and the huge, battle-scarred hand which trailed the gladius hanging at his belt.

“Now lads, I’m sure the lady doesn’t want any trouble,” the vampire began with a broad, predatory smile, his voice flat and almost devoid of emotion, “There’s a brothel two doors down, and I’d suggest you and your friends take your custom there."
OOC: Deodatus will spend a vitae point to keep the wine down for the rest of the scene. Subject to your approval, I’d like him to make an Intimidation check against the legionaries.

This is assuming that both vampires pass their checks for frenzy, if not then I’ll rewrite the second half of this post.

As Deodatus spoke, he noticed that the three soldiers didn't pay him much attention. "The women come to us, not the other way around. How about you just turn around and get out of our..." He was about to finish the sentance when he noticed Deodatus's military tattoo. "Oh, a fellow warrior, eh? Why not just join our little fun here?"

"How about it, my pretty?" his words now aimed at Amhoset, "Do you think you can handle the four of us?"

Deodatus may have noticed that Manius does not like what was happening. In fact, he was about to stand up and leave.

(OOC: Both of you succeeded in avoiding frenzy, but threatening three drunk legionnaires failed. Nimu, I hope I'm not making this difficult for you, but your Merit has a drawback)

Amhoset's stare was quickly drawn from the other vampire to three approaching legionaries, inebriated and arrogant. Swaying and slurring they made their lascivious advances. Whore. At the word she nearly exsanguinated the blathering drunk where he stood. She did not, a lifetime of stilling her emotions had its benefits. Her face remained impassive as she returned their stares with an apathetic gaze.

She felt the other Kindred's approach, and turned her head slightly to face the hulking man. His massive frame dwarfed her lithe body, she had to look up to see his face. In many ways the Kindred were magnifications of what they had been in life. The man next to her was tattooed, rough, and cold, every bit the soldier. And yet here he stood, next to her facing down three lecherous soldiers. What had he been? Did it matter? A soldier did not stand beside a priestess, but rather a dead warrior stood beside a vampiric witch. The Embrace magnified, twisted and darkened their mortal pasts. She looked up to the bearded man and nodded her head slightly in thanks, her dark eyes staring with curiosity.

Amhoset returned her gaze to the legionaries. The trio seemed unphased by the addition of the other vampire. Their lusty perversions bore on. She would have to diffuse the situation. In the Temple of Isis she had grown used to manipulating the political intrigue of Alexandria, but the laws of that world were not the laws here. Her dark eyes stared into the face of the speaker with cool regality.

"Perhaps the affections of three," she paused as she addressed the arrogant men, then continued in the same cool dead tone, "esteemed soldiers of Rome as yourselves would be better appreciated by another. Why not seek the attentions of the brothel? I am sure the courtesans would be most obliged."

(OOC: Amhoset will attempt persuasion on the legionaries. And no worries, it's part of what makes it interesting.)

The three legionnaires looked at Ahmoset with a confused look. "Listen here, woman," one said with an angry voice, "no whore will deny us our right as Rome's finest!"

His hand moved to grab Ahmoset's arm. "I am not asking. We will do our business here if we must!"

(OOC: If Ahmoset wants to avoid being grabbed, I've already made an "attack" roll with no successes. Completely your call)

Deodatus returned the inebriated legionary’s slurred offer with a stony stare. There seemed precious little advantage to be gained from extending the dialogue further, the soldiers plainly too drunk on cheap wine and overbearing boasts of their own bravado to hear reason, unless it was delivered on the point of an unmistakeable demonstration of superior physical force. Besides which, as a man with a wife and young daughters of his own in the district, he wasn’t much inclined to allow the trio to foster a belief that they could treat the subura as a private playground, to carouse and rape with impunity. Gods! What if it had been one of his daughters these drunken oafs had chosen to assault? On her way home from the work or the forum or… The unfortunate plausibility of the thought struck the fledgling vampire like an onager stone, and any thought of a peaceful resolution were forgotten. These men would need to be taught a harsh lesson in civic responsibility, and the sooner the better.

He didn’t have to wait long. One of the soldiers - the one he’d tried to remonstrate with earlier - teetered clumsily forwards to make a grasp for the woman’s arm, and through a red mist of seething fear and hatred, Deodatus saw his chance. One broad, leathery ham-hand crept unhurriedly towards an amphora of wine on the table beside him, fingers still smudged with grave-dirt closed around its slender stem in a death grip. Suddenly and without warning the vampire brought the jug up in one fluid movement to shatter with a resounding crack against the back of the unsuspecting legionary’s head. Not waiting to see whether his target was already on the way down, the vampire sprang forwards into the explosion of wine and splintering pottery, hammering his left fist into the man’s stomach.

OOC: Deodatus will make an all-out attack against the first legionary.

Rage boiled through Amhoset as the drunk grabbed for her arm. Yet she regarded the fool with an unshaking cool, almost looking past him as she moved her arm just out of his reach. It seemed the derelicts would not be persuaded from their lusts. Amhoset looked briefly into their faces, three mothers were going to loose their sons tonight.

Faster than she would have imagined the hulking vampire next to her flashed into action. An explosion of shattering ceramic and swinging limbs smashed into the very legionary that had grabbed for her arm but a moment past. She paused a moment to look at the other Kindred and then turned her attentions to the legionaries. Vitae began to flow through her body, warming her, augmenting her. It was ecstasy. She struck out at the nearest of the other legionaries, swinging her fist into his ribs.

(OOC: Amhoset will spend 1 vitae to increase her strength. She will make an attack roll. Sorry it took me so long to post this.)

Ceramic pieces flew accross the place as Deodatus shattered a mug on the legionaire's head with full force. The drunk legionaire staggered backwards, just out of Deodatus's reach as he was about to hit him again.

Just as the other two legionaires were about to react to this confusion, Amhoset drove her fist into one of their ribs. Amhoset felt the ribcage crack from pressure as her opponent was pushed back.

Just as the third grabbed his sword and was about to pull it out of its sheath, a voice boomed over the place. "STOP!" it said, coming from the entrance where a towering figure stood. Deodatus could recognize him instantly as a centurion, a leading figure for the legionnaires. The three legionnaires stopped instantly, and the look on their faces portraited their fright.

The centurion walked up to the three. "You are a disgrace to the legion! You will leave this place this very instance!" The three legionnaires didn't hesitate, but quickly made their way out.
"I hope you will forgive my men," the centurion said to Amhoset, "they are drunk, and we only recently arrived back from Germania. They would make their way with an animal if nothing else would present itself. This is not the finest of nights for a beauty such as yourself to be in a place such as this."
He then turned his attention to Deodatus, with a quick glance at his tattoo. "I would have thought a fellow soldier would have known better than to attack legionnaires in public. Attack one of us, and you'll deal with all of us. I understand your position and I agree with it, but consider yourself lucky that I came along to stop a brawl before it began."

“You’d have thought that I’d know better?” the veteran’s tone was placid, even conversational, as he brushed a few stray splinters of ceramic from his bronzed arms and toga. Even through the haze of an interrupted fight sharp memories surfaced of a time when he’d never have dared answer back to an officer. Shrugging off an instinct ingrained by two decades’ military training: to stand mutely to attention, salute and thank the Gods that he’d got off so lightly, he reminded himself that those days must have been - were - a lifetime ago.
And after all, he wasn’t in the army any more.

“You know as well as I do that this city burns rapists. What would you have had me do, step in and see your soldiers suffer a few bruises tonight, or let them go through with their filthy act and watch them left for the crows in the morning? Besides which, I dare say the Legion could do without the publicity of having three of their soldiers assault a Roman woman in the middle of a crowded tavern… that’d make a pretty story for the forum tomorrow.”
“Now, I’m sure if you were minded you could make a damn sight more trouble for us than we could for you,” in his experience it never did any harm to flatter the officers a little. And besides, it was probably true enough. “Or you can admit that I’ve done you a good turn and sit down for a drink or two with the lady here and myself.” Glancing across enquiringly to the as yet un-introduced Kindred, Deodatus sought to gauge her reaction to the proposal. If she had other plans then he certainly wouldn’t be standing in her way.

“I’ll order over another flagon of wine, we can tell each other a few stories from the frontier and drink a toast to your good fortunes on the coming campaign.”
OOC: If you’re rolling for it, Deodatus will spend a point of willpower on persuading the centurion to hang around a socialise a bit.

Any legionnaire still in Castor & Pollux turned their heads when Deodatus spoke back to the centurion. But he only smiled. "You have a kind heart and nerves of steel, my friend," he said, "two precious and rare qualities in Rome. I was right to stop the fight before Rome lost a fine man such as yourself in nothing more than a brawl fight."

"I am Thascius Cornelius Germanicus, centurion of the Empire and leader of the Cornelius Squad. I will join the two of you in the drinking of wine, but only if you will accept my offer to do so in my current home."

Holding her left hand, Amhoset watched as the legionaries rushed from the tavern. She had felt the ribs of the man she struck snap with a satisfying ease. The preternatural vitality yet still coursed through her, and she let the tide of power ebb and pass away. Had the presence of the centurion not hastened their retreat the situation certainly would have escalated. Alcohol had clouded their wits with bravado, and they likely would have met the assault with one of their own. She did not doubt the outcome of three drunk men facing two Kindred, but how would one explain it away? A preference for shadow and subterfuge had grown in her, overt action, though necessary at times, left her with a feeling of distaste. The situation had been expelled, for the moment at least.

Her eyes wandered over to the other vampire, dark unreadable pools staring at him for but a moment. His invitation intrigued her. Hunting the secrets hiding in the shadows could wait for another night.

"I owe you both a debt of gratitude tonight." she spoke with a cool smoothness, a formal regal tone ever present in her voice. " I am Amhoset Nanu Irisi. It would please me greatly to join you in the drinking of wine."