Another Round (McKay) - Dragon's Lair

He nodded. "I don't think she's even reached a century yet. I could be wrong, but even so, that's way too young for that."

( Can I get a Lore-by-4 on this? Or an Eidetic Memory-by-4?)

"She is a Daughter of Cacophony, I believe.. Have there been any other reports of others of that line suffering a similar malady? It has had several other oddities in its history previously."

He shook his head. "Not that I've ever heard of."

"There was a Toreador I knew of some time ago that caught the unfortunate attentions of the Faerie folk. They were so fascinated with him that they stole him away when he would slumber for the day, which resulted in the individual needing to exert himself moreso -- both Will and Vitae -- as his body did not rest and regenerate during the day. It is likely that Miss Harrington is being taken away into their Dreaming during the days, as well. Exerting her will so regularly to remain active would explain the weariness, as well as the expenditure of Vitae."

He thought another moment. "Unfortunately, there are no abilities known to our kind that allow entry to their domain, and I would hardly suggest entering through their methods or others without proven assurance of exit. It would not be likely that one would return against their own allowance of such."

He seemed to be thoughtful on that one. "Aight. So it looks like there's a faerie messin' with her. Any way ta tell when there's a faerie about, an' would a warding circle thingie keep 'em out?"

He nodded. "A circle ward should be sufficient, however you would likely need someone more proficient in it than either Scourge Morton or Sheriff Tahan are capable of performing. Not that either would admit to or acknowledge such. The faerie folk are known to be extremely strong willed."

He nodded. "Got any suggestions?"

"I could. How are your relations with the independent Tzimisce? I know that your clan-mate is in an unfortunate state of poor relations, though I believe I have heard that it is entirely of his own choice in pasttime."

He blinked. "I don't think I've met 'em, honestly. Why?"

"There are several of significant potency of blood I have had business dealings with in the past, and the Tremere have based quite a bit of their own magics off of that possessed by the Tzimisce koldun."

He shook his head. "Their abilities are the reason they held Western Europe at bay for centuries. Its something that those who remember them before Sects came into play respect those who chose neither for."

He shook his head. "Ya know, magic's one of them subjects that I just don't try ta understand. It's safer for me, as a Brujah, ta not try ta understand it. But as long as they ain't tryin' ta kill me or torture little puppies, I ain't got much issue with 'em. A clan is a clan, sure, but individuals are tha important parts of it."

The skin around his face stretched as he ... smiled? Grinned? "They do not try to kill anything. The ones I have in mind cleaned Florida of the Sabbat threat to have a message passed up through others to reach the Justicariat. They began on Mexico City to prove their intent. They do not share the sentiment of cruelty for cruelty's sake as their Sabbat breatheren delight and revel in. But there are few others with the magnitude of power that they have embodied, and they are likely among very few to accomplish what you want done."

He scratched his jaw. "Aight. What needs doin' ta get it taken care of, then?"

"It depends on how soon you want to speak to them," He somehow sounded more indifferent than usual.

His brows rose. "Soon as possible would be better."

He nodded again. "One should arrive shortly, terms for such are theirs to negotiate, of course. Was there somewhat else?"

He looked thoughtful. "How about that sports-weather team?" He smiled. "I think that covers it, really."

He nodded just nodded, accepting the questions concluding.

As the nod was made, a gust of wind ripped through the area, the Tzimisce manifesting in its wake already seated across from the Brujah, hands clasped atop the surface passively.

Not looking particularly perturbed or alarmed by the appearance, he fell into introductions immediately.

"James McKay, allow me to introduce you to Dromichaetes of the Tzimisce," a gesture from the Brujah to the Tzimisce was made. "Dromichaetes, this is James McKay of the Brujah," the gesture was made from the Tzimisce to the Brujah next.

He inclined his head, nodding with a pleasant smile.

"A pleasure, Mister McKay. What can I do for you this evening? I believe a mention was made of a circular ward against the Faerie folk was mentioned," he looked to Anton and then back to James. "Yes?"

He was obviously more surprised. He leaned back, away from the table and the gust of wind, but seemed to relax when it formed into a man. When the introductions were made, he offered his hand to the Tzimisce. "Nice ta meet ya. An' thanks for comin'." Oh, look ... he was polite. He nodded again. "That's correct, sir."

He reached out and shook the man's hand before returning to where he had seated himself. It was firm, though he obviously was making no effort to impose any sense of dominance in the gesture as he would merely meet whatever strength the Brujah chose to exert.

He nodded, looking thoughtful for a moment. "The Faerie folk are indeed a foe I would not wish upon my enemy. More likely to toy with their prey -- No, quarry. Plaything? Yes, I imagine that is more applicable.. I do not believe they actually consume anything of their captives, not for any sort of benefit at least," he shook his head at the thought. "Anyways. Yes, I believe I can negotiate for suitable protectives to be placed on, what, a house? Apartment? I'm afraid I do not know what our little Songstress resides within."

His handshake was firm, as he was simply being polite. He actually didn't seem to be trying to exert dominance either, as this was a favor that he was asking of the Tzimisce across the table from him. Which meant that he listened with a smile. "It's a house. A small house, but still a house. I can always take ya there first, so ya can see it, if ya like. My knowledge in tha skills of magic an' whatnot is lacking. But yeah, I don't particularly wanna mess with tha Faerie Folk much myself, an' I'm not sure what kinda payment ya want for it, but if tha size of tha house is of a matter, I can take ya there."

He shrugged. "It shouldn't make over much of a difference. Its only a question of time involved."

He looked thoughtful a moment. "There will need to be two items in exchange. The first from the individual whose home is in question. In prior times, the Daughters of Cacophony were half of the bloodline, while the Sons of Discord filled the second half, albeit in much reduced numbers. While reasonble conclusions can be made outlining that the Daughters destroyed the other half of their line, no one has asked the question of 'Why.' She will need to fetch that answer."

"The second is from you, Mister McKay. As you are the one brokering the arrangement, you must care for the girl to some degree, and few others would possess the standing with our mutual associate," he gestured to Anton. "To warrant this meeting. My sire would like to discuss the origins of your bloodline," he oddly did not say clan.. "And what possibilities that may hold for you. Quite the opportunity, if you do not mind my opinion on such, and hardly what I would consider payment for this service," he shrugged again. "But, that is what he would like, as he will like-as-not be the one enacting the ritual. I'm afraid I can only make it extremely difficult for the Fae-folk to enter a circular ward of my make and design. I would hazard that he is capable of making such an impossibility."