Chastane slouched, his insides feeling as though they'd been pulped by hammer-blows, though hardly a mark was on him as he staggered, dark vitae dripping from his mouth. "Least I could expect from another prissy French cunt!" he snapped, leaning on the wall.
"Your capabilities leave much to be desired." LaGronge said with a frown,
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Life is a lamp with the glimmer gone, A dank and darkened cave; Yet still I swear by the light of dawn, And not by the grip of the grave. - "Hope Empty of Meaning" by Robert E. Howard
Doyle shifted in his seat somewhat irritably as the plane touched down, the pouring rain outside testament to the growing storm in the city. He gently stroked Fiona's hair as she laid languidly against him like a sleeping cat, his arm around her as they started to rouse themselves. It had been about an hour since
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Doyle sat in the house's living room, relaxing on a large, expensive black leather chair. Fresh from hunting, he wore rugged denims and a t-shirt, one of the stainless-steel containers of deer blood sitting mostly empty on the glass table before him as he looked over a map of Detroit, highlighter in hand. The room stood mostly silent as he thought
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Doyle sat down in Elysium, his wounds still aching from the fight with Jordan. He was starting to get hungry, but leaving to feed would mean someone else would have opportunity to follow Joshua and Sofia off into the night, as they doubtless prepared themselves for opportunists. All their enemies were here, yet. All their enemies, he could at
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Doyle had been looking out for her all through the past few nights, accepting no other option and taking her to the new house. It was spacious enough - but new was the premier word. All sorts of modern styling, nice and clean, wide-open areas. It seemed so sterile to Doyle - not hardly lived in.
"Kindred of Mount Pleasant, it is as announced Nine o'clock, Open Court is called."
Doyle looked out at the people surrounding him, his court officers all missing or serving the peacock a few steps from his side. At his back, four gargoyles in riot gear stood, provided by the Gangrel in the brown leather duster that sat near the front. A crow
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