Re: Nox Eterna

[Vincent Faustino]

[[Gonna try rolling some dice here, to make sure I know how to do it right.]]
As I retrieve my suitcase, I take a look around the airport to look for anyone or anything out of the ordinary. (Possible threats, other scions, and anything else supernatural)

{rolling for the above, Perception + Awareness}
[[unless occult would be more appropriate]]

[Storyteller]

As you sweep the room, no electronic devices jump out at you. You find that the wiring in the window mounted air conditioning unit was fixed improperly, using a bit of electrical tape and what looks like the guts of a remote control, but no listening devices appear to be hidden in any of the usual places: vents, floor, remote control, television, fan, light switches, smoke detector, or bathroom.

As you sit in the main entryway, Fechin looks sullen as he returns to his Orange County Chopper reruns.

[[Pausing the hotel for the moment, to focus on Vincent.]]

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Vincent, you have just landed in JFK from L.A. Your bags have arrived safely, and are running around the baggage claim conveyor belt as you stop in front of it.

[[What do you do?]]

[Storyteller]

The member 'Crewer' has done the following action : Dice Roller

#1 'D10' : 2, 1, 4, 10

--------------------------------

#2 'D10' : 9, 4, 7, 5, 9, 10, 1

[Crewer]

Huico takes his knife and the keys from the heavyset American. Then he looks straight into his eyes.

"Tell no one of my arrival. I'll be expecting some mail in the next few days." Huico then picks up his crate and heads back to room 4, glancing back once. "Fix your bell."

After taking twenty minutes to unpack his crate and inspect his room for bugs, Huico then takes his knife and woodcut and moves back into the hotel lobby, finding a secluded chair to sit in and continue his woodcut of the chica responsible for this mess.

{rolling to give orders to Fechin, Manipulation+Command}
{rolling to look for bugs in room, Perception+Awareness, 1 epic}

[Storyteller]

The man gruffly rises from his place on the table. He takes the knife out, then holds it out to you handle first as he continues his work.

"Well why tha fuck didn't ya say so to start? She's paid up for a solid month for a coupla rooms here on the ground floor." The man, whose nametag is barely visible as it intermittently flashes between his folds of fat, appears to be called Fechin. He rummages underneath the counter, then pulls out a small, grimy key ring. It holds a small iron key and a plastic clover engraved with the number 4.

[Crewer]

A beat passes. Two.

Huico releases his grip on the man's hair and lets him reassert himself, leaving the knife firmly embedded into the tabletop. Easy now, deep breaths. If he's any indication of the locals it's going to be a long stay. Closing his eyes for a moment, Huico takes a few calming seconds, then looks up at the frazzled man working the counter.

"I have a reservation, under Cassy."

[Storyteller]

The man spits out another loud "THA FUCK?!" as the knife slams into the table in front of his face. "Jesus man, calm the hell down!" he cries out as he struggles in your grasp.

[Storyteller]

The member 'Crewer' has done the following action : Dice Roller

'D10' : 2, 9, 4, 6, 9, 2, 10

[Crewer]

"The hell can I do for you, esse-"

Huico returns the man's cold glower. He slowly picks up the crate and lowers it to the floor, easing the top off, and reaches in to the contents to grip his combat knife. In a blur of motion he swings around to snatch the man's hair in one hand, smashing it sideways against the table, facing the door. The knife then slams into the desk 3 centimeters in front of the man's eyes.

"I don't think you want to put me in a bad mood today, cabrón."

{rolling for slam-a-bams, Strength+Brawl, 1 epic}

[Storyteller]

The man jumps in his chair, visibly shaken.

"Tha fuck was that?" He spits out in a Jersey accent. "Ya coulda just rung the damn bell!" He points a stubby finger at the bell on the far right side of the desk, which is notably missing a plunger to ring it with. "Tha hell can I do for ya, esse?" The man glowers at you.

[Crewer]

Meh. I've slept in worse. Huico weaves in between the scattered pieces of furniture as quietly as one can with a huge crate in their arms. I could use some less conspicuous luggage. But that was a job for another time. Seeing the American fixated on the TV in the corner only confirmed his suspicions. Americans.

Hoisting the crate over his head, Huico slams the crate onto the desk with a sizable amount of force and waits for the man's inevitable reaction. As the man turns he makes a small smile.

"Ding."

[Storyteller]

The front door silently slides open with a bit of resistance. You find yourself in the cramped entryway of a small hotel. There is a slightly run down front desk, where a fairly large red haired man sits behind the counter. His hair is short cropped and curly, and he seems to be fairly preoccupied with the small color tv sitting underneath the lip of the counter. Short hallways with 3 and 4 rooms each lead off to your right and left, and conclude with stairs leading up in similar directions. There is a small couch and chair near the entryway, place long with respect to the door so that they can fit. The combination of eclectic furniture and the desk leave little room for navigation, but it is manageable. The man does not appear to have noticed you walk in.

[[What do you do?]]

[Crewer]

Gosh! Why look at my phone when I can just guess the time!

Huico walks calmly down the street to the front of the building and lets himself in the front door.

[Storyteller]

Walking down the street you can see you are in the area of Manhattan where the business and residential districts are merging. The hotel is on the far end of the street from the location where you were dropped off, and has a hard to miss sign. The "Kennedy's" portion of the sign is in a dull aluminum with blue neon, but the "O'" portion looks as though it was tacked on to the front as an afterthought, considering it's hanging off the main sign and made of green plexiglass. On your end of the street are four apartment buildings, and a few small shops selling knick knacks and chinese food line the street down to the hotel. The sun is hidden by the shadow of the buildings, but the pink in the sky is more telling than anything else. If you had to guess, it's about sunrise - around six in the morning.

[Crewer]

"Cash." Huico hands the man his money, glancing at the fare meter, and receives his change. He then takes the crate and his bag and squeezes out of the back seat, setting the crate on the sidewalk.

"Which way to the corner of... 56^th and 57^th?" After getting instructions, he waits for the cab to pull away and hoists his crate into his arms, walking around the block and towards the hotel, glancing at the time on his phone.

{I'd like a modest description of the hotel and the time si'l vous plaît.}

[Storyteller]

The cab comes to a jolt as the cabby pulls into the no parking zone near the hotel. He raps on the window that separates the front from the back seat sharply, waking you up. He asks if this is going to be cash or credit.

[Crewer]

Huico sits back in his chair.

"Figures." Not like it'd be that easy, not with my luck. As the traffic begins to build up it reminds Huico of the way ants all struggle to move in columns from point to point.

"Wake me up when we get there," Huico tells the cabbie as he takes a light nap, resting his arm on his crate.

[Storyteller]

The cabby shakes his head no. He seems to be preoccupied with the traffic jam around the connector trying to make his way to Manhattan.

[Crewer]

Huico:
You have managed to make it through the airport in one piece. You weren't stopped at customs, as planned, and your crate was sitting for you on the rotating conveyor belt for checked luggage. You are now at the airport in the very early morning, approximately 3:30 AM local Eastern Time. What do you do?

Huico heads to the currency desk and exchanges about $400 worth of pesos. He then heads outside to catch a cab. Ah, the smell of the city. So many people. So much strife. Huico takes in the aroma of engines and hurried passengers in the airport parking lot. He flags down a taxi and pulls out some money and the now ragged bar napkin with his directions.

"Take me here."

It's a tight squeeze but the crate fits into the passenger seat beside Huico. The chica really pulled through on this one. I owe her a nice bottle of vodka. As he waits for the cab to arrive at its destination he pulls out his woodcut and begins to work, asking the cabbie, "Hey, amigo, you know a Hanson?"

[Storyteller]

[[The main thread will now be officially open. There's just Ben's prologue left, and most of the other characters will be arriving to the hotel now. The order of arrival will be: Huico and Vincent first, in the early morning. This is followed by Conroy in the midmorning, and Aedan shortly after noon. Isaac will be the last to arrive, late at night.]]

Huico:
You have managed to make it through the airport in one piece. You weren't stopped at customs, as planned, and your crate was sitting for you on the rotating conveyor belt for checked luggage. You are now at the airport in the very early morning, approximately 3:30 AM local Eastern Time. What do you do?

Vincent:
You will be arriving in approximately half an hour. Please wait to post until then.

Everyone else:
Please wait until you are introduced.

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