Post by Evan on Sept 22, 2011 7:56:50 GMT -8
Vienna, Austria
September 23rd, 2011
Later that night
With the selection of the Justicariate finalized, the new Justicars presided in the center of the Conclave Hall, all seated along one side of the table as though a panel of Councilmen at a Town Hall Meeting. They now faced the attention of 'the general public;' the doors of the Conclave had been opened only a few minutes ago to the many other Kindred who had traveled to Vienna for the event to debate and discuss matters of importance with the Clan leaders.
Once the collective had gathered and seated themselves at the small tables set around the room, the doors were firmly shut and attention turned towards general business. Justicar Streck had barely called the public meeting to order before a woman leaned across her table, her perfectly shaped hand rapping three times on the surface, signaling a request to speak.
"I would address this gathering if any would speak for my indulgence." Her voice, ringing clear and loud across the hall, was met with a susurrus of quiet conversations.
After a moment, another woman rose. This one was as pale as the first, but her hair was the color of stoked fire.
In an accent thick with Irish brogue, Erin O'Seanessy intoned "I would speak for Elder Yuria. She is both wise and respected."
Yuria nodded once to her clanmate before rising and taking a long breath.
"Justicars, Princes and fellow Kindred, we stand on a dangerous precipice this season. Mere months before this Conclave, a Prince acted in defiance of the founding principle of this Society. Anne Bowesley of Clan Ventrue declared herself Regent of all of Britain and executed the noble Donal O'Connor, Brujah Prince of Dublin and the only Prince in the isles brave enough to stand against her mad edict. In doing so, she stained not only her own hands with betrayer's blood, but did with her action call her own Clanmate, the noble Hardestadt, a liar. Some of you in this room stood proudly with me in the village of Thorns all those centuries ago as Hardestadt declared an end to the Jyhad. 'The War of Princes that had led to the Anarch revolt and the great Inquisition was ended with the formation of the Camarilla,' we were told. All Princes would stand shoulder to shoulder as equals in this brave new age; regardless of Clan. Each Prince would rule his own city as sovereign master and only our chosen Justicars would be empowered to gainsay them."
Yuria paused a moment and seemed to gauge the response to her words across the room. Whatever she read in the unblinking, unbreathing countenances of her audience seemed to please her and she smiled before continuing,
"In the foul murder of Prince O'Connor, Prince Bowesley has spit in her own Clan's face and declared the Convention of Thorns a lie. I ask at this Conclave that the Justicars we have named make it their first duty to strip this despot of her title, return the Cities of the British Isles to the control of their own Princes and make clear to all of us that the Camarilla we joined with so many years ago is still the same alabaster pillar that holds the madness of the dark ages at bay. I ask for Bowesley's Final Death in response to her murder of a sovereign Prince. I ask this Conclave for JUSTICE!"
The last word resounded across the hall like the peeling of a church bell. In the painful silence of its wake, Yuria slowly sat down, looking neither left nor right, her eyes locked on Justicar Theo Bell, seated silently in the center of the room.
"My fellow Kindred," A quiet, earthy voice called out. "I would also ask to speak on this matter." A man, dark skinned and old in appearance stood from a far corner.
"I speak for Vragen of the Brujah." Announced Prince Anne Bowesley, sitting near the center table and smiling demurely at Yuria all the while.
Vragen's countenance soured when he saw who spoke for him but he nodded and squared his shoulders. "My honored peer Yuria speaks eloquently and from her heart. I do not condone the actions Prince Bowesley undertook this summer and I too mourn the loss of our honored Clanmate Prince O'Connor. But this is not the time to be moved by loss. Nor is it the season to demand vengeance that is crudely dressed as justice. If the actions of Anne Bowesley are to come under this Conclave's scrutiny, we must look not only at this death but its precedents and antecedents as well. Prince Bowesley did not declare this political change in a vacuum. We all remember the panic that occurred when those two lamentable Thin Bloods posted their video on the human's Internet. We all remember the mad, chaotic scramble to attempt to cover it up. What many of you never saw was how much damage these disorganized attempts at defense did themselves to the Masquerade. In Britain alone, there were 18 separate attempts to create a theatrical movie, computerized video game or television series that showcased characters like the two Thin Bloods. None of these attempts were coordinated and almost every one failed due to the sudden glut of similar products. In Liverpool, Dublin, Manchester and Glasgow there were organized attempts by neonates to form outreach to mortal politicians and request official recognition of Vampires as a 'medically needy' group under the Health Care system. While the Princes of each of these cities dealt with that issue admirably, each chose to keep quiet that these groups had ever existed. Beyond Britannia, two Kindred met their final deaths believing they were destroying mortal Hunters when two independent teams from Hamburg and Stockholm clashed with each other while searching for the Thin Bloods who started this whole mess."
Vragen smoothed the front of his suitcoat in a very human gesture while allowing his lungs to refill for a second statement.
"The point I am trying to make is that we are disorganized and behind the times. In this modern age, the boundaries of 'City' become more and more meaningless. Instant communication across the world and a distributed, impregnable electronic archive of all Human endeavor make keeping our Masquerade more difficult now than ever before. Even now that the Gangrel and the Assamites are granted seats among our Justicars, those Eight and their chosen Archons cannot hope to provide oversight to every individual Princedom across the world. 300 years ago, when a mistake could be quieted at the border of a Domain, this system was logical. When a single picture taken on a single cellular phone from the window of an apartment half a block away can be distributed to millions LITERALLY overnight, we must look for other solutions."
Vragen's ancient, piercing eyes turned towards Prince Bowesley, locking with hers and narrowing.
"Prince Anne Bowesley killed Donal O'Connor, this point none will argue. But as much as I lament the loss of my cousin, I must let my Man rule my Beast and recognize that this was not an act of violence against the Brujah by the Ventrue. This was not a political ploy to provide Bowesley with more power. This was the birth pain of the way our Great Society must survive. My fellow Kindred, we must rally together in these modern nights. Let the Justicariate guide our Princes in establishing Regencies like Bowesley's across the world. Let our cities become networks of information and our Princes an organized force to govern and guide us. Let vengeance stand aside and let us look at the world as we did so long ago in the quiet village under the shadow of Hardestadt and recognize that we must adapt together or we must surely perish."
The elder Brujah slowly sat down, his cold eyes never leaving Bowesley's face. There was a heartbeat of silence before the room exploded into table rapping and shouted voices.
"I would address the conclave!"
"If I would be allowed to speak!"
"My fellow Kindred, hear me!"
September 23rd, 2011
Later that night
With the selection of the Justicariate finalized, the new Justicars presided in the center of the Conclave Hall, all seated along one side of the table as though a panel of Councilmen at a Town Hall Meeting. They now faced the attention of 'the general public;' the doors of the Conclave had been opened only a few minutes ago to the many other Kindred who had traveled to Vienna for the event to debate and discuss matters of importance with the Clan leaders.
Once the collective had gathered and seated themselves at the small tables set around the room, the doors were firmly shut and attention turned towards general business. Justicar Streck had barely called the public meeting to order before a woman leaned across her table, her perfectly shaped hand rapping three times on the surface, signaling a request to speak.
"I would address this gathering if any would speak for my indulgence." Her voice, ringing clear and loud across the hall, was met with a susurrus of quiet conversations.
After a moment, another woman rose. This one was as pale as the first, but her hair was the color of stoked fire.
In an accent thick with Irish brogue, Erin O'Seanessy intoned "I would speak for Elder Yuria. She is both wise and respected."
Yuria nodded once to her clanmate before rising and taking a long breath.
"Justicars, Princes and fellow Kindred, we stand on a dangerous precipice this season. Mere months before this Conclave, a Prince acted in defiance of the founding principle of this Society. Anne Bowesley of Clan Ventrue declared herself Regent of all of Britain and executed the noble Donal O'Connor, Brujah Prince of Dublin and the only Prince in the isles brave enough to stand against her mad edict. In doing so, she stained not only her own hands with betrayer's blood, but did with her action call her own Clanmate, the noble Hardestadt, a liar. Some of you in this room stood proudly with me in the village of Thorns all those centuries ago as Hardestadt declared an end to the Jyhad. 'The War of Princes that had led to the Anarch revolt and the great Inquisition was ended with the formation of the Camarilla,' we were told. All Princes would stand shoulder to shoulder as equals in this brave new age; regardless of Clan. Each Prince would rule his own city as sovereign master and only our chosen Justicars would be empowered to gainsay them."
Yuria paused a moment and seemed to gauge the response to her words across the room. Whatever she read in the unblinking, unbreathing countenances of her audience seemed to please her and she smiled before continuing,
"In the foul murder of Prince O'Connor, Prince Bowesley has spit in her own Clan's face and declared the Convention of Thorns a lie. I ask at this Conclave that the Justicars we have named make it their first duty to strip this despot of her title, return the Cities of the British Isles to the control of their own Princes and make clear to all of us that the Camarilla we joined with so many years ago is still the same alabaster pillar that holds the madness of the dark ages at bay. I ask for Bowesley's Final Death in response to her murder of a sovereign Prince. I ask this Conclave for JUSTICE!"
The last word resounded across the hall like the peeling of a church bell. In the painful silence of its wake, Yuria slowly sat down, looking neither left nor right, her eyes locked on Justicar Theo Bell, seated silently in the center of the room.
"My fellow Kindred," A quiet, earthy voice called out. "I would also ask to speak on this matter." A man, dark skinned and old in appearance stood from a far corner.
"I speak for Vragen of the Brujah." Announced Prince Anne Bowesley, sitting near the center table and smiling demurely at Yuria all the while.
Vragen's countenance soured when he saw who spoke for him but he nodded and squared his shoulders. "My honored peer Yuria speaks eloquently and from her heart. I do not condone the actions Prince Bowesley undertook this summer and I too mourn the loss of our honored Clanmate Prince O'Connor. But this is not the time to be moved by loss. Nor is it the season to demand vengeance that is crudely dressed as justice. If the actions of Anne Bowesley are to come under this Conclave's scrutiny, we must look not only at this death but its precedents and antecedents as well. Prince Bowesley did not declare this political change in a vacuum. We all remember the panic that occurred when those two lamentable Thin Bloods posted their video on the human's Internet. We all remember the mad, chaotic scramble to attempt to cover it up. What many of you never saw was how much damage these disorganized attempts at defense did themselves to the Masquerade. In Britain alone, there were 18 separate attempts to create a theatrical movie, computerized video game or television series that showcased characters like the two Thin Bloods. None of these attempts were coordinated and almost every one failed due to the sudden glut of similar products. In Liverpool, Dublin, Manchester and Glasgow there were organized attempts by neonates to form outreach to mortal politicians and request official recognition of Vampires as a 'medically needy' group under the Health Care system. While the Princes of each of these cities dealt with that issue admirably, each chose to keep quiet that these groups had ever existed. Beyond Britannia, two Kindred met their final deaths believing they were destroying mortal Hunters when two independent teams from Hamburg and Stockholm clashed with each other while searching for the Thin Bloods who started this whole mess."
Vragen smoothed the front of his suitcoat in a very human gesture while allowing his lungs to refill for a second statement.
"The point I am trying to make is that we are disorganized and behind the times. In this modern age, the boundaries of 'City' become more and more meaningless. Instant communication across the world and a distributed, impregnable electronic archive of all Human endeavor make keeping our Masquerade more difficult now than ever before. Even now that the Gangrel and the Assamites are granted seats among our Justicars, those Eight and their chosen Archons cannot hope to provide oversight to every individual Princedom across the world. 300 years ago, when a mistake could be quieted at the border of a Domain, this system was logical. When a single picture taken on a single cellular phone from the window of an apartment half a block away can be distributed to millions LITERALLY overnight, we must look for other solutions."
Vragen's ancient, piercing eyes turned towards Prince Bowesley, locking with hers and narrowing.
"Prince Anne Bowesley killed Donal O'Connor, this point none will argue. But as much as I lament the loss of my cousin, I must let my Man rule my Beast and recognize that this was not an act of violence against the Brujah by the Ventrue. This was not a political ploy to provide Bowesley with more power. This was the birth pain of the way our Great Society must survive. My fellow Kindred, we must rally together in these modern nights. Let the Justicariate guide our Princes in establishing Regencies like Bowesley's across the world. Let our cities become networks of information and our Princes an organized force to govern and guide us. Let vengeance stand aside and let us look at the world as we did so long ago in the quiet village under the shadow of Hardestadt and recognize that we must adapt together or we must surely perish."
The elder Brujah slowly sat down, his cold eyes never leaving Bowesley's face. There was a heartbeat of silence before the room exploded into table rapping and shouted voices.
"I would address the conclave!"
"If I would be allowed to speak!"
"My fellow Kindred, hear me!"
