Post by Barnaby Cuthbert on Oct 8, 2013 18:38:43 GMT -8
Tom's Laws of Elysium
Tom steps up on the small stage into the spotlight in Tiki Tom's, stubs out a cigarillo in an ashtray on a side table and hunkers down with a microphone in front of him.
"Elysium. It's supposed to be safe to be dead here, and I aim to make it so. Here's the rules so there ain't no confusion. You break 'em, you lose standing. You break 'em again, I get creative. I'm real creative. You run out of standing, welcome to scourge bait town, population you. Simple right? You'd think."
He chuckles, lights another smoke and watches for a moment as it curls into the light.
"Rule #1: All are welcome; all are safe - This means if you're of the blood, you get to come in, have words, do business and leave expectin' not to be ambushed on the way in or out, and you don't have Kindred usin' powers on ya or beating you up. Even if you don't have Toleration as an independent or Acknowledgement as part of the big C-club, you get leeway - a little. Mind your manners. Anarchs with manners are ok. Sabbat with manners are imaginary. Mostly. There was a guy years back in Calebros's reign, but I don't trust 'em, so don't expect me to care too terribly much if someone decides to escort them before the Prince with a pine shaft for a tie pin."
Another drag, another exhale.
"Every now and then we get shovel heads and caitiff wandering through trying to figure out what they even are though, and it's good for the Masquerade to be able to find out where they've been at least, so keep it in mind. Ghouls can come and go as needed, I don't care if they hang around without a Domitor, but you probably should. Unattended ghouls are like fancy cars. Leave 'em around long enough and someone is going to try to rub 'em down, shine 'em up, buy 'em or steal 'em. Watch your property. When in doubt on this or any other rules of my place, don't assume, ask."
There's a slightly wistful sigh.
"Rule #2: Violence ain't allowed. You don't slap anybody, punch 'em, stake 'em, stab 'em, fireball 'em, mind screw 'em or anything like that. That 'honor' belongs to me, the Sheriff, the Scourge (for the unacknowledged) after somebody screws up, and if they really feel like getting their hands dirty, the Seneschal and Prince can do what they feel they need to do, provided a little 'professional courtesy'. Don't know who those folks are? You should, else you will when you or yours screw up. Safe travel to and from Elysium is expected and protected in this Domain. Has been for awhile and that ain't lookin' to change."
Tom takes another drag and mumbles "pause for effect" not quite under his breath.
"Bring weapons if you want but keep 'em holstered. Pull 'em out and they're forfeit. If I like you I might give 'em back. If you can afford it."
Tom leans forward and squints into the light a moment under his bowler, removes it and scratches his curly mop for a bit before returning the hat to its perch.
"Note that 'yelling' and 'being rude' are not violence. If somebody has a matter of opinion you disagree with, that's what the Harpy is for. Go bother her, don't come crying to me. I will say that if you regularly incite other Kindred to frenzy, whatever is left of you will loose standing until you're scourge bait, if I don't throw you out on your ass right then and there."
Puff, exhale. Smoke circles.
"Rule #3: No use of Powers - Violence ain't just physical harm. Use of Dominate, Blood witch magic, or any similar mental Disciplines will put you at the wrong end of a stake through the heart. If you think you can get away with it, just ask the last Archon if he thinks he was above the rules of my place - rules, by the way that are older than Archons or princes and probably most of you. Show that ancient tradition the respect it's due, whatever your politics or personal grudges. Using powers on someone that's in my place from afar is a breach too. Ambushing folks outside the door is a breach. Just don't do it. If you can't find your target's haven without following them from my door, you're just bad at being a Kindred or lazy or both. Neither are my problem. If you're a Nos and you don't feel like looking like you hit every branch on the way out of the ugly tree in 'society' then wear a hood or a mask. Hide yourself on the way out or use the sewer exit, that's what it's there for. I ain't that pretty either. Deal. Some Elysia Keepers say subtle powers are fine. I don't. Have people over to your haven if you want to fly around and sparkle. I hear the Anarchs gave up on calling their place an Elysium, so I guess you're welcome to go Summon people out of their place if you think that's fun. Nobody would dare do that in my place, and I have the boons to prove it. The Prince and his court have leeway on this, and so does anyone else that I say can help clean up a mess if someone loses themselves to the Beast, but ask first."
A short puff and the next bit is said in the exhale.
"Rule #4: No mortals may attend an Elysium. Ghouls are fine. Kine aren't. If you want an event with blood dolls to be declared Elysium, come ready with a plan for taking care of the Masquerade and we'll talk."
A chuckle follows, and a hummed line of an old western standard, 'oh my darlin' Clementine' follows.
"Rule #5: All must respect the word of the Keeper of Elysium."
Tom sits back in the spotlight and then leans forward on the stool like a major league catcher, leveling with the audience.
"Look, I got but a couple of tools to deal with troublemakers. You get to meet the gentle ones first, a jot of standing goes away with a harsh rebuke in public maybe. Later comes the fun part. I can always call down the Sheriff, holler at the Prince or take a personal interest in your reeducation, even kick you out for a night or a year, but I prefer folks just take their lumps, say their yessirs and nossirs and learn something. I don't like folks out on the street with no safe place. It's a dark world and we got enough of us dyin' these nights already. If you choose not to respect the most ancient laws the dead have, my priority switches toot friggin' sweet from protecting you to protecting everyone else from you. That could prove uncomfortable for ya, to the tune of a stake, or whatever I and the Sheriff think will get the point across. Now you been told."
The cigarillo is tamped out in the old copper ashtray next to its brothers, and the old Malkavian stands, rasping his goodbye.
"Share what you heard, there ain't gonna be no written notices. Thankew, and have a good night."
He shambles out of the spotlight, singing to himself...
"In a cavern, in a canyon, excavating for a mine... Dwelt a miner, forty-niner, and his daughter Clementine..."
Tom steps up on the small stage into the spotlight in Tiki Tom's, stubs out a cigarillo in an ashtray on a side table and hunkers down with a microphone in front of him.
"Elysium. It's supposed to be safe to be dead here, and I aim to make it so. Here's the rules so there ain't no confusion. You break 'em, you lose standing. You break 'em again, I get creative. I'm real creative. You run out of standing, welcome to scourge bait town, population you. Simple right? You'd think."
He chuckles, lights another smoke and watches for a moment as it curls into the light.
"Rule #1: All are welcome; all are safe - This means if you're of the blood, you get to come in, have words, do business and leave expectin' not to be ambushed on the way in or out, and you don't have Kindred usin' powers on ya or beating you up. Even if you don't have Toleration as an independent or Acknowledgement as part of the big C-club, you get leeway - a little. Mind your manners. Anarchs with manners are ok. Sabbat with manners are imaginary. Mostly. There was a guy years back in Calebros's reign, but I don't trust 'em, so don't expect me to care too terribly much if someone decides to escort them before the Prince with a pine shaft for a tie pin."
Another drag, another exhale.
"Every now and then we get shovel heads and caitiff wandering through trying to figure out what they even are though, and it's good for the Masquerade to be able to find out where they've been at least, so keep it in mind. Ghouls can come and go as needed, I don't care if they hang around without a Domitor, but you probably should. Unattended ghouls are like fancy cars. Leave 'em around long enough and someone is going to try to rub 'em down, shine 'em up, buy 'em or steal 'em. Watch your property. When in doubt on this or any other rules of my place, don't assume, ask."
There's a slightly wistful sigh.
"Rule #2: Violence ain't allowed. You don't slap anybody, punch 'em, stake 'em, stab 'em, fireball 'em, mind screw 'em or anything like that. That 'honor' belongs to me, the Sheriff, the Scourge (for the unacknowledged) after somebody screws up, and if they really feel like getting their hands dirty, the Seneschal and Prince can do what they feel they need to do, provided a little 'professional courtesy'. Don't know who those folks are? You should, else you will when you or yours screw up. Safe travel to and from Elysium is expected and protected in this Domain. Has been for awhile and that ain't lookin' to change."
Tom takes another drag and mumbles "pause for effect" not quite under his breath.
"Bring weapons if you want but keep 'em holstered. Pull 'em out and they're forfeit. If I like you I might give 'em back. If you can afford it."
Tom leans forward and squints into the light a moment under his bowler, removes it and scratches his curly mop for a bit before returning the hat to its perch.
"Note that 'yelling' and 'being rude' are not violence. If somebody has a matter of opinion you disagree with, that's what the Harpy is for. Go bother her, don't come crying to me. I will say that if you regularly incite other Kindred to frenzy, whatever is left of you will loose standing until you're scourge bait, if I don't throw you out on your ass right then and there."
Puff, exhale. Smoke circles.
"Rule #3: No use of Powers - Violence ain't just physical harm. Use of Dominate, Blood witch magic, or any similar mental Disciplines will put you at the wrong end of a stake through the heart. If you think you can get away with it, just ask the last Archon if he thinks he was above the rules of my place - rules, by the way that are older than Archons or princes and probably most of you. Show that ancient tradition the respect it's due, whatever your politics or personal grudges. Using powers on someone that's in my place from afar is a breach too. Ambushing folks outside the door is a breach. Just don't do it. If you can't find your target's haven without following them from my door, you're just bad at being a Kindred or lazy or both. Neither are my problem. If you're a Nos and you don't feel like looking like you hit every branch on the way out of the ugly tree in 'society' then wear a hood or a mask. Hide yourself on the way out or use the sewer exit, that's what it's there for. I ain't that pretty either. Deal. Some Elysia Keepers say subtle powers are fine. I don't. Have people over to your haven if you want to fly around and sparkle. I hear the Anarchs gave up on calling their place an Elysium, so I guess you're welcome to go Summon people out of their place if you think that's fun. Nobody would dare do that in my place, and I have the boons to prove it. The Prince and his court have leeway on this, and so does anyone else that I say can help clean up a mess if someone loses themselves to the Beast, but ask first."
A short puff and the next bit is said in the exhale.
"Rule #4: No mortals may attend an Elysium. Ghouls are fine. Kine aren't. If you want an event with blood dolls to be declared Elysium, come ready with a plan for taking care of the Masquerade and we'll talk."
A chuckle follows, and a hummed line of an old western standard, 'oh my darlin' Clementine' follows.
"Rule #5: All must respect the word of the Keeper of Elysium."
Tom sits back in the spotlight and then leans forward on the stool like a major league catcher, leveling with the audience.
"Look, I got but a couple of tools to deal with troublemakers. You get to meet the gentle ones first, a jot of standing goes away with a harsh rebuke in public maybe. Later comes the fun part. I can always call down the Sheriff, holler at the Prince or take a personal interest in your reeducation, even kick you out for a night or a year, but I prefer folks just take their lumps, say their yessirs and nossirs and learn something. I don't like folks out on the street with no safe place. It's a dark world and we got enough of us dyin' these nights already. If you choose not to respect the most ancient laws the dead have, my priority switches toot friggin' sweet from protecting you to protecting everyone else from you. That could prove uncomfortable for ya, to the tune of a stake, or whatever I and the Sheriff think will get the point across. Now you been told."
The cigarillo is tamped out in the old copper ashtray next to its brothers, and the old Malkavian stands, rasping his goodbye.
"Share what you heard, there ain't gonna be no written notices. Thankew, and have a good night."
He shambles out of the spotlight, singing to himself...
"In a cavern, in a canyon, excavating for a mine... Dwelt a miner, forty-niner, and his daughter Clementine..."
