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 It's Nothing Personal, Just Business.

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Lorelei
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Posts : 131
Join date : 2010-03-20
Age : 24
Location : Australia

PostSubject: It's Nothing Personal, Just Business.   Wed Sep 08, 2010 5:18 am

The Year: 2010
The Location: Russia


Vampires ruled everything, unbeknownst to the human’s that milled around the streets. Each and every continent had its own headquarters; the largest and lethally important headquarters was situated in St Petersburg, Russia. Hidden amongst the country side a short way out from the city, with the Neva River running through the large estate, a human would suspect it to be a wealthy person’s home, a mansion with a vast garden running around it. But on the inside is a completely different story.
On the first floor, is the recreation, reception and meeting rooms, at the far end is storage, for illegal and legal goods, taking up a large expanse of the right wing of the floor is a large dining area, a huge restaurant that during special occasions is open to the public.
The second floor is where the newborns are placed, under house arrest until the can control themselves with dignity, some are fasted, some are tortured, some are killed. The first few years as a new vampire are crucial to see it to the next level. 1 out of every 5 newborns makes it to the next level.
On the third level is the stabilized vampires, still under supervision however they are given a little more responsibility and room to move, mostly given insignificant jobs such as ordering shipments, unloaded shipments into the storage areas, receptionist jobs, paperwork and so forth.
After a few more years of proving yourself to be a vampire of potential and leadership, you will be moved up a level, given your own suite on the fourth level, and larger responsibilities, including leaving the estate to make sure business in the city is running smoothly, that vampire’s are still going undetected and keeping a sharp ear out for any information against a conspiracy against the ‘Queen’, or ‘King’. Only those of great potential move from the fourth level.
The Fifth level is for security, always being prowled by burly men in black, awaiting the first sign of an uproar against the leader. Because this level is so secure and tightly held, a few of the current leader’s favourite vampires reside in these penthouse suites. These vampire’s help make crucial decisions, against whom should and should not make it into the undead world as a vampire from the selection of applicants each year, whom should and should not make it to the next level of the mansion alive, or maybe not for another year; Which human pawns to remove from the board to see the false leadership of democrats keep the world in the vampire’s hands.
And finally, the sixth floor, the floor held tighter than the previous under watchful security guards. The whole floor is made of many rooms to satisfy the current ruler, bed rooms, bars, bath rooms, a pool, a spa, a library so on and so forth.
When the time comes for a ruler to step down, or he/she is murdered, the closest to the Leader is selected. There has only once been a time where leadership has changed hands, from the first king to the second queen. It is hard to kill a vampire, especially one so heavily guarded. But the current queen knows it can happen, why? She made it so the first time.

Diary excerpt:
For thousands of years, the vampires had ruled the world beneath human radars, if word got out of a vampire’s existence, the gossip was cut off quickly, sometimes before it left the mouth of the first person. Of course there is the human or two that knows of our existence, they are usually the feeders that live in the headquarters. “Why haven’t you killed them yet?” you must be wondering, why? Because they wish to be vampires when the time for more is near, if losing a few pints of blood on a weekly schedule is what it takes, some are willing to do so. Hardly any of them make it out alive though, but don’t tell them that.
I have the luck of being a free spirit, there are a few of us out here, but we’re dwindling rapidly. I think the Queen Bitch has fear that we’re out here in the wilderness plotting to take her down. So she should, that is exactly what we are doing.
Last night there was a meeting for all the independents to attend, even us young ones.
“The time is nigh. The moon is full,” was shouted by the well built guy up the front, I’m pretty sure he used to be the Queen’s favoured guard, I don’t know what went on there, perhaps a love affair or something gone wrong, whatever the mishap he certainly wanted his vengeance.
“Queen B must be taken down,” a fist hit the table; his features were highlighted in the dim light of the candles that jumped around his hand. “We are no longer given the freedom we had under King Tristan’s reign, we have no options, we must be a part of her army or we die. There is no independence anymore, just her way. Her way must be stopped!” He certainly knew how to suck in a crowd; I was frightened for my freedom. I don’t want to be a part of the Queen’s schemes, her business is dark, I don’t know what she does, but I know that prostitutes and drug dealers are in her hands. She puts the evil in the world, she believes that life is uneven, there is too much good so one must tip the scale and add the bad.
“But our numbers are going down. We need to lay low until we can formulate a plan against her before there is no hope. Lessons to defend yourselves against her guards will be provided at a regular basis.” After that, the older vampires of the crowd got together to discuss training groups and schedules, while us young vampires mingled.

***

I want that crown. I want that crown. I want that damn crown! They were sitting in Queen Alexandria’s sun room, clearly there was no sun, however the bright lights hidden in the ceiling gave the effect that the room’s painted window actually had light shining through. Eyes were fastened on Queen Alexandria’s crown, a band of golden hoops weaved together, diamond dusting coated the gold, it was simple, yet beautiful atop the chocolate locks of the gorgeous woman’s head, she was smiling at me, her thin lips red with blood from our last feed, the young male was hobbling from the room with a white clothe pressed to his neck and another wrapped around his thigh. He was delectable.
“Perhaps the new recruits are ready to be looked over,” she stated, waiting for my nod of approval. Smiling tightly, a nod was given to her as she wished.
“Sure,” was said through clenched teeth, in the head a plan was formulating.
I want that crown. I want that crown. I want that damn crown!












OOC:
This RP is about throwing a 'royal' from her throne, the Queen shall be played by me, so if you have beef with me enjoy killing me off Wink
The three characters depicted in the RP outline are for anyone, the ring leader of the independents is obviously male, but the other two - the writer of the diary entry and the Queen's adviser - are both left open as to gender.
If there is any questions about this RP please private message me about them, and I'll gladly explain/answer.
This is to get the ball rolling with RP as only the admins seem to be putting in.
And yes, Vampire Academy did give me the idea.


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Lorelei
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PostSubject: Re: It's Nothing Personal, Just Business.   Fri Sep 17, 2010 5:12 am

The double frosted glass doors into the conference room parted by the hands of two human butlers, their expression stoic and hard as the click of the handles hung in the air; the parting doors revealed a slender figure dressed in a grey business skirt and jacket over white blouse, her dark brown locks were piled on top of her head, pinned in place. The object that defined her to be held in higher ranks than anyone else in this large building was the band of gold with diamond frosting sparkling along the twined gold. Her naturally slitted eyelids seemed to narrow more as she sent a death stare at her counsellors at the rectangle mahogany table; the very look had the dozen vampires leaping to their feet.
The click of her sensible heels against the polished timber floor seemed to strike into the quite like an unyielding hammer against nail, constant. The sound stilled as she stood before her chair, another butler behind it to push it forth as she lowered her backside to settle against the soft cushioning. Once she was comfortably in place, a nod was given to signal her court do the same.
After the shuffling of bodies settling and shifting quietened, another human stepped forward, this one a female with cornsilk blonde hair and diamond blue eyes. In her hands was a thick manila folder, held fast by a brown rubber band, stretched to its very limits.

“I suppose you all know why I have called this meeting,” she spoke slowly in Russian. Her gaze slipped from one individual member to the next before dropping to the folder before her. “The newborns have been decided.” Another long glance to those who seemed squeamish about this particular subject was given. Not many older vampires enjoyed the makings of new ones, especially those whom had to live under the same roof as these newborns, it was risky business.
One of her council shied into his chair at the very mention of newborns and the process that went with the selection, change and levelling among the house. Her dark red eyes shot daggers at him, that particular male was wearing at her last nerve; he had barely scrapped by into the positive list when he was a newborn, and it was merely by default that he even made it onto her council.
“However,” she began once more, eyes still trained to the nervous male. “We need to free space in the newborn quarters.” Her fingers worked the rubber band away from the folder; the folds of cardboard sprang away once the restraint was no longer there. The first black and white mug shot on the pile was of a young woman, around 21, possibly younger; spider like fingers pinched the white border of the photograph and lifted it, twisting it around to be seen by the court.
“She is the first to go.”

“NO!” came from the one who was distraught by the topic, the plea causing a brow to hitch on her brow.
“No?” she repeated with false concern.
“You can’t murder her!” the man was now standing, hands gripping the edge of the table to keep from lunging at the cold woman.
“Actually, Hank,” she began in a voice that portrayed only calm, and none of the anger that welled inside her chest. “I can. I will. And you will be the one to do it.” Laying the photograph on the table, face up, her fingers snapped together. Two bulky men responded to the noise, dressed in black suits with an ear piece in one ear, a small black microphone clipped to their shoulders. They grabbed Hank’s arms and lifted him from his chair, marching him out the frosted doors to make sure he did as he had just been told, knowing full well that the Queen would want a detailed report on the event, perhaps video or photo evidence.

A grin slashed her dark painted lips as the doors closed once more, looking at the empty seat before the rest of the faces that looked to her with surprise kindling their faces.
“These times seem to be very chaotic. Let this be a warning to you all, cross me and you will serve a punishment much worse than Hank. And it shall be dished out by my own hands.” Eyes dropped to hands all around her, faces expressionless, or trying to grasp the faux nonchalance.
“You are dismissed,” she said in a hiss as she stood from her seat, and exited the room.



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