Art Credit: Rammaru, of Ares Arcachnida.
Elapid Kingdom’s most famous gang sat around a table in their clubhouse, and the tension in the air could almost be cut with a knife. Ares, the leader of said gang, glared down at a sheet of paper in silence, his fangs bared in disbelief. Frustrated, he let out a sigh, staring up to Clarice, of whom wore an agonizingly smug grin upon her face.
“So, you gonna make a character that won’t be killed off within the first hour this time?” she asked, plush dice jiggling upon a chain on her neck as usual. The gang leader bared his fangs at her and let out a loud whine. “Oh,” Clarice cackled. “Don’t start with me, boss. You’re the one making stupid decisions! Maybe if you’d listen to m–” the vampiress tried, her red eyes gleaming, though she was cut off by Ares’s loud, immature grunt.
“No!” he exclaimed. The royal vampire was having none of her speech. “I want to make a Brujah and keep him alive, alright?! Listen, fuck being a Toreador, I’m not going to sit here in some fancy bullshit and be boring!” Ah, these vampires were playing Vampire the Masquerade. How utterly ironic, and yet, well…fitting. Unfortunately, Ares couldn’t keep his character alive.
Exasperated, Clarice rolled her eyes, baring her fangs right back at him. She didn’t give two fucks anymore that he was both cannibalistic and insanely powerful. Hell, he could probably rip her limb from limb at any given moment if he pleased. He wouldn’t, though. He was like an older brother to her, one that she had no qualms with beating up in situations like this. That’s what he got for giving her noogies and messing up her hair on a constant basis.
“You’re an idiot,” Clarice snarled, pointing a claw to one of the many books stacked upon the table. “You can give your damn character a high strength rating and still be Toreador, alright?! You just won’t be prone to getting pissed off every five seconds! Vampires don’t work like we do in this game, Ares. Your bullshit natural power here does nothing for you there, just like Dungeons and Dragons. Royal vampire?! HAH! Doesn’t exist in this. So shuddup and character build.”
“I’m making a Brujah, this time he’ll live,” Ares growled firmly, grabbing the sheet and filling it out. Clarice, of course, facepalmed, holding her hand on her forehead practically the entire time while he did so. When he was finished, she sighed.
“Fine. What’s your new character doing now, then?” she muttered.
“I’m walking to the fucking club,” Ares replied confidently, sneering at Clarice and sticking out his tongue. “Nothing you can do no–“
“You get ripped apart by werewolves, because you needed to go through the park to get there,” Clarice sneered.
“GODS FUCKING DAMN IT! FINE I’LL MAKE AN ARTSY FUCKER!”
Des M. Astor 