The golden hair of the Prince flows behind him like a gentle river as he paces infront of the doors to the hotel, his deep emerald orbs constantly scanning the area around him as if searching for something amazingly important. A single hand lifts to remove his axe from its sheath as if almost expecting something strange.
The Urban Jungle is disquieted on this night. As it grows thicker and heavier each evening, so too does it's audacity to make as much noise as possible, and tonight is no different. From it's depths come an amazing amount of sounds, from the chirping of crickets, to the welching of frogs, and even the distant cries of smaller animals and larger predators.
Tons of thoughts race through the elder vampires head, Will we make it. This flower what if we found and destroyed it…What lurks out around those corners, am I strong enough? of course I am I am Warrior or am I. His own fears would play into his mind though his physical body would show no sign of it. Pulling his axe up to rest on his shoulder the Prince would stop his timeless pace turning to look directly out into the world.
There's a bit of a rustling in the underbrush of the jungle, just in front of Gabriel but still about seventy feet off. It grows still, but just for seconds before picking back up again. There's a screech, or at least, a shriek, for a blonde kid of about sixteen comes darting out, hands flailing and lips wavering, "Gabriel! Gabriel!". This might seem silly, up until the point that the massive, striped bengal tiger also makes an appearance, full on in the hunt and chasing down the boy.
Hand upon the shaft of his axe, but not drawn, Gabriel crouches down and makes a tremendous leap at the pair; both tiger and kid. While he's in the air though, something peculiar happens. At first it's just the sound of 'Phoont. Phoont', as two large canisters sail out of the brush and land in the small clearing between the Hotel California and the Jungle. Then though, it's the sudden realization of what's out there. Men, with mechanical eyes, or at least, that's how it would look. Reflecting green oculars peering out of the depths of foliage. For the moment, they're mostly hidden, until their muzzle flash gives them away. Full-automatic fire rips forth, tearing through the flanks of the tiger. The Prince lands, skidding to a halt, and the kids throws his arms around him, sobbing. It's a short reunion before a series of bloody explosions riddle a trail up his back, one even taking Gabriel in the chest. The men in the forest begin to communicate, sounds spewing forth from their walkies, "We have a straggler. Mop 'em up!".
Without much ado, Gabriel takes a tight grip upon his axe, leaving the kid to fall to the ground. A step forward is moved as he swings 'Sprinkles' downward in an arc and buries it into the top of the first man's head, shattering his helmet and the pair of green goggles that he's wearing. There's a sickening sound as the Prince rips the large blade from it's target, and begins to move at a supernatural pace, his frame blurring into nothing. To the casual observer, it would seem as if the head of the second assailant just slips from his shoulders and hits the ground to roll off, quietly. The third man manages to duck the blow, though, falling onto his back and opening up with his machine gun upon Gabriel. The other three off to the sides also do the same. Several large holes open upon the flesh of the man, leaving wounded pockmarks, but to be fair, he also seems to deflect a large amount of them.
Having heard a ruckus, Valentine Carmina steps out of the elevator just after the quiet 'ding' resounds within the lobby of the Hotel California. He is dressed, actually, in a set of black silken pajamas, and his hair has been tied back to keep it from his face. Feigning a yawn, something left over from his nights as a mortal, he wanders across the tile and carpet to look through the glass doors. A lopsided, almost cruel smile plays across his lips as he realizes what is happening, and in an almost arrogant fashion he states, "..Boys will be boys..".
"Target is aggressive! I repeat, target /is/ aggressive!", comes the echo from the walkie-talkie attached to one of the men. The gatling sound of full-automatics explode into existence again, bullets speeding past Gabriel, some hitting him, and others ripping it foliage before tearing chunks out of the cement of the Hotel California. Despite taking three more wounds out of the assault, the Prince slams his foot into the face of the downed man, meaning to knock him out but accidentally crushing his skull open. Again, he seems to blur into non-existance, losing the sight of the gathered people, before two more heads fall off and roll around, both caught with their mouths twisted into screams. The second never lets go of his machine gun, and as the body slumps it just continues to fire off into the air, creating a commotion and shattering any chance for a silent moment. Gabriel's third swing of supernatural speed though, again misses, and the guy performs a drunkey monkey roll and shoves his feet into into the back of the Brujah's knee, putting him to the ground.
Valentine leans a bit against the frame of the door, using a hand to smooth out a crease upon his black silken garment, while watching the fight with a bit of fascination, "..Mm. I could never do that. It just wouldn't be proper..". His expression is quite different from his thoughts though, and the expression upon the beautiful face of the man is that which would show that were he a cat, his tail would definitely be swishing back and forth patiently.
Stepping down the wide stairs of the hotel lobby, Macha's almost hurried steps come to a dramatic stop near the main floor as her shock-wide, violet and black rimmed eyes go between the image of Valen and the front doors of the hotel. Her skin is stark white this evening, and she's made not a single attempt to glamour a masquerade against her cold skin. Lacking her Shirley Temple curls tonight, and looking as though she was quite interupted with whatever she was doing by the gunshots, the woman's glossy hair falls just past her shoulders in straight pannel of black. The thin straps of her lilac nightgown hang from her shoulders lazily, the fabric fallls just past the widest point of her hips. The empire waist of the garment only emphasizes her narrow waist, and her feet are bare against the plush carpeting.
Gabriel, grumbling, pushes to his feet in as regal a manner as he can muster, like a proper Prince should be known to do in the middle of single combat. He kicks the gun out of the goggled man's hand, even as just the first bullet tears out of the barrel, striking him. Transcending normal speed, he strikes forward in an attempt to grapple his assailant. In what should be a surprising turn of events though, so too does the man match his speed, moving at the same rate as the Prince. He manages to avoid to hand of the Prince, and in return, compliments this with another sweep of his leg, once more putting the Brujah on his back.
The flawless incubus with the pleasing features glances over his shoulder, spotting the nightgown-clad muse and offering her a come-hither smile, "..You're missing it. Gabriel is putting on such a wonderful show. Come and watch, for it would be a shame to see it go to waste..". The arrogant, languid smile upon his lush lips would show that he seems to be getting much amusement out of what is happening.
Remember those canisters that were shot out just minutes back? Those begin to spew forth thick, great white gouts of smoke that start to drape themselves over the clearing. Gabriel's wounds are not large, but there are quite a few, and this would seem to be slowing him down; or at least, that's the reason that he can give for allowing the man to dodge the blow from his battle axe. That, and he's still on his back, as he never got up. The man, however, does get up, moving in a blur of speed much like that of most Kindred. But not before whipping a combat knife from the sheath on his leg and stabbing Gabriel in arm with it.
The satin garbed Harpy looks back towards Valen briefly, though none of his light humor seems to rub off on her as her pale green gaze flickers back towards the glass doors. However, despite her anxious expression, the slightly shaken girl manages a few hestitant steps to Valentine's side - or more accurately, at his side enough to still hide behind him and peek out past his shoulder. "Such things shouldn't be reveled in," she mutters softly, bringing one hand up to rest her open palm against the front of her throat with a slight wrapping of her fingers. As the blur of motion outside is observed, the Toreador's free hand darts to her raven-haired companion's arm in a display of breathtaking cowardace, as she doesn't make a single move afterwards that would do Gabriel any good.
"..Mm. But he is so graceful. It is beautiful to watch, in a manner that is a bit more..morbid that most. There is something to be said for the fighting prowess of the Prince..", Valentine murmurs, reaching down a hand to press it upon that of Macha's own, "..I would go and help him, but…I just awoke. I'm not even clothed yet..". This is spoke in a bit of casual distaste, as if he should never be seen in a Jungle whilst wearing nothing more than is sleeping attire.
Macha shivers harshly once, though as soon as it the distruption breaks over her muscles, it stops. A bit of a whimper slips from her pouted lips, and she faulters long enough to snap her gaze away from the scene outside and hide her eyes with a soft press of her forehead against the back of Valen's shoulder. A cascade of dark hair forms a soft curtain over her nearly alabaster skin while she bows her head, and the hand against her throat stays in place, as do the fingers clutched about Valen's upper arm. "Oh, mercy," the lithe woman whispers against his skin in her usual smokey tone, and the choked exclaimation sounds more like a curse than a plea.
The Prince manages to get to his feet again, for the second time this evening, dragging his large battle axe up with him, it's edge sliding along the chunks of asphalt as he does so. The man with the green goggles seems more than prepared, having been standing first, for the strike of the Brujah. Gabriel manages to grab him about the throat, tight, and hold him. But while he's getting close enough to do that, the military-trained assailant slams the knife into his gut and then blurs into a faster speed again, shoving it through his wrist, where it sticks. At this point, the thick white smoke is starting to make the clearing quite hard to navigate.
A strange interlude: Skyborn osays , 'No shit, Gabe. Weclome to WoD.'
"..Oh come now, my precious Muse. They are nothing more than men with guns. And a knife. Nothing that a Prince cannot handle. You should feel blessed. I have never once witnessed a Prince do his own fighting. Though, I suppose that special circumstances call for special measures..", Valentine explains, still watching the spectacle from within the lobby of the Hotel California, clinging to the shadows even as the Toreador woman clings to him. Shifting to his side just a bit, he takes hold of her, murmuring, "Mm. Smoke. That will smell hideous..".
A dark shape moves west upon the Blvd, ducking in and out of doorways and peering suspiciously down the heavily damaged road. With a cavalry sabre in hand, he hacks his way through some foliage blocking his path westwards, revealing the scene in front of him where the men are in conflict, moving with supernatural speed. Pausing for a moment, his eyes widen as he looks over both combatants, his mouth moving into a stern line before he seems to decide on something. Cleaning the remnants of some flora from his blade with his hand, he hefts it quietly and moves forwards, his brow furrowed.
With a snarl that would show the hunger he's been driven to during this fight with what used to be six armed men, Gabriel jerks the warrior forward and bares his fangs, using them to tear the throat out of that which he has grappled. When he pulls back, there is a massive chunk of flesh clenched between his large canines, and everyone below his nose is covered in lifeblood. The man screams, or at least tries to, but it comes out as nothing but a gurgling sound and some flailing.
Macha scowls softly and moves into Valen's arms with the shift of his weight, still keeping her gaze directed towards him instead of the exploits of Gabriel. "That doesn't mean I want to watch the poor thing be stabbed and shot, Mister Carmina." The woman whispers her explaination with an uneasy tone, but as the screams of the man in the Prince's arms trample the retreating echo of gunshots, she directs her attention back to the glass doors, and the blood splattered vision of the Brujah. The shift of fear being replaced by curiosity against her delicate features happends immediately, and her self-soothing lock of fingers against Valen's skin loosens.
The man clad in navy pauses as the assailant is destroyed, sliding his sword into his belt and pausing for a moment. Making his way forward through the smokey haze, he offers a faint smile to the obvious cainite. "You alright big fella?" he asks quietly, crossing his arms over his chest. "For a minute there I thought you could've used a hand, but you seem to have done alright anyway."
"..No, of course not, precious..", Valen comforts, keeping the woman close and even covering her ears just a bit as if to render unhearable the death scream of the man that now is missing his throat, "..This..is why we do not go outside. You never can know who is going to be out there, playing soldiers..".
Gabriel doesn't even acknowledge the other man as he pulls the fallen body of the man into him opening his mouth and drinking the freshly shed blood up until there was nothing else to drink, "Mother fucker…" he would say in french before realizing someone was speaking to him, "Yeah im fine…do me a favor once we can see help me get these bodies inside…and that tiger" grumbling he would attempt to figure out which was was up in the thick smoke, "Ghoul get inside…and tell my bodyguards to get out here with the dogs"
There's a whistling sound of something hurtling through the air, before a fire explodes into existence right next to Gabriel and Seth, showering them both with heat and glass. This happens several more times, each in different spots, but not getting close to either of the Kindred. Almost like a wartribe, resounding whoops and hollers go up, crying out, "WHOOP WHOOP! FOOD!", or, "GET THE CORPSES BEFORE THE ANIMALS DO!". There are…quite a few of them, ravenous sounding and aggressive.
Macha nods slightly at Valen's words, though her thoughts seem so distant from his assurances that her eyes are glossy. With the press of bare skin, and his hands over her ears, she casts him a suprisingly timid, yet warm, smile of cherry colored lipstick and fangs. The brunette's body turns towards him at the ringing of morbid dinner bells, and she steps closer to the familiar, intoxicatingly beautiful man that keeps his arms wrapped around her. Whatever fear had melted from her returns with horrid speed, and she literally burries her face into Valen's chest with a shiver.
A crooked smile worms it's way across the navy clad man's mouth as he blinks a few time from the small explosion, turning towards the source of the sound and unbuttoning his jacket. Without a word, he crouches down and begins to remove the body armour of one of the military men from the lifeless body, hefting it for a moment before pulling it about him. "The name's Seth Hall, by the way…" he says as he peers down at the armor now covering his chest. His smile now directed towards the man standing nearby, fangs extended as he draws his large cavalry sabre from it's place in his belt. "But we might have to save introductions for later, looks like the party's just getting started."
"Prince Bennett… great to meet you. Partys ending right now, a good warrior knows when to retreat." As Gabriel spoke he would already be running toward the doors to the hotel, not bothering to look back at the other man to see if he had indeed listened.
The lithesome, striking man with the haunting facade seems to grow alarmed at the sight of the fire, turning his amber-laced gaze from the sight for a moment, primal fear growing within him, as old as Vampires themselves. He slinks back more, hiding deeper in the shadows of the lobby, and pulls the Toreador woman with him, "..It would seem as if there is more to come. Perhaps we should…go..".
Several more fiery explosions of heat and glass occur under the confines of the smoke, lighting up the areas where they hit. As ghosts, the bedraggled Anarchs move out of the Jungle and follow their noses to the smell of splattered blood and war. They've been reduced, almost, to a more primitive state. Several of them grab corpses and begin to drag them back into the thick foliage of the New Los Angeles.
Pausing for a moment, the navy clad, now armored man offers a disappointed sigh. "That always seems to be the case doesn't it…" he says quietly, turning to glance at the primitives as they emerge. He begins to back away, moving quite quickly despite his bravado, and picking up pace until he is running full tilt towards the hotel.
Gabriel continues toward the hotel, his steps not quite as graceful as normal as he swings wide open the door and dives inside rolling in the process and landing back on his feet, "Fucking vampires…fucking guns… I need blood…" he would say with a low growl, his face still covered in blood and chunks of flesh.
Macha nods a few quick times in an almost panicked fashion with her face still hidden against Valentine's chest, and the hand at her throat flexes continuously with nerves to leave light patterned scratches against her pale skin. Her slight weight doesn't struggle with his direction at all, only guiding her steps to match his and stay as closely pressed to him as possible. "I hate this city. I hate it," she snaps just above a hoarse whisper, and as the door parts she nearly claws her way up one side of the ebony-haired angel holding her as she struggles with fear, not even bothering to look towards the door.
"..Then you will like Manse d'Celestine, should you wish to come with me. Within, one would never be able to tell that they were in Los Angeles. It is blissfully secluded..", Valen promises, keeping hold of the woman as he leads her from the shadows, farther from the savages and urban primitives that've gathered, and into the stairwell. A bit more out of the sights of whatever trouble might be gathering together, he strokes Macha with a soothing touch in an attempt to calm her, "..Just reside with me until this is cleared up, and then I can promise quite the paradise of beauty and serenity..".
