Re: Chantry Blues - Tremere
At precisely 11:00 PM The door to the Firing Range opened one more time and another person walked in. He had heavy boots, scuffed on the toes, down the sides, and well broken in. He had khaki colored cargo pants. The pants were in good condition, but not new. They had scuffs on the knees and were well broken in. These, like the boots, were for putting in work. Across his broad chest was a black, snug fitting, v-neck shirt. This guy was big. Large pectoral muscles and shoulders, the hint of a taut, flat stomach, and massive arms. Muscles rippled in them like flexible steel bands. An under the shoulder holster in brown leather carried a big, silver revolver. A pen was clipped to the collar of the shirt inside of it so that only the aluminum clip of a pen was visible at the collar of the shirt and he had a leather wrist band strapping a watch to his wrist. The man had crossly cropped hair, a strong jaw and a perpetual, but well trimmed beard of stubble on his face. In his left hand was a pipe that he had just taken from his mouth and as he looked over everyone he exhaled a cloud of aromatic smoke.
Archon. Lord. Tyler Crown, while not a common sight around the chantry, was an unmistakable figure. The large man observed the assembled Apprentices for a moment, looking at each of them in turn. Everyone knew Tyler Crown was never, ever late for an appointment, and he expected the same promptness out of those who had to meet with him. If Tyler Crown walked through the door at 11PM, well after he would normally have been here, it only meant that he had been somewhere observing for some time now.
Tyler started speaking with a faded Welsh accent, not incredibly prominent, but it was there, "Glock. M1911. Sig Sauer..." He reached up and hauled the large revolver out of the holster. It was big and intricately engraved. "London Armoury Company." He held the gun, barrel pointed down, finger through the trigger socket and showed it to everyone before putting it back in the holster. "These are tools. The means to an end. Do not get it in your heads that we are here to teach you to be assassins or masters at covering up murders." Tyler walked further into the room, and stood next to Taki. The two were complete opposites. Taki was a scalpel. Tyler was a bludgeon, or so he seemed at first glance.
"Disposable is secondary to what you are doing. We have people, like Taki, who are extremely skilled in cleaning up a crime scene. Rest assured, Apprentices, that if you are staring down a foe with a gun," He looked to everyone again. "You. Have. Failed." He pulled on the pipe again and released another cloud of that strangely aromatic smoke then continued, "But, this is an interesting age we are living in. I can assure all of you, that sooner or later, you will fail. You will need to defend yourselves, and for whatever reasons your abilities as Tremere will be either be inappropriate or unavailable. These weapons have been selected for very specific reasons. We are not here to debate those reasons." His eyes lingered on Natalya as he spoke. "Charlotte has an international airport, is a rail hub, and is less than a night's drive from other major cities or transportation hubs, even during the summer." He grasped the bowl of the pipe, and put both hands low behind his back and looked at everyone. "Sooner or later, you will have to defend yourselves from Sabbat, Anarchs, or Lupines. All of which are viable threats in this city. So, pay attention, perform well, and there are rewards for mastering these tasks. The right word from a Lord and Archon can get you very far in life. Very far indeed."
Tyler retreated to the back of the room, scraped a chair away from a small metal table that was usually used for reloading or cleaning guns and sat down, pulled out his tobacco and matches along with his ever present notepad and began watching. It became clear that not only was he taking notes on what he saw, but that he was interested in the material of the class as well, or perhaps, he was watching to see how Taki conducted it.