

Fire Upon WaterThe feel of the cold ocean spray was chill upon his face, but this didn't bother the Ventrue at all. For over three-hundred years, his skin had matched that same temperature. He had learned to live with it, and in time, even to use it to his advantage. The waters stirred hard this evening, crashing up against the sides of the Gentleman's Demise, a ship he had taken control of, naught but a month ago. He was a Pirate. The Camarilla had seen to that. He was of them, but he was Immortal as well. When a snot-nosed Prince needed to be put in her place, he was the man to do it. What would she do? Call a Blood Hunt? It had happened. He fought, and wFire Upon Water
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