January 1st 2006, 10:36pm - an unknown location

It was a rare occasion that Saul Leavis felt the necessity to leave the sewers of London. Even as acting Primogen of Clan Nosferatu, there were scarce few times when his presence was required at any kind of gathering. Occasionally, he wondered whether or not his title was anything but superfluous. London had been a bastion of Camarilla decency for such a long time that the convening of the Primogen was generally reserved for exceptional occasions, outside of their usual and often brief annual meeting. The last of these particular meetings had taken place in late November, and yet... another was being called now, on the first night of a new year.

Of course, Saul knew why. This wasn't another of Rodermark's tea parties. There was business to discuss. There hadn't been real business since the kine had gotten themselves embroiled in the so-called World Wars. Like any self-respecting member of his clan Leavis knew of the ins and outs of the attack on the Barbican, perhaps better than some who had witnessed it first hand. His own clanmates had guarded the perimeters of the Prince's little soiree. Saul, as was expected, had received an invitation to the New Years party, but both he and the Prince knew that the Nosferatu Primogen would not be attending. Tonight's gathering, however, was an entirely different matter.

Leavis was the first to arrive. The room was dark and contained a large circular table, made from heavy wood. Eight seats ran the tables edge, each with plenty room at either side. No one seat was different from another, but Saul knew which was his intended and sat in it as he had done many times before. Soon, others began to arrive. First Roland Salisbury of the Ventrue, then Greta Willis of the Gangrel. Next William Brown-Turrel of the Tremere, and Marcus Thornby of the Brujah. The Malkavian Anna Starkley was next to arrive, with the Toreador Primogen Elizabeth Atkinson entering last – followed shortly by the Prince himself. Each took their position in silence.

“Thank you all for coming on such short notice. It is, of course, under unfortunate circumstances that we must gather tonight,” The Prince began, looking to each of those present as he spoke. Thornby, the Brujah, frowned slightly at the use of the word unfortunate but said nothing for the time being. Thus, the meeting of the Elders of London began.