Elysium - Marie's Request

[Storyteller]

The male swore in Quebecois, showing off fangs while doing so. He pulled a gun out from under his jacket but left it pointing at the ground.
"Why should I tell you anything, Anglo? Maybe you are Camarilla lap-dog, huh? Maybe I call my friends and we have some fun with you."

[Deathcon]

Luca laughed, he laughed hard Luca decided to prove to him he wasn't Camirilla, he used a willpower point to send a little dragon flying around the Sabbat's head breathing green fire. "I think you realize now who I am now, the Camirilla are no friends of mine, in fact the only reason I went there was to track down this bitch. So please, don't insult me by calling me part of that hypocrisy known as the Camirilla." Luca hoped that was enough, otherwise this might go bad.

[Storyteller]

The male jumped backwards away from the illusion, gun coming up to point at it before his reasoning took over. He looked at Luca with suspicion still. He trusted no one but his own pack. He waved the hand with the gun at the little dragon as if swatting away an annoying insect. He grunted.
"What d'you want wit dis.. Kindred anyway?" He was almost hard to understand with the Quebecois accent. "Maybe we know something... maybe we don't.."

A group of others had gathered at the doorway, watching and listening to the exchanged.

[Deathcon]

"She..... killed my Childe, so I am looking for some good ole' revenge. This bitch needs to die."

[Storyteller]

The lead male sneered again. "What's that got to do with us? Sounds like your problem to me."

He shrugged. "Maybe we know something.. maybe we don't."

[Deathcon]

Luca thought foe a moment then said, "How about this, you help me out and I take care of something for you. Something perhaps only an outsider could take care of. Then, I leave, never to be heard of once my business is done. We both win."

[Storyteller]

Luca has taken the action Persuade
Difficulty : 8
Roll: 10, 4, 10, 5, 1, 5, 4
Successes: 1 (2 sucesses, 1 failures)
Quality of Success : Marginal

The male snorted in contempt. "We deal with our problems ourselves. No, we look for more.. corporeal compensation... Money, guns.. Maybe then we talk, huh?"

[Deathcon]

"Guns? Those I can get you, what do you need?"

[Storyteller]

The male's sneer melted into a smile which was not matched in the vampire's eyes, which still shone with distrust and suspicion. He didn't trust any from outside his pack but gaining advantage over rivals sometimes meant relying on others... and this deal would hardly come with great risk.

"Handguns, assault rifles.. anyting in between..." the male replied with his thick Quebecois accent. "Whatever can you get hands on, we will pay. Do dis for us, perhaps get us contacts... and we will tell you what we know about your.. problem."

[Deathcon]

"Contacts would require more from your side, but the guns, those I can get you. How many do you need? Any specific kinds of guns, and do you need ammo?"