No matter how jaded you've become over the years, it's impossible not to be impressed by the display, and a quick look around the room shows you're not the only one. The buzz is quite positive and the blood bouquets seem to be quite a hit even with visiting elders and dignitaries.
You're led up onto a platform at the front of the room and forced to sit in a heavy wooden chair as many of the Council members and their visitors watch on with detached interest. Several feet away from your seat, a podium carved of some rich, dark wood stands ready, Corliss's old family crest emblazoned on a cloth hanging down its front. You've served under that banner for years—hopefully you won't meet your end beside it as well.
You've barely had the time to settle before a set of double doors on the opposite side of the stage jerks open as two of Corliss's ghouls carry a limp body up onto the platform. It's hard to tell who it is in the dim light, but once they start tying his arms to a metal cross, his head lolls to the side and you recognize Kashif. Your arrival in chains provoked a passing interest, but the sight of a staked and bound Banu Haqim is another thing entirely.
"What is this about?" a woman yells from the crowd. You think you recognize her as a former Ottawa resident who long-since moved south to the United States. A Ventrue if you don't miss your guess. Jessica…something—you can't remember her last name. "Is this a celebration or an execution?" she asks.
"And why not both?" a man's voice answers her. When he pokes his head out from the crowd you recognize him as the visiting Lasombra dignitary, Rabbi Michalis Basaras. "All historic events are punctuated with the letting of blood. Kindred and kine alike know this to be true!"
"I would be careful what I say, if I were you," Jessica retorts. "Like it or not, you represent the future of the Lasombra clan here, Michalis." She sniffs disdainfully. "Don't screw it up this close to the finish line."
Where Is Corliss?