Traditions

"The war, hunters, existence. This world of darkness is never short of things to throw at us. Every night it's something new. Sometimes it's a pack of werewolves coming to town, sometimes woman you tried to feed on is a black belt in Kung Fu. Who's to say one problem is bigger than an other? It's all a matter of prospective."

Nick says and picks his drink up and washes his burger down some.

"But, once you're in the big seat. All problems seemingly become your problem."

Nick chuckles some.

"Let's just say that Manchester isn't like most places. The idea that I'm even talking to you right now would seem strange to some courts. Once you get yourself settled in, the real work will be begin. I'm sure you will make yourself useful to the court. Your clan has been doing a great job at that so far."

Nick nods some while taking hold of his drink again.

"Ah yes, your sire. He's an interesting one. Lots of talk about him going places. Having important blood is important, gets you places in the Camarilla."

Nick says and considers a few things.

"Ever thought about having a title of your own?"

Nick took a sip of his drink and motioned with a nod out the window.

"And what do you think of Manchester so far?"

Nick shakes his head some.

"You got the tourist version of the story. That isn't what Manchester is."

He says and slides his drink to the edge of the table.

"Manchester isn't some up and coming city. Manchester's hay day was a long time ago. On the banks of the Merrimack river, mills that started a revolution come to be. The industrial revolution changed the world in way we're still yet to understand. The beginning of mass production, the true beginning of a real middle class, the ability to wage war on a global scale. The end of monarchy, the start of a global economy. The list goes on and on."

He starts, his tone a strange mix of bitterness and admiration.

"America became the worlds most powerful nation, and the north east, it's most powerful region. Why? Money. Money is power and power is everything. The north east was home to more presidents, more people, more blood and money. Then, as quickly as it flared up, it burnt out. They call it the rust belt now, time took it's toll. People went west and south. New lands, new opportunities. Quitters."

Nick said, bitterness over taking his tone.

"Mills closed, factories shuttered. Why build anything here when someone in the third world will do it for a fraction of the cost? Why deal with harsh New England winters when it's 75 in January in Florida? Quitters. A lot of people quit on the North East. But those that stayed, those are the true survivors. People who wake up early to shovel their way to their cars and go work. People who continued their crafts despite the pressure from overseas. Artist, politicians, working stiffs."

Nick said looked out the window to south willow street.

"Manchester isn't an up and coming place. It's not the next real estate boon-doggle. It's not the next capital of innovation. Manchester is a mill city that refused to die, and nothing is going to stop it. Not some wave of drugs hitting the street, not globalization, not even a week of nightmares. Manchester is a survivor, and don't you ever forget that."

The prince said and looked back across the table at the Neonate.  

Nick looks across the table and gives the Neonate a bored look.

"Are you implying that the Sabbat are here to go clubbing."

He asks in a slow, even tone.