Neo-Nate

[prometheusascendant]

putting up “HELL IS FAKE” billboards in ohio to start a dialogue

[zwoelffarben]

putting up “OHIO IS HELL” billboards in ohio to continue the dialogue

[tremeresassmaster]

Bilboard with a picture of some rando in a cartoon Satan costume. Speach bubble. “Hi. My name is Stan.” White text with black borders: Need someont to listen? Call (local help line number).

[asmeesh]

Finished :)

More on my Instagram

[tremeresassmaster]

Stop trying to call me out, Dave!

[tremeresassmaster]

In case you’re wondering

Susan is Scottish. The Regent is Irish. Nate is legendary.

[tremeresassmaster]

Tonight, on Reasons Susan is Screaming...

Neo-Nate, drinking from a Gene Simon's mug; (full make up, tong as the handle), in Bermuda shorts, crocks and his 'ritual bath robe', looking far to pleased with himself due to the 'frikin epic find' he got from a yard sale, which turns out to be fifty of those wacky-inflatable-arm-flailing-tube-men casually having seizures on the chantry's front lawn.

[tremeresassmaster]

Welcome to your public warning.

“No! You shall forever be Neo-Nate!” Susan howled.

Nate, true to form, threw up deuces as he backed out of the room.

“Master, I cannot see ~why~ you tolerate his disobedient ass.”

“He has his uses.”

“Surely they cannot be worth this,” Susan sneered, motioning to a file thicker than the drawer trying to contain it.

“Ah, yes. Tell me, apprentice of the third circle, what do you find objectionable?"

Susan’s voice dripped acid as she flipped through reports. "Oh, I don’t know, how about the time the idiot threw a book of demonology into a portal to Hell?”

“He did answer for that.”

“‘I thought it was a portal to the trash dimension’ is ~not~ an answer! You cannot call the forces of Hell in the Prince’s ~bathroom~ and use that as an excuse!"

The Regent’s lips twitched.

"Then there’s that time he decided he could sneak into a high rise penthouse through the sewers. And the time he was ordered to make useful allies only to wind up choosing a Nos who is also the Harpy.”

“Sounds like a useful ally to me.”

“He invited him ~into~ the chantry because he lost his soul to the Nosfuratu Harpy -in a poker game-. A. Poker game. How! How do you even ~do~ that?!"

The Regent gave a noncommittal gesture.

"He’s ether out to ruin us all, or is the most magically lucky idiot savant I have ever seen,” Susan complained bitterly. When the Regent remained silent, Susan’s hands clawed the air while she paced an angry singe into the carpet. “I mean, here I am, trying to lead a team to get the scrolls of Azeroth from that cretin collector, and that blithering ~idiot~ finds out about a local werewolf pack. Does he avoid them like any smart vampire? No. No, he decides that pranking them on a full moon is,” her hands made air quotes as she glared, “'the best thing ever’."

The Regent’s brow rose, a half formed question on his lips.

Susan blazed on, her temper yet to be sated."Then, final death inches away, what does Neo-Nate do? He gives away the position of Michele by asking her to 'quick teach’ him obfuscate so he can 'get the fuck out of here, yo’.” A flair of pure fury raged across Susan’s eyes as razor sharp nails bit into the flesh of her palms. “She was in a position to strike! We took heavy damage before managing to get away! And all thanks to that frikin idiot! If Andrew hadn’t previously called his buddies in the force, we’d all be dead! Forever dead!”

“The incident did give us the insight needed to load up on silver weapons,” the Regent said passively. In his opinion, the incredulous face Susan made was worth all the antics of first level apprentice Nathanial.

“Insight?” she choked out. “Oh, sure, but how much damage did he do in getting those weapons? He decides to introduce himself to the Prince, mid monologue, and says calm as you please, 'Yo, mah dude’,” she mocked Nathanial’s smooth, laid back tones, “'I got the purfect place fur to gets us some silver. Don’t you worry, I gots it covered’, then finger guns the entire Council while walking out backwards with the biggest s**t-eating grin on his face!”

“It did liven up the evening.”

“The Evening? THE EVENING?!” Susan barked. “That f*****g IDIOT stole the Gangrel Elder’s short bus, drove it ~into~ a known Will Worker’s school… A. Chantry. A. Chantry. Full of young, unpredictable Will Workers, to steal their school trophy collection. Then he raced through werewolf infested woods; wolves who don’t like us. Woods infested with fey who are still raging mad at Nate for calling their Queen sugar-tits. Woods where the Gangrel Elder, the same elder he stole. The bus. From. Managed to stake a claim… only to jump Over The Waterfall to what should have been certain, blissful riddance! Dose he die? No! He manages to swim to shore, catch a cab and stick the Chantry with the bill while he dragged his still sopping wet a** into this Very Room so that he could drop a pile of silver cups in the middle of the floor and 'peace out’ to go play games and jerk off, or what ever!”

“He did get the silver,” said the Regent, amusement in his eyes.

“And, AND!” Susan flared in the deepest of outrages, “he thinks he’s the worlds 'sneakiest’ Tremere!”

“Of course he does."

Susan screamed a guttural sound before turning to storm out of the room, the door bouncing off the wall with the force of her slam. A hand from just behind the door slid out of the shadows to close it with a click.

"Do you have it?” asked the Regent.

Nathanial Hardgrove reached into his loosely tied bathrobe; it’s glitter-paint symbols shimmering with subtle power as he dripped river water on the hardwood. Producing a parchment yellowed with age and placing it in the Regent’s outstretched hand, he turned to go.

“She really hates you, you know.”

“Yes sir, she does.”

“It’s not good to foster resentment in the numbers."

Nate gave a crooked grin. "But it’s so much fun,” he cooed as he left the room, for real this time.