<div class="floatright">(http://i.imgur.com/XJroK22.jpg)</div><strong>Barir bin Yasha</strong>- Appearance 3, Black stain of Diablerie in his aura for those with who succeed on Auspex II roll<br/><br/>The moment stretched out into eternity for Barir as he attempted to quell the roar of the Beast deep within his soul. His breath, despite not being needed, came quick at that moment and his red-rimmed vision swam before him. He wanted to tear at something--anything. Instead, with a great effort of will, he slowed his breath and then stopped it entirely. He began to move again--if he were out here anyway, he should make sure nothing strange was afoot--or was that simply an excuse not to go back inside, and face his failure and cowardice? Running away from another. He was sure he could have torn the other vampire apart, but why should he? The man had not done anything directly to Barir. His clan might have made decisions that in hindsight might be ... well,<em>bad</em>didn't express the magnitude of their crimes, but still, he was not to blame for his entire clan's actions. More rationalizations to hide the truth from himself--that he wanted to go back in and grant the True Death to the Tremere not only for the history of his clan's actions, but for causing Barir to feel this way.<br/><br/>As the band comes to a stop Barir's eyes widen--he had tarried too long outside. Another quick sweep of his eyes as he confirmed that nothing strange was about and he was once more within the building, silent as a shadow and just as unnoticeable as he joins the throng of Kindred within the structure, his foot-steps well-hidden by the loud band welcoming the members of the Council into the Elysium. Upon the call for newcomers to step forward, he knew that this was his time. He watched the others step forward and speak, each one with gilded words that blazed in the darkness in every ear, each one expertly turning public opinion this way or that as they chose, each one playing the crowd to the hilt. A glance down at his shoes; he had no such talent. His was not the most enchanting of voices, nor the pleasant of guises. He knew not how to twist phrases and speak in measured tones meant to play upon emotions or stir the hearts of those sitting and watching the procession of newcomers.<br/><br/>Thus, when his turn came, he spoke simply. "Barir bin Yasha," he said softly, his strange accent coming forth once more to tinge the air with its lilting mix of the Middle-East and Britain. "You know of my situation, Prince Vitel. Please accept my most humble thanks for allowing me to remain in your domain, and I hope to continue serving Sheriff Reyes, and by proxy, yourself." There was unsurety in his voice, and he knew that his position was tenuous--at any moment, the house of cards he had built for himself here, a place where he might somehow shelter the storm that was prophesized to one day sweep the world, might fall down and he be torn apart along with the world. Still, it was important for now to concentrate on the present, rather than the future. Only through that could he have a chance of succeeding in evading his ultimate fate before it came for him once more.