@Scorpio Queen The streets were piling up with soft snow in the November night, people keeping inside and huddle up to the best source of warmth. Shopkeepers locked up their businesses to head on home or to the pub for a swig of drink. Meanwhile however, just outside of London proper in a large manor, a masquerade was being held for the upper class of citizens of London city. Surviving noblemen, industrial tycoons and other wealthy people of some renown attended, wearing extravagant costumes and masks. They all mingled while live music was played on an elevated stage, the players themselves wearing matching masks. The smell of food, wine and tobacco smoke hung heavy in the air of the manor's ballroom. Boisterous laughs and some condescending responses, flirting, hidden insults and threats surrounded conversations. One of the guests, Clinton Ocallaghan, held a glass of wine and dined upon some finger foods. He basically wore a black suit with a white silk shirt and a red silk cravat. His coal black hair was pulled into a tail similar to how the colonials had them a few hundred years ago. His face was covered by a stylized wolf mask which was more or less a private little joke which most of the guests. Clinton was, in fact, a werewolf. An old werewolf as well and had accumulated quite a bit of wealth throughout the years which he had later invested into various businesses as to grow his wealth some more. Not only was he a wealthy werewolf but he was the current king of the werewolves in England. Clinton smiled and socialized with the rest, even flirting with some of the women. He was known to be rather eccentric and a jovial man and he quite enjoyed such get together but there were times where he was unavailable. No one really know where he went at times and always on a monthly basis.