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Masquerade: The Autumn Court

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Imperialisium
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Founded: Apr 17, 2011
Democratic Socialists

Masquerade: The Autumn Court

Postby Imperialisium » Sun Oct 20, 2019 6:18 pm

https://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic.php?p=34499201#p34499201

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The expanse of time and earth,
When the Yuletide moon is brightest,
We dance amid milk poppies and fields of Helion's glow,
Till the rising of the tide,
When the sands of Time is borne,
To end our wonderous abode,
Won't you come and see?
Where the Fairest lie?


Los Angeles National Forest Highway, Just East of Mount Gleason

The shadow of Mount Gleason cast a long shadow over the canopy of trees as the California Sun hung in the clouds. Rising as the morning light bathed the forest of rich greens and emeralds in yellow light. A billion shadows crisscrossed the forest floor. A fawn and a buck pranced through the woods to the left of the road. Scampering from the hum of a small convoy heading South in the direction of Los Angeles proper. Four sleek SUV's, two in the front, and two in the back, forming a mechanical vanguard to the long black wax polished limousine in the middle. The light grey, sun bleached, road of the highway wound in sharp turns as it wound through the scenic landscape. The raw vestige of nature, a shadow of the forest which once stretched unbroken from coast to Rockies. From San Diego to Alaska.

The occupants of the Lincoln SUV's were cast in shadow. But from what one could gather they all wore black suits and shades. Shielding their vulnerable pupils from the harsh lances of the fire blazing in the sky. The limousine was the only one which stood apart. The driver wore a typical chauffeur's garb while the occupant, male, wore a white suit. His form leaning back in the plush seating, cigar lit in his right hand, as he sipped from a martini glass. His stomach jutting out enough to reveal himself as an overweight man. A golden chain hung about his neck with the collar of a purple undershirt visible.

"Just think Watson, we're developing this, all of it. Luxury condos, theme park, a mall up in Cedar Springs. Apartment's starting at 5 g's a month. National Forest. More like wasted landscaping opportunity am I right?"

The chauffeur looked in the review mirror briefly, "Yes, sir."

The corpulent man sipped his martini, "Fucking President though. Cutting into our profits. If he keeps that fucking bullshit up we'll have to make sure he loses the next election. Bringing jobs back to America. Bah! Their fucking pigs the lot of them. Just make sure their department store keeps having the cheap shitty comforts they're used too and they'll shut up and bow their heads like they've done for the past thirty years. Ain't that right Watson?"

The chauffeur didn't look in the mirror this time and just nodded his head, "Quite right, Sir."

"Well, remind me Watson to cut the workforce for our stateside companies by 20% to make up for the lost profit." The Chauffeur nodded a third time.

"Oh and Wa-" The Limousine slammed to a stop on skidding tires as the SUV in front did the same. The foremost vehicle of the convoy clipping upwards as it crashed over, its momentum carrying it up to rest with its front tires over the sudden blockage, a tree trunk? A tree had fallen right in the middle of the road suddenly? Black suited men hopped out of the lead vehicle groggily on shaking feat. Watson looked back at his occupant. Seeing his passenger was alright he turned forward, eyes wide, as a tree trunk more than his body lengthwise crashed across the windshield. Crushing the Chauffeur in a splatter of gore. The white suited man screamed and fell out of the limousine in a flurry of corpulent arms grasping at the handle. Hitting the pavement with a grunt he got up to pure chaos.

Looking back a black suited guard holding an MP5 held out a hand. Shouting for him to get back in the limo when nine arrows struck him in a lethal volley. Erupting out of his eye socket, kneecaps, and torso. The man was dead before he hit the ground. Looking about himself his guards were being slaughtered as shadowy figures, armor clad figures, and with thudding noises he saw giant's of men crashing into an SUV that was spewing rounds from a screaming guard firing off his SMG. The SUV flipping over onto its side while a lithe looking figure approached muttering something in a strange language. Shooting her hand out she bathed the vehicle and the guard inside in flames.

The overweight man got up to his knees and fell back across his limo. Metal clad feet stopped nearby. Slowly turning his head in terror, water forming at the corner of his eyes, he saw a man gird in chainmail, great helm, and white tunic and cape bearing a red cross.

"Suffer not the greedy to walk among the pure of heart."

"Wh-wh."

Snick

A meaty head dropped to the pavement with a smack of flesh. A headless white suited body crumpled to the ground.

The lithe sorceress walked up to the crusader looking knight with swinging hips. "I would have preferred to take him alive Gabriel."

The knight removed is helm to reveal his aged face. "I apologize Lady Caladrielle." The Sorceress stooped down and grasped the head by the hair. Picking it off the ground to hand at her side. Oozing crimson blood onto the pavement. "Hmmm, it'll just make interrogation more difficult."

"Necromancy?!" said Gabriel with furrowed brows.

"You cut off his head. I only need his soul for answers. After that, have comfort, I'll be sending him back were he belongs." shot back Caladrielle quickly. The old crusader sighed and turned around to stomp off with ironclad feet.

This massacre would make the news as the latest in horrific gangland violence plaguing Los Angeles county...


500,000 Kilometers away from the Saturn Ice Rings

Hanging in the blackness of the void was an irregularly shaped mass of steel, various metallic alloys, and sensor arrays. Sitting in stationary orbit just outside of Saturn's Rings. Spinning slowly in the bleakness of the void as red and white running lights blinked every few seconds in a preset pattern. The white and gunmetal halls were neatly polished and will let by soft light. Inside, white garbed individuals walked, holding electronic tablets, holo-displays, and nano-optic contact lenses displaying various messages, data, spreadsheets, and other matter of interest. Home to one-hundred and twenty individuals with comfortable habitation blocks, dining galleries, gymnasium, pool, and even a bowling alley for the inhabitants entertainment.

A research facility of science and exploration. Of what, well, one would have but to look in the stasis sealed vaults at the core of the complex. Humans pushing the boundary of knowledge, logic, and understanding of the cosmos. What lay in their vaults were various artifacts and data stacks of treatises on them. To be quite honest this was but a cover for what was really stored here. For all those artifacts were painstakingly reconstructed copies of the real project done in this wayward island of humanity. Something off the books and off the books for much of the rest of the organization these peaceful individuals belonged too.

The Bridge of Orbital 77/B

Red and black uniformed personnel manned consoles, data displays, or stood observing voltaic holo-screens. A woman with short cropped brown hair stood in the center observing various stellar chart readings. For such a small and seemingly remote outpost it's data sensoria's could read stellar traffic from up to a full astronomical unit away. "Captain there it is again." A Sino looking man tapped furiously at his voltaic keyboard to bring up an image with the flick of a finger into the viewing screen above his terminal. Spreading his fingers on his left hand the resolution zoomed in. Displaying a three-dimensional radar screen. A hazy reading winked in and out of existence as it moved through what was surmised to be Saturn's Ice Fields.

"Those Ice fields are prone to ghost readings Voidsman. I've looked at this four times in the past hour. It is nothing. Probably just an asteroid with a mixture of metals on its surface throwing off our sensoria. I have Gavin and McComb out there checking on it. Tapping a small device resting on her ear the Captain spoke. "Tell me you guys found something explaining why we keep picking up ghost readings."

A crackling voice came over her eardrum, "McComb here. Nothing yet, Gavin's checking the fiber optics and Tychoid Data-Feeds now."

The Captain crossed her right arm in impatient annoyance. Her other arm brought up a silver stainless steel coffee mug to her lips. Taking in the rich smell of the Arabica coffee grown in the Hydroponic blocks of the Copernicus Dyson Sphere. Its flavor was comparable to the stuff grown on Earth. Not that she's ever been to Earth. Like everyone else here they were raised in the vast hab-cities of Copernicus. The Cop as they affectionally called it.

The Sinoese Corporal spoke again, "Look there it is again!"

The Captain made to rebuke her subordinated when she squinted at the reading. The Corporal continued speaking with more urgency, "Asteroid's don't start picking up speed like that! It's vectoring in to come off our 220 degree mark at 50,000 kilometers. thirty seconds it'll pa-." They froze at the alarming rate of the velocity of the object increasing. Further, it began to move in an arc. As if it was going to do an elaborate fly by of the station. It was only then that an IFF transponder flickered into view before them. Anastasia. Impossible, that ship was lost decades ago!

"All hands prepare emergency communications. Get Gavin and McComb in here now!"

It was then the bridge communications feeds and sensor arrays suddenly went dark.

Out in the void an object came into visible view as it slowed. A massing elegant ship five kilometers long swung by and the Captain watched in horror as multiple smaller objects rocketed forth. One of which punched through the bridge's reinforced observation windows. The last thing the Captain felt was the explosive trauma of violent decompression and her body spinning off into the bleakness of the void. The impossible coldness of space instantly freezing the water in her body. Her last neurons firing as she witnessed her trajectory of Saturn approaching.

Sensoria Array


"She's really got her panties in a bunch this morning? Or is it evening? Hard to fucking tell out here," mused the twang of McCombs voice as his EVA suited compatriot checked fiber optic bundles for signs of damage. Gavin grunted in affirmation. "Hey, Gav I hear Sarah and Fred are a thing." Silence. McComb moved to turn around, slowly moving in his heavy EVA suit, a red liquid splashed onto his visor. "What the fuck!" Turning slowly he grasped his friend's shoulder and nudged him. His friend turned. Revealing to his horror the frozen swollen form of his friends face. A horrible gash in his forehead weeping blood into the cold vacuum of space as his heart's last beats pumped it out of the gaping wound. Visor shatter by some object. McComb felt warmth in the inner lining of his EVA suit as he turned to make for the hatch. Turning around he met eyes and a grinning mouth. Fangs hanging over the lower lip menacingly as the armored figure looked at him without need of an EVA suit. McComb screamed a silent cry that no one would hear as a glinting blade punched through his visor and into his skull.

Hab Block E

A pair of white lab coat wearing individuals walked down the hallway. Holding hands as they passed by hab-neighbors. Waving or giving verbal greetings. The man was handsome with a close fade haircut, blonde with blue eyes, tall and muscular. Beside him was a pretty blonde with green eyes and athletic form. In their hands they held a binder with blueprints and diagrams. Idly chatting about a vacation planned back at The Cop's resort blocks. Behind them a shorter individual glumly trod. Casting sidelong glances at them both. A scruffy black beard descending lazily down half of his neck. Curly hair and altogether plain faced.

Pausing by a door the curly haired man glumly looked at the couple as he slid a datakey into a hab-door. Turning the key he was cast in shadow. The lights flickering on again after a moment. "That was weird," said the blonde haired woman, "Fred that doesn't normally happen."

For a split second the curly haired man thought he saw the wall next to the pretty blonde suddenly glow a bright red. Before vaporizing in a brilliant display of superheated spalling. The lights in the hallway cut out and tramping feet were heard as the curly haired man saw station security in armored suits rushing down in the direction of the hold punched into the hab-block. A red hot metal object now resting in the middle of the hallway. All that was left of the couple being sizzling superheated flesh and blood spatter. The curly haired man vomited and began to walk backwards. Racing away from the object. Getting towards the end of the hallway were it forked and looked back as station security lowered their weapons. The red glowing door slammed open. Creating a ramp that was cool on the interior. Misty haze covering the entrance. That was when he saw it, at least he thought so, multiple pairs of red.

Then a flame, bluish-purple lit up the hallway. Ending at a hilt held by an armored figure with bright electric green eyes. Red pupils staring at the security. The security team moved to pull their triggers but couldn't as they were ripped from their hands. Their weapons flinging themselves to the ground of their own accord. Multiple objects shot from the boarding pod. Each one striking the security personnel and wreathing them in baleful green hellfire. Their screams as they burned alive in their armored suits. The flaming sword bearing woman marched forward. Followed by other armored figures bearing peculiar crossbows and swords.

The curly haired man fled. Sprinting down the hallway. Past Security fire teams racing in the opposite direction. A hull door began to close and he sprinted. Diving under it as it closed. Gasping he was pulled forth by a Security team member who told him to run. He did, looking back, and looking through the viewport of the hull door he saw the armored woman cutting through the armored forms of the station security like a hot knife through butter. Arms, legs, heads, and bisected torsos. Painting a crimson tapestry along the white walls of the station. Watching in abject horror as she rammed her sword through the reinforced steel bulkhead door. Cutting a hole through it and kicking it out. Coming through amid gunshots bouncing off her armor. She was among the security team on the other side of the door. Reducing them to carved chunks of meat. The armored figures that had accompanied her fanning out down the opposing hallway or coming in behind her.

The station rocked as other objects hit it. Little did the curly haired scientist know. That the station was being boarded from multiple points. The man sprinted and came upon a mess hall gallery. Offering a panoramic view of the station and other galleries, the massive form of Saturn and it's rings in the distance. Looking with mouth a gap he counted half a dozen breaches. Fire from burning atmosphere spewing from the station. He watched as armored figures butchered his colleagues and friends frantically trying to run away. Station security putting up a doomed fight as they were shot by bolts, cut up by melee weapons, or in the case that sickened the man. A head ripped from its shoulders by a pair of gauntlet fists. The man sank to his knees and began to sob.

Looking up he saw a pair of armored, blood spattered feet, he glanced up with jittery jowls. A pair of electric green eyes looked down at him. No malice, no anger, they looked at him as if he were nothing. Just something taking up space. She had butchered is friends and colleagues for simply being in the way. The dispassionate gaze stared at him and without a word marched on. A column of armored figures following. Ignoring him as he sat there crying over the horror he had witnessed.

The armored woman marched onwards. Moving to the center of the station and the vaults. She flicked her wrist and a door opened. Moving down a set of stairs she came to a sealed door. Tramping feet as four armored guards came up to her bearing heavier weapons. Raising them she pulled her fist back. One was picked up his feat. She cut him in two and followed with a hurling motion of her blade. The flaming sword embedding itself in the chest of a second guard. A third was slammed up into the metal ceiling while the fourth was pulled forward with a jerking motion. The blade singing back into her hands as she walked towards the door. Swinging upwards to casually cut open the abdomen of the guard pinned to the ceiling. Ropes of human organs splashed to the gunmetal floor. She brought the struggling man, holding him in an iron gauntlet grip by the neck, she moved to the door and held his face near a scanner. The light blinking from red to green. The door slid open and she flexed. Snapping his brainstem like a twig. His form crashed to the floor.

She moved delicately, cautiously, mouth forming into a happy smile. Fangs revealed she moved to what was floating in stasis in the middle of the room. She moved up to it and reached out with a steel armored hand. Grasping the object which floated there. It's smooth surface etched with flowing script and glyphs. Its dodecagon bronze form held a baleful sapphire glow permeating through the glyphs. She grasped it and let out a sigh of relief.

"My Lord. We have erased the logs of the station and are downloading it's datastacks." said an armored figure next to the smiling woman, armored woman, as she stared longingly at the geometric object held in her grasp.

"Excellent, we leave, once back aboard the Nocte Somnium order starboard batteries to destroy the station."

"Yes, Your Grace."

The elegant dark vessel that had assailed the ship slowly sped away on baleful white engines as it took the last of its smaller boarding pod children back into it's bosom. As it did so two bright white spears of light cut through the blackness of space. Cutting through the station and detonating it's fission reactor. The station spun as it exploded. Debris falling into the immense gravitational pull of the planet Saturn.

October, 2018, Just West of Los Angeles
Tremere Chantry


A white haired, sickly green eyed, eccentric looking man worked on an operating table. A woman sat in the corner. Beautiful with raven dark hair and bright electric green eyes. Standing next to her the hulking frame of Brutus, the Gargoyle, looked about bored. The man working fervently had done so in secret. For his projects no doubt would have earned him a spot on the Red List if the eyes of the Camarilla knew about them. But he had found patronage under the woman looking at his work. Indeed, she looked at his work with keen interest. These artificial beings forged from blood, bone, and flesh. Crafted for a purpose each. As the silver haired man stood back with a triumphant grin the woman stood and moved beside him. "I see your latest creation is a success. But for this next experiment I want you to work on a live subject."

As she finished her brief sentence a pair of Angeloi neonates dragged in a man with curly black hair. "What can you do with him I wonder," mused the raven haired woman.
Last edited by Imperialisium on Sun Oct 20, 2019 6:20 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Parcia
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Posts: 7049
Founded: Feb 11, 2016
Democratic Socialists

Postby Parcia » Mon Oct 21, 2019 12:06 am

The Ogre.




Jonah Slaid was not an intelligent man. His IQ was likely slightly above average, but he held no specific mental advantages in terms of math or literature. His bread and butter, his carrier choice, his vary way of life though? War. Jonah thrived in War, in conflict, in turmoil. It was, in a sense, a part of him. While emotionally and logically he was at peace with him self, he understood his vary nature was at conflict with the reality of the world and it often meant the world actually fought his continuous existence.

As the ogre sat in the work shop of the temple of the White Lotus he thought back on the past year. The War between the Keui-Jin and the LA sect of Clan Brujah started off not with a bang...but with a whisper. While House Angeloi had been seemingly burned to the ground, and Clan Malkavian had simply disappeared, Jonah had seen worth in extending the olive branch to the remaining clans in Los Angeles. Most were returned with a cold reply, simply agreeing to the principle "Stay out of our turf and we shall stay out of yours". Most agreed to simply stay out of the vary obviously on coming gang war, seeing the brutal murder of the well known Master Wu-Long Wang and raid on the White Lotus as justification enough for retaliatory action. The Likely most fortunate action was the forging of a agreement between the Kuei-Jin and Clan Nosferatu, both parties agreeing to a mutual defense of their turf and sharing of commercial products. Mostly various craft goods and select Kindred edible foods from the Kj, and various software and technological items that Jennifer found useful.

He was brought back from his thoughts by the hand on his shoulder. It was Sofia, the Verbena Life mage who he had met on the faithful night. They had grown...close. As close as he could really allow with out putting a target on her back, something he really didn't want as he cared for her deeply. "You've been working all night...for the last week...I think I'v seen more of Jenny than I have from you and she literally spend all of her time down in the server room." He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I know, I'm just trying to get the timing on this right. This thing is...amazingly...stupidly complex in it's inner workings. I'v seen German Tank transmissions with less mechanical intricacies." She gave him a tired smile and a kiss on the cheek. "In bed in an hour or no Whoopy for you."

He chuckled. "Now that's just not fair." Getting back to tinkering with a timing mechanism he just barely understood, his mind went back to the past year...

The road to proper war begun a few days after the last night he'd seen Ana. He'd taken the remnants of the KJ and started to train them. They were all survivors of the raid and that alone proved many of them were capable fighters and a few were even skilled in low end magical aspects. He had roughly a dozen to begin with and he envisioned them as to be his personal hit squad. They were warriors in their own right, each able to take a sword and cut down a young Born Kindred in a duel, yet they lack unit cohesiveness and coordination he him self was taught all those years ago.

Seeing this as a problem, he went about putting them through his own personal boot camp. This started when the weapon shipment arrived from his friend out of state. To his wonder, Bob has taken the liberty of switching out the old and used M16s he ordered for a set of only slightly used H&K 416s, apparently, as explained in a written note in the crate they where shipped in, "A gift for my best customer for keeping the lights on in the compound. When the Boogaloo kicks off, you have a home here."

He laughed at it, if only Bob understood just how close that Boogaloo was. Still, the rifles were sanitized, numbers scrubbed off and untraceable. He assigned each of his enforcers a rifle, 6 magazines, a plate vest with web rig and the assorted cleaning and training manuals for each rifle. He then put them through a month long regime of marksmanship, weapons maintenance, amd squad based tactics that would allow them work not only as Warriors, but as Soldiers.

He was proud of them. Combing their innate loyalty and surprising prowess in close combat with well taught and accurate rifle fire, with a dash of proper military room clearing and tactical input had elevated them from a band of simple enforcers, to a coordinated death squad. He copied this action with their less capable yet as loyal Human foot troops. Granted he had to train them less on rifle maintenance and unit tactics since many of them had such training, but he reformed their organization in to a network of Militia like units. By day they would serve their Yakuza and Triad masters (who were in tern loyal to the Keui-Jin) and when needed, they would grab their assorted rifles, throw on what ever armor they had, and defend their assigned points through out their turf. With the Introduction of little Albania and its Criminal elements in to the fold of the Keui-Jin, this added another dozen foot troops armed with an assortment of nondescript AK style rifles and, much to his surprise, a pair of Anarcs who saw the utility of joining him, to the overall force of the White Lotus.

The next logical step would be to test this force. The Alliance secured with the Nosferatu also meant he enjoyed a certain degree of their (in)famous intelligence network, and thus one day he learned from a slightly malformed bird who took up residence under a man hole cover, that the Brujah were massing around 20 ghouls and newborns along side a trio of their own Enforcers for a possible attack. Against who, he did not know nor care, for this would be were he and his friends would repay the blood the Brujah had so deserved.

The Warehouse was on the edge of Compton, the old Brujah stomping grounds, and was much like the rest of the near slum like suburb, dank, dirty, and abandoned. His intelligence had told him the place was used as a drug den by day, and a collection point for freshly embraced shock troops at night. As it were, the place had one large entrance and a single side door. Conveniently, the door had been bared and actually welded shut some years before, meaning the only real way out was through the single large sliding door.

They set up the day before in the building's across the street, the squad taking place in the street level and waiting through out the day. Their foot troops had taken the day to recon the place for them, confirming the fledglings were there alongside their three masters. Hearing this, he set the order. At midnight, they would move in. The Anarc couple were happy to sit on the roof with a high powered rifle and give them cover (with a not so subtle threat of skinning them alive, letting them regenerate, then skinning them over and over repeatedly should they betray him) as they did so. First, they greased some wheels at LAPD dispatch and paid off a few dispatchers to ignore any calls they got from the area. Next they suited up. A squad of Nosferatu quietly inserted them selves at the block's power junction and had them cut the power 60 seconds to midnight.

With the lights off the squad emerged from their hiding spots and formed two groups of 6 as they snaked across the street. Being the sort to lead from the front, Jonah did just that, his own eyes adjusting to the darkness and his nose compensating for him as he went to the door. Hefting his hammer, the 12 man team formed a firing line 30 feet back he gave them a nod, wound back the hammer and brought down on the pad lock. With a loud bang the thing crashed to the ground, shattered.

Pushing forward with all his might, he opened the door and covered his head as bullets whizzed by past him. The first group of fledglings were caught completely unaware, their heads and torso snapping and dancing with the bullet impacts as they were put down. Turning, he yelled an order in Cantonese, "Yī duì jìnlái!" The first group of moved in with supernatural grace and speed, suppressed shots echoing in the darkness as they moved in. He went in after them, forming the 7th man on their stack as they cleared the cluttered space quickly and cleanly. The real fight came in the form of the three enforcers.

The first one was unlucky to catch a mag dump from the team, his heart and head being obliterated from the combined fire and his corpse dropping to the ground. The Second one got with in arm's length before he to was cut down by combined rifle fire and a few shots from his own .454, the large bore explosive tipped rounds putting an end to him quickly. The third was a women, surprisingly, and she put up a hell of a fight, disabling two of his own men before he brought her to heel with repeated hammer blows to the head.

To his fortune, this only rendered her unconscious and so, he gave the order to bind her with chains and to bring her back to the Temple. They spent another 20 minuets clearing out the warehouse of stragglers before gathering out front. Upon realizing he had a small group of fledglings left alive, he ordered them bound as well. lining them out front, he had his men gather the bodies of the defeated kindred, some starting to regenerate, and had them piled up. Dousing them with a can of industrial lubricant they had found in the Warehouse, he retrieved his trusty flame thrower and ordered one of his men to start recording via smartphone "This, this is the fate you can expect to receive under the tutelage of Terrance Manning, a brutal end at the hands of a real man like my self." Turning to the pile, he lit the pilot light and pulled the trigger. The Gout of flame shot out with a roar and ignited the flammable fluid, burning the kindred for their final death. This made many of the fledglings gasp and cry out, the Kuei-Jin simply looked on in silence. The second blow in this war had been struck.

He ordered the Enforcer to be locked in a old cold war bunker on the Temple grounds, kept under lock and key with several armed guards and the fledglings to be guarded to, but ultimately tended to by Sofia and the Kuei-Jin. While he would likely not turn them to their cause, he would give them a fighting change in this world by equipping them with the basics of their world. The video was transferred to a flash drive and left on the door step of Manning's safe house the next day.

On the Flash drive was taped a folded piece of paper, when opened, all it read was a single character, wirtten in big red, bold ink:





Sitting back, he rubbed his eyes and looked over the mechanical marvel that lay assembled before him. Its completed form taking the shape of an incredibly ornate and out right beautiful crossbow. He didn't really understand how it worked, his mind only really getting the basics of its construction and even then that was in the sense of what pieces went were in order to make the thing work. He had tested it and found it to be astonishingly lethal. Seemingly scaled to fit his large stature, the weapon fired steel tipped bolts roughly nine and a half inches long at nearly 620 feet per second, and it did fully automatically while feeding from similarly amazingly designed drums that held 40 of said bolts! He had originally inquired to Katarina about some reward for being one of the few not to turn on the Prince when she disappeared, mostly as a joke, and to his surprise found the disassembled weapon in a bundle on the door step to the temple one morning.

It had taken him months to put the thing together, having to educate him self on both the basics and finer points on Swiss watch making in order to even understand some of the weapon's parts and being nearly completely clueless on some of the others until much, much later in the year. Once he had it in a working state it became much easier to assembles and tune to his liking. To add his own personal touch to the seemingly old relic, he wrapped a Metal of St. Micheal around its stock and sat back. Looking at his watch, he found it to be nearly 30 minuets past the deadline Sofia had given him and, with a groan, he left the weapon on the work bench and turned the light off as he left the room, jogging up the stairs...
So apparently Cobalt has named me a Cyber terrorist, I honestly don't know to be Honored or offended.
Right leaning Centrist from Florida No I am not The Floridaman...hes my uncle. Other then that dont @ me about politics, im leaving that
hell hole behind until I leave Uni.
I reserve all rights to my posts, OCs, and contributions to any threads I post on.
I'm a Catholic too, figure that shit out!
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Finsternia
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Founded: May 01, 2015
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Postby Finsternia » Mon Oct 21, 2019 7:57 am

Silvanus
Quest: Clan of Madness


A man, dressed in what could be described as a medical professional's clothing, wiped his hands on a nearby bloodied cloth. His eyes were that of a burning chartreuse green, bright with passion aflame. His hair, like that of spun moonlight, were bound into a hasty bun to keep it out of the way. His eyes shifted from the now clean experimental table towards the source of the most melodious, most merciful voice in all of Los Angeles. In this mud soaked, blood drowned, filth ridden city, only one has the decency, the pride, and the honor of the title of Prince. She who has given patronage to his fervent arts, vile they may be but in his eyes they were valuable. The Sabbat have their Shovelheads, alongside the monstrosities of the Tzimisce. The Camarilla had little in terms of soldiers, only relying on money hungry Kine. But this, Silvanus' project, not only gives birth to loyal soldiers but also loyal subjects and Childer, who will never betray their Sires... if handled correctly.

Silvanus' eyes turned towards a newcommer: a mortal man, of curly black hair. He walked closer, his eyes never leaving his new toy, and his fingers touched his cheeks. They were wet from newly shed tears, and the scent that waffled from this mortal Kine was that of fear, of confusion, of hatred. "Good... Good, I like feisty ones. I wonder what notes could you produce. Sing for me, yes?" The Elder's hand rested on his shoulder, and his body tensed as multiple joints locked down on their own. His swift movements meant that his subject's fall was immediately caught, and Silvanus brought him to the operating table. There were little apparatuses and intruments on the table as most of them are for restraint. Silvanus cuffed him down by the wrists, ankles, and along the length of his extremeties and on his midsection. Multiple knuckles on the Malkavian Elder's hands cracked and his long, manicured fingernails ripped his subject's clothes off and touched the soft, fragile skin underneath. "...If you will scream and cry from this... how can we enjoy our time together?"

The entire procedure lasted for about two to three hours, and the entire room was filled with the sounds of screaming, of crying, and that of soft humming. There were almost no other living person who could have remembered such a tune, but perhaps the Tremere Prince could as both she and Silvanus originated from the eastern parts of Medieval Europe. As Silvanus wiped his hands over and over again, the man from before sat up and stood, looking as normal as he was before. "As I've said, Your Grace, my project aims to create useful weaponry and workers while also maintaining the Masquerade." He placed down the bloody cloth on the table and stood beside the mostly naked man. "On the outside, his appearance isn't any different. The same human features, and no other supernatural distinctions. However... both you and I know that the inside is massively different. My mastery of the discipline of my Clan allows me to create a miniature network of consciousness between my Dolls and me... however, my blood is weaker that it used to. The procedure took longer because I needed to resort to an arcane ritual to recreate the results. However!" His phosphorescent eyes glowed in the dim lights of the room, and the man's body started to contort. He went down on all fours, and his elbows and knees bent in ways that a human body couldn't sustain. Growths appeared on his face, eyes, and he started to skitter up into the walls. "I've not only added flexibility, agility, better senses, and improved mobility but also this..." His eyes glowed brighter and the man's physical frame melded into the background. Anna could easily see the man with her vampiric Discipline of Auspex, but currently it is hidden from view. "I've added the ability to tap into simple Disciplines such as Obfuscate using the tiny bit of vitae that I've left inside. This subject is currently a prototype of a Doll Class that I had in mind, one that is proficient in spywork and assassinations."
Random stuff here. Random stuff there. Bla bla bla. Whatever I don't care.

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Luminesa
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Luminesa » Mon Oct 21, 2019 1:31 pm

And Time Marches On...

Alexei

The existence in which Alexei currently lived halted his life for less time than he thought it would. As a couple of days passed, he grew used to his new surroundings. He adapted, as most successful animals do. He managed to get a hold of his wallet and his phone, and he took care of the more mundane parts of his life. Reality ensued in a strange way, during a time in which one would think reality stopped. He paid the bills for his apartment, which he tried to visit in secret once or twice a month, online. He commuted to his classes during the day, took exams, and passed. He bought textbooks for the next semester, which he brought to his new "home". When he was not being wrangled along by his strange roommates, he spent most of his time reading and writing. Another semester passed. Another summer. Elections happened, he voted.

At some point in the midst of everything, he managed to keep contact with his mother. He was not able to visit her, but he did explain carefully that he was doing well, that he was keeping track of his home and his studies, and that he would visit when he could. She had sent him presents to his apartment, and they had met there. Christmas was another quiet affair, as usual, and he was reminded of how lonely his normal life was. At the same time, he knew that the quiet chaos in which he currently lived could be set aflame at any moment.

He decided to take online classes for his Fall semester, in which he wanted to focus on a particular objective. Mikhailov was still missing. He had kept the papers he had seen in the grocery store, which had detailed a mass murder of FBI agents at Silvanus's funeral home. Of course, the public did not know it was his, and Alexei would keep things hidden that way. Yet he knew now that Mikhailov had been accused of mass murder of FBI agents. The truth was most likely more complicated, and he gulped as he imagined what Silvanus had done against his own servant. Eventually, he would go to find his dear uncle and to make amends, but for now he needed to find his only true friend. The media was good about keeping supposed serial killers in the public eye, but as they realized his sentencing would not be for some time, if ever, they stopped talking about him. In that timeframe, however, Alexei put together the clues. The tight-lipped attempts to keep knowledge of the supernatural at bay. The hiding of Mikhailov's name from the public. The hiding of the FBI agents' names, and the hiding of the name of the one unfortunate VASCU agent. So many lies, necessary lies, but sinister lies. Facts were not hidden to protect the public, but to keep the public from taking action.

And yet Alexei knew he was not part of the public.

One day, the former Inquisitor closed his laptop, and he went to find Jonah. He had not returned in some time, but a Changeling would not be hard to find. Given Jonah's size as well, he would not be difficult to trace. Alexei did well to avoid most of his roommates, but he knew he could not ignore an important ally. Once he found Jonah, he would need another risky ally: Connor, and his band of Garou. Connor would not be happy to help Mikhailov, but Alexei was a companion. He would need to plead with him for some help, and to perhaps offer some sort of incentive. He recalled something about Jonah being associated with Asian gangsters, and he decided to look into the home of some Chinese gangsters in the city. When he found the temple, he knocked timidly, and waited for some sort of answer. He might get shot dead, he might not. For now, he was playing the roulette, and playing hard, all for a cause which might not offer any rewards in the end. He wondered already if he should have just gone home.
Catholic, pro-life, and proud of it. I prefer my debates on religion, politics, and sports with some coffee and a little Aquinas and G.K. CHESTERTON here and there. Not that I need the coffee, but you know... :3

So apparently I am an ENFP!

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"I'm just a singer of simple songs, I'm not a real political man. I watch CNN, but I'm not sure I can tell you the difference in Iraq and Iran. But I know Jesus, and I talk to God, and I remember this from when I was young:
faith, hope and love are some good things He gave us...
and the greatest is love."
-Alan Jackson

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Morrdh
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Democratic Socialists

Postby Morrdh » Fri Nov 01, 2019 9:10 pm

Co-written with Kingdom of Irhk and Imperialisium.

Muir Woods National Monument
San Francisco
September 2017


The trees of the redwood forest stood like tall obsidian sentinels against the moonless sky. The only lights were the orange glow of the slumbering city to the east and the tinkling pinpricks in the night sky that were stars. Morri could feel a sense of something ancient and primordial, a deep connection to Gaia that grew ever stronger as they worked their way along the forest paths and steadily climbed the hill. She mused that they must be gradually getting closer to the caern, though she had difficulty keeping track of their progress. It seemed almost lucky that they had a garou guide from the sept of guardians for the caern, otherwise she was certain they would never find it.

Tonight was the night that she would be bonded to Connor’s pack, though it was something she grew increasingly anxious over. Yes it would mean that she would properly join the pack, after running with them for over a month, and she would feel whole again. Though it would also mean saying goodbye to the Owl spirit that was the totem of her previous and her constant companion these past few months after the fall of her packmates. It almost felt like she would be saying farewell forever to a loved one.

But it was a necessity.

The Rite of the Totem had to be done in order for her to be part of Connor’s pack and the pack had a spirit totem of their own. So Morri had to let the Owl totem go, the last vestigate of her first pack of which she was the sole survivor. With the totem dismissed she would be the last remnant, the last memorial to her fallen packmates. She was sure to sorely miss her spiritual companion, especially the gits it provided which had aided her in getting about Los Angeles and its Penumbra counterpart in particular.

Whilst Los Angeles was normally where the pack operated, it lacked a caern that wasn’t contested by the Black Spirals or neglected. So the Sept of the Western Eye by the city of San Francisco was their only option to perform the Rite, it also helped as they would get away from Pentex’s attention in LA. Hence why the pack was trooping through a state park under the darkness of the New Moon.

Moving down the winding woodland paths they would chance upon a hidden cleft in the hills. Something that Morri was not even aware of until they began to pass through them. The low mounds of the hillocks rising to their left and right in equal measure. They had passed yet another boundary. The Umbra growing strong as they continued trooping down the dirt path. The trees thicker, mightier, and healthier. Meanwhile, the glow of the moon shone with renewed vigor as if Luna herself cast her gaze upon them. The light pollution of the city suddenly gone as it never was. For the progress of man held no power here.

They reached a point in the path were a boulder blocked the way. Rocky crags rising high and steep enough to be impassable rose abruptly in every direction. Stepping onto the path was a man in a ranger uniform. Whether he was a ranger or not was determined by the time of day. However, this guardian was always kinfolk. Seeing their guide and knowing ahead of time what was to transpire here today for the young Morri. The silent sentinel stepped aside and gestured at the boulder. They were to leap over it, and indeed, their guide did that very action.

Beyond would be March Lion, huddled by a fire in a circle of painted stones, the Master of the Rite. Next to a standing, visibly elderly woman, named Celeste Snowtop who bore the title of Voice of the Goddess and was the leader of the Sept.

Throughout the whole path, Connor was somewhat silent. As a new season came, his appearance seemed to suffer a slight change, as the completely shaved sides of his head now presented a subtle hint of red hair, and some facial hair now shared space with the somewhat exotic mustache. The recovery and time spent without Derrick deeply scarred him, and undoubtedly, created an image of Morri as a member to be protected.

Of course, she’d already been Fostered by someone else, as Fianna tradition demands it, but there was no Fostering for the kind of trauma she suffered. There weren’t any guides to travel through the desert of pain, and Connor only hoped he could teach her to navigate through the storms of adversity she would face.

The path to the Caern was also a path down Connor’s self-consciousness. He lived long enough, considering his lifestyle; but how long would he live? His eyes couldn’t see past the physical meaning of his mate’s death. Was it an omen, that his glory days faced their end? Or was it a warning, a sign from Luna to change his perspective and his position regarding his works in the struggle against the Wyrm?

Certainly, the answers existed in Éire, but he was far away from home. There was something in the air, in the tiniest details, that made him feel imprisoned. The asphalt, a sign of the man’s progress over Gaia, seemed thicker. The concrete that formed the concrete forest seemed to throw its vines all over him, as if the city tried to strangle his life out, and throw it to the rivers of blood and violence that ran all over it in the form of streets, avenues and back alleys.

As they finally reached the Caern, Connor jumped over the boulder, meeting the Voice of the Goddess. With a somewhat gruffy bow, the giant redhead decided to introduce himself.

“I thank you for letting us access this Caern, my brothers in Gaia. Los Angeles is in a somewhat complicated state of affairs, and I need to bind this young girl to our totem, the Stallion. It is… an unusual choice for us, Fianna, but I’ve been leading this traveling pack for years. I attest to her loyalty and respect to our Litany, and she ran with us until her Auspice returned, which proves that she is capable of joining my pack.”

“I am Morrigan O'Malley,” Morri stated as she introduced herself and remembering what to say. “I ran with the pack called the Tawny Howlers, though I am now the sole member o’ that pack and bonded ta its totem.”

“I’ve run with me chosen new pack and now seek ta become bonded with its totem ta feel whole again in Gaia’s eyes.”

The elders of the Sept listened thoughtfully. The Master of the Rite nodding and looking the Voice of the Goddess. After all, it was from her that such assent would come from, and Snowtop’s eyes glazed over as she rolled them up. Her gaze fixed at the Moon above above. Was she holding some Communion with Luna? Perhaps the Goddess was delivering signs that only one as wise and saged in the deeper spirituality of the Garou. A solid minute passed in near silence. The idle crackling of the hearth before the sitting Master of the Rite being the only audible sign.

“So it shall be.” said Celeste Snowtop as her eyes rolled back down. She looked to March Lion, “Luna’s portents bore agreement. The Goddess assents to this union.” Celeste stepped away and March Lion stood up. Coming before Morri. “Morrigan O'Malley, you will speak of your respectful casting aside of the toten borne by the Tawny Howlers, may their souls be resting forever in Luna’s glades, and call out the totem of your newfound loyalty.” The Master of the Rite moved behind her, head resting inches above her shoulder, “Call the stallion.” He moved before her and in the distance Morri could swear she heard the thunder of hooves and the whine of a mighty steed. The Master of the Rite’s eyes glazed white as he held his hands to the moon. Dropping them to their sides as he pulled powered paints and a brush of horse hair. Moving to Morri without a word March Lion brought the brush across her forehead. More strokes followed as the Master created perfect glyphs on her face. The glyphs of the stallion, of her former totem out of respect, and that of Luna.

This was a sacred rite but one entirely up to Morri to succeed. She need cast aside her old totem and embrace the Stallion. Should she doubt then she may fail. Totemless. A sign of ill omen and that of Luna’s fickle displeasure.

This was the moment Morri had been growing anxious about, but she knew it had to be done and so she took a breath before calling out. “Owl...I call ye ‘fore us.”

At first there was nothing, but soon enough Morri heard the faint fluttering of wings that steadily grew louder until the Owl totem she’d called landed on the ground before them. It looked up at Morri, its eyes baring into her, and stated. “I have been called.”

“Owl, totem o’ me pack the Tawny Howlers.” Morri said, reciting what she’d been taught. “Ye have been a constant companion ta I, the last o’ the Tawny Howlers, and I thank ye fer that.”

“But I have found a new pack ta join and I therefore release ye from yer bond, though yer companionship will be sorely missed. I bid ye farewell.”

“I understand.” Owl stated, though Morri was sure she could sense a sadness from the spirit. “It is the nature of things. I go now.”

Morri watched as the spirit flapped its wings and took to the air, disappearing from view into the tall redwood trees that surrounded the caern. As she watched the spirit vanish from sight, Morri felt a hollowness inside of her as a great sadness came upon her. It was similar to the feelings she’d felt when the others of her pack died, a pack who’s last connection to her she had now severed by dismissing that pack’s totem spirit.

“Stallion,” Morri called out. “I come ‘fore ye, take me inta yer bond.”

For a moment, imperceptible, but the dull sounding of hooves was given away to the sudden burst of a bounding stallion into the caern. The spirit made manifest bounded around Morri ever closer. Neying, proud mane flapping with whispers, its hooves making sound but leaving no marks. Swifter than the wind. It came to a halt before Morri. Slowly lowering itself to touch her forehead. A warmth would fill her as the totem accepted her being. Meanwhile, the Moon as it hung larger than life in the sky through the spiritual connection of the Caern. Seemed to give off rays of cool light. Luna, reflecting her brother Helios light, melding it with the Goddess own loving embrace. In her own way she was a part of all Garou who would accept her into their hearts and minds. The binding was complete.

In an instant the hollowness that Morri had been carrying around inside of her vanished as the Stallion accepted her, making her one with Connor’s pack. As the warmth of acceptance and completeness swept over her, tears of joy welled up in Morri’s eyes. After so long as a lone wolf, it felt good to be part of a pack bound again. To belong again.




Somewhere In England

“Alright, alright…I’m bloody coming.” Grumbled Liam O'Malley as he walked down the hallway to the front door upon which somebody was knocking. His wife Katelyn was still upstairs getting ready before she came down for breakfast. And the girls...well, that had been some news for Liam and his wife to take in.

“Yes?” Asked Liam when he answered the door and found a smartly dressed man on the doorstep. “What is it?”

“Sergeant O'Malley?” The man asked in a well spoken American accent.

“Aye...wot do ye want mate?”

“My name is Markus Lestrange and I represent corporate interests looking to hire military veterans for their security divisions and the like.” Explained the man with a smile, though Liam sensed something…off about the man that unsettled him. “I’m sure that with the government cutting the military budget and closing bases you’ve considered getting out, especially for the prospect of a well paying job?”

“Tis crossed me mind.” Liam answered. “But I’ve got ta give the army a year’s notice if I wanna leave.”

“Don’t worry, things can be expedited with regards to that.”

“I still dunno, gonna need some time ta think over it.”

“Please do.” Markus smiled. “Heres my business card so you can let me know once you’ve made up your mind.”

“Ugh, thanks.” Said Liam as he took the card and closed the door.

Markus turned and walked back to the waiting car with a smile on his face, he’d seen a family portrait hanging on the wall of the hallway.

There were a pair of twin girls.

Both had red hair.




Los Angeles
One Year Later


There were times when Morri sorely missed the boons offered by the Owl totem, they would’ve greatly aided her in getting about the city unnoticed. To move about without drawing undue attention she had to rely on other gifts, which made it more difficult but not impossible. The best way she’d found of getting about was to travel in her wolf-like Lupus form, least anyone who saw her mistook her for a stray dog. For extra benefit she used her ‘almost but not quite invisibility’ trick, least for the most part she could slip by unnoticed.

Speed, however, was her greater asset in her lonesome ventures into the city. She hadn’t told Connor or anyone else in the pack about these forays, nor the reason why she was doing them. Then again, there were one or two other things she’d neglected to inform Connor about. Her…’friend’ who’d been a not entirely welcomed guest in her head over the past year or so since that fateful fight at the docks. For the time being Morri had decided that it was better if Connor and the others simply didn’t know, so she needed to conclude her nocturnal business as quickly as possible.

Her previous forays had brought her into contact with the city’s Glass Walkers, who she’d come to rely on as sources of information...admittedly for a price. She couldn’t deny that without the Glass Walkers that her task would be alot harder to achieve. Through Connor she’d been able to get in contact with the city’s other Garou, in particular the ones who could teach her the gifts that she needed for her task. One such gift she had only recently acquired and it would quite literally open doors for her.

Ahead her destination came into view, an auction house and one of many she’d narrowed down on her personal list. She padded round the building’s exterior, checking that it was actually vacant at this time of night and for a side door that she could use. After double checking nobody was about on the street, finding a safe spot to do so, she shifted into Homid form. Still employing her ‘not quite invisible’ trick, she moved over to a fire exit in a side alley, place her hand on the door and concentrated for a moment. Her effort was rewarded as the door popped open and she headed inside with a smile on her face.

Right, she thought to herself. Where would the records be?
Last edited by Morrdh on Fri Nov 01, 2019 9:12 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Imperialisium
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Founded: Apr 17, 2011
Democratic Socialists

Postby Imperialisium » Sat Nov 02, 2019 8:18 pm

Anna

The raven haired beauty watched Silvanus work for the entirety of the operation. Circling around the operating table like a professor watching a student. Silvanus was no pupil, despite what she could teach him about the finer aspects of genetic sorcery, but that was not his purpose for her. She valued his work, his Clan's prophetic ability, and currently his seeming loyalty. Conversely, Silvanus knew that his value was that of his service. He needed the patronage of Clan Tremere and the political shield they provided just incase his experiments ever came to light. After all, being whisked away to some Transylvanian fortress was better than being burned alive at a stake somewhere in the Sahara, that much was for sure. The Lady Angelos needed loyal, expendable soldiers, the time it took to train a single Rothai or forge a single Gargoyle of the caliber such as Brutus was too time consuming for the battles ahead.

At Silvanus proud declaration of his current little impromptu project, Anna let out a wry smile, "My, my, you've outdone yourself here." She moved towards the Doll and grasped its jaw. Turning its head slowly. It offered no resistance to delicate but in actuality granite strong grasp. "If I were to provide you with the resources too mass produce these. I believe a field test of your new weapons is in order." She dropped her hands behind the small of her back. She turned away and left Silvanus laboratory. Leaving the Malkavian Elder with the knowledge that he had just greatly appeased his patron. But more importantly, he had done so well, that she was going to provide him with the resources he needed to take his work to the next level.

Leaving the laboratory the Lord of House Angeloi moved up the grand staircase of the Chantry. The burned out remains of her mansion still somewhat visible through the trees. She had planned to rebuild it. But other matters were more pressing for her resources. Illusion would have to suffice for now and as such the Kine passing by would note nothing at all had transpired.

Moving to the fifth floor the Lady Angelos waved a hand over a complex bronze locking mechanism. Dozens of tumblers, locks, and gages disengaging while a proverbial web of warbs deactivated. The doors swinging open and closed of their own accord. Like unseen doormen operated them. Moving with hands clasped behind her back to a map of Los Angeles, full of arcane symbols and tokens, bringing a hand forward she stretched her fingers. The ink on the large map that covered an entire mahogany desk moved. Zooming in, with the lettering adjusting to give street names and so forth, the tokens having a name wrapped around them. There was John driving down a boulevard as he waged a seemingly one man war. There was Jonah. Dear Alexei.

However, she was not alone in this chamber. An armored figure stepped out of the shadows. "Raziyon."

His voice was gruff like chiseled stone, total contrast to her own honey soothing tone, "Can confirm it is the Memphis that arrived from the Sea and is currently anchored just off the main shipping lanes."

"So, my sister still is prone to dramatic arrivals, a full yacht. I wonder how she convinced the Hierarchs to allow that." Raziyon, her loyal custodian, said nothing in response. He knew his master well enough to know a rhetorical question.

"I can kill her if you wish." stated Raziyon.

"I have no doubt you could or would if I so wished. But she has her part to play." The Lady Angelos clutched her eyes shut suddenly. Memories swimming in her head, some still not ordered despite the intervening months, what had become of her in the Umbra was still with her being. "Your Grace?"

"Leave her be for now." Anna opened her eyes and swung the still outstretched arm to the side. The arcane map of Los Angeles shifting its view to a different part of the city. She squinted her eyes and looked at a picture mounted on her desk. Her, with two children on her lap, the boy in a 19th century sailors outfit, while the girl wore a white dress with a bow in her hair. Despite the image being old and monochrome she still remembered the colors and buttons of their garb. A hand shot out and gripped the frame. Placing it picture down so she need not look at it anymore.

"The Rothai will have standing orders to observe the happenings of Los Angeles. No intervention unless absolutely necessary. Any report from Vaeghorod?"

"Yes, your eminence, the artisans have managed to activate one of the suits on board and are currently working on reverse engineering it's parts."

"Excellent, signal Vaeghorod to prepare for the next phase of the plan." Raziyon nodded and left the room with long strides. The arcane doors opening and closing behind him.

Inglewood

Manning was not an always calm Cainite. The flash drive delivered to him from his childer, from that Changeling Ogre and his yellow skinned misfits, he crushed it in his grasp. How dare this creature from a forgotten time challenge his Clan. Brujah! One of the High Clans! He moved straightened his back, "Pull back to Inglewood. We feign weakness and then we lure that lumbering buffoon out to were I can snap his neck. The Tremere will not save him this time."

"If the former Prince's bloodline is helping this rabble. We could bring down the wrath of the greater Camarilla upon their heads." Said Garviel Leuthen. The Ghost of Verdun. A warrior of a thousand battles and while Manning had brute power he knew that Garviel had tactical acumen beyond him. Though, he'd never admit it. "That we could. Send a message to San Francisco. The Justicar's will hear of this." At that the order went out. The Brujah were withdrawing to Inglewood for the foreseeable future.
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Parcia
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Postby Parcia » Wed Nov 06, 2019 2:53 pm

The White Lotus.

Sofia frowned. One of the aspects of her stay at the White Lotus was that she helped their operations in a day to day sense. While her big sweet teddy bear of a man Jonah could rally the troops and turn them in to a fighting units, they lacked any real magical defenses beyond the old and cracked seals and runes she could see as she gazed upon the outer walls with her mage sight. Maybe 30 years ago these Runes and Glyphs, many of which in traditional Chinese she barely understood, more so sensing their meaning rather then out right reading them, were powerful enough to ward off most threats...but now?

No, a few of the more powerful runes, mostly defensive wards against greater demons and certain flavors of undead. Sure, that meant most lower forms of Kindred would feel a constant tingling sensation as the Keui-Jin magic fought with their form, but on their own they were near useless and with the state of the supporting seals they were getting close to collapsing. What frustrated her more as she went about setting up the basic set of runes and seals needed to refresh the elder Asian magics, is that she had to take care not to go full ham and make the place uninhabitable for the Keui-jin as while they were not Kindred, they were functionally on par in terms of being undead and the like.

What perplexed her the most is a human sized hole in the ring of ward, seemingly burned through by some one with power that outmatched her own by few calibers. Stepping back, she made her way back towards the main gate, tome and wand in hand and both still smoking with magical energy right about the time she caught a pair of the guards arguing with a young man. Seeing her approach and knowing her to the be the Boss's Women, they both stopped arguing and opened the gate to let her pass. Having her her lover's name thrown up, she paused and looked at him, finding him a little young for her tastes, yet cute.

"You're here to see Jonah, Ci?"
Last edited by Parcia on Wed Nov 06, 2019 2:57 pm, edited 1 time in total.
So apparently Cobalt has named me a Cyber terrorist, I honestly don't know to be Honored or offended.
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Luminesa
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Luminesa » Wed Nov 06, 2019 5:39 pm

Parcia wrote:The White Lotus.

Sofia frowned. One of the aspects of her stay at the White Lotus was that she helped their operations in a day to day sense. While her big sweet teddy bear of a man Jonah could rally the troops and turn them in to a fighting units, they lacked any real magical defenses beyond the old and cracked seals and runes she could see as she gazed upon the outer walls with her mage sight. Maybe 30 years ago these Runes and Glyphs, many of which in traditional Chinese she barely understood, more so sensing their meaning rather then out right reading them, were powerful enough to ward off most threats...but now?

No, a few of the more powerful runes, mostly defensive wards against greater demons and certain flavors of undead. Sure, that meant most lower forms of Kindred would feel a constant tingling sensation as the Keui-Jin magic fought with their form, but on their own they were near useless and with the state of the supporting seals they were getting close to collapsing. What frustrated her more as she went about setting up the basic set of runes and seals needed to refresh the elder Asian magics, is that she had to take care not to go full ham and make the place uninhabitable for the Keui-jin as while they were not Kindred, they were functionally on par in terms of being undead and the like.

What perplexed her the most is a human sized hole in the ring of ward, seemingly burned through by some one with power that outmatched her own by few calibers. Stepping back, she made her way back towards the main gate, tome and wand in hand and both still smoking with magical energy right about the time she caught a pair of the guards arguing with a young man. Seeing her approach and knowing her to the be the Boss's Women, they both stopped arguing and opened the gate to let her pass. Having her her lover's name thrown up, she paused and looked at him, finding him a little young for her tastes, yet cute.

"You're here to see Jonah, Ci?"

Of course, even finding a solid ally in Los Angeles was not a task without its trials. A group of guards had started to argue with Alexei as they had spotted him at the front gates. He was fairly anxious as he noted the much-larger men glaring him down, and he wondered if he would have to fight to see Jonah. He was not quite in the mood for infighting, and he stared at the guards as they questioned him about his presence. "...I-I'm only here for Jonah...I'm not here to harm him, I just want to talk to him. He's a friend of mine..." he explained, his eyes flickering toward the door. A Magical presence, someone with a wand and a book of spells. He thought about drawing his sword, but he waited to see who would approach from within the doors of the Temple.

The maw of the Temple opened, and out walked a pretty blonde much like Jennifer. Goodness, this is becoming a trend, isn't it? he questioned, as he saw her walk out to see him. She was dressed rather scantily, showing her curves and skin the way female gangsters did in movies. All she needed was some chrome, a holster on her thigh, and some tattoos. Without them, however, she looked oddly...normal. Pretty without being potentially deadly, like Katarina. He stared at her, and then stared out at the city behind him. He had gotten an answer, now he needed to respond. "Ahhhh...y-yes, I'm here to see Jonah. My name is Alexei. Alexei Bancroft. We've fought together and...I need to talk to him about some...sensitive business. If that is alright with you. I will not be a bother to you or to any of your men," he repeated.
Last edited by Luminesa on Wed Nov 06, 2019 5:45 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Catholic, pro-life, and proud of it. I prefer my debates on religion, politics, and sports with some coffee and a little Aquinas and G.K. CHESTERTON here and there. Not that I need the coffee, but you know... :3

So apparently I am an ENFP!

Unofficial #1 fan of the Who Dat Nation.
"I'm just a singer of simple songs, I'm not a real political man. I watch CNN, but I'm not sure I can tell you the difference in Iraq and Iran. But I know Jesus, and I talk to God, and I remember this from when I was young:
faith, hope and love are some good things He gave us...
and the greatest is love."
-Alan Jackson

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Parcia
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Postby Parcia » Wed Nov 06, 2019 6:12 pm

The White Lotus


She eyed him for a moment before smiling. Nodding to the two human guards, they stepped aside and let him inside. "Come on, if your lying then, well, Jonah will deal with you." He looked like a book worm, yet he smelled of the church and their sterile, cold form of Magic they called "faith". They would be watched as they walked through the courtyard before entering the temple it self. While the plaster was fixed and the windows remade, the faint smell of blood and death still, even a year later, clung to the wooden floors and old plaster walls.

Walking through the warmly lit halls they would take a turn, then another before coming to a second door way were she stopped and turned to him. "I do not know your personally, so as I said I will let my lover deal with you. If you are a friend then all is well, if not, let us just say I don't like liars." With this she opened the door and walked out in to the garden. In front of the scholarly looking man lay an ornate and all together breath taking garden of Asian form and style, with cherry blossoms, a Koi pond, and a large Buddhist shrine in the middle.

Jonah stood over the class of fresh off the boat Keui-Jin as they meditated. At the sight of his younger Russian friend he broke bearing and smiled. Giving a command in Cantonese the class rose, bowed, and broke to their quarters for the night. Raising his hands he called out to him. "Ruskie, good to see you, it's been close to a year, no?"
So apparently Cobalt has named me a Cyber terrorist, I honestly don't know to be Honored or offended.
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Morrdh
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Postby Morrdh » Wed Nov 06, 2019 6:16 pm

Morri

Morri moved cautiously through the auction house, whilst it was closed at this time of night she couldn't discount the possibility of a security guard. Though it appeared to be deserted and she soon found an office with a computer, as she expected it required a password when she booted it up. Her efforts building up some contacts with the city's Glass Walkers had been productive and she plugged in a flash drive she'd been given. They told her that once inserted the flash drive would bypass the password and extract all the information stored on the computer, apparently through the use of a spirit or something that the Glass Walkers had co-opted. Course she would need to take it back to them in order to access the data extracted.

Clever bastards.

After a few minutes a steady green light flashed on the memory stick, the sign she needed that it had completed its process. Morri pulled it out of its socket and pocketed it before making her way back out of the building, once again taking great care as she did so. Once back in the alley, she shifted into Lupus form again whilst still keeping up the same not quite invisibility that she'd first invoked when she quietly slipped away from the rest of the pack that evening. Soon she was running through the streets of LA, a curious hound that ran past unnoticed. She was passing close to Chinatown when something made her slow down and stopped.

A scent.

It was one she recognised.

Jonah.

The Changling. She'd seen him perhaps once or twice since that fateful docklands fight over a year ago. He had a place of a sort in Chinatown or so she recalled, probably wouldn't mind a midnight visit from his 'lucky charm'. So she turned east and very soon Jonah's pad, the White Lotus, came into view. Morri saw some of Jonah's...goons along with Sofia, whom she remembered from the docks, speaking to a young man in a blue overcoat trying to gain entrance. The man mentioned Jonah's name, it seemed he and the Changling had a history, and then gave his own name as Alexei. Though this Alexei seemed to be quite anxious, in her present form Morri could quite clearly smell it as it practically poured off him.

A mischievous thought came to Morri's mind.

She hurried into a nearby alley and shifted into Homid form, then made her way over to the main gate of the White Lotus still effectively invisible. Stood directly behind Alexei, she tried being quiet as inhumanly possible and then followed the man in when he was finally allowed to enter. Morri stayed directly behind Alexei and waited until he'd started talking to Jonah before making her move. First she moved round so that she was stood right in front of Alexei and facing him, secondly she dropped her cloak of invisibility so that it looked like she appeared out of thin air right in front of Alexei.

Then, with a smile, she said in her Irish accented voice. "Hey!"
Last edited by Morrdh on Wed Nov 06, 2019 6:22 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Luminesa
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Postby Luminesa » Fri Nov 08, 2019 7:14 pm

Alexei

Alexei gave no comment about whether or not he was a liar. He of course did not mean this to implicate he was a liar. He just did not feel he was in the mood for protesting. Sofia seemed to be a tough, distrustful sort, one who was quite protective of her “lover”. Alexei was surprised to hear Jonah had found someone, as he remembered how hard he had mourned over his wife’s death. The cold cemetery, the white roses, kneeling next to him and comforting him as the profound heartbreak cracked Jonah’s stony shell and leaked inside of him. Then again, anyone was capable of loving again, he figured.

He followed Sofia down the hall, and watched with wonder and puzzlement as he saw Jonah leading a class of students in meditation. The room he stood in was a rare oasis, a hidden dimension to an otherworldly realm of silence and peace. He gazed at the koi swimming in the mirror-like pool, the young disciples breathing in an even rhythm, and at the enormous Changeling whose presence pulled the room together. Jonah hardly looked anything like the muscular fighter who had shot heads to smithereens in that club a year ago. He looked like a monk, a wise man.

Giving a sigh of relief as Jonah recognized him and approached him, Alexei walked over to him and smiled. “It’s been a year, yes. I had wondered where you had run to...Living in that...shack...has been a bizarre out-of-body experience. I could have gone home, but...I have a feeling that certain people would come for me if I left. I’m glad to see you have been doing so well here...” he greeted, looking high up at his nine-foot-tall friend.

As he gave his greeting, however, his conversation was interrupted. Out of nowhere, a wild-eyed, red-haired girl bounced in front of Alexei, grinning a mischievous grin. She had an Irish accent, which was nothing unusual, but her presence hit him with a minor shock. A gasp escaped him, and he stepped back. The Magic from her body radiated toward him, and he began to feel anxious. “...Ah!...H-Hello! You’re...a Garou?...” he inquired. He shot Jonah a worried look before he turned back to the pretty, excited girl in front of him. He was friendly toward Connor’s tribe, but he did not know her affiliation. “...Who are you? And...why have you followed us here?...” he inquired, more curious than defensive.

Mikhailov

In a year, the bulb on the ceiling had flickered 309 times. The faucet had leaked once. Mikhailov had taken 1,590 steps that day. Out of his room, to the lab, back to his room, to the door to get his single meal for the day, and then around the room until he managed to fall asleep. He had counted the windows, of which there were few in this complex. He counted the men and women who came to examine him. He studied their faces. 14 were men, 5 were women. He found 6 of the men handsome, 2 of the women lovely to the eyes. He had smiled at one man and one woman. He had flirted with none.

Everything was a number or a statistic. The only way he could keep from entirely losing his sanity was to count everything, like a vampire or a mathematician. He had to keep his mind busy. His prison-cell had no books, no television, nothing to connect him to the outside world. He had his Magic, but could not use it under the threat of Paradox. Or under the threat of a VASCU agent coming and killing him on-sight. He counted his breaths. He took his own pulse. 19 breaths per second. Blood pressure was 119/60. Heart rate was 90 beats per minute. He had no way to take his oxygen, but he was not blue anywhere.

On the rare occasion that he did sit still and not think of numbers, his mind wandered to Los Angeles. His last sight, Steve Radcliffe dying in front of him as the Mage has tried to console him. The red in his eyes as he saw the agents ready to take him. He wondered if Alexei was well. Today, he had gotten a hold of his phone, for only a brief moment, and he saw the text Alexei had sent. “...Love and prayers...” he had whispered to himself. The short words of kindness awakened something in Mikhailov which the VASCU agents had not allowed the Mage to feel in months. He smiled at the little message, and he wondered whether or not he could send something back before the phone was discovered. Once it was found, the phone would be destroyed. He decided to type something short.

“Be safe as well, tysuplionachik. Watch for the hawks.”

He then put his phone back where he found it, carrying the warming sensation away, as the women with the alabaster jar carried her oil to Christ. He decided to go sleep the afternoon away, until he was carried away for more experiments. The affectionate words in his chest would only last so long, until the sterile world of the agents swept them away in a fury. Eventually, he would find a way out. For now, he needed to serve this penance.

Something in his cold, cruel heart told him this was a penance. He had begun to pray again recently, though his prayers were always short and hushed. The wrong words could get him shot. He prayed to God, to Katya, to Radcliffe, to Silvanus even, despite the latter being alive. “...Steven...guard my soul...Forgive me...Forgive me and speak to God for me...” he murmured this afternoon. The last word lingered on his tired lips for a moment, before he fell asleep.
Catholic, pro-life, and proud of it. I prefer my debates on religion, politics, and sports with some coffee and a little Aquinas and G.K. CHESTERTON here and there. Not that I need the coffee, but you know... :3

So apparently I am an ENFP!

Unofficial #1 fan of the Who Dat Nation.
"I'm just a singer of simple songs, I'm not a real political man. I watch CNN, but I'm not sure I can tell you the difference in Iraq and Iran. But I know Jesus, and I talk to God, and I remember this from when I was young:
faith, hope and love are some good things He gave us...
and the greatest is love."
-Alan Jackson

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Morrdh
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Postby Morrdh » Fri Nov 08, 2019 7:38 pm

Luminesa wrote:Alexei

As he gave his greeting, however, his conversation was interrupted. Out of nowhere, a wild-eyed, red-haired girl bounced in front of Alexei, grinning a mischievous grin. She had an Irish accent, which was nothing unusual, but her presence hit him with a minor shock. A gasp escaped him, and he stepped back. The Magic from her body radiated toward him, and he began to feel anxious. “...Ah!...H-Hello! You’re...a Garou?...” he inquired. He shot Jonah a worried look before he turned back to the pretty, excited girl in front of him. He was friendly toward Connor’s tribe, but he did not know her affiliation. “...Who are you? And...why have you followed us here?...” he inquired, more curious than defensive.


It wasn't quite the rolling-on-the-floor-heart-attack response she'd expected, though either way Morri had caught the Mage by surprise and she ceded that as a victory. The nervousness seemed to pour off the young man and Morri was surprised that he didn't walk around in a permanent knot. Still, he had asked her a question and therefore that warranted some answers.

"Yep, I'm a Garou." Morri answered with a grin. "Wot gave it away?"

"Me name's Morri, big guy over there..." She said, jerking a thumb in Jonah's direction. "....already knows me from a scrap in the docks 'bouts a year ago."

"I was actually passing through the neighbourhood, took Jonah's scent and decided ta pop in and say hello." Explained Morri before she turned to look at the Changeling. "Which reminds me, one o' yer back windows is broken....ye may want ta get it fixed."

"Don't really know many Mages." Morri said, turning back to Alexei. "So wot do ye do? Magic tricks? Pull coins out o' people's ears? Summon doves out o' thin air?"
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Luminesa
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Postby Luminesa » Fri Nov 08, 2019 8:33 pm

Morrdh wrote:
Luminesa wrote:Alexei

As he gave his greeting, however, his conversation was interrupted. Out of nowhere, a wild-eyed, red-haired girl bounced in front of Alexei, grinning a mischievous grin. She had an Irish accent, which was nothing unusual, but her presence hit him with a minor shock. A gasp escaped him, and he stepped back. The Magic from her body radiated toward him, and he began to feel anxious. “...Ah!...H-Hello! You’re...a Garou?...” he inquired. He shot Jonah a worried look before he turned back to the pretty, excited girl in front of him. He was friendly toward Connor’s tribe, but he did not know her affiliation. “...Who are you? And...why have you followed us here?...” he inquired, more curious than defensive.


It wasn't quite the rolling-on-the-floor-heart-attack response she'd expected, though either way Morri had caught the Mage by surprise and she ceded that as a victory. The nervousness seemed to pour off the young man and Morri was surprised that he didn't walk around in a permanent knot. Still, he had asked her a question and therefore that warranted some answers.

"Yep, I'm a Garou." Morri answered with a grin. "Wot gave it away?"

"Me name's Morri, big guy over there..." She said, jerking a thumb in Jonah's direction. "....already knows me from a scrap in the docks 'bouts a year ago."

"I was actually passing through the neighbourhood, took Jonah's scent and decided ta pop in and say hello." Explained Morri before she turned to look at the Changeling. "Which reminds me, one o' yer back windows is broken....ye may want ta get it fixed."

"Don't really know many Mages." Morri said, turning back to Alexei. "So wot do ye do? Magic tricks? Pull coins out o' people's ears? Summon doves out o' thin air?"

“Garou tend to have a very...earthy, wild Magic that radiates from them...from my experience anyway,” Alexei answered. He was relieved to see that she seemed to be friendly. Of course, every Garou was friendly until they took to their Cronos form. He remembered how Connor had nearly destroyed Michael twice. Morri looked to be younger than Connor, but young pups could often be more ferocious than their elders. Even so, she had a bounce and liveliness to her that did not present a danger. He was glad to see something of a cheery face, after having roomed with moody John, quiet Nikolai, and capricious Katarina for a year.

“...You are a friend of Jonah’s then also. That’s good! I suppose we are all friends here. I imagine that scrap you were involved in was rather fiery, if you were at the docks. Did you happen to meet a Garou named Connor by any chance?” he inquired. He did not realize all of his friends were so connected. In some ways, having a small circle of friends such as his was a good thing. Being connected even slightly to the wrong people, however, could mean death. Anna happened to cross his mind, but he shook her memory away.

“As for me, I am not a Mage, actually. I am...formerly a member of the Society of Leopold. I...lost my position. I was accused of heresy and sentenced to death, but one of my elders pleaded for my life. He is...gone, since then, but...I hope to do good by his memory...” Maxwell’s face flashed before him, and he had to swallow a burning surge in his throat. “...I am still a man of Faith, regardless of my position, and I eventually hope to return to the Society. As well as to regain my standing in the Church. My friendliness toward supernatural beings, however...has not been looked upon with mercy...”
Catholic, pro-life, and proud of it. I prefer my debates on religion, politics, and sports with some coffee and a little Aquinas and G.K. CHESTERTON here and there. Not that I need the coffee, but you know... :3

So apparently I am an ENFP!

Unofficial #1 fan of the Who Dat Nation.
"I'm just a singer of simple songs, I'm not a real political man. I watch CNN, but I'm not sure I can tell you the difference in Iraq and Iran. But I know Jesus, and I talk to God, and I remember this from when I was young:
faith, hope and love are some good things He gave us...
and the greatest is love."
-Alan Jackson

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Imperialisium
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Founded: Apr 17, 2011
Democratic Socialists

Postby Imperialisium » Fri Nov 08, 2019 10:04 pm

Somewhere in Los Angeles

"Hey man gimme dat." A group of hooded dark figures tossed a feminine form, struggling, between them in a bleak alleyway in a bad part of the city. Why was she there? The youth these days with their raves in abandoned warehouses, yes. The sounds of loud obnoxious music carried over down the block among the jeers of the far away crowd. One of the figures caught the woman, blood dripped down her neck, splattering onto the pavement. She was getting weaker, more feeble, knees bent under her tight two inch skirt. Panties showing with every motion as the shadowy figures had their way. She was an object, a morsel, dinner. "Fucker, you had a sip!" She yelled as one of the dark figures, masculine, lashed out and grabbed a fist full of her. Yanking her head back brutally. Forcing in her in an awkward bow shape as her spine strained against the effort. "Oh Come on Frankie, she's almost dry! Gonna have to toss er up in the dumpster soon."

"Nah bro just drop her in the manhole ha ha!"

"Say whats that?" a third member paused. They all paused as the woman's knees finally gave out and she collapsed to the side as they both turned. A pair of lights illuminating them and growing brighter. There was a tune behind those lights. Growing louder as they rapidly approached. The thrum of heavy machinery and the roar of throttle. A two ton beast barreled down the alley. "Wh-," two of the dark figures were struck by the machine roaring in at close to seventy miles per hour. The first was crushed under the vehicle like a bowling pin. The second was thrown up and over the vehicle to land with a crunch of breaking bone on the asphalt. Brakes squealed and there, resting under a flickering spotlight twenty meters down the alley, sat an old American muscle car. The driver door flung open and out stepped a well dressed man. Raven haired, aviator shades, casually strolling to the trunk of the vehicle.

The man that had been crushed to the pavement groaned as he spat up teeth. The man thrown slowly rose to his feet, trying, his left kneecap was bent at an awkward angle. Bone protruding from the top of where his kneecap should have sat. The third man gritted his teeth. "Who the fu-. Hey! I'm talking to you!"

The suited man seemed to ignore him as he opened his trunk. Seeming to fiddle with the contents there in. The third figure began to stride over cautiously. "You know who the fuck you're missing with ya office lookin' bitch?" A flicker of light as the suited man turned, puffing on a cigar, exhaling soft grey smoke slowly as he muttered three words, "Yeah, I do." Cigar in his mouth he brought up, with his other hand, out of the trunk behind him a 6-gauge shotgun. Racking it with one hand the suited man aimed it casually. Depressing the trigger, expertly controlling the recoil, the groaning member on the ground took the full shot to the face. Skull fragments, brain, and blood sprayed like an exploding pumpkin. The suited man racked the shotgun again. The third, uninjured dark figure roared an inhuman yell as he lunged, but never made it to his target. A shotgun butt smashed him to the ground. Shattering his left cheekbone. The suited man continued walking casually towards the injured, hobbling, gasping second figure who began to plead, "hey...hey now...we...we were just having some fun. Look...I can...I can make you immortal! Yeah! We're...we're vampires! Ha!"

The suited man ran a fair skinned hand through his raven hair. "You don't say." The wounded man trying to hobble back was blown off his feet. His broken knee now just the terminus of a bloody stump. The wounded man shrieked as his life poured from the stump in awkward convulsions. The suited man came to a stop and took a long draw. Letting the smoke out through his nostrils like a fog of subtle malevolence. "Hold this for me." The raven haired, neatly dressed, man knelt down and aggressively shoved the lit end into the man's mouth. Rising up quickly to swing the barrel of the shotgun up and with a smooth motion. Blew the oncoming third man, whom he had just batted down, face clean off. A fourth pump of the shotgun destroyed the man's chest cavity with solid slugs.

Below him the now one legged man began to cry tears of blood as he tried to crawl away. Bits of cigar in his mouth. Burn marks on his lips. The aviators turned to gaze upon this pathetic attempt of escape. Yet, the face they sat on remained passive, almost unamused. The suited man casually walked up, pulling thick shells from an inner pocket, slowly loading the firearm. "Thanks for the offer. But...Imma' have to respectfully decline." The last thing the crawling man saw was the barrel of the shotgun inches from his face.

A feminine voice groaned behind the bespectacled gentleman wielding the shotgun. Turning slowly the man saw a fourth figure crouching over her. "She'll make it John," the thick Russian accent carried over the cool nighttime air permeating Los Angeles.

"Nikolai. Took your time."

Lord Angelos

A beautiful raven haired woman sat on a plush high back chair as she looked casually at the moving, arcane, map beside her. A crystal goblet in her left hand full of a crimson liquid. She peered out the tall windows onto the city of Los Angeles skyline in the distance. The skyscrapers given a long silhouette by the brightness of the low hanging Moon. Casting her eyes periodically at the table she let out a wry smile. "Morri...Alexei...what are you up too." The raven haired beauty closed her eyes, only for those of the part of her being in Morri to flicker open. She was seeing through Morri's eyes as she traversed Los Angeles. Coming up behind Alexei in a...somewhat childish attempt to scare him...though it was tastefully done nonetheless. Alexei, ever the dour man, seemed to take it well enough with grace. That was the usual. But...ah! Who was this. A mage...An aura bleeding with life.

Morri would see a figure that has plagued her dreams and consciousness for a year appear beside her. <<Out for a little stroll aren't you?>> The mental message came to Morri in the woman's sultry voice. Tinged by an accent that was vaguely Eastern European. But, not one that she could quite place. In truth she knew Morri's purpose, the young Werewolf's mind was an open book to her, she even knew were the San Francisco Caern was now thanks to the Irish lass. Not that she had any real purpose for the Caern or desire to go near it.

Back in the Tremere Chantry the woman opened her eyes. Still connected and present with Morri, but she felt something else, a bond she made over a year ago. Slowly fading but still feeling the tremors of emotions with it. Mikhailov, he was in agony and pain. But where had that little thorn gotten off too? Her slender figure rose from the plush chair and moved over to a large glove. Pricking her finger she let a drop of vitae splash onto the globe while muttering Mikhailov's name. The globe began to turn slowly and align with Chicago just ever so off center. The drop of blood resting there for a moment until the ink itself began to rearrange. Zooming in too show a complex formed by reforming lines of ink. He was outside Chicago in some facility. Captive no doubt.

"Mmm...Well...we can't have whoever is holding you know that we share a probably temporary bond now can we?" The seeds of a plan beginning to form in her mind.
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Acerbez
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Postby Acerbez » Fri Nov 08, 2019 10:27 pm

The Sabbat Resurgence

Central city glistened with pristine lights and was glazed by rainfall's passing kiss, appearing on the outside to be serene, docile, and of calm temperament. This guise failed to maintain its illustrious illusion to the stalkers of the night. The true stalkers in the night.

The passing year began as a snowball hurled from a mountain peak meant to tumble downwards, gaining traction and nestling lesser parts similar enough to itself to stick, combining lesser particles until it became a massive specimen of beligerant destruction and aimless turmoil. Crashing and blowing through any obstacle presented before it.

This avalanche was the harbinger and herald of the returning Sabbat, the Nox Adseutem. Quietly nestling themselves into Trois Avenue and digging their claws into the very earth that sat at the foundation of the downtown load Angeles cityscape. The ongoing conflicts of the Brujah, caitiffs, Garou and free assembly tilted in favor back and forth with an almost monotonous stability. The Few Anarchs standing their ground in opposition to the Camarilla campaign, often at the losing end of every new development, were miraculously experiencing an overturn as the months went on.

Their brawn and tact spiking infrequently and providing them with less and less expense until it eventually began to yield their fortunes. Neighborhoods that had cornered the Anarchs were being flipped back to their threshold as caitiffs were being strong armed back to their initial boundaries and then forced to even scede old ground against the influx of ghouls and now frequent appearance of expendible thin bloods, or high generation kindred that acted outwardly with little to no understanding of the tradition or culture of the old ways. Clubs, bars, and places of business were visited in the dead of night by large gangs of roving vagabond like crews that held no restraint or diplomacy in their interactions.

Swathes of city blocks were ousted and carved away from the clutches of other Kindred and brought under new management. Despite any treatise established with the Camarilla, the caitiffs were finding it nigh impossible to ignore the tithe and demands of this hostile Anarch intrusion. Disregarding traditional practice of bestowing the kiss as a gift to those who were deemed worthy, and within the neutral parameters of abiding by the camarilla, Autarkis were being coerced if not removed permanently from their posts and exterminated if they chose not to entertain these new guests.

The Triumvirate, as they were called by outsiders were the 3 figure heads that had rose from a curtain of shadow and intrigue almost out of nowhere. Their affiliation to the Sabbat almost entirely unheard of or spoken about despite the presence of rumors, were outstanding themselves as the catalyst of this Anarch resurgence. The wavering banner and face of the movement that had no interest in the presiding status quo.

More times than not, the Kindred peers were approached by 2 of the faces at a single meet. Viktoria and Kaus the stepper or Viktoria and Salem Garanin- but never all three at once. Viktoria often playing as the voice of reason or understanding while charmingly making her vicious point. Certainly at times, foolish negotiators attempted to discern and target the individual they believed to be leading the effort and demands, whichever of the three they felt was more influential at the subjective time but were fooled by the collective and mutual understanding of the pack. Even being informed that Viktoria was of black hair, cool temper, and soothing crisp voice, only to meet a blonde wavy haired psychopath with piercing green cat eyes bent on flaying and decorating the room with their entrails and viscera. Without provocation, reason, and in cold blood of course.

Those that had parlayed for the first time with appointed triumvirate spread these rumors on their own accord and were unaware of the cold Zantosa, Laraa Giancana, who was in equal standing to the Daughter of Cacophony, Victoria Milynarczyk. Laraa would appear alongside of Garanin to deliver their demands masked as cordial delegation. Only further adding to the mysterious and confusing chain of command.

Many Autarkis were lead to their demise at their own initiative of this assumption when they believed it in their best interest to attempt to intimidate the "mouth" of the group. Assuming Viktoria's sweet voice hid a timid demeanor protected only by her partners more imposing statures only to discover that it was Ms. Giancana they were speaking brashly to.

Such was the case of Basil the Jeweler... A rather girthy kindred of Greek Descent who maintained quite the lucrative business of fencing and wholesaling high end jewelry in the Downtown area. Securing himself a nice pocket and making use of decently armed ghouls to maintain his assets, the presumption that his shrewd and ruthless reputation would precede him and give headway into intimidating the triumvirate, led only to Salem Garanin to excuse himself to make a phone call while Ms.Giancana was left alone with him, in which he attempted to hover over her and utter what he believed to be foul and nasty things...

Truth be told, the horrors that Zantosa dream about can hardly be imagined by those that don't share the same taste and Basil found that that his fingers were small enough to fit in any oriface of his body given the right amount of force but also that they were stubby enough to to not be removed without the same amount of force. He was found force fed his own large intestines, portions hanging out of his mouth still from a gash that measured from gut to sternum, with his index fingers shoved into his skull through his ears along with his own thumbs in his eyes, all disconnected from his severed arms while all at the same time being hoisted and tied to the ceiling beam of the room upside down swinging back and forth like a pendulum. A crater in his chest where his heart was removed from and placed in the hands of one of the ghouls that shockingly failed to protect him. Weirdly though, both ghouls only suffered "normal" fatal wounds and were found slumped in the corners.

Regardless, clients and customers to Basil's old dealings found his shop to be accommodated by new staff days after and picked right back up where they left off.

The fact of the organizational matter however is much more simple to those within the Nox Adseutem that are privy to its knowledge. The four are all subordinate to Azazel, and even the lieutenants such as Marcy and Gino, Faris and Von, know this but beyond them everyone assumes or guesses Viktoria (for her cooler disposition and diplomatic approach) is the true leader of the organization.

The stepper serves as more of a human (Kine and Ghoul) resources manager or liason. Ensuring that the flow and order is maintained throughout the newly acquired assets in central city and ran prim and proper. Acquiring and directing assets to where they are needed most. Salem is the enforcement of law, or loose interpretation of it and polices the territorial integrity of all within, lending a complimentary hand to the stepper when things need to be "adjusted". If none of the lieutenants are able to subdue or convince an infraction to be rectified... Ms.Giancana is the answer to such problems, much like Basil's case. Setting a clear example.

Central city is now broken and quickly withering away from the grasp of the Camarilla, as "Anarch" are teeming with renewed vigor and intent on waging full outright war with the Brujah custodians. The other main players being sought out...




The "Smoking Mirror"

Darkness' sanctum served as Azazel's Church. His mosque, his shrine, and his keep in large periods of time through out the year. Submerging himself in an interior pool of water 10 meters deep, blanketed by inky obscurity. Painted over windows covered in matte, blocked off by slabs of steel, iron bars, and planks of wood behind closed doors- His asylum where he payed lip service to his path of the Abyss.

Etched carvings of hieroglyphics and occult symbolism stretched and covered the walls in varying sizes. Sacrifices made in blood and rituals were common place while he spent his time in solitude, searching and recalibrating his teachings to make better use of them. Here is where countless Oubliettes and offerings to Ahriman came to pass. Azazel's skin striped and almost decoratively dyed with the touch of the Abyss covering his body in the way of its mark. Permanent shadow bleached onto his palid pale undead skin.

This large pool was dug out within the tenanments underground and renovated to more luxurious ends, crafted on the free labor of ghouls and kine that supplanted themselves to the whims of the Nox pack. A sort of testament in itself to both habitual Lasombra quirks of deep dark water but also the foul black well ritual that had taken place months before. A means of reminding Azazel of his fee to the Abyss. For the Blackwell pact is eternal and he shall forever be indebted to its tax, despite its convenience and complimentary ability to store and withdraw blood at mere whim.

Filling it habitually with the blood taken from those in service to the pack, sometimes draining victims an inch from death only to be kicked out like vagrants or undesirables. The prospect of blissful euphoria that the blood of kindred gives them still powerful enough to draw them back to undergo such humiliations yet again.

The year flew by without notice, constantly designing and scheming a plethora of matters at any given moment. Whether it be the directive management of his pack, the expansion of their territory, strategy and tactic of annexation, mulling over New information and developments, his training and proficiency of bladed combat with Salem, or his peculiar search for Rafeon.

Azazel was biding his time in the cloak of shadows, consolidating his foundation and building his resources for the inevitable full scale conflict that would come to pass for their take over... And that time was waxing. Abyssal whispers haunted over him constantly and in his meditations constantly insisted he reflect deeper into his own chasmic heart and see himself for who he truly was. A riddle that constantly eluded him, titles such as the smoking mirror, enemy of both sides, Yohualli Ehactl... A search and catalogue of anything that could aim him in this endeavor put him onto stories and myths of many tell tales from various ages. Things like the Obsidian leg or even the Iron crown.

His Heart Eclipsed

The room was large and vacant, darkened by shadow and hung with an air of wicked intent. Only 4 small wax candles burned on the floor, melting away slowly. Their pools of wax flowing forth from their immolated centred and streaking down the sides of their form to coat the hard wood floors they rested upon.

His autumn yellow eyes, bordered by the still light pools of blood that constantly rested on the edges of his whites
Lazily peered at the inky sphere that floated above the small cracked marble altar. It shifted and pulled away from itself changing in disposition much like lava within a lava lamp. Forming small specks and strings of ink that pushed and pulled back into itself.

Clutching a sharp obsidian glass, shaped like an elongated arrow head or jagged dagger. His long nails were like talons painted black, reflecting almost the same sheen as the glass he held in the dim lights casted by the candles.

Muttering softly in dark speech, Slowly the shadow Oubliette expanded and pulled more darkness casted by the candles light, the shadows it created, and drug them toward itself until it was so large... It reflected the mass of Azazel himself.

Taking form it shifted, like a mirror or dopple ganger. It had everything and maintained every shape he had save for the blade itself. Staring at his own shadow it seemed, Azazel began to slowly move his arms while remaining on his knees.

The Oubliette followed his moves, crevices where his eyes where were craters and hollow on the human like Oubliette, its hair rising and evaporating in the mesh or darkness and light. It's mouth agape, showing rows of sharp withered and stained teeth. Decrepid and worn reflections of his very being.

Slowly lifting the blade over his chest, the shadow followed suit. Its own clawed hands maintaining follow up as it watched him watch it. Hovering its sharp edge over his heart, he pierced his rib as the obsidian sink through his dead flesh and sawed through his bone.

For 27 long minutes, Azazel carved the outline of his hearts cavity while being observed by his counterpart. Immense pain washed over him as he inflicted nerve blowing mutilation to his self. Almost making full circle, The kindred dropped the blade of obsidian glass to the floor, shattering it to hundreds of pieces from the imbued energies it absorbed from the abyssal ritual.

Folding his skin and cracking his own bone, the edges unhinged like a door as the slow beating undead heart exposed itself. The Oubliette slowly leaned back while it's own claw remained at its own chest, ink dripping away and flowing out from a crater that formed as a reflection to Azazel's own affliction.

His teeth clenched and slightly grinding, he peered at the Oubliette lazily as the tingling sensation of icy hot took over from the initial painful buzzing. Typically, Kindred are accustomed to nulling pain and adept at ignoring it entirely, but this circumstance was very different. The mysticism and primordial energy saturating the air robbed the vampire of this boon and very much succumbed him to exact if not excessive levels of trauma.

"I shall no longer dwell in the Darkness... For Darkness will live within me." Azazel spurned, shunning the very light that died around him.

A blemished soul, now with its fleshy vehicle stained with an almost tangible mark...

Freezing time and everything around him, the candles dimmed to their smallest flame as the stalks of walks had almost flattened completely like pancakes. The Oubliette dropped its own arms and dove into Azazel's open chest cavity. Black swirls and dripping ink alike as he felt his heart being devoured by the creature he presented it to.

Slowly but in its entirety, the Oubliette, like blackened water poured into a cup, filled his chest where his heart once lay. Slumping forward with his palms to the floor, and elbows to his knees. A pool of shadow now lay within him, pumping the blood in his veins and tainting it until it passed through and came out as ichor.

The lights died, and he alone consoled the darkness around him.


Charging himself with this self imposed mission while conducting silent war on the enemies of the Sabbat meant that time was not an obstacle and fleeted away without notice. But the time for silent war had come to an end.




Trois Ave Tenement Sanctum

Finding the free assembly of mages wasn't easy, in fact something that happened by sheer coincidence. Nonetheless it was a feat to be attributed and tightly guarded by the twins, Marci and Gino judiciously. Brought to Azazel personally after their own suspicions were answered.

Looking for favor of a sort, they petitioned him to allow them to remove this threat themselves.

"Oye, papa! We've never tasted mage! The gypsy said it tastes like lightning hehehe!" Gino joked while flurrying about the room like a child. Despite being closer to a century in age, he had done little to mature in much of his personality. His child like physicality complimenting his entire disposition.

Marci was still, flicking his long nailed thumb against his middle finger slowly. Gliding it along its elongated bottom ridge. Thick hair curled on his darker complexion, he remarked more seriously,

"She said it taste like TV static, stupid... Not lightning." he wore a black beanie covering his scarred forehead down to his eyes in an odd fashion. Thinking to himself, Marci was not keen or shared the same inquisitiveness as Gino in Azazel's sanctum. The glyphs and symbols made him uncomfortable and the thought of his skin touching them perturbed him, watching Gino skim glances and his own hand across them repeating the writing process.

Azazel's stature put him high above the twins, but when he spoke to them he maintained piercing eye contact. Only briefly leaving it when switching to gaze at the other.

"Your initiative is admirable, as always. But your talents are much more suited to working with Salem and Viktoria.... The" Gypsy", and weeding out the hounds that stray in our Covenant.

"We can't feed off of dogs though..." Gino whined.

Raising a brow, Azazel's blood touched eyes questioned Gino, "Are you losing face now, Gino? If I recall, in Chicago you were the one who was so passionate about the dogs... Are you tired of toying or are you scared you don't have it in you?"

Visibly angry, "What are you saying?! Just cause I'm not the biggest don't mean I'm not the baddest!"

"With all your bad temper, bad manners, and bad habits... Haha..."

Marci rolled his eyes and made for the door, "He's fucking with you... I swear... What a fucking instigator! Damn your so dumb."

Gino looked back and forth with his eyes squint, but was kept from speaking as Azazel procuded what looked like large blades and straps. They were almost hollowed bladed cases that seemed to be finger casts, meant to slide over ones fingers. Still a bit larger than necessary, they would certainly be a tight fit once either of the twins went into their beastly discipline.

"Use these... I don't need them and to be quite honest... I got them for your birthdays." Azazel chuckled.

"It's not our birthda-.... We don't even know our birthdays ass hole!" Gino shouted.

"I know... But A little vulture told me." the darkened man shrugged.

Taking their leave, the echoes of their continuing banter could be heard bouncing in the stairwell until it fainted away in the distance completely. Thinking to himself, Azazel had no idea how proficient these mages were and sending the twins could be a horrendous outcome should they prove incapable of dealing with them. Instead he chose to do so personally... Dispensing Garanin, Viktoria, and the twins to deal with the Garou.



The Free Assembly Mages

The sun had left the sky as dusk concluded and the night began. Azazel had simply walked openly towards the location given by the twins. Making his way, finally he found the large multi purpose building they mentioned witnessing immaterial theatrics take place.

Supposedly, one of Von's panders had mistaken one of the mages as normal kine and had designed to embrace her unwillingly before he was overtaken by a torrent of lightning. Frying him and erupting his head, thus Gino's assumptions of taste. Apparently Marci and Gino were taking their post very seriously and suspected the Pander had been embracing far too many kine than were sanctioned to them.

Azazel was unclear on how many mages were inside or not present, or even if the claims were true. Instead he opt to dissipate himself into tenebrous form and see for himself. Sinking into the depths of shadow cast by the building itself and the street lights, Azazel disintegrated like dust blown in the wind that glided across the crevice and darkness within the building. Seeping through cracks and walls, it crept through it all very slowly. Ensuring not to move across impossible setting.

He would drift as far as possible and attach himself to the moving shadow of anyone walking past. Searching for the dominant...




Dog Catcher

Nestled right in the border of commercial and residential establishments, a slew of alley ways of restaurants, small bars and speak easies, along retail and shopping plaza was a rather remote but still occupied portion of the municipal central city. Snug in the northwest, seemingly between the Anarch territory and the Camarilla, wedged alone and still contested by the kindred elements. It was obviously home to others that held no allegiances to the blood pacts.

It didn't necessarily take much to figure this out as both kindred groups had difficulty setting up shop and persisting in the area due to some form of bestial retribution that always seemed to occur for those that did make the attempt to make their stay.

Salem had been the first, as he was most privy to the sort of tactful thinking, to suggest an ambush. A bait and lure before snagging the would be prey to their death.

A trolley of a sort, a large moving truck with its trailer would have an immense iron kennel placed inside where Marci and Gino would take the form of a mangy wolf hounds and howl in the night. Their shrill calls inaudible and gibberish to Garou but the nature of their confinement would only aid to the terrified melody of it. Feigning to be 2 companions illegally transported or something similar, neglected and abused, they were to cry out and beckon the shifters to aid them. Approaching the secluded alleyway where the others, Viktoria, Garanin, and Faris awaited in ambush.

"Rowwwruuuuhhhhhh!!! ROW ROW ROWWRUUUH!"

Locked and loaded, blades unsheathed, behind closed doors, peering across from windows.
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Morrdh
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Founded: Apr 16, 2008
Democratic Socialists

Postby Morrdh » Sat Nov 09, 2019 10:31 am

Luminesa wrote:“Garou tend to have a very...earthy, wild Magic that radiates from them...from my experience anyway,” Alexei answered. He was relieved to see that she seemed to be friendly. Of course, every Garou was friendly until they took to their Cronos form. He remembered how Connor had nearly destroyed Michael twice. Morri looked to be younger than Connor, but young pups could often be more ferocious than their elders. Even so, she had a bounce and liveliness to her that did not present a danger. He was glad to see something of a cheery face, after having roomed with moody John, quiet Nikolai, and capricious Katarina for a year.

“...You are a friend of Jonah’s then also. That’s good! I suppose we are all friends here. I imagine that scrap you were involved in was rather fiery, if you were at the docks. Did you happen to meet a Garou named Connor by any chance?” he inquired. He did not realize all of his friends were so connected. In some ways, having a small circle of friends such as his was a good thing. Being connected even slightly to the wrong people, however, could mean death. Anna happened to cross his mind, but he shook her memory away.

“As for me, I am not a Mage, actually. I am...formerly a member of the Society of Leopold. I...lost my position. I was accused of heresy and sentenced to death, but one of my elders pleaded for my life. He is...gone, since then, but...I hope to do good by his memory...” Maxwell’s face flashed before him, and he had to swallow a burning surge in his throat. “...I am still a man of Faith, regardless of my position, and I eventually hope to return to the Society. As well as to regain my standing in the Church. My friendliness toward supernatural beings, however...has not been looked upon with mercy...”


"Oh aye, I know Connor." Answered Morri. "He's the alpha o' me pack, though I think he might be regretting letting me join a little bit."

"I've heard o'....them..." Morri said, her tone going cold as her earlier cheeriness vanished and her voice took on a noticeable growl. "They ain't no friends o' me lot, probably best if ye kept clear o' 'em."

"Me, I was born and raised Catholic and so I know how much o' a bunch o' st-..."

Imperialisium wrote:Morri would see a figure that has plagued her dreams and consciousness for a year appear beside her. <<Out for a little stroll aren't you?>> The mental message came to Morri in the woman's sultry voice. Tinged by an accent that was vaguely Eastern European. But, not one that she could quite place.


There was a sudden yelp of surprise from Morri as she jumped back in fright and glanced around with wild-eyes at a empty spot that was next to where she'd been standing. She let loose a stream of curses in Gaelic, though Alexei and Jonah did not know the precise words it was clear what Morri was saying from her body language and how she spat out each word.

"Caoineadh cailleach!" Morri snapped before taking a breath and calming herself down after the torrent of curses she'd uttered. "I so HATE when she does tha-..."

"Ye didn't hear me say that." She said, having realised what she'd said as she cast a worried look at Alexei and Jonah and started edging towards the door. "Best if I went now."
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Luminesa
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Luminesa » Sat Nov 09, 2019 11:30 am

Alexei was relieved to know Morri was a friend of Connor’s. Getting Connor’s help would not be a difficult chore then. He sighed. He withdrew a little breath, however, as he heard her growl. Of course, she was no friend of the Society of Leopold. Yet she did not attack, but only gave him a warning. He could not heed such a warning, in the end, but he appreciated that she was not immediately hostile.

He wanted to hear more from her, but she interrupted her speech as she jumped in fear of some invisible spectre. As though she was having an apoplectic fit, she began to curse in Gaelic. Her hair rose on end. Her body stiffened. Alexei took a step toward her, hoping to try and calm her. “...Morri?...” He put his hands on her shoulders and rubbed them, trying to relax her. “...Hey...Morri...We’re here, it’s all...”

Before he could finish, he heard Morri mention a ‘her’. Someone was next to the young Garou. He looked at the spot, and then at her. For a moment he was blank, but understanding awakened in him. Someone used to do the same thing to him. A certain someone who had caused him all of his euphoria and all of his misery. “...Morri, wait,” he urged her, taking her wrist with a gentle hand before she could run. He looked into her eyes with an understanding gaze. “...Is it Anna?” he whispered.
Catholic, pro-life, and proud of it. I prefer my debates on religion, politics, and sports with some coffee and a little Aquinas and G.K. CHESTERTON here and there. Not that I need the coffee, but you know... :3

So apparently I am an ENFP!

Unofficial #1 fan of the Who Dat Nation.
"I'm just a singer of simple songs, I'm not a real political man. I watch CNN, but I'm not sure I can tell you the difference in Iraq and Iran. But I know Jesus, and I talk to God, and I remember this from when I was young:
faith, hope and love are some good things He gave us...
and the greatest is love."
-Alan Jackson

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Parcia
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Founded: Feb 11, 2016
Democratic Socialists

Postby Parcia » Sat Nov 09, 2019 6:18 pm

The Ogre in the temple.


The 9 foot form of Jonah moved quietly and quickly. Having picked up the scent of wet dog and clovers, he had already anticipated a visit from his young wolf, but was momentarily caught off guard by the sudden appearance of the red head. Just as she would turn back to Alexi he would snatch his hand out and take her by the scruff of the neck, taking care to be ginger with his clawed hands as he was in his fully revealed state in the safety of the White Lotus.

Easily lifting her off the ground, he turned her to face him and held his gaze stern for a bit before breaking out in to a toothy smile. "Been a wee bit since you and I saw each other last, Lucky Charms, and here ye are sneaking in to my home like this." Giving a chuckle he set her down on her feet and took a moment to ease in to his shorter, more pleasant looking self. His talons would recede and his voice become one instead of many, though still smooth and low.

At the mention of his old boss he would pause, his head tilting as he sniffed the air. Leaning in he took a whiff of Morri, perhaps a bit too close for her comfort before shrugging.

Internally his mind was in motion, She smells of the Prince, it's faint, yet it's there...perhaps an unintended bonding during the fight at the docs?

Coming back to reality he smiled. "So what brings you two to my humble abode?"
So apparently Cobalt has named me a Cyber terrorist, I honestly don't know to be Honored or offended.
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Morrdh
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Democratic Socialists

Postby Morrdh » Sat Nov 09, 2019 7:15 pm

"Hello ta ye too Little John." Morri replied as she jangled from Joanh's ogre hand, then answering after she'd been placed back down upon the ground. "Was passing by and caught yer scent, thought I'd pop in and say hi."

"...Who?" Asked Morri in response to Alexei's question. "That the name o' the dark haired woman who's been in me head fer the past year or so?"

"She's been in me dreams, me memories and I'd really like ta kick her arse outta me head." Morri replied. "Any idea wot's it like ta have a squatter in yer own damn head?!"

"Though I'd grateful if this was kept 'tween us...three." She said, giving both Alexei and Jonah a stern. "Ye two are the only ones I've told 'bouts this and Connor....well, he doesn't even know I'm out in the city."
Last edited by Morrdh on Sat Nov 09, 2019 7:20 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Irish/Celtic Themed Nation - Factbook

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Luminesa
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Founded: Dec 09, 2014
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Luminesa » Sat Nov 09, 2019 7:51 pm

When Morri explained she did not recognize Anna by her name, Alexei sighed with concern. Ignorance was not so bliss, as the world kept turning on its destructive axis even while they were sleeping. He nodded when she asked if that was indeed the name of the woman she had seen before her. “...She is a very powerful...and complicated...vampire, the head of the Camarilla in Los Angeles. Jonah and I have been quite acquainted with her, and...she has been wagging war against those who oppose the Camarilla. She...was destroyed in an ambush by the Inquisition last year...or so I had thought. She is alive, and I do not know what she plans to do now,” he responded.

The fact that Anna was using someone such as Morri, a relative nobody among the threats of the Masquerade, gave the former Inquisitor a chill. An insidious, corrupting move. Anna could play with someone’s mind in ways that rivaled Silvanus’s own ways, and everyone was a piece on her chessboard. He wished he knew how to banish the Prince from Morri’s mind, and then he had an idea. “...I will agree to keep quiet, of course...but if it would perhaps help, I would like to try and pray a blessing over you. With Faith, words become more than simply words. They become messages from God Himself,” he suggested.

He gave a look of concern to Jonah, whose presence he had neglected to address. His dear friend seemed to also be pondering about Anna’s possible return, but he said nothing. “...I’m sorry, Jonah, I’ll speak to you in a moment. I do wish to talk about important manners, but...I do not wish for her to leave without some sense of security,” he explained.
Catholic, pro-life, and proud of it. I prefer my debates on religion, politics, and sports with some coffee and a little Aquinas and G.K. CHESTERTON here and there. Not that I need the coffee, but you know... :3

So apparently I am an ENFP!

Unofficial #1 fan of the Who Dat Nation.
"I'm just a singer of simple songs, I'm not a real political man. I watch CNN, but I'm not sure I can tell you the difference in Iraq and Iran. But I know Jesus, and I talk to God, and I remember this from when I was young:
faith, hope and love are some good things He gave us...
and the greatest is love."
-Alan Jackson

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Kaziimar
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Posts: 182
Founded: Mar 06, 2019
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Kaziimar » Sun Nov 10, 2019 12:09 am

Los Angeles Public Library
California, 2017...unknown time, but it's dark.


"Alright, from the intel I gathered...the grimoire should be somewhere in this dusty old place." The library didn't get much traffic during the day...unlike the libraries in her home town from New York City...gods she was a far way from home. In fact, none of them got much traffic from Sleepers ever since Kindle was invented, a shame really. Not that the mage complained much, keeping her spells on Kindle meant she could have them always close to her. Tech was convenient, it made things easier...in fact, she knew how to code computers. But Theophania Christakis preferred some things traditional, there was just something about holding a book that other mages have touched and improved on, holding that power in your hands. Flipping through the pages, feeling the magic thrum through you. Those are the moments she lived for. Stepping inside, a small ball of blue-green flame appeared in her hand and floated just right to her head when she released it, revealing cat-like brown eyes that were so light that they were nearly gold, and shoulder-length hair the color of mahogany wood that was braided up into a low ponytail. She considered herself neither ugly nor particularly beautiful, for example the classic Greek nose was never something she was fond of...she was just, enough. But what did looks have to do with anything right now? They were here for one reason and one reason only. "From the looks of things, doesn't look like anybody else is here. If the map is right, the grimoire should be just on the top floor somewhere...huh?" Looking down, she saw a faint glow emanating from her leather messenger bag and sighed before taking out what appeared to be one of those fortune-teller crystal balls, except for the silvery-blue glow swirling around it and the heat it radiated. "What do you want, Louis?"

"Am I bothering you? I'm sorry." A deep, French accented voice with a faint echo that didn't sound sorry in the least. "If you must traipse around all of creation, at least take care to remember that other people are with you. Some of those people don't like traveling in cramped crystal globes."
"Hey, you're the one that wanted to come along, Your Majesty....I would've been perfectly fine going on my own. I thought one of our agreements was that you wouldn't complain."
"You didn't expect me to just quietly stay in that house on my own with nothing to do, did you?"
"No, I'd probably come back to find all of my shit broken."
"That's not fair...I'm from a different time and we didn't have any of this. How would you like it if you were confined to this small space?! I bet you wouldn't! I've been confined for over three hundred years! This generation's youth has no respect. Why can I not travel on my own? It would save you the trouble of carrying me."
"Bruh, you know the Council can't see you! Nobody can see you, or else both you and I would be fucked! So outside of the shop, you're staying in the Fenton thermos. Your options are either that or going back to hell for...however the hell long you have to stay there. You want that?"
"You forget you speak to a king."
"You forget that you're not king of shit here...and anyway, you need me. So be quiet."
"I may need you, but you also need me to keep my silence."
"Which you'll do unless you want to be the demons' play-toy again. I'm sure those vengeful ghosts would love to finish punishing you." The voice inside the ball grew silent, but Theo felt the energy radiate from it. "Oh great, now he's pissed. Oh well, at least he's quiet." She put the globe back into her bag, sealing it before making her way toward the staircase in the center of the library with the small ball of fire lighting her way, eyes looking down to scan an image on her phone. "Okay, follow the map. In and out Theo, that's all you have to do. It should be easy."


Free Assemblies Headquarters
Los Angeles, California

"Well, that was surprisingly uneventful." The voice from inside Theo's faded yellow bag remarked, Louis always had to add his own spin to things, always had to have the last word. He was king, his word was law...well, that may have been the way it worked in the 1600s but it's definitely not the way that things are going down now. "Okay, and? That's a good thing, that means nobody knew it was there...and if they did, they were too slow to get in our way."
"So, where are you dragging us to now, if I may ask?"
"Dude, you asked anyway...but you may as well know. I'm going to see some old buddies of mine, just a quick discussion before we leave...we're not staying too long. This place is crawling with mages, keep quiet. It's of the utmost importance, if anybody from the Council is there..."
"Yes, yes. I know what will happen. To me, and to you."
"Good." The Free Council of the Assemblies, also known as the Council was Theo's chosen cabal of mages...she picked it because it was a relatively casual group and most members were left to their own devices, which was just the way she liked it. It was the closest she was going to get to being on her own without the lack of knowledge and the dangers that came with a sorcerer actually being on their own. She didn't share their enthusiasm for technomancy, but it was a nice place...and over the years she even considered some of that group friends. A smile came over her face when she saw the familiar headquarters building, but as she took the first step a shuddering feeling came over her.
"Theo?"
"Something's not right here...I feel, something weird. Like...bad weird. Something's here, something that shouldn't be here." Clutching her bag tighter, Theo took a deep breath before stepping forward, taking care that her footsteps were as quiet as possible as she pulled the hood of her longcoat over her head. What was going on? She should've known the place was eerily quiet.
Last edited by Kaziimar on Sun Nov 10, 2019 1:14 am, edited 3 times in total.

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Acerbez
Chargé d'Affaires
 
Posts: 383
Founded: Sep 09, 2017
Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby Acerbez » Sun Nov 10, 2019 1:57 am

Azazel
The Free Assembly hideout


The multi-purpose building was rather large and actually an educational counseling facility front. Apparently the mages were vested in community programs and technological initiatives for the youth of Central city while at the same time funding a large space of their own to... Do with as they pleased.

The tenebrous shadow of Azazel slithered and glided in tandem across the sleek tiles of the establishment. Finding both large windows on the frontal exterior meant that street lights and the moon would cast shadows from the objects that dotted the corridors. Even the shelves and cases were gapped enough to maintain dark crevices for the Lasombra to invade with his glistening ink like form.

His vampiric senses were not dulled in the least by his form, and the nature of the night and its silence meant the Abyssal mystic was wraithing in circumstances not much different than his own meditations within his self constructed asylum. The slightest vibrations surged across the tiled floor and the air waved and barely whooshed on its own from further within the complex.

Somebody, somewhere, was participating in their magics and Azazel could feel the difference between the stale material world air and the vibrant and electric sensation caused by the paranormal.

Unaware that he was visible to the outside purview from the street now, or more so that he was unaware somebody was now presently standing there, his flattened shadow form rose up without synchronicity or definitive shape. More like dripping water but instead falling upwards. Theo would catch this sight of shadow play and make whatever she imagined of it.

Maybe 3 meters from this large window that gave his presence away were the 2 large double steel doors of the complex that hid the view of the reception lobby. A lone individual had strut out from one of the second floor rooms and descended the stairs. Instead of peering to their left to witness the intruder, they banked right from the stairwell and approached the front desk.

Walking behind it they bent down and opened the mini fridge that lay beneath and were simply retrieving whatever snack food they put in prior. Theo would witness in the quickest instance, the blossomed shape of inky shadow, shoot to the ceiling almost quicker than her eye could catch.

What had occurred was Azazel surging toward the unsuspecting victim along the ceiling in jagged and appalling lines. Tendrils of very tangible shadow, both thick and thin would grow out and reach below to snatch the free assembly mage.

A large appendage, the size of a boa constrictor would swirled around the mages face and constrict to rob him of his ability to make sound. This inky cloud extention covered his eyes in one round, his mouth in the second, and finally his throat all in an instant of ambush... Leaving only his nostrils exposed to breathe ever so heavily and with difficulty.

Lifting the mage 1 foot from the ground, 3 smaller tendrils but easily the width of a real human arm, would work together premeditatedly to orchestrate his murder.

1 arm slowly pushed the wheeled office chair back into the desk so the victims kicking wouldn't not crash into it or make noise. The 2nd arm wrapped and whirled around his arms and waist at just above the shoulder, just below the elbows, and at his wrists tightly. The 3rd and final free shadow arm perched and bent like a snake from a branch, peering at the man for an opening.

Already in his clutches, Azazel meant to quickly dispatch of the man and move on, but to do so quietly. The puddle of ink stuck to the roof maintained no hint of humanoid form, but Azazel was in there. The Abyssal mystic more closely representating his "true self" and true love of the chasm.

The struggling mage swung slightly in the air and lightly groaned as he was being deprived of oxygen. But that wasn't enough, Azazel knew mages were tricky and had tricks up their sleeve. Taking away their ability to speak incantation and make hand gestures was paramount to nuetralizing their ability to cast. But he wanted to make sure the mage would be dealt with.

The 3rd shadow arm's fingers sharpened and ridged its end like blades, thinning out and refining its tips to less than a centimeter in width.

Shooting up the mage's nostrils and using the darkness within his own body, he jolted but once. A nose bleed by appearance but in truth massive lacerations internally.

Azazel's shadow arms laid the body down slowly like a parent laying a sleeping child to a cradle and rescinded his appendages back into his tenebrous form, pausing briefly, like oil in water. Glossing over the surface.

Several minutes would pass like this as stillness and silence haunted the room, only the very edges of his form wriggled and moved. The abyssal essence reveling in devouring the moon light. His own assumptions that there were more mages and perhaps even wards to protect them like traps lying in wait, a hail of whispers and faint echoes travelled just inches away from his being.

Reciting the litanies of Viche, the repetition and chorus of words mimicked themselves in 18 different voices and tones, sure sign of otherwordly powers or presence traveling with the Angelis Ater. At its conclusion, the writhing edges of his shadow puddle stiffened and froze in place as a 4 ripples emerged from the very center of its body. As the 4th ring reached the edge and disappeared, the sheen of ink reflecting the very floor it contrasted, a jondiced yellowed eye with crimson veins blinked into existence. Its iris being a quetzal green.

His 3rd eye now open.
Last edited by Acerbez on Sun Nov 10, 2019 3:55 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Kaziimar
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Posts: 182
Founded: Mar 06, 2019
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Kaziimar » Sun Nov 10, 2019 11:37 am

“Yeah, there’s definitely something very, very wrong here.” Theo seemed glued to the spot she was standing in when she saw the shadows play on the walls of the headquarters, and was that...what was that sound she heard? “I’m going in.”
“That seems logical. Something potentially very deadly is in that building and you decide to just walk toward it? No wonder so many of you die in these horror films.
“Quiet, you! Anyway, I can’t just let everyone die...more importantly I can’t allow him to destroy all that knowledge we’ve gathered in that place, it would set progress back for potentially centuries!”
”You at least have a plan, correct?”
“It’s called, going in without trying to make too much noise...hopefully that works.” Removing her shoes to soften her steps, she made her way toward the large window and her eyes widened in something like horror at what she saw. That mage was floating, no, being dragged upwards...aaaand he was gone.
I suggest you leave this place, Théophanie. You could very well be dead, this is clearly not something you can handle on your own! But she seemed rooted to the spot, unable to love or even make noise...her heart filled with an icy dread as the floor seemed to swallow up the light like ink. Until...
“Wh...what in the world is that?!” She squeaked almost inaudible as an eye emerged from the darkness.
“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t stick around to find out. I’m getting flashbacks of hell, we should go.” For once she was inclined to agree with the ghost...surprisingly. Best to get away before being noticed, that...thing had taken out a seasoned mage with barely a sweat so who knew what would happen to her? Hell, even Louis...even though he was already dead, what would that thing do to him if he ever found out of his existence?

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Acerbez
Chargé d'Affaires
 
Posts: 383
Founded: Sep 09, 2017
Iron Fist Consumerists

Postby Acerbez » Sun Nov 10, 2019 9:42 pm

Azazel
Free Assembly Headquarters


The Eye of Viche was a rite of abyssal nature, calling out into the Abyss for vigil while one conducted their affairs. The price was of course blood, such was common in the blood magics of Lasombra. Azazel enticed the eye with payment and sustenance to be the sentry at the back of his head. Being of the never world, the shadows saw the life and light everywhere in proximity to wherever they were carried.

Had Azazel been in his natural human form, the eye would rest on his forehead or forearms inopen slit. In his tenebrous form however, it waded the murk of his inky body freely. An offering sizeable enough to satisfy 3 denizens, they 2 more smaller eyes would blink to life, differing in color or hue.

The crossed into the grass along the border of the window, but may have forgotten that the ambiance of the street shown through the glass. Her silence was perfect but her movement shattered her sneaking about. Standing ever so close to the glass and peering at the ink puddle that was the Lasombra kindred, an eye instantly shifted toward her shadow that broke the street lamps luminescent stream.

Slightly squinting, the connection informed Azazel of Theo's presence. Despite his own sorceries, there was little way for him to identify the nature of the peeping gal, not without a taste of her essence atleast. Let alone detect her ghostly companion. Most mortals would be terrified and inadvertently draw their own conclusions and their connection to banality. If she were an I awaken mortal, a simple spook would have her turn tail.

Not necessarily irritated but pressed for time, Azazel opt to quickly present himself to the small woman with the assumption her own imagination and banality would send her fleeing. Unaware of the courage and knowledge of the mysterious she had attained for herself.

Quickly sliding from the ceiling behind the desk where the now deceased lay, the puddle lined itself the shape and shadow of the dead mage and propped him up. Oddly moving in a rigid way, the body stood upright and pulled out the office chair as if to sit. The darkened reception room cast an ominous visage across the man's face so that shadow covered much of his twisted death face.

Controlling his neck and puppeteering it to shift and glare at Theo, Azazel brought the still warm corpse to wave slowly. After a brief pause, Theo would see the shape of the man move away from the desk and to the head quarter doors. The clacking of the iron bars pushing, the first was heard and then the second with no sound of the first set of double doors closing.

Arm and hand would set out from the outside doors and gesture a shooing mannerism. Followed by a somewhat distant sounding voice that truthfully didn't sound all too American but steep and annunciated, almost like a foreigner.

"Sorry... were closed. Come back tomorrow. Cerrado, Chiuso, ferme."

Azazel was uncertain of her nationality and despite his time in the states, knew not everyone, especially in Los Angeles spoke English. So he spoke the non dead languages he knew, Being English, Italian, and French.

"... Unless you're here for the assembly?" the distant voice muttered just loud enough for Theo to hear.

Despite the voice and gesturing arm, behind the hard door were shadow appendages treating the mage like a marionette. The dead mans mouth and eyes twisted from suffocation and pain of his death, his skin blue and hands white.
Last edited by Acerbez on Sun Nov 10, 2019 9:45 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Morrdh
Powerbroker
 
Posts: 8015
Founded: Apr 16, 2008
Democratic Socialists

Postby Morrdh » Mon Nov 11, 2019 8:50 am

Luminesa wrote:When Morri explained she did not recognize Anna by her name, Alexei sighed with concern. Ignorance was not so bliss, as the world kept turning on its destructive axis even while they were sleeping. He nodded when she asked if that was indeed the name of the woman she had seen before her. “...She is a very powerful...and complicated...vampire, the head of the Camarilla in Los Angeles. Jonah and I have been quite acquainted with her, and...she has been wagging war against those who oppose the Camarilla. She...was destroyed in an ambush by the Inquisition last year...or so I had thought. She is alive, and I do not know what she plans to do now,” he responded.

The fact that Anna was using someone such as Morri, a relative nobody among the threats of the Masquerade, gave the former Inquisitor a chill. An insidious, corrupting move. Anna could play with someone’s mind in ways that rivaled Silvanus’s own ways, and everyone was a piece on her chessboard. He wished he knew how to banish the Prince from Morri’s mind, and then he had an idea. “...I will agree to keep quiet, of course...but if it would perhaps help, I would like to try and pray a blessing over you. With Faith, words become more than simply words. They become messages from God Himself,” he suggested.


"So a big bad vampire lady has set up shop in me head?" Asked Morri. "Great, just when I've gotten use ta having ta shave more and getting itchy at a certain time o' the month."

"Though it explains one or two things, well certain...ah...dreams..." Morri added, then sighed. "Any idea why she's kicking 'bouts in me noggin'? Tis kinda creepy knowing ye ain't ever fully alone...ye know...doing stuff."

"Guess tis worth a shot. I mean I said I was raised Catholic, but me and the big guy upstairs haven't exactly talked fer a while and don't ask me when the last time I went ta mass was."
Irish/Celtic Themed Nation - Factbook

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