Anna tried to adjust her shredded blouse as she waved the servants away. She had no visible wounds on her, due to her high Fortitude. Her clothes, however, did not survive. She looked over at her companions and frowned inwardly. They had been hurt a lot worse, but there was nothing she could do. She could tell Joe was in pain. However he would not let anyone touch him.
"I am Anna," she replied to their host. "We certainly appreciate your hospitality."
Stormcrow
Moderator: LadyTevar
Jack was as calm as could be despite the fact that the beast was raging within him, struggling to fight down the Rotshrek that was threatening to overtake him and let the Beast come forth. There were two faces to the Beast. Frenzy was well known, it was the raw hunger and hatred of teh Beast. Gangrel in particular were scarred by these frenzies, each time they gave themselves over to the Beast it left its mark as it did with Reece's eyes. Others like the Brujah were far more prone TO frenzy. Jack wasn't sure which one he preferred.
Then there was the lesser known and more shameful Rotshrek, the primal FEAR of the Beast. Any kindred confronted by fire or sunlight were usually prone to lose control to the beast and be consumed by a state of Rotshrek when the Beast would do ANYTHING to survive. It was usually not rational at all. The Beast simply wanted to survive and if it meant trying to dig threough concrete instead of going through a door, such was the Beast.
Right now he oculd feel it rising within him as he was confronted by tha fact that he was now in the heart of his enemy's holdings. If one assassin had taken the four of them to incapactitate. What would it take with this elder.
But he would not show this fear. He would not give into the Beast.
"I am Jack Reece." he said with a short bow, he wanted so much to say more, to show off that he was not afraid. But he knew better. His life, and the life of his friends now hung by a thread.
"My sincerest thanks for offering us sanctuary from the sun. It is a testament to the Traditions that you honor us so." He hoped that saying so would please the elder. Elders, no matter what the clan so loved their traditions.
Then there was the lesser known and more shameful Rotshrek, the primal FEAR of the Beast. Any kindred confronted by fire or sunlight were usually prone to lose control to the beast and be consumed by a state of Rotshrek when the Beast would do ANYTHING to survive. It was usually not rational at all. The Beast simply wanted to survive and if it meant trying to dig threough concrete instead of going through a door, such was the Beast.
Right now he oculd feel it rising within him as he was confronted by tha fact that he was now in the heart of his enemy's holdings. If one assassin had taken the four of them to incapactitate. What would it take with this elder.
But he would not show this fear. He would not give into the Beast.
"I am Jack Reece." he said with a short bow, he wanted so much to say more, to show off that he was not afraid. But he knew better. His life, and the life of his friends now hung by a thread.
"My sincerest thanks for offering us sanctuary from the sun. It is a testament to the Traditions that you honor us so." He hoped that saying so would please the elder. Elders, no matter what the clan so loved their traditions.
“You are one who needs no introduction to us, Jack Reece,” the master of the house replied. “And in the end, are traditions not the only things that we can cling to for continuity in this changing world?”
Joe took note of the words and shook his head, scowling to himself. Even this elder didn’t get it, he thought. Even this dusty Old-Blood still insisted on hanging on to the tattered threads of the past. Who knew how long it had been since he had even been out of this place.
The Caitiff sat among the plush padding around the table keeping a cautious eye on everyone around him while concentrating on healing his injuries. His lifeless flesh had taken most of the punishment with little real effect but the wound to his arm had notched the bone. The block had been a stupid thing to do, he chided inwardly. He had been showing off the fortitude of his body. Grandstanding. It was a dangerous mistake.
Though he had not taken blood for nearly three days now, Joe ignored the glass in front of him.
“Please drink,” Al-Fazeed continued, not sure if Alec would make an introduction. “You need sustenance. And tell me why four such as you have come to this city.”
The servants flittered around for a while and eventually disappeared again, leaving them all alone to talk.
Joe took note of the words and shook his head, scowling to himself. Even this elder didn’t get it, he thought. Even this dusty Old-Blood still insisted on hanging on to the tattered threads of the past. Who knew how long it had been since he had even been out of this place.
The Caitiff sat among the plush padding around the table keeping a cautious eye on everyone around him while concentrating on healing his injuries. His lifeless flesh had taken most of the punishment with little real effect but the wound to his arm had notched the bone. The block had been a stupid thing to do, he chided inwardly. He had been showing off the fortitude of his body. Grandstanding. It was a dangerous mistake.
Though he had not taken blood for nearly three days now, Joe ignored the glass in front of him.
“Please drink,” Al-Fazeed continued, not sure if Alec would make an introduction. “You need sustenance. And tell me why four such as you have come to this city.”
The servants flittered around for a while and eventually disappeared again, leaving them all alone to talk.
-
Kelly Antilles
- Sith Acolyte
- Posts: 6417
- Joined: 2002-09-12 10:36am
Anna leaned towards Joe, the shreds of her blouse shifting. "Don't make me force you to, Joe. I can tell how close you are. Once healing that wound, you will be on the very edge. We can ill afford a frenzying Catiff."
He cut his eyes to her. "What about you. You passed it up."
"Have you forgotten? My pallet is a bit more refined than yours. Besides, I fed before we came and don't requre any at present." She grinned ferally and sat back up.
Turning her attention back to their host, she spoke, "Please forgive my childe, Alec. He was badly wounded in our scuffle with your childe. But, to answer your question, we are here in search of some artifacts. I am an archeologist. It seems they were taken just recently."
He cut his eyes to her. "What about you. You passed it up."
"Have you forgotten? My pallet is a bit more refined than yours. Besides, I fed before we came and don't requre any at present." She grinned ferally and sat back up.
Turning her attention back to their host, she spoke, "Please forgive my childe, Alec. He was badly wounded in our scuffle with your childe. But, to answer your question, we are here in search of some artifacts. I am an archeologist. It seems they were taken just recently."
Joe couldn’t help but glance down through the woman’s shredded blouse as she spoke to him. A glance that was noticed from across the table by the jealous minded Alec.
“Bah. I can hold out Bruck. You sound like my wife,” he shot back quietly before Anna turned her attention to Al-Fazeed.
The Assamite looked to his Childe and back with mild amusement. “If they are the same artifacts which were being researched until recently by Mr. Stormcrow of your Camarilla, I think of them more as being returned to their rightful inheritors. Most of them at this point anyway.”
“Bah. I can hold out Bruck. You sound like my wife,” he shot back quietly before Anna turned her attention to Al-Fazeed.
The Assamite looked to his Childe and back with mild amusement. “If they are the same artifacts which were being researched until recently by Mr. Stormcrow of your Camarilla, I think of them more as being returned to their rightful inheritors. Most of them at this point anyway.”
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Kelly Antilles
- Sith Acolyte
- Posts: 6417
- Joined: 2002-09-12 10:36am
"I know that they were unearthed among the remains of past Assamites," the man replied cordially. "I know that they consist of a number of pieces of jewelry and a few weapons, and I also know that there was a copper scroll that had written on it one of the original prophecies of the Assamite Lord Ad Avis. All of these things rightfully belong back in the hands of my clan."
The master of the house took a casual sip from the goblet in front of him before continuing.
"Would you like to see them?"
The master of the house took a casual sip from the goblet in front of him before continuing.
"Would you like to see them?"
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Stormbringer
- King of Democracy
- Posts: 22678
- Joined: 2002-07-15 11:22pm
The elder vampire clapped his hands once again, summoning one of his servants. He gave his orders in Arabic and in minutes a series of trays were brought in and layed out before his guests. Great pleasure at the sight of the objects carved his face.
The display consisted of seven ornately crafted iron daggers, twenty necklaces of varying simplicity, from thin chains to great, bejewelled monstrosities, eighty rings of gold, silver and copper, and two golden headbands. It was a treasure worthy of a king and yet, for some reason, it had been left to rot in the desert.
Conspicuously absent was the scroll of Ad Avis.
“This is all very nice stuff,” Joe commented. “But we didn’t come to Jerusalem to see babbles. Where is Eliot Stormcrow?”
The falcon screamed.
“Oh,” Al-Fazeed said, raising his eyebrows. “That is a question I was going to ask of you. He still apparently has something that I want.”
He turned to his Childe. “From what Ehab has told me of the night he went to retrieve these treasures, I would recommend that it be asked of your allies in the Camarilla.”
“What did you see?”
Ehab winced as he shifted positions, scratching his mustache and looking to his Sire before responding. “Ahmed and I came by way of the roof and swung in through the windows. We expected surprise to be on our side and to be able to deal with the archaeologists and their security swiftly. It should have been simple. What we found was carnage. Our work had been done for us. Everyone in the room was dead with the exception of two. A man with a bundle in his arms, this Stormcrow I suppose, and another trying to stop him. Our appearance did indeed bring surprise and Stormcrow took the opportunity to make an escape. The other followed quickly after and I gave chase as well. The dagger that you have of mine missed at the rear door and I continued my pursuit rather than retrieving it. I radioed to Ahmed to gather the artifacts while I continued after. The archaeologist managed to lose his attacker in the streets but not I. Not until dawn’s light that is”.
The display consisted of seven ornately crafted iron daggers, twenty necklaces of varying simplicity, from thin chains to great, bejewelled monstrosities, eighty rings of gold, silver and copper, and two golden headbands. It was a treasure worthy of a king and yet, for some reason, it had been left to rot in the desert.
Conspicuously absent was the scroll of Ad Avis.
“This is all very nice stuff,” Joe commented. “But we didn’t come to Jerusalem to see babbles. Where is Eliot Stormcrow?”
The falcon screamed.
“Oh,” Al-Fazeed said, raising his eyebrows. “That is a question I was going to ask of you. He still apparently has something that I want.”
He turned to his Childe. “From what Ehab has told me of the night he went to retrieve these treasures, I would recommend that it be asked of your allies in the Camarilla.”
“What did you see?”
Ehab winced as he shifted positions, scratching his mustache and looking to his Sire before responding. “Ahmed and I came by way of the roof and swung in through the windows. We expected surprise to be on our side and to be able to deal with the archaeologists and their security swiftly. It should have been simple. What we found was carnage. Our work had been done for us. Everyone in the room was dead with the exception of two. A man with a bundle in his arms, this Stormcrow I suppose, and another trying to stop him. Our appearance did indeed bring surprise and Stormcrow took the opportunity to make an escape. The other followed quickly after and I gave chase as well. The dagger that you have of mine missed at the rear door and I continued my pursuit rather than retrieving it. I radioed to Ahmed to gather the artifacts while I continued after. The archaeologist managed to lose his attacker in the streets but not I. Not until dawn’s light that is”.
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Kelly Antilles
- Sith Acolyte
- Posts: 6417
- Joined: 2002-09-12 10:36am
-
Kelly Antilles
- Sith Acolyte
- Posts: 6417
- Joined: 2002-09-12 10:36am
Al-Fazeed smiled broadly. “So that is your purpose here in the city! Come now, sit back down. Make use of my haven and heal yourselves.”
Again the offer was politely denied.
“Very well,” the Assamite replied. “Be on your way. My servants will show you out. Farewell to you and good night.”
With that he returned to his falcon, a great grin splitting his lips and revealing gleaming white teeth.
Once back out in the night, the group found themselves in the heart of the city’s Islamic section. The servant leading them quickly hailed a cab and sent them without hesitation to a Camarilla stronghold. When everyone had stowed their gear, Joe took his leave to find much needed sustenance.
“So our guy tells us the Assamites busted in and killed everyone and they say that everyone was dead when they got there,” he complained before disappearing. “I’m starved. And I’ve got to clear my head.” He was gone before he could be deterred.
And the others could not blame him. They all wanted time to think. As inadvisable as it was, they went their separate ways for that night and agreed to meet back at the stronghold before dawn.
* * *
Joe stood on the star-lit rooftop looking out over the ancient city. A swift desert breeze sent his black trench-coat flapping to his side. He had finally gotten something to eat and now took time to feel the night surround him. Feel the past seep in from the very stones.
How far humanity had come from the first settlement of this city. How they had grown along their never-ending march forward. And yet, how they continued to make the same mistakes.
The musing was cut short however, with a gentle tug at his senses. A smell in the air, the slightest of sounds, a feeling in his blood, someone had joined him. Someone becoming uncomfortably familiar.
“<You know,>” the man said in french, not turning to take his eyes from the city-scape. “<This is the second time you’ve done this. I’m beginning to think you’re in love with me.>”
Geoffrey D’Anjou ignored the comment and walked across the rooftop to stand beside Joe. “You haven’t minded my decree,” he accused in his accented english.
The Gangrel elder’s eyes flashed red as he focussed his attention on the other vampire. Unlike the first encounter, he made no attempt now to cover his antiquated wardrobe. A red cross adorned a white tunic covering a suit of plate and chain. He was a man out of time.
“What?” Joe shot the accusation back with venom, unable to disguise his shock. What had D’Anjou done?
“My Childe’s dear wife and children,” came the clarification. “I told you to speak to no one of our conversation and what do I find? I find them watched like babes in a nursery. That was very stupid.”
“What did you do, D’Anjou,” Joe demanded.
“And then you brought him right into the very nest of my enemies,” the scolding continued. “When I told you that he would be slain by no one but me, I meant it.”
“He came out in one piece. And I haven’t said a word to anyone. You didn’t hurt those people out of your stupid paranoia, did you?”
“Oh, I assure you, the nursemaids I saw lurking in the shadows were no mere tricks of paranoia.” Geoffrey D’Anjou growled. “But I have done nothing. Yet.”
“So what? You’ve come here to jerk my chain?” Joe voice matched the menace that emanated from the Gangrel’s. “Go back to reliving your failed life again and again and leave me be.”
“Really Johanne, I would have expected better of you,” D’Anjou chided. “You are a warrior. It shows in how you carry yourself. Men-at-arms such as we must have more respect for one another. Where have your manners gone?”
Joe laughed. It was a full and hearty sound that took all the air from his lungs and rang out through the night. It was unclear whether it lightened or added to the tension.
“Warrior? Where did you get that?” Joe was aghast. “I was a black smith in life. You know, one of those people living in the dirt you rode over. You may have marched proudly against Islam, well I WAS MARCHED unwillingly against the Mongol horsemen! Remember them? Killed everything in sight? From what I had to go through, I can’t imagine the kind of man who would willingly go into something like that. To hell with your respect.”
The two stood in silence for a moment, neither breaking the gaze of the other.
“I should have known by your insulant tongue,” the crusader finally said. “Whatever your life, you are an elder vampire now. Even if one of the clanless. You have power and station now and you should learn to act accordingly. And you would do well to better mind my decree.”
The Gangrel sniffed the air, cocked his head and turned on his heels. In seconds he was gone.
Joe stood alone once more on the edge of the roof and growled ferally under his breath.
* * *
Anna made her way through the still active streets of Jerusalem. The bars and restaurants were alive and well at this time of night and people milled around her, going about there mortal evenings.
Passing a patio filled with the buzzing sensations of life, she was drawn in by a familiar voice calling her name. A voice she had not heard in quite some time and certainly did not expect to hear now.
Jennifer Lazlo sat alone watching the passers-by, a cup of coffee, conspicuously full, cooling in front of her on the table. She had an air of relaxation about her as if she were in command of all she saw.
“I hear you’re in the market for a necklace.”
Jennifer was a fellow seeker of treasures, but one of a decidedly different affiliation. Embraced of clan Brujah, she had been unsatisfied with the rules and restraints of the Camarilla and had turned her back on it. In its place she had taken up with the vampires of the Sabbat. The murder of her Sire had sent ripples of shock through more than one circle. No one was sure what happened but rumours of diablery abounded.
“Word travels fast,” Anna replied coolly, not showing her surprise at the other woman’s appearance and not revealing that what she had already discovered.
“I have good ears.” Jennifer smiled at the Ventrue before continuing. “And besides, it seems the theft of those artifacts is the only thing anyone’s talking about anymore. That and the appearance of some guy the Assamites would rather see dead. If I were you I’d go see them about all this.”
“You think they have it?” An eyebrow raised.
“They’ve made no bones about wanting those relics back in Assamite hands. Plus that scroll of Ad Avis that was found. Just brings back all their talk about him being an Assamite. They’ve started to believe their own fairytales if you ask me.”
“Oh?”
“Sure,” the Brujah insisted. “Ad Avis an Assamite? Popular belief but not fact. If you do you’re research you find that he was taken in by the Assamites, that he lived among them, that he took up their ways, that he even ruled his city as one of them, but he sure as hell was not embraced by one. Try telling them that though.”
“So he actually was a Malk’ than.” Anna leaned casually against the railing that separated the patio from the sidewalk but her mind took in everything around her, readying for an ambush.
“That’s what I’d say,” the other replied. She lifted the cup to her face as if to drink but put it down untouched once again.
Shaking her head wistfully, Jennifer changed subjects. “It’s that scroll that I’d like to get my hands on.”
Anna hid her smile. She new Jennifer too well to be taken in by the act. The woman was fishing.
“Why don’t you ask the Assamites?” Anna took pleasure in turning the statement back on the woman.
The Brujah’s eyes narrowed. She knew she was being toyed with.
“I would,” she answered and seemed to pause in thought. A smile crept onto her face. “But from what I’ve heard they wouldn’t be of any help with that particular object.”
“What have you heard?”
“Oh, not much.” The smile became even more mischievous. “Just that Eliot Stormcrow took it before they could. Looks like you Camies have a little situation on your hands don’t you. Hopefully he can be persuaded to come around to the right side of things. That way I can get my share of time at that scroll.”
“I don’t think you’ll be so lucky,” Anna lied. “Our good friend Eliot is well in hand. He’s just having a stressful time of it. But I’ll certainly mention that you asked about him.”
“Please see that you do, dear. And good luck with the Assamites and that necklace. I hope they let you see it.”
The two women smiled their false smiles at each other one last time and Anna Bruck continued on her way. She had more to think about now than ever before.
Jennifer Lazlo watched her adversary go with hooded eyes. The encounter had been very interesting indeed.
* * *
Of all of them, Alec was having the toughest time of it. He had been hurt badly and though the Assamites had tried to help, he could not stomach the blood they had given him. He needed to feed and he needed to quickly.
He hadn’t agreed with splitting up from the rest of them, especially from Anna, but he had not been able to think straight enough to argue. Now he found himself staggering numbly down unknown streets looking for one sign, any sign of the blood that he craved.
Miraculously, he found those signs and set upon a small group of rich, spoiled, young born-agains. He took them in without hesitation and left none standing in his wake. Once regaining himself, the bodies were spirited away. They were never seen or heard from again.
Soon after, suave, smooth-talking Alec DuMont re-inserted himself into the world of the living. He walked through the streets and among the crowds and let the events of the past nights slip in.
It was as he stood against a corner, flipping a coin deftly in his hand, that the lone survivor of Eliot Stormcrow’s escape appeared and approached him.
Hassan had not left a good impression on the Ventrue vampire. There was something not right about him, about the way he presented himself. Alec had been very successful in a world of liars and knew one when he saw it.
“You can tell your friend that the word is out that she is looking for that necklace. I hope it gives her want she’s after.”
“I’m sure Anna knows what she’s doing,” Alec replied coolly.
“So,” he changed the subject casually, never taking his eyes from Hassan. “We ran into the Assamites last night.”
“What,” the other said in surprise. “I’m glad to see you made it through to be talking to me here tonight.”
“Almost didn’t.” Alec watched the man’s tells as he spoke. Those little individual habits that screamed that a person was nervous or lying. “It was only one man and it took all of us to bring him down. You should have been there. We could have used you.”
“Me?” Again, more surprise. “No, no. I barely made it out with my skin the last time. I saw all my men slain. I wouldn’t have been able to help.”
“Oh, I don’t know. It looked to me like you could handle yourself fairly well.”
“So did you kill him?”
“Hmm?”
“The Assamite,” Hassan pressed. “Did you kill him or did you manage to question him? Did he know anything about Stormcrow?”
“No,” Alec answered and did not continue. He left the single word to hang unaided. Let the man take of it what he liked.
The other vampire seemed to pause for a moment, not knowing what to make of the single syllable. A glimmer of thought broke through the ever-present facade of the broken servant and showed something Alec had not given the man credit for. Cunning.
“Yes, well,” Hassan said. “I’m afraid I must leave you once again. Tell your team that I’ve done as they asked.”
“I’ll do that,” the other answered with a smile. “Good night to you.”
“Yes. Good night and good luck. I don’t think it will be easy breaking into the Assamite’s domain to find Stormcrow.”
Alec watched the man walk away and merge with the crowd.
“Oh, probably not as hard as you think.”
Again the offer was politely denied.
“Very well,” the Assamite replied. “Be on your way. My servants will show you out. Farewell to you and good night.”
With that he returned to his falcon, a great grin splitting his lips and revealing gleaming white teeth.
Once back out in the night, the group found themselves in the heart of the city’s Islamic section. The servant leading them quickly hailed a cab and sent them without hesitation to a Camarilla stronghold. When everyone had stowed their gear, Joe took his leave to find much needed sustenance.
“So our guy tells us the Assamites busted in and killed everyone and they say that everyone was dead when they got there,” he complained before disappearing. “I’m starved. And I’ve got to clear my head.” He was gone before he could be deterred.
And the others could not blame him. They all wanted time to think. As inadvisable as it was, they went their separate ways for that night and agreed to meet back at the stronghold before dawn.
* * *
Joe stood on the star-lit rooftop looking out over the ancient city. A swift desert breeze sent his black trench-coat flapping to his side. He had finally gotten something to eat and now took time to feel the night surround him. Feel the past seep in from the very stones.
How far humanity had come from the first settlement of this city. How they had grown along their never-ending march forward. And yet, how they continued to make the same mistakes.
The musing was cut short however, with a gentle tug at his senses. A smell in the air, the slightest of sounds, a feeling in his blood, someone had joined him. Someone becoming uncomfortably familiar.
“<You know,>” the man said in french, not turning to take his eyes from the city-scape. “<This is the second time you’ve done this. I’m beginning to think you’re in love with me.>”
Geoffrey D’Anjou ignored the comment and walked across the rooftop to stand beside Joe. “You haven’t minded my decree,” he accused in his accented english.
The Gangrel elder’s eyes flashed red as he focussed his attention on the other vampire. Unlike the first encounter, he made no attempt now to cover his antiquated wardrobe. A red cross adorned a white tunic covering a suit of plate and chain. He was a man out of time.
“What?” Joe shot the accusation back with venom, unable to disguise his shock. What had D’Anjou done?
“My Childe’s dear wife and children,” came the clarification. “I told you to speak to no one of our conversation and what do I find? I find them watched like babes in a nursery. That was very stupid.”
“What did you do, D’Anjou,” Joe demanded.
“And then you brought him right into the very nest of my enemies,” the scolding continued. “When I told you that he would be slain by no one but me, I meant it.”
“He came out in one piece. And I haven’t said a word to anyone. You didn’t hurt those people out of your stupid paranoia, did you?”
“Oh, I assure you, the nursemaids I saw lurking in the shadows were no mere tricks of paranoia.” Geoffrey D’Anjou growled. “But I have done nothing. Yet.”
“So what? You’ve come here to jerk my chain?” Joe voice matched the menace that emanated from the Gangrel’s. “Go back to reliving your failed life again and again and leave me be.”
“Really Johanne, I would have expected better of you,” D’Anjou chided. “You are a warrior. It shows in how you carry yourself. Men-at-arms such as we must have more respect for one another. Where have your manners gone?”
Joe laughed. It was a full and hearty sound that took all the air from his lungs and rang out through the night. It was unclear whether it lightened or added to the tension.
“Warrior? Where did you get that?” Joe was aghast. “I was a black smith in life. You know, one of those people living in the dirt you rode over. You may have marched proudly against Islam, well I WAS MARCHED unwillingly against the Mongol horsemen! Remember them? Killed everything in sight? From what I had to go through, I can’t imagine the kind of man who would willingly go into something like that. To hell with your respect.”
The two stood in silence for a moment, neither breaking the gaze of the other.
“I should have known by your insulant tongue,” the crusader finally said. “Whatever your life, you are an elder vampire now. Even if one of the clanless. You have power and station now and you should learn to act accordingly. And you would do well to better mind my decree.”
The Gangrel sniffed the air, cocked his head and turned on his heels. In seconds he was gone.
Joe stood alone once more on the edge of the roof and growled ferally under his breath.
* * *
Anna made her way through the still active streets of Jerusalem. The bars and restaurants were alive and well at this time of night and people milled around her, going about there mortal evenings.
Passing a patio filled with the buzzing sensations of life, she was drawn in by a familiar voice calling her name. A voice she had not heard in quite some time and certainly did not expect to hear now.
Jennifer Lazlo sat alone watching the passers-by, a cup of coffee, conspicuously full, cooling in front of her on the table. She had an air of relaxation about her as if she were in command of all she saw.
“I hear you’re in the market for a necklace.”
Jennifer was a fellow seeker of treasures, but one of a decidedly different affiliation. Embraced of clan Brujah, she had been unsatisfied with the rules and restraints of the Camarilla and had turned her back on it. In its place she had taken up with the vampires of the Sabbat. The murder of her Sire had sent ripples of shock through more than one circle. No one was sure what happened but rumours of diablery abounded.
“Word travels fast,” Anna replied coolly, not showing her surprise at the other woman’s appearance and not revealing that what she had already discovered.
“I have good ears.” Jennifer smiled at the Ventrue before continuing. “And besides, it seems the theft of those artifacts is the only thing anyone’s talking about anymore. That and the appearance of some guy the Assamites would rather see dead. If I were you I’d go see them about all this.”
“You think they have it?” An eyebrow raised.
“They’ve made no bones about wanting those relics back in Assamite hands. Plus that scroll of Ad Avis that was found. Just brings back all their talk about him being an Assamite. They’ve started to believe their own fairytales if you ask me.”
“Oh?”
“Sure,” the Brujah insisted. “Ad Avis an Assamite? Popular belief but not fact. If you do you’re research you find that he was taken in by the Assamites, that he lived among them, that he took up their ways, that he even ruled his city as one of them, but he sure as hell was not embraced by one. Try telling them that though.”
“So he actually was a Malk’ than.” Anna leaned casually against the railing that separated the patio from the sidewalk but her mind took in everything around her, readying for an ambush.
“That’s what I’d say,” the other replied. She lifted the cup to her face as if to drink but put it down untouched once again.
Shaking her head wistfully, Jennifer changed subjects. “It’s that scroll that I’d like to get my hands on.”
Anna hid her smile. She new Jennifer too well to be taken in by the act. The woman was fishing.
“Why don’t you ask the Assamites?” Anna took pleasure in turning the statement back on the woman.
The Brujah’s eyes narrowed. She knew she was being toyed with.
“I would,” she answered and seemed to pause in thought. A smile crept onto her face. “But from what I’ve heard they wouldn’t be of any help with that particular object.”
“What have you heard?”
“Oh, not much.” The smile became even more mischievous. “Just that Eliot Stormcrow took it before they could. Looks like you Camies have a little situation on your hands don’t you. Hopefully he can be persuaded to come around to the right side of things. That way I can get my share of time at that scroll.”
“I don’t think you’ll be so lucky,” Anna lied. “Our good friend Eliot is well in hand. He’s just having a stressful time of it. But I’ll certainly mention that you asked about him.”
“Please see that you do, dear. And good luck with the Assamites and that necklace. I hope they let you see it.”
The two women smiled their false smiles at each other one last time and Anna Bruck continued on her way. She had more to think about now than ever before.
Jennifer Lazlo watched her adversary go with hooded eyes. The encounter had been very interesting indeed.
* * *
Of all of them, Alec was having the toughest time of it. He had been hurt badly and though the Assamites had tried to help, he could not stomach the blood they had given him. He needed to feed and he needed to quickly.
He hadn’t agreed with splitting up from the rest of them, especially from Anna, but he had not been able to think straight enough to argue. Now he found himself staggering numbly down unknown streets looking for one sign, any sign of the blood that he craved.
Miraculously, he found those signs and set upon a small group of rich, spoiled, young born-agains. He took them in without hesitation and left none standing in his wake. Once regaining himself, the bodies were spirited away. They were never seen or heard from again.
Soon after, suave, smooth-talking Alec DuMont re-inserted himself into the world of the living. He walked through the streets and among the crowds and let the events of the past nights slip in.
It was as he stood against a corner, flipping a coin deftly in his hand, that the lone survivor of Eliot Stormcrow’s escape appeared and approached him.
Hassan had not left a good impression on the Ventrue vampire. There was something not right about him, about the way he presented himself. Alec had been very successful in a world of liars and knew one when he saw it.
“You can tell your friend that the word is out that she is looking for that necklace. I hope it gives her want she’s after.”
“I’m sure Anna knows what she’s doing,” Alec replied coolly.
“So,” he changed the subject casually, never taking his eyes from Hassan. “We ran into the Assamites last night.”
“What,” the other said in surprise. “I’m glad to see you made it through to be talking to me here tonight.”
“Almost didn’t.” Alec watched the man’s tells as he spoke. Those little individual habits that screamed that a person was nervous or lying. “It was only one man and it took all of us to bring him down. You should have been there. We could have used you.”
“Me?” Again, more surprise. “No, no. I barely made it out with my skin the last time. I saw all my men slain. I wouldn’t have been able to help.”
“Oh, I don’t know. It looked to me like you could handle yourself fairly well.”
“So did you kill him?”
“Hmm?”
“The Assamite,” Hassan pressed. “Did you kill him or did you manage to question him? Did he know anything about Stormcrow?”
“No,” Alec answered and did not continue. He left the single word to hang unaided. Let the man take of it what he liked.
The other vampire seemed to pause for a moment, not knowing what to make of the single syllable. A glimmer of thought broke through the ever-present facade of the broken servant and showed something Alec had not given the man credit for. Cunning.
“Yes, well,” Hassan said. “I’m afraid I must leave you once again. Tell your team that I’ve done as they asked.”
“I’ll do that,” the other answered with a smile. “Good night to you.”
“Yes. Good night and good luck. I don’t think it will be easy breaking into the Assamite’s domain to find Stormcrow.”
Alec watched the man walk away and merge with the crowd.
“Oh, probably not as hard as you think.”
-
Stormbringer
- King of Democracy
- Posts: 22678
- Joined: 2002-07-15 11:22pm
Alec stood against the wall of a building and thought. He was already in a bad mood, he didn't like to have to kill when he was feeding. And Hassan had made it infinitely worse. The vampire bothered him and he was almost certainly lying.
"I wish Anna and the others would get in touch" he mumbled
He pondered the notion of having Hassan put to the question. His new found authority as an Alastor would have allowed it; no one questioned such a thing. The problem was it would destroy their only possible link to Stormcrow. Whatever the two weasels were up to it couldn't be good and they certainly had no time to waste.
"Damn it Anna, hurry up"
"I wish Anna and the others would get in touch" he mumbled
He pondered the notion of having Hassan put to the question. His new found authority as an Alastor would have allowed it; no one questioned such a thing. The problem was it would destroy their only possible link to Stormcrow. Whatever the two weasels were up to it couldn't be good and they certainly had no time to waste.
"Damn it Anna, hurry up"
If you could read my mind, Love. What a tale my thought would tell...
The bass beat of the remade song thumped in Joe’s chest as he prowled among the writhing throng of the disco. His craving for blood had been sated already but that wasn’t why he was there. Being among the living took his mind off his death.
The vampire fumed over his second encounter with Geoffrey D’Anjou. Not only did the crusader represent everything he hated about vampires, himself included, he also brought up memories that would be better left dead in the ground. Even if he couldn’t be.
...Just like some old time movie, ‘bout a ghost in a wishing well...
The faces of his wife and son, his mother and father drifted up from the past. They watched powerlessly as the Baron ‘conscripted’ every able-bodied man in the country side. The faces of his fellow footmen appeared after. They screamed as they were slaughtered from horseback, skulls split, bodies speared. Then there were the faces of his captors. Torturing, hateful, eastern heathens.
He had seen things then that had fed him nothing but pain and rage. He had done things in those years to damn his soul. In the end, the final decision had been his own. He could not deny that he had accepted the bargain of his own free will. Even if it had been in a fit of madness.
He hadn’t even been fighting for his own country.
...When you reach the part where the heartache comes, the hero would be you...
“You’re really knee deep in this shit now aren’t you,” Joe muttered to himself as he tried to push back the tide of ghosts.
“So what,” he continued, this time to someone who wasn’t there but who he was sure was listening. “New millennia and you’ve decided to call in your debts? Stopped having fun watching your little affront to humanity? Your little knock at God’s punishment? Stopped laughing about how THIS is how you granted what I asked for? Bring it on asshole. Come and get me.”
...Heros often fail...
Joe took a sip of his drink and let the alcohol roll gently around his tongue. Casually he spit it back into the glass. He could never imbibe it straight like this but he still enjoyed the taste. It drowned out the taste of blood.
He found himself at one of the place’s railings and thought about the events unfolding around him. Fingers seemed to be pointing in every direction. The Camarilla security points to the Assamites and the Assamites pointed to the security. Or did they? All that one Ehab had said was that everyone was dead when he got there and that Hassan had chased after Stormcrow. Was Hassan following Stormcrow and in league with him, or was he actually after him to kill him? Did Stormcrow kill all of those people in that room himself, did he have help, or was it someone else? Or were the assassins lying? The only thing Joe knew for sure was that the only people to be in that building that night were Stormcrow, his team, Hassan and his men, and the two Assamiates.
And where the hell was Stormcrow now? Assamites were not easily thrown off the trail. Did the crazy bastard have help escaping? Who? The Caitiff had the bad feeling that there was more involved in this than they thought.
...Never thought I’d feel this way and I’ve got to say that I just don’t get it...
And than there’s Reece’s Sire following around, mixing up the works. Who had set a watch around Reece’s family? That could have doomed them and that would have sent Reece over the edge. How did the old Gangrel even know about this assignment?
The machinations of vampire society were not Joe’s forte. In fact, he usually avoided it at all costs. This was making his head spin.
And where did D’Anjou know him from anyway? Prague Joe shuddered at the last time he had had major dealings with other kindred. Those nights had turned out badly. Very badly. Overthrowing of power, badly. The thought of Isabella Sanchez still pained him.
That happened once, he thought. Never again.
...If you could read my mind...
Joe shook the past from his head and made for the exit. As he pushed through the tide of people at the door and finally made it into the night air, he was surprised to see Alec only about a block down the street.
“You’re looking better, DuMont,” he said after approaching the man.
The bass beat of the remade song thumped in Joe’s chest as he prowled among the writhing throng of the disco. His craving for blood had been sated already but that wasn’t why he was there. Being among the living took his mind off his death.
The vampire fumed over his second encounter with Geoffrey D’Anjou. Not only did the crusader represent everything he hated about vampires, himself included, he also brought up memories that would be better left dead in the ground. Even if he couldn’t be.
...Just like some old time movie, ‘bout a ghost in a wishing well...
The faces of his wife and son, his mother and father drifted up from the past. They watched powerlessly as the Baron ‘conscripted’ every able-bodied man in the country side. The faces of his fellow footmen appeared after. They screamed as they were slaughtered from horseback, skulls split, bodies speared. Then there were the faces of his captors. Torturing, hateful, eastern heathens.
He had seen things then that had fed him nothing but pain and rage. He had done things in those years to damn his soul. In the end, the final decision had been his own. He could not deny that he had accepted the bargain of his own free will. Even if it had been in a fit of madness.
He hadn’t even been fighting for his own country.
...When you reach the part where the heartache comes, the hero would be you...
“You’re really knee deep in this shit now aren’t you,” Joe muttered to himself as he tried to push back the tide of ghosts.
“So what,” he continued, this time to someone who wasn’t there but who he was sure was listening. “New millennia and you’ve decided to call in your debts? Stopped having fun watching your little affront to humanity? Your little knock at God’s punishment? Stopped laughing about how THIS is how you granted what I asked for? Bring it on asshole. Come and get me.”
...Heros often fail...
Joe took a sip of his drink and let the alcohol roll gently around his tongue. Casually he spit it back into the glass. He could never imbibe it straight like this but he still enjoyed the taste. It drowned out the taste of blood.
He found himself at one of the place’s railings and thought about the events unfolding around him. Fingers seemed to be pointing in every direction. The Camarilla security points to the Assamites and the Assamites pointed to the security. Or did they? All that one Ehab had said was that everyone was dead when he got there and that Hassan had chased after Stormcrow. Was Hassan following Stormcrow and in league with him, or was he actually after him to kill him? Did Stormcrow kill all of those people in that room himself, did he have help, or was it someone else? Or were the assassins lying? The only thing Joe knew for sure was that the only people to be in that building that night were Stormcrow, his team, Hassan and his men, and the two Assamiates.
And where the hell was Stormcrow now? Assamites were not easily thrown off the trail. Did the crazy bastard have help escaping? Who? The Caitiff had the bad feeling that there was more involved in this than they thought.
...Never thought I’d feel this way and I’ve got to say that I just don’t get it...
And than there’s Reece’s Sire following around, mixing up the works. Who had set a watch around Reece’s family? That could have doomed them and that would have sent Reece over the edge. How did the old Gangrel even know about this assignment?
The machinations of vampire society were not Joe’s forte. In fact, he usually avoided it at all costs. This was making his head spin.
And where did D’Anjou know him from anyway? Prague Joe shuddered at the last time he had had major dealings with other kindred. Those nights had turned out badly. Very badly. Overthrowing of power, badly. The thought of Isabella Sanchez still pained him.
That happened once, he thought. Never again.
...If you could read my mind...
Joe shook the past from his head and made for the exit. As he pushed through the tide of people at the door and finally made it into the night air, he was surprised to see Alec only about a block down the street.
“You’re looking better, DuMont,” he said after approaching the man.
Jack sighed softly as he watched the merchants quickly collecting their wares and closing up shop for the night as he was sure they had done for time immemorial in this ancient city. To think that he was walking on the same streets his sire walked, breathing the same air. Here was the origin of a holy war waged by one man against an entire clan. Here was the birth of the thing that would give birth to him.
He wondered what it must have been like, entering this city as part of an army of Christ, a Templar flush with pride at their victories and then to leave this city one of the damned. How must have that affected his mind. What little heart the bastard had must have shriveled up and died.
The parallels were almost uncanny for him. He had entered Iraq, another ancient land, as a soldier for his nation, ready to carry out her will no matter the cost. He wondered now whether he would have done the same if he knew the cost would be his very soul. He entered a special forces soldier in service of his country and left a member of the undead, a slave to the will of some undead creature that had been skulking around the Middle East fro centuries making war on another set of undead creatures just because their faiths were different.
It was fucking pathetic.
He fervently hoped that this mission ended quickly. He missed his family. Although he could never speak to them or touch them, it comforted the raging Beast inside of him when he saw them. They were his touchstone to the humanity he was on the verge of losing every night he rose.
There was the slightest sound of metal sliding on metal.
He did not flinch or tense up. Instead he continued watching the merchants who were now all but done and were ready to head home to their family and loved ones. He was about to kill.
Jack ducked down and whirled as a storm of throwing knives whipped over his head clattering against the stone wall behind him. Jack had drawn his guns and pointed them at his assailants.
Four Assamites stood in the shadows of the old building. Two were dressed in Western style clothing, loose fitting khakis and linen shirts open to the belly revealing gleaming blades strapped around their waist and under their arms. One was dressed like a Bedouin, flowing robes and headdress, his hands were at their sides but he could see the scimitar resting snugly in its scabbard waiting to be released. The last was a woman, she wore simple black fighting tights and nothing else save for a pair of sais. She twirled them slowly and watched him.
Jack pegged her for the most dangerous one.
“I take it you know who I am?” Jack asked softly.
“We know who you are, Childe of D’Anjou. Your sire is a blight on our clan and we will cut down all the progeny of his line for his insult.”
Jack smiled ferally. He slowly stood up and holstered his Berettas. He stretched for a moment and rolled his head and shoulders to loosen up, blood began rushing though his system increasing his strength and speed.
“Well, then, I guess if you wolf cubs can’t take down my sire then you might as well TRY to feel like true warriors by cutting down a neonate.”
The three male Assamites hissed angrily and advanced. They were too fucking predictable. The woman on the other hand simply watched him.
The two western ones took to the air. Mistake number one, his sire had drilled it into him so many times. NEVER take to the air unless your prey is already down or completely unaware. You are completely vulnerable.
Jack’s hands whipped out twin machine pistols and unloaded into the two in the air. The bullets ripped through their undead flesh. The Assamites landed in a bloody heap, holding the numerous bullet holes torn through their bodies, vital vitae oozing out onto the ancient streets. Jack didn’t even try to reload, he knew he had no time. He dropped the machine pistols as they clicked empty and prepared himself as the Bedouin came in whirling like a dervish, scimitar flashing hungrily. He drew his Desert Eagle and aimed as the scimitar flashed for his head.
The blast from his hand cannon caught the Bedouin dead center and the sheer kinetic energy of the impact sent the Assamite crashing to the ground. The scimitar went twirling backwards and crashed on the ground.
The two wounded Assamites circled him on opposite sides. Jack aimed with the Desert Eagle and the Assamite he was not aiming at slipped in like a shadow, his blade burying itself in Jack’s shoulder and erupting out of the front. Jack’s arm went numb and the Desert Eagle slipped out of his grasp, feeling as heavy as a stone.
He turned and wrapped his free hand around the Assamite that had stabbed him and pulled him over his hip and brought his boot down on the Assamite’s throat. It gave way with a loud crunch and the Assamite clawed at its ruined throat.
The other western dressed Assamite charged as well, hand thrusting a wicked looking blade for Jack’s throat. Jack caught the wrists and fell backwards using the momentum of the attacker’s charge to drive him backwards, he rolled, got his legs under the Assamite and kicked hi over his head away from him.
Killing kindred outright was damn near impossible. The only option was to hurt them so bad that they could not continue to fight and flee. Right now the numbers were telling. The Bedouin was up and like a snake slithered past Jack’s counter kick and buried his scimitar in Jack’s gut.
Jack tried not to scream as raw fire erupted within his belly as the blade buried itself in him. He knew instantly that his time was now very short. The bastard had poisoned his blade with Assamite blood. It was burning his vitae now and weakening him. He managed to grab the bastard’s head and he jerked it hard one way, rewarded with a satisfying crack. The Bedouin flopped to the ground like a dead fish.
Regenerative abilities or not, crippling a kindred took time to overcome.
He drew the scimitar out of his belly and heard the sound of another Assamite behind him. He whirled around at his hip and felt a solid impact as the scimitar cut into the Assamite’s shoulder, past it into his torso before coming to a wrenching stop.
The Assmiate howled in pain as the venom on the blade began it work on him as well. Jack smiled. The vile assassins were not immune to another’s venomous vitae. He stumbled up to his feet and his vision blurred slightly as he faced the last western dressed Assamite who slowly approached him with a sword. The woman continued watching him coolly.
Jack could go for his last guns, or he could rely on a weapon he was never comfortable using but right now it was the only way to quickly end this. Guns were only good to incapacitate, rarely could a gun out and out kill a kindred.
He slowly drew his weapon. The sword given to him by Geoffrey on the first night he rose as a kindred. This action gave the western dressed kindred pause. Jack smiled as vitae stained his teeth.
“Come on, son of a bitch, let’s dance.” He spat.
The Assamite screamed and danced in with a flurry of quick thrusts. Jack danced backwards, blade flashing down, parrying the most dangerous thrusts and watching for the opening his sire promised him the young Assamites always provided. “Assamites,” he said with that weird French accent spoken with an almost animal like guttural voice, “train their neonates to kill. The swordsmanship amongst their younglings is almost pathetic because it is almost universally geared for offense not defense. A patient swordsman need only wait long enough and they will open themselves.
THERE.
Jack stepped in as the Assamite finished an over extended thrust meant to disembowel him. Yeah, if I was a one legged blind man it would have hit. Jack mused as he cut loose with a rapid slice and separated the Assamite’s head from his body.
Jack spit on the corpse.
“Give me regards to Satan you bastard.” He hissed.
His vision blurred again and he clutched at his belly. There was the woman. She slowly approached him and just by seeing her walk he knew she would kill him. He would not face death on his knees however despite the weakness that ate away at his strength and threatened to send him into torpor.
“You are indeed as ferocious as your sire, Jack Reece.” The woman said as she stopped within sword reach of him. Her hands held the sais but she did not look tense at all.
“Apple…doesn’t fall…far from the asylum they say.” He replied blithely and hid the stabbing pain eating at his gut.
“Indeed.” She replied with a mysterious smile.
“I don’t care what you think, I won’t make it easy.”
“No, I don’t suppose you would, but you have already won, neonate.”
“What?” Jack replied in confusion.
“You have earned my respect. Congratulations, Jack Reece, childe of D’Anjou. You saved your own life tonight by showing me your heart.” She replied with a smile and turned away and started to walk back into the shadows, she was already fading from view.
“Wait, what’s your name?”
She paused, seemed to consider it for a moment and turned her head.
“Fatima.”
“THE Fatima?” He sputtered and nearly lost his balance.
“THE, if that means anything. If I were you, feed and feed deeply from my fallen brothers, it is the only way to cleanse your system of the poison.”
She disappeared wraith like into the night. Jack fell to his knees and began to crawl to the nearest Assamite.
He wondered what it must have been like, entering this city as part of an army of Christ, a Templar flush with pride at their victories and then to leave this city one of the damned. How must have that affected his mind. What little heart the bastard had must have shriveled up and died.
The parallels were almost uncanny for him. He had entered Iraq, another ancient land, as a soldier for his nation, ready to carry out her will no matter the cost. He wondered now whether he would have done the same if he knew the cost would be his very soul. He entered a special forces soldier in service of his country and left a member of the undead, a slave to the will of some undead creature that had been skulking around the Middle East fro centuries making war on another set of undead creatures just because their faiths were different.
It was fucking pathetic.
He fervently hoped that this mission ended quickly. He missed his family. Although he could never speak to them or touch them, it comforted the raging Beast inside of him when he saw them. They were his touchstone to the humanity he was on the verge of losing every night he rose.
There was the slightest sound of metal sliding on metal.
He did not flinch or tense up. Instead he continued watching the merchants who were now all but done and were ready to head home to their family and loved ones. He was about to kill.
Jack ducked down and whirled as a storm of throwing knives whipped over his head clattering against the stone wall behind him. Jack had drawn his guns and pointed them at his assailants.
Four Assamites stood in the shadows of the old building. Two were dressed in Western style clothing, loose fitting khakis and linen shirts open to the belly revealing gleaming blades strapped around their waist and under their arms. One was dressed like a Bedouin, flowing robes and headdress, his hands were at their sides but he could see the scimitar resting snugly in its scabbard waiting to be released. The last was a woman, she wore simple black fighting tights and nothing else save for a pair of sais. She twirled them slowly and watched him.
Jack pegged her for the most dangerous one.
“I take it you know who I am?” Jack asked softly.
“We know who you are, Childe of D’Anjou. Your sire is a blight on our clan and we will cut down all the progeny of his line for his insult.”
Jack smiled ferally. He slowly stood up and holstered his Berettas. He stretched for a moment and rolled his head and shoulders to loosen up, blood began rushing though his system increasing his strength and speed.
“Well, then, I guess if you wolf cubs can’t take down my sire then you might as well TRY to feel like true warriors by cutting down a neonate.”
The three male Assamites hissed angrily and advanced. They were too fucking predictable. The woman on the other hand simply watched him.
The two western ones took to the air. Mistake number one, his sire had drilled it into him so many times. NEVER take to the air unless your prey is already down or completely unaware. You are completely vulnerable.
Jack’s hands whipped out twin machine pistols and unloaded into the two in the air. The bullets ripped through their undead flesh. The Assamites landed in a bloody heap, holding the numerous bullet holes torn through their bodies, vital vitae oozing out onto the ancient streets. Jack didn’t even try to reload, he knew he had no time. He dropped the machine pistols as they clicked empty and prepared himself as the Bedouin came in whirling like a dervish, scimitar flashing hungrily. He drew his Desert Eagle and aimed as the scimitar flashed for his head.
The blast from his hand cannon caught the Bedouin dead center and the sheer kinetic energy of the impact sent the Assamite crashing to the ground. The scimitar went twirling backwards and crashed on the ground.
The two wounded Assamites circled him on opposite sides. Jack aimed with the Desert Eagle and the Assamite he was not aiming at slipped in like a shadow, his blade burying itself in Jack’s shoulder and erupting out of the front. Jack’s arm went numb and the Desert Eagle slipped out of his grasp, feeling as heavy as a stone.
He turned and wrapped his free hand around the Assamite that had stabbed him and pulled him over his hip and brought his boot down on the Assamite’s throat. It gave way with a loud crunch and the Assamite clawed at its ruined throat.
The other western dressed Assamite charged as well, hand thrusting a wicked looking blade for Jack’s throat. Jack caught the wrists and fell backwards using the momentum of the attacker’s charge to drive him backwards, he rolled, got his legs under the Assamite and kicked hi over his head away from him.
Killing kindred outright was damn near impossible. The only option was to hurt them so bad that they could not continue to fight and flee. Right now the numbers were telling. The Bedouin was up and like a snake slithered past Jack’s counter kick and buried his scimitar in Jack’s gut.
Jack tried not to scream as raw fire erupted within his belly as the blade buried itself in him. He knew instantly that his time was now very short. The bastard had poisoned his blade with Assamite blood. It was burning his vitae now and weakening him. He managed to grab the bastard’s head and he jerked it hard one way, rewarded with a satisfying crack. The Bedouin flopped to the ground like a dead fish.
Regenerative abilities or not, crippling a kindred took time to overcome.
He drew the scimitar out of his belly and heard the sound of another Assamite behind him. He whirled around at his hip and felt a solid impact as the scimitar cut into the Assamite’s shoulder, past it into his torso before coming to a wrenching stop.
The Assmiate howled in pain as the venom on the blade began it work on him as well. Jack smiled. The vile assassins were not immune to another’s venomous vitae. He stumbled up to his feet and his vision blurred slightly as he faced the last western dressed Assamite who slowly approached him with a sword. The woman continued watching him coolly.
Jack could go for his last guns, or he could rely on a weapon he was never comfortable using but right now it was the only way to quickly end this. Guns were only good to incapacitate, rarely could a gun out and out kill a kindred.
He slowly drew his weapon. The sword given to him by Geoffrey on the first night he rose as a kindred. This action gave the western dressed kindred pause. Jack smiled as vitae stained his teeth.
“Come on, son of a bitch, let’s dance.” He spat.
The Assamite screamed and danced in with a flurry of quick thrusts. Jack danced backwards, blade flashing down, parrying the most dangerous thrusts and watching for the opening his sire promised him the young Assamites always provided. “Assamites,” he said with that weird French accent spoken with an almost animal like guttural voice, “train their neonates to kill. The swordsmanship amongst their younglings is almost pathetic because it is almost universally geared for offense not defense. A patient swordsman need only wait long enough and they will open themselves.
THERE.
Jack stepped in as the Assamite finished an over extended thrust meant to disembowel him. Yeah, if I was a one legged blind man it would have hit. Jack mused as he cut loose with a rapid slice and separated the Assamite’s head from his body.
Jack spit on the corpse.
“Give me regards to Satan you bastard.” He hissed.
His vision blurred again and he clutched at his belly. There was the woman. She slowly approached him and just by seeing her walk he knew she would kill him. He would not face death on his knees however despite the weakness that ate away at his strength and threatened to send him into torpor.
“You are indeed as ferocious as your sire, Jack Reece.” The woman said as she stopped within sword reach of him. Her hands held the sais but she did not look tense at all.
“Apple…doesn’t fall…far from the asylum they say.” He replied blithely and hid the stabbing pain eating at his gut.
“Indeed.” She replied with a mysterious smile.
“I don’t care what you think, I won’t make it easy.”
“No, I don’t suppose you would, but you have already won, neonate.”
“What?” Jack replied in confusion.
“You have earned my respect. Congratulations, Jack Reece, childe of D’Anjou. You saved your own life tonight by showing me your heart.” She replied with a smile and turned away and started to walk back into the shadows, she was already fading from view.
“Wait, what’s your name?”
She paused, seemed to consider it for a moment and turned her head.
“Fatima.”
“THE Fatima?” He sputtered and nearly lost his balance.
“THE, if that means anything. If I were you, feed and feed deeply from my fallen brothers, it is the only way to cleanse your system of the poison.”
She disappeared wraith like into the night. Jack fell to his knees and began to crawl to the nearest Assamite.
-
Kelly Antilles
- Sith Acolyte
- Posts: 6417
- Joined: 2002-09-12 10:36am
Anna wandered the streets of the Old City. It was quiet and gave her time to think. The shadows, however, weren't so silent. She could sense them watching her. This area was prime for havens.
A cloaked figure stepped in front of her, blocking her way. "<What do you want?>" he asked in an ancient dialect only few still knew.
Her brain automatically translated his words. Her grasp of languages was astonishing. "<I am just visitng your fair city and wanted to see the ancient ruins.>"
She could see a flash of surprise on his face when she replied in his language. A moment later, he smiled. "<You are the westerner that arrived recently.>"
"<I am. My sire, Nicholas Tudor, a templar from the ancient times, told me I might find friends in this part of the city.>" She kept her eyes locked on him, but her other senses opened up. She could hear others coming closer, investigating the strangely dressed woman invading their home.
"You have found them," he said in perfect english. Removing his hood, he revealed his face, rather equine looking. "I am Jamal." He held his hand out to her.
She took it in good faith and they shook. "Is there somewhere more... private we could go to talk?"
The gangrel nodded and led her into one of the mud huts. "What can we do for you?" He sat down and motioned for her to do the same on the other side of the table.
"I am looking for someone. You are probably aware of Eliot Stormcrow. He has in his posession something very detrimental to all of our kind."
Jamal frowned. "We have heard, but he has not come through here."
Anna nodded sadly. "I was afraid of that. Still..." she handed him a business card. "If you see him or hear anything, call me. I also have the address of where we are staying on there." She stood and moved to the doorway. "Thanks you."
"God be with you," he replied as she exited.
A cloaked figure stepped in front of her, blocking her way. "<What do you want?>" he asked in an ancient dialect only few still knew.
Her brain automatically translated his words. Her grasp of languages was astonishing. "<I am just visitng your fair city and wanted to see the ancient ruins.>"
She could see a flash of surprise on his face when she replied in his language. A moment later, he smiled. "<You are the westerner that arrived recently.>"
"<I am. My sire, Nicholas Tudor, a templar from the ancient times, told me I might find friends in this part of the city.>" She kept her eyes locked on him, but her other senses opened up. She could hear others coming closer, investigating the strangely dressed woman invading their home.
"You have found them," he said in perfect english. Removing his hood, he revealed his face, rather equine looking. "I am Jamal." He held his hand out to her.
She took it in good faith and they shook. "Is there somewhere more... private we could go to talk?"
The gangrel nodded and led her into one of the mud huts. "What can we do for you?" He sat down and motioned for her to do the same on the other side of the table.
"I am looking for someone. You are probably aware of Eliot Stormcrow. He has in his posession something very detrimental to all of our kind."
Jamal frowned. "We have heard, but he has not come through here."
Anna nodded sadly. "I was afraid of that. Still..." she handed him a business card. "If you see him or hear anything, call me. I also have the address of where we are staying on there." She stood and moved to the doorway. "Thanks you."
"God be with you," he replied as she exited.
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Stormbringer
- King of Democracy
- Posts: 22678
- Joined: 2002-07-15 11:22pm
Alec had been pondering the aftermath of his ecounter with Hassan. They had been setup, that was the only possible answer. It made a sick kind of sense. If the entire matter had been covered then it was a grave situation, few could engineer that. If Stormcrow was as dangerous to the Kindred he should have been dealt with better than this. Teams of Archorns should have smashed his supporters flat and Alastors hounded his every step.
But they hadn't. Which meant that the Camarilla at large didn't know; it was all outside the knowledge of the Sect. A dangerous place to be. And why? For the sake a lunatic that thought the end was nigh, not hardly! The Camarilla and the Ventrue in particular had made a habit of squashing that particular breed of kook. A following of his among the Caitiff? No, that only bring them down harder. If he was some one's cat's paw? Again no, the higher ups would simply have acted?
What if they were scared because he was right? Alec shuddered at the thought. There was no doubt that things were getting... strange. Weak blooded barely-vampires, a fever pitch of violence amid the Kindred, and the stirring of ancient vampires, even the Malkavian's ramblings had turned increasingly sinister.
“You’re looking better, DuMont,”
Alec turned and gave Joe a cold smile.
"I just had a run in with Hassan. He's sold us out, no question about he's in bed with the enemy." Alec proceeded to tell a grim looking Johan all about it.
"So what does a religious lunatic want with old artifacts? I mean why would he care? It's not like they were of any importance. "
Alec's face froze over as he lost himself deep in thought.
It was possible. Horrifying but then again the Ghenna Cults always are. Was that what the bastard was up to?
"Joe, we've got to find Anna. I need to talk to her."
But they hadn't. Which meant that the Camarilla at large didn't know; it was all outside the knowledge of the Sect. A dangerous place to be. And why? For the sake a lunatic that thought the end was nigh, not hardly! The Camarilla and the Ventrue in particular had made a habit of squashing that particular breed of kook. A following of his among the Caitiff? No, that only bring them down harder. If he was some one's cat's paw? Again no, the higher ups would simply have acted?
What if they were scared because he was right? Alec shuddered at the thought. There was no doubt that things were getting... strange. Weak blooded barely-vampires, a fever pitch of violence amid the Kindred, and the stirring of ancient vampires, even the Malkavian's ramblings had turned increasingly sinister.
“You’re looking better, DuMont,”
Alec turned and gave Joe a cold smile.
"I just had a run in with Hassan. He's sold us out, no question about he's in bed with the enemy." Alec proceeded to tell a grim looking Johan all about it.
"So what does a religious lunatic want with old artifacts? I mean why would he care? It's not like they were of any importance. "
Alec's face froze over as he lost himself deep in thought.
It was possible. Horrifying but then again the Ghenna Cults always are. Was that what the bastard was up to?
"Joe, we've got to find Anna. I need to talk to her."
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Kelly Antilles
- Sith Acolyte
- Posts: 6417
- Joined: 2002-09-12 10:36am
"Did I hear my name?" Anna asked as she approached her two companions. "Looks like you two have had an interesting evening." She was noting the distant looks on both their faces.
"Anyway... I went and spoke with a contingent of Camarilla in the old city. The are going to keep a lookout for Eliot. Have you seen Jack yet? I'm surprised he's not back."
"Anyway... I went and spoke with a contingent of Camarilla in the old city. The are going to keep a lookout for Eliot. Have you seen Jack yet? I'm surprised he's not back."
No sooner had Joe taken in Alec’s story than Anna appeared with her news.
“Reece? No, haven’t seen him,” the Caitiff answered. “Hopefully those Camarilla you ran into aren’t on the same side as Hassan.”
At Anna’s confused expression Alec recounted his meeting with the vampire.
“Do you really think Hassan was helping Eliot?” Joe asked. “You’re right though. There is definitely something up with that guy. I guess it depends on who you believe. Him or the Assamites. Though none of it gets us closer to Stormcrow unless one of them has something they aren’t showing us.”
He turned to Anna. “So what’s the next move? Do we put the screws to Hassan or dig deeper with the Assamites? Or do you want to wait for any info your friends might have?”
“Reece? No, haven’t seen him,” the Caitiff answered. “Hopefully those Camarilla you ran into aren’t on the same side as Hassan.”
At Anna’s confused expression Alec recounted his meeting with the vampire.
“Do you really think Hassan was helping Eliot?” Joe asked. “You’re right though. There is definitely something up with that guy. I guess it depends on who you believe. Him or the Assamites. Though none of it gets us closer to Stormcrow unless one of them has something they aren’t showing us.”
He turned to Anna. “So what’s the next move? Do we put the screws to Hassan or dig deeper with the Assamites? Or do you want to wait for any info your friends might have?”
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Kelly Antilles
- Sith Acolyte
- Posts: 6417
- Joined: 2002-09-12 10:36am
"Better late than never." Jack announced as he walked in. He wore his usual lather jacket and shirt underneath, battered jeans and boots but he seemed to move a little hesitantly, as if sore or in pain. He slid into a seat and settled down to listen to the others before adding,
"I just wanted to let you guys know that the local Assamite community, particularly the neonates and young are on to me being here and that means that any Ass-mite with a grudge or something to prove will most likely be gunning for me as I learned recently. Things are laible to heat up pretty soon and it's only going to make things harder for us."
"I just wanted to let you guys know that the local Assamite community, particularly the neonates and young are on to me being here and that means that any Ass-mite with a grudge or something to prove will most likely be gunning for me as I learned recently. Things are laible to heat up pretty soon and it's only going to make things harder for us."
"Yeah, thanks again for that buddy." Joe patted the newcomer on the back jokingly for emphasis. "You seem to bring the best out in people."
The elder vampire paused for a moment as regarded the other. His eyes narrowed slightly and he seemed to concentrate for a moment, bondering more than what could be seen with the naked eye. His joking smile died for a second and than grew again as certain implications dawned on him.
"You seem a little different," he stated. "New shades?"
With the quartet fully reunited and Jack brought up to speed on the conversation, they started out to find their way back to their haven. From there they could begin inquiring as to where they could find Hassan. As they walked, their eyes shifted from place to place, never letting one shadow go unexamined. If they had thought that the city had been watching them before, they could feel it with every fiber of their being now.
Reaching the sanctuary, the four's attention was pulled into the darkness of a near by alley. A hacking, gutteral voice was calling to them from the depths.
Drawing cautiously closer, they broke the vail of shadows to find a stooped and twisted cron of a woman. At least they believed it to be woman. It was impossible to tell by looking as the figure was covered head to toe in the traditional black garb that many women still wore in the Middle East.
"What do you want," Alec said hostiley, hand moving to his weapon.
At the same time, a look of utter disgust cut Joe's face before he could control himself. Understanding had dawned on him.
"One of the Trolls," he commented, drawing the attention of the woman before them.
Having gone through vampire existance mainly alone and not been given any formal education of the various clans, when Joe had first encountered Nosferatu he had believed them to be something other than kindred. Working only from legend and fairytale, he had thought them trolls. Even once learning the truth, the name had still stuck for him.
This particulary Troll now glared and hissed at him before turning her attention to Anna.
"We appear to have a mutual aquaintence, you and I," she began in broken english. "Jamal has ask that I find the Westerners and convey what my clan may know about your situation. We see many thing that others do not. We take note of what others find useless. Much is not as useless as first appearence would indicate."
The Nosferatu hag paused, studying them. "What would you have of me? I am told you come from on high with power granted to demand what you would from those of the Camarilla. There is much talk as to what you are after. What is it that you truly want?"
The elder vampire paused for a moment as regarded the other. His eyes narrowed slightly and he seemed to concentrate for a moment, bondering more than what could be seen with the naked eye. His joking smile died for a second and than grew again as certain implications dawned on him.
"You seem a little different," he stated. "New shades?"
With the quartet fully reunited and Jack brought up to speed on the conversation, they started out to find their way back to their haven. From there they could begin inquiring as to where they could find Hassan. As they walked, their eyes shifted from place to place, never letting one shadow go unexamined. If they had thought that the city had been watching them before, they could feel it with every fiber of their being now.
Reaching the sanctuary, the four's attention was pulled into the darkness of a near by alley. A hacking, gutteral voice was calling to them from the depths.
Drawing cautiously closer, they broke the vail of shadows to find a stooped and twisted cron of a woman. At least they believed it to be woman. It was impossible to tell by looking as the figure was covered head to toe in the traditional black garb that many women still wore in the Middle East.
"What do you want," Alec said hostiley, hand moving to his weapon.
At the same time, a look of utter disgust cut Joe's face before he could control himself. Understanding had dawned on him.
"One of the Trolls," he commented, drawing the attention of the woman before them.
Having gone through vampire existance mainly alone and not been given any formal education of the various clans, when Joe had first encountered Nosferatu he had believed them to be something other than kindred. Working only from legend and fairytale, he had thought them trolls. Even once learning the truth, the name had still stuck for him.
This particulary Troll now glared and hissed at him before turning her attention to Anna.
"We appear to have a mutual aquaintence, you and I," she began in broken english. "Jamal has ask that I find the Westerners and convey what my clan may know about your situation. We see many thing that others do not. We take note of what others find useless. Much is not as useless as first appearence would indicate."
The Nosferatu hag paused, studying them. "What would you have of me? I am told you come from on high with power granted to demand what you would from those of the Camarilla. There is much talk as to what you are after. What is it that you truly want?"
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Stormbringer
- King of Democracy
- Posts: 22678
- Joined: 2002-07-15 11:22pm
"To find Stormcrow, kill him, and go home safe and sound. In short we need information, answers not games. " Alec was getting sick the riddles and games from everyone they met. His eyes fixed on the vampire, sizing her up. She had the air of an elder vampire about her, that unmistakable carriage of some one confident in themself.
"If you have information we'll be greatful for it. It is important busines; if you help it certainly won't go unrewarded."
Alec had the Ventrue's almost instinctive dislike of the Nosferateu. He didn't wish them ill exactly but they made him uncomfortable. Arms crossed he stared intently at the Nosferateu woman; he cracked the knuckles of his fingers in nervous concentration.
"It's said your clan are some of the best spies and sneaks ever produced. I'm sure any information you have would be very helpful to us. So, can we make a deal?"
"If you have information we'll be greatful for it. It is important busines; if you help it certainly won't go unrewarded."
Alec had the Ventrue's almost instinctive dislike of the Nosferateu. He didn't wish them ill exactly but they made him uncomfortable. Arms crossed he stared intently at the Nosferateu woman; he cracked the knuckles of his fingers in nervous concentration.
"It's said your clan are some of the best spies and sneaks ever produced. I'm sure any information you have would be very helpful to us. So, can we make a deal?"
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Kelly Antilles
- Sith Acolyte
- Posts: 6417
- Joined: 2002-09-12 10:36am
Anna sighed inwardly. Once again Alec had jumped to conclusions. She couldn't help that he was so eager. Sometimes that was good, but in a situation where patience was needed, he had none.
"Please forgive my childe," she told the Nos. "He gets... excited. We are in search of something Eliot Stormcrow has obtained. We are afraid it predicts the downfall of our kind. We would greatly appreciate you and your fellows to help us to find him."
"Please forgive my childe," she told the Nos. "He gets... excited. We are in search of something Eliot Stormcrow has obtained. We are afraid it predicts the downfall of our kind. We would greatly appreciate you and your fellows to help us to find him."