Jack took one last circuit around his haven. He wanted to make sure that it looked and was as empty as he had found it. Rather smallish but secure, the haven was an old bomb shelter obviously built by someone waiting for the end during the height of the Cold War. Nearly forgotten out in the this old field, the old ruin burned to its foundations was the only sign that this field had once been a home for a family.
He nodded to himself as he checked his boobytraps. Any little bastard kindred that tried to take this place while he was gone would have a devil of a time keeping it. Jack was a solitary man now and he enjoyed his privacy, particularly from the prying eyes of other kindred.
The mission they were going on had him worried for reasons other than the obvious.
They would be heading out of the country and to areas where ancient languages were still spoken. These were the kind of places that his sire haunted. He rarely came to the states for the simple reason that the heathen lands of America were best left to the savages and Sabbat. No self respecting kindred, especially Camarilla elder would set foot in the New World.
Jack smirked as he slung a leather bag over his shoulder.
Geoffrey D'Anjou was many things, snob near the top of the list but he was also a religious lunatic and Jack was labeled a Prodigal. Geoffrey was infamous for embracing soldiers of Christendom (Funny that he would embrace a soldier from heathen America, but Geoffrey like most elders shirked traditions when expedience and neccessity reared their heads.) and training them for his never ending war against the Assamites. If the childe passed his rigorous tests he would be known as a Crusader and fight in Geoffrey's name, usually given great respect in the Camarilla, due to Geoffrey's status there. But those that failed him, usually by dying during one of his trials or by defying his will and abandoning him as Jack had done were labeled prodigals and Geoffrey let anyone know that he could care less if the childe was slain.
Prodigals did not have very long lives. They usually went down in a blaze of glory fighting against vengeful Assamites looking to score some points by slaying a childe of D'Anjou.
Geoffrey also made it no small matter to hunt a prodigal that he crossed paths with. There was a distinct possibility he would run into his black hearted sire and Jack had no illusions as to his chances against a man that had been a killing machine since the Crusades.
Jack sighed softly and flipped off the lights from the naked lightbulbs strung from the ceiling.
Maybe just maybe, he would not be facing Geoffrey alone.
Stormcrow
Moderator: LadyTevar
If the air of the previous night could be described as thick, now it was absolutely oppressive. Dark clouds hung low over the city, blotting out even the most persistent stars. Moisture from the muddy waters of the Mississippi permeated everything. Mold was having a field day.
Joe sat perched atop one of the glass and steel heights of corporate America. Stories below, an aging church battled modern achievement with gothic style. This was fascinating to him. He had seen the formation of all of this, in one place or another, and always he moved forward. Always he let go. The capacity for people to just... just... hold on, never ceased to amaze him.
Never in his existence, living or dead, had he set foot in a place like the one he observed. In the beginning he had never had the opportunity. One didn’t have time to see too much high architecture working for a living in his day. After his turn... Well, he had tried once. He had tried everything once. Sanctified ground seemed to be a barred path. To him at any rate. But then, that wasn’t the only thing about him that seemed to be different than most.
Joe regarded the mold and fungus growing on the roof curb for a moment and ran his cold finger through it. He crushed what he had gathered between his finger and thumb and blew the dust into the night. As the particles rose high, the lone man grabbed the single duffle bag containing all of his worldly possessions, and moved to the alley side of the building. He looked over the edge, then back at the door leading into the tower.
“Better take the stairs,” he said to himself, eyeing his bag. “A drop like that’ll ruin my shit.”
A short while later Joe was walking to the curb to hail a cab. He paused as he felt something... not right. It was an odd sensation that only a kindred that had crept around for untold centuries could understand. Bruck had told him that the ancients had a name for the uneasy feeling.
Blood calling to blood, she had said. Elder blood spoke in an ancient language that not even the ancients themselves could understand. It was the blood of Caine, whispering greetings to another.
Joe hardly thought that should apply to him but he had to admit, he knew when an elder was within line of sight. He casually turned around, knowing that, whatever it was, if it had not struck by now it was not going to strike.
The figure was just in the shadows of the alleyway behind him.
He let me see him , Joe surmised recognizing the agile and stealthy stance of a warrior.
"Johanne Schwartz." the voice was cold and deep. There was a strong stiff French aristocratic accent. Joe smiled softly. It brought back some good memories of drinking from drunken French maidens and feeling the rush of French wine laden blood.
"You have me at a disadvantage, but if I were a gambling man, I would guess that you were Geoffrey D'Anjou." He replied wanly, mockingly imitating the other’s accent.
The figure took another step forward into the light and he saw the tall broad man with a face like a beast from hell. There were hints of the proud noble face that once graced this kindred, but it was twisted in the tapestry of the Gangrel curse. He had obviously seen many frenzies in his life time. And there was something else, a distinctive red glow in his eyes, just like Jack.
There were some kindred scholars that believed that certain traits were herditary in the blood from sire to childe. He was seeing this in Anjou now. The nose was constantly flaring like some wolf testing the air, tufts of hairy fur replaced what had been sideburns on his face and there was a constant scowl that would make lesser beings shiver.
For Joe, this was par for the course when dealing with Gangrel elders, more often than not, they rarely resembled human beings anymore under the weight of the ages.
Geoffrey wore a battered old raincoat that was cinched closed but could be flung open at a moment's notice, most likely to reveal the sword that Joe could discern from the lumps under the coat. In the low lamp light shining down on them, he could also see the tell tale glint of metal ringlets underneath the man’s coat. He was wearing a chainmail vest, not even trying to blend in too much with the modern world. He was a hunter and the hunt had merely taken him to a new century, new culture. He would forever be the French aristocrat that went to Jerusalem a Crusader and came back one of the damned.
What did that do to your mind, hmmmm? Joe wondered. What must it be like for one as religious as yourself to be damned? Many kindred embraced during this era did not survive the ages, torn by the misguided guilt in their breasts they chose to embrace the sun or taste fire's harsh kiss before going on another century. Joe new it all too well. He himself had spent the first hundred years of his unlife wanting to end it all.
He could never do it. He knew all too well who waited for him on the other side.
"I know you, Schwartz. You may have taken a new name, but you are an elder and you have crossed many paths in your lifetimes, paths that have crossed mine too."
Joe remained silent.
"I have come to talk about Jack."
"I didn't think you and I had any other business."
Geoffrey moved slowly, skirting the edges of the shadows.
"It is dangerous for me to be in one place for very long. My enemies are legion and they are quiet skilled in tracking and dealing death."
Joe rolled his eyes in contempt. "Your one man war against the assassins is well known to me. Veiled threats about your time with me is not appreciated. Frankly that's the kind of thing you would banter about among children."
Geoffrey stopped in his movements and turned his attention fully to Joe. His glowing red eyes flashed dangerously.
"I have been hunting and stalking the children of Assan since my embrace when we took Jerusalem so very long ago. Do not talk of neonates around me. I was giving you fair warning, out of respect to a fellow elder that I can come under attack at any time."
Joe nodded.
"Jack is not to be harmed."
"I would never hurt Jack."
"You don't understand me. Jack is my childe, and though prodigal he may be, I have plans for my little Crusader. He has shown the most promise of all of my childer in the last three centuries. One of these warriors comes along once in a human lifetime and I will not lose him because he thinks me insane or harsh."
Joe watched him intently. True to form, D'Anjou was constantly on alert, eyes flashing from point to point behind him, nose testing the air, ears twitching at the slightest sound, and he could tell that every vampiric sense was also on alert. How does one live like that? Joe wondered.
But there was something more.
D'Anjou's voice, as hard as steel and just as stern, softened ever so slightly when he said Jack's name.
"You will help him and make sure that he fulfills this mission. He must be allowed to see how powerful he truly is and embrace what he is."
"An undead monster? Brother, I’ve been trying to get him to realize that since I met the kid."
D'Anjou sneered, eyes once again focusing on Joe.
"A Crusader for our lord Jesus Christ who spake to me in a vision and bade me to hunt down and expunge the Children of Assan from this world. Damned I am but to hunt the damned. The Lord promised me children to aid me in battle and one that would be as me, so if I should fall he would carry my banner until Gehenna when Caine rises again. He will call forth all the clans to him and they will step forward. All but one. The Assamites will be silent, the only sign from their camp will be my banner fluttering in the wind."
"Very poetic but I’ve seen The Man and that doesn’t sound like something he’d say."
Suddenly D'Anjou was behind him, lips to his left ear. Fast. Joe did not even begin to see him move.
"Listen to me. He is not be slain. If anyone will take his life it shall be me. Jack must embrace his destiny. He is my successor. I have told no one else but you, should you speak of this meeting to him, should you whisper my name, should you insinuate my presence or make reference to my mission..."
"Let me guess...you'll kill me." Joe cut in dryly, wondering why it always came to this.
"No." Geoffrey replied icily. He leaned in closer and Joe could feel the man's sword hilt poking into his back. A hand closed on his shoulder, he could see the horrid talons that replaced fingernails, talons that could tear terrible swaths through flesh both living and undead.
"I will paint his family's house with his children's blood. I will dance in his wife's entrails and feed from her beating heart. They will know pain as only the living can know and when it is all over they will beg me for death and I may grant it, or I may let Jack find them and have to put them out of their misery himself.
“So tell me, Schwartz, which is worse?" Geoffrey said, tightened his grip on Joe's shoulder for a moment and then was gone as quickly as he came.
Joe sighed softly and picked up his duffle bag.
Fucking vampires.
This trip had already gone straight to hell.
* * *
After a wordless ride, Joe emerged from the taxi in front of Anna Bruck’s antique store, his mind reeling. He had only heard Jack’s off-handed remarks about D’Anjou. Now he knew every word to be true.
But it wasn’t just that. The man who had confronted him was like a frozen shower of memories filled with steel and blood. The smell of that chainmail had called forth faces and images of things people in this age could never hope to understand.
He shouldered his bag and pushed through the stained, oak door to come face to face with Jack.
Just tell him, his mind shouted. He deserves to know!
Images of those two children, that beautiful woman, even the dog, flashed before him. Images of them tortured and mutilated soon followed. Than that family was gone and his own was haunting him. Kurt, his only son, screaming as he left with the other able men. He didn’t even know if the boy had grown up.
Joe stared blankly at Jack for what seemed like an eternity. Suddenly, he turned, looking for anything to change the subject.
This wasn’t his lucky night.
There, in an unassuming display case, among the other dusty weaponry, was a newly acquired longsword.
The man made his way to it and stood staring, a slight smile turning his lips, for longer than anyone there found comfortable. Still he stood, as if mesmerized, until finally someone broke the silence.
“Joe, what’s wrong,” Anna asked hesitantly, coming to his side.
The sound may have brought him from his memories but he hadn’t heard the words.
“Mid thirteenth century, Germanic,” Joe began softly. “The etching on the blade depicts Beowulf’s battle with the Fire Worm. The grip was originally wrapped in doe’s hide but it appears to have been replaced at some point by cow leather. The blade’s never been kept sharp and never been used. This weapon has most likely hung on a wall for its entire life.”
“Wow,” came the reply. “All that from just looking at it? You must be quite the connoisseur.” They thought it was all another one of his jokes.
“No,” came the reply. “Its one of mine.”
Joe turned to his companions and smiled. “I made this when I was fifteen years old. It looks nice enough but it’s a piece of shit. The balance is totally off. I ended up selling it to a linen merchant’s son who was taken by the etching.”
The others stood silent for a moment, not quite knowing what to think.
“So.” Joe brushed off the incident entirely. “Everyone set to go?”
Joe sat perched atop one of the glass and steel heights of corporate America. Stories below, an aging church battled modern achievement with gothic style. This was fascinating to him. He had seen the formation of all of this, in one place or another, and always he moved forward. Always he let go. The capacity for people to just... just... hold on, never ceased to amaze him.
Never in his existence, living or dead, had he set foot in a place like the one he observed. In the beginning he had never had the opportunity. One didn’t have time to see too much high architecture working for a living in his day. After his turn... Well, he had tried once. He had tried everything once. Sanctified ground seemed to be a barred path. To him at any rate. But then, that wasn’t the only thing about him that seemed to be different than most.
Joe regarded the mold and fungus growing on the roof curb for a moment and ran his cold finger through it. He crushed what he had gathered between his finger and thumb and blew the dust into the night. As the particles rose high, the lone man grabbed the single duffle bag containing all of his worldly possessions, and moved to the alley side of the building. He looked over the edge, then back at the door leading into the tower.
“Better take the stairs,” he said to himself, eyeing his bag. “A drop like that’ll ruin my shit.”
A short while later Joe was walking to the curb to hail a cab. He paused as he felt something... not right. It was an odd sensation that only a kindred that had crept around for untold centuries could understand. Bruck had told him that the ancients had a name for the uneasy feeling.
Blood calling to blood, she had said. Elder blood spoke in an ancient language that not even the ancients themselves could understand. It was the blood of Caine, whispering greetings to another.
Joe hardly thought that should apply to him but he had to admit, he knew when an elder was within line of sight. He casually turned around, knowing that, whatever it was, if it had not struck by now it was not going to strike.
The figure was just in the shadows of the alleyway behind him.
He let me see him , Joe surmised recognizing the agile and stealthy stance of a warrior.
"Johanne Schwartz." the voice was cold and deep. There was a strong stiff French aristocratic accent. Joe smiled softly. It brought back some good memories of drinking from drunken French maidens and feeling the rush of French wine laden blood.
"You have me at a disadvantage, but if I were a gambling man, I would guess that you were Geoffrey D'Anjou." He replied wanly, mockingly imitating the other’s accent.
The figure took another step forward into the light and he saw the tall broad man with a face like a beast from hell. There were hints of the proud noble face that once graced this kindred, but it was twisted in the tapestry of the Gangrel curse. He had obviously seen many frenzies in his life time. And there was something else, a distinctive red glow in his eyes, just like Jack.
There were some kindred scholars that believed that certain traits were herditary in the blood from sire to childe. He was seeing this in Anjou now. The nose was constantly flaring like some wolf testing the air, tufts of hairy fur replaced what had been sideburns on his face and there was a constant scowl that would make lesser beings shiver.
For Joe, this was par for the course when dealing with Gangrel elders, more often than not, they rarely resembled human beings anymore under the weight of the ages.
Geoffrey wore a battered old raincoat that was cinched closed but could be flung open at a moment's notice, most likely to reveal the sword that Joe could discern from the lumps under the coat. In the low lamp light shining down on them, he could also see the tell tale glint of metal ringlets underneath the man’s coat. He was wearing a chainmail vest, not even trying to blend in too much with the modern world. He was a hunter and the hunt had merely taken him to a new century, new culture. He would forever be the French aristocrat that went to Jerusalem a Crusader and came back one of the damned.
What did that do to your mind, hmmmm? Joe wondered. What must it be like for one as religious as yourself to be damned? Many kindred embraced during this era did not survive the ages, torn by the misguided guilt in their breasts they chose to embrace the sun or taste fire's harsh kiss before going on another century. Joe new it all too well. He himself had spent the first hundred years of his unlife wanting to end it all.
He could never do it. He knew all too well who waited for him on the other side.
"I know you, Schwartz. You may have taken a new name, but you are an elder and you have crossed many paths in your lifetimes, paths that have crossed mine too."
Joe remained silent.
"I have come to talk about Jack."
"I didn't think you and I had any other business."
Geoffrey moved slowly, skirting the edges of the shadows.
"It is dangerous for me to be in one place for very long. My enemies are legion and they are quiet skilled in tracking and dealing death."
Joe rolled his eyes in contempt. "Your one man war against the assassins is well known to me. Veiled threats about your time with me is not appreciated. Frankly that's the kind of thing you would banter about among children."
Geoffrey stopped in his movements and turned his attention fully to Joe. His glowing red eyes flashed dangerously.
"I have been hunting and stalking the children of Assan since my embrace when we took Jerusalem so very long ago. Do not talk of neonates around me. I was giving you fair warning, out of respect to a fellow elder that I can come under attack at any time."
Joe nodded.
"Jack is not to be harmed."
"I would never hurt Jack."
"You don't understand me. Jack is my childe, and though prodigal he may be, I have plans for my little Crusader. He has shown the most promise of all of my childer in the last three centuries. One of these warriors comes along once in a human lifetime and I will not lose him because he thinks me insane or harsh."
Joe watched him intently. True to form, D'Anjou was constantly on alert, eyes flashing from point to point behind him, nose testing the air, ears twitching at the slightest sound, and he could tell that every vampiric sense was also on alert. How does one live like that? Joe wondered.
But there was something more.
D'Anjou's voice, as hard as steel and just as stern, softened ever so slightly when he said Jack's name.
"You will help him and make sure that he fulfills this mission. He must be allowed to see how powerful he truly is and embrace what he is."
"An undead monster? Brother, I’ve been trying to get him to realize that since I met the kid."
D'Anjou sneered, eyes once again focusing on Joe.
"A Crusader for our lord Jesus Christ who spake to me in a vision and bade me to hunt down and expunge the Children of Assan from this world. Damned I am but to hunt the damned. The Lord promised me children to aid me in battle and one that would be as me, so if I should fall he would carry my banner until Gehenna when Caine rises again. He will call forth all the clans to him and they will step forward. All but one. The Assamites will be silent, the only sign from their camp will be my banner fluttering in the wind."
"Very poetic but I’ve seen The Man and that doesn’t sound like something he’d say."
Suddenly D'Anjou was behind him, lips to his left ear. Fast. Joe did not even begin to see him move.
"Listen to me. He is not be slain. If anyone will take his life it shall be me. Jack must embrace his destiny. He is my successor. I have told no one else but you, should you speak of this meeting to him, should you whisper my name, should you insinuate my presence or make reference to my mission..."
"Let me guess...you'll kill me." Joe cut in dryly, wondering why it always came to this.
"No." Geoffrey replied icily. He leaned in closer and Joe could feel the man's sword hilt poking into his back. A hand closed on his shoulder, he could see the horrid talons that replaced fingernails, talons that could tear terrible swaths through flesh both living and undead.
"I will paint his family's house with his children's blood. I will dance in his wife's entrails and feed from her beating heart. They will know pain as only the living can know and when it is all over they will beg me for death and I may grant it, or I may let Jack find them and have to put them out of their misery himself.
“So tell me, Schwartz, which is worse?" Geoffrey said, tightened his grip on Joe's shoulder for a moment and then was gone as quickly as he came.
Joe sighed softly and picked up his duffle bag.
Fucking vampires.
This trip had already gone straight to hell.
* * *
After a wordless ride, Joe emerged from the taxi in front of Anna Bruck’s antique store, his mind reeling. He had only heard Jack’s off-handed remarks about D’Anjou. Now he knew every word to be true.
But it wasn’t just that. The man who had confronted him was like a frozen shower of memories filled with steel and blood. The smell of that chainmail had called forth faces and images of things people in this age could never hope to understand.
He shouldered his bag and pushed through the stained, oak door to come face to face with Jack.
Just tell him, his mind shouted. He deserves to know!
Images of those two children, that beautiful woman, even the dog, flashed before him. Images of them tortured and mutilated soon followed. Than that family was gone and his own was haunting him. Kurt, his only son, screaming as he left with the other able men. He didn’t even know if the boy had grown up.
Joe stared blankly at Jack for what seemed like an eternity. Suddenly, he turned, looking for anything to change the subject.
This wasn’t his lucky night.
There, in an unassuming display case, among the other dusty weaponry, was a newly acquired longsword.
The man made his way to it and stood staring, a slight smile turning his lips, for longer than anyone there found comfortable. Still he stood, as if mesmerized, until finally someone broke the silence.
“Joe, what’s wrong,” Anna asked hesitantly, coming to his side.
The sound may have brought him from his memories but he hadn’t heard the words.
“Mid thirteenth century, Germanic,” Joe began softly. “The etching on the blade depicts Beowulf’s battle with the Fire Worm. The grip was originally wrapped in doe’s hide but it appears to have been replaced at some point by cow leather. The blade’s never been kept sharp and never been used. This weapon has most likely hung on a wall for its entire life.”
“Wow,” came the reply. “All that from just looking at it? You must be quite the connoisseur.” They thought it was all another one of his jokes.
“No,” came the reply. “Its one of mine.”
Joe turned to his companions and smiled. “I made this when I was fifteen years old. It looks nice enough but it’s a piece of shit. The balance is totally off. I ended up selling it to a linen merchant’s son who was taken by the etching.”
The others stood silent for a moment, not quite knowing what to think.
“So.” Joe brushed off the incident entirely. “Everyone set to go?”
-
Kelly Antilles
- Sith Acolyte
- Posts: 6417
- Joined: 2002-09-12 10:36am
Anna shook her head and chuckled. "The years have been kinder to this sword than you." Taking it from its sheathe, she expertly performed several swipes with the weapon. She pointed to several marks in the blade as well as the joint where it met the hilt. "Someone wanted this blade to perform well. It was scraped down and a new hilt added. This is not your original."
Returning it to the rack, she picked up the sword that had been above the bar at the Eye. She strapped it to a bag and picked it up. "I'm ready."
Returning it to the rack, she picked up the sword that had been above the bar at the Eye. She strapped it to a bag and picked it up. "I'm ready."
-
Stormbringer
- King of Democracy
- Posts: 22678
- Joined: 2002-07-15 11:22pm
Alec walked into the Anna's shop the back way. He had left his old 'Vette out back but grabbed his things. Looking around he could see that everyone was eager and a little wary. Joe especially looked troubled.
"Joe is everything all right? You look like you saw a ghost."
All he got in return was a non-committal grunt. He stole a glance at Anna. She looked a little... disturbed as well. Jack... he couldn't make out what he was thinking.
One more thing to make an already troubling situation worse. Joe didn't scare easy, something serious had happened to shake him like that. The centuries old Caitiff was nearly as much a puzzle now as when he had first turned up at the Eye that fateful night. Most Caitiff never lived past a century. They fell, caught in the wars of the Camarilla and Sabbat, slaughtered by the feuding clans. Yet he had survived the nightly struggles for centuries. What could have scared him so badly? Or perhaps who?
Alec didn't doubt for a second that whatever had happened, it had to do with this "mission". Nor did he think for second that Joe would talk, it wasn't in his nature. The only thing to do now was press on.
"I suppse we should be going. Anna, I suppose we'll be taking your car?"
"Yes. I believe that would be best." She replied
Alec then headed back out Anna following, his things still in hand. He stowed those in the trunk of Anna's Rolls-Royce Silver Seraph. She always did have a penchant for fancy cars.
"Joe is everything all right? You look like you saw a ghost."
All he got in return was a non-committal grunt. He stole a glance at Anna. She looked a little... disturbed as well. Jack... he couldn't make out what he was thinking.
One more thing to make an already troubling situation worse. Joe didn't scare easy, something serious had happened to shake him like that. The centuries old Caitiff was nearly as much a puzzle now as when he had first turned up at the Eye that fateful night. Most Caitiff never lived past a century. They fell, caught in the wars of the Camarilla and Sabbat, slaughtered by the feuding clans. Yet he had survived the nightly struggles for centuries. What could have scared him so badly? Or perhaps who?
Alec didn't doubt for a second that whatever had happened, it had to do with this "mission". Nor did he think for second that Joe would talk, it wasn't in his nature. The only thing to do now was press on.
"I suppse we should be going. Anna, I suppose we'll be taking your car?"
"Yes. I believe that would be best." She replied
Alec then headed back out Anna following, his things still in hand. He stowed those in the trunk of Anna's Rolls-Royce Silver Seraph. She always did have a penchant for fancy cars.
The four vampires filed out the rear exit of the antique store to pile their gear in the trunk of the waiting Rolls. Katiana stood silently scowling beside the driver’s side door and watched the procession. She didn’t like this one bit and there was nothing she could do about it.
As Joe walked over to stare admiringly into the vehicle he could feel the anger emanating from the woman. It didn’t subside for the entire ride to the airport. Her grimace never wavered. Often she would glance at her passengers through the rear view mirror, every now and then meeting the eyes of Anna or Alec. If anything happened to her Anna, anyone of these men to survive would pay. Especially Alec.
Joe had made a point of taking the front seat. After what they had been through together, his companions knew all to well of his worst weakness, but he never liked to advertise it.
Running water.
That vampires couldn’t cross running water was known to be nothing more than a myth to all of the kindred. Joe was the exception.
Every bridge the car crossed brought pain and torpor to the man. His muscles would first seize and then there would be the oblivion of temporary death. When the vehicle had made it over, he would revert to normal. Whatever that was.
The four other vampires in the car could not help but watch and Joe knew it. The whole ride made him wonder how safe he would be crossing the Atlantic. The last time he had simply crated himself up, had himself mailed, and woken up on the other side. Now, he was putting himself totally in the hands of these others. Could he really trust them?
And then there was the Reece family. He would have liked to have done something. Anything to see to their safety. But what? There was no time. And any beast he could send as watch would not be able to warn even Katiana in time to save them.
What the hell, Joe sneered to himself, trying to wipe the thought, and the weakness, away. They’re just a potential meal anyway. Why should he, one of the cursed undead, care.
The classic car pulled up to hanger 17 to find a private, twin engine jet waiting. For all appearances the plane was like any other. Accept for one obvious difference. The only windows breaking the outer facade were those of the cockpit.
At the bottom of its stairway, a pale man stood. He was the pilot, a mortal, and though he had spent quite a few years in the employment of these strange and mysterious beings, he had never gotten used to it. The man’s nervousness billowed from him like a smoking fire.
The group grabbed their bags and entered the jet, leaving Katiana to stew beside the car. Inside, they took their seats and settled in for a long flight.
The interior was well appointed, with plush seats and mahogany trim. Separating the cockpit from the main cabin was a double set of doors. One door into the small anti-room couldn’t be opened without the other being completely closed first. The cabin was sealed. No natural light could hope to penetrate.
Joe looked around before allowing himself to calm. He had flown, but never been on a plane before. He wasn’t sure what to expect. Throwing his duffle under his seat, he snarled when the pilot asked for it to be stowed overhead.
“Touch me or my bag during this flight,” the vampire threatened. “And I’ll turn you into one of us and torture you for the next thousand years.”
As the group left the ground, Joe brought out his picture and once again lost himself in thought. Was he really that different from D’Anjou? Sure, he had made a point of keeping with the times while the other man hadn’t, but that was simply to blend with the local population. Deep down, where it counted, was he not the same monster? D’Anjou felt he had a purpose. If Joe had such a purpose could he not spiral into the same madness, clinging to it above all else. Could he not let his rage fuel him as it had so long ago? Wasn’t that what had brought him this damnation? This walking death?
The questions flooded his lifeless thoughts until sweet nothingness finally overtook him. Unfortunately, the passage of time did not exist to him and the same thoughts picked up right where they left off as soon as he was on the other side of the Atlantic.
A few more hours, another, smaller water crossing, and they were being taken by car to Jerusalem itself. The night sky was clean and clear. Countless stars shone down in a display that had been marvelled at since the beginnings of Man. The desert wind carried on it the smells of the city and the sounds of life at both its highs and lows.
The Holy Land, Joe thought as he watched church after temple after masque after divine site speed by through the car window. Not that holy any more if he was functioning on it. Human ideals had seen to that.
The journey came to its final stop in front of an unassuming tourist trap in the Christian Quarter. Cheap religious nick-nacks filled the windows. Plastic Jesus’ competed for supremacy with manger scene snowdomes as a life-sized Virgin Mary presided over all. The interior lights were out and the front door was marked ‘closed’ but it was opened easily enough by their unreadable driver.
At the top of a single flight of stairs, the upper story of the building had been gutted into one, all encompassing loft. The windows, nicely shuttered from the outside, were covered with thick wood boards and even thicker curtains. Around the massive room were tables and desks covered with computer equipment and more mundane tools alike. The relics of the uncovered caravan lay untouched amid reference books and handwritten notes.
Most striking were the taped outlines of bodies that littered the floor. Some of the markings were missing their heads. Some that were smaller could only be heads. Around all, blood stains and scattered papers spoke of carnage and combat.
After letting the group into the area, their driver told them that the project’s head of security, Avi Hassan, would be arriving shortly, and took his leave.
Joe pulled the air of the room deeply into his nostrils and unzipped his duffle bag. From within the dark depths he pulled the shortsword that had seen him through centuries and strapped it to his side. The worn, aged leather of the weapons sheath contrasted sharply with his jet black pants.
It was time to get down to business.
As Joe walked over to stare admiringly into the vehicle he could feel the anger emanating from the woman. It didn’t subside for the entire ride to the airport. Her grimace never wavered. Often she would glance at her passengers through the rear view mirror, every now and then meeting the eyes of Anna or Alec. If anything happened to her Anna, anyone of these men to survive would pay. Especially Alec.
Joe had made a point of taking the front seat. After what they had been through together, his companions knew all to well of his worst weakness, but he never liked to advertise it.
Running water.
That vampires couldn’t cross running water was known to be nothing more than a myth to all of the kindred. Joe was the exception.
Every bridge the car crossed brought pain and torpor to the man. His muscles would first seize and then there would be the oblivion of temporary death. When the vehicle had made it over, he would revert to normal. Whatever that was.
The four other vampires in the car could not help but watch and Joe knew it. The whole ride made him wonder how safe he would be crossing the Atlantic. The last time he had simply crated himself up, had himself mailed, and woken up on the other side. Now, he was putting himself totally in the hands of these others. Could he really trust them?
And then there was the Reece family. He would have liked to have done something. Anything to see to their safety. But what? There was no time. And any beast he could send as watch would not be able to warn even Katiana in time to save them.
What the hell, Joe sneered to himself, trying to wipe the thought, and the weakness, away. They’re just a potential meal anyway. Why should he, one of the cursed undead, care.
The classic car pulled up to hanger 17 to find a private, twin engine jet waiting. For all appearances the plane was like any other. Accept for one obvious difference. The only windows breaking the outer facade were those of the cockpit.
At the bottom of its stairway, a pale man stood. He was the pilot, a mortal, and though he had spent quite a few years in the employment of these strange and mysterious beings, he had never gotten used to it. The man’s nervousness billowed from him like a smoking fire.
The group grabbed their bags and entered the jet, leaving Katiana to stew beside the car. Inside, they took their seats and settled in for a long flight.
The interior was well appointed, with plush seats and mahogany trim. Separating the cockpit from the main cabin was a double set of doors. One door into the small anti-room couldn’t be opened without the other being completely closed first. The cabin was sealed. No natural light could hope to penetrate.
Joe looked around before allowing himself to calm. He had flown, but never been on a plane before. He wasn’t sure what to expect. Throwing his duffle under his seat, he snarled when the pilot asked for it to be stowed overhead.
“Touch me or my bag during this flight,” the vampire threatened. “And I’ll turn you into one of us and torture you for the next thousand years.”
As the group left the ground, Joe brought out his picture and once again lost himself in thought. Was he really that different from D’Anjou? Sure, he had made a point of keeping with the times while the other man hadn’t, but that was simply to blend with the local population. Deep down, where it counted, was he not the same monster? D’Anjou felt he had a purpose. If Joe had such a purpose could he not spiral into the same madness, clinging to it above all else. Could he not let his rage fuel him as it had so long ago? Wasn’t that what had brought him this damnation? This walking death?
The questions flooded his lifeless thoughts until sweet nothingness finally overtook him. Unfortunately, the passage of time did not exist to him and the same thoughts picked up right where they left off as soon as he was on the other side of the Atlantic.
A few more hours, another, smaller water crossing, and they were being taken by car to Jerusalem itself. The night sky was clean and clear. Countless stars shone down in a display that had been marvelled at since the beginnings of Man. The desert wind carried on it the smells of the city and the sounds of life at both its highs and lows.
The Holy Land, Joe thought as he watched church after temple after masque after divine site speed by through the car window. Not that holy any more if he was functioning on it. Human ideals had seen to that.
The journey came to its final stop in front of an unassuming tourist trap in the Christian Quarter. Cheap religious nick-nacks filled the windows. Plastic Jesus’ competed for supremacy with manger scene snowdomes as a life-sized Virgin Mary presided over all. The interior lights were out and the front door was marked ‘closed’ but it was opened easily enough by their unreadable driver.
At the top of a single flight of stairs, the upper story of the building had been gutted into one, all encompassing loft. The windows, nicely shuttered from the outside, were covered with thick wood boards and even thicker curtains. Around the massive room were tables and desks covered with computer equipment and more mundane tools alike. The relics of the uncovered caravan lay untouched amid reference books and handwritten notes.
Most striking were the taped outlines of bodies that littered the floor. Some of the markings were missing their heads. Some that were smaller could only be heads. Around all, blood stains and scattered papers spoke of carnage and combat.
After letting the group into the area, their driver told them that the project’s head of security, Avi Hassan, would be arriving shortly, and took his leave.
Joe pulled the air of the room deeply into his nostrils and unzipped his duffle bag. From within the dark depths he pulled the shortsword that had seen him through centuries and strapped it to his side. The worn, aged leather of the weapons sheath contrasted sharply with his jet black pants.
It was time to get down to business.
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Kelly Antilles
- Sith Acolyte
- Posts: 6417
- Joined: 2002-09-12 10:36am
Anna walked around the room using her hightened senses to search for anything someone else may have missed. As she moved, she pondered the flight from New Orleans.
_____
She could understand Joe's surleyness. He was quite ancient and probably hadn't ever been on a plane before. Jack was, well, Jack. The young Gangrel never changed. She was glad she had gained his trust by having his family protected during the Giovanni uprising. Unbeknownst to him, she had not stopped protecting them. Anna was more humane than most vampires, a trait that sometimes could get her into trouble or could be very helpful.
Alec sat near her checking and rechecking his weapons over and over. She knew he was nervous, but his actions were driving her crazy. "Alec, please don't clean that *thing* again." She pointed to his Double Eagle which always made her nervous. She prefered a sword over a gun.
He looked up from dismantling it. "Oh, I'm sorry." Quickly, he put it back together and reholstered it. "I just want to be ready."
"I know," she replied. "Everything will be fine. We're going to find the scroll and be home in no time."
___________
Snapping back to the present, she caught sight of something close by.
_____
She could understand Joe's surleyness. He was quite ancient and probably hadn't ever been on a plane before. Jack was, well, Jack. The young Gangrel never changed. She was glad she had gained his trust by having his family protected during the Giovanni uprising. Unbeknownst to him, she had not stopped protecting them. Anna was more humane than most vampires, a trait that sometimes could get her into trouble or could be very helpful.
Alec sat near her checking and rechecking his weapons over and over. She knew he was nervous, but his actions were driving her crazy. "Alec, please don't clean that *thing* again." She pointed to his Double Eagle which always made her nervous. She prefered a sword over a gun.
He looked up from dismantling it. "Oh, I'm sorry." Quickly, he put it back together and reholstered it. "I just want to be ready."
"I know," she replied. "Everything will be fine. We're going to find the scroll and be home in no time."
___________
Snapping back to the present, she caught sight of something close by.
"Jerusalem. It HAD to be Jerusalem." Jack muttered as he kept over watch, hands close to his duster, even Jack had to make concessions to local styles and heat, a black leather jacket was simply going to make him stand out and some idiot neonate might mistake him for a Brujah. He had gotten into more than one scrape that way. The automatic weapons sat snugly in their holsters underneath the duster. Alec had snorted derisively if Jack thought they were in the Matrix.
"When the shit hits the fan, I fully intend to unleash hell." Jack replied.
This was the ONE place where he knew his sire could be found with relative certainity. The Holy Land was his home when he wasn't roaming the world looking for a prominent assassin to kill.
This could get VERY ugly VERY quickly.
He had noted the odd looks that Joe shot his way during the trip over. It was strange but Jack chalked it up to his newfound friend's strangeness and elder nature. Jack did not have a very postive opinion of elders and ancients, his sire was a prime example of that breed. The older a kindred became the stranger he became it was inevitable and if Joe was half as old as Jack suspected they were all lucky that Joe was coherent in any way.
But there was something else about this city. Just as his sire claimed it as home, the Assamites called Jerusalem a second home as well. They stalked its nights and if they ever got wind that one of D'Anjou's prodigals was here....he did not want to think about it.
He also tried to ignore the odd sense that this city was hiding something, something awful and soemthing wonderful at the same time. But he was not a superstitous man so he would wait and see what was offered up. They were as ready as they could be.
He studied their surroundings, occasionally watching Anna at work. She was a formidable lady and someone he could respect, he just hoped she knew what she could be getting into.
"When the shit hits the fan, I fully intend to unleash hell." Jack replied.
This was the ONE place where he knew his sire could be found with relative certainity. The Holy Land was his home when he wasn't roaming the world looking for a prominent assassin to kill.
This could get VERY ugly VERY quickly.
He had noted the odd looks that Joe shot his way during the trip over. It was strange but Jack chalked it up to his newfound friend's strangeness and elder nature. Jack did not have a very postive opinion of elders and ancients, his sire was a prime example of that breed. The older a kindred became the stranger he became it was inevitable and if Joe was half as old as Jack suspected they were all lucky that Joe was coherent in any way.
But there was something else about this city. Just as his sire claimed it as home, the Assamites called Jerusalem a second home as well. They stalked its nights and if they ever got wind that one of D'Anjou's prodigals was here....he did not want to think about it.
He also tried to ignore the odd sense that this city was hiding something, something awful and soemthing wonderful at the same time. But he was not a superstitous man so he would wait and see what was offered up. They were as ready as they could be.
He studied their surroundings, occasionally watching Anna at work. She was a formidable lady and someone he could respect, he just hoped she knew what she could be getting into.
Last edited by Stravo on 2003-03-18 12:25pm, edited 1 time in total.
While one man stood watch at the lone door, the other three of the group fanned out across the expansive room. Anna, Alec and Joe each scanned the area, trying to pick up anything that would give them a clue as to where to go next. At the same time, Jack took in the over all picture hoping to understanding how the obvious battle had taken place.
Silent minutes passed at a painful pace. As the other two searchers seemed to focus in on objects around the room, Joe ended up on the other side, by the row of windows. Glass littered the floor here and crunched under foot.
Joe examined the boarded over windows more closely and rubbed his chin.
“I’m heading up to the roof,” he called back distractedly.
A moment later he was evaporating into a cloud of mist and streaming up and out through the poorly sealed portal.
Silent minutes passed at a painful pace. As the other two searchers seemed to focus in on objects around the room, Joe ended up on the other side, by the row of windows. Glass littered the floor here and crunched under foot.
Joe examined the boarded over windows more closely and rubbed his chin.
“I’m heading up to the roof,” he called back distractedly.
A moment later he was evaporating into a cloud of mist and streaming up and out through the poorly sealed portal.
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Kelly Antilles
- Sith Acolyte
- Posts: 6417
- Joined: 2002-09-12 10:36am
Anna moved to sit before a table. It was covered with books, papers and writing utensils. Sifting through, she noted several Camarilla lore and history books. Her hand landed on a large white paper with what looked to be several specimin labels on it. She ran a finger along the list, cataloging in her mind the items. *Holy shit. These are Assamite heirlooms.*
Looking around, she saw the items of the human victims, but all of the Assamite items were missing. *Okay, what is so important about these items?* She searched for a book with possibly descriptions of the items. Pouring over pages, all outside distractions disappeared. She was a woman on a mission.
Looking around, she saw the items of the human victims, but all of the Assamite items were missing. *Okay, what is so important about these items?* She searched for a book with possibly descriptions of the items. Pouring over pages, all outside distractions disappeared. She was a woman on a mission.
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Stormbringer
- King of Democracy
- Posts: 22678
- Joined: 2002-07-15 11:22pm
Alec had been uncomfortable since the flight over with it. He had his knives and was openly carrying his pistol. So far he'd been worried for nothing.
A bunch of dead humans. So freaking what? Humans die all the time. What made these guys special? Something. But what? There's nothing I can do in here. I'm no detective
Alec wandered toward the back door. At least he could get some fresh air. He was almost out the door when he saw a glint. Something was shining.
he dropped to his knees and pried the baseboard back. A dagger, a long wicked looking one. It was rather plainly decorated but he recognized it, it was Assamite. He shivered.
"Jack, Anna, come take a look at this"
A bunch of dead humans. So freaking what? Humans die all the time. What made these guys special? Something. But what? There's nothing I can do in here. I'm no detective
Alec wandered toward the back door. At least he could get some fresh air. He was almost out the door when he saw a glint. Something was shining.
he dropped to his knees and pried the baseboard back. A dagger, a long wicked looking one. It was rather plainly decorated but he recognized it, it was Assamite. He shivered.
"Jack, Anna, come take a look at this"
Jack cautiously walked into the room, keeping his peripheral vision on the door and leaned into see what Alec had discovered. He had noted the patterns of the bodies and was curious as to the one body that seemed to be slain in a retreat to the door. The rest were scattered about but away from the door.
Jack stopped short as he saw the dagger.
"This is not good." he muttered darkly.
Jack stopped short as he saw the dagger.
"This is not good." he muttered darkly.
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Kelly Antilles
- Sith Acolyte
- Posts: 6417
- Joined: 2002-09-12 10:36am
Anna, completely oblivious that Alec had even said her name, began sifting through the papers more hurriedly. She uncovered several Polaroids of Assamite jewlery and weapons, the missing artifacts. "Fuck," she muttered under her breath. "If this is what I think, we're in a shitload of trouble."
Spreading out the pictures and pulling a magnifying glass from her pocket, she looked at the images closer. They are definately older than Avis though. These were ancients. Ancients moving the scroll for some reason. But why? Stormcrow must have the artifacts. He'll be nearly unstoppable with those in his possesion.
She sat down hard in the chair. Her mind reeled at the possibilities. "This is bad... very bad."
Spreading out the pictures and pulling a magnifying glass from her pocket, she looked at the images closer. They are definately older than Avis though. These were ancients. Ancients moving the scroll for some reason. But why? Stormcrow must have the artifacts. He'll be nearly unstoppable with those in his possesion.
She sat down hard in the chair. Her mind reeled at the possibilities. "This is bad... very bad."
Last edited by Kelly Antilles on 2003-03-19 06:14pm, edited 1 time in total.
The door swung open causing nerves to fray and guns to be drawn. The man on the other side raised his hands defensively, surprise playing on his normally resigned features.
“I thought there was going to be four of you,” he asked. “I’m Avi Hassan. You were told I would be meeting you here to tell you what I know.”
Hassan was one of the beautiful people. Obviously a vampire. He was tall and athletic, with thick black hair and mustache, and a rounded face. He would have looked even better if not for the broken expression that continually occupied his face.
“Everything happened in there,” he directed. “Shall we?”
Back in the research room, Anna was leaning back in a chair and rubbing her temples.
“That’s three,” Hassan noted and then began relaying the events as he knew them.
“I don’t know much about all this stuff,” he indicated the artifacts. “But it’s apparently all stuff the Assamites want. My team was assigned to protect it, and Stormcrow, from any attempts at theft by them or the Sabbat.
“On the night this all happened, my three men and I had been trying to pass the time while Stormcrow and his team did their work. It was all pretty boring. There hadn’t been so much as a peep from anything this whole project. The only thing of interest was watching Stormcrow’s increasing paranoia.
“Anyway, we were standing around when out of nowhere two people came busting through those windows. We tried to defend the researchers but my men were outmatched. Not to mention the fact that Stormcrow himself went crazy and started fighting on the same side as the attackers! When it was down to just me against the three of them, I ran.”
The man waited for any questions.
“Well,” Joe’s voice turned everyone’s head. He had appeared without a warning. “Two men were on the roof. That much’s for sure. Pros too, I’d say. Not much in the way of tracks at all but I managed to find them.”
He walked over to the windows and point up at the ceiling. “Found rope markings on the edge of the roof too. They swung down and in through here.
“So,” he concluded. “Does that make sense with what you guys found?”
“I thought there was going to be four of you,” he asked. “I’m Avi Hassan. You were told I would be meeting you here to tell you what I know.”
Hassan was one of the beautiful people. Obviously a vampire. He was tall and athletic, with thick black hair and mustache, and a rounded face. He would have looked even better if not for the broken expression that continually occupied his face.
“Everything happened in there,” he directed. “Shall we?”
Back in the research room, Anna was leaning back in a chair and rubbing her temples.
“That’s three,” Hassan noted and then began relaying the events as he knew them.
“I don’t know much about all this stuff,” he indicated the artifacts. “But it’s apparently all stuff the Assamites want. My team was assigned to protect it, and Stormcrow, from any attempts at theft by them or the Sabbat.
“On the night this all happened, my three men and I had been trying to pass the time while Stormcrow and his team did their work. It was all pretty boring. There hadn’t been so much as a peep from anything this whole project. The only thing of interest was watching Stormcrow’s increasing paranoia.
“Anyway, we were standing around when out of nowhere two people came busting through those windows. We tried to defend the researchers but my men were outmatched. Not to mention the fact that Stormcrow himself went crazy and started fighting on the same side as the attackers! When it was down to just me against the three of them, I ran.”
The man waited for any questions.
“Well,” Joe’s voice turned everyone’s head. He had appeared without a warning. “Two men were on the roof. That much’s for sure. Pros too, I’d say. Not much in the way of tracks at all but I managed to find them.”
He walked over to the windows and point up at the ceiling. “Found rope markings on the edge of the roof too. They swung down and in through here.
“So,” he concluded. “Does that make sense with what you guys found?”
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Kelly Antilles
- Sith Acolyte
- Posts: 6417
- Joined: 2002-09-12 10:36am
Anna nodded and turned to Avi. "You say Stormcrow suddenly started fighting on the side of the assailants? Hm, perhaps he was controled somehow."
She spread the pictures out on the table. "As to what I have found. The artifacts you found were very, very old. Older than just about anything I've ever seen." She slid the pictures closer to Joe. Perhaps the ancient caitiff would recognize one or two. "They are definately Assamite artifacts. Without seeing them, I can't tell you much more about what they might do. I just have a feeling they are very bad."
She watched Joe, looking for any sign he had an idea what he was looking at.
She spread the pictures out on the table. "As to what I have found. The artifacts you found were very, very old. Older than just about anything I've ever seen." She slid the pictures closer to Joe. Perhaps the ancient caitiff would recognize one or two. "They are definately Assamite artifacts. Without seeing them, I can't tell you much more about what they might do. I just have a feeling they are very bad."
She watched Joe, looking for any sign he had an idea what he was looking at.
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Stormbringer
- King of Democracy
- Posts: 22678
- Joined: 2002-07-15 11:22pm
Alec took an instant and intense disliking to Hassan. Something about him just screamed he wasn't trustworthy. Looking pointedly at Hassan, Alec mused out loud.
"Perhaps Stormcrow switched because the Assamites were his real allies. Little enough honor amongst theives and none at all among fanatics. Either way that's a disturbing twist on things."
Alec gave some thought to showing Hassan the dagger. It was one of the few leads they had, Assmites took good care of their knives. Who knew what on would reveal about it's owner? Better to hide it from the newcomer for now. He turned to Anna and looked at her pouring over the pictures.
"So what's the significance of all that stuff? Why'd Assamites and maybe Stormcrow himself steal it?"
"Perhaps Stormcrow switched because the Assamites were his real allies. Little enough honor amongst theives and none at all among fanatics. Either way that's a disturbing twist on things."
Alec gave some thought to showing Hassan the dagger. It was one of the few leads they had, Assmites took good care of their knives. Who knew what on would reveal about it's owner? Better to hide it from the newcomer for now. He turned to Anna and looked at her pouring over the pictures.
"So what's the significance of all that stuff? Why'd Assamites and maybe Stormcrow himself steal it?"
Joe took a cursory glanced down at the pictures that Anna had pushed his way. He showed no sign of even a passing interest. They were nice enough looking trinkets but way before his time, and way beyond his scope.
"If they do anything, Bruck," Joe commented on the woman's musing about the relices' natures while letting a handful of mellenia old ash run through his fingers and back into its carefully catalogued container. "It sure as hell isn't any protection from the sun."
"So now this Stormcrow is in cahoots with the Assamites?" Joe wasn't sure if this was a good thing or bad. At least they had a place to start looking for him now. "Where might we find them to have a chat?"
Hassan's eyes darted from the Caitiff, to the silent Gangrel, and back to Alec's penetrating stare. "I'd say he didn't switch sides at all," he answered. "I'd say the kook had a deal with the Assamites the whole time. Who knows what they're cooking up. I don't think about these things. I just follow orders."
"As for finding Assamites," he continued. "It shouldn't be too hard in Jerusalem. I don't know anything specific though."
"If they do anything, Bruck," Joe commented on the woman's musing about the relices' natures while letting a handful of mellenia old ash run through his fingers and back into its carefully catalogued container. "It sure as hell isn't any protection from the sun."
"So now this Stormcrow is in cahoots with the Assamites?" Joe wasn't sure if this was a good thing or bad. At least they had a place to start looking for him now. "Where might we find them to have a chat?"
Hassan's eyes darted from the Caitiff, to the silent Gangrel, and back to Alec's penetrating stare. "I'd say he didn't switch sides at all," he answered. "I'd say the kook had a deal with the Assamites the whole time. Who knows what they're cooking up. I don't think about these things. I just follow orders."
"As for finding Assamites," he continued. "It shouldn't be too hard in Jerusalem. I don't know anything specific though."
"Assamites don't ally themsleves with kooks or anyone. It would dishonor them and debase their clan. Assamites truly believe that they are the chosen warriors of Caine and that their job as their founder's job was to weed out the wicked amongst the children of Caine. So how do you explain them taking in this Stormcrow?" Jack asked pointedly. He was on edge. This was PRECISELY the kind of confrontation he had been trying to avoid.
"And as for finding Assamites...hell...I would just wait around, they WILL find us."
"And as for finding Assamites...hell...I would just wait around, they WILL find us."
Last edited by Stravo on 2003-03-20 05:17pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Kelly Antilles
- Sith Acolyte
- Posts: 6417
- Joined: 2002-09-12 10:36am
Anna looked at Jack. "That's the reason I said that somehow they gained control over Stormcrow. The Assamites have their own powerful rituals and spells. Even *I* can turn a foe against his friends."
She stood and moved towards Jack. "I know of a quick way to gain the attention of the Assamites. However, that might not be such a good idea." She looked him in the eye, knowing he knew exactly at what she was getting.
She stood and moved towards Jack. "I know of a quick way to gain the attention of the Assamites. However, that might not be such a good idea." She looked him in the eye, knowing he knew exactly at what she was getting.
Jack returned Anna's gaze, his eyes unreadable beneath the black shades, but his face betrayed concern.
"You know, that if you go down that road, you will be unleashing the whirlwind. They will not rest until they know I am nothing but ash."
Jack frowned slightly.
"I just want you to be sure about what you intend to do and its eventual consequences." he added softly.
"You know, that if you go down that road, you will be unleashing the whirlwind. They will not rest until they know I am nothing but ash."
Jack frowned slightly.
"I just want you to be sure about what you intend to do and its eventual consequences." he added softly.
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Stormbringer
- King of Democracy
- Posts: 22678
- Joined: 2002-07-15 11:22pm
"Jack the idea is to stop Stormcrow, not bring the Assamites down on our heads. We should consider this very, very carefully."
Alec frowned. He wasn't exactly keen of fighting his way through a city of fanatical killers just to confront an religious fanatic bent of martyrdom.
"I for one don't like this situation. Somethings going on here and I'd like more before we do something that radical."
Alec frowned. He wasn't exactly keen of fighting his way through a city of fanatical killers just to confront an religious fanatic bent of martyrdom.
"I for one don't like this situation. Somethings going on here and I'd like more before we do something that radical."
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Kelly Antilles
- Sith Acolyte
- Posts: 6417
- Joined: 2002-09-12 10:36am
Anna let a grin crack her features. "I just wanted to put that out as a possible idea. However, I would never do that unless I knew for damn sure you were safe. I do not set my friends out as bait." She kept his gaze for a moment more.
"Now, I think I have an idea." She moved to the table and shuffled some pages, taking up one that had been copied from one of the books. "Get the word out that I am looking for this." She haded the paper to Avi. "My status and influence in the archerological community will bring someone out we need to talk to."
"Now, I think I have an idea." She moved to the table and shuffled some pages, taking up one that had been copied from one of the books. "Get the word out that I am looking for this." She haded the paper to Avi. "My status and influence in the archerological community will bring someone out we need to talk to."
"Hey, I'm not trying to explain it," Hassan answered Jack's question at the same time Anna cut in. "That's why you were brought in."
When the exchange was over he took the picture from the woman's hand. "This I can do. The word will be out that you're looking for this. If you don't have anymore questions for me, I'll get going. Good luck."
When Joe was sure the man had left the building he shook his head with a grim look. "I don't trust that guy."
"You don't trust anybody, Joe," Alec shot back. "But you're right. I didn't trust him either."
When the exchange was over he took the picture from the woman's hand. "This I can do. The word will be out that you're looking for this. If you don't have anymore questions for me, I'll get going. Good luck."
When Joe was sure the man had left the building he shook his head with a grim look. "I don't trust that guy."
"You don't trust anybody, Joe," Alec shot back. "But you're right. I didn't trust him either."
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Kelly Antilles
- Sith Acolyte
- Posts: 6417
- Joined: 2002-09-12 10:36am
“If you figure we’ve checked this place out top to bottom,” Joe said as he opened his bag a second time and unrolled a long black trenchcoat to cover his sword. “Then let’s go over what we know. Because of, or despite, what that guy’s told us...”
* * *
Night was still relatively young when the team started out from the scene of Stormcrow’s seeming defection. People crowded the streets of the desert city under a moon that watched all and commented on none. But the moon was not the only thing that kept its unblinking gaze on the four foreign vampires.
Word of the Camarilla jet’s arrival had travelled as if with the wings of a demon. The prince of the city knew of its contents, of course, but there were others who’s interest in it was just as great. The car had been followed, its passengers noted.. Curious. Very curious indeed.
Blood rushed in cold veins amid the concealing embrace of an adjacent rooftop’s shadows. A lone pair of dark eyes followed the group as they left the building and disappeared down the still busy street.
When they were lost from sight, a night shrouded figure burst from those shadows to leap, spinning, across the street. From the souvenir shop’s flat roof it was a short trip down to the structure’s rear door. Its lock would be no trouble for the figure.
Inside, there was only one point of business for the intruder. His dagger. To lose a weapon so flagrantly was not acceptable to him. He knew where it had struck. He knew where it should have been but it was no longer there. It would need to be retrieved. And that would work well into his further plans.
Like a ghost passing from a bad memory, the figure melted back into the night as if he had never existed.
* * *
Joe followed his three companions on their journey to find a haven from the ultimate truth of the sun’s rays, ever alert for danger, ever aware of how they stood out. There weren’t too many white tourists in the Mid East these days and as armed as they were, they weren’t dressed like soldiers.
He was never worried about finding a place to rest during the day. Any patch of raw earth would do for him. Any crypt or mausoleum could be his home. That would never suit his Ventrue friends though. They clung to the fineries of the living. To Joe they had still not grasped what they truly were.
Friends. He had thought of them as friends. Joe had not thought of another vampire as a friend in centuries. That only made you let your guard down. They were competition not friends. Yet somehow, the loyalty and even kindness Bruck continually showed him seemed to be breaking through. The hot-headed DuMont and the insular Reece too. All three had saved him from final death without regard for their own safety. And they had done it all without ever knowing, really knowing, who he was.
Was it enough to allow himself to be caught up in the machinations of the old-bloods? Apparently so.
As the search for sanctuary continued, the group was drawn further and further into the city. It was as if the ancient locale was acting of its own accord. Deeper it pulled them, but no matter where they were, they felt its eyes upon them.
“This is stupid,” the Caitiff commented. “We can’t be going the right way.”
The way they had followed, from person to person, ghoul to ghoul, had led them to dark and empty streets. Lamp lights had long gone out here. Even still, it was the kind of area that all cities had. The kind of area that people didn’t even travel during the day.
Fifty yards down the deserted laneway a single form dropped as if from the sky itself. It stood, silent and motionless, blocking their path. From this distance, nothing could be made of the figure but a sleek silhouette in the moonlight. Slim lines jutted from around its waist. Lines that everyone knew would be the deadliest of blades.
* * *
Night was still relatively young when the team started out from the scene of Stormcrow’s seeming defection. People crowded the streets of the desert city under a moon that watched all and commented on none. But the moon was not the only thing that kept its unblinking gaze on the four foreign vampires.
Word of the Camarilla jet’s arrival had travelled as if with the wings of a demon. The prince of the city knew of its contents, of course, but there were others who’s interest in it was just as great. The car had been followed, its passengers noted.. Curious. Very curious indeed.
Blood rushed in cold veins amid the concealing embrace of an adjacent rooftop’s shadows. A lone pair of dark eyes followed the group as they left the building and disappeared down the still busy street.
When they were lost from sight, a night shrouded figure burst from those shadows to leap, spinning, across the street. From the souvenir shop’s flat roof it was a short trip down to the structure’s rear door. Its lock would be no trouble for the figure.
Inside, there was only one point of business for the intruder. His dagger. To lose a weapon so flagrantly was not acceptable to him. He knew where it had struck. He knew where it should have been but it was no longer there. It would need to be retrieved. And that would work well into his further plans.
Like a ghost passing from a bad memory, the figure melted back into the night as if he had never existed.
* * *
Joe followed his three companions on their journey to find a haven from the ultimate truth of the sun’s rays, ever alert for danger, ever aware of how they stood out. There weren’t too many white tourists in the Mid East these days and as armed as they were, they weren’t dressed like soldiers.
He was never worried about finding a place to rest during the day. Any patch of raw earth would do for him. Any crypt or mausoleum could be his home. That would never suit his Ventrue friends though. They clung to the fineries of the living. To Joe they had still not grasped what they truly were.
Friends. He had thought of them as friends. Joe had not thought of another vampire as a friend in centuries. That only made you let your guard down. They were competition not friends. Yet somehow, the loyalty and even kindness Bruck continually showed him seemed to be breaking through. The hot-headed DuMont and the insular Reece too. All three had saved him from final death without regard for their own safety. And they had done it all without ever knowing, really knowing, who he was.
Was it enough to allow himself to be caught up in the machinations of the old-bloods? Apparently so.
As the search for sanctuary continued, the group was drawn further and further into the city. It was as if the ancient locale was acting of its own accord. Deeper it pulled them, but no matter where they were, they felt its eyes upon them.
“This is stupid,” the Caitiff commented. “We can’t be going the right way.”
The way they had followed, from person to person, ghoul to ghoul, had led them to dark and empty streets. Lamp lights had long gone out here. Even still, it was the kind of area that all cities had. The kind of area that people didn’t even travel during the day.
Fifty yards down the deserted laneway a single form dropped as if from the sky itself. It stood, silent and motionless, blocking their path. From this distance, nothing could be made of the figure but a sleek silhouette in the moonlight. Slim lines jutted from around its waist. Lines that everyone knew would be the deadliest of blades.
-
Stormbringer
- King of Democracy
- Posts: 22678
- Joined: 2002-07-15 11:22pm
"Shit!" Alec growled.
He was already tugging his pistol free of the holster and leveling it at the figure ahead of them. Had he been mortal his heart would have been beating instead he just stood there staring at the figure.
Assamite. It's gotta be. Never saw him either. Sneaky bastard
Alec continued point the large Desert Eagle at the vamp, ready to pull the trigger in a instant. But he didn't fire. He didn't want to make the first move.
"What'd you want, Assamite?" Alec called out into the night.
He was already tugging his pistol free of the holster and leveling it at the figure ahead of them. Had he been mortal his heart would have been beating instead he just stood there staring at the figure.
Assamite. It's gotta be. Never saw him either. Sneaky bastard
Alec continued point the large Desert Eagle at the vamp, ready to pull the trigger in a instant. But he didn't fire. He didn't want to make the first move.
"What'd you want, Assamite?" Alec called out into the night.