Vampire: Fresh Crimes and Ancient Sins

Imperial Overlord · Post by **Imperial Overlord** » 2007-01-08 02:20pm

The Ancient World

The general advanced towards the pavilion where the Chosen of the Gods stood. The sun was setting and they were observing the siege from beneath an awning. He stopped before the pale men and dropped to his belly in obeisance. "Oh Mighty Ones, You Who Stand Between the Heavens and the Earth, Their Will Made Flesh, the defenders falter. Your loyal servants will soon stand upon the walls."

The one on the left, the taller one, spoke. His flesh was bone-white beneath bronze armour. "We are pleased by the efforts of our loyal subjects and with you as well, our mighty general. Everything inside is to be put to the sword or the torch."

"Everything, Oh Mighy Ones?"

"Everything. Every mote of grain, every scrap of paper, every inhabitant from the lowest rat to the highest prince. Spare not their virgin daughters or their fattest calf. Bring forth all their gold and riches and that too shall know the touch of fire for it shall not be distributed to our faithful as their rightful spoils until it has been melted down and recast. We shall know all who will disobey this order and those who spare this city shall become as this city and shall perish as this city perishes."

1488

They stood in a semicircle inside the gutted stables, a dozen vampires ranging from rag clad wretches to a knight in armour. They were bonded together by blood and conviction, the rights of fire and freedom. They were watching one of their more respected brethren work.

A vampire hung upside down by iron spikes driven through his distorted feet. He was naked and he was beginning to feel fear, despite his ancient wickedness. Before now he had imaged that there was no horror that could touch him. Now he was not so sure.

An inhuman, or perhaps transhuman, monstrosity stood before him. It was a thing of sculptured perfection, if perfection was defined as body designed for optimal performance on the field of battle and a mind of icy brilliance. Its joints were reworked, its organs rearranged, and its bones reshaped. Bone armour and blades gave it an almost arachnid appearance, but a sinister intellect could be seen burning its' eyes.

Flesh flowed like water at its touch. Its talons cut and sliced and it showed no fear even of fire. Its eyes caught every trace of panic, every involuntary flinch. It understood without fail what its victim feared and what he did not. It new its victim's body better than he did. It played his nerves as a master harpist would his instrument.

The victim screamed and howled and finally pleaded. No falsehood could fool a torturer who could read the truth in his aura and gradually, painstakingly, agonizingly, it found what it wanted. When they were finished they left him there and set the stables on fire.

Now

"Master."

"Enter." The servant entered the master's study. The master turned from his desk.

"Master, I have found two points of correspondence."

"Two?"

"Yes master, two."

"Where?"

"Vancouver."

Civil War Man · Post by **Civil War Man** » 2007-01-08 09:25pm

It did not take long for Jack Griffin to become fully awake and alert once the sun went down. He was a light sleeper, in a manner of speaking. Years out in the wilderness taught him to become lucid as quickly as possible upon waking, something he tried to keep up both before and after his embrace.

He rose quickly from bed, walking to the bathroom of his small apartment to get cleaned up. It never took him long to finish, partly because he wanted to fit as much activity as possible into every night, and partly because in the time before he went into his unfortunate case of torpor, daily bathing was not always the norm. He considered moving much further north, perhaps to northern Canada or Alaska, but gave that up when he realized the long nights only happened during the winter.

Dressing was done quickly as well. Everything Jack wore was some form of earth tone, mostly browns and greens. Almost every night he wore heavy boots, pants made of a thick jean material, a plain undecorated shirt, and a heavy overcoat to cover the shoulder holster and wrist sheath he kept on him at all times.

So it was almost no time at all before Jack was awake, cleaned up, fully dressed, and out the door, the apartment door locking automatically behind him. Donning a wide-brimmed black hat, he stepped out into the street with a nagging suspicion in the back of his mind that this night might be a long one.

Eris · Post by **Eris** » 2007-01-09 03:00am

The reception area of the complex had an subdued air about it, the spartan and well used furnishings shrouded in the approaching chill of the night. The faded upholstery was washed out yet more by the lighting—fully half of the overhead rows of fluorescent tubes had been removed, the rest straining to illuminate the room with their antiseptic glow, reminding everyone who walked through that the furniture was not the only way costs had been cut by the front desk. That the desk was staffed at all nearly took Kerstin by surprise every time she walked through the room; the room looked from the outside like it ought have been abandoned.

The elderly man at the desk made a cursory motion of acknowledgement and, perhaps, greeting as Kerstin passed, and she returned a non-committal noise. The section of wall that held the complex's post was recessed slightly, the edges tiled, pulling it out of plain sight and giving an illusion of privacy to those retrieving their letters. Under each slip was a small bronze plaque, most emblazoned with a name. To her surprise, the plaque under Kerstin's own bore the letters K. A. Meyer, despite that not nearly enough time had passed since she had first signed her lease to have a plaque made. A closer examination revealed the trick—a clear film, presumably adhesive on one side, had been used to simply superimpose the words on the plaque instead of having the entire thing manufactured from scratch.

Kerstin took a moment to peel it off, discarding it in a disused corner. She was uncomfortable enough broadcasting her presence about just by possessing a lease, and while this was probably a futile gesture if anyone really wanted to find out where she resided, it made her feel better nevertheless. Recovering her focus, she was pleasantly surprised to find she had received her copy of The Lancet. Another fairly futile gesture as she had already skimmed over the electronic version, although to be fair this would provide her with something to read during whatever waits she faced during the night. She tucked it away in the computer bag she carried slung over her shoulder.

Her task completed, Kerstin stepped out of reception and back into the darkened plaza. Her nose wrinkled as she felt the cold, thick air hit her—it always did that, no matter how she tried to surprise it. It was odd really; it was not as if she hadn't lived in polluted cities for at least a good portion of her existence, and her senses had never been quite as keen or discerning back when she was away from the hydrocarbons and oxides that took her off balance. Perhaps vampirism had somehow strengthened her sense memory. She smiled slightly as she picked her away from the apartment complex and out into the depths of the night, her mind outlining an amusing if horribly unethical experiment to test the idea.

Imperial Overlord · Post by **Imperial Overlord** » 2007-01-09 03:30am

Dusk occurs somewhere around eight o'clock in month of August in Vancouver. The air is still warm into the early hours of the night and vampires still in touch with their humanitas tend to wake soon after the sun has fallen over the horizon. Those more alienated individuals sleep longer, the Beast prefering the deeper hours of the night.

The city is still busy in its usual late summer fashion. Parties carrying on to the night, people strolling through downtown on their way to a movie or to party at a nightclub. All the big stores are still open, although many won't be open for too much longer. The city's streets are still busy, although the rush hour grid lock is gone and their are plenty of people on the sidewalks. Although serviced by a mediocre transit system, the city is fairly pedestrian friendly.

As the city's inhabitants, both living and undead, go about their business, certain matters arise and need to be handled. "Mother fucker," Ellroy muttered as he saw the damage to the living room. Someone had torn this place up pretty good. He checked the rest of the house.

Yeah, it was all torn up pretty good. Thoroughly looted. Fuck. He checked the garage. Empty, dark as hell, and no light. He pulled a pocket maglite out and swept it over the concrete. A nice and nasty pool of dried blood. Yeah, the shit was going to hit the fan.

He pulled out his cell and dialed. She either wasn't up yet or wasn't answering. Either way, he was leaving a message. "It's Ellroy. He's not at home. Picked the lock, his place is trashed, blood in the garage. I think he's a deader."

Dahak · Post by **Dahak** » 2007-01-09 05:06am

Kyle woke up usually late. Groaning, he crawled out of bed and stretched himself thorougly. His bedroom was, for all intents and purposes, a museum. He had tried, and in his eyes succeeded, in remodelling his bedroom of old time, where he could feel completely at home, even abroad in the colonies. He needed that... But even though it looked ancient, he had learned to treasure the comforts of modern times. He pushed a button on the remote control on his bedside cabinet and the heavy velvet curtains and steel shutters on the window front of his bedroom gracefully moved aside to reveal the starry night. He took his night gown, opened a window and stepped out on his huge balcony.
The sea was placid tonight and he listened to the sounds of the sea for quite some time. He loved the sea, something he had found only too late in his life to fully appreciate it. And never in daylight.
Sighing, he went inside again, dressed himself in a casual black shirt and fitting suit. Before he left, he went to his private little blood bank - a glorified fridge, really. One of these days he should upgrade - and took a quick sip. He went to the garage and took the car for a nice evening in town. He still had questions to ask, puzzles to solve. And a burning vengeance to quench.

Ritterin Sophia · Post by **Ritterin Sophia** » 2007-01-09 06:55am

She awoke just as the last ray of sunshine left her window. She picked up a control that moved the curtains from her bed, the room around her looked like something from a little girls dream, with the exception of the black and red colouration. The master bedroom of the mansion, it was adorned with teddies, dollies, and stuffed animals galore, a traditional dresser, and a closet. Excluding the rather large television and the computer, it was something straight out of the 18th century. She quickly set about changing out of her nightgown, opening the dresser she chose a black and red skirt with a black blouse and formal jacket that made her look slightly older. Opening her closet she gazed at the numbers of clothing she had acquired and kept throughout her years, they all ranged from the seventeen hundreds onward, she swiftly walked into the back, where a changing room, she quickly took off her undergarments and looked at her nude body in the mirror. She looked to be about ten, the same as every night for the past three hundred damnable years, she gritted her teeth and continued to put on her chosen attire.

After exiting the changing room and the closet she looked at a clock right above the television, which indicated she was five minutes early, she waited. Exactly when five minutes had passed a single knock was heard and she opened the door in under a second, there stood a woman in the stereotypical maids outfit seemingly about to knock on the door, she appeared to be in her late twenties or early thirties. Without a word each walked past the other, the maid set to the task of cleaning, whilst Mercedes tended to her business.

She walked through the corridors, as if by coincidence she came to the main stairs only ten minutes after exiting her room, like the rest of the house it was magnificently huge. She spoke in a young but authoritative voice, “Wolf, Alexandra, come!” Two large Dobermans came running with a butler following, he was clearly getting on in years, he spoke in a very subservient tone, “Mistress, the car is ready on time, and we will be eagerly awaiting your return from your walk in the park and whatever you intend to do for the next hour that you have allotted yourself.” With that Mercedes exited the building and walked down some steps, where the driver of a luxurious black limousine held the door open, both she and the dogs entered. The door closing behind them the vehicle soon began to move, things went like clockwork eventually they left the large estate and made it to the main road.

Prozac the Robert · Post by **Prozac the Robert** » 2007-01-09 02:42pm

Some things never change. Even the dead have to deal with paperwork.

The apartment was small, but comfortable. It's only occupant sat at a rickety looking metal desk with a pencil in his mouth, a pile of paper at his left and a slightly flickery computer monitor in front of him. At a rate that would seem painful to a professional typist, he copied the information from the forms and onto the computer, the keys clicking away as he typed out the details using just a couple of fingers.

A few years ago he would have said Jack owed him a drink for this, but as it was he didn't think old Jack would be willing to offer the one liquid he actually wanted. By ten o'clock he was bored as hell, and getting a little hungry. By half ten he'd had enough. Time to find a party.

Leaving, he turned off the light, leaving a pile of voter ID slips illuminated in the dim light of the "it's now safe to turn off your computer" screen.

Civil War Man · Post by **Civil War Man** » 2007-01-10 01:01am

It wasn't long until Jack, like most other nights since his move to Vancouver, found his way to the art museum. It was still technically open, but it would have been foolish to actually pay admission, since it wouldn't remain that way for too much longer. Jack rarely had the opportunity to see the artwork, since the museum usually closed either soon after or sometimes before he woke up.

Not that he was interested in actually looking at art. Jack was no Toreador. He would have been considered a little rough around the edges even before you factored in almost half a century of living out in the deserts and mountains of the American West.

Jack paused under a streetlight and glanced up at the entrance to the museum, the dark skin of his face being further obscured by the shadow of his hat. Like with many other Kindred, he used the museum as a meeting location. More of a work meeting place than a social one. Again, he was no Toreador. Jack attended parties from time to time, nevertheless his social graces consisted mostly of knowing when to keep his mouth shut. Angry outbursts at a Prince or a Primogen netted very little goodwill, and Jack had a lot less allies here than the places in Seattle he typically haunted before his move.

He managed to scrape by reasonably well, though. Jack was the guy most people could go to if they needed hired muscle, and also needed to keep their own hands clean. It was a service not too many could offer, so his presence was at least tolerated, even if some of the more cultured Kindred didn't always respect him. He would perform various odd jobs to whoever needed it, so long as they had either authority or were willing to over reasonable compensation for the use of his time (preferably both). Often he would be approached by the Nos, or some of the shadier Ventrue. Most of the time, though, true to his clan, he was called on by the Brujah. After all, organized crime and unions had a long history, particularly when Jack was most active in the past.

The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. The truth of that statement was even more apparent for someone who had experience with immortality.

Imperial Overlord · Post by **Imperial Overlord** » 2007-01-10 01:21am

The ghoul guard on duty at the Art Museum, Pyotr, inclined his head respectfully to Jack as he passed. He wasn't one of Jack's and technically didn't answer to him directly, but Jack had a lot of pull in this place and only a fool would treat him with less than total respect. "Is there anyway I can be of service, sir?"

Civil War Man · Post by **Civil War Man** » 2007-01-10 01:42am

"No, thanks, Pyotr," said Jack. "I'm mostly here to see if anything's being planned for tonight, whether business or pleasure."

Jack at the very least usually made an effort to act benevolent towards those who were of lower station than him (the typical first step being learning their names well enough that he'd remember). At points in his life, he had been as close to rock bottom as humanly possible, so lording his power over others made him relatively uncomfortable. It was probably one of the reasons why he had no ghouls, nor embraced any childer of his own. Most of the blood he drank was either from blood banks, or he killed his victims outright and preserved blood he didn't need to drink immediately in case he ran into a "dry spell", just so he could avoid inadvertently ghouling someone.

Of course, no matter how benevolent he tried to act, Jack still commanded no small amount of fear and respect from those below him, particularly ghouls and very recent neophytes. What pull he had commanded some respect, and enough had witnessed what he was capable of when provoked that there was usually an effort to keep from becoming too informal with him, lest something offensive slip out.

"Have you heard anything about what might be going on tonight?" he asked the ghoul, almost as an afterthought.

Imperial Overlord · Post by **Imperial Overlord** » 2007-01-10 02:07am

"Not yet, but its still early in the evening," sack Pyotr. "There was a bit of a ruckuss last night, but you've probably heard about that." Which wasn't at all true, but a ghoul was hardly high enough up the information chain to know what people did and did not know.

Dahak · Post by **Dahak** » 2007-01-10 04:17am

Kyle parked his car near the art gallery and stepped out. As the most frequented place around, it was a nice place to meet people and be seen. And while he was no Toreador, he still could appreciate art.

It was an imposing structure, even though he still had problems with the architectural style of it. But then the colonials seemed to be doing a lot of things differently from what he thought proper.

He nodded to the guard on duty and walked into the gallery.

Imperial Overlord · Post by **Imperial Overlord** » 2007-01-10 04:20am

Pyotr bobbed his head respectfully as Kyle passed.

Dahak · Post by **Dahak** » 2007-01-10 08:45am

Kyle looked around. The gallery seemed to be very empty. But then, it mostly was at this time of the night. He only saw one other guy who was basically screaming 'Brujah' by simply being there. He always thought that clan to be quite without style. Too boorish for his liking. After one final glance, he studied some of the nearer artworks with a thoughtful mien.

Prozac the Robert · Post by **Prozac the Robert** » 2007-01-10 09:49am

A party is a party. He kept telling himself that in the hope that it would get better, or at least that he wouldn't notice quite how terrible it was. It wasn't working. You'd think a bunch of students might produce something entertaining, but no such luck.

It was turning out to be one of those 'you have to be drunk before you arrive' events, and there was a slight problem with that. Still, there were a couple of girls who looked like they might be lonely, and even though it was terribly wasteful, the blood circling his veins was making him feel more human than he had in the past few days. Which, if not quite the same as being drunk, did count for something.

The godawful music in his ears, but with a slight spring in his step, he made his way towards the brunette in the corner. She smiled a little, shyly.

Civil War Man · Post by **Civil War Man** » 2007-01-10 11:57am

Jack didn't say anything for a moment as another Kindred passed by him and Pyotr. He noticed the other vampire glance back at him with a sort of general, impersonal disdain. It was a kind of disdain Jack had seen a lot. The kind directed more at his clan, which he almost broadcasted to Kindred through his appearance, than Jack himself. He figured the newcomer was probably Ventrue. They and the Brujah didn't exactly have the most harmonious of relationships.

He was sure it would bring comfort to the other vampire that the feeling was mutual, though Jack's disdain for the Ventrue derived more from his dislike of aristocracy than actually caring too much about the Camarilla political scene.

"Actually, I hadn't heard," he said to Pyotr when the other Kindred began to occupy himself with the artwork. "I was doing some work down by the docks until it was almost morning. What kind of ruckus? Didn't miss some sort of brawl, I hope."

Dahak · Post by **Dahak** » 2007-01-10 12:54pm

Kyle realised the other Kindred was talking to the guard. He didn't show it and kept studying the sculpture, but his interest was spiked when he heard something about a ruckus. Always good to know what is happening around oneself.

Mark S · Post by **Mark S** » 2007-01-10 08:54pm

It was an odd little house, more of a cottage really, that sat nestled in a tangled yard of pines and fern. Surrounded by larger, more modern homes, it seemed slightly out of place, but it had been there since the beginning, watching the community grow up around it. The small windows of the basement had been covered over on the inside by thick, black cloth and the curtains on the rest were only ever open at night. Even then, very few lights were ever seen fighting their way through the brush of the yard to the street. The owner was known to the more nosy of neighbours to only be seen after dark and rarely have anyone to visit.

"...And Cain wept in his lonely sorrow, for his head was filled with turmoil. In a wild, baneful wrath he had slain his brother whom he had loved dearly and the Lord had cursed him such that even the very sun would not suffer to gaze upon him, yet he could not deny that the killing had made him feel powerful and there were many blessings to the Lord's curse. Even in his anger, the Lord had not forsaken him."

Devon lay where he had awoken in the pitch black of his cellar contemplating the passage from the Book of Nod. In time he stood and ascended the aged wood of the stairs to the main floor, making his way from there into the backyard. Through the pine bows he focused on the late summer stars and centered himself for the night to come, taking the fragrant air slowly through his nose and into his lungs.

He had not seen the others of his kind for many weeks now, leaving his meditations only to feed. It was time to re-immerge. Perhaps there would be some new insight to glean from those who were his Kindred.

Ritterin Sophia · Post by **Ritterin Sophia** » 2007-01-10 10:33pm

The walk had went smoothly, though many wondered how such a young girl was allowed out so late, and many of those included brushed it off owing to the large guard dogs accompanying her. Her driver picked her up promptly a half-hour after it had begun, right on time. Now she was looking for something to do, unlike other kindred who had relatively adult bodies, hers was a hindrance that limited her in the night scene. She chose a museum, there were more than a couple and this one she hadn’t visited yet. The vehicle stopped next to the curb and she exited the vehicle with her faithful servant’s leashes in her hands, she didn’t know what this museum’s rules were about dogs and she didn’t care, but something caught both of her hellhound’s attention, and it had something to do with the guard and the man he was talking to. It didn’t take long for her to figure what was going on, in the years since her death, they only ever growled at intruders at the estate, those who made motions seemingly to harm her, and kindred they were unfamiliar with. She motioned for the dogs to enter back into the vehicle, and they did so. Quickly she closed the door behind them and walked towards the entrance.

Imperial Overlord · Post by **Imperial Overlord** » 2007-01-11 02:23am

"Well, Tony was in here looking for the sherrif and in a bad temper, if you know what I mean." Pyotr just realized he had mentioned the Brujah temper to a Brujah, a subject they were known to be sensitive about. He cleared his throat and continued. "Well, anyway, he wasn't happy and was talking about the value placed on Brujah lives and why nothing had been done about Bobby Kingman's disappearance. It was quite a ruckuss."

Civil War Man · Post by **Civil War Man** » 2007-01-11 03:19am

( EDIT: Correcting the misunderstanding )

"He gets like that sometimes. It's his way of sticking it to the hierarchy." Jack wasn't about to go into his own views on the matter. He did agree with Tony. The other clans didn't seem to place too much value on Brujah lives, for certain definitions of life. Just because they did most of the legwork, the elite seemed to view them all too often as expendable. He wasn't about to say that outloud, though. First of all, it was none of the ghoul's business. Secondly, he was smart enough not to mouth off about the Camarilla hierarchy while standing in the middle of one of the major meeting places, particularly since it would be agreeing with an Anarch.

On top of that, the bit of information Pyotr let slip threw Jack for a bit of a loop. "I hadn't heard that Bobby disappeared, though. Doesn't sound like something he'd just up and do. When did that happen?"

Imperial Overlord · Post by **Imperial Overlord** » 2007-01-11 03:35am

Pyotr shrugged in a 'I don't know' gesture. "I only know about stuff that happens around here and Bobby's almost never here."

Mark S · Post by **Mark S** » 2007-01-11 02:12pm

Granville street flowed like a river of flesh, people from all walks coursing enmass with the chosen current of the majority, eddies forming around the ever-present buskers and beggers. Devon took it all in, sight, sound and smell, as he made his way toward the city's most popular Eylsium. It was the obvious place to go to be among other vampires.

Dressed comfortablely in jeans and an old green t-shirt, he blended perfectly with the crowd. Covered for the most part by his hair and aided by the steady shadows of a lamp-lit street, his tapered ears garnered no attention, even from those passers by that saw fit to cast their eyes on their fellow man. He was just another obsticale to twist and shift around on their way down the river.

Following the inertia of the tourists and city dwellers alike, Devon was taken on an easy route to Georgia street which carried him quick to the museum. Moving around the building to the where he knew the usual entrance would be, he stopped for a moment to take in a detailed chalk drawing of a sun-drenched field someone had made on the sidewalk that day. He smiled warmly and moved on.

The meandering vampire reached the entrance to the museum with hands clasped behind his back and greeted those standing their with a smile and nod.

"Good evening, Brothers" he offered.

Ritterin Sophia · Post by **Ritterin Sophia** » 2007-01-11 04:00pm

Mercedes stopped in front of the entrance, the three of them would bring too much attention, and began speaking in a very condescending tone. "One would wonder why two other Kine would be talking to a guard this time of night, especially whilst he's on duty..." One of the cainites was obviously a Brujah, the other’s lineage, however, eluded her, he could be a second Rabble, a Gangrel, or one of her own…

Dahak · Post by **Dahak** » 2007-01-11 04:46pm

Kyle noted with interest the conversation between the Brujah and the guard. Missing people. Wonder what had happened?
His train of thought was broken by the newest guest in the Elysium. Kyle looked curiously at the Kindred.
"Good evening," Kyle answered in his inimitable posh upper-class British English, "methinks I haven't seen you around here previously."