gangrel quest the conqueror worm

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Anon08/19/26, 01:58No.6454013

He is a proud fool, this John. Through a film of red you can see that. You see his vanity. From within the clarity of the blood you see and know a terrible many things. You see John Lambton's hubris, and his sloth, and you see him brush past the maiden, going beyond the copse of trees, down to the banks of the River Wear.THU-THUM.. THU-THUM.. THU-THUM.. THU-THUM..You recall the sensation even now, after so many hundreds of years. You recall the percussion of the soft mammal stepping onto the pebble-strewn shore, near rocks and babbling trickles of water breaking around them. You recall the beat of John's heart as he calmly goes about fishing. The activity stimulates the boy and soothes him at the same time. You can tell by the rhythm of his heartbeat, muffled though it is by the moving water that surrounds you. You hear it. The drum of ignorance.THU-THUM.. THU-THUM.. THU-THUM.. THU-THUM..A heartbeat. An echo of weakness that rattles around inside a claustrophobic cage, inside the fragile frame of prey.And then John sees you. He sees a corpse laying face-up on the bottom of the river under the shade of a tremendous sycamore.THU-THUM. THU-THUM. THU-THUM. THU-THUMJohn draws nearer, terrified yet captivated. He looks down upon you. The creature. He sees a sallow-fleshed cadaver, bruised purple and blue, with a mane of charcoal hair that falls to the shoulders, and flows like ocean kelp in the current. A bushy, sandy grey mustache, and a small goatee to match. Powerful, rippling muscle banded across a naked body. Burgundy veins showing rotten, clotted blood through translucent, discolored skin.John Lambton sees the scarlet red eyes that are watching him without blinking from below the water's surface. He sees the cruel smile of yellow-brown fangs between pale lips.THUTHUM-THUTHUM-THUTHUM-THUTHUM-THUTHUM->Cont'd

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Anon08/19/26, 01:59No.6454015

That motley drama - oh, be sure, It shall not be forgot! With its Phantom chased for evermore, By a crowd that seize it not, Through a circle that ever returneth in, To the self-same spot, And much of Madness, and more of Sin, And Horror the soul of the plot.Your heart is pounding against your chest as might a madman or drunkard strike the bars of a dungeon cell, perhaps even with double such feverish abandon. And yet you are transfixed entirely by this rough beast, this corpse of the most savage likeness you've never imagined to know. You are compelled every bit as much you are frightened in the furthest corners of your soul. You reach down into the river to grab the body by that powerful neck and lift it's head and shoulders above the water.But what comes up in your hand is a pale eel, also the likes of which you've never known. It's a muscular, slimey serpent two feet in length, with a circular mouth and concentric circular rings of hooked fangs. It's a lamprey, white and naked as though extracted from the depths of a cave. No... Wrong... Not you. Not yourself. The sensations are secondhand. This perception is borrowed from the mind you have invaded. You writhe in John's hand just as you writhe inside his cortex. You lock your gaze with his own as he appraises you. With one dull, glassy bead you spy your own reflection in his darkling pupil. With an exertion of your will, you see the rot in his soul.But see, amid the mimic rout, A crawling shape intrude! A blood-red thing that writhes from out, The scenic solitude! It writhes! - it writhes! - with mortal pangs, The mimes become its food, And seraphs sob at vermin fangs, In human gore imbued."I've catched the devil." Boasts John. "Watch thee how I dispense with it." Declares John. Into the depths of a well, still squirming in his grip to the end, John tosses you. Like God himself casting Lucifer down from the throne of heaven. The ritual has begun. The ritual has begun.Out - out are the lights - out all! And, over each quivering form, The curtain, a funeral pall, Comes down with the rush of a storm, While the angels, all pallid and wan, Uprising, unveiling, affirm, That the play is the tragedy, “Man,” And its hero, the Conqueror Worm.>Cont'd

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Anon08/19/26, 02:02No.6454017

Now there is a rupture in the crimson veil. Something else. Many something else's. Things that are not the red void. Things that have substance. You still taste the warm, copper-tinged, overwhelming shock of fresh blood. But you taste other things, as well. Salt. The brine of the deep, silt from the seabed, saltwater. Wet cement. The wood of a yew tree. Hints of ozone, electricity. Wax, the variety applied to boats. Diesel fuel. You taste these things in the back of your tongue and on your nose. You smell blood. But you also smell denim. Ammonia - urine, actually. Silk. Oxidized metal. Rubber. Steel.You hear everything keenly. You hear the fine buzz of an electric charge in some nearby device. You hear the waves lapping against the side of the vessel you're on. You feel the ebb. The pitching and rocking of the ship. Your sight begins to return to you at last as the fog of hunger, nightmares, and an ocean of blood begins to dissipate.You're on the large, open deck of a yacht, to the rear of it. The vast of night stretches around you, violet-black and freckled with stars. Much of the horizon is open sea, but in one direction you notice the glimmering of skyscrapers and houses along the beach. You must be two miles from the shore, but if you focus you can see some bits of detail, even at this distance.Next to you is a concrete rectangle with bold latin script etched into it: SUB JUDICE You aren't sure how you know it's latin, or how you are able to read latin, but you do, and you can. It means, 'Awaiting Judgment'. It's the size of a refrigerator and an enormous breach has been made with some DeWalt power tools which sit on a couple of towels nearby, on the floor of the deck. Large enough for you to have escaped, you think. Why you would think such a thing eludes you in this moment.You're on your knees, naked, and in one clawed hand you are holding the severed arm of an adult man. In the other clawed hand you are holding his throat, and much the rest of him, excepting his left leg, which you notice is laying on the rich, orange-brown hardwood just in front of you. There are some red streaks around it, but not a pool or puddle. It seems you may have licked up much of the blood that spilled there. It would explain the faint hints of polish, wax, and cleaning chemicals at the edge of your palate. The mutilated corpse is totally exsanguinated, of that you're sure. Glancing slightly to the left, you see another body, a woman's, decapitated. Exsanguinated also. Your nostrils flare twice, and glancing back the other way, you see what must be her head. Her face is stricken with terror, and staring at you just as she had when you tore open her throat.Then there's the matter of the three others present with you. The three that observe.>Cont'd

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Anon08/19/26, 02:03No.6454018

You don't hear hearts beating. You don't taste breath coming in and out of their lungs. But there are three others here. They are dead. You can smell the death; their dead skin, and hair, and eyes. You can feel them all watching you from just nearby. Silhouettes, illuminated by the glow of blue light from the cabin behind them, it's sliding doors are closed but a tastefully appointed library is visible to you from where you kneel.The Beast inside your blood howls and thunders and gnashes its teeth, and the sinews of your body grow taut like the strings of a thousand recurve bows, to a thousand hunters after fresh quarry. But you are sated. You have been fed. By these strangers, it would seem. None of them submit to any likewise feral urges. All manage to maintain their composure, and with more apparent ease than yourself. Still, your jaw tightens and you instinctively emit a growl so lupine in sound, a listener would be forgiven for thinking a timber wolf had come aboard the ship. It occurs to you that you do not know where this boat is, or who owns it. It occurs also that you do not recall your own name."I think he's starting to settle. He's a lot stronger than you said he'd be." Says the woman standing on the right. She has a lithe figure, and is in early middle age, with red hair fixed back in a bun. She's wearing a rich navy pantsuit with thin yellow pinstripes, and has her hands planted on her hips as she glowers down at you, seeming dissatisfied and tense in equal measure.The man on the left is leaning against one of the walls just near the sliding doors to the cabin, a bit farther back. He's got a wooden stake balanced from its sharp point on the tip of his index finger, wavering his hand slightly to keep it steadily upright, and his other hand is in his pants pocket. The stake is yew, and has some spiraling pattern carved around its length. He's got on black pleated slacks, a black leather belt with a black gold buckle, and a black turtleneck sweater on, the sleeves pulled up to his elbows to show strong, slender forearms. He has blonde hair shaved down to the scalp, and a sword pointing down tattooed on the side of his face, just in front of his ear and ending at the edge of his angular jaw. "That's a good thing. Would've been a pretty big waste of time if he'd been a shriveled up pussy." He says.>Cont'd

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Anon08/19/26, 02:04No.6454019

The third figure rises from his seat, raising a hand to quiet the other two. He can't be older than twenty five, with a pallid olive complexion and short, curly black hair, and a handsome face that tapers down towards his chin. His frame and figure is athletic, accentuated by his bespoke attire, which causes him to cut an imposing figure despite standing a little under five and a half feet at most. He's wearing a solid black seersucker suit, with a black and gold paisley cravat tucked into the collar of his white cotton dress shirt. He steps nearer and clasps his hands behind his back, assessing you like a scientist. "Good evening, sir. We have taken it upon ourselves to abridge your sentence, and would care to have words. Could you be amenable to an enlightening discourse before we sail back to Charleston harbor?" The monster shaped like a young man asks.For a long moment, you regard him silently... scarlet eyes watching without blinking and blood dripping from your chin.Select One:>Thank them for the blood, arise to your full stature and agree to exchange words. You know the long sleep has weakened you, and the throttle of nightmares has occluded much of your memory. It is best you comply, and why not? It seems they rescued you from a grim fate, and offered appropriate tribute. >Tell them you will speak only when you are provided more blood. You have drank what would be many vampire's fill, and certainly you no longer crave at the expense of your reason. But you have been denied drink for longer than you can guess, and feel within yourself that you could still consume triple what you've already had if you so desired. >Do not answer, instead attempt to use your power of Auspex to simply read one of their minds so you might ascertain who they are, and what their purpose in awakening you may yet be. (specify right, left, or middle figure). >Even weakened, your power is not to be trifled with; use the power of Protean to shift into the form of a mighty bear and dispatch these interlopers. >Use the power of Protean to become a swarm of biting flies, and escape this way to the coastline. You need not parlay with these three, and will simply uncover for yourself how you came to be here, why you were in that box, and who you are.

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Anon08/19/26, 13:29No.6454184

Breathlessly, you release the two pieces of your most recent kill, and rise to stand. The stillness of your facial features, and the stillness of so much of your body even as you move it, is uncanny to behold on the barely swaying deck. Your sunken eyes and sharp cheeks are the visage of death itself.You draw in air with your lungs, the exact volume amount needed to reply to this other vampire. You speak deliberately and in a low, predatory tone. You do not blink. You do not waste any effort at all imitating the expressions that mortals use to convey meaning. When you speak, you are listened to, and nothing else is pretended. Your face is a rigid mask as you utter a series of syllables in a guttural, alien tongue, as harsh as it is foreign to the ears of these vampires. Your ancient accent is thicker than Irish peat.You explain that you will not dignify supplicants with your attention until properly slaked of your savage thirst. Then, when you are finished, you notice the curious looks on these stranger's faces, and how the one with the stake exchanges a glance with the woman. The one in the middle almost smiles. "Fascinating." He murmurs.The woman speaks up then, still keeping her eyes on you. "How old exactly is he supposed to be? The fuck was that?" She asks, frowning more emphatically now.You seem to have forgotten that no one speaks Pictish anymore."I'm actually not sure, some manner of proto-gaelic dialect I suspect." Says the middle figure, speaking clearly now to be heard. He tightens his lips but maintains a polite demeanor. You notice that, even while he does ape facial expressions, he displays each one a little too perfectly. Your eyes are guillotine sharp, able to see deeply, and closely, and to study quickly. You notice his eyebrows, and the lines of his mouth. The flaring of nostrils and showing of teeth, then, and in combination all of these things seem to your gaze carefully, exactingly measured. Chemical elements organized in the proportions necessary to generate the desired reaction. Imperceptible to duller beasts. He is an old one, like yourself. The well-dressed predator offers you a slight bow, and tries again. "It is to my recollection that you are a fluent English speaker, is that not so? If you would be so obliging, I'd appreciate it very much if we should continue this dialogue in a more legible tongue." He tilts his head slightly at the end."You recall rightly." You reply in an even tone. Your voice is a gruff baritone, impartial and somehow assertive.>Cont'd

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Anon08/19/26, 13:30No.6454186

The one in the cravat manufactures another smile, though it is at least a well rehearsed one. "Exceptional! My name is Agostino Sartori, and if it is at all unclear to you, we intend no harm to your person and bear no grudges f-"You interrupt him with a terse growl, low and rooted deep in you. "Enough. We may convene whenst thou hast rendered unto me four more heads of cattle." You state, still sounding imperious despite no effort being made to exercise any vocal inflection.The one with the stake of yew leans off of the wall, and draws nearer to his companions, and to you. He brings swings his arm up and stops abruptly to put the stake in the air, and when it flips, he catches it with his other hand in a blur of supernatural speed. Your eyes are capable enough to track the movement as it happens, but were it not so, mortal vision would be insufficient to see. He crosses his arms and looks to you intently. "I mean no disrespect, but with your... ability, we felt hopping you up on a bunch of blood immediately could get things out of hand for us. For now, it maybe would be best if we got on... The..." He begins to say, but a withering glare from the young-looking man in the middle has him trailing off and then clamming up shortly thereafter.Once he's silenced his comrade, though, Agostino turns back to face you fully. "I bid you forgive Elias his paranoia. It is his prerogative as the Castellan of our Chapterhouse. I am afraid, however, that the only other mortals on the ship are entirely necessary for its navigation and operation. Should you drink of them, I fear it may greatly delay our vessel's return voyage." He begins. A beat passes. You consider that you do not care about the 'return voyage'. You will likely swim or fly away from here, as either would be a more suitable a means of conveyance than this gaudy human toy. "Should you wish it, of course, I would allow you to partake of my Vitae, or that of my two inferiors here, to help restore your strength." He goes further. Then shrugs a manufactured shrug. "Otherwise, we can forestall any additional conversation until having returned to the harbor, whereupon more prey can be brought to you easily on the waterfront, but that will be some wait from now. Supposing you do not wish to drink further until then, might I propose that in the meantime I first offer to ask any questions that you have, before we truly begin exchanging ideas and communicating in earnest? I'd consider it a small courtesy.">Cont'd

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Anon08/19/26, 13:36No.6454190

Something about that stake disturbs you. The material. You feel by instinct that you want it brought no closer, and that if this other vampire means to touch you with it, you will resist fiercely. His minor demonstration of Celerity may normally help to corral his foes in negotiation, but even in your reduced state you expect that you are faster than he, and much stronger... And what ability was he referring to, you wonder in much the way a spider contemplates a fly. He didn't say 'abilities', of which you have a great many, the memory of some still returning to you in patches by the minute. You don't know precisely, but you can feel that there is something else within you, a leviathan in your blood that stirs to wakefulness alongside you...Still, you look to the leader of them, the other Elder.Select One:>Agree to drink the blood of one of the other vampires. Vitae is doubly as pleasurable when consumed from such a source, and so even drinking from one will satisfy the Beast within you. This is a loaded decision, however, as drinking the blood of a vampire engenders positive and eventually even submissive feelings towards the source. It would take at least three, separate, significant drinks to establish a full blood bond (vinculum), and the first drink is exceptionally mild in its impression, not enough to alter your opinions or disposition. Still, you must always be mindful when drinking of your own kind. (Specify left, right, or middle) >Insist that you will in fact drink the other mortals aboard and that they will be brought before you immediately. If these three cannot pilot a ship between them, that is their concern, not yours. >Say nothing, and instead use Auspex to attempt to read the mind of one of the three vampires to illuminate the situation. (Specify left, right, or middle). >Decline drinking of these vampires, tell the Elder you will drink at the harbor as he suggests. Remain, though, and ask some questions of them while you have the chance. (If you select this option, you may list up to three questions of your choosing, e.g. 'what year is it?', 'how long have I slept?', 'what is your purpose in freeing me?') >Excuses. How tiresome. Use Protean to take on the form of a shark or raven in order to return at once to shore.

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Anon08/19/26, 21:27No.6454287

You are a statue. Perfectly frozen but for the bristles of your mustache twitching in the wind that plays with long strands of your hair. You allow a moment's pause to linger again before answering the proposition. "Nay, keep thy blood about thee. Ye may yet have much need of it if I am further denied. Prithee, make haste, for I grasp in one palm an excess of hunger, and in the other a scarcity of patience for the gaming of peons. Not at all do I carry a predilection for... dialogue." You say.Agostino receives your preferences and even your threat rather easily, nonetheless, and responds with a small bow of his head.There is a slight, wet sound as your eyes ever so slowly rotate to land on the woman, yet to be identified by name. You haven't looked directly at her yet, and now you stare.She seems to immediately feel your attention. You can see her muscles and veins tighten ever so barely, as if bracing for something.Roll 1d100, BO3

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Anon08/19/26, 21:31No.6454290

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Anon08/20/26, 01:24No.6454383

Yes... Your gaze to her is like the heat of a microscope lens turned upon an amoeba. Her own bestial instincts wisely tell her to retreat. To flee. But to be careful, still. Another comparison might be a monkey that has descended to the clearing of a forest, only to turn it's fragile head sideways and see the iridescent yellow of a tiger's eye peeking through the green undergrowth. The instinct to rush back to the canopy is intercepted by the anticipation that, now having spotted the hunter, to move at all could invite the lightning strike of deadly ambush.You turn the dial on the microscope. You adjust the heat, and the magnification. She does not squirm. She cannot resist. Auspex is among your more developed powers of the blood, called in these nights a 'Discipline', and perhaps rightly so, because it is the discipline of much practice that has made Telepathy's use a matter of muscle memory, for you, though it is a thing of memory more than muscle.Your mind enters hers easily. A sword returning to its scabbard. A burglar walking through the front door with a keyring jingling in his one hand, and a burlap sack dangling in the other. An owl silently descending upon a mouse in the snow, clutching the tender morsel all around in razor talons and lifting off in one noiseless instant. You barge in, dragging one curved talon along the pitiful inklings at the surface of her mind like so many tomes on a library shelf.'This was a fucking mistake...' 'Agostino should have brought more Guardians, fuck discretion...' 'He looks like one of those Nosferatu freaks...'Paltry little things. Flick! You tip the bookcase over. Your intellectual appetite requires more substantial 'reading material'. You step over the surface thoughts and begin rifling around in a farther reach of her mind. These are not so much musings as they are understandings and conclusions. You become a Worm sliding along its belly towards the core of this mealy apple.My name is Martha Waldron I am the Librarian for the Ordo Dracul of Charleston, South Carolina, where I also curate the chapter's herd of human prey Normally I would not be joining the Kogaion, Agostino, and Castellan, Elias, to unearth a dangerous Elder, but our numbers have thinned, our other warriors are occupied, and Agostino knew my rapport with the mortals would simplify their sacrifice, and that he may need to rely on my knowledge of the Long Sleep, which exceeds even his ownI do not know how he learned the location of his body, or knowledge of his unique vulnerability to weapons carved from yew wood, but Agostino insisted we rouse from Torpor none other than Malcolm Ashwood, The Lambton Worm in what seems to me a foolishly desperate bid to save the us all>Cont'd

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Anon08/20/26, 01:26No.6454385

You release the mouse. She staggers back a step and brings a palm to her forehead, pointing at you accusingly with the other. "SHIT! HE GOT IN MY HEAD!" She shouts, her face contorting with disgust and a bit of fear. If she could vomit, this might be a moment where she would. "I didn't fucking sign up for this, you said it would be safe, that you would have it under control, but this isn't one of your dusty artifacts, Sartori, th-" She begins to complain, almost hysterically.But, like the Castellan, she is silenced with a look from Agostino. More than that, it would seem, she is compelled aggressively by his gaze not only to cease her speaking, but to fall to her knees and cast her gaze downwards. You suspect this to be an exercise of Auspex to impart the command mentally, and also Dominate, another Discipline, to force her obedience with his stare. It would seem there is yet some might behind his effusive politeness, or at least the potency that comes from a very long unlife."Malcolm... Ashwood..." You say the words aloud, as if trying on a pair of boots. It is familiar on your tongue. But you know also, somewhere deep, that it is not your true name. It is an identity you inhabited in the past, but your heritage predates the conventions and even the language of this name. It is one of the more steady masks in your history, though, you feel that as you say it. A mask which for a great long while dwelled beneath all the other masks you wear night to night."Yes, Mr. Ashwood, your name. Does it occur to you naturally, or did you retrieve that from my companion?" Agostino asks, still polite but with an edge in his voice. "You've my assurance I would have told you as much had you but inquired. We are not your enemies. It was not our Covenant that interred you at the bottom of the ocean. In fact, had I known your whereabouts sooner I'd already have freed you! Only very recently was I made aware that you had not indeed been destroyed utterly by the zealots of the Lancea et Sanctum."If he has hostile intentions towards you, Martha was not made aware of them, at least. What he says does not dispute what she seemed to know of this errand to resuscitate you. You've heard tell of this Ordo Dracul, you believe, in fact you are beginning to remember having met several of their number in the distant past... Yes, knights in platemail embossed with wyverns and crossed axes, blocking a forest trail. A robed philosopher parlaying with you beneath cobblestone streets to discuss the secrets of blood sorcery. Like the other Covenants, these so-called Dragons have been enemies and friends at different times. Tonight, what are they?>Cont'd

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Anon08/20/26, 01:27No.6454388

You don't respond to his words immediately. Instead you shift your ruminations to your other name. The Lambton Worm. What a delectable sobriquet it is... Yes, now it all begins to come back, though still very gradually: The planning, the omens, ancient Cruac Sorcery... The Red Rite of The Immortal Hydra... Your immense and frightening power...You cast your gaze then to Elias Carter. He tightens his grip on that stake. Yes, now revealed to you by your probing, you clearly recall that weapons fashioned from the wood of a yew tree scald and burn your flesh like fire itself. Even in clumsier hands than his, such a tool could be a danger to you. It... Is irksome, how this realization punctures your sense of self. Even through the fog of a very long Torpor, you can remember a handful of times when you felt vulnerable, and you remember well enough that those were very, very rare circumstances after having arisen as the Worm.Nevertheless, you look back to Agostino, again. The Kogaion. You don't recognize the word, and yet something about it is familiar. You have a sense that it is a station of great importance among his order. Something about him is starting to feel familiar, ever so faintly.Select One:>They did not retaliate to your mental intrusion with violence. The woman's thoughts were that you've been saved to deliver them, and the other local vampires, from some great harm. Armed with your Bane or not, it seems they can be trusted for now. Ask them some questions. (If you select this option, you may list up to three questions of your choosing, e.g. 'what year is it?', 'how long have I slept?', 'what is your purpose in freeing me?') >You do not feel they mean to harm you, but neither do you have any enthusiasm for indulging these three. You will wait silently until Martha provides you four more members of their herd. >Whatever their intentions, you tire of this audience. You'll take your leave, now, in the form of a great black vulture and fly to the nearby city. Then you will begin the hunt for your past alone.

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Anon08/20/26, 06:43No.6454491

You speak again."Four more heads of cattle."Then, you lower yourself back to the deck, into a squatting position, clawed hands atop your knees. You stare ahead now, not at any of the three of them in particular, but simply allowing your vision to be fixed on what is directly ahead of you, just to the left of Agostino's leg. A bookshelf. You can read the titles from here with your hawk-like vision. Latin. Greek. Russian. Chinese. Obscure and esoteric titles. Nothing of interest to you.The Dragons exchange glances, but none attempt to communicate any further for now. You detect Agostino making a gesture to Martha, and she walks towards the front of the ship along the exterior of the cabin. The other two remain. The Elder returns to his chair, legs crossed, while Elias stands beside him and eyes you warily.A few minutes later, the vessel turns, and begins its journey to the city.You stare blankly ahead, motionless. Now spared the chore of conversing with your lessers, you are able to focus inward, and see what you can remember of your own volition. The tide of sanguine dreams... The red void of Torpor where you have dwelt for decades, at least... It has eroded both along the edges and leaked in towards the middle, washing out some central pillars of who you are. In the calm of waiting, you carefully sift through the debris of your past, not unlike the victim of a flood returning to find their living room filled with two feet of topsoil, and their belongings strewn about a kitchen layered with mud.You are a vampire, of which there are many kinds. You are of the most superior order of them, called the Kindred, which are comprised of five major Clans, each with unique characteristics. Your Clan is called Gangrel, and your kin are known for their ferocity, animalistic dispositions, and most of all their predisposition towards the Discipline known as Protean; the power of changing from one form into another.You are a master of several Kindred powers, but of Protean you are a master above all others. You may grow fearsome, shredding claws, or grow leathery wings and take flight as a fallen angel. You can hear the beast shapes chirping, howling, screeching, and writhing in every drop of blood that coagulates within your decayed stomach lining: Wolf. Bear. Cat. Vulture. Shark. Lynx. Raven. Mantis. Rat. Eagle. Mastiff. Scorpion. Cobra. Octopus. A teeming mass of centipedes. A swarm of biting flies. And of course, a lamprey. You may become a fine mist. You can meld with stone, soil, water, or wood, even the wood of this ship's deck. You can move directly through these materials and emerge elsewhere. You can change your very flesh to livid stone such that blades glance off, and musket balls ricochet harmlessly.>Cont'd

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Anon08/20/26, 06:44No.6454492

You can even take on the shape of humans, or other vampires, so long as you know their appearance. Becoming a perfect doppelganger, but possessing your own mind and abilities. It occurs to you that this and some of the other specific uses of Protean you possess are exceedingly rare, or even totally unheard of manifestations for the power, which few other Kindred can imitate - maybe none.You focus more carefully. There is something else. Other Disciplines. Celerity for incredible speed, Vigor for your immense strength, Resilience to shrug off and disregard grievous injuries, these are the most basic 'physical' Disciplines which all Kindred, and even most other, inferior vampires are able to develop, though rarely to your level. You possess others still... Auspex, of course, but also Animalism so you might communicate and command the wild things of the world... Obfuscate, for occluding yourself from the mind of others... And yes, blood sorcery. Veneficia and Cruac, most of all, and a few other hidden practices make up your repertoire.Yes, this is the other art you have nearly perfected. You are a peerless blood sorcerer. You center your mind on this. The particulars of many rituals filter across the front of your mind. You can feel that you knew others, and perhaps some part of you still does. At your level of proficiency, you may even create your own. You have the epiphany that performing Cruac divination rituals may be particularly informative as you adjust to this new world. You needn't rely on other Kindred to answer your queries when The Crone will hear your prayers.This brings you to another thought, circling back to the last of your dark dreaming, and your exchanges with Elias and Martha. Your ability. Your legend. You are The Lambton Worm. What does that actually mean? It is a haze of scarlet red in the back of your mind... You press on, focusing...You performed a horrific, secret blood ritual. You can feel the power coursing under your flesh, under your bones, even. You know that you are no longer like the other Kindred. You are as superior to them, as they to the other, lesser vampires. They are dead men. You are but the likeness of a man only when seen in this primal form. It is the cadaver of the mortal you once were. But underneath you are an immortal Worm.When you concentrate upon this, you see steel armor wreathed in the tips of spears taken from dead men. You see a sword clumsily swung by a vain fool, no wiser now than when you first met on a Sunday he'd have been better served to spend in church, as your servant bid him. You see pieces of your body washed away down the River Wear as they are cut from you. You see the reflection of your fanged smile in his panicked eyes as your head is lopped from your shoulders, splashing in the water and tumbling away...>Cont'd

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Anon08/20/26, 06:45No.6454494

Your reminiscing is interrupted when Agostino rises from his chair. It's been roughly twenty minutes. You realize that the ship has slowed. You hear other ships lilting on the water, waves licking at their sides. You smell. More chemicals. More composites. You hear a bustling city. You hear many unfamiliar sounds. "We have arrived, Mr. Ashwood." The Kogaion says. You can almost hear in his voice that he no longer believes this is your name, if he ever did. Maybe before he heard you speak in your native tongue. You consider that by his stature and features, he rather reminds you of the Romans that warred against the Picts you once called your people.You say nothing of this, however, rising to your feet once more. You notice Martha sliding open the entrance to the library from within, holding some clothing under her other arm. She walks in your direction, but draws no closer to you than Agostino. Once even with him, she hesitated, then sets the delivery down, and steps back, and to the side about eight or nine paces.He glances down at them, then to you, and gestures with his hand. "If you wouldn't mind, terribly, you ought to be dressed now. This is a private dock, and the warehouse we'll be entering is owned by our Order, secure and discreet. Nevertheless, even at some distance, it may draw undue attention for you to be seen nude within the city." He says, now as friendly as when he first approached you.Brown denim pants with large pockets, boots of a darker brown leather, and some other material in the bottom that's black, and a grey shirt with short sleeves, it reminds you almost of a tunic but shaped awkwardly and much softer. Lastly, there is a brown leather jacket rather like a dinner jacket or blazer, with black buttons. Alien though this uniform is to you, it seems a small trouble to don. The garb is inoffensive and may serve some utility. As the ship glides towards the pier and ropes are affixed to it by one man aboard and another two at the dock itself, you dress yourself. When you are finished, and the boat is still, Agostino nods to Martha, and gestures for you to follow him as he follows her onto the dock, with Elias following behind you in turn.The man tying off a rope on the dock is on one knee, and does not so much as glance in your direction. He is middle aged with a large beard and dirty clothes. His heart beats, but you smell the stink of vampiric blood on him. He is a Ghoul, the empowered thrall of a vampire, gifted a measure of power and agelessness in exchange for total devotion and submission in all ways to their masters.You pay him little mind as well, and proceed with the others to a large metal building just adjacent to the dock, which has one massive door of a different colored metal, though you are t sure how it might open, and to either side of it, smaller, person-sized doors. Martha opens one of them and stands by it as you and the other two Dragons enter.>Cont'd

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Anon08/20/26, 06:46No.6454495

She closes the door behind Elias.You hear more heartbeats, some quite rapid. You hear rats. You hear the skittering of cockroaches. You smell seagull droppings. You smell metal. You smell wood. You smell rope fibers. You notice more light coming from metal fixtures dangling far overhead, and hear an electric hum within them. You didn't understand this well on the ship, but thought little of it. Now you consider that the Ordo Dracul has contrived some magic to produce light without fire and capture it in lengths of glass. How curious, and yet terribly practical, as the mere presence of fire can sometimes chafe you, and it would take many torches indeed to illuminate this place, as would be necessary for those that do not possess your ability to see in darkness.There are crates everywhere, and barrels of some odd, solid blue material which have no bands about them. Everything is stacked in great cubic or rectangular arrangements, some as high as fifteen feet and twice as wide. It gives the impression of a labyrinth as your small group ventures further in.Eventually, you round a stack of crates filled with what you believe are bags of rice based on the scent, and into a clearing in the heart of the warehouse.There is a large receptacle here, circular in shape and perhaps twenty feet in diameter. It is blue, though lighter in color than those barrels, with edges that come four feet up from the floor, like an enormous bowl. It says 'INTEX', on the side, which seems to you a Latin word like the engraving on the concrete cell you were entombed in, but you do not know the meaning of the word. It is lined entirely with some manner of translucent, glossy parchment that has a sterile smell. Stepping over to it, you see there are four humans in the middle, all of them bound by the wrists and ankles, blindfolded, and gagged, sat back to back and facing four separate directions. They are awake, and extremely afraid, based on the sounds of their hearts and the faint taste of their sweat in the air.On the other side of the bowl from you, spread out, are three more figures. Two are ghouls, though younger than the one on the dock, with stronger frames and holding hatchets. There are red cylinders attached to their belts, thin and about a foot in length. Even from over twenty feet away you can smell flammable chemical agents and mineral compounds. Some manner of explosive perhaps?>Cont'd

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Anon08/20/26, 06:47No.6454496

The third is a vampire, and a plainly monstrous one at that. Two scars streak across his too-flat face on a jar-shaped head, with porcelain white skin that seems a touch rubbery, almost. His nose is wide with broad nostrils, and his pale, piercing eyes set in sunken sockets that are just slightly too far apart. He possesses a glassy, corpse-like stare not unlike your own. But you can sense that his blood is thin just by the scent of him, past the stench of stagnant water and human refuse, anyways. He does not flinch at the sight of you, however, restrained as his compatriots. You are able to identify his Clan immediately as Nosferatu; they all are warped by their blood into hideous new shapes.He has a full-sized axe in his hands, with a red handle and head, and a sharp point on the back end. His attire is a black suit, but it is stained and dirty in many places, torn and frayed in a few others.Agostino speaks from behind you. "Here are four more mortals, as requested. Our associate over there is Mr. Itch. He and his assistants are part of our organization, tasked with protecting our assets and dispatching our enemies, or sometimes providing honored guests with a secure meal."At the sound of a voice, the captives begin to glance around fitfully. At the mention of a 'secure meal', they truly begin to panic, twisting around anxiously, but it seems they are all bound together by their wrists and tightly so.You're greatly outnumbered now, but the axe blades of these others rouse next to no concern in you, not like the yew. You think it likely that the three of them do not know about your frailty, else they would be differently equipped. In fact, despite the intensity of Itch's gaze, the mild reaction from him and the others leads you to believe that they do not know who you are, or at least much less about you than Martha or Elias.Your eyes end up lingering on one of the hatchets, and for some reason you cannot quite put a finger on, you actually... Find yourself wanting for it to be used against you. Why could that possibly be? The idea of having a hand or leg severed is strangely... appealing...You step over the edge of the blue container and stride confidently over to the huddled prey without dwelling further on the idea of your own dismemberment.You focus instead on the dismembering of your tribute.>Cont'd

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Anon08/20/26, 06:49No.6454497

What comes next is a truly gruesome seven minutes of gorging, and then it is abruptly over. Your new clothes are stained everywhere. The cattle are broken and drained of all blood. You have feasted, and been allowed to have your total fill.Standing among the ruined carcasses, you look over to Agostino Sartori where he has stood calmly for the entire time, hands clasped behind his back again. He has a slight smile.You wonder if that is a facade. You wonder if perhaps he is thinking it might have been a miscalculation to indulge your hunger so thoroughly.The Kogaion tilts his head and speaks clearly. "Now, Mr. Ashwood, you have availed yourself of a considerable portion of our herd, which will need to be replaced under less than ideal circumstances, that combined with our restraint, forthcomingness, and most of all the significant efforts undergone to exhume you. I trust that this is sufficient for us to converse in a civilized manner, yes? There are matters to which we must attend."Select One:>Agree to hear him out. He has been patient and gracious. You have dined well. You will know his purpose in treating you so, whatever it may be. >You will converse on your own terms. You have questions that you will hear answered before you entertain his designs. (If you select this option, you may list up to three questions of your choosing, e.g. 'what year is it?', 'how long have I slept?', 'what is your purpose in freeing me?') >First, ask him for one of his men's hatchets.

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Anon08/20/26, 17:33No.6454667

Gonna call it here for hearing Sartori out, but will have Malcolm ask any questions that aren't answered by the shpiel. In the same way that choosing to sit silently allowed him to look inwards and remember key parts of himself, asking certain questions or considering certain concepts can potentially trigger memories, so keep that in mind as he shakes off the cobwebs.

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Anon08/20/26, 21:29No.6454726

"My thanks to thee, Sartori. Thou hast done well and rightly to purchase my attendance thus. Speak now thy piece." You say with the cadence of a mollified tiger.The other Elder smiles more broadly, and bows once more. The other Kindred present seem to settle somewhat at your words as well, relieved you think at your entertaining their master. Elias is the exception, he almost seems more on edge than before, tense and focused.The Kogaion replies. "Excellent. First of all, you ought to be told that it is the year two thousand twenty six AD. Your imprisonment and slumber persisted for a length of two hundred and thirty two years... Much has changed since your internment. Before I should go on, might I ask, do you recall anything of how you came to be captured so?" He begins.You take the revelation plainly. That is some time indeed, but in the expanse of your unlife, it is still brief, and only the second greatest of your slumbers. Nevertheless, you consider his question. Spears fashioned from yew wood. The smell of incense, and wine. Howling ashes... An icon of the cross... "I hold no firm memory of it, though suppose it may gather to me in due time. A battle of some manner, methinks, thou made mention of the Lance..." You speak truthfully."Yes, the Lancea et Sanctum, the worshippers of Longinus and Christ." Agostino confirms. He straightens his posture slightly. "It is their belief that the Kindred are the wolves of their God, tasked to harrow his lambs. They believe also that when Christ should return and bring about the day of judgment, those vampires faithful to him will be delivered from their damnation, and the rest condemned to Hell." A pause. "Those of their cloth in Charleston long ago devised a unique punishment for those deemed worthy of worse than Final Death... whereby the offending party is rendered torpid and trapped within a tomb of cement and stone, then sunk to the floor of the ocean nearby and forgotten. Left there to await the Second Coming. You are but one of eight treated to this incarceration, supposedly, though there may be others... We are not concerned with their fates, however. You are the first to be resurfaced and roused to waking, to my knowledge. No small feat."Hearing of this mistreatment riles your inner monster somewhat, even with a full belly, the impudence causes hackles to rise in your mind. You remember more clearly now the white and red robes, the pallid, fanged faces of upstart crusaders... Long have the Christians been your enemies, before even your glorious apotheosis as the Worm.>Cont'd

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Anon08/20/26, 21:30No.6454727

For now, you permit the Dragon to continue."We have taken these great pains to restore you not out of any sense of altruism, however, I must confess." He goes on. Something flashes behind his eyes, a spark of rememberance perhaps, or steeling himself to proceed. "You are among the mightiest of Kindred to have dwelled in this region, and the Domain of Charleston is under dire threat. Huntsmen of a like we have never seen. Well funded, highly trained, meticulously armed, and seemingly made awares of many secrets heretofore only known to our own kind. Knowledgeable of our weaknesses, our gathering places, and many of our institutions as scarcely any human could be. And no mere band of a few seasoned witchfinders. We believe there to be at least three, maybe four score of them... a veritable army." Agostino's carefully curated countenance becomes severe and dour now. "They now harshly outnumber those of our Praxis. We've been embattled for weeks, reduced from seventy and eight to now, I believe, fewer than forty across all the Clans and Covenants. The Carthians were wiped out completely within the first four nights. Several havens and strongholds have been put to the torch."You listen carefully as he explains his motivations. For the good of the 'Praxis', it seems, you have been sought out. The word isn't unfamiliar, it refers to the cluster of fiefdoms in any one city that are squabbled over by your less enlightened cousins - even without the fog of a recent and long Torpor, you would struggle to remember the last time you felt something akin to 'civic duty' regarding the feudal communities of other Kindred. Carthians, however, is a term you've never heard before, and if they have already been eradicated, their negligible worth is of no further consideration to you."What of my chosen?" You ask. This talk of Covenants recalls to mind your own cult. A half dozen kindred, a little more than double that in mortal supplicants. And... One other... Your Childer... A priest of your small coven...The Elder's brow wrinkles slightly at this, and he shakes his head. "All slain or driven off not long after the Bishop and his templars declared your demise publicly. Your Childer, Abner Morris, defected before then to the Invictus, tucking himself up beneath their wing for safety. He took with him the chiefest among your servants, the Ghoul, Rupert Callow. The former perished in a Monomacy duel near two centuries ago, and Callow hasn't been seen or heard of since that time.">Cont'd

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Anon08/20/26, 21:31No.6454728

Now you consider it a great fortune for these others that your appetite has been fully sated, for this newest revelation causes you to brim with rage. Your face draws taut, fangs showing through a half open jaw, and your skin literally crawls; rhythmically, slowly your dead heart thrums, and with each pulse, waves of small serpentine rises ripple outward from your chest to the ends of limbs, and across your face, like centipedes skittering between your muscles and your dermis. Hatred boils in your core, a molten bile.Sniveling shrews, whelps, cowards, and insects all... Repulsive weaklings, routed by witless, sanctimonious cretins! And Abner! Infidel! Disloyal churl! At least a hundred times did you drag one of the mortals into the shadow of damnation, and but less than a handful were consumed by you in short order! That he, the only of your brood on this continent would sidle up to simpering bureaucrats in the wake of your absence is an insult to your legacy!But on the brink of Frenzy, you flex all the will remaining within you to slow the thrashing blood, and calm the raging Beast even as it fills your mind with fury and whispers.Your near-outburst is not unnoticed. The other vampires are all either braced to defend themselves or flee.You loll your head around once, composing yourself, and emit a low hiss to release the last wisps of anger. "Thou art Kogaion... This word is known... To me..." You begin to ask another question, and the focus upon it triggers another rememberance.You know this other Elder.You know the word, because you learned it's meaning from him before, prior to your imprisoning.The Kogaion is one of the leaders of any Ordo Dracul chapter, typically a powerful and wizened vampire tasked with locating, cataloguing, collecting, studying, or guarding things such as sites of supernatural power, or mystic artifacts, and imbued texts. They are reclusive, curators of secret knowledge, and yet from afar tend to have a firm hand in steering the organization within the territory they operate and sometimes beyond.Like yourself, in fact. Solitary, powerful, guardian of hidden wisdom - a Hermit. A King of The Grove.>Cont'd

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Anon08/20/26, 21:32No.6454729

This is how you two came to meet, and thereafter to convene on matters of the blood, and the nature of damnation itself. It is through a fine mist you see many vignettes of your old meetings, but you begin to remember having once entertained his company as often as every month. He is of the Mekhet clan, and while you are his senior by many centuries, he is among the Eldest of the vampires in this Domain.You cross your arms and change the subject abruptly. "Why then didst thou seek me out? To make thine hunters my own quarry? To loose a lion on the jackals what snap at thy fragile heels?" You say, not yet admitting your recognition. "To entreat me for the doing of such an errand wouldst require of thee much more than red blood.""Of course." Agostino admits simply holding up an open palm. "Never would I consider insulting your person with a contrary expectation. There are belongings of yours, however, that I would be glad to return to your custody for assistance with these interlopers." He makes a summoning gesture with his hand to Itch, who obediently circles the plastic tub you're standing in and withdraws a black rectangular box from his breast pocket. It had been hidden by the power of Obfuscate, you can tell by its sudden registering to your senses. Silk, steel, and a neutral chemical taste. The Nosferatu hands this to the Elder, maintaining an eye on you all the while.Agostino opens the box and holds aloft a bronze dagger which looks like the beak of an eagle.You recognize it immediately as yours. A favored tool in your sorcery."I'd gladly relinquish this implement now, and I tell you also that we've come to possess three pages of your Requiem Diary. These could also be yours, and beyond that, I am uniquely suited to assist in the gathering and locating of the rest." He goes on.Your Requiem Diary... Writ by your own hand, a recording of your unlife for the express purpose of preserving your past. Precisely the sort of relic that a Kogaion might seek out. But only three pages?You must reclaim them. And you must gather the rest.Select One:>Agree to defeat the hunters for your dagger and the pages of your Requiem Diary, as well as the resources of Agostino and his order in reclaiming the rest. You've collaborated in the past. You can again. >Demand the pages and dagger now. You will find the rest of your own accord. You will slay the hunters if you meet them, but you will not be bargained with for service. >Attempt to use Auspex to penetrate Sartori's mind and discover the whereabouts of the pages, and anything else he knows about your Requiem Diary, such as how the pages came to be separated. >Delay negotiating for now. You have other questions that will be answered now that you have heard his reason for bringing you here. (Include no more than three questions of your own choosing)

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Anon08/20/26, 22:50No.6454758

FYI, the average cainite of 10th gen or higher can hold about 10 blood points, which is about two persons' worth of blood. If our boy can hold 4 times that amount, then that would make him 6th gen at the highest, with a blood pool of thirty.

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Anon08/21/26, 01:21No.6454790

I'm gonna call this vote and, but I will include part of the vote to negotiate because it won't get in the way and I think it'll enhance the scene.

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Anon08/21/26, 05:03No.6454832

You drag your tongue over a fang, tasting two drops of blood made all the more metallic in flavor by having cooled inside your mouth.Very interesting.Your words are deliberately uttered, one at a time. "Ah, now comes the truth of it! Thou hast summoned me for a bartering! I ask of thee, then, how didst thy august cabal come into possessing these relics, which by thine own accounting belong in truth to me? Perhaps thy herd, which I be accused of supping upon significantly, shouldst be my own by the same right thou claimst that blade, aye?" You say, allowing some small measure of invective to enter your tone for the first time since waking.There is a charge in the air at your open indignation. And a tense quiet.Elias steps up to answer this. "The same way we come by all our relics: looking for them, and/or killing things. The particulars are our business. And we're at the top of both those games in this town, with strings to pull and leads to follow." He explains.Then, Martha follows his lead but veers in another direction. "Which means if you decide to Nancy Drew this shit on your own, we'll beat you to the punch and torch whatever we snap up.""Hey!" Elias follows up with a scowl in her direction. "Lay the fuck off, Waldron!"She spits off to the side. "Stop treating him like a fucking flower, he's a fucking WMD shaped like a dead barbarian! Show some fucking teeth or he's gonna cram your narrow ass into a blender and make a Castellan margarita with a Kogaion ash rim on the glass!" Her shoulders lock and she thrusts an accusatory finger towards the floor as she yells.You find yourself reminded of the size of these creatures, and cannot help but be amused."You are heard then, Sartori." You say clearly, as if ignoring the other two. "The dagger, my blade, thou hast said clearly that thee wouldst bequeath it unto me firstly. Do this and also two of three pages from the diary before rise of dawn, and I shall pledge thee my tooth and talon, and I shall visit all my great menace upon thy foes the huntsmen." You bargain back.>Cont'd

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Anon08/21/26, 05:04No.6454833

Agostino smirks at this, and tilts his chin upwards, likewise ignoring the younger vampires around you. "I can deliver one page and the blade both. The other two pages we keep until your work is through. And thereafter I will personally contribute to restoring your diary to you... Are these terms acceptable?"You scrutinize the other monster carefully for another quiet moment, considering. Your gaze drifts slightly to Mr. Itch, and again to the sumptuous curve of his axe's blade... You hear rushing water all around, and the muffled sound of a dog trundling through underbrush, baying and barking..."I bid thee, lend thy axe-sworn knights for the making of war, that I might command and lead them in bloody battle against our quarry." You suggest, not rejecting the offer, but including another dimension. Assistants. If there truly are eighty witchfinders running amok, even you could benefit from numbers. You could use extra fangs and claws at your command.You think that thought and, for reasons beyond you, feel a twinge in your dead heart. An impulse to some kind of mysterious action that just hardly escapes your grasp...Agostino tilts his head either way, measuring the notion. Then he speaks, brow knit together slightly. "Our warriors are occupied enough with their duties, and their numbers have dwindled across the conflict. Still, I will contribute to your retinue Mr. Itch and one other. I trust that should you need more for your hunting party... You will see to it yourself by the usual means." He quirks a brow at that last part. You aren't sure what 'usual means' the Elder refers to, but think better of elucidating your misunderstanding and thus betraying your ignorance. It suits you now to seem aloof, not clueless.The Nosferatu dips his head ever so slightly in acknowledgement.You dip your head in return, once to him, and then more deeply to Agostino. "Then the accord is struck." You hold one large claw outstretched.The Dragon tosses your dagger to you, and you catch it easily, then hold it high to admire the hooked, bronze blade under the sterile lighting of this warehouse. Bringing it down to hold in both hands, you find yourself fixating on the edge of the knife... You grip the handle tightly, and prick the point to one calloused, numb fingertip. It pierces the epidermis, but draws no blood.>Cont'd

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Anon08/21/26, 05:13No.6454838

"Unfortunately, Mr. Ashwood, none of the pages are stored here." Agostino says, drawing your eyes back to him. "Could we offer you accommodation for the day at our Chapterhouse, by chance? Or would you care to join me in my own haven? I could have it waiting for you at either location. Or if there is a place you intend to go, perhaps I might arrange for it to be delivered by an appropriate courier? Do know, the documents have been read only by myself and Elias, and their contents shared only with one other, my pupil Martha. Your secrets are not known or spoken amongst our initiates." He reassures.The offer is worth considering. You do not recall where your own haven is hidden, if it still remains at all. But there are always other options for a monster like you...Select One:>Accept Agostino's offer to sleep at the Chapterhouse. If you'll be working alongside these Dragons, you would appreciate the chance to learn more of them. (Gain Contacts/Allies: Ordo Dracul) >Accept Agostino's offer to sleep at his haven. The two of you have a past, and you're likely to recall more of it if you visit his lair, and perhaps can share with him that you remember. (Gain Friend: Agostino Sartori) >Decline. You were once loosely affiliated with the confederacy of pagan cults known as the Circle of The Crone, and though your own followers are gone, there will be other blood sorcerers in the Praxis that will be duty-bound to receive and aid you. (Gain Contacts/Allies: Circle of The Crone) >You think little of the Covenants, and instead have always preferred to associate by Clan, so you will ask where the Gangrel of Charleston gather amongst themselves, and go seeking hospitality from one of them. (Gain Contacts/Allies: Gangrel) >You will find a haven for yourself using your own cunning and instincts, even if that means sleeping in an underwater cave. It will be safe, and solitary. Ideal for you to meditate on your personal history and learn more of yourself. (Gain Haven: Cave) >You will ask about the local Elysium, the gathering place for all the Kindred of the Praxis. Etiquette dictates you should announce your presence at Elysium in order that the rulers of this Domain are aware of your return. This will make you known, and perhaps open doors as they seek to curry favor or factor you into their petty power games, though it could also invite hostility and undermine a chance at surprising enemies. (Gain Status: Praxis) >Write-inwhile Malcom does have an affiliation with the Circle, his cult was destroyed and it's been over two hundred years. He is able, if he so chooses, to shift allegiances and join another Covenant or remain more or less Unaligned. The only group that is off the table is Lancea et Sanctum.

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Anon08/21/26, 05:27No.6454841

I only have two main plotlines developed for this story: the mystery of how he was captured and trapped on the seabed, and the hunters that are attacking the city. There are a number of other characters that the MC may or may not come into conflict with, but it isn't baked in or part of a pre-planned narrative. Outside of unraveling his past and fighting The Bad Guys, I have no expectations of what you guys might want to do with him. Start a new cult, bring the Circle into power? Defect for the Ordo Dracul or Invictus? Become a hermit pulling the strings from the shadows without any specific allegiance? Dethrone the Prince and take his place? Bring back the Camarilla? With a really powerful Elder, you can kinda do anything you set your mind to, and I am curious to know what seems entertaining or like a fun challenge.

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Anon08/22/26, 04:01No.6455120

"Thy pretty attire dost hide a hard heart, for thee to extend these invitations is a brave thing indeed." You finally say in a neutral tone. You look Agostino up and down slowly.He cocks an eyebrow again. "And should I expect you would betray the hospitality offered?"Your expression remains emotionless, the death mask of an unfeeling corpse. But your voice livens somewhat, suggesting the insinuation of danger was a compliment or a... joke? "Would that I were so cruel a dastard, for the fright of me shouldst stretch then from an end of the earth to the other! Nay, expect only companionship this night, brave Dragon." At the end, you are still staring, and an actual smile slowly creeps across your face, as if being thawed from ice with a candle. It is significantly creepier and more unsettling than your typical blank visage.But your host, at least, is not deterred. "Very good, then. I maintain several personal sanctums across the area, as it were, and think it best we adjourn to the penthouse apartment where I often entertain members of my order for private engagements." He says, and then it's his turn to look you up and down, pausing.You reach up with a claw to pick a morsel of red flesh from between two dirty teeth."The complex, it is attended to by mortal humans. I own the building, but not all of the staff are... Privy to my affairs? You may understand better in a few night's time as you've seen things better for yourself. Things move very quickly now, they change often and there are many, many more people." He continues. Then finally, he offers a weak sort of smile, all polite and subtly emotive. "I digress, Mr. Ashwood, it would be ideal if you presented in a less obtrusive manner. Or perhaps, not present yourself at all - you could follow along at a distance comfortable for yourself and conceal yourself by whatever means are preferable. The choice is entirely yours."You consider this, and simply nod.>Cont'd

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Anon08/22/26, 04:02No.6455122

He looks past you to the two Ghouls, then, and clasps his hands behind his back. "Stewards, if you would attend to the matter of cleaning?" And after that, to Martha. "Miss Waldron, your talents were greatly appreciated, but morning comes soon, and so you are dismissed. Convene with me tomorrow night, I'll have a car sent over." He instructs.The three of them reply with small bows, and begin moving. The Ghouls head to a back office, you think to gather cleaning supplies, and Martha exits from the door you entered by, which you cannot see but you can hear, and you can smell the ocean peek in as she leaves.Then you are left only with the Kogaion and his Castellan.Agostino crosses his arms over his chest, now, posture shifting somewhat in the absence of those lower on the totem pole. He smiles a bit more easily. "This has been rather fascinating, and at times I confess, narrowly concerning. Not many were made awares of this scheme to bring you back from the depths, naturally, and I'm sure it comes as no surprise that several took exception to the idea. Of course, I hold a certain measure of sway in this Domain, and being that I'm one of the few to have had civil words with you in the past, my vouching for the idea was enough to resolve certain reservations. But you'd already gathered that, I presume? That you and I have some history between us?" He says.You nod."Good. You're gathering back your mind rather quickly. You've Miss Waldron to thank for that. She is making great strides studying Torpor, even on the verge of developing a new manifestation for the obscure Coil of Dreaming. She is young but quite gifted, a psychiatrist and somnologist in life. Oh, heh, suppose you're yet to know the terms for these new-fangled human sciences! As I said, it all moves rather quickly now." Agostino goes on, shifting his weight slightly. "Nevertheless. The pages, yes? I'll have Elias bring one to where we are going, it should be dawn in roughly an hour and a half. You'll forgive our timing, I thought it best we limit your window of wakefulness this first night in the case 'woke up on the wrong side of the tomb', as some might say."You tilt your head at this. Not the way that Sartori does. You tilt your head the way a mantis does, just slightly. Empty seeming but primal. This initiates another pause.>Cont'd

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Anon08/22/26, 04:03No.6455123

The Kogaion seems to gather something from the gesture, either way, for he breaks the silence with a nod. "Yes, anyways, as it were, I'd like to do you a final courtesy. I think you ought to have some choice in the matter, you see. You have likely discerned that one of the pages we possess reveals your vulnerability to yew wood. Another contains the diagram for some manner of Cruac ritual, I confess I studied it at great length, but even with the insights provided by your past discussions with me, I simply lack the context to comprehend its meaning. The last refers to Abner, and at some length." He finally says. "You may decide which of the three is rendered this evening, and which two are retained by the Ordo Dracul in the meantime."Elias eyes you warily as ever when the offer is made.Gears begin to click together in your head.Select One:>You will use Protean to change your appearance into that of a livid mortal, outfit and all, and accompany Agostino that way (Feel free to describe what you want to look like, and what you want to be wearing, just keep in mind the only fashion sensibilities he has are what he's seen this evening, and clothing from 300ish-1794 AD, and feel free to provide character art if you see fit) >You will use Protean to take on the form of an animal and accompany Agostino or follow behind him at some close distance (Specify: cat, mastiff, raven, or vulture - first two go with, latter two follow) >You will use Obfuscate to blot out all perception of your person, and accompany Agostino unseenAlso Select One:>The page containing your Bane - the sooner it is out of circulation, the sooner you can prevent others from learning of your weakness to yew. >The Cruac diagram - some power of the blood arcane and potent enough to warrant recording on paper instead of commitment to memory, it could be of great use >The entry regarding Abner Morris - it may illuminate his defection to the Invictus, or possess clues and leads such as the location of your own haven, or his, which may eventually yield answers about how you came to be captured by the mewling churls of the Lance

7

38M

Anon08/22/26, 19:34No.6455293

Got most of an update done, might not have signal for a day maybe? Gonna drop what I've got for your reading pleasure, and will post the rest at my next opportunity.

0

+K8

Anon08/23/26, 19:16No.6455600

Spoke five minutes too soon kek

0

+K8

Anon08/23/26, 19:18No.6455602

You begin tearing the clothes from your body, with no concern for preserving them. They come apart easily at your tugging as if made of rice paper. The scraps are discarded among the butchered bodies around your feet.You take a step forward then. "The diagram." You answer tersely, staring at Elias when you speak.He hesitates, but bows his head, and wordlessly turns to leave as well.Agostino gives him a glance, but keeps his attention mostly on you, still. "Alright then, shall we retire for the morning?" He says."I see no reason why not, loathe as I am to yield for slumber so soon from waking. I am burdened now with a lingering restlessness, which stalketh from artery to vein, and bone to fang, prowling forth and back with dire visions of vengeance and feasting." You say, frowning only the very slightest amount at the proposition of more nightmares, lighter on the mind though they may be in daysleep. But you will need all of your strength when next the sun sets, and so will not afford the folly of remaining awake within the confines of Sartori's abode. Easier to rest and rise with total vigor for the trials that lay ahead. A beat passes. "Ferry us now away, Kogaion, I shall take on the likeness of cait sith and be as like a shadow within thy shadow at the side of thee." You proclaim.You then place each hand to either opposite shoulder, clutching tight with arms crossed in an X over your chest, and bring your legs together, looking slightly up. You grow very still, even moreso than for the rest of the evening - it is the frozen stillness of a tombstone. Your blue-grey complexion, which has thus far conjured to mind a bog-drowned corpse, now lightens and solidifies to a uniform grey color. It tightens also, taking on a slightly ridged texture. Your eyes and hair, likewise, take on this same coloration and firmness, and all of the contours and separations of your figure melt together until you appear to Agostino as a statue in the shape of a man, a dull, featureless cocoon, all in the span of a half dozen seconds. And, no sooner than it has formed, the grey figure caves in from the forehead, and begins shedding apart in flakes that whirl through the air gently and feather-like.Ashes.It falls apart and crumbles, and the ash splits and flakes ever more until the individual motes of grey-white dust are imperceptible, melting into the air, grains of sugar in bitter coffee.From where Agostino stands, it seems a moment you have dissolved to nothing.And then a rather large, black cat with a proud, feral bearing jumps up from the bottom of the pool, tucking up on the edge of it, and jumps down to the ground to sit before the Elder. It looks up with sickly yellow eyes that glow just a touch too brightly, tufted ears rotating and wiry whiskers trembling. It attempts a meow, but emits instead an especially raspy yowl."You just ate!" Agostino replies with a smirk.>Cont'd

0

+K8

Anon08/23/26, 19:19No.6455603

The cat, of course, is you. A Kellas just over a foot tall at the shoulder, and a bit over thrive that in length, weighing an easy ten or eleven pounds. You don't understand his joke, or care for it, and strut past with all the grace and vanity of a housecat, though by all appearances you are a wild mongrel of considerable size.Sartori walks along just behind. When you approach the door and rear up on your hind legs to lightly bap the doorknob, yowling a couple more times, he comes up behind and opens it for you to slink out into the waterfront district. "This way, if you would." He says, moving to the corner of the building and around it to the other side.You trot out a ways and sniff at the air a few times, craning your head out to catch heavy wafts of ocean breeze, carrying a cocktail of different scents and many of them unfamiliar. You even sit back and straight in a sort of meerkat posture, front paws tucked at your chest, to catch a smell moving just above your quadrupedal eye level (or nose level, rather). But, upon hearing Agostino, you turn to face his direction, and then you gallop off to catch up, and settle back into a trot when you see him approach a grey... Vehicle.In truth, it is a nondescript sedan, a Honda Civic with a vintage of a dozen years. To your eyes, it is a peculiar wagon, low to the ground, with a sleek metal carapace like some tremendous beetle, and fat wheels wrapped around with a stinking black agent of some alien make. Curved, black mirrors encase the vessel, reflecting the light of glittering towers and radiant, glowing signage. There is no hitch of any kind for horses or cattle, and in fact, you realize that you barely detect the scent of horses at all. Their fur and manure was once ubiquitous where men made their homes, but you estimate the nearest such creatures are numbering less than a dozen, kept together a mile away... It seems to you in all ways this is the chariot of a demon. There are four other machines of its kind alongside it, though their particular contours and hue vary from one to the other; the phenotypes of differing breeds, perhaps?Has the Masquerade fallen from this forsaken world in your long absence, that the disciples of Vlad Tepes may conjure and travel in such infernal conveyance? You consider then certain aesthetic similarities between the metal chariot and the ship you rode upon, and some of the smaller ones in the harbor.>Cont'd

0

+K8

Anon08/23/26, 19:20No.6455604

"They call this the automobile, Mr. Ashwood, I assure you it is quite safe and appropriate for our needs. They're everywhere these nights. This model is, I think, my favorite. Unerringly reliable and inconspicuous. Perhaps in time I should like to purchase you one as well. Driving these machines can actually be quite relaxing, I find. Come along." Agostino says, stepping past you and pointing to the vehicle with a small black talisman. More of those flameless lights blink along its corners, and then he opens the door, revealing seats, and a wheel for steering not unlike those used to control the rudder of a ship... And yet this automobile has no rudder... How curious...Nevertheless, you bound up into the interior, and perch on the curved shelf nearest the front window. Your companion sits before the wheel, and closes the door. He places a strange key, attached to his talisman, into a small, odd receiver as if to open a door - and yet when it is turned, the metal beast roars with life, and you hear machinery clattering from the front of it, and you smell vapor, fire, and many other less savory smells also, causing your feline face to scrunch.When the car begins to move, you start to slide and nearly lose your footing entirely, before springing off the small counter to the chair opposite Sartori's. You place your paws on the ledge of the adjacent door and look out the dark window - as it turns out, not a mirror at all - into the night.You see many things which seem to you terribly strange. More automobiles, though they all lie motionless. Humans, in some places, but very few. Some dark-skinned like the slaves, others white, but all looking destitute. Even with all these wonders, there still are vagrants in the settlements of humans.More signs and images of great detail, portraits of the most vivid kind you've ever seen, some even moving and the size of long houses, placed atop metal pedestals like enormous trophies in a giant's museum, saying thing's such as, 'CHARLESTON AQUARIUM', or 'OLD SPICE - THROUGH SMELL OR HIGH WATER', or on one, 'WHY ARE GAS PRICES SO HIGH THIS SUMMER? IRANTRUTH.COM'. Inscrutable incantations in English lettering, but syntax beyond your reckoning. Throughout the voyage, Agostino seems unsurprised by these oddities, and so you assume they are all quite typical, preposterous though that seems.Only the buildings seem distinctly recognizable, and only some of them. Passing by the old Battery, and then to a residential neighborhood nearby - you remember the colonial stylings, and in fact even recognize certain structures, having stalked their dark corners long ago. You feel something strange seeing these relics looming in the dark, some even lit along the sides with gas lanterns... In your dead heart a sensation stirs of some small comfort. A tablespoon of peace.>Cont'd

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+K8

Anon08/23/26, 19:21No.6455605

Before long you are pulling off of the scorched-black street into something of a concrete cavern, by your own estimation, below a tall building of black marble with gilded fixtures and angular designs. The cave is bathed in warm orange light, and filled with automobiles, it's roof held aloft with cement columns. Agostino stops the car once he has arranged it into careful alignment with a row of seven others.Sartori gestures for you to follow with a jerk of his head as he exits, and you scamper out to circle his black wingtip dress shoes, looking up expectantly. So close to the ground, and now surrounded by artificial light, you notice that his shadow is far darker than yours, and even wavers ever so slightly when he moves..."And this is the private elevator, we'll stand inside and it will take us directly to my domicile. Once the doors close you my take another shape at your leisure." He explains, leading you to a pair of sheer metal doors, with only a metal button just next to them in lieu of handles or knobs. Upon pressing it, the doors slide apart, into the wall, revealing a cell with a nine foot ceiling, and a width and length of seven feet. The floor of it and lower third of the walls is black marble, and the ceiling is brass with four luminous circles embedded evenly like the side of a six faced die. The upper part of the walls are silver mirrors, and looking up into them you realize something else unusual about Agostino: he has no reflection at all.Not in the way of other Kindred, either, whereby his silhouette is a muddled, dark blur. There is a total absence of him in the surface of all three mirrors.The doors slide closed, and once more you become a still, dull husk, and like an insect molting from its shell to spread fresh wings, you emerge in sinewy, jerking jolts and unfurl from the cat-cocoon into your natural form - a six foot two mustachioed cadaver with a scarlet stare, holding in one clawed fist a hooked bronze dagger older than the entire city.>Cont'd

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+K8

Anon08/23/26, 19:22No.6455606

Facing forward you see the hazy, oily impression of what ought to be your own reflection. But that is all; though Agostino stands aside you, there is no second impression in the mirrors. He doesn't say anything about it, though. Instead he straightens his posture slightly and looks up to you. "This building is called Onyx Roost, and while the penthouse is reserved for hosting my Ordo Dracul colleagues or the occasional guest, there are other available units in the building, and below the garage we entered by a boiler room and storage basement. Could I interest you in a three bedroom unit, or the underground facilities if they are more to your taste? No other strings attached, you may consider it a condition of our agreement."Select One:>Accept his offer for extended lodging (Specify an apartment or the boiler room/storage area) >Decline his offer for a longer stay; you will stake out your own territory when night falls again >Ignore his offer for now, and ask him about his peculiar shadow >Ignore his offer for now, and ask him about his lack of reflection

6

Aq8

Anon08/24/26, 16:04No.6455880

You reply first with a single, curt shake of your head. "No such niceties are required of thee. Do not mistaketh indulgence of thy hospitality for a dependence, aye?" You say. Again, you lift the dagger before yourself, and run a claw across the sharp edge of the blade."Of course, Mr. Ashwood." He says easily.There is a pause as you continue your ascent across a half dozen more stories.Then you point to the mirror with your blade, looking at the conspicuous absence instead of directly at your companion. "Wherefore dost thee lack a presence upon this mirror? Be ye doubly cursed, O' Dragon, spawned of twice turned soil?" You ask rather tactlessly. You have some idea of why this might be, and yet the peculiarity of it begs the question, especially given that he does possess a shadow - albeit an unusual one.Agostino smirks, looking at the same spot where he ought to be reflected. "Hm? Yes, you have the right of it. 'Twice turned soil', heh, so archaic. As I recall I did not even benefit from a crude burial. The details elude me in this late age, but it's my understanding that I was slain by some interloper while still being groomed for service by my first master, and upon being discovered dead on the cobblestone floor the next evening, he chose to Embrace my corpse despite the risks. I arose Hollow, as you've keenly surmised. We used to discuss this between us, you know?" He tilts his head in that way he does, and lets another pause hang.You turn to regard him directly, noticing something in his dark eyes. But you say nothing."My Ka absconded with my reflection, echo, and shadow." He goes on. "Only the latter of three am I able to approximate with the power of the blood. Perhaps had I remained amongst the Sethites I may yet have learned to better manage this condition. Alas, I was meant for more than meek servitude, yes? Too curious, too... Optimistic?" He says this as if he isn't totally sure about the chosen word, but relents finding a better one with an affable shrug, and grins. Then he turns to meet your gaze, crossing his arms. "I suspect this may be ringing a bell or two."It is. As you said, he is 'doubly cursed'. A Kindred embraced a day after dying, without proper funeral rites, has a chance to arise Hollow, whereby his Reflection becomes untethered. He will not appear in mirrors or recordings, leaves no footprints, no echo, and his voice cannot be recorded. But that Ka - hungry ghost - haunts the mirrors and reflections within a few miles of its progenitor forever, eating carrion and drinking stagnant water, possessing all the original's memories but its own capricious (often malicious) will.>Cont'd

0

Aq8

Anon08/24/26, 16:05No.6455881

How Agostino manufactures a shadow, even an odd one, is another matter, and escapes you for the moment... But you have a vague impression it's to do with his particular Bloodline. You remember having dealings with the Sethite Cult long ago, which had holdings throughout many regions you traveled in old Europe, and you recall their devoted including two or three unique vampiric lineages... You think no more of it for now, and don't press the matter as the elevator finally stops and the doors slide open once more.Agostino steps out, and gestures for you to follow, which you do at a somewhat slower pace.The penthouse is luxuriously appointed. High ceilings, granite floors, polished black marble and gilded fixtures along the walls and coffered ceilings. Large, plush furniture, many tropical looking plants, including more than a few entire palmetto trees, and in many more places than you might expect for the haven of a Hollow Mekhet, mirrors - vast, impressive mirrors. Two are rectangular, wider than tall, with black surfaces not unlike the windows of the automobile, affixed to stands facing an enormous sectional couch. The only area that seems neglected is the open kitchen off to the right, and for obvious enough reason. There are two stories to this domicile, with a staircase leading to a balcony on the left side, with three doors on the bottom floor and two on the top.The decoration is a mix of leather-bound books, oil paintings of temples and astrological symbols, and glass cases or marble pedestals displaying relics you can identify as mainly being Egyptian in origin, near all of them predating even your own considerable vintage.You smell linen, papyrus, copper, ink, clorophyl, incense, and many sterile chemicals you assume are meant for the cleaning and maintaining of this place. You hear no others residing within; the place is vacant but for you and your host."Welcome to my satellite office. With the recent chaos, it's seen very little use of late, and so I am glad to be able to offer it as shelter." Sartori says, stepping farther ahead and then gesturing grandly to the space. "Fifteen minutes before dawn, metal screens will cover the windows, and the guest room is fully interior, as is the library, which as an auxiliary store contains no material I would find objectionable for an outsider of the order to peruse.">Cont'd

1

Aq8

Anon08/24/26, 16:06No.6455883

You nod, stepping over to the couch, analyzing the fibers, and then turning your head to see the murky silhouette of your reflection in the black glass of the strange mirrors opposite this sitting area. You have some time yet before you must rest, and finally have total privacy with this old acquaintance of yours.Select Three (3):>Ask for more information about these Hunters you are needed to dispatch - has anything yet been learned about them? >Ask how Agostino came by the location of your resting place, and if he knows anything more about the other 'prisoners' awaiting 'judgment'. >Ask again how Agostino came to possess three pages of your diary, and your ritual dagger - now that you're alone together he is likely to be more forthcoming. >Ask for more clarification about his past with the Sethites, the Ordo Dracul, his bloodline, and your history together. >Ask to know more about Agostino's Reflection - what is its disposition towards him, are they in regular contact, does he know of its activities? >Ask about the status of one of the other Covenants here in Charleston; their leadership, known assets, and territory (Specify Ordo Dracul, Invictus, Circle of The Crone, or Lancea et Sanctum, can be chosen multiple times for different Covenants). >Ask about the Praxis writ large; who rules, to what Covenant do they belong, what is the structure and what officers remain, and how is it contending with the Hunters overall. >Write-in

7

nsJ

Anon08/25/26, 15:43No.6456178

Those that have played my previous quests will know I tend to be a reader's writer, and I know some anons prefer a lengthier update - still, I was bored in my hammock with no signal last night and laid it on pretty thick. We're winding down on dialogue/lore for now though, and next comes Daysleep.Appreciate all of the enthusiasm so far! Anyways, here we go...

0

nsJ

Anon08/25/26, 15:46No.6456179

"Those are television screens, there. Machines that show... They are like mirrors showing reflections from far off places, moving images, invented some decades ago now. They're more popular than the automobile, now, and much cheaper." Your host explains, gesturing to the black glass that caught your attention. He is still behind you, removing his blazer and draping it over a black leather wingback chair, and then the cravat. He rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt, and you notice tattoos on his forearms in dark black ink - Egyptian hieroglyphs on the right, and two ouroboros serpents banded around the left, each eating its own tail, each identical, and separated by a few inches. Zooming in your hawkish vision you can tell the subtlest difference in the color of the ink, and conclude that they were most likely done by different artists as a result, and thus at different times.He steps around to the large couch, and plops down, sprawling out his arms. He looks up to you, still not phased in the slightest by your nakedness, and yourself not even considering the need for wearing human clothing for the sake of politeness. Agostino runs a hand through his curly hair and relaxes his shoulders. "Anyways, one needn't be endowed with the senses of a predator like ourselves in order to see that you still have much on your mind, yes? What else can I tell you?"You decide to be direct. "Thy underlings presumed to maintain secrecy whenst I queried thee about this blade. Again I ask, how didst thee come by my effects, and to what end?" You press, holding the dagger up momentarily as a sort of example.He deflates slightly, but nods a few times, relenting. "Sure, sure. Forgive them that, if you would. Elias simply means to protect our interests, and Martha is petrified by you, as any Kindred her age ought to be." He begins, excusing them. "As for the pages..." He nearly winces as he reflects on this, and looks out the window to the city's skyline. "When Abner Morris abandoned the worm cult and pledged himself to the Invictus, he was still young. Your reputation was as much an obstacle for his assimilation as it was a badge of honor to descend from such a... Notable specimen." He looks back to you warily at that last part. "You'll be none too pleased to hear this, but, well, don't bite the messenger: Morris auctioned off your diary in pages and chapters in order to help lubricate his integration with the First Estate. Sometimes for money, or territory, other times for personal favors. Many of the bargains were made privately. He didn't get very far before the majority of the collection was stolen from him outright, and to this day it isn't known by whom, or what. Two dozen pages or so, I'd say, had already been sold. They've been floating around ever since, occasionally resurfacing.">Cont'd

0

nsJ

Anon08/25/26, 15:48No.6456180

This news does make you begin to seethe, but not terribly so. It doesn't surprise you, and the cur is dead for all his trouble. Still, it stings to be so disappointed by one of the few Childer you suffered to live...Agostino goes on, furrowing his brow slightly. "I was outbid several times, unfortunately. I only managed to squarely purchase one page, and it was the Cruac diagram that's on its way here now... I thought it may aid my research. Even though the exercise was ultimately fruitless, if it better enables you to deliver our city from the current threat, then perhaps a stroke of fortune that I should hold onto it all these many decades." He says, shrugging slightly."And the two others? The blade? What of they?" You interject."Delivered to me by an emissary of the Prince, Felix. He is... Enigmatic." The Mekhet answers. "Perhaps a week ago I learned that the Lancea et Sanctum had interred some of their worst enemies off the coast, and I had spoken of it only with the other Sworn of my order. Two nights hence, a Ghoul arrived at my most secret haven, not even a human. A dog. Attached to its collar were the pages, dagger, and a note, all bearing the Prince's seal. The note I shared with no one, but it simply said that you were among those sleeping on the seabed. By then we'd determined the identities of two others, and had already decided to attempt to awaken one, to level a powerful Elder against the Hunters, you see. Those tombs are not reserved for your typical ruffians and heretics, of course, only the most dire threats in the Lance's eyes. When I saw the missive, I immediately gathered my colleagues and argued you ought to be our target instead."He shifts and crosses his legs, gesturing with a hand as he continues to explain. "I told the others that we had discussed and debated the blood as peers in the past, that you were no mere beast or lunatic monster, and at the same time, now knowing one of your personal Banes, I offered to arm one more of our number with the knowledge, sworn to secrecy, such that you might be defeated if it came to the worst... Had you declined our offer, Elias would have been compelled to divulge what he knew to the others.">Cont'd

0

nsJ

Anon08/25/26, 15:49No.6456181

You absorb the information carefully. Your curiosity has now shifted - how did the Prince come by these pages, if not directly from Abner's auctioning? How did he know of Agostino's plot to rouse an Elder, or that you were among those trapped by the Lance? Why did he intervene to awaken you?"Fare I must to the court of this Felix Prince, and soon." You say in a low tone. "For to me it seemeth he didst know of our past doings, and dost have as great a hand in my waking as thee.""I gathered as much also. But finding him is no small feat. Phantom Felix acts through proxies, predominantly - Dominated thralls, Ghouls, even servants he possesses from afar, or bound spirits, and ever so many dead drops. I've never seen his true countenance, and shared a room with him knowingly only a few times." Says Agostino to this. "He is ever watching, and takes many faces, seeming to be in all places at once. It is an elaborate trick, of course, but still quite effective. I suspect you and he will have a private audience soon enough, however. He did want you raised from the deep, after all."Your face remains a blank mask, but internally your brow knits at the complication. You table the matter for now. "Just so. Now, Sartori, thee hath spake of Sethites and shadows... Prithee tell me some few things: what path led the Dragon to the Worm? What of thy past and thy dealings with me? I recall us associates, but not to what ends." You pivot.He smiles softly at the inquiry, seeming for a moment nostalgic. He doesn't make any gesture for you to sit, not out of any care for your dirtiness or nudity coming into contact with the furniture, you gather, but because he knows your mind and body well enough to understand that the comfort of a plush couch is meaningless to you. Standing frozen and numb, as a horrid mannequin in the middle of the room, is as natural to you as anything else and the thought of a seat does not occur to you unless etiquette dictates you take one.>Cont'd

0

nsJ

Anon08/25/26, 15:50No.6456182

Nevertheless, he answers. "Well, as I mentioned before, I am missing details. I've had my share of long sleeps as well." He begins, looking pensive momentarily. "If you haven't yet remembered, I am of the Khaibit bloodline, and was embraced in Italy some time in the fifteen hundreds. This is all rather hazy for me, I'm afraid. I know my Sire was in service to a priest of a Sethite Cult, worshippers of Set, infesting a castle in Venice. I was to be bodyguard and envoy for the Childer of my Sire's master. My curiosity exceeded my station, and it was less than a century before I first encountered initiates of another secret society - the Ordo Dracul. It was less than a decade before I joined. My insights into the arcane and martial prowess were only outmatched by my desire to learn about the vampiric condition, and so I flourished. After my first truly lengthy Torpor, I was selected to be one of our earliest pilgrims to the New World, whereby I landed here, and elected to stay. In those days I acted as administrator, helping coordinate the transporting of our members to new settlements.""What year?" You ask, curious as the past begins crashing back.He runs a hand through his hair again. "Before the Revolution; seventeen fifty eight that I arrived. And to my great surprise, you appeared just three years later. A legend and a menace, truly. The burgeoning Praxis of Charleston was thrown into complete disarray. You were implacable, claiming whole plantations and sometimes maroon villages on the outskirts for your feeding and your mystic studies. I first managed to arrange for a parlay in seventeen eighty, a year after you had fully established your personal cult in the swamp to the South of the city. You told me you'd only come because in England you grew fascinated by the so-called 'spirits', kidnappers that would slap unfortunates in irons on the street, drunkards especially, and spirit them away to America for indentured servitude. You were fascinated I think by the tribulation and trauma of it, but also how it seemed to you to echo certain heroic myths; the voyage across a great water, to a faraway land, like a sort of katabasis or damnation. You'd been using the practice as a 'crucible', you called it.">Cont'd

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nsJ

Anon08/25/26, 15:52No.6456183

This all comes back easily. You recall now seeing in a vision that the chattel slavery of the Africans would eventually eclipse the spiriting business entirely, and your divinations informed you that Charleston would become a great nexus of pain and creation. You saw suffering and tribulation at an industrial scale; hundreds of thousands of bodies broken and commodified and tormented, it rivaled your washed out memories of decaying Rome, even surpassed it in some ways. You saw new religions and political movements fomenting in the mingling of far-flung cultures. It was the perfect proving ground for your exaltations. A ready made larder to nourish your horde, and labyrinth for the producing of heroes and monsters both.Agostino notices the familiarity twinkling in your dead eyes, and presses further. "Well, by seventeen eighty I'd forgotten much about my own origins, but knew your legend well. It should come as little surprise. You famously used Cruac to permanently alter your own nature. Some Ordo Dracul records indicate that one of those sages of the Circle that Vlad Tepes himself studied blood sorcery with was a 'many-headed dragon' of many centuries age. One lecture from Fouchard the Elder suggests that this may have been The Lambton Worm. There is some debate, but many of our number find the case compelling." There is another pause as he allows the gravity of this to linger.You say nothing, for in truth you do not recall whether you were a tutor of Dracula himself, though neither do you find the notion impossible.>Cont'd

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nsJ

Anon08/25/26, 15:53No.6456184

"It was my thinking that an Ancient warlock of the Circle of The Crone might have insights about my secret history, and I thought rightly." The Dragon continues, clasping his hands in his lap. "When finally we spoke, you explained that you had met with luminaries of the Sethites more than once in your travels, but also Coteries of Elder Khaibit. You knew the history of the line, apocryphal stories of our being sired by Set's own shadow, or our progenitor being a child born of Anubis and a Kindred priestess. You believed that our line began with a blood rite whereby the first of us learned to drink the very shadows of his prey, transmuting it into Vitae... You told me that, while the Sethites had eventually reduced us to servants and lackeys, which the majority of us remain to this night, our ancestors in Egypt were originally tasked with protecting this world from the darkest spirits and ghosts of the worlds beyond. That they would seek out and watch over the low places, assuring the fell beasts could not wreak havoc on our kind or the humans we feed upon. They failed only once, by your estimation, and though you neglected to speak of it again... You told me it led to the fall of the Camarilla itself..." Elder though he is, Agostino seems nearly a neonate in his awe as he recollects these secondhand stories. It actually makes him take a breath in order to let out a sigh.You, unfortunately, only half remember the tales, even with this retelling. But it triggers to mind other random thoughts. Shifting dunes. Flocks of shadowy, yellow-eyed owls..."And of course, through my ill-advised persistence, eventually we made our great bargain as allies." He says, snapping back your attention."Another bargain? It seemest a pattern with thee and I. What of it?" You ask directly.He quirks a brow, and he sort of smirks. "It took four years of our meeting, philosophizing, bickering, and yarn-spinning, of course - but eventually you relented, and agreed that you would teach me some of my past. Some few rites of Sethite Cruac, the rituals of my predecessors, learned by you in sunken temples along the Grecian seashore centuries before my Embrace. In return, I instructed you in what I rather considered your right anyways, minding your contributions to the art of it: Coils of The Dragon." Sartori explains rather slyly. "Unsurprisingly, you were a natural to it, and developed the first two tiers of the Coil of Blood. I dared not teach you further, and you did not ask, nor did you seem apt to further learn them on your own. Art for art, magic for magic.">Cont'd

0

nsJ

Anon08/25/26, 15:54No.6456185

Your blank stare betrays your mild surprise at this. Though, now that it is said, you realize the potency of your blood no longer restricts your diet, and no matter how powerful you become you will be able to gain sustenance from mortals or even animals. This is extraordinarily beneficial to you in particular, and it occurs to you immediately that you got the better of this deal. It occurs to you also that Sartori speaks truth - there is a certain thread between the sorcery you wrought in the River Wear and these 'Coils of the Dragon', and who better to make use of them than the dragon said to coil all the way round Worm Hill?"Thou art proud, and fear not reprisal, nor a consequence for this indiscretion?" You probe, nonetheless."No. Consequences are smaller than the likes of us." He says matter of factly. "Look here, do you see these marks? Do you know what's their meaning?" Agostino then asks, pressing a finger to the place on his arm you noticed the ouroboros tattoos. You say nothing, and he answers for you. "Diablerie. Twice. It is a vaunted 'Tradition' that such an act is intractably punished, and yet the bylaws of my own order call for its deployment under certain circumstances, did you know that? The rules change between places and tribes. Everything does. The wagon changes into the automobile. The scourge of the Praxis arises as it's savior. You and I, we are Elder. The conceits of our subjects need not be our own."To that, you have no direct answer. You certainly do agree that the rules of the lesser Kindred rarely apply to you, as you are less alike them than they are mortals. You decide to pivot again."Speak then further of tribes, O' Dragon. What of mine? The Circle of The Crone - how fare they in my long absence?" You question.He shrugs again, letting go of the tension of the last topic. "There is no Circle. No unity. Your followers were wiped away. Some other groups rose and fell since that time. Now only three cults remain. They are predisposed to friendliness amongst each other, but do not collaborate in any real sense, and only one of the trio has ever held some measure of power in this city." The Mekhet seems bored immediately.>Cont'd

0

nsJ

Anon08/25/26, 15:55No.6456186

You look on expectantly."Sure then. I will speak from greatest to least. First there are the Iron Nkisi, the devoted of Yaya Kindoki, witch-mother. You may recall her from when she was but a Fledgling, in the years just prior to your slumber: Charlotte Primrose." He begins, and you do vaguely remember this timid Neonate. "Her way is informed by the Ba'Kongo pantheism taught to her by her parents, whom brought it here from the West coast of Africa. At the peak, their number was seventeen Kindred and maybe two or three times that in mortal congregants. It's dwindled, and they've suffered losses as the rest of us. Maybe eight Kindred now, and a dozen mortals."Agostino tilts his head somewhat. "Then there are the Smoking Mirror, not even true Kindred. They're some other lesser breed, called Cihuateteo, from the Southwest. They worship Mesoamerican blood gods, Tezcatlipoca in particular. I don't imagine you're familiar but perhaps they'll be of interest? Led by some ancient creature known as La Viuda Gris. They number only six, not including her, and have had Kindred supplicants in the past, but none now. I'm not sure how many mortal attendants, but at least a dozen." He goes on. You don't know anything about these creatures or their faith, as he suspects."Finally, the most recent and barely notable, more like a Coterie than a coven or cult, they are called the Six of Cups. Six Kindred initially, only four now, and a single overworked Ghoul." He looks almost sad as he explains their sorry state of affairs. "Of them I know a little more, if only because they've attempted to exchange research with some of our own initiates, which so far has been declined. They worship dark mother figures, Echidna in particular, and allegedly are attempting to use Cruac in order to create lasting life. I've seen a couple of their homunculi, and they are mildly impressive I admit, but such creatures - as with most applications of blood sorcery excepting the Coils - are not enduring. They strive nonetheless for their handmade monsters to achieve permanence." He smirks a little. "You'll be unsurprised to hear they are admirers of yours, some of the only few left in this city."Your face, rigid and dead though it is, still sinks somewhat as he completes his breakdown. By now, Charlotte herself is in the beginning of her Elderhood, but seems to have very little to show for it. You're yet to get the real measure of the Smoking Mirror, but their numbers are negligible and the Six of Cups seems to you more of a group project than a religious sect.>Cont'd

1

nsJ

Anon08/25/26, 15:58No.6456187

You hear a buzzing sound, and Agostino dips a hand into the pocket of his slacks to withdraw an even smaller black mirror. He faces it and begins pressing at it, causing pale light to shine from within. "Elias should be here shortly." He says, then looks up to you, and his eyes flash. He can tell you're disappointed by the weakness of blood sorcery in this city. When last you hunted these streets, the Circle was ascendant; oracles and warlocks commanded strong territory and powerful vassals."If you'd like, it would be no trouble at all for me to arrange a meeting with any of them for tomorrow evening. I imagine some of the lot may yet be of use in your pursuit, if not as assistants then as food." Agostino helpfully offers.Select One:>The Iron Nkisi - Led by the only other Elder Kindred Cruac sorcerer, and with at least some strength and resources behind them. Charlotte is unlikely to rival your power, but also unlikely to submit her cult to you outright. >The Smoking Mirror - A sort of vampire you've yet to encounter, and a mystic tradition you've never learned of. Perhaps they could be a secret weapon, or perhaps it would be best to exterminate these lessers before your work truly begins. >The Six of Cups - Their weakness will make them easy to control, especially if they are already admirers of your legend. Their work may be of some use, or perhaps it is best you direct them to loftier goals in short order. >All three - You will attempt to unite the disparate cults beneath you, and usher back in a proper Circle to this city. >None for now - These Acolytes are of little interest to you. You would rather go about establishing your own cult first, or perhaps making contact with the other Covenants, possibly even to re-align yourself in these strange nights.

8

nsJ

Anon08/26/26, 00:59No.6456326

Looks like we got ourselves a tie between talking to everyone up front, or reaching out directly to the Cups first. I'll give it maybe another hour or so before I roll a die on it.

0

OrF

Anon08/26/26, 13:06No.6456484

Considering the rather feeble options briefly, you opt for a subtler approach."Ever I have been a sculptor, and so I taketh up fresh clay; bid the Six of Cups make ready, and instruct these low mages they shalt receive a visitation." You begin. A beat passes, and you tighten the grip on your dagger. "It is my thinking to meet these strugglers at first under guise of a prospect, and get their measure ahead of revealing my true stature."The Kogaion seems almost amused by your scheme. "How endearingly mythic of you. The deity availing himself of their hospitality in rags, only to render judgment, punishment, or blessing after seeing his adherents from an equal vantage. I'll tell them you sought to join our number but seemed a better ideological fit for their operation - an academic courtesy in these trying times." He goes back to tapping away at his little pocket mirror. "They keep a house at Albermarle Point. I'll tell them to find you at the Wappoo Cut Boat Landing just to the West of it, they can pick you up and then have your discussion with privacy on the water, or possibly you'll be brought back to their little hideout itself. I'll point it out on a map for you, and let you know the time."You nod, satisfied with the arrangement.There's another buzz from the device, and Agostino pockets it, rising back up to his feet. Gesturing to where you both entered from. You can already hear the machinery behind the doors sighing and straining, and you can already detect the faintest scent of Elias' cologne, and the polyester cotton of his slacks from a couple of stories below.Ding!The doors open again, and out steps the Castellan holding a rectangular glass frame, of the sort a museum might use to preserve and transport an old document - suitable for a page that predates the U.S. constitution. "I thought it might be best if I simply delivered it personally." He says, striding into the apartment all business. He seems a touch surprised by your continued nudity, but does his best to conceal it and avoid staring in an impolite manner. The stake from earlier is gone now, though you can still smell it on the same hand that is now holding the page of your Requiem Diary.>Cont'd

0

OrF

Anon08/26/26, 13:07No.6456485

He approaches you rather directly and extends the frame out in offering. "Here, as promised."Your claws tick quietly against the glass as you carefully accept it, and you then hold the fragment aloft to analyze it very closely.Hunger. Hunger. Climbing. Leaping. Sprinting in a whirl of hectic speed. Chasing, chasing with frantic abandon. Lingering in a shadow. On a rooftop. Watching. Staring. Listening. So many eyes. Hungry eyes dancing across the city, bounding from wood-shingled rooftops across cobblestone alleys.It is as arcane an illustration as they come, penned by your own hand, you can tell. The script spirals in some places, but lines the margins and runs perpendicular to itself in other places. A mix of Latin, Arabic, and Anglo-Saxon dialects make up the bulk of the text, excepting a Greek clause which reads, 'many are the beast's heads and many more are it's eyes and ears'. Black ink depicts a serpent cut into segments, and eyes, and a row of eight fangs, and then you notice the hieroglyph of a locust. You notice the mirror images of concentric circles of fangs, like a lamprey, and concentric circles of eyes.This is a ritual of your own devising - The Stalking Locust Prayer.Gazing upon it you can feel it's power, and how it is rooted deeply in your condition. If you understand your reading, it is an intricate modification of another Cruac Rite whereby the sorcerer is able to utilize the senses of another. You designed it to... You...You hear rushing water. You smell silt and fresh blood and smoke. You hear bones snapping and splintering. You see serpents writhing in the shallows.You hold out an arm before you, still holding the frame, and with the other hand raise your dagger high aloft. Dead flesh tenses taut like the hangman's noose. The cacophonous din of swarming locusts fills your cold ears.A voice cuts through the droning."Malcolm! Not here, if you don't terribly mind." It's Agostino, standing slightly nearer. His shadow is a deep dark void, now, and it curves around from where he stands in an unnatural manner, and with an adversarial posture that the Mekhet does not exhibit himself. Elias, for his part, has stepped back a few paces.>Cont'd

0

OrF

Anon08/26/26, 13:08No.6456486

You relax, and lower the dagger. "Of course. Pardon thee this... indiscretion." You say quietly, and turn your head to look between them.A few serpentine rises below the skin ripple across your neck, shoulder, and abdomen.Elias breaks the tension with a bow to Agostino, and a nod to you. "If that's all, I better get back to my place before sun up." He says, and giving you a finally wary look, he heads back to the elevator and departs.Agostino's shadow shrivels back to a more appropriate shape and size upon the glossy flooring, just below his feet. "Your restraint is appreciated." He says simply. A pause. "I am no longer beholden to the Daysleep, an advantage of my studies." The Dragon then says, redirecting things. "And yet I still feel the faintest impulse to submit as the light draws nearer. I should like to retire now to my office and library. There is a... Bed, in the guest room. Make yourself comfortable however you see fit, though, Mr. Ashwood. When night falls we may reconvene before departing our separate ways.""Very well. Until that time, Sartori." You reply.Then you lumber off to the chamber he has indicated to be your day's accommodation.Stopping at the threshold, you find it as luxuriously outfitted as the rest of the penthouse. A black velvet comforter with gold trim, dark ebony armoire and dresser, two leather wingback seats with clawed feet and gilded accents.You ignore all of this and tear the carpet on the floor with one claw, allowing you to stare at the polished granite floor, where a mottled, blurry thumbprint reflection seems to leer back up at you.This will do.>Cont'd

0

GKr

Anon08/26/26, 13:08No.6456487

i am really interested in his thought of cars as living creatures of a shelled loud growling creature..... technically the animals we become dont need to be fully real beyond physical mass and shape in function?

2

OrF

Anon08/26/26, 13:09No.6456488

You sink into the floor as if it were mud, a slow descent. Your body becomes a part of it, existing in the margins of the molecules. In but two moments the only trace of your passing is the torn rug. You are stone, now, and opt to become still of mind like the stone before entering into rest.You choose something upon which to focus your mind. The day's dreaming may yet prove revelatory.Select One:>The Cross - Sift through nightmare muck for memories and foresight regarding the Lancea et Sanctum. Visions of spears and fangs dance at the fringes of perception like flickering candles on the altar of a bleak chapel. >The Arrow - think of the Hunters, that you might dream wisdom about this fresh prey. >The Crone - It was she that guided your hands when you baptized yourself in the River Wear, and she that inspired you to craft yourself anew. Perhaps the Hag will visit you if your mind is turned to her dark glory. >The Chalice - Your curiosity about the Six of Cups grows like a weed... Dream the truth of their ambitions, and perhaps your part in them, ahead of meeting these modern Acolytes. >The Impaler - The Dragons appear to have a keen interest in you, and your discussion with Agostino has stirred something. Think now of Vlad Tepes, and your own two Coils. >The Fool - Return your thoughts to the last of your Childer, Abner Morris, and all the doings of that craven wretch. >Write-in

5

/xT

Anon08/27/26, 13:37No.6456943

Calling the vote for Ordo dreams.

0

fuc

Anon08/27/26, 14:55No.6456960

Rolled 55 + 15 (1d100 + 15)Rollán

1

TQE

Anon08/27/26, 14:55No.6456961

Your body becomes one with the granite, and so too does your mind begin to take on its stillness. Soon you can vaguely sense the reverberations of metal screens sliding and locking in place.Some instinct - an animal intuition - deep in the back of your mind whispers that the light of the sun will soon march over the land, and so the creatures of night must retire, and hide themselves away, and relent to weakness. You can almost feel the temperature rising on the exterior of the building you're now a very small part of.As the blood, and your thinking, begins to slow and coagulate in a state of slumber... you cannot help but think then of how Agostino, who is in more than one way a true dweller in darkness, is able to remain awake while you must surrender to the sleep of day... You cannot help but think of the mysterious vampire that founded the Ordo Dracul, and his ambitions of overcoming not just the sleep of day, but the light of it as well... And you think of what the Kogaion shared about your own participation in his 'Great Work', both as a student...And possibly a mentor...Transmogrified by ancient Cruac and the magnificent willpower you channeled with it, your blood and spirit both possess some rare strain of potency. Now released from the nightmare-prison of full Torpor, you are once more able to access the strangely prophetic daydreaming which has long been a source of auspicious insights.You feel the pull of a great tide. You drift towards the red void. But you are not submerged beneath its surface. You drift along a primordial current, staring up at an endless chasm. Staring deep into the crimson dark. Staring into the past and future.A vision begins to knit together from the fabric of smoke and emptiness and so much blood...Roll 1d100+15, BO3

4

iK7

Anon08/28/26, 17:09No.6457378

Fucking hell was I waylaid by the forces of darkness yesterday...

0

iK7

Anon08/28/26, 17:10No.6457379

Despite the numbness, and the death, which your flesh is soaked in across its every inch, you are a sensitive instrument.You feel the cold wind that gallops between the pines in a frigid stampede, sharp as a cavalry saber, sharp enough to run you through to the core through the thick, bear-fur cloak that rolls off your broad shoulders and covers your body.Cold ColdThis is a cold world you wander, cold and unforgiving. The arctic bluster whips about you again, it's slender fingers teasing at greasy strands of your black hair. The cold would be a torment were you but still alive. Instead it is a reminder, a memory of pain - just as you are a mere memory of life.Beneath the vast, grape-dark midnight sky, cloudless, starless, and dim-lit with a scarlet red full moon, you lumber ever onwards through the shivering pines.Quiet QuietYou stalk silent as the lynx. Bright red beacon-fire eyes fixed ahead at the veil of trembling branches. These woods run cold, and quiet, like your dark, sluggish arteries, and you tread onwards a vile clot of rotten blood - hellbound for oblivion's ventricles.Slowly SlowlySo slow and incremental you nearly miss it - the lithe pines that horde all around gradually grow narrower, and more sparse of needle-leaf. Fewer are the branches, and fewer still, until you realize you are surrounded by naked wooden trunks. In patches and spots the bark is shorn, and proceeding further the transition is still so gradual it could be missed entirely, until you are surrounded not by trees at all.You tread now through an endless forest of tall, sharpened stakes; wooden pikes fashioned from whittled tree trunks.Then you hear the moaning. The begging. The cursing. The weeping. The gnashing of teeth. The desperate sobbing. The doomed prayers. The spiteful, spittle-laden oaths of retribution.You hear the gurgling of blood and bile up ragged dry throats. You hear the friction of organs sliding against one another as they are shifted and displaced by gravity.You smell the death.Dying DyingThousands of warriors dying, slowly, in the horrible, frigid cold.But they are not quiet.>Cont'd

0

iK7

Anon08/28/26, 17:12No.6457382

All around you as far as your eyes can see and much farther still, you are surrounded by an ocean of impaled men. Some young, some old, all of them armed or armored. Some in beige and olive cloth raiments with many straps, holding black-metal firearms of some convoluted, alien design. Some you recognize as late Roman centurions, their gladii held firm in white knuckle grips as the heads of pikes emerge out the gullets and mouths of their unfortunate wielders. Others are dark of skin with stone slings and no hair on their bodies. Warriors from across the centuries and across the world of men.Onward you tread until the pikes part for a path, which leads to a mountain castle keep. Between it and you stands another figure on the path, wreathed all about in dark black plate armor, spear in the one hand and saber in the other. His face is not terribly unlike yours, but with a more prominent nose, large eyes dark like the sky, and a much fuller beard, with longer, much darker hair on his uncovered head. His complexion is more that of a man, though still hued by the pallor of death. He too is a memory.You recognize him.The ImpalerThe dark armor seems to shudder and tremble, then bursts with fluttering movement. It comes apart in so many flaking, shaking pieces - it comes apart into bats. A teeming swarm of bats, along with the rest of his body; their swooping and spiraling conceals his hands and face as they break apart and melt into the mass of flying beasts, and the cyclone of them stretches upwards until finally splitting apart and fleeing in all directions.You continue walking to the castle.On your left, you see a young man in studded leather armor hunched over a spike which is thrust up through his abdomen. His wheezing death rattle practically crawls its way into your ears. Blood and spit drip down in a thick stream from his swollen lips, and you look up into his bulging eyes.In the reflection of them, you see yourself wearing a breastplate of blackened steel. You see a great and terrible serpent circling an enormous hillock.If you join the Ordo Dracul you will inevitably manifest many coils, and may develop more heretofore undiscovered by the order. The altered state of your blood makes you a matter of fascination and renown. Your age and condition would command immense respect. The Covenant is in a position of moderate power, but control of the whole Domain is still anyone's game at this point. In the long-term, you would remake yourself again, and eventually transcend the vampiric condition entirely: all of your banes and curses would crumble to ash, and the power of your blood woule multiply. You could complete the Great Work.>Cont'd

0

iK7

Anon08/28/26, 17:14No.6457383

You step away from him, and take another few deliberate strides. You find yourself drawn to the side of an older man. He is impaled upside down, through the shoulder and out the groin. He's come to a stop, but has slid low enough on the spike that his face is level with your chest. Dark blood coats everything beneath him, and very little has come down from his waist in a few trickles - it seems his heart was run through, and he bled out quickly from the entry wound.He has a scruffy, patchy grey-white beard, and wispy hair, and an eyepatch of leather. He wears a chain mail raiment with pads of studded leather. He is grinning with brown, perforated teeth. You take a knee in the frozen soil to stare into his single, milk-glass dead eye.In the reflection of them you see axes striking at your limbs, and snakes erupt from the wounds in all directions. Roiling, roaring serpents swarm forth from your wounds. There is an endless field of broken, bloody bodies, and broken, bloody swords, and broken, bloody prayers to God for some small mercy. There is a red moon shining over a dark cloaked figure entering a cave.In the past you had an encounter with a major figure of the Ordo Dracul, but you aren't entirely sure it was Vlad Tepes himself, though it seems so. You have some sense of the second of his brides, Mara, but also the legendary 'fourth bride' often speculated about. Whatever the exact details, Agostino was correct that you have already left a mark on the Covenant.You step away from the dead old man, and when you turn back to the castle you see a dark cloaked figure with their back facing you, moving towards the castle keep. You begin to follow but and arm reaches out and grabs a fistful of the bear fur lining your coat. You're stopped abruptly, and turn your eyes on the impaled figure. He's... Not like the other warriors.He's a vampire - a Gangrel, like you.>Cont'd

0

iK7

Anon08/28/26, 17:15No.6457384

The vampire is impaled through the chest - through the heart - and his legs dangle limp behind him, and his spine curves down to them, while his shoulders droop forwards. He reaches with his second hand, clawed fingers not unlike your own, jabbing into the fur. He has prominent fangs, and big mutton chop facial hair, that rises up into a mane of wild brown hair. This Gangrel is dressed in bright blue denim jeans, brown leather cowboy boots, a white wife eater tank top with brown-orange stains all over the chest, the rusty residue of past meals. The look is completed by a brown leather jacket with fringe on the chest, edges, and the lengths of the sleeves. His nose wrinkles and his yellow eyes gleam like topaz.You aren't able to see the reflection in his eyes, because his touch is causing you to feel something very different from the cold. Warmth. Feverish heat. Burning heat. It's nearly paralyzing. Your veins explode with searing hot pain."Wake up. You need to wake up now." Instructs the figure in the dark cloak without even looking back. You can't make out the nature of the silhouette's voice..."Malcom, arise at once!" The command shakes the whole of the field of impaled men, and the entirety of the forest beyond, and the castle itself trembles and shakes a dreadful trembling shake beyond.It isn't the one in the cloak - whoever that was, they're gone. It's Agostino Sartori, he is communicating mentally to rouse you from Daysleep.But night has yet to fall. You can tell. You can sense the sunshine trying to claw its way in through mulple barriers and walls. You can feel every fiber of the sensitive instrument that is your body telling you to go back to sleep."Sartori... Explain thyself..." You think these groggy thoughts as a bead of molasses might roll down the side of a wooden cask.>Cont'd

0

iK7

Anon08/28/26, 17:17No.6457385

You feel the ethereal cool of a shadow moving across the place where you've settled into the granite, an unspeakably subtle sensation that you learned to recognize long ago while resting within soil or other materials.But only a shadow falls across you. Focusing your dulled, muted senses, you cannot register anything else in your immediate vicinity, not even faintly.Another thought enters your mind from beyond. "They are here. Hunters. Eight. Entered by the elevator shaft, from the roof. Hear this as I heard them." The other Elder telepathically answers. Then you hear another voice in your mind, unfamiliar and gruff, the voice of a man spoken in a hushed tone: "Keep them ears and eyes up, boys, and be quick. Monty said nobody'll be home today - seems like, but I still want us out in forty or less. Marco, Gomez, take the gas line in the kitchen. Laura, you and I are gonna hit the office. The rest of you split up and plant charges on the shelves and inside one of the TV screens. Double gloves, handle your tools real careful like. Ain't worried about em' smellin' the goods, but if they catch a whiff of us it'll be a wash. Get to work."When the conveyed memory of what Agostino overheard concludes, you begin calculating the variables.Agostino is fully awake thanks to his Coils, but is no less vulnerable to the scouring daylight than yourself, should he be forced to face it. You yourself are slowed and weakened by the compulsion to brumate until the sun sets, though you could periodically expend portions of the blood you consumed last night to quicken and fortify yourself in short bursts.This room is totally hidden from the sun, as are a couple of the others, and while the main room is likewise shrouded in the safety of total darkness, you are unsure if the intruders might have some ability to remove or puncture the protective screens that guard the windows. Should it come to the worst and you are exposed to the sun, you have enough Vitae and mighty enough Resilience to withstand the burning for up to four minutes, less if you make use of other Disciplines.Even in your weakened state, you can't imagine it terribly difficult to dispatch four mortals, even skilled ones - you have battled them by the dozens and triumphed more than once. Even if you were only to slay two of their number, you imagine it would be a small thing for an Elder Khaibit such as Agostino to eliminate the other six in quick succession, especially as you both possess some element of surprise.>Cont'd

1

iK7

Anon08/28/26, 17:19No.6457387

It also occurs to you that they intend to leave some 'goods' behind; whatever the nature of these 'charges', should you allow the Hunters to plant them as is their design, and leave without detecting you, such personal effects could be used for rituals of divination, and provide intelligence with which to plan an ambush of your own.All other considerations aside, you also find yourself feeling especially irritable and malicious towards these invaders. Your first restful slumber in two centuries is interrupted by their scheming. You have room yet in your stomach and veins to drink more blood. You have a distinct urge to let loose, and embody your full reputation as the terrible Devourer Worm of legend.Select One:>Coordinate with Agostino to mount a surprise attack on the Hunters, you can both take one at the outset, and exterminate the remaining six together before they regroup. >Remain hidden, take on the form of a rat within the walls, use your keen listening to eavesdrop on them until they leave, then attend to whatever 'goods' they have left to gather material that might be used to scry with blood sorcery. >Leave now, flow through the granite and onyx of the building and down into the earth below without emerging, and urge Agostino to take flight as well. You can return later, when their work is done, or send expendable agents to do so, and investigate what it is they have come to do. >Tell Agostino to flee now while in the form of a shadow that can glide across the walls and under slim cracks - you will unleash your full might to confront the Hunters alone, with no risk of potentially striking him in a Frenzy. >Write-in

6

O7+

Anon08/29/26, 15:43No.6457762

"Mice before lions. Thither the quarry we stalk now... in small shapes, and with great patience." You think back to your old colleague.You feel another pass of the shadow.He is perfectly invisible in the darkness of the penthouse, but you know that even in this form he can be a lethal weapon.In this state, you can only register a vague sense of what is occurring in the exact vicinity of where your essence is fused with whatever substance you've melded with using Protean. You need to better perceive these burglars. So you will for your consciousness to travel through the granite. You drift like the nucleus of a great cellular organism hewn from polished stone. Under the walls of the bedroom and into the main living area, with the open floor plan that connects it to a dining area and kitchen. You feel the contours of this space with some nebulous strain of instinct.You continue in this fashion until you emerge on the other side of an onyx-paneled section of the wall. But not as a man - it is a dull, grey colored thing shaped like a slender potato, with a waxy, shell-like exterior. From this chrysalis, an emaciated, charcoal black rat is born between the plaster and drywall. It's coat is patchy and scaly-scarred in several places. The eyes of the creature are red around the edges, twinkling like little black beads of the same onyx much of this building is appointed with. Its teeth are especially long, especially yellowed, and especially sharp. The rat, of course, is you.You already possess excessively sharp sensory perception in the rough shape of a dead man. As a rat, these perceptions are even more acute. Your nose, your ears, and even your teeth exposed to the stale air between the dusty walls, are all picking up things you may have even misunderstood as a hominid. Now is the hour of the rodent.You follow your ears to the kitchen area. There is an unearthly whirring, and grinding, and the smell of dust. You draw nearer the source.>Cont'd

0

O7+

Anon08/29/26, 15:44No.6457764

Scampering around a corner, you find yourself very close now to the infernal sounds and a pair of humans. To your keen ears their communication is hardly muffled. The whirring pauses."Catch!"Thtch!"Fuckin' Jesus fuckin' Christ, man!""Hah, pussy. It's South African PE9, it needs a foreal shock to blow. There's no blast cap in it yet. S'fine.""It's still a fuckin' bomb, asshole!"You hear the back and forth of these two nearest Hunters and listen closely. The first to speak is crass, with the rasp of someone that has smoked a lot of tobacco leaf, and an almost vulgar tone. The second is younger, a man in the early years of his second decade, with a nasaly, pinched voice."No, asshole, it's an explosive compound charge, it only becomes a bomb when we finish the install and attach a blast cap primer." Says the raspy one.THKT-"Shi-ah, motherfucker quit it!" You hear the other one as he's struck by something else that was tossed at him, this time he takes the projectile to the head, it sounds like."Pick it up, dipshit, we need the repeater antenna for the detonator remotes to link back at the clinic.""I know, I know. Jesus. Fuckin'.."You sniff around, and rotate your ears, paying close attention. A lull forms in their back and forth as they seem to be working with some tools together. You think deliberating towards the still near presence of Agostino. "They mean to leave bombs. A trap." You think clearly."Yes I gathered. They've done this before, but only once in such a visible location - the haven of an Invictus Lord and his two Childer in an eighth floor apartment. The media falsely claimed it was a drug lab that combusted." Sartori responds. A beat passes between your minds. "I've been watching the pair in my office. They wear crosses, and bear many tattoos across their skin, much of them being Christian iconography."You then hear the footfalls of two others approaching the pair you've already been observing. "A moment, Sartori." You think.>Cont'd

0

O7+

Anon08/29/26, 15:45No.6457765

When the newcomers stop their approach, one lets out a hoarse chuckle. "Gomie, ya lettin' Marco's fumbley ass slow you down or somethin'? What gives?" He starts."Lay off the kid, gave em' enough shit already. He's doin' fine. Gotta be careful here. If there's even a teaspoon of gas leaked out, one of them tick's'll know somethin' ain't right whenever they have that meet up here." The raspy one says, and you hear the tools stop moving somewhat when he does. "Doc says the Ordo Ruh-Tard vamps've been makin' moves, liable t'have a pow-wow soon, can probally smoke the last of em' in one go if we don't fuck this up." There is some snickering at the term 'Ruh-Tard', which you imagine mean it is some denigrating substitution for the proper Dracul, but you can't understand the meaning. Your mind rather lingers instead on the fact that these mortals are familiar by name with one of the Kindred Covenants...Then the nasally one, 'Marco' you presume, speaks up. "I'm also just triple-checking the repeater. If it malfunctions at all or can't connect, Monty won't be able to activate any of these charges with the remote, and with em' tucked up in here obviously nobody is gonna be sticking a manual detonator in. When he wakes up, if he doesn't see them linked... He's gonna get in one of his moods, and that's not how I wanna die for Christ, ok?"A fourth voice, the companion of the chuckler, cuts in at this point. "Right, right, be careful, sure. Buckle down, clock's ticking." He says in a somewhat bored voice, and you hear him nudge the other. "C'mon, let's scope out the library with the extra time. Maybe something useful to know in there."The two depart, and so Marco and Gomez return their full focus to the tinkering they are doing, and you listen quietly for a few minutes before communicating again with the Kogaion. "The intruders... They art well appraised of thy residence... It is known to them that the Ordo Dracul convenes herein... And also some impression of your doings..."Agostino responds coldly. "I've gathered that as well. They seem to me too skilled for mere peons, and yet it is clear they are commanded by others. Thrice has one of their number mentioned a 'Monty', and the Laura woman, she made some snide remark referring to a 'Sullivan'."You are inclined to agree. This seems to be an unusually organized band of vampire hunters.>Cont'd

0

O7+

Anon08/29/26, 15:49No.6457767

Some more time passes, and you move elsewhere through the hinterlands of the penthouse, between the walls and beneath the floor, in between wires, pipes, and supports. The invaders work diligently, sometimes bantering but saying nothing else for the while that occurs to you as notable. Half of an hour passes, each minute of it more tiresome than the last. Five of them loiter near to the elevator, now, waiting in silence, while Marco and Gomez are finishing their work in the kitchen, along with one more - a large man, the one that you first heard speaking through the mental correspondence of Agostino, the one that seems to be in charge of this mission.Based on what you heard, their bombs will be armed and all connected to the detonators, and the hunters themselves will be making their exit.Select One:>Wait patiently, and allow them to leave. Use Animalism to summon vermin, and set them to tracking the hunters for as long as they may, while you and Agostino attempt to use one of the implements left behind for a Cruac ritual of divination - but leave them as they are, so this Monty will not know his plot is disrupted. >Wait patiently for the hunters to leave, and use Animalism to have them followed, but once they are gone work with Agostino to neutralize the explosives so they can be distributed to other Kindred in the Praxis, including the Prince, for the such that these others might also track and pursue your mutual enemies - perhaps learning things you would not on your own. >Coordinate with Agostino now to dispatch the hunters before they can finish and before they can leave. While his estimation of their overall numbers was quite high, eight would still be a significant portion of them, and should not be allowed to live, especially after disrupting your sleep and attempting to harm those that have aided you. >Send Agostino away to report all you have seen and heard, and remain behind to emerge in all your fury. Slay the hunters and feast on their blood, use their remains for divination magic, disabling one of them to be kept as a captive. >Bid Agostino to flee elsewhere, while you use the element of surprise to abduct a single one of the three that remain in the kitchen. It will alert the hunters that their plan is compromised, but it will you spare you the chore of doing battle by day, and secure a prisoner for interrogating by means both conventional and sorcerous. Take the captive far away, through the stone of the building and into the sewer tunnels below, where he will be alone at your mercy. (Specify the leader/first speaker, Marco, or Gomez) >Wait for them to finish arming their explosives and to begin making their exit. You will ambush them in the elevator shaft, where they will be more vulnerable, and you will be completely safe from the sun. They will need hands and feet to climb, while you can assault them in many wicked shapes. Sartori, meanwhile, can focus on neutralizing the bombs. >Write-in

5

/xT

Anon08/30/26, 05:00No.6458042

You skitter through a crevasse under the floor used for plumbing, snaking around metal fittings and braces occasionally until you squeeze through a cut-out to enter the cabinet storage below the sink. Pressing your nose to the crack of the cabinet door, you carefully single out and identify the scent of the leader that seems to be leaning against the island, closer to you than the others by a few feet.Incense. Lead. Coffee. Dark roast. Lots of sugar. Dried beef. Peanuts. Steel. Machine oils. Rubber. His perspiration is rather faint. He hasn't done much sweating tonight. But you still are able to catalogue his specific smell in your mind. You can identify him with your eyes closed now.That will do."Prepare thyself... Whenst our enemies abscond by way of yon elevator, I shall proceed after... And will then break and destroy them off the face of the earth... Sunlight may not touch that tunnel, and in such confines the quarry shant have room enough to retaliate without striking one another. I shall... Take a captive..." You think to your comrade, slinking back below the floor. "While our guests... Are entertained by my attendance, you ought disable these pitiful trifles and toys."You sense Agostino's mental presence touching back at your own. "Very well, I will begin with the device in my office. I give you leave to do what damage you must to the surrounding environs. I won't be utilizing this space for some time." He replies.You listen closely for Gomez to finish pushing the oven back into place the last little bit, and Marco to finish brushing, dusting, and wiping up behind him. They are utterly meticulous. Had you and Sartori not been here, and these Hunters been correct that the unit was vacant... You doubt the Dragons would have had any indication the penthouse had been compromised until too late.The three final intruders join the rest.Ding!The doors of the elevator open, and it hasn't moved. You register the sound of one warrior grunting and another moving a panel aside as he's lifted up, and he climbs out onto the roof of the elevator, and then a duffel bag is handed up.You shake your rat head and scamper closer, then closer... And then you melt seamlessly into the stone above your head, and your essence drifts through it like a message-laden bottle in the ocean, approaching the elevator.Roll 1d100+10, BO3

3

hsr

Anon08/30/26, 21:20No.6458220

At last you emerge headlong from the stone floor, as if being lifted on a platform through un-rippling water, and stand just before the entrance to the elevator. Your eyes bore into the closed metal doors which separate you from your prey.They might as well be cheesecloth, and them beyond a handful of wriggling rats at the bottom of a tin bucket.You roll your mammoth shoulders, as if to shrug the tiredness of day off like a robe. You fortify every limb, sinew, and bone with the power of blood.Now is the hour of vicious slaughter.You set down the framed page of your diary, and the dagger you press flat against your chest, allowing it to be absorbed into your own flesh in much the same way you melded with the floor; the ability to become part of your person and so concealed is it's mystic quality, allowing you always to keep close at hand a tool of sorcery. Standing then empty-clawed, naked, and bristling with the hunger of the wolf long denied, you smile a wicked fanged smile, and your red irises expand while your black pupils constrict to hate-filled pinheads inside your sunken eye sockets.Your color darkens all over to burgundy and brightens to sharp crimson, and you come apart into particles of red, while your features and outline blur in the separation. You are transformed into a cloud of red vapor. As a mist, you rush through the seam of the doors and after your enemies.By way of condensation, the velvet fog congeals back into your own shape. Your sudden solid presence causes the elevator to shift once, abruptly, as two hundred and fifty pounds are deposited in its center. You look up, flaring your nostrils. Their scents are so clear that you can practically see the prey through the ceiling of this contraption. You hear them suddenly grow still, having noticed the singular creak of the elevator below them.Marco speaks in the quietest whisper you've yet heard since waking. "Hey... Was that..?"This is followed by some small jingling of metal, one of his comrades gesturing for him to fall silent.It is too late for that.>Cont'd

0

hsr

Anon08/30/26, 21:22No.6458222

They will provide sustenance enough, and the elevator shaft itself is so protected from the daylight, that you see little reason to proceed conservatively with your considerable store of Vitae. You quickly calculate an efficient strategy for eliminating the threats and seizing your captive, like a recipe comprised of various Disciplines, tactics, and striking maneuvers. You feel through your feet the reverbations of the elevator, and can follow the kinetic ripples to envision above where metal cables suspend it above the echoing void below. You breathe in deeply through your nose, and place each individual above: four climbing on the right side of the shaft, and four climbing up the left, with their leader at the front of the former.First, you flex your hands, and with Protean manifest mutilating weapons. Each finger grows an extra knuckle, and each segment of each digit elongates by centimeters or inches, and the dirty clawed nails at the end of each extend to be eight or nine inches; thin blades with which to filet your foes. These Orlokian appendages are keen and strong enough to bisect a steel sword, and slice cleanly through stone pillars. They are your most steadfast swords.You narrow your eyes at a panel in the ceiling between two of the lights. Through that portal is the killing floor.With a burst of Celerity you are quickened into a lightning blur, and erupt from the elevator in a small part of an instant, rending metal into a twisted wound as you barrel directly through. With insect-quick reflexes you puncture the concrete wall with one claw to affix yourself, and stare up grinning at the Hunters in the dim darkness. Your scarlet stare pierces the gloom much like your talons pierce the arterial wall of the building.In that same heart-stopping second, before even one of the lot can utter a single sound, you hold out your free hand with index and metal finger jutted out separately, one on either side of the steel cables that hold the elevator in place.SHKRRNCH!With a simple scissoring motion, your claws sever the groaning, oiled umbilical cord of modern conveyance.WRRUUUUM!And the cell of metal and stone is pitched hurtling into the abyss, creaking and shuddering like an egg near to cracking that is cast from the nest.>Cont'd

0

hsr

Anon08/30/26, 21:24No.6458223

"FUCKFUCKFUCK!" "SH-SHIT ITS FUCKING HUGE!" "BOTTOM STAY TOP MOVE UP MAKE SPACE, FLARES FIRST, STAKES SECOND, REMEMBER TRAINING!" BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG!Another burst of Celerity allows you to dodge the projectiles fired at you from some curious, inelegant looking pistol - a compact, near-smokeless little weapon quite unlike the flintlocks of the past. It is no real effort to lunge from one side of the shaft to the other in a blink of speed and avoid the shots, but you notice they were much closer to landing on their mark than the musket balls you remember.No matter.You leap up with Vigor strengthening your legs to springs, leaving small craters in the wall where you push off. A guttural tiger-growl echoes from your jagged maw. Torso twisting into a one hundred and eighty degree spin, you extend your arms and fingers fully such that your claws drag along the edges of the tunnel, carving a dreadful helix spiral in your wake as you become level with the bottom pair of humans.SSHHHNKT!The top half of the left one's skull is halved, while the other is spared the blades - but the ropes aren't."YAAAAAAAAAAAHHHGGHHH!"One body is quiet and limp, while the other flails and screams as they both tumble down behind the elevator itself, which still is yet to reach its own terminus on the ground below.All the while, the six remaining hunters are cursing, sweating, and fumbling at their vests and belts. They wear black wool masks and black, stiff fabric uniforms, with boots and gloves of leather or rubber. Still, only seeing their eyes is enough for you to identify the fullness of their terror. Beams of weak, pale light shine from small black cylinders affixed by straps or loops to their shoulders, and the panicked movements cause them to cross and intersect like dueling lighthouses.You are still rising from your jump, smiling wide amidst the doomed intruders, when you bring your arms back in and undergo another transformation. Your bones and muscles unravel, sliding against each other, while your skin slacks and thins to mere wrapping paper.>Cont'd

0

hsr

Anon08/30/26, 21:26No.6458224

Large, glossy black centipedes with sharp red legs - a teeming horde of the creatures twofold larger in volume than your frame could contain - explode out from your dissolving skin. In the form of this insect swarm, you wind together and make yourself a living column that spans the shaft from one wall to the other, with a diameter of two and a half feet. On one side, you wrap around a hunter's abdomen and thighs and one of his forearms, while on the other you engulf his opposite's head, shoulders, chest and biceps, muffling him.With Protean, you harden the carapaces of each one of your constituent parts, and sharpen all of your thousands of legs and mandibles into tungsten razors.Then, each side of this living bridge twists in opposite directions with all of your Vigor, tightening the length of your mass as one might tighten a rope they are binding; the constricting blades reduce the body parts pinned by your grip to bloody pulp. Forearms, calves, and other dismembered parts fall behind their predecessors.You are a living meat grinder.KRTHOOM!!!Finally, the elevator crashes, and a quake rushes up all the walls of the chamber, rattling the mortals all the more. One drops a black canvas bag to fumble for a red cylindrical tube much like those you saw on the Ghouls back at the harbor. Another slices at you with a broad, steel blade; an ugly weapon too short for a sword and lacking its robustness, but too lengthy for a knife and widening along its length slightly instead of tapering. It is almost comically ineffective against you in this form. Each desperate chop cuts but a few individual centipedes, and the swarm maintains its position without really losing any mass.You unlatch from the right side, crawling over yourself to amass entirely on the left, and quickly clamber up to engulf the blade-swinger completely, and flex again your Vigor to restrain him utterly. You taste his sweat, and his fear. It's Marco.Poor Marco.Once more you twist your many individual parts together, constricting, shredding, crushing, tearing. Blood oozes out between your many chitinous segments - some even sprays in places - as you squeeze the man from all sides.Three remain: one across from your perch, the leader dangling directly above you, and across from him one more. Even while half-occupied clinging to the ropes and walls, trembling horrorstruck, the seven seconds spent so far on butchering their peers have afforded them some time to ready weapons. You must quicken your momentum.>Cont'd

0

hsr

Anon08/30/26, 21:27No.6458225

With a half-moment's concentration you harden again into a dull chrysalis where once was Marco, and break free immediately, again in your humanoid form, fangs bared and claws outstretched.Using yet another Celerity-fueled blitz of supernatural speed, you enact another metamorphosis though, in that heartbeat between leaping from the cocoon and landing upon the quarry across from you. With the power of Partial Transformation you grow from your shoulder blades two enormous, black, armored appendages which break from the dead flesh and extend out in zig-zag-folded fashion. They are twice as long as your arms, barbed with piercing thorns along interior edges, sawtooth guillotines both, these extra arms are massive, sinister perversions of the mantis's kill-catching claws.As you collide with the hunter attempting to use the red tube, you impale his chest and face at the same time with either hand, latching yourself to the wall and pinning him like an insect specimen. Simultaneously, the two mantid arms protruding from your back reach up and grab the above Hunter with a grotesque crunch, and tear her easily in half.You tilt your head back and open your mouth wide, tongue extended over your lower fangs to catch deep gulps when a gallon of warm blood spills out, covering your face, shoulders, and chest. You toss either end of the carcass aside without a thought.One mantis limb hooks into the concrete above you, and you place your feet flat on the wall, straddling the Hunter you've impaled, and you use the leverage to pull yourself free and turn sidelong to look up at the lone survivor.The mask does little to hide his hatred, which now seems to have eclipsed his panic.There is a tremor in his hands as he holds out between you yet another of the red tubes with the off-putting chemical stink all about it, one gripping the base and the other at the tip of it.You hook your other mantid claw into the wall just near the side of his foot, and grin more widely than any human mouth should like to stretch, such is the malleability of your corpse. You'll be able to swing up and be on him in a single movement.Checkmate.Or so you think.He twists the end and discards it in a fluid motion.>Cont'd

0

hsr

Anon08/30/26, 21:28No.6458226

The sparkling flash of light blinds you, and you lose your grip with both insect appendages, shielding your face with an outstretched claw as your triumphant grin is chased away by a ferocious scowl. The sound that emerges from inside you is heinously loud, beginning as a reptilian bellow, drifting abruptly into the shriek of an eagle and the low growl of a wolf at the same time, and tapering to the loud grumbling of a cave bear. You catch yourself by thrusting out a clawed hand and using your mantis arms to impale opposite walls, there is now roughly a story between you and the flame-toting Huntsmen, sparks and acrid chemical smoke fuming from the end of his crimson wand. You can't make out his figure behind the abrasive light of the white fire, but above the sizzle you hear him using one hand to rifle around his person for something else.Roll 1d100 BO3

4

n3A

Anon08/30/26, 22:33No.6458257

I also want to say, holy shit, what a cool use of vampire shapeshifting powers. Kudos, Sloucho.

1

hsr

Anon08/30/26, 23:30No.6458279

A lesser Kindred might be cowed to sullen retreat by the aggressive, phosphorescent torch that this Hunter wields. One with an inferior force of will might even be reduced to Frenzy and fear, fleeing desperately like a beat dog by any means available.But you are no one's lesser.It is these fool's great misfortune that their incursion into the penthouse they thought was unoccupied brought them face to face with an apex predator of the monster world.You are not game to be Hunted. You are not a Kindred that will be cowed by a parlor trick. You are a great and terrible Worm.And so you grimace, and you growl, and you propel yourself back at the feeble wretch with another burst of Celerity.You scramble up the wall opposite him like a spider, using all six of your limbs, at a speed too quick from him to register. In a blink you have moved yourself above him. Behind him. Suspended on the concrete by the claws of your feet and the monstrous black extremities that suddenly flank him.The nearness to the fire irritates your deepest instincts, and even some feet away your rotten skin can detect the edges of the heat it emits. But you remain composure enough, it helps that it is pointed down and away from where you've perched. You also see now that he has drawn another one of those ugly little pistols with his free hand, and has it leveled with the side of his head. It seems he knew there would be no surviving, and is unsurprisingly familiar with the abilities vampires possess for the compelling of obedience.But he still is too slow a creature to have even registered that you are no longer in front of him... And you're too quick to give him the chance.STHNIKT!You sever both of his hands at the wrist with a flourish of either one of your Orlokian claws. The spark plummets downward along with the gun.You're reminded momentarily of John Lambton casting you into the well."FUUUUUUUUUAUUUGHHHHKK! AAAHHHG-"He screams, of course, tilting back his head to look up at your horrific, bloody grin. But you interrupt his anguish immediately by reverting your hands to their natural state, grabbing his arms, and jerking him upwards to slam his fragile mortal head against your own, which is much sturdier and rather like a hunk of stone. The manual headbutt renders him unconscious on the spot, and you clench your hands on his arms tightly to stem the bleeding.>Cont'd

0

hsr

Anon08/30/26, 23:31No.6458281

You lower yourself down and kick a hole through the elevator doors, keeping the body held in your humanoid hands, and press through. "Sartori, dost thou possess the means to stem this bleeding? I've known men to outlive worser maimings without the attending of a chirurgeon. Still, methinks we should like to preserve him soundly." You say aloud in no particular direction. Your mantis arms recede into your back, and you allow the man's limp legs to fold below him as you lower him somewhat, but keep hold of his forearms in your vice-like hands."A moment, Malcolm. You were exceedingly prompt." Replies Agostino with the continued use of Telepathy.You are nothing if not patient, though you are rather eager to descend to the bottom of the elevator shaft in order to refresh yourself following that quick bout of carnage...A bodiless shadow glides along the floor from the kitchen to where you are standing, and extends up into a three dimensional shape. Similar to your mist-form condensing into your natural state, the gloomy figure fades into the likeness of Agostino and becomes matter once more. His eyebrows go up with some surprise, as he puts a hand into his pocket to withdraw that little black mirror again. "Fifteen seconds to do away with them? At such a pace you could resolve this whole conflict in less than three minutes time if my estimates of their numbers are correct." He half smiles as he taps away at the device. "I'll need to take measures to contain this for the Masquerade's sake, though that's handled easily enough, it is a private elevator in a building I own after all." He glances to the defeated Hunter. "I'll make arrangements for him as well. Even with the explosives disarmed, we can't remain here. They won't bother trapping the place a second time, but it's not safe to linger some place they've learned of and infiltrated... And the questions surrounding that lapse in secrecy are at the top of my mind."You stare down at him, and at the Hunter too. "Their untimely ingress is a mighty boon; it hath delivered unto we many clues and tools for the finding of these upstarts." You say. A wave of exhaustion runs down your spine and legs, now. You resist the urge to expend yet more blood to continue your alertness for the moment.>Cont'd

0

hsr

Anon08/30/26, 23:32No.6458282

He nods, pressing more buttons still. "Right you are... I'll have Ghouls and Thralls here within the hour. They will secure and transport the four charges and their now-separate components to a safehouse. We'll collect some of the remains as well, tools we can find in the wreckage. We can decide together what to use ourselves and if it may behoove us to share some of the spoils with others, in order to aid their own investigations. As for him." The Kogaion finally tucks the device away again, and begins rubbing his hands together. His eyes are squarely on your captive. "I don't keep gauze or first aid supplies here, obviously. I can apply tourniquets and bandage the wounds with clean linen, for now. That should hold him over. I'll have him taken to a different safehouse, in such a case that he is able to be tracked by some means. Wouldn't want to lose all of our winnings at once if there is quick retaliation. I'll travel with him, I have no need of Daysleep and so can begin investigating him if he should awaken before nightfall." He goes on.This all seems reasonable to you, and as Sartori gestures and begins moving to the guest room, you follow, dragging the prisoner with you. "I shall slake my thirst further upon the dead, then depart for... deeper soil."Agostino starts to tear apart some bedsheets from an armoire, and casts a glance your way. "Best you stay close to allies, at least until the day is over. I'll have my servants bring a barrel of soil for you to sleep within safely, and for the easy transporting of you. Would you like to come with myself and the prisoner to the Chapterhouse? Or would you like to go with the explosives to one of my research stations, what we call a 'Wyrm's Nest'? No relation to yourself intended, by the by."Select One:>Rest the remaining day at the Chapterhouse and arise there with Sartori, his colleagues, and the prisoner. You can begin the evening by questioning him or enthralling him or whatever other process you deem appropriate, as the one enlisted to deal with the threat. >Rest the remaining day at this 'Wyrm's Nest', and arise there with Sartori, the Hunter's remains, tools, and the explosives. You can begin the evening by casting a ritual of divination using whichever materials seem most effective for scrying deeper insights about their organization. >Rest alone, deep under the sewers. It will require some extra blood to embed yourself a few dozen yards below even these tunnels, and some more to awaken, but is perhaps worth as much for the additional safety. >Write-in

8

GKr

Anon08/31/26, 15:15No.6458554

all this finger stretching reminds me of arcadian creatures

0

/xT

Anon09/01/26, 03:50No.6458768

Sorry for the delay gangroids - been cooking up another update when I can today but had some work stuff come up, should have an update soon.

0

/xT

Anon09/02/26, 01:29No.6459070

You remain silent for a few moments as he ties off tight bands of fabric on the man's biceps. You can hear his heart still beating strong. He's suffered some significant trauma but it seems to you he will survive."The Nest, then... And thy Axe-Sworn, those two offered unto me... Arrange for their arrival upon our waking." You respond, each utterance low and almost labored now. It's been some feat, and no small expenditure of blood, to remain alert for so long already.Agostino nods, shifting to now wrap the stumps you've made of the man's wrists. When he's done so, you lift him up and place him on the bed."When you're done in the elevator, exit into the garage from before. There will be another automobile next to mine with a wagon-like bed, and there will be a blue barrel secured to it. It will be sealed but for a small hole at the top with no cap, and filled with loose soil. Rest therein." Agostino says, staring at the Hunter with his hands in his pockets. "Three of my agents will be in the vehicle. They'll escort you to the correct location. I'll tend to this one in the meantime, when you arise I will be with you. Aside from the materials here, have you need of anything else?"You stare blankly at him for a moment, considering. "A stone bowl... Three, perhaps, each the width of thy hand at least... One duck's egg. One black serpent, alive... A dozen iron nails... Pound of salt. Pound of tallow. Half pound of grave soil... From a plot not yet touched by shadow cast from the full moon... Silver needle, yard of black thread... Bronze cauldron, of a hogshead's volume." You list components half from instinctive memory and half from conscious conceptualization. You aren't sure you'll need all or even most of it.Your companion doesn't so much as raise an eyebrow, but he does pull out his little pocket device again, and taps away at it. "Is the cauldron totally necessary? They're in short supply, these nights. The rest should be simple enough." He asks without looking up."Whatever cauldron thou art able to procure... Able to contain at the fewest... Fourteen wine gallons. Shouldst this prove too challenging, I shall... Adapt." You answer. Then you begin walking past him for the door.He pockets the device, and gives you a glance before crossing his arms and settling his gaze back on the Hunter. "Enjoy your meal, then. Until tonight, Malcolm. We'll discuss next steps then."You stop at the threshold of the open door, looking back at him in the cool darkness. "Until then." With that, you move to the elevator, and climb through the breach you made and let yourself fall. You transform during the dive, and with a beating of heavy wings as you fall further down, you break the fall and land among the broken bodies as an ash-feathered vulture with eyes that glimmer like polished dimes at the bottom of a storm drain. Now is the hour of the carrion feast.>Cont'd

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Anon09/02/26, 01:30No.6459072

You make quick work of the cadavers, tearing at the meat and ingesting the blood, or snapping bones to imbibe sweet marrow. Even having fallen from such a height, the bodies are somehow in even more gruesome disarray when you finish.You are now the most sated you have been in over two centuries, containing blood enough for the bodies of a little more than eight adult humans. Your dead flesh practically buzzes with supernatural power. You expend a very small morsel of it in order to evaporate again into a cloud of red mist, slipping quickly through the elevator doors and back into the concrete cave. You perceived the barrel that Agostino mentioned on the flat bed of an odd sort of utility vehicle much like the Kogaion's car but shaped differently. It has a black colored exoskeleton and a rectangular recess in the rear of it, and the front has more defined angles instead of the aerodynamic curves of the car you arrived in. You barely pay any attention to this, however, or the humans idling in the truck's interior, and instead glide as a sanguine cyclone directly into the barrel, melding with the soil, and relinquishing yourself fully to the Daysleep without another thought.[}={}={}={}={}={}={}={}={}={}={}={}={}={]The rest of your day's dreaming is impossible to remember as your mind begins to stir back to animal awareness. The Dream Visions of your first attempt to rest were interrupted and dispelled, and did not return. This is of little matter to you, though, as there is much other business to attend to now.As you awaken from Daysleep, you recall that you've chosen to share your form with soil, which is inside of a sterile blue cask, which itself is inside... Well, you aren't sure yet.However, in these groggy moments at the death of day, you have a sense of movement about you that is more disruptive than disorienting, but all encompassing...THOMP!The barrel you've been sleeping in is tipped over unceremoniously, and the contents you have melded with are spilled out in a pile on the floor, triggering reformation. A claw thrusts upwards from the dirt first, and in the way of Romero's zombies, you climb out and rise up to standing height. None of the soil clings to or besmirches you, and yet your half-rotten appearance still couldn't be described as 'clean'.>Cont'd

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Anon09/02/26, 01:33No.6459076

You turn your head slowly to gaze across the chamber you find yourself in.Old concrete walls and ceiling. Smooth, flat, rectangular cobblestone arranged in concentric rings beneath your feet. They so cold to the touch... You almost wonder at how they're not covered by frost. The room is circular, with a diameter of twenty, maybe twenty four yards, and a domed ceiling with a gentle slope, held aloft with the assistance of six cylindrical cement columns that are equally distant from the wall as the center. On the floor, in the very center, there is a rusted iron plate of a pentagonal shape, roughly five feet wide, and its surface is engraved with a dense lattice of occult symbols, the most noticeable of which is a pentacle that touches each point. One edge is bolted heavily to the floor with a hinge, and on the opposite point there is a rusted iron ring large enough for a hand, with which you suspect one might open this ancient hatch...On the wall, between each pairing of the columns and facing across from each other, there is a red-rusted iron door of crossed bars recessed in the wall. Each faces the center of the room and is equally spaced from the others. You can see from where you stand most of them, and smell, and hear through the small echoes, that five of them are small individual cells, with no windows revealing the night beyond. You get the sense, in fact, that you are somewhere subterranean. The sixth, which is opposite from the point of the hatch that bears the handle, leads down a short corridor and into what looks like a stone, spiralling staircase leading up, likely to the surface.The space is illuminated by more of the electric lights that seem to dominate the city now. Glass ampoules of warm yellow light are trapped in small cells of their own - green-metal cages envelope them like they are exotic birds. Steel hooks drilled into the columns hold aloft a ring of them, and another, wider circle runs along the ceiling at the edge of the room, one above every cell and the exit corridor. Two red and black colored boxes of mixed inorganic materials hum and vibrate faintly, both connected to the strings by some sterile, malleable tether. One is by the exit, and the other not far from where you now stand, by one of the columns halfway between the exit and the opposite side of the room, facing in to the central hatch. Not far is a simple metal table, and upon its surface are all the myriad ritual components you'd requested, as well as two brown, stiff paper box. Between other columns you see an old, worn walnut desk facing in, and another, longer metal table, with wooden crates on the surface and below it three large white footlockers with 'Yeti' in black on the side below.There are only two others here: Agostino Sartori, seated at the desk off to the left, and a living mortal with the stench of Vitae still on his breath who is stood just next to the base of the overturned barrel behind you.>Cont'd

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Anon09/02/26, 01:35No.6459079

Agostino is wearing a light, pastel red suit tonight with a knit bowtie in robin's egg blue. He looks to you as you materialize, and waves with one hand, while another places a piece of white paper in a basket on top of the desk.The Thrall is wearing blue denim pants, a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, brown leather boots, and a belt to match. He is pale, clean shaven but for his mustache, with short, raven-black hair and blue eyes as cold as the cobblestone that are set in tired, baggy sockets on his stoney face. His heartbeat is exceptionally strong, but not quickened by any nervousness, and he has a rather strong frame at a momentary glance."Good evening, Mr. Ashwood. Apologies you had to be relocated so abruptly, I don't believe I said so earlier. And yet also I should say you acquitted yourself very admirably! Mice before lions indeed; that was a sublime display of predation." Agostino greets you, drawing your gaze back to him quickly, and you feel the human's eyes boring into your spine all the while. "Behind you is Mr. Nathan Mercer, chiefest of my Ghoul retainers. Do not shy from requesting his assistance, but do care to treat him gently. You should find him more than adequate for your needs."You turn a step and analyze the assistant again for a quiet second, then look over your shoulder at the table of implements.The air stinks of oxidized iron, dust, and stone. It is quiet but for the buzz of the glass lanterns. There is more than anything an uneasy, palpable sense of death, and while the cobblestone is downright frigid to your bare feet, the air is merely cold, and stagnant, and still with a sense of death... And something else that hums to your blood faintly, like the metal boxes which connect to the lights."Appraise me of thy chamber, Sartori... It is a curious place though hast borne me this night." You ask clearly as your dread stare falls gravely upon the rusted pentagonal hatch.He rises from his chair when you ask this, and buttons his jacket as he does so. "The crown jewel of our Chapter's research program, actually. We call this 'The Devil's Oubliette'. It was formerly presided over by a mortal warlock of some potency, whom constructed it for his own wicked designs a few years following your internment. It's a secret part of, and located below, what was the old city jail." Sartori explains proudly with a wide-armed gesture of presentation. "I acquired the property and did away with the prior tenant a little under a century ago, and have maintained it for my order's studies." He adds, and finally clasps his hands behind his back as you're accustomed to seeing him do by now.>Cont'd

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Anon09/02/26, 01:36No.6459082

You step over to the table, looking over the bowls and substances that have been gathered. There is a cauldron next to it on the ground, made of cast iron rather than bronze, but it should be no serviceable if you have decide you have need of it. You place a hand on the boxes, and look again to Agostino."The explosive charges. Also, another set of clothing for you." He answers simply, then nods to the other metal table that is triangulated from his and your positions. "Over there are some of their other possessions, and some of the tools they used. Under the table are insulated containers made of plastic, we gathered what seemed to me the most useful of... What remained of the Hunters." He quirks an eyebrow and frowns slightly as he must be remembering the state you left the bodies in. He shakes his head and looks back to you. "We can begin preparing a Rite immediately if you would like, Mr. Ashwood, or wait for the others to arrive." He starts back up, referring to the two Axe-Sworn you had him send for. "If you'd prefer that, I'd be gladly to discuss the Oubliette at greater length. We will also need, at some point, to decide if and how we might divide some of these materials among the rest of the Praxis - perhaps we should set aside what will be allotted for the others before you begin in earnest? I have entrusted the task of these witchfinders with you, and thus defer to your judgment."Select One:>Let us begin the ritual now, every moment is of the essence. (Specify which material you will use: explosive charge, tools and weapons, or body parts) >Before we begin preparations to do Cruac, I would have words with you about the materials - we ought to decide how they might be divided, and so I should know more of the other Covenants and the Prince's court. >There is a bale resonance in this chamber, it is thick with death... Before I attempt magic in this place, explain it's characteristics and some of its history. >Write-in

8

vwk

Anon09/02/26, 15:47No.6459311

You flare your nostrils and scan the room. "This... Oubliette..." Your eyes narrow. "It trembles with the chill of death itself. Wherefore dost thee consider so grim a lair to be thy jewel? Wherefore doth it come by such a bale resonance?" You wonder aloud, gaze still wandering with morbid curiosity.Agostino steps around the desk and begins to approach you, and the table you're posted behind, moving at a deliberate and relaxed pace. "Ah, but it is that very tremble of death that makes it so precious, you see. The jail itself was overcrowded and brutally managed for much of its history, and many times in the nineteenth century a plague of illness, or a rash of violence, would take the lives of dozens or even hundreds of prisoners inside a year. What none of the inmates or staff knew, however, except a vanishingly small, loyal few, was that the true architect of the facility was also ultimately the architect of their suffering.""In what manner?" You probe."The sorceror Magnus Turner trafficked with ghosts and demons for dark power, and even the secrets of immortality... Those entities fed heartily upon torment and depravity, and so Turner used his wealth and magic both to invoke much suffering among the captives upstairs." Agostino goes on, looking almost sad but also unsurprised. "This was constructed in utmost secrecy to serve as the staging ground for his most gruesome rituals, inhumane tortures, human sacrifices, and occult research. Five cells along the walls, and a sixth... In the floor." He nods down to the rusted hatch, watching it warily as he continues. "That is the Oubliette itself. His victims would be left there in the perfect dark, and inside the cell could be possessed by demons or the spirits of the dead safely, in order for Turner to extract bargains, and such that he could allow those entities to delight themselves with the sensation of flesh. Once gone, the mutilated, gibbering bodies left behind could barely even be called human anymore."You stare at the hatch again. "I presume then thy Oubliette is haunted by specters, or devils of the pit."He half-shrugs, tucking his hands in his pockets. "One might say as much, and I suppose in a manner of speaking this is true - but it's really rather more extraordinary than a few restless spirits." Agostino says, and his posture straightens slightly as he goes on. "This cell in the floor is actually what we refer to as a Cenote, or a Low Place. With the appropriate key... It can be used as a direct point of access to Tuat, the Underworld. Whatever parlance - Xibalba, Yomi-No-Kuni, Erebus - it is the realm of the dead and all things lost. The warlock's dark arts wore thin the barrier between that world and this one, whether intentionally or not I do not know, but it produced a doorway to death.">Cont'd

0

vwk

Anon09/02/26, 15:48No.6459312

You know of these places, sometimes also called Avernian Gates. You have visited a few in your many years, the first of which was looked after - and fiercely guarded - by ancient Khaibit warriors. It seems to you that part of Agostino's pride in controlling this place is its connection to the duties of his Bloodline's forebears. But you have never gone so far as to tread within the land of the dead, though you've communed with its denizens many times. You cross your arms over your chest. "It is known to me that thy Impaler forbade the trafficking of demons and specters. What dost thee mean then to claim such a Low Place?" You then ask.He shakes his head a little. "No, no, it strictly forbids willfully allowing oneself to be possessed or controlled by such beings, or to form pacts with them. The incorporeal creatures of the world beyond are never to be our masters... But we arepermitted to converse with them, or even to compel them to our own service, if we are able." Agostino corrects."And with both Obtenebration and Sethite Cruac at thy command, thou art thusly able..." You note, trailing off as you make the observation.The Kogaion nods with a small smile. "Just so." A beat passes. "Now, a Wyrm's Nest is a place of supernatural or occult significance to the Ordo Dracul, most often because it occurs at a favorable intersection of geomantic ley lines, or possesses certain mystic resonances which can be attuned to through the appropriate exercises. The energies of death here are dense, as you noticed, and they can enhance the ability of Kindred to manifest and develop Coils of The Dragon. Our Chapter boasts students with above average tiers of the Coils as a result of our utilizing the Cenote. Further, much can be learned from the restless dead, and even more from the realm to which they belong... Though it has been two and a half decades since last we attempted an expedition into Tuat itself. That is a matter to discuss another time, however." The Venetian waves off the idea quickly before putting the hand back into his pocket.You pay close attention as he explains, fascinated by the entire concept. Long you have felt there are many notable parallels between ghosts and vampires, and so it makes sense enough that a place which is significant for one night influence the abilities of the other.>Cont'd

0

vwk

Anon09/02/26, 15:51No.6459313

You don't press the topic of 'expeditions' for now, however. "Thou didst not tell what became of the mage." You pivot."Hm, well, that was a stroke of collaboration between myself and the Invictus, actually. Their institutional access was the key to neutralizing the warlock when he was vulnerable, and away from this place." The Mekhet begins, and he looks distinctly nostalgic as he does so. "It cost us a significant swath of territory with which to hunt to enlist their aid. They burned Turner and scattered the ashes to ensure his total destruction. They don't know of this place, nor would they have any interest, I imagine... The First Estate is nothing if not fervently materialist, yes?""Aye." You agree. A beat passes between you both. "Instructeth me then the nature of thy gate's key, Sartori. I am no mere initiate in the grammarie of shades, as thee can most surely attest."He frowns somewhat, but nods all the same. "Of course. The handle there? If one lifts it, they merely find the pit where Turner once entombed victims, leaving them in the dark to dwindle to madness, there are iron bars beneath it which can be unfastened with a physical key I possess." Agostino narrows his eyes at the hatch. "However... If one takes hold of the handle on the hatch while their hand is still slick with the blood of someone murdered, lifting it reveals instead a staircase which descends into the upper mysteries. But the victim must have been slain in cold blood, with no great passion or defensive impulse behind the violence. I have included a vessel of suitable blood in one of the containers holding the remains of the Hunters." He makes a gesture with one hand towards Nathan.You watch as the Ghoul strides calmly over to the 'Yeti' boxes, opening the furthest of them to withdraw a large, wide glass jar full of dark blood, which he places atop one of the crates before nodding to you in respect. Then you look back to Agostino, where you find he is once more meeting your gaze. "I thank thee for thy irreproachable hospitality, O Dragon.""Think little of it." He replies evenly.You consider the options before you carefully. With the Avernian Gate open, and their remains, you could summon the ghost of a Hunter and compel it to answer your questioning. In fact, with some effort you could even bind the spirit to its own corpse and create a Revenant for your service. Should some part of the casting go awry, however, there are worse creatures than the ghosts of Hunters lurking in the realm below... Even without the gate, the resonance of death here is strong, and will enhance any divinatory magic that makes use of the cadavers, allowing you to more easily peer into their past for clues.>Cont'd

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vwk

Anon09/02/26, 15:53No.6459314

The tools they used, and the explosives in particular, are a separate matter. Spellcraft focused upon them may not benefit from the energies of the Oubliette, but the scrying of objects is also a less complex task than the scrying of creatures, more easily accomplished. They might also answer different questions than the Hunters themselves - namely, where and from whom they acquired their armaments. Perhaps you could visit such a place, or such a person...You have enough ritual components to cast multiple Rites, but the more powerful of them - such as those that utilize the Cenote - will require more of your Vitae and more of your supplies, precluding you from casting many minor divinations as well as a major summoning, for example.Last is the possibility of sharing the spoils of your slaughter with other Kindred. Their methods of using these leads for tracking and investigating the Hunters will differ from yours, and may provide differing, maybe useful results. On the other hand, the more you keep, the more attempts you might make. A part of you thinks also that leaving the other Covenants to fend for themselves without such assistance could keep them vulnerable, or weak, and serve political ambitions. Likewise, gifting them with tools for fighting the mutual enemy could earn some amount of favor with them. You could measure a portion of what was gathered now and discuss options with Agostino, or you can cast whatever Rites you see fit and then divide whatever is left afterwards.Select One:>A final matter before I begin my work - let us divide the collected materials. Appraise me of the other Covenants, and court, insofar as who might best make use of such things for seeking our foes. >My first interest lies in the equipment of these Hunters, and so I will begin with a Rite to divine the past of these things. >Let us begin. I will not make use of the Avernian Gate, but the resonance of death will aid my scrying of a corpse. >I shall open the Avernian Gate, and summon forth a ghost for an interrogation. >Brace yourselves, for I will be opening the Avernian Gate and binding one of the spirits as a Revenant to do my bidding. >Write-in

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Anon09/03/26, 05:19No.6459585

You pace slowly over to the other table, around the outside of the columns, and both of the others merely stand and watch with patient curiosity. When you approach, you use your nose and your sense of taste to decipher some of what lay before you without even opening the crates, or the containers of this 'plastic' substance (which seems to have become as common in your absence as captured electricity). Then you open two of the crates quietly to inspect with your eyes.There are four of the explosive charges, each with a separated 'blast cap', as Gomez called it, metal antennae, and small metal batteries. There are two of the black duffel bags made of tough, waxed fabric, which contain together a dozen unfamiliar mechanical instruments, though they seem to all be part of a single set, and for the purpose of your magic ought to be treated as such. There are glossy paper boxes labeled 'ammunition', stakes of new growth cedar wood, black rope, bandages in yet more plastic packaging, 'clotting powder', and a few more of those red plastic fire wands - the sight of which causes your lip to involuntarily curl slightly.Crouching down, you check the coolers. The leftmost contains the remains of a single Hunter, and it seems to you all of his remains. It's Gomez, you can tell from the smell. Without his mask you can finally see his face, which is pock-marked and rough, thin, with a soul patch goatee, bald scalp, and a tattooed rosary around one ear, a cross on a cheek under his eye, and three chalices around his neck, two on the sides and one on the front of his throat. He has brown skin and dirty teeth that show partly between his pale, dead lips. He is dismembered, but probably the most complete of all the bodies despite being totally exsanguinated. In the middle are the remains enough of another Hunter, though she's mostly unrecognizable after having been split in half and tossed down the elevator shaft, then devoured further in your vulture form. No face to speak of, but probably seventy percent of the remains, more than enough to invoke a spirit.The last container is a bit of a mess. Your nose tells you that it's a single Hunter, but by volume it's only a half of him, and unrecognizable from the carnage as much more than butchered meat half-attached to splintered bones. There is a plastic bag on top, however, which contains two human hands that seem to be in good condition, and you surmise that these were taken from the leader of the group. Reminded of him, you think to ask what information may have already been gathered from him, but ultimately say nothing - were it truly pressing, Sartori would have shared, and you would prefer to focus on the task at hand.>Cont'd

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Anon09/03/26, 05:20No.6459586

"A final matter before we commence: I bid thee explain at further length the goings on of Charleston's Praxis. Begin with thy Prince, and thy Court, then proceed to those Covenants of which thou hast not yet appraised me." You say in a strong, sure tone when you rise back up to your full height, and look back to the Kogaion.He's wandered back over to his desk, and leans against it to rest his butt on the edge, with ankles crossed. "Very well. I made mention of him already once, and there is little else to say. Phantom Felix has held Praxis for a little over a century now - a rather impressive run, I'd say. He ousted his predecessor in a brief power struggle, and brought the rest in line shortly thereafter. His full name is not known. His age is not known, though it is doubtless he is an Elder of considerable vintage. His Clan is not known, but it is suspected he is either Mekhet or Nosferatu, possibly of some obscure, arcane Bloodline. Covenant unknown, though it's my belief he hasn't a specific loyalty to any of them. Some theorize he is secretly a member of two or more, under different identities. He is rarely seen, at least knowingly, but often felt. He plays it all very close to the chest. But he's effective. He maintains our community's structure, stability, and until now, safety."This to you seems a very strange thing, but you allow him to continue."Historically, he has maintained a Tribunal of three Primogen, with whom he coordinates and exchanges advisement or influence. With the recent violence, there remain only two: Howell Sinclaire, and Marlon Walker." He goes on, tilting his head slightly. "Historically the positions are afforded to the three Kindred whom control the three largest shares of territory, after the Prince of course, as he maintains hunting rights across the Praxis, though the positions are often contested also along the value of that territory - a Kindred lording over four hundred acres of desolate marshland commands less than one controlling just ten acres in the heart of the peninsula. Each of the three are also granted the right to elect their own Hound for the enforcing of their will. The Prince prefers the term 'Inspector' to the traditional Reeve or Sheriff you are accustomed to. Currently that role is occupied by a Ventrue of the Invictus named Levon Wake. That is the extent of it, however. Felix is exceedingly... Hands off. He prefers to operate from the shadows, and for the Barons of Domain to resolve their own disputes with their vassals or within their own Covenants as they see fit, most often, deferring to the Tribunal and their Hounds as needed. It's simple and it has been effective for a long time.">Cont'd

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Anon09/03/26, 05:22No.6459587

You find yourself somewhat surprised by the extremely streamlined bureaucracy. Charleston once had an almost Byzantine neo-feudal hierarchy with many different noble titles and castes. You consider how a beast of your stature might fit into such a minimal framework. If nothing else, you know there will be struggle for the empty Primogen seat before the Hunters are destroyed."And the Covenants?" You prod rather simply.Agostino relaxes his shoulders noticeably, and tilts his head the other way. "Right. As I explained previously, the Circle was broken long ago. The individual cults behave essentially as their own, smaller Covenants, with Charlotte's being the only one to endure. None of them have any territory on the main peninsula, and are instead holding areas of James Island to the South, and parts of West Ashley. The Carthians wouldn't be worth mentioning even if any of them had survived... That leaves the Ordo Dracul, Invictus, and Lancea et Sanctum." He crosses his arms. "You've met a few of our number, but know that only nine of us remain. For many decades now, the Ordo Dracul has been the secondary power in the Praxis, and friendly rivals to the Invictus, whom are the first. We control sections of Mount Pleasant in the East, and on the Charleston peninsula proper we hold the entire medical district on the West, including the MUSC hospital, as well as the district called Harleston Village, where we are now."He sighs, which is for the both of you a performative gesture, and yet he does all the same. "Previously the Eldest of our Axe-Sworn, my friend Ernst von Kassel, served as one of the Primogen. One of my two Childer served as his Hound. Both were slain in the recent attacks." There is a pause then.You don't even think to offer condolences until he continues speaking, and it's too late."The Invictus controls the rest of the peninsula, and are centralized in the business district and French Quarter, nearby. Though, that may not last, now... They have been reduced to a mere seven, now... Aside from his role as Primogen, the Ventrue Howell Sinclaire - known more widely as The Mangled Man - also serves as the de facto leader of their Covenant, with the formal title of Executive Chairman." Something darkens in the back of the Venetians eyes as he mentions Sinclaire.>Cont'd

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Anon09/03/26, 05:23No.6459588

"He was embraced in the eighteen seventies, after having suffered a number of tragedies across his life that left him wheelchair-bound and scarred... He is not to be underestimated. The second youngest of the city's few remaining Elders, but easily among the most powerful. Every bit as ruthless and cunning as you might expect. A more skilled practitioner of Dominate I have never known. His Hound is Alicia Heart of Clan Daeva. We are able to cooperate more often than we find ourselves in conflict. They are good friends, and... Engaging foes, when it comes to such. Hit very hard by the attacks, they've lost most of their fighters. Alicia is a younger Ancillae, but clever, strong-willed. An investigative journalist, I believe, that mistakenly pursued the conspiracy of an Invictus business holding. Rather than eliminate her, Sinclaire felt her talents would be of use, and had her embraced for her trouble."There's a tense pause, and Agostino's brow knits somewhat as he considers how to begin. He looks to the hatch, instead of you. "To my counting there are twelve, maybe thirteen of the Lancea et Sanctum remaining, and so the most numerous of the Covenants, narrowly. Before all of this, they'd been nearly the least, with only sixteen members, though a few now have been destroyed. They have long controlled the Northern parts of Charleston, farther inland, with their Black Abbey located in the area around the airport, supposedly." Another pause, and he shakes his head. "Of course, you don't know yet... I'll explain that term later. It's a kind of transit hub." He waves a hand dismissively, then uses his hands to grip the edge of the desk he is leaned on, causing his shoulders to rise somewhat."They are led by the Bishop Marlon Walker, of Clan Gangrel. He is the youngest of the Elders, sired in the first decade of the nineteen hundreds. His Hound is his own Childer, Nehemiah Whitaker, an Ancillae and Crusader. Both have a unique talent for Theban Sorcery, and it is their mastery of that art that has allowed their organization to protect what little they have had for so long." There's a sour look on Sartori's face as he recounts this. "I suspect they will take advantage of the Invictus' weakness and attempt perhaps to push South by seizing some of the Boroughs, as they'll be difficult to maintain control of with such low numbers. That may make them neighbors both to us, and at least across the river, the Cruac cults we've discussed. A grim prospect, as they are less than tolerant of our proclivities. I much prefer the devil I know in the Mangled Man.">Cont'd

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Anon09/03/26, 05:24No.6459590

You take all of this information in like a sponge. Combining this new information about the local Kindred with what you learned yesterday about the remnants of the Circle, you weigh your options very carefully...Select One:>I will keep the spoils for myself. I do not trust these other Kindred to use them with comparable skill or success to myself, nor do I wish for any of them to gain advantages in this time of chaos. >It may earn me some measure of favor to gift portions of what was recovered to the other local Kindred, and could also provide information I may not come by with only my own methods to rely upon. I will do divide some of the materials. (Specify what you want to share, and who with - you can use specific names from among those mentioned here, or earlier when discussing the Circle back at Onyx Roost, such as La Viuda Gris, or you can assign things broadly by Covenant and leave it to their various leaders to do what they will with your gifts)

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Rw8

Anon09/03/26, 20:46No.6459802

Current tally: >2 in agreement to offer Sinclaire/Invictus the third set of remains, which is about 70% of a corpse This leaves you one mostly intact body, one corpse that's in bad shape, the severed hands of the cell leader, four explosive charges, the tools, weapons, and first aid supplies to cast with >1 of the above votes also wants to include the bandages and ammunition More or less as above >1 vote to give a little under half of the haul to the Invictus, and the same amount for the Ordo Dracul to make use of without your direct help, keeping a fifth for yourself to split between personal use and the Six of Cups As per the clarification, this would leave you the severed hands of the cell leader and one explosive charge, while the Six of Cups would receive about a third of the biomass from the most damaged corpse and the toolset from the Hunter's bag.Will leave this vote going for a while yet to see about getting some more consensus.

0

/xT

Anon09/04/26, 02:51No.6459923

Alright, we'll call it here! At this point I probably won't have an update until tomorrow.

0

/xT

Anon09/04/26, 06:24No.6459993

You don't have to spend very long considering your options.You won't be sharing with the Lancea et Sanctum. Obviously.While some of the magicians of the Iron Nkisi and Smoking Mirror cults may be able to make use of your spoils - the wisest among them might even glean things you would not - by and large your feeling is that you are the most knowledgeable and potent of the city's Cruac Sorcerors. Even with many of your rituals having been forgotten at this time, the catalogue of spells in your mind is dizzyingly vast. That besides, the Crone entreats her Acolytes to contend with tribulation and struggle to grow powerful. You shouldn't coddle them by dispensing gifts and advantages. You will watch to see how they fend for themselves in these early nights... And it doesn't hurt that, should you decide to restore the Circle and rebuild your own cult, it will be easier done if the entrenched local covens remain in a position of weakness. You will decide later whether or not to bring some portion of what remains with you when meeting the Six of Cups later this evening.As you are already 'under contract' with the Ordo Dracul, anything you keep will be accessible to them. When the two knights arrive you can delegate investigatory tasks as you see fit.The Prince himself operates indirectly, and you're yet to get any real measure of him or his designs, though suspect you will encounter one another soon enough. For now you feel it isn't necessary to enlist his help, or even assume that he does not know more than you about the Hunters already.In the end, the only Covenant with which it seems fruitful to share is the Invictus. They have no blood sorcery, of course, and yet their staggering wealth and as Agostino put it, 'institutional access', can provide all manner of actionable intelligence.>Cont'd

0

/xT

Anon09/04/26, 06:28No.6459995

Getting down on a knee, you tap the middle cooler with two clawed fingers, gesturing with the other hand for Nathan's attention. "This vessel and it's contents... Fare thee with these to the Chairman of the First Estate, this Mangled Man." You rise back to standing, and reach into the crates, and the bag. You withdraw one of the boxes of ammunition, and some of the bandages as well. "These also." you set them down and turn to him fully. He is a composed, season servant to an Elder, you can tell, and even still you can detect a tremor in his frame at the reception of your full attention. "Thou shalt address them as sent by Mr. Malcolm Ashwood, as a gesture of collaboration in this dire hour, and thou shalt make it known they art tokens granted with nought whatsoever an inkling of expecting recompense."He nods once, sharply. "Yes, of course. Shall I take them now, and contact my master upon delivery?" His voice is soft, but clear. To his credit, he maintains eye contact."Yes, and with haste." You reply simply, stepping aside.He nods again, and puts the mundane items into clear, plastic bags of an odd, square shape, which he withdraws from a smaller crate on the far end of the table. Those he places inside the 'Yeti' container, which he drags out by one handle. Then, rather impressively, he squats down and puts his arm as far around it as he can to lift the entire vessel off of the ground. He seems barely in inconvenienced by its lengthy shape and heavy weight, as no normal human could be, and so you surmise that he does in fact have a well developed power or Vigor, and all the bodily strength that imparts. Without complaint, or a word from Agostino, he begins carrying the container to the stairs, making sure it remains level and sealed while ascending the steps.Now alone with the Kogaion, you tap a claw on the surface of the metal table, creating a tiny metronome that just barely echoes across the forsaken chamber where you have awakened.>Cont'd

0

/xT

Anon09/04/26, 06:29No.6459996

Having only allotted a small portion of the supplies for others, you are left with a truly vast array of options for seeking insight into the nature and secrets of your enemies.Now is the hour of vulgar Cruac Mysteries.Select One:>Communion of Urdr (Look into the past of an object, gaining a sense of its immediate surroundings, success determines how far back you see and how clear your perception is, Specify: explosive charge, tool set, box of ammunition, first aid gear, wooden stakes, cell leader's severed hands) >Ursitoare's Invocation (Ask three questions about a mundane object, success determines thoroughness of the answers, Specify questions, Specify: explosive charge, tool set, box of ammunition, first aid gear, wooden stakes, cell leader's severed hands) >Sanguine Seance (Summon the ghost of a corpse and interrogate it directly, compelling the creature to respond honestly, success determines number of questions that may be asked up to a maximum five) >Bloodhound Animunculi (Use human and animal remains to animate a small, beast-like organism no larger than a housecat, which is endowed with a very, very keen sense of smell and other olfactory perceptions, and is instinctively obedient, success determines Animunculi powers) >Bale Chant of Osiris (Bind a ghost from the Underworld to a cadaver with a Pact, granting it the ability to possess corpses and gain some of their memories, and in return you receive it's loyalty and obedience, success determines power of the ghost) >Viduus' Dark Usurpation (Summon and bind a ghost to its own corpse, creating a Revenant, which benefits from additional supernatural advantages and powers to a typical ghost, and compel the creature's obedience, success determines the duration of the Revenant's binding) >Write-in (Very much encouraged)

4

8hl

Anon09/04/26, 20:51No.6460182

You settle on an old and time-tested ritual to begin your divinations, one that will not require activating the Avernian Gate but which will benefit from its presence nonetheless."Away thee to thy desk, Sartori, for I shall work my first Rite upon the Dread Gate." You state, pulling out the third cooler, which contains little more than broken bones and viscera. You drag it near to the center of the chamber, then wander over to the first table for the cauldron, which you place directly on top of the rusted hatch.Agostino returns to his seat wordlessly, crossing his legs and clasping his hands on his lap as he watches along intently.You use a stone bowl to scoop the meat and bone into the cauldron, first. Once the cooler is empty, you push it away, past the columns, with a shove of your foot. Then you use your hand to cast in a handful of the grave soil from the glass jar it's stored inside. Lastly, you form a perfect circle of salt around the hatch.This prepared you extend both hands over the cauldron, left palm down, right palm up. From the latter, your bronze dagger emerges point-first from your palm, allowing you to grab it by the handle once it is fully expelled from your flesh.You begin to utter the ancient words. The Cruac incantation is more guttural and harsh even than your native Pictish. It is the tongue of beasts and monsters.You begin to carve the ancient rune. Into the palm of your left handle you cut with the ritual dagger, moving the point deftly to illustrate the jagged lines and sweeping curves of a witch's sigil. It is the mark of necromancers and oracles.You begin to channel the ancient blood. From your dark heart, rotten Vitae slithers into your arm inching for your hand, for the Cruac symbol it now bears, for the wound through which your magic will be born upon this wicked altar. It is the blood of the Conqueror Worm.You begin the Sanguine SeanceRoll 1d100+10 BO3

4

8hl

Anon09/04/26, 22:37No.6460214

The Vitae flows from your outstretched hand as though it were a faucet for a few quiet moments. As it touches the air, it brightens from a dull, brown-black sludge to a scarlet that matches your eyes, and thins to fresh viscosity.The electrical lights flicker and stutter sporadically, all blinking with mismatched rhythm which causes shadows to lunge leftwards and right in a flurry.You continue chanting the words of power.All of the lights die, and then blink back alive but now in a harsh, bright red hue that paints the chamber entirely red.You take a few slow steps back as the cauldron of carrion begins to stir, and blood begins to flow up as if generated from within the remains, quickly filling the vessel all the way to its edge and stopping.The floor grows even colder, and were you to breathe, then even the air from your dank, dead lungs would be warmer than that of this cavernous prison, enough to become visible fog before you. Your ears perk at the faintest of susurrations winding across the outer walls and the ceiling, an impossibly quiet thing like the cacophony of a hundred panicked whispers.A figure begins to rise into the air from the surface of the cauldron.It is a thing of blood, but as it emerges more and more, you detect the contours of a humanoid figure, one that is masculine and of an average build, but under what seems a sheet of liquid blood. It's as if the entity is covered by a blanket, with its exact features concealed and yet hinted at by the covering. It floats before you and tilts its head down. Meeting it's gaze, you can see the 'fabric' sunken in where the eye sockets might be, and a protrusion between them suggesting a nose.The crimson silhouette looks down expectantly upon you.Offer no more than five specific questions for the Hunter's ghost, it will answer honestly and to the best of its ability.

2

hxl

Anon09/05/26, 05:57No.6460351

We should probably ask it where they got the intel for the safe house. It's one of Agostino's personal ones, no? There shouldn't be many who know if it in the first place, so any info will help narrow down the leak.

0

P+A

Anon09/05/26, 16:53No.6460466

"Thou art bound by ancient grammarie, O' phantom, and I invoke thee upon thy bones for parlay." You begin in a commanding tone.The ghost dips its head slightly beneath its crimson veil. It speaks in turn. "Ask what you will." The voice is dry like dead grass aspiring to wildfire, deep ravine empty, and tundra-cold.You tense, and straighten somewhat your already rigid posture."Name thy bedfellows firstly, then, and reveal unto me those Huntsmen what survive thee in this city." You say.As the ghost integrates your request, you notice that the blood which covers it is dripping from the base of it, back into the cauldron. You notice that this does not cause the vessel to overflow; on the contrary, it seems that with each individual drop, the contents recede just as inexplicably as they first sprung forth, originally as a natural spring might, and now draining gradually in the manner of a bathtub. "I never knew most of their names. Our organization adheres to strict OPSEC and a mostly horizontal structure. Pale Horse Cavalry is a splinter group from a larger network of Hunters known as The Long Night. There are at least five or six other cells in the area, varying in size from four to eight members, but I never met them. We were assigned by our handler, Sullivan Reese, a Christian mystic. He is here as well, and his three special advisors: Doctor Bruce Milton, Montgomery Boone, and Hayes Buchanan. I never met any of the other cells, but we had six meetings with Sullivan, four of them with Monty present. I never met the other advisors." Nevertheless, the ghost is fully cogent with its thorough response.You make a note of these names. You also make a note of the highly insulated, resilient structure. The emphasis on preserving their efforts even if an individual cell becomes compromised suggests to you that these Hunters have a history of dealing with Kindred vampires in particular.>Cont'd

0

P+A

Anon09/05/26, 16:59No.6460469

"I am advertised thy compatriots were possessed of a great and intimate accounting of Kindred... Society. Wherefore were'st thee appraised of such mysteries? Who art among thy number that is privy to the nature of the Covenants and their nightly doings?" You ask next.The specter is losing its mass in small drips and drabs, but at an almost imperceptibly gradual pace. It is serene when it finally replies in that same hollow, dry voice, which is really more a fell wind than a voice. "Sullivan sometimes. But more often we would receive intel by phonecall from either Monty or Doctor Milton. Sometimes this was the nature of your factions, other times it was the location of assets and resting places, with carte blanche to deal with them as the cell saw fit. Who their sources are, I never knew, though Sullivan seemed able at times to invoke power from the gospel, and claimed to receive visions from the Lord."You allow for a pause, and ask your third question. "Dost thou knowest where thy fellow 'Cavaliers' shelter and hide themselves within the city? Name those lodgings that are known to thee."More of the ghost drips into the cauldron. "Our cell operated out of two camper vans that are parked at Rampart Self Storage off of 61 near Avondale, or the occasional night at a motel as directed. Meetings with Sullivan would take place at a non-profit clinic for domestic violence survivors and their children, Saint Catherine's Family Center. It's located in North Charleston, close to Ashley Junction and the airport. It's one of four staging grounds for the operation here, but I was never told the locations of the others. At least two other cells receive direction from Saint Catherine's." It answers in the shrill hiss of a wraith.The clinic elicits a furrowing of Agostino's brows, and it isn't lost on you either what it seems to be in proximity to or it's Catholic affiliation. You press on with another question. "What then of thy weapons, munitions, and other sundries? Art thou familiar with the provenance of such things?" You ask."Footlockers of paper money, first aid supplies, clothing, and some electronics, such as burner phones with which to coordinate were given to us at the clinic. Other tools and equipment were purchased at hardware stores such as Harbor Freight or Home Depot, like the drills and pry bars we brought to Onyx Roost, or the wood we used to carve stakes. Guns, ammunition, and explosive components were bought by ship, directly from a criminal contact provided by Sullivan. His name was Demyan, and he would meet us in a houseboat after dark out at sea, to the Southeast. The number was programmed into our burners, and I remember it: [###-###-####]." By the time is finishes relaying this information, everything below its sternum has returned to the cauldron, leaving only it's shrouded head, shoulders, and chest.>Cont'd

0

P+A

Anon09/05/26, 17:00No.6460471

"I inquire of thee at last, then, didst thou perceive vulnerabilities amongst thy order, or weaknesses of any kind what might be of advantage to we their foes?" You ask sternly, aware your time for questioning grows short.The ghost obliges. "The horizontal structure, and lack of familiarity between groups, might allow for infiltration to varying degrees with the use of subterfuge or disguise. I believed, as all the Cavaliers do, that our mission was blessed by the Lord and that our dedication would ensure our souls reach heaven. I know now that this is not true. Our sins are not forgiven, or sanctioned by a higher power... It seems obvious now, and yet my mind was so clouded... Sullivan's visions are not miracles of the Lord. It is witchcraft. I don't know to what ends he and his cohorts have damned us, but it is to damnation I now go."Now only the upper half of the creature's head remains, gaunt and skeletal, still staring down. You feel its presence waning all the more rapidly, and the temperature very gradually rising in its wake.You nod at last, and hold up your left palm to show the sigil. "I release thee, spirit. Let these final moments of fleeting freedom be a balm to thee as thou art cast into nights and sorrows without number, for in damnation we art as finger and thumb, thee and I." As you say this, the flesh of your palm knits back together and heals away the self-inflicted wound.In conjunction with this, a blue-white apparition materializes before you. His scalp is still coated in the receding red blood, but now the invisible figure suggested by the sanguine cowl is clearly visible - a man in early middle age with a clean shaven face, a bald head, rounded chin, and a somewhat bulbous nose. He smiles down at you with an honest appreciation for this small kindness. Even so, as the blood continues to drip away and shrink towards the top of his skull, the light of him begins to fade back out. "Thank you." He says now in the tone of a man not hushed by magic or punishment, and it echoes as if from a deep place, but still possesses the fullness of a voice. "I will leave you with a warning. When you confront Monty, do not let him touch you. Maintain a distance. When you confront Milton, avoid the mirrors. When you confront Sullivan, don't do it alone..." The phantom trails off towards the end, and as the final singular drop of blood falls down and disappears into the now totally empty cauldron, the last faint light of his figure dissipates into nothing.The lights blink and flicker a few times, then flash back to life in their natural, proper color of sterile yellow-white.>Cont'd

0

P+A

Anon09/05/26, 17:01No.6460473

The two Axe-Sworn have still not arrived, though you imagine they will soon, now. You expect you have some time before they do, and some time after that before you will have your meeting with the Six of Cups.Select One:>Convene with Agostino about what the ghost revealed, and begin the formulating of a plan for using this information against the Hunter threat. (Specify any ideas you may have to bounce off of Sartori, or information you would like him to share with others directly) >Wait until the other Dragons arrive to begin any planning or discussing what you have learned, and instead continue with your Cruac to glean even more. (Specify the ritual and whichever qualifiers are listed in the prior vote on casting: Communion of Urdr, Ursitoare's Invocation, Bloodhound Animunculi, Bale Chant of Osiris, Viduus' Dark Usurpation, write-in pitches welcome) >Write-in

3

q7l

Anon09/06/26, 20:04No.6460955

You allow for a silence to linger in the spirit's absence, before leveling your eyes with Agostino."That was illuminating." He says simply, and putting on a small smile. "Seems we have options, and more to share than body parts or bandages." He adds."Indeed... Relay these discoveries, if thou wouldst, to Prince Felix, and Sinclaire also, and it's provenance, and my own role in the extracting of these secrets." You say, and grab the cauldron with both hands to lift it and place it back to the side. When you set it down, you pause, and without looking back to him you speak again. "Thou art bid also to share a small thing with Bishop Walker..." Then you turn to see Sartori over your shoulder, looking as confused as you might've expected. "Concealeth thee any traces of my involvement. Report the findings as thy own. Tell only of this Demyan, the arms merchant. Of where he sails, of when he does his doings, and the string of numbers associated therewith." You begin walking back to the hatch, then. "We shalt watch and see for the learning of their motives. Methinks there may couldst be a fraternity betwixt the disciples of Christ..."Agostino nods along slowly, placing his pocket device on the desk. "Very well... I must confess, the location of the clinic and the nature of it seems to me intriguing, at least. And with their numbers now the greatest of the Covenants, and losses the least, well... It makes one wonder if this is all a misfortune shared in equity, or something else."You begin scooping up the salt circle with one hand and placing it in the wide palm of the other on one knee. "Urge them make ready and strike this very night. Shouldst they proceedeth with the dragging of feet and delaying of arms, we shalt be appraised of their treachery before dawn.""And while we watch for their response, I imagine you have some ideas about how you'll proceed yourself?" Agostino responds, crossing his legs the other way and leaning back.>Cont'd

0

q7l

Anon09/06/26, 20:05No.6460957

"The possibilities are myriad." You answer tersely, moving along to collect more of the salt. "I wouldst have thee provide some of thy council on the matter, and make known what occurs to thee for doing."The Kogaion exhales a semi-performative sigh. "Well, if we leave Demyan to the Lancea et Sanctum, there remains opportunity elsewhere in more than one place." He begins, tilting his head back to look at the dome of the chamber as he ruminates. "There's the clinic itself. You could make ingress by deception or stealth, perhaps confront one among this handful of leaders. Or simply place the facility under observation for a time, noting those who enter and leave, when, by what means. You could send agents to do any of the same on your behalf. Another Cruac ritual might even allow for visions of the interior, if not omens of what could be found within." He pauses, tilting his head sideways somewhat while it's still tilted back. "There are those camper vans at the storage facility. Maybe other cells use that location as well? The vans themselves could provide more clues, or materials for using."You finish collecting all of the salt, and putting it into the same stone bowl you used to scoop the Hunter's remains, then stand to your full height and look to Agostino.He meets your gaze, and hit brow knits just slightly. "There's also this 'Long Night', and the Cavaliers themselves. There may be information circulating about either or both that could prove useful in understanding what it is we're dealing with here. Ideologically, structurally, that sort of thing. It seems this handler, Sullivan, and his 'advisors', professed to their followers that this were a holy mission, and that promise clearly seems not to have borne out. And witchcraft, the ghost accused him of, yes?" Sartori quirks a brow at that. "One has to wonder what's the true nature of these shepherds, and their means of knowing so much. Theban Sorcery, the magic of the Lance itself, would certainly fit the bill.""Aye." You agree.The device on the desk vibrates and buzzes like a fat insect. Agostino glances at it, and then to you. "Speaking of agents, yours have finally arrived."You respond by sniffing at the air, and turning your head slightly to perk your ears. Doors closing. Feet shuffling. Wool. Blood. Steel. Two individuals sans heartbeats descend the spiral stairs.>Cont'd

0

q7l

Anon09/06/26, 20:06No.6460958

"If you wouldn't mind, Mr. Ashwood, the clothes I provided?" Agostino speaks up, causing you to look his way again. "They are not afraid of nudity, of course, but in the spirit of dignity and decorum, you see... It would be an appreciated courtesy." He gives you his most polite, tight smile at the end.You stare in return with the blank expression of a dead body on a medical examiner's table. But then lumber away to the table and open a box to peer inside. Khaki denim pants, a white cotton collared shirt with a breast pocket, and a brown corduroy work jacket, with black boots and a black belt. Simple, inconspicuous attire of good quality.You drop them back into the box.You grow very still, and all the parts of your person connect together along the outside into a seamless, dull, brown-grey surface. When it begins to crumble and flake apart into ash and dust, which in turn evaporates into nothing, what remains behind is a different version of yourself. Your shape, your face, even, but your skin now is the ruddy, tanned complexion of a European shepherd instead of a pallid, blue-green, water-logged corpse. Your hair is much shorter, brown-black, and the mustache now matches it, though you're otherwise clean-shaven. Strangest of all, you are wearing perfect duplicates of the clothes in the box, and are fully dressed. These are, of course, just trifles of the blood. If discarded, they will crumble to ash and nothing, but to all mundane senses they are genuine articles of clothing.You say nothing, but look over to Agostino with the same cold stare. Your eyes are still red, but now a darker burgundy that could be mistaken for brown. Your expression is still entirely vacant and emotionless."That will more than suffice. Thank you." He replies with a bow of his head, and then rises from his seat.Mr. Itch is the first to enter, and appears much the same as when you first met - in fact, he is still carrying that fireman's axe of his, with it resting over his shoulder as he saunters in and steps to the side for his companion.>Cont'd

0

q7l

Anon09/06/26, 20:07No.6460959

She is hawkish looking woman, appearing to be in her early forties at the latest, with tired bags around her sharp, pale eyes that will never go away, a large nose, and angular features. Her skin is pale, but not deathly so like the Nosferatu. She's in a black windbreaker over a blue collared shirt, and is wearing black canvas fatigue pants tucked into leather combat boots. Her hands are stuffed into the pockets of her jacket, and she slouches forward ever so slightly in her posture. She has greasy, thick, raven-black hair which is styled back to keep it from her face. She comes to a stop just next to Itch, and both of them stare at you intently and unblinking.Agostino holds out a hand in their direction from behind his desk. "You'll recall Mr. Itch from the previous evening, and with him is Colette Desmond, my Childer. She is likewise a Knight of the Axe, and will serve you quite ably." He introduces.Itch just stares on, but Colette dips her head slightly and then offers you a small wave of her hand while it's still inside her pocket."Welcome, both of you. We were just discussing some of our newly accrued intel, as it were, and are still inundated with options for pursuing more, or even initiating a retaliatory strike." Sartori goes on, speaking to them, now. He then gestures to you. "I leave that to Mr. Ashwood, as the assignment is ultimately his to complete."Select One:>You have learned enough to begin with, and Agostino has proposed some actionable ideas. You will now delegate work to these two Axe-Sworn, or instruct them to escort you on your business, or perhaps even ask their input on the matters ahead. (Specify how you want to proceed with the information you have gathered, and what you need for Colette or Itch to do on your behalf, or what you would have them do with you) >You have time yet before you must adjourn to convene with the Six of Cups, and more questions to answer for your own ends. You will cast another Cruac Rite while the materials are before you and you are in this place of mystic significance. The knights may observe and likewise be enlightened. (Specify the ritual and whichever qualifiers are listed in the prior vote on casting: Communion of Urdr, Ursitoare's Invocation, Bloodhound Animunculi, Bale Chant of Osiris, Viduus' Dark Usurpation, write-in pitches welcome) >Write-in

3

4Uq

Anon09/09/26, 17:20No.6462098

"What'd you have in mind?" Asks Colette, straightening her posture just barely.You take a couple of steps nearer, and stop. You are, at this late age, more monster than animal, and more animal than man. Among the litany of animal traits you exemplify now more fiercely than those of humankind, mimicry is particularly close to your core. Alien though your intellect may be, also, it is no less keen than your claws. You have listened carefully to the parlance of the modern creatures you have encountered, and quickly catalogued many observations. You choose now to more become 'Malcolm Ashwood', or rather, a suitably contemporary version of him, by mimicking what you have heard with the impeccable precision of a lyrebird."Good evening." You start, then pause before addressing the question fully. "You know by now that Sartori and I were accosted by Hunters, attempting to plant bombs in one of your meeting places during the day. They knew of its location and that you may have soon convened there as a group."The two junior Kindred seem at least a little unnerved by this, but manage not to overly show it. Mr. Itch seems more intrigued by your change in dialect now compounded with your change in appearance, and you notice him exchange a look with Agostino. The Nosferatu very barely lifts an eyebrow, and the Mekhet replies with a short, tight-lipped smile.You continue. "We have learned more since nightfall. They are called the Pale Horse Cavaliers, and operate in small, separate teams, which are coordinated by a so-called 'Christian Mystic' named Sullivan Reese and his trio of consultants. They are Montgomery Boone, Bruce Milton, and Hayes Buchanan." When you say this, Itch sets the axe down on its head so the handle leans against his pelvis, and withdraws a small notepad and plastic pen to jot down these names. Colette does not, presumably committing these things to memory. "There are two locations of interest at this time. The cell I destroyed operated out of a clinic to the North, called Saint Catherine's, where at least some of their colleagues also go to receive orders, information, and supplies. The other is 'Rampart Self-Storage', where two 'camper vans' are parked which the cell apparently lived out of. We do not know if others are making use of that facility. But we will learn.">Cont'd

0

4Uq

Anon09/09/26, 17:21No.6462100

Itch continues to take notes. Colette lifts her head lightly to speak. "How can we assist?""The bombs were comprised of a material called 'PE9' - are either of you familiar with devices of that kind?" You answer her question with your own.She nods. "Not especially, but I have an understanding of plastic explosives generally, and basic demolition principles. I could work with it, why?""Because, I'd like one of the charges we recovered to be used in the destroying of one of their vans." You answer. "One of you will observe the Rampart location, and the other will observe the clinic. For at least two nights, and days if possible, I'd like to know who comes and goes from these places, and when, in what numbers. When an explosion destroys one of their vehicles, I expect some manner of response from the larger group, and with your eyes I'll see what it is. Detonate the explosive tomorrow night in the early evening, watch until then.""You aren't... Hm, things have changed since you were awake last, Mr. Ashwood." Itch finally speaks up, lowering his notepad as he does. His voice is clear, but an unnaturally low baritone. "Laws, weapons, society, the way information is shared. So far, when fires or explosions have been set off by these Hunters, the media has been manipulated. The public has been led to believe these are accidents, or in one case that it was a lone, mentally ill terrorist responsible. Usually, it seems, by someone working with them, but a couple of times the Invictus has jumped in to cover the truth. We still maintain a Masquerade, and it's much more difficult to do so than before. It's more difficult even than it was a few decades ago." He says.You simply stare at him, expecting some kind of a point to all of this.Colette jumps in to bridge the gap. "What he means is, if we bomb a storage facility, we'll need to take extra steps to manage the attention it will draw. We could end up attracting more Hunters, or investigators from the federal government. We should probably consult Prince Felix at least before something that drastic." A beat passes. "We, also, neither of us will be able to watch the locations during the day. Itch has to sleep, and while I can resist the impulse I still can't tolerate the light. We could hide surveillance cameras nearby, in a few places, and remotely record what they view during the day tomorrow. Or we could use Ghoul servants, the Ordo Dracul still has a few that are reliable enough for the job, I think.">Cont'd

0

4Uq

Anon09/09/26, 17:22No.6462101

Itch makes a few more notes, and glances to you. "If the Prince feels like setting off a bomb at a tiny storage business is warranted, and won't just inflame the situation, we still have limited means of covering it up. We had a member of our Order with some connections to local media, but she died in the first wave of attacks. One of us with the right mix of money and Disciplines could do it themselves, or we could see about getting the Invictus to work with us.""I see." You turn to Agostino, who has thus far been content to let his subordinates work out the details with you. "Send word by your usual means to the Prince what I am planning to do." Then you consider how best to smooth out the edges of this scheme...Select One:>You will have Ghouls watch the clinic and storage facility during the day, at a distance, with instructions to only take copious documentation and not intervene. >You'll have 'cameras' set up, and use these devices to observe the two locations during daylight hours, then recover them when night falls again.Select One:>You will use Cruac Rites to attempt to control the public narrative around the explosion, perhaps using spirits to possess journalists, or to disappear pieces of the evidence. >You'll have another member of the Ordo Dracul, one gifted with mental Disciplines like Dominate and Majesty (and ideally a large amount of money to their name) to sway the perceptions of the humans involved in investigating and reporting on the incident. >You think it is best you allow the Invictus to handle the media coverage, as such manipulations are a strength for them, and so will arrange to meet with The Mangled Man before this night is through in order to strike a bargain.

5

w2D

Anon09/10/26, 16:45No.6462393

First you look to Colette. "Use your... Cameras." You almost hesitate to say the strange word. "You are tasked with observing the self-storage facility. Take one of the charges with you and make preparations." You instruct.She nods, and approaches the crates without being told where to look; it seems her sense of smell is quite powerful as well.Then you look to Itch. "You will watch the clinic. I will have a meeting with Mr. Sinclaire before dawn regarding the Masquerade. Your input is appreciated." Then you gesture with a hand to dismiss them both, and move over towards Sartori's desk, where he is settling back in his chair comfortably.The two Ancillae, having received their orders, leave the chamber the way they came.After a moment, Agostino leans back in his seat, lacing his fingers behind his head. "Well, I suppose that's that, for now. I'll contact the Invictus, and before we part I'll give you a device for communicating remotely, machine. They're called cellphones, quite marvelous." He begins, looking pleased. "After tonight, I'm afraid you'll need to attend to your own agenda, meetings, and so on. I am glad to be some help, but I am not a secretary or aide, you understand. Perhaps you ought to seek out a thrall or Ghoul of your own? Maybe something to discuss with Sinclaire."You recall Sartori mentioning that your Ghoul of over a century, Rupert Callow, disappeared after the destruction of Abner Morris. Perhaps something else to ask the Executive. "Is the providing of servants a service that the Invictus is known for in this Praxis?" You ask."No, but I ought to tell you now, before you learn later, Malcolm, that you do have a single relation among their number." He says, putting his hands down to his lap to speak more seriously. "Her name is Grace Lansing. She is descended from you by way of Morris, I believe your great-great-great-great-great-great grandchilder. I may be off by a generation or so. The others, over the years, have perished to inter-Covenant or territorial disputes, personal vendettas, or the other hazards of unlife. Grace is a Lady of the Invictus as have been her forebears since Morris' defection. Miss Lansing is a Neonate, and a Notary for her organization.">Cont'd

0

w2D

Anon09/10/26, 16:46No.6462394

You absorb this information carefully. You aren't really sure what you expected. Maybe that you would have a larger, branching brood of descendents. Or conversely that Abner would have been killed before managing to Embrace a Childer of his own. A single successor, and a fledgling of the Invictus, no less... It somehow surprises you. "Thank you, Sartori." Is all you manage to say for a moment as you calculate the possibilities.Agostino nods. "Yes, well, she will naturally owe you a measure of fealty and if she is not herself an ideal servant for your needs, it would be appropriate for her to find one on your behalf. Not that you've ever been known to lack an abundance of agents..." He trails off, looking you up and down a moment. He's remembering something. "Nevertheless!" He suddenly pivots, pulling back a sleeve to look at a timepiece on his wrist. "You have an hour and some change until you are meeting with the Six of Cups. I believe that's time enough for another of your Rites, unless you have something you'd like to discuss further, or somewhere else you'd like to go in the meantime?"Select One:>Cast a final Cruac Rite while the materials are gathered and you are here in the Wyrm's Nest. (Specify the ritual and whichever qualifiers are listed in the prior votes on casting: Communion of Urdr, Ursitoare's Invocation, Bloodhound Animunculi, Bale Chant of Osiris, Viduus' Dark Usurpation, write-in pitches welcome) >The Ordo Dracul has much to offer, such as this chamber and knowledge of the Coils. I am interested in joining formally, and publicly. Let's discuss the matter. >I would like to discuss Grace Lansing and the Invictus. I want to know more about her, and them, now that I am bound for a meeting with The Mangled Man. >I want to go to the local Elysium, where vampires gather, socialize, and discuss matters of court and Covenant amongst one another. I should present myself to the Praxis and be known. >I will ascend to the roof of this building, and take the form of a great vulture, and I will fly the skies above to surveil the full scope of how this city has changed. >Write-in

5

/xT

Anon09/11/26, 13:09No.6462774

Alright, I will lock the vote here!

0

j+4

Anon09/11/26, 20:34No.6462865

You wander over towards the container with Gomez' body lying inside, sliding it out from under the table and flipping it open."There is more work to be done." You say simply.Agostino nods, picking up his own cellphone to send some more messages. "As you like." Is all he says.You bring the cooler over to the hatch in the floor, and set it in front. The body is damaged from the fall, and broken enough to have been fit into the container with shattered limbs folded atop one another snugly. Still, it is very essentially intact, and will serve your purpose well enough.Next you make a larger, thinner circle of salt around the cooler and the Avernian Gate, using the rest of your supply. Then on to bloodier business: you take up the black rat snake from its small, bare terrarium, gripping it by the neck. It starts to wrap its lashing tail around your forearm, mouth opening slightly in protest at your brusque handling.You kill it quickly by driving an iron nail through its head, and skin the creature with your bronze dagger. The hide is placed in a stone bowl. A crescent shaped wound is made for the transplanting of one carcass into the other, and the remains of the serpenthe are sewn into the belly of Gomez' corpse with black thread. You remove the iron nail and place it in the dead Hunter's mouth.Finally, when preparations are complete, you remove the lid to the jar of fresh blood. The coppery tang barbs the back of your tongue before it's even fully opened, but you restrain yourself and dip your right hand fully into the liquid, displacing enough that some runs along the edge of the outside of the container and down the side. When you withdraw it, you stride deliberately for the rusted hatch, and grip the handle firmly.When you make contact, there is a shift in the chamber. The lights flicker and blink again, and the stone beneath your feet almost seems to shiver, as though it could suddenly feel the cold it has been radiating. The air falls still. Deeply, completely still. Quite literally, in fact, the subtle sounds about you are immediately muffled as it seems the air of the chamber is paralyzed such that it is less able to conduct the vibrations by which sound is registered. It's almost like everything is under icey water.When you lift the hatch open, the creaking of the metal is heard clearly, however, as is a great, hissing sigh from below... Staring down, you see an impenetrable black abyss, with the light of this cell block only illuminating the top ten steps of a broad, steep, staircase of pock-marked basalt.>Cont'd

0

j+4

Anon09/11/26, 20:39No.6462868

You leave the hatch open and step back, putting the stone bowl containing the snake-skin between yourself and the salt circle which contains both the body and the Avernian Gate.You sit down before it, crossing your legs, with your hands held up on either side. One soaked red, the other clutching your bronze knife. You begin the invocation with Cruac words of power, and then descend into an ancient, North-Nile Egyptian dialect to initiate the Bale Chant of Osiris.Recognizing the contours of the language (though not the exact particulars), and certain symbolic elements of the ritual itself, Agostino sits upright and pays total attention to your craft. He recognizes this for what it is: Sethite Cruac, the dark art of his distant forebears.Roll 1d100+10, BO3

3

j+4

Anon09/11/26, 21:15No.6462881

Nice round 75, not bad at all B^)

0

/xT

Anon09/12/26, 02:19No.6462954

You reach both hands out over the bowl, cutting one palm and expelling Vitae as before into the vessel. When it makes contact with the snake's skin, it burns through the scales and flesh like acid. The smoke that rises from the melting material is like incense, thick with the scent of petrichor and night-blooming jasmine. It wafts around lazily and hangs in the air, spreading out gradually along the ceiling and between the columns.You with draw your hands, but keep your palms facing up, never ceasing your chant.You continue the incantation for over half an hour, in fact, before finally summoning the appropriate spirit..."HSSSSKERKHKGKHWRURK! HRRAAAGH!"A voice chokes and hisses from within the plastic cooler.The corpse begins to unfurl itself, and unfold, climbing free of its cramped confinement in grotesque, twisting jerks and swaying movements. You hear the friction of cartilage and sinew, and the creak-cracking of broken, dislocated bones, the wet slosh of ruptured, disorganized organs inside a torso that slumps in two different directions due to the splintered spine and snapped ribs. It is like some awful meat-marionette that seeks to untangle itself from unseen strings as much as it wants to stand, and the internal damage results in an uncanny, repulsive posture as it steps free of the cooler, onto the cobblestone floor. It is just at the edge of the salt circle, staring down at you with milky dead eyes.Looking up, you see the shape of the serpent below the surface of this cadaver. The skinless snake creates a protrusion as it slithers in a circle around Gomez' torso under his dermis, ascending higher until you see it create a bulge while circling around the body's neck like an internal noose.His mouth opens wide, and something begins to emerge from his gullet...The bleached white skeleton of the snake - it's other biomass now stripped away since being interred within the Hunter, somehow - extends from his open jaws, expelling itself from him like ectoplasm from the mouth.In its dead maw it clutches the iron nail which you'd used earlier to destroy its brain.>Cont'd

0

/xT

Anon09/12/26, 02:20No.6462955

You hold out your hand, still coated a deep red by the now dried blood, and the snake obeys your will, depositing the nail in your palm.When it does so, it's bones immediately crumble and flake to ash and then to vapor, while the corpse itself suddenly convulses and contorts to stand upright and with proper posture. The hatch behind it slams closed, and the eerie condition of the room ameliorates to its default level of unease.A pale half-light suddenly shines from behind the body's vacant corneas, and a wicked grin creeps across its features, revealing teeth that are shifting and popping back into the proper alignment as so many fractured bones knit back together. It places it's hands on its knees, leaning forward but not so much that it's leering face crosses the border of the salt circle."Hey there lil' darlin'... Whatcha rung my bell for?"It retains the rasp of Gomez, but the accent is all wrong; it's a dense American Southern drawl, now with a calm ocean of menace behind it that the Hunter could never have contained."Name thyself, spirit. As thou art gifted house and key, I bind thee as a chain in my fist." You reply, standing carefully to your feet. You're taller than it, and look down slightly, hands closed and at your sides.The possessor glimmers behind the eyes again, and it's smile softens. "Ah, right, Mr. Big Business here, huh, all chains an' bindin' an' blood magic?" He thumbs his nose, tilting his head and sizing you up, then crosses his arms. "Name's Harold Hurst, but my friends an' fans call me Scary Harry! Or jus' Harry, or 'the Powder Springs Reaper' if yer one a' them newspaper journalist types. Or 'that psycho with'a toolbox fulla knives what tried ta' skin me live' in a couple'a lucky cases. Whatta bout'chu, sweetheart? I'm gettin' a sorta 'Frank' or 'Hank' kinda vibe." The creature introduces itself.You and Agostino exchange a silent look before you reply. The Dragon looks almost amused. Your features are, as ever, devoid of any detectable feelings.>Cont'd

0

/xT

Anon09/12/26, 02:21No.6462957

"Malcolm Ashwood." You reply.The corpse quirks a brow, but then shrugs. "Idunno, s'pose it suits ya fine, cain't say it'd been my pick." He scans the room, grinning. A beat passes. "So! What can ole Harry do ya for? Ya ain't said when I asked. Say! I'm likin' that museum piece ya got there!" He nods to your dagger. "Real, uh, rustic, old school cool, heh, I can dig that. Wouldn't happen'ta have you somethin' like'at in steel, maybe? I'm down bad ta' do some peelin', man, oo-wee s'been too damn long! Ain't no fun down in tha hole, yaknow, at least I ain't never made it ta none'a tha fun neighborhoods, anyways." His hands are planted confidently on his hips now.You reeled in a rather mouthy one, it seems. But you can sense also that he's rather potent for being a ghost of only four decades. Having performed the ritual to summon and empower this shade, you can intuit a number of things about him.You hold up the iron nail. "I have wrought by my blood this Anchor. It will fetter you to this world, and only when it is broken will you be cast back into the realm of the dead." You begin to explain. "You are now able to possess dead flesh, and it will be empowered by your habitation, strongest when first occupied. It will also decay over the course of ten days, eventually becoming too frail to contain you. Without a cadaver, you can only travel so far from this Anchor, a hundred yards at most, in an immaterial state. While wearing a corpse, you may wander as far as you like. But should you leave the skin or be expelled, you will be jettisoned back," At this you hold the nail higher, "to your Anchor. So long as there is blood in my body, I am able to expend a small measure of it to conjure you back to your Anchor. Do you understand?" You finish.Hoping for a moment that you might answer his questions, and then finally realizing that if you do so it will be along your own timeline, Harry responds with a few slow nods. "Sure, man, makes plenty a'sense ta' me. But, uh-"He falls silent as he watches, with genuine surprise, as you drop the nail into your mouth and swallow it whole.>Cont'd

0

/xT

Anon09/12/26, 02:22No.6462959

There is a tense pause as you stare him down in the wake of this. You break it in an even tone. "Excellent. In return for my gifts, and descending from my possession and protection of your sole Anchor, I expect your service. When I do not have need of you, I give you leave to amuse yourself as you see fit, though I warn you now, phantom, it would be most unwise for you to present frustrations for me with your conduct. Manage your own affairs or you will yearn for the bleak abyss from whence you have been summoned. Execute the tasks assigned to you with alacrity and efficiency, and you will enjoy greater rewards. Do you understand?" You say.The corpse blinks a few times, and then shrugs again before planting his hands back on his hips. "Well, when ya put it like that, cain't hardly figure how I'd say no, heh." He half-smiles somewhat uneasily, then diverts his gaze to scan the chamber again, and his eyes eventually drift down to the salt circle. "So, uhm... Right." He looks back up to your eyes again. "Gonna lemme outta this here circle, bud? Caught a real bad allergy ta' salt right roundabouts tha time they gunned me down, see.""I am aware." You reply.Another pause.You take a knee, and then reach a hand down and sweep aside some of the salt, breaking the circle. This immediately elicits a deep breath and deeper sigh from your newly minted phantom retainer. He steps across the threshold and stretches his arms out wide, and then slumps comfortably. "Mmmm, yep, s'good good GOOD ta be back, baby, hahahahaHA! Gah'DAMN do I got all kindsa lost time I gotta make up for!"You rise again, and absorb the dagger into your palm. "This is Agostino Sartori. You are to treat him with respect and deference. He is my... Trusted ally." You say, at first gesturing to the vampire behind the desk, then looking to him.The Kogaion stands as he is named.The ghost gives him a cutesy little finger wave. "Howdy there, was wonderin' bout' our looky-loo here but ain't wanted ta pry. Pleased as punch ta meetcha, Sartorino, ya gotcher self great taste in company." He says, then gestures around the room with a hand, glancing back to you. "But th'both a' ya got no eye for interior decoration or real estate, y'know that?" He snorts, and ambles over to the table of ritual components, where he immediately goes about touching things and inspecting implements.With his back turned to you both, Agostino shoots you another look, and now he seems to be very obviously amused.Your eyes bore into the back of Harry's skin-suit, and he must feel it, because he turns just enough to cast a side-eye over his shoulder at you.>Cont'd

0

/xT

Anon09/12/26, 02:23No.6462960

You summoned this creature for service, after all, and you have plenty of work ahead of you. You will see to it he is occupied ahead of your meeting with the Six of Cups.Select Two (You are welcome and encouraged to adjust or edit these options to better suit your specific goals):>We will convene at dawn, and by that time I will desire a meal. Acquire for me a live mortal so I might feed before slumbering for the day. >I am without a haven. Secure accommodations for the both of us. I prefer to rest in soil, enough to fill a wash tub. You will guard me during the day. >Before, you asked for a blade. I am only freshly awoken, and have few possessions of my own. Spend time gathering the tools and equipment that you believe will best serve you as my agent. Sartori can provide you with bank notes or coinage if needed. >You possess some of the memories gathered by the body you inhabit, yes? Then you understand that I am an enemy to the Pale Horse Cavaliers, for I am the same creature that slew this Hunter. Use these memories and your undead powers to investigate them further for the night, but maintain your distance. Move quietly. Report back when the sun rises. >There is a vampire in this city named Grace Lansing, and she is my relation. Find her, study her, and return to me with what you observe unseen. >You know my name. Know also my title: The Lambton Worm. Centuries ago, I documented my nights in a Requiem Diary. It has since been lost, sold in pieces by my progeny. Begin tracking down the pages by whatever means necessary. >You will accompany me, bodiless, to the meeting I will be attending shortly, whilst in disguise. I will provide another, superior cadaver for you to inhabit when I take my leave of the cultists, or perhaps sooner if they displease me... >You are sensitive to Low Places such as this, it is in your nature as an unresolved ghost. Spend time this evening attempting to locate another. >Write-in (Encouraged)

4

/xT

Anon09/12/26, 02:58No.6462967

Scary Harry Q&A!Q: What numina (ghost powers) does Harry have? A: You have given him the Corpse Ride ability, which allows him to possess human remains. The body will have his power added, allowing for superior strength and speed at first, but over time will decay until it is quite weak. This power also allows him to possess vampires! But doing so is resisted by the target, and he will struggle to control Kindred that aren't young and weak. Possessed vampires are not physically enhanced, but neither do they decay, and Harry cannot possess a vampire during the day. He also has the following powers: Nightfall (disables all electeonic lights in a hundred yards for at least half an hour), Telekinesis (Lacks finesse, think poltergeist not Jean Grey), Telepathy (Must be within twenty yards, can maintain a mental link for communication)Q: What are Harry's weaknesses? A: Like all ghosts, Harry can be ejected from a body, or if not in one, rendered incorporeal and powerless for several hours by someone knowledgeable in exorcism. He has a singular Bane, which is salt, it does severe damage to him even in an incorporeal state, and he cannot cross a properly prepared ward made of salt.Q: What else do I need to know about Harry? A: Harry's default state is intangible and invisible, in a sort of between realm superimposed on the mundane world, called Twilight. The MC has Harry's single Anchor in his stomach, and so effectively is his Anchor, unless he chooses to remove it. While in Twilight, Harry can use his ghost powers, but cannot be interacted with or touched by anything mundane, though he can be damaged/touched by certain blessed or enchanted objects. He cannot be seen in Twilight except by the MC or a character with the ability to see such things. Harry can potentially grow in power over time, gaining more numina and a greater ability to wield them. In the same way vampires use blood to activate their Disciplines, Harry activates his numina with 'essence', which he can gain through ritual offerings or by acting out certain behaviors from when he was alive (such as stalking, torturing, killing, or listening to his favorite bands from back in the day). He is genuinely loyal to the MC through a mix of coercion and true gratitude for this new lease on unlife; the arrangement can be highly mutually beneficial for both parties.

0

FLv

Anon09/13/26, 18:19No.6463660

When your eyes meet, you move your head just so to indicate you have more to say.The ghost turns around to face you, putting down the tallow and looking almost sheepish."You asked for a blade. I have no others. Take time this evening to procure whatever tools and equipment you believe will make you most capable of executing my will." You state rather flatly.He nods. "Sure thang, Mal - mind me askin' which way that will's leanin' right about now?"You take a step nearer. You are the larger, older, more potent monster, and you can tell Harold is able to perceive the differential. "Inside of the brain that is inside of that skull, you may see some memory of your host's fate, yes? How the cadaver you nest within met it's end? I am that self-same end. I slew him and his colleagues, and together we will slay many more yet." You pause. "Comb through what remains of the Hunter's mind, use his memories to stalk and investigate the Pale Horse Cavaliers until sunrise. We will reconvene then and you will report to me what you've learned. Keep your distance. Be discreet. They have proven able to kill vampires in numbers, and could surely make sport of you as well."There is another pause, Harry standing still and listening for any further instruction."You are dismissed." You intone.The ghost nods with a tight smile, and begins walking past you, when Agostino reaches into a drawer, and pulls out a hunk of plastic. He tosses it over to Harry, who catches it with one hand out of the air."You know how to use one of these?" Agostino asks aloud.Harry investigates it with both hands, eventually unfolding it like a clamshell, causing a blue light to shine from within. "Uh, no...""It's a newer version of the landline telephones you might remember. If you press one and then the green button, it will call me. Do so sparingly. If you press two, you'll reach this one." The Kogaion explains, pulling out a second hunk of plastic, which he tosses over to you, now.Like your servant, you catch it easily with a razor-edged reflex. You turn it over in your palm, staring at it and inspecting the details of its construction.>Cont'd

0

FLv

Anon09/13/26, 18:20No.6463662

Agostino continues, speaking in your direction. "Same for you, Malcolm, the number one will reach me, and two will reach the device I've just given to Mr. Hurst. You may speak into it and be heard across great distances. As you go about your business, both of you, keep these with you and do not let others acquire or even handle them." He says, his voice a bit firm as he goes on. "Now, with those distributed, is there anything else before all three of us go our separate ways? I have matters of my own to which I must attend as the ranking Elder of my Order in these troubled times, I sure you both understand.""Harry... Do you need bank notes or coinage for the purchasing of equipment?" You ask, turning fully to the ghost.He shakes his head. "Naw, I got my ways. Cash is like water, comes n' goes, s'all over th'damn place. Best stuff's always free anyways." He winks, and then continues on his way to the exit, throwing up a hand to wave behind him while he looks ahead. "Ciao for now, fellers, I'll smell ya later!"Then it's just the pair of you again, and you place the 'cellphone' into a pocket of your fabricated pants. "Show me on a map where I'm to meet the Acolytes, if you would, Sartori. Then I shall be on my way." You say, stepping over to his desk."Of course." He replies, pulling out another drawer and withdrawing a rolled up sheet of paper with a black rubber band tightened around it that he quickly removes. The paper is smoothed out on the desk's surface, facing you, and Agostino taps a spot on the lower West side of the peninsula with a finger. You see so many more roads and paths now, not just in the main portion of the city as you knew it, but on every side of it, across the banks of every river. "This is where we are now, you see, one of the older districts." Then he moves his hand rightwards, which is to your left, and taps a spot on a riverbank near a curve and a large bridge. "This is the landing." He glances to his timepiece again. "They'll be expecting you in perhaps half an hour or so, but are likely already there, waiting and watching. I did not give them a name or a description. I told them only that you would come with a token of mine to identify you as being sent by the Ordo Dracul. Here." He reaches into the breast pocket of his jacket and withdraws a silver coin with one of the old symbols of Dracula's organization embossed upon it: a roaring wyvern within a circle, wings outstretched and tail trailing beneath it. He sets it down, and then stands back up straight. "They will approach by boat. Hand them this when you step aboard, and it will be returned to me eventually."You pick up the silver piece, and let your eyes wander over the engraving before putting it in the same pocket as your new phone. You dip your head ever so slightly. "Many thanks. I will contact you later tonight." You reply.>Cont'd

0

FLv

Anon09/13/26, 18:21No.6463663

He nods. "Of course, of course. You'll receive a message on your device from Nathan, by the by, when arrangements have been made for your meeting with Mr. Sinclaire. I expect he will treat your attention as a priority and make time to speak as soon as you're both able." Agostino adds, then he sits back down. "I'll wrap up here and have a crew clean up, then I'll be off to the Chapterhouse. I wish you well in your engagements." The Dragon offers a small smile at this.You respond by sinking into the cold, cobblestone floor, melding with it and moving through it into the walls, then soil, and continue traveling until you can move upwards into the woody roots of an oak tree not far from the building. Your essence glides unseen, up into the trunk, and then high branches, and eventually you emerge from the bark as a dark, red sap, which grows and hardens and shifts in texture... In seconds you are perched atop the canopy in the form of a great, black scavenging bird. A vulture, omen of peril, watcher of the dead and dying.You take flight.Ascending to a greater height, enough that you can glide far overhead, your telescopic vision is cast downwards, penetrating shadows and analyzing the contours of this strange new metropolis. Automobiles loiter and scurry about like herd animals, people drink and dance around rooftop bars or balconies, and furtive exchanges are made in alleys, while so many more bustle in and out of restaurants and venues. Swathes of the peninsula retain the colonial style and character familiar to you, and yet so much more of the city is choked by modern architecture that is both impressive and ugly in equal measure.Looking above, you catalogue the constellations and calculate your position. Among the ancient wisdom still available to your recovering mind is the endlessly practical ability to navigate by way of astronomy. Soaring towards the river landing, you consider how you'd like to present yourself to the Six of Cup cultists...Select One:>A young man, frail and precocious looking, meek and unassuming >A wizened hag, aspect of the Crone, swamp witch in rags >Strong, tall, the shape of a formidable adult man, an intimidating warrior >The seductive frame of a young woman, a well-dressed maiden with a flower's charm and thorns beneath >The more human 'Malcolm' form you took to meet with Itch and Colette, a facsimile of your true self but similar to your natural form in many ways >No need to conceal yourself, you'll arrive as the rotting corpse that you are, showing your true face, dressed in coarse burlap pants, a bearskin cloak, and the miasma of bloody death >Write-in

6

F9x

Anon09/14/26, 16:10No.6464057

Thanks so, so much for the warm feedback, guys, I'll lock the vote here and work on an update. Really glad this story continues to scratch an itch.

0

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Anon09/14/26, 19:42No.6464102

The possibilities flutter across the front of your mind. You've worn so, so many faces, and so many skins across your unlife, now. An endlessly expanding Rolodex of identities invented or stolen spins inside your skull.The Hermit. The Emperor. The Worm. You shed these preemptively. They are grand titles, and their volumes contain much depth and meaning. Large as they are, however, each is too restrictive for your purposes. At least at first.The Crone, the Father, the Maiden, the Warrior... No, no, this introduction will benefit from a lighter touch even than these masks can offer. You go amongst seekers and outcasts, few in number and little in power. You wouldn't want to influence them to put up some kind of front, or to doubt themselves. To best appraise how they practice their craft, and how they maneuver amongst their fellow damned, you think it best to arrive as a seeker yourself - and better still to appear more clueless and aimless than they. A low vantage to observe a low cult.Tonight you will play the role of The Fool.Wings outstretched on a strong gust, you soar onwards until you see your destination. A strip of concrete that declines gradually into the water from a gravel-lined lot, with retaining walls near the landing itself, and running alongside it a long, lonely wooden pier. You glide past and off to a thick copse of trees a few hundred yards away, on the other side of the road, then circle downwards in the darkness, out of sight.Flapping through the branches, you come to a stop on the ground and duck low, transforming your body into a solid chrysalis. The human-shaped figured that stretches and unpacks himself out of you is based vaguely on a few different pedestrians that you observed meandering around the city center on your way here.You have the sickly pallor of a drug addict, and the red, worn rings under your large, dull, green eyes to match. You only stand at about five foot eight, with a lanky, slouching frame, very short brown-black hair that looks unwashed by at least a week, and no facial hair at all. You have a few small, silver hoop earrings in, and some large, black abstract tattoos on your torso, arms, and left leg. You wear baggy, dirty, black denim jeans, leather boots that zip up on the sides, a black tank top with a handful of holes around the stretched neckline which suggest a habit of nodding off with cigarettes in your mouth, and an open grey hoodie that falls off one shoulder. You loll your head around, letting your bones crack and pop into this new shape, and then you blink a few times and scrunch your face. If you are going to sell yourself as a Neonate, you'll need to mimic the small, meaningless gestures of the living which so often persist for the recently dead.>Cont'd

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Anon09/14/26, 19:43No.6464103

You trudge along through ferns, palms, and bushes, pressing past and snapping branches to then come up a hill to the empty road where it meets the bridge. You glance both ways, and then jog across.Your nostrils flare a couple of times. You can smell death watching nearby. Your ears catch something too, an animal, a raccoon or groundhog you think at first... You continue to listen as your pace slows. You perfectly recreate the casual gait of the city dwellers you'd watched earlier from the sky. Bad posture, graceless footfalls, and a periodic glancing left or right as though you expect to catch sight of a mugger or predator. You use the paranoid tics as a cover for your own investigation, scanning the underbrush. You catch brief sight of something scuttling under a bush and behind a vine-laden tree. Hairless and fleshy, the size of a rat terrier, with black surgical thread glinting just barely for a heartbeat. Animunculi, you think, stalking about the landing for its masters in advance of your arrival. Doubtless it goes now to report your presence. You make sure to blink your eyes, and even take the occasional breath as you move down the ridged concrete to the base of the pier.Your head snaps rightward as something splashes at the surface of the river a short ways off, just briefly. You are fast enough to see it isn't a fish. It looks like human skin, but the shape is like that of an eel, you think, when it quickly breaches and then descends back into the depths. A second animunculi.You hesitate, and widen your eyes slightly, performing the apprehension of an unfamiliar fledgling. But then let out a fake, shaking breath, and step onto the first planks of the dock, and continue on towards the end. Halfway along its length, you detect more sound. A twig snapping, and then gravel being disturbed only barely by the careful footfalls of a person. It comes from directly behind, the one direction you are deliberately not looking, to give the vampire approaching you the impression that he is successfully sneaking up on you. You can even hear his lips curl upwards with satisfaction at your seeming obliviousness.You choose to glance out left and right along the waterways, and even embellish the act with a shiver. "H-hello? Uh, anybody... Anybody out there?" You call out in a soft, tame voice dyed with artificial anxiety. It's a little nasaly, and pinched, a small voice for a small costume. You jerk your head left and right again, still choosing not to face the person that is stalking ever closer. You are at the end of the pier, and you can tell that the one behind you is halfway between you and the shore. He weighs somewhere from one hundred and thirty to one hundred and sixty pounds, and smells like a mix of formaldehyde, bile, plastic, cotton, and stainless steel.>Cont'd

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Anon09/14/26, 19:44No.6464104

Finally you whip around to face him, and even stagger back a step in apparent terror for half of a second. With the power of Obfuscate, your Beast is a quieted thing, and does not trigger his own. It rages in your chest for a moment at the sight of a new vampire, and it puts wolf-whispers into your dead heart that urge you to bound across the pier so you can assert dominance, beating the man into submission. You do nothing of the sort, of course, and instead let out a frightened hiss, like a stray cat in the back of a trap."Relax." He says. A young-looking man, about the same natural age as the one you're impersonating, mid twenties. Long jet-black hair that covers one eye, patchy dark stubble, and an easy, comfortable smile. He is a thin, unassuming thing, with shoulders that are broad for his small size, and long willowy limbs, standing only a couple of inches taller than yourself. He's wearing black skinny jeans, checkered black and white athletic shoes, a black and white checkered belt, and a black long-sleeve t-shirt that's tucked in at his waist, and which hugs tightly to his form.You narrow your eyes at him. "Wh-who are you, man? D'you, uh, a-are you with the Cups?" You stammer, calm on the inside but appearing in every way to be trying quite hard to remain composed. You gently tighten your hands into fists.The other vampire gives you a half-grin that shows smoke-stained teeth, and he holds up his hands in mock-surrender. "Seriously, relax! Heh, you the one that the Dragon sent? Said you'd have a token. Mind if I take a look?" When he says this, he lets his hands drop back to his sides, and takes a couple more steps closer to you.You take one more half-step back, which causes him to stop in turn, and then you very carefully reach into the pocket of your hoodie to withdraw the coin that Agostino gave you. Holding it up and out with two fingers, it catches some of the moonlight, and the reflection flashes in the stranger's dead eye. "This thing, yeah? The coin, urh, token?" You say, sounding unsure."Yessir. Toss it over." He replies, holding out a hand.You do as asked, and make it a kind of pitiful underhand toss that you know will fall short, and suggest a lack of coordination on your part.As you anticipated, however, the other vampire zips forward in a blur that a lesser monster would struggle to visually track, covering several yards almost instantly to snatch the coin from the air, putting him even closer to you. "Thanks." Is all he says, maintaining that wry, easy smile, clearly pleased with himself at demonstrating his supernatural speed.>Cont'd

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Anon09/14/26, 19:45No.6464105

You manage to seem frightened enough, and take some deep, nervous breaths.The other Kindred holds the coin up to analyze, and even brings it to his face to bite with a fang. "Hm, ok, looks good to me." He pockets it, and then brings a pair of fingers to his mouth for a whistle.FHWEE-YEE!This conjures couple of ripples in the water, one by the bank and another just behind you, and though you whip your head around to try and see, whatever it was has receded back into the muddy depths by the time you do so - because you pace yourself and refrain from exercising your true speed, of course."You can call me Mercury for now. What's your name, guy?" Asks the vampire, and when you snap your head back from the water to look at him again, you see he is even closer still, now just five feet from where you're standing.You stiffen up to look tough, or so it seems, and set your jaw. "Seth. Just Seth is fine." You reply with a stiff upper lip.Mercury nods procedurally, hands tucked into his pockets. "Sure thing." He pauses to really look you up and down. "From around here? Your Sire a local? Sartori didn't say much. Not that he's ever said much to us. Just that they had to turn you away, but you might fit in better with our crew.""No. Not from here. Don't know my Sire. I'm new in town, new to all this..." You trail off, and cast a couple of wary glances out at the marsh grass and the river when you say this, then look back to Mercury. "What about you? Are you from here, that is?"He nods a few times. "Yep, or I mean, I grew up here and died here, at least. Actually I was born in Florida."You resist the urge to ask what a Florida is.>Cont'd

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Anon09/14/26, 19:46No.6464106

"Our ride's on the way, should be here soon. I take it you at least know that our outfit revolves around a project, that we're into the occult. You must be too if you found the Ordo, and if their boss thinks you'd be a decent prospect for us." Mercury continues, quirking his brow up and tilting his head a little. "So... What is it you're into, Seth? What're you after?"You frown, and cast your gaze downward for a moment before letting it rise back up to meet Mercury's eye. "Well, I don't know a ton, y'know, but uh, well... I need to learn blood magic-"Select One:>So I can find my Sire. So I can get my revenge for what was done to me. >So I can maybe... Fix this. Change myself back. Be human again. >So I can understand what any of this is about, the truth of it. I had no idea any of this shit was real, and now I need to know what it all means, how it works... >For my parents... They were killed when I got turned... I need blood magic so I can... So maybe I can talk to them again. >To finish what I started when I was alive. I'd already been learning stuff, rituals, real occult stuff... This blood magic thing seems like the real deal, the next step. I was gonna change the world. Maybe I still can. >Because it's the only clue I have about what happened to me. My Sire, she was a monster. An old woman in a hidden shack deep in the woods, a witch or a hag, whatever you wanna call it. She used this word - Cruac? I need to know more about it. >Write-in

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Anon09/15/26, 01:26No.6464274

Calling this vote because I want to write, may use elements from the single votes too because there wasn't a strong majority.

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Anon09/15/26, 05:19No.6464356

"I need to learn blood magic... Well, I'm gonna learn blood magic, ok. I've already decided that." You say matter of factly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.Mercury watches you carefully. "Oh yeah, and why's that, exactly?" He asks with a curiosity bordering between friendly and smug.You cock your head, giving him a deliberately confused look, and sort of shrug, taking a half step forward and back. "Because I want to. Why else?" You shoot back, following the words with an upnod you saw two youths perform whilst exchanging pieces of plastic at a street corner earlier. "I still don't know what the fuck any of this vampire shit is, man, alright? But I know magic, I'd been on that shit for years. Blood magic was gonna be the next level, I started looking... I died. This is what I found. The people I asked, that old woman, I-I don't know, man. Who they are, why they did it." You wave dismissively with a hand, letting some disgust play across your features before composing yourself to a confident kind of swagger. "But they did, I died, I'm here now. So I'm still looking. Didn't find answers with the 'Ordo Ruh-Tard', and maybe I won't find em' with you. I'm still gonna find em', eventually, because that's what I wanna do, and I'm closer now than I was when I started." You cross your arms defiantly.Always looking up, but never just ahead. Full of wonder, until you wonder how it all went so wrong. You are a channel for every aspect of The Fool..."You're a true seeker." Mercury nods and grins, then snickers a bit. "And uh, Ruh-Tard is a good one, but you're leaving a better one on the floor - we call it the 'Retardo Dracul', just rolls better, hahaha!" He laughs at his own joke and shakes his head. You still don't understand the nature of this joke, let alone it's crassness, and yet you're quite satisfied that repeating the remark has abetted your socializing.You hear a boat heading in your direction from around the bend, on the other side of the bridge. Something slow and broad.>Cont'd

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Anon09/15/26, 05:20No.6464357

"What about you?" You suddenly ask."Hm?""What is it you're after?"Mercury is surprised at the redirection, but lets his body unclench as he considers the question himself. "Oh, well we all study a tradition of ancient blood sorcery, some of us focus on different aspects or even other forms of thaumaturgy and ritual mysticism. Our core proj-"You shake your head. "Nah, man, you - Mercury - what're you after in all this. What do you want?" You probe.He's even more taken aback by this line of inquiry, and literally freezes up for a moment. Shaking out of it, brow furrowing, he starts to speak. "Oh, well..." Then trails off. A beat passes. "I want a seat at the table. I guess... Idunno, I was like you. A seeker. But what I come to find is that the world of shadows and secrets is built a lot like the one of cubicles and credit scores, at the end of the day. Fuckers at the top, suckers at the bottom." He sighs, and has a sad smile on as he remembers the reckoning. "But you're right. Cruac is the next level. We're learning stuff that's been lost, and we're discovering shit. This time when I pull back the curtain, I'm not gonna find myself the punchline, dig?" He upnods to the vessel that's now come fully into view, and you let your gaze follow.It stinks the same way he does. It's an outdated looking houseboat with orange light glowing from its many windows. The white siding is green with some algae or mold, hard to tell, and there are some barnacles nestled along its edges.Mercury strides right up to you and throws an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in. He uses his other arm to wave at the ship."We're gonna go on a little ride, have a little chat, and if you pass the interview process we'll initiate you tonight before the sun's up." Mercury says with a squeeze. "Say, dunno how fresh to town you are, but if you need a place to crash we've all been sharing a haven. Still a few spare rooms open, would just need to shuffle some junk. You fed tonight?" He sniffs at the air, and his brow furrows. "You definitely got a weird dead body funk on you, but it doesn't smell like you've caught a sip yet. We'll handle that too, don't sweat.">Cont'd

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Anon09/15/26, 05:21No.6464358

You barely even remember how to sweat, so you certainly won't bother on his behalf. You silently approve of Mercury's sense of hospitality. The old principles of guest right seem to at least be alive with the Six of Cups.The boat slows up, nearly to a stop, with the two of you even with the small rear deck, where a metal swivel chair is bolted down, and just near that a screen door opens as another Kindred steps out into the night.He's six foot one, in black pleated slacks and a dark grey button up shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. He's got a square jaw, somewhat flat nose, and a crooked smile, with hooded eyes that are almond shaped and dark. Though in appearance he is fifteen or twenty years Mercury's senior, you can't yet tell how disparate their true age is. The man has a full head of dark brown hair, and a well groomed, angular beard and mustache. He waves to you both and steps over towards the edge. "This the guy?" He asks in a voice that's soft and deep as a tiger's purring.Mercury nods a couple of times, slapping you on the back.The boat-rider extends a hand out for you to shake from the edge of the boat. "Great, good to meet you. Hope Mickey hasn't given you too much shit while you were waiting for me to pull up." He says."Damn it, dude, I told you! Alchemy codenames! There are Hunters fuckin' everywhere, what the hell! We just met this guy!" Mercury - or Mickey, rather - complains, letting go of you and smacking his forehead. "You're Sulphur, I'm Mercury! Fuckin' hell, dude, it's called OPSEC! Jeez!" He groans and grumbles, and then climbs up onto the ship.The other Kindred rolls his eyes as you grasp his hand, and then unexpectedly he pulls you up as he rises, more than strong enough to nearly pluck you off the dock at your low weight. Once you're standing aside him and Mickey, and plants a hand on one hip and scratches at his beard with the other. "Sure, sure, but, well look, I have to be honest - I just don't think we merit an infiltration. Not to be a bummer, but I just, I don't think we warrant that kind of time or energy from anybody around here, not yet anyways." He says to his companion, then he looks to you. "I already spilled the beans, so uhm, you can call me Leland or Lee. Don't mind Mick, he's a little melodramatic.">Cont'd

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Anon09/15/26, 05:22No.6464359

"It's cool, I'm Seth. Good meeting you. I, uh, like your boat-shack thing you got." You respond with a little wave, and look past him to the interior of the vessel.Leland smiles a little as Mickey trudges past you both and goes inside, head hung in defeat. Lee crosses his arms, looking you up and down. "Oh, thanks pal! I actually got it on Facebook Marketplace, normie wanted to sell it for ten kay but I made him hand over the keys for free, left him thinking he'd lost the cash in a mugging outside the bar. Actually, I never even paid him! Best part? He didn't even realize that I was the bartender he stiffed on a four hundred dollar tab back in ninety three. He's lucky all I did was steal his boat, right?" He shakes his head and sighs. "Should've taken him too and used him for spare parts... Well, anyways, c'mon in and find a comfy spot, we'll talk shop."You nod, and follow him into the cabin as well. Mickey is already laying on his back across a couch built into the wall. The table adjacent to it sports a few interesting stains, but is clean. Wet specimens of amphibians, insects, and hairless mammels hang in a few places from nets that are wrapped around the glass jars or orbs they're stored inside. Sage, drying mushrooms, and animal bones are likewise dangling from the ceiling or contained in jars of their own in the pantry, all secured tight together where needed with elastic tethers. Electric string lights with tiny bulbs run along the edges of the ceiling to provide light, and other than the small dining area you notice another bench, a swivel chair, a stove and oven, and some kind of large electric pantry that radiates a slight coldness from its door all situated in the room here. A door on the far end of the room leads to the front deck, and you can see adjacent a stairway leading up to the area above this area, and next to the door inside the cabin is a set of steps down to the lower hold.Leland walks all the way through, to the other door, and opens it. He stands in the threshold and slaps the wall three times, which causes the engine to roar back alive. You can't see whoever it is up there, piloting, but you can hear a heartbeat. You can smell them... Her? Cigarette smoke, some kind of critus scented soap, artificial leather. You refocus your attention on the room you're in as Leland rejoins you both and sits on the couch on the side of the table next to Mickey, who in turn sits back up, leaning on the wood surface with his elbows and brushing some hair to the side so he can observe you with both eyes in the dim illumination of the cabin.>Cont'd

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Anon09/15/26, 05:23No.6464361

Leland jerks his head to the right towards another seat. "Go ahead and get comfy." He says.You do as you're invited and settle in, hands on your knees to prop you up. You just watch them both, allowing the ball to remain in their court.Mickey scratches at his neck, then leans back against the back of the couch. "Ok then. Welcome aboard. So, we aren't as discriminating as Sartori's group, but we can't just bring in any random lick. You mind me asking what you have to offer?""Well, I'm smart, and-" You start, but Leland leans forward and puts a hand up, interjecting."Sorry, what Clan are you, again? And how long have you been dead?" He cuts in.You lean slightly to the side, and adjust, lying. "Sorry, it's been just a few months, it's all kind of a blur. Maybe it's been a little longer, or shorter. I'm Gangrel."Leland nods, and leans back again.You sigh, and start back in. "I'm clever, is all, and I think I've got a real mind for this magic stuff, it just comes natural to me, Idunno how else to put it. I'm a decent fighter, too. Tougher than I look, though I guess that ain't saying much." You half-smile, and shift in your seat. "I got good instincts, I guess. I heard there were Hunters. Maybe I could help protect your Haven, or your research?""We'll see." Mickey responds, crossing his legs where he sits. A beat passes. "What else do you know about the Praxis, or Kindred society?""Uh, not a lot. There are other groups called Covenants, like the Ordo or the Lan-key it sank-toom? I'm still figuring that out. And there's a guy called Prince, and he sort of makes the rules for everybody, right?" You search for confirmation with your eyes.Leland looks a little sad for you, but Mickey wears a sort of mildly amused, quiet smile. "Eh, that about does it, honestly, we can fill in the gaps later." He says. "Now, what's your faith like? You said you've been into the occult for a while now, before. Did that bring you to any particular entities? We worship monster gods, old gods. Echidna is essentially our patron goddess, but we acknowledge others, too. Monstrous mothers, Crones, the creative, divine, ugly energy of the darkness that spawns all the horrors of the world." He explains.>Cont'd

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Anon09/15/26, 05:25No.6464362

You absorb this as if it's the first time you're hearing of it. Thankfully, their belief system is a decent foundation for the enlightenment that you offer as a patron yourself. "My faith? Oh, sure, I hope it doesn't, or I mean, probably to you it won't sound crazy or anything. I worship Kronos, or Saturn, depending on which way you lean. Ever since I... Changed, when I sleep during the day I get these nightmares. I see an old man on a mountain, he's huge, and so strong. His eyes are vicious, like a hungry reptile, they're so glassy and empty and dreadful. He's eating children and tearing them apart with his hands. Rending them apart with his teeth. They scream, and they cry, and they bleed. He chews on the bones... Every day I see these vignettes." You answer. The boat rocks one way and the other for a quiet moment, as the other two Kindred become totally silent and still for the first time since your meeting."...I see. That's, uhm... That's very interesting." Mickey finally says. "Now, you at least have a cursory understanding of blood sorcery. Could you tell me in your own words what you think is fundamental to Cruac? What is our sorcery, the kind you want to learn, truly about? Why did the Great Mother give us this gift?"Select One:>It's about Truth. Only Cruac can reveal the secrets of the fabric of reality. Only Cruac can draw back the veil of illusions, and chief among them are the illusions of humanity, submission, and temperance. We're monsters, and 'civilization' is a joke. With the gifts of the Crone, we have the opportunity to truly comprehend the hidden Truth of the universe, and what could matter more than that ultimate knowledge, communicated in the thousand serpent tongues of the wicked dead? >It's about Creation. We're dead. We're static beings, immutable. Cruac allows us to tap into something primordial, something wild inside the essence of what we are, and use that to manifest real change. Cruac is gruesome and destructive, but it allows us to defy our nature and truly Create. >It's about Power. Simple as that. Cruac makes us more powerful than the others, because it lets us alter reality how we see fit, change things at their core, enhance ourselves, and we don't have to wrestle against our wills to do it. Cruac gets us closer in touch with our wills, even, with our hunger. If we learn to truly harness the Power of Cruac, no one will be able to stand against us. >It's about Tribulation. It's a kind of magic that inherently requires sacrifice. Blood. Materials. Sometimes living things. Often our own human impulses. They are sacrificed on the altar of the Crone to give us the power of the monsters of legend. We are meant to BE the monsters of legend. We personify Tribulation, we represent and deliver conflict, and we guard ancient wisdom and treasures from the mortals as did our forebears. Our predation destroys the weak and cultivates the strong. >Write-in

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ELy

Anon09/15/26, 21:44No.6464584

You pantomime a tinge of surprise, widening your eyes, drawing the corners of your mouth tight - you wriggle on the hook, a little. But you only feign the sensation of being put on the spot. You expected these kinds of questions. You can't disappoint or appear too ignorant, or they'll dismiss your candidacy earlier than you'd prefer. These are also opportunities to begin testing the Kindred."Easy. Cruac is about Tribulation." You cross your legs, and straighten your posture slightly. "We sacrifice our blood, offerings, lives - even our human tendencies are fed to the Crone on the altar of Cruac. These mortal things are sacrificed to grant us the power of the immortals. There is an ultimate order to the unseen world, and our place in it is achieved through Cruac, through sacrifice, through vicious tribulation. We are monsters, and always monsters have served their gods as instruments of wrath, as guardians of hidden wisdom, and as tests for the living herd. We serve them by becoming vessels of tribulation. We channel a fire of conflict that hardens the steel of the worthy, and scorches to brittle ash those that are frail of heart." You maintain your tone, and even manage to express with your face as you impart your wicked insight into the nature of blood magic. But beneath the veneer, you feel the sly pleasure of a cat swatting around a blind mouse. You truly are the sphinx. Are either of them perceptive enough to wonder how an uninitiated fledgling could come by such sagacity? A first test.Your two interviewers are stunned into silent, rapt attention, but Leland seems to notice as much just after you stop speaking. He jolts a little out of it, putting on a reserved smile. "Good answer, you seem to have a good intuition." He says.Mickey looks even more reserved still. He's got something of a poker face going as he watches you through Lee's words. You glance, and it's enough to notice how his pupils are moving, and contracting. The way he smelled that you hadn't fed earlier had suggested to you he possesses heightened senses, and this confirms it. Mick is analyzing you with his eyes, zooming in closely on the fibers of your clothes, the surface of your skin. You don't stare back, not wanting to give away your own abilities, but you're at least content to know that one of the two found your answer a touch too compelling. Perhaps it's just paranoia, on his part, but you register Mickey's suspicion as a satisfactory instinct. But he doesn't let dead air hang, either, and so as soon as Leland finishes his compliment, he nods. "Yeah, you sure meant it when you said you were into the occult before your Embrace, huh?" He says, brushing his long hair behind his shoulders.>Cont'd

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Anon09/15/26, 21:45No.6464586

You scratch behind your ear. "Yep, heh, sorry for rambling." You say, sure to blink a couple of times. "So... What el-" You stop and look around when the boat abruptly slows to drifting. Out the window you see you're in a particularly broad, empty part of the river, now, far from shore on either side and cloaked by night. You hear some footsteps above, but look instead to the other Kindred. "Where're we at?""Just a ways out of easy sight." Leland answers, then leans forward just a touch. "You seem promising to me, but we agreed to let Mick be in charge of recruitment, so this is really his show." The man adds with a small shrug.You look to Mickey expectantly.He inhales and releases a big breath, tapping his fingernails on the table next to him. "What Disciplines do you know, or do you even know what I'm talking about when I say that?" The scruffy vampire asks.You nod. "Sure, like, you mean the stuff my blood does, right?""Right. What do you already know how to do with it?""Well, I can really take a hit. That feels like one. I'm fast, too, like really fast. Uhm, Protein? I think is what the guy with the scars in his face called it when I talked to the Ordo. I can turn into dirt, or y'know, I can like, be part of the dirt. Had to do that a lot on my way here." You start, looking up and to the side like it's a matter of recollection instead of invention.Mickey has a faint smile as he cuts in. "Protean, you mean, yes that's common for members of your Clan." There's a pause. "Anything else?"You shake your head. "Mm, no, don't think so, at least uh, not that I know of, anyways." You say. Another small test.Leland is the one to catch you, though, quirking his head slightly. He glances to Mickey, but then back to you, choosing to speak up. "You sure?"You put up a brow to present some confusion, frowning."Obfuscate. The power to conceal." Leland goes on, crossing his arms on his chest. "You know that hungry voice inside you, the predatory instinct? That's your Beast, it tends to act up when you meet another vampire for the first time... But Obfuscate lets you hide it so it doesn't trigger anyone else's to have that territorial response. You didn't get a rise out of mine." He explains.Mickey nods. "Or mine. And hiding your Beast isn't something you learn to do until you learn to hide things, like letters, or maybe weapons.""Oh, huh, sorry, I didn't realize that was one of the Disciplines. I figured everybody could do that stuff." You play it off, feigning ignorance and maintaining a mostly easy demeanor. You can smell the weakness on them and in their thin blood, but you are relieved again that they aren't idiots.>Cont'd

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ELy

Anon09/15/26, 21:46No.6464587

You hear more footsteps above, moving to the front and down steps. A woman enters by the door on the far side of the room, cigarette in her mouth, and she leans against the wall near where the other two sit. You get a small wave from her hand before she uses it to remove the cigarette and speak. "You look pretty fresh. The Draculosers usually eat up guys like you. Have a whole caste for it, called 'slaves'. What's your damage?" She asks cooly. Bold for a human - no, a Ghoul, you can tell by the scent coming off her words, almost masked by the tobacco. She's pale, covered with tattoos, and has a scar running down across one sick, dead eye. Her dyed hair is a little messy, and dirty. She's wearing grey camo fatigues tucked into leather combat boots, and a black tank top with thin straps. There's a very large, double-edged knife sheathed across her waist at the small of her back, horizontally, and she has a leg drop holster with some manner of pistol in it sitting snug against her right thigh."You don't need to answer that." Mickey assures you, giving her a quick, pointed look. "This is Paige, she serves the cult in a few capacities." He introduces, looking back to you.She rolls her good eye. "A few dozen." Then takes a long drag, blowing streams of smoke out her nostrils. "I'm the fucking slave around here, these days. Still, man, what's the deal? Did they tell you nobody's ever petitioned to join before?"Mickey buries his face in his hands while Leland just stares up at the ceiling defeatedly, as if expecting one of his goddesses to look down and have the mercy to intervene.You shake your head, glancing between them. "Oh, uh, no. Nobody... Mentioned that. And uh, it's, it's ok. What she asked, that is." You clarify, gazing from Mickey back to Paige, meeting her steely, half-lidded look of middling interest. "I'm just really new to all this, and I think my background with the occult was maybe not a good fit, or something, I guess I still don't fully know what they're about."She upnods in response, satisfied."Uhm..." You trail off again, both feet planted while you sit, hands holding your knobby knees through the baggy, wrinkled pants you generated for this disguise. "Is there, uh, any other, or... What else d'you wanna know? I'm an open book." You sit up a little.After a moment, Mickey lifts his head up, and sighs. Then he stands, looking down at you with a certain tiredness clinging to the edges of him now. "Last thing is a test. Like you said: Tribulation. Cost of doing business. You ready to show us what you can do?"You nod, and rise up to your feet."Good, let's hit the front deck." When he says this, Paige dutifully steps back out, and holds the door for Mickey as he follows. Leland rises, but gestures for you to walk ahead of him.>Cont'd

0

ELy

Anon09/15/26, 21:48No.6464589

There's a strong breeze out here that's cool against your skin. It whips through everyone's hair, and causes loose clothing to flutter and flap like beating bat wings. Leland stands in front of the door to the cabin, while Mickey walks to the nose, turning about to face you directly, hands behind his back. Paige heads off to the left and leans back against the railing, flicking her cigarette butt over the edge and lighting another."Alright Seth. Moment of truth." Mickey begins in a somewhat more grave voice. He's sobered up for this part, and is watching you very closely. "I want you to prove some competence here. We'll let you choose how. There are three tests of skill, and you get to choose which one you attempt. If you succeed, you'll be initiated tonight. If you fail... We're going to take all the blood you've got, except what you need to wake up tomorrow, and then we're gonna dump you overboard." There's a brief silence after this, and he clears his throat. "That's the ritual, anyways, we can still be cordial when we see each other around town. It's not personal, or anything, so no hard feelings if it goes that way."Paige just shakes her head slowly and silently from off to the side.Mickey glowers down at you very sternly. "First is the test of combat. You'll have to fight Paige. Don't be cocky. She's older than either of us, and tougher than plenty of full-blooded vampires. You just need to pin her, or throw her overboard. Don't do any permanent damage to her or the boat." He begins. "Second is the test of seeking." At this, he holds out the token you gave him. "I'll have this hidden, and you'll need to find it before dawn, and bring it back to the pier where we met. The last test is sorcery. You don't know any Cruac yet, but you know some magic. We'll put one of your rituals against one of ours, right here on the deck of the boat. We can see if you're able to compete or even keep up. Choose."Select One:>Test of Combat. >Test of Seeking. >Test of Sorcery. >Write-in (issue your own challenge)

5

/xT

Anon09/16/26, 02:10No.6464677

A bit of sport won't hurt. But how sporting are you feeling?"S-sure. Lemme think." You utter, sounding intimidated again.Mickey can't fully conceal that he's reassured by this, it dances at the edge of his eyes. After Leland gave away their names and the way Paige carried herself, you suspect he might have felt momentarily that you might turn them down. That kind of embarrassment is hard to recover from.You straighten out your stance and lock eyes with Mick. "Test of Sorcery."He bows his head in acknowledgement. "Alright. Then it's gonna be you and me." He gives Leland an upnod, looking past you. "Lee, get the stuff." He says, then settles his eyes back on you, and he waits for his colleague to descend below the deck to speak again. "Ok, check this out:" He leans in conspiratorially. "The goal is to get Leland over the edge and into the water using just sorcery. No Disciplines like Dominate or whatever, it has to be magic ok? Whoever gets him the farthest out from the ship first." He leans back.Paige snorts, almost laughing as she continues to puff away on a cigarette.Mickey winks as Leland comes back up with a huge plastic footlocker. It's set down between you both, to the side, and opened. It's packed with ritual components: herbs, minerals, a few animals, blades, bones, and even some modern-looking alchemical tools you half-recognize."Alright. Like I said. Use your craft to manifest change on the deck. I'll be doing the same..." Your host intones, then reaches a hand into the footlocker.Select One:>Use hedge magic, the kind of tricks used by low magicians of mortal stock. It won't be more impressive than whatever Cruac is used by Mickey, but you know a hex that might do the trick. It'll line up with your story, mauntain your cover, and probably be enough to get you initiated. >Summon Harry back to you using his anchor, and coordinate with him telepathically to cheat. You can fake a summoning using some obscure runes, and have Harry possess Lee, or push him out to see with Telekinesis if he struggles to take direct control. >Use Veneficia, an ancient Roman precursor to Cruac that functions similarly, but with slightly different mechanisms. This will allow you to outperform Mickey, and will serve as another test, this time to see if they are knowledgeable enough to notice the threads between Veneficia and Cruac, or better yet, identify Veneficia for what it is. >Use Cruac, which will definitely betray your disguise, but will also allow you to outperform Mickey so spectacularly that they will be forced to defer to you even if it's clear you're no mere fledgling. >Use your signature ABILITY, the product of your transformation into The Worm. Show them what it is to be an unliving myth, a true child of Echidna. This demonstration of blood magic will identify you for what you are, and also assert your dominance fully upon the ship.

5

tX4

Anon09/16/26, 19:42No.6464933

If you actually did have some remaining human impulse to express emotions with your face, you might actually need to stifle a smirk. But, of course, you don't. You just settle into a solemn, grave look as you begin rifling through the chest.You're going to continue to test their perceptiveness, but this challenge presents an opportunity to test the breadth of their knowledge, as well. Mickey has the beginnings of a suspicion about you, it seems, though Leland for now remains ignorant. You wonder if either of them are acquainted with the Veneficia, once practiced by the Cult of Augurs in ancient Rome. Some of its rituals were subsumed into the broader 'Cruac' milieu over time, while many more have been lost to history. Some of its early Rites were, likewise, refined from older strains of blood sorcery, which also are still practiced under the umbrella of Cruac. But Veneficia is, nonetheless, distinct from it's surviving counterpart - where Cruac is primal and feral in nature, Veneficia could be described as being more academic, and measured. It's exacting and rigid structure is something you often bring to other forms of blood magic in some small way or another, as it was one of your earliest exposures to the power of the gods which dwells within the blood."Motherfucker, ya'll don't got an abacus in here?" You grumble, perfectly imitating the slang and diction of the modern youths you eavesdropped upon en route to the pier... But you don't realize the almost comical anachronism at the core of your complaint. When you look over your shoulder to Leland, you see a look of sincere confusion on his face."Uh... No?" He says, leaning back against the railing on the opposite side of the vessel from Paige.You notice, in fact, that your mentioning of an abacus prompts the Ghoul to toss her cigarette abruptly, without having finished but half of it, and she shifts slightly so her hand dangles just beside her holster. She has a better poker face than Mickey, but you can feel her mild interest in you has now grown into a laser focus. It dawns on you that something about what you said may have been amiss.Mickey, too, seems suspicious, but the hesitation of it passes quickly, giving way to confusion as he seems to rationalize what he heard. "Dude, what? This isn't your junior high Mathathon, man, what kinda shit are you into?" He shakes his head, pulling out an obsidian athame with a wooden handle that's inlaid with gold and turquoise.>Cont'd

0

TLD

Anon09/16/26, 19:44No.6464934

Before you can answer, Leland speaks back up. "Would a calculator work?" He tries to be helpful.You face him fully, and smile with understanding. Even though you don't know what the fuck a calculator is supposed to mean. You play it safe. "How's about just some paper and something I can write with?"He nods, seeming much less confused. "Sure man, just a sec." He heads back into the cabin.You occupy yourself now by looking closer at the available materials. You take out four large, white wax candles, each of them are ten inches tall and about a quarter as wide. Then you remove a plastic box of steel nails, a river stone that's been worn smooth and small, the size of a duck's egg, roughly, perhaps a touch wider. Next, a simple meat cleaver with a plastic handle. There is a momentary urge, as you hold it in one hand, to bring it down on your other wrist, or better, your elbow. A momentary urge to loose the writhing, raging heart of The Worm, and demonstrate the upper limits of vampiric magic for these lessers.It passes.Next you pull out a device. You're clever enough to surmise that it is a scale, though it's terribly unlike the sort you are accustomed to. No chains or counterbalanced plates, instead this version has a horizontal bar notched with measurements and a blocky iron counterweight that slides along it, with a single, flat steel plate on one side. It will do.Leland emerges and hands you a yellow lined notepad with a plastic ink pen clipped along the top. "Here ya go." He offers, sounding a little unsure, even, as you take it from him and tuck it below your armpit.You move to the side and set out some of your tools, squatting down low to the floor of the deck. Taking a candle in one hand, you analyze it for a second, looking it up and down. Then you use the cleaver you grabbed to cut it down the middle, along the length of the wick. You pull out the black twine and cast it aside, and begin chopping the wax half-cylinders into smaller chunks, as if preparing a vegetable for stewing.Roll 2d100, BO3, DT 50 and 65 respectively

3

/xT

Anon09/17/26, 03:19No.6465124

Big one incoming

0

/xT

Anon09/17/26, 03:24No.6465127

You begin with the numbers. They need to be correct. This Rite is of an older kind, and it requires careful proportionality, and precision in all ways. You weight the stone. You weigh the wax. You record numbers. You think, 'Why not?', and grab two more candles, discarding their wicks and reducing them to small pieces. When doing mathematical calculation or measurement, your notation is from right to left, as you were taught in Cairo somewhere between the ninth and twelfth centuries. That span of time is especially fuzzy overall, now, and you don't remember how to speak or write in the Arabic language, but the math has managed to stick.You glance occasionally to Mickey, listening as he chants in a low tone, and begins crushing herbs into a wooden bowl. You can taste the hyacinth, lotus seed, and dried fish scales by simply opening your mouth, and the scent is ripe in the air for you. He isn't paying any attention to you, needing all of his focus for his own ritual.Leland is looking between you both, though more often in your direction, and he mostly seems puzzled by the way you're going about it.Their Ghoul companion, on the other hand, is solely focused on you as you work. Paige has quietly repositioned herself a few feet nearer to the cabin, so she can get a look at your notepad from where she stands with her one good eye. She doesn't know that you've noticed, or that you are pleasantly surprised by her wariness.You can practically feel her eyes narrow as you start to eat the chunks of wax.You chew a little, where necessary, but some you're able to simply swallow. You don't have to worry about blocking an airway, or tearing your esophagus. You use both hands, and go about consuming the carefully measured pile as if it were the most natural thing in the world. You look up, slowly, as you do so, to lock eyes briefly with Leland. His head is tilted sideways and he is staring at you with complete astonishment, jaw hanging slightly slack.You gulp down the last piece, and teasingly, you give him the exact same conspiratorial wink that Mickey had given you earlier; it is an animal compulsion almost, to mimic prey. Even though Leland didn't catch Mick doing it earlier, your wink is so laden with that miasma of non-human instinct that it immediately elicits an uncomfortable shiver from him.>Cont'd

0

/xT

Anon09/17/26, 03:28No.6465130

You look back to Mickey now, and are able to clock what he is attempting to do. The young Kindred is going to try and evoke the river itself, and animate a powerful tendril of water which he'll surely use to reach up and grab Leland, dragging or flinging him overboard. Credit where it's a due, the approach is at least novel, and more than a little showy. Were you truly the near-clueless Neonate you're posing as, it would be an extraordinary and humbling display. They would toss you over the edge, talk amongst themselves, and then probably offer you initiation anyways on the condition that you become their new whipping boy. You would be so impressed by the demonstration, and intimidated, that you would thank them profusely for the opportunity to be the shop apprentice. For a few years you would do the jobs too grimey for Paige, and probably learn a few common Rites, and you'd all be very satisfied with the arrangement.Gladly, you are no such thing. You are going to win this contest soundly.In fact, you're so sure of it that you start to consider casting a secondary ritual, knitting it into the first to go unnoticed. For your creations, you think perhaps the common Rite of Cheval, in order to surreptitiously explore the rest of the ship to further assess the cultists. You approach the footlocker again. Brushing aside a plastic bag of feathers, you see some of what you need... But not all. You could potentially make up the difference, but... You ultimately abandon the idea. You don't feel confident you could make the adjustments and pull it off without hindering yourself.You step away, and take the stone in one hand, with one of the steel nails in the other. You begin carving Latin incantations into the rock's surface, and ancient Grecian runes. The work is delicate, but you make no mistakes, and every inscription is perfectly even. By the time you finish this and stand up, it's only been about fifteen minutes altogether.Mickey's eyes are fluttering as he sits and mumbles, invoking water spirits and sea monsters spawned from dark goddesses in a poorly accented, but serviceable, Cruac cant.>Cont'd

0

/xT

Anon09/17/26, 03:29No.6465131

You hold the stone up in front of you and speak. Your voice is loud, and deliberate with every syllable, as you make your wicked prayer. You invoke the elder Olympians, and the monstrous lividity of vampiric blood. You are using a Northern Latin dialect that probably sounds to the others onboard as if it was learned improperly by someone using translation dictionaries, or a YouTube series curated by some Indian language coach. In truth, it is how you learned the language of the Romans whilst stalking the dark corners of their fortifications along the edges of the first domain you claimed. It was certainly legible enough for the Camarilla centurions you confronted during the sack of their Great City with the other so-called barbarians.Alas, not the time for reminiscing upon such bygone chicanery. Your focus is reserved at the moment for another rebellion, one every bit as bloody but all the more mythic. You intone the final word to commence the Conjuring of Saturn-Spawn. It's been four hundred waking years since last you cast this spell, at least, but seeing that you mentioned dreaming of the dread-father, it seemed appropriate you honor him in this test by taking on his mantle.You eat the rock.This would kill a mortal, but for you it is a matter of forcing the cold stone down your esophageal pathway and into your stomach, where it meets all of the wax you consumed not long ago. Rather than the messy, external blood-letting of much modern Cruac, you activate your Vitae here, internally. Rupturing blisters form on your dead stomach lining, causing you to wince at the stinging, supernatural pain surging across your innards. You will your dead blood to flow forth, where it dissolves the stone like acid, and it mixes with the wax."Hrrghk...hhhknn..."You double over, holding your abdomen with both arms. Leland and Paige are staring at you already, but now Mickey slowly tapers off his mantra, and looks up at you as you buckle, shake, and groan.You have become the tyrant patriarch. You have become the dread father of time and death and fecundity and treachery. You have invoked the trickery of his - your - unruly children."HLUUUUWHGK-HU-HRRRRRLLLLGHKK!"Bracing yourself with hands on your knees, you vomit.You fucking hurl.The liquid that spills out looks like blood at a glance, but it's too viscous - too firm, actually. It's just slightly too slow, and too cohesive. It comes pouring out, spreading along the deck, and the onlookers realize that it's red wax.And even as you stand up straight again, wiping your mouth with a bunched up sleeve of your hoodie, the wax continues to move.>Cont'd

0

/xT

Anon09/17/26, 03:30No.6465132

It slithers and separates into five equal parts, and in seconds then each portion twists upwards, self-molding. Between you and Mickey now stand five featureless, humanoid wax figures, each measuring just a foot tall, with hands planted at their hips to show a confidence that their blank, round faces cannot express."Bow." You command.Each of the five waxen puppets does so, placing one little arm behind each of their backs, and holding the other to the side, one after the other like dominoes. Then they stand back up straight."Fly." You say next, waving a palm upwards lazily.Again, they comply, this time by springing upwards in rocket fashion, their fluid bodies splitting into leathery, bat-like wings that flap and flit. In a circle they spiral skywards, and then soar in a line, serpentining above and swooping between yourself and the dumbstruck cultists."Take him for a swim." You say quietly, making a bored gesture with you hands towards Leland, like he is an afterthought.Before he can even realize what you've said, your constructs are arcing downward at a falcon's pace, colliding with his torso, biceps, and neck, bowling him over the railing and into the water with a splash.Now you smirk.There's more splashing and kicking as the wax golems wrap themselves around his wrists and neck, and form finned tails which kick furiously, dragging him out along the surface of the water like tiny jetskis as he sputters and hisses. Mickey and Paige both rush to the railing where he was and watch, transfixed by his abduction.The little candle-golems stop at twenty yards, detach, and then torpedo back towards the boat in the shape of squids. As starfish, they climb up the side of the vessel, and then as crabs they crawl sideways back to your feet, where finally they stand again like little molded men. They seem to have inherited your penchant for shape-shifting.>Cont'd

0

/xT

Anon09/17/26, 03:32No.6465133

"WGHY!?! WHAH!? Shpfft-fftht!" Leland shouts, spitting out mouthfuls of saltwater that must have been forced into his lungs while he was hauled out. "THE FUCK MAN, WHAT THE SHIT!" He slams a fist at the surface of the water.You wave from the edge of the boat, and jerk a thumb at Mickey. "Sorry man, his idea."Mickey points at him accusingly. "Fair's fair, man, this is for you spiking my breakfast with LSD a couple weeks ago, I don't know where you got that stepped on gas station research chem shit but it fucked up my whole night!" He shouts."Wha-the, the fuck?! Seriously? Fuck you, man, that shit was funny as hell! You were working too hard anyways, you should be thanking me for the break!" Leland shouts back, bobbing in the water.Paige sighs, eyes half-lidded again as she looks out him, then over to Mickey. She walks back over to the other side of the boat and crosses her arms, and just goes back to observing."Are we cool?" You ask the water-logged vampire while he breast-strokes back to the ship.He snorts out some more water. "Yeah, s'fine. That was pretty badass. Just don't let Mick use you against me again, or you'll be the next to take a dip." He scowls up at you as his hand touches the side of the boat.You nod."That was badass. I didn't get a good look. How the fuck'd you do it?" Mickey chimes in, reaching an arm down for his friend.Leland wipes a hand over his face and beard. "Looked like alchemy to me. That was Latin you chanted, right, and on the rock?" He asks."Latin? Was that Theb-" Mickey looks momentarily disgusted, and starts to ask his own question, but Leland takes his hand and jerks him easily over the edge and into the water."Gotcher punk ass! Hahahaha!" Leland exclaims, waves lapping against his chin.Mickey surfaces, shaking the wet, stringy hair out of his face, and hisses like a cat. "Asshole!" He growls, then lunges to dunk the other under the water, and they both start to sink. A few bubbles come up, but being dead and not needing air, they aren't especially bouyant.>Cont'd

0

/xT

Anon09/17/26, 03:33No.6465134

You hear another exhausted sigh behind you, then hear and smell the lighting of a fresh cigarette. But you keep your eyes on the water. They aren't completely hopeless. But they've got a lot to learn.Eventually, the two vampires rise back to the surface. Leland is missing an ear, but it's in the process of growing back on the side of his head. Mickey's jaw is dislocated, but he is snapping and rattling it back into alignment. They bob across from each other looking perturbed.Paige comes up from behind you and hooks a rope ladder to the side railing, and when it unfurls it hits Mickey in the head, causing him to shift to the side and look up irritated. The Ghoul puts one foot up on the rail, and exhales smoke from her nostrils. She looks at you, then back down to them. "Pool's closed. Get up here. We need to have a chat."You're struck by the way she speaks to them. It occurs that while she serves the Six of Cups, she is likely not directly blood bonded to either of the floating Kindred before you. There's no hint of the obsessive devotion that usually characterizes the dynamic between a vampire and their Ghoul servant. Her master must be elsewhere. Even still, it surprises you that they tolerate her disposition. It makes you wonder just how much older than them she is.Mickey and Leland do as they're asked, dripping seawater all over the deck. They take off their shirts, at least, and she tosses each of them a large towel from a compartment under a padded seat next to the door. Then she nods to the steps that lead to the upper cabin, where the steering apparatus is, and begins the walk up without waiting for them."Just be a minute, bud." Leland says with a nod as he steps past you. Mickey nods, and follows behind.They close the door, and you can hear them walking to the far end. You can hear Paige sigh, again, as she leans on the wall, and you can hear the wet sound of Leland taking a seat while Mickey just stays standing, dripping from his pants and his long hair.>Cont'd

0

/xT

Anon09/17/26, 03:34No.6465137

You listen carefully, standing alone down under the stars. You gaze at the constellations as you eavesdrop."Ok look, before anything else, we need to get on the same page. Have you noticed anything off about this guy?" The Ghoul starts.Both of the Kindred answer simultaneously.Mickey: "Yeah." Leland: "Like what?"A pause.The drag of a cigarette."Ok, I thought it was a little more obvious." Paige says.Leland scoffs. "What are you two talking about?"The other two answer simultaneously.Mickey: "He's a Lance plant." Paige: "He's an Elder."Again.Mickey: "Huh?" Paige: "Dumbfuck.""What the fuck are you talking about?" Leland asks, totally confused now.You can hear Paige flick some ash from her cigarette. "He asked for an abacus. He took his notes right to left. I've never seen magic like that, but it isn't something he would've learned in a month. He whipped it out quick, too." She explains."If he was chanting Latin, the reason you've probably never seen anything like it is he was doing Theban Sorcery." Mickey says. "It'd explain him wanting an abacus too, they're all weird fucks, probably blasphemous to use a calculator or some shit."Leland groans. "They aren't fucking Amish, man. You only caught the end part because your head was up a spirit's ass. He named some Roman gods. And the figures? I haven't seen a Rite like it either, but he ate the wax and made the transformation in his gut." He says, shifting where he sits. "The mechanics were weird, and he wasn't using organic matter for the homunculi he made, but the gestational aspect was pure Circle, we do the same thing with our Rites when we are making animunculi and homunculi until they get above a certain size. But always wounds, sutures... Never seen a construct regurgitated..."You can hear Paige take a long inhale of her cigarette. "It wasn't Theban. If he were Lance, and able to cast a spell like that, we'd be dead with no witnesses and no one to give a quarter of a fuck. He ate a stone and puked up a bunch of offspring. He told you he had dreams about Saturn. He was acting it out." Another quick puff. "Maybe he got the Rite from those dreams. But that wouldn't have him asking for an abacus.""If he's an Elder, he's probably listening right fucking now!" Mickey hisses back, dropping his tone into something just over a whisper.>Cont'd

0

/xT

Anon09/17/26, 03:36No.6465140

"If he can hear us up here at a normal volume, he can hear you whispering, dumbfuck. He probably is listening." Paige retorts, not bothering to follow suit.Leland's voice still sounds confused when he cuts back in, also whispering now. "Then the fuck do we do?! Maybe try swimming, we could try and lose him on the riverbed, if he follows we get Sharky to cover us.""Stop calling it 'Sharky', it's Leviathan." Mickey says indignantly."Really feels like a reach, dude, he's only five foot four." Leland replies."We. Are. Working. On. It!" Mickey barks, still trying to talk below a conversational volume."Dumbfucks! Enough!" Paige silences them both, still not whispering. "Be serious. I need to breathe, I'd be stuck on the boat. If he's an Elder, which I think he is, he'd turn you and your pet sea monster into fish flakes. Think. If that was the goal, he wouldn't have entertained you dipshits for this long." Another drag of her cigarette as the vampires sit silently. "Here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna play ball. If he's listening, we act like we didn't say any of this. We treat him with respect. You offer an initiation, he clearly wants one. We head back to the Haven. There are more animunculi there. Nora and Grendel, too. If he does want trouble, some of us will at least survive that way."There's a silence after that as they all weigh their options.Leland breaks it with a question. "What would an Elder want with us?""Don't know." Paige answers evenly. "But if I'm right, he's putting in a lot of work and hasn't smoked anybody yet. So he definitely wants something.""And if you're wrong?" Mickey asks."Then he's just a freak, which means he'll fit in fine. Plus he passed your test, so he earned it. Double plus, he's actually good at blood sorcery, which we need." Paige responds. "Which, by the way, Lee? He did use organic matter.""Huh?" Leland doesn't understand.You can hear Paige grin to herself and shake her head. "You said he didn't use organic matter for the ritual. But he did. He used his blood. The wax was just a vessel for it. They were red because the blood is what he animated. No flesh or bone needed." She pauses. "Which none of you guys could do at your skill level. So..." Another pause. "Good talk, boys. Pitter patter, let's get at her."You hear her slap her thighs, ash the cigarette in some container, and step over to the door which she opens.>Cont'd

1

/xT

Anon09/17/26, 03:40No.6465146

Mickey stops at the threshold, looking down at you, and Leland peeks over his shoulder.Very, very slowly, you turn your head to move your gaze from Orion's belt to face them. You give them a kind of unsure smile and a wave, looking as unassuming and harmless as you can manage.They descend at a cautious pace, and Paige follows behind. Mick stops again at the bottom of the stairs, and gives you a polite smile before approaching, then extends a hand. "Ok man, you're in. That was really impressive stuff. We're gonna head back to Six of Cups H.Q. for the initiation ritual, and introduce you to the others. You ready?"You felt it was possible you'd be made if you used a powerful blood sorcery ritual, but you honestly weren't expecting it to be the Ghoul that figured you out. Mickey, to his credit, was at least clever enough to notice some inconsistencies, and while Leland is a slower study than the others, he seems educated enough about Cruac to recognize principles such as symbolic gestation. You can't say you're very impressed, but they at least aren't so embarrassing that you might think it best to just eat them. This clay possesses some potential. Though you think back to your Dream Visions, and the possibilities of pledging yourself to the Ordo Dracul in full...Select One:>Decline the invitation. You've seen enough, and you aren't impressed. They deserve to live, but they're hardly deserving of your patronage. >Maintain the charade, you want to study the other members of the cult before taking further action, as well as their lair, and their research. Accept the invitation as Seth. >They've impressed you far beyond what you had expected of them. They are perceptive, wary, understand important aspects of the craft, and have a faith structure that aligns with your own, but is still pliable. They will be the perfect Acolytes with which to rebuild your cult. You will reveal yourself to them, and bid they take you to their Haven so you can continue to enjoy their hospitality. >You are definitely pleased with their performance so far, even if there's ample room for improvement, and at least Paige is confident she's figured you out. You will reveal yourself now, but after a final challenge to them, one that will allow you to display the full glory of your dark power. You will challenge all three of them to attempt to lay a blade on you, to get a measure of their physical prowess. When one is able to land a blow, or you become bored enough to simply allow it, you will unveal your ABILITY, proving your identity and revealing it at once. Then you will proceed to their Haven, to assess the other two members of the cult. >Write-in

6

EXI

Anon09/17/26, 17:44No.6465428

Ahem

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Anon09/17/26, 17:45No.6465430

"Yeah, yes, I'm ready. Thank you." You smile, and glance between the others, then back to Mickey, shaking his hand. "Seriously, thank you, I promise I won't let you guys down." You let go, and clear your throat, looking a little sheepish. "But, dude, uh, sorry, but please don't ask me to do the wax ritual again for the others, if that's ok?" You lower your eyes to look down at the little figures standing statue-like around your ankles, and smile softly for a moment, then meet Mickey's eyes again. "Heh, just, I mean I just get this crazy ass stomach-ache, and it's pretty touch and go. Didn't know which end it was gonna come out of for a second there. I never get the rock part right, and the best I've ever done keeping down the wax it was the red stuff, they, uh, the little... Fuck what's it called, the kind they put on cheese wheels? Sorry, anyways, just, kinda took a lot outta me. Glad it worked this time." You reach up and scratch behind your ear.Mickey's brows go up momentarily, and he just turns to give Paige a look, even turning his head a little bit as if to emphasize some unspoken point.She rolls her eyes, then she looks right at you. The brow over her good eye goes up daringly."What? Did I, er, sorry, I can try if it's, like, important, I didn't-" You start to say nervously, looking between them.Mickey turns back to you shaking his head. "S'nothing man, you're fine, don't worry about doing more. You're in." He reassures you, patting a hand on your shoulder.Paige heads up the stairs again without saying anything else for now, and in a few moments you feel the boat's engine shudder back to life.You fake a sigh of relief."Here man, let's sit. It's not a long trip." Leland says, opening the door to the main level cabin where you were interviewed before. You return to your original seat. Mickey continues to towel off, and leans on the wall near a window halfway through the room, while Leland returns to the couch by the table, not seeming to care too much about being wet.Your 'offspring' follow behind you, marching in perfect lock-step, and continue to remain by your side, but standing back and out of the way for now.Mick let's the towel hang over his shoulders, gripping either end with his hands like you're all hanging in the locker room after a big game. "Ok, not gonna press for an encore, but!" He begins, leaning in your direction a little for emphasis. "You gotta spill. How'd you do that?">Cont'd

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EXI

Anon09/17/26, 17:46No.6465431

You shift a little. "The, uh, dream? Nightmare? Idunno how to really explain, but it's just in there, without really exactly being in there. It's like I just knew, yaknow? And I've been trying to make it real. I kind of intuited or I guess, interpreted parts, too, like I applied some of the stuff I already knew." You lie, shrugging somewhat as you go on."What stuff?" Mickey presses."Alchemy, like Leland said. He was right about that." You nod to the other vampire. "I used my stomach as the crucible, and my blood as a solvent and a binding agent. Somehow saying the words just made that easier, like it clicked, basically, and made me able to just do it. But when the numbers aren't right, it burns really fuckin' bad. Or, yaknow, comes out the wrong way..." You trail off, and then run a hand through your hair, sighing. "Really super glad that didn't happen on your boat..." You mutter under your breath.Leland chuckles at the remark. "Heheheh, yeah, can't lie, if Paige had to mop that up, she'd've probably taken off your arms.You laugh a little at the idea in turn. "Heh, yeah, bet so. What's her deal, anyways? Aren't Ghouls supposed to be, like, all..." You pretend to search for the right word. "Idunno, obedient and compliant and shit? How's she such a hard-ass on ya'll?"Mickey sighs. "Yeah, well, she isn't either of ours, specifically. She does what we say, but it's kind of a weird situation. When I said she was older than us, I mean like, way old."You give him a puzzled look."Like, she'd be an Elder if she were a full-blooded vampire." Leland adds, leaning on the table."Yeah. That." Mickey concurs.You give them both an even more puzzled look. "But wait, how? Aren't you - sorry whose Ghoul is she, then?"Mickey brushes some long strands of hair behind his ear. "There are two other members of our cult left, I don't know if the Ordo guys mentioned that. One of them is Nora Casterwell, and she's Paige's master, but not originally. See, Nora was embraced in the mid-nineties, but Paige...""Got thralled some time in the late eighteen hundreds." Leland finishes the sentence."Yeah. That." Mickey agrees again.>Cont'd

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EXI

Anon09/17/26, 17:47No.6465434

"Well, no offense, but how'd she end up here? I take it you guys weren't kicking back then either, right?" You question.Mickey nods, half-smiling. "Uh, yeah, nailed it Sherlock. We're both younger than Nora is. Our other member is Grendel, he's a Nosferatu and an ugly one, so don't freak when you meet him. He hates being stared at. He's a few years older than Nora is. We're all still pretty fresh, but we've got each other's backs." He elaborates. "As for how Paige ended up with us, well, the short story is that we bought her, or I guess, 'purchased a contract for transfer of employment', if you wanna be politically correct about it. The long story, well, I'll let Leland explain." He says, then gestures to the other Kindred."Right, so disclaimer: we don't know the whole story, and neither does Paige." Leland says, leaning back in his seat now. "What we do know is that back in the day she got taken in by a vampire called the 'King of Cups', no record of a name. Solitary warlock type. She was his personal assistant, the 'Page of Cups'. He breezed through Charleston some time in the nineteen fifties, and had some business with the Invictus here. The rich guy vampires? While we spend our nights with our noses in books and hands in jars, they spend theirs stacking cash and influence." Leland shrugs. "Anyways, we don't know what the 'King' wanted here, but he traded Paige to the Red Bank. That's the local Invictus' clearing house and bank. They store blood and a herd, and dish it out. They store personal possessions, secrets, and sometimes even Thralls or agents that are useful. Rumor has it they've even got some torpid vampires collecting dust that they'll loan out for the right price. So, she ends up there. Fast forward. Some of us find some writings from the King of Cups back in oh-eight. We start building on it. All the while, occasionally we are relying on the Red Bank for easy blood. We pay them back with little odd jobs, clear a ghost out of a hotel room they own, tell them if some lick is lying about this or that debt. It was a good flow, the time we didn't need to spend hunting was spent working, and we made a few friends around town along the way."Mickey starts rubbing at his hair again with the towel. As Leland continues to explain the history, you can hear a familiar tapping from the upper cabin - you gather that Paige is sending correspondence with her cellphone, likely telling the others of your soon arrival, and probably her suspicions about you as well.>Cont'd

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EXI

Anon09/17/26, 17:49No.6465435

"Some Invictus bigwig figures out what we're working on, somehow, and next thing you know, we have a meeting with their 'Executive Chair' and some other inner circle types." Leland goes on. "They introduce us to Paige. They explain she's been 'scrubbed', they hosed most of her memories. How? We don't know. She remembers the King of Cups, but not his name. She remembers being the Page of Cups, but not her name. She chose to go with Paige, and they threw in some fake ID's and documentation on that end, 'Paige Fisher'. She remembers a lot of Discipline powers, and a lot of magic, too. She remembers some of the King's work. So, Nora made a bid. We negotiated." At this point, Leland makes some 'one thing led to another' gestures with his hands, and leans back onto the desk, supporting himself with his forearms and lacing his fingers together. "So Nora got her, our research got a boost and we got a top shelf assistant. In return, Nora - and the rest of us because we have her back, like I said - does some security. Specifically, we maintain a couple of nasty animunculi for them to use as guard dogs at the Bank."Mickey nods a few times at the end. "Yeah, and honestly man, Paige is like our secret weapon, she's an operator. We lost Imani and Wren to these Hunters, but she stopped an attempt that woulda took out Nora and Lee for sure, got em both outta dodge.""No shit?" You reply. "Glad she's on our side, then...""Yeah man, she's the shit." Leland agrees, finally rising from his chair. "She can be kinda crotchety, even a bit of a bitch sometimes, but she's rock solid. Anyways, I'm gonna go get into some fresh clothes real quick." He looks to Mick. "You wanna borrow something of mine?"Mickey shakes his head. "Nah, fuck it, I'll just get changed when we get back home, thanks though." He declines. It seems peace has been restored between the bickering Neonates.Lee gives you a little wave and nod as he departs, stepping quickly down to the lower deck, leaving you alone with Mickey."So... You got any other questions about us?" He asks.Select up to TWO (2):>Can you tell me more about your Clans and Sires, if you have any 'siblings', or Childer of your own? >Your arrangement with the Invictus makes sense to me, can you tell me about your relationships with the other local cults, and the other Covenants in town? >So, what exactly do you know about this King of Cups figure? What was Paige able to tell you that you didn't already know? >I wanna know more about the Hunter attacks - how did that happen, and what else do you know about them? >Tell me more about this 'project' of yours. What exactly are you trying to do? Why? >What kind of Cruac are you guys doing, and how are you learning it without an Elder, or at least Ancillae, to hand down Rites? What is your worship like? >Not yet. Let's just chill until we're at the Haven, I'll save my questions for after I've met everyone. >Write-in

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Anon09/18/26, 13:10No.6465762

Have some really busted shifts at work ahead, so may not be able to update for a day or two. Maybe I'll be surprised with a good slate of free time to bust something out, but I'm not quite sure if it'll be in the cards or not. Thanks again for playing guys! Really appreciate having you along to help tell this tale.

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Anon09/20/26, 05:37No.6466477

You perk up a little, performatively, at the question, and formulate a couple of your own. In the silence between his asking and your answering, you can sense a restored ease. He isn't watching quite so closely. There is some trace of suspicion, still, but you think it's more to do with his faith in Paige than doubts of his own, which seem largely dispelled by your performance."Well, I'm a bit curious about a couple of things, I guess." You start. "You, uhm... You're all fresh, you said? Neonites?""Neo-nates." He corrects you.You nod. "Gotcha, right. Well, again no offense, but how are you learning Cruac without, like, an Elder or somebody like that passing down the Rites? And, actually, I'd like to know more about the magic you're doing; earlier you said you were 'discovering' stuff, a project?" You knit your brows in feigned misunderstanding, and gesticulate with your hands together as if it will make the inquiry clearer than it already is.Mickey gives you a couple of deep, thoughtful nods, looking all business now. "We may not have any old-timers in our circle, but that doesn't mean we do it all alone, either, though not everything comes down firsthand now. We have a few ways about it." He says. "A couple of us were semi-serious academics before this, Grendel actually went to Princeton, but they kicked him for tossing his R.A. out of a second story window, heh. Nora was on track for a doctorate in anthropology. Lee was a bartender, but like an amateur occultist. I was a librarian, if you'd believe it, and just kind of a bookworm." He seems a little proud as he explains the group's bonafides.You don't know what the fuck he's talking about but you try to look impressed."So we do a lot of scholarship, a lot of research and self education. Rare books, PDF scans if we can't get primary documents, obviously there isn't an abundance of recorded information about authentic Cruac." He goes on. "We got some gems, though. Hey! You ever heard of The Lambton Worm?"For the first time, you allow your expression to freeze into perfect stillness, as is typical for you. But it lasts only a long moment before you snap out of it with a puzzled look. "I'm not familiar.">Cont'd

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Anon09/20/26, 05:40No.6466479

Mickey screws his mouth to the side and nods quickly, then smiles lightly. "Yeah, bit obscure to the living. Kind of a legend around here, though, came over from Europe in the early nights of Charleston. The local Lance congregation killed him, threw a big party after, too. He was one of us, a blood sorceror. One of the all-time greats, like the Blind Queen, or Baron Cimitire."The young vampire brushes back some hair that's fallen in front of his eyes again and continues. "Anyways, after he got wasted, bunch of pages from his Requiem Diary started circulating, least for a while, vanished eventually but occasionally one turns up. Some ended up in the hands of this local gutter-mage mortal occultist type, see, so we broke into his apartment and stole em'! Five whole pages, originals! Nora, Paige, and I spent like four years translating. Amazing stuff, Rites in there from a thousand years ago, observations on arcane patterns, Kindred physiology, crazy shit, wild shit." He sighs, exhilarated by the memory still."Gutter-mage?" You press."Yeah, Leon Webb. He was out of his depth, bought them from one of those Carthian guys who I guess inherited the pages from his Sire. All of them are dead, and Leon left Charleston after. We left a present for him, and it ate his left hand." Mickey grins. "Guy got spooked, skipped town within the week. Barely better than a birthday party magician, really, probably thought he'd make sense of the papers and do something. Charleston's fucking full to the brim with wannabe witches and ghost-chasers and shit like that, it's really supernaturally active. Pretty sure that's why The Worm bothered making the trip."You sigh, leaning back, and nod again. "I see. So that's the basis of your study?"He tilts his head side to side, weighing a response. "Part of it." He decides. "We also sometimes make trades with this group called the Smoking Mirror, they aren't really like us, though, not Kindred. Some kind of meso-American bird-vampire-ladies. They have their own weird form of Cruac they call 'Crossroads Rites', I don't really understand it." His brow furrows at the thought, and he looks past you for a second, then continues. "But their leader, and a couple of their more established members, they know a bunch of Cruac from like, the Amazon and Mexico. It's pretty cool. They'll do some tutoring or give us a scroll, or even a tool like that knife I was using earlier? But in return we gotta bring them people for their rituals, or sometimes they have us make animunculi to certain specifications. There aren't a lot of them so they sometimes need extra hands."You manage not to display any of your surprise or covetousness at their possessing five of your pages. If nothing else, it's highly fortuitous, though it also gives you a better impression of just how much they may have spread around if a group like the Six of Cups has managed to secure five entire pages.>Cont'd

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Anon09/20/26, 05:42No.6466481

Mickey tosses the towel onto the table, now, as he's starting to dry more. "So to address the second part of your question, basically it's a mish-mash of what we've learned from the Diary pages, La Viuda Gris and her crew, that's the Mirror group I mentioned, and a bunch of stuff we've just tracked down the old fashioned way. We use that stuff to experiment and try shit out, or just practice what we're given over and over until it sticks. We do a lot of work with animating material, making homunculi, animunculi, uh, bugs, vermin. Lot of Western alchemy and conjuration using sigils or reagents. Sometimes making substances move, runic evocation, channeling power from spirits or ghosts, that sort of thing. We aren't great at divination on the whole, and Grendel's the only one with a knack for curses or combat-applicable Rites out of the group."About what you anticipated: eclectic, pragmatic, unfocused, syncretic, entry level. "Sounds like a real mixed bag." You reply."Well, variety's the spice of unlife." Mickey shoots back with another big grin. He sobers a little, then, and crosses his arms. "The big 'project', though, why we started all this? The King of Cups was knocking on a particular door: life from death. Lasting life. Not some creature we gotta juice with fresh blood every full moon like we're topping off a diesel generator. Stable animation. Something that endures or self sustains long after it's been put to motion." He pauses, brows meeting and smile saddening as though he just confessed something embarrassing. "I know it maybe sounds cliche, but we've made a lot of progress. I can show you some stuff back at the house.""Not cliche. Ambitious. Has it ever been done?" You answer tersely, but sincere in your curiosity.He shakes his head a bit defeated. "Nah, not that we've heard. Frankly, there are only a few examples of Cruac effecting any kind of permanent, lasting change, and those are all just, like, legends and myths, more or less." Mickey slumps a little, but then shoots you a sort of wry smile, and an upnod. "But hey, that trick you did?" He dips his head towards the little wax figures at your feet. "That's just the kind of finesse we need on this thing, yaknow?">Cont'd

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Anon09/20/26, 05:44No.6466483

You grin back, a fang peeking out over pale, cracked lips. "Guess so. Sounds dope. Making something last like that."The boat is starting to slow, now, and out the window you can see land nearby from a window. Leland comes up from the lower deck and opens the door to poke his head in the cabin. "Land ho!" He says before ducking back out, and ascending to the top deck.You rise from your seat, and Mickey gestures to the exit. "After you, bud."Stepping back out onto the deck, you see the ship is sidling up to the end of a long, narrow wood pier, which extends straight back to a deep stretch of Marsh blanketed in needlegrass, and beyond into a dense treeline. Live oaks with sprawling serpent branches, palmettos, and pines obscure your view of where the path leads, but you can see the top floor of a sizeable house peeking over the canopy.A lone figure emerges from the wall of foliage, a pale, plain-looking, almost androgynous woman with straight blonde-brown hair that falls to her chest, with dead eyes and a stone-like expression. She's dressed in dark jeans, a red t-shirt, and a simple, black leather scooter jacket. Her hands are in the pockets as she strides down the wooden path towards the ship. Over the water and the trill of mud-dwelling insects you can hear the lack of heartbeat, and respiration, and your Beast chafes at her growing proximity. But you are expecting more Kindred, and she is such a small, fragile thing, you are able to contain any urges to lash out rather easily.She's still dozens of yards away when Paige comes down from the upper deck, and you gather Lee is keeping the vessel steady. The Ghoul gets to work tying off ropes so the ship stays put.Another figure emerges onto the pier, then, behind the first by about fifteen feet. You have to strain your eyes to see, and flex your nostrils to help bring resolution to the creature... A second vampire, one that doesn't trigger your Beast, attempting to use the power of Obfuscate to approach invisibly.But you know this trick, and you are far more perceptive than he is discreet, and he cannot remain undetected. You see through the illusion of absence, and size him up. Over seven feet tall. Densely muscular with a powerful frame. Big clawed hands with six digits each, large enough to wrap around a man's skull. Torn and tattered brown denim jorts, with a black leather belt and a silver buckle fashioned to look like a pair of crossed revolvers. Two huge, hand-made meat cleavers hang on either side of his waist, far heftier and meaner than the implement you used earlier. These are butchering weapons meant for ritual combat. He's shirtless, with pale-pink skin drawn so taut you can see the sinews and fibers of his musculature. The head is grotesque; distinctly chiropteran, with large pointed ears, a flat, vertical, pointed nose, and no lips around two rows of huge, perpetually bared fangs.You pretend you cannot see him, for now.>Cont'd

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Anon09/20/26, 05:45No.6466484

Mickey claps a hand on your shoulder. "So listen, she can be kinda curt, and tends to have a real wand up her ass, but don't be nervous. She'll push, but stand your ground, ok?""Won't be a problem." You assure him in a quiet tone.Paige grunts a little as she ties off the last knot, and you've noticed she's glanced up to the approaching vampire a few times while going about her work, a new warmth kindled across her face. When the newcomer gets within sixty feet, she seems to genuinely light up, and hops over the edge of the ship and onto the dock with a casual flex of parkour skill. Landing gracefully, she almost springs up to attention, hands clasped behind her back and wearing a broad smile. This is joy and adulation, not the aloof amusement you saw in her earlier.Leland descends the stairs to join you and Mickey, now garbed in grey sweatpants and a black Fort Sumter sweatshirt with a cannon on the front. He stands to your side opposite Mick. "She's not as grouchy as she looks, or sounds. Hates a pushover though, so don't wimp ou-" He begins to advise you."Already warned him." Mickey interjects.Leland just nods to that.The woman - Nora, you rightly presume - grows nearer, and her focus upon you doesn't waver. She squints a couple of separate times, but she doesn't blink. Eventually she comes to a statue-still stop, her unbrushed hair is the only part of her that continues to move as it's blustered about by the coastal breeze. You can feel her eyes boring into you like a pair of fat, white grubs in a rotten stump.The Nosferatu stops just six feet behind her, and crosses his arms like a bouncer, still believing himself unseen. He stares at you with a similar intensity.After a couple of tense, quiet seconds, Nora sighs through her nostrils, irritated. "Mick, you're a dumbfuck." She says in a voice that's dry and mellow, with a touch of vocal fry."For what now?" Grumbles, letting go of your shoulder."Step away from him." Nora instructs.The two vampires flanking you hesitate, glancing between her and each other, but slowly do as they're asked, giving you four or five feet of space on either side.You look at either, and then back to her, turning your head just slightly. "S-something wrong? Or..." Your question drips with manufactured anxiety.Nora nods. "Your aura's fucking busted." Another squint. "Pale blue, but intense. You're a lot calmer than you look, calmer than you sounded just then." She scrunches her nose a bit, then. "But he's got these red veins, too, hot scarlet, and they're wriggling around and writhing, slowly." She says this last part more to the others than to you, though her gaze hasn't shifted.>Cont'd

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Anon09/20/26, 05:46No.6466486

"Oh shit, dude, foreal? You're a fuckin' diablerist?!" Leland is deeply surprised by the revelation, and asks you this directly."No, dumbfuck." Nora answers for you. "Diablerie veins are black." Then her attention turns to Mickey. "This is why I should've been in charge of vetting, your Auspex isn't developed enough to see through bullshit yet."You maintain a look of confusion throughout. In for a penny, in for a pound. This wrinkle isn't enough to make you fold, not immediately.You recognize the term, 'diablerist' - it refers to a vampire who has committed Diablerie, which is the heinous act of consuming another Kindred's blood and very soul, destroying them utterly and gaining a measure of their supernatural power. Among the vilest of all vampiric taboos, which are naturally few in number.You don't know if you have ever committed Diablerie across your many centuries. It's exceedingly likely you have. You've got no moral compunctions about it. But you retain no clear memory of such an act.You just don't remember.Nor do you understand why your aura, which Nora is perceiving with the same Discipline that enables your heightened senses and power of Telepathy, appears to be so peculiar. You suspect it has to do with Cruac and the condition of your blood."First of all, you can't do the recruiting because you're a frigid autist so no one would wanna join." Mickey retorts instantly to Nora's chastisement. "Second of all, I analyzed every facial tic, expression, and syllable of body language like a microscope. He's fresh meat. Thirdly! If he isn't a diablerist, what is he? What's the red mean?" He puts his hands on his hips and shifts to you. "Seth, what gives with the red wigglies?""Uh, I don't really kn-" You begin to shrug it off, but find yourself interrupted."Why ask him if he's been lying to you this entire time? He might sound or look nervous, but I'm telling you right now, he fucking isn't!" Nora jabs back.Mickey responds to that by hissing, as he did earlier, like a pissed off cat.She doesn't respond in kind, but her upper lip twitches and curls with displeasure. Paige gives him a different look, one of bored disappointment.>Cont'd

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Anon09/20/26, 05:47No.6466487

Mickey's pride is clearly wounded by the notion that he's been fooled. Leland seems confused and nervous about taking a side just yet. Nora seems to be trusting Paige's astute assessment of your true nature, though she hasn't used the word 'Elder' out loud, yet, and with her Auspex she has managed to glean yet more discrepancies in your disguise. You conclude the creature hiding (or rather, attempting to hide) behind her is in fact Grendel, and that he's planning to ambush you should it come to blows (until he realizes, too late, that you can see him plainly).With both suspicions and tensions rising, you consider how to proceed...Select One:>Maintain the facade, even as the cracks continue to mount. Play the fool. You don't know what an aura is or what she's talking about. Maybe you can go inside and talk this out? You'll offer to let them use Cruac rituals to determine the truth, like a polygraph test or an X ray at the airport. A gesture of transparency that also serves as a test of their abilities. >You've been made. Paige is vindicated, Mickey is just being defensive, and the situation is escalating. Silence the squabbling children with the revelation of your true form, identity, and purpose in coming here, then have them take you into the house to see their work. >Come half-clean and turn it into a final challenge. Admit that you are in fact an Elder, come to test and evaluate them, but not yet your specific identity. Give them the opportunity to determine who and what you truly are with Cruac Sorcery, and see what they manage. >The bickering is tedious for the moment. You're too keenly interested in their project now, and the possibilities it presents to someone with your abilities. You will step onto the pier and move through it all the way to the back door of the Haven, circumventing the entire group. They can catch up later. >Among the four Kindred, Grendel is clearly the muscle. You noticed his weapons, and know that he will be unable to refuse a duel if challenged in the proper manner. You've seen some of their Cruac, now it's time to measure their ability to survive and make war. You'll reveal yourself dramatically by deploying your ABILITY to subdue him. If he merits the effort in order to win, you'll be impressed, and if you do so due to boredom with his potential lack of skill, you'll at least be able to teach. >They are an unimpressive, unserious cabal of Neonates. You will transform into a lamprey and swim away from here without another word, and forget you considered a return to the Circle. >Write-in

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