New York City, New York May 4, 2010
Michael stood beside The Shepherd. The bandanna on his forehead covered up his third eye as they walked the streets. Shepherd as always was hidden behind the powers of obfuscation while Michael could see him perfectly well when they moved about the city streets.
"Are you sure?" Michael asked him for the second time. They had been trying to rout a nest of heretics that had taken root in the city. Tonight they had them. No one would escape them tonight. They made their way to the back alley where the heretics have been using. Two vampires guarded the door. They ducked behind some dumpsters. Luckily for them the only light source in this alleyway was just above the Brujah's head.
"The two at the door I know them," Shepherd said.
"Do tell dear Gabriel," Michael bantered back. His irish accent when he said his name brought up a vague memory. Something long buried and deeply forgotten. Shepherd shook the thought from his mind and focused on task at hand.
"They are brujah both. I recognized them from the meeting of priest."
"Are they priest themselves?"
"No. But they were serving as escorts."
"What is the pack's name?"
"The Vicious Cycle. The pack consist of neonates and maybe ancilla."
"Shovelheads embraced to shore up our numbers. Do you know any more about them? Their numbers and clans?" Shepherd thought hard.
"Five members. Ventrue. Toreador. Two Brujah. And their priest is a nosferatu."
"Then we work underneath the assumption that that is the resistance we will meet inside." Shepherd nodded. Michael took out his iron reliquary, a sword in the space of the Sabbat symbol. Shepherd pulled out his, a spear in the same style. Michael bowed his head and Shepherd spoke softly.
"Our dark father and creator. Guide our hands to make them true so we may purify the wicked," he said readying himself. Michael moved as if a bolt of lighting. His attack caught the throat of one but not his partner. Before his partner could fully process what was happening The Shepherd's spear pinned to the wall behind him.
When the Shepherd appeared before him, his heart almost started beating just so it could stop again. "Shit man you are...you are..." he stammered out before Shepherd completed for him.
"The Shepherd." Michael checked the first brujah. The attack sent him into torpor almost instantly. However, when Michael took his head off it was no mistaking it. Michael smiled deeply and the Brujah cringed. That was how things were. Michael allowed everyone to see and fear the Shepherd. While every heretic was busy hiding from the Shepherd, Michael moved freely. Listening to their conversation and meet out punishment. Not that The Shepherd didn't do his share of listening and sneaking. Everyone just assumed that there was only one inquisitor in the city.
"Shit man. I repent. I repent. I will never look at another anything just let me live," he plead. Michael smiled and patted him on his shoulder.
"That is good my boy. Repentance is the first step to absolution." The Brujah face brightened as the notion he may live to see another night crossed his mind.
"Sadly however, the time for repentance is over. I find you guilty of heresy. I now pass judgement on your heretic soul." Michael said as his sword decapitated yet another kindred.
"This is why should be more selective about who we embrace," Michael said as he entered the building. Shepherd wanted to comment but they both knew now was the time of silence. What they saw only infuriated them.
In a semi circle away from the door was the pack Vicious Cycle praying before an idol. It was clearly not an idol of the dread father Cain. Michael and Shepherd both knew that it had to be stopped. Michael went for the Ventrue while Shepherd took the Gangrel.
Michael defeated his foe in one volley, his sword going through both the Ventrue's shoulders and neck as if it were tissue paper. The Toreador tried to run but The Shepherd his spear like a javelin pinning her through her torso to the adjacent wall. The Gangrel stood his ground. Though he was not a match for the much older and far more powerful Shepherd. Both used claws though Shepherd's were made of actual bone and bits of implanted steel and not a gift of Protean. Their battle didn't a last long. By the time it was over, he had just enough time to turn his attention to the Nosferatu just he met final death. Michael walked toward the toreador as she plead for mercy. She muttered she was forced against her will to perform the rituals. Sadly, Michael believed her.
"Remove the spear," he commanded.
"As you wish." With one jerk the spear came out and she looked at the ground. The wound in her body already beginning to heal.
"Thank you," she said crying blood tears.
"You're welcome." She made to leave but Michael thrust a stake into her heart. Before the paralyzing grip of torpor took hold she muttered out, "Why?"
Michael turned his back and started to gather kindling and The Shepherd pulled out a small book bound by human flesh. He walked over to the idol.
"Forgive us oh dread father for our failure to keep the faithful on the path of righteousness. Forgive us of our failures to protect the faithful from heresy and wickedness. Forgive us for our failure to live up to your example." Michael gathered the necessary burnables he and Shepherd carried the Toreador to the center of the kindling.
"May your soul find it way to the righteous path." Shepherd said as he folded her arms ceremoniously around her body. With that done, Michael tossed in a match and for a bit it didn't look like burning. But after awhile it was starting to become a roaring inferno.
"Lets be away from this place," Shepherd said with a sigh.
"Gabriel I completely agree."
Thursday, July 24, 2014
Thursday, June 19, 2014
When the dusk comes again
Basingstoke October 20, 1493
Gabriel sat on a stump playing his violin. That was all he could do to calm his nerves. His Abigail had gone with Patrica and her staff to met with the Elders of the Camarilla. He had insisted he go with them but given the history between the Tzimisce and the Tremere, Abigail felt his presence would undermine the efforts to come to a mutual accord.
So for two days he waited for her. His violin granting him some solace. He knew that the ceasefire was the only option. The mortal hunters have become brazen. Attacks on both sides have left both armies weak. The ceasefire was the first step in dealing with this problem. When the carriage had pulled up to the outskirts of Basingstoke he rushed toward it. He waited like all the others to see who exited the carriage. Patrica and a few others were not among them. They didn't look like they had made a flight for their lives but there was a somber tone that Gabriel picked up immediately. His heart almost started beating just so it could stop abruptly when Abigail was the last to exit.
He pushed pass the others. She gave him a weak smile as he hugged her. He led her away to where he had set up a temporary haven for them. The twisted abomination of the Szlachta greeted them with puppy-like fervor. He closed the door behind them. She sat in the chair and sighed.
"I missed you," was the first thing out of his mouth as he kneel beside her.
"And I you," she kissing his forehead. An awkward silence covered the room for a moment before he broke it. "How did the meeting go? Did we have to give up much for them to sign?"
"An accord was reached after much arguing and posturing."
"Damnable ventrue. They always go for the jugular," he snapped, "How long is the ceasefire for?"
"Indefinite."
"Really, we maybe able to sure up our numbers. Maybe convert some of the other clans and neonates to lend support. The Assamite may be have means to contact them." Gabriel said with a toothy smile. Abigail looked away from him.
"There is more. We did we give up for this ceasefire." Abigail took his hands into hers and kissed them.
"There is no ceasefire. We were there to discuss terms for our surrender," she said. Almost immediately he ripped his hands from hers.
"You jest. Why would we need to surrender? Our numbers grow stronger each night. Our allies the Assamites have several key elders in hiding."
"It isn't enough. With the Camarilla, the elders are now working together. When they were divided we could use their own plots against them but now."
"After everything that was sacrificed and lose we are going to admit defeat after a few losses?" he screamed at her. She could see he was barely keeping his beast in check. Gabriel looked at his Abigail.
"What are the terms?"
"For our peaceful surrender and recognition of the authority of the elders of the clans, the anarch movement will be allowed to peacefully coexist as an arm of the Camarilla. We will be allowed to return to our clans without fear or reprisal. All seized property will be return as we are expected to return all properties we gained."
"Allowed to peacefully coexist? I have never been allowed to do anything. I have a right to exist. Elders be damned." He angrily punch the wooden walls.
"It isn't that simple!" she screamed as she stood up.
"It seems to me it is. We keep fighting. As long as we keep fighting we can win. There are only so many of them. As long as we keep fighting we...."
"No. You don't get it all. Patrica is trying to save as many kindred as possible," she interrupted him.
"Do you agree with her?"
"What?"
"Do you agree with her?"
"Yes. I understand that fighting two wars will only serve to lead to our defeat. We all see it. The elders can dig in and allow the hunters to wipe us out. We have to keep moving to find places to hide from the sun. Do you know where half the us are sleeping when the sun rises? In a cave. We are luck but the others aren't so much."
"So this is how the children of Carthage falls? What happened to the beautiful clan of philosphers and scholars? What happen to the high ideals of Brujah? Equality that all kindred should have? No one should be forced to serve someone because of age."
"We have tasted defeat so much that we know when it comes. It is better to beg for scraps than starve." Abigail voice went low as she spoke. She hung her head unable to look up at Gabriel. Gabriel fought bitterly for the Anarch cause because he remembered what it was like to be on the bottom rung while someone grew fat from your suffering. It wasn't the promise of equality for all kindred. As a mortal, he was forced to work the land of some noble that grew fat off his blood and suffering. Forced to beg for scraps of food he grew himself. When was embraced and he found out it was just the same thing all over again. Only a century had pass since he left that life behind. He would not return to it.
"When the dusk comes again tomorrow. We will be gone," he stated as he closed the door.
Gabriel sat on a stump playing his violin. That was all he could do to calm his nerves. His Abigail had gone with Patrica and her staff to met with the Elders of the Camarilla. He had insisted he go with them but given the history between the Tzimisce and the Tremere, Abigail felt his presence would undermine the efforts to come to a mutual accord.
So for two days he waited for her. His violin granting him some solace. He knew that the ceasefire was the only option. The mortal hunters have become brazen. Attacks on both sides have left both armies weak. The ceasefire was the first step in dealing with this problem. When the carriage had pulled up to the outskirts of Basingstoke he rushed toward it. He waited like all the others to see who exited the carriage. Patrica and a few others were not among them. They didn't look like they had made a flight for their lives but there was a somber tone that Gabriel picked up immediately. His heart almost started beating just so it could stop abruptly when Abigail was the last to exit.
He pushed pass the others. She gave him a weak smile as he hugged her. He led her away to where he had set up a temporary haven for them. The twisted abomination of the Szlachta greeted them with puppy-like fervor. He closed the door behind them. She sat in the chair and sighed.
"I missed you," was the first thing out of his mouth as he kneel beside her.
"And I you," she kissing his forehead. An awkward silence covered the room for a moment before he broke it. "How did the meeting go? Did we have to give up much for them to sign?"
"An accord was reached after much arguing and posturing."
"Damnable ventrue. They always go for the jugular," he snapped, "How long is the ceasefire for?"
"Indefinite."
"Really, we maybe able to sure up our numbers. Maybe convert some of the other clans and neonates to lend support. The Assamite may be have means to contact them." Gabriel said with a toothy smile. Abigail looked away from him.
"There is more. We did we give up for this ceasefire." Abigail took his hands into hers and kissed them.
"There is no ceasefire. We were there to discuss terms for our surrender," she said. Almost immediately he ripped his hands from hers.
"You jest. Why would we need to surrender? Our numbers grow stronger each night. Our allies the Assamites have several key elders in hiding."
"It isn't enough. With the Camarilla, the elders are now working together. When they were divided we could use their own plots against them but now."
"After everything that was sacrificed and lose we are going to admit defeat after a few losses?" he screamed at her. She could see he was barely keeping his beast in check. Gabriel looked at his Abigail.
"What are the terms?"
"For our peaceful surrender and recognition of the authority of the elders of the clans, the anarch movement will be allowed to peacefully coexist as an arm of the Camarilla. We will be allowed to return to our clans without fear or reprisal. All seized property will be return as we are expected to return all properties we gained."
"Allowed to peacefully coexist? I have never been allowed to do anything. I have a right to exist. Elders be damned." He angrily punch the wooden walls.
"It isn't that simple!" she screamed as she stood up.
"It seems to me it is. We keep fighting. As long as we keep fighting we can win. There are only so many of them. As long as we keep fighting we...."
"No. You don't get it all. Patrica is trying to save as many kindred as possible," she interrupted him.
"Do you agree with her?"
"What?"
"Do you agree with her?"
"Yes. I understand that fighting two wars will only serve to lead to our defeat. We all see it. The elders can dig in and allow the hunters to wipe us out. We have to keep moving to find places to hide from the sun. Do you know where half the us are sleeping when the sun rises? In a cave. We are luck but the others aren't so much."
"So this is how the children of Carthage falls? What happened to the beautiful clan of philosphers and scholars? What happen to the high ideals of Brujah? Equality that all kindred should have? No one should be forced to serve someone because of age."
"We have tasted defeat so much that we know when it comes. It is better to beg for scraps than starve." Abigail voice went low as she spoke. She hung her head unable to look up at Gabriel. Gabriel fought bitterly for the Anarch cause because he remembered what it was like to be on the bottom rung while someone grew fat from your suffering. It wasn't the promise of equality for all kindred. As a mortal, he was forced to work the land of some noble that grew fat off his blood and suffering. Forced to beg for scraps of food he grew himself. When was embraced and he found out it was just the same thing all over again. Only a century had pass since he left that life behind. He would not return to it.
"When the dusk comes again tomorrow. We will be gone," he stated as he closed the door.
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