Sasha approached the Chantry with excitement and yet also a weight in her heart. Flanking her were the two strongest Brujah left (besides Sasha herself, of course) and they were growling with elation over finally meeting the cause of all of this pain, to have a chance to tear him/her/them limb from limb. Quick to follow behind those were the last six Brujah that could be gathered for an organized fight.
I should share their joy, but as I look across the remains of my clan... We have lost so many. I know that there are more Brujah out there, but they've gone insane with the chaos that has torn apart our world. They no longer respect the laws of the Masquerade, let alone those of our clan. Was the Camarilla right in giving up on us? Have we lost so much that a victory now would be hardly that?
I will push on though and we will tear through this battle with the rage of vengence I know only my clan to have. If we must die out today, let us at least take as many of these others who have stripped us of our beautiful life as we can.
Doing one final check of her body to be sure she has balanced all of her weapons as well as possible and all are loaded and readied, Sasha knocks on the door.
No matter what the outcome, this will be a day no kindred nor Garou will ever forget.
2008-06-25 07:09 am (UTC)
Re: so this is it...
the door slips open, revealing the beautiful pale form of Diana, Janus's personal servant.
"Welcome, Primogen. Please, make yourself comfortable while we wait for the rest of the... individuals to arrive"
She gestured toward the parlor, which had been converted from a plush reading room into a staging area, complete with racks of weapons and maps strewn across the walls. Janus stood on the nearby stairs, taking in the scene from above.
"Welcome, Sasha. I knew i could count on you to provide some firepower."
Izaak composed himself, pulling out a small gold compact to check his reflection once before submitting himself to the scrutiny of the others. Indeed, he had managed quite skillfully to apply sufficient makeup to cover up the bags under his eyes. He even, almost, appeared to have his usual luster in his eyes. It was only under closer inspection that one could see how worn he had become.
Oh how I long for the carefree days. What ever happened to living for millennia just for the sex and art? All this fighting and worrying after one's life is so distracting.
The Toreador clan had not been of much use in all the commotion, other than for Blood Haven to serve as a neutral place where kindred could go to be at rest. It was important, in these tough times, to still have diversion. Izaak wished he had been more successful in his investigations. After the incident in which he almost lost his life, however, he was now no longer so carefree.
Would that we Toreadors could find our place in these tough times. I tire of being constantly laughed at, scorned, and ridiculed. We are not weak. He smirked to himself. Merely... Indulgent.
Izaak met his bodyguard, the Gangrel Damian, before proceeding into the Chantry.
Damian shuddered a little at the sight of Izaak, as he always did. His beauty was almost painful to look upon, it was so bright. Damian had never understood why Izaak had taken an interest in him, but in spite of himself, in spite of his earnest desire for solitude and the wilderness, he could not resist Izaak's call. When Izaak had said that he needed him, he came.
Izaak's pale yellow hair was pulled back in a long braid, sharply contrasting against his prominent cheekbones. Damian allowed his eyes to linger there for the smallest of moments, a thread of a memory of Izaak's lips on his cheek dousing his thoughts like a bucket of water and making him feel at once flushed and cold. What in the hell am I thinking? I am indeed spending too much time around him. He is starting to affect me.
Damian shrugged and threw his eyes to the side when Izaak saw him. "Are you ready?"
Damian had not been in town long. Less than a year, and he still knew almost no one other than Izaak. Going out into public places with many kindred always made him a little nervous. He was ready to protect Izaak with his life, unhesitatingly, but it made him sick to think that someone so unworthy could take him if he was caught off guard. Only, sometimes it was very difficult to be on guard when half of his thoughts were unwittingly occupied with unimportant considerations.
Izaak smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. "Yes of course," he said as though assuring him that he, too, were not preoccupied. "Are you all right?"
Damian shrugged the hand off his shoulder and turned. "Perfect," he said perfunctorily and took off, hands shoved in his pockets.
Janus nodded in Izzac's direction, making sure to convey in his gesture that he considers Izaak a worthy ally.
Although your particular skills are not as useful in this scenario, believe that I understand the power in manipulation.
Ember slunk towards the chantry from the sleek black car. A few young nos climbed out of the car after her, their twisted forms carried rolls of maps and bags of arsenal. The claws on her left hand and the dagger locked into the stump of her right arm caught the moonlight and shimmered. She never took them off anyomre. The few seconds to arm herself could prove deadly. She shifted her own burden of of arsenal so it rested more comfortably on her short frame. It weighed nearly as much as she did and the burden made her uncomfortable, it slowed her down.
She stalked in with the 5 nos falling in behind her. The nos had been hit hard, since they lived in the sewers. Many Nos were killed within their own homes. Ember scowled, twisting the scars on her face into a grotesque mask, her hood was down but she raised it as she entered the building, the sleek black fabric obscuring her face as she and her meager troops took their place in the hall.
2008-06-24 07:24 am (UTC)
Upon noticing his primogen enter,
Daemon slipped from the shadows and bowed. "Welcome, my dear Ember."
He felt he met her eye through her mask and for a second, as he stood to his full height, he had an odd urge to embrace her. It was so good to see a familiar face, to feel a familiar devotion to a superior, something he had missed terribly since the loss of their late Prince. Of course, he knew he would not touch Ember just as he had never laid an affectionate hand on her in the past. But the warmth of her presence gave him such reassurance and comfort, he could not help but express it by telling her, "I am so pleased to see you are still well. In these hard times, it is a comfort to be in the company of friends."
Janus made his way to the group of Nosferatu in the corner.
"Your presence is very welcome. Is there anything you need before you depart?"
She watched the star filled sky sli through the skylight of the car. She could see the short line of cars behind her. Their numbers were not as great as they could be. Many of the Ventrue sent their minions into the fray, but did not come themselves. Caedra's nerves were tight in her stomach as she wondered if she too should have stayed. She looked around her limo, the other seats were cramped. Many of her tenants, her own retainers, filled the seats. All were older and had no connections. She did not take any of the younger retainers, nor the ones with families...it would draw too much attention to the complex.
She fingered her PAAD nervously, sacks of wireless weapons beneath the seats and in the trunks linked to her little PAAD. She flicked down a set of stylish sunglasses which to her eyes displayed multiple grids and video feeds from the remote aresnal, all of them were off but in standby, ready to respond to the commands built into her outfit.
As she extracted herself from the car she touched the old-fashioned reassurance that hung from a belt at her waist. The sword looked anachronistic against her high tech outfit but it gave her a sense of comfort.
She wished she'd come to the Chantry for a more socialable cause, her thoughts flitted to the Prince and she steeled herself. She felt young here, among the old. Many of her retainers were older than her, she frowned, she always felt young.
She issued orders softly, no need to bark or demand, they all reacted well. 12 vampires and 10 retainers left the cars, armed with their own weapons as well as carrying her high-tech arsenal. She directed them in and looked around. Her eyes landed on the Brujah, wishing there were more of them for this task.
Sasha noticed the young looking Ventrue looking her way. No doubt she was one of the ones who chose Janus over me. I can only hope that he will lead us as well into this battle as she thinks he will.
Despite the chattering of amassed kindred in the foyer, Everette couldn't find it within himself to care. How many of them will be dead next week? 10? 20? All of them? The dissociation was familiar, an old and bitter friend from nearly a century ago, during the Great War. When the man next to you would be dead by nightfall, what point in making friends? These days, new Kindred came and went faster than he could learn their names. Not that he bothered anymore. Months of slowly losing this war and what did they have to show? A few paltry intelligence gains? Enough to make one final, valiant charge on an entrenched, well-supplied enemy?
No, he thought grimly. I'm done here. The days of trench warfare are over. Time to cut our losses and get out. Fuck New York. Let the bastards have it.
Resolved, he at long last marched out of his suite. Sweeping into the foyer, he paused briefly, expecting to be announced, before remembering that the retainers all had better things to do these days. Taking stock of the room, he nodded briefly at Janus and glanced at the others with, if not respect, then at least a grudging admiration for having survived this long. Steeling himself to argue for withdrawal, he stalked morosely towards the central gathering.
Approaches Everette, "Good to see you. So, are you ready to throw up arms for one final battle? It seems the time has come..."
2008-07-09 02:10 am (UTC)
Re: so this is it...
Janus returned Everette's nod.
I hope you know what you're about to do...
2008-07-09 02:32 am (UTC)
ah the frenzied few
Pondor limps towards the doorway, the stench of Garou dripping from him like sweat. His face smiles as his frenzied eyes survey the gathered faces with a look of psychotic anticipation.
Well if this is all we can muster... better to die fighting.
"Ah, Pondor. We were beginning to worry that the Gangrel clan would go unrepresented. Please allow me to escort you to the Conclave table where I am sure your presence has been much anticipated."