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Preparation for a Killing [Jun. 23rd, 2008|02:56 am]
The Kindred

[Current Location |The Chantry]
[mood |curiouscurious]

Just before the other kindred arrived to his beloved chantry, Janus took one final stock of his personal contribution to the small army of kindred about to raid the sewers beneath Manhattan. Of his original flock, only fifteen Tremere fighters remained. This was not counting the three wounded who would be staying behind with the retainers to ensure the safety of his mansion.

Along with Janus, himself, of course.

Back in the old days, a king's place was among the troops. I suppose things have changed, and i agree my place is here in the chantry. Still, I have a feeling my skill will be missed...

His men would be led by Everette, the Tremere Primogen and de-facto battle commander. Janus walked among them as they prepared for battle, checking their silver-loaded firearms and other conventional weapons supplied by Everette, and practicing their magical Thaumaturgical skills under the tutelage of Janus himself.

I only hope these young ones will be able to remember their training when under the strain of full-scale warfare. Guns are fine and useful tools, but cannot hold a candle to well-executed blood magic.

Just as Janus began a short lecture on the benefits of meditation, he heard the first cars arrive inside the compound.

The rest of the army would be assembled shortly.

I wonder who will show...
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Decisions, decisions…. [Dec. 20th, 2007|11:10 am]
The Kindred

[Current Location |Metropolitan Museum of Art]
[mood |refreshedrefreshed]
[music |silence]

The packs on the back of his Aprilia RSV 1000R are filled with books, most of which are even older than even he is. He parts the bike by the side of the Metropolitan and slings the heavy saddle bags over his shoulder with little effort. Once within the safety of the museum, he removes his helmet and continues through the deserted hallways. Only once does he encounter another. A young man armed with a pistol he is ill trained to used and a flask light. The young man smiles and greets Jiaolong who in return nods and smirks at the kid, making the poor thing stumble over his own feet.


Humans. Always a sources of endless amusement.


Jiaolong has been studying text, after text since the meeting ended on Halloween night. Only once or twice has he ventured from his windowless room in the basement of the museum to find food and pick up things from his apartment. After feeding earlier tonight he feels quite a bit more refreshed.


Once Jiao reaches his study room, he changes into more comfortable clothes than his motorcycling leathers. There are texts, books, scrolls and random papers scattered on every surface of the large room. Three of the four large walls are filled with shelves of books, while the fourth wall holds racks of carefully labeled boxes. A desk and tables are scattered in the center, as if pushed away from the walls. Jiao seats himself in a chair at the worn desk and pulls one of many books out of his saddle bags.


He searches through the texts and his notes for a while before leaning back in his chair and sighing. Enough time has been spent here. He looks back down at the pages in front of him and an idea begins to form in his mind.


Well, that’s one way of looking at things…if I were an insane man with a thing for obscure linguistics.


Jiao takes out his cell phone and first dials Fatima. Not surprisingly he gets her machine and not the woman herself; after all she is very busy and has been meeting with other lately.


“Evening Fatima al-Luban, Primogen of the New York City Venture Clan, this is Jiaolong Ito of the Toreador Clan. I have researching the Malkavian prophecy since the night it was spoken and have come across some discoveries and information that you might find useful in your investigation. I do not wish to discuss such matters over the phone, so I propose we meet somewhere and speak in person. You pick the time and place and I will accommodate you, though I plan to contact Skiouros and meet with him as well, hopefully before I meet with you. If you need to reach me my cell phone number is 555-235-6785. I look forward to hearing your ideas and what you have uncovered about the prophecy as well.”


With that he hangs up and flips through the many numbers in his phone before finding the Malkavian Primogen’s number. The line rings for a few moments before the other picks up. Jiao is almost surprised that the other is answering his phone and that his assistant is not the one on the line.


“Evening Skiouros. This is Jiaolong Ito of the Toreador Clan. I am sure you remember that we met at the party during All Hallow’s Eve. I have been researching the prophecy you delivered that night and would be honored to speak with you again; the sooner the better. Is there a time and place that is convenient for you?”

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Entering Paublos [Dec. 11th, 2007|11:45 pm]
The Kindred

[mood |angrytense]

Upon arrival, Sasha nods to Paublo and then settles into a booth in the far back of the bar, facing the door. With her, she has two of her strongest and best fighters. They aren't much in way of tracking but they'd come in handy if the team was successful in finding the one behind all this. Good for the tearing apart. Sasha smiled a little smirk and waited for Ponder, Everette, Ski and their folk to arrive.
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A Visit to Tremere Chantry [Dec. 11th, 2007|10:29 am]
The Kindred

Izaak looked Damian over one last time, pleased with the view that met his eyes. Although he would never be able to get the Gangrel into restrictive, but great-looking clothing, he did look quite fetching in cargo pants and a tight black t-shirt. He, himself, was in his usual black leather pants and flowing top of blue satin. He donned his jacket and prepared to leave.

Izaak quickly penned a note to Fatima. 'I would be pleased to attend your gathering this evening, however I fear I may be a little late due to some pressing business I have beforehand. I will be there shortly.'

"Let's go," he said, leading Damian out of Blood Haven.

The two made their way to the Tremere Chantry where Izaak planned to introduce Damian to the new Prince. "So the first order of business is to introduce you to the new Prince, Janus. Then we shall go to Fatima's meeting, and I shall do my best to arrange a meeting for you and the Primogen of gangrel, Pondor. Sound good?"

Damian shrugged. "Whatever."

They arrived at the Chantry and announced their arrival, waiting for Janus to receive them.
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The Amphora [Dec. 9th, 2007|09:36 pm]
The Kindred

[mood |busyAnticipatory]

Despite the presence of a moon unobstructed by clouds and the vibrant illumination of electricity and human progress pulsating into the atmosphere like a rapidly beating heart, the grounds of the Ventrue compound were surprisingly dark. Skiouros frantically shifts his gaze around the perimeter of the sprawling building before remaining transfixed on the imposing and intricately carved wooden entryway doors. He pauses and quietly giggles to himself before following the grooves of the doorway with his hand, mumbling inaudibly to himself. Skiouros sharply removes his finger from the door and retrieves the invitation that Fatima had sent to him requesting his presence after her Camarilla meeting, pausing to glance at it reflectively before tearing it into small pieces of gold colored confetti, festively throwing it in the air, and excitedly fluttering in place as the shredded pieces fell to the ground.

Skiouros nervously fondles wayward pieces of his tail fabric as they undulate in the frigid breeze before returning his attention to the door. He takes his hands and presses them against the door, appreciating the many textures by petting the carvings and the absences that gave them form. After a few moments, he knocks on the door and begins to bounce enthusiastically in place while talking to himself.

"Golden lotus, transcended from the azure pools of fortune and into the crimson throne. Half-filled is the amphora; it is half-empty that one, without effort, sees it. Fruits of the nightshade, rendered unattainable through the casting of oceanic shadows, liquidity sifting through the fingers in a putrid sludge of fuzzy mold. Soon the amphora, filled with the crimson and not with the blackness of the hirsute squids."
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A conversation with her sire. [Dec. 9th, 2007|10:40 pm]
The Kindred
Caedralyn sipped at the blood in her glass and eyed her sire over it's rim.

"What do you think he wants?" she said bluntly.

Edward looked at his childer with a smile.  "he could want many things childer.  you are so young, both as a human and as a kindred.  Sometimes I think that I took you too early"

Caedralyn frowned and steepled her fingers, she hated it when he called her young.

"and you look petulant when you pout...though it is quite charming in it's own way my dear."  Edward chided her.  "but as to your original question, it could be nothing more than the fact that he enjoys your charms and desires companionship.  Despite the fact that you are a child of the 20th century your taste in decorum and dress tends more towards that of the old world.  It could be that he just misses that, and sees it in you."

Caedra nodded and sipped her drink again, listening.

"or..." Edward continued "...it could be that he desisres your skills.  You are quite an oddity, the charms of the old world with the technological know how of the current.  It is what attracted me to you after all.  The Tremere's skill set are quite different from yours.  Very based in the ancient.  Modern technology are all but ignored by them, at least from what I've seen.  Why use computers when you can use magic?  So that might be what he desires of you."

Caedra smiled at the praise, she knew she was unique and she enjoyed being told so.

"Either way youngling, you must be cautious.  The Prince is always good to have as an ally, but remember...all relationships should be maintainable and useable.   If you are only being used...well...caution.  Do not let your overly developed sense of romanticism ruin your good sense.  Being alone in the Trememer chantry with him is a dangerous proposition."

"It's where he'll have his meetings now" Caedra said thoughtfully.

"I know, it's all the more dangerous because of that.  And remember childer, he invited you to come to him before he was Prince."  Edward frowned at his childer, concern written on his young face.  "go to him, but be on your guard."

Caedralyn nodded, finishing off her drink and daintily licking a drop of blood from her lip.  "I will.  He was called off before we could agree on a time or place.  I'm not want to barge in without an invitation, and I have a job to do besides.  I will just wait and see.  If he desires my presence, I'm sure he will make it known to me."  She kissed her sire on the cheek  "thank you for the advice father."

Edward watched her exit the room, concern still playing upon his face.
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Cold Camarilla [Nov. 27th, 2007|09:06 pm]
The Kindred
[mood |listlesslistless]

"Thamaaniya? Ana laa afham." Fatima pauses while the voice on the other end of the phone talks. After a beat of silence, Fatima sighs. "Shukran jaziilan, sadiqi. Ma`a as-salaamah."

Fatima gently puts the phone on the receiver. I doubted the Ventrue in Oman had any information. It was worth a try. Fatima gets up from her plush throne chair and walks to the window. She stares out at the city lights. The city looks so full of life. I long for the day when our kine can safely walk the streets again. Soon.

A stately grandfather clock begins to chime. I hope they will all come tonight. I need to know what resources I have in New York before I continue. With my old world charms and my new world connections, the Camarilla will comply.

Fatima sits back down at her chair and waits for her crew to arrive. She lifts her hand and admires her perfectly manicured nails. It will be a shame to dirty these pristine hands. But if I don't get any answers, I will crush them all. I do prefer using words. Maybe the Camarilla will willingly give me answers. That would be nice. Far nicer than a bloody coup. I bet I can arrange for a bloodless coup. All smothering? We will see.

Fatima flips through a pile of papers on the round mahogany meeting table. Izaak. Ember. Caedralyn. They all should had received word of this meeting. Fatima looks at her appointment book. I can't believe I have a meeting with Skiouros after this. Fatima shudders at the thought. I bet he has information. It didn't make sense at Blood Haven. But, it's always good to network.
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After the Meeting, Damian Arrives [Nov. 26th, 2007|04:29 am]
The Kindred

After bidding everyone a good evening and arranging the events for the next few days, Izaak retreated down to his own private quarters beneath Blood Haven. As soon as he passed by the kindred guarding his own sanctuary he felt more at ease. The events of the past year had just left him permanently… tense.

A bath. A bath would solve everything. Izaak called out to one of the kindred who served him, asking him to fill his private bath. Content with the notion, Izaak made his way to his bedchamber.

He wondered to himself, as he undressed slowly, why it was he had not taken more of an active role in the events that had played out this evening. It was not like him – usually he was pulling the strings, guiding things to proceed in a way that pleased him. It was just that he no longer seemed to care. He didn’t care about this community of backbiting devils, all he cared about were the few people he trusted and the pursuit of beauty. All he really wanted was peace.

After mentally kicking himself, he angrily told himself that yes, peace was his ultimate goal, but peace would not be found by sitting around waiting to be stabbed in the back. Peace would only be found if he could somehow route out the evil that was threatening them, find the traitor, and somehow return their community to some sense of normalcy. If serving Fatima would achieve this, he would bend to her every will. Well, almost every. He smirked to himself.

Izaak carefully laid his clothes in the hamper and put on his blue silk robe, gliding over to the adjoining bathroom with the, now full, bathtub. The room was black marble with silver veins, the bathtub an ancient freestanding tub that he had acquired and loathed to be rid of. He had outfitted it with a circulating heater, however, so that once the water was put in the bath it would be kept at the same temperature for however long one wanted. It was a luxury, and he didn’t feel the least bit guilty about indulging in it, even in these times of need.

Izaak draped his robe over the hook on the wall and slid, gracefully, into the warm water. He let out a sigh of relief. The water felt so good gliding against his skin, it almost was able to wash away the aches of the day. Almost.

It seemed everything these days was ‘almost’. Nothing ever quite enough.

Izaak smelled him before he heard him. It was the scent of trees, of water, of earth, of fire. The scent of ‘wild’, with a touch of nutmeg, his favourite seasoning. Izaak smiled to himself.
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Public Address [Nov. 22nd, 2007|10:40 am]
The Kindred

Janus rose from his seat as Primogen at the dias and floated to the yet-empty chair at the head of the table. As he turned to sit in the head chair, he re-affixed his mask upon his face. His grin was hidden.

"Thank you all for your congratulations, your confidence, and for your votes. This day shall mark the end of an era, but as a circle cannot end, so to does this mark a new beginning."

"Before my first act as prince, I must make my last act as Primogen of the Tremere clan. As is our custom, I alone have the power to choose my successor at the conclave table, and so it is. Everette, please take your rightful seat among your fellow Primogen."

There may be more elder Tremere, but none as trustworthy. Your loyalty has served us both well, and today you reap the rewards.

"And now, allow me to make make some decisions. Sasha shall henceforth be recognized as the leader of the Garou Initiative. She shall be trusted to respond and act in any way that seeks to find the cause of these destructive creatures and eliminate them, without need for my intervention. I trust you will use this power wisely."

Janus looked into Sasha's eyes to highlight the importance of what he just said.

"Fatima, as you have a way with words and a number of connections, I entrust you with the task of obtaining information as to the reasoning behind the Camarilla not becoming involved in our conflict. Something odd is going on there, and I want you to find out what it is. Use whatever resources you deem appropriate."

Janus nodded slightly in toward Ember, suggesting that her skills may be useful in this endeavor.

"And for more mundane logistics, I decree that the Conclave shall now meet at the Tremere chantry on Staten Island. We will prepare the estate with an appropriate area and will offer housing for Primogen and their guests. Elysium shall continued to be granted here at Blood Haven, and also now at the Museum of Natural History, which may give a less well-known alternative for kindred to meet without the fear of Garou reprisal."

I believe that covers all the basics...

"Let us reconvene at the Chantry in two weeks time, to see what information Fatima and Sasha are able to uncover."
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the aftermath [Nov. 18th, 2007|03:18 pm]
The Kindred
[mood |depresseddestroyed]

The prince traveled deep into the sewers, Daemon nipping between shadows as he followed him about thirty paces behind. After many hours, they reached the desired area. It reeked of sulfur, a smell that once would have caused any kindred to turn away in disgust. But after so many battles with the Garou, the stench just seemed common place. Guy paused just outside the entrance to the chamber, glancing backwards towards the shadows where he knew Daemon must lurk with a brief smile, and removed a small vial from his coat pocket.

May it serve you well, my friend. Daemon closed his eyes in silent prayer as the Prince drank of his blood, gagged for a moment, and then growled with the ferocity of the Nosferatu.

It only took that single growl to bring about the snarls of the Garou within the chamber. With a valiant kick, Guy charged forth into the chamber. The sounds of snarls, crunching bones, splattering blood and cries of animals in pain roared from the enclosed room. All of Daemon's instincts screamed and tore at him to go and defend his Prince, and further one of his only trusted friends. But Guy had been very clear in his instructions. Daemon was not to interfere. Not even when he heard the battle turn from a fight to a feast.

After the sounds of destruction were heard no more and silence had dominated the corridor for a good long while, Daemon revealed himself. He crept through the door which had been left hanging on its hinges by his Prince.

Blood painted the walls and at least four Garou bodies laid in pieces strewn across the floor. But none of those bodies were nearly as horrific for Daemon to look upon as that of the remains of his Prince. Daemon searched through the rubble and Garou body parts for longer than he knew was necessary. All he could find was a single hand of Guy's, a hand that was clutching tightly onto something. Daemon pried the cold stiffened fingers open and found a strange piece of material that only took him a sniff to determine was the skin of a Garou. And on it clearly was a Sabbat symbol. But why a tattoo? The Sabbat have never used something like a tattoo to show such a mark.

Daemon let the skin fall from his hand as he pulled a piece of parchment from his coat. Guy had given him this letter to deliver to the conclave upon his return. He had to know what it said, perhaps it could explain why all of this needed to be.

"Kindred of NYC,
Although I must now depart, I hope that it is my dying act that helps to bring this dark chapter to a close. I have done many horrible things, and hopefully this final act will help to balance out my eternal fate. I am in God's hands now.
-Guy de Vere"

There were no answers here. Daemon slid to his knees and placed the note and the skin carefully into his coat pocket. Then, he looked up at the blood soaked walls and wept.
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