[Post 46]
Author : roddyrod
Date : Jun 7 7:00am
Roderick watched as Lothario left. That turned out better than I expected, he thought, particularly in reference to the Malkavian's reaction to his own ability. He was slightly concerned about Amy, though. A deformed Toreador… He knew that the Degenerates possessed the ability to utilize others to meet their own ends willingly, and he respected—even admired—that quality about them. A Toreador that was no longer capable of that was a sad sight indeed. Though he was unaware of the extent of her deformities, he knew that even something relatively minor was enough. Even though he didn't care much for her, she showed some degree of promise, and Lothario seemed to particularly like her. Despite his general mistrust of Malkavians, their damned insight was not something to ignore.
As it was, he still had to decide what exactly to tell the Prince. Since his use of Obtenebration would not be one of those things, his main concern was coming up with a satisfactory explanation for the defeat of the Tzimisce. He thought about that while he scanned the floor for his shotgun, which he found to be in a slightly damaged state. This won't come cheap. I suppose I'll just have John do it tomorrow night, while I'm out currying favor. He went back through to building to retrieve his suitcase from the entrance to the room where he fought the Fiend's creations. I'll just pass the Tzimisce off as not being that powerful, he decided, even though it probably wouldn't hold up under scrutiny, considering the extent of the damage to Amy.
His thoughts moved back to the Toreador. It is fixable… He wasn't overly powerful, even if his knowledge of Vicissitude was considerable. He wondered what Amy's generation was, or if she even knew. He knew that if they were equal, or she was lower, she could heal it in time, but otherwise she'd need to find a Fiend (or anyone else that had some knowledge in fleshcrafting) that was friendly to the Camarilla, or at least neutral, and willing to work on her. Not likely… Well, if the Sewer Rats can live with it, so can she. It might just take a bit of work. He remembered that mess in the alley behind the Asylum. Or not.
He put his broken shotgun back inside his suitcase, and inspected what he could of his clothes. How many businessmen get mugged and live? he wondered as he inspected the numerous tears in the cloth. He still bore the scars of his battle, so it wouldn't raise any particular questions if there were large gaps in the cloth, even if anyone was out at this point in the night. As he left the remnants of the Hallowbrook, he looked at the moonlight reflecting off one of the windows across the way. There was one reflection in particular missing. He didn't care all too much about it; he never hung around reflective surfaces, so people didn't notice, and he wasn't a particularly vain person. Still, he was mildly curious as to the extent of the damage to his suit. He shrugged and moved on.
Before he went home, he needed one thing above all else: blood. The main problem with that was the general lack of people wandering the streets at this time of night, though he figured he had a chance of running into a thug somewhere. If that failed, he would break into someone's house, though he wanted to avoid that particular scenario, as it wasn't his area of expertise. He spent the next half-hour or so stalking the back alleys and narrow streets of downtown Los Angeles, finding a few stragglers, taking a small amount of blood (having no desire to do any degree of damage), and Dominating them to ensure that they never mention the event to anyone. After he had fed to the point where he could do so no longer, he decided it was time to leave.
He opened his suitcase once again to get his mobile phone to call his ghoul. He discovered when he tried to turn it back on that the trauma of being dropped numerous times did no good to the life of the device, and he put it back. I'll get rid of it later, he decided, having attached no sentimental value to the piece of electronics. Taxi, or payphone, he wondered, which is worse? Considering the general lack of traffic in the small streets that Roderick preferred to walk, he decided on trying to find a public telephone. He found one not too long later, deposited some change into the machine, and called John to come and pick him up.
What a night, he thought, feeling rather tired in an unnatural kind of way. His thoughts briefly flashed to Amy and Lothario, but he dismissed the thoughts. I'll talk to them soon enough; tomorrow even. He was slightly taken aback by his own concern for their wellbeing, but was generally relieved that he still had enough humanity left in him to care.
[Post 47]
Author : BurningRave
Date : Jun 7 12:41pm
Surprisingly, Lothario provided a sense of comfort for the desecrated Toreador. Still, Amy could not bear to have him look at her. It pained her, even if she saw no disgust in his eyes; she believed it to be there. She scurried away when he reached out a hand, but eventually she gave up resisting. A strong feeling overwhelmed her that her crazy Malkavian friend would try until sunrise to get her to move, and she didn't want his death looming over her in the afterlife.
Lothario ushered the grotesque Amy to a darkened area near some pay phones. He had done well to keep her from looking at the body that her beast killed, lest she go into a fit of unbridled pain and sorrow about how monstrous she had become.
While her Malkavian companion made a quick phone call, she looked at her hands. They had been spared from the Tzimisce's cruel act of sadism, as perfectly formed and soft as the day she died. When those hands touched the new growths on her body, she cried. From her days as a painter, she knew that beauty was perfection, and no matter how perfectly crafted the rest of her body was, one simple deformity was enough to make her hideous, just as the simplest of mistakes could ruin an entire painting.
After Lothario came back to where she waited in the shadows, he stood beside her, offering a comforting presence. Amidst her turmoil, she could tell that he was going at great lengths to stop his tics from occurring. Every now and then, his head would cringe to one side or his mouth would open, letting the beginning of a garbled word escape his lips.
As the cab pulled up, Lothario opened the door for Amy, who couldn't take her attention away from the driver. Lothario's presence was enough to bring her dangerously close to losing it, since she constantly worried about how ugly she appeared to him. A kine, well, she knew that a human would scream and run in terror from her. As someone who spent so much of her time trying to reconnect with the entities of her past life, Amy knew that such an act would completely break her.
Lothario whispered to the driver as Amy reluctantly approached the open door. "My girl isn't doing too great," He looked the driver in the eyes, "We were at a party and she got into this fight with another chick, over who has the cutest shoes or something like that. You know how women are."
The driver laughed. Perhaps Lothario's insanity made it easy for him to emulate a completely different personality in this time of need. "She got banged up pretty bad before I managed to pull them apart. Could you do me a favor and not look back at her? She's self conscious enough, and I know it would kill her for someone to see her like this." He slipped the driver a twenty, as to assure that his lie would go through.
After the driver gave Lothario his word, the Malkavian entered the car and sat next to Amy who had shrunk into the corner of her seat, starring at the driver who never turned around to look at her, never made the attempt to go back on his word and see her in the rear view mirror.
Amy's discomfort never ceased. She spent the entire ride focused on the driver, just waiting for him to see her. She waited for the shock and horror to take over his face, but it never did.
The Malkavian paid the cabbie before escorting Amy down the alley besides Trip's Pawn Shop. The night had become more active, as morning was soon approaching. Luckily, the alley was empty of would be on lookers to Amy's new trauma. Opening the door, Lothario went in ahead of Amy, as to make sure none of the residents would be waiting to gawk at her as they walked to his apartment.
Everyone in the building had either already left to start the day or were still blissfully asleep in their beds. Amy slithered along the wall, cringing as she passed under one of the several lights attached to the ceiling. She felt oddly aware of every conscious being around her, feeling their presence through walls. Every movement of Lothario echoed in her mind. She felt the small amount of heat that the hallway lights gave off every time the light touched her skin. In her desperation to remain hidden, she had summoned upon Auspex to know where every living thing around her lurked.
Lothario ushered her into his room. As she heard him step forward and run his hand along the wall, she gave a weak cry for him to keep the lights off.
"Of course. The darkness will comfort you. Wait here, and I shall fetch vitae for you to feast upon." He walked into the small kitchen area of his apartment.
Amy fell backwards, pressing her back against the wall. She scanned the room, noting how it looked far better than her own. The Malkavian must have, at the very least, attempted to clean it up a little. Lothario came back with a cup full of blood. He extended the cup towards Amy and smiled.
"Drink, dear. If nothing else, it will make you feel better."
The smell of blood poked at Amy's cravings. The man she drained did enough to remove her desperate longing for vitae, but she still felt empty.
As the deformed shell of a Toreador drank from the cup, Lothario walked to his coffin and opened it. "The sun will be up soon, sweet. Take my coffin for the day. You'll find that it makes sleeping a little more enjoyable than finding refuge in the bath—ASSFUCKER- …Er, the bathrooms."
Amy looked up from her cup at the Malkavian, standing beside his coffin. "You just want to lock me away from the world." It wasn't true, of course, but Amy's crushed mind found it easy to bring up ideas that would make things worse.
"Of course not, my flower. It's just that if you stay out her, the sun will burn you to a crisp, and then I fear that I will really go insane." Lothario grinned, walked over to Amy and took the empty cup from her hands. "Go, rest. We'll talk to my sire tomorrow and find a way to take away your pain."
For a brief second, Amy felt better. She forgot her appearance. "You're so sweet."
Lothario nodded, happy with the compliment, believing that he had gained some favor in the Toreador's heart, when really, his kindness led her to think that if this Malkavian could look passed her deformities, so could Erik. Thoughts of her lover clouded her mind as she drifted to sleep, keeping away all the pain of her broken body.
[Post 48]
Author : BurningRave
Date : Jun 7 1:45pm
After his wonderful encounter with Amy, Daniel made it his priority to get back to Erik and relay the news of the night. He had so much to tell that he felt filled to the brim with excitement. Amy's state of body was the whipped cream, hot fudge and cherry on top of his sundae of information.
Entering the haven, Daniel noted that the Malkavian siblings were sitting in the exact same spot as the night before. Eager to talk to someone who thought exactly like him, he streamlined for the couch.
"You won't believe this, Gerard! There is a God!" Daniel found himself laughing just remembering Amy's ugliness.
The male Malkavian turned his head to the Nosferatu. "That's- That's fantastic! The princess has been defiled! It's so satisfying to see her smug face turned rotten. A thousand times better than drawing on her." Daniel didn't need to mention a word about what he saw. Gerard had already copied all of his memories and seen Amy for himself.
"I said the same thing! I just had to share this moment with someone before talking to the boss. I'm glad you appreciate this moment as much as I do." Daniel laughed at his own comment before walking away.
"Hello Daniel." Erik said as the Nosferatu entered his chamber. "I heard you speaking to Gerard. You certainly do enjoy talking to yourself, don't you?"
"Of course I do. Admit it boss, I'm an awesome creature to be around." Daniel still had a grin plastered to his face.
Erik got up from his chair and gave a humoring smile. "Sounds to me like someone's full of himself."
"At least I'm man enough to admit it, boss."
Erik's smile immediately left his face. "Don't push it."
Daniel coughed in embarrassment and took a step back. "Right, right. No worries. I was only kidding around." He paused for a second, waiting for some response from Erik, who only starred at him. "Boy, do I have some news for you tonight."
"Do tell, Daniel. I'm all ears."
Daniel laughed. "Alright! Where to begin… Where to being. Okay! Got it. Princess's new Malkavian friend is really into her and his sire is sister to the prince of Santa Monica."
Erik stopped him. "Therese and Jeanette?"
"Boss has been doing his homework."
"I like to keep up to date on the politics around here. I knew their father, and I must say that I'm not at all surprised with how messed up they've become, but my Nosferatu agent needn't concern himself with that."
Daniel gave a curious look before continuing. "Right. So, ah, anyways. I'm sure you've heard about the trouble the Sabbat are causing lately. Turns out the Camarilla wants to maintain friendly relations with the Anarchs, so they sent Princess, her Malkavian admirer and, get this, a Lasombra posing as a Ventrue, to aid the Anarchs with the Sabbat."
Erik's interests peaked at the mention of the Lasombra. "Posing as a Ventrue? I wonder why."
The Nosferatu snorted. "Easier to move up in the Camarilla if they don't think you have blood ties to the Sabbat."
Taking in all the information, Erik nodded for Daniel to continue.
"Well, you know the Hallowbrooke Hotel? Turns out the Sabbat were trying to organize a new base of operations there. Either that or they wanted something to distract agents of the Camarilla and Anarchs. Either way, a Tzimisce waited for our three, brave Camarilla agents in the basement. And here comes the best part. He did some of that wicked crazy Vicissitude shit on Princess. She looked uglier than I do by the time our Lasombra friend gave the Tzimisce Final Death."
Erik seemed somewhat concerned. "How did Amy handle it?"
"Frenzied, ran off, killed a guy. It was very enjoyable to watch, boss. I wish you were there."
"Did you do anything to help her?" Erik gazed at the Nosferatu's deformed eyes.
"Well, I… ah, had to hurry back here. The night was almost over by then and I knew her Malkavian would come save the day."
Erik sighed. "You left her for dead, didn't you?"
"No…" Daniel forced a smile. "Why would I do such a thing, boss?"
"Would you mind talking to Gerard about this, then?" Erik stepped towards the Nosferatu. "Gerard!"
"Ah, hell! Fine! I didn't help her, but it's not like I killed her. She wanted me to, but I didn't. I'm sure she's fine."
"Don't let your hate for Amy get in the way of my plans, do you understand? I don't care what you do, as long as you do not jeopardize her mission. If she's dead, I'll be sure to get into that mind of yours and torture you for years before delivering you to your Final Death. Understand that I do this as your leader and it is only because I consider you a friend that I'm willing to let your prejudices slide." Erik turned around to leave his small speech to seep into Daniel's mind.
"Heh… Yea, got it… boss. Really, I'm sure she's fine, though the way she looked could be pretty bad. She's not much good in anything except social gatherings. Now that she looks like a Sewer Rat, she won't even have that."
"I'm not overly concerned."
Daniel tiled his head to the side. "Why not? That Tzimisce was pretty powerful from the look of things."
"Amy's not as high of a generation as you are. Somehow, I doubt an agent that the Sabbat sent to cause a little mischief at that run down hotel could have been of lower generation than her. If he was, I think all three of those Camarilla Kindred would have perished."
Shocked by the news, Daniel struggled to ask, "Just what generation is she?"
"Her sire was of the seventh generation."
"You're shitting me!" It seemed so hard to believe that the crazy Toreador was three generations lower than himself. "Bullshit! She frenzies way too god damned much. If she can use that much more blood than me, she wouldn't be half as crazy as she is."
Erik laughed at his agent's anger. "Have you seen how long she can go without feeding? It's not because she has a superior will than you, she can simply hold more blood. I doubt she even knows what true hunger feels like, since she so desperately clings to feeling like a human, any amount of blood less than what a human carries would feel horribly distressing to her."
"You know, boss, I thought that this night was perfect. I came back expecting to go to sleep with a smile on my face, but now I learn that your little princess is three generations lower than me!" Daniel snarled, trying to bring up images of Amy's disfigurement to calm himself.
"Relax. She's young and weak minded. You embrace your vampirism, but she hides from it. So she can get a little more out of her blood than you, big deal. She's my delicate flower. Don't let it bother you. I need you just as much as I do her."
Daniel relaxed a little. "Fine, fine, but just for the hell of it, can you tell me that I'm capable of squashing her like a grape?"
"Eager to feed the ego, Daniel?" Erik laughed. "There's no doubt in my mind that you could take her in a fight, but if she fed enough, her deformity should heal by tomorrow night, and then I would much rather look at her face than yours."
"Eh, good enough I guess. At least I got a good laugh out of tonight." Daniel turned to leave the room, feeling somewhat back to normal.
"One more thing, Daniel." Erik said, freezing his agent in his tracks. "I want you to find a way to anonymously contact that Lasombra. Perhaps he would be willing to join us. It would be useful to have two agents in the Camarilla, working their way to the top so that we could have a much easier time striking it down. Just make sure not to expose us until we know for certain whether he's willing to join us or will turn us in to the Camarilla. We cannot have him ruining what we have going on. I'm trusting you on this."
"Sure thing boss." Daniel grinned. "I'll get right on that as soon as the sun sets."
"Good, Daniel. Enjoy the rest of your night and do take more care around Amy tomorrow. Remember what we talked about."
[Post 49]
Author : lothario
Date : Jun 7 3:44pm
The ghoul Romero was in a foul mood, and the hum of his motorcycle underneath him wasn't giving him the customary comforting "buzz of freedom" - as he liked to call it - that it usually did.
As this night wore on, the Sabbat packs had only seemed to get worse. They were harrassing Isaac's holdings and properties with increasing frequency, and more than once Romero found himself wondering just how in the hell the Sabbat could know so much about his master. It's not like Isaac's storefronts and apartment complexes had "Owned by the Baron of Hollywood" stamped on a sign. This whole deal stank to high hell.
The only thing so far that had lifted his dark internal mutterings, aside from the occasional satisfaction of blasting some shovelhead's brains all over the pavement, was the chance to see Nines Rodriguez in action. The man was a veritable symphony of destruction, and now having seen what that Kindred could do, Romero understood why he was held in such high regard.
There he was, bogged down by a squad of Sabbat flunkies, and just when he thought he had caught his last all-nighter with the late show on TV, BAM! From out of nowhere, a blazing fury of unparalleled speed had suddenly appeared, blasting with his pair of pearl-handled Colt Anacondas like a double-fisting conductor of the orchestra, and everywhere the howls of dying shovelheads and burning ash! It had been incredible!
Romero could still see the wry look on Nines' face as the Kindred holstered his smoldering pistols and gestured to the piles of evaporating dead.
"Looks like these jokers won't be bothering us anymore. Would have been a shame if that one over there had managed to toss that molotov cocktail onto your Harley. Should have left that one for you to kill, kid... sorry about that."
Romero had just shrugged, and then Nines had dashed off down the street. Damn... what an awesome guy.
Romero kicked the bike down a gear, and took the corner that led up to one of Isaac's chain of jewelry stores. Nothing here yet... for once. But the sun was still an hour or so away.
[Post 50]
Author : Kayuna
Date : Jun 7 4:45pm
Anyone who was familiar with vampire fiction would have found that child vampires were always depicted as a little crazy. This was true. The addition of the blood of Malkav in Onella's veins left her completely insane. She wandered the streets of Santa Monica, not entirely sure where she was except that she was near one of her favorite places. Santa Monica was quieter than the rest of the City of Angels, and people were more likely to stop at the sight of what seemed to be a girl-child no older than ten wandering the streets with a distant and blank expression. It made hunting easier. She stopped at the yard of a house on the beach, staring at a furred animal. Someone's watchdog sat, barking furiously at her, and slowly her eyes focused. "Puppy," she stated and reached out to pet it. It sank, growling, but did not move to bite her, possibly knowing what would have happened if it had.
She blinked, or thought she blinked, and found herself closer to the heart of the city-within-a-city. The Asylum was thick with the smell of kin, even so long after. She had been there, though she knew such only by the fact that she could smell herself at the doorway. It was yet another gaping hole in her memory, but they had ceased to bother her. Generally she was much more lucid than this, but the humming in her mind was coupled with an empty feeling in her chest. There where times when the Cobweb was overpowering, and left her in such a dazed state. There was something wrong. Something had been destroyed, but it was only a fragment. A pane in the great window of a plot. "One little shard of stained glass..." she said aloud, not realizing that she had. Once the feeling passed and the voices died down, she would look much more like the child(e) she was. But for now she walked, wandering wherever her feet took her as she tried to decipher the voices.
Some whispered, some conversed, and others screamed and wailed, and yet the whispers were clearest. She frowned, deep within her own mind as she sat in an alley next to a grey stone building, below a window. Here no one but the homeless would see her and worry, as she sat to speak to herself.
"The city of dreams... the hands of death..." she frowned, her jet hair falling, ruler-straight, into her face as she stared at the ground in concentration. Slowly she turned, ignoring the homeless man staring at her, though she made an effort to lower her voice. She took two steps back to look up at a window with dark grey-green eyes. "And here... two dancers prepare to sleep. Only one hears the music, and they only hear half the song..." she shook her head, lucidity coming over her for a brief moment. "The sun will rise soon. I must be elsewhere..." And with that she turned, moving towards a small store on the same road as the asylum, past the underpass, that sold little tourist trinkets, and there was a small living space above it that she had taken up residence in. It was a gift from her sire, shortly before the older vampire had vanished. Still, the ghoul running the store remained loyal to the child, and it was a safe place from the deadly daylight rays.
Author's Comment: Most of this is just entries to close out the night without a whole lot to say. I was catutious with making Amy such a low generatio, so as not to upset the basic balance of character power, but I figured that she proved such a dunce in nearly everything that it couldn't hurt to open her up for such potential way later on.
Also, Daniel's entry here was supposed to serve as a basic re-cap of events for the night. I think I had intiially planned to do this for every night, but not only would that have strained the character's abilities, it was really daunting to summarize everything up.
Lastly, we have our first post from Kayuna, who I hadn't thought had been around near since the get-go, but obviously she had. Kudos to her.
Note: I'm going to hold off on posting the rest of this story here. If you want to read the rest, check to end of the Foreword for the information I've left on how to locate the rest of the story. Cheers!
roddy's Comment: Turns out I mentioned the shotgun here. Derp.
One thing that, looking back, I don't like is Roderick's understanding of how generation works in relation to Vicissitude. Indeed, I don't think that most vampires even look at generation from a numerical perspective, and they'd have difficulty in ascertaining another's exact generation. I don't think I ever mentioned it again. Roderick's is 9th, for the record.
Kayuna's first post here. It's a shame she didn't write too much and spent a fair bit of time away. She's still around now, though; gotta give her credit for that.
Well, this is the last entry here. I think I'll sign off in a way I once used to, cheesy though it may be.
-roddyrod out
