The Breaking of the Camarilla

by Tevin Illithane

A war is brewing within the Camarilla, primarily between the Brujah and the Toreadors, though none place what was the cause. Is the Sabbat up to something again? Can somebody stop the war? Based off of a campaign I played, and told by my character.

2. Chapter One: Meetings

Disclaimer: The idea of this story, in the most part, belongs to the White Wolf company. They have created the world, and the history of it, and I am merely writing about the happenings of one vampire of my creation in their world. The story line is of my creation, though if some similarities may exist between this and others, take no offense, as I have not meant for this to happen. If any problems arise, please notify me at my e-mail address: eldamri242@hotmail.com I will be willing to talk things over, or if the case may be, change what is written, but I will not without good cause. This is meant for enjoyment, not profit, and I just wish for others to enjoy this world as much as I have. Thank you, and please enjoy.

About time…man I hate travelling. Kansas City slowly came into my sight. Not as grand as I thought it would be, but I guess we live for disappointment. Okay, now where's that street…I rode down the street in my newly provided Kawasaki motorcycle, looking for the turnoff. Heh, there it is. I turned sharply to my right, cutting of a Greyhound bus. Damn things always getting in my way…if they only knew who they were messing with…I left the thought behind as I saw the bar come into view.

It was pretty packed, I could see from here. The parking lot was filled with cars and motorcycles of all types, even, surprisingly, a brand new Mercedes. That has to be the Ventrue's ride They're always the ones with cash. That reminded me that my meager amount of money was nearly exhausted; only a grand to keep me sustained for three months. Hmmm, maybe I can work here. Every bar needs a good musician. My hopes were shattered as a slight variation to "Gateway to Heaven" came out of the bar. Guess I was too late.

I walked to the entrance, and looked inside. The light's were dim inside, and the air stuffy, but no smoke. As always, whenever someone enters a room, a few people looked up at me. Taking no note of my black leather pants and tight, sleeveless black shirt underneath a full-length trenchcoat, as it fit in with what was seen all around the bar, they went back to their conversations. All, except for one young woman, about 24 of French descent, who looked at me for a few moments longer, as if studying me, then averted her gaze and went back to talking with a small group of individuals at her table, presumably her friends .

I walked up to the bar. The bartender, a man of about 23 and fairly good looks, stood behind the bar, and looked at me as I approached. "What can I get you?" he asks as I approach.

"Bloody Marie," I said, purposefully putting the mispronunciation of 'Mary' in there; it was a vampire's drink that I was ordering, not a mortal's. He nodded, and taking a few bottles, created the concoction, and handed me the glass. I took it, and pulled out a $20. "Tell me when this runs out," I said, and he again nodded, taking my money and slipping it underneath the bar. I turned to watch the band onstage.

They had skill, that much I could tell right off. The lead singer, also the guitarist, had a great voice and could play the guitar as well as I could. The rest of his band, a keyboardist, another guitarist, this one female, and a drummer, also were good, but it was apparent who held the skill in this band. I nodded to the music as the song continued on, going through the fingerings through my own head. He played a good variation, and I was almost sad when the song died off. I clapped with the others in the bar, and turned back towards the bartender. "I'm looking for someone," I said to him. "She owns the bar. Where can I find her?"

"The mistress does not like to be disturbed, especially when there are non-Kindred about. I can ask her if she can make an appointment with you after the bar closes for the night, but I cannot guarantee an audience."

"Thanks. One last question: where is the prince of this city? I have yet to ask permission to be in his domain, and I figured it'd be a good idea to present myself before too much time passed."

He nodded, "Correct you are in that assumption. I can arrange an appointment. Give me a moment," He turned to a door behind the bar, opened it, and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. After a few minutes, he stepped back out, and came up to me, "The Prince can see you now; his men are on their way to escort you to his domain now. Please await outside; they know what you look like, so they will be able to find you."

"Thanks," I said again, and, swallowing the rest of my drink, I set the glass down and leave the bar. As I turned around for one last look at the bar, I saw that woman looking in my direction again, with her three friends also looking at me. I shifted my gaze, and stepped outside to await my ride.

I did not have to wait long, as within a few minutes a black mini-limousine pulled up and out stepped two guys. Two very big guys, and dressed in black suits. "Come with us," one said to me, opening the door. I nodded, and entered the car. In here, in the seat across from mine, sat another guy dressed like the others.

As I settled myself down, the guy said, "You are now going to see the prince. Be warned; any action that could possibly be considered offensive in nature will result in your instant destruction."

"Fair enough, I guess," I said, and he grunted, saying nothing more for the remainder of the ride.

After about five minutes, going through the old part of the city, we stopped in front of an old theater. "This his place?" I asked. "Not bad; he's got good tastes." The theater, despite its apparent age, was still in fairly good condition; the paint had been redone recently, and there were no holes to be seen.

"Follow me," said one, this one being the first one that spoke to me. "We will escort you to the prince."

"Okay." As he stepped forward, I get in step behind him, and the other two follow me, one to a side.

The interior of the building was a stark contrast to the bleak outside: in here, new white marble was everywhere, and the lights were bright within, though within every corner, there were still patches of darkness. That has to be intentional. Probably have a few Nosferats in here. At the far end of the room was an elevator door, and we walked that way. The lead man, once we were inside, pressed a few buttons, which ones I could not see as he intentionally blocked my way, and we began to move, though whether it was up or down I could not tell.

A few moments later, the door opened, and we stepped out into a brightly-lit hallway. Damn! Isn't this a bit bright for a vampire's home? Gah! At the end was a door, and standing there were two guards, each with a .50 caliber rifle in front of them on a tripod. As we reached the guards, the one on the right spoke up, "Remove all weapons from your person before entering. If you 'forget' one," he accented the sarcasm, "the consequences will be dire."

"Fair enough," I said, as I began disarming myself. First, I removed my sword and shotgun from where they hung within the trenchcoat, then took the .45 out of the holster on my belt. Pulling out a knife from each boot, and one from each sleeve, I dropped them on the floor beside my other weapons, and stopped, indicating I was finished. The door guards nodded, then opened the door. The lead escort stepped forward, and I followed, sensing that the other two were still behind me.

The door opened up to a large room, also made up of the same marble seen elsewhere, but the light was not as intense here as it was elsewhere, but still bright enough for it to be a bit bothersome. Sitting behind a large desk at the back of the room was a man, dressed in a well-cut silk burgundy suit. He had a very commanding look about him, as his eyes bespoke of authority, and his posture of etiquette. He was European, probably British by his dark hair, and his slightly colored skin almost nearly made me forget that he was a vampire, and an Elder prince at that.

As we stepped into the room, the lead escort bowed, and I fell to one knee, bowing my head in respect and meekness, remembering to always show respect to your elders, especially to one as powerful as the one before me. "Rise, neonate, " came the voice from behind the desk, a deep, commanding voice that even if he were mortal would be heeded. I did as told and I stood up. "You show me great respect in your actions, and for your haste in wishing for an audience, and for that, you already stand high in my eyes." He looked at the escort in front, "You can leave now, Nellin; he holds no threat to me," Nellin nodded, bowed, then turned and left the room, taking the other two with him. The door shut behind them, the sound ominous in my ears.

"Come, sit down," he said, motioning to a seat in front of the desk. I nod, and take the indicated seat. "I am Francis Ranthene III, prince of Kansas City. What brings you to my fair city?"

"I have heard there were problems of Sabbat in the area," I said, my memorized speech coming effortlessly, "and I wish to offer my services to you and your city. I have no respect for the Sabbat for their blatant disregard of the Traditions, and for that, I wish to teach them what it means to break those rules."

The prince smiled, "Almost believable, if it wasn't for the twitching in you lip at the very beginning." He placed his fingers on his cheek in thought. "Now, I wonder, why is it that you hide your truth from me. There is a story behind it, and I am to find it. But first, one last question: who is your sire?"

"Gerard Hanson, eight times removed from our first ancestor, of the Clan Brujah. I was embraced February 16th, of this year. I come from Poplar Bluff, Missouri, a small city of low Kindred presence."

"Hmm…Hanson, yes, I know him. A weapons master, and an Elder. You have a good sire, Mr.…" He broke of, leaving it open.

"Jenkins. Scott Jenkins."

He nodded, "You have a good sire, then, Mr. Jenkins." He reached underneath his desk, and pulled out a stone goblet and a thin knife. "There is one thing you must do now before I can grant you my permission. You must let fall a drop of your blood into the cup, so as to let me taste it and see the truth within your words. If you refuse, then you will be sent away, and you will never be allowed within the city ever again." He set down the items onto the desk, in front of me. "What is your choice, Scott?"

Instead of answering, I picked up the knife, and pricked my finger with it. Blood beaded at the puncture, and I upturned it, letting it fall into the cup. With a thought, I closed the wound. Nodding, the prince picked up the cup, and let the drop fall into his mouth. "You are not entirely what you say you are, Mr. Jenkins; you are of Toreador lineage, and a powerful one at that. You are of the seventh generation rather than of the ninth, as you said, and your sire…I can almost place the name."

"She's Rienna Leyran, one of the members of St. Louis's primogen."

"Ah yes, her. But why the story, I must ask again, if you have such a prominent sire?"

"It is because, when I was still alive, I insulted her by accident, and she sired me like she had planned, but instead left me, and swore my eternal suffering for my deeds. I was found by Gerard, who took me under his wing, as he too had been contemplating my siring, and recruited myself on a mission. I cannot tell you what my mission is, for I have sworn to my foster sire to remain silent, and I will uphold that promise for as long as I can, or until the situation demands the telling. I hope that you understand my reluctance to speak of it."

"Yes, yes I do. I respect Gerard enough to trust his judgement, and although your mission intrigues me immensely, I will not pry, for his sake." He stood up, and walked over to the wall. He put his hand upon it, and slid out a panel. Inside was a small refrigerator. He opened it, and pulled out two bottles of blood. He came back to the desk, sat down, and handed me one. I took it, and thanked him. He nodded, took a drink, and started again. "Even though I do not know your true goals here, I see enough through your blood to see that you can be trusted. Does what you say about the Sabbat hold true, or was that a falsification?"

"That is true; I do hate the Sabbat, though I have not had any experience with them beyond what I have heard said from Gerard, of his own encounters with them. Despite my newness to my situation, I accept it, and I will respect the rules that come with it, unless the rules need to be broken for the greater good, whether it be my own or someone else's. The Sabbat's disregard for the Masquerade offends me, and I do wish to fight them, to prove to them, to the Camarilla, and to myself, that I am a strong and worthy vampire, capable of taking out my enemies and defending my beliefs."

The prince laughed then, which caught me a bit surprised. "A worthy vampire…I do not think I have ever heard such a thing before. But you are still young, and your humanity still fresh within your mind. It will fade, as will many of your ideals, and you will realize that there is no such thing as a 'worthy' vampire." He paused for a moment, taking a drink. I, too, took a drink at this opportune time, and I was rewarded with blood that was so sweet it was almost intoxicating.

I had never before tasted fresh blood, as the idea still bothered me a bit, but this…this, I knew then, is what fresh blood was like, even though it had been bottled. I didn't have much time to muse over how whoever filled the bottles managed to keep the flavor alive, even after refrigeration, as the prince spoke up again, "I would like to help you out, get you started in the city, and let your name be known. There has been a rash of Sabbat attacks lately, and I would like you to assist my mercenaries in their quelling of the Sabbats. The leader of the group is Jezebella Venetra, a prominent Toreador in this area, and a friend of mine; go back to the bar, and she will fill you in there. I will call her after we are done, and make the arrangements. Prove yourself in this, and I will help you in your mission in any way that I can."

"Thank you, Elder," I said, bowing my head. "You have given me a great honor. I will not fail you."

"Good. Well, if that is all, then I must say you need to get back to the bar soon; they have made plans to assault one of the Sabbat's hideouts at midnight tonight, and it is already a quarter past eleven." He stands again, and this time I stand as well. "It has been a pleasure meeting you, Scott," he said, offering his hand. "I hope we will have future business deals further on down the road."

I took his hand, and shook it. "Likewise, Elder," I said, "I hope all goes well for our futures." He nods, and I turned to leave. As I reached the door, Ranthene asked, "Do you have a cell phone?"

"No, I haven't yet had a use for one."

He reached into his desk, and threw something from it at me. It was a cell phone. "You do now. My number is on the first speed dial. Good luck."

"Thanks." I opened the door, and stepped out. The guards looked at me, looked inside to make sure all was okay, then went back to their watch. I picked up all of my weapons, putting them back in their right places, and went to the elevator. Nellin and the others were there, waiting. Again, Nellin blocked my view as he operated the elevator, and we came back to the first room. Back into the limo, and back to the bar. They left, and I went inside. Nothing had changed in the short time I was gone.

I looked for that woman again, and her group as well, but they weren't there. I sat back down at the bar, and nodded to the barkeeper, who nodded back, but then handed me a sheet of paper, folded as to let none of its contents be seen. I thanked him, and opened the note cautiously.

Greetings, Scott. The prince has told me of your addition into my group, though I wish he had given me a choice in the matter. Oh well; I support his decision, in any case. I am, as you read this, making the necessary adjustments into our plans for the assault to encompass you into them, so please await my arrival patiently. Enjoy the bar, and get what you need to stay comfortable. The bar is open to you.

Jezebella, a.k.a. Jezzie.

Good, no hard feelings, it seems. I wonder…is she that woman? Probably, knowing my luck. I looked up in time to see a fight start out on the stage, as a few guys had stepped onto it and were attacking the keyboardist. The people around the stage backed up as much as they could, while the other band members were beginning to advance on the attackers. I could also see the bouncer, a large man, and most likely a vampire, work his way though the crowd towards the stage. Two of the four guys had the keyboardist pinned to the ground, and were pummeling him with heavy hits, while the other two were working to keep the other three members of the band back, who were, slowly making headway and getting closer to where their friend was being beaten.

"Idiots," I muttered to myself, and I jumped on the stage. The three musicians and the other two looked at me, not sure which side I was on, until I brought my fist back and smashed one of the assaulters in the jaw. I felt the jaw crumple, and he fell to the ground, but he stood back up. Great, a vampire… no big, though. I rushed him, bringing my elbow into his gut. He grunted, and doubled over, and I brought my fists together and brought them down upon his back. I felt and heard his spine snap, and the vampire fell to the ground, unmoving for the moment.

While I was fighting this one, the musicians had managed to take out the other one, and the bouncer was holding each of the other two attackers by the throat and bashing them together, and none too softly by the blood on their heads. Taking them to the door, the bouncer threw them out onto the street, and picked up the last two, doing the same to them. I came over to where the other band members were sitting around the keyboardist, who was unconscious at the time. His face was swollen, and his chest was slightly caved in. He was also breathing, which the other members of the band weren't doing. "Is he going to be okay?" I asked them. "What did those vamps have against him?"

The guitarist looked up, "Yeah, he's gonna be okay, we think, but he's gonna be out for at least three months. Thanks for your help back there, by the way. I'm Jason, and this is Christie," he said, pointing to the female, who smiles, "and Joshua," pointing to the drummer, who nods. "We're gonna have to stop playing for a while until we can find a temporary replacement for Jase."

"I can take his place. Name a song, and I can play it."

Jason looked at me, "Prove it," he said, standing. "If you can, you're on. If not, then you're paying Jase's medical bill for wasting my time."

"Deal," I said, coming to where the keyboard stood on its stand. "What first?"

"We'll start easy: Smoke on the Water."

I smiled. That was one of the first ones I had ever tried to do by ear. I stretched my fingers, pulled off the trenchcoat, making sure that the weapons did not show nor make a noise, changed the settings on the keyboard to my liking, and then started. As I began, I saw the woman come down one of the hallways that led to farther into the building, where there were rooms for people to rent. Behind her were the others: a young woman, American descent, and not much older than I, dressed in stereotypical Goth style, with the exception of a leather mini-skirt; a man, about 30 of Russian descent, dressed in complete contrast of her in an expensive suit; another man, of about the same age but of English heritage, and similarly dressed in style, but of a more conservative style; and yet again, one more man, this one being a 25-26 year-old American, plain-looking and similarly clothed, although he was wearing a trenchcoat much like my own.

I paid them little attention as I played. Throughout the song, I made a few of my favorite adjustments to the song, to the approval of Jason. The song eventually came to an end, and the few listeners applauded. The woman and her group, who had, while I was playing, stayed where they were at the hall's entryway, stepped forward and onto the stage as Jason spoke to me. "Not bad. And those variations were pretty tight. Okay, the next song…"

"The next song will have to wait," interrupts the woman as she reached the stage and came forward, the others following behind her. "I have heard from Devon, my bartender, that you helped stopped the fight, correct?"

"Yeah, I did. Couldn't see a reason for those guys to be beating up on Jase, so I decided to do something. Besides, he was a fellow musician; we gotta look out for our own. And I take it that you are Jezzie, then."

"Yes, I am Jezzie. The prince has told me of you, Scott, and if your lineage is any indication of your skill, then you will be strong addition to our group. Here, let us go elsewhere, out of the sight of the mortals, where we can speak more freely." She turned to Jason, "Can you tell Zephyr that the group is meeting and we need him?"

"Sure thing, boss," he said, and jumped off the stage, heading towards the door where the bouncer stood. "Come," Jezzie said, "follow me." I picked up my trenchcoat, shrugged it on, and followed them down the hallway. They stopped at the second door on the right, and entered. I entered after them. After a few moments of silence, Zephyr stepped into the room, closed the door behind him, and then the talk started up again.

"Unfortunately, our whole group is not here at the moment; Karis, our Gangrel friend, and Zanen, a Setite, are out keeping an eye on the Sabbats. As you know, I am Jezebella Venetra, of the Toreador clan, and this is my group of mismatched vampires, as varied in personality as in clans." To the others, she said, "Please introduce yourself to our newest member."

"Of course, my lady," said the Russian, bowing. Facing me, he held out his hand, "I am Vladimir Yuveski, of the Ventrues. I have heard you have studied under a great swordsman, as have I; pray tell, what is the style he teaches?"

I grasped his hand, and shook it. "Um…well, I don't know, really. I'd have to ask him sometime. I just learned the moves, not the names of them."

"What has swordfighting become these days? Not teaching the name…oh well; it is of no consequence. I am eager, though, to see what you have to offer on the field of battle. We shall see tonight."

Zephyr spoke up next. "I am Zephyr, Brujah. Not a bad job in the bar earlier, though I hope that's not the best you have to offer. If it is, you won't survive tonight's challenge."

Before I could reply, the younger guy said, "Can I get out of this disguise now? It's starting to bug me."

"No!" said the young woman. "It's ewwy! And it makes the smell worse, too!"

"Does not!" he retorted back. "Vlad's device takes care of the smell, no matter what I look like."

"You still stink," she said, sniffing the air. "I can smell it. And it will get worse when I see your face. So no, you can't."

Jezzie stepped between them, "Liz, you know it doesn't make it worse, so stop complaining. And yes, Alex, you can. I see no reason why you cannot." She said to me, "If you couldn't tell, Elizabeth is our resident Malkavian and Alex a Nosferatu."

"I told you not to call me Elizabeth!" Elizabeth cried out. "I'm Liz! Liz! Liz! Liz!"

"Oh, shut up, Liz," said Alex, as his face faded, and became that of a Nosferatu. "You change your mind five times a day anyway, so why does it matter? All those personalities running through your head…can't see how you keep them separate."

"But I'm not crazy," she whispered, as if telling a secret. "I just pretend I am to scare away the little purple men. Once they're all gone, you'll see."

The last of the men spoke up then, "There are no such things as little purple men. Only you and a few others of the Malkavians think that they exist, proving that only stark raving mad vampires are able to see them." He looked at me then. "I'm sorry for the strangeness of us. I am Hugh Vance, of the Tremeres. Despite our outer appearance of dissention, we are, in reality, a very effective group, once we stop squabbling amongst each other." The last part was emphasized with a glance at Liz and Alex. Liz looked embarrassed, while Alex pretended not to hear. "I welcome your addition to our group. But, just as at any time of your unlife, you must always watch your back; treachery lies in all corners of the world, in all hearts."

"Now, now, Hugh; no need for that. Scott knows as well as the rest of us what lies out there, and in some ways, is probably equipped to handle it as much as we are. In effect, he is the strongest of us all, being of the seventh generation. Well, he is the same as you, Zephyr, but you cheated."

"Power is power, no matter how you gain it," he said. "And those who take it are better off than those given it."

"You hardly took it," Vladimir said, disgust reaching his voice. "The Giovanni gave you the vampire to diablerize. He was already pre-staked and ready to feast upon. So don't even begin to fool yourself; you have become stronger, but you have become tainted for it."

"Don't tell me you're still in that God crap?" Zephyr asked incredulously. "He, she, it…whatever the hell God is, is not real, and your faith in it will not save you."

"Do not doubt the power of faith," Vladimir chided softly. "Even faith the size of a pea can explode and encompass the world."

"Enough of this talk," Jezzie says, pulling out a laptop. "We still need to show Scott our plan." She clicked on a file, and a three-dimensional layout of a small apartment complex came into view. "The whole building is controlled by Sabbats, and is the home to about twenty of the bastards. They're all low-generation neonates, mostly thirteenth and fourteenth generation, except for their two leaders, which we believe to be eighth generation. The plan is simple: Zephyr, Alex, and myself will come from the north entrance, Vladimir, Karis, and Hugh from the south, and Liz, Zanen, and yourself from the west entrance.

"We plan on doing a floor-by-floor sweep, making sure there's nothing to come up behind us after we clear a level. For the first few encounters, use hand-to-hand combat over firearms, and we want to catch as many of them by surprise as we can; it's going to be rough as it is without having to fight them all at once. Once the firing starts, we only have a few minutes before the police get there, so it's a get in, get out attack. When we are through, we are going to set fire to the building, so that the mortals will not find the bodies of the Sabbat, and possibly threaten the Masquerade. After that, we meet up back here. You got it, Scott?"

"Yeah, no prob at all. I'm looking forward to this."

"Okay. Well, if there are no more questions, then let's go; the time has nearly come. Gather all of your equipment, and meet me out back." As the others left, she turned to me. "Scott, do you need any weapons or armor?"

"I have the weapons covered, but some extra protection would be welcome. But nothing restricting of the movement."

"Got it." She went to the back of the room, and shuffled through a couple of the boxes. Pulling out what looked like a heavy T-shirt, she tossed it to me. I caught it, and inspected it closer. I was a T-shirt, black, but had thin, kevlar plates sown into it, making it easily to conceal.

"Thanks," I said as she left the room. Taking of the trenchcoat, I pull on the new shirt over my old one, tested it for maneuverability, and, being satisfied with it, I put my trenchcoat back on and headed to the back. I was the first one there, so I waited, loosening my sword in its scabbard and checking the guns over. All in working order, it appeared.

Over the next few minutes, the others came, and almost seemingly new people with their changed appearances. All except the Tremere; he was not there. Vladimir's suit and Liz's skirt had been discarded for shirts, pants, and the occasional trenchcoat. Vladimir carried two swords, and a third, larger sword was strapped upon his back. The rest carried shotguns of the sawed-off variety or pistols. A few knives on an occasional belt were the only other signs of weapons. "I thought we were going hand-to-hand first?" I asked.

"Yeah, we are," replies Zephyr, loading his shotgun.

"So where are your weapons? You can't tell me you're going in with just knives, with Vladimir and myself being the exception."

"Some of us don't need such tools," he scoffed, showing his muscles in his arm.

From the shadows came the Nosferatu's voice. "And some of us use these," he said, coming out of the shadows with claws that extended several inches past his fingers. "These are just as effective as your swords, and its harder to heal the damage when hurt by these."

"Haven't we told you before to stop doing that?" Liz demanded. "No more sneaking up on us; it's not fair."

"You can do it just as I can, Malkavian, so stop your griping. Let's just get this done and over with."

"Yes, let's," said Jezzie. "Okay, it looks like we're all ready, so let's go. Scott, just follow us there."

"Where's Hugh? Isn't he coming?" I asked.

"Yes, he is, but he's meeting us there. He needed to pick up a few things first."

"Okay. Let's go then."

Vladimir took Jezzie and Liz with him in his Mercedes (heh, I was right; it was the Ventrue's car), while Zephyr and Alex both rode on motorcycles, Zephyr taking the lead and Alex staying behind the car. I hopped on mine and followed.

Author's Note: So far, the story has been going slow, and there is lots of dialogue and low amounts of action. If this bothers anybody, I just have to say that I take my time in building the plot, so please bear with me and my really long sentences. The action does begin to increase in the next chapter, as the first real battle of the story goes on, and as the theme of the story becomes more apparent.