A bag full of Isaac Morgan's ashes was dumped on the desk of the archbishop of the greater New Jersey area, which was under Sabbat control. Damien grinned under the shadows of his wide brimmed hat, his eyes gleaming as he watched the Archbishop nod approvingly.
Archbishop Stivileti was a Lasombra, and not one to screw with. Damien however, was one of Stivileti's favorite warriors. Damien was a Templar, but he was also a Templar who got his stuff done. Many of the Templars in today's Sabbat were whiney little prisci recruits. The Archbishop nodded and folded his hands under his chin, thinking for a moment.
"Excellent work my friend" the Archbishop said, thoughts still running through his head. "Are your prepared to strike at the Tremere chantry when the time is right?"
"You don't always ask smart questions Archbishop, you know the answer."
"I do, don't I. Your tongue is going to get you in trouble one of these days Zeliot" the Lasombra said matter-of-factly. Stivileti was a rather imposing figure at 6'3, and was regale and impressive, an Italian of good appearance with long flowing black hair and a business suit always on.
"Not as long as you have Camarilla you need to kill."
"Okay, your smarter than you look. Do me a favor Zeliot, we need some intelligence on this Tremere chantry. If we wipe out the Tremere Chantry in one decisive strike, the rest will follow. However we can't afford the casualties if one of my other underlings fucks it up big time so I'm sending you in alone for this one. I just pray it will be enough."
"You'll have your information Archbishop Stivileti."
With that, Damien stalked out of his office. The Lasombra owned a major law firm in Southern New Jersey and Damien came into a slightly colder March evening. It had been day since Isaac had been made dust, and The Tzimisce was proud of his achievement.
The Tremere Chantry he needed to nix was in Newark, which wasn't all that far away. He could make it there in a few hours drive if he went slow, and it wasn't going to be a huge issue for him to get some intelligence done before the night is through. If the vampires got a hold of the Chantry they would be able to springboard a launch into New York City.
With Damien thinning out the Camarilla vampire population there, the Camarilla would be running around like dogs looking for men in their own domain who were offing their vampires. This left Newark open to attack, what Camarilla were there. Plus the fewer Camarilla vampires in NYC the better. Hopping in his 88 Cougar, which was all nice and redone, painted black, Damien made his way onto the highway.
Arriving in Newark sometime near midnight, the moonlight shone on him as he exited his vehicle, checking into a cheap motel in this decadent city so he wouldn't have to waste gas money for a four hour drive every evening. Plus he didn't want to waste that precious time.
The Chantry was just a few blocks down, and wasn't supposed to be that great of a Chantry anyway. Damien's clan and the Tremere have had a feud that goes back even to the Dark Ages, and Damien was damn proud of it. The Tremere had managed to survive winning is something the Tzimisce would never let them have.
Damien adjusted his leather attire as he strode up the few city blocks it was to get to the Chantry. The place was a small bookstore, which had two guys pretending to read comic books standing outside. He could tell from their auras both were ghouls, evoking the powers of Auspex. They were keeping tabs on the place most likely. He could see behind the door the face of a stone gargoyle, which startled him as odd because it had a pale aura.
This wasn't going to be easy Damien thought, the store closed in thirty minutes, he would have that long to prepare. Sending back some images with his camera phone, he hoped he wasn't attracting any attention to himself. He was going to have to find a way to do this on his own.
Archbishop Stivileti was a Lasombra, and not one to screw with. Damien however, was one of Stivileti's favorite warriors. Damien was a Templar, but he was also a Templar who got his stuff done. Many of the Templars in today's Sabbat were whiney little prisci recruits. The Archbishop nodded and folded his hands under his chin, thinking for a moment.
"Excellent work my friend" the Archbishop said, thoughts still running through his head. "Are your prepared to strike at the Tremere chantry when the time is right?"
"You don't always ask smart questions Archbishop, you know the answer."
"I do, don't I. Your tongue is going to get you in trouble one of these days Zeliot" the Lasombra said matter-of-factly. Stivileti was a rather imposing figure at 6'3, and was regale and impressive, an Italian of good appearance with long flowing black hair and a business suit always on.
"Not as long as you have Camarilla you need to kill."
"Okay, your smarter than you look. Do me a favor Zeliot, we need some intelligence on this Tremere chantry. If we wipe out the Tremere Chantry in one decisive strike, the rest will follow. However we can't afford the casualties if one of my other underlings fucks it up big time so I'm sending you in alone for this one. I just pray it will be enough."
"You'll have your information Archbishop Stivileti."
With that, Damien stalked out of his office. The Lasombra owned a major law firm in Southern New Jersey and Damien came into a slightly colder March evening. It had been day since Isaac had been made dust, and The Tzimisce was proud of his achievement.
The Tremere Chantry he needed to nix was in Newark, which wasn't all that far away. He could make it there in a few hours drive if he went slow, and it wasn't going to be a huge issue for him to get some intelligence done before the night is through. If the vampires got a hold of the Chantry they would be able to springboard a launch into New York City.
With Damien thinning out the Camarilla vampire population there, the Camarilla would be running around like dogs looking for men in their own domain who were offing their vampires. This left Newark open to attack, what Camarilla were there. Plus the fewer Camarilla vampires in NYC the better. Hopping in his 88 Cougar, which was all nice and redone, painted black, Damien made his way onto the highway.
Arriving in Newark sometime near midnight, the moonlight shone on him as he exited his vehicle, checking into a cheap motel in this decadent city so he wouldn't have to waste gas money for a four hour drive every evening. Plus he didn't want to waste that precious time.
The Chantry was just a few blocks down, and wasn't supposed to be that great of a Chantry anyway. Damien's clan and the Tremere have had a feud that goes back even to the Dark Ages, and Damien was damn proud of it. The Tremere had managed to survive winning is something the Tzimisce would never let them have.
Damien adjusted his leather attire as he strode up the few city blocks it was to get to the Chantry. The place was a small bookstore, which had two guys pretending to read comic books standing outside. He could tell from their auras both were ghouls, evoking the powers of Auspex. They were keeping tabs on the place most likely. He could see behind the door the face of a stone gargoyle, which startled him as odd because it had a pale aura.
This wasn't going to be easy Damien thought, the store closed in thirty minutes, he would have that long to prepare. Sending back some images with his camera phone, he hoped he wasn't attracting any attention to himself. He was going to have to find a way to do this on his own.