From the private Journal of Moira Hassan, Assassin of the Sanctified
Wednesday, November 24, 2010, The eve of Thanksgiving.
It wasn’t too long ago, but who keeps track of time when you have bullet-wounds to remind you? Ambushed right outside the Prince’s building, while the Prince was away. But it wasn’t a problem. The deceivingly Nosferatu, Sean Callahan, and his cohorts, agreed to host a soiree and I thought it would be a good idea to head the security details. Fortunately, I saw it effective to appeal to Sean’s ego as you may find as I write on. This cotorie, The Resurrectionists, or, The Innocents, as our illustrious leader would prefer to declare, felt that more assistance would be necessary to create the best and safest atmosphere for the party. Our most alluring member, Sibylle, managed to pull all her connections in order to provide catering and service for the following evening, so we were all supplied for the comforts. With no real surprise, she also located an abandoned Brewery for our use. We were met by her ghoul, the fidgety Marcus, whom I feel is still shattered by his encounter with the Strix. Sean sorted some details with Marcus about the place, but amidst the boredom of the constant talk, I threw my hand across the Nossie’s face. In shock and outrage, Sean threw forward his inbred gift of “shock-n-awe”. The tentacles and fangs were remarkable, but I did not find the amusement from his power as I had thought. Agnes, our dangerously old Beastie-granny, rushed with concern, almost paranoia.
This was irritating, I gave a bold front, but it was prolonging the talking. Admitting defeat, I let Sean have his way. Marcus was already shaken further by this exchange between Sean and I, which did not help further anything. I remarked as Marcus exited the building, that Antonio is a fine example of a ghoul, appealing to Sean’s ego -but its true, Antonio did have more experience in various situations that afforded him fair composure... Nah, I was doing it to appeal to the Nossie’s ego. While the details fell into obscurity, we were compelled to Ms. Opal’s luxurious abode, filled with decayed air and blood-sucking flies. Gustav, an octaroon associate of Ms. Opal, allowed us through and guided us to her boudoir. Despite the cold factors of the winter air, Ms. Opal’s robust form was sweltering. Here, I could somehow pinpoint the size of the fly-ghouls gorging upon the blood-sweat bleeding from her pores. I’m not sure what the blazing hells was going on, but we were directed to a library where a Carthian meeting had occurred. There, we met a few neonates, a Lara, and a fellow who bolted out the window. Agnes was about to join the “throwing yourself out the window” party, but Lemuel and I made attempts to calm her down. Lem’s Lordly power was the only thing quicker than my grasp and as such, successful in calming her before another window’s fate was sealed. Given that wonderful greeting of fear, Sean had no confidence in one of our new security candidates. Specifically the one who fled. But I assured him, plainly, that it would work just fine. Unconvinced, Sean pressed the point of his need for efficiency. I really didn’t give a damn! Collecting ourselves, we exited stage right. For the duration, we attended our various covenant meetings. I personally made it a point to attend the weekly Lancea Sanctum Mass, held at Saint Alphonsus Church. Honestly, I preferred something that was vain in structural-design, because this place was so humbling. But no part of Lancea had a notable mosque in the region, so I had to make it worthwhile. Gorging ourselves upon our local food source- well, at least, I did -we recovered from our wounds and rested for the next day.
November 25th, Day of Thanksgiving.
While Sean chose to replenish his blood pool after giving a monthly dose to his ghoul, Antonio, the rest of us proceeded to set the gears in motion and work on the Brewery. Sybille’s crew broke down walls, set up new furnishings, decorated the region and ensured it was drunk on the exquisite. Myself, I set a crew in motion to equip the walls and rooms with security cameras. I spared no expense, but I wasn’t looking to give it prime security. My objective was to satiate the needs to a point. Sure, we were bringing in the majority of notable factors to this one location. Sure, this would present a tactical trap. But who would attack? I wanted to find out.
When it came to delegating who would be stationed where, I appealed to Sean’s ideas and he seemed more than willing to direct the entire security crew. I offered a point about being able to read auras, but ultimately Sean was able to do my designated task for me. So this night’s festivities would begin. Sibylle’s call for the Blood Dolls came in, dressed in fineries from fetish to high-fashion, everything that would make even the most lewd of Arabic women blush. Sean’s boon to Ms. Opal to bring in mountains of illegal drugs also came in. Guests were checked-in by Antonio, ranging from the mediocre to the prestigious of Kindred. Friends and enemies came in to quickly crowd the open spaces. This was definitely a cluster-fuck, as I reminded myself of how many people were here in this enclosed space. Already a pair was getting out of hand. I stood by in the control-room, the quieter part of the entire throbbing structure, all walls being assaulted by music that insulted the sounds EDC’s Las Vegas Rave scene. Sean announced his approach to intercept the two who were about to kill a Blood Doll from overfeeding. Calling in Antonio into the control-room, I moved to join Sean. Fortunately, the Nossie was able to reconcile the situation with a bit of that “shock-n-awe”, allowing for the girl to be taken to the medical area for an emergency blood transfusion. It was at that very same time, a white U-Haul type truck had parked itself by a docking bay near the back. Lara moved to investigate, as did Agnes who was already sweeping the perimeter. I stood by with Antonio and Lemuel in the control-room, while Janus and Laura were tending to the security out in the main area. Lemuel tapped into the police line, hoping to trace the origin of the truck’s license plate that was relayed to him. Sean moved to join Agnes and Lara, both identifying an odd beating against the walls within the truck container. With no one clear as to the nature of what was in this closed container, it was considered an option to dump the truck into the nearest body of water. I was curious, but I stayed put. Sean elected to move the truck himself, hot-wiring the box and taking its pounding existence out and away. Moving back onto the main floor downstairs, I checked on the injured Blood Doll and found things were well on their way. Sean had his radio open, allowing all of the security personnel to listen as our fear-mongering leader drove a short distance away from the party. The tires blew and holes popped out from all over the truck. The container door came loose. And a ravenous group of twenty-four armed Kindred, all starved and tattered, started making a run for the Brewery. Based on the information Sean relayed over the radios, I tried to make my way to one of the guests, Donovan, who was the Sheriff of New Orleans. But it was too late, the draugr had stormed the party and thrust the cluster-fuck into full swing! No point in reporting the attack to the Sheriff now. By the time Sean made it back into the Brewery, he made a declaration for free feeding rights to those who assisted in fending off the beasts. As we all engaged the crazed draugr in our own special way, Lem moved to take a more effective approach. Unfamiliar with the Kindred’s innate fear of fire, the blood-sucking lawyer made a Molotov cocktail from the central bar and was able to set two of the draugr on fire. Causing the remaining monstrosities to tap into that very primal fear, overriding their bloodlust -which also overrode my fury- we fled the scene. Donovan and the Invictus Primogen, Pearl, gathered their personnel to sweep the area and down the draugr to prevent a Masquerade breach.
The aftermath of the event put us on cleaning detail of this ruined event. And in the end, Lem was able to find the root of this Mississippi license plate. Truck stolen? Yes. Who stole it? Unknown. Where was its last stop? … When I had learned that the draugr were retrieved from Dr. Esmeralda Ortega’s psychiatric facility, a chill went up my spine. The mind was the most powerful and most fragile think to a Kindred. Although I am one of the fiercest and deadliest of Kindred on this planet, nothing with all my power will tempt to challenge a Malkavian head-on. Legends speak of the Malkavians as demons, their council sought by the most daring of caliphs and fools. And like the enclosed Brewery, I felt myself enclosed just the same as we were to encroach upon the domain of one who previously helped me. All the same, the person whose childe lost someone dear to them, and that someone who was lost under my watch. Justice is cold and justice be damned! As my body refuses the light of the heavens and the waters of the earth, I pray forgiveness to Mother Livia for what is necessary and is yet a sin to the brothers I currently side with. With emphasis, I advised that Sean proceed to Ortega’s domain alone to gather information for the potential blood-hunt. Fortunately, Sean was already eager to do this mission himself. Upon the wings of a falcon, I let fly the words which will divine worthiness in the name of our Dark Messiah.
MH
No comments:
Post a Comment