Vampire: The Masquerade
Contest of Will
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Saturday August 8th
Day 8, Part 6
2:02 AM Prince Modius' Study
The Prince was discussing the Second Tradition now, the right of Domain. He explains how the entire area of Gary, Indiana is, in fact, his Domain and that everything in it belongs to him. Antonio nods appreciably, snapping back to attention. This is actually the one thing he wanted to talk to the Prince about. If he can get through this negotiation and then get the hell out of here, he might still be able to salvage the evening.
“Do you have any questions regarding the right of Domain, and how it is granted?”
Antonio leaned forward a bit in his seat. Prince Modius’s left eyebrow raises as the thick-bodied Mexican rubs his chin, clearly trying to plan what to say. “I want the casino.” He blurts out, finally. Prince Modius blinks a bit, and tries to grasp what Antonio means. “The casino…”
Antonio laughs in a friendly fashion. “The Majestic Casino, over on the docks. I want to take it over from the crime family that currently runs it. They have run it into the ground, you know? I could make better use of it, establish a base here for us.” He gestures with a thumb at himself and then over at the Prince, to emphasize the word ‘us.’
Prince Modius rubs his hands together and leans back in his seat. “Yes. Yes, the Majestic Casino. That is in my domain, isn’t it? Yes, well, let’s discuss the financial parameters of this partnership deal. The way it generally works, Antonio, is that you provide me with a 60 percent split of the profits over the first ten years of your control. Every decade after that, I relinquish another five percent split until we get it down to an 80-20 percent split in your advantage…”
Antonio squints as Prince Modius discusses these unexpected parameters. “Wait. You get...”
“Well, it is in my Domain. I am granting you permission to take control of a business that, essentially, I own and control already. We are immortals after all, and you will end up with an 80-20 advantage in terms of yearly profits in only forty years. That’s an eyeblink for immortals such as we. A very fair offer, and quite usual within the context of dealings between Camarilla members.”
Antonio leans back in his chair. He thinks about it very hard. This is a complication he didn't forsee. Should he kill Prince Modius? Yes! No! Yes! Maybe!
Antonio nods his head a few times to himself. "Yes!" He reaches for his gun, the one the incompetent guards didn't take, and considers the plan. Shoot him in the forehead twice, then ditch the gun, and diablerize him by biting through his neck and drinking all of the blood fast. The butler will rush in, but he's disloyal and Antonio will be able to talk him out of any violence. Or, if not, he's just a fucking ghoul. He'll go down quick and probably be delicious.
Antonio takes his hand off the handle of his gun. A big bright grin falls over his face. Seeing that smile causes Prince Modius to relax. “So we’re agreed that-”
“How about this instead?” Antonio counters. Prince Modius’ mouth curls into a thin frown. But he leans forward, prepared to angrily counter the Giovanni if need be.
“How about I take control of 80 percent of the casino right now. But, I will kill any two people you want!”
Prince Modius blinks for a moment. He didn’t see that coming! And that’s because nobody would have seen it coming. Antonio Hidalgo is a professional hitman by trade. This, for him, is a fair barter. It is also a terrible idea, considering the political situation throughout the Chicago and Gary, Indiana region.
“Intriguing….very intriguing. Very well. I agree to your terms!” Prince Modius smiles and they shake hands vigorously. “So…who do you want me to kill?” Antonio raises an eyebrow. Prince Modius almost answers him, but then pulls back.
“I will let you know. I want to see how things…unfold over the next few months. There may be problems that need to be handled.”
Antonio stands up. “Okay! I’m so glad we worked this out.”
Prince Modius nods his head amiably. “So am I. Now, let’s discuss the rest of the Traditions. There are only four more. This won’t take very long.”
Antonio sits back down. He maintains a grin on his face somehow. “Yes. Let’s do that! Thank you!”
Prince Modius leans back in his chair. “The third tradition…
2:03 AM - Chicago Walenski Home
As Mortimer T. Smith gingerly headed down the stairs into the basement of this burned out, decrepit place, his mind raced at a million miles per hour. First, he stayed obfuscated, to ensure that whatever he was walking in on, he’d have the element of surprise. He was relieved to find the stairs were made of concrete, and thus did not give his presence away.
What was the deal with Tammy Walenski? Why would she hide herself away down here? He sifted through possibilities. Perhaps she was beautiful by human standards, and thus the ugliest Nosferatu ever, by Nosferatu standards. Or perhaps, she was a genuine monster of some kind.
He arrived at the bottom of the stairs to discover a multi-room cellar. Part of it used to be a laundry room, that much is clear. But another part of it has clearly been modified and contains two medium sized beds on different parts of the room, but still somewhat close to each other. There is not a lot of other furniture, but what there is seems to all be broken in various ways. A couple of dressers pushed against a wall are cracked and battered. A wooden chair in the right-hand corner of the room seems like it was tossed there haphazardly and one of its legs cracked in half, making it impossible to sit on without damaging the rest of it. Pictures lie on the floor. Above them Mortimer notes nails in the wall where the pictures may have hung. Shards of glass lay all over the place as a result, much of it strangely farther away from the fallen pictures than it all should be.
Tammy Walenski is a small woman. No, despite her change to a monstrous Nosferatu, it is clear she was embraced when she was just a teenager. Her height and waifish figure makes Mortimer think she was in her early teens, no more than fourteen, if that, when she was embraced. She wears a pink dress that is a simple pullover summer type dress. She sits despondent in the corner of the room, frowning.
There is a heavy feeling to the air in here. Kindred don’t need to breathe, but that doesn’t matter. It is still enough to pull Mortimer down, physically and emotionally, though just slightly. Like when you are in an elevator and your balance gets barely knocked off momentarily, and you feel it in your stomach. But there is no elevator here, and no reason or explanation for that feeling. And yet, it is unmistakably there.
Mortimer’s instincts kick in and instead of greeting her, instead, he just watches.
One of the pictures is suddenly dragged across the ground. Tammy notes it, watches it. “Stop it. Stop it!” she yells at nothing. Much to Mortimer’s amazement, nothing suddenly yells back. “Make us stop, Tammy! Can’t you? You thought you could but now you can’t, can you?” The voice is adult, female, and drips with sarcasm and pure, unadulterated hate. “You can’t stop us at all, can you Tammy?”
Suddenly, a little boy appears in the middle of the room. He looks to be about 12 years old. He looks strangely disoriented, as he looks around. “Tammy?” He asks her. The boy is translucent. Mortimer can see right through him. “No. No! You leave him alone! You better leave him alone, you hear me?”
A tall man suddenly appears over the boy, holding a long belt with vicious looking hooks on it. “Oh, we hear you Tammy!” he says, cackling. “We hear you just fine, you ungrateful little bitch!”
The boy tries to shield himself but that doesn’t matter. The strap comes down hard on him, and he cries out in shock and agony. “No! No!” Tammy grows claws on both hands and flies at the man but passes right through him as he cackles at her feeble attempt to stop him. She lands hard but immediately bounces back to her feet. The man hits the boy several more times with the strap, and each hit causes a very loud crack to emit, and the boy screams in pain. A fat little woman suddenly appears, just as translucent as the other two. She has a water hose in her hand. “But Tammy. How rude of you to have a guest and not tell us he was coming!”
She points in Mortimer’s direction, despite his obfuscation, and he is suddenly lifted off of his feet! The wall comes faster than Mortimer would have thought possible, and he slams into it and onto the floor. His obfuscation drops immediately from the sheer shock of it all.
Tammy is surprised, and, baring her sharp fangs, quickly turns on Mortimer!
Tammy Walenski's parents and brother are dead people and Mortimer T. Smith is officially in over his head and out of his league!
2:04 AM Gary, Indiana - Industrial Boulevard (Near E. 25th Ave.)
Reverend Jeremiah Thomas opens his eyes and stares intensely at Erichthro. She senses it, and comes out of her meditation reverie gradually. They gaze at the time, and nod at each other. A sense of dread filled the both of them. Usually when two Tremere elders march on a place, that place is doomed to fall. But they had failed to even notice the house, and needed to break down the walls of obfuscation with a powerful ritual first. That meant they would be walking into the haven of someone of great power. Someone who had kidnapped the spirit of Garwood Marshall and would likely be aware there would be repercussions for that action. In short, they were walking into a place where the defenses would be sound and the opponent would be respectable. Even with that, they were now ready to burn the place to the ground, if need be. And it probably would.
They rose as one, and stared at the now revealed house. It was three times as large as any of the others in the vicinity. Most of those were, if not somewhat broken down with faded paint and untrimmed hedges, totally common fare. Lower middle class housing for blue collar families on the downturn.
The house they had failed to see was, by far, more intriguing. Though there was no gate or other exterior defenses of note – the obfuscation wall had provided a greater protection than anything physical ever could have – the house was twice as tall as any other, and had a stream-like set of stairs that led up to a thick, iron door. The house was jet black in color. It was not an eyesore though. Just the opposite. The rest of the block was the eyesore. It was almost as if this house didn’t belong here at all, as if it had been transplanted here from somewhere else. The architecture, the size of it, the color scheme. None of it fit the landscape. But that was impossible, wasn’t it?
Not if magic was involved, and both of the Tremere elders had seen greater feats done than this. Still, it invoked a true sense of wonder in the beholder. Why would anyone pick a normal block in Gary, Indiana to transplant a giant house? They marched to the iron door, prepared to get answers.
As Jeremiah unsheathed his holy flail, Erichthro tried the handle on the door once, found it quite locked and shut. She gazed briefly at the doorbell, then she muttered what would have sounded to anyone else like a harsh curse in another language. A flash of blue exploded from her left hand and the door broke apart as if it had been made of balsa wood. Jeremiah marched in first, and she strode in right behind him. It was on!
Jeremiah and Erichthro's assault begins!
2:05 AM Chicago - South Lumber Street
Frustrated. That’s the only emotion that Marshall Barry could muster as he sat alone waiting for the Amtrack train to arrive. It would be here momentarily. He’d successfully purchased a ticket at the little automatic kiosk machine, but that was the only amenity at the little outdoor station. He’d sat here thinking about Mr. Confetti’s little prank regarding the flag, and that was annoying, but maybe it was to be expected. He was a Malkavian, after all, even if he couldn’t acknowledge the fact himself. A curious quirk in Mr. Confetti’s personality. Marshall had a very strong sense of self.
But maybe that was the only thing he did truly have. And that’s why he ended up coming here to participate in the Contest of Will in the first place. He’d admittedly been bored with the day-to-day business of the Hell’s Angels. Well, when you do something for, how long had it been, seventy-something years now? The Contest had been full of challenge. He’d failed miserably in round 1, he knew that. But he was starting to get the hang of things now, as far as the contest went.
He was starting to get the lay of the land, as far as the competition outside of the Contest of Will was concerned, and that was a far more pressing issue. He’d wanted to complete the task of getting the new contract between Lucian and Kevin Jackson done quickly and efficiently. But now he couldn’t even do that. He’d been stupid. He hadn’t actually asked Lucian where to find Jackson. It was possible that since the contract had only been renewed once per decade, that even Lucian was ignorant that Cabrini Green – Jackson’s old stomping grounds – was no longer in existence and that Jackson and the Bloods had clearly moved on.
The train rolled in right on schedule. That was good, but also expected. While there were multiple stations here in Chicago and Gary, Amtrack’s headquarters was in Washington DC, likely properly overseen by capable Kindred there. It was the responsibility of each local Kindred population to ensure that the stations were safe from incursion by Sabbat or other intruders. Barry had plans to take over the stations in this region, and while finding the second flag and taking care of business for Lucian had been a total wash, he could at least scout the route on the train.
It stopped and he boarded. He quickly found a window seat. The train wasn’t populated by many this evening, and he spied no Kindred in his own car. That didn’t mean there weren’t any on the train. But he wasn’t going to go car to car. Not tonight.
As the train rolled out of the station, he wondered just how badly Kevin Jackson wanted to take over Gary, Indiana. Perhaps he’d been planning an all-out war against the Sin City Disciples, which meant a war against Juggler. It also meant a possible all-out war against Prince Modius. Was Jackson really willing to risk a war against the Brujah, Toreador, and Gangrel all at the same time? Perhaps he was. Perhaps he had the backing of the rest of the Ventrue. Or maybe he just thought that the Kindred in Gary were weak, isolated, and promises of help from Kindred in Chicago or Milwaukee would fall on deaf ears.
One thing was for certain. He’d have to size up the Bloods, and let his people know that moving into this region might lead to an immediate war against them. It had been awhile since the Hells Angels had truly, genuinely fought a war against a capable opponent. Most of his gang were older men now, with families. The allure of being a Hell’s Angel had admittedly lost its luster over the years. The gang itself had been fine with that. They didn’t care about recruiting younger blood. To be a Hell’s Angel was a privilege.
Had it been a mistake? Could they be overrun by a younger, hungrier, gang run by an influential, powerful Kindred? Marshall frowned, and started making mental checkmarks about exactly what he’d need to do to prepare for Kevin Jackson properly.
2:06 AM Chicago - Parkside of Old Town
Salihah leaned against the dirty brick building wall in the alleyway and watched with a fascinated interest as Pablo beat the daylights out of three grown men at the same time. His ability to use the super-speed Celerity discipline, to her experienced eye, was unparalleled and unmatched. She had thought, upon first meeting him a week ago, that his personable smile and blatant use of Presence on unsuspecting mortals were his strongest points. Indeed, while others had staggered around trying to gain influence over businesses and municipal assets, Pablo had taken full control of a construction company and had used it to leverage huge business arrangements, and had even put the mayor and the city council of Gary, Indiana under his sway. He had charmed Prince Modius without using disciplines of any kind – of course they were clan mates that so that likely had helped in the matter. She wondered if, in the end, their ridiculous search for Mr. Confetti’s pirate flag had really netted Mortimer and Jeremiah the big win they had earned. They had ridiculed Pablo for sticking by Prince Modius’ side during the Anarch assault. Yet here he now was closing a five-million dollar deal to fix the house that the Anarchs wrecked.
And yet it all paled to what he was able to do as the superhero Night Fist. He trounced three legitimate tough guys who lived in the bad part of town in less time than it would have taken even Marshall to do it. His special armor both concealed his identity, his vampiric nature, and legitimately protected him from harm. She didn’t want to be half as impressed by him as she was finding herself to be.
“I will be watching.” Night Fist leaned in close to the terrified criminal. “If you try and burglarize these houses, and let’s not pretend you and your friends weren’t here casing them, I heard you discussing it…I will end you!”
“We’re gone, man! I swear it. We’re gone!”
Night Fist whirled the man face-first into the nearest wall and let him fall helplessly to the ground, whimpering in pain and shame. He then stormed out of the alleyway. Salihah trailed him like a fangirl, which in fact, she was fast becoming.
“That was hot.” She said brazenly, with a tempting smile on her face. “Whatever floats your boat, I guess.” Pablo said and marched on. “You’re mad.” She said simply. “But you shouldn’t be. Mr. Confetti said this was a game. A game is meant to be played.”
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. But still, to waste an entire evening just wandering around this community. Mr. Confetti has some nerve.”
Salihah grinned brazenly. “Mr. Confetti never told us to come here. We did that based on the assumption that he meant for us to go to where Cabrini Green used to be.”
Pablo gazed at her, then down at the ground as they approached his car. It stood out like a sore thumb in this neighborhood. It might have hubcaps right now, or even wheels, but Magnussen had loyally stayed put and kept it well protected. “How goes the hunt?” he asked, not looking up from his crossword puzzle. “This isn’t Cabrini Green anymore. Hasn’t been in a while.” Pablo said sullenly. “Ah. A setback, then? Mr. Confetti does like his puzzles, doesn’t he?”
Salihah climbed in the back seat. “For all we know, there’s a bagel shop somewhere in the city named Cabrini Green. Use your laptop. Let’s look.”
Pablo smiled suddenly over at her. It was a simple, elegant solution that was probably exactly right. He pulled the laptop out of the overly spacious glove compartment and put in the search as soon as it was ready.
He found a bunch of articles about how Cabrini Green was created, built, how it degraded into what it was supposed to replace, and then got torn down. He found no references to anything else, except a horror movie that featured Cabrini Green as its locale. He didn’t think even Mr. Confetti’s obscure mind would venture that far away. He frowned.
“We’re going about it this the wrong way. And we’re not going to figure it out tonight.”
Salihah leaned back in the seat. Alone in the back, she spread herself out as if lying on a couch. The view in her ultra-tight gold catsuit was scandalous, and both men turned away so as not to stare and give her the satisfaction of knowing she is among the sexiest women either of them has ever seen.
Magnussen put the car in motion and drove directly for The Hotel. “You know what? This is a good thing.” Pablo said firmly, a kind smile gracing his face. “Oh yeah?” Salihah purred from her place. “Yes. The first round served as a kind of tutorial. We’re coming to the end of that. It should get…more difficult to solve things and get points. We’re immortal Kindred. If this game was for simpletons, who would want to play it for long, at our level?”
“That’s the spirit, sir.” Magnussen chimed in cheerily. They entered into a spirited conversation about several of the puzzles that were wide open and hadn’t been discovered yet. They all decided when they got back to The Hotel they would go to the Central Room and review all of the potential quests available. By the time they got to the police checkpoint, they were all in a happy mood. One that even Balthazar and his cronies couldn’t break.
Salihah, Pablo, and Marshall attempted to find the 2nd Flag -- and failed in their attempt! No points gained!
2:03 AM Walenski House
As Mortimer unexpectedly defied gravity and flew through the air, his Obfuscation dropped, his personal shock amplified, he let out an uncharacteristic moan of fear “Ahhhhhhh!”
How long had it been since he was the one in the room who wasn’t the horrible monster? An elder immortal blood-sucking, black-feathered giant bird man. People screamed when they saw him. He did not scream when he saw them. Not until now. Not until tonight.
There were apparently worse things in this world than Mortimer T. Smith. He was now the victim, and he hit the wall hard, making a giant bird-man-sized dent in the plaster.
He bounced off the wall, and being a resilient elder Kindred, quickly recovered and arrived back at his feet to discover that Tammy Walenski had whirled on him. Her surprise at his presence was different. The ghosts were familiar enemies. He was an intruder. There was every possibility that she might even put hostilities with her dead parents aside to deal with him.
He held what passed for his left hand. “Uh, hello. Mr. Danov thought I could help. My name is Mort.” He quickly offered. He saw the lights go back on in her eyes, perhaps only a moment before she went into a full frenzy. She was a little girl when she was embraced. But that could have been centuries ago, for all that Mortimer knew. She could actually be just as, if not more powerful than him. Or at least, simply a much better fighter with disciplines meant for combat rather than his own stealth-based arsenal.
But his words seemed to momentarily pacify her. She held her position, not sure what to do next. And that is when a familiar voice arrived from the staircase. ““It’s okay, Tammy.” Alexander Danov approaches from the stairs. “Mortimer is with me. He’s one of us and I brought him to meet you.”
Tammy simply nods her head once at Danov. She closes her eyes and seems to focus, perhaps reassured by more members of her clan being here to help her. A strange bluish glow appears between both of her hands. Danov watches, fascinated. Mortimer’s mouth gapes open. Whatever he was expecting Tammy Walenski to do next, it wasn’t create a magical ball of blue energy.
Tammy Walenski isn't your average Nosferatu!
2:04 AM - Mystery House
As Jeremiah and Erichthro storm through the front door and into the large, ominous house, they are expecting trouble immediately. Whatever sentry or automatic defense system – physical or mystical is going to be set upon them, the ethereal shields they both launch should protect them physically and spiritually from all eight compass directions.
It is amazing, then, that the thick gooey wave of physical darkness that slams into them successfully pushes them back. Instead of sliding them out the broken front door, however, it instead steers them up against a wall, threatening to crush the life out of them should it actually crack their shielding.
“What…is…this?” Erichthro asks her combat partner. Jeremiah grits his teeth. “It’s not magic. It’s Obtenebration! We need to…ugh…use fire! Fire!”
Erichthro nods once and begins a loud verbal incantation. Jeremiah just concentrates his focus. Seeming as one, the two elder Tremere cast a massive explosion of fire to erupt from their standing position against the thick tentacles of solid obsidian. It not only causes heat, it causes a large cascade of light. Jeremiah’s idea was that this combination would shove the tentacles back into the shadows from whence they were summoned.
It should have worked. Reverend Jeremiah Thomas is an expert at dealing with the unique powers of the primary members of the Sabbat, and Obtenebration is the clan discipline most naturally and famously used by the Lasombra.
So, when the tentacles absorb the fire and, in fact, snuff it out completely it is a great surprise. In fact, because of the small amount of space left between their shield wall and the crushing power of their foe’s tentacles the last of the breathable oxygen is eroded. They are Kindred and don’t need to breathe, but the heat of their fire spells being essentially turned against them is frightening. Had they been human mages, they would be choking, and unable to chant any new spells. As it was, they were left fumbling through their own memories to try and find an alternate solution.
Cracks form and spiderweb through their defensive shields, and they know it’s going to break. Without warning Erichthro suddenly becomes ghost-like, her shield dropping immediately. Jeremiah smirks. A great plan. Nothing physical can harm someone who is intangible. He chooses the same strategy, and they march as one through the tentacles that reach out for them uselessly. “So, this is the Sabbat, then? They have Garwood’s spirit?” Jeremiah grits his teeth. “I could see them easily fooling Prince Modius. But Mr. Confetti? He hates them as much as we do. For them to have escaped his notice at such close proximity…this is a high-level member. Maybe even an Arch-Bishop!”
There was an excitement in Jeremiah’s voice. He reflexively swung his flail a few times as they marched forward towards a tall, spiraling stairwell. To find and eliminate a high-ranking member of the Sabbat was almost too much to ask for. It was almost too good to be true! Erichthro gazed at the stairwell. “A spiral stairwell in the middle of the house? That is very bad feng shui.” She said it with an almost tsk-tsk type of tone. “Sounds like the owner of this house is just asking for a bad fate to befall him, eh?” Jeremiah mused. “Let’s go give it to him.” They walked towards the stairs. But someone up on the landing above charged at them. Because they were ethereal, they expected the fool to go right through them. So when his fists hit each of them and sent them sprawling backward in different directions, they were both taken by surprise.
From their positions on the ground, they looked up to see a tall, dark-haired man in a well-tailored suit that was clearly made of some thick, padded material. A combat suit of some manner that had been tailor-made for him. He was tall, powerful, and had features that marked him as being Eastern European, perhaps from a Slavic country. His dark hair and neatly trimmed mustache and beard, all naturally jet black, complemented the high intelligence in his black pupils nicely. And, as Jeremiah had thought, the man’s fangs marked him as Kindred. Old, powerful Kindred.
He gazed down upon his two unexpected visitors. “You intrude on my house. This is something you will not survive.”
“Why did you kidnap the spirit of Garwood Marshall?” Erichthro blurts out, as she steadies herself for the fight of her un-life.
The man studies the expression in her face for a moment as a flicker of clear confusion covers his own. “Who?” he asks.
Erichthro and Jeremiah are both stunned. Had they come here by mistake? The man’s expression grows hard. “No matter. You have entered my domain uninvited with malice and violence in your hearts. Good.”
He raises both of his hands, and they crackle with nasty purplish-orangish energy. “Very good.” He fires at Erichthro and despite her attempt at a new shield and her intangible form, it hits her like a Mack truck slamming into a car at full speed on the highway. She is thrown like a ragdoll and slides across the floor, her bones broken throughout her entire body.
Jeremiah isn’t going to wait for the same to happen to him. He rushes up the stairs at his enemy, brandishing his flail. “You are powerful, but I won’t be stopped by a member of the Sabbat.”
He lashes out with the flail. The other man side-steps away from the attack, then lashes out with a backhand so powerful that Jeremiah is flung all the way down the stairs and lands hard on the ground. “The Sabbat.” The man saunters at a casual pace down the stairs towards his prey. “Ah. I have had dealings with them in the past. Just as I have had dealings with your Camarilla. They are mostly fools. You all are.”
Erichthro dragged herself to the foot of a small table against the wall. She used it to climb back to her feet. Blood trickled from her nose and mouth and she gazed over at Jeremiah who had already recovered somewhat from the blow, though part of his face was actually caved in. “Garwood’s…not here…he’s not Sabbat either…sorry Reverend Thomas…so sorry…I don’t know how…I could have failed so miserably…”
Jeremiah entered a defensive stance. He knew the truth now. He was not up against some crony of a mystical organization. He was up against an ancient, powerful Kindred whom he had greatly offended. There was no getting out of this. And Jeremiah had been in enough battles over the decades to know that he was, in fact, completely outclassed. Still, he was not going to go down quietly. He brandished his flail and approached the owner of the house more cautiously than he had before…
The owner of the house nodded gravely at him, accepting the challenge. “I will say this. You are brave. That is good. A mark in your favor. Your death will come as quickly and mercifully as I can manage it.”
Jeremiah watches as dark tentacles spring up throughout the floor of the house. He is cut off from Erichthro. Cut off from the exit so retreat is no option. He lets all thoughts leave his mind as he advances, fully expecting this to be the end of his story.
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It appears the Tremere elders have made a terrible mistake that they are about to pay dearly for.
2:05 AM Walenski House
Tammy Walenski opens her eyes, grins brightly and almost greedily at the ball of blue flame in her hands, and then turns on her mother. But the ghost appears unphased as Tammy releases the energy, which streaks at the apparition.
Tammy’s mother turns on a ghostly water hose. What comes out is not exactly water but not exactly solid either. In fact, Mortimer has no idea what it is. It is just as translucent as the three spirits are. Whatever it is, Tammy’s ball of energy is doused and reduced to nothing before it strikes its target.
She then turns the hose on the boy. He screams in agony as he is blasted by the water. Tammy falls to her knees. “Leave him alone damn it! Leave him alone!” She grabs her head and cries hysterically. Danov rushes to her and hugs her. “Leave him alone!” she yells at her dead parents as her dead brother writhes in agony from the water, choking and feeling the impact blast his body.
Danov drags her up the stairs. The two parents grin brightly at Mortimer. “What are you going to do about it, vampire?” The man asks you. He walks over to the boy ghost and kicks him hard in the stomach. Both he and the fat little woman laugh their heads off.
Pictures, debris, and even the chair fly through the air at Mortimer, as the ghosts apparently have telekinesis! They howl with laughter every time he gets hit with something, and moving through the whirlwind of junk is like moving through a quagmire.
Mortimer knows he can’t do anything to them, and strategically retreats. It takes him quite a few minutes to get up the stairs. The battering would seriously damage a human, but for Kindred, it is merely cosmetic.
2:07 AM - Mystery House
Jeremiah grits his teeth and swings large at the tall, dark featured Elder who has left the landing and met him halfway down the staircase. He hits him in the jaw with a large crack. It only seems to annoy him. “Well struck.” He says it the way that a disinterested person might talk about a home run hit by a baseball player on TV as he passes through the room to do something else completely. Then he reaches out to grab the flail. All at once his expression changes. There is a nasty hissing sound and steam seems to rise off of his hand. He howls with agony and releases the flail.
The cross of Jesus burns into his palm and he is outraged. “You…dare…invoke Jesus Christ in my house? In my house?” He backhands Jeremiah so hard that he flies across the room and slams shoulder first into a wall! Separated momentarily from the flail, Jeremiah crawls towards it and grasps it. He looks up to find that Erichthro, from her place by the wall, has cast a spell that has pulled their nemesis physically away from Jeremiah and towards her.
“We’re sorry that we’ve intruded on your house. It was my mistake. Mine. Let him leave. I’ll pay the price.” She says simply. The Elder Kindred seems to momentarily regard her, even as Jeremiah returns to his feet. “The hell you will.” He charges at the man again, but this time instead of using the normal spiked ball as the weapon, he flips it so as to hit the opponent with the handle, thus forcing him to touch the holy cross once again. He mutters a prayer while he does this, straight from the Bible and loudly enough to cause their host to curse under his breath and retreat a full step.
“Enough. Enough of this!” The tall, powerful man raises both of his arms, and the tentacles flail outwards. Two of them smash Erichthro against the wall and her spell holding the man in place disintegrates. Jeremiah tries but fails to evade them and is smashed backwards himself. His assault never completes, and he finds himself smashing at the tentacles rather than the man casting them. “Who are you?”
“I will not waste another drop of your blood on the floor.” He seems to glide towards Erichthro rather than walk. “Who…who are you?” She wants to know the name of the being who is about to destroy her. He grabs her and opens his mouth. “No!” Jeremiah yells and throws himself at them.
This causes the Elder to simply hold Erichthro helplessly against the wall with his left hand, while he extends his right. Jeremiah is held still in open space, paralyzed. The flail drops to the floor. Jeremiah can only stare ahead.
“You both fought well. But not well enough.” He opens his mouth to drink Erichthro dry, but then whirls towards the door. “Who else is foolish enough to intrude upon my house!”
But the newcomer is not inside the door. He is still outside. And there, on the lawn, Mr. Confetti launches into a beautiful serenade with his violin. Much to Jeremiah and Erichthro’s surprise, this causes their opponent to seemingly forget all about them. He watches, mesmerized by the performance.
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2:10 AM - Walenski House
Mortimer retreated to the top of the stairs to find Tammy Walenski in tears, and Danov gently cradling her. Tammy flinches as the newcomer approaches, but then sees it is not either of her parents.
“Can your friend help Peter?” She stares intently at Mortimer. “Can you help my brother?” Danov nods his head sadly. “He is just a new Nosferatu in the area, Tammy. I wanted you to meet him. He is no specialist in the occult.”
Tammy growls with rage. “Then what good is he! Why did you bring him here?” She flashes her claws at Mortimer, but almost immediately retracts them and takes a few steps away. “I…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to!”
Mortimer pretends he didn’t even see the claws or the implied threat. “Well you are definitely in a tough situation but maybe I can ask some associates for help. Can I ask how your parents died and-”
Danov abruptly cuts into Mortimer’s words. “I think that it’s getting a bit late. Mortimer, like me, lives in Gary, and we must return there. Be sure to tell the others that another of our clan has arrived and now lives in the region, all right?”
Tammy nods her head slowly. “Okay. I will.” Danov gazes at her. “You could come to Gary, also. My warrens there are safe. Or-“
Tammy shakes her head. “I can’t abandon my brother. I can’t.” She looks at her hands, and closes her eyes. That strange blue glow appears again momentarily, but then fades. “I am going to learn how to beat them. Peter was able to kill them the first time. He saved me. Now it’s up to me to save him. And I will. I will!”
Suddenly, she charges back down into the basement. “Tammy!” Danov looks down at the ground. He is sullen for a few moments, but then turns to Mortimer. “So. There you have it. You have been formally introduced to Tammy Walenski. Not quite what you had in mind when you asked me to introduce you to a Chicago-based Kindred, I know. But, please don’t think me underhanded. Until Tammy’s situation is resolved, our entire clan is severely hampered. Because of this and a few other terrible things that happened to us during the time of the Lupine attacks, I’m afraid we’ve lost quite a lot of luster. Your presence here can make up for a lot of what we’ve lost, and if it were up to me, I’d recruit even more Nosferatu to come into the region. But for now, we’re working with what we’ve got. Well. Let’s go home. Nothing more to see here, I’m afraid.”
Mortimer has successfully met a Kindred in Chicago, earning him the 200 points he needed to get a victory in the Round 1 Points Contest!
The Story will continue soon...
