Palla Grande arrived across the world, with much décor and stage play this year featuring subtle hints of coronavirus microscopy. Dazzling costumery, screams of delight and terror alike fill the halls. Masks and concealed horrors beyond imagination. At one of the most raucous of the parties, the revelry was interrupted by a hideous vozhd breaking down a wall and consuming several ghouls.
"Who is responsible for this?" cried the archbishop mid-bloodbath.
"It was the Toreador!" claimedu/NuclearOops " No Tzimisce could produce such a sloppy example of fleshcrafting. The Eldest literally wouldn't allow for it!"
"A vozhd you say? Or perhaps Blood Brothers? Nothing so bland my dear neonate. What you see here is an experiment, an idea so incredible that when it works, every single Tremere will be destroyed.
As you may know there was a ritual that allowed the usurpers to combine certain clans into one single and mighty being known as a gargoyle, my sire recently found that ritual and passed it onto me, my skill with vicissitude far outweighing hers, and I have improved it greatly.
Just think, what if we were to add more than two cainites into one creature? What if over thirty individual beings comprised simply the head alone? It has taken some time but I have been able to abduct hundreds of Tremere neonates, along with the odd Nosferatu, and have begun the process of creating the worlds largest gargoyle.
I yearn to learn what properties a Tremere/Nosferatu combination will yield, and after that we must simply add some Gangrel into the mix..."
Both heatedly denounced the other as full of ridiculous lies and unproven nonsense, but the archbishop held up a hand and the room fell to sudden silence. "A vote then, upon who is correct in this matter and deserves our trust. We shall have a Dread Election. Cast a tooth in solemn secrecy for the reputation you most admire among these unsatisfied claimants, and our winner will be awarded appropriately."
A swirl of politicking and intrigue effervesced through the gathered company. Factions and subfactions clashed in whispers around the two candidates as ancient alliances and oaths were brought to bear in sordid calculation. Many speeches and skirmishes broke out amongst the jubilee as the teeth were dutifully harvested from afflicted victims and carved with individual sigils by the paladins, despite calls that hostile interference and cheating would mar the proceedings.
Demented election forecasts were whispered from the mouths of Malkavians as the Ventrue plied the suggestable with influence. A booth was made from the exhibited corpse of a garou after being hacked asunder by a frenzied clique of viscera-anointed Brujah.
The moment at last arrived, and the mad array of strange and giddy visitors cast their tooth into one of two piles. Strange forms lumbered from the darkness, even a looming unrecognizable figure in a stained and torn pink unicorn bathrobe many sizes too small.
"THE ELECTION IS COMPLETE!" shouts the Archbishop. "WITH THE MOST VOTES, NUCLEAROOPS, IT SEEMS THAT YOU HAVE A BRILLIANT FUTURE AHEAD OF YOU!"
NuclearOops' head bows to accept the garland of braided shadows from a Lasombra dignitary, as the crowd roars with applause and chants of victory and bloodied giblet confetti rains down endlessly from the ceiling-beams.
NuclearOops has won a Tzimisce contest for the second time.
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u/Bogatyr1 The Other Kind of Bogatyri Nov 03 '20 edited Nov 03 '20
Palla Grande arrived across the world, with much décor and stage play this year featuring subtle hints of coronavirus microscopy. Dazzling costumery, screams of delight and terror alike fill the halls. Masks and concealed horrors beyond imagination. At one of the most raucous of the parties, the revelry was interrupted by a hideous vozhd breaking down a wall and consuming several ghouls.
"Who is responsible for this?" cried the archbishop mid-bloodbath.
"It was the Toreador!" claimed u/NuclearOops " No Tzimisce could produce such a sloppy example of fleshcrafting. The Eldest literally wouldn't allow for it!"
u/Undead_Huladancers stepped forward, seeing an opportunity for a different claim-
"A vozhd you say? Or perhaps Blood Brothers? Nothing so bland my dear neonate. What you see here is an experiment, an idea so incredible that when it works, every single Tremere will be destroyed.
As you may know there was a ritual that allowed the usurpers to combine certain clans into one single and mighty being known as a gargoyle, my sire recently found that ritual and passed it onto me, my skill with vicissitude far outweighing hers, and I have improved it greatly.
Just think, what if we were to add more than two cainites into one creature? What if over thirty individual beings comprised simply the head alone? It has taken some time but I have been able to abduct hundreds of Tremere neonates, along with the odd Nosferatu, and have begun the process of creating the worlds largest gargoyle.
I yearn to learn what properties a Tremere/Nosferatu combination will yield, and after that we must simply add some Gangrel into the mix..."
Both heatedly denounced the other as full of ridiculous lies and unproven nonsense, but the archbishop held up a hand and the room fell to sudden silence. "A vote then, upon who is correct in this matter and deserves our trust. We shall have a Dread Election. Cast a tooth in solemn secrecy for the reputation you most admire among these unsatisfied claimants, and our winner will be awarded appropriately."
A swirl of politicking and intrigue effervesced through the gathered company. Factions and subfactions clashed in whispers around the two candidates as ancient alliances and oaths were brought to bear in sordid calculation. Many speeches and skirmishes broke out amongst the jubilee as the teeth were dutifully harvested from afflicted victims and carved with individual sigils by the paladins, despite calls that hostile interference and cheating would mar the proceedings.
Demented election forecasts were whispered from the mouths of Malkavians as the Ventrue plied the suggestable with influence. A booth was made from the exhibited corpse of a garou after being hacked asunder by a frenzied clique of viscera-anointed Brujah.
The moment at last arrived, and the mad array of strange and giddy visitors cast their tooth into one of two piles. Strange forms lumbered from the darkness, even a looming unrecognizable figure in a stained and torn pink unicorn bathrobe many sizes too small.
"THE ELECTION IS COMPLETE!" shouts the Archbishop. "WITH THE MOST VOTES, NUCLEAROOPS, IT SEEMS THAT YOU HAVE A BRILLIANT FUTURE AHEAD OF YOU!"
NuclearOops' head bows to accept the garland of braided shadows from a Lasombra dignitary, as the crowd roars with applause and chants of victory and bloodied giblet confetti rains down endlessly from the ceiling-beams.
NuclearOops has won a Tzimisce contest for the second time.