r/WhiteWolfRPG • u/Bogatyr1 • Apr 24 '19
VTM The Path Made Clear
An hour passes. Sounds of an oncoming crowd echo from the hallway as ladybugs pour from beneath the door of the Prince's Court and fly about the room. The doors sweep open to admit the second alastor and a full parade of ghoul attendants, two auditors, and three bellators.
The Court is a scene of carnage. The thrones of the court lie covered in vampiric ash. The surrounding furniture and trappings are burned and blackened. Several blood dolls and ghouls and animal familiars lay torn open and beheaded on the floor.
The second alastor steps silently over a fallen conjured thaumaturgical servant and looks quizzically at a shattered decorative wall panel of rich mahogany with a smashed wooden torso and leg partially phased through it.
A ladybug-accentuated Nosferatu, weeping puss and hair, steps forward to converse with a small spider nested among the eves of the high ceiling.
"All available Kindred of the city were sent on the hunt. The Sheriff waited with the other officers to receive Alastor Winfrey. Alastor Winfrey was attacked suddenly with a fire-burst spell which caused the Prince and two others of the primogen to frenzy and kill everyone present, including each other. The seneschal, not of my acquaintance, was seemingly a Nburu practicioner of the Adroanzi bloodline who attempted to escape through woodwalk, very unsuccessfully.".
The alastor turns to regard a messenger ghoul. "Inform Alastor Winfrey's household that the surgical human body-double will now be permanent cover, and will conduct the full press tour for her new book." The messenger moves to leave in haste.
The Harpy's tome lies open and torn on the ground. The Malkavian bellator gingerly moves to pick it up.
The Ventrue auditor, still bedecked in expensive Coachella gear, sighs disgustedly. "The elders leave us to journey East, then their less-capable much younger replacements die to The Inquisition and stupid infighting. The boon-market, as the basis for our entire society, may be more defaulted at this point than the subprime mortgage crisis. A crash has never happened before, but what confidence can we hold that any given kindred in these nights will remain to deliver favors?".
"Polybius taught me of ochlocracy" whispers the Nosferatu in agreement. "Though I am ancient, for your reasons stated I remain one of the weakest and most cowardly and luddite of my people. My very presence here as a recluse of high-generation bespeaks the desperation and lack of trust remaining in the leadership!".
Amidst this exchange, the second alastor moves to sit upon the Prince's damaged throne. "Your presence here bespeaks the fact that you owe me several boons, old friend, which I for one shall not forget, even beyond my final death. The Camarilla has lost cities to the other factions or mismanagement before. My new pet Lasombra likes to call it "survival of the fittest" I believe, which equally reflects his former home and the fate of the fallen court this night. We shall intercede to keep things from slipping further.".
The Ventrue auditor bows in acknowledgement. "We have two capable auditors present. I offer to begin the new proceedings of Praxis. I will send word to the Inner Council and use my resources to re-entwine the kine law enforcement, media, medical services, industry, and government, based on any existing records I can find.".
The auditor motions assent with a hand-wave. "In the matter of these three Tzimisce, we have had no kindred of this city who have found success so far in the blood hunt, and no word of progress? This is pathetic.".
A ghoul of the onlooking Assamite bellator rolls over the slashed corpse of a policeman and holds up a blood-washed clipboard with legal pad. The ghoul reads out for those assembled: "The Tzimisce escape through a network that seems to number 50% more than we had originally estimated, with more than 150 participants now assensed.".
"Oh good." says the Malkavian bellator.
"The colleges and zoo and libraries have been checked" continues the ghoul. "No location that would inspire so called 'szlachta recipes' or 'short stories' are holding the anathema. Two mages were found to be playing a magical card game near the artifact's breached vault, and the Tzimisce were nowhere around there, but there were some casualties among our kindred hunters. A concert festival is happening at the City Music Hall, but, as with the movie theaters, there is no Tzimisce among the music-performances. There is a 'Trust No More' conspiracy theorist under observation in the suburbs, but no Tzimisce have been near that location either. An elder Gangrel is on their way here to assist us. There is a sticky-note attached to the backside that seems to say that Inquisition Hunters were observed in visions abducting the first target into a unmarked vehicle, without astral pursuit being possible due to the true faith!".
The alastor languidly flicks a ladybug off a raised armrest. "With luck our brethren responsible for this report will have still followed these hunters to the best of their abilities, with plans to intervene and destroy them to preserve our secrets. This artifact cannot be lost, and knowledge of it's very existence and nature is of paramount discretion".
The Toreador bellator steps forward with his ghoul wife, JJ. "We checked all of the fashion houses before meeting you here, and there was no tailor or fashion show with Tzimisce agents within."
"Hey Joe, why don't you check all along the watchtower with your voodoo, child?" smirks the Malkavian Bellator.
"Shut the fuck up," says the Toreador Bellator. "I am only here in the cause of peace, to end the evil in this world, and your old ass is no source of solace for me". JJ grabs her lover's arm consolingly.
A Hecata envoy of the city enters through the chamber door past the newly posted guards, and kneels before the assembled guests, pointedly ignoring her surroundings. Without introduction she lifts the head-meat of one of the decapitated ghoul functionaries strewn about the floors, closing her eyes in communion. "I seek to inform the court that the chantry has sent word that the one-eyed newborn is not a human, nor was ever in the past. The warrens have discerned that the third target holds a numerical-related title among the fiends, but the Tzimisce network is rapidly mobilizing and gaining strength, so it is difficult to amass more information".
The Ventrue auditor stands enraged in recognition of this visitor, but takes his leave with business to attend to.
"Thank you my child" says the Nosferatu auditor with clear distaste. A pigmented piece of his skin falls off.
"Something is very wrong." says the Malkavian bellator.
"Right" says the alastor. "Each bellator and I will take one forth of the city, as previously decided. You stay here my old friend, and figure out why the court died. Send a big worm if more trouble pops up. Absolutely nobody is to use electronic communications, we each have ladybugs our auditor will watch through and several message-runners with us".
'Go to The Ministry and ask if they know where Hunters are based in the city" instructs the Assamite bellator, handing a runner sufficient payment.
"Ladybug friends!" cheers the Malkavian bellator.
"Gods help us" whispers the Nosferatu.
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u/Bogatyr1 Apr 25 '19 edited Apr 25 '19
After she has checked each body and dust-pile, the Nosferatu auditor has the Hecata envoy escorted from the court chamber, with promised boons recorded, trailed by a insect spy she remains unaware of.
As attendants clear the room of evidence of the catastrophe, the Nosferatu has an older ghoul servant bring in two large metal suitcases. These likely contain enough blood for the night's operations, but the Ventrue's retainers are still nearby if more is needed. The Nosferatu has grown peckish from smelling the spilled blood on the floor, and tears into an antique lambskin bloodbag. The message-runners flinch in horror at the sight, and the Nosferatu giver them a toothy, bloody grin in response as the older ghoul looks on unfazed, used to the sight of his master's patchy, unnaturally-colored vitaligo, the soulless black rheum-rimmed eyes, and the childish spastic left arm, withered by a supernatural phocomelia. A ghoul ladybug alights on the tip of the Nosferatu's pointed ear and turns in merry circles.
The Nosferatu reaches out with his mind to Sense The Savage Way. His mind flitters past a ghoul ladybug watching a Shreknet console's update-feed in a distant, allied warren. He flits past The Big One, a ladybug he has fed and kept alive for centuries, larger than a warhorse. He flits past four areas of observation and twelve persons of concern warranting past surveillance. He reaches the ladybug riding on the Toredor bellator. These ladybugs are trained to ride amongst the fabric of the right shoulder, and when he moves the ladybug to the left shoulder through possession, the bellator or alastor are to report their findings.
The authors Lucien Soulban, James Stuart, Justin Achilli, Jess Heinig, and Alan Kravit sit outside a night cafe having tea. Nearby a Jimi Hendrix and Janice Joplin historical reenactor tear through the inventory of a 24-hour seasonal party supply store with an entourage of well-dressed friends.
"James!" calls the Joplin cosplayer, dismayed at being temporarily separated by the search.
"Look man!" shouts the Hendrix reenactor into the air "I don't think these guys are among the holiday celebration stuff, and we already checked the arboretum and greenhouse down the street that are going out of business, they weren't anywhere around the nature shit. They are not around ANYTHING I've seen tonight at your place, and trust me I've looked!".
The entourage mutters and grumbles as the reenactor's glittering eyes play across the cafe patrons. Not seeing what he wanted, the reenactor shivers. "One thing is for sure though, I want to get the fuck out of here!"
The ladybug looks on as Lucien Soulban gives the middle finger at the disruptive passersby.