Tag: Tremere

#Lore24 – Entry #303 – Sentinel City by Night #29 – The Sheriff

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“Hadn’t expected a full gathering of the local Kindred community last night, but that’s what I got when I showed up at Sokolova’s office.  Knew something was odd when she ushered me into the meeting room.  Never was one for public speaking, always feel awkward up there in front of everyone, all those eyes on me.  Always been a bit of a lurker. 

Still, turns out there’s some Kindred I hadn’t met yet, most specifically the Brujah clan.  Not sure where they hung out, assumed the Red-Light District given how they were dressed, looked like a bunch of whores to put it bluntly.  Didn’t get all their names, just the head of the clan, Tara Lynn Harper, and she didn’t look so happy to be there.  Or maybe she’s just always pissed off like that.  Don’t know her well enough to say.  Few other faces of other clans showed up that I didn’t recognize, too.  Even the Tremere sent Abigail and Liz tonight, hell, even Misha Kyle was here, sitting with Ankara. 

Hush came over the crowd when Sokolova came in at last, but I knew it wasn’t because of her.  Grim Fucking Jacobs was with her tonight, as were his Hounds, but all eyes were on him.  Looked like some of the locals hadn’t seen him in person till then, if I’d read their reactions right.  Can’t say I knew him that well, we’d done some work together back in San Diego, but I’d done some research into that reputation he wore so proudly.  Reckon he dated back to the American Civil War, had been fighting one battle or another, in some form or another, ever since.  Still had the same cocky grin, still wore the gray calvary hat, and still proudly wore that big silver knife on his belt, the one he’d taken off a werewolf some time in the past when he’d been sheriff elsewhere; knew that thing was magical, didn’t need to read his aura to see it.  Not just anyone could come into an Elysium packing something like that, but nobody was speaking up to tell him to take it off, either.  He made sure to meet the eye of anyone who eyed him, and never once was he the one to turn away.

Couldn’t say I knew exactly what he was all about, but I knew he was a dangerous enemy to have.  Woe be to whoever got on his bad side.

Managed to pull myself back to the moment once he’d taken his seat and kicked his boots up on the corner of the big table, and with Sokolova’s introductions done and the meeting called to order, I got to work presenting what I’d been digging into for the last few weeks, and my latest set of photos from the old distillery.  The sight of that thing I’d nicknamed Sasquatch caused quite the stir in the crowd, and the way the Tremere’s faces darkened when they looked at the woman with the fancy tattoos pretty much confirmed my theory that she was one of the Fiends’ sorcerers.  Saw some suspicious eyes turn toward Misha, too, but they didn’t linger long, maybe because of Ankara’s proximity to her.

Gave the lowdown on the Vamp Out drug, and its component sources in the Chinatown smuggling operation, as well as the Kuei-jin I’d photographed while I was there.  Think I might’ve gotten a few people nervous when they finally realized exactly where I’d managed to sneak in and out of.  Told them about my run-in with the ghouls and the mystery Lasombra that night, too.  That got Ramos’s fur ruffled.

Becky had been typing furiously on her laptop from the moment I’d started my presentation, and jumped in to continue with some information her people had managed to find that went beyond what I had on offer. 

I was good, but the Nosferatu were something else.

She had the name of the Tzimisce sorcerer, AJ Tibideaux, confirmed Sabbat shit-stirrer going back decades, was likely involved in the blitz that took the east coast back in ’99, helping to work on all the war ghouls and create new shovelheads for the assault.  Apparently, the big monstrosity was her brother, or at least that’s what word had been about it; the name she had on it was Gugwe, apparently another type of Sasquatch, a much more bloodthirsty variant.  Guess my call had been a good one on that nickname.  She even had the name of the Lasombra (no photos, obviously):  Selena Esperanza Delgado.  Ramos didn’t hide her growl well.

As for the Kuei-jin, Becky had much less information, given the usual wall of silence and close familial bonds of the east Asian culture they sprang from, but she was fairly sure she had at least the names to go with the faces I’d managed to capture.  Emiko Koike was the Japanese schoolgirl, and the twins were Chao Feng and Qaio Lihun Teng, suspected to be heading some of the Triad groups operating all over the world.  Unfortunately, that was pretty much all she had on that front; Mr. Wong and his family were known smugglers working for the Triads, running anything illegal, up to and including human smuggling operations, but his ties to the Kuei-jin had only been suspected until now.

Grim took the floor after our info-dump, speaking every bit like the military commander he was.  A lot of faces didn’t like the idea of taking a militant stance on matters, but he was adamant, and quite right, that when it came to the Sabbat, a no-tolerance policy and dropping the biggest hammer with as much force as possible was absolutely required.  He related that he’d seen what they can do to a city firsthand, had to retreat from DC in the ’99 blitz in fact, not to mention the mess in San Diego.  He was right to call the Sabbat terrorists.  He didn’t go into all the details, but confirmed he was already working with his people and Sokolova’s security force, led by Laura Conway, to build their own forces in town. 

The way Grim suggested everyone get very good at defending themselves very fast left no room for argument, however many people wanted to.  He’d be working up a rotation for even the likes of Kyou to spend time with his Hounds training.  Once some voices finally spoke up against it, Sokolova stomped them right down.

On the one hand, I was glad to see such decisive action being taken.  On the other, I could only hope it would be enough.  The Sabbat sure seemed awfully damned organized already; couldn’t help but feel like we were trying to catch up.  For a wonder, the Tremere were eager to help.  Suspected some bad blood between them and this particular line of Fiends, but Abigail and Liz related that their chantry was already working on countermeasures to known Tzimisce methods, and trying to come up with some for those they didn’t know. 

Once all the complaints had been addressed and the meeting adjourned, Grim pulled me aside out in the hall and told me I was first in line to get some hand-to-hand training from Ramos and Winters; if I was going to be skulking around as a scout in this war, I’d damn well better be able to defend myself.  He asked me if I was still carrying my “peashooter”, and then handed me a pistol case when I confirmed it.  Inside was a new 1911 pistol and a quartet of magazines, already loaded; he told me to get started practicing with it too.  Wasn’t much against a vampire, but would do well enough against some ghouls, and packed more of a punch than my .38. 

My next few nights were booked up, it seemed.  Couldn’t exactly say ‘no’ to Grim Fucking Jacobs, could I?”

#Lore24 – Entry #290 – Sentinel City by Night #16 – Knocking on the Chantry Door

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“Wound up taking three nights, but I was finally allowed a visit to the Tremere chantry.  By then, the aura in the vial had faded somewhat, but it was still visible, so maybe it wasn’t too late to glean something useful from them.  Their place was very much what I’d expected it to be, fancy gothic-style manor in the neighborhood reserved for the rich, old-money types, surrounded by a big fence and plenty of magical auras I wasn’t even about to try and decipher.  Just passing through the gates was enough to make my skin crawl.  Fun fact: after I’d announced myself on their intercom, the gates opened on their own, but not with any kind of mechanical device. 

Of course, I didn’t get a full tour of the place.  Once I was inside the front entryway, got to see the grand stairway leading to the upper levels, and several closed doors lining the entry hall; shadows were deep here, deeper than even my heightened perceptions could penetrate, even though there were plenty of candles glowing with arcane, purple flames to light the way.  A moment later, one of the side doors opened, and a teenager wearing all black, a t-shirt and jeans, combat boots, and a smattering of your typical goth girl accessories, ushered me toward her.  Sitting room was fancy, fireplace was glowing with what looked like a normal fire even if there wasn’t any heat coming off it, though the room was pleasantly warm regardless. 

Another Tremere waited for me, this one dressed like some kind of cowgirl, could have just stepped out of the old West at that moment and I probably would’ve believed it.  She introduced herself in what sounded like another Texas drawl as Abigail Dawson, and her companion as her apprentice, Elizabeth Powell.  At least they were being courteous for all their secrecy, so I introduced myself in kind.  Knowing they weren’t likely interested in chitchat, I got right down to business, gave them quick rundown of the situation and passed them the vial.

Though they hid it well, I could tell they were intrigued.  They excused themselves to the connecting room, told me to make myself comfortable but not to wander.  Could’ve at least left me a magazine or something else to read.  Took about an hour before they came back, about half the contents of the vial missing, the magical aura gone.  Both of them had a look on their faces like they’d just discovered dog shit on their shoes after they’d already tracked it through the house.

The sorcery in the vial stank of the Tzimisce, they said, likely a modification of a type of blood ritual they often used to frenzy their ghouls when they went to war.  The rest they said was a mixture of various mundane chemicals and ingredients, common in street drugs, the exact nature they’d leave to me now that the sorcery had been removed.  My first instinct was that my suspicions of Misha Kyle were correct all along, but Abigail said it was unlikely; their people were keeping a close eye on Kyle and had not noted any strange behavior out of her.

Elizabeth then told me that our time was up, and the rest of the mess was mine to sort out, but if more sorcery was discovered, to let them know.  Then a curious thing happened; the two shared a look, Abigail nodded at her childe, and then the apprentice told me that shadows loomed around Sentinel City, so the head of the chantry had divined, and trouble was coming.  Couldn’t get more specifics out of them, guess they’d loose their mysterious reputation if they made it that easy.  Either way, thanked them for their time and left the chantry on the quick, my mind working on the situation as I drove toward Blumenthal’s precinct.  Dropped off the remnants of the vial, let him know that I had a vague lead, but would need more time to track it down.  Told him it was probably some kind of new street drug from what I’d been told, and to get the word out to his people to be on the lookout for more of it, and that I’d be in touch.  Said he’d let me know what the lab techs found out about it.

Got an unwelcome surprise when I got back to my apartment.  My backdoor to Emmerson’s computer had been removed, and I was no longer getting copies of her communications.  Could’ve been an equipment failure, maybe, but my gut told me otherwise.  Someone had found me out.”

#Lore24 – Entry #289 – Sentinel City by Night #15 – I Want a New Drug

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“At least my time in Sentinel City hasn’t been boring.  Barely a week and a half gone since Dollface was whisked away by Conway’s team to wherever they took her and I’ve already got another “official” case.  Since the last one, I’d learned Conway was actually Sokolova’s childe, so it wasn’t really a surprise when I got the call from the Prince regarding SCPD needing a consult at a murder scene.  Walsh would be waiting for me.

Really hope I’ll get some cases that don’t involve grisly murders one of these nights.  Still, work’s work.

Old Taurus is running like a dream now; hasn’t driven this good in years.  Probably should keep it on a regular maintenance schedule…

Anyway, found the scene pretty easy, nightclub called Paragon on the north end of town, plenty of badges blocking off the scene.  Spotted Emmerson’s car a couple blocks away on my way in, but didn’t see her skulking around outside when I got there.  Could smell the blood in the air soon as I was shown inside by the uniforms on guard; it was thick.  Walsh met me outside the main dance floor where the killings happened, introduced me to the detective in charge on this one from the local precinct, one Grover Blumenthal.  He was on the young side, put me more in the mind of an accountant by the look of him, but at least he wasn’t outright hostile to me coming in on the case.  Guess he hadn’t had time to get jaded, cynical, and territorial yet.  He was also “in the know” as far as my reasons for being there.

The CSIs were hard at work on the dance floor and a few dozen witnesses were being interviewed in another room off to the side.  Dance floor was a bloody mess; doubt a bomb could’ve done it much better.  Just a quick look told me there were at least four victims here based on the number of left hands I counted.  Took a moment to steady myself as I took it all in; all that blood stirred the Beast, made me hungry.  Guess it had been a couple nights since I’d had a proper meal. 

Looked almost like an animal attack; shredded flesh, limbs ripped off, chewed on, blood splattered everywhere.  Several people had been taken to the hospital who had survived the assault.  Suspects escaped, bloody footprints headed toward the emergency exit, disappeared into the night once they hit the wet alley and the steady rain that had been falling since yesterday.  The absolute brutality was impressive; didn’t figure regular humans could pull off something like this without a weapon of some kind.  Ghouls could, perhaps, given enough time to season; a Fiend’s war ghouls could definitely do something like this, but they’d have spooked the crowd before they got too close.  Lupines could also make a scene like this, but they tended to avoid known vampire cities unless they were looking to stir up trouble.  As I asked about witness descriptions of the incident, Blumenthal read off some of his notes; these were young men, sounded like regulars on the club scene, known to spread around recreational drugs when they came out to party; then they freaked out and started tearing people apart.  Descriptions weren’t tracking with a lupine attack; I’m no expert in their ways, but I do know they have a way of fogging mortal memories when they change into their wolf forms.  Handy that.

Wasn’t about to touch these bodies with my second sight.  Level of violence and the horrific deaths they’d suffered meant several sleepless days for me if I did.  Did take some time to look over the scene with my aura perception, though, and it paid off.  Hidden in one of the meat piles was a very faint magical aura.  Went for a look, saw a little red vial mixed in with the gore.  Pulled the detectives over and let the humans catalog the evidence as they would before I had my closer look.  Stuff looked like blood, but it was too bright, too red, almost glowing.  Vial was the kind that slipped into some kind of injector device, which hadn’t been found yet. 

Given the aura on this stuff, I wasn’t sure what to make of it.  Assumed it was some kind of drug, maybe, but I wasn’t about to shoot up with it to find out.  Blumenthal seemed a little more intent on watching me than the scene, and when I asked him about it, he seemed a little embarrassed, said it was the first time he’d ever worked with one of my kind, quickly corrected and said he’d meant a PI.  Smooth cover.  Maybe the kid had potential. 

Speaking quietly so as not to be overhead by anyone who wasn’t clued in on me, I let them know that I’d sensed something supernatural about the vial, the kind of thing that really didn’t need to get out.  Knew somewhere I could get it analyzed, if they’d see me, and figured it was probably the best lead for me to take while they handled the cleanup detail.  Not getting any arguments, I tucked the vial in a Ziploc and then into my coat.  I’d have to go through the proper procedures, might take a couple nights, but it looked like I’d be visiting the Tremere chantry.  That was sure to be an experience.”