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Thread: London Burning: Endgame

  1. #1
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    Open Roleplay [WoD] London Burning: Endgame

    He wasn't often worried, but Thaddeus Post was worried this evening. He'd missed all the excitement at the London warehouse the night before with his creeping around the old Tremere chantry, but when he'd gotten wind of what was brewing in the South he'd packed up immediately for Salisbury Plain.

    Petros and Daniel rode in the front seat of the van, driving through the sunlight while Jenny and Thaddeus reclined in the back. Although, with all the equipment and suitcases and various sundry items attached to the walls, it was tough to find a place to stand, let along sit. Jenny was clinging to a strap on the wall and perched on the edge of a wooden chest that they'd brought back from Egypt, while Thaddeus had propped himself up in a corner and gone to sleep until night fell.

    They'd been stopped for a few hours when he finally awoke, and Jenny opened the side door of the pea green VW and poked her head in. "It is beginning."

    Post stumbled out of the van, stretched kinked muscles, and ran his fingers through his hair. "I was hoping we'd have another night to prepare." Crickets and other night insects sang into the country air, but there was the distinct tang of brimstone that tickled the tonsils as one exhaled.

    He frowned, "Is the Prince here? Are we the first to arrive?"

    Jenny shook her head, then nodded. "There was some... difficulty that kept Roland and Gabriel from arriving sooner. Though the Brujah have been gathering over the next rise. The Baali are at the henge, and I believe they might attempt to break up the demons before they open another Hell Hole."

    Thaddeus started, and then began striding towards where she'd pointed out the Brujah's camp. "They cannot attack until we know ... If this is their endgame, the Baali will have all their sorcerors at Stonehenge!" The Tremere broke into a run, hoping he'd be able to talk the Brujah down from getting annihilated.

  2. #2
    Marcus Thornby
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    As Thaddeus made for the camp, he could hear the sound of raised voices carrying on the wind. Typical of the often hot-headed Brujah, they were near the point of erupting into anarchy. They had already been made to wait, to stew and simmer in their anger, for over an hour. It would have been clear, then, to any outside why the Clan gathered together as a whole so infrequently. It was their curse to be consumed, almost on a whim, by passion. Once they set themselves to supporting a cause, the Brujah would fight to the bitter end. They were the perfect martyrs, and talking them out of something that they had thrown their weight behind was nigh impossible – especially with someone like Marcus Thornby in charge. His voice cut through the din like hot steel. “All of you, in the name of Carthage- shut the hell up!”

  3. #3
    Katarina tsked irritatedly as she looked at her nails. One had been chipped the night before, and she had been too busy to get it filed down. With effort she forced herself to look away, and looked down at Stonehenge. Sergei stood beside her, silent and recovered from his exertions of the night before. Fyodor had drained an entire kine to regain his strength, but he was back with the rest of the Sabbat she'd brought to Salisbury.

    She ground her teeth as she thought about the Ventrue Primogen who shared his name with the plain that lay spread out before her. He was infuriating and he was also not here yet. Making fists with her hands, the Archbishop focused on the monument that lay in the center of everyone's attention this night: Stonehenge.

    It was lit with torches, and there were kine down there with the Baali sorcerors and demons. Mutilated and tortured mortals, who's pain and anguish would serve as fuel for the passage between the demon's world and the real one. She narrowed her eyes - as much as the Sabbat wished for Gehenna to arrive, the end of the world was not to be at the hands of the Baali.

    They were far enough away to avoid detection by the Baali's wards, but the faint sounds of chanting could be heard from Stonehenge. And, a commotion behind and to her left.

    Katarina snapped her head around, and fumed silently. The Brujah would be the clan who had appeared en masse to the site first. She didn't dare approach them, truce or no truce, without other Primogen around to stop them it would be nearly certain suicide to try to talk sense into them. If they attacked prematurely, without proper backup, they would be slaughtered, but it might stop the sorcerors from completing their work.

    And she was willing to let them try, anyway.


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  4. #4
    Roland Salisbury
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    It was 92 miles from Greater London to Salisbury. At a sensible speed, that was roughly two hours of driving. To the Scourge of London, however, sensible was an alien word. Occupied with the task of trying to co-ordinate the entire Kindred population of southern England using only his cellphone, Roland had turned over the task of driving to Dylan. The hulking Gangrel handled the sedan roughly and seemed to increase his speed with every mile they grew closer to Stonehenge, hurtling down the A303 at almost 100 miles an hour.

    As the car swerved off onto the A344, the standing stones were within sight. “Yes, we're here,” Roland confirmed to whoever it was on the other end of the line at this particular second. He had been completely consumed by the phone for the last hour. “Can't see much yet but” - the car jerked up with a slight bump, and Roland was almost certain that Dylan had just driven over a hedgehog - “I can pick out the Brujah camp, and some activity at the circle itself...”

  5. #5
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    Sansa was curled against Gabriel's side - the rocking of the car bringing a sense or normalcy to her bizarre situation. She was so thirsty that she thought she might go mad. But when presented with her food options upon waking that evening, she'd clammed up, horrified.

    Gabriel was upset with her, she was sure of it, and she was desperate for him to be proud of her. The aching inside her was growing with every mile, and when they finally jolted to a stop, she thought she might run out of the car and keep going until she hit the ocean. Instead she let Gabriel hold her hand and pull her out of the car, where she stood pressed up against him, looking around warily at everything.

    A ravenhaired woman whisked by, and Sansa stared at her. At the smell of her... She started to peel away from Gabriel's side, only to be pulled back gently. Angry, she yanked at his hold on her, snarling in a very un-ladylike fashion.

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    At last arriving at Stonehenge, I saw that there was already a large number of Kindred assembled. On the journey towards Amesbury Roland had informed us of the jarring news that had let to our sudden withdrawal from the capitol city – that far from being over, the Baa'li invasion was only just beginning. With their seeds of corruption planted all across the country, it was time for the hellions to make their final bid for power. Everything would be decided at Stonehenge. Already Roland spoke of it as a momentous occasion, as if the night would go down in history as one of the key points in Kindred history. He was not far from the truth...

    “Shh,” I sighed, absently stroking Sansa's hair, trying in vain to soothe the poor girl. I was unsure of her still. We had not yet had the time to speak to one another, for her to question me about what had transpired. Following our departure from the warehouse, we had time for nothing but sleep. She had fed again, almost again my will, and then fallen into a deep, fitful sleep. She was handling the hunger with a little more grace now, but now and then it would flare in it.

    I held her close to me and began to walk after Roland and Dylan, towards where the Camarilla contingent had gathered. In the distance I thought I caught sight of Katarina Gordislava, and instinctively pulled Sansa a little closer...

  7. #7
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    "All of you, in the name of Carthage- shut the hell up!"

    That would be Marcus Thornby, Primogen of the Brujah. Thaddeus strode up to him as a black sedan pulled up nearby. "A word, Thornby?"

    Around him the leaders of the Brujah bristled as a Tremere walked right between them and demanded the ear of the Primogen. It didn't seem to bother Post, but he was very aware of the tides of emotion around him.

  8. #8
    Marcus Thornby
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    As Post moved through the crowd, a few of the more wound-up Kindred sneered and mumbled, muttering slurs. In truth, any interruption of their argument would have set the Brujah on edge – it mattered very little that this particular intrusion happened to be a Tremere. Marcus Thornby had never had an especially high-opinion of the clan, but didn't let that stand in the way of co-operation for the greater good of the Camarilla.

    “Post.” His eyebrows rose, though his tone suggested that he wasn't at all surprised to see the mage. Marcus gave Thaddeus a firm pat on the shoulder before motioning for him to walk, a little way from the boiling pot that was the main camp.

    Once they were out of earshot, he said: “Give me the bad news first.”

  9. #9
    Sergei Vishnyakov
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    Tension. It was like the whole plain was balanced precariously on a knife's edge. There were Kindred arriving from almost every clan and bloodline, Camarilla and Sabbat alike. They all watched each other apprehensively, looking to their leaders for direction. Katarina and Gabriel seemed in no hurry to dish out orders, however, no doubt just as concerned as their 'subjects'. They could only guess at what was waiting for them in the stone circle, what new monstrosity they would all have to face. If there was one thing that Sergei knew, however, it was that wasting time and energy bickering was not going to help. They could tear each other apart later, after they had dealt with the greater evil at hand.

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    The bad news? Thaddeus rubbed his forehead with his fingers. "The bad news is we don't yet have the strength to confront such a large group of sorcerors. With their blood magic, they would win the night against the Brujah. I know your clan is champing at the bit to get down there, but it would be a bad idea to start the attack prematurely."

    He sighed. "The worse news is if we don't get the Baali shut down now, we may not be able to. Once they have created the rift..." Thaddeus shook his head, then raised his eyebrows and smiled. "Ah, Salisbury!" He raised his hand to draw the attention of the Ventrue Primogen.

    The Archbishop, Katarina, was walking towards their position as well, and the Prince was trailing slightly behind Roland, a young fledgling pressed against his side. Post narrowed his eyes, but straightened his face as he turned again to Thornby. "If the battle is joined prematurely, we lose the element of surprise, and that will cost us dearly."

  11. #11
    Fingernail momentarily forgotten, Katarina stalked towards where she could see the Camarilla leadership congregating. "Sergei, get the pack organized. Samuel will help you." Her Vizier nodded silently and stepped away from her side, turning back to where the Sabbat were milling about.

    Thornby was talking to a kindred she didn't recognize, and Salisbury had just joined them. Rodermark and ... oh, this would be interesting. They weren't far behind, but she made it to the Primogen before the Prince did. "Roland."

    "Archbishop," he greeted her mildly.

    "I hope you brought more than fledglings with you," she said pointedly as Gabriel and Sansa were within earshot. "These Baali mean business this time."

  12. #12
    Marcus Thornby
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    “I think we lost the element of surprise a long time ago.”

    The lay of the land was such that both the Kindred and the Baali could see one another, vision unobstructed by obstacles. Fortunately for Thornby, Post and the others, the Baali seemed to be entirely preoccupied with their hellish ritual, so had not made a move on their unexpected guests.

    “I hope you brought more than fledglings with you. These Baali mean business this time,” said a woman that Marcus did not recognize. The Brujah frowned. She had shovelhead written all over her. His nostrils flared as he spoke.

    “Likewise. Hope you got plenty of fiends on the way. We could do with the cannon fodder.”

  13. #13
    Roland Salisbury
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    Roland removed his glasses, cleaning them slowly as he spoke. Already the sky had begun to darken ominously, a shade deeper than typical midnight blue, the stars smothered in cloud. “All of our available resources as being marshaled to this location. There is no guarantee that they will arrive in time, however. Whilst the Baali may not be actively trying to remove us from their ritual site, if we allow them to continue unhindered much longer then all the Kindred in Christendom would not be enough to stop them.”
    Last edited by Roland Salisbury; Apr 4th, 2007 at 07:26:16 AM.

  14. #14
    "There are reinforcements on their way down from York, but I do not know when they will arrive." Bishop Selena Greene was bringing fifty Sabbat with her, including a cluster of Gangrel antitribu. They were at least three hours away, however. "We also have twenty hellhounds, courtesy of the Tzimisce. Each, I'm told, will feel no pain and fight until their heads are severed or they bleed dry. Rottweilers and doberman pinschers, initially."

    She couldn't hide the slight curl of her lip indicating her distaste for the creatures. "In short, we are ready when you are, Salisbury."

    Katarina looked towards Rodermark, wondering if he really was so far gone that he was allowing his Ventrue Primogen do all the talking. Their eyes met, and she raised an eyebrow at him, smirking a little.

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    Had it not been for the prolonged silence that followed Katarina's words, I might have remained unaware of the fact that the eyes of all those present were focused on me. I looked up, away from Sansa, and saw the gathered Kindred with expectant expressions upon their faces. The Archbishop of the Sabbat had made the position of her sect clear and it was expected that I would follow with my own decree for the actions of the Camarilla. “We will attack on your mark then, Roland,” I offered, uncertain.

  16. #16
    Marcus Thornby
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    Marcus shook his head and snorted. He turned away quickly, and stalked back towards the rest of his clan.

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    Thaddeus nodded, lost in thought for a moment. Before Gordislava could follow Thornby's lead and walk away, he spoke up. "I'd like to see these hellhounds of yours, if you don't mind, Archbishop."

    She paused, looking at him a little incredulously, and then nodded. "They're being held a little ways back over there. I will tell Samuel to expect you, Mr...?"

    "Ah, Doctor. Dr. Thaddeus Post." He affected a small bow out of politeness, and then the Lasombra melted away into the night. Not literally, however. He exchanged a look with Roland Salisbury and found the Ventrue to be inscrutable as he turned away and began talking to various high ranking Kindred.

    Which left the Prince, of all people, looking a little lost. Not good at all. Thaddeus strode to his side, reaching out towards the fledgling. "My Prince, let me take care of her for you." The girl bared her fangs at him as his hands got too close, and Post pulled them back out of reach. The little thing wouldn't last long as a new Toreador if she was left on her own. "It would be my pleasure, Rodermark."

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    Thornby's displeasure did not slip by unnoticed. I watched him walk away with a rough swagger, full of insolent attitude. Some of the others were arriving, at last. Dylan grunted something in my ear, informing me that Greta and the Gangrel would be at the henge momentarily. I felt some of the weight lifting from my shoulders. Roland was handling everything exceptionally, as he always did. I watched him for a moment, feeling a sense of pride knowing that he was on our side, before Post stepped forwards with a proposal.

    “Yes, please. Thank you, Thaddeus. Don't worry, Thaddeus will take good care of you,” I said, confident in Post – yet still finding myself wary of letting Sansa get out of my sight, especially with the likes of Katarina skulking about. I held her by the shoulders for a moment, our eyes locked, before placing a kiss on her forehead and turning her over into the Doctor's capable hands.

  19. #19
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    She felt torn between terror and relief as she allowed herself to be separated from Gabriel. Her forehead felt cool where his lips kissed her, and then she was being turned away from him, Thaddeus gently folding her hand around the crook in his elbow.

    "You must be Sansa," he said, and it took a moment for his words to register.

    "Y-yes," she replied. Was she Sansa? Really, anymore? Thaddeus didn't let her get too lost in her thoughts, keeping up a steady stream of conversation as he walked her across the great plain, away from the firey vision of Stonehenge in the distance.

    "I'm Dr. Thaddeus Post, but you can call me Thaddeus. Not a medical doctor, mind you, people always get confused about that. Archeology, history, that sort of thing." They were approaching a Volkswagen van where two large men were waiting, one sitting on the grass, the other leaning against the vehicle. She could feel their heartbeats, and hesitated, bringing her escort to a stop.

    "Things are going to get a little crazy around here, Sansa. For the wellbeing of the Prince you need to be kept safe, and so that's what I'm going to do." He turned her around a bit and looked into her eyes. "Have you ... eaten recently?"

    She stared up at him, body a bit hunched over from the gnawing sensation in her stomach. "I'm not... I don't..."

    He looked over her shoulder, and then back to her. "Look, there's a lot to do before the battle starts, and it's going to start soon. We can't have you running out into the thick of it because the smell of the vitae is so thick its driving you mad. All the same, there aren't many kine around here, and I'm not giving you free reign on my ghouls."

    Sansa frowned, not understanding half of what he was saying, and then she stiffened and yanked her shoulders out of his hands. She was here, nearby. Terrified, she started to run, only to find herself on the ground, arm pinned up behind her back.

  20. #20
    Thaddeus Post? The eight-hundred plus Tremere? Katarina fought not to stare over her shoulder at him as she walked away. The man was allegedly responsible for the deaths of an entire pack (singlehandedly, the story went) of Tzimisce in Berlin.

    There was no way she was letting him within sniffing distance of the Tzimisce. Circling around the 'camp', Katarina followed him as he took the girl from Rodermark and walked towards a ridiculous van. As soon as she got too close, however, the fledgling began to freak out, and Post had to throw himself at her to keep her from running off into the night.

    Katarina let a smile cross her lips. Very nice. Walking closer, the smile disappeared. "I changed my mind, Post. It would be best if you did not come to close to the Tzimisce."

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