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With Vampire: The Masquerade - Bloodlines 2 coming out, it seems as good a time as any to write this up. Most of you, the ones who weren’t the turbo-geeks that played the tabletop game, probably got into this franchise for the first time through the first Bloodlines game. With me though, it started earlier. It was sometime in the mid to late 90′s, and I was around 10. I was on the bus to summer camp when I found this  on one of the back seats. Some other kid must have left it there the other day. So of course I took it and read it. Finders keepers, other kid. And sorry. Blood War: Masquerade of the Red Death Trilogy Volume 1 by Robert Weinberg. A spin off book to what I’d later find out was a 1991 tabletop role-playing game, Vampire: The Masquerade, part of the “World of Darkness” universe. The book came out in 1995, shortly before I found my copy, but that copy already looked old and beaten up. Yellowed pages, dents, and some blue, green, and red stains. You’d expect the spine to be cracked, but it was fine. And despite barely touching it since I was a kid, it still looks just like the way I found it. This book was probably one of the first “adult” books I’d read, at least when it comes to length and certain subject manner. Before then I’d mostly read kids’ chapter books like Goosebumps and Animorphs. (Some people would call Animorphs a “young adult” series but let’s be real here.) Now I had this book that was about adults and had adult things. Violence, supernatural monsters that actually killed people, big boy words like “gently caress” and “nipples”. But it wasn’t the “mature” content that interested me. Not that I was mature for my age. Trust me, I definitely giggled at swear words and drawings of boobies. And the plot… It’s a tie-in novel for some nerd property. It’s shlock. Not the worst nerd book I’d ever read, it’s alright, but, y’know. Very 90′s shlock. Before my reread I’d barely remembered much the plot itself other than it involves a detective and a horny rich lady and they’re up against that scary dude on the cover. I just found the setting memorable. The descriptions of vampire society, their origins, the different clans, the warring factions, the titular masquerade, and all the other little details. I was fascinated it. This book was probably my first introduction to world building. Sadly, for whatever reason, I never bothered to read the other two books in the trilogy. Or any other VTM tie-in novels. So as much as I liked the lore, when I finished reading Blood War I moved on to other stuff. Mostly Pokemon. I was purely a console gamer growing up. The two times I tried to play a PC game I couldn’t get them to work properly, and I thought “screw it”. So I missed out on VTM: Bloodlines, but I learned plenty about the game from lurking in video game forums. I’d remember this book, and how much I liked the setting, and thought it was a shame it was PC-only. Fourteen years later, they’re releasing a sequel. I have a laptop powerful enough to play that janky old game. And I still have my copy of Blood War. I figure it’s a good time to reread it as I get into the franchise properly. I did a little research too, and there’s barely any info out there about the Masquerade of the Red Death Trilogy. The unofficial White Wolf wiki’s entries on the books are mostly blank. The TVTropes page for VTM novels don’t include them. I did learn that the plot of the books isn’t considered canon anymore, and I bet haven’t been for a long while. Now, I have this old rear end book, written four years after the original tabletop game came out, that no one remembers, that ties into a cult classic franchise that’s getting more popular and relevant. So what the hell, I'll share it. Canon or not, I’m sure you’ll find it interesting. So get ready for a chapter-by-chapter read-through of Blood War: Masquerade of the Red Death Volume 1! Mystery, vampire politics, scheming, and super OP characters await!
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Feb 18, 2020 01:17
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Prologue Or: Your Clan Sucks Robert Weinberg dedicates the book to Edgar Allan Poe “for obvious reasons” and Bram Stoker “who started it all”, though Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu might disagree with that. On Poe, peppered throughout the book, between the three parts and on the back cover are short quotes from his works, mostly “The Masque of the Red Death”. Obviously. It’s a little BS though. Any elements inspired by Poe are shallow, at least in this book. Underneath the dedication is a little disclaimer: [quote“While the locations and history of this trilogy may seem familiar, it is not our reality. The setting of Vampire: The Masquerade of the Red Death is a harsher, crueler version of our world. It is a stark, desolate landscape where nothing is what it seems. It is truly a World of Darkness.”][/quote] For in the grim dark 1990′s there is only war. And vampires. Going into the book I thought this disclaimer was a little wanky. I expected that “a harsher, crueler version of our world” would translate to “our world but with more rats, goths, and supernatural creatures.” Similarly, the book’s spine labels the genre as “Dark Fantasy” which in my experience usually translates to “regular fantasy but with more rape.” Turns out the World of Darkness setting is a little more complicated than that, but most of the time Weinberg isn’t too subtle on the whole “darker version of our world” thing. I just want to let you know, before we get started, that I’m not the biggest expert when it comes to V:TM lore. I’ve never played the tabletops, or read their source books. My knowledge comes from Bloodlines, wiki binges, and lore dumps on Reddit and the Something Awful Bloodlines 2 thread. Please bear with my dumb rear end if I get something wrong. Alright, enough preamble, let’s get to the actual story. We start in Rome, June 15, 1992, at an outdoor restaurant near the Coliseum. A meeting there was set up the night before through an anonymous phone call to the “heart of the Vatican.” For a suitcase full of money, they’d talk about vampires, or as the book dramatically puts it: quote:“We will talk," declared the mysterious voice in somber, cold tones, "of The Kindred." The first to arrive is Father Naples, named so because it’s a word you’d find on a map of Italy. He’s a member of the Society of Leopold, who only get one more brief mention after this prologue so all you need to know is that they’re Catholic vampire hunters. He’s a big buff guy, described like a cross between a priest and a high ranking CIA agent. He came unarmed. quote:His faith served as his shield. Along with the five other agents of the Society of Leopold in the restaurant, including two women disguised as streetwalkers. The Society of Leopold is the “the devil was behind this” kind of religious, so it’s a little weird they’d jump straight to hookers when thinking of disguises for their agents, or that said agents would agree to it. But this is the World of Darkness, a harsher, crueler version of our own, and that means there’s hookers everywhere, so put on the hot pants and think of Italy. So Father Florence here’s got his disguised agents, who “carried enough firepower on them to start a minor war.” He’s also something of a badass. quote:And, though he had retired years before as a field operative, Father Naples still maintained his training in the martial arts. An expert at both kendo and karate, he could kill an attacker a dozen different ways.  He’s also got some agents in a nearby hotel room with a directional microphone aimed at his table to record the conversation. Soon, the target of all this seeming overkill arrives; a blonde mid-twenties guy in a white suit. His voice was different than the one who made the phone call, implying to Naples, and us, that there’s at least two people involved on the other side of this setup. It’s a neat bit of foreshadowing. After a firm handshake and no-selling Father Naples’s patented death glare, the stranger introduces himself as Reuben, “like the sandwich.” They banter a bit about the biblical Reuben before he decides to troll the Father a bit. First by saying he’s older than he looks, then by passing on the Father’s offer of wine. quote:“No thank you," said Reuben. "I do not drink wine.” He waits a beat for a reaction, then orders a Coke and a menu. I think I like Reuben. Since vampires can’t eat or drink (unless they have high Humanity and a good dice roll) Father Naples is thus satisfied that the guy is not a vampire trying to trick him, deciding he’s “definitely human. And not very clever.” Reuben had made an obligatory knock at airline food, so now Naples believed the agents recording the conversation could use this clue to track down his real name and where he came from through airline records. They get to the You Got the Cash/You Got the Stuff part of negotiations, with Reuben showing off the twenty million US dollars in his briefcase (Not euro because we’re the only country whose currency matters gently caress you Italy) in exchange for a monologue from Naples about the history of the Kindred, starting from the beginning. Reuben says Father Naples can summarize if need be. quote:“Summarize? […] How does one summarize ten thousand years of absolute evil? An impossible task, but let me try.” The rest of the prologue until the end is Naples’ exposition on vampires while he drinks a poo poo ton of vino. I’ll summarize like our pal Naples. Vampires secretly control the world. There are thirteen vampire clans descended from Caine, of Cain and Abel fame only spelled with an e for some reason. Ye olde Caine killed his brother, though I once read that in this setting it wasn’t so much just committing the first murder as introducing the very concepts of murder and killing to reality and basically ruining everyone’s lives, including demons. God punished Caine by giving him vampirism, forcing him to kill to survive for inventing murder. The vampirism also gave him superpowers, so he’s like a little bloodsucking demigod. I’ve seen jokes about God punishing Caine by giving him cool superpowers, but according to Father Naples Caine needed them because everyone knew what happened and were pissed at him for inventing murder and eating them. When everyone and everything wants to kill you on sight you need to be OP to survive and then feel sad about it. (He also didn't learn most of those powers until later, when he met Lilith.) Caine discovered that he could make more vampires through the classic “drain their blood to the point of near death and then feeding them your own blood” method. He sired three new vampires, who weren’t as powerful as him but still quite capable of ruining your day, a trend that continues through twelve or thirteen vampiric generations, although the latest generations are puny compared to Caine and his kids. Caine and the Second Generation founded Enoch, the First City, and were worshiped there as gods, I’m guessing because of a mixture of fear and the hope of getting some sweet vampire powers if you suck up to the first murderer. The Second Generation then sired the Third Generation, thirteen vampires that became known as the Antediluvians. They’re the ones the modern thirteen vampire clans descend from. Then everything goes to poo poo for Caine. Again. The Antediluvians, ambitious dicks, rose up and killed the Second Generation, destroying Enoch in the process. This could be thought of as Caine’s true curse: being forced to watch his childer, and their childer, and so on plot against and murder each other as he had done to his brother, and generally being a plague on mankind. See, Vampire: The Masquerade can be a bit too try-hard edgy and horny at times, but then you also get neat bits of writing and lore like that. As for Caine, he disappeared after the fall of Enoch. He’s now a cab driver in Los Angeles. Or a hermit in Greece, messing with traveling scholar vampires. Or both. Depends on who you ask. I should mention that, religious guy that he is, Father Naples likes to pepper his monologue with casual mentions of the devil. He says things like… “It was then, in his darkest despair, that Caine learned from Satan a monsterous secret.” “Encouraged by Satan, Caine created three such monsters.” “And, in time, urged by Lucifer, they, too, bestowed the gift of eternal life on a select group of their victims.” “They knew not the Lord God, but Lucifer, the Dark Angel.” …and generally blaming the big guy below for getting the vampires to do vampire things. While most of what Father Naples says about the setting’s history is correct, the Satan stuff isn’t. Lucifer is a character in the World of Darkness, specifically Demon: The Fallen, but he has nothing to do with V:TM. This adds a neat bit of characterization and unreliability to Naples’ narrative; something Reuben will point out at the end of the prologue. The Great Flood happened, but Father Naples doesn’t mention it. He skips to the Antediluvians founding the Second City, which didn’t get a name like Enoch because in its two thousand years of existence apparently no one could think of one. With the support of their childer, the fourth generation, they ruled over the Second City and, according to Naples, enslaved humanity. But eventually humanity rose up against the vampires, killing some of them with sunlight, fire, and beheading. The Second City fell and the surviving vampires fled. The Antediluvians disappeared. Some modern day vampires believe the Antediluvians were all dead, while others (the correct ones, turns out) believe they’re hiding, resting in torpor (a kind of vampire coma) this whole time and one day, they’d wake up and, as Father Naples says, “…the world of the Undead shall tremble.” This is our first mention in this book of Gehenna, the end of the wold according to the Kindred. He also says their return was predicted in Revelations, but I’m no biblical expert so I can’t tell you what bits of Revelations that might be referring too. Reuben asks what happened to the fourth generation, or the Methuselahs as they’re now known because they’re old as balls but not “lived before the Biblical Flood” old. Father Naples tells him, then goes on to explain the titular Masquerade, vampire factions, and the thirteen clans. Father Naples claims that the Methuselahs were the ones who instituted the Masquerade. Not really true in canon, but let’s go with it for now. The Kindred realized that if humanity continued knowing that they existed, they’ll overwhelm them with sheer numbers and wipe them out. Under the Masquerade, Kindred had to hide their true natures and the existence of vampires in general from humans, on penalty of death. And it worked. Despite being fed on by them for over two thousand years, humanity forgot the existence of vampires after a few centuries, remembering them only as myths and legends. Now relatively safe, the Methuselahs sired more vampires, who sired more and so on, and in secret, apparently gained control of the world from the shadows. Since one vampire could in theory create infinite more vampires, Reuben asks why, if all this is true, the earth isn’t overrun with vampires. Father Naples tells him about the Six Traditions, which the Masquerade is one of. He doesn’t go into detail, so here's a link if you're curious. The relevant Tradition is the third one, which says a vampire can’t sire another vampire unless Reuben’s next question is how kindred maintain their influence over the world when they can’t do anything when the sun’s up. Father Naples explains ghouls to him, and here there might be some divergence from modern canon. You know Renfield from Dracula? A ghoul’s basically that. They’re humans that a vampire regularly feeds their own blood to, but whose blood isn’t drained out first so they don’t turn into vampires themselves. They stop aging and gets some enhanced strength, survivability, and other goodies as long as they get their fix. In exchange for their free will, that is. A ghoul becomes utterly devoted to their master, doing anything for them even if the ghoul hates their master, like an unholy combination of a stalker, junkie, and slave. It’s a really lovely thing to do to someone. Father Naples doesn’t mention that bit about losing their free will. He just thinks they’re traitors and devil worshipers. Thing is, I don’t think it’s just Naples being an unreliable narrator. Throughout the book, except for maybe one instance, it isn’t brought up, and ghouls come across more like regular people who just knowingly work for vampires in exchange for their blood. There’s some mention of possession, like his ghoul or her ghoul, but if they’re still stalker-junkie-slaves in this story it doesn’t come across. The writing is very expository even after the prologue, so believe me, you’d notice if that was how ghouls were supposed to work here. Reuben then asks about the Camarilla and the Sabbot. Now we get to talk about everyone’s favorite V:TM subject: factions and clans. First he discusses the Camarilla, and the seven clans (at the time) that makes up the bulk of it. Father Naples seems to define the sects more by their opinion on the Antediluvians as a threat than their structure or how they operate. quote:“The Camarilla believe that the Antediluvians met the Final Death when the Second City was destroyed. They feel that the basic threat to the Kindred comes from the possibility that mankind someday might learn that vampires are real. The Masquerade governs their actions. They are the traditionalists among Caine’s decendants.” He goes on to define the clans in the Camarilla. quote:“The Ventrue are power mongers, the unofficial leaders of the sect.” Eat the rich before the rich eat you. Naples summed it up well enough: they’re old money aristocratic fucks who believe they’re meant to be leaders of vampirekind, and thus are most likely to be Princes, the guys in charge of a city. They’re famous for the Dominate discipline, a group of powers that allow them to force others to obey their commands. One interesting thing about the Ventrue that doesn’t get covered in this book is their clan curse. They can only drink the blood of certain kinds of people. In Bloodlines, this translated to a Ventrue character being unable to feed from hobos and prostitutes without barfing it back up half the time. Think of some snooty rich New Englander turning his nose up at a Happy Meal. In the tabletop, this preference tends to be more specific. Sometimes very specific, like that same snooty rich New Englander absolutely loving Burger King but not being able to eat anything else. Sometimes, a little too specific. There’s this Ventrue guy in the lore, Jan Pieterzoon… I might get poo poo for this since he’s a character in the popular Clan Wars novels. Janny Boy here can only drink the blood of rape victims. Uh huh. Wasn’t kidding when I said that this franchise can get try-hard edgy. TVtropes’ V:TM character page lists Jan as a Nice Guy, but also mentions under Kick the Dog that he once had to arrange for someone to get raped in order to survive. This might be more on TVtropes being full of hosed up contributors, but still. In the recent V5 of the tabletop, a change was made that Ventrue can feed from people other than their preference, though they won’t get as much “nourishment” from it. Sounds like it helps avoid situations like Jan. Who’s dead now, by the way. Final Death dead. That helps. quote:“The Toreador are involved in the arts.” Father Naples doesn’t seem to be all that interested in the Toreador as that’s all he says about them. Commonly rich socialite types, if the Prince of a city isn’t a Ventrue, chances are they’re a Toreador. They’re big into art, yeah, but they’re also the clan that works the closest with humans and are obsessed with beauty. So obsessed that they can be distracted by something they find beautiful, ignoring anything else until they can either muster the willpower to tear their eyes away or, more likely, one of their friends drags their pretty rear end away from the shiny thing. Their art, by the way? loving sucks. Toreador are terrible artists. There’s a neat reason for this; when they’re Embraced, become vampires, they’re said to lose much of their passion and creative spark. That, and they’re emotionally and artistically stunted to the era they were Embraced in no matter how long they live; something that’s apparently inspired by Anne Rice vampires. Their love and obsession with what they find beautiful is a way for them to hold on to their humanity, and art is in service to that. It’s beautifully tragic. Not that your character is going to care when they have to deal with Vampire Squidward showing off Bold and Brash Belongs in the Trash. You can’t say anything about it either, because that Toreador is probably powerful enough that they can have either you or someone you love killed. You’re not even safe if you’re playing a Toreador because even Toreador don’t like other Toreador art. As with humans, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and what’s considered beautiful varies from one Toreador to another. So they poo poo on each other’s work and call each other poseurs. There’s maybe three Toreador in the book, and they’re all background characters. One is killed before we can meet him, another is the only one who gets a line or two of dialogue. I get the feeling Robert Weinberg wasn’t a big Toreador fan. quote:“The Tremere are a line of vampire wizards Insert What We Do In the Shadows quote here. quote:who rose to prominence in the Middle Ages.” Unlike the most of the other clans, the Tremere didn’t originate from an Antediluvian. The original ones were mages, members of the now technically extinct House Tremere led by Lord Tremere, who turned themselves into vampires with magic in order to obtain immortality. They lost all their cool powers in the change, so they had to invent blood magic, which they call Thaumatergy. It’s both a specific Discipline (vampire power) and a general term for blood magic. You might be wondering, if they became vampires via magic and didn’t come from an Antediluvian, wouldn’t that mean there are fourteen clans, not thirteen? Well, one of he original thirteen clans were the Salubri. They were the healer class among vampires and were dedicated to finding a certain kind of enlightenment. Y’know, to make the Tremere look like extra big pricks for what they’re about to do to them. Lord Tremere, now a vampire, finds and diablerizes (more on that another time) the Salubri Antediluvian, and then Clan Tremere wiped out most of the Salubri. So now they’re one of the thirteen clans. While they never wiped out another clan, this screwing over of the Salubri was part of a trend with the Tremere. The magic potion, spell, or whatever they used that turned them into vampires in the first place? Made by experimenting on vampires. They also created Gargoyles by performing blood magic rituals on unwilling vampires from other clans. So, despite a propaganda campaign advertising that no, really, the Salubri had it coming, and the fact that they gained legitimacy as a clan and became a part of the Camarilla, other vampires generally hate the poo poo out of the Tremere and don’t trust them even remotely. We’ll be seeing the Tremere in more depth later in the story, including this book’s interpetation of the ritual that turned them into vampires. quote:“The Nosferatu are monstrously ugly because their leader was cursed by Caine. A few of their fourth-generation progeny are rumored to be grotesque monsters, known as the Nictuku.” Ah, the Nosferatu. Everyone loves the Nosferatu. Like Father Naples says, they’re all horribly deformed; so ugly that even being seen by humans risks breaking the Masquerade since they’re obviously not human. That curse Naples mentioned? The Nosferatu Antediluvian was a vain pretty boy to rival a Toreador, so for his part in killing the Second Generation and destroying Enoch, Caine cursed him and all future Nosferatu generations with ugliness. (He actually cursed all thirteen Antediluvians for what they did, hence the clan curses.) Why does everyone love the Nosferatu? Couple of reasons from what I’ve seen. They’re ugly as hell and generally have to live in the sewers, and while they’ve learned to live with that they’re not really happy about it. On top of that other clans find them repulsive and don’t like being around them. Loneliness, pathos, angst; this is crack to fandom. I imagine they’re also fun to design. The standard look for them is Orlok-like, but lore says that each Nosferatu’s deformity is unique. I haven’t tried designing one, but as a wannabe artist I can see the appeal. Just don’t wuss out and make “hot” Nosferatu. Speaking of, there’s the monster fuckers in fandom. In this post-Shape of Water world, it’ll take more than looking like Count Orlok and a few lumps to make someone unfuckably ugly. And even if they are, I’ve seen people lust over werewolves, the deathclaws from the Fallout games, all kinds of weird crap. There’s surely someone out there for your lonely Nosferatu. Oh, and they’re the smart guy of the vampire clans. You know how when people talk about playing Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles or Ghostbusters on the playground as kids, and which characters they’d play as? And how there’s always those people who’d say they always picked Donatello or Egon because they were the smart gadget guys who made all their toyetic gear, unlike their dumber friends who stuck with boring old Leonardo and Venkman? That’s the Nosferatu. They don’t really invent anything, but some of them are hackers. They’re also spymasters, using their hacker skills and Obfuscate discipline (turning invisible, mostly) to obtain information others can’t, making them an indispensible part of the Camarilla, or whatever group a Nosferatu is part of. Finally, as a culture, Nosferatu are the most likely to stick together and look out for each other, united by their shared experiences of having to hide in the shadows and pisswater in order to not break the masquerade and being direspected by the other clans. Nosferatu can scheme and plot like every other vampire in the setting, but at least for survival’s sake, if you’re playing a Nosferatu, you don’t have to worry about your fellow uglies stabbing you in the back (most of the time). Outside the clan, I imagine this trait can easily transfer over to a coterie (V:TM’s word for party) or an OC’s friends. Yeah, Nosferatu are these angsty, fun to draw, unconventional looking but bangable hackermen that know the Meaning of Friendship and who you can feel sorry for. But there’s another side to the Nosferatu. Fandom looks at these appealing traits, maybe a bit too shallowly, and risk over-glorifying them and missing out on their darker side. Like I’ve said several times, Nosferatu are ugly, deformed. A lot of them develop a complex over this, along with a strong hatred and jealousy of beautiful people. One thing Nosferatu like to do is find mortals who are stuck up and egotistical about their looks, turn them into Nosferatu, and let their newly grotesque appearance serve as an eternal karmic life lesson. Whether the formerly pretty person was actually a stuck up jerk guilty of vanity or if their sire imagined it is a matter of opinion. Hell, some don’t care about teaching a lesson, embracing beautiful people purely out of jealousy and spite. They have a word for these victims: Cleopatras, named after the villain from Freaks, not the Egyptian queen. It’s like their version of “Chad”, except as the name implies, these newly poor newly deformed people are usually women. Am I implying what I think I’m implying? Yep! Your favorite clan is made up partly of proto-incels! On a lighter note, their differing opinions on beauty make the Nosferatu and Toreador natural enemies… if they’re NPCs. Player characters will be BFFs. quote:“The Malkavians are tricksters, seemingly mad, but probably more cunning than most imagine.” The V:TM fandom’s other favorite clan. I don’t have to explain Malkavians to you, do I? Even if you’ve never played Bloodlines I bet you’ve heard people talking about the Malkavian playthrough of the game. At least the part where you can yell at a stop sign? Malkavians are the “crazy” clan. Said in a more respectful way, they’re the clan whose embrace gives them a form of mental illness, either a real one or a more supernatural one, if they didn’t have one already. These guys are probably the hardest to roleplay well, because there’s a thin line between a respectful portrayal of a mentally ill person living their unlife the best they can and a character Jhonen Vasquez would create if he was phoning it in. You’d better do your homework if you want to roleplay a Malkavian or else you’re gonna annoy your friends and look like an insensitive dick. There’s a term for a Malkavian character who acts in an early 2000′s monkey cheese lol random humor way, but c’mon, you already know what it is. That’s it for Malkavians for now. There’s only one Malkavian side character in this book so I don’t feel like going too in depth with them. Besides, I already wasted too many words on the incels. Just keep the “more cunning than most imagine” bit in mind. Oh, and they have a power that can make people around them go mad, usually in the Malkavian’s favor. That’s pretty rad. Now that the fan favorites are out of the way, let’s get to the boring clans. quote:“The Brujah are rebellious in nature That’s all Naples says about the Brujah. Even the writer can’t think of anything interesting to say about them. Alright, seriously, Brujah tend to be rebels and activists, very passionate about their beliefs and strive for social change. I’m not sure whether becoming vampires makes them that way. The White Wolf wiki says that they’re compelled to go against the status quo, but I’ve heard people argue that’s just the kind of person a Brujah tends to embrace. Either way, they do develop very short tempers. Gameplay-wise in both the tabletop and Bloodlines, they tend to “frenzy” more easily than other clans, meaning they lose control of their vampiric urges and try to kill/drain the closest person available, masquerade and consequences be damned. I feel a little bad about calling the Brujah boring. Especially nowadays with fascism on the rise and climate change about to kill us all, it’s easy to empathize with rebellious activist characters and find them relatable, even if they aren’t as flashy as the pretty people, the ugly people, and the crazy people. It’s their powers that’re a little dull. Ventrue have Dominate. Nosferatu have Obfuscate, which makes them invisible or disguises them. Tremere have [i]blood loving magic[/quote]. But despite their clan name, Brujah aren’t magic. Their powers just enhance their physical abilities, allowing them to boost their strength and move faster. You know that RPG joke about how wizards get more god-like power when they level up but warriors just hit harder? That’s the Brujah. Okay, they also have Presence, which makes them more charismatic, scarier, more convincing, and other things that helps with roleplaying a street justice dispensing rebel. And one other power I can mention, but we’ll leave that for later… In a way, the Brujah are the closest V:TM has to a default clan. If you’re playing a game where you have no choice of which clan your character belonged to, you’d likely be a Brujah. Luckily, unlike the Ultramarines over in Warhammer 40K, the Brujah don’t really steal any of the spotlight from the other clans, so they’re not intolerable. quote:while the Gangrel, master shapechangers, maintain close ties with the gypsies and werewolves.” Wolverine from X-Men, you know him? Give him shapeshifting powers and that’s a Gangrel. This Clan is for those who want to roleplay a werewolf but aren’t playing Werewolf: The Apocalypse for some reason. Their biggest claim to fame is that Beckett, one of the most popular recurring characters in the franchise, is one. Problem is, he’s supposed to be a subversion of how one of them typically acts, a wandering scholar instead of some guy who hangs with his pack in the woods, so he’s not doing them much favors. There's only one minor Gangel character in Blood War, so I apologize for glossing over them. You probably want me to talk about a certain word Naples just said here. I could say that it’s characterization, that since Naples is some old European prick he’s prejudiced against Roma and calls them whatever he wants. More of that unrelialbe narratorness. He also said Gangrel are close with werewolves when werewolves will attack them on sight like any other vampire, which helps with that interpretation. But this is the early 90′s, and V:TM had an entire clan that was based on negative Roma stereotypes. So… quote:Reuben sipped his Coke and said nothing. He had come to listen, not to comment. I’m pointing this quote out because he comments two paragraphs later. Father Naples moves onto the Sabbat. quote:“The Sabbat are the rebels of the Kindred. My Order considers them the more dangerous of the two sects. Two major clans, the Lasombra and the Tzimisce rule the order. Most other clans are represented by small groups of rebels known as Antitribu.” The franchise likes to point out that the Camarilla aren’t the “vampire good guys”, but the Sabbat are undoubtedly vampire bad guys. They believe that vampires shouldn’t have to hide behind a masquerade, that they should be the masters of the world with humans as their cattle and slaves. They usually ignore the Masquerade, and use big obvious Masquerade breaking as a tactic against the Camarilla, who have to clean up after their mess. Since the Masquerade exists because humans will curb stomp them if they ever found out they existed, this also makes the Sabbat the stupid sect in this case. The Lasombra are like eviler Ventrue, but with cool shadow powers, a fetish for Catholic symbolism, and being the only clan to do the “having no reflections” thing. Oh, and they’re social darwinists. One of their methods for picking out potential new Lasombras is to utterly ruin a prospect’s life. Make their business fail, kill their family, frame them for something terrible, cancel their favorite shows. If they don’t break down after all that, congratulations, you’re now a vampire! If they’re not an utter sociopath and do, then the Lasombra just leave them in the ruins of their life without them ever knowing why the hell any of that happened. So yeah, they’re jerks. And the Tzimisce? Quick, whose your favorite comic book villain? If you said “mid-2000′s Black Mask”, then congratulations! You’re a teenage boy, and also a potential Tzimisce player. There is one “redeeming” thing about the Sabbot. While the Camarilla deny the existence and threat of the Antidiluvians… quote:“Leaders of the Sabbat firmly maintain that the third generation lives and that they are secretly manipulating their descendants for reasons of their own.” The priest’s voice sank very low. “They fear an approaching Armageddon that they call Gehenna. A time when the Antediluvians will rise to take control of the Kindred. The Sabbot suspect that the third generation plan to devour their descendants.” Gehenna is an important part of the setting. It’s another thing I’ll explain more about later, but the Sabbat are right to worry about it. It almost makes up for their dumbass social policies and the whole “chaotic evil” thing. Reuben comments (told you) about how the longer a vampire lives, the more potent the blood they drink has to be. Third and fourth generation Kindred would only be able to feed on other Kindred. This backs up the “third generation’s gonna wake up and eat everyone” theory. After Naples’ confirmation about this, Reuben immediately changes the subject and asks about the four remaining independent clans. quote:“There are the Ravnos, a society of outcasts and drifters,” These guys are the Roma stereotypes I mentioned earlier. They’re clan weakness is that they’re addicted to crime! Or at least some personal vice. Someone at White Wolf must have figured out how this looked, so they fixed it by, um, having their Antediluvian wake up and kill all but about a hundred of them… I mean, it worked for the Squats over in Warhammer 40K, but… quote:“Then the Assamites, an Order of Assassins, much feared even among their own kind, [sic] The Followers of Set worship a long-dormant third-generation Egyptian horror, the embodiment of that land’s ancient evil.” I don’t know much about these two clans. We'll be introduced to a couple of Assamite characters later in this book and learn more about their whole deal, but there's no one from the Followers of Set. quote:“And last, we must not forget the Giovanni, another fairly new clan, who are preoccupied with two subjects - death and money.” The Giovanni have a big part in this story so we’ll get to them when they show up. Also, wow, they sure made these last four the ethnic stereotype clans. Satisfied with this new info on the Clans, though “unsure about their interactions”, Reuben moves on. quote:The young man’s bright blue eyes burned with an intense inner fire. "What is the Jyhad?" he asked. Reuben may not be a vampire, but it looks like he pulled some sort of mind whammy on Father Naples. Not sure why he had to, though. I can’t think of a reason why Naples’ would explain all the other stuff of his own free will but not this subject. The Jyhad’s a legend among Kindred, that the fourth generation is manipulating their descendants as pawns in a game where they play against each other for complete control of the world. Some say that the fourth generation is actually being manipulated by the Antediluvians, the true players of the game. The nature of Kindred society and politics makes finding the truth difficult. quote:“The world of the Kindred is filled with treachery and deceit. Remember, Lucifer (here he goes with the devil stuff again), their patron, is the Father of Lies. Wheels spin within wheels within wheels. None other than the Antediluvians, if they actually survive, know the truth." Signaling for the check, Reuben asks if there’s anything else he should know about the Kindred, such as “the Inconnu” and “the recent disturbances in Russia and Peru.” Father Naples doesn’t know about any of that, and when asked why he asks, Reuben says he was “Just confirming a few of [his] own suspicions.” Father Naples has told him everything he wanted to know, so Reuben pays the waiter and prepares to leave. Time for the prologue’s big finish. quote:The young man rose to his feet. "No need to get up. I can see myself to the door. Thank you, for your time, Father Naples. I appreciate the information you have given me, though I think your views concerning the devil tint your narration slightly. That’s always been a problem with the Inquisition. You worry too much about demons and too little about evil. I’m sorry, but you can’t be permitted to describe our conversation to anyone. Especially to your superiors in the Society of Leopold. May God grant you peace." I hope Reuben at least didn’t take back the money he payed his bill with. Reality warping or no, he still ate there and should pay them. Seriously though, this was a great prologue. It explains enough about the setting to help you follow along with the rest of the story, but doesn’t explain everything and ends on a great mystery. Rereading this helped me remember why I liked the setting so much as a kid, even if I poke fun at it now. Vampire societies might not seem like the most original idea, but back then when I thought of vampire stories, I thought of a single vampire with a cape and widow’s peak sneaking into peoples homes to drink their blood, and the closest thing to mystery, court intrigue, and games of thrones were the humans trying to figure out how to stop that one vampire. V:TM introduced me to a type of story and concepts I’d never read before, and not just about fictional monsters. That’s more a credit to the original tabletop than just Blood War, but this book was still my gateway to the setting. Sometimes even schlock can have meaning to someone, I guess.
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Feb 18, 2020 02:14
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Part 1, Chapter 1 Or: Big Detective quote:There are some secrets which do not permit themselves to be told. Men die nightly in their beds, wringing the hands of ghostly confessors, and looking them piteously in the eyes–die with despair of heart and convulsion of throat, on account of the hideousness of mysteries which will not suffer themselves to be revealed. I’ve heard people say that beginning stories with quotes like this is pretentious, but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t considered some for stories I’ve been thinking up. As for how this quote relate to the story, I guess it’s a good way to describe the Masquerade, or the World of Darkness in general, or as a fancy way of hinting to the audience about the nature of the story’s mysteries. Or it just sounds cool? quote:St. Louis—March 10, 1994 Missouri isn’t the place I’d expect a vampire story to be set, but I guess everywhere has its shadowy underworld. Two years after the prologue, we’re introduced to the first of the main viewpoint characters. He realizes he’s being followed, thanks to “A sixth sense, the result of years of detective work…” He pretends to scratch his foot and casually scans the crowd. It was late, nearly midnight, but in St. Louis’ ‘adult’ entertainment strip, things were just starting to happen. quote:Dozens of people crowded the sidewalk. Men and women black and white, they were all part of the usual weekend crowd. Cheap whores in black leather outfits that exhibited all of their charms mixed with high-class hookers dressed in silks. In a tough economy, both were anxious for business. Teenagers and college students hunted for drugs, bargaining with street dealers for the best price. Red-faced drunks begged for quarters. Young kids, dressed in rags and violating the curfew, danced on street corners, looking to grow up fast. A hellhole full of life, in other words. quote:Young and old, they shared one trait in common. None of them expressed the least bit of interest in the motionless figure of Dire McCann. We get the full name of our first main viewpoint character. It reminds me of when one of the Penny Arcade guys named their D&D character “Jim Darkmagic”, but without the self awareness. Dire had been traveling around America the past few months, so he doesn’t know who he could have pissed off enough recently to get someone to track him. He’s recently been working for Alexander Vargoss, “a rich and powerful industrialist”, and, unsurprisingly, a vampire. quote:McCann couldn’t believe that his missions for Vargoss had anything to do with his tail tonight. Nobody with any intelligence, even major crooks, hassled the secretive industrialist or interfered with his plans. Besides being incredibly wealthy, with connections in both the police department and the mayor’s office, Vargoss was also the most powerful vampires in St. Louis. In the argot of the Kindred, he was the Prince of the city. And, like the medieval princes of old, from whom the term had been taken (yeah, no poo poo), Vargoss ruled with an iron hand. Any Kindred or kine (human) foolish enough to cross him ended up dead. The permanent end of the Final Death. The narrator tells us a little about McCann. quote:Mysteries annoyed McCann. Then you’re in the wrong profession, buddy. quote:Especially when they revolved around him. Though he possessed extraordinary patience, the detective never delayed the inevitable, As he repeatedly told acquaintances, he liked to face the devil straight up. I’m now picturing McCann as one of those guys who force a catchphrase and annoy those acquaintances by trying to insert it into everything as the whole room groans. “Beer shouldn’t be green, even when it’s St. Patrick’s Day. But I’ll try one anyway, cause as we all know… I like to face the devil straight up.” Luckily for the other characters, he doesn’t actually use that phrase in the story. quote:Oftentimes, that policy lead to bloodshed. But McCann, though he deemed himself the quiet type, was no stranger to violence. When necessary, he was quite deadly. It’s mentioned that McCann’s carrying a stack of letters and a small box, and goes on to explain McCann’s mail collecting habits; how he collects from an all-night delivery center because while it’s more expensive he at least doesn’t have to worry about clerks stealing anything valuable. quote:The certainty of being watched had not started until after he had retrieved his mail. That perplexed McCann. A stakeout meant a long-term commitment of time and resources. He wondered who was after him? And why? The detective meant to find out. We’ve safely established that Dire McCann is one of those old hard boiled mystery novel style private eyes. One who occasionally does jobs for a vampire. Nowadays private detectives are usually portrayed as weird creeps who bug phones and peek in windows to take photos of cheating spouses, like paparazzi for normal folk. More realistic, sure, but not a portrayal that’d last long in this setting. They’d end up seeing much more than they should, and being weird creeps with a borderline illegal profession instead of quiet but deadly badasses with careful mail collecting habits, they’d be easily killed to uphold the Masquerade. McCann decides to face the devil straight up and heads into a nearby alley that he’s familiar with, preparing a trap. As he goes through the alley, we’re told that McCann is a great big slab of meat of a man. quote:A big, broad-shouldered man, standing four inches over six feet and weighing near two-fifty, the investigator moved with astonishing swiftness. Guess he’s called “Dire” because he’s to a normal dude what a dire wolf is to a normal wolf. Still a goofy name. The alley is dark, no lights except for moonlight, and there’re rats and trash everywhere. Time for some social commentary. quote:McCann stifled a snort of disgust. So much for keeping the neighborhoods clean. The main streets looked fine, but out of sight, just beyond the bend, urban decay ruled. Decades of graft and corruption had taken their toll on basic city services. St. Louis was no different from every big city. The rich and famous received all the benefits of modern life, while the poor and middle class suffered with the crumbs. Things never really changed, McCann decided, his gaze searching the walls. At least not in his lifetime. The story is peppered with bits like this. The World of Darkness is a Harsher, Crueler Version of Our World, but sometimes it can get a little too real. You’ll see. Oh, and don’t think I missed that ominous last line about his lifetime. The narration insists that Dire McCann is human, though… McCann hides in an alcove a dozen steps away from the twelve-foot high steel privacy fence the alley ends at, out of sight from anyone following him. From his topcoat (all the implied hard-boiledness of a trenchcoat but without looking like a hobo) he pulls out his gun. Vampires are hard to kill and most guns are useless against them, but since it takes time for them to heal enough force can immobilize them. That’s why the narration, somewhat over dramatically. reveals that McCann’s gun isn’t a .45 automatic or a .375 Magnum, but an Ingram MAC 10, whose bullets “could rip any normal man to shreds and smash a vampire flat.” Eventually, the guy tailing McCann shows up. quote:Hugging the shadows, the newcomer was a short, stocky man in his mid-thirties, with swarthy, cruel features. Swarthy, huh? As descriptions go, swarthy is like the evil twin of “olive-skinned”. Both are used by fantasy writers to describe people of color, but in a vague way that doesn’t tell you their actual ethnicity so sometimes they could just be white people with tans like the Dornishmen in A Song of Ice and Fire. While “olive-skinned” is generally a catch-all term, “swarthy” is more negative. Which is unfortunate since swarthy literally means “dark skinned”. Now, I don’t want you to think I’m accusing Robert Weinberg of being racist. I’ve heard people say that they thought swarthy meant something like “roguish”, like a thief or pirate or something. But I wouldn’t recommend using swarthy as a description when writing. Also he’s called “swarthy” like five goddamn times. The tail realizes he lost McCann and goes to examine the fence at the end of the alley, walking past McCann’s hiding spot in the process. Trap sprung, McCann steps out behind the tail MAC-10 aimed at him. After some back and forth (“Lose something, brother?” “McCann, right?”) McCann tries to ask who- quote:The detective never completed the sentence. The stranger’s right hand twisted unexpectedly. As if by magic, a thin cord flashed out from beneath the man’s arm and-wrapped whip like around the Ingram. McCann was caught completely by surprise. Before he could squeeze down on the trigger, the gun went flying from the detective’s hands. Phhhhthahaha, that’s great! After all that build-up over how he uses a kickass MAC-10 instead of a Magnum like that pussy Dirty Harry, he’s immediately disarmed. By a guy who turns out to be a regular human, too. quote:Free of the threat of the submachine gun, the swarthy man attacked with a ferocity that had McCann reeling. A series of savage karate kicks to his chest sent the detective stumbling backwards. Steel-tipped boots felt like hammers striking McCann’s body. Growling deep in his throat, the assassin leapt into the air, aiming a sideways thrust for the detective’s head. Enough force propelled to crush McCann’s skull like an eggshell. But it never connected. McCann grabs and twists the leg, breaking the assassin’s kneecap, then knocks him out with a wooden box. After a few minutes of searching, McCann finds his gun and the assassin’s rope. quote:A long thin strand of black fiberglass it was knotted in three places to crush to crush a man’s windpipe on impact. The weapon successfully melded melded modern technology with ancient sacrificial ritual. Huh. Sounds like an interesting weapon for a guy who’ll turn out to be an unimportant throwaway assassin. You ever heard of the inverse ninja law? How the more enemies the hero has to fight at once, the easier they are to defeat, while just one guy is a real threat? There’s a related trope that this scene reminded me of; the more unusual an opponent’s weapon is, the harder they are to defeat. A ninja wielding a katana is gonna be a chump, but the guy with the chain with a scythe at the end? Watch out for that guy. It would explain how the assassin could instantly disarm McCann like some sort of kung fu lord but go down in one move not long after he throws the rope away. Course, that’s just tropey bullshit. The more practical reason the assassin lost was because he didn’t just shoot McCann after disarming him, instead resorting to riskier physical combat. But that’s why tropes like the inverse ninja law exist. They typically make the fight scenes more exciting and varied depending on context. It wouldn’t be much of a story if McCann lost his gun and then got shot in the head. Still kind of funny how eccentric the guy’s weapon is and how much of a physical threat he briefly posed compared to how he’s about to be described. Reminds me of something I wrote during my teenage online role playing story days, where two of the protagonists fought some nameless generic guard and I made it weirdly dramatic and over the top. McCann ties the assassin’s hands behind his back, with his own fiberglass rope to add insult to injury. He attempts to interrogate the assassin, who responds by demanding to be taken to the police and given a lawyer. quote:McCann smiled. "Funny thing about this part of town. Cops don’t come around here very often. They figure anyone crazy enough to wander about deserves what they get." McCann rapped the muzzle of the gun against his prisoner’s undamaged knee. "You’re on your own, my friend. Back here, we’re isolated from view. Nobody can see or hear a thing. There’s no cops, no lawyers. Just you and me. And my gun.” MAC-10 shots echoing out of an alley would get some attention, but the threat works. The assassin starts sweating and flickering his gaze between McCann and the gun. quote:Mentally, the detective shrugged in disgust. (Don’t ask me what a mental shrug is) He was wasting his time threatening this clown. It took a lot more than a veiled threat to worry a true professional. The swarthy man was cheap talent, hired merely as a diversion. A cheap talent clown who was kicking your rear end a few minutes ago, you smug meathead. This bit highlights the problem with the previous fight scene. This assassin was shown just a few paragraphs ago to be an expert with an unusual weapon who could turn the tables on McCann even though the detective had snuck up on him and had a submachine gun aimed at him, and a good enough physical fighter to overpower McCann with karate kicks and nearly cave his head in, but now he’s presented as an incompetent and disposable pawn who whines about wanting a lawyer. The scene could have just had the assassin pull a gun on McCann, who quickly subdues him. It’d fit the assassin’s later description as unprofessional and amateur better. Instead, Weinberg tried to go for “cool’ but ended up with “silly”. So remember, writing something just because it’s cool is fine, but try to make it consistent with the rest of the story. Now what was that about the assassin being “hired merely as a diversion?” quote:A decoy! The thought slammed through McCann as the sensation of being observed suddenly flared. Instead, the big detective flung himself flat on the ground in the darkness. I like the needless qualifier that McCann is a big detective. There’s something cute about it. The realization that this assassin was a decoy apparently triggered a sort of spider-sense. The moment McCann, who is large, dove to the ground, a second assassin opened fire at him from the corner of the alley. They missed McCann, despite his above-average size, but killed the first guy. McCann fires back, but the new assailant already fled. quote:Strike quickly, then move. That was the operational procedure of a true professional. Never waste time on meaningless chatter or second tries. Mistakes like that were for amateurs like the dead man sprawled against the wall. Oh what the hell is this? McCann was the one caught off guard by “meaningless chatter.” He was disarmed by the first assassin while he was talking to him. The guy was easily bamboozed by McCann’s “hide in an alcove and sneak up on him when he passes” trap, but McCann totally blew that advantage by talking so it doesn’t really count. The guy’s just blaming the poor dead man for his own screw ups. “A true professional wouldn’t have let himself get hammered in the chest by karate kicks, unlike this dead clown who totally got karate kicked and not me. Also wouldn’t have been disarmed by my, not his, weird rope thing that’s totally mine, not his.” The big dick thinks “the real assassin” was gone. quote:A short, muffled gasp and a flash of white leather indicated that McCann jumped to the wrong conclusion. The detective shook his head in disbelief. The night held more surprises than he liked. We finally meet some goddamn vampires. quote:“Their leader was a tall, aristocratic man with a face that appeared to be carved from weathered stone. He wore a black tuxedo with a ruffled white shirt, a red bow tie, and a matching red cummerband. To McCann, it was a costume right out of a wedding. Or a funeral. The detective, though, knew better than to speak his thoughts. No one dared insult Alexander Vargoss, Ventrue Clan elder. And the vampire Prince of St. Louis.  Gotta say, despite him being a Ventrue, I can respect the man for not being above walk down a filthy rat infested alley wearing a fancy wedding outfit just to dramatically reveal himself to the big oaf he occasionally employs. quote:A step behind him stood two nearly identical platinum blondes. White leather jumpsuits clung to their voluptuous figures like second skins. High cheekbones, pitch black eyes, and wide sensuous lips gave them a predatory look. Well yeah, it’s a 90′s dark fantasy novel. Of course they’re hot. quote:McCann had encountered them before. They were Fawn and Flavia, Vargoss’s twin bodyguards. Silent and deadly, they never spoke. Or acted without direct command of their Ventrue employer. Assamite assassins, the twins enjoyed their notorious nicknames as the Dark Angels of the Kindred. A name like ~*~The Dark Angels~*~ seems quaint nowadays, but again, 90′s fantasy novel. But hey, maybe they were named by a Toreador. Fawn’s holding the corpse of the second assassin, a “horrified expression frozen on his face.” She has blood on her upper lip like an old “Got Milk” ad. quote:With a flick of her long tongue, she wiped it clean. Then, mischievously, the vampire smiled seductively at McCann. Way to be judgmental, investigatore grande. There aren’t any actual sex scenes in this book, but trust me, the subject of undead sex will come up again. Vargoss gives one of those humble little “we were just in the neighborhood” explanations. Specifically, they were on their way to McCann’s office to be haughty little undeads to their human freelance employee in a proper setting when they saw him enter the alley followed by “two lowlife scum”. They figured McCann wouldn’t want their help, so they stayed hidden. quote:“However, when your adversary chose to flee rather than fight, I demanded he stop." Vargoss shook his head in mock despair. "The fool chose instead to pull his weapon on me. Fawn, of course, reacted.” McCann loots the bodies, finding some money and a billfold he’ll examine later. There’s a paragraph giving us another glimpse at how cruel the world (of darkness) is, telling us that the assassins will be mistaken for vagrants and that since there’s fifty unexplained deaths in St. Louis every month, two dead bums won’t be mentioned in the newspaper. McCann says that Vargoss could’ve warned him before the second assassin started shooting. quote:“Nonsense,’ said the Prince, smiling. “I had absolute confidence in your ability to deal with the situation. Circumstances proved that my trust was not misplaced.” “That first fight, however, there I overestimated you. A shorter man with a rope was taking you to school for a while. No, don’t pull the stoic grumpy private eye act and deny what happened. We all saw it.” quote:“And if you were wrong?" Vampires are to other monsters what elves are to other fantasy races: smug little shits. It’s why more people fantasize about banging werewolves and fish people these days. But Vargoss is talking down to McCann of all people here, so I’ll let it side. quote:“What a cheerful sentiment," said the detective. He picked his words very carefully. Vargoss appreciated his honesty and his sarcasm—within limits. No vampire in St. Louis mocked the Prince of the city. Much less a human, no matter how entertaining. McCann tiptoed on a tightrope where undead horrors feared to tread. “Ah, McCann. What a scamp he is with his silly first name and his sarcastic barbs. But not too sarcastic. He knows I can make him defecate in his hands and throw it at other people like the big ape he is.” quote:“I cannot afford the luxury of emotions," declared Vargoss, almost wistfully. "We Kindred are an ambitious race. It is part of our heritage. More than a few of my loyal subjects believe that they should rule this city, not I. Too many of my nights are spent squelching their ill-conceived plots." I’m imagining Vargoss being voiced by David Warner here. You know, the guy who voiced Ra’s al Ghul in Batman: The Animated Series, The Lobe in Freakazoid, and that one crappy villain from Gargoyles. quote:“Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown," said McCann. As long as he wouldn’t be made a Toreador, ‘cause then he’d spend his eternal life writing just the shittiest plays and sonnets imaginable. Also, careful there, Mr. Weinberg. Remember than Edgar Allen Poe is your dead poet waifu. You don’t want to make him jealous. Vargoss has enough witty back and forth and commands McCann to come to his club around midnight. He has a guest from overseas with news of “extremely disturbing events” from the former Soviet Union and for whatever reason he wants some human detective’s opinion on it. quote:“I’ll be there," said the detective. "At midnight.” “Because as we all know-” “McCann, no-” “I like to face the devil straight up.” “drat you, Dire McCann… Who’s even the devil in this context? What’s going on overseas? Me?” Vargoss and the ~*~Dark Angels~*~ leave. As the chapter ends, McCann is standing alone in the alley with the two corpses. quote:Holding in his hands a small box and a stack of letters, several with foreign postmarks. And an enigmatic smile on his face.
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Feb 18, 2020 02:49
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Ah yes, the game tie-in novels. I recall re-reading parts of the second book because I loved the Giovanni assassin and the kids. Another trilogy I really liked was the Fiddleback trilogy out of Dark Conspiracy. It contained a lovely scene with a black guy and a white guy discussing who gets to kill the racist rear end in a top hat who went after the black guy's family. Finally the white guy says something like, "Of course you could do it, but if you do it, it lets them view that as part of a race war. If I do it, it's just pest control."
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Feb 18, 2020 15:38
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Part 1, Chapter 2 Or: McCann Reads His Mail The beginning of the chapter's kinda dull, so please bear with me here. Dire McCann returns to his office, in “the heart of the tenderloin district.” quote:Big, bold, black letters on the door proclaimed, D. McCann, Investigations. Beneath his name, in much smaller print, was the disclaimer Consultation by Appointment Only. I guess even Dire knows his first name’s a little odd and abbreviated it. Who’d want to give work to a guy who looks like they’re trying to give themselves a nickname. There’re several paragraphs describing the office. The outer office/reception area has a coffee table with old issues of Sports Illustrated and three red chairs, like a doctor’s office with an even more limited selection of outdated magazines. quote:It wasn’t much, but he didn’t require any better. Recently, his only clients had been the Kindred, and none of them worried about his taste in furniture. Not to his face, anyway. Vampires are like suburban parents that way. The office proper, or his ”inner sanctum” as the narration calls it, is pretty standard; huge oak desk, “an elaborate telephone answering machine,” a table with a fax machine, PC, and printer on it, some metal cabinets, and more red chairs. It was also mentioned to have an “outrageous” rent that was almost worth it for the building’s cleaning lady. quote:The glow of a nearby streetlight gave the room an eerie, ghost-like interior.[…]No cheaply framed photos with hearty endorsements or tacky paint-by-numbers artwork hung on the walls. McCann believed in a strictly functional workplace. Besides which, it made a better impression on potential clients. McCann sits behind his desk and reloads his submachine gun. quote:Considering what had happened already tonight, it seemed like good policy to stay ready for trouble. For all the good it did him, but good thinking I guess. Proper paranoia helps in the World of Darkness. Then he checks his answering machine. Two of the messages are for “divorce work.” That kind of stuff “didn’t interest” McCann, but there’s another detective in the building who specialized in it, and McCann trades him leads for favors, so he writes down the names and phone numbers. Another message is trying to sell him health insurance. Finally, McCann gets around to checking the mail he was carrying around during the first chapter. After separating the junk mail, he’s left with the small box, which was from Switzerland, three letters from Venice, Italy, another from Australia, and the last from Peru. He starts with the mail from Venice. quote:Dated approximately a week apart, the letters contained detailed records for financial deals made during the previous seven days. The facts and figures covered hundreds of major business transactions throughout Europe and the United States. The detective scanned the documents carefully. There were no unusual expenditures or unexplained finances. Not that he expected to find any. The masterminds of the Giovanni Clan were the greatest financial wizards in the world. They kept a tight watch on their investments. McCann merely wanted to make sure no one other than him was skimming the profits. Despite doing work for the St. Louis Camarilla, McCann also has connections to the independent Giovanni Clan, or at least is stealing money from them, and in a way that even their “financial wizards” can’t detect. There’s an even more interesting reveal at the end of the paragraph. quote:The longer he lived, the more cautious he became. And, though he appeared to be in his mid-thirties, Dire McCann lived a very long time. Huh. The summary on the back cover describes him as “mortal.” Then again it also misspells his surname as McCannan, so… Next he opens the latter from Darwin, Northern Territory Australia, which contains a newspaper clipping. Recently, “nomadic” Aborigines fled their reservation in the Tanami Desert and set up a shanty town outside the city. Officials tried to get the “troublemakers” to go back, “but with no success.” quote:No one could offer an explanation for the natives’ unexpected migration. Nor were the unwelcome Aboriginals willing to discuss why they had abandoned their primitive shelters and made the long trek to the coast. Their only reply was to point in the general direction of the Macdonnel Ranges and utter the word “Nuckalavee, Nuckalavee,” over and over again. The hell’s a mythological Scottish demon doing in Australia? quote:Unfortunately, no one other than the natives understood what the term meant. Have they tried asking a Scottish person? Maybe someone from the Orkney Islands? This is like Native Americans fleeing from the Loch Ness Monster or a kappa. For those of you who’d never heard of it, or had never played The Bard’s Tale, the Nuckelavee is this big horse with the upper torso of a rider growing out of the middle of its back, and it has no skin. quote:The story ended with the mayor promising city residents that the shanty town would be gone shortly. Australians being lovely to the Aboriginals. What a surprise. I know, hypocritical coming from an American. But still. quote:McCann grimaced. He understood why the Aboriginals had fled. But he doubted that the government officials in Darwin would believe his answer. Or care. Mentally, McCann noted that he should request that his clipping service search for any follow-up stories. Or reports of unusual disappearances in the Northern Territories. It’s a minor spoiler, but not an unsurprising one given the setting, but the World of Darkness version of the Nuckalavee is a vampire; a Nictuku, the name for a fourth generation Nosferatu. Father Naples mentioned them during the prologue when he was talking about the Nosferatu. “A few of their fourth-generation progeny are rumored to be grotesque monsters, known as the Nictuku.” But whether it’s the mythological Nuckelavee or a vampire character based off of it, it’s bizarre that Weinberg took a mythological creature from one culture, transplanted it to a completely different one on a different continent, and act like it was always a part of that culture. Even in 1994, before Wikipedia, anyone familiar with Scottish folklore would know better. Hell, check that fan wiki page I linked just now. The reference used for the page came from VTM: Clanbook: Nosferatu. It came out in 1993, and it’s most likely what Robert Weinberg used for information on Nuckalavee too. If the information on the wiki is accurate to the book, then the book straight up says that the thing is Scottish. Even if the vampire migrated at some point, more people should know about it, at least as a legend, than some scared Aboriginals. Speaking of… I’m no expert on Aboriginal cultures, living on the opposite side of the Pacific and all, but I’m sure they can communicate better than pointing at some mountains and grunting a monster’s name in fearful tones like some old Hollywood tribal character. At least enough to say “there’s something life threatening by our reservation and we’re getting away from it.” The story’s sympathetic to them at least, but that part rubs me the wrong way. Next, McCann opens the envelope from Peru. It contains a photo and a handwritten note from a member of the Explorer’s Club. The photo makes McCann “swallow hard”. More bad news. quote:Scribbled in black ink around the margin of the photo were the words, ‘Found at entrance to huge cavern, Gran Vilaya ruins, Peru.’ The picture showed a massive stone statue of a crouching demonic figure with a misshapen, bloated female body and the face of a snarling jaguar. Circling her feet in a ring were a dozen stone heads. Judging from the size of the skulls, the demon stood a least fifteen feet tall.[…]It fronted a huge network of previously unknown caves that honeycombed the Andes for miles. No one knew for certain the purpose of the underground warren. Several members of the expedition thought it might have served as a ritual burial ground for the mysterious Chachapoya civilization due to the numerous skeletons found scattered all through the tunnels. Which would therefore identify the demonic figure as the guardian of the dead. Credit where it’s due, Robert Weinberg didn’t just make up the Chachapoya. Little’s known about their ancient civilization, and some of what we do know come from the Inca and the Spanish, which aren’t what you’d call unbiased accounts. They even lived in the kind of “fog-shrouded region” or “cloud forests” that Gran Vilaya was described as being found in. quote:The writer ended his note with the hope that McCann felt his research money was being well spent. McCann used money from a “secret Giovanni slush fund”, which of course none of the Giovanni clan elders know about, to fund the expedition. McCann feels the cost was justified, but would’ve preferred it it if they’d found nothing. quote:The statue was not a representation of the spirit guardian of the dead Chachapoyas. It showed their murderer. Not sure why the Spanish had to build underground catacombs for the Chachapoyas to die of disease and poverty in when- No, wait, he’s talking about a vampire. quote:A creature who abhorred all life, she was named Gorgo, the One Who Screams in Darkness. And the empty caverns in Gran Vilaya indicated that once more she walked the Earth. Turns out she’s another Nictuku, like Nuckalavee. One with a kickass title. It looks like some very old, very powerful vampires are waking up, and McCann is not happy about it. He opens the box from Switzerland. It came from “an old friend.” quote:Inside were photocopies of more than three hundred pages of hand-written memos and high level classified documents. They were a mixed selection from a half-dozen different European security agencies. All were marked TOP SECRET. But we readers don’t get to learn what they say, because McCann checks his watch and learns he’s gotta be at the Club Diabolique to meet Alexander Vargoss in half an hour. McCann’s preparing to leave when his phone rings. Remember his “elaborate telephone answering machine?” It’s got some spiffy futuristic tech in it like a “caller ID feature” and the ability to record phone calls. Stuff that only someone secretly skimming money from the Giovanni can afford. But seriously, I love reading old stuff and seeing things that are common today described as rare and amazing. Hell, I didn’t know caller ID was a thing in 1994. My family’s middle class and we didn’t get phones with caller ID until the 2000′s. Unfortunately, none of his phone system’s features come in handy in this case. He doesn’t recognize the number, but McCann answers the phone anyway. quote:A man whose voice McCann didn’t recognize spoke in clear, crisp tones. "Lameth," said the stranger, "beware of the Red Death." Nah, Dire, despite his clear, crisp tones the mysterious caller still has a bit of a lisp. He was actually calling you “lame-rear end.” quote:It was a name from the dawn of history, one that McCann believed long forgotten. A master schemer, the detective did not like unexpected shocks. Especially ones of this magnitude. McCann certainly has the connections and resources to be a master schemer. Still, I’d of liked to have seen him actually scheme before the narration straight up calls him one. He tries to listen to the recording of the phone call, but turns out it didn’t record. The caller ID screen is blank, and even the phone number it picked up earlier disappeared. This is starting to sound familiar. Luckily, McCann memorized the number despite his previous confidence in technology. He calls the local police station, specifically a cop named Harry. He asks for a favor due to him for a bottle of wine he sent Harry for his birthday; the location where his phone call was made from. Turns out, it’s from a booth in the front lobby of his building. One that’s been out of service for months. Let’s recap. Assassins just tried to kill McCann. Powerful vampires are waking up abroad, which is worrying for a very old schemer with an eye towards international news like him. And an untraceable magic man just called him by a very old name no one should know and warned him of a threat with an ominous name. All before he’s gotta meet with the Prince of St. Louis. Good thing McCann’s a big tough book protagonist. quote:Not a believer in coincidence, the detective knew the three events had to be linked together. But how?
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Feb 20, 2020 03:09
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Part 1, Chapter 3 (Pt. 1) Or: Mage Chat at The Club Diabolique This chapter features a scene most V:TM fans will be familiar with: important vampires meeting in a seedy nightclub to talk about vampire poo poo. Thanks to some reckless driving, Dire McCann arrives at Club Diabolique’s front door at exactly midnight. We also learn that he has a late-model Chrysler, but since I’m not a car guy I don’t know if that means anything. quote:Originally an abandoned warehouse, the building had been converted into a disco by several ambitious young capitalists ten years earlier. There were still discos in 1984? Wait, when did Xanadu come out? quote:When that craze had died, so had the club. It passed through several hands and incarnations before being bought by the present owner, Oliver Pearson. After several months of extensive interior designing, the nightspot had reopened with a new name, The Club Diabolique, and a new attitude. Converted into a Gothic-Punk haven, with live music, a huge dance floor, and an exclusive “Members Only” upper level, the bar had quickly developed into the hottest place to be in town. It wouldn’t be a Vampire: The Masquerade story without a shady nightclub in there somewhere. This one, despite its Gothic-Punk theme, has a mixed crowd of patrons. Most importantly are the vampires, as Alexander Vargoss holds court in that members only area, but obviously none of the mortals in the club know about them. quote:There were rich, middle-aged businessmen wearing expensive suits, accompanied by much younger women dressed to kill in skin-tight designer dresses and five-inch heels. Club Diabolique catered to mistresses and expensive ladies of the evening, not wives. Morals and inhibitions were checked at the door. I have a hard time believing this club could remain the hottest nightspot in town for very long if they cater to creepy old stiffs cheating on their wives. It’d hurt the club’s image with the rebellious young goth generation the club’s theme is supposedly catering to. Speaking of, we of course have some goth kids. Most of page thirty-one is spent describing them. quote:They were punks with an attitude. You can tell this was written in the 90′s because the word “attitude” here doesn’t really mean anything. quote:Generation X-ers without much money and without much hope, they felt cheated by a world spoiled by their elders. The kind of subculture that doesn’t mind hanging out in the same club with creepy middle-aged businessmen and their mistresses, right? This line could also be a good way to describe how many neonates, newly-Embraced vampires, might feel towards their sires and the older vampires. You can easily make a comparison between these fledgling vampires and the disaffected mortal youth they once were, and the connection could both say something about them and help them maintain their humanity when everything else about vampire life, nature, and society is pressuring them to be monsters. But Blood War is one of those V:TM stories that doesn’t focus on neonates. quote:Their quest for identity had led them down some strange paths. Searching for meaning in a meaningless world, they turned to the 19th-century Gothic traditions for inspiration. Their look was a mix of black leather and Victorian finery. A look that probably clashes with the “without much money” description. One disadvantage goths have when it comes to image, compared to punk and grunge, is that being able to afford their fancy outfits out them as suburban middle-class. There’s a whole paragraph describing their look, but I’m assuming you all know what goths look like. quote:McCann sympathized with the Goths. Most of them were bright, sensitive young men and women trying desperately to cope with a world of diminishing returns. Lonely and bored, they had created a whole new subculture based on a romanticized view of decadence and death. After that “goths are punks with Attitude® “ line I was expecting the descriptions for goths to be Weinberg talking about how weird the youth of today is mixed with misconceptions like that they worship the devil or something. But this was pretty good. They’re disaffection and feelings of hopelessness might be exaggerated, but that’s justified given the World of Darkness’s generally bleak setting. And there’s no mention of the music scene the subcuture came up around, but I don’t think McCann’s much of a modern music person, so it makes in-character sense. And if it’s not perfect, who are we to judge? How many of you on this hellhole of an internet know the goth subculture as anything other than a meme and a fetish? The most relevant thing about the narration’s description of goths is their view on (the pop culture version of) vampires, and how that clashes with reality. It’s what you’d expect. quote:Many of them, not realizing the bitter truth behind the legends, fantasized about becoming vampires. Sometimes it happened, turning their dreams into nightmares. Aw, that’s sweet of McCann. Maybe under that master schemer detective persona beats the heart of a big old softie. Well, no, not at all, but despite being secretly really old he isn’t a dick about young people. Club Diabolique has a doorman who’s described as “a giant of a man,” even compared to Dire McCann, who is merely big. quote:Dressed in undertaker’s garb, he exuded an air of restrained menace. This was Brutus, nicknamed the Arbitrator of Souls. In more mundane terms, the ex-wrestler worked as the doorman. I wonder, does he have that nickname because goths are over-dramatic, or because vampires are over-dramatic? Brutus is one of those unbribable club doormen who picked who can get in based on a certain criteria beyond “is the person old enough to be here” and “is this guy gonna start poo poo if he gets inside?” Thing is, no one knew how Brutus decided who gets in and why, and since he’s a huge scary motherfucker no one asks. Given some of the patrons, and the fact that Brutus is one of Vargoss’s ghouls, I’m guessing he judges based on who looks like they have the tastiest blood. McCann doesn’t have to worry about Brutus, though, since they both know he has an appointment inside. There’s two paragraphs describing the club, but since the plot doesn’t spend any time here, just know that the music’s too loud to talk over and everyone’s there to dance, drink, and sin. And the band playing is called the Children of the Apocalypse, which McCann finds darkly amusing given the news he received last chapter. Instead we’ll skip to upstairs, at the door to the member’s only area, guarded by a young “looks-eighteen-but-is-actually-a-hundred” vampire named “Fast Eddie” Sanchez, named so due to his skills with a knife. McCann asks him what’s up, and we learn that Vargoss’s guest is “some big shot Tremere sorcerer” and that “word on the street is that bad times are coming.” McCann says that it sound like a good reason for Eddie to keep his knives sharpened. quote:“I always keep my knives ready, McCann," said Eddie, seriously, as the detective walked past him and into the next room. You notice how that quote’s in italics? There’s several different instances in this chapter where lines are randomly written in italics and I have no idea why. The first thing I assumed is that it’s a subtle way of showing that a vampire is using a speech enhancing discipline, like maybe Eddie’s using a Presence power here to sound more intimidating? That’d explain lines of dialogue, but there are lines by the narration that’re randomly in italics too. You can see that here, since the description of McCann walking into the next room is also italicized along with the dialogue. I have no idea what the writer was doing here, and this is the only chapter where this happens. McCann describes the members only vampire part of the club: quote:There were a dozen round cocktail tables scattered about the private chamber, with perhaps fifteen Kindred and twice that number of ghouls present. A small bar served whiskey for the ghouls and blood, both human and animal, for the Undead. Neonates, recently embraced vampires, worked as the waiters. One criticism I’ve heard about the earlier versions of the Vampire: The Masquerade tabletop game is that players, despite being big tough vampires with cool powers, are usually railroaded into being neonates doing low-level schmuck work for the actually powerful Count Dracula level vampires, rarely in a position to do much politicking or even hunting. Superpowered errand boys instead of, you know, vampires. These poor waiters here reminded me of that, though in the tabletop’s defense I doubt you’re expected to work a minimum wage job instead of something more exciting and action packed. In the end, it depends on the storyteller. Also, as the book goes on, I think it unintentionally makes an argument for why campaigns about elders and methuselahs might not be the best idea. quote:To the rear of the room, on a small raised stage, an undead trio of jazz legends were playing some of their greatest hits for a small but appreciative crowd gathered nearby. I hope those poor bastards aren’t Toreador, but given that they’re just playing their greatest hits about sixty years after their embrace… quote:Alexander Vargoss hated rock music and refused to have it in his domain Unlike McCann, Vargoss is not down with the youth of (about forty years ago up to) today and hates their “rock” “music.” I was also going to ask why Vargoss holds court in a room over a place he can’t stand, but I figure since he’s a Ventrue he’s compelled to follow the money regardless of where it leads. The member’s only area’s soundproofed, anyway. quote:They kept the noise outside, and, sometimes, held the screams inside. Humans other than McCann had entered the private chamber. But he was the only one who had ever left alive. Kindred can drink from humans without killing them, so either the humans killed here are Masquerade threats being dealt with discreetly, Vargoss is a low Humanity bastard, or everyone in the club has bad luck with frenzy-resisting dice rolls. quote:A stunning redhead was singing with the band tonight. Wearing a green sequined dress that sharply delineated a near-perfect figure, she possessed a deep, syrupy voice that blended in perfect harmony with the three musicians. Of course she’s hot. McCann’s never seen the singer before, but she looks “vaguely familiar”, so he asks one of those vampire waiters who she is. The waiter she’s a ghoul belonging to a Toreador named Iverson, whose been visiting St. Louis on business for the last month and is sitting nearby watching her. We’re also reminded by the narration that Toreador are known for their “obsession with the arts.” quote:“He watches her real, real careful. Doesn’t like anyone else taking an interest in the lady. Can’t say I blame him. She’s good." See? Even the Toreador know their art sucks. The waiter advises McCann to stop gawking and get over to Vargoss’s table. Vargoss is getting impatient and that flashy Around the World in Eighty Days style “arriving at your destination at the exact time” entrance only counts if you arrive in the exact room you’re supposed to meet in. So, somewhat unceremoniously given that this is the Prince of St. Louis, McCann walks over to Vargoss’s table and apologizes for being late. The Prince is there, sitting with his back against a brick wall because he’s paranoid about attacks from behind, along with his bodyguards, ~*~The Dark Angels~*~ Fawn and Flavia, at either side of him, and their guest, a little rat-faced Tremere wizard. We get more random italics. quote:“You delayed our conversation until this kine arrived?" the wizard snarled at Vargoss, making it quite clear he considered McCann a step below a monkey. The Tremere Clan were not noted for their social graces. The Tremere guy’s an rear end in a top hat. No surprise there. Vargoss seems to ignore him and asks McCann what he thinks of the singer, who we learn is named Rachel Young, but his “icy tone” implies that the wizard’s bad manners have offended him as a host, and the wizard realizes this and shuts up. We also learn that a “closely trusted Tremere councilor” had tried to betray Vargoss a few months ago, but McCann uncovered the plot and stopped him, so Vargoss is especially pissed at he Tremere’s sudden dickishness and general presence. After some banter about Rachel Young, during which she meets McCann’s gaze from the stage and smiles enigmatically at him, Vargoss chews the Tremere out, warning him to watch his manners or else. He also says that McCann is no ordinary human. quote:The Prince showing off his pet human, thought McCann sarcastically. And now the random italics are showing up halfway through sentences. What’s with this? Was there no editor? What makes McCann “no ordinary human” to Vargoss has nothing to do with his detective skills. Instead, McCann traces “a certain proscribed cabalistic phrase” on the table, presumably with his finger but I’m not ruling out a nearby spoon. The letters he made glow red for an instant before disappearing. It’s not very impressive given the vampire powers we’ll see elsewhere in the story, but it’s enough to prove that McCann is magic. And one of the biggest conversation derailers in the franchise. quote:“You’re a mage?" he whispered. “Of what tradition?" Hoo boy, mages. Mage: The Ascension is another game that’s part of the World of Darkness franchise. I can’t tell you much about it since I’d only ever been interested in V:TM. But from what I’d been able to understand from online chat, there’s one important thing to keep in mind when it comes to mages in relation to Vampire: The Masquerade. You should NOT. TALK. ABOUT MAGES IN RELATION TO VAMPIRE: THE MASQUERADE. Mages tend to be way, way more powerful than vampires thanks to having fantastic cosmic reality warping powers or some poo poo. One faction's also got technology. The Technocracy, which I’ve seen get brought up a lot, have orbital mirrors that can create sun-powered orbital space lasers, and goddamn space travel. On top of the obvious power level arguments this’d cause, the nature of mages tend to lead to more (probably superficially) “high-minded” concepts like the nature of reality and finding a way for all of humanity to “Ascend.” Compare that to the Kindred’s pettier goals like hiding their existence from the average mortal, manipulating each other, and seeking individual power. When there’re all these factions of magic mortals reshaping reality and burning things with the sun lasers in space, it makes the Kindred and their petty earthly squabbles seem pretty drat stupid and unimportant. So when you’re chatting about Vampire: The Masquerade, bring up mages at your own risk, unless you want to cause long derails about what the mages would do, how they could solve any big problem for vampires without even trying, why they wouldn’t get involved, how something contradicts the lore of one of the two franchises, why are the Antediluvians a threat in the first place when the Technolocracy can sun laser them from space (and they actually do this to one, read up on The Week of Nightmares), and of course, why someone’s pet vampire can totally beat a mage in a fight. And lore dumps. Pages of 'em. Hell, I’m derailing right now, and this post is long enough. Back to the story. The rat-faced Tremere, shocked and more than little scared to have insulted a mage, apologizes, introduces himself as Tyrus Benedict, and assures that he meant no disrespect to McCann or his “order.” We also get this little bit. quote:Like most Kindred, he was extremely wary of mages. Those beings foolish enough to cross magicians usually ended up perishing in peculiar fashion. Including the Undead. Also remember that the Tremere used to be mages, so that’s a another group of even more dangerous people who’d like to stick a foot up the Tremere’s asses. McCann’s trying not to laugh at the easily fooled vampire. See, he was lying about being Euthanatos. He isn’t even a mage. He just knows a few simple “parlor tricks” like creating glowing red runes with his finger/spoon to fool vamps like Vargoss and Benedict here into thinking he’s a mage. quote:The Kindred were masters of deceit and deception. Yet they much too easily accepted the unbelievable when confronted with the obvious. They saw complications where none existed. It was a basic character flaw that Dire McCann understood and exploited quite effectively. And had done so, in various guises, over the millennia.[/qoute] According to the wiki, this was called the Shadow Curtain. The European Ventrue and Toreador clans sent some spies into Russia to find out what’s going on, but none returned. Vargoss doesn’t find this very mysterious. quote:Vargoss shrugged. "Obviously it was a Sabbat takeover. The Brujah elders in Moscow underestimated the discontent among their kine. Their puppet rulers spent too much money on weapons and not enough on food. Without a strong leader like Stalin to keep the commoners in line, discontent and anarchy flourished. The fall of the government, and the Brujah with it, was inevitable. No mystery there. We saw it take place on television." The legendary Baba Yaga’s a vampire in this setting, the one responsible for the Shadow Curtain, and another one of the Nictuku. When Benedict mentions Armageddon here, he doesn’t just mean because some old and cannabalistic methuselahs are waking up just to annoy them. The rising is said to be a sign that Gehenna, the end of the world for vampires and mankind, is starting. Again, the Nictuku are 4th generation Nosferatu, completely loyal to their sire, the Antediluvian Absimiliard. And Absimiliard apparently hates his descendants, since he was a vain handsome bastard before Caine cursed him and the ugly little rat people living in the sewers remind him of his curse. It’s said that when the Nictuku rise, they’ll wipe out the later generations of Nosferatu, just as their sire wants. Except, funny enough, for Baba Yaga here. She’s apparently a rebel among the Nictuku, and is said to even be the direct vampiric ancestor of all modern Nosferatu, done just to piss Absimiliard off. Seems she just wants to gain power for herself, which is what she’s doing in Russia. In short: If the Nictuku are rising, they’re probably going to do Absimiliard’s bidding. And if they’re rising, maybe Absimiliard is stirring too. And if he’s beginning to rise, so are the other Antediluvians. And if that’s happening, boom. Gehenna. Everyone’s hosed. Going according to Camarilla policy, Vargoss angrily denies that the Nictuku (and what they represent, though that’s left unsaid) exist, that they’re just myths “invented by the Nosferatu elders to frighten their rebellious childer.” But turns out Benedict has photographic evidence. He hands over some photos, informing Vargoss that many bothans Tremere wizards met the Final Death getting them. The Sabbot and the rest of the Camarilla couldn’t figure out what was going on in Russia, but somehow the sneaky gently caress blood magic clan managed to get pictures of the cause. McCann doesn’t get to see them, so neither do we. But Vargoss tells us all we need to know. quote:Vargoss’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the photos. Raising up one particular picture, he showed it to Fawn and Flavia. "She has teeth of iron and six-inch claws," he stated in hushed tones. "Just as the legends claim." It’s enough to shut down any more “Nictuku aren’t real” talk. McCann, meanwhile, notices that Benedict hadn’t said anything since he revealed the photos, which, come on McCann, it’s not even been a minute. But this is supposed to hint that something’s off, because Benedict is staring at the stage with Young and the jazz trio. Who’ve stopped playing. Suddenly, they hear Young scream. McCann and the vamps at the table (except Benedict, the wimp) jump up and face the stage, forming a neat little group action pose that’d make for good promotion material if this were a visual media and not a book. quote:In one hand, he gripped his machine gun pistol, ready for action. At his side were the Dark Angels. Each of them held a pair of short swords they were capable of wielding with deadly efficiency. Right behind them stood Alexander Vargoss. The Prince of St. Louis was no coward. Says the book after specifically describing him as standing behind the other three. But, alright, I know what Weinberg’s going for. quote:“Who in hell’s name is that?" whispered McCann […] "What in hell’s name is that?" Time to meet the bad guy. quote:Tall and gaunt, a lone figure dominated the center of the chamber, a few feet in front of the stage. It had not been there a moment ago. Somehow, it had materialized out of thin air. That was what the Tremere wizard had seen. It was a magical feat that challenged even the most powerful of Kindred. You sure he didn’t just reveal himself after deactivating Obfuscate? Or turn into an animal, sneak in, and change back at a dramatically appropriate time? Or- quote:The newcomer wore a single garment consisting of a ripped and tattered shroud held tightly in place about his body with moldering white bandages. His chalk-white face was that of a long dead corpse. Ancient, decaying skin stretched tightly across a hairless skull. Paper-thin lips, a beak-like nose, and hollow, gaunt cheeks combined in a look of utter malevolence. Huge unblinking eyes, like the black pits of hell, took in all those in the chamber. And his body seems to be generating great heat, and not in the fun wrestling terminology kind of way. quote:The floor surrounding the walking corpse sizzled. The vinyl bubbled like lava beneath the creature’s feet. Waves of superheated air rose around the figure, giving it an eerie, unearthly vagueness. The Red Death blazed, but did not burn. Fire’s a fatal weakness for vampires, and that presumably goes for heat so intense it should make things burst into flame too. If you’re playing the tabletop game, you gotta roll to see if your character will freak out and run from fire or not. So this corpse-looking guy generating heat that can melt the floor with no harm to himself is a big deal. Benedict and McCann hype him up a bit more for good measure. quote:"In three hundred years I have never seen its like," muttered Benedict, still seated. "How can such a monster exist?" Vargoss speaks up, trying to live up to that “no coward” description from earlier. quote:“Who are you?" The Prince’s voice rang like a bell through the silent chamber. "And how dare you violate the traditions and enter my domain without permission?" “This is how you face the devil straight up, McCann, you wuss.” quote:The figure raised its head until its eyes glared directly at Vargoss. "I am the Red Death," the monster declared in slow, deliberate tones. ‘I go where I want. Your petty territorial claims mean nothing to me. My will is the only law." We’ll stop here for now, with McCann and the vampires about to take on the titular Red Death. He acts tough and yeah, he made quite an entrance, but in the end, who knows? Maybe McCann and the vamps’ll do alright.
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Feb 20, 2020 04:05
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I think my favorite part so far is how the people spooked by the nuckalavee had to make this long trek from inland to the coast... To run away from a sea monster.
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Feb 20, 2020 13:08
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Part 1, Chapter 3 (pt. 2) Or: Panic! at the (Former) Disco McCann and the vamps do not do alright. Fast Eddie Sanchez–remember him, the guy guarding the door to the members only area?–appears from the crowd, wielding a stiletto knife and quipping about entrance being invite only. He lunges forward to stab the Red Death in the chest. And gets himself killed right away. The stiletto melts before it can touch the Red Death. Red D. grabs him by the neck and, despite having scrawny corpse arms like the cover shows, lifts him up one handed. Eddie shrieks in pain. And ignites. quote:Gouts of flame burst from Eddie’s nose, eyes, ears, and mouth. Tongues of fire erupted from his chest. His fingers blasted into bits like fireworks. Legs and arms exploded like dry wood thrown into a blazing fireplace. His skin blackened and crinkled like burning paper. A blast of incredible heat roared through the chamber. And Fast Eddie Sanchez was gone. The Red Death laughs “insanely,” which'd be too cliche villainish if Weinberg had gone for a “force of nature” like the character's namesake from Poe’s story, as he pours Eddie’s ashes out of his hand. quote:“He was the first. But not the last. A fitting end to all those who defy the Sabbat. Or challenge the might of the Red Death.” Rather than the symbolic representation of an apocalyptic disease, it looks like we're getting a supervillain. Understandably, the crowd of nameless vampires and ghouls lose their poo poo and panic. We’re reminded that fire destroys vampires. quote:…and though most had existed for hundreds of years, they clung to their unnatural existence with all the hunger of their mortal counterparts. More, for they knew beyond any doubt that they were the damned. Like what’s going on isn’t already dramatic enough. They run for the exit, but a mysterious force is keeping the door shut. That or Fast Eddie locked the door behind him when he came in to die. Either way, they’re stuck in the chamber with the Red Death, who’s strolling around killing anyone who gets close enough with fire hugs. quote:Methodically, it grabbed hold of any Kindred foolish enough to venture close. Clasped the vampire to its chest and turned it to ashes. Dire McCann, Alexander Vargoss, and the twins, meanwhile, are presumably still standing in front of their table, posing. Tyrus Bendeict is still seated, and panicking. He thinks the Red Death’s after him and the photos of Baba Yaga from Russia. quote:McCann shook his head. "Nonsense," he snapped at the wizard. But wondered if perhaps the Tremere sorcerer wasn’t correct. McCann’s instinct to be contrary is faster than his ability to think. I’m starting to notice that Weinberg tends to write two sentences when one sentence with a comma would do. I think it’s supposed to make the narration look deliberate and dramatic, but instead it comes off as stilted and weird to read. quote:“Attend me," snapped Alexander Vargoss to his Dark Angels. "He must be stopped."  quote:A fifth-generation vampire, he was over 2,000 years old and controlled incredible powers. Jesus Christ, he’s a step away from a methusalah! What the hell’s he doing merely being the Prince of St. Louis? Is he just that bad at the Game? Many of the important vampires in Blood War are going to be both really old and low generation. As the summary on the back cover states: “This series reveals many of the underpinnings of the World of Darkness and spotlights the dreaded elder vampires known as Methuselahs.” This is one instance where having a younger or higher generation vampire in the role might make more in-universe sense. quote:Raising his hands high over his head, clenching his fingers into fists…  quote:…Vargoss extended his mighty will. "Halt," he commanded in a voice that never before had been denied. "HALT!" I guess if the Prince were higher generation, it wouldn’t be as impressive when the Red Death no-sells his Dominate attempts. quote:The Red Dead laughed in defiance. It continued to advance. Bet he’s laughing more at Vargoss’s Ginyu Force pose than at his futile resistance. quote:“Halt," repeated Vargoss, his voice uncertain. The first traces of doubt showed on his face. The Red Death was very close. It was too late, much too late, for the Prince to turn and run. Sit down, McCann opens fire on the Red Death, but once again the Ingram’s useless. Red D. isn’t even slowed. quote:Slowly, with great deliberation, the Red Death reached out for the Prince. To the detective, always suspicious of being manipulated, the monster seemed to hesitate for an instant, almost as if waiting for an interruption. Whatever the Red Death is playing at, the ~*~Dark Angels~*~ step in before things get too awkward. quote:Moving with inhuman speed, Flavia and Fawn grabbed the prince by the shoulders, spun him around, and sent him flying. Holy balls, I love this! The twins saved their boss by loving hurling him away from the fire monster. In my head, I’m imagining them chucking Vargoss “off-screen”, him screaming in his David Warner voice all the way, followed by some cartoon crashing noises and a cat screech. With Vargoss safe and probably unconscious, the twins turn their attentions to the Red Death. quote:…they could not resist the challenge the monster presented. Assamite assassins, they thrived on death and destruction. Two sets of matched blades, the finest in the world, slashed in wide arcs. Yeah, attack the Red Death with blades. That worked so well for Fast Eddie. To the twins’ credit, their blades don’t melt like Eddie’s stiletto when they try to slice off Red D.’s hands. But they don’t hurt him either. They just pass through. quote:McCann cursed aloud, astonished. In his entire existence he had never before seen the like. The specter appeared composed entirely of frozen flame. Which meant that nothing physical could harm it. The Red Death was invulnerable to normal weapons. Like a ghost-type Pokemon. You gotta use special attacks on him. quote:Tentatively, McCann reached out telepathically with his mind. …I’m sorry, he what!? The big bastard’s telepathic too now!? quote:He hated revealing any hint of his true essence. But there was no other choice. He had to know the truth. What type of being was the Red Death? For a bare instant, thoughts crossed, as minds touched. Then McCann recoiled in shock. Unable to attack the Red Death in any meaningful way without getting himself killed, McCann instead decides to use his suddenly revealed psychic powers to read his mind and remove some of his mystery just a few pages after his introduction. With his mind probe, McCann learns that the Red Death is definitely Kindred, not something from a different game like a wraith or, god forbid, an actual mage. quote:It used a discipline McCann had never before encountered–Body of Fire. Transforming into this form took the combined efforts of several vampires, which meant the Red Death did not work alone. McCann caught a fleeting memory of a group calling themselves The Children of Dreadful Night. Then the thought was gone, swallowed by the creature’s obsession with destruction. In its present state, the Red Death was more elemental fire than vampire. It hungered to destroy life. It existed to kill. The Red Death immediately detected McCann’s mind probe, closed off its thoughts, and sent back quote:…a mental stream of hellfire that would have burned the detective’s brain to cinders if he had remained in contact. Incinerating a dude’s brain if he tries any psychic poo poo on you. That’s actually an awesome power, if situational. Let’s talk about this bit with the mind probe. We've just been introduced to this villain, this unstoppable force who came out of nowhere, who even ancient and powerful vampires like Vargoss are helpless against, and what little we learned about him we got from his actions and what he volunteered to tell us about himself. At this point in the story, the effectiveness of such a monster is enhanced by nobody knowing who he is or where he came from, or even his exact motives. Obviously, we’ll learn more about the Red Death as the story goes on, until all will be revealed. I have no problem with that, and there’re still things we don’t know about old Red D. But thanks to McCann’s previously unhinted at telepathy he immediately confirms he’s a vampire, the name of this disciple everyone’s helpless against, how it’s powered, and the name of the group the Red Death was working with. It's too much, too soon. In trying to show off McCann and further hint at his mysterious nature, Weinberg unintentionally undermined his villain early on. That stuff McCann just learned via mind probe could have been spread out in later chapters, and preferably they’d be uncovered by, you know, actual detective work, maybe with some supernatural help, instead of some sudden asspull power. By the way, I looked it up on the White Wolf wiki, and there’s no result for a Discipline called Body of Fire, so it seems it was made up for this story. There’s a discipline called Godbody of Fire, but it’s a Kuei-jin power, not Kindred. It works completely differently, and Kindred of the East wasn’t released until ‘98, so don’t expect any plot twists in that direction. Besides, I don’t think the Red Death is Asian. There’s also a Protean power called Body of the Sun, which transforms a Kindred into “blazing indestructible fire.” Thing is, it’s a tenth-tier power, the highest one. If a character has reached the tenth tier of a power, than they’re probably an Antediluvian or at least a really old Methuselah. Usually the only other tenth tier power of a discipline is an Antediluvian-only power called, I poo poo you not, Plot Device, which can best be described as “The power can do whatever the hell the storyteller wants.” Obviously it’s for storytelling purposes and not an actual in-universe power. All that said, most of that I'd typed up before reading the next two books in the trilogy. We'll learn exactly what Body of Fire is in the next book, and why it's unlikely your vampire OC will ever learn it. One other thing. McCann doesn’t recognize the Red Death. But the Red Death recognizes him. Anyway, that little psychic exchange? It took place in only a few seconds, and the twins are preparing their second attack, this time aiming for the eyes. McCann cries “No!” but they ignore him. When they attack, the Red Death lashes out with his arms in sweeping motions, either trying to grab or clothesline them like the WWE superstar he is. Flavia, the one who hasn’t done anything separately from her sister so far, ducks out of the way. Fawn, the one who killed the fleeing assassin and made fucky eyes at McCann back in Chapter 1, however… quote:…was not so fortunate. Crimson fingers raked across her face. He hears a gurgling noise behind him and turns around, bumping into someone hurrying away. He opens his eyes and sees that Benedict’s still seated at the table. Except his head’s been cut off. And the Red Death didn’t do it, either. While everyone was distracted by the invincible fire vampire, someone went and chopped the poor Tremere’s head off. He instantly starts rotting away, because when a vampire dies the years suddenly catch up with them. The longer they live, the less there is left of them afterwards. The Red Death has suddenly vanished as well. Post-battle, we’ve got a thoroughly emasculated Ventrue Prince and are down a doorman, a bodyguard, a wizard, and a few nameless cannon fodder vampires and ghouls. The Red Death lost nothing. Vargoss, presumably covered in a bit of dust and with a banana peel on his shoulder, begins bringing order among the panicked vampires with help from “his overwhelming force of majesty,” which I’m assuming is the high-level Presence power of the same name. With the Red Death gone, the force keeping the exit shut vanishes too (so that wasn’t Eddie’s fault, may he rest in- oh right, damned), but Vargoss won’t let anyone leave until they calm the hell down. He doesn’t want anyone breaking the Masquerade by running past all those goth kids while screaming about fire vampires. Meanwhile, Flavia, the surviving twin, is having a bad time. quote:Alone, on her knees in the center of the room, Flavia cried tears of black blood. Dark Angel and Red Death. McCann felt certain their duel was far from over. Unless someone with a more impressive title comes along to challenge him. The photos of Baba Yaga are gone, along with anything else Benedict brought with him, his assassin having pocketed them. McCann finds a lone clue, dropped by the assassin when he bumped into them a few moments ago: a green sequin. The kind from the dress Rachel Young, the supposed ghoul singer, was wearing. quote:Hurriedly, he scanned the crowd. Though no one had been permitted to depart, there was no sign of Rachel Young. The singer had disappeared. McCann was not surprised. And that’s Chapter 3 done. We won’t see the aftermath of the Red Death’s attack right away. Next chapter we’re taking a break from McCann to focus on a new character in Washington D.C., which has apparently gone to all hell. I mean that in a World of Darkness way, not the real life bad timeline way.
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Feb 22, 2020 03:13
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Part 1, Chapter 4 Or: AAAAARRRRRRRRRTTT!!! Meet Makish, another Assamite assassin. He’s waiting in front of Union Station for a two o’clock AM meeting with his “mysterious employer.” It’s 1:59. quote:A small, slender male, with mahogany skin, slicked-down black hair, and too-wide smile, Makish attracted little attention other than that of an occasional bum asking for a handout. Or a hooker hoping to make some spare change, The few policemen, anxious to make it through the shift without any trouble, treated him as if he was invisible. Whenever one of them walked by, Makish grinned widely and sang out in a high-pitched, nasal voice, "Good evening, officer. I am waiting for my ride home, officer. Good to see you, sir.” The “act annoyingly nice” method of getting city people to avoid you works, but I’m not sure it’d go so well for a clearly non-white dude doing it to a cop. Union Station is the most secure building in DC’s southeast side. Half of the capitol is apparently like something out of a Snake Plisskin movie, or the beginning of Demolition Man where the street gang had anti-aircraft weapons. quote:The nation’s capital was infested with drug lords, crime bosses, and crooked politicians. Each controlled packs of thugs who engaged in a violent, ruthless war for territory. The small, outmanned, and outgunned District of Columbia police force had long conceded the street to the outlaws. North and West, where the major government buildings stood, were comparatively safe. The National Guard helped keep the peace. South and East, near Capitol Hill and the train station, justice came from the muzzle of a gun. Remember the author’s note at the start of the book: the setting is a harsher, crueler version of our own world. What this usually means when it comes to Vampire: The Masquerade is that even ignoring the vampires, demons, etc., things are worse than in real life. The gap between rich and poor is larger. Slums are more run down and unlivable. The crime rate, especially homicide, is higher. The politicians and police are more corrupt. Corporations are more untouchable and all-powerful. There’re more specific examples too, like the levees in New Orleans being more poorly built and prone to breaking and flooding the city. Obviously that bit didn’t age well after 2005. I know what you’re thinking. The most obvious and cynical take here’s that, except for all the supernatural crap, there’s no actual difference between real life and the World of Darkness. It’s 2020, and Poe’s Law reigns. But whatever the case, this theme is usually subtler elsewhere than here in Blood War, where the loving capital of the United States is under siege by street gangs to the point where the National Guard has to defend the seat of power but leave the rest to the street gangs and the drug lords and politicians they secretly or not so secretly work for. Makish looks down on DC’s criminal element. See, he’s not just an assassin. He’s an artist. quote:Makish couldn’t understand the senseless violence. The cheap hoods who killed for gang honor and loose change disgusted him. They acted like wild animals, with no appreciation for art. Murder needed to be done with style, with panache. Makish was a connoisseur of extermination. Most Kindred thrived on blood. Makish drew his sustenance from murder. He was the supreme assassin in the world of the undead. Fun fact. In later editions of the tabletop, the Assamites have three different castes: warriors, sorcerers, and viziers. Viziers are the “scholars and artisans” of the clan. Like Makish, they take their art seriously and obsess over it. Unlike Makish, the art doesn’t have to involve killing people. It’s easy to think Makish is a vizier, but since this book came out early in the tabletop’s existence I don’t think viziers were a thing yet, or at least not like how they’re described in the link. So he’s more likely just an eccentric warrior. quote:“I believe you are waiting for me?" asked a voice slightly behind and to the right of Makish. It was exactly two hours past midnight. “That’s how you arrive exactly on time, McCann, you wuss.” Makish is caught off guard, since no one’s passed by him for a few minutes. The speaker, a tall and lean figure in a raincoat and slouch hat that hides their identity, appeared from nowhere. He beckons for Makish to walk with him out to the streets, saying that it’s more private outside and “there is work to be done.” Their destination is east, in Washington’s worst slums. During their walk, they talk business, and we learn that Makish was the one who hired McCann’s would-be assassins on his employer’s orders. The employer’s aware that the assassins died, but he’s all “as expected, things are going exactly as planned” about it like a Greg Weisman villain. quote:“The other arrangements you requested proceed on schedule," said Makish. “The work will be finished tomorrow." Then raincoat guy starts stripping. quote:Reaching up, the stranger removed his hat. Makish’s eyes widened when he saw his employer’s features. The speaker’s chalk-white face was that of a long-dead corpse, with decayed skin stretched across his hairless skull. Streaks of crimson stained his cheeks and forehead. With a smile, the horror turned to the assassin. "I am known as The Red Death. Touching my flesh would be a terrible mistake.” Ah. It’s just Red D. revealing his identity to Makish. quote:Makish nodded, watching the stranger remove his raincoat. Underneath the raincoat, the Red Death is still wearing the tattered shroud held together with moldering bandages he had on at The Club Diabolique. He knows enough to hide his identity in public with a coat and hat, but doesn’t want to compromise on his ancient horror look by putting on a pair of sweats or some shoes. The narration said earlier that the streets are empty because it’s the middle of the night and there’s a cold snap, but that’s no guarantee someone isn’t watching. If I were hanging around a slum at two AM, an ugly stranger wearing a coat but no pants or shoes would draw my attention more. I’d think he’s a flasher and I was about to get an eyeful of his withered zombie penis. Or, that he’s a sitcom protagonist on his way to his girlfriend-of-the-season’s place with a sexy surprise, but uh oh, her parents are visiting, and after some wacky misunderstandings and pratfalls they’ll get an eyeful of his withered zombie penis. No, wait, you know what he looks like, with his coat and hat over his shroud and wrappings? Imagine a cosplayer who’s been walking the floor of a convention for hours. They’re tired, their makeup and costume’s getting messed up, they’re cold, and they clearly don’t give a poo poo anymore so they just put on a coat over their elaborate get-up and wander around for another half hour before calling it a day. They’re still walking east through this crime-infested neighborhood, Makish presumably dressed like a normal person and the Red Death like a poorly wrapped mummy (though not a World of Darkness mummy, which is yet another creature that exists in it). The coat and hat aren’t mentioned again, so it seems that Red D. just dumped them on the sidewalk somewhere, like a normal person would. He’s also got his Body of Fire discipline activated. quote:Though he stood several feet away from the grim figure, Makish could feel the heat emanating from the Red Death’s body. It felt as if the mysterious vampire was on fire, without the flames. Things have gotta feel awkward for Makish right now. The Red Death makes things even more uncomfortable by changing the subject immediately after revealing himself to grill Makish about his past. quote:“You are a renegade, no longer obeying the commands of your clan?" said the Red Death. It was more statement than question. They don’t use the word here, but Makish may be what Kindred call an antitribu. Antitribus are vampires who reject the political loyalties and culture of their clan, usually by joining the opposing sect or going independent. Think of a Brujah in the Sabbat, or a Lasombra in the Camarilla. Makish has left the already independent Assamites to become a free agent. Next book, we'll learn he's willing to take contracts on other Assamites, which is forbidden in the clan. While I’m not sure if all that makes him an antitribu if you go by the strictest definition, I think it’s close enough that you can call him one. Makish was one of those vampires who’re close to their sire. He wanted revenge on the Society of Leopold for killing them, but the Assamite elders at their main base in Alamut, Iran refused, concerned that letting him go all Death Wish on human enemies would jeopardize the Masquerade. Remember, while the Camarilla are the sect most obsessed with upholding the Masquerade, according to this book it was first started by the methuselahs after the fall of the Second City, so all vampires are supposed to follow it. Makish ignored orders and killed the humans involved in the hit. And the humans who ordered the hit. And their families. In total, Indian Charles Bronson here killed one hundred and fourteen people to avenge his sire. quote:“I thought it only proper to make a personal statement of my grief. My sire deserved a fitting memorial.” Phht. Artists… The elders at Alamut don’t tolerate loose cannons even if they’re drat good [s]cops[s] assassins, and attempted to summon Makish back to “explain [his] actions.” quote:“I politely but firmly declined the invitation. That was when I began working as an independent contractor." "Six Kindred disappeared delivering that request," said the Red Death, chuckling. "They refused to accept my decision as final," replied Makish. He spread his arms out, as if appealing to a jury. "I had no choice but to convince them that I meant what I said. Five further failed attempts finally convinced Hasan’s minions to leave me alone.”[/quote] Makish notes that the Red Death knows quite a lot about him. quote:“My plans involve both the Camarilla and the Sabbat,’" said the Red Death. "While the Camarilla claim this city, there are traces of the Sabbat here as well. I require an assistant loyal to neither sect. You are the best available choice.” Remember back in the previous chapter when I was ranting about how some of the mystery around the Red Death was compromised so soon after his introduction? You notice how I never brought up how he just straight up announces his Sabbat affiliation? That’s because he was lying about that. They’ve walked three blocks since the start of their conversation. The narration gives us another taste of the World of Darkness’s version of Washington, DC. quote:They were deep in the heart of gang territory. With the ruins of rusted cars, weed-infested lots, and seedy tenements, the street resembled photos of war-torn Sarajevo more than the capital of the United States.  Laying it on a little thick there, Mr. Weinberg. The Red Death stops in front of a deserted-looking building, described as a “gutted brick structure.” He senses some vampires inside. quote:“The Camarilla rules the capital, but they cannot be everywhere. A Sabbat pack controls the drug traffic in this part of the city. It is time for them to learn the meaning of fear." The plan’s simple, but a classic villain move. Red D. will deal with the vampires, Makish with the ghouls except one. They’ll need a survivor to tell the story. Question is, why does Red D. need Makish for this part of the plan at all? He was perfectly capable of leaving witnesses during his rampage at the Club Diabolique, and he shouldn’t have any problems handling mortals. It might have to do with how the Sabbat operates. Their low level cannon fodder troops tend to be vicious, stupid, and treated as disposable. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d do that fight scene thing where there’s one mook standing who’d just watched one guy take down all of their buddies but charge him anyway, kamikazeing on the Red Death’s literally hot bod. They enter the building and eventually come to a basement stairway, but it’s guarded by two security cameras. The Red Death’ll probably have Makish hack them. In Bloodlines, you’d have to find a computer and have a high enough hacking stat (or more likely just look up the passwords on Gamefaqs, because why waste the experience points when you could just do that). Or he’ll just destroy them. Beyond teleporting, it’s not like the Red Death is big on stealth, dramatic bastard that he is. Or- quote:“Childish toys," said the Red Death. "I assume you can neutralize them." …Or Makish could use his psychic powers to remotely hack the cameras and eliminate all the traps. The gently caress!? What discipline is that!? If this were the tabletop this would lead to a long derailing argument with the storyteller. quote:"Fools," said the Red Death. "Depending on machinery for protection is the mark of incompetents. They deserve to perish.” People who say poo poo like this tend to have had computer trouble–or since this is 1994, VCR trouble–a few minutes beforehand and are being passive aggressive about it. The Red Death’s probably just pissed that his technological illiteracy made him miss an episode of Beverly Hills, 90201. They head downstairs to a small foyer with all the security stuff, including the video monitors Makish psychic hacked, and a large biker-looking ghoul. quote:His first glimpse of Makish was his last. He died silently, his head twisted about a full 360 degrees. Though not very big, the Assamite assassin had incredibly strong wrists. Impressive, but how did he achieve that? Did he twist the ghoul’s head a few times like a bottle cap? Or did he just smack him so hard his head spun around like that scene from Kung Fu Hustle? They enter this Sabbat pack’s main headquarters, and Red D. flexes his inner drama student again. quote:“Greetings from the Camarilla," he announced in a harsh voice. "I am the Red Death.” "Yes, 'tis I! The Red Death of The Camarilla! I like to do Camarilla things! Antediluvians don't exist! Diablerie is baaaaad!" Compared to the Club Diabolique, this drug den is a sad little affair. There’s just two vampires, finishing off a victim, and eight more biker or punk-looking ghouls gathered around a TV and watching Beavis and Butthead. No, really, I’m not making a joke. They’re watching Beavis and Butthead. It’s to show that they’re “typical young punks” but to be fair there’s no proof that the Camarilla vampires from earlier also don’t watch B&B during their free time. They just wouldn’t watch it at the club because the parts where Beavis and Butthead riff on rock music videos would piss off old man Vargoss. Anyway, Makish immediately gets to work. quote:Ghouls were tough, stronger and quicker than normal human beings. The taste of vampire blood heightened their awareness and physical abilities. But they were helpless as children against the assassin. Again, no mention of the whole “no free will, slaves to their master” deal with ghouls. quote:Makish moved so fast that his motions blurred. He raced from punk to punk in an intricate pattern, resembling a complex dance. His fingers, hard as steel, ripped and tore at the bodies of his foes. There’s several sentences about all the geysers of blood he’s causing and how it’s splashing everywhere and how the drug den looks like a slaughterhouse now. Normally a vampire would have trouble controlling themselves around so much spilled blood. quote:Unlike most vampires, Makish held the beast within his soul under tight control. So much warm blood would have sent other Kindred into a mad frenzy. Not Makish. He drank blood when necessary, for the physical nourishment it provided his body. Killing gave him life. Sounds like someone’s been getting good hunger rolls. Or is it willpower rolls? I’ve never played the tabletop game. The Beast. It doesn’t get brought up that often in this book. It’s the name Kindred use to refer to the bundle of monstrous urges and compulsions they constantly have to keep in check. Here’s what the White Wolf wiki had to say about it: “Beast is a term used by vampires to describe the inner predator that strives for control over a cainite’s mind. […] The Beast is an innate demonic predator that awakens within each and every vampire upon their Embrace. It stands in direct opposition to a vampire’s Humanity (and in some cases the Paths of Enlightenment) and is responsible for many of the debased urges Cainites feel on a nightly basis. In times of extreme distress the Beast can overwhelm a vampire forcing them into a state of pure animalistic fight or flight, which is referred to as Frenzy or Rötschreck.” If they don’t keep their inner beast under control, a vampire ends up going into a frenzy, uncontrollably killing anyone they either perceive as a threat or who they can feed on, consequences and Masquerade be damned. For example, if Makish were to frenzy right now, he’d kill every ghoul in the room against the Red Death’s wishes and then ravenously try to slurp up all the blood he spilled. Or he’d just run away because there’s a fire monster in the room and fire is bad. All the other Vampire: The Masquerade media I’ve seen, like Bloodlines and L.A. by Night, tend to focus on the Beast with all the drama and pathos you can expect from monsters trying to keep their humanity. Sometimes they get too wanky about it. Blood War is different in this regard. Maybe it wasn’t as focused on in the early days of the franchise. We get several paragraphs describing Makish’s kills, and learn more about his “artistic” mentality. quote:To the assassin, art meant style and substance. Makish served as his own worst critic Don’t we all, buddy. Don’t we all. quote:A satisfactory murder required a minimum of effort with a maximum result. He strove to waste not a motion. Death was a broad canvas on which he painted his masterpieces of destruction. Whenever possible, he worked with Thermit. The explosive powder provided flash and color to an otherwise drab business. Though the assassin’s expression as he worked remained fixed, mentally he strove to attain the blessed state of the perfect kill. He kills the first three ghouls in thirty seconds, each in different ways. quote:The first ghoul died with its throat torn out, nearly decapitated. The second collapsed on the floor in a steaming pile of its own insides, ripped from it with a disemboweling stroke of needle-like claws. The third screamed once, then choked to death on his own blood as Makish slammed his nose into his brain. This is how Makish’s kills are typically described. The ones that don’t involve explosives, anyway. A simple move, and the victim explodes into a pile of gore, described graphically but almost offhandedly by the narration. He’s dancing around killing these guys in varying ways, and in that way I can see how it could be “artistic”. It still gets tiring after a while seeing yet another description like: “Makish slapped the ghoul on the back, causing his entire digestive track to rocket out of his mouth. AAAAARRRRRRRRRTTT!!!” The fourth ghoul is the one Makish spares to tell the story later. He smacks him out of the room, into the foyer. Instead of running, the fool conveniently watches in horror as Makish finishes off his buddies in under a minute. quote:“The triumph of his art rushed through him like a powerful drug. He found the exercise an invigorating, if short, encounter. Simple, uncomplicated deaths, they required little effort. The truly satisfying kills, those done with explosives, would come later. Yadda, yadda, yadda, you get the point. AAAAARRRRRRRRRTTT!!! Makish checks to see how the Red Death’s doing. The big guy’s got the two Kindred by the throat, one in each hand, and, in contrast to his quicker Diabolique Club kills, is slowly cooking them alive. Soon, though… quote:The monstrous figure laughed. A wave of incredible heat poured out of his body, sending the temperature of the room soaring. With a faint popping sound, a trace of fire appeared around the Red Death’s fingers, like a crimson set of brass knuckles. The imprisoned Kindred shrieked in unbelievable agony as the tiny flames touched their cheeks, setting them ablaze. Impressive, but remember that during all of this Beavis and Butthead is playing on the nearby TV. Their uhhhhuhuhuhs and hehehehehes would be heard over the Red Death’s little show. It ruins the moment a little. (Heheheh! Fire! Fire! Fire!) Their chosen witness runs away, and everyone else is dead. The Red Death is pleased. He expects news of this will spread. quote:“The Sabbat anarchs will demand immediate revenge against the Camarilla.” Sabbat "anarchs" huh? Well, that’s another thing I’ll have to rant about later. This chapter recap’s long enough. quote:“Prince Vitel and his council of advisors will retaliate swiftly to any such action. They know the Sabbat hungers to control the capital. A push or two in the right direction should finish the job. A single incident will escalate quickly into a major battle between the rival cults." So Red D.’s acting out false flag operations in order to start a war (a blood war, you could say, and Makish does) between the Camarilla and the Sabbat, which’ll distract both of them from whatever he’s planning. Makish points out that hundreds, maybe thousands of vampires will die. The Red Death concludes by hinting at his true goals. “ quote:The existence of the entire Cainite race depends on the success of my mission," said the Red Death, all humor gone from its voice. "If I fail, entire generations of vampires will die in a slaughter unmatched in history. I must succeed, no matter the cost." *softly, from the other side of the room* “Settle down, Beavis.” Now there’s one major flaw in Red D.’s plan I can point out, and it’s about himself. So far, his false flag attacks involved him arriving at a faction’s haven, introducing himself and declaring his allegiance to the other faction before killing a few people. But why is he exposing himself at all? Last chapter, Tyrus Benedict mentioned that the Camarilla has spies in the Sabbat, and presumably the Sabbat has spies in the Camarilla as well. Wouldn’t those spies discover that the same horrible fire vampire is attacking both sides, and come to the conclusion that he’s trying to start a conflict? Even without the spies, wouldn’t they discover the deception when one side, I don’t know, demands that the other side turn over the Red Death or something? Maybe Red D.’s counting on the tit for tat bullshit between the factions crossing the point of no return before it could make a difference? And the Camarilla and Sabbat would never actually team up against him, or for any other reason. But he’s still drawing unwanted attention to himself, and at least some resources will be used against him that wouldn’t otherwise if he stuck to the shadows and kept his big dumb mouth shut. Or maybe I should follow Makish’s lead. quote:Makish, who had been employed by fanatics many times in the past, knew better than to respond.
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Feb 22, 2020 04:43
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Part 1, Chapter 5 Or: Flavia Becomes an Actual Character Back in St. Louis, Dire McCann’s back in his office by three AM. quote:It had been a long, brutal evening. One filled with more surprises than he imagined possible. Both during the reign of the Red Death… and after. As he kicks back in his armchair, feet on his desk, the story immediately flashes back to the Club Diabolique. McCann had spent an hour or so in a relatable work predicament: being trapped in a room with your boss while he’s having a temper tantrum. quote:The room cleared of his brood, Vargoss had spent more than an hour raging to McCann about his progeny’s cowardice. The detective and the Dark Angels had been the only ones who had attempted to save the Prince from the Final Death. Vargoss made it quite clear that in nights to come, the regulars of the Club would pay for their weakness. “I’m charging everyone extra for drinks! And- And you know what? No more casual Fridays! You come here dressed to the nines or you stay downstairs with the pale human children! Oh, and those jazz men! They didn’t help me either! No more jazz for the rest of the year! Until then it’s 50′s high school prom music, played by the whitest people I can find!” “But sir, what will you listen to?” “I’m the Prince of St. Louis, Dire McCann! I obviously have a Walkman.” quote:Although the Prince didn’t address the issue, there was no question that the Red Death’s attack had frightened him badly. Vargoss had exerted the full power of his will against the monster, without success. The vampire knew he had escaped the Final Death by luck alone. And there was no certainty that the Red Death would not return. Once the old man finally tuckers himself out, he commands McCann to come back next evening and bids him goodnight, retreating through a secret passage to his inner sanctum in the subbasement. quote:McCann suspected the vampire planned phoning the other Ventrue elders throughout the United States to warn them of the attack. Either that or take a post-rage nap. quote:His exit left McCann alone with Flavia. “Sir, I’m not good with sexy grieving women. Sir, Prince Vargoss, don’t leave me alone with- Ah poo poo…” The other vampires and ghouls in the Club were already long gone by this point. quote:Tonight, none of them evidenced any desire to wear the Prince’s crown. The Red Death served as a grim reminder of the perils of leadership. But then maybe there was another reason none of them tried to save Vargoss… Nah, they were just terrified. That’s the thing about this setting. Characters are always plotting against you and each other and having ulterior motives so during those rare moments where someone’s being sincere it’s still easy to be paranoid. Most of the time, you’d be right to be so. Back to poor Flavia. The whole time during what McCann’s POV describes as “Vargoss’ tiresome outburst” she sat on the floor, holding the burnt remains of her sister’s jumpsuit, unmoving, devastated. McCann, the big softie, feels compelled to say something. They’ve never really communicated before, beyond her and her sister making suggestive facial expressions at him and him trying to ignore them, so he goes with a safe Klingon approach. quote:“She died fighting," he declared softly, stepping within a few feet of Flavia. Sympathy was fine, but not stupidity. If the Dark Angel took offense at his words, the detective wanted enough room to defend himself. "It was an honorable death.” “She died horribly, in pain and screaming, and would have pissed herself if that were a thing vampires could still do, but she died the right way according to your strange and self-destructive warrior culture. W-What are you doi-GAAAAAAH!” In reality, he’d said just the right thing. She looks at him, her cheeks stained crimson, the narration reminding us that vampires cry blood instead of tears, and speaks to him for the first time ever. quote:“Your concern for my feelings is appreciated, McCann," she said, in a mellow, low voice, with a surprising trace of a British accent. […] She cast a quick glance in the direction of the secret stairs leading to Vargoss’ hideaway. "Sympathy is often in short supply among the Kindred.” There’s another employer getting a bad Glassdoor review. quote:“The Prince always lavishly praised the services provided by you and your sister," said the detective, nervously. The last thing he wanted to do was stir up trouble between Vargoss and the remaining Dark Angel. "He treated you with respect.“ “He even showed you respect when he left the room without looking at you. They say that a real man shows his emotions with his back. I believe that’s a Japanese saying. Maybe Korean? Someone somewhere in the world says that… Please don’t kill our boss.” Then the narration gets pervy for a paragraph. quote:In a smooth, catlike motion, Flavia rose to her feet. She was, without question, one of the most beautiful women McCann had ever seen. Down boy. There’s a time and a place. quote:She had platinum blonde hair, high cheekbones, and wide, sensuous lips. I’m aware, those exact features were described back in Chapter One. quote:Her white leather jumpsuit accented her full breasts, narrow waist, and long, long legs. Yeah yeah, I get it, she’s hella fine. quote:Sex might no longer hold any pleasure for the Dark Angel, but her body defined seduction. Oh for God’s sake, she was just kneeling in her sister's ashes! She’s been crying for the past hour and she still hasn’t wiped the bloody tears off her face! Now’s not an appropriate time! quote:Flavia laughed bitterly. "Respect? Vargoss never truly cared about us. We were his servants. He enjoyed bragging about our skills because it reflected onto himself." Pros for Alexander Vargoss: Not above entering dirty alleyways when the situation calls for it Huge balls (metaphorical) Confidence in his employees’ abilities Owns a sweet nightclub Cons: Brags about how he’ll outlive you Old man opinions about rock music Likes Stalin Hour long rants Unsympathetic toward his employees’ personal problems Treats his employees like possessions Tacky fashion sense As fun as talking poo poo about the boss is, Flavia without warning changes the subject to her backstory. She and her sister were born Sarah and Eleanor James (she doesn’t say which was which, but next book we're told she's Sarah) in 19th century England. They were traveling around Europe for their fifteenth birthday when a Kindred kidnapped them. quote:“Our blonde good looks, lightning-fast reactions, and notorious taste for cruel delights caught the attention of a traveling Assamite assassin. He arranged our abduction and had us brought to Alamut.” I don’t know what to focus on here: that only one of those qualities has anything to do with being an assassin, that the two sexual ones are being used to describe fifteen-year-olds, or how racially charged this whole scenario is with the presumably Middle Eastern man kidnapping two white girls. quote:“A taste for cruel delights?" repeated McCann. “What, did you torture small animals to death or something?” “Did we- No!” “Oh I know. You’d befriend other rich girls, than systematically ruined their lives by spreading rumors and framing them for major scandals.” “No! Why are you assuming these horrible things about me!?” “You’d make your guards beat up random peasants-” “It’s a sex thing, you wanker!” quote:“Fawn and I dallied in what now has become commonly known as bondage and S&M," said Flavia, chuckling. Her long tongue circled her wide lips. "As sisters, we often shared our lovers. Even after we were embraced.“ “…Not at the same time, right?” “What do you me- Ew! No! Separately!” “‘Cause I know a lot of men have twin fantasies, but when you really think about it…” “Well don’t, because that’s not what happened!” …Wait, what was that about having lovers after they were embraced? I thought Kindred had no interest in sex. quote:"Despite what you think, McCann, vampires can still enjoy sex. Especially if the stimulation is mental as well as physical." Hey, you’re the one who wanted clarification on “cruel delights.” Ask a horny question, get a horny answer, Dire. At Alamut, the twins trained for ten years at a mountain fortress, presumably Alamut Castle. I like to think that after executing the weird pedophile that kidnapped them, the Assamite elders figured “Ah screw it, these girls are already here, let’s teach them to fight.” quote:“The Assamite elders marveled at our skills. We fought well separately. However, as a team, we were unmatched. It was there that we earned the title The Dark Angels." “Unlike some people, we actually earned our nicknames instead of giving ourselves one.” “For the last time, my name really is Dire.” They were Embraced at age twenty-five and served the clan for over a century. They worked for many masters all over the world and stayed together the whole time. quote:“Thirty years ago, we performed several minor executions for Vargoss. Impressed, I suspect, more by our appearance than our skills, he agreed to a long-term contract with the Assamite elders. In three decades, we never failed in our duties to our lord. Until tonight.” “And that one incident with the True Mime, but that doesn’t count. You can’t kill a True Mime.” quote:“I doubt stopping the Red Death constitutes a failure on your part," replied McCann. "I don’t think a Kindred in existence could have dealt with that monster.’" Sensing that Flavia’s done with her backstory dump, McCann does his private eye thing and, playing dumb, asks her if she knew what discipline the Red Death was using. quote:“I’ve never heard of a Kindred who could control fire." Paths of Enlightenment are what the Sabbat and other not-very-nice vampires use to control their Beast. If they stuck to the Humanity scale like the Camarilla do, then all their mass murder and mustache-twirling villainy would degenerate them into barely sentient blood-crazed monsters in no time. Instead they use Paths, many of whose morality could be, at best, described as “alien”, and at worst, “It is Right and Good to wear a cloak made from the hide of virgins, for it is in the nature of vampires to do so.” I suspect a Path follower would be the source of the most obnoxious “We are The Dead, we are Monsters, we are Fueled by Blood and must Accept it” speeches one could imagine in the World of Darkness. The Path of Evil Revelations is an actual thing in the lore. If you don’t want to click the link, the story sums it up: quote:The Path of Evil Revelation was a secret discipline practiced by many members of the Sabbat. It taught that evil was good and that vampires were the agents of corruption. Followers of the path routinely dealt with demonic forces. Though it’s less “dealt with demonic forces” and more “pledge servitude to the Lords of Hell.” To sum it up even more: You’re Evil, Obey Demons. McCann then says that he once heard of a forbidden rite called the Body of Fire (presumably from a friend of a friend, right McCann?) and asks if she’d ever heard of it. She hasn’t, but- Oh goddamn it, more things I have to define. She says she only knows of Fires of Inferno, which she says is one of the “Paths of Dark Thaumaturgy” practiced by the Corrupters (a name for followers of the PoER). Despite Flavia using the word “Path”, Dark Thaumatergy isn’t a Path of Enlightenment. It’s blood magic learned from demons, unlike regular Thaumatergy, which the Tremere learned by doing mad scientist poo poo to other vampires. Honestly, origin-wise, I’m not convinced Dark Thaumatergy is the eviler of the two. Fires of (the) Inferno is the Dark Thaumatergy version of regular Thaumatergy’s Lure of Fire, which allows a vampire to summon “unnatural fire” thought to be from Hell itself. Fires of the Inferno is green, definitely from Hell, and according to the wiki “has only one use: destruction,” meaning you shouldn’t make a campfire using it. What we get from this is that while some vampires can summon a magic otherworldly fire, they can’t control it and use it as some kind of death aura like the Red Death can. And, y’know, considering that the guy’s not calling himself the Green Death, he likely isn’t using Fires of the Inferno itself. Whatever the case, Flavia says she intends to find out more. quote:She stepped closer to McCann. "You are an unusual human," she declared. "Even for a mage, you are aware of too many of the darkest secrets of the Children of Caine.” Uh oh! The Master Schemer isn’t as good at playing dumb as he thought! quote:Without warning, Flavia’s right hand lashed out at McCann, second and third fingers stiff and aimed directly at his eyes. Ah yes, the Moe Howard Strike. Luckily, our would-be Curly saves himself from a humiliating death by grabbing her wrist using super fast reflexes equal to her own. Wait, using… Dire McCann, you dumbass. quote:Flavia laughed, a wild, untamed sound. "No ordinary man could move that swiftly, McCann. Nor stop me from making contact." McCann fell for the old “attack the hero in a way that reveals their powers” trick. He tries to backpedal by being all, “Well yeah, I’m not ordinary, I’m a mage!” while mentally cursing himself and realizing that Flavia’s more cunning than he assumed. Flavia’s not having any of his excuses. She got him. quote:Flavia shook her head, grinning. "No Kine could have halted that lunge. Nor any mage. Don’t worry. I won’t betray you to Vargoss. He pays for my fighting skills, not my thoughts." “The hell’s going on? The fanservice bodyguard isn’t suppose to be smart!” The narration’s been coy so far about what exactly McCann really is. Now, Flavia tells him her theory. quote:“There are rumors," said Flavia, "of certain fourth-generation Kindred with incredible powers of domination. They are called Masqueraders. Their minds are so strong that while they lie in torpor, they can reach out and overwhelm a mortal’s personality. They literally possess their victim, body and soul. In this manner, these Methuselahs again experience true life. Puppet masters, they masquerade in mortal form–eating, drinking, sleeping, making love. For safety, they endow their marionette with some of their powers. Enough perhaps for the person to claim to be a ghoul–or a mage.” “So no, your name really isn’t loving Dire.” …Huh. That’s a doozy. Not what I would guessed, and not a concept I’ve seen in recent V:TM media. quote:McCann laughed, trying to appear amused. "What utter nonsense." Then, because this is a nerd book written by a guy, she french kisses him. quote:Slowly, seductively, she leaned forward and pressed cold lips to his. Her tongue, a sliver of ice, darted for an instant into his mouth.” Despite her movements being deliberately slower than her attempted eye poke, and her now being well into murder-you-with-my-hands range, something tells me McCann didn’t try very hard to avoid her kiss here. Also, McCann’s 6′4. Either she’s also really tall or she’s standing on the pile of ashes that were once Fawn to reach his lips. quote:“I would be very grateful for the patronage of a Methuselah." Her lush body pressed against him, her taut nipples hard against his chest. Extremely grateful." Hang on. He can feel her nipples through a leather jumpsuit and his own clothes? Can vampire nipples even get hard? Is it a discipline? quote:McCann forced himself to remain quiet. He had said too much already. Since McCann’s shutting the gently caress up for his own good, Flavia decides now’s the time to say goodnight. She says that she has to go see Vargoss before he notices she’s not around and gets pissed at that too. quote:“Do not expect me to address you aloud unless we are alone." She chuckled. "Vargoss prefers his bodyguards never speak. He enjoys the air of mystery it creates." “Although along with hiring us mainly for our looks I’m starting to think he’s just a pig.” With that, the flashback ends and we’re back in McCann’s office. You forgot that most of this chapter’s technically a flashback, didn’t you? quote:McCann, sitting behind the desk in his office an hour later, McCann’s POV doesn’t out and out say that Flavia’s right, but it doesn’t deny it either. McCann finally shakes the Flavia incident out of his head and gets to work on finding out more about the Red Death, starting by making some calls. We also get this gem: quote:A careful man reacted immediately to any threat. And McCann liked to think of himself as very wise. …No comment. McCann moves some money around and issues instructions, and when he’s done he’s got teams of researchers studying both the Path of Evil Revelations and whether there are any Nictuku that match the Red Death’s description. Not much is said about these researchers, but hopefully they’re vampires or ghouls, or backed by such, or else McCann’s committing a serious Masquerade breach. He believes that the Nictuku rising and the Red Death’s arrival are connected, and he opens his desk drawer to get the letters he read back in Chapter 2. Aaaaaaaaaaaand they’re gone. Someone broke into his office while he was away and stole his letters. quote:McCann cursed, steadily, in seven languages, including two that had not been spoken on Earth for over three thousand years, until he was out of breath. Angrily, he slammed a fist into the side of the desk. Wood splintered, delivering a small amount of satisfaction along with a strong recognition that he was acting foolishly. Careful and wise? Maybe. Mature? Eh, that’s up in the air. He swears not to make the mistake of underestimating his unknown adversary, or adversaries, again. Chapter 5 ends with one last reveal: quote:It was then that he noticed, resting on the edge of his desk, almost like a calling card, a bright green sequin. You think Rachel Young carries a jar of those around, or does she just tear them off her dress?
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Feb 22, 2020 22:45
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Now this piece of prose is a unique melange of pornographic fanservice and brutal rules-lawyering.
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Feb 23, 2020 13:26
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Part 1, Chapter 6 Or: Phantomas of Notre Dame Paris—March 12, 1994 quote:The official smile of Paris is the sneer. The rich sneer at the middle class. The middle class sneer at the poor. And they all sneer at the hordes of tourists who flood their city each year. I’ve actually remembered these lines since I first read them as a kid. I don’t know why, beyond it being Baby’s First French Stereotype Joke, but I did. I'd forgotten what book they were from, so when I reread Blood War and found them again, it was a nice surprise. quote:Their mockery, according to the guidebooks, is part of the charm of Paris. The city, with it’s great restaurants, fabulous museums, superb monuments, and long history, breeds contempt for the lesser achievements surrounding it. The average Parisian citizen considers himself far superior to anyone from outside the city. It’s only Paris being singled out here, but still, I want to apologize to any French readers. It isn’t going to get much better for you guys in this book. But hey, at least your capital city isn’t a gang warzone. quote:That attitude explains, at least in theory, the joy the natives get from telling tales of the Phantom of the Paris Opera. Not only are Parisians assholes, but they bug you into reading their Phantom of the Opera fanfics. There’s some cliffnotes about the story (written by Gaston Leroux, demented genius living under the Paris Opera, hideously scarred, etc.), then we learn the titular Phantom is the French equivalent of Australia’s drop bears: a made up monster they tell gullible American tourists about to gently caress with them. quote:Parisians loved to elaborate on the fantasy for gullible tourists, saying how, though he had reportedly been destroyed, the body of Eric, the Phantom, had never been found. And that every year, a few unwary tourists to the Opera House disappeared without a trace. Or those little Mickey Mouse paper dolls that supposedly dance to music but are just attached to a motor by an invisible string. My ma fell for that one. I don’t know if Parisians in real life actually do this, but it wouldn’t surprise me. I hear the Louvre used to give The Da Vinci Code themed tours. This sounds more fun than that, and less soul-crushing. I admit that I’ve never read The Phantom of the Opera. I saw the play on an elementary school field trip to Broadway, but I barely remember it. I know the book begins with an intro where Leroux claims it’s a true story, but I figured it’s a true story the way The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is. I looked it up anyway, just so I don’t look like an uncultured moron if I dismissed it and was wrong. Turns out, the story was inspired by a real incident at the Paris Opera where a chandelier counterweight (not the chandelier itself) fell down and killed someone. There was a crackpot theory at the time that the accident was actually an assassination attempt. That’s something I didn’t know. Guess I owe Weinberg one for getting me to learn something. Back to the story. Parisians like to use the Phantom to gently caress with tourists, but there are other stories they don’t tell them. Stories that poor shopkeepers tell each other behind closed doors like the superstitious European peasant stereotypes they pretend they aren’t. Stories that were handed down from generation to generation about unexplained disappearances plaguing the Île de la Cité (aka the place where the Notre Dame cathedral is). quote:Common to every narrative was the same name. A title that when said aloud could cause the most elegant Parisian to blanch in terror. What, Quasimodo’s some kind of French cryptid too? I know the original book character wasn’t as nice as the Disney version, and he’d be an obvious candidate for a Nosferatu (or a Ravnos if you wanna be a dick) but he was hardly- quote:Phantomas. Oh. Alright, yeah, different literary character, but I can go along with it. quote:Officially, the French Sûreté dismiss such rumors as the insane ramblings of demented poets living on the West Bank. No mention is made of a file, five inches thick, hidden deep in the files of police headquarters. Contained in it are hundreds of reports, dating back a hundred and fifty years to the time of Chief Inspector Vidocq, detailing the circumstances surrounding hundreds of disappearances in the vicinity of the famous cathedral of Notre Dame. I bet at least one report blames Quasimodo. One actual report is a six page article, never made public, by a historical commission about the hundreds of myths and legends surrounding the church, all connected by a ghostly figure seen in the Cathedral at night. I’ll give you one guess at what it actually is. quote:Though he is called by a dozen different names in the tales, he is always described as incredibly ugly. And a drinker of human blood. Yep. A goddamn mage. quote:In turn-of-the-century France, the vampire’s name had gained such notoriety that a series of mystery thrillers featuring an arch-fiend called Fantomas became best-sellers. None of the stories explained the origin of the mastermind. Or why he preyed on the citizens of Paris. They were works of fiction, not fact. I probably don't have to tell a book forum about Fantomas, but in case old french pulp isn't your thing:  Fantomas, spelled with an F, was a character created in 1911 by Marcel Allain and Pierre Souvestre. He’s a master criminal like Arsène Lupin, except instead of a gentleman thief he was a sadistic murderer and Grade-A pure evil bastard. There’s nothing supernatural about Fantomas. He’s just a regular human who’s really good at murder and getting away with it. Apparently, thanks to the 1960′s film trilogy, he’s usually remembered in French pop culture wearing a blue mask that covers his entire head.  You can see how that guy would inspire a Nosferatu character. Also Destro from G.I. Joe. But as just explained, in this setting it’s the other way around. And despite being portrayed as what the French call “a homicidal piece of poo poo”, the “real-life” Phantomas is a big fan of the stories. quote:The subject of these various novels, reports, and studies found them all vastly amusing. He had enjoyed the Fantomas novels immensely and had even sent the author several anonymous letters suggesting future ideas for plots. To his intense disappointment, none of his ideas had ever been used. Once or twice he had mentally debated visiting the novelist to plead his case. But Phantomas suspected his physical appearance might do his cause more harm than good. That… is goddamn loving adorable. He’s just been introduced and I already hope he survives the trilogy and discovers online fanfiction. quote:The vampire readily acknowledged his ugliness. Standing exactly five feet tall, with skin wrinkled as a prune, eyes like raisins, and a nose the size and shape of a sweet potato, he had caused more than one drunken Parisian to swear off red wine forever. A gaping mouthful of yellow teeth and bulging red eyes propelled his face out of the realm of the bizarre into the domain of the grotesque. Eh. Someone in this fandom would still bang him. Wait, eyes that were both “like raisins” and “bulging”? How does that work? Phantomas is the Nosferatu on the cover of the second book of this trilogy, if you want a visual reference.  See, he’s even still got some hair. He’s not that bad looking. Phantomas might enjoy the fiction he inspired about a murderer, but he’s not happy about being blamed for real murders of innocent people, regarding it as “cheap slander”. The centuries of recorded disappearances were the results of more natural and obvious crimes. quote:While he occasionally satisfied his thirst on some poor unfortunate, Phantomas rarely killed innocents if it could be avoided. A quiet, gentle soul, all he wanted was to be left alone in his underground lair, pursuing his research. So other than a few accidents, the only people Phantomas “disappeared” were the criminals responsible for the rest of them. Phantomas isn’t thinking about that dark business right now. He’s feeling great because he’s on his way to a party. The Prince of Paris, one Francois Villon, holds court once a month, and today’s such a day. Villon’s both a Toreador elder and French, so of course he holds court in the Louvre. quote:Dozens of Kindred, along with several hundred of the Prince’s favorite ghouls and kine, attended the festivities. This evening the Prince entertained an important Tremere wizard visiting from Vienna. Phantomas loved such events. Though never invited, he never missed one. There goes my heart, breaking for poor old Phantomas again… But this time the snub isn’t because of a Toreador being a snob to a Nosferatu. Villon just doesn’t know Phantomas exists. quote:The Prince was under the mistaken impression that he was the oldest, most powerful vampire in the City of Lights. He was neither. Phantomas had come to the Île de la Cité with the invading legions of Julius Caesar in 53 B.C. I should apologize to the French again. Turns out Phantomas isn’t one of you guys. He’s a nice Italian man. From here we’re launched into Phantomas’ pre-Phantomas backstory. In life he was Varro Dominus (Strong Ruler or Master), a young noble and soldier who worked under Caesar himself, and was in charge of recording his military campaigns. Ceasar’s legions arrived in the Île de la Cité, then called Lutetia, using it as a stepping stone across the Seine. Unfortunately for Varro, living among the easily conquered native tribesmen, pretending to be a forest god, was a fifth-generation Nosferatu named Urgahalt. The invading legions fascinated Urgahalt, what with their military strength, impressive latin names, and neat centurion helmets, and he Embraced Varro so he could introduce him into Roman society. There’s an obvious flaw in this plan, since it’s difficult for a guy to introduce you to his culture when you’ve just made him an outcast from that culture, turning him into a shriveled prune monster with a sweet potato nose. And Varro knew it too. The Romans, or at least Varro, knew more about Kindred (or lemures, as they called vampires) than Urgahalt realized, including how to kill them. Pissed that bumping into this guy cost him his life and career, Varro staked him in the heart and turned him into a bonfire. Going back to the legions would be a hard sell now, so Varro stayed behind on the island, pretty much never leaving during the millennia as modern Paris rose up around the guy. quote:He was as much a part of the city as the Eiffel Tower. Which undersells Phantomas quite a bit since the Eiffel Tower’s only been around since 1889, but you get the point. Turning into an ugly son of a bitch also turned Phantomas into the ultimate introvert, aside from those parties he likes attending. He stays hidden from everyone, including other vampires. Even other Nosferatu. quote:More than two hundred Kindred inhabited Paris and its suburbs. The Toreador Clan held control of the central city, but several other bloodlines roamed the streets, including rebel bands of Brujah, Gangrel, and Malkavians. Rumors spoke of a Sabbat pack anxious to spread dissension and revolt, with headquarters in the slums. At least a half-dozen Nosferatu lived in lairs beneath major museums and churches [sic] Yet even among the Kindred Phantomas was a legend, an unseen presence with no basis in reality. He was a phantom to the living and the undead. Good call. If Parisians are like how the opening paragraphs describe them, I wouldn’t want to talk to them either. God, imagine how obnoxious a French vampire in this universe is. In order to stay hidden, Phantomas lives in a huge underground lair hundreds of feet under Notre Dame, connected by a network of tunnels that stretched across Paris. He’s also a master of Obfuscate, the discipline that allows vampires, especially Nosferatu, to go around unnoticed, commonly by turning invisible. Right now, in order to get into the party, Phantomas is using the Mask of a Thousand Faces, the third-tier Obfuscate power that disguises a vampire as a random nobody human or an unimportant vampire, depending on whose looking at him. Looks like it also lets you pretend to hold an invitation and get away with it. quote:Shortly after midnight, he strolled past the two Assamites guarding the glass pyramid that served as entrance to the Louvre. They nodded without interest as he displayed an imaginary invitation and walked into the main hall. That pyramid pissed a lot of older Parisians off when it was first built. Yeah, they complain about everything, but since the artsy-fartsy Toreador control the city, you’d think they would’ve prevented its construction. Unless the pyramid’s a Toreador idea, in which case no wonder everyone hated it. (Parisians are over hating the pyramid these days, so don’t mention it unless you want them to think you’re in their city for one of those Da Vinci Code tours.) quote:Phantomas muttered a word of thanks to his Roman gods that Villon considered electronic monitoring devices provincial. His psychic camouflage worked flawlessly with humans and vampires. It was useless against cameras or television monitors. The Louvre doesn’t have any security cameras? None at all? quote:In Phantomas’ opinion, the Prince was a pompous dandy who wouldn’t recognize true art if it hit him in the face. Looks like Phantomas agrees with me about Toreador tastes in art. quote:Master of the Louvre, the finest art collection in history, Villon ignored the treasures of the past for the ephemeral pleasures of the moment. Alright, In Villon’s defense, I think grandpa here might have some bias. quote:His mercurial tastes dominated the Parisian fashion scene. He surrounded himself with the most beautiful models in Paris, blood dolls who sipped on blood and dreamed of immortality. Like too many of the Kindred, Villon had never come to terms with his undeath. I like Phantomas and all, but it’s not Villon sneaking into one of his parties, so what right does he have being judgmental? But I think I get what Phantomas is thinking. Villon owns one of the most famous historical art museums in the world, but he only cares about celebrity poo poo and making beautiful but angry-looking women wear weird poo poo nobody else will actually wear. quote:The party was being held in the glass-roofed Cour Marley, but Phantomas was in no hurry to go there. Though he had visited the Louvre many times, he never skipped the opportunity to visit the galleries housing the Greek, Roman, and Egyptian antiquities. The museum housed perhaps the finest such collection in the world and, though Phantomas had the face and body of a monster, he possessed the soul of a poet. This is the real reason he loves these parties so much, isn’t it. Grandpa just wants an excuse to visit the museum for like the billionth time. quote:Ten minutes he spent staring at the Venus de Milo. Art appreciation, or the closest he gets to seeing boobs? He walks around admiring other things, like “Winged Victory of Samothrace”, “Winged Bull”, and the statue of Queen Nefertiti. quote:The bust of Agrippa drew him to the Roman section. The famous general, the hero of Actium, had served Octavius, the grandnephew of his mentor, Julius Caesar. Staring at the statue made him feel old. Two thousand years separated him from his heritage. I feel the same way whenever I meet someone born after Spongebob Squarepants first aired. quote:If not for a chance encounter in Gaul, his children might have fought against Mark Anthony. Or served in the Senate with Cicero. Not if you stared at potential mothers the way you stared at the Venus de Milo and Agrippa’s bust. He finishes his tour and finally heads to the party. If you’ve been paying attention to the plot, you know what’s about to happen. quote:As he drew closer to the courtyard, he frowned. There was no music. Villon’s parties always featured a loud rock band playing the latest hits. Tonight, the corridors were strangely silent. Nirvana was supposed to play “About a Girl” but Villon kicked them out when Cobain let his turtles wander around and poo poo everywhere. quote:A tall, young man slender [sic], with blond hair and bright blue eyes, stood in front of the door leading to the Cour Marley. Dressed in a white suit with an open-necked white shirt, he nodded in greeting as Phantomas approached. It was almost as if he had been waiting for [sic] there for him. Weinberg’s editor must’ve quit before getting to this chapter, after reading the part about Flavia’s rock hard leather-penetrating nipples. Also, ‘sup Reuben? What’ve you been doing the past two years? Reuben doesn’t introduce himself. He just warns Phantomas not to go in. Phantomas is shocked that a human is talking to him at all. Seems the Mask of a Thousand Faces disguises him as someone so boring not even Kindred are interested in starting a conversation with him. quote:“The Final Death waits inside," continued the stranger, evidently not troubled by Phantomas’ concerns. "If you enter, you may never leave." Let’s see if that lasts longer than a page. quote:The young man smiled. "I suspected you would say that." He stepped to the side. "Beware the Red Death, Phantomas." Good old Reuben, scaring an old man, the trolling bastard. Successfully freaked out, Phantomas opens the courtyard doors. To no one’s surprise, everyone’s either dead or long gone. Even the regular non-ghoul humans. quote:The smell of charred and blackened human flesh assaulted his nostrils. A horrified glance around the courtyard revealed a dozen bodies of Villon’s favorites, their beautiful features burned beyond recognition. The fashion runways of Paris would be missing a number of familiar faces tomorrow. Mixed among the dead were the remains of twice as many ghouls. Nowhere was there life. How he’s able to tell the models and ghouls apart, I don’t know. quote:Villon was gone. As were all other Kindred. However, dark shadows on the ground indicated to Phantomas that more than one had departed the Louvre permanently. Can the French art and fashion worlds finally recover from the dark and untalented reign of the Toreador? quote:As if in answer to Phantomas’ unasked question, a gruesome figure stepped from behind the Marly Horses. Tall and lean, he wore a rotted shroud of funeral cloth held together by strips of moldering bandage [sic]. His face was -that of a long-dead corpse, chalk-white skin, blah blah blah it’s the Red Death. quote:Slowly, the monster smiled. Confronted by this horrifying fire monster who just massacred an entire party of vampires, ghouls, and humans, what does the famous Phantomas do? Something that both proves him a hypocrite and the smartest person in this goddamn book. He hauls rear end out of there. quote:Hundreds of years hiding beneath the streets of Paris had taught Phantomas an important lesson. When threatened, flee. Immediately. Don’t search for alternative solutions, don’t negotiate, don’t look back. Run as fast as possible until you reach safety. It was a basic survival technique that worked in the past. It served him tonight. Phantomas doesn’t stop running until he’s safely hundreds of feet underground in one of his tunnels. He escaped the Red Death. quote:He had escaped for the moment. But Phantomas felt certain he had not seen the last of the monster. We’ll find out more about Phantomas’ hobby the next time we catch up with him. For now, Chapter 6 ends on that mystery.
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Feb 27, 2020 05:00
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Part 1, Chapter 7 Or: Lameth the Suburbanite Schlub St. Louis—March 11, 1994 When we last left Dire McCann, he had three problems: the mystery of the Red Death and what connection he could have with the rising Nictuku, Flavia fthinking he’s secretly an ancient and powerful Methuselah possessing a human body, and Rachel Young, the singer from The Club Diabolique and suspected assassin of Tyrus Benedict, stealing his mail from his office while he was out. Now he’s leaving his office and going home to have a drink, think about those problems a little more, and hit the hay. For the first two pages, the narrative further establishes how the World of Darkness is a Harsher, Crueler Version of Our World, and how cautious, suspicious, and prepared McCann is as a result. He waits ten minutes and spends more money for a security guard to get his car out of a city-run underground parking lot. quote:Despite security cameras and motorcycle patrols, muggings, rapes, and murders were common occurrences in these parking garages. Rumors had it that the security patrols were the ones responsible for many of the crimes. No one knew for sure, as dead men told no tales. Evil rent-a-cops aren’t the only plague on the city. quote:McCann didn’t mind spending the extra money if it avoided unnecessary confrontation. The city was a dangerous place. Urban America was increasingly becoming a jungle in which only the strongest and smartest survived. More people died these days from gunshot wounds than from any disease. But don’t worry. Our government’s hard at work making sure preventable illnesses come in at a close second. quote:The government claimed that crime was under control. But nobody believed the politicians. The truth was on the streets. Good to know in the Stark, Desolate Landscape of the World of Darkness, with all it’s vampires, werewolves, and wraiths, gun violence is still the bigger problem. ‘Murika! McCann lives in the suburbs, instantly losing some cool points. I bet you thought, after all that talk about Urban America being a jungle where only the strong survive, he’d live in a lovely apartment in the city where you need to have street smarts to survive just getting to your floor. Nope. Suburbs. Also makes all the stuff about how dangerous the city is sound like a sheltered suburbanite repeating something Tom and Susan told them in hushed tones at the Nelsons’ yard sale. But McCann doesn’t want to live just anywhere. He wants somewhere private and secure. quote:McCann lived in a small brick home in a new development a few blocks off Highway 80. Located on a wide lot at the end of a quiet street, it was surrounded by a wrought-iron security fence, isolating the building from the rest of the block. Which was exactly what the detective desired. He wanted to be left alone. In these troubled times, no one considered his security measures the least bit unusual. One of those homeowners, huh? There’s at least one house on the block that has security cameras or a pack of doberman guard dogs or something, even in the safest neighborhood. Who knows, there could be an “urban” person a few blocks closer to the highway just waiting to case your home. quote:He had bought the house for cash less than a year before, when he first decided to settle in the St. Louis area. He knew none of his neighbors and had no interest in meeting them. He worked at night and slept during the day. The few times he had seen anyone he had raised a hand in greeting, but said nothing. McCann considered his home a safe place to rest and relax. His office served as his base of operations. He socialized in neither of them. Someone’s never watched The ‘Burbs. Buying a house with cash, surrounded by a wrought-iron leave-me-the-gently caress-alone security fence, working and sleeping at odd hours, and never speaking to anyone? All while living near people often stereotyped as gossipy rumormongers who never mind their own business and spy on anyone “unusual”? A private person like McCann should never be able to rest and relax. He’d live in fear that somehow, someday, Tom Hanks would break into his house and discover all his World of Darkness secrets. Alright, enough talking about suburbs like I don’t comfortably live in one. McCann parks his car in the garage but before he enters his house, he checks on his real security system by placing his hand on the wall. quote:Certain arcane rituals from the dawn of civilization imbued a home with the personality of its owner. McCann’s house is also a smug secretive jerk who thinks it’s the greatest and wisest schemer ever. Aww, look, he’s comforting the sexy white house across the street whose neighbor burned down. Oh no, it accidentally gave away its biggest secret! quote:A master magician, and McCann was among the greatest ever to walk the Earth, could immediately sense any disturbance in their dwelling. I know I said McCann only knew simple parlor tricks to barely pass as a mage, but I might’ve downplayed the true extent of his powers. A bit. quote:There was none. McCann was safe. At least for the moment, neither the Red Death nor the mysterious Ms. Young had discovered his hideaway. Shame. It would’ve been funny if he went inside and scary ol’ Red Death was casually relaxing on his couch like Darkseid. Later, McCann’s sitting in his sofa, drink in hand, listening to Billie Holliday on the stereo. We get a description of the room, and it’s nothing special. Sofa, coffee table, no TV. McCann believes in “simple comforts” but the real point is that he doesn’t have many valuable possessions because he moves around a lot, never staying in one place for long. Reminds me of a friend of mine. He said he had wanderlust, but I suspect he just didn’t know what he wanted to do in life, chasing one passion before getting distracted by another. Lost track of him somewhere down in Florida. McCann moves around for a very different reason, though. His wandering was necessary for his “complex scheme.” But as he relaxes, he wonders if all his moving around and plotting is even worth it anymore. quote:At times, he wondered why he still bothered playing the game. So many of his kind no longer struggled. Some had plunged into the great unknown from which there was no return, while others had retreated from cruel reality into a dreamworld of their own creation. He was among a handful who continued fighting. In truth, the prize hardly seemed important any longer. It was the diversion that kept him amused. McCann finishes his introspective episode and thinks about the group he learned the Red Death was part of thanks to his bullshit telepathy power; The Children of Dreadful Night. He’s never heard of them before, but the “Dreadful Night” part makes him suspect they’re a Gehenna cult. They’re typically groups of vampires who either want to prevent Gehenna or find a way to save themselves from the Antediluvians when it begins. Then there are the ones who want to help bring it about, but the narrative is focusing on the ones who fear Gehenna for one reason or other. Technically the Sabbat is one huge Gehenna cult, but they’re much more powerful and influential than the smaller groups the term usually refers to. More cults have been springing up lately. quote:As it did many mortals, the approaching end of the millennium frightened them. Oh right, the Y2K bug. I doubt that’s calming the Kindred down either. McCann used to think the cultists were just a bunch of fringe crazies, but now, with the Red Death… Speaking of, remember when McCann used his brain probe on the Red Death and learned that he both recognized him and had a pretty awesome counter for his psychic powers? He’s worried about that too. It means that Red D. knows his true identity somehow. He’d kept a low profile the past few decades, presumably while separating his Dire McCann identity from whatever one he was using just before that, and preferred “to forward his schemes through unsuspecting agents.” Whatever those agents were doing, no one should have suspected McCann was involved. quote:He felt certain no evidence existed associating the human detective, Dire McCann, and Lameth, the Dark Messiah of the Kindred. Wow, okay, so that’s one of the floweriest wannabe impressive not impressive loving 90′s Image Comics titles you can give a shmuck like McCann. Not to mention redundant. We already had ~*~The Dark Angels~*~, did we also need ~*~The Dark Messiah~*~ too? The funny thing is, I think Weinberg knew that title was over-the-top. Back when McCann was thinking about the Children of Dreadful Night, there’s a line about how “Kindred possessed a bizarre fondness for nicknames.” Like he thought that if he didn’t show at least a hint of irony, every nerd, geek, or corporate suit that worked on nerd and geek franchises would rise as one, like a perma-virgin hivemind, and institute a cross-genre ban on “The Dark” as part of a character’s title, rank, or nickname. Then where would vampire fiction be? quote:Shaking his head, McCann wondered if Anis was behind the attack. She was one of the few Kindred who knew many of his secrets. And, like him, she continued to plot, undaunted by the centuries. Hold up. I know what you’re all thinking. Anis is a perfectly legit Arabic name. Quit giggling. McCann considers the other weird things that happened last night. Ms. Young was genuinely terrified of the Red Death, convincing McCann that they weren’t working together, but he still believes she killed Tyrus Benedict, stole the Baba Yaga photos, and later stole his mail from his office. And there was that phone call he got, the one warning him of the attack before it happened, made from an out of service phone booth, whose information was erased from McCann’s recording devices the moment it ended. Or, as the narrative puts it: quote:Reality had twisted immediately after he received the warning, which hinted that an extremely potent mage was at work. Actual mages? Just great... Then there’re the assassins. We already know that Makish hired them on the Red Death’s orders, but McCann doesn’t yet. He still has the billfold he pocketed from one of the assassins. quote:Except for the money he had removed earlier, it was absolutely empty. However, that didn’t mean that it couldn’t reveal secrets. Despite that whole thing about the air wavering with titanic energies, what he’s doing is most likely The Spirit’s Touch, a power from the third tier of the Auspex discipline, which let’s you use an object’s “resonance” to learn things about it and its owner. Pretty basic, and you don’t have to be a Dark Messiah from the dawn of time to use it, but handy for detective work like this. This is also the second time that a Kindred discipline being used is described as someone using their “mighty will.” I know some powers were namedropped earlier, like Fires of the Inferno and Body of Fire, but it makes me wonder how many listed disciplines actually have names in-universe. If a player has their character activate Awe, in-universe does the character think “I’m using Awe, the first tier Presence power”? Or “I will extend my mighty will to get everyone’s attention”? Like how Superman’s laser vision is just called laser vision and not “Burning Gaze of Rao.” Not that Weinberg should’ve used the discipline name every time. “The detective used Auspex” would be much duller writing. The detective learns that the billfold’s from Washington, D.C. It was stolen from a government file clerk by the assassin, just so he’d have somewhere to keep the money McCann found in it. We learn about the Kindred’s political situation in Washington. The part of it that doesn’t involve the spreading gang wars. quote:The nation’s capital had long been a source of friction between the Camarilla and the Sabbat. Though the Camarilla controlled the city, both organizations had agents in the suburbs. Must be like a cross between Desperate Housewives and Cannibal Holocaust out there. A bit of Weeds, too. quote:The constantly shifting population also brought in new Kindred. Each sect controlled politicians and lobbyists. I always had my suspicions about the Long Pig Lobby. quote:However, the frequent changes in government officials thwarted their ambitions for absolute domination of the government. That darned democracy, making life in Washington for the vampires inconvenient. Someone should do something abou- Actually, no, that joke doesn’t work. Certain officials come and go in the capital even faster nowadays. quote:The city was a potential battleground between the cults. The Camarilla held it, but Sabbat forces surrounded it. Sooner or later, warfare between the two groups was bound to explode. After much time spent thinking and thinking, the detective’s all thunk out and decides to go to bed. He mentally checks his magic defenses on the way to his bedroom. And one other thing. quote:With a wan smile, he rested one hand on a small, detailed sculpture resting on the end table in his bedroom. Carved from sandstone, it depicted a man’s face remarkably similar to his own. Not particularly large or impressive, the statue originally came from Egypt and was over four thousand years old. It had been with McCann for a very long time. Did you get that Dire McCann is super old? Need it hammered in a little more? You dumb bastards? If you got rid of that last sentence, this could be a nice little moment for McCann’s character. Him looking at the statue, briefly allowing himself to feel nostalgia for an age and people gone by. A moment where he drops the master schemer act and let’s the old man out. A little heartwarming. A little sad. But the last sentence turns it into another reminder of something we already know. Eh, maybe I’m being too nitpicky. Looking too hard for flaws. quote:The detective grinned, remembering Flavia’s tale of Masqueraders. It was an entertaining fable. He wondered how she would react to the truth. Maybe, someday, he would tell her. No, gently caress it, this one I have something to say about. Back when Flavia was explaining her “tale of Masqueraders,” this was how McCann reacted: “McCann laughed, trying to appear amused. ‘What utter nonsense." and “McCann forced himself to remain quiet. He had said too much already.” And when he’s back in his office, reflecting on his conversation with Flavia: McCann, sitting behind his desk in his office an hour later, sighed heavily. The detective folded his arms across his chest. For all her grief, the Dark Angel had not stayed in mourning very long. He trusted Flavia not to reveal her suspicions to the Prince for as long as it suited her purposes, and not a second more. If not handled properly, the Dark Angel could prove to be as dangerous to him as the Red Death. Those aren’t the actions and thoughts of a guy who a few hours later should be thinking “Silly bitch, what an amusing fable. Maybe one day I’ll tell her what I really am.” That’s someone whose intimidated by what she knows, and wary of what she’ll tell her fifth-generation vampire boss. Flavia said that Masqueraders are Methuselahs who possess mortal bodies while in torpor in order to experience life like a mortal again, while giving them some Kindred powers to protect them. McCann is secretly a Methuselah named Lameth, over four thousand years old and notable enough to earn a title like “The Dark Messiah.” We’re also told that his current body is mortal, aside from a few Kindred powers. Whatever the truth is, for now the similarities are spot on and back in Chapter Five McCann knew that. Flavia may be the very definition of what feminist media critics call a Strong Female Character (i.e. a character whose presented as a well-written woman because she’s physically strong and capable of *gasp* holding her own against a man, but in the overall narrative is a satellite character revolving around a male character, often used as fanservice, a love interest, or a prize to be won despite her “strength”) and maybe it’s a leap of logic to get “secret ancient vampire” from a human who can stop one of her attacks, but she more or less figured McCann out, and he knows it. The detective shouldn’t get all haughty or dismissive now because she might not know every detail. Or because she doesn’t know he’s actually ~*~Lameth, the Dark Messiah of the Kindred~*~ and not Sven, the Socially Awkward Apostle of the Kindred. She got your number, dick. Anyway, the smug bastard goes to sleep and the chapter ends.
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Feb 27, 2020 05:32
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Part 1, Chapter 8 Or: Spaghetti and Corpses, Boss Venice—March 12, 1994 quote:A black shape slipped from shadow to shadow in the late-night darkness. Weaving through the narrow streets and winding lanes of the ancient city, it moved without a sound, heading ever inward, toward Saint Mark’s Square at the center of the sleeping Metropolis. Whatever this shape is, clearly it’s a local. quote:Nor did it slow down on the numerous bridges it was forced to cross. Venice, situated on 120 islands and formed by 177 canals, was laced with over 400 such spans. The shape won’t stop and enjoy the scenery, but Robert Weinberg did the research and drat it, he’s going to make sure you all know it. The shape reaches Saint Mark’s Square, or Piazza San Marco if you want to impress the locals (you won’t), and we get some brief tour guide info on Saint Mark’s Cathedral and the Doge’s Palace as the shape glides past them. I’ve been to Venice. It was one of our stops when my family went to Italy in ‘07. Let me give you some advice. Unless you’re way into history and architecture, you should spend, at most, two days there and not a day more. At the risk of sounding uncultured, Venice is boring. You take a gondola ride on the canals, you visit a glass art shop, you visit the above sites, and that’s all there is to do. Venice smells, too. If you google it, you’ll see some travel agency and tourist board crap about how oh, it’s just low tide and salt water, Venice doesn’t stink. Yep, I’m sure it has nothing to do with the city’s romantic canals doubling as an open-air sewer. Our tour of old Venice ends at the Bridge of Sighs, behind the palace, and we transition back to the World of Darkness and one of its greatest evils: urban land development. quote:Once the famous arch led to the public prisons. Now the prisoners were gone, and in their place stood a vast, black skyscraper of glass and steel. We get some background on the building. As you can imagine, the locals were pissed when it was announced that the old buildings were going to be torn down and this random modern corporate penis built in its place. quote:Opponents objected bitterly to the massive rebuilding project, declaring that the ancient jail was one of the city’s most prized landmarks. As usual, money spoke louder. The city-zoning commission had ignored the complaints and approved the design. The building is forty stories high, which, phhhhht. That’s a baby skyscraper. All that trouble for a weenie building. I understand the cruelty was on purpose, but whoever owns this monument to hubris could’ve flexed better. Anyway, the building’s surrounded by a twelve-foot-high brick wall with only one gate and guardpost leading inside. quote:Whispered tales describe huge, red-eyed hounds that roamed the grounds at night. No one was sure what secrets the building contained. Other than a street address, the skyscraper had no name. None was needed. Among the residents of Venice the rectangular black giant was known simply as The Mausoleum. We don’t learn who owns the Mausoleum for another few pages, but since we’re in Italy and there’s a vampire clan with an Italian as hell name, it ain’t hard to figure out. The shape gets to the perimeter, but stops. There’s more than a brick wall. And it’s not just any brick wall. quote:Embedded throughout the barrier were small heat detectors that would record the slightest variation in temperature—warm or cold. The top of the wall was covered by thousands of inch-high, steel needles. Each was barbed with a curve designed to rip protective garments or skin to shreds. Powerful searchlights swept the inside perimeter of the compound every few minutes. Monstrous beasts roamed the grounds, things of nightmare that recognized no friend, only prey. Entrance to the Mausoleum other than through the main gate was impossible. Understandably, the infiltrator decides to take the front door. The gate, two six-inch steel doors, is guarded by four ghouls in black uniforms. Two were in a booth with a “complex video and computer network” which gave them live video of the company grounds, and the other two stood by the gate, armed with AK-47′s with high powered explosive ammo. The shape’s plan on getting past? Wait for them to blink. quote:Even ghouls blinked. Human senses could not trace such rapid eye motions with precision. But the blot was not human. Twenty-two minutes later, all four of them blink at the same time. The shape, the presence, the blot, whatever the narration wants to call the infiltrator, slips past them at that moment. As for the door, even though the crack between it and the ground is described as “microscopic,” the infiltrator is “molecules in width” and slips under easily. “The patch of darkness” heads for the Mausoleum’s entrance, a pair of giant glass doors, undetected by the “Hellhounds” wandering around. quote:Many vampires could meld their forms into the earth, becoming part of the ground. The moving shadow was one of the few that, having done so, could actually shift its location. Sounds like Earth Meld, third tier power of Protean, the signature discipline of Clan Gangrel. The infiltrator isn't a Gangrel, but there are other ways the infiltrator could’ve learned it. Oh, right, and the moving shadow infiltrator is a vampire. Beyond the glass door is an entrance hall, well-lit and painted completely white, guarded by a single ghoul in a glass booth. quote:His gaze, like those outside, never wavered. Getting past him would be more difficult. They could just wait for the guard to blink like with the ones outside, but this way they get to show off more vampire powers. quote:Gathering its Eventually the guard does sneeze. The infiltrator turns from a shadow on the ground into a white mist. That’s Body of Spirit, fifth tier of Proteus. The change between the two is described as taking “milliseconds.” They slip through another “microscopic” crack, this time between the top of the door and it’s steel frame, and flattened against the ceiling. All during the second the sneezing guard had his eyes closed. All these descriptions like seconds and milliseconds and microscopic. And that brick perimeter outside with its heat sensors and barbed hooks. It’s like two kids trying to one-up each other while play-fighting during recess. “My fortress is so secure it’s surrounded by evil dogs and the only way in is through cracks! And they’re smal- they’re my-cros-scos-pic!” “Oh yeah, well I can turn into a shadow who can get past evil dogs and fit through the smallest cracks ever! “Oh yeah, well I also have guards who watch every opening at all times all day every day!” “Oh yeah, well I’m so fast I can get past them when they blink!” “Oh yeah, well my bodyguards can sense your thoughts and teleport in front of you in a milly-second! And they’re Super Saiyan 5!” “Oh yeah, well I’m Super Saiyan 6!” Then one of them hits the other kid with a rock. There’re more guardposts throughout the building, security cameras, and office workers running around even at this time of night, but the mist avoids them by moving against the ceiling, white-on-white, and finding the door leading to the basement. There, it messes around with the complex’s switch boxes. quote:The building was controlled by a computer monitoring system. Bypassing the built-in safeguards was child’s play, and the shadow was no child. Mentally, it attached invisible trip wires to the proper circuits. The emergency generator proved no more of a challenge. Plans set, it went looking for a way up. Those invisible trip wires must be some kind of vampire magic, or else this thing was sneaking past guards and fitting through microscopic cracks dragging around computer parts. The infiltrator finds an elevator shaft, enters it, and rises to the fortieth floor. Despite there being security cameras pointed at the elevators, it does this with no problems. There aren’t any cameras in the shaft itself, which the narration notes is a “dangerous mistake.” Sensing that there’s no one running around on the fortieth floor, the infiltrator exists the shaft. quote:This part of the building was extremely well protected. A dozen deadly spells ringed the inner group of apartments. They were triggered by thought, not physical presence. One wrong move and the invader’s efforts would come to a hideous end. “Oh yeah, well my room is surrounded by a hundred magic spells that kills anyone who thinks in it!” “Oh yeah, well I use my mind powers to destroy them! You should’ve mixed them together instead of making them on top of each other, idiot!” “Oh yeah, well I turn into a Super Saiyan 20 and-” That’s when a teacher finds them and makes them cut it out. They don’t want a repeat of yesterday. No alarm went off, but someone noticed the top floor’s magic defenses were gone anyway, and the infiltrator hears the elevator, full of security personnel, begin to rise. The infiltrator uses whatever psychic BS they have to trigger their magic trip wires from earlier and cut off all power to the elevators. No longer having to worry about outside interference, the infiltrator slips into a room with the name Madeleine Giovanni marked on the door. Inside the empty room, the mist begins to change, gathering form, turning solid. quote:In seconds it was gone, leaving standing in its place an attractive young woman with dark eyes and long black hair. Pale white skin and blood-red lips offered a sharp contrast to the black leotard that was her only garment. Of course she’s hot. This time in a goth way! quote:Walking to a nearby closet filled with women’s clothes, the intruder searched carefully until she found an old-fashioned black velvet gown. Nodding, she slipped out of the leotard and pulled on the dress. A more low-brow franchise would have the security guards arrive just before she gets the dress on. quote:It fit perfectly, hugging her slender form as if by design. Reaching into a box on a shelf above the clothes, she extracted a stunning silver necklace and draped it around her neck. It was decorated with the same family crest that marked the front end of the Mausoleum. A pair of short heels completed the outfit. It’s obvious, but in case you’re glazing over this because you thought the sneaking mission stuff was boring, this is Madeleine Giovanni. She broke into her own clan’s main headquarters. quote:Smiling at herself in a full-length mirror, she strolled across the chamber to a second door. Gently she wrapped on the paneling. That bit with the mirror. It’s a male novelist cliche to write a woman protagonist examining herself in a mirror and describing every one of her physical features. Y’know, as women do, am I right, herp derp? To Weinberg’s credit, he doesn’t do that with Madeleine. Now if this were Flavia, whose high cheekbones, sensuous lips, and great tits he felt the need to describe twice, who knows. quote:"Enter," growled a loud voice from the other side. The speaker did not sound pleased. "You little witch.“ Madeleine enters a huge corner office. It’s lined with dark-tinted windows with a view of Venice one can enjoy without having to smell it. She addresses the man inside as her sire, and informs him that she tested the building's security and found it "...underwhelming." quote:A tall man with graying hair, he had the face of an aristocrat. Appropriate, since Clan Giovanni is one big The Aristocrats joke. quote:He was impeccably dressed in a dark, three-piece suit with a white shirt and an unadorned tie. His only concession to color was a blood-red rose tucked into his buttonhole. When he walked the earth in human form, hundreds of years ago, Pietro Giovanni had had a passion for beautiful flowers. Undeath had left that sentiment unchanged. As manager of the Mausoleum and one of the most powerful Kindred in Europe, he could afford to indulge his vices. Large and small. The two vampires sit down to have a discussion about the Mausoleums’s security. Pietro acknowledges that even though he thinks Madeleine is “the most accomplished saboteur” of his childer, and that no other Giovanni could get past their defenses, the Mausoleum is still technically vulnerable to potential enemies. He asks her what she recommends. This conversation goes on for about a page and a half. Madeleine thinks that they rely too much on ghouls and that while loyal, they’re a weak link in their defenses. The four out front need to be better trained and with better security equipment, meant to “compliment their efforts, not duplicate them.” quote:“The Hellhounds?" asked Pietro. Hey now. I know these are ghouled monster dogs bred to maim and kill, but that ain’t necessary. The narration said the Hellhounds wouldn’t attack anything they couldn’t see, hear, or smell, so how’s being hungrier going to help them notice moving shadows? More likely they’d turn on each other instead. She ramps down the dickishness when talking about things like replacing the ground around the building with artificial sod, installing electric currents in the door frames, and repainting the entrance hall with stripes, but then ramps it back up when she gets to the poor sneezing guard. quote:Her eyes narrowed. "The ghoul at the entrance. His mind is too weak for the task he performs. I bent his will with minimal effort. He never realized I was manipulating his thoughts. He is worthless. Kill him." “And it’s almost time for dinner. Bring us up two babies. Make them asian. Tibetan, in fact.” Also, here’s some fun facts about what it means to be a Giovanni ghoul, from the White Wolf Wiki Giovanni page: “Giovanni make an art out of ghouling, since ghouling is a rite of passage for the Giovanni – ghouling means that the Giovanni is now part of the people who make the family work. Not necessarily a mover and shaker, but something akin to a made man: the Masquerade is pulled back and the truth about vampires is revealed. Giovanni tend to make Proxy Kisses aesthetic efforts, and take a point in pride in producing especially memorable or mind-destroying ones – blood received via fellatio, blasphemous masses and the like are all popular choices.” If that ghouling process is the same for regular ghoul employees as it is for potential future vampire ghouls, then that guard had a poo poo life. Madeleine goes on to suggest security cameras in the basement and elevator shafts, and motion detectors. They’re briefly interrupted by a phone call. Along with the elevators, Madeleine had also turned off all power on the lower levels, which she turns back on when asked with a snap of her fingers. Then they get on the subject of magic spells. quote:"Now explain what you want done with the spells. Anything involving the black arts has to be approved by the clan elders." I’m guessing all these spells are some kind of blood magic. I don’t know a whole lot about the metaphysical side of World of Darkness lore. I know that Mage magic is based on “bending reality” and that vampires can’t do that, hence Clan Tremere’s whole thing with having to learn Thaumatergy to compensate for their lost magic. If these spells aren’t blood magic, then I don’t get what the difference between that and Mage magic is. quote:They spent the next hour talking. Meaning by the time they’re done that guard is already neonate chow. quote:Finally, Pietro raised his hands in mock surrender. "Enough. You have convinced me. I will raise your points with our esteemed ancestors at the next board meeting. There will be no objections.” “Right after we have the vote on whether pineapple-on-pizza is grounds for excommunication.” quote:“Good," said Madeleine. […] "You realize, grandfather, I went through this escapade merely to insure you are properly protected." The narration introduces one of the big Giovanni gimmicks: Every member, vampire and mortal, no matter how distantly, is related. Literally one huge family, descended from the first Giovanni, Augustus, and his family at the time he got his… start, sometime in the Dark Ages. With that much focus on family and this being dark fantasy, you know what that means. It’s inevitable that incest would come up. The White Wolf wiki tries to downplay this, implying that the clan’s “incestuous nature” is more a structural thing, with some Giovanni rarely interacting with anyone but other Giovanni and the problems that can cause with their worldview and social interaction. But no, there’s still plenty of the gross hillbilly literal kind of incest going on. Luckily, nothing in this book suggests that the relationship between Pietro and Madeleine is anything more than granddad sire and granddaughter childe. quote:Madeleine had been Embraced by Pietro, establishing their relationship in undeath. She was also the daughter of his only son, Daniel, who had met the Final Death at the hands of Don Caravelli, the Kindred master of the mafia. It was a debt both father and daughter had sworn to repay. Normally, Giovanni aren’t suppose to Embrace members of their immediate family. Some other Giovanni a few branches on the family tree away’s supposed to do it, otherwise it would encourage nepotism. It happens anyway, but it’s frowned upon. And despite being a powerful and influential Italian criminal organization with ceremonies comparable to becoming a made man, the Giovanni aren’t part of the Sicilian Mafia. In the general lore the Giovanni have connections in the mafia, but they’re both separate organizations. Remember, the mob is Sicilian, the Giovanni are northern Italian. It’s a moot point anyway, since they’re enemies in this trilogy thanks to a classic you-killed-my-father feud. The narration describes two other big things about the Giovanni, what it refers to as their “two ruling passions: money and death." quote:Their skill at manipulating finances was matched only by their powers of necromancy. Of all the Kindred, their clan was the most heavily involved with the world beyond. No one was sure what ghastly rituals they pursued in secret vaults beneath family enclaves. Rumors spoke of an incredible plot to control not only all life but the spirits of the dead as well. That’s all true. Their “take over the worlds of both the living and the dead” plot’s a hell of a thing, but it’s irrelevant to this story. quote:Equally mysterious was the exact extant of the Giovanni fortune. Like a gigantic financial octopus, the family business had spread tentacles throughout the world. Connections with the Catholic Church, firmly established during the Inquisition, had further enabled the clan to penetrate markets unreachable by any other banking institutions. The Giovanni controlled billions in assets. A word from the clan elders could plunge the world into a depression that would leave entire populations destitute. That’s why they’re able to survive despite being a treacherous, incestuous gang of necromancing wannabe world conquerors who everyone hates. Clan Giovanni’s financial power is emphasized a lot more than their necromancy in Blood War, to the point where when I first read this as a kid I thought the Giovanni’s thing was being a young nouveau riche clan that gained its power through finance and connections rather than clan prestige or whatever. In a way they’re that, but every other V:TM media seems to focus on their skills in necromancy and their depravity. Getting back into the franchise and learning all that was… It was a “huh” moment. Giovanni necromancy being out of focus in this story likely has something to do with our main Giovanni POV character Madeleine’s skill set. quote:Madeleine was unique in the clan in that she possessed skills unrelated to either necromancy or high finance. “She was so bad at both she lost a 50K bet that she could summon Beetlejuice.” quote:Fanatic in her devotion to family honor, she had devoted her entire existence to avenging her father. A century of intensive training and rigid discipline had turned her into a master of industrial espionage and corporate surveillance. She was the hidden dagger of the Giovanni empire. And that’s why none of you have ever heard of her until now. (The wiki has nothing about her. There’s an entry for a Pietro Giovanni, but he’s a different character from the one here.) The in-universe reason she’s unknown outside her grandpa’s house is because she kills anyone who sees her during a mission. quote:Yet despite her successes, Madeleine remained unfulfilled. “The Beetlejuice incident still burns her to this day.” quote:Three times she had tried to penetrate the secret fortress of he ultimate quarry, Don Caravelli, and three times she failed. A third kid on the playground would just say “I hosed your mom” whenever the first two tried to say anything. quote:The Mafia chief, controlling a criminal empire that equaled the Giovanni clan’s in wealth and power, lived in the most secure hideaway in the world. Caravelli knew Madeleine waited for him the moment he left Sicily and thus refused to travel. The Don was no coward, but he was also no fool. Equal to the Giovannis in wealth and power, huh? Not bad for a mostly mortal organization that didn’t exist before the 19th century. Before the chapter ends, Pietro finally introduces his granddaughter to her purpose in the story. It involves a certain detective. quote:“I have a special mission for you," declared Pietro. He pushed a manila envelope across the desk to her. “Everything necessary for your trip is here. You are to leave for America immediately. In the city of St. Louis, I want you to locate a human named Dire McCann. Finding him should not be difficult, as the kine has ties to the local Prince." So yeah. That’s the Giovanni. Incestuous necromancer mafia-but-not-really Italian vampires. What a weird loving stereotype.
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Mar 1, 2020 01:20
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Part 1, Chapter 9 Or: Just Spaghetti, Boss Sicily—March 12, 1994 Sicily is famous for four things: Beautiful beaches, the pride in which Italian-Americans of Sicilian descent take in the island despite having never been there, getting invaded by every country with access to the Mediterranean, and La Cosa Nostra. This chapter’s about the last one. quote:Don Caravelli, Capo de Capo of the Mafia, rose to his feet as his four guests were ushered into the huge banquet hall. It was a gesture of respect coming from the supreme crime lord in the world, and the quartet of visitors grinned at each other in pleasure. It had taken months to arrange this meeting, and this slight display indicated that their trip was not in vain. The four U.S. mobsters, members of an American Syndicate, set this meeting up in an attempt to get the American branches closer to “Caravelli’s minions.” Caravelli gestures to some empty chairs and says that a “special meal" is being planned for them. quote:Caravelli grinned, flashing white teeth in contrast to a deep tan. "I, of course, will not join you." There was a whole sourcebook about the World of Darkness’ version of the Mafia and how it interacted with the supernatural, so there’s basis for some fancy Italian crooks casually knowing that vampires exist without anyone worrying about potential Masquerade breaches. Mobsters must take the whole “no snitching” thing even more seriously here. The mobsters don’t care that the absolute head of the most powerful criminal organization in Europe is an undead parasite of infinite evil eternally cursed by God. They’re weirdly cool about it. quote:They only cared about his criminal empire. His taste in food was none of their concern. They considered themselves businessmen, dealing with the harsh realities of the world. If necessary, they would deal with the devil if it was good for business. And maybe black people, but only if they really had to. What? Mafia guys are racist. While the Don’s explaining why he didn’t meet them at the airport, two Kindred bigger than their McCann-sized boss stand at either side of him, while two more guarded the door. With the four mortal dons voluntarily entering the lair of a powerful vampire and his big-rear end vampire bodyguards and being all casual about it, I’m starting to wonder how the American Mafia lasted this long. As explained last time, Don Caravelli’s stuck in his mansion because Madeleine Giovanni’s trying to kill him for killing her father. He probably deserved it, being a Giovanni and all, but Caravelli’s not the nicest guy in Italy either. quote:"My advisers insist I stay within this fortress until she has been found. While I am no coward, I have barely survived three previous attempts on my life by the bitch. I prefer not to offer her an opportunity for a fourth try." Tony “The Tuna” Blanchard, head of the east coast branch, the least intimidated by the Don due to visiting him several times before, and going by the name, part-time Dick Tracy villain, correctly guesses that Caravelli’s talking about “that crazy Giovanni dame.” The Don nods, then sends one of the guards at the door away to get his guests a bottle of red wine, and says they’ll talk about their business proposal after dinner. After two bottles of wine, they talk about Madeleine some more. quote:"I’m not sure I understand your problem, Don Caravelli," said George Kross, the Midwest representative of the cartel. A big, red-faced man with beady little eyes, he spoke with a distinctive Indiana twang. His dialogue still reads like he’s from 1930′s Chicago. quote:"Some crazy broad is out to get you? Why don’t you just ice the dame? gently caress, you’re boss of bosses. You could order the death of the President of the whole damned USA if you wanted by liftin’ a finger. With the state D.C.’s in, Bill’s likely to get taken out accidentally by a random Sabbat goon, so that ain’t saying much. quote:"Unfortunately, your commander-in-chief is much easier to reach than a high-ranking member of the Giovanni Clan," said Don Caravelli smoothly. Over the past sixty years, Madeleine had taken out six of the Don’s best assassins. Kross asks if she could be bought, “everyone has a price” and all that. quote:Don Caravelli nodded. "My sentiments as well. However, the Giovanni are a tightly-knit band of troublemakers. They lust for the power I control. And," the Don shrugged in mock despair, “I made the unfortunate mistake of executing her father many years ago. Madeleine neither forgives nor forgets." Harvey Taylor, west coast boss and obvious hit with the ladies, knows enough about Kindred to then ask if the Don can’t just ask her clan elders to make her back down. Caravelli says that would work with any other clan, but not the Giovanni. quote:Don Caravelli rose from his chair. "Let me relate to you gentlemen a bit of Kindred lore unknown to most humans. It will make the situation I face much clearer." Took me a bit to realize that he was just emphasizing the three italicized words and not that whole intro. “As *whack* you *whack* are *whack* well *whack* aware *whack*, we *whack* Kindred *whack*” quote:"When the opportunity arises, my friends, we Kindred are cannibals. The Sixth Tradition of Caine forbids vampires from drinking the blood of their own kind, but it is largely ignored. The strong obey their own laws." Oh, that’s cute. They all remember the baseball bat scene from The Untouchables. quote:Diablerie describes the act of one vampire draining the blood of another. The pleasure derived from such cannibalism is beyond description. More important, however, is the result when it involves a vampire of any generation who drinks the vitae of one of a lower generation. Remember, among my race, the lower the generation, the greater the power!" Don Caravelli leaves out an important detail. See, when a Kindred commits diablerie, they don’t just suck out their victim’s blood. They suck out and absorb the victim’s soul. It’s the soul that lowers their generation. It results in the complete destruction of the victim, and is one of the main reasons why it’s considered such a heinous act. The Camarilla outright forbids Diablerie, their stated reason being that it’s an evil act. The cynical reason is that the Camarilla system is meant to keep the older and mostly lower generation Kindred in power while the younger ones stay in their place at the bottom. Allowing diablerie would be… detrimental to that system. There’s an unspoken exception when it comes to the subject of a Blood Hunt, when a Prince of a city puts a hit out on an offending vampire. If you’re allowed to soul-suck the bounty, well that’s just a nice bonus. And if you do, no one will say anything. The Sabbat on the other hand are cool with diablerie and don’t make any pretenses about it. It fits in with the social darwinism of the Lasombra, the edgelordiness of the Tzimisce, and the overall short-sighted stupidity of the entire sect. Caravelli continues, saying that from there the newly fifth-gen vampire would have to diablerize a fourth-generation Methuselah for another power boost, and from there having to locate and kill one of the world-ending Antediluvians. He stops there. He doesn’t say anything, but we know that the second generation are all dead, and… I mean in theory it’s possible but, no, you can’t diablerize Caine. The man’s like a tiny god. It ain’t gonna happen. quote:"I get it," said Sol Cohen, the Syndicate boss of the South who had thus far kept silent. "It’s like moving up the corporate ladder. Or taking steps in our organization. To rise to a level of greater wealth and control, you gotta take out the guy ahead of you in line. That’s the only way to step into his job." George’s mention of the thirteen clans, which he knows about for some reason, launches Don Caravelli on another lecture about diablerie, Antediluvians, and how that’s also related to his conflict with the Giovanni. He says that while the thirteen Antediluvians were the founders of the modern clans, some of them are not as old as the others, if you catch his meaning. quote:"Whatch mean?" asked Sol Cohen. "You’re saying that some other Kindred went and did this diablerie thing on one of the top honchos?" The Don’s so amused by our American lingo he finally ditches his poker. quote:The four Syndicate bosses breathed a sigh of relief. They were all well aware of the fact that they were deep inside an impregnable fortress where Don Caravelli’s word was law. Though their host had been gracious to a fault, none of the quartet felt quite at ease. The Don continues, talking about how several times over the millennia an original Antediluvian has been diablerized by a fourth-gen vampire, before stopping again. quote:"You must be hungry. I shall order dinner prepared." He waved a hand at one of his lieutenants. "By the time my story is finished, it will be here." He continues, starting with his own clan, the Brujah. He claims they’re really descended from Troile, a fourth-generation Kindred who killed his sire, the original Brujah Antediluvian. quote:"In truth, our clan should be named Troile instead of Brujah.” Not that a clan necessarily has to share their name with their progenitor Antediluvian. The Brujah Antediluvian’s also been called “Ilyes” and “Troile the Elder,” but “Brujah” is another alias for him and that’s the name this story uses. Tony Blanchard asks the Don what happened to Brujah’s other 4th-generation childer after his death. Caravelli answers that they effectively became clanless, and are rumored to have disappeared into the far east, but no one knows or cares one way or the other. We’ll find out what happened to at least one of those childer later on in the story. As for Brujah’s other childer as a whole, in canon, that has a pretty interesting answer. That’s for even later, though. quote:"I bet the Giovanni weren’t among those original thirteen," said Harvey Taylor. "I don’t think there was anybody with a name like that around before the Middle Ages." Great observation by Harvey here, but maybe not the best thing to draw attention to unless you want readers to notice that three actually ancient clans also have modern sounding names; the Spanish words for “witch”, “bullfighter”, and “the shadow”. Don Caravelli tells them how the Giovanni and Tremere came to be. I already told you the Tremere Clan’s origins back in the prologue, but here’s how the Don explains it. quote:"The Giovanni and the Tremere Clans are comparatively young ones," stated Don Caravelli. "Their leaders, both extremely ruthless men in life, became equally ruthless Kindred in undeath. Giovanni and Tremere lowered their generation by one act of Diablerie after another. Until finally, when they were fourth generation, they each hunted down an Antediluvian and drank their blood. Thus they gained the full strength of a third-generation vampire for their clan. And thus, by Kindred law, established themselves as a true bloodline." According to the wiki, Augustus Giovanni and Lord Tremere skipped lowering their generation to four and went straight for the big guys. Giovanni was already fourth-gen, having been sired by the very Antediluvian he would diablerize. Tremere, meanwhile, just broke into Saulot’s tomb and ate his soul while he was in torpor. Don Caravelli further explains, when asked about it by Tony Blanchard, that the two new clans then hunted down the rest of the clans whose leaders they just killed. By the time the Camarilla noticed and ordered them to stop, there were only a handful each of the original clans, displaced, newly clanless, members of an extinct bloodline, and now unimportant in the new status quo. These were all two separate events, by the way. It’s not like Augustus Giovanni and Lord Tremere formed some sort of rear end in a top hat Alliance and rose up at the same time. quote:"Which leads us to what?" asked Harvey Taylor. "I know there’s a point to this story, but I ain’t sure what it is." Smart, Harvey. Tell the superpowered undead Godfather to get to the point. I ask you again, how did the American Mafia last this long? quote:"The lesson is quite simple, Mr. Taylor," said Don Caravelli. "Of thirteen clans, just these three are descended from vampires who are not eight or nine millennia old. Even immortality becomes boring after six thousand years. The Brujah, the Giovanni, and the Tremere bloodlines are younger, stronger, and more dynamic than the other ten. Though our elders are not as ancient, they possess powers equal to the leaders of any other clan. We are not as weary of undeath. Far fewer of our number have retreated into an eternal torpor. Or abandoned all hope and watched the sun rise. Troile’s diablerie happened back during the time of Enoch, the First City, when Caine was still ruling over vampirekind instead of collecting fares in L.A. When it comes to age, there’s very little difference between the Brujah and the very slightly older clans. But hey, here’s the Don acting like his people are the hip new kids in town along with the Tremere and Giovanni. The way I’m tempted to read this is that despite being Master of the Mafia he’s insecure about being a boring old Brujah, and not even the lovable rebel kind, so he’s hyping up the clan to make himself look cooler by association. quote:"The elders among these three clans know that one of our bloodlines is destined someday to rule the Kindred. Though we forge uneasy alliances, even pursue common goals, we understand that the other two clans are our true rivals among the Cainites. So while I wish Madeleine Giovanni would cease her endless pursuit, I know it will never happen. The Brujah, the Tremere, and the Giovanni are engaged in a secret battle to the death. It is a Blood War. And, in such a fight, there are no compromises. You’d think the fact that she’s not randomly killing off every other Brujah and Tremere around would tip Caravelli off that Madeleine’s just pissed about her dad. Also, get used to title drops in this trilogy. quote:"George’s been gone for a long time," said Tony Blanchard. He chuckled. "Hope he didn’t fall in.’‘ That’s a lot of spaghetti. quote:Lifting them off the cart, the attendants placed a platter in front of each of the Syndicate bosses. You all know what’s coming, don’t you? quote:Don Caravelli smiled and nodded to his men. Each lifted the lid of a platter. The horrified screams of the three gangsters rebounded off the walls of the chamber for several moments. George Kross had returned, but in pieces. The shocked look on his face, staring with opened eyes from the tray in front of Tony Blanchard, indicated his death had not been a pleasant one. Or: Just Corpses, Boss Normally the psycho character pulling this would wait until the other guys ate a few bits of their friend before the reveal, but I understand the Don and his men were working on a time limit. Don Caravelli reveals that while he was monologuing, one of his men was reading their minds and found out that George was planning for months to learn all the secrets of the Don’s mansion during this meeting, then sell it to the highest bidder. quote:"The fool. He thought to play me for a fool." Going by how the story’s portrayed similar powers so far, he did this by thinking “Tummy Ache. Tummy Ache.” at George really hard while having a Mighty Will. quote:"I thought it best to deal with Mr. Kross outside. It would have been inhospitable to butcher him during our talk." Gotta admit, I’m a big fan of that whole “fake politeness” act some villains do. quote:"In any case, you now know much too much about the Kindred to leave here unchanged," he declared as the table was cleared. "My second-in-command, Don Lazzari, will shortly feed you some of his blood. The transformation from human to ghoul is quite painless. It will guarantee your silence on what I have told you tonight. And ensure your loyalty to my every wish." “I was happy to let you all work on the Honor System, but nooooo, Georgey had to ruin it for everybody.” So here’s the one time in this book that ghouls are portrayed as slaves to the will of their vampire master instead of just buffed up humans who work for vampires for the perks. There’s one more implied moment later, where one character wonders whether or not another character really is a ghoul, but this is the closest the story gets to explaining it, in that exposition-heavy style it uses to explain everything else about the setting. Anyway, how will this work? These shmucks are going back to the states, so does that mean Don Lazzari now has to regularly make three vials of his own blood and mail them overseas to keep them loyal? Is this standard procedure for the Mafia? It’d be easier for everyone if the vampire mobsters upheld the Masquerade more and acted like the whole organization’s just mortal Sicilians from the top down. quote:Don Caravelli nodded at his still-trembling guests. "Perhaps now you understand why Madeleine Giovanni and I cannot make a bargain. Neither of us," and he laughed and laughed, "is very good at forgiving."
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Mar 1, 2020 23:05
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I am definitely team Phantomas, I gotta say.
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Mar 8, 2020 14:34
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Part 1, Chapter 10 Or: Do Kindred Dream of Vampire Sheep? St. Louis—March 12, 1994 quote:McCann dreamed…  quote:A solitary oil lamp flickered as a cold breeze rustled through the dimly-lit chamber. Huge black shadows, reflections of grotesque stone gargoyles dispersed throughout the room, danced across the sandstone walls. A spiraling arm covered with pictographs ran in a tightening noose around the polished red tile floor. The drawings ended at the base of a wide, raised table constructed of bronze, stone, and silver in the direct center of the hideaway. Alright, sounds like your typical wizard’s study. McCann’s apparently one of the greatest magic-users who ever lived, so this is makes sense. quote:Two figures standing side-by-side, their hands gripping the table, stared at the largest receptacle. Their eyes burned with fires that matched those of the candles. Dreaming about only wearing your underwear in public’s a cliche, but wandering around in your underwear was normal in the distant past of wherever this is. If you can’t already tell, this dream is a framing device for a flashback. quote:His shoulder-length hair was black as night. His face was lean and drawn, with flat nose, sharp chin, and thin lips. Too-white skin and mystic symbols of black soot drawn on his cheeks emphasized that he was no ordinary man. Or vampire. He was a Naruto fanboy on Ash Wednesday. quote:He was Lameth, childe of Asshur, and the greatest Kindred sorcerer to ever walk the earth. That too. We were never given much of a description for Dire McCann’s features. All we’re told is that he’s really tall, has broad shoulders, and is generally “big.” Your typical superhero build, but nothing about his face or even hair color. I figure it served to make McCann more of a surrogate for the male reader who will never in real life have a beautiful English assassin french kiss him. But, nine chapters later, we’re finally given something, though McCann likely doesn’t draw on his cheeks with soot these days. quote:The woman at his side was equally impressive. Dressed in thin garments that fully displayed her ample charms, she was as tall as Lameth but with long, flowing blonde hair the color of the new moon. Full-breasted, with narrow waist and wide hips, she was considered by many to be the most beautiful woman, living or undead, in the Second City. Her wide eyes, knowing smile, and lush lips offered evidence that even death could not silence the passions within her. Of course she’s hot. Description of man: “He wore a loincloth and sandals. He had broad shoulders and narrow hips. Flat nose, thin lips. His too-white skin and facial marking emphasized something about his character.” Description of woman: “Who cares what she wore, just know that it’s very little and framed her awesome tits. She was a perfect ten with a 40-20-40 figure. Her eyes and lips emphasized that she would blow you.” You know what really gives away that Lameth was designed as a character first and not something the reader is supposed to feel sexually attracted to? The thin lips. Take it from a guy with thin lips, no one gives a sex appeal focused character those. quote:She was Anis, once princess of Ur, now childe of the third-generation vampire known as Brujah. Remember her from a few chapters back, when McCann was wondering if she was behind everything going on around him? I told you not to giggle at her name? She’s also one of the other childer of Brujah briefly brought up in Chapter 9; the ones who were rumored to have disappeared in the east following their sire’s death and diablerie at the hands of Troile. The two begin talking. Their dialogue is written like they know there’s an invisible audience watching them so they narrate things they already know to each other so that audience is informed about them. It’s like a crappy play. quote:"I worked for two centuries," Lameth declared, "perfecting this elixir. Many were the times I thought I would never finish." “Tell me again why you’re making this elixer, Lameth, who is my lover?” “As you know, Anis, my lover who I think is a selfish harlot, this elixir will free us from the inner beast that infects all Kindred, which is another word for vampire.” “Yes, it will also free us from the control of our sires, mine who is Brujah, and yours who is Asshur.” So does anyone want to talk about vampire sex again? Despite the narration saying earlier that McCann “knew” vampires had no interest in sex, here’s Anis reminding his past self how much he liked to bone. quote:Anis chuckled. "Why so cynical, Lameth? I don’t remember you pushing me away on those nights that I taught you that even the undead can still delight in the pleasures of physical love. You were an eager student." As a reminder, here’s what we’re told in Chapter 1: quote:They enjoyed pretending that passion still stirred within their perfect forms. But McCann wasn’t fooled. This franchise as a whole has always been confused on whether its vampires can enjoy, or even have, sex, and can contradict itself even in the same story. In a way, this book's a microcosm of the problem. The writers start off by saying that vampires don’t have sex, that their now undead biology prevents it, and in any case such passion is lost to them after the embrace. A vampire might be seductive, but it’s a deception, a tactic they use to lure in prey or manipulate their pawns. Deep down, the only euphoria they need is from blood! They are predators first and foremost! They are monsters, now and forever! Except oops, they also created all these super hot vampires, especially women vampires. And horny players are likely to create more. And few writers and players can put their libidos aside and accept that these sexy vampires would be uninterested in or unable to have regular no-bloodplay sex, even with a reader-surrogate, player character, or OC. So people go looking for loopholes. In this case, Weinberg didn’t even write any loopholes. He just wrote “vampires don’t gently caress” and then later went “actually they do.” The closest we get is this chapter, where Anis is described as so sexually passionate that not even undeath could chill her out. Back to the story. Lameth’s unphased by Anis reminding him of what a bottom he is. quote:“As you instructed many others," replied Lameth, smiling. "Your lovers are legion, Anis. If I was not sure of your mortal origins, I would suspect Brujah had embraced a succubus as his childe." C’mon now, Lameth, don’t talk about your girlfriend/lover/friend with benefits like that. You're part of that "legion" so it's not like she's beneath you. Lameth has heard rumors that Anis has been canoodling with a certain future diablerizer. Despite her free loving lifestyle, he doesn’t get what she sees in “that rebel” Troile. One drawback about being a temptress archetype is that once people know you use seduction specifically as a manipulation tactic, it’s harder to convince others you really mean it when you say you love only them. Anis tries anyway. She and Lameth have history, after all. quote:Anis’s eyes narrowed, and she peered around the room as if searching for spies. "Only to you, Lameth, would I reveal the truth. For despite your accusations, I do love you. We were lovers in life and we have been lovers in undeath. The bonds between us cannot be sundered. You are the one Kindred whom I can trust.” Luckily for her, Lameth trusts her too, at least with the secret of his elixir. From what he says, though, it’s more because blabbing the secret would get them both killed then out of love. quote:“If the others discovered its existence, we will both suffer the Final Death. Especially when they learn that I had barely enough ingredients for two treatments. My fate is in your hands. As you said, our fates are bound together. You can trust me with any secret, no matter how forbidden." I wonder how long a relationship based on mutually assured destruction would last. Anis takes him up on his offer. She pours her heart out about wanting to be free, not only from her vampiric bloodthirst but from her sire as well. Or as she puts it: quote:"…free of the shackles that bind me to the one who made me this way, my sire. I, who once was a king’s daughter of the greatest city in the world, cannot bear to serve another." Ur was a Sumerian city-state in ancient Mesopotamia. Which would indeed make her Anis, princess of Ur. Anis of Ur. Ur Anis. Along with whatever this elixir does, Anis plans to free herself from Brujah by killing him. Lameth, astonished, thinks it’s impossible. Brujah trusts nobody, so how could anyone get close enough to kill him? quote:"Wrong," said Anis. "He trusts his first childe, his favorite. Troile." Which makes me wonder how in the hell Troile is considered a rebel. quote:"Even demigods can be destroyed," said Anis, her lips curling in a satisfied smirk. "Troile may venerate his master, but he lusts for me. And passion is stronger than faith, my love. Passion obliterates reason. Troile belongs to me." …Oooooookay then. quote:"Soon, very soon, my lover will attempt to kill Brujah. If he succeeds, I am free. If he fails, there are other Kindred to seduce. Many others." And if he fails and Brujah gets your name out of him, you’re loving dead. And it was just established that Brujah only trusts Troile. If he fails and doesn’t snitch, how will those many other Kindred get close to an even more paranoid Brujah? Also, maybe this isn’t the kind of thing you should be telling a guy who you’re trying to convince you love him. quote:“If Troile drinks Brujah’s blood, he will become third generation." Time for another lore dump from yours truly. First, a fun fact. Nowadays, Troile’s gender is deliberately ambiguous. Early books, the ones Weinberg used as sources, used male pronouns, but certain later books used female ones. Clanbook: Brujah Revised, released in 2000, notes this and says that there are also records that Troile either had no gender or switched genders occasionally. From what I’ve seen, most fans assume Troile was a woman. Which retroactively makes the otherwise super-hetero Anis look pretty gay here. Still a jerk for manipulating Troile’s feelings, but a bisexual jerk. Bujah Clan vampires are known for being hot-blooded and passionate types; traits they inherited from Troile, their direct ancestor. The Brujah Antediluvian, ironically, was more like a Vulcan. Cold, emotionless, logical, or at least his idea of what “logical” means. Imagine Spock adopting a shonen anime hero and you’ll get the idea. Problem was, contrary to what this story says, this all went down in the First City, not the Second, and Caine was still around, directly ruling over his childer. And Caine had forbidden the third-generation from siring more vampires, so Brujah was in trouble. Acting emotionless made him hard to read, and Troile started to suspect that Brujah was planning to “correct” his mistake and kill them. So they struck first. In other words, Troile’s diablerie of Brujah was based on one big misunderstanding. Like a Three’s Company plot, except deadlier and less infuriating. In that situation, it’d be more appropriate to say fear, not passion, obliterated reason. I say all that like it’s all strict canon, but a thing World of Darkness lore writers like to do is make certain details about the setting’s history vague, to add more mystery to the setting. More importantly, it gives tabletop players some agency. It’s up to individual Storytellers/DMs to decide the exact details, and tailor their campaigns according to them. So maybe it was all a huge misunderstanding. But maybe Brujah really was planning to kill Troile, so they justifiably acted in self-defense. And maybe, just maybe, there was a third party involved who planted the idea in Troile’s head. That said, we have a problem. There’s a difference between fan-made stories and official novels. Official novels are canon. By writing that Anis seduced Troile into killing Brujah, Robert Weinberg is saying that this is what actually happened, no room for interpretation. Not helping is that we’re not told how Anis convinced Troile to kill Brujah beyond being good enough in the sack, which you gotta admit is pretty lame. I get the feeling that if this trilogy wasn’t considered non-canon, or if anyone remembered them at all, this plot detail would have inspired many online rantfests. As for what happened to Troile right after they diablerized Brujah, there’s not much. Caine may have cursed them with their clan’s signature temper and susceptibility to frenzy. Other than that, it seems like they stuck around the First City and was acknowledged as third-gen. Guess no one liked Brujah all that much. Lameth thinks Anis is nuts, but he sympathizes with her feeling shackled by her sire. quote:"Asshur demands nothing from me, but I still chafe under his rule. If I could rid myself of my sire, I would." It’s convenient all these important events between long-time lovers happened in such a short single-flashback-length time frame. This, the creation of this elixer, Anis’ plot to kill Brujah, her insistence that she loves Lameth, and all their talk about their relationship... quote:Anis pressed close to him. "You are the only one who means anything to me, Lameth. As it was in life, so it is in death. Aid me in my plans. Help me undermine the third generation. Together we can rule the world." This after she just got done bragging about how she was manipulating another guy into a disposable pawn. In RPG terms, Anis must have all Social Attributes maxed out to make up for absolutely loving zero Wits. quote:Reaching for the container holding the elixir, Lameth filled two cups with the murky black fluid. "Drink," he commanded. "This potion will destroy the foul hunger inside us. Drink and then we will discuss the future." Vampire: The Masquerade fans’ll probably guess what the potion does, but I’ll talk about it more a few chapters from now when it’s directly stated. The flashback ends there, but after another “McCann dreamed…” we immediately transition to another one. This one takes place much, much later during the Middle Ages. Two men are talking about then-recent events concerning “the Giovanni upstarts.” One man is simply called “the man in black.” As for the other: quote:…his swarthy features and dark clothing proclaiming him an Assamite assassin. Another use of the word “swarthy” here to remind us that Assamites are typically Arab/Persian stereotypes. Great. After a century of war, the other clans have made peace with the Giovannis and acknowledge them as a true clan, exactly as the man in black expected. The Assamite explains: quote:"They accepted the inevitable. Augustus Giovanni was recognized as a third-generation Cainite who replaced Asshur by diablerie. The Venetian’s childer were proclaimed true Kindred, with their clan taking the place of the Children of Asshur. […] The Giovanni agreed to remain involved with Kindred affairs. They swore the Oath of Cain to stay neutral in all clan disputes. And they agreed to cease hunting the few surviving Children of Asshur." Now let’s talk about “Asshur” and the Giovanni. The clan that the Giovannis killed and replaced were these guys called the Cappadocians. They were lead by Cappadocius, who was unusually active for an Antediluvian in the Middle Ages, most of the others having already hosed off into torpor until it was time to wake up and start eating everyone. They were also known as the “Clan of Death” because they were scholars obsessed with death and the soul. As such, they were the most passive clan, not being ones for casual cruelty, war, or dick measuring contests against the other clans. They just wanted to do their research and philosophizing. In typical World of Darkness form, this passivity made them easy pickings for some real assholes. The Cappadocians were experts on the act of dying, but they struggled with all the stuff involving what happens after death. To remedy this, they turned to the Giovannis, a Venetian family of merchants and traders who dabbled in necromancy even before they were embraced. Family patriarch Augustus Giovanni actually had several offers to be Embraced from several vampire elders, but the Cappadocians offered the lowest generation at four and were an easily killable wuss clan, so he went with them. This was Cappadocius’ biggest mistake, and shortly after Augustus managed to kill and diablerize him. ‘Course, Cappadocius also trapped thousands of his own followers in an underground tunnel because his clan grew too big and they couldn’t answer his pop quiz on what value they had. And he wanted to diablerize God. The Cappadocians as a whole might have been chill, but Cappadocius himself may have been a stupid bastard. After that the newly-sired Giovannis began to wipe out the Cappadocians, like the Tremere did with the Salubri except the Giovannis didn’t bother creating a smear campaign to justify their actions. I don’t know how long the Camarilla clans rebuked them for before selling out the Cappadocians, but it was a lot sooner than a hundred years. The Camarilla promised non-interference to the Giovannis during their genocide campaign, something “surviving” Cappadocians haven’t forgotten. Now, why does Blood War refer to them as the Children of Asshur, and their Antediluvian by that name? Well it seems the name “Ashur”, one “S”, was used to identify several different vampires. Cappadocius was one of them, though he never used the name himself and some historians just called him that for some reason. That’s an in-universe explanation, anyway. In reality, the clanbooks for both the Cappadocians and the Giovanni weren’t released until 1997, two years after Blood War came out. I’d need a real expert on the game to confirm this, but I suspect before then both clans just served as background lore, unplayable and not that fleshed out yet. Maybe Ashur was the original name the game used for Cappadocius, but they changed it soon after. One last thing about the Cappadocians. Their clan curse was that they had a corpse-like complexion, meaning they looked like zombies only without the open bite wounds and rotting (usually). The previous flashback taking place in the Second City means the curse was already in effect. That means Lameth, fourth-generation Cappadocian, with his superhero build and who the nymphomaniacal Anis claims to truly love, should’ve looked something like  this. The man in black observes that the Giovanni got the peace and recognition they wanted in exchange for “a handful of promises that cost them nothing to honor.” Meaning they won’t really lose anything by being involved with the vampire community, minding their own business, and not killing the few Children of Asshur remaining. The peace agreement was completely stacked in the Giovanni’s favor. The Assamite, for whatever reason, takes it to mean the Giovanni won’t bother keeping their promises. quote:"They have sworn the Oath of Caine," said the Assamite in protest. "They would not dare violate that vow." In the short term, the man in black thinks the Giovanni won’t rock the boat too much, being more concerned with their necromantic pursuits than human or kindred affairs. Long term, though… quote:"Theirs is a watching or waiting game. But what they eventually plan for the Kindred and kine is a mystery I do not wish to think about." The short-sighted Assamite dismisses the idea of the Giovanni becoming a future threat, believing they’re too small in number and focused on things that surely will never matter to Kindred, like money and commerce. Rather than convince his dumbass grunt friend otherwise, the man in black changes the subject. quote:"No one at the parley expressed any interest in the identity of the vampire who foolishly Embraced Augustus Govanni? Or why he took the risk?" asked the man in black. It was Cappadocius/Ashur himself. Technically. Augustus’ Embrace was unusual. One of Cappadocius’ fourth-gen childer sucked all his blood out, then fed him a vial of Cappadocius’ blood, but it was all done with the man’s knowledge and consent. But Blood War has a different answer. The Assamite’s dismissive of this too. No one brought it up, and the man in black worried for nothing. No one cared who embraced the prick, since the fool must be dead now like the rest of the Cappadocians. The Assamite says Augustus’ sire “should have known better than to challenge the will of a necromancer.” quote:“Perhaps he had no choice," said the man in black. "No choice at all." Well now, ignoring how it goes against modern canon, this has some interesting implications. Did Lameth blood bind a random Cappadocian and force him to Embrace the treacherous Augustus, going according to Anis’ advice? Or did Lameth himself embrace Augustus, having no choice because he thought it was the only way to ensure his freedom from his sire? And is the man in black just a random Kindred servant that Lameth can somehow use like a walking camera, or is he a body Lameth is possessing like his current McCann identity? quote:McCann woke… That’s it for the flashbacks. McCann’s up, it’s almost dark, and he has to get meeting for his next meeting with Vargoss tonight. He’s still bothered by his dreams, which he remembers clearly. Unlike me, who forgets what he was dreaming about five seconds after waking up. Those conversations were from “many centuries” ago. Not to mention several millennia apart from each other. He finds it weird that his sleeping brain brought them both up on the same night, and is disturbed by the implication. quote:He suspected powers beyond his understanding were manipulating his mind. It was not a pleasant thought. Remember McCann’s magic security system? The one no Kindred or human could get past without him knowing it? Well it did jack poo poo this time. McCann checks his defenses and sees they’re intact, but the box is proof that someone broke in and placed it there. Inside the box is all the mail that was stolen from his office, and the Baba Yaga photos from Russia. quote:There was no note. Nor was one needed. Resting on the photos was a single green sequin.
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Part 1, Chapter 11 Or: Oh Boy, Here I Go Killing Again Washington DC—March 12, 1994 We’re back with Makish as he continues his contract work for the Red Death. quote:Normally, a city the size of the nation’s capital could support a dozen Kindred comfortably. It’s implied any more than that and people will start noticing the disappearances, or all the people waking up with less blood in them than the night before and no memory of why that is. I think it’s also a holdover from the tabletop game, where you’ve got the established canon characters living in a city, the player characters, and a few of the storyteller’s OC’s. You don’t expect the poor storyteller to come up with a whole functioning Kindred community, so your average game might have about a dozen or so vampire characters. Though, that population number makes many vampire conflicts seem sillier and pettier. All that political maneuvering and deception just to rule over about eleven other dudes. But I guess that’s that’s the point, ain’t it? Despite half of the city being a warzone where even the police fear to tread, the city still gets over ten million tourists visiting a year. Disaster tourism, I guess. Combined with the regular political changing of the guard resulting in a constantly shifting population, a city that can usually fit in a dozen vamps can fit several dozen. quote:Last night, the Red Death had lowered that number by two. This evening, Makish planned to continue that trend. Following the instructions of his grisly employer, the Assamite intended to wipe out more than a quarter of the Kindred residing in Washington. It was an ambitious plan, but Makish enjoyed challenges. The Red Death had proposed a sliding-scale bounty for each vampire slain. The greater the number killed, the larger the reward per Final Death. Tonight, Makish was feeling very greedy. And quite lethal. Makish’s target this chapter is in a “popular private men’s club” called The Deadlands, located in Anacostia. quote:It was located east of the Anacostia river in one of the worst neighborhoods in Washington. Hopefully Anacostia’s being portrayed like this because it’s the World of Darkness, a Harsher, Crueler Version of Our World, and not because it’s a low-income black neighborhood. quote:No one visited The Deadlands without a bodyguard. Or tried to enter without an invitation. The club’s owned by an eighth-generation Toreador named John Thompson, a Camarilla liaison with the U.S. government who controlled several powerful politicians by, well, pimping to them. quote:Well connected with the most corrupt power mongers in the capital, Thompson worked hard to satisfy the most decadent wishes of his establishment’s exclusive membership. Unfortunately for his “employees”, Thompson’s pimping style seems to be a Littlefinger as Jeff Epstein kind of deal, his services ranging from offering your typical vanilla paid sex to crueler fair. quote:No desire was too extreme for those who frequented the Deadlands. Sex and drugs were the norm. Orgies took place every night. Sadism, torture, even ritual sacrifice could be experienced—for the right price. More than one tax increase had been passed to help pay Thompson’s fee for a Congressman’s outrageous request. You know what’s sad? In this real life hellworld, if politicians were paying to torture and murder prostitutes with their constituents’ tax money, would we even be surprised at this point? Plus, a chunk of the country would suddenly become openly pro prostitute murder and pay more money in taxes to “trigger the libs.” Despite being Camarilla, Thompson’s business practices sound like something a Toreador antitribu would do, those guys finding beauty in the suffering of others. Makish seems to agree. quote:Makish was, in his own twisted manner, a highly moral individual. He considered Thompson a necessary but unfortunate link between the world of the living and undead. To ensure their safety, Kindred needed control over important people in government. That much Makish accepted. The assassin, however, found extremely distasteful the constant pandering to the basest instincts of the politicians. He felt such acts put the Camarilla on the same level as the hated Sabbat. Removing Thompson promised to be an enjoyable artistic endeavor. Makish arrives at the club just after 1:00 am, with a bag full of handy assassin gadgets. He’s already in high spirits because he killed three racist thugs who tried to jump him on his walk to the club. quote:Before attacking, they had stupidly made several insulting remarks about the color of his skin and the nature of his ancestors. It had been bad judgement on their part. The Assamite had strangled the trio with their own intestines. Makish considered the horrified look of stunned disbelief in their eyes as they choked to death adequate repayment for their affronts to his dignity. The club’s front entrance guarded by a half-dozen brick shithouse ghouls openly carrying AK-47′s. quote:No police patrolled this section of the capital. None dared. More likely the ghouls look white enough to carry assault rifles in an American city, so the cops leave them alone. quote:Makish smiled and shook his head. Like too many of the Kindred, Thompson had grown complacent. He believed himself invulnerable. Dealing with ordinary humans had dulled the edge of his wits. Ghouls were stronger and faster and deadlier. However, they lacked imagination and realization what a truly powerful Kindred could do if provoked. The Red Death mocked Kindred who depended on basic technology like security cameras. Madeleine Giovanni tore through the Mausoleum’s defenses and criticized its dependence on ghouls. Now Makish is doing the same. Is there any kind of security method these undead pricks don’t smugly look down on? I’m starting to think Vampire: The Masquerade should have kept the “vampires need to be invited in” rule. Wait, I remember now. Madeleine couldn’t infiltrate Don Caravelli’s hideout. ‘Course, what defenses he has, beyond Kindred bodyguards, are suspiciously unmentioned. quote:They were no match for an Assamite assassin. Especially this particular Assamite assassin. A direct assault would take too much time and give Thompson a chance to escape the surroundings. But there was more than one way to enter a fortress. Any fortress. The Assamite Clan was renamed the Banu Haqim in v5, and the term “Assamite” was changed into a disparaging nickname. At first I thought this change was because Assamite may have been a slur, but every google result leads to something V:TM related. It looks like Assamite’s just the word “assassin” changed up, making phrases like “Assamite assassin” sound redundant. No insensitivity in this case. Just a stupid name. Makish does some rooftop hopping to get to The Deadlands. quote:The club was less than thirty feet away. The ghouls never looked up. John Thompson exclusively ghouls stealth game NPCs. The Deadlands is a rebuilt and reinforced Victorian mansion. Pretty extensively rebuilt too, since it’s five stories tall and Victorian homes typically had only two or three. It has alarms and motion detectors embedded in the roof and gables, which don’t go off when Makish lands on it. quote:The Assamite had mentally locked them into their present setting. Makish possessed incredible powers over machinery This again. I did some digging and learned there’s a branch of Thaumatergy called the Path of Technomancy. It could allow Makish to do this, but it was introduced in the Revised version of the Camarilla sourcebook released in 1999, four years after Blood War was published. It could also be a form of telekinesis. Whatever the case, it’s still a bullshit power to bust out so casually. It isn’t even unique to Makish. Sensing that the only people on the top floor are two humans “engaged in an act of passion,” he hardens his fingers, peels off a section of the roof, and jumps down. quote:Thompson was two levels down, talking business with a pair of potential customers. Running on a tight schedule, Makish had no time for subtlety. He planned leaving no survivors of his attacks. While he disliked killing innocent bystanders, these lawmakers could hardly be described as guiltless. Murdering them was probably doing their constituents a favor. The moment Makish enters, his stealth rating is immediately ruined. Those two mortals banging in another room? The ones Makish specifically noted and decided were unlikely to notice him entering? Makish was so busy fantasizing about killing corrupt politicians that he didn’t notice one of the pair, a high-priced prostitute, rush out of the room until she starts screaming. He quickly reads her mind, because he didn’t have enough powers. Look, he’s a thousand years old, so he gets a shmorgishborg of disciplines. He learns that her john, an old gently caress of a senator, had a heart attack during his throes of passion. Classic scenario, I know. She ran out to find help, only to find this random Indian guy breaking in through a hole in the roof. I’d like to say things go well for the woman. That Makish can also erase memories and wipes her mind so she forgets ever seeing him, or that he just knocked her out. But this is a dark fantasy story, and typical of dark fantasy, the sex worker dies. quote:“My apologies," said Makish regretfully and slapped the screaming woman hard across the temple. The blow instantly shattered her skull and she collapsed on the floor in a pool of blood. Oh Makish. You were almost the most heroic character in this book. But hey, at least he feels sorry about it, eh? Eh? Eh. He then checks on the senator in the room she ran out of, dragging her corpse along with him. quote:The senator lay on the bed, clutching his chest, gasping for breath. He had suffered a minor coronary. Enough to incapacitate him, but not to kill. Makish completed the job by tearing out the man’s heart. Unnecessary, but I’m not going to judge him for that one. quote:Casually, he threw the woman’s body across the politician’s. United in life, he felt it proper that they should be united in death. This I’ll judge him for. You already killed the poor woman, you don’t have to make it worse by trying to symbolically link her with the gross old guy she was paid to gently caress. Friggin’ artists… quote:Alarms, activated by the girl’s screams, were ringing throughout the house. You ask me, scream-activated alarms aren’t a good idea to have in a whorehouse. Seriously though, a guard must have heard the screaming and sounded the alarm. Makish doesn’t use his maybe-tehcnomancy to turn them off. quote:He preferred minor chaos when he worked. Confusion served him well. Makish hurries downstairs and bumps into three armed ghouls. Pretending to be a terrified innocent bystander, he points them upstairs, telling them the now-dead senator might be dying. Then he tears out there throats as they run past him. There aren’t any more interruptions on his way to Thompson’s office. He slips in, nods pleasantly to the two politicians inside, then kills them by smashing their heads together. quote:Thompson, a short, squat man with a huge handlebar mustache, gaped in astonishment. Toreador are stereotyped as the Beautiful Vampires, but for every sexy Toreador you get an average-looking schlub like Isaac Abrams from Bloodlines and this guy. And no, I’m not giving him any points for the mustache. People with handlebar mustaches after 1900 are compensating for having no personality. quote:"Who-who are you?" he asked. On the one hand, I love that Red D.’s canonically a bad writer. On the other, this is written by an actual writer who’s allergic to contractions, so we really do have to be told when the dialogue is intentionally bad. quote:"For too many years your presence in this city has offended the Sabbat. Tonight that insult ends." You’d think being recorded claiming to represent the Sabbat would cause Makish future trouble getting Camarilla contracts, but he doesn’t look worried about it. Thompson tries to stall for time, saying they can make a deal, but Makish already read his mind and knows about the already-pressed security button under his desk, and the hidden emergency escape passage nearby. quote:Makish toyed with the idea of letting Thompson escape into the passage, extending the hunt by a few minutes. It appealed to his sense of irony. But business was business and he had numerous other killings to perform tonight. Sometimes art had to be sacrificed in the name of expediency. And sometimes expediency is needed to get an artist to make art at all. Am I right or am I right? Makish reaches into his assassin bag and pulls out a big-rear end wooden stake. Thompson shrieks and tries to escape, but Makish quickly stakes him in the heart. quote:Contrary to popular belief, a wooden stake didn’t kill a vampire. However, it did paralyze the Cainite until removed. Thompson was unharmed, merely immobilized. Which was exactly what Makish wanted. I’d like to thank Weinberg for not subjecting us to yet another one of those “everything the movies say about vampires is bullshit” speeches that’s in every other vampire story. Even Bloodlines couldn’t resist one. Also, “unharmed” like stabbing someone in the chest with a big wooden spike leaves no mark. Next out of Makish’s bag is a roll of gray tape and “a small circular device two inches in diameter.” He also technomances all the recording devices off. quote:He preferred not displaying his special toys to the eyes of either the Camarilla or the Sabbat. His fondness for Thermit was well known. Death by high explosives was Makish’s favorite artistic expression. This is one of those scenes that’s stuck with me since I first read this book all those years ago. The way Makish kills Thompson is actually pretty awesome, and is a better example of an “artistic kill” than just disemboweling someone in one quick blow. Just ignore how he’s able to do all this so quickly, before the ghouls Thompson summoned reach the office. quote:"Open wide, please," said Makish politely, and with one hand forced the round ball into Thompson’s mouth. A thin strand of wire connected the device to the stake buried in the vampire’s chest. Carefully Makish wound the heavy-duty tape around his victim’s mouth and upper body. Reinforced with optical fiberglass threads, the tape was nearly indestructible. It could not be torn, only unraveled. Taking it off required hours of hard work. Removing the stake, though, took much less effort. Funny story about this scene. Like I said, this kill made such an impression on me I still remembered it twenty years later. But over that time, I forgot certain other details about the story. Like Makish. As in, I forgot the character existed at all. The same thing happened with Mad-Eye Moody between Harry Potter books. I read Order of the Phoenix when it came out, several years after The Prisoner of Azkaban, and thought “Wait, who’s this guy with the fake eye? Is he important?” While I was forgetting details about Blood War, I’d been reading online discussions about Bloodlines after it came out. I’d never played the game before 2019, but I knew a bit about the plot, characters, and notable events… I’d say through cultural osmosis, but let’s be real, Bloodlines was hardly popular enough to be called part of a culture. I was just good at remembering useless geek crap with no real-world applicability. The stuff I knew about the game included a character in it who also made an impressive kill using explosives. What I’m saying is, memories blurred together and for several years and until now, I would have sworn the killer in this scene was Smiling Jack. Now I know Jack was introduced in Bloodlines, but just a year ago I’d thought that maybe he was a character from the tabletop or an early novel, like Beckett. Also, I misremembered his name as Mad Jack. Long story short, I read the book, learned about Makish, went “oh”, remembered that my family has a history of senility, and sunk into existential despair. quote:The explosion was so loud that Makish heard it two blocks from The Deadlands. He nodded in satisfaction, deciding it was an excellent beginning for the evening’s endeavors.
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Mar 24, 2020 03:18
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Part 1, Chapter 12 Or: War and Humility St. Louis—March 13, 1994 We’ve reached the penultimate chapter of Part 1, and the last Dire McCann chapter until Part 3. quote:The Prince held his council of war in his office at the rear of Club Diabolique. Attending were Vargoss, Flavia, McCann, a ninth-generation Brujah named Darrow, and an eighth-generation Nosferatu known only as "Uglyface" for obvious reasons. “McCann, Flavia, the Sabbat have struck! This insult will not stand! Summon two other guys!” Darrow is Vargoss’ policy adviser. He seems like your stereotypical Brujah; rides a Harley, black leather outfit, body covered in tattoos. In reality, we’re told, “Darrow was no rebel.” quote:He had spent most of his life serving as an officer in the British Army. He had participated in many of the major campaigns of the 19th century and was the veteran of a hundred battles. He was a calm voice of reason, not afraid to contradict the Prince when Vargoss was wrong. He might not be a molotov-cocktail-throwing anarchist, but Darrow’s not that much of a subversion of Brujah Kindred. He’s what you’d imagine a Camarilla Brujah is like: the voice of reason and superego, not afraid to stand up to the authoritarian Ventrue or the “ooh, shiny!” Toreador. You ever wonder how the “rebel clan” fit in with the undead equivalent of The Man? There you go. As of v5, the Brujah have (violently) left the Camarilla, so the clan as a whole has its limits of how much of the Establishment they’re willing to take. Uglyface, meanwhile, has the prestigious title of Minister of Intelligence to counter his less prestigious name. quote:No one in St. Louis knew much about Uglyface’s background. “Uglyface” is a lazy and vague name to give a Nosferatu character. You ask around for a Nosferatu named Uglyface and you’ll be asked to be more specific. It’s like nicknaming a guy on a basketball team “Tallman” or a self-described gamer “Badperson”. quote:“Nearly seven feet tall and thin as a rail, he had lived in the city longer than any vampire. His face came from a Gahan Wilson cartoon—wide, bulging eyes, tiny button nose, a wide mouth full of yellow teeth, and ears that stuck out like antennae from the sides of his head.   Gahan Wilson was a cartoonist who did work for Playboy, The New Yorker, and National Lampoon, among other things, for almost fifty years. quote:Uglyface’s grotesque features branded him an idiot. He was not. The Nosferatu vampire possessed an incredible memory for names, dates, and facts. Like many of his clan, he thrived on gathering and processing raw data into usable information. There’re Brujah who aren’t rebels, Gangrels who live in cities, and Ventrue who don’t automatically think they have the divine right of kings, but do you ever see a Nosferatu who isn’t a huge nerd? quote:"The Red Death struck three times in America last night," said Vargoss, resting his arms on his desk. He was obviously concerned. Troubled eyes stared at the trio facing him. To the rear, on guard as always, was Flavia. She was no longer in white leather but in black. And for the first time in decades, she stood alone. It’s rare for a vampire to wear black out of genuine mourning, rather than just to be evil and goth. Vargoss continues on saying he’s received reports about more attacks in Europe; the one at the Louvre, where five Kindred were killed (the number of ghoul deaths aren’t mentioned because Kindred are huge assholes), and one we didn’t see in Marseilles, where two died during a Ventrue clan meeting. Not very large numbers there, but in total there had been six attacks over the last twenty-four hours with a total of thirty-five Kindred killed, or “sent to their Final Deaths” because vamps are overly semantic about being undead. McCann notes how fast Red D.’s moving in order to kill that many vampires around the world in a single day. Darrow voices his and McCann’s shared suspicion: that there may be more than one Red Death. Only he says it more Britishy. quote:"Are we positive it is the same bloke?" […] "That bloody mockery of a face of ‘is was awfully distinctive. Maybe it was meant to attract attention, aye? Any Kindred adept at sculpting flesh could rearrange his features into that grotesque mask. Instead of dealing with a single Red Death, we may be faced with several. Maybe an entire Sabbat pack made a pact with a demon.” “Sculpting flesh” is referencing- No, wait, screw it. We’ve got a lot to cover and I don’t feel like going on a Tzimisce tangent. quote:"Following that same line of reasoning, are you convinced the Red Death was a vampire?" asked McCann. The detective was anxious to establish certain facts he already knew as truth. “Are Gangrels just Brujah furries? Do we really hate Scrappy Doo or are we just repeating a forty-year-old meme? Does anyone else miss dodgeball?” quote:"The abomination belonged to the Kindred," said Vargoss, angrily. "My will touched his when I commanded him to stop.” It’s only gay if the wills touch. quote:“Blood called out to blood, McCann. The Red Death was definitely one of the Damned." McCann plays dumb, asking if there are any disciplines capable of turning a vampire into a being composed of living fire. quote:"None practiced among the Camarilla," said Uglyface. His high-pitched voice squeaked like a cartoon character’s. Vargoss believes Darrow’s right about the Red Death being from the Sabbat. He claims they’re “demon lovers” who “mock the power of the flames” and cites a ritual of theirs called, creatively, the Fire Dance as proof. That’s where Sabbat pack members prove their loyalty and bravery, or just to psych themselves up before a battle, by dancing around and eventually jumping through a bonfire (though Vargoss says it’s a funeral pyre) without flipping out and running away. Any similarities between this evil Sabbot ritual and certain real-life cultures’ rituals are unintentional on White Wolf’s part. Hopefully. quote:"Sorry," said McCann, "but I don’t accept those kinds of deductions. I’m a detective, remember? Let’s use a bit of logic. Leaping over a fire like Jack-Be-Nimble is a lot different than burning your footprints into the floor." Turn the condescension down a bit there, hoss. You may be the Dark Messiah but you’re no Beckett. Tacktlessness aside, McCann’s got a point and starts poking holes in the Red Death’s cover story. He says while he doesn’t discount the Sabbat being responsible he wonders why, during the Sabbot’s five-century-long war with the Camarilla, they’ve never busted out these Red Death attacks until now. Darrow again sides with McCann and gives us a rundown on Sabbat invasion tactics. quote:"These friggin’ attacks make no sense. Usually the Sabbat spends years organizing a Crusade to take over a city. We all knows the procedures. First they send in the spies. Then they place traitors into the Kindred council of elders. Next comes their efforts to expose the Masquerade through carefully planned acts of murder and terrorism. And then, during the resulting chaos, they attack in overwhelming numbers, exterminating any vampires they cannot convert to their cause. There’s no place for the Red Death in such plans." Uglyface suggests maybe they’ve finally come up with a new strategy, using the Red Death to wipe out a city’s Camarilla elders in one night instead of spending time and resources on a Crusade. McCann counters, saying that’s not what happened, at least in their case. Vargoss isn’t dead (and remember when McCann noticed the Red Death hesitate to kill Vargoss until the twins could save him?), the Sabbat aren’t invading, and while he killed a few Kindred, they were mostly later-generation, weaker, vampires. Aside from trimming the population and scaring the bejeezus out of everyone, nothing’s changed. With a “Bloody hell” Darrow says that they’re missing the most important question: Why did the Red Death attack a little nothing city like St. Louis in the first place? quote:"No offense, my Prince, but St. Louis ain’t a major Sabbat target. Leastwise, not according to our intelligence reports. Good save, Darrow. quote:They have their eyes on bigger, more important cities. Way to blow the save, Darrow. quote:What made us so bloody special we warranted the friggin’ attention of this fire monster?" The Red Death needs access to Monsanto. He’s got this hilarious idea for a prank involving Roundup and cancer. quote:"No offense taken, Darrow," said Vargoss. "I value your honesty more than any flattery. And your point is well presented." Vargoss may be a dick at times, but after Bloodlines and L.A. by Night, it’s nice to see a Camarilla Prince who has his poo poo together. Vargoss had been discussing the matter with other Camarilla elders and as far as they can tell, St. Louis was the first stop in the Red Death’s rampage. The question is why? McCann suspects Red D. came for him, but obviously he’s not going to say that. Instead he fingers the late Tyrus Benedict. This prompts Vargoss to pull out a several-page-long fax from the Tremere HQ in Vienna, written by “Etrius himself.” McCann’s not only a magic man and a secret Methuselah, but he’s also “a student of Tremere history and organization,” so he recognizes the name. Etrius is the head of the Tremere Inner Council of Seven. quote:Etrius served as the guardian of the founder of the clan of undead wizards, the powerful sorcerer known as Tremere. The vampire himself lay dormant in torpor in a stone sarcophagus in the catacombs beneath Vienna. Strange rumors swirled about regarding the condition of Tremere’s body. Rumors that Etrius refused to confirm or deny. Etrius is both an established character in Vampire: The Masquerade and a viewpoint character we’ll see in Chapter 8 of Part 2. Etrius, “a cold, merciless bastard like all of his clan" according to Vargoss, didn’t care much about Benedict’s death but was interested in the Red Death and his fire powers. quote:"No bloody surprise, that," said Darrow. Like most Kindred, he feared and distrusted the Tremere. Though they protested that they were loyal members of the Camarilla, everyone knew that the wizards worked for their own ends. And those plans they kept to themselves. "What those devils would give to wield a power like the Red Death! They’d probably burn us all off the map. And laugh at us for providing the information while they did it!" Yep, everyone hates the Tremere. So much so that their clan weakness in Bloodlines 2 is going to be taking more damage from Kindred enemies. Other vampires hate them so much they’re inspired to punch a Tremere just a little harder in the face than usual. quote:Vargoss nodded. What small trust he had in the Tremere vanished when his closest advisor, Mosfair, turned on him a few months ago. Only McCann’s intervention had saved the Prince from the ultimate betrayal. The detective had never revealed that Mosfair had actually been acting as an agent for the Sabbat, not his own clan. McCann disliked alliances between the major Kindred bloodlines. And he worked very hard to prevent them from succeeding. Considering the two biggest Kindred sects are alliances between major bloodlines, somewhere along the way McCann hosed up big time. And wasn't it just established that the Sabbat had no interest in St. Louis? But as untrustworthy and scheming as the Tremere are, Vargoss reveals the fax dropped a bombshell on them. Benedict had visited to warn about the total blackout, the Shadow Curtain, of Kindred activity in Russia, and show Vargoss the photos of the Niktuku Baba Yaga the Tremere obtained. But Etrius says he was only sent to St. Louis to personally apologize for Mosfair’s actions and be all “the actions of this employee do not represent the views of the company.” Benedict wasn't supposed to have any documents on him about Baba Yaga or Russia. quote:The Prince paused, obviously enjoying the astonished looks on his advisors’ faces. Vargoss possessed a strong sense of the dramatic. A vampire with a strong sense of the dramatic. Imagine. Etrius also said that while Benedict got the basic facts right, no one the Tremere sent into Russia ever returned, with or without photos. Etrius didn’t know about any photos or Baba Yaga’s Army of Night. Darrow suggests the obvious, that the “slimy wizard” is lying, but Vargoss believed the fax. Its tone suggested Etrius was deeply disturbed by the news and asked Vargoss to give him every detail Benedict said about Baba Yaga. quote:"According to the ancient legends of my clan," said Uglyface, "the Iron Hag was the greatest sorceress in the world. She was one of the Niktuku, monsters created by Absimiliard, the first Nosferatu, in his days of madness." Father Naples in the prologue described the Niktuku as fourth generation Nosferatu. The book generally goes with that description and so have I so far, but there’s another theory about them, possibly hinted by Uglyface here. Niktuku aren’t just fourth generation Nosferatu, or even uniformly fourth generation, but a separate “minor” bloodline altogether. Absimiliard thinks that if he wipes out his progeny, the modern Nosferatu, Caine will forgive him and lift his curse, and Absimiliard’ll get his good looks back. So he created the Niktuku to serve him and kill Nosferatu. There could be Niktuku with generations higher then four, but they’re all low generation and very old. But it’s just a theory, another one of those things kept deliberately vague in the setting, being true or not depending on what the storyteller desires. What is known is that sometime in the late 90′s another Niktuku killed Baba Yaga and ended the Shadow Curtain. Right now though, in 1994, Baba Yaga’s alive and a problem. quote:"Her powers rivaled those of Lameth, the Dark Messiah." “Yes, yes, she sounds like a powerful but clearly inferior rival to Lameth the Handsome, but if we can get back to Benedict-” “Actually as a “Who said- Um, ahem, that’s nice, Uglyface, but about Benedict-” “Yes, good Noferatu, they also say Lameth’s attempts at Jyhad were to compensate for—how should I say this in polite company?—having a ‘blunt fang.’” “…Interesting, my Prince, but back to-” “Blunt fang’s just a fancy way of saying ‘is willy didn’t work, innit?” “Indeed, his penis was impotent and also small.” “OH COME ON!” quote:"No wonder the notion upsets Etrius. Messing with the mind of a wizard is no job for a lightweight." “Oh I wouldn’t go that far, McCann. Remember when Darrow told you having a hand bigger than your face meant you had cancer?” “Yeah, and yeh put yer ‘and up in front of yer wizard mug and I made yeh slap yerself!” “My Prince, Darrow, I’m clearly talking about brainwashing, not childish pranks.” “Childish pranks yeh walked right into, guv’.” “Yes, McCann, your affable buffoonishness reminds me very much of Lameth the Dark Mes-” “Stay on topic stay on topic STAY ON TOPIC!” quote:"I asked Uglyface earlier to backtrack Benedict’s trip," said Vargoss. The Prince shifted his attention to the Nosferatu. "What did you learn?" Uglyface gives three important details; that Benedict used “unconventional” methods of transportation, that he arrived in Washington, D.C. three nights ago, and that he couldn’t get in contact with his usual Washington source, a friend named Amos. None of his messages were answered. The second detail catches McCann’s attention. If Benedict arrived in D.C. three nights ago, and arrived just last night, it leaves one unaccounted for night where he could have been mind whammied. Vargoss brings up the Sabbat again, since they have their eye on conquering Washington. Darrow says that D.C.’s still a Camarilla stronghold, and the Tremere are powerful there. He namedrops some more established characters and explains some of their politics that he knows about for some reason. quote:"Peter Dorfman is Pontifex (high-ranking Tremere who answers directly to a member of the Council of Seven) there, and he is very ambitious. For all we know, Benedict may have received new instructions from a member of his own bloodline there. There’s a bitter rivalry between Dorfman and other Tremere elders. Meerlinda, leader of the U.S. branch of the clan, plays one against the other in order to maintain absolute control of the bloodline. In turn, she and Etrius both scheme to take charge of the entire clan. It’s a frigging bloody mess, and anything’s possible." If some Brujah in another city can figure out your plans, you’re not exactly a subtle schemer. So the two leading theories among the group about what happened to Benedict are Sabbat brainwashing or inter-clan Tremere bullshit. But what, if anything, does any of that have to do with the Red Death? Whatever’s true, Vargoss decides that the only way to learn what the hell’s going on is to send someone to Washington and do some snooping. quote:All eyes focused on McCann. The detective laughed. Along with this being McCann’s job and everything, he can also work during the day while the Kindred are sleeping and helpless, so that’s a plus. quote:"Yeah, and I have my mage powers to protect me," said McCann. "Not that they would do much good if I stumble upon the Red Death." Yeah, what could a reality-shaping World of Darkness mage do to a vampire? Make him explode only a little? quote:"I assume you’re willing to pay well for this scouting expedition?" “Am I chopped liver or wot? I’m supposed to be the honest one.” “Yes, Darrow, but you’re not honestly greedy.” “I can be honestly greedy. I ‘ave needs.” “I already pay you in beer.” “American beer.” It seems like the matter’s settled, but then Flavia, remembering that she became a real character back in Chapter 5, whispers something in Vargoss’ ear. He excuses himself and leaves the office with his bodyguard. The three still in the office play some gin rummy until Vargoss and Flavia quickly return. quote:"The plans have been altered slightly," announced the Prince, taking his seat. Flavia returned to her position at his right. "You are still traveling to Washington, McCann. But you are not going alone. Flavia is going to accompany you." [live studio audience laughter] quote:"Flavia argues convincingly that a lone human, even a mage, cannot stand against the concentrated attack of a Sabbat pack. Considering this franchise, and this fanbase? That’s a molotov cocktail of a statement if there ever was one. quote:‘Especially if the Red Death is involved. Besides which, Flavia has contacts with the important Camarilla leaders of the city. I am forced to agree. She is right. You need protection and introductions. And she is the one Kindred who is capable of providing you with both. Darrow will take her place at my side during her absence." “In addition, the large amount of tourists Washington attracts each year makes it very likely that the only hotel room you will be able to secure will be one with a single bed. Flavia convincingly argues she must be there in such a situation, in order to provide both sitcom hilarity and sexual tension.” quote:"I work on my own," said McCann, feeling trapped. “And you will provide me with inspiration for the fanfiction I am writing about the two of you.” quote:"As you command," said McCann, bowing to the inevitable. "It should be an interesting trip." McCann dry heaved. She blew a kiss. McCann projectile vomited. She pelvic thrusted victoriously.
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Apr 23, 2020 18:34
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Part 1, Chapter 13 Or: Encyclopedia Vampirica Paris—March 14, 1994 quote:Paris is a city of many mysteries. Take, for example, the electric power lines leading into the foundation of Notre Dame Cathedral. No records exist showing why the cables are there or where they lead. They are live wires, supplying electricity to a location somewhere beneath the church. Since no one complains about the lines, the powers that be in the public works department leave them strictly alone. The policy, as in most big-city administrations, is, if it isn’t broke, don’t fix it. The first page and a half of Chapter 13 is about describing several weird things about the city and how Phantomas is responsible for all of them. The most interesting what-was-Stonehenge-type mystery (or would be if we didn’t already know the truth) is the network of underground tunnels under the city, not to be confused with the Catacombs. quote:Located hundreds of feet beneath the ground, these passages are not the result of any known city engineering project. Impossible to reach, no man has walked through them in public memory. Beats me how mortals were able to learn about the tunnels when they can’t even get to them. Maybe they used a ground penetrating radar, but modern ones can only reach a hundred feet at best. No one knows who built the tunnels or when, but official policy, considered ludicrous in-universe, is that they’re the remains of an underground Roman fortress. ‘Course, we already know from the first Phantomas chapter that the tunnels are for the old vampire’s personal use. The tunnels aside, the mysteries described in this chapter are more along the lines of modern infrastructure quirks like the power lines. There’s a two hundered year-old Vert-Galant warehouse whose owners’ identities through the centuries are unknown to everyone but whose rent is paid promptly by a Swiss bank cashier’s check each month. Shipments of computer supplies and expensive art prints are delivered to the warehouse, but nothing is ever shipped out and no one knows what happens to the deliveries. The clerks who work in it are paid stupidly well not to ask. quote:Phantomas knew the truth lurking behind the mysteries. The power lines snaked down to his hidden lair deep beneath the Crypte Archeologique in the main square fronting Notre Dame. The tunnels, constructed in secret over the centuries through subterfuge and deception, provided him with access to hundreds of locations in Paris. The warehouse belonged to him and the purchases were made through the convenience of ordering merchandise by computer. What he used the warehouse for during the 190 years before online shopping isn’t said. quote:The necessary capital came from his bank account in Switzerland. The funds had been raised over the centuries by the judicious use of blackmail among the rich and famous of Paris. No one, living or undead, in the vast metropolis could keep a secret from the prying eyes and ears of Phantomas. In short, all of Paris’ little mysteries are funded by centuries of upper class sins to power and maintain a vampire’s PC. Which is where we find ol’ Phantomas. He’d spent the past few hours on a computer terminal trying to find anything on the Red Death, only to find nothing. A scholar in life and a Nosferatu in death, Phantomas is obsessed with information. Despite reaching that age where passions are long since cooled and when, as the prologue indicated, he should’ve started craving only the blood of other Kindred, Phantomas maintained a passion for knowledge. quote:Phantomas lived for facts. He collected them, saved them, ordered them, and tried to weave them into a pattern. Especially facts concerning vampires. Phantomas hasn’t been searching for “Red Death” on Ask Jeeves. He has his own personal database. Here we learn about Phantomas’ “great project” and why the Red Death had called him “the meddling record keeper.” For the past millennium, he’d been writing an encyclopedia about the Kindred. quote:A thousand years ago he had conceived of his great project involving the history of the Kindred. He had been working on this masterpiece of information ever since. It was his obsession, his dream. […] It contained every fact, every scrap of information he had been able to learn about the Cainites during the past millennium. This reminds me of a Tumblr threadI read about the idea of vampires using their immortality to focus on their unimportant personal hobbies, like creating new plant hybrids through a century of cross-breeding. Not evil magic plants either, just regular garden stuff. quote:The invention of computers had greatly helped his work, eliminating the tedious work of hand-writing the information into journals. Also, the powerful database he used enabled him to cross-reference millions of vampiric acts, establishing clear links between hundreds of seemingly unrelated incidents and occurrences. Search engines and tabs understandably being a bigger deal back in ‘94. The most important feature of Phantomas’ project is a “family tree” of the Kindred, starting with Caine and including enough vampires for him to consider it “the most complete family tree ever attempted of the Kindred race.” quote:Along with describing each Kindred’s relationship to the other Cainites, the chart also featured a detailed biographical profile of the vampire. This recorded genealogy, backed up by “a hundred different sources,” includes thousands of Methuselahs and other one thousand plus year-old vampires that could potentially fit the Red Death’s profile, but so far it hasn’t helped. About those sources, or at least the modern ones. Despite his age, it turns out Phantomas is one of the few vampires who can keep up with the times. quote:Phantomas had been using computers since their invention and was perhaps the greatest hacker in the world. He could access the files from any major data bank or information file. No security code was safe from his descramble program. The secrets of the world were at his gnarled fingertips. You’re never too old to hack the planet. I’d be annoyed that we have yet another character who has to be the greatest or most whatever in the world, but it’s all in service of his hobby and he doesn’t seem to be the unknown power behind a major historical event like Troile’s diablerie of his sire or the rise of the Giovanni, so I’ll let it slide. quote:Most of Phantomas’ data came from the mainframes used by the Camarilla and the Sabbat. Both sects maintained extensive code-word systems to protect their files from their hated enemy. Neither were aware that a third party, uninvolved in their blood war, had been stealing data from them for years. Phantomas had to sift through mountains of awful Toreador poetry and Tzimisce how-to guides on gift wrapping using only one toddler, but he’s tough. He can endure. Phantomas also gets his info from the usual sources: the CIA, SAS, CID, Sûreté, Mossad, and KGB. quote:He was insatiable in his quest to make his encyclopedia as accurate as possible. That it was never seen by anyone else didn’t matter. Phantomas worked for his own satisfaction. Yeah, but when social media gets started, we’ll see if Phantomas can resist dumping the whole thing on ShreckNet MySpace. Speaking of ShreckNet, that’s the secret vampire dark web created, maintained, and used mainly by Clan Nosferatu. I’ve heard that writers used to like to emphasize it’s security, like in Bloodlines when Mitnick talks about wrecking several computers just to break into an unimportant ShreckNet server, so I thought it was weird that Weinberg resisted the urge to namedrop it as one of the databases his greatest hacker character broke into. I looked it up and it looks like ShreckNet wasn’t a part of the lore until the release of the revised Nosferatu sourcebook in 2000. So there you are, if you were wondering. Phantomas has also got taps on phone company computers all over the world, getting more intel on the Red Death’s attacks on Camarilla strongholds. quote:Together with his own information on the monster’s appearance in Paris, Phantomas had fed the encapsulated data into his computer. Then he had programmed the machine to search and evaluate his files for those Kindred powerful enough to wield the powers of the Red Death. He purposefully had the machine eliminate the thirteen members of the third generation of vampires. It wouldn’t require a computer to tell when they had arisen from their ages-long torpor. After initiating the search, he realizes he forgot to exclude Caine and the second generation, and has to start the whole thing over again in the age of dial-up. (No, not really.) His proto-Google showed twenty-seven possible Red Death identities. Then he does a second search, eliminating any vampire either “engaged in major blood feuds” for whatever reason or in torpor. quote:To Phantomas’ frustration, the procedure left two possible names, neither covered in his files of biographies— Boy oh boy, I wonder who they could be… quote:Anis, Queen of Night, and Lameth, the Dark Messiah. Both were legendary figures of the fourth generation. But among the Kindred, legends often were based in fact. “Queen of Night,” huh? That’s a kinda generic title for a woman vampire. I might’ve talked trash about Lameth’s title, but it’s a little better than Queen of Night. And given how petty immortals in stories like this tend to be, you’d think an Antediluvian woman like Arikel or Ennoia would have shut this poo poo from an upstart Methuselah down long ago. I’m also gonna go out on a limb and say that, from what we’ve seen of her characterization and how we’ve yet to see the Red Death feel up his own amazing tits while talking about the power of passion, she isn’t our culprit. We’re given summaries of the two Methuselahs. Lameth, as we already know, was a powerful sorcerer, considered the greatest one “to ever walk the earth,” believed to have been taught by “one of the primeval forces that had once walked the earth,” but no two tales can agree on which. We’re then finally told how he got his grandiose title. quote:According to myth, Lameth discovered a potion that artificially induced Golconda, the mental state that allowed vampires to exist in perfect harmony with their surroundings. Whoever controlled the elixir controlled the Kindred. That was why Lameth had been dubbed "The Dark Messiah." He had vanished into the mists of history over five thousand years ago. Though rumors of his meddling in Cainite affairs continued to surface. It’s that time again. Time to pause the story so I can talk about vampire crap. Golconda’s the name for a sort of vampire enlightenment, supposedly discovered by the Salubri Antediluvian Saulot in India and the overall goal of Clan Salubri. Or it was, until Clan Dick Wizards slaughtered them. It’s thought to be complete freedom from the Beast, or the Beast and Human aspects of a vampire’s nature becoming perfectly balanced. What, exactly, any of that means… Early game books gave some suggestions, like no longer going into frenzies, or not needing blood so much, or losing all Kindred weaknesses. Hell, it could even be a full-on cure, turning a vampire back into a mortal and maybe even keeping a few powers. Obviously that last one isn’t very popular among storytellers and players. Later editions made it more vague, and ultimately, it’s another one of those things that’s up to the storyteller. Is it true enlightenment, a balance of one’s two natures, not human yet something beyond Kindred? Some kind of vampire Super Saiyan? Is it true salvation in the eyes of God? Maybe it’s an impossible ideal, something you’re unable to obtain but still something one should strive for, like perfection in your craft or Enuff Dakka. Or maybe it’s all bullshit, a fairy tale believed by the desperate and the misinformed. How you reach Golconda’s also vague, but what’s there’s your typical enlightenment routine. First you’ve gotta find out about it, which isn’t easy thanks again to the dick wizards. Then you’ve gotta maintain your humanity and feel remorse, or in gameplay terms, keep your Humanity stat at 7 or above and never, ever frenzy. While doing that, you make up for any wrongdoings you’ve ever done as much as possible. It’s just like My Name is Earl, only the guy’s atoning for things like “hey, I’m sorry I diablerized your sire” or “Hey, sorry I ghouled your dad and casually killed him to make a point I don’t remember.” During all this, you’ve probably got a guru helping you out. Preferably a real (vampire) guru and not a cult leader or gigolo. If you do all that enough you’ll reach the final step and go into a trance called a suspire, where you’ll have a spirit journey into the self, the soul, or whatever you want to call it. The whole thing’s a test you only get one shot at. If you succeed, congrats, you’ve achieved Golconda! If you fail, it means you’ll never reach Golconda, most likely because your brain broke so hard you’ve turned into a mindless animal. Or you can skip all that and drink a magic elixir. What I’ve learned from fiction and actual real-life religions is that there’s no shortcut to enlightenment. You can’t just do one weird trick and suddenly reach full understanding of yourself and the world. It’s supposed to be a trial. Now, Lameth and Anis believed the elixir would cure them of their compulsion to drink blood, but we don’t know what it actually did yet. We’ll have to wait to see whether the elixir was a lead-in to a moral, something beneficial but mistaken for Golconda after millennia of legends, or actually did induce Golconda and it’s more OP poo poo. It actually did induce Golconda and it’s more OP poo poo. Alright, back to the story. We’ve heard what legends say about Lameth, and now it’s Anis’ turn. quote:Anis, Queen of Night, was a contemporary of Lameth’s. Myths dating back to the Second City held her responsible for the revolt in which the third generation rose up and killed their sires. She did that too? Next you’ll be telling me she was the one who got Caine to kill his brother. quote:She was described as the most beautiful woman who ever walked the Earth (of course she was). And among the most deadly. That’s the third time in a single page the phrase “walked the Earth” was used. You’re a writer and editor, Mr. Weinberg. Stretch those writing chops a little more. quote:The legends of the Second City described Anis as consumed with ambition. She was said to possess seductive charms nearly as intense as Lilith, the lover of Adam and one of the most powerful of demons. To ever walk the Earth, I’m sure. And yeah, of course Lilith would fit into the World of Darkness somewhere. Jewish mythological figure and favorite of Wiccans and occultists everywhere, Lilith was said to be the first wife of Adam, the actual second human created by God and molded equally from the same clay as her husband. Adam wanted her to be subservient to him, so she dumped his rear end, left the Garden of Eden, and started banging demons out of spite. In V:TM’s backstory God cursed her for this, dooming her to never truly know the love of another. Meaning anyone she fancied would ditch her eventually. It was actually Lilith who invented the vampires’ superpowers. She found Caine, injured by all those people pissed at him for inventing murder, healed and fed him, and taught him the powers that would eventually become the Kindred disciplines. Then he ditched her too. In Caine’s defense, it was the curse, and anyway dating his dad’s ex-wife must’ve been too weird for him. But Lilith’s still pissed about it… quote:Anis, too, had disappeared more than five millennia ago. And, like Lameth, rumors of her reappearance circulated constantly among the Kindred. Some say she’s the creature in the Patterson-Gimlin film. Hey, who says standards of beauty weren’t different back in the Second City? Phantomas is frustrated that his only search results are mythological figures, so he changes tactics and looks for powers resembling the Red Death’s fiery death touch. He looks through disciplines, Paths of Enlightenment, and even the latest developments in chemical and biological warfare. He also searches for any mention of demons granting someone powers like it. In the end, he finds jack. quote:The Nosferatu shook his head in distress. Recent reports from America, obtained by phone taps on supposedly safe lines, indicated that there might be more than one Red Death. The possibility of an entire bloodline of vampires not included in his genealogy chart depressed him. He had worked for hundreds of years on his chronology. It was inconceivable that he had missed an entire branch of the Kindred family. Yet the facts seemed to point directly at that conclusion. Poor guy. I’m no historian, but I bet this is something they go through at least once in their lives. Someone out there feels for you, buddy. quote:Phantomas pounded his keyboard in frustration. Phantomas walked so PC gamers could run. quote:Lameth or Anis had to be the Red Death. Or one of them had founded a bloodline, all of whose members possessed the power of the Red Death. That was the only possible solution to the mystery. Still, he was not convinced it was correct. Sherlock Holmes puffed on his pipe thoughtfully. “When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.” “gently caress you, Monsieur Cokehead,” replied Phantomas. quote:Nor did any of his speculations, Phantomas suddenly realized, address the equally mysterious young man who had warned him in advance of the Red Death. And who knew his name. As if set off by this thought, his keyboard, luckily not broken by his mighty undead fists a moment ago, suddenly starts typing on its own. quote:Shocked, Phantomas lifted his hands off the console. The keys continued to type, as if hit by invisible fingers. Reuban’s been watching Ghostwriter. The show’s gonna end in ‘95 so let’s hope he ain’t too big a fan. quote:A single phrase appeared on the computer monitor. “Lonely Single Women in Your Area!” quote:Staring at it, Phantomas shivered. He had no idea what the words meant. Yet he was convinced that his stray thought about the man in the Louvre had triggered this response from his computer. Voice trembling, he read the name aloud. Actually it was “djefhfkhfkffdThe Sheddim.” The narration didn’t say Phantomas deleted the results of his keyboard pounding. Shedim are spirits or demons from early Jewish mythology thought to represent foreign gods, but they have other theorized origins, as the children of Adam and Lilith or humans God didn’t finish making before he rested on the seventh day of creation. We won't learn more about the WOD versions of them until the next book. With that ominous name, this chapter ends and so does Part 1 of Blood War. Part 2 marks a change in viewpoint characters, so we’re gonna take an extended hiatus from Dire McCann, Flavia, Madeleine Giovanni, Phantomas, Makish, and company. We’ll see them again in Part 3, which suits me fine. I need a break from McCann’s “Ohoho, if you only knew what I knew” routine.
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Apr 23, 2020 19:34
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Mumbly posted:[b]Part 1, Chapter 11 And as it turned out, not especially. The book where Mad-eye Moody had the biggest role was Goblet of Fire - and that was some other crazy-rear end wizard pretending to be him. Mumbly posted:
To be fair, Makish would likely prefer that you remembered the artistry of the kill itself, not the actual killer, so you're good.
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Apr 25, 2020 15:09
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Part 2, Chapter 1 Or: Gratuitous? I'll Show You Gratuitous Before starting Part 2, Robert Weinberg gives us another Edgar Allan Poe quote. This one’s from “Ligeia”. quote:That she loved me I should not have doubted; and I might have been easily aware that, in a bosom such as hers, love would have reigned as no ordinary passion. Who could this chapter be about, I wonder? New York, NY—March 14, 1994 quote:The most dangerous woman in the world rose each day with the sun. A strong start so far. From here, the chapter will emphasize four things when introducing our new protagonist, Alicia Varney: she’s super hot, super horny, loves being alive to a decadent degree, and is a ruthless and unapologetic member of the 1%. In that order. Look, it’s the 90′s, this is a nerd property, and the story’s talking about a woman. You knew where this was going. The name “Varney” might be a reference to Varney the Vampire; or, the Feast of Blood by either James Malcolm Rymer or Thomas Peckett Prest. It was a penny dreadful vampire story that predated both Carmilla and Dracula and introduced several classic vampire tropes, like fangs that leave two puncture wounds and hypnotic powers. It’s also remembered for being terrible, so it’s maybe not the best story to associate your own with. As the sun rises, the light shines through her windows and slowly creeps over her lush carpet to her king-size bed. quote:It splashed across bright red silk sheets until it crested like a wave on the nude body of the woman sprawled in deep sleep in the middle of the crimson sea. ‘Cause sleeping naked on top of your bed covers is what anyone does when they live in New York City, a hundred floors up, in mid-March. quote:Her dark hair flared around her head in a halo, the sleeper had the face of an angel. And the body of a devil.  quote:Her features, young and wrinkle-free, glowing pink with perfect health, were those of a twenty-five year old. Her body was taut and lean, well-muscled and deeply bronzed. Firm breasts, long, tapered legs, and flared hips proclaimed her one of those rare beauties who looked exceptional either dressed or undressed. She must also smell like a gym sock dipped in stale perfume, given that she’s just waking up. Quick comparison: In Part 1, Chapter 1 we didn’t get a physical description of McCann for about two and a half pages, and when we did all we were told was that he was a “big, broad-shouldered man” along with his height and weight. Before then we learned his name, profession, the situation he was in, what he’d been doing in the recent past and what he’s doing at present, and some exposition about a different character. For Varney, we get some brief hints at her wealth and power before being presented with a Playboy centerfold description three paragraphs into the first page of the chapter. quote:The sunshine caressed her face, causing the woman to smile in her sleep. Sighing softly, she rolled over, burying her head in the silk. Varney has a grand old time waking up. She wipes the sleep from her eyes (or as we of the lower classes would describe it, scrapes off the hardened crust gluing her eyelids shut), does some lazy, sensual stretches, and shimmies her shoulders and back against the sheets to enjoy the feeling of them against her skin. After that “face of an angel/body of a devil” stuff it’s not like Weinberg was gonna write her groaning, scratching herself, and farting. Still, I gotta call bullshit on this next line. quote:It feels good to be alive, thought Alicia Varney. It feels very good to be alive. I don’t care who you are, how high your Humanity stat is, or how much you love being alive. No one likes waking up at sunrise. Varney shuffles herself over to the intercom on her nightstand to alert the help. quote:“The princess in the tower has arisen,” the young woman declared. Her voice, low and sultry, was as smooth as melted honey. That’d be the morning phlegm doing that. She requests her usual breakfast and says she should be out of the shower by the time it arrives. The voice on the other end of the intercom acknowledging her wishes is a guy named Sanford Jackson, and he’s one of those fictional servants who’d be overqualified for their job if their employer was your average rich person. A former Green Beret and CIA troubleshooter, Jackson now serves as Alicia Varney’s manservant, chauffeur, bodyguard, and all-around sidekick. And emergency cock. quote:During the rare periods where she was without a lover, he handled that job with reasonable competency as well. “Reasonable competency,” hmm? Can’t tell if that’s a playfully coy way of saying he’s an excellent lover or a polite way of saying he’s meh. Whatever his sexual skill level, the thought of Jackson’s “hard, muscular body” excites Varney. For the past few nights she’s been going through one of those previously mentioned rare loverless periods. quote:It was a situation she meant to remedy as soon as possible. Alicia Varney squeezed every drop of pleasure possible out of life. She did not like being denied anything for very long. Still, she’s not quite desperate enough to gently caress the help yet. Smart, since you don’t want a henchman in your stable getting too attached. It could also be evidence for the second of my two theories about Jackson’s Athletics ability. Varney jumps into the shower, and as expected the narration doesn’t waste time on mundane actions like her scrubbing her armpits or rinsing the dandruff off of her scalp. Nor does Weinberg do the average male author thing of writing the woman doing an exotic dance in the shower while describing the water running down this curve and that tit. Nah, he skips all that and has Varney just go for it. quote:A few minutes under hot, pulsating streams of water, along with a session with the magnificent detachable shower nozzle, would serve for the moment. You could give Weinberg credit for writing a woman masturbating for her own pleasure, rather than as foreplay or to show how lonely, pathetic, and manless she is, but keep in mind Varney’s only doing it because she didn’t have the real thing at the moment. quote:But self-stimulation was no substitute for the real thing. Later today she would go on the prowl. She needed a man. We’ve only known Alicia Varney for two pages and I’ve read more about her struggling with her libido than I have Kindred with their inner Beasts since the start of the book. When she steps out of the shower, Jackson has her breakfast prepared in her penthouse. quote:Dressed in a totally transparent dressing robe (because of course she is), Alicia nodded in satisfaction at the three slices of cinnamon French toast, selection of imported fruit jellies, pot of coffee, and copy of the Wall Street Journal. This is very relatable to me. I, too, start my day by eating the Wall Street Journal. She asks Jackson if she has any messages. He says she has a few, but nothing important enough to deal with before breakfast. He stands at attention nearby as she eats, and thanks to that transparent robe he does so literally and euphemistically. quote:Old habits died hard, Jackson never rested easy in the presence of his commanding officer. He always stood at rigid attention in Alicia’s presence. Though he couldn’t help sneak sideways glances at her firm breasts tightly pressed against the thin material of her gown. I can guess why he ain’t with the CIA anymore. As the former Green Beret tries to get his privates to stand at ease, Varney sets up her breakfast the way she likes it. Then she eats it the way you’d expect a hedonistic immortal billionaire to: like an rear end in a top hat. quote:She feasted slowly, savoring each bite much like a condemned convict eating his last meal. Alicia rarely hurried doing anything. Eating, drinking, sleeping, making love, using the bathroom, getting money from the ATM, deciding what to order at the drive-through, quote:she did them all at a controlled, measured pace that defined her existence. She believed in devouring her pleasures mouthful by mouthful, chewing them to a fine pulp, then swallowing. She was never in a rush. She had all the time in the world. The WSJ doesn’t have anything in it that Varney hadn’t already learned from the better contacts her billions can afford her. This is typical even though reading the paper remains a part of her morning routine. Maybe so her sexy manservant won’t dare to try and start a conversation with her? The mention of her billions leads to us learning more about the earnings of her company, Varney Enterprises, one of the largest corporation on Earth. Nothing about what services or products the company actually sells, though. quote:Estimating its actual worth was impossible, but corporate yearly reported income was more than the gross national product of many small countries. And that did not include funds from the company’s more profitable but quite illegal secret enterprises. Someone’s muscling in on Cyberpunk 2020′s territory. Eventually Varney puts down the paper, surely confident that Jackson won’t suddenly ask about her feelings, and gazes out the window. She lives in a skyscraper’s penthouse and the weather’s clear enough to see “for miles and miles,” and you’d think she’d admire the sight of New York City at sunrise. Instead, she looks toward New Jersey. quote:Her sharp gaze traveled past the slums of Tenth Avenue and the Bowery and across the polluted green and brown waters of the Hudson River. Beyond the river were the moldering Hoboken docks and the huge toxic waste dumps that had earned the town the nickname “the cancer capital of America.” At the edge of her vision, Alicia could catch sight of the crumbling coastal palisades that guarded the New Jersey swamps. The World of Darkness is a Harsher, Crueler Version of Our World; a Stark, Desolate Landscape where Nothing is as it Seems. So obviously nothing about New Jersey changed. The view makes Varney feel like “a medieval princess in her tower surrounded by a world of peasants.” The narration explains America’s social situation in the World of Darkness: The rich are like aristocracy, there’s no true middle class, just rich and poor. Same old, same old. And while Varney has a history that should give her a unique and profound view on this social problem, the only conclusion she’d come to is that being rich is better. quote:Having experienced both extreme poverty and extreme prosperity many times in her life, Alicia knew without question that incredible affluence was the better of the two. Wise words, Upton Sinclair. quote:She reveled in her riches, her lifestyle, and, most of all, in the physical sensations of life itself. There was no way she would give up any of it. For anyone or any cause. Now with a set-up like that, you could normally predict a character’s arc. This time I have my doubts, as extremely long lived immortal characters tend to be set in their ways, but we’ll see. There's only one drat character in this trilogy who grows, and it's not this one. Oh, right. If you haven’t figured it out yet, Alicia Varney is actually Anis, Lameth’s former conspirator and lover, or whatever the ancient Mesopotamian term for “friend with benefits” was. It’s not revealed for another two chapters, but it’s obvious, so… Having reflected on how the hardships she experienced over the millennia have taught her absolutely nothing beyond “gently caress you, got mine”, Varney starts feeling philosophical. She asks Jackson if he can imagine living without the sun. Unfortunately the guy’s a bit of a dumbass when it comes to this sort of thing. Or so we’re told. quote:“Pardon, Miss?” Jackson was poised, bright, and articulate. He did not, however, possess an imagination. He viewed the world in terms of blacks and whites, positives and negatives. A wonderful bodyguard and right-hand man, he was less satisfactory as a conversationalist. Jesus, all he said was “pardon.” No need to insult the guy’s worldview or conversational skills just yet. quote:She paused, gathering her thoughts. “Have you ever given any thought to what it would be like enduring in a world of eternal darkness. (I see what you almost did there, Mr. Weinberg) Without hope of ever seeing sunlight again?” The big lug thinks she’s talking about being blind. quote:“Can’t say I have, Miss Varney. During the war, I trained wearing a blindfold, learning how to rely on my other senses if my eyes were injured. Jackson’s secretly a kung fu movie protagonist. quote:But that never happened. I’ve been lucky that way. Always had perfect vision." “Big bright light in sky. What if… could kill you? Can only do awake things when big bright light go sleep at dark time? You like?” But seriously. Varney tells Jackson to imagine he caught a theoretical disease that would kill him if he were exposed to sunlight, and cost him the ability to enjoy “physical pleasures” like eating and drinking. Never again able to see the sun, to eat or drink. Would he go mad? Would he adapt, if he even could. Jackson finally figures out that his boss is talking about vampires, like the ones she deals with at a place called The Devil’s Playground. quote:“Became one of those vampire things who spend all their time plotting against each other? Or haunt the streets, drinking the blood from bums who don’t have a place to hide.” Nah, that’s an accurate description of your average WOD vampire, even the older low-gen ones Varney no doubt thinks of as prime examples (and secretly is). quote:“It wouldn’t make a difference to me, Miss. I’m a survivor. I enjoy my food and drink,” his eyes widened suggestively, “and my lovemaking. “Uuuuuuuugh,” groaned Alicia as she once again regrets banging him. quote:Can’t say I’d be thrilled if I had to live without them. But I ain’t quite ready for the great beyond, if you catch my meaning. If I had to drink some blood to stay around, I’d do it in an instant. Did worse in the war, ma’am. Lot worse once or twice. Survival ain’t pretty, Miss Varney. Still, death is awful final.” Me, I would’ve asked him to clarify on the war crimes and possible cannibalism he just admitted to, but fine, let’s go with practical. Varney concludes that she sometimes thinks an eternity of darkness is no better than a short life followed by death, and Jackson can’t really understand because “Mankind is born of the sun” (not me though, I was born after nine o’clock PM) and “Humans are truly heirs of the morning.” Jackson counters by saying he’s heard vampires being called the Children of the Night. Varney says that’s poetic, but very true, proving that neither of these two idiots had watched the drat movie. Dracula was talking about wolves. If anything, werewolves are the Children of the Night. Vampires are more like the Stuffy Old Dudes or Moody Teenagers of the Night, depending on the story. That was all a fancy way of them agreeing to disagree. The conversation ended, Varney stands up and reminds us that she’s not so much wearing a robe as a big sheet of Saran wrap. quote:She rose to her feet, grinning as her assistant’s expression froze, his thoughts as transparent as her robe. “Keep hoping, Mr. Jackson,” Alicia purred as she walked to the huge closets that covered one entire wall of her bedroom. “If I don’t find a candidate to satisfy my carnal desires within the next few days, I will be forced to rely on your services. I’m positive you will rise to the occasion.” “Yes, ma’am. I will have an erection for you when the time comes.” “…Mr. Jackson. We’ve talked about you explaining my wordplay.” “…?” “That you shouldn’t.” quote:“Of course, Miss Varney,” said Jackson politely. “I’ll try my best.” It’s more clearly playful than the last time Jackson’s fuckin’ skills were brought up, but the fact that he still has to wait a few days before his boss gives up and settles for him still makes me doubt his ability to please. This reminds me of some Spider-Man history. Do you know why Spidey’s relationship with Black Cat didn’t work back in the day? It’s because while she was in love with the mysterious, wise-cracking and crime fighting Spider-Man, she had absolutely no interest in boring old sad sack Peter Parker. Sure, he was dating this incredibly beautiful lady, but the nature of the relationship meant his self-esteem was at rock bottom. The situations are different, but the results are similar enough. Jackson occasionally gets to have sex with his gorgeous and seductive boss, but she straight up tells him she’ll only do it if she’s going through an extended sexual drought and can’t find a different boy toy, and she’s too coy to straight up say whether or not she enjoys those rare times with him. It makes me wonder about poor Jackson’s mental health. That and the war time cannibalism he mentioned earlier. Ah well. Next chapter we learn that Varney pays him enough for her to have no doubts about his loyalty, so he has that going for him at least. Speaking of paying him enough to deal with her bullshit, as Varney enters one of her closets she orders Jackson to bring up her messages and Sumohn, her pet panther she hasn’t seen in several days. Not only is Alicia Varney a selfish corpo yuppie, she’s one of those people who thinks it’s a good idea to own an exotic animal. quote:Jackson blanched. His big hands clenched into fists as he scowled at Alicia. Even her boner-addled henchman is judging her. quote:“That beast is dangerous, Miss Varney. Black Panthers aren’t made to be household pets. Not even for ladies like you.” Jackson relents, understanding who writes the checks and provides the magic pussy. He says he’ll send word to the kennel, because of course the ignorant billionaire keeps the poor wild animal in a kennel. Following this is what I think they nowadays call a #girlboss moment, but I’m a little out of touch when it comes to cancelled Netflix shows and the social and anti-corporation essays they inspire. It's the 90's so let's call it a Girl Power moment. quote:“You’re getting better, Jackson,” said Alicia, with a laugh. “But you’re still not perfect. I run my life the way I want. You worry about my business rivals sending assassins after me. I’ll worry about Sumohn.” Alright, Robert Weinberg, I believe you. Alicia Varney is a Strong Female Character and not the result of typing one handed. The gimp goes down to warn the kennel people while Miss Varney gets dressed. Now, this is a young rich woman getting ready to take her pet out for walkies. It’s an… eccentric choice of pet, but still. So you’d expect her to wear something trendy but casual enough to sweat in. But this is vampire fiction, so she’s gotta dress a little more extra than that. She puts on a long black velvet skirt,  No word on whether or not Varney’s jacket has epaulettes, but I choose to believe they do. She completes the look with a black beret worn at a “jaunty angle”, so that by the time Jackson gets back she looks like the french foreign exchange student from a 90′s high school movie. (The only thing we were told about McCann’s wardrobe was that he wears a topcoat.) Jackson came back with a folder full of documents and word from the kennel that the panther’ll be up in a few minutes. Varney can’t help but snark at Jackson one more time about his earlier quote:“At least they understand the wisdom of not arguing with me,” said Alicia, thumbing through the documents. Making anonymous calls to the ASPCA, on the other hand… Halfway through reading her messages, she learns some bad news about Russia. The Shadow Curtain has affected the country’s economic plans as well as secret vampire crap. Now we learn how Miss “I Run My Life the Way I Want”, earlier described as someone who “did not like being denied anything for very long,” reacts to being told she can’t have something. Not well, as you guessed. quote:“The Russians refuse to let our people into the country? What the hell is happening there? It doesn’t make sense. Varney Enterprises has been doing business with the Communists since 1919. Did that fool in charge, Andropov, give any reason for the abrupt change in policy? I thought we were bribing the miserable son of a bitch plenty.” She’s most likely referring to Yuri Andropov, third General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union and, as of ‘94, someone who had been dead for ten years. I can’t find anything about him being a secret vampire who faked his death and ruled from behind the scenes, so Alicia Varney hasn’t been paying attention for the past decade. She also seems to think the USSR’s still a thing when it fell three years ago. I don’t think WOD is one of those fictional universes where the Soviet Union stuck around. That only happens in things like Star Trek, which came out before the Soviet Union fell but takes place in the future and made the wrong prediction about Russia’s. It’d be a waste anyway. There’s plenty of darkness and misery to be found in post-Cold War Russia. Jackson informs her that rather than dying of renal failure in the 80′s, Andropov has vanished without a trace, along with other people they’d been dealing with in the country, thanks to either Boris Yeltsin or the true power behind Old Drinky. They’d been eliminating the “Old Guard” and replacing them with their own people. Either a reference to the 1993 Russian constitutional crisis or just ”business as usual”. In any case: quote:“They’ve made it absolutely clear that foreigners are no longer welcome into the country. And that includes us.” No McDonald’s for World of Darkness Moscow. quote:“gently caress,” said Alicia harshly. “That move is going to cost us millions. We spent years setting up that network in the Soviet Republics. It can’t crash just become some reformer has taken charge. I refuse to believe it. Russia doesn’t work that way.” This is the second big change Russia has gone through in less than a century. Nothing stays the same forever. Countries and cultures change. You’d think an immortal would know this. Jackson says that “things have changed drastically in the past few months,” and their agents, presumably the ones that haven’t become Nictuku food yet, delivered some disturbing rumors about Yeltsin’s secret advisors. quote:“Word is that to consolidate his position, he’s cut deals with some awfully ruthless characters.” The urge to include a vodka crack in that rant must have been so strong that if this were the tabletop it would’ve needed a dice roll to resist. Unfortunately, no one knows the exact truth. Jackson says that despite all the talk, anyone who gets too close to the real truth disappears. quote:“I’ve studied the reports from the past twelve months.” This has been going on for a year and you’re only now telling the head of the corporation? quote:“The closest thing we have to actual facts are several garbled reports of a gigantic old bitch with iron teeth and iron claws meeting late at night with the Premier.” That sobers Varney up immediately. Or gives her a stroke. You decide. quote:Alicia froze, her mouth open in stunned surprise. All the color drained from her face, leaving her white as a ghost. Her eyes clouded, as if focusing on something deep within her mind. She stood unmoving, like a statue, for nearly a minute. Then her jaw snapped shut and she ground her teeth together. If Yeltsin had been in league with a powerful witch of legend in real life, I think he’d be remembered more fondly. Jackson asks her what she means but she snaps out of it and dismisses it as remembering a story from her childhood. Then the elevator arrives and her mood brightens. Sure, Baba loving Yaga is messing with her bottom line, but right now, KITTY!!! quote:She turned just as a short, swarthy man (oh for gently caress’s sake) entered the parlor. Accompanying him, barely controlled by the steel chain leash around its throat and jaws, was a huge black panther. The poor thing’s not even wearing a muzzle. They just wrapped a chain around its mouth. She squees about how much she missed her giant baby as she rushes toward it to run her fingers through its neck fur. quote:The beast growled, a deep rumbling sound that Alicia insisted was its way of purring. Oh surprise of surprises, the exotic animal owner knows jack poo poo about it. The largest species of cat that can purr are cougars. You can argue that some of the noises big cats like jaguars and leopards can make are equivalents to meowing, but I can tell you from experience that cats only meow when they want something, like food, or to bite your throat out and escape because you took it from its natural habitat and regularly stick it in a kennel for days in a row. (Black panthers are jaguars and leopards with black fur, not a separate species, but we aren’t told which of the two Sumohn is. Cougars are sometimes called panthers, but there aren’t any with black fur, they’re smaller and, despite what the Red Dead Redemption games would tell you, they aren’t as deadly to humans as the actual big cats, and thus aren’t as impressive a thing for a sexy rich immortal to own.) quote:“Glad to see me too, huh?” said Alicia, scratching the monstrous panther behind the ears. When it comes to animals, vampires are like ghosts and killer robots; animals can sense they aren’t human and freak out. A way around this for vampires here is ghouling the animal. It's heavily implied in Blood War, and will eventually be explained in the third book, that Sumohn is a ghouled animal, which makes it both a superpowered mutant cat and completely loyal to it's master. I also figure that Varney knows the Animalism discipline, which at its most basic allows vampires to communicate with and control animals. The first tier power, Feral Speech, allows one to do exactly what Varney did just now: communicate with animals telepathically if you look them right in the eye. The name of the power wasn’t mentioned, but that same thing happened many chapters ago with Vargoss’ Dominate attempt. There’re also Animalism powers that allow you to summon an animal, sooth its anger, and even possess it; all useful abilities to have if you’ve got a goddamn panther. Animalism isn’t a Brujah power, associated instead with Gangrel, Nosferatu, Ravnos, and, unfortunately for the animal, Tzimisce. But over the millenia old Anis could have learned it from a member of one of those clans. Varney orders Jackson to find out more about what’s going on in Russia by this evening. She tells him to call their people in the State Department and have them check with the CIA, a “subtle” example of her influence. Right now, it’s time for walkies. quote:“Sumohn’s tired of being kept in a cage. She needs exercise.” Then don’t keep it in a loving cage! There’s a reason zoos don’t do that anymore! [Would you believe I wrote this before Tiger King aired?] They’re headed for Prospect Heights in Brooklyn, to Jackson’s dismay. In this world, New York City has gotten even worse than it was in the 70′s. Here’s what he says about Prospect Heights. quote:“Prospect Heights isn’t safe. The police have declared it off-limits to civilians. Last week they threw in the towel and stopped patrolling the grounds, even during the daytime. Squad cars won’t enter, even if they spot a murder taking place. Too many gangs and psychos hide in those woods, all armed with heavy artillery and anxious for a chance of blowing away some cops. What I believe he’s saying here is that The Warriors is canon to Vampire: The Masquerade. Deep down, I think I always knew that. Varney laughs off the danger. Sumohn will protect her. quote:As if responding to her mistress’ comments, the panther growled. Despite the big cat’s mouth being muzzled by steel chains, it was a terrifying sound. Fine, I get it, the panther loves her owner back. But still, get her a real muzzle! One that keeps the people around her safe but is comfortable for the panther! You can obviously afford one! How do you even wrap a chain around a panther’s jaws without losing a hand? Christ! quote:“I hope she can catch slugs with her teeth,” said Jackson. And take out enough creepy mute baseball bat-wielding psychos before you’re both overwhelmed. Varney insists she’ll be fine and tells Jackson to focus on Russia. She’ll be back in a few hours. After all, she’s got evening plans at the Devil’s Playground. quote:“Alert the usual spies. It’s going to be a hot night.”
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Apr 29, 2020 01:42
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