Thread: 2010 Brazil Proxy Event

Book 2: Pre-Battle

The rain slicked streets reflected the brilliant neon lights of Brazillia as a silent Rolls Royce Phantom cruised toward the Carlton Grand Hotel. Inside, Amanda sat quietly in the Archon’s vehicle, her thoughts and worries undisturbed by the quiet tinkle of ice in glass. The brandy and ice, provided by the Archon, sat untouched by Amanda, though she appreciated the fine touches of hospitality shown her. She might have enjoyed such finer touches another night, but heavier things sat on her mind.


Would she make the correct impression? Would she be able to create the rapport with Archon Rigger that she was counting on? Certainly, her attire had been crafted with care to be functional and breezy, yet beautiful. But this was an archon, and beauty would not be enough.


The Rolls came to a slow precise stop and she exited the vehicle with a determined gait. The concierge directed her to the private elevator and she scaled it alone, her baggage to follow shortly via smartly dressed bellhops. Even in Brazil, luxury was not an option to those with the power to expect it.


The elevator bell rang pleasantly just before the carriage came to a gentle repose. A moment later, the doors slid open silently to reveal an opulent den filled with the trappings of affluence, now layered in huge black cables, humming machines, monitors and laptops, and even an antiquated switch board.


In the center of it all, to most, stood an imposing man of European descent, dressed functionally in white button down, suspenders, and pinstriped pants, but no tie. He spoke quickly into a cellular phone.


“Yes, your grace. By my estimates, they should be meeting our camp at the bottom of the next hour. Yes, your grace. I’ve double checked the weather reports, our estimates are spot on.”


He turns as the doors open, and smiles. “Ah, and my assistant is here, right on cue. Excellent.”


The Nosferatu Archon motioned Amanda to a desk with computer monitors and ancient switches obscuring the surely amazing handiwork it must possess, if the filigrees running down its legs were any indication. “Here, lovey. I need you to watch this switchboard and pipe any incoming calls directly to me… “


Amanda’s eyes widened as she began to absorb the purpose she was to fulfill in this endeavor.

#################################

Rain soaked *everything* here: The branches, the trunks, the rocks, the vines, the soil. *everything*


The Kindred that had traveled to Brazil understood this intellectually prior to embarking from Lamar, but to know a thing is to experience it. And the extent of the mud and slime of the Amazon was unknowable, even to those whom had lived whole lifetimes in it.


“This muck would play such havoc on my journals!” Eric thought dismally, as he pulled his boot from another sucking mudhole. Most of the kindred tried to move around the obstacles that the unforgiving rain forest presented. But Benjamin was hardly most Kindred.


His face was unreadable as he strode among his troops, collecting readiness reports and making certain that his people were acting appropriately. Constantino was being busied by the troops, of course, allowing Benjamin to stay aloof, and yet aware of them all. But then, his job would be the hardest of them all.


“Walker.” One of Morgan’s young Gangrels approached Ben. “He’ll see you now…”

Benjamin turned and made his way behind the young Kindred. The rain, the vagaries of the forest floor, even the Sabbat horde out in the jungle south of them, none of that mattered compared to the words he would speak over the next few minutes.

He entered the tent with his implacable face on and bowed his head to Art.


“Your Grace…. Art… I have heard you have some issues. I wonder if you’ve considered *this* tactic…”


The tent flap closed as the younger Gangrel bowed out, and two ancient Savages spoke quietly of their purpose here.

Book 3: Sabbat

The team consisting of Corin, AJ, Domino, and H make their way to their assigned area. They move quickly with a few Gangrel and Tremere. The Tremere ask for a moment to prepare, making the Gangrel grumble. “Damn Warlocks already holding us back.”


Corin drops to one knee, crossing herself quickly and whispering a short prayer. She stands as the Tremere finish their thaumaturgical work. She looks to AJ, Domino, and H, a sly smile crossing her face: “May the saints protect us, an’ sorrow neglect us, an’ bad luck to the one that does not respect us.”


Then the Sabbat were upon them in waves. One second ago, nothing, then the next second, a horde. Before their flames could help them, many of the Tremere are wiped out. Their blood splatters onto the rest of the time, causing their beasts to rise in blood frenzy. Many of the Gangrel embrace their frenzy and start the hard work of killing folk. H wastes no time recovering from the surprise, slicing limbs and heads at will. As a City Gangrel’s claw reach out to rake Corin’s back, Domino slices that hand off, twisting around and down to cut off its legs at the ankles. In a fluid motion, Corin turns and finishes the crippled Sabbat.


AJ moves methodically through the bodies of those who once claimed the life of his beloved ghoul, chopping one after another with his blades dishing out vengeance at every turn. He approaches a large, brutish creature—obviously his humanity has been long lost. It hulks in front of AJ, smiling and drooling blood as it takes a swing at the Gangrel.


AJ ducks, but is confronted with a swift foot to the face, shattering skin and bone, spurting blood and blinding him. Instinctively, AJ swings out with one of his blades to find resistance. The hulking brute has grabbed his blade, and grunts. The raw strength of this creature shatters the blade—he howls triumphantly as he uses the broken blade to stab deep into AJ’s shoulder. As AJ moves his blood to heal his wound, he feels the pull of the blade out of his shoulder. Wiping away the blood from his eyes, he finds Justicar Art Morgan standing in front of him. He has stabbed the hulking figure in the left eye with the broken blade. The next second, a blur of motion and growling as two of Morgan’s Archons make short work of the beast. Art looks to AJ, “Time to press the advantage, AJ.”


AJ smiles at Art, “Yes, sir.” He takes a quick look to the left: H seems to be surrounded, and while he’s still dishing out pain, he’s taking a hefty beating. Domino and Corin are working their way to him, but the Sabbat have them cut off. As Corin nears H, she is struck from behind by a stake that finds its way home. Domino turns upon the attacker and is rebuked away from her. The short man delivering these blows smiles, his stringy red hair clinging to his milky white face. He reaches for Corin’s ankles and pulls her back toward his pack.


The pack begins pummeling Corin relentlessly, ripping off her right arm and bashing her with it until it ashes. AJ is horrified, but does not hesitate to throw his remaining blade at the short, dirty man. It hits home, cutting through the back of his head and coming out the other side. As he falls, the rest of his pack start to move toward AJ, but are suddenly cut off by a whirling storm of fire. As the remaining Tremere chant, the fire claims the rest of the pack. AJ cries out to Domino as the fire subsides, and together they dig through the ashes. With a sigh of relief from both men, they dust Corin off and move her away from the pile of ash.


The rest of the Sabbat, realizing they are defeating, retreat. Justicar Morgan and his team follow, eager to end the costly war on this blood-soaked battlefield.

=================================

“Hello, little Alastor—will you be yummy and crunchy in milk?”

The whisper surprises Jano, but to his credit he masks his physical reaction, shifting blood to speed his agile fingers to wrap around the hilt of one of his trusted blades. In the same swift motion, he whirls around and ducks, swinging low through the air, connecting with nothing.

“Oops! I forgot to stand still! How horrible of me.”


Jano closes his eyes, no longer fully trusting them, and stabs out in the direction of the voice, finding again only empty space. He feels his beast shift under the frustration, yet still finding it easy to remain calm.
“Jano! Ravnos! Are you righteous or wicked? Are you friend or are you foe? Who do you serve, Jano, Jano!”


This time something hard and solid smacks into the back of Jano’s head, and the two-by-four cracks in half. The Alastor smiles as now he has his enemy—a split second after the board hit his head, his blade connected with a body, running it through the chest. Malcolm smiles his childish smile, his eyes glowing a rich, wicked red. The next second, a pout pulls on his lips. “Jano! You are still a trickster!”


Then Jano’s world is turned inside out. He drops his blades, screaming and clawing at his face. Blood begins to poor from his eyes, his hands, and his mouth. His thoughts turn to Lenore, as a vision of her being killed by Malcolm replay over and over again—in one vision, he rips her head off while she wears a white wedding dress—in another vision, he sinks his fangs into the soft, white flesh of her neck, and she moans lightly and he drains her soul from her body—and at the end of each life, she looks into Jano’s eyes and says, “Why didn’t you protect me?”


Before he finally loses all sense of reality, he hears Malcolm cackle in glee! “Oh, Jano, you know not what you do in this world! You know not the way of manly men, and thus fall through the cracks of what you believe is reality!” As he says this, he dances impishly—he has not bothered to remove the blade Jano stuck through his torso. Abruptly, he stops, and bends down next to Jano. He whispers, “You and I, Jano, we are birds of a feather, flocking together—we are best friends.”


Malcolm admires his chaos one more time before disappearing.

Book 4: Zombies

Benjamin Walker looked around him as the small army of Kindred around him pushed the Sabbat forward. The Tremere Combat Thaumaturgists were still in reserve as Xavier’s Gangrel took down each Sabbat member that was to slow to advance away from the army behind them.


As the Sabbat neared the river a small figure in the distance could be seen climbing onto the top of the Aztec pyramid. The figure raises his arms in the air and in a voice that carries across the battlefield, “Arise my warriors! Arise and go forth! Take revenge against the invaders that invaded your home! Adramelech commands you! Rise up and destroy!” As all eyes look towards the temple a flash of flaming wings spread behind Hearthing and just as quickly fade out. As the echoes of his voice fade from the battlefield a wave of earth emanates from the temple and moves out towards the Sabbat knocking them to their knees. The wave passes through the Sabbat and continues on knocking down first the Gangrel, then the Tremere, and continuing on. Eric standing next to Benjamin falls to his knees. Xavier looks to Benjamin as the wave hits them. Both remain on their feet as the others pick themselves up off the ground looking around in confusion.


As everyone gets back to their feet, screams from the beginning start to raise as those closest to the river are pulled under the ground. Hands start to erupt from the ground as bodies start to rise out of the earth with hellfire in their eyes. Those behind the members being pulled under start to look around in fear. Several frenzy and start tearing into the zombies rising around them. For each Zombie that is literally torn apart two more take its place then three more. Shadow tentacles can be seen erupting out of Lasombra, but even with the extra arms they are quickly overwhelmed. Tzimisce in Horrid Form tear into the zombies around them, but it’s too little, too late as they are pulled apart by the horde of Atzec warriors that are at this rate pouring out of the ground. Ancient obsidian weapons cleave into the Sabbat never having lost their edges over the centuries. A full regiment of Aztec warriors with tattered Jaguar headpieces and weapons raised can be seen coming through the jungle like the jungle cats they venerated in life. The Sabbat still fighting turn and start to flee, but they are cut off by more zombies on one side and the Camarilla forces behind them.

Archbishop Caterina in a horrible melding of a giant bat and woman rises out of the horde and flies towards the group of warriors pouring out into the battlefield. She flies over then and arrows streak towards her. The arrows shatter against her skin as the ancient wood crumbles. An inhuman shriek can be heard over the din of battle and flames can be seen spilling out of her mouth onto the group below. The zombies continue on as the trees around them start to catch flame. As she does this her troops panic and head towards the Camarilla thinking it their best shot to get away.

Benjamin and Xavier watch in fascinated horror as the zombie continue pouring out of the ground and the surrounding jungle. A few head into their groups and are quickly dispatched, but the panicked Sabbat that are heading towards them steals their resolve and the command the troops around them to prepare to repel the Sabbat and zombies coming at them. Benjamin looks to Eric standing beside him and says, “Stay close to me and you will live out this night.” Eric nods in understanding and readies the shotgun in his hands. He also checks to make sure the machete is within quick reach. Benjamin turns back as he hears the inhuman screech and looks up to see the creature he knows he has battled before and escaped him.


He resists the urge to take off after her as he has the young Brujah next to him to think about, but as he looks back Eric is tearing off into the Sabbat honing in on one wearing a Nazi uniform. Eric throws away the shotgun and doesn’t even reach for the machete as his form takes on a red shimmer and he slams into the kindred before him full speed. His form blurs as he moves as his fullest speed and his fist pound relentlessly into the Kindred before him. “I will destroy every last one of you and then I will destroy him as well,” Eric screams at the kindred now on the ground before him. His growls become even more feral as the body underneath him sizzles and pulps under his hands. He finally regains his bearings and looks at the ash coating his hands. Blood tears run down his cheeks as he finally realizes what has happened to him, though inside his head something cackles and the pain he expected to come with what he has done isn’t there nearly as much as he thought it should be. As he looks up those around him are Sabbat, but rather than attacking him they back away in fear for the red haze and heat that is emanating from his body. He tears off into the zombies and mindlessly tries to beat the horror he has for himself out on their lifeless bodies.


Upon seeing Eric tear off into the Sabbat he shakes his head for the lost Brujah and then his body pops and cracks as two wings burst from his back and his neck begins to elongate. His piercing cry rises above the battleground as he completes the transformation into his dragon form. He launches into the air and heads towards Caterina. They meet in the air fire raining down on those below them. Benjamin grabs hold of her arms and starts to pull. Her arm tears off and her blood splashes onto Benjamin and falls around those on the ground. Everywhere the blood touches acid starts to burn though anything it lands on. Benjamin screams in pain as the acid eats through his skin while at the same time Caterina looks him full in the chest and lets loose with the fire she had expelled once before. The flames licked all around Benjamin and his skin blackens. Momentarily his grip looses and they start to fall from the sky, but Ben’s grip tightens and Caterina can hear the bones in her arms and legs snap. As she looks in horror at the skin that had blackened was still whole and undamaged. Benjamin’s wide mouth then closes over her head and bites down the acid trying its best to burn the offending teeth away, but only partially succeeding. Ben flexes the great muscles of his neck and her head separates from her body. He spits the head out over the Sabbat below as they look up in horror realizing that the strongest among them has just been destroyed and then the even worse horror and her body is ripped in half and the blood acid rains down on them. Benjamin follows this up with a blast of fire that decimates their ranks.


With Benjamin fighting the leader of the Sabbat, Xavier leads his massive Gangrel army into the ranks of the Sabbat with orders to destroy everyone of them. They wade into the fray and start killing anything that moves around them. Zombies start to fill their field of view more than Sabbat, as their numbers are completely decimated. The Gangrel tear into the zombies as they quickly realize they are becoming surrounded. More and more of the weaker members begin falling to the overwhelming numbers of zombies that seem to be inexhaustible. Xavier gathers his finest warriors around him and they begin a push to extricate themselves from the growing horde.


The Tremere thaumaturgists throw wave upon wave of fire amongst the Sabbat and zombies headed their way. As the bodies crumble to ash before then a sound is heard in the jungle behind them. One turns to see a large group of zombies approaching stealthily behind them. Their clumsy movements were the only thing that had given them away. The danger evident they turn as a group and send waves of flame into the zombies as they break out of the jungle in a run towards the Tremere. Flames spring up in a wall before the Tremere, but the zombies don’t even slow as they burst through the wall as flaming torches.


Several of the Tremere frenzy and run off into the woods as the others quail before the flaming zombies running towards them. Several zombies pile upon several of the Tremere that had been cut off from the rest of the group. As the flames licked at their undead flesh the Tremere completely lost in the beast tear into each other in an attempt to get away from the bane of the Kindred that was quickly consuming their bodies. Piles of ash fell to the ground as the burning bodies finally were devoid of the power that had animated them. Finally, a small group of five Tremere clustered around a small unassuming looking man. He barked commands at the other four and they each looked at him as if he was the last person they would listen to. “Listen, I don’t give a damn about the pyramid or the hierarchy at this point. If you want to die then run off like the rest of them. I want to live and I will do everything in my damned power to do so. Now you, Heinrich, and you, Kraten, put up a wall of force to keep them at bay. Now you, Garsten, push the zombies back with a push of your will. Finally, Greenfield, I need you to get word out that we need an extraction. Yeah, don’t listen to the lowly apprentice, and die. Listen to me and we may get out of this alive.” The Tremere around him listen and do as he says. He smiles to himself and thinks, “I bet there is a promotion in this somewhere.”

Book 5: Nuriel

Pushing forward the gargoyles swoop down onto the battlefield and crush into the lines of fleeing Sabbat and Aztec undead. One after another they fall and you follow Constantino’s b-line for the temple.

“MASTER!” Luna screeches out from the sky, her lithe naked gargoyle form hovering over a far point near the treeline, pointing. “SALBURI!”

JD and Kalie’s head darts towards the sound but Constantino, Lydia, Otto, Ash and obfuscated Roland press onward.

“We have to go.” Izabella says to Kalie and she breaks into a run. Pius nods and follows.

“Go.” Kalie says with resignation as she looks to JD. For a moment their eyes meet and there is an unspoken respect, Kalie doesn’t hear it but JD’s father whispers, “With the might of Ares, strike, Amazon.”

JD raises his sword in a salute and then breaks into a run following behind the Tremere.

The winds rise as Izabella incants commandingly in the spirits tongue, Pius narrows his eyes trying desperately to get a look at Nuriel’s aura. The earth trembles and shakes forcing Nuriel to the ground, the Tremere stop and JD comes to stand just to the right of Izabella.

“No!” JD whispers just as Pius sees the red veins in his aura.

“May God, give you the Courage and Mental strengthen to overcome any obstacle!” Pius declares over the brujah beside his Regent. JD draws his sword and moves with efficient purpose, cutting straight across the field to his enemy who also draws his blade.

“SPIRITS AIDE US!” Izabella cries out and the wind rises, lifting the gargoyles higher into the air and dies out allowing them to begin their attack.

“NURIEL, COME UPON ME THAT I MIGHT STRIKE THEM DOWN WITH HEAVEN’S WRATH!” Nuriel cries out to the sky raising his sword, a third eye opens in the middle of his head and a sickly green light emanates from it and washes over JD. Nuriel appears a terrifying sight causing the gargoyles to flee in terror to fight other battles.

“God has blessed your body with the swiftness and grace of the wind!” Pius calls out over the din of battle, his voice an echoing boom of faith rivaling Nuriel’s terrible angelic presence which has forced even the most stalwart to question their resolve.

“STAND DOWN!” Nuriel demands through gritted teeth as his blade locks with JD.

“Turn away… don’t make me kill you.” JD insists passionately.

Nuriel flings JD’s body with a force of a mack truck impacting a solid brick wall at speeds of over 100 miles an hour. JD slides through the dirt and rock, debris flying out and around from his body. “DO I KNOW YOU?!?” Nuriel demands in a grunt as he flings the Brujah away and rushes him with sword raised.

In latin Izabella cries out, “AWAY!” throwing a hand outward even before she realizes what she’s doing. An invisible wall impacts Nuriel casting him the other direction violently.

Pius raises his hands, eyes locked on the Brujah fighting in hand to hand combat with the infernalist Salubri, roaring out, “May Power and Glory of the Lord, be with you!”

“Not anymore.” JD retorts, not wasting a moment or a motion he cuts a path for Nuriel once more.

Back and forth blades cross, the earth becoming Nuriel’s enemy more than once as Izabella calls out command after command. The shadows of gargoyles return to the skies above as the Sabbat cross the river mixed with the undead Aztec warriors freshly risen from the earth.

“INCOMING!” Pius cries out and turns to face the hoarde with a self-righteous rage befitting a servant of God’s voice on earth. “BURN IN THE FIRE OF THE RIGHTEOUS!” Flames spring to life in the ranks of the zombie masses and more than one Sabbat member runs in terror.

Nuriel falls atop JD, holding him to the ground with his sword on his throat. Even still JD manages to find the courage to speak, “It’s never too late… please…” He speaks in an ancient language not heard in these lands since long before the time of the Aztecs. Nuriel blinks in recognition.

“It’s too late.” He says sadly. “I shall end you quickly so you do not have to suffer as I have.”

“NO!!!!” JD roars and throws Nuriel, finding a strength he did not know that he had within himself. Laying in a pool of his own blood Izabella comes up beside him and looks down at him laying there, his sword hand laying in the bloody mud. Fear fills her eyes as realization and remembrance occurs. JD barely has time to take notice as he leaps to his feet once more hoping to finish this fallen creature once and for all.

Book 6: Ungol

The maze of dark temple hallways allow only for two by two, Constantino and Kalie walk side by side, Otto walks seemingly alone just behind them but is kept pace by Roland under obfuscation and Ash walks side by side with Lydia bringing up the rear.

The group moves slowly through the twisting turning pathways, ignoring side turns at first but eventually coming to a dead end and having to turn back the other way. Faced with uncertainty Constantino casts his gaze across the shroud, “Find him.” He growls, his grow furrowed low over his eyes.

Lydia skips back the other direction singing as she goes, “A tisket, a tasket, Ungol’s head in a basket…” She giggles, her disturbing tenor echoing through the halls over and over again. Kalie sighs, sharing a look to Constantino but says nothing.

Without warning the Malkavian stops dead in her tracks and falls face first to the stone floor, smacking her nose so hard into the earth that it shatters in an explosion of blood. Undead hands hold firm to Lydia’s ankles and use her to pull themselves up.

With a smooth motion Ash swings his daggers, cutting the hands off at the wrists. “Ouch!” Lydia says in an annoyed voice bringing her hand up to her nose, looking down the long hallway to where more zombies were rising from their graves. Realizing that wasn’t the only threat to their safety Lydia expressed verbally what the sound of pulled weapons behind her expressed without so many words. “Ut-Oh…”

Kalie looks up, “Tino,” She says as she takes a stance with her sword. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news brother… but we got more company.”

Constantino looks up and sees a greenish slime slowly slipping out of the stones from above them, an unearthly substance that was anything but natural. In a commanding tone he issues the order, “Ash, Lydia… the left path. Kalie… Otto, go to the right.”

“I don’t know if it’s such a good idea we split up…” Otto begins to protest.

“Wraiths are with you, I’ll find you… go, I’ll hold this off.”

In Gaelic she warns him not to go dying, hoping that her threat in Emma’s native tongue gets the point across. With that she takes Otto and heads quickly down the path.

As the two groups disappear, Roland unobfuscates and tentacles emerge from the shadows beneath his body. He smiles at Constantino whose eyes have not brightened an iota. His bald scalp in this dim light looking more like a skull, his shadowed eyes like hollow sockets of death glaring at the zombies before them; in Italian he speaks in a low whisper, “It ends.”

With that, the slaughter begins.

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Ash and Lydia tear down the pathways, throwing door after door open, dust and the smell of old death nearly overwhelming. “Come out, come out, where ever you are my evil little pest… we just want to kill you.” Lydia’s childlike demeanor becoming darker, more hate filled as the memories of her sister’s first and second death flood her mind.
Ash remains vigilant and as he notices a shadow flittering at the end of the hallway he resists the urge to break into a run, to feed into his beast’s desire to hunt and kill. Lydia, however, is not so disciplined and is gone before Ash can understand what she’s chasing.

Into a circular room with an empty cage that smells of fresh blood and something acrid, Lydia wrinkles her nose. “Dragon.” She says randomly, walking slowly into the cage, kneeling down she puts her hand onto the stone. Reaching out with her senses she begins to get teary eyed.

“Lydia… we can’t stay here.”

“She was here.” She says sadly. “Mother Mary … forced to ride the dragon, rode by men and monsters. I shall send flowers, I think.” She stands slowly, her eyes fixated on the filthy place on the floor stained with old blood.

“Come, ma petite fleur, let’s…”

“YOU!!!!” Lydia screams lashing out with her mind, her eyes locking on an empty space in the room. “I HATE YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!” Ripping into his mind the Malkavian lashed out at what she had no right to know was there, an enemy in the lands of the dead.

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“Another dead end, nothing like the sewers.” Otto said regretfully. “I’m sorry.”
“Nothing about this place makes any sense, it’s not your fault Otto.” Kalie reassures her companion, sword held tight in her grip. “Let’s double back and try the other path.”

As the two turn back and try to proceed down the hallway, a large stone slides out of the ceiling and slams into the floor causing the entire temple to tremble, trapping Otto and Kalie into a small space alone.

Turning around, standing back to back Otto and Kalie instinctively look for the next threat, fangs extended, senses stretched to their limits they immediately see the forms solidifying before them, great beasts that seem as black mantis with razor claws and fangs.

Otto steels himself, almost glad that the enemy doesn’t even begin to resemble humans. Kalie rushes forward, on one then a second and a third. A fourth remains immobilized staring at Otto until Otto pulls up his gleaming long sword, placing a faceless mask in front of his face. Stepping forward he tries to keep pace with Kalie but fails, still his blows are devastating on the beasts who rend his flesh and break his bones like glass.

Otto’s masks shatters on the stone as he is flung down next to Kalie whose body is mangled and pulling itself back from the brink of death. Her eyes focus, going cold and emotionless as she runs at the creatures again… one, two, three strikes for their one but theirs much more devastating.

Kalie and Otto back into the wall furthest from the collapsed stone. The two look to each other as the three monsters close in on them. Otto swallows hard and whispers, “It was good fighting beside you.”

“I’m not done yet.” She growls. Throwing herself forward again with renewed determination she seems to disappear she moves with such speed. When she finally stops her sword arm falls to the ground in a rain of ash, the sword clattering, and two of the beasts disappear. Again she drops to the floor from what should have been mortally devastating wounds. The beast raises a razor claw hoping to finish her and Otto screams out rushing forward.

=================================

Storming down the hallway, Constantino and Roland are besieged again and again by the walking dead, these not like the others outside… these clearly the work of Ungol. As soon as Constantino feels the hairs on his arms rise he knows the threat before them has become much greater and by passes the zombies in front of him, clearly meant to keep him from his goal. “UNGOL!” He roars, Roland rushes up beside him until they can run no more, a stone collapsed in the hallway.

Looking to Roland he nearly spits the order, his beast nearing the surface as his goose flesh fades, “Get us through.”

The stone in the hallway trembles and Otto watches as the fourth creature comes out of it’s stupor. Raising his blade he proceeds to defend himself and Kalie as she tries to heal. The stone explodes just then and Tino enters in a rush hissing in Italian the necromantic words to control the beast before him. “YOU WILL DO US NO HARM!” He calls out just as the beast was raising it’s bladed arm up for another strike at the badly wounded Otto. Immediately the monsterous thing disappears from sight and Constantino continues on in Italian.

“Cutting it kinda close are you?” Kalie mutters, picking up her sword with her off hand, her other arm a pile of ash on the floor beside her.

The sounds of two sets of running feet can be heard down the hallway and suddenly… he’s there before the assembled group, appearing from seemingly no where. Ungol. Kalie doesn’t hesitate and neither do Ash and Lydia who are hot on his tail.

“YOU MONSTER!” Lydia screams, her eyes locked on him her hands on her temples.
Ash rushes forward, a blur of blades swinging slicing into the leather corpse flesh.
Kalie, even one armed and horribly injured twirls her blade with deadly skill, cutting into the creatures appearing from the shadowlands.

Constantino extends his arm and points a finger at him, “Again… you forgot to do your homework.” He grins, fangs extended, eyes wild with a hungry lust.

Otto and Roland run forward to join their companions. The mask being crushed under Otto’s feet as he goes. Roland grabs onto Ungol’s arm, and suddenly it’s a piece of his side. The creature cries out but no wraiths or zombies answer, his mind splintering so badly his vitae seeps from his ear. Lydia laughs madly and tears leaks from her eyes with sweet joy.

Breaking free one more time, Ungol makes a last desperate break for it and disappears into the shadowlands.

Constantino smiles but makes no move to call wraiths, to follow or anything else. Oddly enough he straightens his ring and looks the most relaxed he’s looked this whole trip. A second before anyone could ask what the hell he was doing, Ungol reappears, screaming in terror.

Five wraiths dressed in full plate armor hold him, pulling him across the shroud between life and death and reproduce him for all to see. “Kill him.” Constantino says, a smile on his face as he turns and begins to walks away ... as if Ungol had never really been a concern at all.

Ungol screams in futile rage.

In front of the entire group the wraiths pull in all different directions separating his arms, legs, and head from his torso, a rain of soft gray ash left behind where a potent enemy once had been.

Book 7: In the Dark of the Night

“Whose there? Is that you momma?” A horsed voiced whispered out from Krisi’s mouth. Quinn, Galloway, and Logan exchange looks immediately following the words. All of them recognized and acknowledge with little words that she was on drugs, presumably cocaine. Galloway digs through her bag and pulls out a bottle of water.
“We need to get her across, the drugs will make it easier, but damn, I don't even know if she's going to survive the damn trip home.” Quinn says in a rough voice as he looks down at Krisi’s body with concern and she looks up at him, “Nuriel, don't let him do it again. I can't do it again. I'm so tired.”

“Go get her monkey.” Quinn demands in a confident voice as Galloway goes into a ritualistic dance and transforms into her normal human form. Galloway kneels before Krisi’s body and opens the bottle of water, “Drink, Honey. We're goin' home.”
Logan continues to watch the sleeping Kindred that was serving as her guard. He was seemingly still asleep as if he had heard nothing. Logan frowns as he looks over the body. He looks back at Krisi when she begins to speak through her cracked lips, “Emelia... where are you? I did exactly what you said, I lied.”

“Kirsi? What did you lie about?” Logan asks.

“Tino, it's you,” Krisi smiles. “I lied, Tino. I told them it was Mariah. I lied. See? I am a strong... Giovanni woman. So,” with a short pause as tears begin to fill her eyes, “strong.”

“Yeah, we're here to take you home. You did good.” Logan smiles softly.
“Don't hurt me please. Make them stop, Tino... TINO!” Full tears begin to feel Krisi’s eyes.

“We’re here for you, Krisi.” Logan continues as Quinn kneels beside Galloway to feel Krisi’s pulse that would have been off the charts high for anyone. Quinn pulls a necklace out of his pocket, “She needs to see a doctor, now. She may not make the trip, but the risk may be worth it.” Logan hesitates and Quinn continues, “Other than those bruises and her heart racing nothing seems wrong with her.”

“Maybe I have something that can help.” Logan stares down at her, “Kirsi, can you hear me?”

“Jack?” Kirsi continues to sob, “Jack, oh Jack, I love you, Jack. Yes, I'll marry you. I'm sorry I didn't say yes before.

“I'm here, baby. We're fine. You gotta calm down.” Logan pretends to be Jack.

“I'm so scared Jack. They ... did horrible things.”

“It's okay, I'm here now. We're taking you away from this.”

“Jack, I think it's a trap.” Kirsi begins to breathe rapidly.

“How so, baby. Can you tell me? Or are you scared?”

“Once I told them what they wanted, the lie, I…” She continues to mutter as she tries to spit her words out, “they gave the drugs to me. They didn't want me pregnant. I must be bait for you and...” she looks around, “Where's Tino, Jack?”

“Boy, you need to hurry and get done what you need. She may not have much time left.” Quinn pressures Logan.

“Did they hurt my babies, Jack?”

“No, they are safe. And we have to get you back to them.” Logan hoped that was true still.

“You have to take care of them for me. Promise me.”

“No. You're coming with me.”

“Don't let my uncle take me.” Krisi begs as Logan continues to try and calm her, “He'll kill me right?” A twisted smile begins to shine, “End it.”

“No, your babies need you. Tino needs you.”

“I'm tired Jack,” Krisi manages to sputter out as she gasps.

“Boy! Be quick!” Quinn yells out of frustration to Logan. Logan bites his wrists and kneels down on the other side of Krisi as her eyes begin to roll in to the back of her head.

“NO! Don't die, damn it.” Logan yells out as Kirsi’s mouth gapes open. He struggles with her to take the blood, eventually Krisi begins to drink from it, but it shows no signs of effectiveness on her heart as the bruises and scratches heal. Quinn continues to be frustrated by the loss of time.

“What is it Tino? What can I do?” Krisi says with little revitalization.

“Patrizio wants to help us get you home, to your babies, to Jack.” Logan whispers in a calming voice, “But you won't make it if your heart keeps going like this.” Kirsi looks past Logan, as she repeats her uncle’s name, and hands off the sword to him. Her heart still racing as she begins to screams out in warning, "RUN ZIO PATRIZIO, RUN!" and then she begins to convulse and spasm.

“TIME IS UP!” Quinn yells.

Logan screams, “PATRIZIO, COME BACK TO THE BLADE!”

Quinn then pushes the necklace into Logan's hand. "Just think of where you want to go, don't let her go damn it! We'll take care of Kalie." Logan holds on to Krisi after a moment of hesitation as Quinn continues to caution about the necklace. He then places the sword into his belt. Galloway pulls out a sword, half expecting danger; she then waves a finger at Logan, and repeats a woman’s name. Logan closes his eyes and begins to imagine the bedroom he fell asleep in.

And suddenly he is there, the bedroom where he had fallen asleep. She begins to show all the signs of dying. He begins to yell out at the top of his lungs, “Emma, Jack, some fucking-body!” Emma Fitzpatrick comes running to the base of the stairs carrying a child on her back and two of them in her arms. Quickly tells him not to give any blood to Kirsi and sets down the children down as she races for the phone. The children immediately walk toward the bed... two watching curiously and the last crying and begging for his mother. Logan tries to settle down the children, Emma returns and Jack follows shortly after.

Book 8: Communications Down

All here is bright and beautiful. In the heart of the shining jewel of Brazil, the wealthy and powerful can deny the wretched conditions of the jungle and the horde of faceless, luckless souls that inhabit it. The Jungle is ancient and deadly. Here, within the maze of steel and glass and light, everything is new and vibrant, cocooning those born of privilege within a protective shell. Death resides out in the Jungle. Here, the world is meticulously ignorant of death, seemingly innocent of it, even as it stalks quietly into the lobby of the Carlton Grand Hotel.

=================================

All here is light and sound. In the furious need for communication, every sense is bombarded with input, every sound, every image is but a note, a pixel, in the great cacophony that is the data center that the Nosferatu Archon called “Rigger” has crafted. Amanda pulls up a weather report at Rigger’s demand.

“Yes, your Grace, the weather system seems to be moving south, but the cloud cover may continue to hamper our backup plan.” The Nosferatu says into the Bluetooth microphone at his lips.

He motions to a second screen. Amanda moves to the other screen and begins tabbing through the programs the Archon has running. He motions for her to stop at a black screen adorned with triangles and large circles and odd dotted lines.

“Yes, your Grace, someone has definitely cleared flight paths over the target.” He motions again at that same screen and Amanda repeats the action. He motions for her to stop as another call comes in.

“Yes, your Grace, another report is coming in…”

A static filled screech splits the air, words that sound like ‘zombie’ and ‘thousands’ try to push through the incessant crackling. Amanda closes her eyes, trying to block out the sounds of men screaming behind the voice. Behind her, Rigger leans close to hear; his rotting stench surrounding her, demanding her attention, reminding her of the killing fields that her brother and Col. Walker stalk at that very moment.

All there is darkness and death. There men die in scores, horribly, ash and blood mixing with the mud and haze. Her imagination takes the screams of the dead and dying and paints a tortured picture of the horrors she’d seen in the State park, at the warehouse. And she wants only for the sound to stop…

And then it does.

Silence descends upon her, blessed silence, allowing her heightened senses to expand, to search for even the faintest traces of the sound of death. There is nothing, no screeching phones, no humming machinery, no faintly thrumming traffic, nothing but blessed silence.

But Death can be silent and unseen…

=================================

At the top of the tallest tower, in the heart of the jewel of Brazil, blood and ash cover computer monitors, spill in great gushes upon the carpet, and splashes in a great arc across the bright and beautiful windows.

=================================

Amanda opened her eyes, the smell of blood and ash filling her nostrils. She turned to look upon the personification of Death; the man who was Killing Sound flicked his blade, shaking the blood from it with a single, efficient, maneuver. He looked to Amanda with eyes that spoke of untold deaths before this one, and assessed what threat she was to him. Soundlessly, he turned from her, moved to the balcony, and leapt from it.

“HELLO!?! RIGGER, SPEAK TO ME!” A voice squeaked from the headpiece that now lay in a pool of ashes and quickly drying vitae.

Amanda rushed to pick up the ear/mouthpiece and slipped it into her own ear. “H… hello?” She spoke shakily.

“Hello?!? Who am I speaking to? Where is Rigger?” The voice demanded with a wet rasp.

“He... He’s dead. Someone just took his head off, and ran out the window…”

“Hmph, of course. Whom am I speaking to?” The voice gurgled out another demand.

“Amanda Winters, Speaker of the Artists of Lamar...”

“Ah, the replacement Ms. Fitzpatrick, very well.” The voice continued, cutting Amanda off. “My name is Harod, Miss Winters your reputation precedes you for filling in for those unable to serve the Tower, let’s see what you got. You may call me Your Grace, now, what was my informant going to tell me before his demise…”

Book 9: With a Bang

The battle rages, it is hard to see who is winning, around each of you is only carnage. Bodies falling, parts flying, dust fills the air and the rage burning inside each of you as the struggle for survival becomes completely visceral, it all comes down to one driving need, kill before you are killed. Horrid creatures of some hell spawned fever dream that are attacking you, coming for your friends, standing between you and your goals.

Time slows; motions are drawn out as the battle carries on, an attack here, there a parry, back and forth in a deadly dance, a salsa of destruction. The din of battle drowns out sound, noise is a background event, no single sound should be able to be picked up out of the clamor, but one by one, people begin to look skyward, something comes.

Through the darkness, a metal glint as a large item falls, a whistling sound grows louder, than louder still until over the din of battle you can hear it. The remaining Sabbat turn and begin to run, scrambling over each other in their eagerness to get away, one throwing another under the oncoming rush of bodies in their hurry to escape.

The whistle grows louder and louder, a high pitched whine that in seconds not only matches the din of battle, but overwhelms all other sounds, becoming the only thing that can be heard at all. The bomb hits the ground and for an instant there is nothing, silence engulfs the field of battle, until a low rumble begins, the bomb goes down into the ground, digging deeper and deeper, bodies in the immediate area, some friends some foes are thrown out and away.

The ground begins to flow, a wave as if on the ocean moves out from the point of impact, shards of dirt, debris, body parts precedes the rolling wave of earth as it approaches you are thrown into the air, spun around, impacts on your body come from all sides, sight is stolen in the clouds of smoke and dirt. Slamming down into the ground, again to be thrown into the air, those in the air are overtaken by the shockwaves and the flung debris; no one is safe from the fury of nature’s outrage at the damage done to her.

It goes on for long moments, and then the ground is still again. The dirt slowly settles, the debris raining down with the sound of hail on a tin roof. Once it stops those still standing gather their bearings, the zombie hordes lay shattered, some of the body parts still moving, crawling along aimlessly. Enemies and friends alike lay on the field, but slowly it becomes apparent, that this day can be considered a victory for the Camarilla.

Above, a dragon circles, surveying below him the carnage that is reminiscent of other battlefields, with parts of bodies scattered, damage done to flesh that will never repair, no matter the supernatural power that drove them to extended lives. Once there stood the ruins of an ancient temple, now the earth is scarred with a crater so large that it extends out to the river, vast swaths of jungle flattened by the unleashed force. Others rise, getting their bearings; making their way towards that which they were fighting to defend, coming to the edge of the massive crater that is hundreds of feet deep. Lying at the bottom of the crater is a humanoid shape, in the dirt where the golden haired remains lay, looking down from on high, are the outlines of what appears to have been wings spread out around the man, whose middle section seems to have been obliterated by the impact force of the bomb.

Looking around, you claim victory, but at what cost, and for what end?

Epilogue

The night ends and each kindred is taken somewhere safe to sleep, some to the Carlton (those who are fit to be seen) and some to shelters in Coxim.

Upon rising the next night, Art Morgan calls a meeting at the Carlton hotel to assess the total losses. In total 25 of the 30 tremere sent to fight, would not go home. Of the 15 Giovanni, only 4 would live to tell the tale though Gregory St. John points out to Constantino in private that many of them fell to family members hands and not the enemy.

Of the five gargoyles 4 would see Vienna again.

Of the fifty legionnaires who came from Lamar, twenty would return to their posts proudly knowing they, once again, beat back Oblivion’s forces.

Among the kindred of Lamar: Kalie, Pius, Isabella, Jano, and Corin all fell into torpor from wounds taken in battle and the from the bomb. No one escaped unscathed and many would carry wounds perhaps with them forever, surely the mental ones.

H, Domino’s beloved sire, died shielding him from the blast of the bunker buster bomb – a noted loss even among those who came from Lamar.

At the moon’s rise, Art met with Xavier in the parking lot of the Carlton. While no one heard their words, Xavier began walking northward and his men and woman quickly followed behind them. When mentioned to Art, by anyone bold or dumb enough to try, he smiles and simply asks, “Who?” Leaving it very clear the matter is not to be brought up ever again.

Coming into the boardroom where Art had asked each of the Lamar kindred to gather he speaks to you – all hints of the once happy go lucky stoner gone now… nothing left but a hardened, battle seasoned elder gangrel, “Thank you all for answering my call. I will not forget that you came as ready and willing as any among my Avengers. I will call you again… and it will be known that you have earned the right to call upon me. Let all know that you are *PROVEN* in my eyes and any who say otherwise will answer to me. Thank you.”

Looking to Benjamin he motions forward. “Kneel Benjamin Walker.” He says with a calm prideful air. “Proven friend, trusted clanmate, brother at arms… will you join me and pledge your life to the defense of the Ivory Tower, going as I say go… leaving as I say leave committing even your last drop of blood to the upholding of the traditions and those entrusted with the sacred duty of leading it through these dark nights. Willingly and without reservation allowing none to come between you and the completion of that which is expected of you?”

Without hesitation, the Colonel kneels, and replies to the Justicar: “I do so swear to continue to uphold the Traditions that keep our Kind safe, and will uphold your will as you see fit in all things.”

Art extends his hand to the Colonel and take him by his forearm and clasps it firmly, meeting his eyes. “Very well Archon Walker… very well.” After a moment he lets him go and then turns to the assembled. “See that my Proven friends get home safely Archon and then report back here for your second mission.” Glancing to Amanda Winters, he softens only a touch around the eyes.

“Take some time to put your affairs in order, I don’t want to leave Prince Cahill without a capable set of hands in the position of Sheriff.” With that, Art Morgan leaves and Archon Walker will begin to arrange for everyone to go home safely.

The torpid kindred are taken into Benjamin’s care except for Kalie who goes home with Constantino. All fly out on the Justicar’s plane except for Constantino who travels with his family.

The rest… is another story.