Please note I put all the posts into narrative order and added time stamps to them which also please note are approximate, mainly intended just to help track events that were happening simultaneously as you put together the narrative in your head.
oc: What follows in this and coming posts are narratives of testing done. It should not be taken as a "blow by blow" write up. End damage, derangement, degeneration etc will be handled in an ooc fashion in separate posts. If you are at all confused, RE-READ THE POST ... and then ask. Heck, ask someone else if they understood first and then ask us. We're glad to help but if the answer is here, it's always better to get it from what's already been written. Thanks for taking part in chronicle history folks... here comes the insanity! Hope you enjoy it.

-Jim & Dee
PS: We're in the zone chief!



++ Daytime 12-6-09 Various Locations ++

Kindred who are normally plagued by nightmares of their past find those dreams are particularly vivid tonight. You wake to blood soaked sheets, a heaviness in your limbs as if your body had been experiencing strenuous exercise all day long. The dreams don’t immediately fade either, they linger making you feel distracted and less than on top of your game all night long. Through the evening you sometimes miss what people are saying because of the voices in dreams still lingering… sometimes people aren’t even who they appear to be and you’re forced to push your beast into submission or flee in terror.

(OC: Nightmares Flaw)

For those of you who know your time on this earth is limited, you wake with an uneasy sense that tonight is your final night to walk the earth. You will not survive the evening and the most you can hope for is to leave on your terms. Dressing to join the others for battle tonight is a sorry situation… it gnaws at you that your number has finally come up on the die of fate.

(OC: Dark Fate)

A small comfort that you and every other person who has visions tonight, knows that you won’t be going to hell alone. A great deal of people will die tonight and every person with auspex or some sort of oracular sense, can’t help but KNOW that in their very bones as they rise from their bed to make ready for battle.

(OC: Oracular Ability/Auspex)



++ 9:03pm CST 12-6-09 - Giovanni Haven - Location: Undisclosed ++

The house is still, silent as the grave, all but the gentle sound of bare feet on well lacquered wood floors as she creeps from the kitchen back to the den with a large bowl of Count Chocula cereal. Reaching for the remote control, the impossibly pregnant ghoul flips on the movie she had left off watching before her last nap. Settling uncomfortably onto her couch, she smiles as her favorite song begins. She turns down the volume and begins to sing with it… imagining herself singing before a crowded room full of adoring fans… dead and living.

As she sings she absently watches as the red-brown chocolate flavoring begins to color the milk, seeping from each crisp bite and stale marshmallow in billowing translucent clouds which swirl and spin on themselves in the liquid just … “Like blood.” She says in a voice that quivers with fear.

“A bad omen.” A voice without a body says just behind her. Kirsi can only nod and put a hand protectively over her stomach hoping that whatever took Constantino from the house tonight, and Sal the night before, would let them return to her and the rest of the family again very soon.

“Renatta!” she called out loudly. “DeAngelo… Sophia!” grunting as she became increasingly worried that she was feeling something more than Braxton hicks contractions.

“A bad omen, indeed.” The voice repeated as the cereal bowl went crashing to the floor, the dried blood colored milk seeping into the carpet as if it intended to drown the house in vitae.



+++ Meanwhile - Prairie State Park +++

Far across town Cougar, John Gorgos and Theron Caine stride out into the wide open prairie escorting a kindred that none of them are able to see. The three archons look around, vigilantly keeping an eye out for danger coming from any direction.

“Colder than a witches tit tonight.” John remarks.

“Work fast, Graverobber.” Cougar breathes. “I got a bad feeling about this.”

Dark heavy clouds hung oppressively over their heads and from them, big heavy snowflakes began to fall slowly to the earth.

“Kinda pretty though.” Theron whispered, almost to himself.

The air ripples before them, all three wheel around on the rend in reality as very large Italian man appears, his feet not touching the ground. “Don Giovanni has completed the ritual. It’s now safe… you should head back to the cabin now.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Cougar quipped. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”




++ 9:22pm CST 12-6-09 - Gangrel Cabin, Prairie State Park ++

Miranda is the last kindred to arrive at HQ. Calhoun and she are quick to wander off into a corner but Miranda’s words, even whispered, can’t help but be heard by others. "How you can doubt what I feel for you?"

“This is not the place … or the time…” Calhoun tries to insist but Miranda continues.

"You bade me at the opera to spend the night as befitting my status and I tried! It is no fault of mine that Cicero thinks to prove his conquest of your position, and uses me as his goad. I could've danced the night away with any of the other men in that room and you would've been pleased to see me happy and my world would not be in shatters. Yet because it was him" she spits the last word out, then falters unable to continue.

Calhoun puts a hand on her arm, moving so he is between her and the crowded room. “It’s not what you think.”

Her voice goes quiet and infinitely sad "I'm sorry Nathanial, I hate that I must always be the pretty pawn that those greater than I think to move across the board. He uses me to hurt you, and I hate myself. But what was I supposed to do?" A tear slides down her cheek and Calhoun catches it, noticing the paper she holds in her hand.

“Don’t waste your blood.” On me, he seems to imply… though he might just as well mean that it’s important to use it in combat instead. “Not tonight. Cicero wasn’t using you and I’m not angry. I promise.” He says meeting her eyes meaningfully. “I’ll explain everything …once this is over.”

As if she was waiting for Calhoun to finish, Regina speaks, “Wave two, take your positions. We’ll see you on the other side. Archons… with me. Let’s ride.”




++ 9:30pm CST 12-6-09 - Mindenmines, MO ++

A giant wolf races across the earth tracking the scent of a twisted monster, the servant of evil incarnate… and it must be stopped at all cost. It’s pack joins it, racing across the land, they can see the man just ahead of them and soon he will be surrounded on all sides.

The wolf grins in satisfaction, tonight he and his pack will feed well. It’s not every night, after all, that you get to enjoy the hearts blood of one who is old enough to recall the library of Alexandria.

All along the way the pack screams and hoots, making terrible noise as they tear through the streets, harrying their prey until at last it is surrounded on all sides. The man takes a battle stance, his sword held tightly in his hands, fangs extended.

At a glance from the man one of the packs with him runs in terror, another look and one of his own pack collapses to his knees in adoration making apologizes for everything he‘d ever done wrong in his life. The wolf snarls in disgust as he leaps for the throat of the ancient servant of the antediluvians. The power of his body colliding against a brick wall of force is devastating to the wolf, his shattered bones flying across the city courtyard.

The ancient laughs as pack after pack comes for him and falls to ash at his feet. From his place where he struggles to realign his spine, the wolf can’t help but to realize his Bishop knew the first wave would not come back and had chosen them for the first wave to simply be rid of them… it was the whole reason for a second wave, a third, and a fourth.

His allies dead, his back still not rightly placed, the wolf whimpers helplessly as the ancient strides like a god walking across the earth right up to him, his metal shod boots clanking with each step he makes across the blacktop. He stops just before the wolf and reaches down to pick him up and look him in the eyes. The wolf snaps for good measure but can do little else.

“You are connected to your leadership, yes? Good.” The ancient says with a thick accent, a monocle gleaming with a strange crimson glow in his right eye, “Pass along this before you die then… I’m here and I want my revenge.” The wolf fell to the blacktop hard just then and all hope of fighting back faded quickly away as the metal of the Ancient’s boot came smashing down hard through the top of his skull.





++ 9:45pm CST 12-6-09 - Prairie State Park ++

The night sky was dark and the clouds might have been seen as a giant gray blanket spread across the endless prairie were it not for the somber mood of those who watched the first wave walking down on the field of battle. Quiet, peaceful even, it seemed as though there was nothing there for the Justicar and his archons to find… just an ocean of dead dry grass that, in places, grew taller than a man stood.

The man at the front of the group exuded an aura of majesty appropriate to a creature of his station, despite the inhuman appearance that his body had become over time. Sure, the three days worth of growth on his face might have made him like any man in the Midwest this time of year… but the inky black depths of his solid black eyes, his bat-like nose, his pointed bat ears, hooked claws that his hands had become and the short rude spurs that protruded from his back left no doubt what he was - a monster.

There had been no need of obfuscation tonight, as there had been in the past… no one to impress or awe. Tonight called for nothing short of beasts - men and women should have stayed home, safe in their beds.

Archon Theron Caine’s body shifted and morphed into something out of a storybook, mostly wolf but partly other things, as he took step after step crossing into the three mile expanse that His Grace Xaiver had declared fit for battle. Beside him, Art Morgan … who hadn’t been seen in weeks, sprouted claws clearly intending to do some damage of his own.

Beside them Cougar let cat like claws sprout from the end of her finger tips as she spare a playful smile for the old man… as if she not only welcomed combat and possible death - but was eager for it.

A beautiful woman, an archon who was introduced as Genevieve Duchette, held an aura that could be felt for quite some time after she’d left the cabin. She now walked calmly across the field, a small team of men walking all around her. The men, so everyone who had been at the cabin had seen, only had eyes for her and hung on her every motion and breath … obsessed with her. Each carried weapons and seemed as though he might actually know how to use them.

The final man didn’t appear until they were well into the fight zone, his ugly visage the very thing of nightmares and grim fairy tales. The Nosferatu was armed with two wicked looking blades covered in some very dark substance that could not be made out at this distance.

All four stood just behind Xavier de Calis, Justicar of Clan Gangrel, and waited for their orders. The wind rushed through the grasses making the only noise that could be heard for miles. If there had been animals here, they had long since fled in terror.

“Bring it to me.” Xavier growled.

“My pleasure.” Cougar said stepping forward, her body quickly becoming a mass of inky black shadows writhing all about her. “Here Kitty, Kitty, Kitty…” She cackled, insanity wild in her eyes and aura as her black tentacles seemed to rip into the earth and reach down for something unseen.

For a moment, nothing happened but then … all at once there was a rumbling of the ground and a noise that sounded like the cracking of thunder only it hadn’t come from the sky… but the ground instead.

Across the massive field men began appearing from the earth itself, like the ground was giving birth to an army of Gangrel… a few at first then dozens as far as the eye could see - red eyes glowing in the darkness giving the only sign of their arrival to those standing so far away.

“What the hell was that… ?” Gorgos asked.

“The earth.” Xavier replied. “Stand your ground. No one leaves until it falls!” His command was heard by all and the Gangrel clan roared making such a sound as to leave no doubt who would be victorious tonight.

“Your Grace… the ground’s going to give way!” Genevieve cried out but her warning did no good as suddenly the as the earth cracked and heaved beneath their feet swallowing Gangrel as the ground exploded beneath them. The ambient light of liquid fire from inside the earth illuminated the army of Gangrel. Out of the crevices, hundreds of man-shaped shambling horrors began to climb out, blood thirsty and ready to join the battle. At the center of this emerging army appeared a creature of horror, standing over 9 feet tall. It reached out with one giant clawed hand and clinched the Justicar’s side twisting him almost in half and tossing him aside like a broken toy. Xaviar screamed out in pain as Art roared, leaping up to take his brother’s place trading blows with the thing.

“KILL THAT THING!” Genevieve screeched in a heavy French accent and her army of supplicants charged to join Morgan in the fray even as their mistress fell unceremoniously into a pit of fire that opened beneath her feet, one final scream echoing into the night, above the clashes of battle joined.

Steam from the earth scalded and did as much damage as claws and fire, Gangrel by the score we’re being pulled down into the earth and some, who it seemed had not leapt out of the earth on que, seemed trapped mid-meld and lay helpless waiting for the enemy’s force to swoop down upon them and finish them off.

The cries of pain and terror made a terrible harmony with the battle cries of the living. While the enemy had taken considerable losses, and was obviously killable, it seemed that the Gangrel clan had taken the bulk of the injuries and it was now time for re-enforcements to arrive or the battle would be surely lost.

Team Alpha - Post One 9:47 p.m. CST 12-6-09

Cicero stands like a statue looming over the battlefield though his height is no greater than those he leads or the men on the field. To his credit he is unshaken by the shadows wielded by the archon or the cracking of the earth though the same can’t be said of his erstwhile companions.

The sight of it all is terrifying and magnificent to behold. “Steady.” The Prince says in a calm tone trying to reassure his men. As the Justicar is taken in hand and tossed aside, someone exclaims, “Oh shit.”

Isabella (Known by her friends as Maddalena) focuses on juggling the voices in her head… but for once it’s not just her own. It’s been a while since she had operated in such a capacity and so the patterns and voices create a new kind of melody that she finds herself swaying to. “All teams are in position and ready, My Prince.”

“Now.” Cicero says across the telepathic web and the teams move forward onto the field knowing it will be a short time before they are in range to do any damage and by then, their strength and numbers will be needed.

James Brown can’t help but feel the twisting knot in his stomach growing with each step, the blood beading on his forehead. Looking to Sal beside him he gives a meek smile, it seems he is trying to say ‘we will be fine’ but it comes across more as ‘goodbye.’

As they reach the edges of the melee a sound breaks the team’s silence. Cicero turns to look at Sal and in the same instant that he does, a hole opens in the center of Salvatore’s skull – between his eyes. Gray matter splatters over Cicero’s face and chest as the younger kindred falls to the ground at the Prince’s feet … presumably dead.

A terrible screeching noise echoes across the telepathic web threatening to melt Maddie’s mind and distracting the team leaders who are linked into it … in that same instant, the Seneschal feels the mind of the Prince violently ripped from her control as if he had suddenly been killed in one fell swoop. The backlash is controlled and the web maintained by the Malkavian but only barely.

Cicero wheels around on Simon as he’s preparing for the unseen assault to come… sadly, once it does, it comes from the last place he’d ever look for it. Cicero moves in a blur of speed, none nearby have even the mind to comprehend the speed he moves with but Simon tries to keep pace.

“RUN!” Simon screams at the Tremere. James hesitates a moment but only a moment before he decides he can not possibly hope to keep up with the elder Brujah’s speed or strength. He breaks into a run, one last glance as behind him Simon’s head explodes messily and his form collapses in a heap.

Cicero licks his clanmate’s blood from his lips… his eyes quivering he takes a step forward, his teeth gritting so hard they could be heard cracking if anyone was close enough for such a thing. The man trapped inside his own body can only fight the thing that puppeteers him for so long before his legs once again move of their own volition and the blood in his bloody stirs him to run after the fleeing men.

Just as he’s about to grab the Tremere a noise is heard above him, Cicero’s mind… the part not ruling his body right now… is almost thankful to be stopped, even though he knows what his friend must be ready to do. He says a silent goodbye to Apollo… he wonders distantly at his ward’s well being… and is lifted into the air by the stony form of what might be taken for a demon if one were not aware of such creatures.

But pain does not come and Cicero screams in his own mind as the Gargoyle drops him to the ground to start his killing again. Why… why hadn’t his friend killed him? Why hadn’t death come! The impact of the earth startled his mind, for a moment he thought he might actually regain control of his senses… the thing was not unbeatable! Joy surged through the Prince but was quickly squashed as once again he saw the running Tremere.

In a blur Cicero began to move again – it had been a very long time since he’d felt so used, so helpless… so weak. By the Gods, he couldn’t stop himself and it seemed that no one else cared to try.

Beta Team – Post One 9:47 p.m. CST 12-6-09

Beta Team races across the open field to fill in the openings left by the Gangrel clan. Many of the things minions are down; Art Morgan is pounding on the beast itself along with a handful of Archons that are still standing. All around the field lay mangled bodies, others half melded into the ground, scrabbling for release, crying out in pain.

The Colonel is at the front of his team, his shape changing as he leads the charge to battle. His eyes flit around the field, taking it in with the easy experience of one long accustomed to war. Just slightly behind him to his right runs JTM, his bat resting comfortably on his shoulder as he runs, an open beer in his other hand which he manages to sip from as he jumps over and around the broken ground between them and their target. The still well dressed James Downing of the Tremere brings up the rear with Lydia at his side.

Demonic seeming minions run at them as they close on the battlefield, The Colonel now appearing as a towering black bear with red eyes swipes through them, dropping them like flies. Some of them fly over his shoulder to be taken up by JTM’s swinging bat.

Suddenly the Colonel stops, the large bear shakes all over, tossing his head back and forth, roaring out in an air splitting sound that gives pause to the things attacking the team. The nine foot tall monster looks over at the bear and smiles, Art Morgan swinging at it even as it does so, hanging on to its arm.

Again a terrible feedback comes across the telepathic web, this time it brings Maddie to her knees. She wails as blood leaks out her ears and visions flood the web of what the Malkavian thinks has happened to not just Cicero… but now the Colonel, too.

The Colonel turns towards his own team, razor claws reaching out and grabbing James Downing tossing him up into the air. The Tremere screams, yelling something as he flies. A bolt of flame races from his hand towards the Colonel, slamming into his face. The bear head shakes again; the Colonel starts to turn, as if he might head back towards his original target, but then stops, his body shaking. He turns, towering over Lydia and JTM, his gaping jaw opening, razor sharp teeth leaning in closer, in moments it seems he will bite Lydia’s head off, but then JTM’s swinging bat intervenes.

The Colonel roars, turning towards the more apparent threat. Lydia screams and disappears from sight. JTM yells.

“God damn fuckers steal my TV! Steal my beer! This one is for Barbie you sons of bitches!” He swings the bat yet again, slamming it into the bear with inhuman strength, but little apparent effect. James Downing slams into the ground hard enough that he bounces off the turf and hits again, bones breaking loudly. He jumps up, despite his grievous wounds, ribs sticking out of his shirt and his suit torn and shredded. He mutters again making strange motions, once more flame leaps from his hand slamming into the Colonel.

The Colonel roars and turns towards James, then his body again begins to shake once more. He roars in anger just as JTM slams the bat into him again. “I’m in control!” he growls loudly barely understandable.

He looks across the field, his opponent surround again by Gangrel, Art Morgan still standing toe to toe with the creature but obviously hurt. His beast rising up inside him, he runs towards the Elder Gangrel, screaming out loud “Take it down now!” knowing deep in his own heart, that if they don’t stop that thing directly, all the other teams will die.

Gamma Team – Post One 9:47 p.m. CST 12-6-09

Turning to his team, Evan Storm considered his resources. The battle had not yet begun but that didn’t stop the natural leader in him from deciding now, instead of later, was best to take command of his group.

“Father?” He said to Viktor. “I do not know if that thing down there is infernal or not… but let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth. If your prayers could mean anything to our team’s success… I suggest you make your best attempt at reaching your God, yes?”

Viktor nods. “I shall begin now.” With that Viktor begins to intone in latin but Storm pays no attention having no use for the god of the Catholics. Turning then to his next resource he notes that the Tremere, Izabella seems to be speaking to the air… likely doing some sort of Tremere magic in their best interest. He nods, satisfied and turns then to the Nosferatu, Droz.

“I presume you are capable of making yourself unseen… are you able to do that for others?” Evan arches an eyebrow.

Droz smiles, his oversized fangs making his grin look particularly frightening. “Do I look like an extraction team member?” He says, speech slightly effected by the size of his fangs, “What I intend to do is make the most of my invisibility and strength. With that the nosferatu disappears from sight.

Just then, the ground shakes and the whole group quickly turn toward the battlefield. “God protect your servants!” Viktor cries out at the sight of the thing and it’s minions rising up out of the ground. Over the web the Ventrue team leader hears the command and begins to move and as they do, the Tremere Izabella calls out loudly, arms raised to the sky…

“Spirits of the Prairie, hear my call to aid in the protection of your home and sanctuary. My friends and I are here to help cleanse this area of a great evil.” Her voice carries a power and the wind, which pull the heat up from the ground and towards you, seems to swirl all around her making her hair fly wildly about her as if it were magical energy itself. “I request any help that you can give in this fight for your powers and abilities are vast. This great evil endangers more than just your home it endangers all the area around your home! Where will you go if it continues to live? AID ME AND IN TURN AID YOURSELF!”

As they reach the battlefield’s edge Droz, still invisible, feels as though he has the worst headache imaginable… as if someone were driving nails into his skull at various points. Blood trickles down from his nose and in his mind he feels the presence of some… thing.

Fearful, knowing he does not want to be the mindless minion of any man or beast, he turns to flee the range of the creature and his friends… but it does no good. A moment later he reappears and springs upon Father Viktor, pummeling him relentlessly.

Across the web Evan calls out, “Droz is attacking us… My team is falling in upon itself!”

Evan moves then to Viktor’s aid even as the wind on the Prairie comes to a sudden and a supernaturally unexpected halt. She mutters as the Viktor and Evan struggle to grapple and secure Droz from hurting anyone too seriously but his sheer strength is proving formidable indeed.

Again the earth groans and Izabella smiles and speaks as if to herself… “Here it comes.”

Delta Team – Post One 9:47 p.m. CST 12-6-09

Janus flying overhead, races away from the rest of the team to grab Cicero and attempt to stop his attacks on his own team. Kalie look over the team, defaulting to the leadership position. All around the field of battle the fight rages, inhuman things that have crawled out of the ground engaging with Gangrel and other teams, Art Morgan and the Archons standing toe to toe with a nine foot monstrosity. As she examines the field she hears the screams of Maddie across the network then she also hears something else, a deep rumbling laughter. Something tries to grab control of her mind, it is powerful, overwhelmingly so. She can feel it gaining ground as she struggles, turning towards her team, she squeezes out a single word . . . “RUN!” she screams pointing away from the battle and herself. Once more Maddalena feels a leader ripped out of her telepathic network, pain shooting through her mind.

Mini-Ogre and James McCagin look at each other, their eyes growing wide, without a word they turn and begin to run in separate directions. Kalie struggles and then takes off after McCagin. He makes it mere steps before Kalie grabs him by the back of the shirt. She begins to pummel him, he fights back, hitting her with all he has, but it doesn’t seem to slow her down. Her fists alight in flames as she continues beating him, he can feel the darkness closing in on him and sends out one last glimmer of hope for salvation.

Salvation arrives in the form of a fiery red head, with a half her body and face painted blue, she’s wearing a kilt with no shirt, her feet bare, fangs extended and screaming in some foreign language “Fαg an bealach!” Emma slams into her friend, knocking her off of McCagin and rolling across the ground, sliding into one of the open fissures. One of the ‘things’ crawling out of it latches onto her foot, pulling her down as it makes its way up, Kalie rolls around slamming a fist into Emma’s face with deadly force. Emma hisses, then moves so fast that onlookers can not see but the results appear in devastating clarity. The irish woman is wielding a bright sword having taken the arm off the thing that has grabbed onto her; now standing on her feet with its point held to Kalie’s throat.

“Yield!” she commands her clanmate “Come to your senses!”

One of the creatures grabs onto Mini-Ogre as he tries to get away, knocking him to the ground. He rolls with it, rising up and turning, he goes toe to toe with the creature, holding his own. McCagin looks over, seeing his team mate in trouble starts running over to team up with Mini-Ogre. The two of them together start to overcome their foe, but around them the battle is still in chaos.


Wave 3 – Plus Some 9:50 p.m. CST 12-6-09

The battle rages across the field, full engagement has happened. The field is littered with bodies of the injured and dying. Brother fights against brother, sister against sister. Standing tall in the middle of it a creature of legend, surrounded by creatures of nightmare, as the earth itself seems to spit out its putrid dead, yawning maws opening to swallow those above who walked its face.

A bugle sounds out from a rise to the west of the main battle, the call to assembly. There on a large white horse sits Cahill, dressed in full Confederate regalia, his cavalry sword extended into the air in front of him. Planted in the ground next to him is a very large confederate flag. To either side of him, all astride horses of such size they must have been fed vitae, are the elders of the city, the ‘shadow’ court. They stand arrayed for battle, each in their own style. Cahill waves his sword in the air, slashing down just as the young boy on the ground next to him sounds the call for Charge!

The horses leap into action, racing down the slope, leaping over the chasms in the earth as the wind picks up and the ground begins to apparently heal itself. As it does so the Gangrel still trapped there scream out final cries as death takes them and many ash instantly. The Elders ride through, eyes across the battlefield being drawn to them, especially the ever lovely Miss Kensington who seems to draw the eyes of even their opponents, a flashing sword slashing about her as she rides, body parts flying off of their opponents until they clash with thunderous rumble of flesh slamming into flesh with a solid wall of their opponents. Cahill can be heard shouting orders over the din as the battle is joined.

* * * * * * * * * *

The wind whips around the tall grass, everywhere it touches the ground closes, sealing itself back to its original state, with no regard to those trapped in the crevices. Mini and James McCagin are fighting a defensive retreat, their big gun taken away from them. Creatures keep clawing at them, wounds appearing across their flesh as they slowly try to make it back to the safety of their own lines, neither of them equipped to be a front line solo fighter. James trips and slips into a crevice. Mini whirls around and grabs for him, the wind is whipping up even higher, swirling around the open plains faster and faster, throwing up dirt and bits of grass to further add to the chaos of battle. Just as Mini grabs James’ hand, a creature jumps on his back, sinking fangs into his neck and sucking for all it is worth, Mini screams in shock and pain. James tries to climb back out of the crevice, but the wind whips up, whistling past them and the ground snaps shut, Mini looking into James eyes as the horror of his own death dawns on him and the ground snaps shut.

Mini screams, jumping up, wrestling with the thing on his back, flipping over and slamming it into the ground. Maddalena sees James fall, watches as the thing jumps Mini. She looks over at Gregory Carlisle; he stands next to her, watching the proceedings with a slight grin on his face.

“Gregory, save Mini, do it for me!” Maddalena commands. Gregory looks at her, his eyes filled with devotion, love and hatred all blended together.

“But of course,” he says running towards Mini. He runs and jumps, tackling the creature on Mini, rolling with it, but as he does so, he is surrounded. The things fall on him and he is lost to sight, surely dead as well. Mini struggles to his feet, his head spinning from loss of blood he staggers towards Maddalena.

Beta/Delta Team – Post Two 9:51 p.m. CST 12-6-09

Janus watches from his height, circling the battlefield. He watches the flow of battle back and forth, almost he feels something as the battle turns slightly back in their favor, his heart of stone almost finding a crack, but then it is gone. He realizes that the thing in the center is the cause of the problems that it is using some form of domination or presence to turn his friends against each other and in his mind, he realizes there is only one answer.

Carefully angling his wings he catches the currents, gaining height as he does so, higher and higher he climbs, pushing himself past the limits he has previously stopped at until even to his eyesight the battlefield seems to be little more then specks of humanity. Slowly he banks over, takes careful aim, then folds his wings in, enjoying the sensations of the cold wind rushing over his skin as gravity takes its full effect on his body.
* * * * * * * * * * * *

The Colonel leads the rest of his team forward, clearing the path with his huge size. The rest of his team tries to keep up; James Downing’s wounds slow him down. Unholy creatures pile onto the giant bear, JTM spends his time trying to knock them off using his bat. Lydia reappears once things are returned to control and takes every opportunity to make eye contact with her opponents, leaving them quivering masses of flesh. One of them runs into Downing, bowling him over and another piles on top, JTM wades into to save the Tremere, but by the time he gets him unburied, he has succumbed to his wounds.

“EXTRACTION!” JTM yells. “Hey Bitches! We got a man down!” He waves his arms wildly for a moment, turning around, unsure of which way to go. “Fuck, wish Kalie was here,” he mutters. He grabs Lydia by the arm. “Take him, protect him, get him behind the lines!” he says to her.

“Sure, I can protect him,” Lydia says, struggling with the dead weight valiantly as she tries to work her way back to an extraction team.

Running JTM follows the mostly cleared path left behind by the Colonel, almost they are at the creature that is the center of all this, bodies come flying back to him and he takes his batting practice swing. His attention focused on the incoming from the Colonel, he gets jumped by one from behind. JTM staggers under its weight, then another hits him taking his legs out from under him. He feels the sharp sting of fangs piercing his skin.

“Dammit! Barbie where you at now!” he screams struggling, but even his great strength is not gaining him much headway against the creatures piling on to him.

Kalie vs Emma/JT Brown vs Fate 9:51 p.m. CST 12-6-09

Kalie lies on the ground the sword pressing against her flesh. Emma stands over her with a wild look in her face.

“Control yourself woman!” she screams, staring into Kalie’s eyes. Kalie struggles to regain control, fighting inside her own mind as her body moves against her will. She feels as if she is wrestling with a snake in water, no matter how she struggles, it is always attacking somewhere else, never letting her get solid footing.

Kalie rolls quickly to one side even as Emma thrusts the sword down, hitting empty ground instead of flesh. Rising up she slams her burning fist into Emma and the battle is on again. Emma rocks back with the blow but keeps her feet.

“I’m sorry sister,” she says softly. Everything slows for Kalie for an instant as Emma mysteriously has a stake in her hand and is coming in fast, too fast for Kalie to register or really see her move. One moment she is in front of her, feet away, the next she feels the pain and sudden rigidness of a stake in her heart.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

James Tiberius Brown thought he was going to get away. Freedom was so close, he pushed the blood to his muscles, willing himself to go faster. He knew his fate was looming, he could behind him closing closer and closer. Then fate caught up with James Tiberius Brown.

Cicero grabbed him up, pulling him up, holding him face to face. Burning hands press into him, he then shoves those burning hands into his eyes. He then tosses him aside, discarding him like so much trash. James Tiberius Brown crawls along the ground, trying to find his way to safety, but his inner sight telling him safety is a long ways away for him, still he clings to hope as he feels his way along.

Team Epsilon – Team Zeta – Post One 9:52 p.m. CST 12-6-09

The extraction teams watch as wave two, their friends and fellow residents of Lamar, descend into the chaos of battle. Stan considers carefully the scene before him, watching the ebb and flow of the insanity that is life and death in war trying to find some tactical edge not seen by others.
Pius, his eyes never having left the Justicar once again speaks, “I think it would be prudent to pull His Grace out now.”

“He’s very near the front… we’d have to fight our way through and what about all the dying we’d pass to get to him. No. Let’s begin our work and when we get to him, we’ll help him just like the others.” Otto says, not angry but assertive as his station demands of him.

“I agree with Otto, the suffering is equal across the battlefield. Status matters little here,” Sister Sophia voices, coming to stand in support of Otto.

“I don’t think the choice to get him out of there is about Status. If we can get him on his feet again, and he clearly is alive… I can see that from here, he could help turn the tide of the battle back to our favor. I mean, look how Morgan is fighting!” Sabboth adds.

Stan’s eyes narrow as he catches sight of something important but he doesn’t speak up at first, instead he simply walks to the edge of the ‘secure’ area… making sure his eyes aren’t playing tricks on him.

“We’re heading out.” Tamas says. “Let’s get started… the longer we talk about what we’re doing, the more are dying.” Tsuritsa nods and joins her brother in leaving to retrieve the dying.

“Shall we?” Otto says to the Sister beside him and the two also head into the din of battle determined to make a difference for those who still scream for help and those who can do so no longer.

Stan turns then to the three remaining kindred: Pius, Sabboth and Massimo. “And then there were four. Gentlemen?” Stan asks the unspoken question, looking back to the line on the battlefield that his mind had drawn out for him.

Massimo shrugs and jokes. “I’ve always wanted to save a Justicar.”

“I’m in.” Sabboth chimes in.

Pius’ only answer is to stride past Stan, determined to get to the Justicar no matter what stands in their way.


+++


Tamas rises from the ground wiping ash from his mouth and smiles at his sister. Tsurita watches from a short distance away, her hand on something in her pocket. He smiles at her and while a part of her can’t help but smile at him in return, other parts of her have begun to question… to reason… to prepare for what was to come next. She longed to tell him the truth, to tell him of her sacrifice and how in the end it would all be okay but that would rob her of the power to make it true.

“Vengeance.” Tamas breathes. Tsuritsa nods but does not reply, somberly following behind her brother as he seeks out another helpless soul to “save.”



+++


Cicero rages inside his own form but try as he might, nothing seems to break him free of the creature’s hold and Gangrel after Gangrel find their end under his might. Twice now he’d fed on the men who he’d come here to call comrades only to burn through their sweet vitae in the slaughter of others.

For a moment the world seems to slow to a crawl and he can take in the events about him and it’s then that he clearly see’s a teenage girl striding confidently towards him, emotionless eyes transfixed on him, an archaic looking bow slung over her shoulder.

He knows how this should end, again, hope springs to life in him that somehow he’ll be stopped. It’s only as the girl speaks softly to him that he realizes the din of battle has faded from his hearing, “This will hurt.” She says frankly, balling her fist and pulling back her hand.

Fire wreathed hands, his own, also rise and the titans collide into one another. The teen is thrown backwards but so is Cicero’s already wounded form. As pain explodes through his whole skeletal frame his mind finds a renewed strength to fight back. Hissing he leaps to his feet, the immediate world around him … still, unmoving, unnaturally frozen – all except the teen and himself.

“Another time this would have ended far differently, Prince… but things are…” she chooses her words carefully. “Changing …again.” She nods as if deciding that this is an appropriate answer. Looking across the battlefield she finds the Ravnos and she raises her hand slowly, as if there was no rush at all, “Her. Get her to the beast… she alone has the power to stop it for good.”

Cicero’s eyes lock on the Ravnos.

“Perhaps we’ve both learned a lesson about judging people based on their blood… yes, son of Troile?” The girl all but spits the name.

It’s then that everything comes to life once more. Cicero only spends an instant looking for the mysterious teen that had disappeared before his very eyes before he breaks into a run… this time, his legs under his own command.


+++


“Then for as long as you walk the earth, you and your children will fear the dawn, and the suns rays will seek to burn you like…” Pius intoned, preparing his most vicious attack on the gangrel who was relentless in trying to kill them. The Justicar was in sight of them now. He would not be stopped!

A set of claws burst forth from the thing’s chest then and the gangrel fell off Stan’s hand.
“Well,” Massimo quipped “… or you could do that.”

The group ran up to Xavier who was dragging himself with a twisted arm off the battlefield. Stan could see the insanity swirling around him as Pius and he reached out to the broken man. Yes, Xavier saw with a new clarity now… but it would not serve them, even if they could fix what the thing had done. His arm, shoulder, all of it was uselessly twisted backwards and beyond that there were wounds that only a great deal of blood would heal.

The man gibbered, “Antediluvian…”

Sabboth shook his head. “We need to hide. We can’t fight our way back through bringing him with us.”

“Stay close to me.” Stan commanded. “Don’t let your guard down.”

With that the group disappeared from sight.

Finale 9:55 p.m. CST 12-6-09

Cicero runs with all his might, his eyes remaining locked on the Ravnos. The girl was supposed to have the key to saving the city. They had threatened his city, they had threatened everything, they were at the root of all evil.

His steps thunder through, dodging the remains of the army that stood against his forces, he closes with the Ravnos. Out of the corner of his eye he sees the Colonel, in his bear form now up to helping Art taking on the foe directly. He notices JTM lying lifeless, an enemy combatant feeding on him; he summons his greatest strength and pushes his power across the space between them, destroying the one attacking JTM without slowing his race to the Ravnos.

Tamas turns, blood dripping from his fangs as he rises from over the body of a fallen Gangrel, he seems to smile, welcoming the coming Prince who slams into him with a might that even one skilled in the arts of fortitude would feel shaken by. Tamas’s body breaks under the blow, the burning wrath of the Brujah increasing his damage, the body of the Ravnos starts to deteriorate under his grip, then reforms itself immediately behind it. Clearly the highest levels of fortitude are at the command of Tamas.

Tsuritsa cries out as her brother stands up to the Prince, going toe to toe, the pain and hurt on her face obvious.

“Tamas! No!” she cries out. Tamas looks at her and a grin, clearly telling her this is no problem. No words are exchanged as the two men face off, Cicero using pure strength of body, but Tamas calls on his magic and a column of flame 18’ high slams down, Cicero barely dodging out of the way in time. He goes to hit Tamas again, but the ground beneath him ripples, throwing both combatants completely off their feet.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

His target gets bigger and bigger as Janus’ speed increases. He is moving faster then he ever has before, he pushes his blood to prepare his fortitude, the impact of this one was going to hurt he knew but he only hoped it was enough to stop the madness this creature had brought forth.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The Colonel had reached Art’s side, several of the Archons were down, the thing was hurting, it was obvious, but not hurting enough. They had thrown everything they had against this monster, yet it still stood fighting them, controlling friends. He heard a whistling sound and his memories flashed back to the sound of an incoming cannonball from his first days on a battlefield.

“What is this?” he thought, but unable to look around for its source.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Maddelena continued her struggle to keep the telepathic lines of communication open despite the setbacks. She surveyed the battlefield, watching all of them, then her attention was drawn to Janus’ thoughts across the web she maintained.

“This is going to hurt,” he thought just as Maddalena looked up. The ground in the center of the battlefield exploded, she lost sight of all combatants for long moments. She searched desperately in her mind for the connections, counting off each one as she made sure they were still connected, still alive.

As the dust blew in the unnatural winds, slowly clearing out the middle of the field was no longer an open prairie plain, instead a crater the edge of which came up almost to where she stood now. The monster lay on the ground, surrounded by his opponents. Maddalena breathed a sigh of relief as each of her connections came back to life and she could see them start to stir, rising up to continue the battle.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Tamas and Cicero remained locked in mortal combat. Tamas calling down pillars of flame, Cicero hitting him with the might of ages, yet so intent on each other are they, that neither of them notice Tsuritsa. She moves slowly into position, careful not to attract attention, using her powers of obfuscation to ensure such.

“Tamas, you get us into so much trouble,” she thinks to herself. “I hope you know, I’m just trying to save your soul.” Her obfuscate drops just as she slams the stake into Cicero. Cicero’s body goes rigid and the flames come slamming down on him, engulfing the Prince of Lamar.

Tsuritsa dances away from the fire, squealing.

“Tamas!” she yells moving to where she can see her brother, ready to admonish him. Over her shoulder she hears a voice call out.

“Then for as long as you walk the earth, you and your children will fear the dawn, and the suns rays will seek to burn you like fire where ever you hide always.”

Before her, Tamas his easy smile grinning at her is suddenly engulfed himself in another 18’ tall pillar of flame.

On the edge of the crater, a short distance away Pius stands next to Massimo. Massimo looks at Pius.

“Must you always say that every time you use your power? Really?” he shakes his head.

Tsuritsa screams, her heart rending. In her pocket she feels the burning sensation of the item Queen Mab gave her. She pulls it out, feeling it burn her hand, she screams. Her heart broken, her brother dead his body dancing in a pillar of flame, hatred fills her. She turns towards the monster, a renewed commitment in her eyes, fighting the pain she feels the empty loneliness of the world.

She begins running down the slope of the crater, her eyes locked on her target but she slips and falls. Sliding down she slams into James Tiberius Brown.

“What is this!” Brown cries out. “Who is there!”

“Where is my cross!” Tsuritsa screams.

“I’ve seen the dark deeds you’ve done. You don’t deserve the redemption I offered you,” the raspy whispered voice echoes through Tsuritsa’s head. Tsurtisa begins to cry. JT Brown hears it as well though.

“Who is that? I’ll help! If she can beat this thing, let me help!”

“Well enough,” the voice says. “If this one is willing to sacrifice with you, then perhaps you can be redeemed.”

James Tiberius Brown touches something metal, so cold to the touch it burns his hand. Reaching out, he grabs Tsuritsa’s hand as well.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Maddalena watches as Cicero is engulfed in flames, ripped once more out of her web. She stares in stark horror, then the Ravnos himself is also engulfed in flames. It takes every ounce of her self control to not turn and flee immediately.

Looking around, it seems as if all hope is lost. Cicero, their leader is gone. What hope have they now? She hears a scream, turning to look she sees Tsuritsa, guiding along JT Brown. The two of them race towards the monster and then her visions show her that something bad is about to happen; bad in a terrible yet wonderful way

“GET OUT OF THERE! RUN!” she screams across the web to everyone connected still, just hoping she can get them free. Slowly they start to move not fast enough. She screams at them all again, willing them to move faster. The two small figures get closer and closer to the monster.

There is a blinding flash of light as the two Kindred reach their foe and when the light fades, both those kindred and the beast itself are gone. A quiet wind blows across the prairie as silence descends upon you all.


OOC: There will be a post tomorrow of the full aftermath including injuries/death lists/etc as well as a start point for the kick off of further role play. Watch for Seal #3 - Epilogue Tomorrow!