The motorcycle engine whined as the rider rode the gears, the speed hurtling up as he dragged it around the corner, the rear wheel spitting up gravel as it swung almost away from him. He glanced up as the harshly lit road sign came into view. “Cascadia, 12 km.”

Gunning the engine he drove on, his hair whipping back from his face as the harsh false lights of the city rose into view from the hill as the road crept downhill. Disappearing into the urban sprawl.

Two hours later Elam parked the bike, an oily Triumph Daytona he’d stolen from a group of goth wannabes in New Orleans a week or so previous. Booking a motel room he settled for the night, closing the curtains on the solitary window before resting until the next night.

He awoke with a start as the sun sank. Korred whispered to him, fading as the dream left him behind. Growling he slid from the mattress, casting the sheets around him like a shawl as he switched the TV on. The screen showed Christopher Lee doing his best Drac impression, dominating a young girl before feeding comically. Elam shook his head, grabbing a towel he staggered into the shower, the hot water washing away three days of road grime. Once washed he threw on a pair of beige slacks he’d “borrowed” from a washing line a month ago in Miami, flaring at the ankles they gave him a seventies look. Pulling his hair back with a comb he dragged on his leather jacket before grabbing his .38, wallet and the bike keys. The room keys swinging from his fingers as he walked to the front desk.

“One day, 30 bucks wasn’t it?”

The motel manager grinned, his fingers curling around the shotgun rigged under the desk.

“60 for assholes. 30 for decent folks. You ain’t decent folk.”

Elam looked up, dropping $30 on the desk top, his eyes glowing amber.

“30 looks about right dipshit!”

Stuttering the manager whined.

“Ye..y..yeah sir....that’s right.......”

Elam turned away, then turned his head again, his ears twitching.

“How much for the street howitzer?” His lip curling in a playful snarl.

“F..f..for you nuthin’...here..ttt..t..take it.” He unhooked the sawn off shotgun, sliding it across the desk to Elam who whirled it around his finger before nodding and walking out. The room keys swinging on the front door handle.

Outside the bike coughed and spluttered into life, the rear wheel kicking up in the exhaust fumes as he headed into the city centre. Korreds face in his mind as he gunned along the street.

“Now to find the Prince and his puppies.”

((hmmm :smile: i want to meeet this Elam...Seems like the kind of guy rofellos hates...well...he only REALLY hates the snake wench...i mean kiya...hmm...i wonder if elam is stronger than Rofellos...is he? If so Rofellos wouldnt mess with him...Respect thy elders and all that.... :smile:

Sounds alittle rough around the edges, but otherwise my sort of fellow, kinda wondering about the clan. Interested to see where this is going. Nice post by the way.

((Ummmmm why is Elam listed as an NPC?

((Couldent tell ya

"No, It won't do." Gabriel said for the fifth time.

"Very well, then why don't YOU tell me what will?" the Kindred responded. Gabriel took a step closer, leaving a slight trail of cigarette smoke in his wake.

"Don't kill him, take him in for questioning, nothing more. If he doesn't talk let him go...he'll think we're weak. That's what I want." The Kindred nodded slowly in comprehension. "Now go."

The man turned and walked away as Gabriel sighed, dropping the cigarette to the lamp lit sidewalk and crushing it under a shoe. The continuous thump of dance music could be dully heard even from the outside of the club where he was.

A line stretched around the corner of chattering people, a good deal of them vampires. After all, this WAS the premere club in Cascadia. He hated being there, so classless.

He watched as a single headlight roared into view down the street.

He brought the bike to a reluctant halt, his vampiric eyes scanning the street ahead. A long line of gothic rejects stood outside a modern, techno inspired building. Long strips of neon breaking the thick night air like thin gaudy paint strokes. He tutted at the pomposity of it all before pushing the bike stand down and stepping off. The relatively comforting bulge of the .38 in the back of his slacks made him feel a little less exposed, the sawn-off barely hidden in his jacket.

He sniffed the air, his inner nose becoming more sensitive to scents as he walked towards the club.

As he reached the end of the queue he watched a blonde, suit standing on the other side of the street. He sniffed the air, the trick Barghest had taught him worked perfectly.

Kindred!

Carefully and graciously he nodded when the blonde cast him a glance, the heat and sweat from the would be clubbers flooding his nostrils as the doors drew them in. The muffled, mindless "music" suddenly erupted into a crescendo as the doors released it. Elam frowned and stepped out of line, just avoiding a security sweep on the line.

He turned again, watching as the conversation between the blonde and his companions grew more faded then started back to his bike.

Straddling the powerful machine he watched as the blonde suit left the scene, entering a sleek, charcoal grey limo before driving off.

He kicked the engine to life and followed the car, the acrid air of the street scorching his nostrils.

The tangerine shafts of light cast by the street lamps reflected off the tinted windows of the grey limousine. Within Gabriel O'Brien, Seneschal of Cascadia, kept a close watch on the motorcycle that had been following him since the club. The few glimses he had caught of the rather ragged looking rider gave no clues to his identity.

"Fredrick, pull in here." Gabriel said as they neared an abandoned work site. The framework of a mall stood half complete, the city halting production after the bombing of city hall only a few months previous (Sabbat Attack).

Fredrick did as he was told and negotiated the long limousine in between the high wire fences that covered the dusty terrain. Shadows were forced from their resting spots as the limousine's headlights cut through, closely followed by the single beam of the Triumph.

Once Gabriel felt they were far enough from the road he unbuckled his seatbelt.

"Kill the headlights, leave the car on." he said as he stepped out into the night air. The smell of gasoline stung his nostrils as he approached the rider, who sat atop the roaring motorcycle.

The cycle cut off, sputtering slightly before falling into silence. Gabriel let his ears adjust to the solitude as he took in the figure on the bike. He smelled Gangrel, that much was certain. Gabriel felt the pang of fear crawl up his spine. No doubt however Fredrick was watching from the car, he was safe.

"Who are you?" Gabriel asked finally.

He felt the .38 prevalent against his back as a feeling of dread filled him. He knew the blonde that walked towards him was kindred, but was he sabbat?

He flexed his fingers, the bones silently, invisibly readying themselves to become razor-like if threatened.

"Who are you?" The blonde asked his steely eyes set Elam even further on edge.

He returned the glare, Barghest had instilled in him a more animalistic instinct. Looking weak provoked attack he thought as his eyes glowed amber then a deeper fire.

"Name's Elam, Elam Þrá."

The blonde looked puzzled, the word that ended Elams name eluded him. He tried to repeat it...

"Phra?"

Elam grinned.

"That's close enough."

He stepped forward a little.

"You're kindred right? I'm assuming from the playboy get up you're Ven..true?"

"Why are you following me?"

The blondes ice flared over him again...

"Well I figured I should see the Prince, and it made sense that you being kin' you'd at least aim me in the right direction."

The blonde relaxed, something about Elam made him feel less threatened, a look of calm in the Gangrels eyes? Something about him said peace.

((i'll reply tonight...sorry, i'm just havin a REALLY shitty day.

Frigid chills made their way up Gabriel's spine. A Camarilla Gangrel eh? The Kindred before him looked young, no older than his mid twenties when embraced. Gabriel could sense his strength, and yet he carried with him a certain air of naivity (sp?).

Still, he could not deny any vampire the right to meet with the Prince. He nodded slowly.

"Follow me." he said sternly, and walked back towards his limousine. The young Gangrel grunted and restarted the motorcycle, jets of steam bursting from the exhaust. The Seneschal climbed into his limo and gave Fredrick the orders.

The two moved quietly enough through the city, making a series of twists and turns, before finally moving towards the outskirts of town. Gabriel chuckled in the back seat. Normally Princes made their havens near the center of the city, as to be near the action.

In the distance, in a rather run down part of town, a large tower loomed alongside the gothic infrastructure. The limousine pulled in slowly and Gabriel stepped out...

((sorry it's so crappy Frank, it'll get better i promise. i've just been busy and haven't had time to properly warm up the old writing hand...

Elam furrowed his brow as the Ventrue Seneschal wheeled up in the shadow of the Gothic structure. His eyes glowed amber as he read the archaic lines that criss-crossed the building. Over all of his senses he felt a cold, truly unnatural aura pervading every angle, every curve of the stonework.

"Where in Bram's name is this?"

Gabriel turned, a cold look in his eyes.

"You wanted to meet the Prince? Well you'll find him in there."

A look of confusion and apprehension darted across the Gangrel's face. Gabriel shut his limo door and walked across the shadow strewn street.

"Very well," he said evenly, "if you follow me I will introduce you to the Prince." Elam's amber eyes shot to Gabriel, and the Ventrue could see the distrust and defiance burning within. "It's up to you Gangrel...it must be done either way."

Elam stared Gabriel up and down, and then shot his gaze to the archaic building the loomed above the both of them and seemingly over all the other abandoned, blackened buildings in the area.

"Very well Ventrue." he said. Gabriel nodded and made his way to the front entrance of the seemingly one time Cathedral. The Crucifix designs that had once time adjourned the wooden double door had been torn down long ago. Gabriel suspected by the Prince himself.

((okay quick OOC note, the more White Wolf i read the more accurately i want to RP Gabe. like i said, the Prince is generally a frightening figure, he has power over your destruction. obviously Gabe knows Valek and they get along fairly well, but i will RPing Gabe accordingly, okay back to the RP

Gabriel placed a hand on the door and pushed, expending slight amounts of blood. The heavy oak door could not have been opened by mere Kine or neonate, he had to institute a bit of his blood strength. The hinged creaked in defiance and the smell of death and aged iron erupted from within.

The Gangrel stepped up next to Gabriel, his eyes peering into the blackness and no doubt seeing what Gabriel could not see. Gabriel smirked slightly and stepped forward into the inky blackness of the room. He was soon enveloped, the only trace of his presence were the slow sound of his footsteps. Elam approached from behind, the sound of his hand digging within the depths of his pockets evident.

"Here Ventrue, use this." he said presumably producing an object.

"What is it?" Gabriel asked as his eyes slowly adusted. The room was a large open area, lightless and sparsely decorated. Old desecrated pews lined the walls, many smashed and tattered. Old candellabras (sp?) lay on the floor, their metal bases bent and twisted by unknown hands.

"It's a flashlight...look." the Gangrel's rough voice whispered. His finger fumbled the switch.

"Wait don't!" Gabriel cried out. It was too late, the beam clicked on, the light piercing the thick darkness. All around the two Kindred a high pierced screech sounded. A mix between a thousand bats and countless tortured souls, the scream threatened to burst Gabriel's ear drums.

Elam whipped his head this way and that, desperately trying to identify the sound. From within the confines of the darkness, a black tenticle shot out, the tip pointed and hardened. It struck the flashlight in Elam's hand, shattering it into a hundred useless pieces of metal and plastic. The beam quickly flickered out, and with it the screech faded away.

"You cannot bring light into this place." Gabriel said quietly. The two walked slowly over the age beaten rug towards a door on the opposite side of the room. Gabriel opened the door only far enough for Elam and himself to slip through, and then shut it behind them.

Elam wondered at the room they found themselves in. All around, in the dimly lit room, tomes of Satanic rituals and demonic posession lined the walls to the ceilings. Artifacts of the occult were strewn randomly across the walls, which bore the blood stains of trespassers and sacrificed victims.

"What IS your Prince?" Elam whispered, more to himself than Gabriel.

"One of a kind." Gabriel whispered back, absent-mindedly clutching his crucifix that lay under his shirt...

(( Sweet post Gabe... lol Yes, our Prince IS one of a kind!!