~1 A.M.- Elysium

Nethlar Shadowborn glowered at the Sheriff standing before him. The disgust he held for the man was plainly evident on his frail yet magical features, which pulled wheezes from the nervous Deputies scrattered about the meeting room.

Cautiously, the experienced Sheriff pushed his point forward. "We did what was expected of us, there was no warning of this sort of danger."

Nethlar shifted his eyes to the Deputies one by one while the Sheriff spoke, interjecting only after the first pause. "It's your job to prevent such possible sorts of danger. You knew the site to check out hours in advance, and yet you never even came close to investigating the pier beforehand. And because of your indifference, I have to explain to my fellow citizens that a Primogen has been assassinated and this city's own Sheriff doesn't even have a clue where to begin in his search for answers. From Fledgling to Elder, all kindred of Tampa know the Sabbat was eradicated before this incident took place. Now, panic very well may spread through the Elysium halls, and all you can say is you did what was expected of you?!"

"Primogen Sandra wouldn't allow us to even scout ahead before she arrived, she threatened with dire consequences...."

"And now she's a pile of ashes mixed into the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico, still fearful of her wrath?" The Seneschal's question silenced the hulking Sheriff without a hint of struggle. "You aren't here to follow the orders of the Primogen Court. You are here to answer to ME and Prince Blood and not another undead soul more. If I wanted you to sit by and watch the Toreador die in an explosion, I would've sent a ghoul with a camcorder so we all could've enjoyed the show."

The Sheriff, now seemingly much smaller than before, spoke from under turned eyes. "I will find those responsible."

The old Warlock stepped forward and lifted the wide face of his powerful servant with his slender hand, bringing the two to direct eye contact. "Be sure that you do, or your position will be handed to another, capable Cainite. And you know damn well I have quite a selection of new faces to fill your shoes."

The Sheriff rose to his feet and nodded to his Seneschal, determination replacing every other detail of his demeanor in an instant. "I will return with answers to these crimes, or I will never return again."

Shadowborn slowly nodded, satisfied in hearing exactly what he wanted. "You're smart enough to know what this means for you and your longevity, don't let these fools you surround yourself with bring you to ruin." The room emptied quickly, save for the blood sorcerer and his aggravation. A minute passed of silent fuming before the intrusive Sol dropped his Obfuscate to make his presence known. With his back to the Assamite, the Tremere covered his eyes tiredly with his open palms before asking the question he dreaded.

"Do they speak the truth?"

Sol's voice was plainly gratified as the words slid from his daggerish tongue. "I bared witness to the feat, their story was fairly accurate, though lacking in full understanding. I suggest you send someone to search for evidence. I expect no less than four casualties to be found, considering the fact that the Primogen's childe was also present."

"Wonderful," Nethlar mumbled as he turned to the face the killer in the room. "now I have another name to add to the list when I give my speech tonight. The Camarilla is not pleased by what transpired tonight on dock 28, a Justicar will likely be dispatched to assist in the investigation. A second Justicar might be sent when they find out the Sabbat couldn't have been behind the act."

"And what act is this considered to be under Camarilla Law?" The Assamite watched the Tremere with enigmatic predatory eyes.

The Seneschal thought for a moment, considering what was involved and the conclusion. "It's obvious fear is not an element our enemy is using so much as it is ignorance; we know nothing and they know that very well. That's their advantage, so I'm led to believe they either had a score to settle or they plan on terminating us one by one."

Slyly, Sol inquires. "Us, being?"

The cold dead eyes of the Tremere facing the Assamite glimmered slightly. "The Camarilla, naturally."

"Naturally." The assassin includes in a low tone.

The irritation of being lied to was starting to scratch at Nethlar, as he identified his current situation as yet another game of "Hide the Truth". The thought to destroy the Assamite ran through the Seneschal's mind for a seemingly millionth time, but discretion and subtly was vital to Shadowborn's survival. "Do you have a means of hunting down these perpetrators?"

A sharp nod followed by crossing of the arms spoke as well to the Tremere as the words that entered his ears. "I have a number of methods at my disposal."

"Good," The Seneschal's behavior brought silent wonder to the Assamite's mind. "see to it you use the most pernicious manner to handle these mongrels, but be sure to leave room for the Sheriff to bring back proof of their demise. No one must suspect you or your creed were involved, credit must go to the one with position in this city."

The statement pulled gritted teeth from the black-skinned Assamite, spite nearly foaming to his limit. "I do not use my vampiric powers so that other, less qualified kindred can benefit from my bloodshed. I do, however, understand your situation enough to know the need for a scapegoat and a hero, so just this once I will not resist."

"Then I will make certain there is not the possibility of a second need for your capabilities to this extent. Tread lightly.... and most quietly." The Assamite nodded, sensing mutual understanding in the Seneschal's words and his own, before quickly leaving the room. In the hall, as Sol enabled his obfuscate and moved through traffic, the Tremere's final words echoed in his mind. Doubt and suspicion crept into his psyche, the possibility of betrayal seeming more and more conceivable as he mentally repeated the Warlock's words. The thought stayed close to him as he continued on with his night.

Nethlar sat down in the quiet meeting room, head tilted back and arms apart. Fatigue filled him as his mind raced; ideas, concepts, and strategies flew through his mind's eye. Shadowborn ignored his paranoia, and concentrated on perfecting his plots to protect himself and possibly bring the zealot Sol to an early grave. Before returning to his feet to head to his chantry, the Warlock smiled with satisfaction and spoke aloud to himself, "Looks like I have a number of rituals to begin tonight...."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(OOC: Ohhhhhhh snap! I think I'm coming back!)

1:21 A.M. Gulf Coast 1 mile north of Dock 28

James pulled his aching body from the warm Gulf waters, the captive held in his hand kept the smile on his face even before he left the salty sea. The price he paid to receive his gift and dispose of his enemy was much less than he had expected, and was thankful for his luck atleast at the moment. With the Camarilla Assamite plainly making his presence known by sending a lesser of his troupe to intercept the deal between the Primogen and the 'Kinnappers', James was certain he would no doubt be drinking the traitor's potent blood for himself in no time at all. The big man moved off the sandy beach and headed inland, comfortable in the idea that his obfuscated trip back would most likely be uneventfully pleasant.

As the clear horizon faded around him, and was replaced with tall buildings and concrete roads, the gnawing sensation in his dead heart that his night was about to be ruined loomed over his head in a matter of moments. Occationally, James would get a feeling like this that forewarned him of a new crisis around the corner. To this night, ever time he received this feeling, his unlife would instantly change for the worse, starting the night of his embrace. Cautiously making his stealthed way through the dark street, James discovered the flicker of orange lights of a fire up towards the next intersection.

Under a street light which had been physically bent and pulled to reach out into the center of the intersection, a fire blazed in the center of a massive blood red pentagram drawn on the street. Closer inspection confirmed the symbol to be painted in blood, human blood. The fire raging at the core charred three small, frail bodies, whom where tied and bound together. A wooden spike impaled each victim through the back and out the chest, though the corpses were of flesh, and did not ash in the slightest. Written in blood completely encircling the smoldering dead, the name of a familiar city which he hadn't visited before was scribed over and over. Before stepping away from the grotesque sight, the big man circled the fire, smearing out the name with his steel-toed boots.

"Only one creature I know of sacrifices innocent human children this way." The stalwart man's expression changed to that of outrage, and he brought his furious brow up to gaze at the sky. "You pick the worst times to come back into my life, even after all I do to keep you dead. This time, I'll make certain you never come back to haunt my nights."

James dashed off to the nearest building and burst through the wooden doors and hurtled up the stairs to the roof. There, he spent some time hopping around in hopes of finding any clues before finally making his way back to his original destination.

2:30 A.M. Abandoned Building

Ishmael paced back and forth in the blackened room, the anxiety of waiting ate at his nerves to the point of near anguish. Something must've gone wrong, that's all he could make of his current standstill. 'Could James be in trouble?' He thought, the idea seemed to become more possible with each passing moment. Just as the thought to check on the docks himself came to mind, James slowly pushed the hidden door open and entered the silent room.

"What went wrong? She couldn't have been late." Ishmael stammered, struggling to maintain his control.

"I had to blow the dock." He responded in a low tone. "The Toreador gave me no trouble, but the redhead was there. She was an Assamite, as a matter of fact. That means all we've done to bring this 'Sol' out of hiding must be having some effect. We're on the right path, his nights are numbered."

The ashen-skinned vampire smiled widely, his fears erased and his will reinforced. "Excellent. Seems like your plans are turning for the better. With all my involvement, they might even consider allowing me to return to Alamut. What a night that'll be." As the Assamite rambled on, his companion's expression did not change, even as he lowered the paralyzed Toreador in his arms to her torpid childe's mattress and straightened his back. The display did not proceed unnoticed. "What's wrong? What has happened?"

The large man looked at his Assamite friend from head to toe before reconnecting direct eye contact. "An old.... friend, has made his presence known to me this night. I passed a display on my way back here that is unique to his style, I've seen it before and know it well."

"What does this mean for you, James?" The Assamite asked humbly.

James dropped his head and answered under his breath. "I have to put our plans on hold here in Tampa, and end this conflict with him for good. And I have to do this alone."

"The Camarilla will certainly send the Scourge, Sheriff, and a Justicar to investigate its missing Primogen. What do you suggest I do? Disappear with these two and wait for your return?" Ishmael included, trying to assist his ally in any way he could, though slightly cynical.

"That's exactly what I need you to do. I don't know how long I'll be gone, but be patient and wait for my call. I don't plan on losing this confrontation, so take my keys," James reaches out with his keys in hand and tosses them to the attentive Assamite. "and take them someplace less likely to be searched. Like Plant City, up north in Eustis or Mount Dora. Just stay out of sight, completely and utterly."

"Who's your, 'friend'?" Ishmael interjected, rather abruptly.

"His name is Alex Troop. He's a Giovanni, one whom I've bumped heads with many nights in the past."

"Why didn't you just take his ass out back when he first became a nuisance to you? Isn't that the best way to handle a Necromancer?" The bold comment brought an inflamed look from the big man.

"That's why I have to settle the score once and for all. I thought he was already toast over thirty-five years ago, I was more than certain I saw his form turn to ash in the blaze that consumed the building we were in. But I must've been mistaken, because the message he gave me tonight can mean only one thing. He's active, and looking to settle things with me as well."

A slightly confused look came over Ishmael as the words made their way to his ears, and a reflexive response nearly costed him his unlife. "Bullshit. James, no one survives your wrath, how can you be certain it's who you think it is? What display did he leave behind for you to find that would make you think such a thing?"

James rarely had to check his beast, his self-control and courage were the paramount tools to his survival and efficiency. The Assamite's comment, however, caught him off guard, and a sliver of weakness shown through and launched the big man onto a wave of anger that nearly took hold of him. "He matches my Potence and physical strength, he is a Giovanni after all. My blood is slightly more potent than his, so I'm immune to his dominate, but his dark research gives him advantages I can't hope to compensate with basic vampiric disciplines. He also knows what I am, and has probably already prepared a contingency plan to reveal that fact to as many kindred establishments as his influence will allow.

He knows things about my past, and my involvement in things throughout history and can put me up on a number of crimes to Cainite Law right off the spot. He also gets a kick out of torturing me by dangling the bodies of innocent children in front of my face, all the while joking to me about the countless opportunities he had and passed up on killing me or embracing me back when I still drew breath. His death is personal to me, and only I deserve the chance to tear his sick fucking head from his sick fucking shoulders! The only vampire I loathe and abhor more than Alex Troop of self proclaimed Clan Giovanni, is my own fucking sire, which I know for fact that his soul lies in Hell, because I felt his neck pop, ash, and disintegrate between my own fingers and before my very eyes. And I cannot rest now until I feel the same sensation between my fingers and the same feeling in my cold heart from the sight of his ashing before my own eyes, so excuse me for placing importance on destroying a personal enemy over pulling a cowardice Assamite from under his Camarilla rock."

The two stared at each other for a moment, before the black-skinned Assamite finally opened his mouth to speak. "Thirty-five years ago, huh? You've only followed the Path of Blood for the past decade.... I'm sorry I cannot share your sympathy for human life, I've never been on Humanity. Though these feelings of disgust you're expressing to me go against your current vampiric code as well as mine, all I can say is please accept my apology, and don't hold my ignorance against me. For what you've done for me in my ten years of modern activity, and the centuries I slept to come to this place so unlike my own, I owe you every thing I could ever possibly possess. I will always owe you more than a Life and a Blood Boon, and therefore would never try to bring discomfort to you in any way."

James considered his words critically, and nodded empathetically. "I know Ishmael, It isn't fair for you, really. To be embraced so long ago, and only be active and undead for a decade before being punished and cursed to sleep for a millennium, you were done an injustice. I cannot expect you to understand my feelings in the situation, but let my history that you know of be enough to show you why I even bother walking the streets at night. From my embrace to this night, you know I've struggled against this world's perverse perspectives of how humans should be treated, and only death will stop me from hunting down the sick and depraved of whichever city I currently inhabit. I've read enough into the path we both follow, that even Haqim ultimately seeks to protect the humans from others of our kind, and that is why I decided to drop my Humanity. Why stay a simple Independant with limitations on how far I can 'help' my community, when there's a path of enlightenment that I feel was made for my sense of Conviction."

"You are not gentle or subtle to your enemies...." Ishmael began, but was cut off.

"My enemies do not deserve my mercy. Humans are our food, our kin stock. We do them and ourselves no good by treating them like garbage and then wonder why they rebel against us. Some times, a vampire can never fully shake the effects of Humanity.... Conscience will some times merge will Conviction, rather than be replaced by it." The two thoughtfully examined each other, words being shared that neither ever expected to hear from each other.

"I'll do some thinking on your words as I'm laying low with the package. Just make sure that when you take the bastard down, you keep your identity safe from being revealed."

"Hopefully, he'll be smug enough that he'll decide to let the cat out of the bag after our confrontation, he was always bad about putting all his eggs in one basket. All I have to be concerned with is what he has waiting for me when I get there."

"Where is he sending you?" Curiousity got the better of the ashen vampire.

"It's better you don't know, now help me bring these two to the Lincoln. I have to see my brothers and Master before I leave." Ishmael nodded, and struggled as he hurled the petite Toreador Neonate over his shoulder and followed his unhindered ally out to the vehicle. The two were placed in the trunk, and the Assamite slipped into the driver's seat to roll down the window. James stuck his big mug in the opening for a final word.

"Go far, and don't make your presence as a vampire known to anyone until I contact you." The two nodded to each other understandingly, and parted ways. Surely, the two friends expected to meet again another night soon..... though only hope would give them the strength to wait till then.

posted by Arcane and moved from the old forum:


~A Past Sunset~

"You mother fuckin' son of a bitch!" James bellowed at his enemy with so much spite and hatred, he was nearly overwhelmed by his own rage. The snarling and half-smiling Giovanni before him could only chuckle as he danced about the burning room, avoiding beams of sunlight and dodging away falling debris. The two had been rampaging through the streets and buildings for hours, using the cover of the urban setting to protect them from their common skyward enemy. A minor break in the action allowed them to feed and begin the battle again, despite the growing possibility of their supernatural natures being revealed to the local mortal populace.

"James, good ole James." The Necromancer's tone matched his cynical smirk in every detail. "When are you going to realize I enjoy taking the lives of the innocent?" Another wave of anger sent the two at each others' throats once again, the impacts of their blows and kicks enough to further weaken the stability of the surrounding environment. Though overpowered by his superior opponent, the Giovanni had the edge by still having control over his own wits. The furious cainite he matched blows with was so close to falling prey to frenzy, the depraved gravedigger was already planning his celebrations for later that evening.

An opening presented itself to James, and enough logic remained in his psyche to place a strong forward kick to his most hated enemy's solar plexus. The hit registered and knocked the off balanced combatant out of the immediate battle zone, allowing yet another momentary break in the fighting. "How can you enjoy torturing the lives of mortal children for hours before killing them? What pleasure can you behold by baring witness to the excruciating pains of dying human beings?"

The Giovanni hopped to his feet to face the nearly overcome kindred. "Silly Cainite, you are a fool to adhere to your code of humanity. You are a God among these kine, much like me, and yet you choose to protect them? Nothing is more treasonous than a predator whom preys on other predators. You do not deserve the 'Gift' your sire gave you, so I am obligated to take what power you still possess."

"You will not outlive me this night, Alex. I know your habits, your patterns. I cannot allow you to continue your inhumane unlife the way you do." Control slipped from James too far for him to maintain his obfuscate, and the Giovanni gave a look of utter surprise and joy as the true form of his enemy towered over his own in all its twisted glory.

"Oh James.... I have to survive this night. To battle you another night with this information will make my whole unlife worth living. You will NOT be rid of me so easily." Again the two matched blows, wrecking havoc to the building and tearing the structure from its foundations, well into the early evening hours. The powerful attacks from the two combatants brought the entire concrete system on the brink of oblivion, and hours of fighting ended in seconds of collapse. Before James could bring his obfuscate back up to mask his appearance and dart for an opening in the wall to leap to safety, the satisfaction of seeing his enemy pinned helplessly and painfully under burning timber and debris caught his eye, just in time to escape the desecrated building into the open New York air. The conclusion of his enemy was enough to ignore the pain of his twenty story landing in the side alley, but not enough to banish the last cries for help or erase the final visions of the ten children who lost their lives to the Giovanni's satisfaction.

The first night of freedom James felt was wrought with the pain of his ever-diluting humanity, and his helplessness to prevent those deaths brought the Wassail to his front doorstep, which inturn pulled the powerful cainite to his knees in regret and sorrow. Degeneration seemed to have a tenfold effect on the compassionate cainite, despite all his years of his so-called 'Duty' which he diligently upheld to every end; with the exception of that night. Looking into the dead eyes of a rapist he had just killed brought shame to James for once, and he was certain he had taken a one-way trip onto the downward spiral. Meaning lost meaning, and before he knew it, a week had passed, and James was not wholly James anymore.

A pulling sensation overcame him, and for a moment the vampire was getting ready to meet his sire as well as his maker. The feeling changed, and suddenly fresh images of his old enemy popped up. Sorrow was replaced by Conviction, and the burning desire to see the man he thought dead as a smoldering pile of ash took precedence over all other instincts James felt at that moment; even those instincts brought on as innate by his vampiric status. Penance was not possible, nor possibly Redemption. But for James, revenge was all he needed. As rage filled his dead heart, the pulling sensation changed yet again, and he realized he was enthralled by an old daymare which he hadn't had in decades.

As James opened his eyes and cleared them, the familiar friendly faces of his cainite brothers Abdul and Haqim filled his vision. Quietly, and unnoticed by the others in the room, James felt the thing he thought he would never experience again: Joy.

"Damn James, are we gonna need to strap you down during the day when you sleep? You're one noisy bastard, and you don't even snore." Haqim's sarcasm matched his warrior's traits, and the lean Assamite helped his overzealous comrade to his feet. The three made their way from the darkened resting room to a lobby with wide windows and excellent lighting. James left the sides of his brothers to peer out onto city with renewed eyes. He held his stance until his sides were once again filled by the protection of his only family.

"You seem different tonight James." The Sorcerer Abdul punched his friend in the shoulder as he had a million times before. "Why have you returned to Orlando so soon? We weren't expecting you for a few more days or a week."

Reluctantly, the big man explained his position to his allies. "An old enemy has resurfaced, and I need to leave to take care of him."

Haqim smirked and placed his hand on the big set of shoulders next to him. "It'll be fun to fight beside you again, James. When do we leave?"

James made eye contact with the two of them, then pushed himself away from the window. The two cautiously followed, with the message read clearly. Abdul rushed to his ally's side, regardless of the gesture, to gives his thoughts of the situation. "I refuse to let you handle this alone, you old relic. Let us assist you somehow, atleast let us watch your back!"

The big man shook his head as he walked, then nudged the small spellcaster with his elbow. "It'd be redundant to bring two Assamites with me, I'm all the overkill that's necessary for this. My opponent and I have a personal score to settle, and after I inform the Master of my leaving tonight, the next time you see me I'll have one less skeleton in the closet."

Finally, Haqim built up the courage to speak on the matter. "And if you don't return?"

James stopped dead in his tracks, and turned to face the warrior. "If you believe in the teachings of our code, then you will not worry about that possibility."

"Will you atleast let us see you off? Meet us after you see the Master so we can part formally?" Abdul questioned.

"Of course. I actually wanted you two with me as I spoke to the Master. I know he still doesn't trust me entirely, so I want him to see my article of faith."

"When will you hold this meeting?" Abdul furthered.

"A little before sunrise tonight, I prefer to make my way to the destination by day."

"We don't need to tell you of the caution you must be aware of to travel in such way...." Haqim stated, knowing exactly what words he ment to leave out.

"I know, my brother. But as I've shown you many times before, caution is always on my mind." The three left the establishment to enjoy what two of them felt could be the last chance they'd have to be together. Eternally greatful of the company they shared, the alcohol and marijuana-filled night they partied through seemed to last for days.

_________________
I am the one who chose my path!
I am the one who couldn't last!
I feel the life pulled from me,
I feel the anger changing me!

~An hour before sunrise

James and his brothers stumbled through the archway of the underground entrance to the Master's lair, paying little attention to their swayed behavior and retched stench of abused substances. The impression the three of them would be giving to their superior was not a very pleasant one, but none of them cared about proper respects and presentation given the circumstances. Bowing low, and slowly moving to a kneel, the three oddballs awaited the chance to speak to the Elder Assamite whom callously and cautiously watched them from atop his sturdy desk. For the first time since the new recruit had stepped into the Master's presence, he was called forth first to speak.

"I understand you'll be leaving tonight, James Johnson. Stand, and give me your reasons." The dark-skinned creature locked his eyes on the young cainite with added zeal, though any other impression of such was undetectable in the ancient's facade.

The large and out-of-place vampire stood and made direct eye contact with the being, presenting his lack of fear first and foremost. "An old enemy has called me out, and I have no choice but to answer it immiedately."

The old Assamite fluidly moved away from his desk to step closer to the big man, his demeanor showing signs of change from his posture. "You follow Haqim now, as do all of us. Why have you chosen to refuse assistance in dispatching this nemesis of yours? It goes against your code to do such acts of refusing the aid of a brother or sister."

James grew bold by the comment, and the Elder Assamite could see it even through the creature's mask. "It is against my code to deny help to a brother or sister, Master. It is not against my code to refuse to ask for said assistance. This opponent of mine is destine to die a terrible, horrible death by my undead hands. To request help would deny both him and myself of the justice we'd receive by settling this dispute ourselves."

"A personal matter, is it?" The Master's tone began to perk up, and the three young vampires in the room could tell that despite the Elder Assamite's previous dislike of the new cainite into their house, the decision James made for this matter pleased the old creature beyond content. "Tell me, you odd little relic...." without missing a step, the evasive Assamite moved closer and continued his barrage. "what has this cainite done to you to deserve your undying hatred for him?"

James thought to look away and collect his thoughts, but he was aware of this creature's tactics from the limited conversations they had, and decided to instead attempt to impress him further with his staunch attitude. "Aside from his unusually inhumane tendencies towards kine and kindred alike, he's made it his personal mission to make my nights more dangerous. If you recall, Master, my brothers and I came across walking corpses in that abandoned building south of the University a few months ago."

The sly expression the old Assamite held shrank to a much more controlled version of itself. "I do. That was the night the three of you returned to your haven carrying the aggravated damage of fire burns on your persons."

James made a short nod before continuing. "That was a test from my old enemy, to make sure it was in fact me whom raided that building. I'm fortunate that my Giovanni adversary has decided to control the physical aspects of Necromancy rather than the spiritual, otherwise that confrontation would've turned out much differently and more likely out of our favor."

"I see. If that is the case, than your decision to go it alone is a wise one, and you have my consent." A smile slowly crept over the big man's face as the words fell. "I also see this as an opportunity to further prove your worth to Haqim and your chosen clan. Therefore, I will send word and have you answer to another master once you arrive at your destination. Where then, will you be going to settle this conflict?"

The half-developed smile on his face wavered a little as James realized he was still held and bound in some way to another vampire, but quickly dismissed the unhappy feelings to preserve his ability of choice. "Cascadia." The word came out audible and strong, but felt like a whisper as it left the big man's lips.

To the young vampires' surprise, the Elder Assamite too lost the quirk in his smile. Flatly, the old creature stated, "That changes everything...." Without a word, the Master turned and stepped back to his desk, flittering through stacks of documentation and old parchment with the celerity of an Elder. After a moment or two of the sound of rustling paper, the dark-skinned Assamite returned to the conversation with a relatively freshly printed piece of paper in his hand. "Perhaps you won't be answering to another Elder after all."

Blinking dumbfoundedly to his superior, James could only ask one word. "What?" His brothers, undoubtedly, would've asked the same in his place.

The Master handed James the paper and stepped back. "There are no Assamite elders that answer to the call of Master in Cascadia currently, it is an unfettered Camarilla city when it comes to our control. There is, however, currently an Elder there that can and hopefully will take you in for haven and protection purposes."

"Master, I can deal with the Camarilla, I don't feel it's necessary for protection from them." Though a true enough statement, James felt there was more to the words his Master had chosen.

The old Assamite reconnected direct eye contact with the young kindred before finishing his spiel. "Cascadia is a city held by elders and ancients alike. The protection and area knowledge advice this Elder can offer you will assist you in avoiding those much stronger than you, not the Camarilla. I know how capable you are with the sect of the city, you've proven your subterfuge in that department time and time again. Where you'll be going, however, you'll have much more to worry about than simple sect politics and saying the right thing at the right time. You'll be dealing with some of the more experienced practicianers of the Jyhad, and I'm not about to lose you to some quick-to-anger methuselah because she woke up on the wrong side of the coffin that century. So please, humor me, and try not to get yourself killed the first night you're in that Haqim-forsaken city, hm?"

The authentic wide smile returned to James as it did every time before he was told something he wanted to hear. "I understand, Master, and I thank you for your assistance in this matter. I promise I'll return with a trophy of my enemy to present to you, but I'm afraid I'll have to keep it for my own sake."

The Elder gave an accepting nod and backed away further to let the young vampires present know their conversation was coming to an end. "That is to be expected, as well as respected. My only advice to you before you leave, James, is try not to piss anyone off while you're there, especially your fellow Assamites, and don't hold anything back when it comes to combatting your enemy. Consider your goal first, and the Masquerade second. You have my blessing, now go, and return with proof of your victory." James bowed low to his Master, lower than he had ever before, then backed away out of the room with his brothers already out of sight.

Back up on the Orlando streets, James and his brothers walked side by side wearing smirks of bliss upon their faces. The encounter had turned out better than any of them had expected, and it drove anxiety into all of their demeanors. As they approached the last checkpoint where they were scheduled to part and James was to part the city, only silent nods could express the right emotions the three close friends could muster correctly. Before James hopped onto the bus leading to the airport, he turned with one last request. "Do me a favor, bros. Go find that pal of ours, Fury, and send him to Cascadia as soon as he gets the chance. I think he'll appreciate the vacation from his standard post, guard duty never rubs that man right." With a grin, the big man hopped onto the bus, and watched as his two brothers waved him off.

Down the road, James reached into his inner pocket to remove the piece of paper his Master had given him. Opening it up and reading the information, the big man couldn't help but laugh out loud to the near horror of the other passengers. Wiping a non-existent tear from his cheek, James quietly whispered to himself of the irony he was baring witness to. "Hilarious.... this will be the first Assamite Elder I meet with a name that defies reason of this magnitude."

The bus continued to stroll down the early morning streets of Orlando, surrounded by the usual hum and buzz of a city that never sleeps, only naps. His unlife would change from that point on, considering the things he still had left on his plate to complete, as well as the new and old acquaintances he would be meeting within the next few days or nights. One thing continued to softly pester his psyche as the final hour of night progressed, and the desire to ask himself aloud for the answer eventually got the better of him. "I wonder what kind of Assamite elder has a name like Cain, anyway...." Time would certainly answer his question, sooner or later.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(OOC: Alright kitties, this will be my last post for this thread until James returns to Orlando. Hopefully, within the next few days I'll have a chance to begin that free-form thread in Cascadia, so keep your eyes peeled and your imaginations sharp. Booya!)