Sage looked down on the streets of Denver from atop the fifteen-story Savings & Loan building. A'shem, one of his mentors and the city Scourge stood behind him babbling something about living a dirty existence but Sage was done listening and deep in his own thoughts. The cold wind whistled around him, pushing then pulling, manipulating him at will. A sensation he was all to familiar with as of late. Was there any escape from it?

"Are you listening to me Gangrel?" A'shem growled from behind.
"Yes, as always." Sage sighed. "You're reminding me that I am dirty to crawl around with the creatures and thus asserting your superiority over me."
"Well, as much as that is true, I was referring to my target."
"In that case, no I was not." Sage turned to A'shem just in time to see him slide his cell phone back into his pocket. "Is this the one that didn't present to the Prince?"
"He is close, we need to move." He said turning toward the open stairwell.
"Wow, your senses are really keen today A'shem" He commented as he followed.
"They always are Gangrel. More then your dog senses ever will be."

They rushed down the fifteen flights of stairs in seconds flat though Sage was still in another place in his head. He didn't want to do this anymore. He was tired of pushing around others only to get pushed around himself. The Camarilla's laws, power struggle, and their hypocrisy had been wearing thin his own ideals about right and wrong.

"Hey! This way Gangrel! What is wrong with you?" A'shem yelled as he grabbed Sage and headed West on 14th toward Civic Center Park. "We are looking for another dirty beast like you so he should be easy enough to smell." he blasted with a laugh. "He's Indian with a moose fur long coat on - [i:3c6130ba8f]stupid Gangrel [/i:3c6130ba8f]- He's been spotted with an axe on him as well." He added as he turned the corner and headed north on Lincoln.
"If he is Indian then it's a tomahawk . . . not an axe." He looked to A'shem for a reaction but got one he didn't expect that seemed to go right though Sage. It was the reaction of surprise.
"What is he thinking?" A'shem mumbled to himself.

It was at that moment that Sage could indeed sense the other Gangrel. He was behind him about 50 feet away. When he turned he could see a tall man with medium black hair wearing a long moose fur trench walking toward them.

"Well this is going to be too easy. You should handle this one, Gangrel to Gangrel. You have the element of surprise . . . so . . . let's see how smart you really are." He spattered through his blackened lips.
"No . . . there is no surprise here." Sage said glaring at A'shem. It was just another one of those moments where his supposed mentor was intentionally placing him in direct harm. "He knows who we are and why we are here. He's just coming to us . . . that's all."
"Then get ready dog . . . we need to make this fast."
"I have a feeling it will be." A thought and a vision flew through Sages head. For a split moment in time he saw something that made his mind race . . . a choice.

Step for step the imposing figure strode closer to the two flunkies of Denver's Prince. His face showed no expression, but his eyes' gaze was locked on the duo. Twenty feet away from his hunters his steps stopped, calmly and not showing a glimpse of worry.

A'shem's hand instinctly moved towards his weapon, but with all the self-control he could muster, he forced himself to wait.

"Native American."

Perplexed and not knowing the meaning of these words, A'shem dropped his jaw in confusion and looked at Sage for clarification. The young Gangrel did not seem to notice, but lost in thoughts he looked up to the figure.

The choice to Sage had seen became clearer by the moment. The Gangrel in front of him wasn't a Pawn of some Camarilla Prince, he wasn't a Knight, Bishop or a Rook either. He simply was not playing the same game Sage had always been a part of, the only game he had known, the only game he thought he somewhat knew the rules of. There was so much he still had to learn and the knowledge he could gain from a person like...

"Sage, you dog!", A'shem gave him a push in the back, "Now is your chance to put everything you have learned from me to the test."

Sage, slowly reaching to the small of his back and pulling out his 6 inch crescent dagger, lowered his head and closed his eyes. They were standing in the dark of the park and he knew it was a safe area, but he didn't care. It could have been in the middle of a crowded street, it had to be done. "Yes A'shem, your right. It's time to prove myself."

Using everything he had available to him, presence to locate his target, the high ability to use his dagger, knowledge of anatomy, and a little something he garnered from his travels with the Romany, he attacked.

The crescent dagger dug deep and hard with all the force and leverage Sage could muster . Everything around Sage seemed to come to a stop as he worked the blade into the posterior triangle, which snapped as the blade sliced through the muscle. Next were the fatty middle jugular nodes that separated like butter leading to the middle deep jugular. As the Jugular gave way to the steel of his blade, Sage picked his spot to get through the cervical spine. Separating the cervical vertebrae between the facet joints and cutting into the cervical nerve center, Sage turned his blade and forced upward until he heard a snap. He then extracted his blade forward catching everything and ripping through. By the time Sage was finished he was now behind his target and the world around him once again returned to speed.

Mundug watched as Sage closed his eyes and reached behind him. Within a blink Sage was suddenly behind A'shem. A'shem, never taking his eyes of Mundug gave him a look of disgust that turned into shock and finally realization as all his precious vitae flowed down his chest.

"Your turn." Sage stated calmly with a smile while placing his boot into the small of A'shem's back and pushing him forward.

The events that had just unfolded before him were unexpected. Rather than facing him, his two opponents seemed to be resolving a personal conflict between themselves.

No doubt the younger pupil, called Sage by the other, was tired of being pushed around and played as a pawn by his Camarilla elders. True to the style of the camarilla he had chosen to backstab his master while he least expected it. Yet, his actions showed that there was still hope for him to break the shackles that enslaved him to the rotten system that the Camarilla was.

A'shem, with all the power that remained in him, stumbling towards Mundug healed the worst of his wounds and finally drew his own blade.
He knew his situation was hopeless as he now not only faced the indi...err...native american, but also the most promising neonate of Denver, who was trained by no one less but himself.

Fulminating clots of blood, with his sword ready to strike, A'shem lunged himself on Mundug. Right before the steel of his curved blade was about to bury itself in the flesh of his adversary, it was blocked by the broad metal head of a tomahawk. The scourge of Denver could not strike a second time, as right when he prepared himeself to cleave again, a ferocious claw planted itself in his muscled torso. Paralyzed in pain, the Assamite stumbled to the ground and sank in the red colored grass of Denver's park.

Sage, not yet fully realizing the consequences of what was happening, had been focused on the fight for the short period of time that it had lasted. Finally, he looked up and saw the yellow eyes of the mighty Mundug staring at him and shifting their gaze to the incapacitated body of Sage's mentor.

"Sage, claim your prize!", the native spoke as he started walking away."If you don't take to long, I will see you at the northern entrance."

Sage blinked his eyes...

It had been many years, since with the Romany, that Sage had [i:b392a4879f]'claimed his prize'[/i:b392a4879f] as this Gangrel had put it. He walked slowly over to the motionless lump of Assamite and looked down on him. There was a fever in Sages soul that screamed to finish him. He knelt, grabbed A'shems head, turned it to reveal his extended neckline and bit deep. It was a difficult diablerie as A'shem's soul fought, but when Sage was done, there was nothing left in the Assamite and he quickly turned to ash in Sages hands.

Sage fell back and took in the new sensations. "Wow . . . what an asshole." Sage then looked back the direction the Ind . . . Native American went. He quickly jumped up and followed.

From beneath the curb drain Vanstak smiled. He would have to tell the prince, there would be questions and he had no choice, but he was at the same time happy for Sage. Over the years he had slowly grown fond of Amnesia Boy. He was also sure that the hunters that the prince sent were in for a surprise. When Gangrels pack up there is nothing more dangerous.

Mundug awaited Sage at the park entrance, from his energetic looks it was clear to him that he had finished the job he had started.

"Pack your gear, only what you need. You don't want to be staying in this city anymore. It won't be long before your prince will find out that your little expedition didn't have his desired outcome."

"He's my prince no longer!", Sage snapped.

"That's right, now go get your stuff, you don't want to stay here till every kindred in the entire city finds out about what happened here and will be chasing us like a rabid wolf in hopes to prove himself for his beloved prince. Anyway, I will have to pick someone up before leaving. I'll be here in one hour, I know a place you may like that I can take you to. One hour, don't be late. I won't be waiting."

The Native American didn't wait for a reply, but ran off in the city.

Vanstak sank back into his chambers. One hour did not give him a lot of time to get the message to its destination. He quickly made his way through the sewers to Arapahoe Street and the historic Daniels & Fisher Tower. It was here the Prince would take council with Vanstak and learn of the betrayal.

Sage knew that an hour was not enough time to get to his small cabin in Estes Park. He would have to leave all he had acquired over the years of servitude in Denver, and he felt no pain over it. Instead thoughts quickly ran through his head . . . thoughts of chaos in the streets of Denver. He smiled, and headed to where he had parked Darla.

"What the fuck man!" David yelled as Sage held him face first against the wall.
"I thought my message was clear David. You were not to ever set foot in Denver again."
David quickly looked around the best he could. His three guards were all face down and sprawled around him. It happened so fast that he couldn't make sense of it. One second he was checking inventory on a shipment of semi-autos, the next second he was eating wall. "Look man, I got your message. This was just a quicky through town! I'm leaving tomorrow man. Tell whoever it is you work for I'm leaving tomorrow!"
Sage slowly released him and stepped back. "Do you really want to?"
David, afraid to move too quickly, slowly turned keeping himself against the wall. "Of course man . . . you say leave and I am gone."
"What if I said . . . stay? What if I said I knew how you and your crew could make the biggest hit ever?"
"What? No no . . . your fucking with me and I am not going for it man. You are not gonna set me up." With a quick glance left and right, David noticed that his guards weren't dead, but just unconscious.
"I am no longer in the service of the boss David. I came here to offer you a chance to make a name for yourself. [i:e7d9d9cbeb]You will do it David, you will be rich.[/i:e7d9d9cbeb]" Sage stated firmly.
Suddenly David felt relaxed. It was all coming together now . . . he understood. "Yeah . . . you know . . . sounds good."

Sage didn't have much time left and pushed Darla hard through the streets making sure to avoid the police routes he had learned over the years. Just ahead of him was the park, but something seemed wrong. He pulled over and scanned the area. He could feel the old Gangrels presence, but it wasn't the only presence he felt. "Who do you have with you?" he murmured to himself. He slowly dismounted Darla and cautiously walked toward the meeting point. His hair was standing on end. He knew the Gangrel was there . . . but he was nowhere in sight. Suddenly Sage knew that he was in deep trouble.

((Excellent! Welcome back, Mundug!

The native american hurried his way through the streets of Denver, till he reached his destination, a large construction site for some dull corporation's (Darrant Industries) local branch. For one or the other paper pusher's reason the works had been halted and in the meanwhile the abandoned site served as an adequate temporary shelter for the Chinook tribesman and his trusted feline companion Jerry.

The few posessions Mundug owned didn't take long to pack and easily fit inside the old black sportsbag he had inherited from the late Shade, his former Brujah deputy, when Mundug was still employed as the enforcer of Cascadia. The Gangrel had been forced to prematurely end Shade's existence as the Brujah, blinded by his passions, sought vengeance for Mundug's justified slaying of Vanessa Paige.

It didn't take more than a few minutes before Jerry and Mundug left the site and headed back for the Park. The permature departure was clearly against Jerry's will, as he had taken an interest in the female half of Denver's feline population.

As suspected, the park, at that time of the day, was mostly quiet, yet Mundug, used to spending long times journeying through nature parks, sensed that something was not in order and it wasn't hard to figure out what was wrong.

Mundug instinctively reached for his tomahawk, but before he was able to act, a potence fueled blow struck him in the back and made him crash into the metal gate of the park's entrance.

((fantastic work!

[i:b5b26b5386]CRASH[/i:b5b26b5386]

The sound of battle echoed through the park. Sage cocked his head in confusion. The sound did not come from in front of him, but behind him. “The other goddamn entrance!” Sage quickly turned heal nearly ramming himself into a figure who stood laughing.

“The prodigal son! I hear you were caught being bad Sage.” It was Sandman, a Malkavian goon who worshiped his sire and Primogen. “Whatcha’ doing? Watcha’ thinkin’ about there Sage?”

Sage’s mind began to race with thoughts of unbalance and chaos. “You don’t want to be here Sandy . . .” he said as he fought the visions in his head. “This isn’t about you.” Sandman was not only a puppet for his master, he was also a punching bag and court jester, and Sage had always pitied him. The way he was treated by those he worshipped would make anyone sick. Yet, in good servitude, Sandman took his abuse. Now he stood in the way of his freedom, probably sent by his abusers with the understanding that he was no match for Sage. A sick joke to humor them. “They will die tonight Sandy. Look deep, you can see I am not lying to you. You need to go protect them.”

“You killed them?” Sandman’s eyes widened. “YOU DID! YOU MOTHERFU . . .” Sandman was interrupted by the very loud sound of flapping feathers. As they both looked up they could make out glimpses of at least fifty crow or raven flying overhead, headed in the direction that Sandman now blocked.

The outcome of Sage’s plea to get Sandman to leave had the opposite effect. The image that must have been pulled was what he pictured would be the outcome – but with the added effect of Sandman’s own dementation. Sage knew this would only end one way, and with Sandman now distracted, he had to act fast. With a quick draw he pulled both his crescent blades and with one smooth wide motion brought them both across neck level. Sandman was able to quickly refocus and get his defenses up, but only able to block one blade. The other blade caught its mark sending Sandman grasping at his wound, trying to hold in his precious vitea. His screams were gurgles and gasps. The look in his eyes as he looked to Sage seemed to ask [i:b5b26b5386]why?[/i:b5b26b5386]. Sage walked cautiously to Sandman and grabbed him by the hair, pulling him down to his knees. He cursed Sandman’s masters, raised his blade, “I am sorry” and separated Sandman’s insanity from his physical body.

When Sage finally did find the old Gangrel, he was sitting on a rock stroking a small animal and watching what looked to be a large flopping black-feathered fish out of water. Next to the flopping fish were two decaying kindred, both with large chunks missing out of their necks.

“There will be more.” Mundug said without even looking at Sage.

At that moment there was a loud explosion and the sound of gunfire echoing through the quiet city streets followed by immediate sounds of police sirens.

“No, I don’t think there will be.” Sage said with a sigh; his mind still haunted by Sandman’s eyes. “Headquarters is under attack. Any other Kindred headed this way will quickly head there instead.” With that said, two black figures could be seen in the distance headed toward the chaos blocks away. “Where is your friend you needed to pick up? I hope that’s not one of them on the ground!”

((please feel free to jump in - this is open to anyone - Gangrels are a PLUS! Would like to create a traveling 'Gangrel Pack'))

"This is Jerry. He travels with me.", Mundug, presenting his cat companion, replied.

Sage, not saying anything, simply nodded.

"Now that no one seems to be interested in us for the time being, we should be on our way. I know a place, a city on the East Coast that may serve you well as a temporary haven. It's been a while since I have last been there, but I expect you could find your way there. I'll tell you more about it while travelling. Let us leave now. You got a car?"

Sage smiled at Jerry who in return dismissed him with blink and a cold shoulder. “Cute cat.” He wasn’t used to getting such a response from another animal, but it was clear that Jerry connected Sage to whatever the current situation was. “No . . .” finally responding to Mundug, “I have a motorbike not far, so I can follow behind you in whatever you are . . .”

“No.” Mundug interrupted.

“No?”

“I do not drive anything.” His tone was succinct and pointed.

It took a second to sink in. “Are you telling me you [i:347f1d6b75]walked[/i:347f1d6b75] to Denver?” The thought was almost absurd. “Who are you?” Sage had heard many rumors of an ancient Gangrel who considered himself a scholar and archeologist. This Gangrel, Beckett, was known to wander the world for his studies, showing up every so often in times of need to help ‘direct’ younger Kindred. Everything fit, including the descriptions . . . “What’s your name?”

“I am Mundug . . .” He replied with a slight smile, still not taking his gaze from Jerry. It was almost as if he knew what Sage had been thinking, “but this is not the time to get to know each other.”

Sage relaxed with a small sigh, “Right, well . . . Darla’s . . . I mean, my bike’s seat is not made for two, but I am sure we can work something out. I have saddlebags that are more then large enough for Jerry to relax comfortably. Do you at least [i:347f1d6b75]ride[/i:347f1d6b75] in or . . on . . . things?”

"You didn't listen well. I am skilled at horseback riding and I can even ride on a camel and on other animals. However, I do also have some experience driving an automobile. But to answer your question, yes, I did walk to this city."

Sage scratched his unshaven chin. "You rode on a camel? Okay...well...so you CAN drive...but if I understand it well, you simply do not have a car...err...automobile, right?

"Yes, I did and no, I don't." Mundug replied, not noticing the amusement in Sage's voice.

"Well, I see...then we hardly have a problem at all.", Sage smirked, "Manual or automatic?"

"It doesn't matter. I can drive both." Mundug replied, even though out of the three times he had driven a car, two times they had been automatics, the Humvee in the desert of Tunisia and the Aston Martin he had borrowed from Hassan ibn Sabbah on his way to Antioch. Nontheless, his first experience driving was with a manual transmission Fiat Punto he had rented at a car rental near an airport in southern Italy.

"Alright, just a second, I'll be back shortly.", Sage smiled.