((cool posts everyone

((Leads on from a post on the thread Marcus Arrives))

Stood in the shadows nearby Marcus watched with interest
The kindred he recognised from the street the night before, he had seemed somewhat remote but not overtly threatening, which probably made him very dangerous, the girl he didn’t know, but judging by her conversation she was either very stupid or very brave, or maybe both.

As she made her escape Marcus studied the other vampire closely, it wasn’t shock on the kindreds face, different emotions warred within him mind; Marcus suspected that this creature was not wholly sane.
The news that the girl had departed could mean anything to this vampire, if he was an elder then it was likely that his ‘Surviving relative’ was also kindred, or ghouled by another vampire.
If he had surviving mortal kin, that set a different kind of stage. Marcus waited to see what the kindred did next.
Stood casually and non threateningly in the shadows, he was easily visible to sharpened vampire senses, but would this kindred even look…………

Mark Archer stood still as thoughts ran through his head. His eyes focused into the darkness of the night as he tried to understand the events that were unfolding before him. Who was the harbinger of this news and who was it that she was referring too. Clenching his fists he continued to walk down the street back towards his hidden haven.

His head turned to face a group of five or six gothic teenagers walking on the opposite side of the street. Incoherent mumbling that was barely audible escaped his mouth.

One by one the teenagers turned to face Mark Archer, as if by some fatal attraction beyond there control that they could not ressit. They gazed deeply into his eyes that captivated them. His random mutterings words clear as day as they began to occupy the mind and souls of the young teenagers.

The first teenager began to back of slowly until he was pushing up against a wall he then began to scream wildly in horror raising his hands to protect himself in horror from his hidden nightmare. A young blonde girl dropped to her knees taking up a position of prayer as she smashed her head repeatedly into the floor. Another broke out into cold sweat, his face turning pale as he continued to walk almost like a drunken old man random words escaping his mouth. Screams echoed through the night as the remaining youths took a hold of whatever they could and began to rain violence down on the street before them.

Mark continued his steady even pace unaware of the stalker he had gained, his mind too preoccupied as he continued to weave his way through the dark shadows of the streets and alleys of the city.

A hand from the shadows gripped tightly around Mark’s shoulder stopping him in his tracks.

“You have to stop what you’re doing….” The voice was deep, rough and hard as stone. As Mark turned around his eyes focused in on the behemoth of a figure before him. Stood tall and dominant with a certain air of confidence around him was a man from Mark’s not so distant past.

A smirk crossed Mark’s mouth. “Grand sire…”

Mocha locks were torn off as the huntress took off her wig standing at the train station, holding a public payphone reciever to her ear. "It didn't work Tobeck, I doubt the Malkavian will take the bait. I told you this wasn't the right way to handle him, It was a good attempt but I would have gained a lot more if I killed him myself... what? ... He's escaped .. where is he? ...hello hello? ... who is this ... where's Mr. Tobeck ... answer me! ... Ashlee!?"

Mark and his grand sire shared a silent stare as they both looked deep into the others eyes. Mark steadily took a few steps backwards as his eyes quickly scanned around the alley his exit blocked by the titan. A fire escape ladder hung above him, a large garbage bin ran along the side of the dilapidated walls covered in street graffiti. A smirk crossed Mark’s face as spotted some markings that were almost identical to that of those found in the grave yard, created by the mind of the newly deceased artist.

As there eyes made contact once more Mark spoke in a calm and controlled tone, “I know what I’m doing”

“You do not know the power of the forces you are dealing with. You cannot even begin to comprehend your actions young one”

“My actions?” Mark tilted his head ad smiled cockily at his grand sire “I know the intensity of my actions.”

“You’re a fool!” The titan’s voice resonated with a dark anger as he bellowed “You risk everything! Do you not know of the prophecies, the legends? “

“Of course I know of them.”

“If he is awakened blood will be spilled, our blood! And the end will be upon us. The great wave of darkness!”

“The darkest of out days are upon us already. I know why you have moved from your rule. We are gathering in number under the city. Our clan gathers in numbers, in power! The final stand is nearing and we will make it here!”

“Our final stand will be ruined if you…”

“You are wrong.”

In one swift movement Mark jumper upwards grabbing a hold of the fire escape ladder above him. Swinging himself forward his feet made contact with the head of his grandsire sending him stumbling backwards. As Mark ran towards his sire he was knocked backwards as the garbage can hit him full force knocking him to the floor.

Stumbling to his knees Mark reached into the pocket of his jacket and retrieved a knife. With a fluidic motion the knife left his hand and cut through the air embedding itself in the head of his grandsire. The titan stopped in his tracks as he felt the sharp blade embedding itself in the delicate flesh of his brain.

Marks fist struck the side of his grand sire’s face with full force. To his dismay the titan’s head did not even move slightly. Marks next blow was blocked by the Man’s arm that then placed a firm punch into Marks abdomen. The sickening sound of cracking bones echoed down the silent alley as Mark flew backwards and hit the wall hard.
Bracing his forearm against Mark’s neck the behemoth of a vampire held him against the wall in an agonising hold. Reaching for the hilt of the blade that was still embedded in his sires head he gave it a sharp twist. Uncontrollably the titans grip released Mark as a dumbfounded look crossed his face.

The shard of discarded oak was quickly impaled into the heart of the vampire before him. Moving behind him Mark held his Grand sire that was slowly slipping into torpor and whispered into his ear.

“The prophecy has come true…

From the blood of his elders the power will arise,
The power to awaken he with many faces,
And on the night of his anniversary he will awaken,
From the ashes of the damned he will arise,
He will come forth of blood,
And on that night,
United they will stand.

If it were not for your return to stop me… the prophecy would not have come true” Mark chuckled evilly “Think about that while you still can.

The sharp fangs slid slowly through the cold flesh of his grandsire as mark began to thirstily drink the cold blood of the ancient before him. Each drop of blood filling him with a feeling of new found power.

((uh oh......nice posting Mark. count Gabe in.....a few posts down the line ;)

The once calm and peaceful street that ran right through the centre of the city where the worst crimes the residents knew of was an occasional smash and run or on a few occasions perhaps a mugging had changed from its dorsal state to one of much greater proportions.

The red drivers cabin of the lorry was driven up the pavement where it had smashed against a lamppost leaving the rest of its heavy chassis sprawled across the street. Smoke was rising from its engine and the smell of burning tires still lingered in the air. The gruesome sight of a young teenager was positioned a few hundred yards away from the cargo lorry. This poor unfortunate being had suffered a run in with the vehicle and lost.

The other teenagers who Mark had ventured upon earlier were scattered around the chaos filled street. Most of them were severely injured or dead however one still remained alive, crawled up tightly in a ball under a building, random words escaping his mouth in the language of untold horror.

The swirling blue and red lights of the emergency vehicles illuminated the street with dark light that seemed to attract countless attention although potential acting as a warning signal. A crowd of the city’s public, young and old, were lining the pavements trying to get there piece of the action.

Police enforcers and medics went about there business, alone seeing the true horror of the event that captivated the onlookers like a fresh piece of excitement for them to discuss over there tea.

Two officers stood before the crowd ensuring they did not compromise or disrupt the crime scene as well as trying to keep order. One of them was a Hispanic lady in her mid 30’s with long dark silky hair that was tied behind her head in a pony tail. The junior officer beside her was a male American who looked half her age and spoke with a broad southern accent as he commanded the crowd.

The holster of the man released its gun with little ease, freeing it from its constraints. The cold sharp metal of the barrel pressed against the blue fabric of the male officers back below his kidneys. The loud sound of the gun firing echoes loudly as the bullet shredded through his body erupting on the other side with a splatter of blood.

The crowded street seemed to freeze as the body of the young officers who life had just been ripped away fell to the floor. Mark stood before them a dark fury filling his eyes as he held the gun in his hands.

He looked deep into the eyes of the partner of the man he had just killed. Her hand went for her gun in a futile effort as she was struck to the side of the face and fell to the floor. Loud screams from the law enforcement and fear of the public replaced the loud sound of the gun.

The sound of gun fire once more resumed as the officers tried to shoot Mark. Amazement and shock filled there eyes and hearts as mark managed to escape into the darkness apparently unwounded by the many bullets shot.

Mark arrived back at his secret haven smirk on his face. As he approached the camber of the Malkavians donned in robes he turned to face his sire and spoke.

“Its time…”

Seeing all the ruckus up ahead, Daisy knocked on the glass seperating her from ther taxi driver and told him to pull over. She shoved a small wad of bills through the small opening...mumbled a thank you and got out.
She adjusted her hood so that it covered her face, picked up her bag and headed towards the flashing lights to see what was going on.A small smile crept over her lips as she thought to herself......seems nothing has changed. Although she knew everything had changed. There would be no welcoming arms or smiles to greet her this time. For the first time sinceher embrace, she was totaly alone. Dependant only upon herself.

The large stone room was elaborately decorated with ritual shrines, tapestries and ornate objects. Candle that were located around the room in magnificent candelabras, stands or hung from walls illuminated the room with an eerie light that flickered and danced in the cold breeze.

At the far end of the room raised up above the rest was a large podium with heavy steps that led downwards. Upon the podium was a tomb engraved with an ancient language covered by a blood stained cloth. Mark Archer stood upon the podium and beside him was his sire, a few elite guards wielding swords and a short vampire who had been around the age of 80 at the time of his embrace. He wore a ceremonial robe and stood before a large book that was propped up on a stone stand. The words written in an ancient language long forgotten.

The floor beneath them was filled with a sight of awe filling proportions. The hundred or so Malkavians that had congregated in Cascadia, Elders and Childe alike of the clan stood donned in robes. Random mutterings escaping there mouths as they talked among themselves or themselves as they awaited the start of the ceremony.

Mark slowly walked towards the Priest of the damned dressed in the ceremonial robes, who produced a bland dagger save for s small inscription that spread from the hilt down the blade. As Mark then moved towards the tomb the room feel into silence.

Raising the blade to his left pal he turned to face the gathering as the knife cut into the flesh of his hand .

“From the ashes of the damned he will awaken,
From the blood of the one he shall come forth,
On the anniversary of his death he will arise,
And on that night the shadows shall be covered in his darkness,
The stars themselves shall hide in fear.
So it is written….”

The blade travailed further down his hand, wrist and arm. Squeezing his fist closed tightly blood began to drip onto the tomb.

“So shall it be!”

Placing the knife above the tomb he moved away towards the edge of the podium. The priest began to turn the pages in his book, reading the words of the ancient language.

As she drew closer, Daisy saw more clearly the comotion. What is going on? she asked aloud to no one inparticular.She opted to go through the ally just ahead of her instead of walking through the chaos. The alley was long and dark, shadows played along the back walls of the buildings. Daisy stopped and sniffed at the air catching the scent of other kindred close by. She tightened her cloak around herself and proceeded with cautious steps.

While the sleek black car pulled around the corner, a voice erupted from behind the red curtains. Soft innocent in many ways but also the tone of a battered being harmed and fragile. ``Pull around this street. I sense him in there, it's been awhile but the blood bond always brings me to him.`` Ashlee sat in the back-seat mushing mandrake root in his mortar, tainted slender fingers reached forward into a jar of nightshade pulling out the pretty blue flower, deadly to the touch, if a mortal came in contact with it they would be instantly poisoned. But this regiment showed great power when wielded correctly. His hands began to shake trying to hold the Orb of Dessaliah still while the proper ritual was produced. The driver pulled to a stop and waited for instructions. ``I don't expect to come back .. take what little fortune I have left at my apartment. I release you from my thrall, and you are now a free kindred. I will not be your sire any longer. My fate was written across the stars long ago. I search for love and in no other can I find it .... dead or undead.`` The alloy car door clicked lightly as it was forced open. Swinging the door outward making a rubbery metal noise echo through the night's air. He slipped the orb into a bag that was placed around his shoulder and closed the lids of his eyes. All he could see was the fight that had broken loose the last couple of days. The revolt he had started inside the Technocracy, and his own kidnapping. It was painful to remember what had just happened. He was trapped in a cell dreaming while awake that Mark would burst through the door and save him. In the end he had to rely on himself to get free. These images haunted him ever since he stepped foot in cascadia. Why did Mark abandon him? this question poured out about a hundred times in his mind. It was time for it to silence though and he was going to get even. The orb of Dessaliah was used to create a mouth to hell. He was going to show Mark what it was like to be ignored, to be imprisoned.

Gentle fingers slipped over the edge of the hood as it was pulled down over his face heading into the haven. Mark's haven was empty he had must have just left. The sense there was still warm, he searched around for a few moments hoping to find a day planner or something that would tell him where the Malkavian might be. Upon the messy coffee table he came across a couple napkins with a restaurant logo on the front. He remembered Mark offering to take him there one night back when they were an active couple. His best bet would to try there.

Within the cold darkness of the bar neon lights ignited the dusty room. The bartender was finishing up some sweeping after the bit Brujah party. ``Were closed!`` He yelled as he continued to brush the dirt into a pile. Ashlee moved right up into the man's face and gripped him by the collar tossing him towards the edge of the bar. ``Where is Mark Archer?`` the only words that escaped the violent one's lips. ``Hey man ... you can't do this man ... I dunno all I know is the Malkavian's of this area are heading to this secret haven for some party.`` the tender broke loose of his information quite easy, obviously the thought of ten rounds with a heartbroken Toreador wasn't very pleasant. After getting the exact address he took off again.

When he reached the haven he examined the scenario. Two guards stood at the doorway dressed in matching hooded gowns. From inside the ritual room they could hear shirking outside. Just as the screams fell to a silence the doors burst open. ``What is the meaning of this!?`` Mark yelled from down front, heavenward he stepped as the glow of the candles made his visage seen. Ashlee was instantly grabbed by three Malkavian's and brought forward. When Mark realized who he was they were ordered to release him. ``Karl what are you doing here? You kinda came at a bad time.`` Mark uttered silently while the priest continued the ritual.
Mark and Ashlee moved into another room while the rest of Malkavian's continued as planned. ``My name's not Karl .. it's Ashlee .. It's a long story it's actually why I'm here.`` Ashlee's voice grew and began to spit out his fiery anger ``The Technocracy captured me and did evil things to me and you ignored it. What were you too busy down here playing with your little friends in robes. You couldn't even send someone for me.`` Mark frowned slightly he didn't know what to say and he was beginning to get mad because the ritual was important to him. ``Can we talk about this later? I'm kinda busy.``

``NOOOO! we can't talk about this later .. I don't care if your busy.`` His thoughts reminded himself of the orb and a clever pun spilled from his lips. `` You wanna talk about this later fine, I'll give you all the time you need.`` He pulled out the orb and then looked into Mark's eyes. The man he loved, the man he hated at this point in time. It was all so confusing. Ashlee turned and tossed the orb into the air, as it reached a certain angle a large red and black portal appeared. It began to colapse into itself sucking hard on the closest objects, a gust of wind began to pull them. He rushed forward and kissed Mark, the Malkavian was shocked and froze.

[url=http://www.geocities.com/ashieedonavon02/younevercame2.wav]``When I was away from you it was painful. It hurt me to think that I'd never see you again. Every time I went to sleep I was hoping it was a dream, and I'd wake up and I'd be in your arms, But It never happened you never came.``[/url]

Tears began to pour along his cheeks and he moved towards the portal. Ashlee mouthed an ``I love you`` and then fell back sacrificing himself to his own evil plot. A little piece of him inside knew he couldn't go through with it all along, but the portal would stay open and suck everything in until it had a living presence dead or alive. After Ashlee had vanished inside the glass orb stood in midair. Dropped and smashing into shards upon the ground.

"Here.." he whispered quietly, and gave the signal to his assistant to begin taking notes on the scene. The small hunched figure immediately began sweeping his "electric" pen across the face of his palm pilot, which emitted the only light within the darkened car.

Cascadia had long known turbulence. From it's earliest settlers, the pioneers, the city streets had been awash in the blood of both villians and innocents. The late 1800's brought a massive immigration of riverboat personnel, complete with merchants, sailors, dock workers, and con artists. For a time, the small river port city served as a stopping point between New Orleans and the harbors further up. Flushed with business, the city quickly prospered. Gambling and saloon life overtook the small town, and attracted all the wrong customers.

As the century turned, Cascadia found itself in a perpetual state of Mardi Gras. As if taking a que from it's younger cousin, New Orleans, the city subsisted on a constant stream of opiates and alcohol. And as the country entered it's "New Era", Cascadia did little to keep up. The government and it's subsequent police force spent most of their time simply trying to keep the peace. This level of independance on a citizen level attracted several unusual faces to the city.

In 1914, Jacob Thomas "Pippen" Scarlet arrived and quickly set up a power base. The first Brujah stronghold in Cascadia had been formed. Within a few short years, the first World War would engulf the nation. Pippen was a rising Ancillae Brujah, as were his three progeny. They had long ago erased themselves from existance as far as the government was concerned. As most of the men and strapping lads left to meet their fates on the smoke laiden battlefields of Europe, Pippen and his Childer found they had a perfect oppurtunity to extend their connections.

By the end of the 1920's, Cascadia and several and the surrounding towns, were under Kindred control. Pippen was a Brujah with an unoridinary lust for power, but his was still a Childe of Brujah and his lust for sins was greater. His reign as Prince was a lax one, and a city devoid of law, aside from an occasional Brujah beating, was a prime target for clan conflict.

The "New Deal" run by FDR throughout the 30's increased everyone's standard of living. Much of the country had not even had running water until that point. But as government programs were being created to bring the nation up to par, Cascadia felt the effect as well. Now a city of wealth and twinkling lights, the city was fast becoming a paradise on the river.

The other clans had found their way within the city, and all had respectively set up bases by the early 1950's. Pippen still reigned as Prince, and held a loose watch over the other clans. As the fishing town became a thriving metropolis however, it attracted it's first mobsters. The mafia came in and began setting up their own businesses.

They quickly ran afoul several Brujah, whose connections had been in place for over half a century. Shocked but not unnerved by their sudden defeat, the mafia called for backup from the north. More and more hitman and scoundrels flooded into town, and much to the Brujah's appreciation. Night after night the town was filled with the screams of mafioso until finally several Giovanni caught wind of it.

The 1960's came and found the mob already weakening, but Clan Giovanni was a permanent fixture. Many of their mortal friends were mafia, and as more and more were killed, their anger towards the Cascadian Brujah and it's Prince grew. They swarmed the city, slaughtering Brujah where they resided. The first true Clan War had begun and Cascadia felt it's effects.

Pippen had never handled such an event before, and had little knowledge of how to contain it, let alone hide the effects from the mortal's eyes. A decade rolled by, and one night Pippen found the fighting had stopped. He rushed from his chambers to the streets outside and found his entire clan gone. The Giovanni clan as well had gone. Confused and bewildered, Pippen returned to his haven, to find it smoldering in flames. Several figures appeared from the shadows, identifying themselves as Archons of the Camarilla. Pippen's neglectful rule had been carefully watched and recorded. And until then, the offenses were too minor to act on.

But with the eruption of a full scall clan war, the Inner Council had acted. After that night, Pippen had disappeared and was never heard from again. The city's populace quickly returned to it's daily life, and Cascadia found itself with a new Prince, whom none disputed. The next several decaded rolled by with little incident of note.

Crime steadily rose in Cascadia, but the Kindred and Kine had guarded the city. But as of late, the crime had been running rampant. Gabriel furrowed his pale brow once more as he stared out the limousine window. Upon his arrival in Cascadia, he had devoted his time to the history of the city and it's inhabitants, but he had never read of anything this severe.He rolled down the window, flooding the car with flashing ambulence lights. The noise was horrendous, and people shrieked in terror of what they had just seen.

The police were in an uproar, frantically trying to shoo people from the scene. Gabriel could see the heavy bodybag that covered an officers dead corpse. He shook his head and took an unnecessary breath. Something.....

He sniffed the air once more, his eyes closed. A tang in the air, a metallic tang. Gabriel stepped out of the limousine, sniffing the air frantically now. Eons of the curse of Caine had trained his clan to identify blood merely by it's smell. This was clearly Malkavian....and old. Horribly old. Using his power of will to clear Kine from his path, Gabriel swiftly trailed the scent to a dank alleyway. There, among the debris and rats, lay a bit of scattered ash and blood.

"So...who's the victim...and who's the murderer?" Gabriel pondered. The scent was vaguely familiar, yet he knew he had never come across it before. "Archer..." he gasped. No, it wasn't Archer....but it was similiar. Perhaps a Childe or....?

It was a hunch at the very least. Gabriel made his way back to the limousine and got in quickly.

"Take me to the Malkavian Mark Archer's haven immediately."

((yuck cruddy writing, a lot of it pointless history, but i was bored :)

(( Damn cool posts everyone :) ))

As Daisy continued down the alley, the little voice in her head that had been with her since she first left Cascadia, started up again. What are you doing back here? Don't you know they don't want you here? Thats why everyone left you, no one wants to be around you.Everyone and everything you touch is damned. Daisy stopped and closed her eyes willing the voice to go away, but it only grew louder till it was pounding in her ears. She lifted her clenched fists to her ears and began chanting low at first...shut up...shut up...shut up... then louder and louder till she realised she was screaming. She quickly spun around in a circle to make sure no one was near then relalised the voice had stopped. she clenched her cloak tightly around herself and continued on down the ally.

((sorry this post is rushed and pretty dire. ive been working for about 13 hours :/ lol

Mark Archer stood startled and confused as he watched the orb fall to the floor and smash into tiny shards. The chanting from the dark priest continued as he drew closer to completion of the ritual. The tomb began to shake violently and blood seeped through the cracks of the worn stone and the gabs between the lid and the base. Mark turned his attention to the tomb his eyes wide open and an evil smile across his face.

The doors to the hidden chambers forcefully burst open creating a loud thud as it smashed hard against the stone surface. The attention of the room swiftly turned to amassing army of humans standing before them. Dressed in bright shining chain mail armour with a black layer of fabric over the torso with a picture of three stars and a moon the humans stood bravely with various swords and axes in a combat stance.

Standing proudly and commandingly before the others stood a man wearing golden chain mail a black cloak hung loosely draping down his back and he wielded an elaborate great sword. Behind the soldiers stood priests and mages with bibles and charms as there arms.

Reaching to one of the elite vampire guards beside him Mark drew the swords from its sheath and stood before the priest his sire before him. He snarled and growled softly as he focused on the disruption of the ritual. Without a word the Malkavian charged into battle, unified by an unknown connection they fought almost as one entity against the aggressors.

“Continue with the ritual!” Mark turned to face the disrupted priest of the damned. Swords clashed and screams echoed as the fierce battle between the humans and the vampires continued. Blow for blow the fight continued the vastly outnumbered Malkavian dropping the humans like flies.

Mark stood before the priest his blade cutting through the humans that dared approach the podium with little ease. Breaking through the protecting circle of vampires the enemy commander approached Mark. There blades clattered as they collided staring deeply into each others eyes. They traded blows trying to find a weakness in each others defences.

The perusing battle enraged for what seemed eternity as each side took heavy casualties. Mark’s blade cut through the air slicing the head of the commander in one clean shot. Mark stood smugly as he watched the now decapitated body fall to the floor.

A sharp searing pain rushed through Mark’s body as he was blasted backwards landing hard against the wall. A strange tingling feeling ran through his body as he lay unconscious. The Mage stood proud of his feat.

The battle continued.