Two cultists, dinstinctly dressed more ornately than the masses, stepped forward and pressed their backs against the altar, now slick with the infant's blood. A low grumble echoed through the chamber as the massive stone structure slid on a previously invisible pair of tracks, revealing a darkened hole beneath.

Abercorne looked on passively, the deeply etched lines in his malignant face now filling, as though age were reversing before the trio's eyes. He retained the visage of an ancient man, but looked only slightly less rotted. His expression remained the same throughout the process of being loaded onto a platform and lowered into the dark maw of the hole. Once their pontiff was secured, the cultists began a highly organized and ritualistic descent after him, one by one disappearing into the darkness.

Only the two decorated cultists remained, standing sentry over the entry point mere feet from the door behind which Greggs, Poe, and Gabriel peered in amazement.

Greggs held up his fingers and counted 'one-two-three...', at which point he heaved a small stone across the room, sending it clattering on the otherside. Their guards temporarily distracted, the trio burst from their hiding spot and fell upon their guards with the memories of the dying child fueling their rage. Blow after blow fell upon the pair of unsuspecting cultists, both fist and steel alike, until finally Greggs called for a halt out of fear of the robes being too spattered in blood and bone to be of any use.

With Gabriel's arm still suspended by a sling, Poe and Greggs made decidedly less conspicuous guards. The two Kindred and the detective lowered themselves into the hole, a small gas lamp their only source of light.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The dark corridors beneath the church were slick with moisture and glistened at the light's presence. The floors were slickened by decades upon decades of being regularly tread upon, but the walls remained untamed. Jagged bits of earth and rock protruded from the walls, in some places nearly impeding their progress. The same, familiar monstrous roots were present.

They seemed to travel in a diagonal slant, descending deeper into the earth and further from safety and salvation. Only when they heard the ominous chants of their enemy did they extinguish the lamp and creep carefully forth.

The tunnel opened into a large interior chamber, the walls still composed of the rocky interior of the earth. Lit by great torches and an array of flickering candles, the great amphitheater was filled by the strange spoken song of the believers. The cultists were herded on one side, their grisly visages concealed by their thick hoods. Abercorne sat on the far side of the room, near a massive and noticably blank wall of earth, being completely barren of any torches, candles, or ornimantation.

[i:3885a925f9]"'Igh si mirde!!"[/i:3885a925f9] he cried repeatedly, his gnarled arms outstretched towards the wall. His followers mimicked. Abercorne turned towards his followers, his eyes wide and wild.

[i:3885a925f9]"The outsiders have taken Him from us! The Great Horned God! But the child remains! With His power, we will regain what was lost!!"[/i:3885a925f9] the fever in his voice was fevered and strained. He turned back towards the wall. [i:3885a925f9]"Now come, come Childe of the Horned God!!! Igh si mirde!!"[/i:3885a925f9]

Gabriel had drawn bead on Abercorne when the cavern began to tremble. The sounds of tons of earth shifting was nearly deafening, even drowning out the tranced cries of the cultists. The rifle's barrel lowered as Gabriel and the others stared in disbelief at the wall before Abercorne.

Slowly at first, the exposed roots shifted. Then they began to wriggle with ever increasing momentum at last pushing against the rock itself. Granite and soil crumbled and spattered, as the roots writhed and smashed. Finally, the roots took hold of the surrounding wall and strained, as if lifting some great object.

The trio peered into the inky blackness of the newly formed hole, and what emerged brought a collective gasp of true horror from all three...

((ohmegodohmegodohmegod!! ::hanging on the edge of my seat::

The void behind the roots darkened. And it grew wider, deeper, more empty.

The soil cascaded over the absence of form like a granular curtain. There was a slow, deliberate movement in the blackness, as though something wearily closed its eyes.

Poe and Gabriel felt their blood chill as the chamber beyond the decaying Patriarch gave birth to an abomination.

Abercorn shrieked as two great lidless eyes locked upon him. His very flesh desiccating. Withering. Being drained dry of all the essences he had stolen, cannibalised. He fell to his knees, before collapsing in a cloud of ash.

The death reminded Gabriel of that of Kindred. But the old man had been something else...

The eyes arced around the room, its gaze drying and drawing the life out of its cultists. Greggs raised his pistol and fired, the bullet impacting harmlessly upon one of the eyes which swivelled in its orbit to face the trio.

[i:4d1d8721fb]“Something tells me that was an extraordinarily bad idea!”[/i:4d1d8721fb] Even now, Poe tried to make light.

They started back up the tunnel, trying to evade the “thing” in the earth. Stepping over writhing vines that had erupted through the stone walls, beating back carnivorous roots that snaked at them.

The screams from the cultists grew louder, matching the sound of the Earth giving up a prize long forgotten. The hideous grating, scraping echo that heralded the things revival. The three ran towards the Chapel, fighting past the fleeing cultists. One cultist grabbed Greggs, begging for his life before two rope like tendrils seized him, tearing him in half, his blood spraying the air with his stink and his heat. Greggs fought back the bile in his throat, pushing at Gabriel’s back to hurry him out. The very earth itself seemed intent on murder. Reacting to some heinous act.

Poe fell to his knees screaming as the thing made contact.

[i:1ae07a1e1f]Good evening, and welcome to this evening's edition of 20/20. I'm Richard Dudley, filling in for John Stossel who is on vacation.

In Washington D.C. today President Bush announced plans to send Secretary of State Condaleeza Rice to China to plea with officials there to continue talks to an ever intesifying situation with North Korea. We'll speak with our political correspondant Martin Bashar in a few moments.

But first, we go to Southern Maine, more specifically Akeley's Field...or perhaps more accurately, where Akeley's Field USED to be. 20/20's John Vila has more...

Thank you Richard. Here in the tiny fishing communities that dot Maine's landscape, there is a sense of fear and apprehension about the strange 'disappearance' of the tiny hamlet of Akeley's Field nearly two weeks ago in what geoscientists are tentatively referring to as a 'thermal sinkhole'.

The town, and it's 753 residents, have been literally swallowed off the map. We spoke with one local resident who...

[/i:1ae07a1e1f]

click!

Poe tossed the remote control on the army green felt comforter of his twin bed and turned from the television. The diminutive room always felt smaller when he thought of the incident. As if he were being consumed again. As the thoughts returned to the forefront of his thinking, the pain that remained in his leg flared.

He sat atop the bed and hiked up the leg of his trousers to examine the wound once more. Coiled around his muscular calf was the scabbing, red gash that had never completely healed since the "creature" had coiled around him. In the subsequent days since the occurance, his other powers had returned to him, yet no amount of blood healing could convince it to repair itself.

He shuddered once more, and instinctively placed both feet upon the cold linoleum of the floor as though to reassure himself of his surroundings. The darkness had been ravenous. He had awoken occasionally over the following days, the Ventrue always in his blurred sight.

The sensation of being lifted...hushed voices...synthetic lighting...minutes hours days had meshed together.

The door to his room opened and Gabriel appeared. He looked different now under the dim lights of what they only knew as 'the institute'. Gruffer. His hair had darkened from a nearly sterling blond to a dirty, brakish brown. His face seemed....thicker, more physical. A wide jaw gave him an animalistic aggression and his once calculating green eyes were now suspicious and narrow.

[i:1ae07a1e1f]"They're waiting for us."[/i:1ae07a1e1f] he grumbled. Poe collected his things and gave himself a quick glance in the mirror.

He found someone else’s reflection looking back at him.

Instead of his own face, he saw an older, wearier face. One that sported an eye-patch, several days of stubble and a certain stockiness that chilled him to the bone. He reached a hand up warily, poising to touch his cheek. It wasn’t an illusion. His face was different. Rounder, older.

He was wearing his father’s face! The original face Porter wore before his evolution.

He turned to say something to Gabriel, but found his voice rasping. A choked sound like broken glass on old leather. He turned to face the mirror again, his voice croaking as he looked.

His face had changed again.

Gone were the portly features he had just seen, touched. In their stead a clean shaven, angular Nordic face. The goatee he had grown so fond of was gone. His carefully tended hair now an uncontrollable tangle of blond hair that threatened to resemble dreadlocks.

But most horrifying of all, the eye-patch remained! The straps criss-crossing his head, covering his right eye. A curious numbness making itself known when he tried to turn his right eye in its socket.

It would take him some time to adjust to the patch. But the parallels with his father were all too apparent. He blinked his left eye as if silently accepting it for another day, and followed Gabriel out of their quarters.

posted by Gabriel and moved from old forum:

The duo walked in silence...a heavy, awkwardness had settled between the pair since the incident. Neither man yet seemed willing or able to talk about just what had occurred, although both surely knew. Neither had slept well, flashing images of melting worshippers and the ensuing days haunted their days, waking them from their medicated slumber. Although their rooms were seperated by several empty ones, they could often 'hear' one another and were accutely aware of one another's presence.

The hallways of the catacombs were slick and covered in a cool mildew that illuminated with a soft green glow as the two passed. Long, unmarked, and most notably empty, the halls were only a part of the enormous castle in which they had been residents for the past several weeks.

Neither, as so far as they knew, had come in contact with their hosts other than curt notes that were at times left on their nightstands upon awaking from sleep. Gabriel had received the latest in the series. He and Poe followed the directions and eventually came upon a great, oak double door.

He looked to Poe, who bore a striking resemblance to his old friend Porter. But not the incarnation of Porter that he had known briefly prior to his disappearance. Rather, he was an image of the gruff, patriarchal Gangrel Gabriel had spent many nights in Esylium with.

He watched as the Gangrel's one eye scanned his features and remembered how different he must look now. Gone were the strictly nordic features and glistening hair...replaced by a weathered face and gruff exterior. A silent agreement was exchanged and then Gabriel threw the door open.

An elongated room stretched before them, dark and devoid of any visible decor, save a large circular bench, similiar to that of a judge or barrister. It sat at the far end, concealed by it's blanket of darkness. A dozen pairs of dimly glistening eyes peered from behind it, narrowing as the guests made their way before them.

The Ventrue strained to use his newly discovered sense of smell to determine with whom he shared the room, it was useless however. He noted Poe using a similiar tactic that bore similiar results. Instinctively, each stopped several feet from the bench and stood staring into the inpenetrable gloom of their hosts.

Their was a length of silence, during which Gabriel was taken with the distinct sensation of being evaluated. Poe spoke abrubtly.

"Who are you? Why have you brought us here?"

They were met with no response.

"The Council of Twelve." Poe murmured at length, unsure as from where he had drawn the conclusion.

"Yes...you stand before the Council of Twelve." an authoratative voice stated.

Gabriel looked around in wonderment.

"Then we're in Castle Huendoara?" Gabriel nearly whispered.

"No. Only true members of the order are permitted within the walls of Castle Huendoara."

A deep, congealing fear began to manifest deep in Gabriel's gut. The Council of Twelve were the deliberating body for the Inconnu sect. Under any other circumstances, he would've questioned the validity of their claim, but the overwhelming power that eminated from the bench reinforced their claim.

The extent of their power and influence was unknown, but it was certainly great. Gabriel had heard whispers that they were the single most powerful collection of Kindred outside the Inner Council of the Camarilla. As if reading his thoughts, a voice interceded, filling the tiny hall.

"Poe of Clan Gangrel, Gabriel of Clan Ventrue, you have been brought before us to determine your worthiness to serve the Inconnu as agents of truth."

[i:e89c57039d]"We've not asked for this opportunity."[/i:e89c57039d] Poe challenged. The sickly feeling in Gabriel's stomach crept through it's lining and manifested on his skin in the form of a sticky red glaze.

[i:e89c57039d]"Your intentions are no longer veiled Gangrel. This is not the Jyhad. There are no pretentions here."[/i:e89c57039d]

[i:e89c57039d]"Hm."[/i:e89c57039d] Poe grunted. The Elder had clearly pinpointed his interest with little difficulty or regard to his feign.

[i:e89c57039d]"It is you Gabriel, who concern us more."[/i:e89c57039d] The Ancient's glistening eyes focused on the Ventrue. [i:e89c57039d]"Your participation in the Jyhad and ways of the Camarilla is well documented. You undoubtedly know of our requirements."[/i:e89c57039d]

Thoughts of Cascadia paraded through his mind. Bats, Cain, Porter, Kathy...the Tower Hotel...Sorenti. The war with Valek. Demons. The darkness and the pain intermingling with the light and missed redemption. His loves and his hate. The dichotic and ever changing pain of it all. He raised his eyes and was shocked to see his thoughts projected into the empty air before him and the Council. His memories and dreams played out in tiny vignettes before all. Instantly they disappeared.

[i:e89c57039d]"I would gladly leave it all behind."[/i:e89c57039d] he said plainly.

Deep beneath the convoluted streets of Rome, in the decaying tunnels of the aqueduct that was once the technological wonder of the ancient, time passed without notice. Above ground, in the light, two months had passed since Gabriel and Poe had consented to the Council's will. But deep within the murky depths of the sewers, the the intense training had merged into a continuous stretch.

Even in the short span of time they had lived among the Inconnu, many of the answers about the secretive sect that had so long eluded Gabriel had been provided. Still, even within their folds, it was clear that the two Kindred were only being allowed to scratch the surface of the truth. From the first day it had been made perfectly clear that their youth and removal from Caine's immediate bloodline had exempted them from full membership. The alternative was to be a 'quester' of sorts for them. The hand of the Inconnu.

The initial unified front of the Inconnu was far less convincing once exposed. Different factions within the secretive sect vied for influence and control. Some pursued knowledge simply for knowledge's sake while others sought a finite end to the Jyhad that had plagued the Childer of Caine since their conception.

Gabriel and Poe however, had accepted a far more physical task, and their training reflected the skills their masters were clearly anticipating them using. The weaponsmaster was relentless, his slight form weilding the wide assortment of weapons with unseen dexterity. Their skills were honed in a various array of melee weapons and tactics, both ancient and modern. Gabriel and Poe both tasted the unpleasant sinking sensation of torpor more than once.

Poe especially, excelled at the intense combat training, his reflexes etched day by day past the breaking point. Gabriel's new stout constitution and ferocity was a bit more difficult to control and focus, but at times his furious attacks threatened to sheer the metal from the blade.

Their minds and thoughts too were fortified. They were trained to put walls around their feelings to prevent invasion by other Kindred. In many ways, the training was more demanding than the physical combat.

At the end of eighty days and nights, the two had performed nearly without rest. Their bodies were replenished and hardened, their senses acute. They were tools of the Inconnu, and even they had no idea what plans their masters held for them...

((just a start...maybe more later?

More! Please? :shock:

Gabriel passed over the stone threshold fully aware that his life was about to drastically change forever. Behind him, Poe's intimidable composition communicated the gravity of the situation. Darkness, familiar and cold, greeted the pair as they found themselves in another darkened chamber.

[i:4b6951a779]"Gangrel Poe, Ventrue Gabriel, are you prepared to leave behind the Jyhad and all that was for the sake of the truth and Gehenna?"[/i:4b6951a779]

The voice was heavy with accent and it's owner lost in the murky ink of the room.

[i:4b6951a779]"I will leave behind the Jyhad."[/i:4b6951a779] the duo said, reciting their lines as they had been taught. No one spoke.

The scurry of feet broke the silence and before either Kindred could react their arms were held and their sleeves torn back. Poe felt the cold grip of panic wash over him just before his forearm sizzled and the smell of burning flesh filled his nostrils.

Both fell to their knees and attempted to heal themselves to no avail.

[i:4b6951a779]"You have been marked"[/i:4b6951a779] the voice informed them, [i:4b6951a779]"you are our hand now..."[/i:4b6951a779]

As Gabriel slipped into unconciousness, he could just see Poe collapse.

The epicenter was cold and frightening. Gabriel felt himself enveloped in it's lifeless depths and slowly felt his conciousness begin to return. His eyes opened, a warmth beginning to creep back over him. He allowed himself to heal gradually, expending as little blood as possible. The world came into focus and he found himself seated in a comfortably decorated library.

Nearby Poe sat limply, his chin buried into his chest, eyes blank and vacant. There were no apparent wounds that Gabriel could see, either on himself or the young Gangrel. Both were bound to their respective chairs by bungee chord. Gently, he tested his strength against them and was surprised to find that he had a full stock of vitae.

A brief tug and the bungee chord snapped and fell to the floor. The Ventrue gripped Poe's chord between his hands and snapped it effortlessly. Poe went limp in Gabriel's arms. Gradually, flush returned to his cheeks and the two discussed their surroundings.

"Gentlemen. Welcome back to the land of the living as it were."

The two kindred turned to see an olive-skinned man stepping through the library's sole entrance. He was dressed casually in khaki's and a blazer. His thick black hair, traced with a few stray strips of silver was slicked back, revealing a pair of observant emerald eyes.

"Victorrio." Gabriel asked more than stated.

"Hello Gabriel. The restraints were purely functionary I assure you. It was either that or leave you in a heap on the floor. Hardly suitable."

"Where are we?" Poe chimed in.

"That's relative. You're still alive if that's what you're asking. More specifically, you're in my humble home in Jerusalem."

The library lacked any windows to confirm the Ventrue's statement.

"What're we doing here? How'd we get..."

"All in good time Gabriel. We have much to discuss, but first lets get you boys settled in."

[i:8b4be87e2a]"I'm surprised you two are taking this so well."[/i:8b4be87e2a]

[i:8b4be87e2a]"Well, a few questions spring to mind..."[/i:8b4be87e2a] Gabriel threw a glance over his shoulder. Poe trailed them by several feet, examining the contents of the marble hallway.

[i:8b4be87e2a]"In good time Gabriel. You've received your instructions?"[/i:8b4be87e2a] the ancient vampire led the pair onto an expansive pateo, drenching them in the night air and the soft, yet perpetual lap of the ocean.

[i:8b4be87e2a]"Yes. But they're a bit general for my liking."[/i:8b4be87e2a] he handed Vittorio the instructions.

[i:8b4be87e2a]"So, you're to return to Cascadia."[/i:8b4be87e2a] he sighed at last and let his eyes wash over Poe. [i:8b4be87e2a]"I was afraid of this. Gabriel, listen closely..."[/i:8b4be87e2a]

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

Two nights later the pair stood before the derelect gates of Gabriel's old compound. The manner sat like an empty coffin behind them, burnt and dead. Before them, great steel gates barred them from the Cascadian woodlands. Miles and miles of property the Ventrue had acquired for a friend...

[i:8b4be87e2a]"This is it. I'm not sure what Vittorio could expect us to find out here."[/i:8b4be87e2a]

((i know it's shitty. but just go ahead and run with it.

Arvakur snuffed at the damp, chilled air. His wet nose raised as he read the stories of scent borne on the breeze. Alerted by some unknown sign, he wuffed at the others in the pack. As Alpha it was his position, nay his duty, to protect and lead the wolves with cunning and guile. At times with a compassionate paw, others with a vengeful snap of his jaws. He felt something in his bones, something that made him think of his old Alpha, and whined softly, drawing the fearful nuzzlings from a young female.

Having the O’Brien Estates as territory meant the pack was able to swell and grow strong, even without their long lost leader. Arvakur had proved a capable mind, his instincts sharp. He licked the face of the female affectionately as if thanking her for her concerns, and trotted towards the forbidden clearing at his territory’s heart. A long, low loping wolf that scanned the darkness with an array of honed senses.

A growl escaped his throat, prompting him and the others to stop. His teeth bared as he growled in strange recognition of the figures that entered the woods.

[i:97cbb382f6]“Why exactly are we here, Gabriel? I mean, Vittorio is a riddler I know. But what are we supposed to find here?”[/i:97cbb382f6] Poe gritted through his teeth, pulling his jacket tight around him. [i:97cbb382f6]“Something familiar about this place though....can’t place it.”

“He said we’d know it when we saw it. Just keep your eyes peeled, Poe. Stop whining like an old woman.”[/i:97cbb382f6]

Gabriel’s grin broke Poe’s steely gaze, prompting the Gangrel hybrid to snort.

[i:97cbb382f6]“Fuck off.”[/i:97cbb382f6]

At that, the wolves emerged from the underbrush. Their motion silent, expert, as they stalked closer. Gabriel noticed them first.

[i:97cbb382f6]“It’s Arvakur and his pack. They’re probably wondering why we’re here. Estate’s been pretty quiet in my absence. Don’t worry, they won’t come any closer.....”[/i:97cbb382f6]

They did.

Slow deliberate paces brought the twenty strong wolf pack ever closer. Their muzzles expressionless, devoid of seeming purpose. Poe’s hackles rose.

[i:97cbb382f6]“What the fuck, Gabe? They must be rabid or something. Look at the Alpha, he’s staring me down!”

“Ignore him! Just look at the ground.”[/i:97cbb382f6] Reluctantly, Poe did just that. But the moment his eyes saw the grass, something deep in his belly told him to look up. Some part of him long repressed, long forgotten, insisted upon it. His eyes flashed up, with an automatic arrogance.

That was the sign! Arvakur barked at the pack, ordering the attack.

Gabe watched in impotent shock as a cloud of fur shrouded his ally. Claws flashed, fangs clamped on legs, arms. Blood sprayed on all and sundry. Then the bite was delivered. Distracted by another wolf, Poe lowered his guard on his right arm. Arvakur lunged in, biting just hard enough to break the skin. His saliva swimming with the vampires blood. At that the attack ceased as suddenly as it had begun, the wolves still able to, moved off into the forest. Those killed or injured lay in a circle at Poe’s feet. Gabe stood dumbstruck.

[i:97cbb382f6]“Poe? Are you okay?”[/i:97cbb382f6]

Poe swayed on his feet, looking up at Gabe nodding weakly.

[i:97cbb382f6]“F f fine. Just need to heal these wounds.”[/i:97cbb382f6]

He lifted the warm body of a wolf, biting into its neck and gorging himself.

Then retched the very blood he’d taken back out onto the grass. Steam rising from the wet glistening vegetation.

[i:97cbb382f6]“Something’s wrong. I can feel....”[/i:97cbb382f6]

[i:97cbb382f6]“Poe!?”[/i:97cbb382f6] Gabe stepped forward.

[i:97cbb382f6]“No! Stay back! Something’s happening. My skin’s burning!”[/i:97cbb382f6]

Poe dropped to his knees, fumbling at his clothes he tore and scratched at them, tearing them from his back, then scratching and clawing at his skin, drawing ribbons of red.

[i:97cbb382f6]“Poe! Are you mad! Stop it!”[/i:97cbb382f6]

Poe wasn’t listening. His mind was focused in some deranged purpose. Some horrifying need to shed his very skin. He moaned with pain as a lump of undying flesh was pulled off.

Gabe tried to grab him, his hands coming away holding pieces of the Gangrel’s scalp, wet strands of hair that swung. Poe’s arm snapped upwards sharply, sending the Ventrue flying.

[i:97cbb382f6]“Stay away!”[/i:97cbb382f6] He bellowed, before extending his claws and ripping the fatty layers from his back and stomach. Shredding his own face before collapsing. Silent. Still.

Gabriel resisted the gag reflex. His former partner and ally lay inside out mere yards from him. Steam rising from the remains.

A wolf howled from beyond the treeline, and the corpse responded in kind.

Jerking into obscene irregular motion, the bloody mess struggled to stand. Pulling swathes of flesh away revealing something else underneath. Tendons, sinew, muscle re-knitting. The spectacle paralleled at the cellular level. DNA writing itself. Vampiric Golgi bodies bubbling with new energy. Behind it all, an intelligence became aware of itself again.

Gabe pulled a pistol from his jacket, aiming it cleanly at the abominable sight.

A voice bubbled up from somewhere in that mass of offal.

[i:97cbb382f6]“Don’t shoot, boy.”[/i:97cbb382f6]

Gabe shook his head. [i:97cbb382f6]“Can’t be?”[/i:97cbb382f6]

The mass shook itself, like a dog shaking off rain. Clumps of unused meat and gore spattered the scene. A figure stood naked as a newborn, its head facing the ground.

[i:97cbb382f6]“You’d be surprised....cub!”[/i:97cbb382f6]

The last word was confrontational. A meaning with purpose. Intent.

Gabriel’s fingers went slack, dropping the pistol.

His mind reeled as the figure raised its face to meet his gaze. Gone were Poe’s angular features, replaced with something more akin to a homeless drunks puffy unshaven punchbag. A single green eye caught the light.

[i:97cbb382f6]“You’re dead....”

“So are you.”[/i:97cbb382f6] Came the gruff reply.

[i:97cbb382f6]“Porter?”[/i:97cbb382f6] Gabe stammered, his already weakened Ventrue stiffness, forgotten for a moment.

[i:97cbb382f6]“What’s left of me.”[/i:97cbb382f6]

[i:23e3148ca2]"What the fuck just happened...?!"[/i:23e3148ca2] Gabriel gasped, his query sending puffs of steam into the evening.

[i:23e3148ca2]"Damned if I know cub...I just got here."[/i:23e3148ca2]

The rest of the pack was nowhere within Gabriel's line of vision, but then nothing could pried the Ventrue's keen eyes from the thick, blackened figure before him. The crackling, tearing sound of rapidly drying blood being stretched was audible, as Porter slowly extended and retracted his freshly born claws.

A low howl whistled through the pines, resting on the back of a cold October wind. The pack signaled it's joy for the return of their patriarch and he took notice, turning his flaring nostrils towards the call's origins. The muscular Ventrue grasped the opportunity and shot full force at the nearest tree, scrambling up it's trunk nearly effortlessly.

Porter, still on uneasy legs, followed on the wet, forest floor as Gabriel continously propelled his body from tree to tree high above the canopy. In the distance, the endless turns and alleyways of Cascadia offered glorious safe haven. Below, the ancient Gangrel didn't need the falling barrage of leaves and branches to affirm what his senses told him.

The chase persisted with neither creature showing signs of stopping. Gabriel's bounds became ever more rapid, and Porter soon found his freshly created legs did not match his expectations. Before long, the Gangrel emerged into a clearing, where the trees fell away into into what would in any other situation be a picturesque stream. At it's base, a great series of falls trailed the sloping face of a rocky hill.

[i:23e3148ca2]"No sign of the boy any-"[/i:23e3148ca2] Porter leapt aside as a boulder that greatly outmassed his own form came barrelling forward, mere inches from him. He looked to it's source high atop the hill and found the Ventrue standing defiantly in the evening air. [i:23e3148ca2]"Scratch that."[/i:23e3148ca2]

((short...but i'm starting to feel it again :)

Porter rubbed his stubbled chin with a measure of disdain and no small amount of surprise. Gabriel had suddenly grown balls the wizened Gangrel could never have predicted a Ventrue capable.

He watched as Gabriel turned and headed beyond the cliff-side’s horizon then made chase, his body though considerably less sleek than the Ventrue’s, still powerful and hale, quickly pulling him over the ridge into Gabriel’s trap!

The Ventrue charged forward, the heavy log-like branch jutting from his arms like a crude lance. The overall effect resembling a child’s joust.

It had the desired effect though, sending the somewhat shocked, ever more agitated Gangrel heel over head and down the slope he’d just scaled.

Porter landed with a hard series of crunches as he bounced from rocky outcrop to compacted earth. Gabriel watched the Elder’s sharp descent with something akin to satisfaction in his eyes.

Porter’s one good eye caught the wry grin before Gabriel’s attentions turned to his own descent.

Distracted, Gabriel didn’t see the Gangrel’s body dissipate into the hard soil, leaving no trace of his presence. Feet touching bottom, he stepped over the spot he’d last seen Porter, his face creased with confusion and growing irritation.

[i:09f5eb8424]“Where are you, you old son of a b...?”[/i:09f5eb8424]

The ground swelled and heaved, knocking Gabriel off his high horse. His throat suddenly aware of the three clawed fingers pressing against it as Porter pinned him to the ground.

[i:09f5eb8424]“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kebab you right here, runt!?”[/i:09f5eb8424] Porter growled with a seething, bloodlust. His fingers palsied into talons.

[i:09f5eb8424]“I’ll give you two, lupo.”[/i:09f5eb8424]

Vittorio emerged from the treeline, Arvakur standing by his side, his ruffled head firm under the Ancient’s pat.

-------------------

Porter’s one eye glazed over as things were explained to him.

[i:09f5eb8424]“So you understand, in order to protect our plans, you couldn’t be made aware?”[/i:09f5eb8424] Vittorio’s eloquence could have lulled even the strongest mind, but Gabriel merely grunted angrily.

[i:09f5eb8424]“So instead you let me become bloodbound to an enemy? And then to top it off, you use his body to fuel a restoration rite resulting in Porter here? Whom I’m still, it seems, bound to?”

“That’s the crux of it yes. Your knowing would have aroused Poe’s suspicions. That would have jeopardised everything we’ve uncovered this far. Besides, we destroyed him didn’t we? And now we have a new or should I say “old” ally?”[/i:09f5eb8424]

Porter sniffed the lapel of the dressing gown he’d been loaned. His grizzled face looking something of a pariah among the other fineries in Gabriel’s study.

[i:09f5eb8424]“You mean me? Why the hell should I help the Ventrue? You’ve been nothing but a pain in my arse since I arrived in this county.”

“Because, my dear lupo. Our enemy, given enough time, won’t stop at destroying the Ventrue. They’ll eradicate our kind, even the nomads like yourself. And because you still bear the sigil branded onto your donor’s forerarm. You’re ours, Porter.”[/i:09f5eb8424]

Porter growled, revealing two curved predatory fangs. He sniffed sharply as if reclaiming snot from his nostrils, an act mortals performed every day, then upon considering his situation....

[i:09f5eb8424]“Fine. I’m in. Should be fun.”

“But before I go saving your sorry arses, I want some bloody clothes. And I want my old cavalry coat. And my bloody tomahawk. Oh....and a drink.”[/i:09f5eb8424]