[b:959f1be558][i:959f1be558]"One, that is no way for a gentleman to speak to a lady,"[/i:959f1be558][/b:959f1be558] Wren said to Poe from where he stood, admiring the work of the boy he had been teaching up til now; the glassblowing was crude, but it did show promise.

[b:959f1be558][i:959f1be558]"Two, this... shithole, as you would term it, is a home to the people here, you may not like it, but then, I suppose that some people are never satisfied,"[/i:959f1be558][/b:959f1be558] he added, stretching lazily and taking in the appearance of each in turn before he spoke again, [b:959f1be558][i:959f1be558]"And last, of course, but perhaps most important of the things I have to say... please do not harm the humans living here. I think Julius would probably be incensed."[/i:959f1be558][/b:959f1be558]

Wren paused, and then sighed, looking over to see that the lad had made an error in timing, and the glass bottle the child had been working so hard to make had just been irrevocably destroyed, much to the dismay of the child. [b:959f1be558] [i:959f1be558]"There there, everyone makes mistakes, the only failure about them is to not learn from them,"[/i:959f1be558][/b:959f1be558] he said with a warm hearted smile, his half persian, half english features showing him very clearly in the harsh firelight from the outdoor oven they were using.

[b:959f1be558][i:959f1be558]"Now, go tell Julius we have visitors, alright? Thats a good lad," [/i:959f1be558][/b:959f1be558]he said softly, sending the youngster scurrying away before he turned to the trio, his attention once again fully devoted to the them. [b:959f1be558][i:959f1be558]"I don't think I'd be terribly pleased either, since these people are well aware of our unique dietary needs, and they are kind enough to offer hospitality in that regard,"[/i:959f1be558][/b:959f1be558] he half whispered, before smiling in a decidedly friendly manner and offering his hand, [i:959f1be558][b:959f1be558]"Ah, but I forget my manners; I must be getting forgetful with age. Wren Ashley, at your service."[/b:959f1be558][/i:959f1be558]

From humble beginnings, when Julius' crazed mind had conjoured a few stone huts from the mud, the "City" of New Enoch had grown from a hamlet, to a village, to a small town. A mixture of crude medieval technologies, coupled with those more contemporary remains salvaged from the rotting hulks of ships, beached like iron whales in the Black and Mediterranean basins. The net result was a town square, where potters and blacksmiths used muscle power to ply their trades, yet enjoyed the benefits of electric lighting. Beyond the growing collection of buildings (now being constructed in a more conventional way), fields were producing crops. The fine silt of the Black Sea basin provided a fertile medium, even under the ever present gloom. A centralised barter system had sprung up, not quite communist, but certainly communal and co-operative. More mortals continued to arrive from the wilderness, yet for now, it seemed the growing community was free of the plagues of crime and corruption. Whether this was testament to the pervading will of the antediluvian at the town's centre, or the ability of Wren to seemingly appear wherever trouble might be brewing, was debatable.

It was to this backdrop that the three new kindred arrived, messenger duly dispatched and the increasing smile on Gabriel's face.

Gabriel: [i:5090228572]"Julius?"[/i:5090228572]
Kathy: [i:5090228572]"Julius!"[/i:5090228572]
Poe: [i:5090228572]"Who?"[/i:5090228572]

Gabriel pointed. [i:5090228572]"Julius."[/i:5090228572]

Julius strode, almost at a run towards the group, grabbing Gabriel up in a hug and planting a kiss squarely on his lips.

[i:5090228572]"Hey, ok Jules, it's good to see you too."[/i:5090228572]

Julius dropped him like a stone... [i:5090228572]"Jules?"[/i:5090228572] He rolled his eyes. [i:5090228572]"Hmmm.. Gabe, do you realise you are stark naked?"[/i:5090228572]

::PUDDLES!!:: I'll post something here...

once I stop laughing my head off! :shock:

"Jules" ::snickers:: "stark naked" ::chortles::

::ducks like crazy to avoid being squashed by flying objects, such as fireballs::

That the moonbase had somehow survived, regardless of lack of supplies was heartening to George. Though Eve hadn't felt him, it was therefore just possible that his old Inconnu comrade, Francis, had in fact survived up there. Perhaps he was in torpor, the few kine insufficient to sustain him. Detecting his presence at such a distance would have been a near impossible feat, even for Eveshka.

The new maps and weapons also, served to improve the situation. Whilst woefully out of date, enough features survived for navigation, which was just as well. Sun and stars were unavailable and compasses seemed unreliable, perhaps as a result of the cataclysm. It had been decided to head due south, into Ukraine and the Crimea to Sevastopal. Enoch being somewhere in the Black Sea basin, they should be able to find Julius from there.

Lack of useful transport was less heartening, however. They had managed to find some fuel for his rho-car, but the only other vehicles they had been able to locate had degraded beyond repair. Standard operating procedure had become George with some of the younger ones airborne, covering the group with the new plasma rifles, whilst Eve and Montcalm patrolled below, their hands never far from the hilts of their blades. Russia, it seemed, was a mess. What few men they did meet seemed intent on nothing more than robbery and violence. The best that could be said was that they provided a limited supply of vitae.

To make matters worse, M had taken it upon himself to reinforce George's sense of self preservation by means of a concentrated terror campaign designed to induce extremes of fear and paranoia. Noises from the undergrowth, tickling and unaccounted for feelings of dread coupled with the constant ever present sensation of eyes upon him. He had already once run off into the forest in screaming terror when a wild pig had burst onto their campsite. Further, every out of earshot conversation seemed to be about him and his declining faculties. In feral rage he had nearly killed one of the younger ones, the madness unleashing his beast. Only Eve's quick wits and vaunted powers had saved them; the young vampire from George and George from himself. Now, of course, they all distanced themselves from him, wary of the madness in their midst, fuelling the paranoid spark M had planted.

Strangely, as one renowned for her loathing of all things Malkavian, it Eve who comforted George in the blackest moments. Perhaps it was because she remembered the Ventrue he once had been, perhaps it was simply because she still needed his help to get them through. Either way, the strain of holding the group together was beginning to tell upon her.

They'd made it as far as Kursk, on the river Seim near what had been the Ukraine border. About 30 miles to the south, at Belgorod, German and Soviet forces had met in an historic battle, the largest clash of armour to take place in the entirety of World War II and the end of Hitler's dreams of taking Moscow.

Perhaps they would fare better in the remains of this settlement, perhaps they might find some transport, or perhaps more likely, George would finally go completely over the edge. Golconda or no, the madness had taken a new twist and his condition was worsening.

[i:bd883c2dce]"For now ... be silent." [/i:bd883c2dce]

The further shrieks of rage, that bubbled in her throat, were instantly cut off and she trembled with unfinished rage. That worthless son of the gods had placed a bond-geas on [b:bd883c2dce]HER[/b:bd883c2dce] avatar!! How had he done it! The answer had to lie in the time before she had awakened and it galled her to realize he'd probably planned her return to humiliation all along! She thumped her tail in frustration.

She hadn't recognized him at first, still orienting herself from her awakening and with only the view of his back. It wasn't until he'd interrupted her interrogation of the tattered man, that she'd turned and seen the piece of jewelry pinned to his robes. The symbol of Apollo, the sunburst!! It was then she'd named him what he was! Traitor!

Her subsequent threat had done her no good as he thrust upon her the truth of her existence. She was bound for good, until he released her. Not content with rubbing her face in her perdicament, he added more salt to the wound. He'd named her Medusa. The ultimate insult, in her own mind.

She'd slunk away to think much on what she'd learned. Somehow, some way, there was escape. She just had to find it.

The cattle within the city walls grew restless. Excitable. A feeling that permeated and nauseated the mind of Python. Her mind swam with images of unshuttered gates, of rolling hillscapes. The emotion welled in her making her retch with its simplicity.

Freedom.

Casting her eyes around the cattle pens and pigsty’s the actions were repeated. Shepherds struggled to pen their sheep, the simple minded animals felt drawn to some unknown goal, biting and butting with what scant weapons nature had allowed. Goats hissed and rammed the gates to their prisons. Breaking horns and hoof on the corrugated iron walls, pulling at their bonds with a growing frustration. Newborn calves whimpered as their mothers smashed their considerable bulks against wooden gates.

Python swayed at the notion, her nausea growing, drawing blood sweat to her writhing coiling brow as she felt the fetter Julius had placed upon her. Holding her in hellish place.

[i:79244f04d6]Come to me. I give you that which you seek.[/i:79244f04d6]

The voice soothed and cajoled. It pulled on her as strongly as it did the animals within the city. Cats left their hunts, followed by dogs of every size. Rats were next, scampering alongside animals that would normally feast upon them. Lulled by a familial desire to be free. The insects that swarmed around animal faeces suddenly stopped, thought about what they were doing, then started swarming again. Some of nature’s creations were simply too dumb to understand the calling.

He stood watching from atop a hill. His arms hanging at his side as he summoned the animals. His brutish face motionless as he sent out the call again and again. The horror he had borne witness to repeated in the walls before him, the unnatural-ness of it angered him. The animals came then, tearing free of their prisons. Swarming in their numbers. Two by two by two. Cantering, trotting and loping like the Piper of Hamelin was returned.

The swarm of fauna stopped at his feet. Gazing up at their God. The beast that walked like their captors but was nothing at all like them. Dogs nuzzled lovingly at his hands, drawing a smile from his ancient weathered lips. Cats writhed at his ankles, rubbing scent pouches in their faces on his bare legs. Goats and sheep chewed listlessly upon free-grass. Their minds blissful and too stupid to offer any thanks or grace. But he was pleased that they had been brave enough to fight. He walked among them then, his callused hands moving softly over hides and humps. Stroking the ears of cow and dog alike.

He returned his gaze again to the city then, sensing another mind that craved freedom. And called to it.

It started with a basic unease as she completed her patrolling circuit of the smallish village as she pondered her quandry. The addition of three new Apollites, given the way this Julius's emissary acted, gave her cause to avoid them. For the moment. As long as they made no trouble, they were [b:c51519b254]his[/b:c51519b254] problem!

A goat crashed into it's gate, just as she came abreast of it and she unthinkingly reached out and pulled the locking peg from it's seating. The animal bleated a pleased sound and bounded away, to the north. She became aware that many of the villages animals were beginning to make a cacophony of noises, as they made every attempt to follow after the retreating forms of rats, dogs, cats and, even, a pair of camels.

Python recognized the call, when it came again. Freedom! It's promise thrummed a cord so far down inside of her that she bent over and vomited the little blood she'd managed to ingest earlier. Her avatar's bond precluded her from taking when the need was upon her and she was too proud to ask.

Therefore, she'd been forced to feed, and lightly at that, upon what animals she could capture outside the village that came close enough. A third call came, promiseing a paradise she couldn't resist and, reluctantly, she'd left the vicinity of New Enoch and headed into the hills. Just to check out this possible [i:c51519b254]"threat"[/i:c51519b254], she justified it, to still the clamoring for her to return.

It became harder to move away, to slither up that hill. Torn between duty and desire, it was a struggle to go onward. But she kept up the mantra that she was only checking it out, she would return as soon as she had her answers. It helped, but very little.

In the midst of a carpet of all manner of creatures, he walked. Brutish, hairy, yet noble of countenance and mein. He watched her approach with one piercing green eye, yet made no move in her, or the city's, direction. His greeting, when it came, was on a level she'd rarely experienced, even in her own unlife. Snake to Wolf. And it held a world of warmth.

She trembled at the possibility that here stood a potential ally. Someone who knew and understood her, someone who could help her attain what she desired with all her being. [i:c51519b254]"Lykos?"[/i:c51519b254] she breathed involuntarily. Then waited for an answer.

[i:41648e16b8] Sebastopol, The Crimean Peninsula [/i:41648e16b8]

Eveshka stood atop Balaklava heights looking down into the greasy waters of the Black Sea. The Outriders had come again. They had dogged their steps all the way from Kursk straight through until they made their way across the land bridge connecting the Crimea to the mainland.

The last incursion was just last "night" or as near as they could tell that night actually would have been. Two more vampires had fallen to them. They were now down to 10. They had meant to swing to the west to where Eve could feel Julius was. The Outriders had stopped it. There was something else out there too. Something darker, more evil, and much much older than anything she had ever faced.

Tromador was becoming increasingly more volatile. He had actually attacked her during the last assault of the Outriders. She managed to hold him off long enough for him to regain some semblance of sense. Things were not looking well for them.

And so Eveshka stood atop the hill overlooking what once was a beautiful place. The wind whipped through her hair and made her tattered garments billow around her. Then she felt a presence come upon her. At first it was an angelic power she felt. The area around Eveshka was filled with light and warmth.

"Come home with me Daughter," said a softly maternal voice.

Eveshka turned around and beheld a shimmering apparition in white.

"I know you are tired My Daughter. Come home with me," the voice said. "Give in. Stop all of the fighting. Come to me."

"Arikel?" asked Eveshka.

The light subsided and before her stood a woman of mind boggling beauty. "Yes," said the woman. "I am She. I am the progenitrix of our Clan."

Eveshka was silent for a moment. She felt so warm. So loved. So complete. Nothing else in the world mattered. Her vision was torn asunder by the insane yell of a man rushing up behind her. She turned to see Tromador rushing up with his vibrasword unsheathed, a maniacal gleam in his eye. As she turned her head back to look at Arikel, she saw a shadowy blackness with red eyes and shadowy fangs. Sometimes the form seemed corporeal, other times it seemed ethereal. The apparition hissed and attacked Tromador.

When he had initially spied Julius, the obvious fact that the ageless Tremere was wearing what appeared to be an early twenty-first century styled, tailor-made suit did not strike him as odd. A certain sheepishness overcame him as it slowly dawned on him for at least the better part of a century he had worn nothing at all, but perused about in the buff.

His old friend must have sensed his Garden of Eden style revelation and nodded understandingly.

[i:4aee4695cb]"There there Gabriel. Nothing to be ashamed of, we're all adult immortals here."[/i:4aee4695cb] he glanced at two nearby peasants, who had halted their working to stare longingly at the Gods in their presence. [i:4aee4695cb]"Well, except you of course."[/i:4aee4695cb]

They stared back nonplussed for a moment, and then returned diligantly to their toils.

[i:4aee4695cb]"I'm not ashamed per se."[/i:4aee4695cb] Gabriel said. In mid stride, he was suddenly acutely aware of the now unfamiliar sensation of cloth against his skin. He peered in astonishment at his apparel, a light russet colored suit. The affectionate silk molded to his form and created comfortable, pleasing arches and contours. It was a little late in the season perhaps for the color, but in the perpetual greyness in which they found themselves, Gabriel was fairly sure no one would notice.

[i:4aee4695cb]"Consider it a gift."[/i:4aee4695cb] his old friend smiled. His face was marred with burn marks, and Gabriel knew the damage must have been substantial if the potent Tremere couldn't heal them instantly.

He considered asking how he had learned to spontaneously conjure up suits, but briefly thought of how many incredible (albeit unexplained) things he had witnessed the Tremere do and thought better of the question.

Gabriel stripped the tie from around his neck and popped open the top button, unused to the constraint of clothes, let alone a tie. Together, he, Poe, and Katherine followed Julius as he gave them the grand tour.

The Gangrel appeared unimpressed with the burgeoning civilization while the Toreador smiled pleasingly, putting into practice some of her long-forgotten social graces. Gabriel however, peered at each humble dwelling with marvel. Jacob's Flats had been a buffet line that talked, but this...this had potential. As Julius explained the birth of the hamlet and his subsequent care, the Ventrue was already experiencing a resuscitation of hope.

A local Kine scrambled before them, prostrating himself before Julius' finely polished loafers. The Tremere looked on in annoyance.

[i:4aee4695cb]"I can apparently create entire civilizations, but I can't get them to stop that."[/i:4aee4695cb] he murmured over his shoulder. He addressed the peasant, "[i:4aee4695cb]Yes?"[/i:4aee4695cb]

The human, or humanoid, had the appearance of a short, ruddy little figure. His eyes were partially concealed by a large brow and substantial nose. The entire affair was covered in dirt naturally, which he absently swatted at as he spoke to his Supreme Being personified.

[i:4aee4695cb]"Great One! Forgive me, but there's been an accident! The plow has collapsed and trapped some underneath!"[/i:4aee4695cb] the farmer had a distinct glimmer of fear in his eyes, and the Elder Ventrue wondered if it was for his friends or of Julius.

Julius, ever the benevolent diety, relented to the peon's plight.

[i:4aee4695cb]"Take them to their quarters, give them any they please. Make sure they're comfortable."[/i:4aee4695cb] he motioned to the newly arrived Kindred, none of which looked particularly elated to be shuffled off to a makeshift dwelling. [i:4aee4695cb]"Gabriel. Walk with me would you?"[/i:4aee4695cb]

The Ventrue cast a doubtful glare at Kathy and Poe.

[i:4aee4695cb]"Indulge me."[/i:4aee4695cb] Julius smiled like a chesire cat. He began down the dusty path that led to the farmlands with Julius, while Poe and Katherine followed the still shaken farmer dutifully.

They walked at a leisurely pace, despite the apparent urgency of the situation. Julius reassured Gabriel that all wrongs would be righted should they arrive too late. Night would become day, water to wine, yada yada yada...

As they passed the smithy's shop, the rhythmic [i:4aee4695cb]twang[/i:4aee4695cb] of steel upon steel brought a smile to Gabriel's face. Civilization at last.

[i:4aee4695cb]"So let me guess...you're the local diety?"[/i:4aee4695cb] he offered, hands in his pockets.

Julius glanced around at the local townsfolk, trying their best to appear nonchalant and industriously working, not noticing the God amongst them. He smiled affectionately.

[i:4aee4695cb]"Not by the time I'm finished re-educating them."[/i:4aee4695cb] he sighed, [i:4aee4695cb]"It's not my fault. Not this time."[/i:4aee4695cb]

[i:4aee4695cb]"Not your fault? You sure about that?"[/i:4aee4695cb] Gabriel chuckled, peering up at the colorless heavens above.

[i:4aee4695cb]"Yes. Quite sure."[/i:4aee4695cb]

The two fell quiet and resumed their walk. Soon they reached a bluff some distance above the town limits proper. The tiny village was a beehive of activity, shrunken figures scuttling back and forth between their tasks.

[i:4aee4695cb]"I'm glad to see you're alright Julius. I mean...I figured you would be...but...well it's just good to see you again."[/i:4aee4695cb]

[i:4aee4695cb]"I'm not alright Gabriel."[/i:4aee4695cb] it was then Gabriel noticed it. Beyond the scars, Julius had looked strikingly similiar to his old days, but there was a hollowness in his eyes now. A hidden pain and weight. [i:4aee4695cb]"I'm just not alright."[/i:4aee4695cb]

The Ventrue nodded and scanned the same patch of sky as the Tremere.

[i:4aee4695cb]"Is Eveshka here?"[/i:4aee4695cb] he asked at last.

[i:4aee4695cb]"She's on her way, I hope she's ok, she's not been in contact for a while. At least she's alive."[/i:4aee4695cb] he shook his head. [i:4aee4695cb]"So much blood on my hands, that not even the returning sea could wash away the stain of it."[/i:4aee4695cb]

[i:4aee4695cb]"We're all guilty Julius. It's not you alone. We've all committed atrocities."[/i:4aee4695cb] Gabriel thought of Jacob's Flats. He thought of the tiny town that had transformed him into some sort of mythic hero, fighting off the evil bloodsuckers. An image of their rotting, burnt corpses flashed into his head. He blocked it out.

[i:4aee4695cb]"You're kind to say so. Even though it's not true. I did indeed become death, the destroyer of worlds. As was prophecied. Still, it's good to see a friendly face at last. There are those who follow me, those who worship me, those who hate me. It's good to know I still have one friend left."[/i:4aee4695cb]

The Ventrue smiled and Julius replied in kind. Nothing further was said as they walked down the hillside. Both Kindred had experienced vastly different events since their last meeting several hundreds years prior. The world as they had known it had been taken from them, along with much of what they had loved. One was lost, the other burdened with unbearable guilt. But as they waded through the golden ocean of grain towards the farmer's plow, both thought of the future, and for an instant, allowed hope to seep in.

[i:8020d1924f][b:8020d1924f]"JUST GO!"[/b:8020d1924f][/i:8020d1924f] Yelled George, as his vibrosword once again swept ineffectually through the misty form.

Eveshka stood her ground, reaching for a blade which would be as ineffectual as George's perhaps more so. His was at least a product of modern technology, her old and enchanted blades were lost to the passing centuries.

And now too, the outriders had appeared, starting to circle the ragtag group of kindred she had shepherded this far. Tired, starving, inexperienced and unprepared for this kind of existence. The orphan childe she had adopted as her own.

Tromador pirouetted, an uncharacteristic move, unusual for his usual brutal fighting style, spinning on the balls of his feet, his eyes casting a gaze across the group, who suddenly broke and ran. He jumped back, giving himself a moment, turning his gaze upon Eve.

She could see why the others had ran. His eyes glowed deepest red, the power of his dread gaze irresistable to those of any lesser power, yet still she held. [i:8020d1924f]"You will know [b:8020d1924f]FEAR[/b:8020d1924f]!"[/i:8020d1924f] Screamed George and unleashed the full power of his dementation upon her. As her mind collapsed, she saw the fangs of the creature sinking into George's unprotected shoulder and the last of his Inconnu lightbombs being drawn from his jacket pocket. Then the fear overtook her and she ran, her feral mind barely registering the explosion and bright flash of light on the receding horizon.

They all ran, ran like beasts, part of the herd, stampeding from the hunters. Ran until they could run no more, their senses dulled, their limbs heavy, their minds oblivious to their surroundings.

The combination of grief and the after effects of George's madness took time to wear away, before Eve realised to where she had run and to whom she was clinging. Familiar arms held her as she sobbed out her loss and fears. [i:8020d1924f]"Hush, love. It's over now."[/i:8020d1924f] Said Julius.

[i:26c3cdcc91] Several Hours Later [/i:26c3cdcc91]

"We've got to go get him," said Eveshka frantically.

"Evey, you just got here, your blood pool is low, love," said Julius reasonably.

"Then give me a blood stone," she said. "Tromador is out there still, I can feel him. We need to get him."

Julius shook his head. "I can't protect everyone, I can feel the Enemy getting stonger."

"I don't care dammit," she cried. "He saved me.... more times than I can count. I OWE him. If there is any chance at all, I have to get him."

Julius could sense an unwinnable Eveshka tantrum coming on. Albeit, this one was for honorable reasons, it was a tantrum nonetheless. She'd been there for a few hours and already she was ready to go out crusading. Not that Julius falted her passion. In this it was not misguided, just, in his opinion, impractical. Ruling a race of people tended to make one more pragmatic. Were it any other woman, Julius may have felt pangs of jealousy and anger. He knew in his heart that Eveshka was his: always had been, always will be.

"I can't stop you Eveshka," said Julius. "But if you go, I cannot protect you. You will be on your own."

Eveshka looked hurt.

"Evey, what we have here is bigger than you and I," said Julius. "The greater good cannot be jeopardized by my love for you. If you are smart, and I know you are, you should return safely."

Eveshka looked at his still heavily scarred features. In truth he looked more like a Freddie Cruger who had the bone structure of Julius Darrant, than the Julius she knew and loved. He looked away from her. This was the first time the two had been alone together, with her conscious, in over 400 years. He felt her icy blue eyes piercing into his soul. Although he was arguably the most powerful being in the world, potentially the most powerful being the world had ever seen, he quaked under the smoldering gaze she gave him.

She smiled affectionately. "Julius Darrant, you are self-conscious."

"I'm," he began bashfully. "Not exactly how I'd hoped you'd see me."

She gently took his scarred hand and kissed his grotesquely scarred lips.

"I don't care what you look like. I don't care if your scars ever heal," she said warmly. "You are my immortal beloved," she said with a briefly arched eyebrow and a coquettish grin.

He looked away again, his aura showing that he was still self conscious.

"You are still my god," she said. "Am I still your goddess?"

He was silent for a while. His aura was going nuts.

She raised his chin up gently in her delicate hand. She saw that he had blood tears streaking his scarred cheeks. He smiled slightly and his eyes met hers. "Yes," he managed to whisper. "I'm so tired," he said.

"And we can rest together just as soon as I get back," said Eveshka.

With that she kissed him once more gently, but passionately on the lips, and turned away.

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

The only vampire that would assist her was her faithful former Seneschal, Louis le Marquis de Montcalm. The two left the east gate of Enoch heading back up into the low hills. They each carried an AK-55 MkVI, wore body armor, and had their enchanted blades belted around their waists. Montcalm was rather thrilled to be on the offensive once again. His 18th century warrior persona had yearned for a worthwhile cause for quite some time. A rescue mission was just the thing.

Eveshka, on the other hand, was not as pleased. This was not how she wished to be attired. She would much rather have gone out in the garb of one of Odin's Daughters, the valkyries. However, in this day and age, that was just not practical. She was a romantic, but she also wished to survive for as long as possible. At least part of her did.

No answer came.

[i:95d256ddca]"Lykos?"[/i:95d256ddca] Python asked a second time but, again, there was no verbal answer. Instead, he reached out and cupped her cheek in the rough palm of his hand. She swayed forward as a warmth, like that of a beam of sunlight, suffused her and she allowed her slitted eyes to close as a calm descended on her bruised mind.

A sough of wind in tree boughs made her open them again and she gazed into one green orb. With a sigh of her own, she fell into it's depths and felt mother earth draw her forward. Suddenly, she stood in a cave that reminded her [b:95d256ddca]so[/b:95d256ddca] strongly of the one she'd made her home in, back in Delphi, deep within Mount Parnassus, that she sank down and stretched her full length upon it's floor.

Within, it was dark and dry, the air redolent of rich loam. As it cradled her body, the soil rose up and dragged her down into it's bossom. With a grateful smile, she gave herself back to the sleep that had been so rudely interrupted. Peace at last.

***********

[i:95d256ddca]"Time to wake up, my Venus. You've had your little nap and Python is back where she belongs. Now you need to get back to your master."[/i:95d256ddca] Cyrilynn sat up, rather abruptly, from the bed of green she'd been lying on, at the stinging slap to her cheek. She rubbed at the burning spot. [i:95d256ddca]"Toisol?"[/i:95d256ddca] she called out as she darted quick looks around, but no one was there. She nearly wept at the loss of the voice she'd not heard in quite a number of years as she drew her knees up and pressed her face into them.

Dizzy with receding memories of the Greek Goddess, and what had happened since Julius had fallen into the mud volcano, along with her subsequent panic, she tried to calculate how long she'd been [i:95d256ddca]"away"[/i:95d256ddca]. When she got even more disoriented, she gave up the effort and managed to make it to her feet. Swaying only a little she took s step in the direction of New Enoch, and missed the figure that loped away from behind her, as well as the rapid disappearance of her grassy pallet.

The one thing that burned uppermost in her mind, and unbeating heart, was that Julius was agitated. And that he needed her. Somewhere in her brief repose it had been imparted to her that he had a goal in mind that encompassed more than herself, him or anything else, for that matter. And that, if she submerged her own wants and needs to accomplish his task, then she would have her heart's desire.

Halting as a wave of nausea swept over her, she knew she needcd to feed... and soon. She'd been without sustenance for too long and even the thought of cow's vitae seemed rather tasty. She stumbled and went to one knee as she glanced around for a possible meal. Then shook her blurring eyesight at a shack that hadn't been there when she'd journyed up the hill. Had Julius created another hut for a newly arrived family?

Arising off of her bruised joint, she ground the heels of her palms against aching eyelids, hoping it would help. It didn't. And, to make matters worse, now the thing had moved!! She had [b:95d256ddca]NOT[/b:95d256ddca] seen it rise up on two thin legs and mince forward until it nestled just behind two other dwellings. Oh no! She'd already gone mad once, she wasn't going to visit that graveyard again!! It was nothing more than blood-starved imaginings. And with that firmly in her mind, she resolutely turned away from the mirage.

Upon entering the village, she found that Chaos had come to call. A distraught Lady Eveshka had finally found them... and then left again. Leaving behind a very troubled magus.

Montcalm and Eveshka stalked up the hilly neck to the Crimean Peninsula. A storm had been brewing on the horizon ever since the two had walked out of New Enoch. They had reached the spot where the Enemy had shown herself again. Charred bits of earth were found, as were craters, and smoking holes. She could feel, like an increase in static electricity, the chaos eminating from somewhere to the west.

"He's over that way," said Eve pointing towards a distant hill. Nearly an hour had passed before they finally got there. Their keen vampiric senses picked up on a god awful screaming sound like a distant murmor on the wind. It grew louder as they climbed the hill.

"It's him isn't it, My Lady," observed Montcalm. Eveshka merely nodded.

"I do not know what to expect," she said.

And there he was.

Tromador thrashed about at unseen foes, drooling like a gibbering fool. He grabbed at his head as if it was in great pain. Laughed. Cried. Screamed. It was horrible.

"Trommy," Eve said softly bringing her fingers to her mouth in terror.

"Courage, Lady Eveshka," said Montcalm.

She looked at him moderately annoyed, she was expressing angst and sorrow, not fear.

"Let's go," she said and walked down the slope towards Lord George Stanley of Latham. Perhaps he was again on Bosworth Field. Perhaps he was fighting the voices. God only knew.

"You need us Georgie Boy," said M with a smirk and his arms crossed. A looked up from his notepad and nodded, then he returned to writing.

Tromador shook his head no. "Leave me alone," he said quietly.

"Leave you alone?" asked M imitating Tromador's voice.

P spoke walked up form behind Tromador. "Why don't we show him just how badly he needs us?"

A looked up and nodded vigorously with a surprised smile on his face.

M cocked an eyebrow and smiled sardonically. He then spoke in a very good rendition of Captain Picard's voice pointing with his index finger in a 'go' motion, "Make it so, Number One."

The three figments of George's imagination vanished. All that he could hear was the wind blowing.

He turned and looked around. It was silent. The voices had stopped. He saw two figures cresting a hill way off to the west. He shook his head. Couldn't be real. To the east he saw another two. To the north, he saw another two. And another and another and another..... Then the whispering started. Loud enough to be heard, but not loud enough to make it out.

Tromador turned on his heels trying to lock in on something. ANYthing. The whispering grew louder. The voices were asking him... no, IMPLORING him to do... something. He could not tell what it was. Each of them was pleading with him.

A mob of people came upon him. They all reached out to him like the zombies of Night of the Living Dead. They slowly, almost mechanically, surrounded him. He recognized some of them. He drew his vibrosword and his plasma pistol.

He slashed out with his vibrosword and hacked off a head. No blood came out. The body kept walking forwards. The head kept talking. Around and around Tromador spun, slicing off limbs, hacking torsoes in two, firing his plasma gun.

Brian Braddock? Fuck 'im. His arm dropped to the ground, continuing to claw its way towards Tromador. His head fell next, then he was sliced in two and blasted until he caught fire.

Sorenti walked up behind him grabbing. Back handed sword slash to the head followed by a diagonal slice across his torso dropped him. Tromador saw Daisy and Mark Archer every once in a while in the mass of flesh. Off towards the back he saw Eveshka and Montcalm creeping towards him. He kept slashing out. His blade meeting no resistance, merely ripping through the flesh as if it were paper.

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

A burst of plasma fire blasted past Eveshka's head.

"What is he shooting at, My Lady?" asked Montcalm, aiming his rifle at Tromador.

"Don't shoot," said Eveshka. "Draw your blade instead." She shook her head as she watched Tromador spinning around and around slashing at nothing, firing his blaster indiscriminantly. She heard him screaming.
"We've got to end this," she said.

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

The bodies kept piling up around Tromador. Then, in the background he heard M's laugh. It started quietly and grew in intensity and speed. It was as if he was laughing into a microphone with the delay effect cranked up to the max so it cycled over and over onto itself getting louder and louder each time.

Tromador screamed and gripped his head a moment. This had to stop. They were not real. He slashed harder and harder. There were more people he recognized. Frances Lovell, from the 15th Century. He was there. Lord Buckingham. His cousin Thomas Stanley. All of them with swords drawn and blank staring eyes. His vibrosword slashed through all armor and steel as if it had no substance. Tromador screamed louder.

He saw Montcalm and Eveshka right on top of him. Montcalm had an enchanted sabre drawn. Eveshka had her enchanted rapier in her right hand and a stake in her left. Tromador slashed out at Montcalm who came into reach first. His blow was parried. With that sensation, a small voice stirred in the back of his mind. [size=10:e8c24cbc71] "He is real, stop fighting." [/size:e8c24cbc71]

M laughed louder and Tromador banished the thought from his head and snarled at Montcalm. He would not fall to some poncy Frenchman. Eveshka bore down on him from his left, moving at lightning speed. This would be a problem. He was already in a weakened state from fighting the others. The others? To where had they gone off? M, A, and P stood around the three of them forming the points of an equalateral triangle. They seemed quite apprehensive and were actually silent. They had won.

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

Eveshka saw the ghost of a smile cross Tromador's face as she slashed out at him.

"Stop this madness Tromador," implored Eveshka. "It's Evey. Stop this, please."

She was using all manners of acrobatics to vault over him. She and Montcalm were working together quite well. They could have killed him had they wanted to, but that was not the aim. She knew Trom was weak, otherwise he'd be doing all manners of nasty things with his blood disciplines.

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

Tromador laughed louder. Montcalm thrust forwards and managed to slice in under Tromador's guard and actually cut his hand. Tromador dropped his vibrosword. But no matter. He saw that Montcalm had over extended himself and was off balance. With a grin, Tromador brought his plasma gun around and fired it point blank into Montcalm's face. It disappeared in a spray of vitae, bone, fire and then ash as Montcalm fell to the ground in a heap of bones and ash.

"NOOOOOO!!!!!!!" screamed Eveshka. Using an upslash of her rapier, in one fluid motion, she hacked the plasma pistol off at the barrel and buried the stake in Tromador's heart. He had a look of shock on his face as he fell backwards.

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

M, A, and P all shouted "NO!!!" and rushed in at the same time. Tromador could see them moving as the stake entered his flesh. Maybe this was real after all? Then all went black.

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

"YOU CRAZY FUCK!!!!" wailed Eveshka as she dropped to her knees next to the ashen remains of Montcalm. Blood tears streamed down her face. Her closest supporter and friend (in continuous existence at least) had finally met Final Death. Montcalm had been at her side, or a close facsimile there of, for nie on 300 years.

How long she knelt there she did not know. It seemed like an eternity. She looked at Tromador. It was not his fault really. "This has to end," she whimpered. She stood up and then stepped on the stake, pressing it in as far as it could possible go. She did not need a whacked out former Inconnu agent coming to during the journey back to Enoch.

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

Julius was worried. Eveshka had been gone nearly a week. He knew she was out there. Cyrillin stood next to him on the parapet of the city looking out to the east.

"There is your little Temptress," she said pointing at a slowly moving shape on the horizon. Julius vaulted off the wall and went out to meet her. After a few moments he could see that Eveshka was carrying an 18th century sabre in her left hand and was dragging a staked vampire with her right. She looked horrible. So did Julius. She collapsed against him and cried.

"I've got you baby," he said softly, holding her. "It's going to be ok now."

Cyrillin viewed this from the parapet. It was disgusting how her master pandered to this mercurial harlot. She turned away in disgust and walked into the city.

The old mage had changed, and if Gabriel had expected him to instantly re-emerge as the flamboyant, eccentric playboy who had once globetrotted carelessly, he was was to be sorely disappointed. The Tremere had grown increasingly despondant since Eveshka had returned, and almost instantly departed.

Even when the Ventrue spoke with him, there was a distance there, a bleak anguish that soaked into every word, every piercing gaze. Eventually, after failing several times to penetrate the source of his angst, Gabriel had left the wizard to his own devices, figuring the most help he could be now to his old friend was to ensure his precious village ran smoothly.

And so Gabriel had set about familiarizing himself with the burgeoning civilization. He met the citizenry, made himself known to them and soon found their reverence of his god-like abilities appealing. With each stooped head, each humble bow, the Ventrue was emersed in a wave of nostalgia. The lustful scents of power and influence once again aided in sating his hunger for purpose. Gone were the nihilistic tantrums that had consumed his soul or lack thereof, replaced with a growing addiction.

He needed the town, needed their admiration and their obedience. He wasn't sure if Julius' motivation stemmed from a similiar vein, or something more reconciliary, but the goals were the same. A rebirth of humanity...of life.

Katherine and Poe were decidedly less taken with their new home. For Poe, he was to be reacquainted with disappointment. His grand schemes and desires for Gabriel to sink into the realm of animalism were defeated, and he spent most of him time roaming the vast wastelands outside of the village proper, hunting in solitude, checking in every so often, although his returns were becoming increasingly few and far between.

For Katherine her glamerous return to the world of humans had been a massive letdown. Replacing the lush penthouses and elegant galas were mud, dirt, and struggle. The Spartan existance did not appeal to her, but she took solace in Gabriel's happiness, and with each passing day he resembled something of his old self, at least in personality.

Two workdays ago, with the dissolution of night and day, Gabriel had found it easier to measure time by the human shifts of plowing and irrigating, which ran roughly ten hours. Two such shifts prior, Eveshka had returned, a vaguely familiar figure in tow. The motionless corpse was clearly Kindred, and the Ventrue had a sneaking suspicion he had run across him somewhere before, but could not place his face.

The lovers had exchanged muted words and then rushed to the safety of their private quarters and had not emerged since. What activities they were engaged in, Gabriel could not guess, but something about the mood of the village (which the Ventrue had found often reflected Julius' temperment) suggested to him that it didn't involve the carnal desires that had so personified their relationship in the past.

Gabriel rose at the start of a workday after another sleepless interim. Kathy, satisfied by Gabriel re-emerging interest in her feminity, stretched and rolled to occupy the influx of space upon their humble bed. He smiled affectionately and brushed a stray hair from her forehead before gathering his things and stepping out of his dwelling.

Workers halted in their tracks and expressed their admiration for him as he made his way through the dirt streets towards the start of his rounds. Since his arrival the town had grown rapidly and although it could in no way be accredited to him, he felt his responsability grow exponentially.

The familiar beat of hammers grew louder as he approached the worksite where the new barn was to be erected. As the Ventrue emerged onto the street, a familiar figure joined his side.

[i:836d6aa2e0]"Good day exalted one."[/i:836d6aa2e0] Cassius said, bowing slightly as he matched the Ventrue's stride. The stout foreman had become something of Gabriel's righthand man since he had taken over several of Julius' tasks. The Ventrue had found him to be exceedingly capable and trustworthy, and basked in his admiration as a moth to a flame.

[i:836d6aa2e0]"The barn looks good Cassius. You've made considerable progress in only a few short hours."[/i:836d6aa2e0] Gabriel glanced over the building that had been only a skeletal structure when he had last looked upon it.

[i:836d6aa2e0]"You're too gracious to one so unworthy. If it pleases you, we've already gathered the overstock for storage."[/i:836d6aa2e0] Cassius motioned a short distance away, where several carts of hay sat idly by, waiting to be unloaded, rolled, and stored for the livestock. Gabriel nodded approvingly.

[i:836d6aa2e0]"Fantastic. This is just what we need to keep the cows safe from those dust storms."[/i:836d6aa2e0]

[i:836d6aa2e0]"Wren has been invaluable my lord."[/i:836d6aa2e0] Cassius whispered, eyeing the herd of cattle that sat motionless in the pasture.

Gabriel turned his attention to the slim figure working alongside the Kine. One of only a handful of vampires in the village, and his matter-of-fact attitude with Kathy and Poe had raised more than a few hackles on their respective heads. Gabriel had implored the pair not to be confrontational with the stranger. The last thing Gabriel needed was for Julius' displeasure now that he had finally found a hope and purpose.

Aside from the first day, he had found Wren to be moderately helpful in terms of working with the peasants. Clearly a hands on individual, he often worked right alongside the laborers, garnering their respect and affection. Gabriel avoided issuing orders to him in the hope of preserving amiable relations, but he knew that should a disagreement arise, Julius would likely side with him and thusly he held the upper hand.

He was glad to have a powerful worker so willing to get his hands dirty. It certainly sped up the process. However, should the villagers become overly fond of him...that could prove an issue. But it was one Gabriel would confront when and if the time came.

[i:836d6aa2e0]"Glad to hear it."[/i:836d6aa2e0] Gabriel said. He dismissed Cassius and continued his rounds, heading back towards the town square to check on the smithy. They had lost three horses in the past twenty workdays when stones had become wedged in their hooves. Gabriel had tried as best he could to illustrate what a horseshoe was and how it could best be constructed. Having no real knowledge of metallurgy, he had left it to the smithy to experiment with.

No sooner had he stepped foot in Enoch than a dark flash came tumbling by him. The figure jerked and bounced and rolled in the dirty streets, unable to find an ample grip in the loose soil. Finally, he rolled to a stop, and lay writhing in pain. Poe.

The Ventrue rushed to his side and found the Gangrel in considerable pain, his body covered in ghastly slices and lesions. He quickly supplied the Gangrel with spare blood, which he lapped hungrily at. The skin reformed and solidified, and his companion looked at him with wild eyes.

[i:836d6aa2e0]"Gabriel...they're coming...we've got to move!"[/i:836d6aa2e0] he gasped, rising shakily to his feet.

[i:836d6aa2e0]"Who is? Who's coming?"[/i:836d6aa2e0] the Ventrue stepped back and watched as Poe paced back and forth, eyeing the horizon every few moments.

[i:836d6aa2e0]"I don't know. I don't know what they are. I was hunting...I came to the periphery of the trench..."[/i:836d6aa2e0] he muttered, referring to the edge of what was once the Black Sea, "[i:836d6aa2e0]...and they attacked me. These...THINGS. They were strange...like wraiths but...I don't know. Sinister."[/i:836d6aa2e0]

[i:836d6aa2e0]"How do you know they're following you?"[/i:836d6aa2e0] Gabriel asked, his own gaze turning to the horizon now. [i:836d6aa2e0]"For all you know they...may...have..."[/i:836d6aa2e0]

His voice softened and fell hollow, replaced by the productive strike of the smithy's hammer in the distance. Far on the horizon, a tiny cloud of dust arose, and as Gabriel expended blood to further his senses, he knew what approached.

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

[i:836d6aa2e0]"Blood Spectres."[/i:836d6aa2e0]

Julius and Eveshka exhanged confused glances for a moment and then peered back up at Gabriel as if he had sprouted a second head. He glanced about their quarters. This was the first time he had actually been inside Julius' haven. It was a concoction of various styles, almost all ancient. Throwpillows obscurred the floor, and great brass dishware, slightly stained red with blood consumed long ago, was strewn carelessly across the rooms expanse. Tomes, books, vials, beakers, computers, and a wide assortment of knick-knacks sat huddled on one side, apparently Julius' new labratory.

Gabriel wondered if the Tremere had actually scavenged them from somewhere or if he had conjured them up out of thin air.

[i:836d6aa2e0]"Blood Spectres. They're coming. They're beings born from the Umbra out of sheer will and hatred."[/i:836d6aa2e0] he said at length.

Julius and Eveshka hardly looked convinced.

[i:836d6aa2e0]"Born from whom precisely?"[/i:836d6aa2e0] Eveshka asked, content to hear the ramblings of a Ventrue who had apparently had one too many blows to the noggin.

[i:836d6aa2e0]"Ancients. Vampires that had slipped so far into torpor, that they're unable to resurrect themselves. All they are able to do is sit in a perpetual limbo, festering and smoldering."[/i:836d6aa2e0] Gabriel sighed, an old habit resurrecting itself. "[i:836d6aa2e0]Some are powerful enough to manifest their presence in other planes...and when that apparition finds a way to cross over to our world...well...it's bad news."[/i:836d6aa2e0]

[i:836d6aa2e0]"Wait...do these 'blood spectres' have a common appearance?"[/i:836d6aa2e0] the immaculate Toreador asked, the strain of an apocolypse and the death of close friends not dimishing her ravenous beauty.

[i:836d6aa2e0]"Well...it can vary...but generally they're human-like figures, manifesting themselves visually at will. Usually, they have glowing red eyes."[/i:836d6aa2e0] Gabriel said, trying to remember what specific details he could.

[i:836d6aa2e0]"Oh shit."[/i:836d6aa2e0] Julius groaned, standing from his seat and strutting across the room. [i:836d6aa2e0]"Shit shit shit shit shit SHIT!"[/i:836d6aa2e0]

[i:836d6aa2e0]"I know...it's not..."[/i:836d6aa2e0]

[i:836d6aa2e0]"Outriders."[/i:836d6aa2e0] Julius interjected. Gabriel shook his head.

[i:836d6aa2e0]"What?"[/i:836d6aa2e0]

[i:836d6aa2e0]"Outriders...we've been dealing with them for some time now. That's what drove Evey...err....Eveshka to me."[/i:836d6aa2e0] beneath the scarring, Gabriel could see that Julius was blushing at his faux pas.

[i:836d6aa2e0]"Well...Blood Spectres or Outriders or whatever you call them...if we don't figure something out soon....we're fucked."[/i:836d6aa2e0] the Ventrue shoved his hands into his pockets.

[i:836d6aa2e0]"How do you know so much about the Outriders?"[/i:836d6aa2e0] Eveshka asked, peering curiously at the Ventrue. For centuries, Gabriel had kept his involvement in the Inconnu a closely guarded secret, but under the sultry gaze of the former Comtesse, he felt compelled to admit his sources.

[i:836d6aa2e0]"I was a member of the Inconnu. During Gehenna..."[/i:836d6aa2e0]

[i:836d6aa2e0]"Gabriel, I'm sorry to cut this short, but this really isn't the time."[/i:836d6aa2e0] Julius was already escorting the Ventrue towards the door, his arm draped over his shoulder. [i:836d6aa2e0]"Look...I can create an adequate shield to protect the town, but the spell requires time and attention. I'll have to stay here and I need someone to prepare Enoch."[/i:836d6aa2e0]

Before he was fully aware of what was happening, he found himself in the street once more, an audible torrent of obscenities erupting from Darrant's quarters alongside the [i:836d6aa2e0]clink[/i:836d6aa2e0] of various instruments being gathered.

Gabriel looked towards the horizon again, and was dismayed to see the dust cloud had grown considerably, heralding their attackers arrival. The vampire bolted through the streets, rocketing great plumes of dust in his wake, towards the barn's worksite, the closest point to their attackers.

[i:836d6aa2e0]"Everyone move!"[/i:836d6aa2e0] he bellowed. "[i:836d6aa2e0]Inside the town! We're under attack!"[/i:836d6aa2e0]

Confused, frightened eyes fell upon him from behind hammers and saws. Wren instantly burst into action, breaking the workers from their stupor and corralling them towards the village.

[i:836d6aa2e0]"Poe! Poe come quickly!"[/i:836d6aa2e0]

Instantly the Gangrel was by his side, eyeing the growing dust with fury. Deep beneath, Gabriel could sense his fear.

[i:836d6aa2e0]"Poe, held me move these carts towards the main road, right at the village entrance."[/i:836d6aa2e0]

Together the two Elder Kindred lifted the carts of hay and carried them easily to the entrance of the village and placed them in a crude line across the main road, creating in essence, a blockade.

Gabriel turned to Poe.

[i:836d6aa2e0]"Fire. They're susceptable to fire."[/i:836d6aa2e0] he spat, his face contorted with determination not to see his only hope of salvation wrenched from him.

Poe nodded and proceeded alongside him towards the town square. There, Katherine and Cyrilynn had joined Wren in calming the Kine, although it was clear they were unsure of what was happening themselves. The chatter in the square was nervous and unsure, and Gabriel did his best to exude confidence.

[i:836d6aa2e0]"Katherine, Cyrilynn...it looks as though we're going to have to defend the village. They're approaching from the main road...they're for lack of a better explanation, ghosts. Now if we...SHIT TOO LATE!! MOVE!!"[/i:836d6aa2e0]

The Ventrue threw himself sideways as the first Outrider came barrelling over the thatched roof of the bakery, shrieking like some unholy banshee. It's spectral blade dug into the dirt where the Irishman had been standing and tore out great chunks of earth, showering the crowd of stunned on-lookers.

Within seconds it was wading through the throng of stunned peasants, hacking and shredding them into gruesome, bloody chunks. Gabriel evoked his blood magic, and willed the crowd to move. Like silent cattle, they rushed wordlessly into nearby buildings and shelters, cowering as best they could to stay out of sight. The Kindred remained in the town square, among the carnage.

Gabriel peered down the street towards the blockade and saw the nebulous, vague creatures pouring over the carts with ease. On every building now, the translucent, shimmering figures stood poised, their crimson red eyes peering down at the Kindred, like a lionesses stalking their prey.

One shrieked and lunged at Poe. The Gangrel leapt clear of the blow and retaliated instinctually with a blow that would have torn the throat from any regular opponent, but merely passed through the Outrider without effect. The miscalculation cost the Gangrel, as the spectre's blade whipped out viscously, drawing a great crimson line across Poe's torso.

He roared and leapt backwards, healing instantly, his eyes burning with rage at his shadowy opponent.

Another phantom descended from the rooftop towards an unsuspecting Kathy, blade drawn high. The Toreador had been occupied watching Poe's struggles and it became clear that she would not be able to avoid the oncoming blow. Gabriel shot forward, willing his Clan's natural fortitude into effect. Age and potency combined to transform his skin into a thick, coarse shield. He angled himself in front of Kathy and deflected the blow, and then moved her from the center of the square.

Now the Outriders moved en masse, and swarmed over the tiny plaza, bolting towards the helpless Kindred.

[i:836d6aa2e0]"Quick! The blacksmith shop!"[/i:836d6aa2e0] the Ventrue roared, herding him comrades into the tiny wooden shack and slamming the door behind him. The heat was overwhelming and the five Kindred glanced nervously at the roaring stove that emitted such intense heat. The smithy had abandoned his enterprise mid-work apparently.

The Ventrue strode towards the furnace and tore three swords from it's mouth, their blades sizzling and red in the air. The molten metal popped and snapped as he chauvinistically distributed them amonst the men. They took their positions near the single door just in time.

The wood gave way and the door splintered brilliantly, the Outriders soaring in over the threshold. The burning blades swung in great, red arcs meeting their foes. The spectres hissed and retreated, their wounds superficial but real.

As they retreated, the Kindred advanced, following them out into the square. They pressed the attack, and in a flurry of rage, struck down several of the Outriders, if only temporarily. The mysterious attackers regrouped and converged on the Kindred, surrounding them on all sides.

Wren barely dodged a deadly blow and leapt high above the mass of warriors, landing on the outside of the frey. His escape drew the attention of several attackers, and provided Poe and Gabriel with their vital escape route. Instantly, they surged from the center of the crowd and lunged into the main street, running towards the blockade.

[i:836d6aa2e0]"Quickly...the barn!!"[/i:836d6aa2e0] Wren gasped, leaping with ease over one of the carts. Gabriel and Poe followed without complaint, rushing hastily towards the wooden strucutre. Behind them, the shrieks of the Outriders echoed in their ears.

The Outriders poured into the barn after their prey, soaring and crying furiously, desperately searching for the three Kindred. As soon as all the spectres had entered the structure, swooping and spiralling in the rafters like some great, silvery bats, Poe and Wren emerged from their hiding spaces directly behind the barn's great double doors and shut the massive figures tightly, effectively encaging themselves and the Outriders inside the building.

The phantoms howled fiercely, enraged by their capture. The darted towards their foes, great, powerful swipes threatening to cleave the Kindred in two. Poe, Wren, and Gabriel dodged the blows as best they could, each managing to avoid too grave a wound.

As Gabriel pressed himself against the barn door, avoiding the most recent lunge of an attacker, he could vaguely make out the sound of wheels grinding against their axles. The Kindred rolled and ducked, dodged and jerked. With each passing moment, the Outriders' hatred grew.

The darted back and forth furiously, blades singing as they cut through the air.

[i:836d6aa2e0]"What was that?!"[/i:836d6aa2e0] Poe grunted, swinging his sword futilely at the nearest Outrider. The blade had cooled and no longer bore any effect on the spectral figures. The sound of wood snapping and crunching could barely be heard just outside the barn.

[i:836d6aa2e0]"I don't know...but I hope it's help!"[/i:836d6aa2e0] Wren gasped, leaping clear of a blow that was meant to lop his arm off.

Gabriel backflipped over his opponent and rolled to momentary safety. His jaw slackened visibly.

[i:836d6aa2e0]"Oh shit."[/i:836d6aa2e0]

The other two afforded him as much attention as they could while still desperately avoiding blows.

[i:836d6aa2e0]"What?"[/i:836d6aa2e0] Poe grunted, swinging himself sideways as a sword whizzed by his face.

[i:836d6aa2e0]"Do you smell that?!"[/i:836d6aa2e0] Gabriel cried.

The other two stopped and inhaled, before returning his look of panic. Wood. Burning wood.

Then their ears picked up something that it had missed prior. A crackle...the sound of wood burning.

The walls of the barn were suddenly ablaze with great columns of flame, illuminating the darkened interior. The Outriders panicked, ignoring their opponents now and frantically whipping through the air in erradic patterns.

The fire spread to the roof and great burning chunks began to fall, some striking the Outriders and sending them careening to the floor. The others desperately dashing towards the newly formed holes, only to be met with the firey end of a torch, wielded by either Katherine or Cyrilynn. The women, so hastily abandoned in the name of chivalry, now stood atop the roof, preventing the Outriders escape.

A flaming rafter broke free of it's home and plummeted towards the ground, striking several of the phantoms on the way down and trapping them underneath.

The three Kindred braced themselves and lunged towards the barn door, smashing through the firey structure and emerging unscathed outside. They watched as the two women leapt from the top of the barn at the last moment before the entire building collapsed in on itself sending ashes and embers soaring into the air like fireflies into the autumn.

The group stood, healing wounds and watching as several Outriders emerged from the wreckage and wafted listlessly away, paying the Kindred no mind. Gabriel shook his head as he recognized what the women had done. Great wheel ruts had marred the earth from the villages entrance. Together, the two Kindred had hauled the carts up and set them ablaze, igniting the barn.

The shrieks of the Outriders fell silent, leaving the group of Kindred to stare in wonder at the abrupt end to the conflict. Gabriel, Wren, and Poe tended to their wounds as the group walked back towards the town square to assess the damage done.

[i:836d6aa2e0]"Sorry about the barn..."[/i:836d6aa2e0] Katherine began. The Ventrue wheeled about and gripped her by the shoulders, planting a hard, passionate kiss on her lips. She stood stunned. [i:836d6aa2e0]"I'll try and incinerate you more often!"[/i:836d6aa2e0]