The lines of humanoids wavered and fell back. Each running over the other. From behind the four vampires came movement. They turned. Kindred. Hundreds of them. Soem were readily apparent as particular clans, others had very evidently awoken from deep torpor and were emaciated and skeletal looking.

Something had drawn them there. Something had called them. Perhaps Gehenna had finally arrived. Perhaps.

Some of them, Tzimisce evidently, had spines jutting out of their bodies and were in war mode. Others were quite obviously nosferatu, still others were apparently gangrel. Some carried tattered battle standards that looked as if they would have been right at home on some medieval battle field. It was a strange and colorful group of vampires assembled on that ridge.

In the valley below them, more humanoid types were arriving to reinforce those that were there. Lillith landed atop one of the old towers of the city and watched. Eveshka looked up into the heavens. It seemed less cloudy and less turbulent. Soemthing was changing. The balance of power was shifting. But what did it mean? From what was it shifting, and to what was it shifting?

A thick, black column emerged from the uneven horizon and poured down the face of the embankment, weaponry glinting feverishly. It was followed moments later by an identical row of ravenous, slathering warriors all eyeing the Kindred with a ferocity and desire that no human could possibly muster on their own. The reinforcements stormed down the hill and met with the fleeing primary forces in a mighty clash that echoed throughout the valley.

The fleeing warriors now found themselves being shoved inevitably back towards the valley and the silent, patient immortals beyond. Gabriel studied the panic-stricken faces as their fate began to become clear to them. Slowly but without question, the ranks began to turn back towards their foes, realizing that escape was not a valid option. Even as the horde was being turned back towards their inescapable destiny, more and more poured over the hillside filling the cramped landscape with thick, murky hatred.

Eventually, the horizon itself was painted black with bodies. War drums resonated and shields were pounded with blades. The time had come.

“Well,” Tromador spoke, unsheathing his blade as last, “shall we?”

But Porter had already surged from their meager hilltop towards the frontlines, bearing a set of feral claws larger than any Gabriel had ever seen. The brown blur traversed several hundred yards nearly quicker than the Ventrue’s eyes could register. The only reaction was a slight pause in the frontline’s marching and then collision.

War cries turned to shrieks of terror and pain as the Gangrel’s bloodlust poured out in the form of battle. Unable to make Porter’s stocky figure out in the massive mob of attackers, his location was told by the hurling of bodies, limbs, innards, and gore that streamed through the air like confetti in some morbid parade. He swung his massive paws in wide archs now, and Gabriel watched as humans were cut away in great semi-circles as though they were wheat before a farmer’s blade.

“Glory hog.” Eveshka spat and was the next to step from the mount. She strode doggedly towards the massive army, swords at the ready. Several soldiers, still reeling from the ultra-violence of Porter’s attack, took notice and opted to try their luck on the feminine figure.

The Comtesse displayed flawless form and grace as she lunged forward, plunging her blade deep into the gut of the nearest attacker who froze instantly in shock. In a single fluid motion, she removed the blade and spun in a neat circle bringing her blade down deftly upon the backside of his neck as he doubled over from the stomach wound. His head plopped dumbly into the mud and the body collapsed over it.

The next unfortunate attacker discovered just how dangerous a combination unearthly strength and swordplay could be. Bringing his blade down in a sloppy arch towards Eveshka’s alabaster collarbone, he was easily deflected away. Several steps too slow for the mighty Toreador, he was punctured simultaneously in the chest and neck and quickly jerked aside to bleed out in the ever thickening mixture of mud and gore. Soon the Toreador had built up steam and was completely immersed within the enemy army, slicing, stabbing, chopping, and every so gracefully disemboweling her enemies with perfect form and efficiency.

Tromador was hot on her heels though and was employing his own brand of slightly less artistic yet no less brutal or deadly combat upon the unknowing Kine. His great blade sung through the air, each commanding movement incapacitating two or three enemies at a time. He moved with such determination and speed that the foes seemed to collapse as though they were dominoes, one hitting the ground a fraction of a second before the next. All around they tumbled and broke, dead before their faces planted into the mud. They offered no cries of pain or shock, did not extend their hands to cushion their fall, but rather simply bent at the knees and waist and faceplanted into the muck.

The first line of attackers was shaken now, but the flanks were slowly moving in to encircle their godly combatants. Gabriel concentrated now and could sense the massive waves of fear and shock that emanated from the frontlines. The air around him was heavy with bloodmagic as he focused his energies to intensify those feelings, to push them to the forefront of their enemies minds, until they superseded even the instinct to fight.

Soon the soldiers were dropping their guards in favor of turning to flee, and as each one did the kindred took advantage, slicing, hacking, butchering. Porter, now a glistening black from the arterial blood of his victims, cast a glance over towards the Ventrue.

“Well done boyo!” he cried, his saber grin visible. Suddenly he grimaced as a blade raked his back. Gabriel watched as the Gangrel spun on his heels and grabbed his rival by the head and tore his spinal column out as though he were gutting a fish.

What were the other Kindred waiting for?

You're right about finishing this thread, and I've been too long absent. Caught up in life, and well, frankly, feeling rather uninspired lately. But perhaps I've a post worth half a damn to finish my part in this story.

He had been pulled through what would have been the day, and the night, towards their goal, Poe being the unfortunate one to have to follow Wren, who in turn followed the call that he felt in the depths of his blood, stopping only to hunt and keep their stores of vitae at top levels... in his fervor, Wren had gorged himself at almost every opportunity, frequently disgusting even Poe with the amount he could consume, but they had at long last reached their destination.

It was strange that it should be here, amongst the pillars of salt, that they should find the home of Troile, steeped as thoroughly in sin as had ever been implied to this place. [i:276f7f5a16]"What is this place"[/i:276f7f5a16] Poe asked, his eyes nervously darting back and forth, following phantom shadows darting in and out of the pillars.

[i:276f7f5a16]"Although I did not believe we had covered so much ground, I'd have to think that this is the biblical location of the ruins of Sodom."[/i:276f7f5a16] Wren answered him quietly. [i:276f7f5a16]"More I could not tell you. It has been a very long time since I last attended church, and I was not particularly attentive even then."[/i:276f7f5a16] he continued, then stopped and shook his head.

A deep feeling of foreboding crept over him as he looked ahead. Turning his head, he looked at Poe, and narrowed his eyes as his vision distorted, leaving the image in his eyes, at best, a fun house reflection of the younger vampire. When he turned, he sighed, and stopped. [i:276f7f5a16]"Poe, I want you to stay here... you've got your your own battles to fight. The one up ahead belongs to me."[/i:276f7f5a16]

With that statement, he left the gangrel behind, moving with a reckless, insane haste that finally set him in what could only be described as a small palace, forgotten since times long forgotten, and devoid of life. Within, sitting on a throne in all his dark glory, sat Troile, his gaze fixed on Wren.

[i:276f7f5a16]"Tsk, what took you so long? You are called to serve."[/i:276f7f5a16] Troile said, quietly expending some of his power to make his voice drip with honey and his gaze burn in the mind of the brujah before him. Recognizing the trick, Wren forced his eyes away and shook his head rapidly, covering his ears, fighting his own body's urge to look upon the glory of his clan patriarch and serve.

Long, tense moments passed before Wren realized that he had fallen to one knee, then forced himself to rise, gasping involuntarily from the sheer effort it took to make his body obey. [i:276f7f5a16]"No."[/i:276f7f5a16] he finally spat, letting his glare settle on Troile.

In that, Wren's world exploded into pain as Troile, in a burst of celerity, covered the ground between them and smashed the hilt of a sword into his face, driving him to the ground, then following through as Wren stumbled back, lines of red appearing across the younger vampire's chest as the antediluvian continued his assault, several of his blows being near misses where a solid hit would have meant a swift and decisive ending to the battle.

Finally, a single powerful strike sent Wren to the ground, where he struggled to rise, coughing blood, while Troile rushed in for a finishing blow.

It was in that moment that the tide of the battle turned, for as Troile bore down upon him, Wren suddenly rose, the anteldeluvian's thin blade sinking into Wren's hand where the younger vampire, ignoring the pain, gripped the weapon and snapped it off before retaliating, deadly talons springing from his fingertips as his wounds sealed themselves in an expenditure of blood. Before Troile could even regain his balance from the botched assault, several lines of red appeared on his face and chest amidst the flailing claws.

Again the antediluvian's fist lashed out and caught Wren across the face, then a quick followup with the other hand sent the younger vampire to the ground, scattering bits of salt across the ruined floor. Wren looked up and swore softly to himself as he saw a fresh blade in Troile's hand, but then, as his foe approached, a memory flashed through his mind. No matter how tough your opponent....

Troile screamed in agony as a handful of salt caught him in the eyes, the pain causing him to clutch at his face and drop his sword, before, followed closely by Wren, he leapt backwards to his throne, shaking the salt out of his now shriveled eyes and picking up a spear. At the last moment, Wren twisted, but the spear still sank deeply into his chest, passing through a lung, but missing his heart.

Ignoring the pain, the younger vampire let the shaft continue to impale him until he was close enough to strike at his clan's progenitor, one hand lashing out, while the other reached down to slice cleanly through the shaft.

There was however, a sickening crunch as Troile grabbed his arm, and shoved it back. Wren flew through the air, the arm that had so offended Troile bent at an unnatural angle. The landing was even worse, the shaft of the spear sticking out of his back caught on the ground and ripped its way out of his body in a spray of blood.

There Wren lay as Troile, now more certain of his victory than ever, gloated. "Well fought! But I wonder. All these years, fighting to survive for the sake of family, but now, family all dead. What do you fight for now, I wonder? What reasons could you possibly have left?"

Images, memories, of Haven, his descendant, and Cassandra, the young Tremere who taken the place of all the childer he had never sired, flashed through his mind as he painfully rose, blood seeping from his wound to splash the small red stone that was his only remaining memento of the pair.

Wren gritted his teeth as his pain increased, the pendant burning against his skin as it suddenly came alive with its own inner heat. "I've still... got... two!" he screamed as he suddenly lunged forward, blood burning from his reserves at an incredible pace to fuel his burst of speed, celerity driving every single muscle forward in a single motion.

Troile blinked as the younger Brujah tackled him. He was slightly surprised at the last surge of speed and strength, but he never saw it coming when the pendant wrapped around his foe's neck erupted into a fiery inferno hot enough to melt the salt and rock beneath them.

I'm out of practice, and you're all awesome. Gods, I feel so inadequate. Sorry I hadn't posted in so long, but hopefully, this ending will satisfy you.

To clear up any possible ambiguities (I'm tired, and this is a disclaimer!)

Yes, this kills Wren off in this thread/timeline. incinerated and redeemed, gone to heaven and whatnot... yeah, very, very dead.

Troile is pretty well toast too. even if by some strange mischance he somehow survived the initial blast of that bomb Wren was wearing, he'd not last very long at all; tremendous amounts of heat and fire. Very crispy.

The kindred numbered somewhere around 250 strong now. They joined into a solid phalanx with Tromador, Porter, Gabriel, and Eveshka in the center. From farther away to their rear came the sound of a horn blowing. Another 100 vampires riding, on what passed to be horses, could be seen through the murk of the eternal night. They became more visible through the lightening flashes. The standard at the fore caught the wind. A winged vapmire hovered above the group. New Enoch had arrived. Julius was here.

The phlanx of vampires looked back at them and then towards the evening growing number of unspeakable horrors to their front. This was not looking good.

"PRESS THEM!!!" shouted Tromador moving forwards with sword held aloft. The phalanx moved forwards. The battle had started out with some using firearms and "modern" weapons. By now the ammunition had all run out and they were back to swords, edged weapons, and some with just rudimentary blunt instruments. Those that still could, used magic and thaumaturgical powers.

The two lines clashed yet again. Lillith screamed and wheeled in midair. She soared over her own arm hell bent on attacking the "good" kindred. She sliced through a score of nameless vampires, gorging on their vitae in the process.

With the hole in the line, the Horrors pressed in forming a bit of a salient. Unfortunately for Eveshka and Gabriel, they were the farthest over and out in the Kindred line. The two became cut off. Gabriel noticed it first.

"Eve, we're surrounded," he shouted through the din.

Fortunately her twin blades were keeping the forces at bay on her front. The two vampires moved back to back.

"Just hang on," she shouted.

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

At the other side of teh bulge that had formed, Tromador and Porter bashed away at the sea of horrors. Their side of the line seemed to be holding. Tromador looked at one of the humanoids coming at him.

"Rafaelo," he gasped.

"Ventrue," he hissed icily. "You left me to be taken by those damned Outriders."

Tromador looked startled at the former comrade he had thought destroyed, now fallen in with the enemies due to a misunderstanding. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the look of surprise on Rafaelo's face. Porter had risen up from the ground behind him and simply ripped his head off. He gave a half shrug with a raise of his wolfish eyebrow as if to say, "No point in discussing the matter."

The melee continued on.

**************************************************
Gabriel and Eveshka were getting tired out. Luckily for them, the Horrors were giving them a wide berth so they had a bit of a breather.
Lillith wheeled around and dived for them. Eveshka saw it and pushed Gabriel down so that Lillith narrowly missed them. Lillith wheeled around again and dove. Both Gabriel and Eveshka turned to face her. She was intercepted by Lady Cyrillin. The Tzimisce rammed into Lillith and the two soared up into the air and into the clouds. A particularly violent eruption of lightening came form the spot where they ascended into the heavens. A bright flash occured and the clouds opened up. IT was almost as if the eye of a hurricane had formed at that very spot. Sunlight poured down on part of the Vampire army and part of the Army of 'Horrors. Another several score of Vampires were incinerated instantly. They were too weak to use Fortitude and to preoccupied to notice what had happened. The Horrors also were incinerated. Both armies stopped fighting instantly and backed off from each other.

The hole in the sky closed and a very scarred Lillith emerged from the heavens. Cyrillin was nowhere to be seen.

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

"Damnation," muttered Julius. He sat on his horse on the hill and watched the battle beneath him. He felt the bond between he and Cyrillin break. He saw Tromador and Porter's wing regrouping. To the left he saw Eveshka and Gabriel regrouping as well. Even with the arrival of New Enoch, they had only 150 vampires. The enemy still numbered in the thousands. Plus... there was Lillith.

The Horrors still backed off. The appeared to be regrouping as well. Lillith had come to rest someplace in their midst and was not visible.

He rode down the hill to the center of the force. Tromador and Porter came over to him. A moment later Gabriel and Eveshka came. They had been draining some of hte humanoids.

Julius dismounted and walked up to her. The two embraced warmly. He turned to the other three vampires.

"There are none of the Methuselahs here," said Tromador.

"Probably because there never were any," mused Gabriel. "Or if there were, they are long gone, or still slumber, or don't even give a fuck."

Porter merely nodded.

"Did you see the sky open up?" asked Eveshka.

Julius nodded. "We need to engage Lillith directly. That's what will end this."

The army of 150 stood, but Eveshka could tell that their morale was waning.

"They will not stand for much more of this," said Eveshka. "Their auras are troubled."

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

The Army of Horrors reformed and marched forwards again. Lillith again stood atop the central tower of the ancient Buddhist city. It appeared to all that something in their gave Lillith her nearly limitless powers.

"I need to get to that tower," said Julius. "That is the key. You need to get me to that tower."

The four other vampires nodded. They knew that to do that would require a sacrifice of enormous proportions. Julius closed his eyes and muttered a few words and looked back up. The four vampires felt completely refreshed. They were replenished. Eveshka has also been restored to her former beauty. Julius remounted his horse, rode out before the troops, and addressed them.

"Friends, and comrades," started Julius, addressing the assembled vampires. "It has been an honor and a privilege to have known you. Some of you as adversaries for a time, others as members of a coterie." He looked at the 150 vampire warriors. "We have sown the seeds of something wonderful here. We have been living in a Renaissance of sorts. Theater, beauty, art, learning, martial prowess. And all of that is in jeopardy by that being out there." He pointed at Lillith standing atop the tower and then gestured to the slowly advancing hord.

"For some of us, we have been fighting this battle togehter since the dawn of time." He motioned lovingly at his beloved Eveshka. "Others have fought it in different times and different places, not knowing they had allies and brothers and sisters in arms elsewhere fighting for the same purpose."

His voice rose, as he spoke, his words magically imparted bravery and inner strengh to the assembled warriors.

"We have all lost that which we've loved. We have all lost our humanity. But the fact that we are all here.... now……. assembled in this Valley of Death fighting against the unspeakable Horrors arrayed before us, and not WITH them, is a testimony to the fact that although we have erred through our existence, and many have called us Damned, we are still not beyond Redemption."

Julius rode back and forth in front of the line. He was using every bit of magic and Majesty he possessed to inspire the forces of New Enoch. The 150 appeared transformed. They were now zealots fighting in a great religious war. In a sense they were. They shouted enthusiastically. The Army of Horrors actually stopped, several hundred yards away. They were in fear of what was about to come. Julius motioned for Eveshka and Tromador to join him.


“FRIENDS! COMRADES! THIS IS THE GREAT DAY OF RECKONING! FOR ALL THAT YOU HAVE LOVED. FOR ALL THAT YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN, REMEMBER IT NOW. REMEMBER WHAT IT IS LIKE TO FEEL, TO LOVE, TO BLEED FOR SOMETHING GREATER THAN YOURSELF.” Julius stood in his stirrups and shouted. He was transformed from the playboy of old. He resembled a heroic warrior king from some old lost Anglo Saxon chronicle.

“FOR ALL OF THAT, AND FOR ALL THAT YOU ONCE DREAMED OF BEING, FORWARD TO GLORY!!!”

As one voice, the small vampire army shouted out its defiance to the numberless horde before it. The noise was deafening. It had the power to instill fear into the Horrors that stood waiting.

Lillith rose from her tower and took wing once more. She shouted out her insane screech. It had no effect. The vampires charged forwards. Tromador moved to join them, but was held back by Julius, as had Eveshka.

“You know that we will most likely not prevail here, Lord Stanley,” said Julius. Tromador, who had found himself believing in Julius, deflated. He looked up at Julius and nodded. “Leave this place, Lord Stanley,” said Julius. “Watch from afar and Chronicle what you see here.”

“I cannot leave,” said Tromador. “You need me.”

Julius nodded. “I do, but I need what you can do for those that come after us if we are not successful even more than your sword arm.”

Tromador realized the wisdom of his words. “Very well,” said Tromador. He turned to Eveshka and embraced her.

She smiled. “There’s nothing to be said Trom.” She kissed him lightly on the lips. With that he turned and headed for the hills.

Julius hopped off his horse. “There’s no point in me telling you to go with him is there?” asked Julius sullenly.

Eveshka shook her head. “This is what our souls were created for Julius.”
“I have always, and will always, love you, Evey,” said Julius. The two kissed passionately for a few moments as the lines of vampires and humanoids crashed together several hundred yards behind them.

“We’ll see each other again, Julius,” said Eveshka. “Across oceans of time we’ve been together. Once more into the breach we go, and then we can go Home.”

They kissed one more time and then Eveshka turned and ran towards the battle.

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

Eveshka vaulted into the front ranks next to Gabriel and Porter. The three of them pushed deep into the enemy line like a spear hear. They were driving towards a low hill in the middle of the enemy force. The Horrors were falling at a rate of 15:1. They might just pull it off. To their right, Eveshka saw a Tzimisce Vozhd approaching, bashing lesser Horrors out of the way. Porter turned to face it. He seemed to have lost his power of speech again. He merely pointed at the low hill and then winked at Eve. With that he ran towards the oncoming monstrosity and grappled with it.

Eveshka and Gabriel continued on. Their last view of Porter was him trading punches with the Vozhd with his feral claws extended. Gabriel saw several wolf-like creatures approaching to intercept them.

“KEEP GOING!!!” shouted Gabriel to Eveshka. She looked over at him and nodded slightly. Things were happening to quickly to worry about him. Several of the more powerful vampires went off with Gabriel. The last she saw of him he had buried his shield into the chest of one of the werewolf looking things and jabbed his sword straight into its gaping mouth.

She made it to the hill and screamed out…. “LILLITH!!!!!”

Her voice cut through the din of battle like a knife. Lillith, who had been standing on tower saw the breathtaking beauty of the Daughter of Ishtar. Apart from her wings, Lillith was quite breathtaking in her own right. But not as breathtaking as Eveshka. This was unacceptable to her.

She took wing and descended on Eveshka. The moment Lillith left her tower, Julius flew to it and disappeared within it. Eveshka and Lillith brawled on the hill. Above them, the inky blackness started to get lighter. The clouds started breaking up. Lillith got a look of fear in her eyes. She needed to get back to her tower. Eveshka’s ferocious onslaught kept her pinned to that spot. She needed to hurry up and destroy this upstart and get to safety. The problem was, the upstart was not fighting like an upstart.

Eveshka felt like she was burning. She WAS burning. As was Lillith. She spared a quick glance to the tower and saw Julius standing on top of it, bathed in sunlight, holding something aloft in his right hand. Julius too was smoking.
Eveshka used her blood magic to fight the flames, as did Lillith. It seemed as if Lillith’s powers had severely denigrated. With a swift motion, Eveshka managed to get behind Lillith and sank her fangs into her and began to bleed her.

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

The winds gently blew across the broad valley, scattering ashes and tugging at banners standing in the rocky ground. The terrain looked bleak and volcanic against the blue sky.

What? You expected some other kind of ending? The mighty Julius borne away on a chariot of fire, perhaps like the prophets of old. Eveshka revealed as some kind of angel, borne up into heaven upon glowing wings of white feathers.

I don't confess to know how Julius cleansed the sky, however we all know what happens to a Kindred caught out in the sun. Whatever else they all were, they were vampires, plain and simple. Bloodsucking monsters like the rest of us. The sun came out and they were ash. All of them ash. Maybe their strength was spent, or maybe they simply had done with doing.

I am old my children, old and everyone I ever knew, or loved, or cared for is gone to dust. Would that I had gone to dust with them, for I shall never see their like again.

It was once said that Caine haunted this library, this repository of all the wisdom of Kindred & Kine. That just as we in the Inconnu watched over the Kindred, so he watched over us. If that is true, then I pray he find me and finally release my burden, that I may join my comrades in the uttermost beyond. I was taught that the taking of a life, even one's own, is a mortal sin and so if I too am to be redeemed of my sins, the sun is yet denied me.

And so I shall sleep, deep within the air conditioned vaults of this place, the last bastion of the old world, preserved until such time as the new shall be ready for it.

And you, who have discovered these shelves and wonders of magic and technology and all that was kept whole as your legacy, know that they were not legends, or the myths that have been handed down through generations. Know that they were all real. Know that they gave themselves so that you would have a world to live in and so that mankind would survive.

George de Stanleigh
Switzerland.

[i:5ed4a30c3d]"End recording, initiate lockdown procedure."[/i:5ed4a30c3d] Instructed Tromador.

[i:5ed4a30c3d]"Acknowledged."[/i:5ed4a30c3d] Intoned a familiar voice, drily, in the leaden tones of the dead.

Tromador turned from the skull and walked towards the deepest vaults and therein the blissful ignorance of torpor. As he walked, great doors swung shut, hermetic seals - of both kinds - protecting the treasures within. The lights faded until all that was left, was darkness.

[b:5ed4a30c3d][u:5ed4a30c3d][i:5ed4a30c3d]Fin[/i:5ed4a30c3d][/u:5ed4a30c3d][/b:5ed4a30c3d]

((::applauds:: Hurrah! Well done!

Oh wait...we're dead...

Well kudos all the same.