Back in Cascadia again, it felt odd, it had changed, surely he hadn't been away THAT long he wondered fleetingly.

"Hmmmm" he muttered to himself as he paced around the dusty old halls from which the city and so many existences had been run....the once securely locked office doors now stood ajar, inviting anyone. He paused for a moment to wipe away a lock of hair from his face, a droplet of water ran down his chest as he did. Almost trancelike he watched it snake its way down onto his leather trousers, for a moment he forgot why he wasn't wearing a shirt, then he remembered it ripping, tearing away from his body. He chuckled to himself, but without emotion, the cold in it echoed in the halls.

"Fools, all of them" he whispered, "they're all playing the wrong game and don't even have a clue."

Seeing the crest of the Camarilla on an official letter dumped in a paper pile, he smirked "Camarilla? pffft, no clue what they're doing....Sabbat? pathetic at best! Society, if it can be called such, is obsolete and crumbling, looks like I went abroad just in time" He turned sharply and threw the desk into the wall with one hand, shattering its legs and sending the papers flying like petals from a dying rose.

Sorenti sensed other Kindred heading his way, they were a long way off and oblivious to him but they would reach the building fairly soon. Unhurried, he walked straight through the back door, not bothering to even see if it was locked, the quiet whine of the hinges ripping away from the woodwork brought a small smile to the edges of his lips. Shielded as ever, he debated for a second on following the arriving Kindred just to listen to anything they might speak of, but he decided he could get bored in better ways and disappeared into the night.

((No!! Come abroad with Port's!!!!!!!!!!!!!

((hey, maybe isis should revisit her favourite ex-prince... :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: ))

(( lol to both of you hehehe....Ports - it would be a chaos if Sor found his way to your torturers! Isis - hmmm, might not be wise to errr try to "talk" to Sor mwuhaha ;) ))

(( but she likes pain... she likes it a lot... :wink:

((ohhhh sorenti ....my beloved.....where have you been ?
It feels good to have Rea's real name back and even got the old avatar :):)

woohooo!

((Port's will teach the Prince of York, and his Camarilla fools a lesson in respecting your elders soon enough ;)

[i:385271889f]"Melodramatic as ever I see..."[/i:385271889f] Gabriel hummed as he emerged from the oblique shades of the doorway mirroring his Sire's exit.

Sorenti's vague speech and odd behavior was not the only indication of his growing cynicism and drastic shift in his nature. The one time Ventrue hero had been in a period of change for months now, triggered probably by an event that had happened long before the two even met.

The skepticism and dissapointment which Gabriel could know read over his Sire like a shrowd was not all together new. The young Ventrue had experienced it himself, periods of prolonged isolation, anger, humiliation, remorse, and the terrible bitterness of a destiny not chosen but thrown to. It was normal in elder Cainites, but at Gabriel's youth even he could see with an outsiders perspective that it was unusual.

But now, as he paced the dust ridden halls, tracing Sorenti's scuffled foot steps, he wondered if he had not found the root of it all. Perhaps his blood bond with Sorenti was to blame. Had the power been worth it all? His mentor had given him much, power, respect, and no small amount of fear to wave around...but to age him prematurely might have been a sentence worse than death itself.

Despite the blessings or curses his friend had bestowed upon him, Gabriel owed an obvious boon to Sorenti. But the pride that had at one time allowed him to lord over the Kindred of Cascadia would not allow him to accept help easily. And no matter how much Gabriel's own powers had blossomed during his Sire's absence, he was nowhere strong enough to force his aide upon him.

As he stepped into the night, tightening his overcoat to compensate for the space his lost arm would've inhabited, he chuckled.

[i:385271889f]"Time to come home Sorenti..."[/i:385271889f]

Sorenti trudged along, knowing where he had to go and what he had to do but obstinately refusing...

[i:608c5ee76f]"It annoys you......doesn't it?"[/i:608c5ee76f]

"What does?" Sorenti snarled in a whisper

[i:608c5ee76f]"That you can't block me out"[/i:608c5ee76f]

"NO, why should it?" Sorenti spat back at the voice

[i:608c5ee76f]"Oh come on, you pride yourself on being stronger than those around you, by hiding, shutting them out at will..."[/i:608c5ee76f]

"So what? huh? who gives a flying f...." Sorenti said, stopping dead in the street

[i:608c5ee76f]"Ahhh but you do and that's what matters, come to me.......come to me, help me and I'll help you"[/i:608c5ee76f]

"Do you think power is all I crave? there are more things in this world than..." but he was cutoff,

[i:608c5ee76f]"Oh shut it you sanctimonious asshole! For God's sake, you are Ventrue, or does that not mean anything to you anymore?"[/i:608c5ee76f]

Sorenti chuckled quietly "Should it mean anything?" he asked

[i:608c5ee76f]"Ok, enough, I will see you when you arrive, you know there is nobody else who can help and I know your heroic past will not let you refuse, no matter how many times you kid yourself!"[/i:608c5ee76f] the voice faded and Sorenti shook his head as if to clear it.

Sorenti realised he was in the middle of the road and stumbled as he stepped back onto the sidewalk, cursing the voice in his head he sensed two Vampires very near and watching him. Sire and Childe, Brujah Antis, evidently lookouts for a nearby nest.

"Haha, this ones drunk as a skunk, gotta be a gambler, even lost his shirt" the childe sniggered.

Sorenti slowly dragged himself back to his feet and then looked at both of them. Imitating a drunken voice he slurred "Be careful who yer talking to.....they might just have the upper hand"

"What kinda drivel is that?" laughed the obvious Sire "well, there's yer dinner Miguel, try not to play with it too much"

The other stepped toward Sorenti but hesitated as he caught Sorenti's gaze....."ere, I dunno Pell, summat not right"

"Fucking wuss, I taught yer enuff....watch" retorted Pell as he lunged at Sorenti, but he was too slow, he was pinned to the wall by his throat about 2 feet off the ground. Sorenti stared at the shocked Miguel. Smiling gently, Sorenti said calmly "Like I said whelp, Be careful who you're talking to, they might just have the upper hand!" He punctuated the end by crushing Pell's throat so violently that his head tore right off and fell to the ground with a squelching thud.

Miguel was obviously very young indeed as he simply stood looking, unable to move. Sorenti dropped the rest of Pell, walked up to Miguel and kissed him on the forehead before continuing on his way, the young Cainite burst into tears before Sorenti had rounded the next corner.

Gabriel trudged through the summer night, invigorated both by the warmth of seasonal change and perhaps by the very presence of his mentor in town. Sorenti was proving as reclusive as he had ever been, but it was of no consequence.

The young Ventrue was well aware of his Sire's capabilities, and knew that if he did not want Gabriel to seek him out, he most certainly possessed the ability to stop him. The lack of resistance served as an open invitation to Gabriel, and he exercised it fulled as he strolled the streets casually.

As he emerged from old town and the gothic structures that encased him slowly began to wane into a more industrial setting, he heard the soft sound of weeping. It would've held no interest to him had there not been the distinct presence of Kindred in the area. Circling around an old church, Gabriel found a figure hunched over a lifeless corpse.

As he neared the two the figure's aura shifted from a deep indigo to a crimson wane, and he leapt to his feet snapping and barking like some caged beast.

[i:c7ae80dab3]"The f*ckin' bastard...I'll f*ckin KILL HIM!"[/i:c7ae80dab3] he roared as he stalked the road, apparently taking no notice of Gabriel. Suddenly his eyes fell upon the silent Ventrue, who in the dim moonlight undeniably cut a similar form to Sorenti. [i:c7ae80dab3]"YOU! You're dead pal!"[/i:c7ae80dab3]

Gabriel held up a single hand, attempting to calm the irritated Brujah. But the Cainite's rage ran far too deep, and the manipulation over increased the Beast's control over him. He produced a switchblade from his pocket and lunged foward, his animalistic eyes shining with bloodlust.

Gabriel took stock of his surroundings, no Kine in sight. But that was no assurance, he would have to make this quick if he wished to perserve the Masquerade. The blood magic hummed lightly as he upped his fortitude and swung himself sideways.

The frenzied Brujah's form cut through the silent night air and landed precisely where Gabriel had stood. Swiftly, deftly and without hesitation Gabriel brought his knee into the youth's face with all the strength he could muster. The crack of bone and spatter of blood was instantaneous, sending the Neonate windmilling backwards into the street where he collapsed in a heap only a few feet from his Sire's corpse.

[i:c7ae80dab3]"Well Sorenti, it seems I'm cleaning up your messes now."[/i:c7ae80dab3] Gabriel murmured as he went about dragging the bodies to a less conspicuous location. Once they were safely staked for the sun atop a local shop where it was unlikely anyone who take notice of them, the Ventrue returned to the task of tracking his Sire.

(meanwhile back inside the elysium)

Stone sat down in the corner of the room. He smeared ash on the ground and removed 2 eggs from his coat. He broke the eggs and covered the ash. The greyish powder turned into a thick paste that resembled a newborn's guts. He then sturred the mixture with his finger and looked out the window. The moonlight hit the spade-like symbol:

"The moon is blood red. The tides have turned in our favor. The evil is hidden inside the citizens. I fear that this situation is only temporary and the boojo tribe may stay here for a few moons."

After his seance, Stone brushes his palm on the reddish ash and smears the ointment on his face.

He closes his eyes and whispers in a soft voice:

"I fear my tribe is dying at a pace that is tearing my heart in two. I must seek out the prince, feel* him and ask for his assistance."

Covered in the red ash, Stone rises to his feet. He then leans on the wall and shakes his head. He mutters:

"If our fathers wish us to disapear, we shall, but if they are only testing our will, I shall assure the survival of my tribe."

He then walks out of the Elysium leaving behind him the spade of fortune.
He then returns to his westfalia and opens up his ofisa*.


((If you all are interested I can show you how the Gypsies make the mafia look like a open society.


-Stone-



*Feel: To analyse one's aura
*Ofisa: Little office where Ravnos perform their fortune telling.

((hehe bring it on >:) just waitin' for Sor to post

Inside the westfalia:

Stone sits on his rusty chair and begins an entry in the boojo journal.


I am affraid that all is lost for my tribe. The darkness feasts on our humanity. I am affraid I have not succeeded my mission. This city flows with violet and crimson. It is infested with vermin that may never again be humble and compassionate. This is were my mission shall end, I must over throw the darkness and paint their aura's gold. The are not expecting the Boojo.


Stone gazes through his window and notices the golden sky. He then closes off his ofisa and enters his coffin for another day of slumber.


((HE he he Abraham Lincoln. Nice quote..... :lol:

The further Sorenti walked, the more sparse the buildings became, until finally they lapsed back into the distance with only trees looming ahead. His shoes were caked in mud, where once he would have tutted and deftly cleaned them, now he didn't care in the slightest. It was almost 2am and the cold early breeze whipped at his naked upperbody as he pushed past the first of the bushes that led into the forest.

[i:0619789d18]"I see you..."[/i:0619789d18] came the voice again

"So what?" Sorenti whispered back

[i:0619789d18]"Now now, why do I annoy you so? Surely you cannot have been that swept up in vanity that you thought you were the oldest, wisest and strongest.....come, tell me why you harbour such anger!"[/i:0619789d18]

"I don't know......you ruined a perfectly good silk shirt"

[i:0619789d18]"That is the funniest thing I have ever heard (cackling laughter) a....shirt! Oh that's priceless!"[/i:0619789d18]

"NO! Not just that.....look, when you called to me in Venice, I was so overcome that I thought you must be an imposter, so sought to wreak vengeance on you for your attempted deception...."

[i:0619789d18]"Ahhhh....so you were defending Ventrue, which now you claim means little or nothing to you!" (quiet chuckle)[/i:0619789d18]

"Oh forget it, I'm here now anyway" Sorenti replied with a tone that ended the discussion.

The clearing in the forest was now heavily overgrown, yet still Sorenti could sense the Garou they had vanquished from here nearly 100 years ago. He dropped to his knees and then slithered on his stomach under the foliage all the way to the centre of the former clearing. He paused to pull a few thorns from his torn skin before mustering his strength to shift a large, flat rock. Carefully, he lowered himself down and swung to the left to avoid the silver and wooden stakes pointing upwards in the dark.

With a flick of his Zippo, he lit a torch from the wall and started down the very small corridor, bending double to avoid cracking his skull. At the end of the rocky tunnel, he crawled through the tiny gap which prevented anything sizeable getting through. He dropped down to the floor below and lit the two wall torches on either side of him, the oil ran along the tiny alcoves in the wall and slowly lit the torches around the hall. The gradually increasing light revealed a semblance of a throneroom, except it was a crypt and the "throne" was nothing more than a stone bench.

[i:0619789d18]"Ahhhh light! I had forgotten what it looked like"[/i:0619789d18] came the voice from the bench

"It hasn't been that long.........sir" Sorenti added after a long pause

[i:0619789d18]"Three days, 22 hours and about 11 minutes if I am not mistaken....oh and thankyou for the respect you insinuated with "sir", do it again and I'll kill you myself........anyway.......come here, I have much to tell you before we do this and time is runing out."[/i:0619789d18]

Sorenti slowly descended the 5 or 6 steps as gracefully as he could while forcing back his anger. He stopped to collect the remnants of his now tattered shirt, gave a smirk and dropped the rags before kneeling in front of the the seated figure.

[i:0619789d18]"No, no, no......here, sit beside me, no time for heirs and graces now.....let me begin...."[/i:0619789d18]

Sorenti sat on the cold, stone bench, buried his anger and concentrated.

He moved nimbly through the forest, but with steady caution. There was not only rogue Garou to fear, but tracking Sorenti required all his concentration. Where once was a clear trail left by his mentor, now only a whisper remained. But a whisper was enough.

He followed the 'scent' through the lumbering pines that had once served Cascadia's powerful agricultural community as wind breakers. He could smell the age of the area, and had he committed his full attention he may have received scant images of years gone by. Hippy cults, logging companies, moonshiners, bandits...all had passed through the beating breast of the Cascadian Forest.

There was a stench in the air that was decidedly more treacherous than normal. He vaguely heard a clearly human grunt several hundred yards ahead and moved deftly to hone in on it. He moved with such eagerness and abandon, that he did not faulter even when he chanced upon the batch of thorn bushes that shredded at his clothing and skin.

He burst forth like a ravenous beast, overwhelmed partially by his longing to discover the source of his Sire's baffling behavior and partially due to the uncomfort caused by the thorns. As he emerged he stumbled and found himself without a coat. The mangled designer made duster hung limply deep within the bed of thorns, his pistol in plain view.

[i:84f478bbe4]"Blast it all..."[/i:84f478bbe4] the Ventrue grumbled, abandoning his desire to reclaim his weapon. In front of him, in a meager clearing amidst a labyrinth of foliage, lay a large flat rock wedged against a knoll at a most peculiar angle. As Gabriel knelt to inspect it, he noted large grooves in the ground indicating the rock's former placement. [i:84f478bbe4]"What's this..."[/i:84f478bbe4]

Summoning his strength he heaved at the rock and found that after some struggle that he was able to topple it sideways. Obviously there were few Kindred in Cascadia who were able to hoist such a rock, but of those were able Sorenti was among them.

Mustering his resolve, he slipped into the bleak maul his lighter held in front of him. The lighter brought back memories of his Sire, being identical to the one he possessed. The shallow descent proved more slippery than he anticipated, and the Ventrue plumetted to the floor. Even in the darkness he could identify the shape of the object that pierced his calf. He stifled a shriek, groping large handfuls of soil to appease the Beast.

Painfully, he snapped the spike and removed it from his leg. The scent of blood filling the cavern, he felt along the ground for his zippo. Once he had sufficient light, he crawled into the corridor that presented itself on the left side of the cavern.

He limped with baited breath down the rocky hallway, noting that a lit torch hung on the wall. This was the way. At the end of the hall, a brief glow emerged from a thin opening alongside the seam of the floor. Kneeling, Gabriel peered into the room below. Two figures sat on a stone bench, one of them disturbingly familiar.

[i:84f478bbe4]"Sorenti...?"[/i:84f478bbe4] he murmured more to himself than to his Sire.