Airegon was back in town. Trini Hiroshi had seen her. The impudent young Brujah wouldn't escape Leick the next time. He would make her see the Prince. Rutger Leick was losing face fast, and he could only regain it by showing his authority again. And that meant making Airegon bend to his will. It would happen. But not tonight. Tonight, the Primogen had many things on his mind. The Council had begun their search for the Diablerist. Before giving his aid, Leick would have to make sure that the body was not the one he himself had drained. If so, the Brujah was in great trouble. But how to do that? The body was being kept by Grogan's Blood-bonded Tremere puppets. Leick's moderate Presence couldn't overcome that authority. If he had someone with strong Domination powers... There must be another way, Leick mused. I must find out whether I am the hunted. But there was another problem. The Treagard Theater had been destroyed a few days ago. And not just destroyed, de-atomised. The bomber(s) had made sure there was nothing left of the building. Not even dust. The trouble was, Leick had a sneaking suspicion who the culprit was. Was there anyone else in the city who would do such a thing? Granted, there was a small anarch population, but they would not go this far, Leick did not think. Humans then, Kine? What reason would they have? And could they evade the police like this? He didn't know, but the Brujah doubted Kine responsibility. No, it was a Kindred, a Cainite, and it smelled a little too much like Fredrick Frost. There was not a sane bone in that Ventrue/Caitiff's body. He had Become with no powers, and Leick thought that might just have driven the poor boy mad. But he was not to be pitied. The man knew what he was doing, and didn't care. All of his actions have been destructive - ever since his Presenting to Laplace. And for some reason, the Prince has so far not seen fit to call a Blood Hunt and order Frost's Final Death. Well, if the Prince wouldn't order it, maybe Leick would - privately of course, on the QT. Maybe an Assemite... But that was in the future. There were many problems assailing Rutger Leick, the Brujah Primogen, right now. And he wasn't entirely sure what to do anout them. - End of post. Rutger Leick, Brujah Primogen. The "nuns" were more feisty than Lilith had imagined. The stronger five immediately turned on the weaker of the six and tore her to shreds. Once done, they fed on the festering body of the driver, draining the corpse of remaining blood. With her new family at her side, Lilith lifted off the manhole cover and entered the city sewers. The police and ambulance crews were shortly on the scene with KBC news reporters right on their heels. The first step had been taken. By her calculations, she should have a large enough fighting force by the end of the week. Then, she will show the world the true meaning of carnage and suffering. Lilith chuckled as she wondered what they will show on the news. - End of post. Lilith, Nosferatu. Rutger took the pocket watch from his suit jacket. Just after midnight - the guard will have just been changed. One more minute, he decided, then he was going in. Since yesterday when he heard the news, Leick's thoughts had been worrying him no end. Someone's found evidence of Diablerie. The Primogen shut his eyes. *I hope it's not me.* Earlier tonight (technically, he corrected himself, last night - it's a new day by now) he had been by Grogan's stronghold, where Trini Hiroshi said the Kindred corpse was being kept. Unfortunately Leick had recognised one of the guards - one with reasonable Auspex powers. Leick couldn't risk trying to use his Presence to get in with such strong Auspex present. No, he had resigned himself to waiting until the changing of the guard. And now it was time to try again. The big Brujah edged slowly round the corner. There were three guards here now, but different ones from before. Good. Two by the door, one on the roof. Leick knew two of them, but not the third. He hated random factors but would have to chance this one. He had to know if the corpse was one of his victims. If so, Leick figured flight from New Chelsea may be the only option. Leick took a deep breath (a pointless gesture) and stepped out into the open, mustering as much confidence and purpose as his Presence would allow. He marched forth, barely glancing at the guards as he approached. It seemed to be working. Good! "Halt!" the unrecognised Cainite guard said suddenly, blocking the entrance to the Tremere Primogen's stronghold with a thick arm. "Who are you?" Blast! Leick muttered to himself. Can't I get a break just once? "I am Primogen," Leick said boldly, staring intently at the Kindred before him. At times like these, Rutger almost wished he were Ventrue so he could make use of Domination. Almost... The guard looked warily back at Leick, but obviously the Brujah's Presence was authority enough to be let in, because Leick found himself with clear passage into the building. As soon as he got in the door, Leick relaxed his Presence. Using that much power can be a strain. *I'll have to feed tonight.* Purposefully, the Brujah sped down the corridor. He'd been in here once before, though at the time Marcus Grogan didn't own it. It had belonged to the previous Tremere Primogen, Amy Vargas. Not much had changed except for some paintings she had taken with her and a different carpet (well it had been a century or so). The store should be in the same place. When he got to the large, ornate door, Leick hesitated. These Tremere are strange things. Only they would take dead bodies (dried up of blood) and lock them up in their houses. But they did this (fairly) often - at least around here. Briefly, the Brujah wondered if they were studying something in them, perfecting some dark arts maybe, but shook the thought from his head. *Get back to the business at hand, Rutger.* Turning the brass knob, he swung the door open. Within the darkened store room behind the door were many wonderful things, but Leick's eyes fastened immediately on the object of his quest: a corpse, covered in a tattered green cloth. Hesitantly, he approached it. It was always odd, being near a dead Cainite. There was no smell of blood; any that was left dried up as time caught up with the dead body, withering it. Being next to one of these was one of a very few things that frightened Leick. It reminded him of how near death constantly was. Though they lived forever, Vampires were closer to death than any other beings on the planet. Trying his best not to think about it, Leick readied himself and whipped off the cloth. Underneath was what he had expected to see: a dried, withered corpse. But what was of more note was that it wasn't her. It wasn't Leick's victim. He sighed loudly, relieved. He had nothing (well, little) to worry about. He had just to make sure his Diablerie was not uncovered in the investigation. On reflection, that might be a little hard to do. To do that, he would have to keep silent the fact that Fredrick Frost killed the rest of his Brujah, otherwise they would investigate the disappearance of *all* of them. Maybe Frost wouldn't get his comeuppance after all. *We'll see about that.* But then, Leick heard voices down the hall, approaching here. Had he been discovered? No time to wait and find out. He glanced about the room, frantically. At the other end of the wall was a window, blocked up with concrete. It was the only way out. In order to reach it, Leick stood on top of a small chest that lay at the wall. He hoped he had enough blood in him to do this. He flexed his fingers and drove them into the concrete. Summoning his immense strength, the Brujah pushed the concrete away from the window, tearing small chunks of the wall with it. When it was far enough removed, he climbed up and squeezed through the small aperture, grazing his skin as he did so. He'd probably have to buy a new suit after this, too. Immediately on his arrival outside, the Primogen pushed the concrete back into place. Hopefully they wouldn't notice, at least right away. For now, Leick could make his escape. And feed. Now he was in urgent need of blood. A homeless man maybe, he mused as he wandered off down the dark street. Or a lonely, middle-aged woman... - End of post. Rutger Leick, Brujah Primogen. Nothing. Leick had been searching for hours and hadn't found a thing. It had been days since the Treagard Theater incident, and the constant action around it had dissipated. The Brujah Primogen had taken the opportunity to do some hunting. Naturally he found nothing. Honestly, Rutger didn't know what he had expected to find. The Kine police had searched the area fully and found nothing; how could he hope to do better? But still, he had to try. Something inside Leick told him that Fredrick Frost had blown up the theater, but there was no proof. If only he could find a shred of evidence, it would be enough to at least bring before the Council. A Blood Hunt was unlikely with little evidence, but maybe someone would start a full investigation. Maybe call in a Justicar... Unlikely, Leick checked his straying imagination. Just stick to the search. Not long before sunrise. Victoria was safe. She had gotten word to the Council by way of a Ventrue messenger from a town she was passing through. Apparently she had been warned of the attack, and just managed to get out in time. Pity, Leick mused, one less Ventrue wouldn't have been much to cry over. Funny that, he noted. I guess that's one thing Frost and I agree on. Of course (Leick looked around at the wreckage) I would never have gone this far. Open rebellion like this could easily get you killed. But that's never stopped him... Sighing, the Brujah realised the futility of his search and decided to give up - at least for tonight. He stretched, bones in his spine popping after their extended period of bending over. Time to go home and prepare for daylight. What was that? Leick started. There had been a sudden movement behind a nearby building: a quick, jerky movement. Someone hiding. But who? The big Cainite wandered over to the spot where he had seen the movement, but there was no-one there. Odd. Well, I've got a lot to think about, Rutger told himself. Tomorrow night I have to make some show of helping the hunt for the Diablerist, and I'm going to have to send some people out (Trini, I suppose) to tell me if that insolent Airegon is back in town yet. When she is, she'll have a lot to answer for. He looked up at the sky above. The eastern sky was already beginning to lighten. How time flies... The big man made the best use of his weak Celerity to make it home before the burning sunlight beat him there. - End of post. Rutger Leick, Brujah Primogen Frost stood in the shower. Three days since he'd left those wretched sewers and he still couldn't get the damn smell out of his hair. Leaving the sewers and stinking for days was always the worst part. Frost turned off the shower and stepped out. He dried himself off and pulled his clothes on. He was wearing green cargo pants and a gray sweat shirt. Frost picked up his sword which was lying on the bathroom counter. Rachelle was out hunting in the city. She had seen a Kindred embracing nuns a few nights ago. She had been on a quest to find their creator ever since. A perfect time for Frost to run his errand. An hour later. Frost stood across from the site, surveying his handy work. Frost thought he saw a form moving around in the rubble. He was still for a moment. The form started moving away from the heap of stones. It was Leick. He had been hoping to see the Primogen again. Frost hid, ducking into an alley. He didn't think Leick had seen him. Leick started to move off quickly. The Primogen was using his Celerity to make it home before dawn. Frost darted to his car. He wanted a word with the Primogen. Frost jumped in and quickly started it, pushing down on the accelerator firmly. He almost lost Leick a few times but always caught up with him. The Primogen had not yet noticed him. But he would. Leick reached his hideout about a half hour before dawn. The nights were getting much shorter these days. As Leick stepped out into the street, Frost slammed down on the gas. His car heaved forward quickly. Leick turned a moment too late to see the car. It smashed into him, hard. Leick was thrown onto the hood of the car. As Frost slammed on the brake, Leick's body went flying violently forwards. Frost leapt from the car drawing Masamune as he did. Leick was already propping himself up on his arm. The Primogen was obviously very strong. Frost put his sword to Leick's throat. "Hello Rutger." The look of shock on the Primogen's face was priceless. Frost pressed the sword deep into his throat being careful not to accidentally cut off Leick's head. "Surprise". Leick rose slowly to his feet with Frost's blade following him the entire way up. "You're mad!" gasped Leick. "You would assault me, a Primogen? I shall enjoy seeing you killed Frost." "Rutger! I'm hurt. I would think that you would be glad to see me." Frost smiled. "After all. I got rid of Treagard for you." Frost paused, grinning. "But of course you already knew that. However I come to you on somewhat more urgent business. I would advise you to listen this time. I would hate to see you lose another limb for me to have to make my point." Leick nodded his agreement. "A few nights ago an associate of mine saw a Nosferatu Sire a group of nuns; my associate has been hunting her since. Now I suggest you find her first Rutger. It might help to restore you to your former glory to find and destroy this disobedient one." "Why are you telling me this? What's in it for you?" Leick almost sneered. "I like being the only bad boy on the block. Find her Rutger, or I'll kill her myself; then you gain nothing." Frost pulled his sword away from Leick's neck and walked back to his car. He started it and quickly drove off. - End of Post. Fredrick Frost, Caitiff. Airegon was walking through the woods, thinking. She had been down in the sewers where she had learned Frost had been, and found out someone else had been there too. At one point, Airegon had heard voices (one of them Frost's) talking about the "Black Hand" - whatever that was. Another thing she had to ask him about when she actually managed to find him. In all the time she had spent in the sewers, she had never managed to actually locate the Caitiff - always managing to show up just after he and his partner had left the site. Then there was that thing with the nuns - good grief, what was happening to New Chelsea? Maybe, she thought, the next time Leick comes after me telling me that Laplace wants to talk to me I'll go. Then I could find out what is going on and take care of him once and for all in one step. Then, suddenly and without warning, Airegon was attacked from behind and left in the middle of the woods with most of her blood drained and barely alive. - End of post. Airegon, Brujah. The moon peeked between the branches of the budding trees. It was full tonight, a healthy fullness that boasted life. On nights like these Leick was repulsed by the Earth's only natural satellite - it was too much like the sun. It had been years since Leick had seen the real sun (though he had, of course, seen many pictures and seen it on tv often) and he didn't miss it. He'd heard of Kindred longing for the caress of the deadly rays on their skin, but felt loathing toward those kind of people. Those were Kindred clinging to their distant past - their humanity. Briefly Leick wondered at the fact that, now, humans themselves were realising the deadly potential of sunlight. It was a kind of poetic justice, Leick decided, that man's most potent tool against the Kindred would turn against them. The downside was that some Cainite purists felt it began to blur the line between the two races a little too much. These Kindred were researching ways to protect humanity from the sunlight. Waste of time, Leick snorted. Tearing his eyes away from the moon, his mind went with them, focusing on the task at hand. At long last Rutger's Ghoul, Trini Hiroshi, had spotted Airegon the anarchic Brujah. According to Trini, the Childe had been heading in the direction of these woods. If it was true, and Leick caught up with her, there'd be hell to pay. The silence of Leick's thoughts was cut short by a sharp scream, which was truncated abruptly. The Primogen wavered in his step. Should he follow the sound? Few Kine were about tonight, and the chances that the scream was Kindred were fairly high. On the other hand, it may not be his concern and he did have to find Airegon. Eventually, Leick's curiosity (if not his conscience) won the day and he left his place running, to follow the scream. Which way? he asked himself. It sounded like this general direction, but how can I be sure? Take a guess, Rutger. Closing his eyes, trying his best to see with whatever sixth sense a Vampire might have within him, the Primogen felt a slight inclination in the direction to his left. He shook his head, wondering why he would trust to this intuition, but followed his instinct nonetheless. As he ran, a smell began to come to his nose; a smell he'd recognise anywhere. Blood. But as he drew nearer to the source, he realised that this was not human blood he smelled. No, it was Kindred. The very stuff that right now seeped throughout Leick's body in a gentle flow, disregarding veins and arteries and penetrating the very flesh and bones that made up his figure. Another victim of the Diablerist, Leick realised - just as he came upon the body. It was Airegon. Leick felt like roaring; the Beast within him scratched at the surface as it felt its chance to escape. The anger that filled Leick was the kind of rage that only Kindred can feel. The last of Leick's Brujah lay dying at his feet. At times, Leick himself had felt like doing just this, but if anyone had the right to do it, it was the Primogen. No-one else could get away with such a thing. They must be stopped, punished! Now Leick was left with no followers, and with the sudden influx of Kindred into the city he would not be permitted to Embrace more into his fold. Bit by bit, the Primogen's power was being taken from him. It must be put to an end! But the first order of business was what to do with Airegon. The lifeblood still flowed softly through her flesh. The Diablerist had left her with just enough to be aware of her predicament, but not enough to be able to do a thing about it. If it lasted till sunrise, she would meet her Final Death at the hands of Apollo, but Leick didn't think the small amount of blood here would last that long. What to do? There was always the chance that his blood could keep her alive. But in this state, the amount of blood required to keep her alive would probably kill Leick. Could he take that chance? No, unthinkable! Come up with another option, Rutger... A hospital was out of the question. Kine would be unable to save her, and the Masquerade would be compromised. No, a hospital wouldn't do. Surely someone had prepared for such an eventuality? Granted, Diablerie was uncommon, but not unheard of. Leick was appalled that no Kindred had thought of providing a means for dealing with such a case. A kind of hospital, which stored Kindred blood... Stored blood! Of course! Leick grinned at his fortune. This wood was the very one which housed the secret lair of Karenthuras, the Tremere. If he could get Airegon there, he could save her. Reports claim that he has entire halls filled with the blood of centuries worth of Kindred (though Leick guessed these claims were quite exaggerated). Opening his left wrist with his extended canines, Leick dropped a few drops of precious blood into Airegon's mouth. She groaned slightly. Good, her energy was (slightly) restored. Leick didn't want to waste any more blood, so he licked the wound clean, healing it over as he did so. Then, putting his good arm underneath her, Rutger Leick hoisted his underling over his left shoulder, steadying her with the stump of his right wrist. For a mortal, this fourteen-year-old would have seemed quite heavy (her body was large, and muscled) but Leick's Potence made her seem lighter than a wicker basket. Making sure she was secure, he ran off toward the site of Karenthuras' underground Haven. "Karenthuras!" Leick yelled at the top of his voice. "Karenthuras, show yourself!" He stood at the very spot where once the Tremere Elder had let him in. Now, however, there was no response. No! He needed Karl's help! His task was interrupted by the stray thought that he was, in fact, helping Grogan in the quest to find the Diablerist by this action. Not only would this aid his enemies, but it might expose him as a Diablerist himself. Forget it! Leick shook his head. The chances of that were slim, and he needed Airegon. He needed Brujah of any kind. Still there was no sign of Karenthuras. Leick scanned the surrounding trees for the tell-tale red eyes of Karl's demons. He saw none. "Karl!" Leick yelled again. "I have a wounded, dying!, Cainite here. Would you abandon such a one?" Still no response. Then, a slight creaking sound, and a rock lifted up, revealing a trap door beneath it. Leick started. He was sure it had not been over there last time... No matter. There is business at hand. "What do you want me to do?" Karl asked from beneath it, gruffly. Leick lowered the bulky figure of Airegon gently onto the ground. "She needs help," the Primogen explained. "Her blood is almost gone. She needs a transfusion." "Why come to me?" Karl asked. "You have blood." "So do you," Karl pointed out. Leick growled slightly. "You have more. She needs your help. Are you refusing?" "Why do you want this?" the Tremere evaded the question with one of his own. "What is so important?" Not wanting to explain his motivations to one who had no right to know (and Leick realised he wasn't one hundred percent sure of his intentions himself), the Brujah merely said, "Your Primogen, Marcus Grogan, is investigating a Diablerist. Airegon is a victim of that same attacker. Help your Clansman take this criminal to justice." As the moon became shrouded in a curtain of dark clouds, Karenthuras' face was unreadable, and Rutger Leick pondered the fate of the last of the Brujah in New Chelsea. - End of post. Rutger Leick, Brujah Primogen. Frost sat in his manor contemplating the future. The events that had passed had filled him with a feeling of utter hopelessness. He was not sure whether he had fulfilled his destiny or not, but he felt cold inside. The purpose he once had seemed gone. He continued to show great bravado on the exterior, but inside himself a battle raged. A battle that would ultimately decide the fate of his soul. He was not sure what the sides in this war were, but he was sure that they could only lead to death. Perhaps this was the darkness inside himself that he had been told to face, the one from which the evil that plagued New Chelsea stemmed. Hard to say. One thing however was for certain: this darkness he must face utterly alone. There was a knocking at the door of the manor. Rachelle answered it. He heard the mumbling at the door and ignored it. A moment later Rachelle came in holding a piece of paper. "Fred," she said, staring at the paper, "somebody called Jonas Makam sent you a telegram from Los Angeles." Frost got up swiftly. He had not heard from Makam in years, not since they had both been in New York. Why would he send him a telegram now? Frost slowly popped the telegram apart. Inside there were only two words: 'She's here'. Frost stood amazed for a moment. "Frost who is 'she'?" Frost moved towards the room where his things were stored. "I have to go Rachelle," he said almost blankly, as if he were lost in his thoughts. "Go? Where?" Rachelle's face was blanketed with obvious shock. "Frost who is she?" "My wife." Frost threw things into a duffel bag. He reached for his sword. As he touched it he felt a sensation pass through his body and a word pass through his mind: 'ALONE' it said. He picked the sword up slowly and, looking at the blade, he passed it to Rachelle. "I need you to stay here. I have to go alone." He handed her Masamune. "Take care of her for me Rachelle." Rachelle was in utter shock but she seemed to understand. He began to make his way out of the manor "Frost!" She had a second sword in her hand. "I know you don't want Masamune right now. So please take this." She threw Frost her broad sword. Frost was good with any blade and could probably defeat any Kindred even without the mystical aid given by the enchanted blade. Frost nodded and turned slowly. He paused at the door for a moment but did not look back. This might be the last time he ever saw Rachelle. Then he walked out the door. Frost disappeared into the rising mist that night. No one knew exactly why he was going. Only two knew where. Whether he survived or not was questionable. But he knew his legend would endure. If not by fear of his return then in the blood of those he had slain and those who knew them. - End of post. Fredrick Frost, Caitiff. Large drops of rain broke on the top of Rutger Leick's head, and he felt the water running through his short hair. A drop splashed on his forehead, trickling down and off the tip of his nose. The shower had come on very suddenly, and he was caught in it. He hated the rain, but needed to get home. There was still an hour or more before sunrise, but he had had too many close calls recently. The Brujah was going to make it to his Haven on time for once. The old suit he wore quickly began to soak through. He had not worn a coat tonight, for it had been quite warm earlier (still was, actually). The thick material became slick, and began to cling to his skin, unpleasantly. It was supposed to be dry clean only, but the old thing needed thrown out anyway - it was the same one he had torn while investigating Grogan's corpse. He really would have to buy a new suit sometime soon. As the rain got heavier and heavier, the Primogen got more and more annoyed at it, and eventually was forced into an alley to seek shelter. This had better slacken off soon, Leick thought to himself, because I have to get home. Because of his preoccupation with the annoying downpour, Rutger didn't notice the corpse at first. Not until he almost tripped over it backing up. He spun round and looked down at the body. He recognised it - one of the Tremere guards from Grogan's Haven. Obviously he was off-duty now, but what had happened to him? There was no sign of blood anywhere, so it must have been drained. The Diablerist! He had been here and killed again - two attacks in one night! Leick's mind flitted back a few hours to the scene earlier tonight. Airegon, half-dead on the forest floor. He had dropped her off at the only place he could think of - Karenthuras the Tremere's underground Haven. If anyone could save her... But the old Inconnu had been quite unimpressed with the situation; though he had taken her, he hadn't given Leick much indication of what he would do, if anything. Leick just hoped she survived - she was the last Brujah in the city (other than the Primogen). But this one was all drained - there was no sign of movement in the corpse at the Brujah's feet. Suddenly, time caught up with the Kindred, and the body decayed to a leathered skeleton. How quick it occurred... If he died only now, Leick realised suddenly, the Diablerist must still be nearby! This could only have happened a couple of minutes ago! As if on cue, a dark figure stepped into the entrance of the alley, cast in silhouette by a flickering streetlight just outside it. Leick's head jerked up to see the figure, and as the other stepped forward, the Brujah gasped. It was Laplace! The Prince moved slowly out of the shadows, twirling a rose in his hands idly. He was still dressed fully in his Renaissance French attire, lightly soaked from the rain. His dark hair fell about eyes with no trace of sanity left in them. Alexander Laplace edged closer to his Primogen, and Rutger couldn't help but exclaim: "You!" Laplace smiled. "Of course. Who else would dare in my city?" "But why?" Leick asked, incredulous. "These are your own people!" "I became bored," the Prince sighed. "The mortals you bring me become tedious, and exploring the ways of the Karoush wears thin pretty quickly. I've dabbled in Diablerie from time to time, and the urge hit me again. It seems to have worked itself out of my system though." He yawned. "I think I'll go back to bed." "Don't you know the whole city is looking for you?" Leick enquired. "Grogan wants to call a Blood Hunt on the Diablerist!" "I am the only one who can call the Lextalionis!" Laplace snarled, his eyes flaring with anger. "And I alone have the right to take the life from my people. Remember your Traditions, Rutger: 'The right of destruction belongeth only to thine Elder.' I am well within my rights to commit these acts. Grogan will respect that, or die." As Leick looked at the madness in Laplace's eyes, he knew that the Prince actually believed what he was saying. He prudently decided it was better not to argue with him when he was like this, and bowed his head in aquiescence. "Now," said the Prince, satisfied, "will you accompany me to my Complex?" "Of course, my Lord," said Leick, and the two wandered off in the heavy rain. Well, the mystery had been solved, but somehow the resolution bothered Leick more than the mystery ever had. It was a harsh and unpleasant reminder of just what Alexander Laplace could do. The Brujah would have to watch his Elder more carefully: he was a dangerous man, a very dangerous man indeed. And the rain battered down around the tired and frightened Brujah Primogen. - End of post. Rutger Leick, Brujah Primogen.