Marcus Grogan watched Alain Roche, the Samuria wannabe, come into 
the hall. He noted the gentle, feline stride of the Cainite; his 
body was almost too slender, but all the movements he observed 
screamed 'Killer'. What he found was more disconcering was 
information about Alain Roche's history in Japan. If Grogan's 
information was correct, he was also one hell of a mystic. If Marcus 
had been human, he would have broken out in a cold sweat. He simply 
feared.

For a mere moment Marcus looked into his eyes. Shielded. No 
information there. Slowly, Alain had advanced and then offered his 
life to him on a plate. It had been so tempting. This man of honor 
was a thorn, a person bound by duty, oaths, and incorruptable, which 
made him difficult to control. What also disturbed him was the 
feeling that Alain recognised his torment, showing compassion - a 
rare attribute for one so long dead.

Still, he accepted service - the only alternative would have been to 
reject his service. He did not want to bet his existence on that 
outcome. If Grogan had been braver, he would have killed Roche, in 
fact he should have! He was sure that the being before him would 
have killed, despite any fear of Laplace. He would have done it 
because his duty would have told him so - blind duty.

Then he noted the obvious; Alain was not a Japanese wannabe, but was 
in his very essence Japanese. The Primogen had heard stories of 
males being born into female bodies, and vice-versa. Alain had been 
born into the wrong culture.

He asked Alain not to attend the Prince in any way. He might be too 
useful for Laplace. Marcus already hated the way that Alain (sorry, 
Ryu) had forced him into action. He would have to behave more like a 
Clan leader, otherwise Ryu might do what he would feel honor bound 
to do.....

Alain expressed a subtle interest in the Tremere Rand Windrunner. 
Grogan feared that if they became good friends, Alain might place 
Rand on the Tremere throne. It seemed obvious to him that Ryu felt 
that he himself did not have the charisma to serve, or lead, save by 
example, but he knew he did have the one quality to be, as they used 
to say, "A King Maker".

Marcus exchanged politeness, accepted the offering of a bodyguard: 
newly converted, Ryu's mate Sekuyu. He hoped that he could keep 
Roche on a tight leash, but somehow he did not think so...


              - End of Post.
                Marcus Grogan,
                Tremere.
                Posted by Alain Roche.







Alain left the Tremere Primogen with more worries than he had 
before. Marcus Grogan was so obviously weakened. His eyes had shown 
his emotions - more of a worry was the ease at which Alain had been 
able to pick up Grogan's thoughts. Next time he would probe his mind 
deeper. The whole Tremere clan was rudderless, a ship ready to be 
dashed upon the rocks. He knew that Grogan hated him - all for the 
wrong reasons. Could not Grogan see what he was doing to the clan?

Arriving home did not help matters; normally once in the garden, his 
cares would to some extent be contained, but not this night. First 
things first: he would contact Rand Windrunner and Karenthuras. See 
what both of them thought, what they wanted, what they needed.

Karenthurus was a proud member of their clan. Maybe he could be the 
next Primogen? Alain would have to meet with him. Maybe, if he was 
the one, Alain would do all in his might to get him on the Primogen 
throne - if Grogan did not back up his ideas. Whether he liked 
Karenthuras or not was not of issue. It was whether he would be good 
for the clan.

Did not the Tremere Primogen realize what Alain was capable of? Was 
not what happened to the Primogen Lord in Osaka enough? He was now 
exiled, more out of convenience rather than fact, but at least the 
clan was strong. Of course any changes he would make would not be 
blessed by the other Primogen; it was to their benefit if one of the 
Primogen was weak, offering no resistance or guidance, allowing them 
to gather the strength to themselves.

Alain nodded. No! Things were not at all good. He would try and 
force Grogan to take the helm, but if he did not than his duty 
required him to restore the power. Even the English aristocrats knew 
the dynamics of power, something Grogan was forgetting in his 
emotional state. Alain sighed, it had been like dealing with a 
child, a very dangerous one at that..

Quickly he penned three letters; one to Karenthuras, one to Rand 
Windrunner, and one of introduction to the Prince Laplace. He gave 
the first two to be delivered before the night had ended. They asked 
Karenthuras and Rand to meet him at the new Shinto temple. The third 
letter he held in his hand as he made his way through the city, to 
the Prince, to present himself - after all, Grogan did not order him 
not to do so, but merely suggested not to, all for the wrong reasons 
out of fear.

He needed a Lord to serve, not a Childe. Grogan had been such a
disappointment....


               - End of Post.
                 Alain Roche,
                 Tremere.






Airegon stared at the walls around her, and then at the heavy wooden 
door. She had been moved from the mansion to... well actually she 
didn't know where she was. She had been sleeping so much lately (not 
that there was anything else for her to do). Sleeping, yes, but it 
was a fitful sleep, full of nightmares and hate, fear, desperation - 
but most of all loneliness. The fear and loneliness stayed with her 
even when she was awake.

She knew someone had made a mistake somewhere; her whole life was a 
mistake. As tears of blood began to trickle down her cheeks, bumping 
gently over her lips, Airegon wondered if anywhere there was anyone 
in the world who would ever love her. She knew now she was capable 
of love; she had loved before. She loved her mother, her father, her 
brother, and she loved Frost still. The love she felt for Frost was 
different than the love she had felt for her family, and it left her 
confused, lost and empty because she knew he didn't feel the same 
way.

Deciding she had had enough, Airegon headed towards the door only to 
find it locked. Being as upset as she was, Airegon used all her 
stength to try and get the door open. Failing miserably, Airegon 
collapsed in sobs that wracked her whole body.

She was still crying as the door opened and Miguel stepped into the 
room towards her.

"Now it's payback time, princess!" he growled

Screaming, Airegon scrambled to her feet looking for the quickest 
way to escape.

"Oh come on babe, I know you still love me."

"I never loved you! You know that, please get away from me," cried 
Airegon as she tripped over a low wooden table on the floor, badly 
twisting her ankle. Crawling to the only place she could think of - 
under the bed - Airegon screamed again as it was thrown out from 
above her.

Miguel cried out for forgiveness as he raised a sword, preparing to 
slice off her head.


         - End of Post.
           Airegon,
           Brujah.






As Tempest walked slowly down the alley, a scream shattered the icy 
silence. He ran towards the sound as fast as he could. When he 
turned the corner he was confronted with a grim looking scene. Four 
men standing over the body of a crumpled man. Tempest sensed that 
the victim was a vampire so he strode towards the first thug he saw.

"What the hell do you think your doing?" the tough grunted.

"Whatever I want," Tempest snarled, and grabbed the man's neck. It 
crumpled in his hands and he dropped him to the hard ground. The man 
choked slowly on his own windpipe, then started to cough blood. The 
other three men charged Tempest.

Tempest's sword appeared and he impaled one attacker, then slashed 
through his side, hitting one of the other men. The other two 
turned, their faces white with fear, and charged. Tempest slashed 
six times and the men were dead and fell limp to the ground.

Tempest surveyed the scene. The walls were covered in blood and his 
clothing was dripping with the salty red liquid. He looked over to 
the crumpled man and grabbed the collar of one of the dead men, 
dragging him over to the vampire. Tempest then took hold of the 
other vampire's head, opened its mouth, and put it into the deep 
wound of his victim. The vampire slowly drank.

When he eventually stood up, Tempest started to talk. "What is your 
name?"

"Rastlin," the other replied. "Thank you for saving me. What's your 
name?"

"Tempest." Tempest looked over Rastlin and immediately knew they 
were of the same clan. "What are you doing here, Rastlin?"

"Looking for someone."

"Who?"

He smiled. "You, Tempest."

"What?" Tempest almost shouted.

"Yes, and my master would be pleased if you would meet him."

"I would be interested to meet your master," Tempest said softly. 
And together they walked slowly into the vast blackness


              - End of Post.
                Tempest,
                Gangrel.






   Sheilina gently took the little girl's hand. Soon she would have 
a daughter. Not a real daughter, she could never have a real 
daughter again, but this girl would be as close to a real daughter 
as she could be.

   When she had finally gotten a chance to talk to Laplace he 
basically dismissed her and let her go without a word - only a wave 
of his hand. He looked tired and she was glad she hadn't been in the 
mood to do any arguing, and besides, she was hungry.

   But now she must think about the present and her soon-to-be 
daughter. Also she must find a spot of shelter before the sun 
rose...

   *****THE NEXT NIGHT*****

   Tonight she would begin training her daughter, Gina. It would be 
a long night, she had warned. She must be taught of her powers and 
learn how to use them. She must be taught to hunt and to fight. But 
most importantly, she must learn to distinguish between good and 
evil. That would take the longest. It had taken Sheilina much too 
long to learn this; by the time she had it had almost been too late.

   And so Gina's training began


              - End of Post.
                Sheilina,
                Caitiff.






Alain Roche walked along the many-pillared hall of stone towards the 
Prince Laplace. His heart beat furiously. Before him stood one whose 
power was great, whose mind was shielded. A true leader. The hidden 
runes of power on Alain's clothes began to glow and Laplace seemed 
to smile, just for a mere instant. Alain felt that he had met 
someone special.

Slowly he advanced, carefully. In his hand he held his papers of 
declaration. No one else was in the room. The Prince had given him 
honor indeed! Handing over his papers, Laplace bowed - the perfect 
gesture. The bow acknowledge the status of Alain among his own kind, 
but saying, "Here I am still your Prince."

Alain's nerves calmed. Death or life was not an issue here. He 
realized that fear had been dissipated simply because Laplace knew 
that Alain would kill himself before he would ever touch a hair of 
the Prince. For the first time, Alain questioned whether if Laplace 
ordered him to kill his Primogen (or any other for that matter) that 
he just might.

Laplace gestured Alain to sit, with a gentleness of voice. In the 
old style of Japanese greeting, he welcomed Ryu Kassiguru to the 
fold. It was as though Alain was being played like an instrument. 
The Prince knew what type of being Alain was, how to control him, 
how to ensure loyalty. They spoke for a while. Alain expressed his 
thoughts about his own Tremere Lord, his fears for the strength of 
all the Kindred. The Prince listened. Alain told him about the plans 
for the Japanese quarter, the raids on the night-clubs.

Laplace honored Alain further by asking about his Katakana. Alain 
explained that it would not be able to be yielded by anyone as it 
contained Nikko's soul. A wound given by the blade could not heal. 
Alain talked about his past, how he had made his way to Japan, how 
he had survived through the years....

Laplace had simply listened.

Then came Alain's orders. He needed only to be told once. He would 
carry them out to the word, or at least perish trying. At last he 
had direction......


              - End of Post.
                Alain Roche,
                Tremere.






After the meeting with Laplace, Alain Roche waited for Sekuyu's 
return. Her face said it all. She had spent the whole time with 
Marcus Grogan. She smiled at Alain, then when asked about Grogan, 
her face said it all. She spat on the floor, "How can you serve such 
as he?"

Alain shrugged. "Simple, because he is my Lord."

Sekuyu let out an exasperated cry, "By the souls of our ancestors, 
he is not worthy! Why not rise, take command and become Primogen?"

By the flaring in Alain's eyes, she knew that she had overstepped 
the mark. Had she not been Alain's concubine he would have killed 
her on the spot for such a disregard of honor. Instead Alain stared 
at her, his eyes boring into her. Then they glowed, witch green. His 
hands, too, began to glow. The clay goblet he was holding started to 
melt. Then the fire died in Alain's eyes. It had been too close a 
call.

Alain turned, looking away to the south. "Sekuyu, Marcus Grogan is 
my Lord. I have no right to ever make a claim to the throne. All 
that is within my code of honor can be phrased by the following: my 
life is my honor, my honor is the strength of the Tremere, the clan 
is lead by the Primogen." Alain paused, then, "I will never ask for 
leadership; only the Prince can confer it upon me or ask me to make 
a claim. I would never do such, unless those within the clan would 
ask me. All that I can do is strengthen the clan, thereby 
strengthening the other clans and thereby empowering the Prince. 
Marcus has accepted me... and you! Remember that! If Marcus weakens 
the clan, then my honor gives me two options. The first is to try 
and force him to do that which he must. If he does not, then I must 
find one to replace him."

A stilted silence settled. Sekuyu still felt fearful, then Alain 
smiled, a smile of forgiveness. "My gentle Sekuyu, do not worry. 
Nothing bad ever comes out of being of honor or without 
consideration of one's Kindred. The others within the Tremere 
hopefully will one day understand that if we strengthen the clan and 
loyalty, to the extent that if one threatens a Tremere, they declare 
war on all of us, we become powerful and free. I hope that Rand and 
Karenthuras see it similarly; by serving each other we set ourselves 
free. In that way we also can protect the other clans and ultimately 
the Prince. Remember Sekuyu, we were taken up by the other clans a 
long, long time ago for a reason."

Then Alain's mind turned to the night-clubs in city and the way some 
had been threatened. So long as those in the Japanese quarter were 
left alone all would be well. Should this not be the case, then 
Alain knew that he would deliver the culprit and his master on a 
platter to Prince Laplace. Alain had now a small well trained army 
capable of ripping the heart of any, live or undead. He knew his 
duty, and to a certain extent knew where his loyalties lay.


                - End of Post.
                  Alain Roche,
                  Tremere.






The Vampire Club owner impatiently strummed his fingers on his desk. 
Why must sending files over the computer take so long? Vincent sat 
back in contemplation, watching the computer screen. Probably 
something I should have done before I hired that maniac, he mused. 
His contacts in California were sending some information, some 
background if you will, on Shadow.

"Finally!" he practically growled when the file was finished. With a 
few clicks, Vincent brought the file up. His eyes went wide as he 
scanned through the contents of the file. Not good. Not good at all. 
It seemed that the Californian was very... prolific. The list of 
deaths he had caused, as well as a few newspaper articles and TV 
clips, worried Vincent. True, he was a professional, but it seemed 
he had a penchant for causing the maximum amount of damage to his 
targets. Vincent continued to scan, with his eyes growing more and 
more uneasy. His face lit up on seeing one certain name as well as 
what was writen under it.

Oh, the prince will love this, he grinned. Seems Shadow has no 
qualms about working with anyone. Including people that the Prince 
will find most interesting. A few Sabbat as well as someone that, 
from the stories Vincent had heard, the Prince knew and hated. Oh, 
this was too good.

Vincent began making preparations to forward the file to the Prince. 
Oh this will work out soooo well.





Shadow roamed through the sewers, the stench filling his nostrils. 
This is the most repulsive city I've ever been in, he thought. Even 
the sewers were worse than anywhere else.

The Caitiff tracked his weapon and his gaze throughout the 
encompassing darkness. That damn sewer rat had to be here somewhere. 
Last night he watched him again. Time to take care of the nosy 
little bugger.

"Come out little rat!" he growled into the darkness. "Come and get 
another taste of phosphorus-tipped bullets. The taste you got the 
other night was just an appetizer!" A slight noise behind him 
entered his ears. Shadow tensed his muscles. He grinned sadistically 
and spun on his heel. Flames and phosphorus bullets spat from his 
pistol, illuminating the darkness. There was a scramble of movement 
away from the big Cainite. Shadow held his fire and listened 
closely.

"Oh no. You're not gonna get away that easily." The Caitiff slipped 
his pistol into his jacket and replaced it with a short-barreled 
drum-fed shotgun. "Come on ratboy, get a taste of dragonsbreath." 
Shadow clicked off the safety and strode confidently towards the 
movement.


               - End of Post.
                 Shadow,
                 Caitiff.






Xero sat outside a small park thinking to himself. He was glad he 
was finally able to rest. The Caitiff had been on the run for 
centuries from an unknown person. He knew he couldn't stay in the 
city forever, but also knew that he would be safe for a little 
while... At least he hoped.

"I thought I smelled something funny," came a new voice.

"What the hell! Beo! Is that you?" replied Xero. "How can it be? You 
were killed!"

"I'm what happens when vampires get gutless and say they'd rather 
make a monster then let a dog die," the mutt seemed to grin.

"I can't believe you're back!" Xero hugged the dog. "Beo, I've 
missed you so much boy! So after I was given the dark gift and you 
were slashed, the vampire didn't leave? He gave you the dark gift?"

Beo came as close to shrugging as a canine could. "I guess so, and 
don't call me boy. I'm 4305 years old in dog years. Some rabbi said 
I'm a ghoul and that's why I'm craving blood. I heard he came here 
and, since I didn't have anything to do, I came here."

"Where have you been all these years?" asked Xero.

"I awoke a few days later and my fangs were huge!" the dog 
responded. "I wandered around Russia and Siberia for a long time, 
then I heard of this place and figured I've looked all over this 
side of the world, might as well look for you at the other side and 
here we are today. That and I traveled all around as a stray dog 
feeding on what I can. I've found that the rock culture seems to 
accept me so I've been hanging around metalheads lately. Wadda bout 
you? Looks like you've been through a lotta hell in the past few 
hundred years."

"Well, not much. I've just been running away from 'him' mostly in 
Europe," said Xero. "I'm starving. Waddya say we go get a bite to 
eat?"

"Sounds good to me!"

Xero and Beo walked away from the park, finally joined again after 
615 years.

               - End of Post.
                 Xero,
                 Caitiff.






Frost walked along the street. He had a newspaper in his jacket 
pocket. The top of the newspaper was showing, revealing the headline 
"26 killed in club bombing". Frost could tell just from the details 
of the story that it was not the elusive Nosferatu he was supposed 
to be hunting, but any massacre in the city revealed some new player 
in the game and Frost needed to know what to expect from his 
opponents. Vampiric involvement was clear due to the details of the 
crime; no human could have performed the physical feats needed to 
destroy the club and escape before the police arrived. It wasn't the 
mutant Nosferatu, which lead to the inevitable question: who else 
would destroy the club, and why?

  Frost sighed. He had been unable to find the Nosferatu. It seemed 
she and her Progeny had vanished off the face of the Earth. They 
were laying low for the moment, not that he was surprised. With all 
the trouble she had caused she probably left the city already. It 
made sense. As Frost rounded the corner he saw what remained of the 
club in the middle of the block. The north wall had completely 
collapsed and it had brought the east wall with it. The rest of the 
structure was intact. Rather it was standing.

  "Damn," he muttered to himself. "The guy who did this was really 
stupid." As he finished, he felt a Kindred presence behind him. He 
looked back quickly and saw that it was Rachelle rounding the corner 
on the other side of the street.

  "I had a feeling you'd come here," she yelled at him while she 
crossed. "Cochrane's been looking for you. He says he has another 
assignment for you."

  "What the hell am I, his errand boy?" Frost said coldly. "I'm busy 
right now."

  "This bombing worrying you Frost? It's not the mutant you know,  
this isn't her style," Rachelle responded just as coldly.

  "That's exactly what worries me. This wasn't planned, it was just 
done."  Rachelle could hear concern growing in his voice. "It's a 
piss poor job too. Whoever did this is a real idiot. It stinks of 
anarchs. So now the Primogen are gonna be looking up all the anarchs 
in the city, seeing who's the most likely to do something like this. 
I'm kinda at the top of that list."

  "You're worried that they'll find out you're involved with the 
Sabbat?"


  Frost nodded. "This guy's obviously too damn stupid to be any 
direct threat to me, but his actions are going to cause me 
problems."

  "You should come back to the mansion and lay low a couple of days. 
Till all this blows over," Rachelle advised calmly. Frost nodded 
again.

  The two walked side by side back to Frost's car.

               - End of Post.
                 Fredrick Frost,
                 Caitiff.