High up, deep within the towering Bezoar complex, Rutger Leick sat 
with the rest of the Primogen council. It was a standard gathering, no 
urgent business to discuss, just a time for all Primogen to report to 
one another and to the Prince.
    Yes, Laplace was here. He didn't always show up to these things. 
Half the years Leick had been here, the Toreador had stayed in his room 
for this, the first meeting of the year. But today he sat in his ornate 
chair at the head of the table, dozing off. Mostly the rest of the 
Primogen ignored him, sending occasional glances his way to make sure he 
wouldn't feel left out. Leick didn't think he was even listening to them 
at all.
    The Brujah stared round at the rest of the gathered Elders. The 
immaculate Dia Knight, the Malkavian Primogen, was busy 'reporting' the 
state of her Haven, complaining about the bother she'd had from certain 
Gangrel anarchs disturbing her rest. No-one pays serious attention to 
the Malkavian.
    Lucien duCharne was quiet, as usual. He spoke occasionally at these 
meetings, but when he did his voice was soft and you sometimes had to 
strain to make out his words. Of course, Leick knew that beneath that 
still exterior was a beast scratching to escape, if he would only be 
given half a chance. Leick knew better than to give it even the inkling 
of a chance, and stayed well away from the Gangrel whenever possible.
    Sitting in a lump to Leick's left was the supremely ugly Jack Lewis. 
Not that he was uglier than most Nosferatu, but that clan's members were 
always hard to look at. The Brujah Primogen had to suppress a gag every 
time the Nosferatu walked by.
    Nothing could be more opposite to that than the lovely Iliana, who 
sat to Leick's right. She sat proud and tall, listening with disdain to 
Knight's ramblings. The Ventrue Primogen was beautiful, but far too 
high-class for her own good. The Ventrue are all snobs, of course, but 
Iliana took it too far.
    The only other Primogen in the room was the enigmatic Marcus Grogan, 
the Tremere. That one Leick still hadn't worked out. He rarely said a 
word, though his eyes showed that he was clearly paying more attention 
than anyone else. A great intellect sat behind those eyes, Leick 
guessed. And possibly a dangerous one. Someone you want on your side, 
and certainly not in opposition.
    And then the Brujah realized the Malkavian had finished speaking, 
and all eyes were on him. He cleared his throat, and began to speak.
  
    "As most of you know," he began in his deep voice, "there has been a 
decline in the Kindred population of late - especially my Brujah." He 
didn't mention any names. Frost had already been ignored for attacking 
Laplace - blaming him for this would probably just draw the Prince's 
wrath on Leick himself. Besides, all the others knew who was 
responsible. Him and that girl who was killing Kindred around the city. 
She would have to be dealt with too.
    "Obviously others nearby have noticed this," Leick continued, "and 
have decided to fill the gap." This annoyed Leick, as none of the 
newcomers to the city were Brujah - he was left almost without any clan 
at all. "We have received several new arrivals, most of whom have 
already presented themselves to the Prince, and we expect the rest 
shortly." The council members nodded. They already knew all this. He was 
just obeying formalities.
    "Is that all?" the Prince muttered, drowsily. The Primogen all 
looked at him in surprise - they thought he was asleep - but nodded in 
reply. "Then you may all go," he said, and they began to file out. 
"Except Leick."
    That startled the Brujah, and he approached the Prince warily. When 
the last of the Primogen had left the chamber, Laplace sat up straight, 
shaking himself out of his slumber.
    "Leick," he muttered. "Your Brujah are almost all gone."
    "That is correct, Sire," Leick replied, head down.
    "Who do you think is responsible?"
    The Brujah paused to think of his response. Should he point the 
finger at Frost, the out-of-control Caitiff? To do so might invite 
investigation into Leick's own activities with the Crystal of Darkness, 
and he certainly didn't want to do this. He could blame the girl, the 
Kindred-killer, but it would be too easy to prove she didn't kill them 
all. Instead, Leick replied: "There were many factors involved as-"
    "It was you!" Laplace interrupted, jerking upright suddenly, his 
eyes staring wide. "Your fault they are dead!"
    What was this? Did he know? Was the old fool more aware than he 
seemed most of the time? Or was it his Auspex? Now Leick began to worry.
    "I know," the Prince whispered. Suddenly, the Toreador's hand shot 
out and grabbed Leick by the throat, pulling their faces close together. 
"Did you think your betrayals would go unnoticed?" he hissed angrily. 
"This is still my city, Leick. Don't ever go behind my back again!" 
Then, just as suddenly as it had come, Laplace's rage vanished, and he 
let the Brujah go. "Now leave me. I need my rest." And with that, he 
fell asleep right there in his chair.
    Leick didn't know what to think. This had come out of nowhere. The 
Prince seemed to know what Leick had been doing, but he couldn't have. 
And if he did, the Laplace surely wouldn't have let him go. But he knew 
*something*, that was certain. Maybe he just sensed an air of betrayal. 
Either way, he might forget about it by tomorrow, Leick surmised. The 
Prince's mind is like a butterfly net, trying to hold water. He might 
forget.
    Then again, he might not. Leick would have to tread carefully from 
now on. The Prince was powerful, none knew how much so, and one could 
never underestimate him.
    
    The Brujah Primogen wandered slowly out of the council chamber, lost 
in thought, into the darkness of the corridors, deep in the heart of the 
tallest building in New Chelsea.


    - End of post.
      Rutger Leick,
      Brujah Primogen.




It was early in the new year and business was not going very well at 
all. Victoria paced around her chamber, murmering to herself and flexing 
her arms out. Suddenly, there was a loud chap on the door, startling the 
tightly-wound Ventrue slightly. Victoria sprang to the door. "Come in 
quickly!" she snapped at the visitor.

The man who entered was small and well rounded. He was balding and what 
hair he did have was greasy. He looked at her with small beady eyes. 
"Everything is arranged," he informed her.

Victoria smiled from ear to ear and ushered the man out of the room 
again. "Soon, very soon," she said to herself. "My dear Prince has 
waited long enough. I must deliver on my promises."


        -End of post.
         Victoria Treagard,
         Ventrue.





Karl had just finished conversing with Jennifer. He really thought that 
it was time he found himself an apprentice. One whom he could teach all 
the mysteries of his powers and wisdom. If he were to wait any longer 
then this knowledge may not get so far and it would be a grave mistake 
to waste such intellect, especially these days when the ratio of Kine to 
Kindred is such that the 'balance' is ludicrous.

Jennifer was now able to understand that there was something different 
about Karl. He was magical and mysterious in all sorts of aspects of 
his personality and physical presence, which hadn't dawned on her 
before. She had been with him so long that she had grown to like the 
caverns and tunnels, had been to a place where books were stacked in 
cases on top of cases, from the floor up, for a good 20 feet up into the 
darkness. Karl had books on very many things, the majority of which she 
was prohibited to see.

Karl thought to himself, 'I must approach Grogan as soon as possible.  
He should relay my wishes to Laplace. If I must do something, I must do 
it correctly.' Karl was fairly strict when it came to Kindred 
formalities.


      -End of Post.
       Karenthuras,
       Tremere.




Brooke glanced over her wounds. Her arm was badly scratched, but it 
would heal soon. Then, she could resume her plan.  

She had broken into an old warehouse to spy on another vampire, Kit, to 
watch her movements and regular behaviour. Brooke was becoming quite 
professional at this but was taking a chance this time as her wound 
would possibly attract the wrong type of attention.  

The sun warmed the evening sky with a gentle orange, dispersing into 
purple around the clouds. It was almost time. She waited patiently. 

 
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the buzz from the traffic nearby 
settled, except for the ripping sound of a motorbike in a real hurry.

The bike came closer; it had two passengers. The guy on the front was 
huge. Brooke suddenly realised they were also vampires and she was in 
real danger now. She had to keep her cover and hope they didn't see 
her. A girl got off the back of the bike and rocked her head back, 
howling. She opened a pack on the bike and heavy rock music started 
blaring from it. The guy got off the bike.

"Hey!" he shouted. "Kit! Where are you? You comin'?"

A hatch on the floor of the warehouse blew open and thick black smoke 
poured out. The two bikers threw themselves away from the blast.

"Yeah, I'm ready now, man!" came a yell as a scorched and bloody body 
emerged from the hatch. "Hey guys, what's that smell out here?"

"It's you man!" the biker exclaimed. "You're smokin' man!"

"No, it's blood!" the blackened Kit spoke assured.

Brooke's cover was blown, she had to make a run for it: she was in 
mortal danger.

"There!" the girl yelled. "There she is. Get her!"

The guy jumped on the bike and revved the engine high, while the girl 
and Kit ran after her. Brooke knew she couldn't get away, so she turned 
and drew her sword. Her wound was still sore, but she overcame the pain 
with the adrenaline rush. The biker arrived at her first. He tried to 
skid the bike into her, knocking her legs from under her but she jumped 
out of the way and came down slicing a blow deep into the seat of the 
bike. The bike kicked up the dust into her face and the guy lost control 
and fell off. The vixen and Kit (already covered in blood) tied to 
tackle Brooke to the ground. She sliced the girl's head from her 
shoulders, but Kit laid a punch on Brooke's face, knocking her out cold 
on the ground.

The biker pulled himself to his feet. "What the hell..?  She killed my 
girl."

"No, it was her own fault!" said Kit trying to keep him back from 
killing Brooke.

"Let me kill her, you bitch!"

"No wait, wouldn't it be funny to see her wake up one of us?"

"Yeah, man, that would be cool!" his face lighting up. "Let's do it, 
man!"


       -End Of Post.
        Brooke,
        Kindred killer.




Montreal, Quebec.
Canada

 Frost walked along the cold street silently. It had been more than a
month since he left New Chelsea. A month since the Crystal of Darkness
vanished into the earth. A month of peace. He had come here only days
after the near apocalypse had been averted and since then he had managed 
to avoid the Kindred of this city. There was no Primogen council or 
Prince here. Montreal was one of the few cities in the world without 
one. Frost spotted a bar at the far end of the street.  He began to make 
his way to it. As he did he felt his sword alerting him to another 
Kindred presence. Wary, he ducked behind a wall.  Moments later he saw a 
cloaked figure moving along the street. His presence was unlike any 
Frost had felt many years. It had a dark energy embedded in it. The 
figure seemed to sense him as well and began moving towards him. Frost 
was about to draw his blade when he heard the Kindred's voice.  

  "You are Frederick Frost, the renegade Caitiff." Frost stepped out 
from his hiding place. He nodded, acknowledging that he was. The 
stranger pulled up the sleeve of his cloak exposing a mark on his wrist. 
"Please come with me. My master wishes to speak to you." The sign of the 
Black Hand. For Christ's sake. Frost had spent time with the Sabbat many 
year ago, but he never imagined they would seek him out. Frost was 
intrigued by this advance.

  "All right."  Frost was of course still wary, but this was too
interesting to ignore. The two Kindred walked along. After they had
gone about a block a large black van pulled up along side them. The
door slid open and the Cainite accompanying Frost gestured him to
enter. Frost obeyed. The Kindred driving the van sneered as Frost
stepped in. Apparently not everybody liked him. Frost sat in the
darkness of the van for quite sometime. Finally after 20 minutes or so
the van stopped. The door slid open once again. Outside stood a
vampire dressed in black slacks and a black turtle neck. "Michael?"
Frost paused perhaps waiting for a reply. "Michael Cochrane. It is
you." The Kindred smiled.

  "Come my friend we have much to talk about." The two Kindred walked
into the adjacent building. The old house was painted white. As they
reached it, Frost heard the van squeal away. Inside, the house was 
well-furnished and clean. Cochrane indicated a sofa to Frost.  Frost 
slumped down on it and Cochrane sat in the armchair across from it. "So, 
Frost, are you enjoying your stay in Canada?" Cochrane's voice had a 
nearly mocking quality to it.

  "Cut the small talk crap, Mike, and get to the point."  Frost wasn't 
about to tolerate vagueness. "Now what do you want?" Cochrane grinned as 
Frost spoke. "Something funny I missed?"

  "No, Frost, it's just that you haven't changed a bit."  He got up as 
he spoke and reached for a bottle on the wall. "You're still the same 
'get to the damn point' type of guy you were the last time we met."  He 
grabbed two glasses and poured some of the dark red substance from the 
bottle into each of them. "You so damned boring. Learn to have a little 
fun. Smile once in awhile. My great uncle Nicholas used to say start 
your day with a smile and get it over with."

  "Yes, yes I know all about your great uncle."  Frost took one of the
glasses from Cochrane "As I recall you killed him and stole his money." 
Frost drank the liquid in his glass. "He never smiled after that." 
Cochrane sat down. "Now then I doubt you brought me here just to 
chit-chat about your uncle Nick."

  "Quite right Frost I didn't." The smile faded quickly off Cochrane's
face. "Since you seem so intent on why I brought you here." He paused
sipping at his own glass. "I need you to do a job for me, you know like 
the stuff you did back in London after you came back from Asia.  Except 
with far less killing involved."  He finished his drink. "I am planning 
a complete take over of the Sabbat. The system is corrupt and useless; 
the beliefs are equally useless. I wish to change this.  However I need 
the entire Black Hand to stand with me to do this."  Cochrane poured 
himself another drink as he spoke. "The others in the Hand want me to 
prove that I can handle the Camarilla."  He paused.  "They want me to 
organize a coup d'état as it were. That's where you come in. I want you 
to help me destabilize a Primogen council so that the common vampires 
overthrow the council and the Prince, leaving the city open to an easy 
take-over with minimal loses."

  "Sounds good, why me?" Frost held his hand out to get another drink
from Cochrane. Cochrane poured him another. Frost sipped the glass
slowly. "I'm not the only Kindred that can cause trouble you know."

  "It has more to do with the place that the Hand selected for my test, 
rather than your particular abilities." Cochrane put down his glass. 
"The city of your former residence, New Chelsea, is the one they 
selected. Ironic isn't it?"  Frost said nothing. His eyes showed that he 
was considering this carefully. "You already know the city and have a 
reputation there. If you accept you'll become a member of the Hand. 
Officially! You will even bear our mark."  Cochrane showed Frost the 
mark on his wrist. "If you refuse then you can go."

  "All right."  Frost looked into Cochrane's eyes. "Just tell me what 
you want me to do."


      - End of post.
        Fredrick Frost,
        Caitiff.





As Kit and her male vampire cohort decided Brooke's fate, a Gangrel, 
Kayla Jade, watched from a distance.  She had been wandering around 
checking out her surroundings when she heard the sound of a roaring 
engine and shouting.  She kept her distance not wanting the them to 
notice that she was there.  "This ought to be intresting," she whispered 
to herself.  She inhaled the smell of blood, noticing one of the girls 
was bleeding.  It was the unconscious one on the ground.  Her eyes 
narrowed as she saw another body, decapitated, next to it.  She focused 
them and noticed it was a vampire she had seen recently around New 
Chelsea.  It was obvious that the bleeding girl had done it.  She knew 
that because she heard Big and Burly say she did.  She looked around the 
area, taking in all the details, and slid away.  

When she was 50 or so yards away she pondered the thought of whether or 
not she should tell an Elder.  She didn't like to mingle with the other 
Kindred but a vampire hunter would be a threat to all.  

She decided to think more on this after she had a meal.


              -End of post.
               Kayla Jade,
               Gangrel.




   Airegon was watching someone. She was getting good at not being 
caught. Even if it were to happen, she was fast enough to get away from 
most people. She had been caught once before but had managed to get out 
of it fairly easily. And with this job it would be no problem, none at 
all. She hoped. 

   Actually it was time for her to leave. She had all of the information 
she needed on this vampire, and hoped He would be pleased. She knew it 
was wrong to do all of what she was doing. But ever since Frost left she 
hadn't been able to do much of anything that was right. She just didn't 
know what to do.



       - End of post.
         Airegon,
         Brujah.




   Sheilina paced around her cabin.  She had to get to Frost, to see why 
her Auspex had failed.  It had to be something totally unexpected.  She 
knew he had left New Chelsea, but where did he go?  With a sigh, 
Sheilina realized she would have to cast a finding spell.  Hopefully, he 
wasn't too far away.

   She gathered the needed ingredients and combined them all into a 
bowl.  She lit the mixture on fire and said a few words in what would 
have sounded to an observer like Latin.  Then she let the aromatic fumes 
spread throughout her and tell her where Frost was...

   A few moments later, she sat up.  Canada?  What was he doing in 
Canada? She had to go to Canada to find him?  Wonderful, she thought 
sarcastically.  She finally thought she could stop running and settle 
down, since the crystals had hopefully been destroyed, and now it turned 
out she had to go to Canada?

   Sheilina marveled at the change within her.  It used to be that she
welcomed the chance to move on, to escape from the suspicious looks she 
imagined in others.  Now she wanted to stay.  What was going on with 
her? It had all started when she first decided to go to New Chelsea.  
What was here that could do this to her?  And why her?



      - End of post.
        Sheilina,
        Caitiff.




  Rutger Leick, the Brujah Primogen of New Chelsea, stood outside 
Airegon's Haven. The young Cainite had defied the Prince, and Laplace's 
patience had worn thin. The incident (several months ago) had been 
reported to Leick thus:

______________________________________________________________________

"The Prince would like to speak with you," one of them intoned.

"What? Why?" she demanded.

"I don't know. Now come with us please."

"I won't!" Airegon declared. "I will have nothing to do with the one who 
ordered my family's death."

"Your personal problems are not ours to deal with."

"Well I'm not going anywhere with you. Go back to your little Prince and 
tell him you couldn't get me to come and you couldn't think of forcing 
for the fear that I would kill you."

______________________________________________________________________

   Of course, the Kindred who reported the incident may have been 
confused. Why would the young Brujah say Laplace had ordered her 
family's death? Everyone knew her family was killed by a Kine, some 
escaped murderer running from the law. Those who reported it must have 
been confused. Unless Airegon's tortured mind had twisted the facts in 
her own head. Leick knew how easy that was...





    It was the winter of 1734. Leick had traveled here to Paris with 
Lugosi, his Sire, and the rest of the Coterie. As they stood in the dark 
street, staring at the bright lights of the city, Leick was awed. The 
city looked so beautiful, so full of promise. There were few rules in 
such a place. Brujah like them could do almost whatever they liked.
    "Now remember," Lugosi was intoning, "I'll be staying in the cellar 
of the abandoned wine house over there." He pointed to a farm on the 
outskirts of the city. Leick didn't pay much attention. He, like the 
rest of the pack, had heard this before. "If any of you need me, just 
come on over." They nodded silently. The same drill as always. Boris 
Lugosi led them to a new place (there were very few Kindred these days 
who stayed with their Sire for so long - nearly five centuries in 
Leick's case) where they would split up until he felt it was time to 
move on. Some would choose to stay, while the rest would follow Lugosi.
    Leick moved on into the city, where the flickering lights were 
calling him.


    "Yes, yes," Leick dismissed the messenger with a wave of his hand. 
"I will see the Prince. When I get around to it." The Toreador huffed a 
bit, then left, dissatisfied. Leick shook his head wryly. He had been 
here for six months, and the Prince was demanding his presence. Leick 
had no intention of bowing down before a man who ran his city with such 
a loose hand. The Prince was not one worthy of respect, and Leick saw no 
reason to present himself, Traditions or no Traditions. This was the 
fourteenth (fifteenth?) messenger he had received in the last few weeks. 
It was beginning to get on his nerves. Perhaps he should send a 
messenger back, annoy them a bit. Leick chuckled at the thought.
    He rolled over in the bed he lay in, his face snuggling up against 
the corpse beside him. He breathed the air rich with the scent of blood, 
and sighed contentedly.


    The next evening there was a knock at the door to the old cottage 
Leick was in. Seeing the light still peeking in through the curtains, he 
assumed the visitor was human. Should he ignore it? No, the Kine knew he 
was here. He couldn't let them leave. Carefully, Leick opened the door, 
making sure he didn't receive an unhealthy dose of sunlight.
    The Brujah jumped back in surprise as a smoking body fell against 
him. Shrieking from the light, Leick slammed the door and looked at the 
body laying before him.
    It was Lugosi.
    "Oh no!" Leick yelled. The corpse was staked through the heart, 
immobilising Leick's Sire. He pulled the stake from Lugosi's heart, 
expecting the Kindred to come back to life, but he didn't. The sunlight 
had finished him off.
    Leick wept then, but not for Lugosi. Leick had never cared about 
someone enough for that (at least - not since receiving the Brujah blood 
that made him immortal). No, he knew it was a sign. Leick had dishonored 
the Prince, and this was his punishment. His Sire dead, and the rest of 
the Coterie would no doubt finish Leick off too.
    No, it wouldn't happen. He would flee first. He had heard of a place 
across the big water, a place they had found only two or so centuries 
before. The place they called America.
    Yes, it was under English rule, but it was a land of freedom - or so 
they said. A place where Leick could flee from his fellow Brujah and 
save his life. A place for a new start.
    Quickly, the Brujah bundled up his few belongings and hurried out 
the door, where it had now become dark enough to be safe. The light in 
the west still stung his eyes, but he had to go before it was too late. 
He didn't know when the other Brujah would arrive.
    
    The tears still in his eyes, and with a red sky at his back, Rutger 
Leick, over five hundred years old now, fled from Paris, never to go 
back again.





  
    Yes, Leick knew Airegon's situation well. The Primogen had few 
enough Brujah subjects in the city as it was (Airegon was, in fact, only 
one of two remaining) and he didn't need to lose her too because of 
stubbornness.
    He squared his shoulders and prepared to confront Airegon. She had 
better see the Prince, he thought, for her own good.


       - End of post.
         Rutger Leick,
         Brujah Primogen.




   After returning to her home from reporting what Sheilina had wished 
her to, Airegon sat down quietly and began to think. She knew that 
Sheilina had discovered that Frost was in Canada, but did she know where 
in Canada? Or not? Airegon was trying to decide whether or not to go to 
Canada alone and find him herself, or make Sheilina go with her in case 
the Caitiff knew exactly were he was.


        After quite a while of thinking, Airegon decided to make Sheilina go 
with her. You never know when a person who could do spells that easily 
might come in handy. And the Brujah set off toward the Caitiff's Haven.

   Just as she was about at Sheilina's domain, she heard a rustling 
behind her.

   "Who is there?" she demanded loudly. "Who has been following me?"

   The tall, dark form of the Brujah Primogen emerged from the shadows. 
"Leick," he said in a deep rumble. "I wish to speak with you."
   
   "Then talk already," Airegon replied impudently. She had no time for 
her Elder.


       - End of post.
         Airegon,
         Brujah.