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Rated: 18+ · Campfire Creative · Appendix · Fantasy · #1211401
Marid will protect you, if you are a creature of the night. Come and rejoice here
[Introduction] “Greetings and welcome to the night of the Hidden World. I am Marid, the Sentry. Come and sit at the bar, relax as the venom of your damnation slowly drains away and the ecstasy of the sexual desire bursts inside, lays the eggs of satisfaction and feeds that carnivorous beast in you. Take a pick-a drink in the bar, the hooker on stage, maybe gamble on fights in the arena. But whatever you choose, after a day here, you will be ready to roam the night again. Ha-ha! Now, REJOICE!”

Dangerous and forbidden is the Demon sanctuary for all who obey light. It is a safe place for all creatures that bump in the Night: vampires, werewolves, jinn’s, fallen angel and many more come here to hide and/or rest. It is 2000 years old and has always been in touch with the modern fashion. It’s “place of birth” is Jerusalem, but was found by humans and was moved to Los Angeles. From the outside it looks like an abandoned building, just like a shell protecting the delicate snail.
The keeper and creator of the sanctuary is Marid. He is one of the most powerful jinn spirit. He is never seen in the club or VIP floor, but his presence can be felt everywhere. Before one enters, he has to go through the test- simple but deadly to the intruders- they have to be seen by a sentry’s sight (a gigantic eye picture painted on the door, invisible to the human eye). If one is a pure human or creature of the day the sentry exterminates it on spot. When one goes through the door, he sees a tunnel and crimson light at the end of it. Beyond the light is the club- with gigantic proportions, three bars, a stage for dancers and a fighting arena situated in the north. In the west side one can relax at the Garden of peace, where the noises and anger is ingulfed by the sound proof walls, only the sounds of red leaves falling off the trees and blood streaming from the bloodfall can be heard. After that is a long staircase. It leads to the VIP floor where all dreams come true. They say that even Iblis himself comes often here. A fact of which Marid is mostly proud of. If you seek Marid try and call his nickname, if he wishes he will come to you.
Be vigilant new adventurers for the sanctuary is at a mortal danger of being revealed. Magi might attack it and you might be caught in the cross fire as well.
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Race: Vampire
Lifespan: Average is between 200-300. But they’ve been known to span centuries and have the potential to live forever.
Description: Just as unique in appearance as humans. They look the age they did when they were changed and seem to age very little throughout their life. They have elongated canines, which they can grow back to hide while in the presence of mortals. Some lines of vampires possess distinctive marks or features that tell their clan. Some sects have certain markings as well, particularly the Sabbat known for their body art.
Abilities: Each line of vampires have a special ability, such as shadow walking, telekinesis, telepathy, shape shifting, etc. Plus their vampire blood makes them faster, stronger, and have sharper senses than normal humans. They have an amazing immune system and never get sick (with the exception of blood as stated below). They can heal minor wounds in minutes, some heavier wounds in hours, and major wounds in a couple days. Fighting skills vary as much as their social skills.
Weaknesses: The blood factor is a classic, although they still eat regular food too. The blood they drink can be human or animal. It’s like humans and water. If vampires go too long without blood their bodies will become slow, their abilities won’t be as good, they can become very sick, and will eventually die. Unlike legends, vampires are day walkers. Though they are still extremely sensitive to light and will burn very easily if out in the sun’s direct rays too long (which is probably how the tale got started).
False Legends: The other classics with the silver stake, sleeping in coffins, garlic, crosses, and such are not true. Vampires can die just as any other human would. Enough blood loss, decapitation, starvation… you get the idea. Vamps don’t have to kill their prey for blood, and most don’t. Also vampires can be either changed or born. Though they are mostly changed, simply because the current time period doesn’t really allow for such reproduction without drawing a lot of attention to the vampire community.
Politics: If you’ve played Vampire: The Masquerade then you already have a general knowledge of vampire politics. There are three major sects, or political parties if you want to think of it that way, the Camarilla, the Sabbat, and the Anarchs. The Camarilla believe in the Masquerade. That is their policy/belief that they shouldn’t reveal themselves to humans, simply put- not to reveal their powers in front of humans or to kill aimlessly. It’s easy to see why the Sabbat are their worst enemies. This sect kills without rhyme or reason. They think it’s the vampires’ jobs to slaughter humans and not hide in the dark like animals. The Anarchs are also against the Sabbat beliefs. Most agree that they need to live alongside humans in peace, but they rebel against the corrupt authority of the Camarilla. There are many different clans, that is vampires related through the Embrace, their lineage. Here are a couple to throw out there: Venture, Gangrel, Toreador, Malkavian, Tremere, and Brujah.
Terms: Kindred- the term vampires use to call themselves; Embrace- the act of changing a human into a vamp; Fledgling- newly changed vamp; Ancients- the oldest vamps in existence, they hold extreme power and secrets that only time can teach; Sire- the “parent” of a vamp, their creator; Prince- the Camarilla leader of a city; Reagent- they are the leader of their clan in that city and serve as a council to the Prince; Chantry- the home of a Reagent and local gathering place for their clan; Baron- the Anarch leader of a city; Lord- the Sabbat leader of a city; Gehenna- the vampire’s beliefs on the end of the world.

Race: Werewolf
Lifespan: Average is between 75-100. Have been known to live over 200 though.
Description: Come in all shapes and sizes. They are normally more buff in appearance, with a rough and tough exterior to match the animal within. They have abnormally sharp canines, but unlike vampires they can’t hide them. In wolf form they are just a bit larger than a regular wolf would be. Packs tend to have markings to distinguish themselves from others.
Abilities: Animalistic senses are strong. They can harness their sharp hearing, sight, and smell even out of wolf form. They are of course heightened while a wolf though. Their speed and strength is also better than the average human. They can heal rapidly, like vampires, but not quite as fast. Although shifting from one form to another will help aid the process. Their aging is slowed extremely, so while they can’t live forever they have the potential to live about three times longer than the average human.
Weaknesses: Silver is something they got right. It’s extremely toxic to them and spreads quickly through their blood stream. If hit with enough the potency will kill. Also the moon forces them into change. It has some effect on the nerves of their brain. Their animal instincts are strong and can cloud out their rational thinking. Because of this, most werewolves spend the full moon in the forests, or locked away somewhere to avoid problems.
False Legends: However, werewolves may shift forms at any time outside the full moon. And obviously if you didn’t catch it before, they’re not big ugly hairy monsters. Werewolves can be born, as well as changed. Anyone a werewolf bites during a full moon will change, outside a full moon though they are fine. Since the aging is slowed, purebred werewolves tend to live longer.
Politics:Their society is very similar to the vampire’s, but it also follows close relations with their cousins the wolf. Purebred werewolves are starting to become the most influential and are the most likely to be found in leadership positions. Their upbringing allows for a better understanding of their culture and therefore gives them an advantage. There are two main conflicting sects: the Kaenin and the Saotine. The Kaenin favor purebloods whereas their counterparts disagree with such special treatment. The Saotine are often compared to that of the vampiric Anarchs. There are many packs, or groups of werewolves with the same bloodline. A few examples would be: Telamusk, Lupa, Maytah, Keskin, and Alpine.
Terms:Lupine- the term werewolves use to call themselves; Kapu- the Kaenin leader of a city; Sari- the Saotine leader of a city; Alpha- the leader of their pack in a city and serve under their respective sect leaders; Beta- an Alpha-in-training; Hallow- a gathering place for members of the same pack, often times an Alpha’s home.

Lifespan:1000 years or more(depends on its might)
Description:genies are considered to have no real appearance whatsoever. As one of the most powerful types of ghosts, they have transparent, shapeless bodies, which they form on their liking. Once they create the shape of their bodies they cannot alter it unless they have shape-shifting abilities.
Abilities:They have a natural control over an element: Water, Earth, Air, Fire. Their elemental powers are unsurpassed. Because of their special spirit “nature” they have a power like no other ghost. They can make wishes come true. Most of the weak genies can grant a wish for a short amount of time after which everything that was altered by the wish goes back to what it was before the “Silium”, and the “Sillium” itself disappears. Powerful genies can grant a wish permanently, but only if they desire to do so. Also there are some genies that have shape-shifting ability.
Weaknesses:Genies have a power under one element. It can be defeated only by the opposite element. Also, genies are mostly afraid of magicians, because they have the knowledge to capture and force the genies to grant them wishes. If they are captured too many times they cease to exist. The genie must never tell its name to anyone or else it will cease to exist. Also if genies take to much negative energy they will cease to exist. When a creature of the night or day attacks, an amount of negative energy is released, which damages the genie.
False Legends:First of all genies have no human form. Sometimes they take the form of knight’s armor which is the closest they get. Friendly genies do not exist. They help mortals only if they benefit from it, if they are forced to do so, or if there is a chance that by helping they can make a mess or tragedy. Also Genies can grant only three wishes after which the genie is free and cannot grant anymore wishes for a short period of time.
Politics:. Unlike vampires though genies don’t actually need to hide themselves. The jinn have communities much like human societies: they eat, marry, die, etc. They are invisible to humans, but they can see humans. Sometimes they accidentally or deliberately come into view or into contact with humans.. Genies are not separated into clans. There are many kinds of genies but four are most common: ghul ("night shade", which can change shape, element:Air), the sila (which cannot change shape, element: Earth), the ifrit [i'fɾɪt](element:fire), and "marid" [mʌ'ɾɪd](most power of them all, only four are known to exist on Earth, element:water ).
Terms: jinniyah-the feminine form a genie, Silium-the act of granting a wish, Iblis-the name of Satan, given to him by the genies.Detorior-a genie that grants too many wishes for a short ammount of time falls in a spiritual comma(Deterior) which can last for a century (For more info email me)

Race: Nephilim
Lifespan: 200-300 years
Description: As unique and varied as humans, because partly they are humans. Most Nephilims do not have wings. There are some exceptions who have a undergrown wings, which they often cut. There are many Nephilim who have the power to shape-shift.
Abilities: Super strength, super speed, often very intelligent, these half humans have many of the powers that angels have. They also have an incredible immune system, similar to the vampires’. This immune system is so strong that neither a bit from a werewolf, nor a vampire siring can infect them.
Weaknesses: Just as every human, vampire and werewolf, Nephilims can also die if they have taken too much damage or lost too much blood.
False Legends: An error is to believe that Nephilims are created from the mating of a male angel and female human only. Their father can also be a human, and their mother an angel. As strange as it sounds, the only angels being able to couple with humans are not normal angels but fallen ones. Since angels were created without a member, when the renegade angels were driven out of Heaven some fell on Earth and lived there for a long time. After long years living among humans they developed members and began coupling with humans. Thus, creating the hybrids known as the Nephilims.
Politics: Nephilims consider themselves a part of humanity, because partly they are human. That is why they obey human laws and live as normal human beings. Unfortunately since the Middle Ages a Vatican order is trying to exterminate them, believing that by that way it is destroying agents of the Devil. Nephilim live in group of 2-4. They have close contact to every group in the vicinity and often help each other.
Terms: Archnephi-leader of a vicinity, Vicinity-town in which a great number of Nephilim groups live

Name: Marid
Age: Over 5000 years
Race: Genie
Description: Like a powerful, living blue neon, when he enters a room, everything in it turns blue. His outer appearance is consisted only of two gauntlets on his “hands”. The rest of his body is transparent with a blue orb in the center of him
Personality: Unlike most of his kind he possesses very little arrogance and malice. His existence is centered in survive, or someone else will survive in your place. That is why he is trying to get himself as many bodyguards as possible. Strongly despises human, having already created it into a psychological issue-to destroy humanity or not. Though his thoughts have very often come to the need of destruction of life on Earth, he has never tried to put his thoughts into action. He says often that humanity is very lucky that he is a lazy good-for-nothing.
History: Unlike most genies he was created separately. Because the lack of contact with other genies in his early years, he is not that malicious and arrogant. He was used by a human to grant him wishes in his first years, being recaptured almost 6 times, which led to his first Detorior. Since his awakening he has grown an anger towards humans because of this, but does not wish to attack them of fear that magicians will find him. Currently he takes care of the creatures of the night for “a normal amount of its wealth”, or if the customer cannot pay for the protection is taken in as a bodyguard to pay off the amount due.

Anne Walker -_-The dreamer
Age: 22
Race: Werewolf
Description: Tall slender figure, waist-long black hair that is usually quite messy;
angry green eyes that keep you at a distance; a face with rather sharp features, which to
most people appear scary rather than attractive; a gait like an impending storm and a
just-try-me expression
Personality: Anne is a student in the Academy of Fine Arts, specializing in painting. She
loves to express herself and to avoid being hurt she throws her anger at everyone and
never lets anyone in. Being bit by a werewolf didn’t make her temper softer. However, if
you manage to win her confidence, you might get lucky and see her without her mask.
Abilities: as an artistic person Anne took little care to develop her body skills. As to
mental skills, she is observant and has keen intellect.
History: Anne was reasonably content with her life till she took a painting-practice trip
to lake Mead, which although she hasn’t yet realized it, seriously fucked up her routine.
There one evening she was the victim of a wolf attack. No one knew where the beast had
come from and the nearby zoos hadn’t reported any animals missing. Anyway, she escaped
luckily with only flesh-wounds or so she thought. After the next full moon she woke up
naked in a park with no memory of where she had been. She managed to get home with some
help, though she was seriously distressed. Even more disturbing were the news she heard
afterwards about several murders committed by a mad wolf. Her mind connected the pieces
(the next day was Halloween after all), but she cast aside the suggestion as madness. As
she checked her mail the next morning she found a card with the name of a club “Demon
sanctuary” and its address. On its back was a handwriting “If you wanna know the
answers”. This was too much for her to bear. She intended to go to the club to personally
disembowel the bastard who tried to play with her mind!

Name: Tala Devaki -_-wolfspirit292
Age: Late 80’s, she stopped counting… (Looks to be late teens)
Race: Vampire
Description: Standing roughly 5’6,” this vampiress is a stunning beauty,
despite her tom-boy looks and attitude. She has a small waist, with average
hips, and a bust slightly on the “gifted” side. She has long sexy legs and
feminine curves. And whereas she may seem delicate, she has an athletic build
and can kick major ass. Her hair is wavy, dark brown hair with red tints, and
is always pulled into a high ponytail so it falls to her shoulders. Her eyes
are a sparkling royal blue- certainly her most well known trait. She wears
baggy, ripped-up jeans that hang low on her hips. She wears worn in black
combat boots. And she never goes anywhere without her black cotton tank tops.
Most of them are a high cut that revel her tight abs. She has a small tattoo on
her left shoulder blade- the symbol for her clan.
Personality: Tala is a complete and total smart ass. She has a pot mouth
and doesn’t mind telling anyone what she truly thinks of them. She’s very
stubborn and isn’t the type to back down from a challenge. She’s rebellious and
loves to challenge authority. She’s loaded with attitude and spunk. Guys tend to
drool over her; however she never gives them the time of day. It was a miracle
in itself that Furion got a hold of her. But she has a kinder side too. She has
a weird sense of humor, and she likes to laugh. She’s a fun-loving girl that
feeds on action and adventure. Like most Gangrels, she’s not really sociable.
She prefers to stay alone, or in a small group- but she’s adjusting to crowds
fairly well. And also like her clan mates, she has an interesting connection
with Lupines that most other Kindred just can’t relate to. She’s the kind of
woman that’s wild, hard to tame, and spirited. Furion has been the only person
to get her to settle down. But even then, she’s still a hot-head and wanderer
by heart, and if she’s not out fighting for some reason or another, you’d
probably find her somewhere alone, reflecting- sometimes even going as far as
leaving L.A. for the wilderness outside it’s boundaries.
Abilities: With unshakable courage, Tala has become a well-known
brawler, thanks to her extensive knowledge of street fighting. Her best skill
lies with hand to hand combat. Using blades just isn’t her thing; however she’s
pretty competent with fire arms. She has great strength and stamina, as well as
exceptional dexterity. For a Gangrel, she has a wonderful charisma that just
draws people to her- whether she likes it or not. She has her wits about her
and has excellent perception (typical Gangrel). Being in the robbery business,
she learned how to hot wire cars and pull a heist like no other- those skills
come in handy every now and again. The shadows are her friend, and like her
fellow Gangrel, being stealthy is a natural ability. The disciplines of the
Gangrel include: Animalism, Protean, and Fortitude. Fortitude is just that, the
ability to have greater resistance to damage taken. Animalism is a unique
ability to the clan. Tala only knows the most basics of this discipline, being
able to literally speak to animals around her and actual summon their help.
Protean is another unique ability of the clan, and Tala has practically
mastered this one. This ability allows the vampire to tap into their inner
beast; it’s also the main reason why this clan is so close with Lupines. The
most basic Protean allows them to see perfectly in the darkness, and grow
deadly claws- which cause especially vicious wounds. Recently Tala has taken
this ability a step even further. She has learned to wield the Shadow of the
Beast, where she can transform into a wolf at will, benefiting from all their
obvious advantages. The highest level of Protean out there is the ability to
turn into mist. But Tala has yet to gain the knowledge, or the experience, to
handle such great power.
History: Tala grew up on the “wrong side of the tracks,” so it really
isn’t any surprise to her- or anyone else for that matter- that she turned out
the way she did. Having grown up in the early 1900’s in the back streets of
L.A., she learned first hand how the real world worked. She learned how to
fight on the streets, and how to survive. Mostly she ran alone, or with a small
gang of guys her age that she’d grown up with. They were a tough little pack,
and they owned the streets when they got older. In her late teens the gang she
was with decided to start in on the extortion racket and delivery business, on
top of the robbery they pulled all the time (which they were damn good at).
Eventually she found herself uptown, at a nightclub, delivering a package to
one of the VIP’s. But something happened... she was attacked and left for dead
in the back alley. But she didn’t die- she was reborn. For almost a week she
wandered the streets, wondering what the hell was going on. She was confused
and sick, and she had no idea where to turn. Her gang found her shivering in a
dark alley and took her home. But that was their mistake. While she slept
uneasily, the gang discussed what could have happened (since she hadn’t been
able to speak a word). How were they to know that a defensive Gangrel had
followed them home... Tala awoke in a dark underground Haven, only reachable
via the sewer system. There is where she met her Sire, and he taught her what
she was. “Why leave me like that!?” she had demanded. Because that was what
Gangrel did. They picked Fledglings that were strong and capable of surviving
on their own. Once they Embrace them, they abandon them. But the Sire will
watch from a distance and come to them when the time is right. It’s their way
of making them fight for themselves. Her Sire, Rexian, stayed with her a few
more nights, making sure she understood what she now was. He didn’t help her
hunt, just stood back and offered his guidance. Than one night she awoke in the
Haven to find him missing. A scribbled note read, “You’re ready.” And she never
saw him again. Like other Gangrel, from there she was totally on her own. And
unlike other Kindred clans, they had to learn for themselves. As her knowledge
of the Kindred grew, and she learned about her new abilities, she found herself
having to choose sides in the war between Sects. After careful consideration,
she turned her allegiance over to the Anarchs, which was when she met
Extra: The girlfriend of the Anarch leader, Furion (Edward Chains).

Name:Edward Chains(a.k.a. Furion) -_- Richard_freeman
Age:89 years(Appeares-20)
Race: Vampire
Description: Furion is very tall. 6'2, he has a short blond hair, golden eyes and blue lips. He's quite skinny though. Many very often take him for the world's tallest scarecrow. He wears, a white Jacket, black trousers, black combat boots. Has two chains hanging from his showders. Has no shirt.
Personality: Unlike most Anarch, Furion does not bear hatred towards the Camarilla. He understands their ideas, and though he does not approve of them, he isn't the person who would go and speek against them. The reason for that is that he is a person of actions not words. If he wants something done he does it, if there is a battle he fights without shouting curses and threats. He is a good judge of character and knows when the time for politics has started, and when it is over. He is a capable leader, and a party machine. The Anarch community of Los Angeles has never been in better hands. He's totally in love in Tala. He would sacrifise his life if needed to save her.
Abilities: Though Furion looks skinish, under his frail figure lies hidden might that can match any foe's. He can also cast a spell which makes every creature around him think that he has vanished. The effects of this spell do not last for very long. He uses a long mediaeval sword for a weapon, which he calls “Feral”. He is a perfect swordsman, but when its time to use guns he is completely lost.
History: Furion's past is quite foggy. Even he doesn't know it. He has kind of awaken from comma before 10 years and strange as it seemes he still sufferes from total amnesia. Strange is also the fact that he knows how old he is, but doesn't know where he was born, who was his father and mother and who was his Sire. Before ten years he woke up in the L.A.'s sewers. After a continued shock, he finally addapted to L.A. and the new world around him. Before three years he met Tala, the most wild and beautiful girl he knew, fell in love with her and after a lot of rejections, futile flirtings and social humiliation, she finally gave in. He was the happiest vampire in the world that day. After that a lot of accidents, assassinations and Sabbat raids took place, after which he was chosen to be the Anarch leader.

Name: Jereven Rinehart (Jere)vampirefang07
Age: 110 (appears in early 20’s)
Race: Vampire
Description: A man of 6 foot and an athletic build, Jereven is very toned-
especially his rock-solid abs. He has broad shoulders, and a sexy physique. His skin is
naturally tanned. His ebony hair is on the longish side so it’s constantly falling into
his brilliant emerald eyes. He always wears his black steel-toed boots, worn out baggy
jeans, and dark tight-fitting tee-shirts. He also wears a long flowing black trench coat.
The symbol of his clan, the Tremere, is tattooed on the underside of his right wrist.
Personality: A man of few words, Jereven mostly lets his fists do the talking. An
assassin by profession, he’s very dark and brooding. He has an air of mystery and allure
about him. He’s an enigma and certainly doesn’t mind showing it. He is a loner, and he
plans to keep it that way. He seems to be bitter at the world for some unknown reason.
Whether good or bad, he can lie to your face without blinking, and he’ll still have a
clear coconscious. Though he does have a heart beneath that cold exterior, even a tender
and thoughtful side, few people have ever seen him that way. He used to be more sociable
and open in his days has a human, but that all changed when he became a Kindred and fell
into the world of darkness.
Abilities: Being an assassin, he’s excellent with fighting. He likes to stick with
ranged weaponry and always carries his twin Colt Anacondas. But he’s a very capable foe
with any form of fighting he chooses. He’s strong, even for a Kindred, and has great
stamina and dexterity. He has naturally good perception of things around him and is very
street wise. He’s also skilled at remaining hidden and is excellent at stealth work- a
must for an assassin. He’s probably one of the few that could give a Nosferatu a run for
their money in the hacking business, thanks mostly to an old friend. The disciplines of
Clan Tremere are Thaumaturgy and Auspex. Auspex, a fairly common trait of different
clans, is highly useful. While most Kindred are capable of “sensing” an aura, or drawing
subtle hints from it, they can’t see it. Kindred that know enough Auspex can see the
actual colors of the aura, thus determining the person’s mood. Not only is Jere able to
do this, but he can take it one step further. He has learned the power of Psychometry,
also known as the Spirit’s Touch. He is able to pick up an object and gain impressions of
the one who last had it. While it doesn’t work all the time, he’s getting much better at
it. More powerful forms of Auspex include Telepathy and Astral Projection, but he’s no
where near that level yet. He prefers to spend his time heightening his Thaumaturgy
discipline. Thaumaturgy is an ancient magical practice, guarded closely by the Tremere
clan, even from each other sometimes. It consists of four areas of mystical power: Blood,
Fire, Telekinesis, and Weather Control. The most basic of this magic are rituals. What
they learn and how far they can take the magic depends solely on the Kindred. Jereven has
focused mostly on the paths of Blood and Fire- but no one’s really sure of the full extent
of his Thaumaturgy abilities.
History: Born before the turn of the 20th century, Jereven has seen a lot in his
life- both living and undead. He grew up in NYC, spending a lot of his childhood hanging
out in the streets. At 16 he left home and started traveling the country. Eventually,
five years later, he had made his way to Los Angeles. There, he got a job at a nightclub
as a bartender. That’s where he met Marcus, a fellow bartender that was a bit on the
scrawny side and kept mostly to himself. They became friends and started hanging out. One
night they were jumped by a group of street thugs- or so Jere thought. He had no idea that
he’d just been thrown into a political battle between rival Kindred. By helping out his
friend Marcus, Jereven found himself in for the beating of his life. As he lay in the
alley, broken and bruised, Marcus had run them off. “No one’s ever stood up for me like
that before,” he had said, taking Jereven in his arms to try and comfort him. But it was
obvious he was beyond repair- except from one thing. “I want to give you a gift,” was all
Marcus said before he felt a sharp pain. And just like that, Jereven’s life was changed
Extra: He has a lot of history with Tala Devaki, but their relationship is a very
mysterious one. The only one that really knows much of anything is Furion. And even then
he doesn’t know the half of it.

Name:Albert Depirof (a.k.a. Al) -_- Richard_freeman
Age: 56 years(appeares 30)
Race: Werewolf
Description: Al is 5’6 tall. He has a snow white hair, brown eyes and pointed nose. His face is sleek, which often tends to leave people with the impression that he is younger than he is. He wears a white suit.
Personality: Al has a very untipical characteristics, far different than most werewolves-he is calm and diplomatic. He always tends to belive more in the psychological battle between diplomates than the brutal force of the fighters. Because of his peaceful nature he is considered to be a coward and was spurned from the werewolf society. He quickly became reconciled with his sentence and now tends not to believe anyone. Quite closed in himself, he lets only very close friends near him. He seemes to be completely faithful to Marid to the extent of slavery, but noone knows why.
Abilities: Al is not a violent type of person, but when needed he always joines a fight. Though he is not a professional killer, he can handle himself quite well, if against a low-level opponent. He mainly counts on his werewolf form for survival. He is probably the only werewolf who can not change into human form willingly, which is one of the reasons why he does not like to fight. His werewolf form is a white siberian wolf. His claws are not as big and sharp as most werewolves but his jaws are longer and stronger, and his fangs are sharper and longer, meaning that Depirof’s bites in most cases cause an encredible amount of damage. While in werewolf form he is completely taken over the beast and the rage that he has not expressed while in human form is released. The result is a rampaging monster that would attack without warning everyone around him. Marid has estimated that after a few hours the beast’s rage increases so much that his brain can not endure the stress anymore and passes out. After that his body and brain return to normal.
History: Al is a very misterious figure. He still tends to lie that he does not remember his past, although Marid always exposes him. He burned his sect’s symbol, so in addition noone knows what kind of a sect he came from. Apparently Al has had a troubling past and preferes to not only talk about it, but forget it. Before ten years he was exiled from his sect and was taken under Marid’s protection. Since then he has been working for Marid rising higher and higher, and getting closer and closer to his master, until finally he was appointed as Marid’s main advisor.
”Greetings fellow children of the night!!!”- the voice said. It was Marid, and for the first time in god knows when he was actually having fun at speaking. Today was Halloween- a very special day for him and every ghost in town. It was something like what Christmas is like for humans, but far more spectacular. At Halloween, Genies would come to the sanctuary to visit Marid, watch the party at first, then join with seeming eagerness, chat about ancient times when they ruled the Earth, materialize into monkeys and drink themselves to no end. Of course this would slowly loosen their concentration and they will turn into the transparent being they were before. “Man, what a boring night it will be!”- Marid thought. Worse of all was that he could not get drunk because something might happen. He was the Sentry, right. He was expecting trouble from the beginning but so far nothing wrong seemed to happen. “That doesn’t feel, right” –he thought. He would feel better if there was at least one fight outside the arena. It would be natural. But it was even worse. There were no fights even in the arena. “I’d better watch it, ‘cause it can happen anytime now.”- He told himself.
“Please feel free to…”-he said pointing, with his gauntlet, at the Genies near the bar. “… drink on the HOUSE!!!”-he liked a good party. But this was ridiculous. “Any time noow!”-he thought. For now the only costumers of the first floor were Genies and a few werewolves. Soon the vampires were going to come for the real party. Only four werewolves were here and they appeared to be saving energy for either the dancing or fighting. “It’d better be fighting because I need to bet on the arena. Last time I bet was with Iblis and he totally won. But not tonight. Soon the dancing will begin and so will the fighting. Just need the vamps. They were the main fuel for both of the requirements. He moved away from the microphone and left the werewolf DJ to do his job.
The VIP floor was full. Vampires were predominant here. Werewolves were not that much today, but no worries. They will come. And when they do, conflict will follow them. Nice! Then suddently Marid saw him- dark figure, sitting on the table in the left corner, hidden in the shadows, which slowly fiddles a glass of pure blood in its fingers. How in places does he do that. Every time! Every god damn time, he enters the sanctuary without being detected by any of Marid’s spells and incantations. “How do you do it”-he thought. “Is it because a part of you is still angel?”- he thought. The figure stood up sharply, extending his long white wings, and said:
”Watch your mouth, Marid! I don’t like that thought of yours.”
Amazing! Even an angel does not have enough power to read the mind of a Genie. Such might! He truly is shining.” My deepest apologies, oh great Iblis!”-said Marid.
“Apology accepted.”-said the figure. “Please sit down beside me.”
Beside him? A very rare occasion. How fortunate I am today.
“I have something which I’d like to discuss with you.”.
Marid was overjoyed.
Anne bit her lip and looked at the recycle bin. The small piece of crushed paper was peacefully lying there. The words “answers” were visible. She was tired. She was angry. She was confused. How could everything just mess up so suddenly? First that darn wolf, then the memory collapse, now this? Before the world might have not been all that happy and bright but at least she understood it but now... Damn them all? Was someone playing with her head? Was she to go and smash his face or was it better for her to stay? She kicked the thrashbin in rage. Unfortunately this couldn’t solve her problems.
The girl stared in bewilderment and looked again at the wrinkled paper in her hand. This was surely the place but it was no club. It was just some sort of deserted house. So this was a trick after all? Or was it a trap? But a trap for what? She wasn’t that important a person! What the hell was going on? And why was she so stupid to believe a stupid note sent on Halloween when all the kids were making jokes and… It was just. She hit the nearby lamp post. Damn it! She had the feeling that she couldn’t think straight anymore. But she wasn’t going to be played around like that. If the world was going to act crazy, she was going to act crazy too. She crushed the note in her hand and strode in the yard of the building.
After a few meters she stopped. There was a big eye painted just above the door. Well, she had missed that when she first glanced at the house. How could she miss that? She was a very observant creature! Well, things had really turned upside down lately. So it was a club after all and no joke. An interesting outlook, she had to admit. She opened the door. There was a dark tunnel and a crimson light at the end of it. She again stopped still for a while. What had happened to her anger, her concentration? They were gone. There was nothing left but confusion and the red light. It felt safe and warm which somehow automatically switched off her bewildered mind and like a moth drawn to the flame, her feet made their way forwards without consulting the head. Maybe there really were answers at the end. Maybe not. She didn’t know and at the moment she just didn’t want to think about anything.
The sound increased with each step and as she reached the source of the crimson glow, she saw that she was at the doorway of a gigantic club. She looked around. And now what?

(if I'm sending that again, sorry but it didn't appear?)
A Non-Existent User
Thump. Thump. The heavy black combat boots echoed on the concrete, splashing through a few puddles. Outside of that, no one would have known she was there. Though she wasn’t trying to be sly or anything, it just came so naturally to a Gangrel.

City life. That was something that wasn’t so natural of the clan. They weren’t nicknamed “Outlanders” for no reason. Their kind preferred solitude, and wandering, not staying holed up in a Haven in the middle of a city- Los Angeles no less.

Gangrel, after all, normally only visited a city out of necessity. But this was the only home she had ever known and it was a big enough metropolis that she could roam. Spending time around the ports of Santa Monica and the outlands beyond that, helped to clear her mind.

Going down an alleyway, she made sure no street thugs or homeless people were wandering around. She ducked behind the dumpster, hulling the manhole cover up. With cat-like agility, she slipped down inside and replaced the cover. Not a soul would know she’d been there.

Dropping down from the ladder, the vampiress heard the splash of water around her ankles. Immediately, her eyes adjusted to the darkness and the sewer system appeared before her eyes. Sure, all vampires had good night vision, but Gangrel’s and Nosferatu’s were even better- it was like walking in mid-day to them.

She knew where she was- a small side tunnel that led into one of the bigger deposits. She headed in that general direction, drawing out a map of the system in her head. There were so many twists and turns, along with back systems, it was confusing as hell. Using a map was basically useless too, because none of the condemned and blocked tunnels and chambers were drawn out. And those passages were exactly what she was looking for.

The Nosferatu clan, suffering horrible disfigurations thanks to the Embrace, lived in the sewer’s networking. They created multiple Havens in closed off area called Nests. City dwelling Gangrel, on occasion, would claim an abandoned tunnel for themselves. But mostly it was just the Nosferatu and the rats.

It was funny though. The two clans had a lot in common, and were good allies, but they didn’t hang out much. What was even funnier, at least to her, was the fact that she was dating a Nosferatu…

She had no idea he was a Nosferatu. He’d seemed more of a Malkavian type, especially considering the Embrace hadn’t done much to his outer appearance. He was strangely beautiful, though she couldn’t place why. He was tall, and without any shirt she could see he was kind of on the skinny side. His white jacket and black trousers hung on him, though it worked well for him.

His short blonde hair fell out of his eyes. Those eyes, the deepest golden hue she’d ever seen. He met her gaze and smiled a bit. With a few quick words to his pals he left them at the table, striding over toward where she stood at the bar.

“Hey Tala,” he greeted, leaning his back to the bar.

She shook her head, smirking a bit. “What do you want now Furion,” she mused.

“When are you gonna let me take you out, huh?”

Tala’s smile grew. “You have to catch me first babe,” she replied playfully.

Furion didn’t have time to reply though. She slipped away, and disappeared out the doorway. The poor guy had been trying and trying to hook up with her for a good month at least. He’d done a lot of futile flirting and had himself a good number of rejections, not to mention the social humiliation. But he’d managed to grab her attention… and keep it.

The Nosferatu followed Tala quickly. When he was able to elbow his way out of the nightclub, he stood on the sidewalk, looking up and down the street. And there she was, leaning casually on the side of the building. He smiled at her and she winked, motioning with her head to follow.

Tala headed down the sidewalk, Furion right on her tail. Looking over at her he asked, “Where are we going?”

She just gave him a secretive smile. “You’ll see.”

They stayed silent as they walked through the night, but it was obvious the amount of energy that passed between them. The pair ended up at the Santa Monica pier- or under it rather…

Tala ran into a dead end. She scowled, turning back around to retrace her steps to the junction. With hands on her hips, she looked questioningly at the tunnels. She knew that the Nest she sought was this way…

But then she heard something. The sounds echoed off the concrete walls. A small group was running her way. Tala ducked into the shadows, crouching in wait. As they drew closer, she saw that there were four- and they were Sabbat.

The glowing red eyes and strange body art gave them away. The clans in that sect were quite different from any of them- almost as if they were a different kind of Kindred altogether. The Camarilla and Anarchs may not have always gotten along, but one thing was certain- they both hated the Sabbat.

Whereas most Anarchs respected the ideals behind the Masquerade, the Sabbat had no morals what-so-ever. They saw humans as fodder that were just free for the killing. And their methods were far from discrete. That’s all Kindred needed was for every vampire hunter in the area to have their eyes pinned on them.

The Sabbat hurried down toward the junction, taking a moment to pause, and catch their breath. They were pretty beat up, one of them being severely injured. By the feel of their auras, they were newly changed. More shock troops, Tala thought.

That was the way the Sabbat recruited. Mostly it was just attack and change, practically no reason behind who they picked. Half of them may not even know they’re vampires for quite some time. But this little pack seemed to be in the know.

“Which way, man?” one asked.

“Uh, I dunno,” his comrade replied, most likely the leader of the bunch. They were obviously on the run and had lost their way in the maze of the sewers.

They hadn’t seen her yet and they probably wouldn’t. She could easily have stayed hidden in the shadows, waiting till they finally moved on. But she couldn’t just let the group leave. She wasn’t that kind of person- especially when she could fight without worrying about drawing attention from humans.

Suddenly, she heard someone else headed their way. “Damnit!” the leader cursed, his glowing red eyes filled with spite. “He found us.”

She found out just who in fact this “he” was in the next second when he came ripping through the darkness. The Kindred had twin Colt Anacondas drawn and opened fire on the group. It was a quick slaughter, a very easy kill.

The leader stumbled back, water splashing up around him. “Don’t kill me,” he pleaded with the other vampire. But that didn’t save him. The Kindred put a giant black boot on his chest, pushing down hard.

There was terror in the eyes of the Sabbat, receiving a smirk from his attacker. “Fuck you,” the assassin mentioned before pulling the trigger back.

As the leader’s ashes burst into the air, Tala smirked to herself. So, he’s back in town, eh? The Tremere stood still as a statue, reeling his power back into check. His back was away from her and she decided to remove herself from the shadows.

She stood in the middle of the tunnel, watching, waiting silently. He sighed heavily, turning to see her. They stared at each other for what seemed like forever. Finally, he broke the quiet. “Tala,” he acknowledged, his voice deep and husky.

“Long time no see, Jereven.” She closed the distance between them, smirking. “So, what was that all about?” she asked, referring to the fight- more like slaughter- she’d just witnessed.

He shrugged it off, replacing his Anacondas in his long trench coat. “They got in my way,” he answered lightly.

“What were you doing down here? I didn’t see you at the meeting.” The meeting, of course, was a Camarilla affair. But they were open for all to come. Politically speaking, all vampires were supposedly started out as members of the Camarilla, whether they declared it or not. Odd, yes, but she didn’t make the rules to these things.

Of course, if a Kindred declared themselves independent, Anarch, or otherwise, they weren’t really a member anymore… However any good Anarch high in the pecking order knew that attending the meetings were almost a must. It was an easy way to keep track of the Prince, the Reagents, and all of their affairs, without even having to do any spy work what-so-ever.

“Why would I waste my time there?” he replied.

“You mean to tell me you no longer side yourself with the Camarilla?” she asked, a bit surprised, yet suspicious at the same time.

“I ally myself to no one.”

She just nodded, though she had to wonder how true his statement was. Jereven had been an agent for the Camarilla for a long time, one of the Prince’s favorites at that. He’d spoken a few times about turning independent. It just never really worked out. But he never really belonged with them either.

Plus, being a Tremere, he knew some loneliness- especially within the ranks of the Camarilla. They were a very mistrusted clan because of their mysterious ways. They were blood mages, and they kept their secrets close, even from each other sometimes.

Then again, the Gangrel were loners as well, known mostly for their shape changing abilities. They were close to the Beast within, learning to manipulate it to their advantage. They were also the clan most trusted by the Lupines.

But if what Jereven was saying was true, that he had finally turned his back on the Camarilla altogether… Had their last meeting sunken into the Tremere’s thick skull?

There was a silence between them for a bit, then his body un-tensed. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll take you back to the Last Round.”

After crawling out of a nearby sewer entrance, the pair settled into a leisurely pace down the streets. It had finally stopped raining at least. Tala looked up at the Kindred she’d known for a long while. His face was shadowed under the streetlights, but she could see him well enough to tell that he hadn’t changed much since they’d last met.

He was tall, processing an athletic build. Jereven was very toned, especially his rock-solid abs. His skin was naturally tanned, with broad shoulders, and a sexy physique. His hair was a messy raven that tended to fall into his deep emerald eyes.

His attire hadn’t changed either- still the same old baggy jeans and tight fitting black tee-shirts. His matching long black trench coat flowed behind him wherever he went, creating a mystery and allure about him. He was a shadow, and enigma at it’s purest.

But something was off. She hadn’t seen Jereven in quite a long time, and she just couldn’t quite put her finger on it. “Are you alright?” Tala finally asked.

Jereven shrugged. “Why you ask?”

“You seem... different.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” His face was set, solid as ever, without any hint of emotion.

Tala really didn’t have anything to say about that. She didn’t really know what was different about him. He just felt a bit off. His aura had changed somewhat. But why?

She shrugged it off. He was just too solitary, and probably wouldn’t tell her what was up. And somehow she had the feeling she might not want to know. Jereven had the habit of getting into trouble.

“Well, here you are.” He stopped outside the door of the Last Round. The scent of alcohol and the noise of pounding music slipped outside as one of the patrons left the bar. It was the Anarch strong-hold of L.A. Not as official as the Prince’s mansion or large offices, but it served their purposes.

“See you later, Jere,” she said, patting his arm.


She left him standing outside on the back street, going into the mayhem that was the Last Round. Most were Kindred, whether Anarchs or plain ol’ drifters. There were even a couple Ghouls working behind the bar.

“Tammy, Sammy,” Tala nodded to the pair of Ghouls. Tammy winked at her and Sam simply nodded, serving a customer.

“They’re upstairs,” Tammy informed her, adding as an afterthought, “And Furion’s not too happy…” She just nodded, having been afraid of that.

Tala made her way up the stairs. The private area allowed for only Anarch members higher up in the movement. Most of them were goofing off, drinking, playing cards, or throwing darts- pretty much anything to keep out of Furion’s path. When he was angry, it was probably the safest bet. He could be the sweetest person in the world, but when that temper surfaced…

She found Furion at his normal table in the far corner, sitting with Jack. “Smiling Jack” was a well known Brujah among the Anarchs. Whereas he claimed independence, it was clear to anyone that had met Jack that he was born to be an Anarch, through and through. He was also very old, though he only looked in his mid-thirties.

No one really knew his whole story or any details of his life before he made his way to L.A. in the early 1900’s. But there were rumors flying around the Kindred that Jack used to be a pirate captain in the North Atlantic… but she questioned the credibility of that information.

The other Brujah with them, Slater, leaned on the wall, listening to the conversation going on. He spotted Tala come in, nudging Furion’s shoulder. The Anarch leader turned, saw her, and immediately jumped to his feet. “There you are.” He hurried over and embraced her tightly. “Where the hell did you run off to?” he demanded, holding her at arm’s length to look at her.

“Got held up.” By the look he gave her, he wanted a full report of exactly why she had taken off for almost two hours after the meeting. Tala sighed. “Would you chill? I’m fine.” He didn’t seem convinced. “Look. Like I said, I just needed some down time to think.”

“So where did you go?”

“Damnit Furion!” Tala snarled, batting his arms away. Immediately the group up there stopped everything. It became deathly quiet as all eyes turned on the couple. Furion was looking at her, a mixture of confusion and anger in his eyes.

She growled, frustrated with his attitude as of late. “What is with you lately, huh!? This past week I can’t go down the street to feed for ten minutes without you turning into some kind of mental case! I can take care of myself, if you care to remember!”

She paused, throwing her arms in the air. “I don’t know what to do with you,” Tala continued. “When the fuck was it a crime to be on my own for awhile, huh?” She wasn’t screaming anymore at least, but she was still heaping mad. The whole situation was just frustrating. He’d never been overly-protective before, and she knew something was up.

He sighed, knowing he’d been beaten in this argument. Furion’s eyes softened. “Tala, I… I’m sorry, okay?” He reached out his hand to her. “I don’t mean to be such a pain. I just worry about you… especially now. I don’t want anything to happen to you…”

Tala calmed down considerably, looking deep into Furion’s golden eyes. She managed a small half smile. Reaching out, she grasped his hand. “Alright,” she replied, accepting his apology. “But no more secrets,” she added quickly. “I wanna know what’s going on.”

He nodded, smiling a bit. He opened his arms and she couldn’t help it- she fell into them and gave him a big hug. Furion rocked her in his warm embrace, kissing her forehead. “I love you,” he whispered in her ear.

She titled her head back to look up at him. “I’ll think about it,” she smirked. Furion’s grin widened, knowing full well she was over being upset.

Everyone else realized the fight was over as well and returned to doing whatever it was they’d been doing before. They seemed slightly disappointed there hadn’t been more action. After all, most of the Anarchs enjoyed watching their spats.

Tala and Furion were a good couple. And anyone that had known them for all of five minutes knew they loved each other dearly. Sure, they had their disagreement- and sometimes their arguments got fairly heated- but in the end they also worked things out and moved on. That was one of the many reasons the Anarchs rallied around Furion, and showed their respect for Tala.

The couple sat at the table. Jack and Slater greeted Tala, then looked at Furion, wondering if their prior conversation was going to continue. But he put that on hold for the time being, turning to his girl. “So,” he prompted, calmly this time, “where’d you go?”

“Well, I was sitting in the garage over on 7th for awhile…”

“Reflecting on the meeting.” She nodded, even though it hadn’t been a question. He just knew her way to well.

“Well, I started walkin’ back, but I was near the Nest, so-“

“Wait, Maverick’s Nest?” Furion questioned. When she nodded he asked, “Why go there?”

She shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. Haven’t seen Mav, Rey, Sintax, and them in awhile… I guess I got lost though. Ended up running into some young Sabbat punks.”

Furion grabbed her hand, worried all over again.

“Calm down,” she urged. “I just watched…”

“Watched?” this was inquired by Jack. He and Slater were listening intently now.

“Yeah, they were running from Jereven.”

Furion raised a brow, his pale lips pressed tightly together, obviously not too happy to hear that the Kindred had returned. “Interesting… I thought he was up in the Hollywood Hills, runnin’ errands for the Prince,” he directed this at Jack.

The Brujah shrugged. “Thought so too. Unless the Prince is planning something we don’t know about.”

Tala but in. “He said he wasn’t dealing with the Camarilla anymore.”

“So he says,” Furion replied skeptically. “Tremere’s are tricky.”

“Maybe we should find out what he’s up to,” Slater suggested.

Furion agreed. “Why don’t you start digging into that…”

Slater nodded, but Tala interjected. “Why can’t I do that?” she demanded of her boyfriend.

He sighed, taking her hand again. “First of all,” he explained calmly, “I don’t trust Jereven, especially around you.” She tried to interrupt, but he placed a finger to her lips. “The two of you have history, and I think that might get in your way of any investigation.

“Second, I have different plans for you.”

She leaned closer towards him. Lowering her voice, she asked, “Does this deal with what you’ve been keeping from me?”

Furion nodded, making her smile. “As we all heard at the meeting tonight, the Prince is planning to completely wipe out any trace of Sabbat fractions from the city. But, what he didn’t mention at that meeting- something a few of my clan mates found out- he wants to try and make a deal with the Anarchs to help him out.”

“No way!” Tala yelled. “There’s no way in hell we’d help that bastard! Are you kidding me!?”

Furion smirked. “I figured you’d see it my way… But as it stands, he wants to use our forces to help increase his numbers. Translation, he wants us as the damn cannon fodder. He’s trying to mask it, make us think we’re working to take out the Sabbat…”

“But at the same time, he’s also lowering our forces by making us do the dirty work,” Tala finished sliding the pieces of the puzzle together.

Furion nodded and Jack snorted. “What a moron,” the old Brujah commented. “That guy actually has the balls to even think of asking for our help.”

“But wait,” Tala jumped in. “What is it you want me to do about this?”

Smiling, Furion looked carefully at her. “I want you to help me rally up all the Anarchs. We’re gonna help the Prince alright… help him lose his place in L.A. for good.” Tala was grinning, but he continued. “Let him think we plan to aid him in his little ‘mission.’ But he’ll be in for a damn big surprise. He’s not just gonna lose his seat in power, but we’re gonna run every last one of those bastards outta here once and for all. This was our town before they got here, and we’re gonna take it back!”

No sooner had he said all this then a loud crash was heard downstairs. There was scrambling and shouting, then gunfire opened up. There was a raid…
The explosion was huge. Everyone duck behind the tables. Pieces of metal, rock and pavement flew in the air, passing the windows of the “Last Round”. The music stopped. Sounds of a skirmish taking place down on the street filled the bar with panic. Wild, vulgar and monstrous were the voices of the attackers. A Sabbat raid was taking place in front of the bar. This was no coincidence. The Sabbat must have heard about the Prince’s wish to annihilate them. Furion stood up.
“What now, Furion?”- asked Jack.
“Everyone should go downstairs to get weapons from Tammy and Sammy, `cause pistols and knives won’t work this time. They’re heavily armed. Jack, you and Slater look outside of the window… carefully Slater, and see what we’re up against. I doubt its only shock troops.”. Before he had finished the sentence everyone did as instructed. A few seconds afterwards Slater went to Furion:

“Furion, there are no shock troops what so ever. They’re all Harbengers, very well trained, well armed. Also there are a lot of zombies. The Harbingers aren’t attacking. Just staying away and shooting. And resurrecting more zombies.”-reported Slater. Tala came with three shotguns and a few grenades. Jack was still observing the situation outside. His face was grim. He tilted his head and out of nowhere a smile occupied his face. Then he started laughing, but something interrupted him. Suddenly he shouted: ”Bazooka!”, jumped, made a summersault in the air and the second he landed on the ground, ten footsteps away from the window, an explosion shook the room. Pieces of glass, wood and metal flew everywhere. Jack stood up, taking out a big piece of glass out of his chest and turned to Furion, Tala and Slater, who had ducked under a knocked-down table. “Two grenades, Tala, quick!”-he shouted. Tala threw him two grenades. He held them close to his mouth, bit the two rings with his vampire fangs and released the safety pines. The levers fell on the ground. But Jack didn’t throw the grenades immediately. “JAAAACK!!!!”-shouted Furion, but the second he finished, Jack threw the grenades out through the big hole made by the bazooka. In a few more seconds two explosions sounded out. “Cocksuckers!!!”-shouted Jack and turned his grinning face towards the three vampires.
“Alright, Jack! That was sweeeet!.”- said Slater. Tala gave the two shotguns to Slater and Jack-Furion never used guns, no matter what sort of guns. He loved his sword Feral and would never ditch it for a shotgun.

Furion stopped Tala from going downstairs with the others. The fire inside her eyes glowed sparkling red. She beated his hand off, telling him never to do that again, but Furion caught her by the wrist again. Tala was just about to repeat herself, when through the big hole came four angry Sabbats. They were most likely Samedi-their decomposed bodies, the stench of decay, and the zombies that followed them were a good reason to think so.
Skilled necromancers and assassins, Samedi were one the most feared Sabbat clans. Resurrecting the dead to protect and help them, in that way being able to get to anyone. Now there were four of them and about ten zombies, with the tendency to become even more. Jack and Slater were already downstairs, so it was just Furion and Tala against a pack of decaying corpses. “Yummy!”-thought Tala.” All of these bastards, just for us. Oh, they shouldn’t have.”

Suddenly the four Samedi took out their weapons-shotguns and started shooting. Tala shot once at the closest to her and ducked behind a knocked-down table. Shots followed creating three huge holes in the table. Furion was dodging the bullets, slaying every zombie that got in his way. He was getting close to one of Sabbats, and his zombies were diminishing. Two more zombies, gosh they’re so small-time. They attack slowly, moved without the wish to exist. They attacked only because they were order, like puppets on strings, no will to kill, no fighting spirit, just the reeking smell of the awaiting, slow, painful death-the only thing they could give Furion. Feral sliced through the shoulder of one of them. He cut through the whole body of the second one. That didn’t kill them but then again, he didn’t need them dead. He wanted the Samedi dead. A shot sounded off again, but Furion was prepared, jumped on the left, landed on his feet and ran to the left. The Samedi had shot his last bullet and now was reloading. Big mistake! Furion was faster than him and in two seconds Feral had already cut through the assassin’s stomach. Furion took out the sword and beheaded the Sabbat. A shadow shaded him, he quickly turned around, but it was too late- a shot was heard.


A Sabbat fell on the ground. He was about to shoot Furion, but Tala was faster. A shot followed after that. Tala ducked but not in time. It seemed that the shot had gotten her, because she fell on the ground. Furion ran to her. He helped her to get up. She didn’t seem to be injured, the only wound was a small cut from a passing bullet to her cheek. “How low could that Sabbat be to shoot her when she wasn’t looking?” Furion thought.
“You two look like such a nice couple. You’ll be perfect for my collection of corpses!”-said the Samedi.
“Motherfu…”- Tala was about to attack him, but Furion didn’t let her. She looked at him.
“They’re not here for you!”-he said.
“On the contrary, we’re here exactly for her!”- said the second Sabbat. Tala attacked them immediately. Furion didn’t stop her. She was on a row, and when she was no one could stop her. The Sabbats were going to pay. He took the zombies that had surrounded them. Suddenly a feral wolf jumped one of the Sabbats. His shouts were soon silenced by the wolf’s fangs. Another wolf jumped the second Samedi. It wasn’t feral, it was Tala. She was like a wild tiger, elegant, royal in the way she fought. Gosh he loved her. He almost forgot that he was surrounded by zombies.


The raid was finally over. The Harbingers were dead. The Anarches had given a lot of casualties, mainly because of the explosions. Jack was sent to gather the Anarches, which weren’t here. Furion and Tala hid in an old hideout. It was time for him to tell her that she wasn’t going to stay for the battles here. The Samedi weren’t sent from the Sabbat, but from the Prince. He knew that that would happen sooner or later. But it wasn’t so easy because she didn’t care. An Anarch like her didn’t care but he was Nosferatu. Tala was in grave danger, and though she didn’t care, he did. He loved her too much to lose her. It was best if he sent her away to a sanctuary. Tomorrow night he would.
A Non-Existent User
Jereven muttered a curse under his breath. He should have never let Tala know he was back. Then again, she probably wouldn’t cause him any trouble. Still, it probably wasn’t wise. He’d regret it later when it came back to bite him in the ass.

He was having enough issues. He didn’t need to worry about Tala too. Jere was still trying to figure out where exactly he laid in the scheme of things. Sure, he had told Tala that he was no longer with the Camarilla. But that wasn’t entirely true.

Jere was still running errands for the Prince. He’d also been doing jobs for the Anarchs in Hollywood and the Kein-jin in Chinatown. Sometimes he wondered where exactly it was he belonged.

For now it seemed it was the Tremere Chantry. He didn’t want to go home to Santa Monica when he had business with the Prince the following night. Besides, his room at the Chantry was always open.

While passing through the shadows of the back alleys he felt a concentration of Sabbat members behind him. The Last Round… He knew immediately that was where they had to be headed. Jereven stopped, his body yelling at him to return to the Anarchs and help them. But the logical half of him told him to keep walking and stay out of their business. He knew they could handle themselves, but still…

The Kindred growled, deciding it wouldn’t hurt to go back and make sure. However, by the time he returned to The Last Round, he found that the Sabbat invaders had already been cleared out. The bar was a mess and he heard the distant sounds of sirens. Apparently the Anarchs there heard them too, because with a few orders from their leader, they scattered different directions.

He watched Tala thanking a small wolf, a werewolf by the looks of things. The wolf was antsy around so many vampires, but had come to her like a loyal dog. The wolf ran off then, back into the night where it had come.

Tala paused, observing their poor stronghold. It would take a lot of time- and money that they didn’t have- to fix it up. She sighed before spinning on her heels to follow Furion into the streets. Where’re they goin’ to? Jereven wondered. But this time he didn’t let his body win…

The Kindred left the scene of battle as police and fire trucks were pulling up.

- _ - _ -

The Chantry was quiet that night. He made his way down the main hall and past the study, which was surprisingly empty. Jereven turned down his hallway, his door the first on the right. He admitted that it actually felt good to be back.

He placed his hand on the door, feeling the pulse of energy pass from him into the wood. The door recognized him immediately, and the lock clicked open. However, he felt the familiar tingle of the spell magick that hovered in the air of the Chantry wrap around him.

Instead of standing in front of his room, he found himself in front of the double doors to Kiril Stamenov’s private quarters of the Chantry. “Great,” Jereven muttered. “He knows I’m here.”

He pushed aside the doors, coming into the large sitting room Kiril commonly frequented. “Of course I know you’re here Jereven,” the Regent said, motioning him to sit. “I knew the moment you walked through the front door.”

Jereven took a seat on the couch across from Kiril. “What are you doing back so soon?” the Regent questioned.

“I found some information for the Prince…”

Kiril was intrigued. He sat forward in his seat, looking at him carefully. “Really? Anything good?”

Jereven smirked. “Very good.”

- _ - _ -

In his room, the Kindred sat on the small bed. It was a simple room, but it worked for him. He had draped his trenchcoat over the chair and taken his shirt off. Now he sat cross-legged on the mattress, reflecting on the events of the night. It seemed to be a ritual of late. It helped to clear his mind and sort things out before starting all over again the next evening.

Sitting there meditating, an invisible force filled the air around him. Power stirred, magic wrapping around him. He let it fill him, engulfing his being. His eyes popped open, glowing a brilliant gold instead of their usual deep emerald.
A Non-Existent User
Seemingly dividing from the shadows, Jereven’s long black trench coat whipped up around him. As the wind picked up, his raven hair blew around, drifting into his deep emerald eyes. Nobody paid any attention to him as he made his way through the streets of downtown Los Angeles.

Eventually, he found himself at a large office building, the headquarters for the city’s Camarilla. He walked in, brushing by the night watchman without a word. He called the elevator, riding it up to the top floor. The doors opened at the penthouse level. The lavishly decorated sitting area gave way to a huge office space. There, he found Alber De’Collisa seated behind the oak desk.

The self-proclaimed Prince of L.A., De’Collisa was a powerful Venture. They were a clan of high society, and were normally the ones calling the shots in Camarilla society. None of the other Camarilla Kindred of power argued with his take-over, for De’Collisa had proven himself to be an influential, take charge person, and the sect had flourished under his new reign.

Next to him was the Sheriff, the Camarilla enforcer. No one knew his real name, except De’Collisa. Rumors had it that he met the Sheriff decades ago on a trip to Africa. Jereven didn’t care where he came from. He just knew not to cross that behemoths path. The assassin suspected he was a Gangrel, but he couldn’t be sure of that.

The Sheriff nudged the Prince, who looked up and smiled when he saw Jereven approaching. The Tremere didn’t return the gesture, only nodded. “Jereven, have a seat,” he said, motioning to the chair across from him.

“I won’t be staying long.” Jere’s tone was even, and he stood stiffly, his hands clasped in front of him.

“Alright,” De’Collisa dragged out, curious to his behavior. “I take it you have some information then?”

“Sabbat movement has slowed through Hollywood. They’ve all left Santa Monica completely now. Their forced are concentrating to Chinatown, as well as the downtown area.”

“Reason for the move?” the Prince prompted.

“Speaking with my contacts, it seems they’re trying to stage a mass invasion of the Camarilla and Kein-jin.”

“What about the Anarchs? Hollywood’s their stronghold.”

“Blade has chased them out. The Sabbat don’t want to deal with them again until they gain more power.” De’Collisa scowled at the mention of his enemy, the Baron of Hollywood. Furion may have held the power over the rebels in L.A., but Bade was the brains behind organizing them together with the Anarchs of Hollywood, Santa Monica, and beyond.

The Prince took his time in considering the news. Finally, he sighed, and said, “Well, I’ll take your information under advisement with the Reagents.”

Jereven nodded, ready to leave, but the Prince stopped him. “I have anther job for you, if you’re interested.”

“What is it?” he asked, slightly irritated about another mission with the Camarilla so soon. Speaking true to Tala, he really was trying to break away from their grasp.

“An assassination.”

His ears perked forward. Knowing he had his full attention, De’Collisa grinned slyly. “Who’s the target?”

The Prince’s smirk grew. “Tala Devaki.”

- _ - _ -

Making his way through the dark alleyways, Jereven pondered his position. The Prince had ordered a hit on Tala. Rather than putting out a Blood Hunt for her, which would require any Kindred to apprehend her or face punishment, he would prefer to take care of it quietly. Plus, he didn’t want anyone to know the Camarilla had been behind the assassination.

It had been somewhat of a surprise to Jereven that De’Collisa would want Tala out of the picture. But after explaining his reasoning, it was a wonder to the Tremere he hadn’t thought of it before. The Prince figured with Tala out of the picture, Furion would be a walking target and wouldn’t stand a chance of staying in power, much less alive, for much longer.

It was true in that sense. Tala was Furion’s only real weakness. Without her, the Prince would be able to convince Furion to help him in his "wiping out the Sabbat" ploy he was trying to pull off with the Anarchs. Of course Jere saw the plan for what it really was, a rouse to get the Anarchs on the front line, saving Camarilla lives and taking out both enemies at the same time. Brilliant, but very risky, especially where Tala was concerned.

Jereven certainly had a problem on his hands. On the one was the job he’d been given. Sure he’d been wanting his escape from the Camarilla, and it would appear to be a simple choice. But there was one nagging problem… this was the break in the Camarilla ranks he’d never been able to taste before. If he did this, he’d ascend to one of the highest pecking order, working alongside De’Collisa. It was a seat of power a Tremere had never once before experienced.

On the other hand was Tala. The memories of their history, their unspoken, mysterious bond, everything… How could he even begin to think of betraying her? Even for what he would gain, how could it possibly be worth it? If he didn’t do it, then the Prince would have someone after him as well. There would be no turning back with whatever decision he made. Now, he just had to make the right one.

The Tremere paused in the darkness of the alley. There was someone else there, someone not quite human… The man appeared from the shadows, not exactly a threatening fellow, but still dark in his aura. He was tall and thin, not very built. His hair was long raven, falling to his chin, and his eyes were equally as dark. Dressed well, he had a black button-up shirt and black slacks and dress shoes. He certainly didn’t blend in to this part of town.

“What do you want?” Jereven demanded as the stranger approached him.

“I have a proposition for you Jereven,” he replied.

The Tremere’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know my name.”

The stranger smirked. “We’ve met before.”

“When?” He didn’t recall any time they’d been introduced.

“That’s not important. What is important is what I have to say.” Jereven watched him carefully, but allowed him to continue, his curiosity getting the better of him. “I know you’ve been given a new assignment. But I have a better one for you.”

“Such as?”

“I too have a task for you regarding Tala Devaki. However, I don’t want her dead. I want her alive.” Jereven wondered how this man knew so much, but it was pushed aside by the surprise of this job. “I’ll pay you too,” the man continued, “a lot more than your Prince ever could.”

Jereven studied the stranger, not knowing what to say.

© Copyright 2007 Richard_freeman, The dreamer, xx-xx, xx-xx, (known as GROUP).
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