[North Shore Nights] Chapter Three: Deepening Night.

To Anna


They shake and smile, genuinely, if a bit distracted as an animal would be watching fresh meat be dangled before its nose. "Kitten," said woman whispers.


Vandergraff is far more cordial. "Hello! I've heard much about you. I've been curious about your night classes at your school of dance. Classical sorts of dancing, no?"
 
Ourobouros


"Interesting..." it notes. "As for the trail, you recall that Howard fellow? He may not be a Vampire, but he's plainly a long way from human. But apparently a friend to the Order. You know, he looks a little bit like that author you like - the deranged racist one Freud would have fallen in love with." It picks up the bag, to present to a more senior Dragon. "I should try reading some of his work, you know."
 
Garrison Blake


If Kindred could blanch, Blake would be doing just that. As it is, he turns his head, seeing where the trail goes. "My recent experiences do not predispose me to ignoring threats to the Order. Gavin, Ouro, one of you - get some Guardians. Don't know what this...thing is. But we can't take chances. Whatever this thing is - it's not natural."


The Gangrel follows the slime trail into the Chapter House. Why would this...Howard...reveal himself like this now? What has he done? As much as he doesn't want to find out, duty presses him forward. If there is a threat to the Order, he put himself in front of that threat....
 
Gavin


Gavin nods a little hesitantly and moves to obey the Gangrel's orders, stepping carefully around the trail of slime before going off in search of some Guardians.
 
To Gavin


The Sworn of the Axe and Guardians should surely be in the lower labs, aka the Barracks. They sleep in individual cells there. So if any are in it would be best to search there.
 
Valentine


Wordlessly, Valentine falls into step beside the gangrel, one hand clenched around the hilt under his coat.


One of these days you're going to run into something you can't cut...


"Until then..." the vampire mutters softly.
 
To Blake and Valentine and Ouro


The library is deathly quiet and still. The archway leading in is a shroud, like thick curtains drawn tight. No lights, the overheads are out. The rows of shelves barely stand out, fuliginous on the black (-4 dice if you venture in further).
 
To Valentine


Hmm. Nothing on the wall outside the archway, but looks like a wallplate on the inside. Ah! There it is.


click


bzzzz-pop! A gout of sparks erupts from where one of the overheads sat in the middle of the room. Well, shit. Nothing catches that any of you can see. The sparks illuminate the room's center only briefly. Weren't there tables there before?
 
Valentine


Valentine curses softly. "Blind it is, then..."


He smoothly draws his weapon, and stalks silently toward the shadows, like a cat.
 
Garrison Blake


Blake puts an arm out and restrains Valentine. "I'm sorry, my friend. I cannot allow you to go before me. This is my responsibility. This is my duty. I go first." With that, he drops his arm, steps ahead of Valentine, and enters the library...
 
Valentine


Valentine grimaces, and deliberately falls into step beside the Gangrel.


"Honour's very nice when it gets you dusted. Side by side, then. I don't need your protection, Blake, but you might need my help." His tone has an edge of gallows humour, intended to strip any offense from the words.
 
To Valentine


Spzzzt Another flurry of sparks, the shadows dance. Something small and black in the center of the room ahead. A shoe? Maybe ten yards in front of you. Jagged gouges torn into the carpet and the wood underneath all around it. A shattered bookcase off to the left your feet crunching on the splinters underneath. Overturned tables. Then nothing, nothing but the deep black.


Wits + Composure - 4
 
Valentine


Cursing mentally, Valentine strains, peering into the dark.


Spending a point of willpower for +3 to the roll.


Results for 4 dice: 2 successes [ 6 0 1 8 ] (TN: 8 ) (damage/extra)


Results for 1 dice: 0 successes [ 7 ] (TN: 8 ) (damage/extra)
 
Garrison Blake


"Not trying to protect you. It's my duty. I..." Blake looks into the darkness. His training has served him well, but now the limits of that training are tested. He swallows, looking into the stygian blackness, then takes another step.....


Wits (3) + Composure (3) - 4 = Results for 2 dice: 1 success [ 4 9 ] (TN: 8 )
 
To Valentine and Blake


There's some kind of odd humming in the floorboards, something you can feel even in your teeth, vibrating.


To Valentine


You hear a very quiet, but steady drip-drip-drip coming from somewhere in the room. Beyond the shoe, probably.
 
Garrison Blake


"Torch would be great now," whispers Blake. With that, he steps into the room....
 
Valentine


"Bah, stupid..." Valentine slips his free hand in to his pocket, pulling out his cellphone. "Built-in. Your phone probably has one, too."


A few quick button presses later, and a small but surprisingly powerful L.E.D. torch is shining at the end of Valentine's cellphone. Holding it in front of him with his machete ready to strike, he starts to inch forward into the darkness, swinging the thin beam in long slow sweeps.
 
To Valentine and Blake


OOC: If you both get them out, you'll be at only -2.


Shredded carpets, torn up wood flooring, shattered desks, books torn to pieces and thrown about, spattered blood here and there, black in the LED lights. What looks like snapped off fingernails at the end of a series of furrows in the wood by your feet, just off to the left. Great phlegmy gobs of that slime are all over the floor, smeared in bluish-yellow trails all over.


You do begin to hear a soft keening sound. Someone on the very edge of crying, breathing heavily.
 
Garrison Blake


Cursing his own dimwittedness, Blake pulls out his cellphone, activates the light...and puts it in his mouth. He moves slowly in, head swiveling from side to side, searching out the keening sound....
 
Valentine


Hissing softly, Valentine turns his light and moves toward the keening sound. Were his muscles living, he would be quivering with tension. As it is, he could be carved from ambulatory alabaster.
 
To Blake and Valentine


One of the elders, Blake knows this. Didn't speak much at the meeting. He's sucking in huge amounts of air to breathe. He's literally soaked with bloody sweat. Yellowish beads of water just rolling down his face. Just sitting, nestled against a broken bookshelf. Almost catatonic, if not for the sounds he's making and the rocking back and forth. His eyes are wild and you can feel his Beast tightly coiled up in his chest.
 
Valentine


Valentine stops. Getting any closer could push the elder into Rotschreck.


"Blake..?"
 
Garrison Blake


Were it not for the phone in his mouth, Blake would curse. What could have done this to an elder? Never mind. Whatever did this poses a dire threat to the Chapter House. And perhaps to the Order itself. As much as he would like to get the elder to safety, he had a more important obligation first. Blake continues to swivel his head, looking for the...thing...that did this....
 
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