[V20] Maiden, Mother, Crone

[Silanon]

A nod confirms the name's familiarity. "More than a certain Mr. White, arguably; whoever that might be." To say that the vampire is less wary would be an overstatement - at least, his lips show a more ferocious copy of her smile. "I take it you've met him before, then? He knows of this place, and demands answers - you would not want to interfere with that." For just a moment, the smile widens to show his teeth - then, it slowly fades away until just a pensive expression remains.

"What brings you here, then? Doubt he sent you, also doubt you stumbled across this by accident. You don't look like you'd usually be in the area."

 

[Epiphany]

Susan follows the cop and his...partner? Prey? There's a certain familiarity between the two men she can't quite account for. If Matthias Black is this one's Sire, that would make him...Scott? Keeping track of every Kindred in the city was beyond even her formidable abilities, given she still prioritized her mortal business dealings over 'vampire business'. Still, if he'd Dominated his way in, she'd have to be wary of eye contact. Though, again, it seemed to her like this Gangrel was something of a known commodity to the good Detective Rogers. Interesting.

"Our paths have crossed once or twice," Susan owns, answering Landon's inquiry. "By no means am I here to interfere with his business. And you're quite correct, this isn't my-" the Lasombra frowns at a speck of dirt on her black heels. Dressed in a charcoal coat over a decidedly fashionable black dress, Susan looks like someone interrupted her on the way to a ball. "-my usual venue, no. Circumstances require it, though. Our agency has a tip from our...shall we say, rural rivals? Those of us who specialize in intelligence put my colleague and I onto this scene, as something related to a potential happening in a month's time with city-wide implications. We're on business from the top, shall we say, in hopes of solving this before those outside of city limits decide to muscle in and handle matters themselves."

There. Descriptive without being completely telling, in case the detective had better ears than she credited. The Lasombra shifts her attention from her careful steps over old rails to the Gangrel's face and smiles warmly. The regard of a beautiful woman can be powerfully affecting on most men and it's plain she's conscious of that. "We'd love to know anything you've noticed."

 

[Silanon]

That smile of hers - time will tell if it is to be feared or to be appreciated. Her resources, at least, don't speak for her, and his expression shows as much; the woman's description points towards those he certainly appreciates the least of all the clans. Hideous bunch, and there's been bad blood. Quite fitting that they'd be involved as well, though maybe not how he'd expect.

"I see. Then I suppose it'd be best if I showed you the mess, it's rather hard to describe. Unusual sight, to say the least, and it'd better be the last time I see something like it - in our common interest." He indicates her companion to step closer as well, then once more musters her appearance. "Be warned, it's bloody in there; lots of flies, lots of corpses. Best place to ruin your shoes in this city." His voice does not lack a touch of mockery, though it's quickly covered by a spate of sober words. "Any chance you're familiar with occult symbols? Or with burglary, on the other end of the spectrum? There's a door that'd need to get opened up, police doesn't have the tools at their disposal yet." His last words are mostly directed at her collegue - of the two, he certainly appears to be more capable in that regard.

 

[Arynne]

This is looking worse and worse. Justine bites her little finger, and lets a few drops of blood fall into Christopher's mouth. Then she applies pressure to the angle of his jaw, making it impossible for him to swallow. She allows his desperation to build for a few moments, before she releases the pressure and rubs his throat, causing him to swallow rapidly.

Having made it plain that he is dependent on her for the slightest trace of relief to his agony, she asks, "Did others come into this place with him, besides the prisoners?"

 

[Lord-Leafar]

Álvaro looks over at the Gangrel, the subtle nod at his more rugged looks does not go unnoticed. "I may be able to help, where's the door?"
He waits to be shown to the area, and once at the door he kneels to take a closer look at the lock. He grunts lightly as he does, pulling what seems to be a small switchblade. As it unfolds in his hand, it becomes clear that it's a pick pocket tool kit, and he wastes no time having a go at the mechanism of the door.

 

[Esbilon]

Justine & Bela

"No... No one else, Mistress," Christopher manages once he's savored every last molecule of blood she has offered him. "And... and yet, some times, I think perhaps he spoke to someone who was not among his prisoners. Someone he loved. Someone he worshipped," he finishes with that very same sense of worship in his own voice.

Landon, Susan & Álvaro

Roberts has excused himself from the vampires. He seemed torn, but in the end, he has the look of a man who's very much aware of every cent in his savings account and of which jobs are above his pay grade.

As the trio enter the warehouse, the smell hits all of them, and the brief time spent in the relative fresh air of an industrial harbor only makes entering for the second time worse on Landon. The abattoir of the central room greets the three kindred, and their Beasts all rise to the surface, eager to take control of their immortal vessels. A large number of tables, each holding a monstrous, bloated corpse crawling with flies, maggots and worse things are arranged in an obscure pattern around a central location and a trail of blood leads from the centre to the door in the far corner of the building.

 

[Epiphany]

Susan appears oblivious, or indifferent, to Landon's ambivalence. Instead, she mostly concentrates on watching her footing. She does react when her new associate mentions the probability of ruined shoes, however. At which point the woman faces a genuine dilemma. Remove the shoes to spare them? Or keep them on and avoid either ruining her pantyhose with God knows what or revealing a lot more leg than she means to? Susan actually pauses in place for a good three seconds before sighing audibly and just pressing on.

"Occult symbols? I'll confess to some familiarity, yes. Unfortunately." The sigh that escapes the vampire's lips is unmistakably one of deep exasperation.

The departure of the detective is no loss. Seeing Alvaro volunteer to handle the door, Susan smiles at the strange, unsocial Caitiff to show her appreciation for his presence. Then she grimaces at the bloody spectacle, at the second most horrifying carnage she'd ever seen. The first being the plane crash that killed her, of course. Susan takes a reflexive deep breath and immediately regrets inhaling even more of the blood spoor. Pausing just outside the worst of it, the Lasombra closes her eyes and concentrates on the image of the fresh, rich, red, warm blood so generously donated by her Herd of employees. This lacked the ridiculous feeding foibles of the Ventrue but there was no question this savage scene was a spilled pack of Budweiser beer, compared against a nice Amarone. Steadied by that image, and grateful for having fed so recently, Susan opens her eyes once more.

And then steps her way around the uncanny patterns in the blood. At least that Lasombra fetish for the Abyss is good for something...

 

[Silanon]

The brain prepares for the upcoming impressions, recalls what he has seen just minutes ago - but as the Gangrel re-enters the site, it's once more far worse than what he remembered. The stench, the blood, all the tiny, small details; they hit him again as he steps through the door, and make him stop there for one long-lasting moment. At least, Landon is not the only one who fights for control, if he is not mistaken; perhaps a good sign, as there are others who embrace slaughter and carnage more willingly.

His hand points out the trail of blood, leading to the closed door mentioned. "Something left, into that room - no way in thus far. Watch out for the blood around that tub, it bursts into icy flames when you get too close to it." No more words after that - from his own experience, he knows to not interrupt those who might be on to something.

 

[Lord-Leafar]

The scene unfolded before Álvaro with gruesome detail. As his senses took in the details, there was a subtle and slow change in the Caitiff. His pupils dilated, eager to take in as much light and visual detail as possible, which preluded the slow movement of his head as he scanned the scene with dispassionate distaste, his frown a clear grimace of discomfort. The carnage affected him in a way unlike those Kindred still holding onto his humanity, to him, the horrifying scene was not so much terrifying as a great annoyance. Being pointed towards the door that needed opening, he wasted no time in working his magic on the lock and hope it would be enough to get it open.

((OOC: Keeping the previous post's roll for forcing the lock open))

 

[Esbilon]

Susan

The first thing the Keeper realizes upon examining the pattern of the bodies and the manner of their death is that this is outside her expertise. It's not the act of disciples of the Abyss, or the Sabbat. At least it's not one of the more common Rites. Instead, this display of flesh and blood takes her back to tales of ancient vampire history. Before there was a Camarilla or a Sabbat, shifting alliances among clans and individual Elders were the dominant organizational structure of Kindred society, and in many ways it mirrored the history of the Kine. One of the important early struggles was between the Ventrue of Rome and the Brujah of Carthage. In the stories written since then, by the victors no doubt, Carthage was made out to be demon-worshippers who flaunted the Masquerade and lived as masters of the mortal citizens of that once great city.

She once read an account by a vampire who claimed to have been a centurion in the roman legions when they marched into Carthage and finally destroyed it, and he wrote of ritual sites he had witnessed, ritual sites just like the one before her now.

Álvaro & Landon

The door separating Álvaro from his goal is a modern, electronic lock rather than the more mundane ones he's used to. That's not to say that he can't work his magic on it, of course, but it's rather more difficult. He smiles with satisfaction as he manages to open it, but frowns in consternation when it gets stuck and refuses to slide an other inch to the side. What he has now is a gap a hand's breadth wide and a door that's as stuck as it was a minute ago. However, the gap is plenty to see what's on the other side: A railroad car. The gap is too narrow for him to get a good look, but he can make out something standing on the car. Black marble shot through with veins of red, delicately carved pictures on the side too faint to make out in the darkness. It's a sarcophagus, and a beautiful one from what little he can see. But what really sets it apart from what he has seen in churches and movies is it's size. It's a sarcophagus made for a child.

 

[Arynne]

Justine smears a tiny amount of blood on Christopher's lower lip, where he can just reach it if he stretches his tongue to lick at it. "You've done very well, and I am pleased. This pain you're feeling has been good for you. The weak mortal you were could never have stood this much and remained coherent. Whatever happens, Christopher, you've become a better and stronger man than you were before. Let that knowledge comfort you.

"Now...I have one final question to ask. And you must answer truthfully, because whether I send you back into the dark or let you be purified further by pain depends upon that answer. Is there anything you have not told us about your time in that place?"

 

[Lord-Leafar]

It had been harder than he had expected he had managed to open the door, if only for a little, so they could have a look at what awaited them on the other side. He squinted a bit, trying to make out the details through the narrow gap, clearly not happy with what he could see. Hoping to nudge with the unnatural strength of his undead state, he pumped his muscles with vitae, hoping it would be enough to force the door open.

((OOC: Spending 2BP to increase Strength to 5))

 

[Epiphany]

Susan frowns at the horrific scene, unpleasant memories vying for attention. For there's nothing particularly appealing about remembering 2,000 year old history or conspiracies stretching that far back. If this is the work of something or someone that old, they were likely all doomed anyway. But then, it might be someone recreating that work; surely she wasn't the only student of history after all. Either way, the odds were this was Sabbat work rather than Camarilla. But they were still missing more information than they had.

All the while, the Kindred feels the sting of a conscience she shouldn't have anymore if not for deliberately cultivating it. The brutal, butchered work here should horrify any mortal not already hardened to it. And yet she found herself naturally somewhere between indifferent and even interested. The Lasombra would say it was proof positive she wasn't human anymore; nothing human would feel this lack of reaction. And yet she knew she should feel it and it bothered her that she didn't. The temptation of course was to suppress that feeling of being bothered. After all, letting herself feel horror was all disadvantage with little advantage. But even if she wasn't strictly human anymore, horror remembered instead of felt was still a tie back to humanity. A tie she needed.

Susan knew too well what happened to Kindred who went too far down the Paths. Her course had its limitations but its advantages were enormous, particularly compared to the feeble alternatives other Kindred sought to justify their alienation. So she allowed herself to look at the scene, remember what it might be like to feel shock, and steadfastedly refused to dismiss it as trivial or unimportant. People died here. People. This mattered.

At last, the Keeper takes a deliberate breath and turns to follow after Alvaro. "Have you found something then, Mr. Reyes?"

 

[Grey]

Bela Dragosani

As Justine concludes her curious ritual, Bela keeps his face impassive.
Within, however...
The Crone will consume us all.

When he arrived in the New World, the traitors among the Sabbat whom he suffered to speak made cryptic remarks about the transformational power with which they had become imbued and a connection to The Eldest. Bela has read before the apocryphal claims that Tzimisce could devour their childer from miles away. The implications are disquieting - what antediluvian horror do the Baali so fear?

There is far too much to be done.

 

[Esbilon]

Justine & Bela

As the drop of blood touches his lips, Christopher moans softly, he has not the strength for more, and falls back down. "No..." he gasps, "nothing else, Mistress," he manages before his eyes close.

Landon, Álvaro & Susan

The door groans as Álvaro forces it open, the material distorting slightly where vampiric strength and undead muscles push against it far harder than a mortal could. Getting through is still a tight fit, and there's no hiding the fact that the door's been forced, but the trio of Kindred can now make their way onwards. The room is quite small, and entirely dominated by the railway car that's been driven in here. There's a ramp to allow access to the bed of the car, but no forklift, crane or other obvious means of getting things off it. The sole occupant of the car is a the beautifully made sarcophagus of black marble. Now that the vampires approach it, it becomes clear that the carvings on the side are of scenes from a mythological hell.

The interior of the child-sized coffin is as spectacular as the exterior, but harder to place. They are even more monstrous than the outside, showing demons, monsters, and mortal victims suffering, but where the others seemed familiar in the way of all old things, this is something else entirely.

OOC: Intelligence + Occult difficulty 7 to identify the scenes on the outside, difficulty 9 for the inside.

 

[Arynne]

Justine is tempted to leave him this way for a while, the Beast gnawing at his innards -- it seems suitable repayment for his attack on her person. But it's too much of a risk, strong as he's proven himself to be. Without another word to him, she picks up the stake and rams it through his heart again.

Then she looks at Bela. "Well. And not well."

 

[Epiphany]

"Of course it had to be something ridiculously supernatural."

Susan sighs examines the coffin, both the interior and the exterior with an analytical eye while making no effort to conceal from either of the other vampires how silly she found the trappings. But then, just because she found the mythology of the Kindred to be silly didn't mean those who subscribed to it necessarily were. The Elders were far older and capable of greater cognition than she was, if her Sire was any indication. Except when it came to using a computer anyway.

OOC: That's at least a success on each, yes? Sorry for the excess dice rolling...d20s, really?

 

[Esbilon]

Susan

It's hard to place the marble-carved scenes on the sarcophagus. Susan was hardly a scholar of such matters in her mortal life, and though she has learned in the mean time, her knowledge is far from encyclopedic. That said, she's fairly sure that the outside references Roman rather the Greek or Christian myths. The insides are are definitely unlike anything she saw before her Embrace. Her training with the Lasombra was, naturally, focused on their own arts, rituals, and myths. Whatever these are, however, they're something else entirely. In this World of Darkness, mortals have nightmares about the undead creatures that roam the night, the Kindred of the Camarilla have daymares of the Sabbat invading their cities and exposing them to the Kine, and in the Sabbat one of the words that is whispered fearfully is Baali. That, she thinks, is what these carvings remind her of.

 

[Epiphany]

Susan's eyes linger on the sarcophagus and her brow furrows in thought as she dredges up memories, lore cribbed from dusty books her Sire had 'suggested' she read. In the first few years of her unlife, the Lasombra had read a great deal to ingratiate herself with other Lasombra. At least until she concluded they were madmen intent on executing the right idea in utterly the wrong way. Still, she'd picked up enough to remember some of it now, years later.

"Baali," she proclaims, slowly circling the structure. "At least, I think it is. Something I read once. The real question is what it's doing here. If you have any information to add, Mister..." and the Lasombra turns, warily eyeing the man who is allegedly Matthias Black's childe and still unintroduced. "Now would be the time. Otherwise, I'll defer to my associate, if he thinks he's seen everything there is to see here. And then...well, I imagine I have some research to do. Or possibly some people to ask about the Baali. Which reminds me."

Susan takes her phone out of her purse and takes a number of judicious pictures of the sarcophagus, particularly anything resembling writing, runes or symbols.

Silanon Lord-Leafar

 

[Silanon]

Landon's eyes muster the sarcophagus, certainly out of his area of expertise; perhaps a good thing, as it seems to be something one would rather not be involved in, but certainly not helpful in this very moment. "Scott. Landon Scott." Where there's little he can contribute, he can at least fill the void in-between her words.

"I have to admit, I am ill-prepared; we knew that something had happened here, but not what kind of task would await us. Doubt my usual contacts will be able to help out with this one; might have to dig deeper this time around." With that, he steps backwards, though not to leave; instead, he glances over the scenery apart from the sarcophagus. A trail of blood has lead to the door - it certainly won't simply end on the threshold. Likely, the sarcophagus was the destination; but if so, how did the child-sized being vanish from there so that he cannot spot it right now? No sign of what exactly they're looking for either, other than the size; certainly not an average newborn. Why now, why here, and what excatly - too many questions to be answered; where the woman seems to be prepared to leave, the Gangrel does his best to spot the tiniest detail they might have missed.

 

[Grey]

Bela Dragosani

Bela nods, keeping his face impassive.
"Not at all well," he says. "It seems my war will have to wait. We must bring this to the Prince, and burn the cancer out while we might still have time."
And if the Tremere are weakened in the effort, so much the better.

 

[Arynne]

"Agreed," Justine says. "Do you wish to be the one to lay this before him, honored guest? You have resided longer in this city than I, I believe." She is offering him the opportunity to claim credit for this discovery if he so wishes.

 

[Lord-Leafar]

Álvaro frowned in disgust at the scene. His eyes lingered on the sarcophagus, picking on the details of the scene depicted, and with each detail he noticed he seemed to frown deeper with concern. He approached it to take a closer look, but the evident lack of a body inside the coffin made him turn to look at his surroundings. The scene screamed danger at him, and the Beast whispered caution in his mind.

"I think we'll need to consult some experts on this... whatever this is"

(OOC: Will try and roll just in case)

 

[Epiphany]

Still with her phone out, Susan pauses thoughtfully at Alvaro's words. "A good suggestion, actually. I think I might know such a man."

She places a call to a certain Bela Vladilescu Dragosani. Or rather, likely his manservant and Ghoul, Boris, given the Boyar didn't seem like the kind of man to carry a phone with him. Either way, she ensures the man has her contact information and that he let the Boyar she'd appreciate a consultation at his earliest convenience over a certain matter of 'Roman antiquity'. There will be time enough when she actually converses with the Tzimisce to tender another apology for how matters went the other night. At least she knew she could make him enough money to offset any hard feelings in the long run.

 

[Grey]

Bela Dragosani

Bela has been introduced to the metaphor of gears turning to represent thought.
In his case, his expression suggests - almost audibly - the manic writhing of snakes and the rasp of scale on scale.
"No," he says, and collects himself. "I do not mean to be terse, but there is much to be done this night and I regrettably cannot spare the time. If you would apprise the Prince, I will tend to the necessary preparations."
There must be some disaffected Anarchs to recruit, and perhaps this will present an opportunity to rip the fangs from the Tremere to join the collection on the mantelpiece.