A Scripta

Observations based on his original character sheet, provided by Kal's player:

Although he's officially of Clan Brujah, he doesn't act entirely like them. He isn't looking to restore Carthage, nor is he bent on anarchic destruction. He is a class-A brawler and fighter, however, with or without weapons.

He has the nature of a Martyr - he knows he's damned, he's never going to the Elysian Fields, he had lost his true love - and now he would happily go into Final Death for him. He's a defender, which means he protects the people he cares about, although many years have gone by and he had lost his humanity. He considered people as servants and property to be protected. Although he no longer feels that way, he can't seem to express it right now.

The original sheet has 13 blood pool and a 10th generation. I've given him 30 and decressed his generation to 6.

He follows "The Road of Kings" which is defined as believing vampires are the heralds of the new order, and should be in positions of power. I didn't realize this part, and had assumed he was the power behind the throne - he kept himself hidden until needed. Need to retcon this.

He has strong willpower, morality, and mediocre self-control. He has a good conscience, and mediocre courage. I've increased this a little bit - given him slightly more self-control, willpower, and much more courage. He basically has no fear - except fire, but he won't show it. He has no fear of the sun, either.

I've taken the traits and expanded upon them. For physical traits, his two most important traits are Tireless and Tough, and I've increased those (need to max out Stamina in CoH). The older the vampires get, the tougher their skin is. A blade would have to be coming at him to get through. This guy doesn't get paper cuts.

I've added some to Brutal, Vigorous, Enduring, and Dexterous (originally ones). The Brutal maxes out when he frenzies. He can't dodge bullets, but he has a good chance of dodging things he can see coming at him, like a weapon or a punch. He can also use a weapon in both hands.

Social traits I need to do a little retconning. My portrayal was making him aloof, sort of like Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights. He's a little more social than that - and he's intimidating. I was able to show that with Grim, but haven't been able to show it with others (he's getting a "feel" for the place right now). I increased his Dignified and Eloquent points, and pushed up the Intimidating points.

His mental traits I've had pretty much on the money. Disciplines is the main trait, and I've bumped that up. He's Knowledgable, Cunning, Vigilant (though the player hasn't been - sorry, afk issues), and Determined to the point of stubborness.


He has the following disciplines which I've been able to play: Celerity, Fortitude, Potence. Need to work more on the Presence discipline. He has Protean as well, not added in his original sheet but I thought it would work for him. Mind you, I thought of him initially as the lone wolf type, but he's more social than that.

He has many abilities, and will have many more. His largest are Brawl, Dodge, Melee, Academics, Linguistics (Greek, Latin, Egyptian, English, French - I'm adding Arabic, Spanish, and some American Indian langauges), and Leadership. Bumping up will be Alertness, Athletics, Archery, Intimidation, Occult, and Expression. Ride will be converted into something like "able to keep his balance on moving things". He knows field medicine, and that's about it. There will be more, as he is now in the modern age and does know how to use a computer and cell phone.

He has an acknowledged status - he was the Sheriff of Houston, Texas. He's still known as that, and wanted by the Assamites and the Sabbat in Texas. The Assamites because of his age, and the Sabbat because he'd put many of them to Final Death. He doesn't hate the Sabbat - he finds them irritating and just plain wrong.

He has 3 true friends. Rowena in Texas, Nexus (a Gangrel) in Russia, and a third I have to create, probably a Brujah or Nosferatu. He however does have other allies and friends that he can call upon - maybe one or two will be in Rhode Island...

He has a domain and resources, though I just took away the domain. He still has bank accounts in many different names, though many of the records are gone now. He can walk onto a car lot and buy four Ferrarri's, but he doesn't flaunt it.

His merit is a Natural Leader. Need to work on that.

His flaws - and I pegged these - are anachronistic and "Pagan Heretic". Call him old-fashioned... His good manners toward humans have more or less disappeared, but they're coming back.

As a final note - his dynamic with Kalius has changed. He was Kalius' eromenos, his younger lover. With all the intimidation and presence he now commands, he should be more controlling. However, because it's still early, and he's still feeling the waters of Havens, and doesn't want to lose his precious love, he'll stay in Kalius' shadow and take his orders.

Another thing that I will be adding to him - patience.

PS - none of this is engraved in stone, it's being used as a guide, and I'm shoehorning his abilities with the WP/SS tank I've built.

2/25/10 17:28 EST

Dmitrius: Hell--

Cardinal Geoffrey: --Hello, Sheriff!

Dmitrius: Where's Tommy?

Cardinal Geoffrey: Gone to his just desserts. Did you know he cheated on you? It's a good thing we took care of him for you, or you would have found yourself in deep, deep shit. We know you resigned, and you know what that means?

Dmitrius: (Silence.)

Cardinal Geoffrey: That means everything you have is up for grabs. Word gets around fast in this town. So we grabbed it.

Dmitrius: You did. You're not going to--

Cardinal Geoffrey:Get away with it? We already have. Your Prince was VERY upset at your leaving. And his Justicars, especially the pretty Toreador one, oh, she's absolutely distraught. We knew that your heirs couldn't take care of themselves, so, we took care of them for you. Say 'thank you', Sheriff. Where's your manners, or was that bred out by the old boy network you hang around with?

Dmitrius: (The crack of leather splitting.)

Cardinal Geoffrey:You had a lot of nice things. Some items from Byzantium, Libya, very precious. We'll destroy them, one by one.

Dmitrius: No.

Cardinal Geoffrey:(laughs) So coming home?

Dmitrius: Oh, yes. I will come down there. When you least expect it. (crunch)

Alison opened the door as the doorbell rang insistently. Even in the confines of her master's home, she wore pistols and other weapons on her person. She had her off-hand hovering over one of the Barrettas as she opened the door.

The man who stood at the doorstep was familiar to her. "Hey, Alax." She stepped aside for him.

He smiled at her and walked in.

"The master isn't home."

"I know," he said. "I'm here on business."

"Tommy's in the office."

Alax nodded and walked up the sloping stairs to the second floor. His sensitive hearing picked up Guns and Roses from one of the rooms beyond. He walked to the end of the hall and peeked in the open door.

Tommy was slaving at a computer screen. Alax walked in, and put his arm around Tommy, hugging him from behind. Tommy tilted his head up. "Hey."

"Hey yourself."

Tommy removed his hands from the keyboard and took a hold of Alax's arm wrapped around him, and leaned into his embrace. "Dmitrius isn't coming home."

"I know."

Tommy turned around. "How do you know?"

"He called Rowena. She sent me here to let you know she's laying claim to y'all."

Tommy gazed at him. "What?!"

"Dmitrius told her to."

"He didn't tell me!"

Alax stepped back. "I want to know what's so important up there. What did he tell you?"

"He was looking for someone."

"Another leech?"

"I don't know." He turned back to the computer. "He purchased a throw-away phone yesterday and texted me the number."

"Call him, then."

"I have to wait until at least four. Sunset's two hours later there."

Alax started walking around the room. "Is he selling the house? Is he coming back to get his things?"

"Alax, I really don't know. He only said he wasn't coming back."

"You're his seneschal, you should know these things."

He slammed his hand on the desk. Before, it would easily rattle everything on the desk. But he hadn't had Dmitrius' blood in over a month, so his abilities were waning. "He's been acting weird over two months now, ever since going to Rhode Island the first time! He told me nothing, NOTHING."

"Not even about his trip?"

"Nothing." He got up. "He can't just leave us here," he said with a small moan.

Alax went over to him. "Looks like he's going to."

Alax stayed with Tommy for the rest of the day, leaving just before sunset. About three hours after that, while the members of the household tackled Rock Band, the front door blew open.

"Here's your eviction notice, motherfuckers!" yelled someone, and threw a grenade into the foyer, landing just under the stairs. Armed ghouls surged forward, as the grenade exploded, the stairs taking most of the impact and blowing up.

Tommy was in the kitchen, frantically calling the Prince's ghoul when a woman in a black leather jacket stormed in, guns blazing. He dove under the table as the phone connected.

"Chuck! This is the sheriff's house. We're under attack!"

"He's not the sheriff anymore," Chuck said, and disconnected.

Tommy got hauled up by the scruff of his neck from under the table and stared into blackened eyes of a full vampire. "LUNCH!" the woman yelled, and bit savagely into his neck.


Cardinal Sir Geoffrey watched with satisfaction as his minions carted out items from the mansion. Artwork, furniture, belongings of ghouls - and a beautifully engraved silver coffin with velvet and silk lining - all found their way into his U-Haul trucks.

One of his servants came over to him. "Here's the wissy's phone," she said, and tossed it overhand to him. He caught it on the fly, and opened it, scanning the numbers. "Asshole had no taste," continued the servant, disgusted.

Geoffrey smiled, ignoring the woman. He noted the number in the text message, then dialed it. It connected, and he said, "Hello, Sheriff," before he was hung up on. Geoffrey gazed at the phone in shock. "How rude." He put it in his pocket and promptly forgot about it.

He looked up at the ants taking the treasures from the mansion. "When they're done," he said, turning away, "burn it to the ground."

"Right," said the woman, and started walking away, yelling at the top of her lungs to have them move faster.

Dmitrius walked into the nightclub.  It was early, still, so there weren't too many people there.  He sat down at the bar.  The bartender nodded to him, but didn't offer to get him anything.

Kindred slowly started streaming in, and Dimitrius watched through the mirror.  The music picked up, and steadily got louder as it got more crowded.  People jostled for position at the bar, and Dmitrius vacated his position.  He found his way through the club, past the dance floor.  A man came up to him, his eyes red with hunger.

Dmitrius raised an eyebrow as the man approached, aiming right for him, fangs descended.  Dmitrius could see other Kindred watching this, and there were kine there as well so he couldn't break the Masquerade and throw the upstart across the room.  Just as he was a few feet away, a woman appeared out of the crowd and put an arm across the man's chest to stop him.  "Leander, don't be stupid."

The woman looked at Dmitrius imploringly.  The man pushed against her arm.  "He doesn't belong here," he hissed.

"Leander, NOW."  She grabbed him by the upper arm and literally dragged him away.  He watched, curiously, but continued on to the private room he remembered from the last time he was there.

Two big hulking ghouls guarded the doorway.  "Got an appointment?" one grumbled.

"I don't need one."  He glared at the man.

It didn't take long for him to buckle, as he opened the door for Dmitrius.  He nodded and walked in.

Some of the other kindred turned at his entrance.  They stared at him, as he merely strode past them.  The Prince watched him approach, not moving from his chair.  Dmitrius stopped in front of him.

"Prince Lafayette, I understand you received my letter of introduction from my Prince in Houston."

"Yes, I did.  Unfortunately, we don't have a lot of hunting areas to go around."

"I would like to hunt in Talos."

The Prince blinked.  "I'm sorry, I don't think you heard me."

"I did.  Who is responsible for the hunting areas in Talos, around New Thebes?"

"I am."  A woman rose from the side of the room.  She was dressed in a mu-mu "dress" and bright orange leggings, and wore black sandals on her feet.  Her hair was wild and both her ears were covered in earrings.

"I want to hunt there," Dmitrius said.  "In return, I won't bother any of you.  I wish to be allowed to use those hunting grounds, and to be left alone."

The woman looked at him calmly, and then screamed like a banshee.  Most of the kindred winced and held their hands over their ears, but Dmitrius didn't.  He put his hands behind his back and waited calmly until she finished.  She went on for a good ten minutes before someone finally clapped their hand over her mouth.  She bit it and tore off their thumb, spitting it out on the floor.  And started screaming again.  He waited.

Finally, she stopped, as abruptly as she had started.  She pushed hair out of her eyes and said, "You may use it any time you wish."  Then she sat down, straightening out her dress and looking back among the kindred with a "What?" look on her face.

Dmitrius turned to the Prince.  "If you have need of me, I'll be hunting there every so often."

The Prince merely stared at Dmitrius as he walked out the door.  Dmitrius chuckled to himself as he went back through the nightclub.  "Ah, to be the Eldest in a city of thin-bloods..."

Dmitrius decided the first thing he'd do is pick up a disposable cell phone. He used the landline he found in the med bay.

It rang twice before a man picked up, "Volkov residence."

"Hello, Tommy."

"Master!" The man's voice brightened. "Where have you been? We've been worried sick."

"I told you I was in Rhode Island," he said patiently.

"But we hadn't heard from you in over a month, and we thought the worst..."

"I'm fine, and I've found what I'm looking for." He paused. "I'm going to be staying here."

"Staying..?"

Dmitrius would have sighed if he wanted to waste the motion of breathing. Tommy was a 17-year old prostitute when Dmitrius found him, and turned out to be a worthy servant for eight years. He had proven himself time and again protecting his master, though Dmitrius didn't have any love for him. Now, he knew Tommy would be upset, and for some strange reason, it bothered Dmitrius. Dismissing or leaving his servants had never bothered him before.

The ritual, he thought. Will I be like this forever?

For a fleeting second, he thought about Kalius. His Erastes would grow old and die, and Dmitrius would not. Unless...

"...take us with you."

Dmitrius returned to the present. "I'm sorry, Tommy, I can't do that."

"But, master..."

"I'll be coming back to get some things. In the meantime, it's business as usual." He would need to talk to Rowena, and maybe some of the other vampires, to see they would take on his servants - or, at the very least, leave them alone. "I'll be calling you soon."

"I understand," Tommy said sadly.

"Goodbye, Tommy."

"Goodbye, Master."

Dmitrius clicked off first. He picked up the phone and dialed a different number.

A gruff man's voice answered. "Hello, who's this?"

"Dmitri."

"This ain't your phone number."

"I know that. Let me talk to Rowena."

He heard a muffling, which meant the man put his hand over the mouthpiece. He could hear him say, "Dmitri." There was a short scuffling noise as the phone was handed over.

"Good evening, dear," said an Englishwoman's voice. "Did you find what you needed?"

"Yes, I did." He smiled. "I'm going to stay here."

"Oh, Dmitri, they're animals up there."

"They let me hunt here. I'm not involved in their politics. They know I'm sheriff down there."

"Allard won't like your leaving."

"He'll get over it. I know Winnie wants my job."

"She's a harlot."

"She's a Gangrel and a better tracker than me."

"She's messy and barely keeps her temper."

He chuckled, "She's young."

"You can say that about us all."

"Yes, but I don't broadcast it."

"I know, dear," she said, her voice softening. "What about your haven?"

"I'll take care of it. I will need to distrbute my ghouls and herd."

"I can take your herd. We have a new Toreador Primogen. Your favorite, Iris Prodeux."

He groaned. Iris was a stunningly beautiful raven-haired lady, who was a really really terrible actress. However, she did have a lot of money, and she did keep one of the oldest theaters open in Houston. She was a generous patron of the arts, provided she was the star of the show. He was forced many times to sit through her performances. He had decided long ago that he would rather have his eyes put out with hot pokers.

"What happened to Sophia?"

"She is working on a 'major project'."

"I see. Is Allard still in HUSH?"  HUSH was an Elysium, and where Prince Allard usually held his court.

"We're heading there now. Should I have him call you?"

"No, I'm calling him right now."

"Call me again soon, luv."

"I will." He clicked off, and immediately dialed the number for HUSH's private office.

"Mr. Allard's office."

"Chuckie."

There was a pause. "Oh, Sheriff. I'll put you right through." Dmitrius waited through the few clicks of a connection.

"Dmitri!"

"Hello, Prince Allard."

"How's the weather up there? Snow yet?"

"No."

"So what's going on?"

"I'm planning on staying here."

There was a moment's pause. "Oh, that's too bad."

"I understand Winona would like my position. She's an excellent tracker."

"Yes, but I will be losing my most loyal enforcer."

"I've been with the princedom for just under seventy years. Don't you have others in mind, some to curry favor with?"

Allard was nothing if not a politician. Many Ventrue were like that. Dmitrius had been around long enough to see the stereotypes at work.

Dmitrius continued: "I can send you my resignation by email tomorrow so you can get things started. I'll need a letter of introduction to the prince here."

Allard was silent on the other end. Dmitrius knew he wasn't happy. If Dmitrius had to cut all his ties to Houston, he would, like he had done over 1600 years ago running from the Huns. I'm more Gangrel than Brujah, he thought, a constant wanderer.

Allard finally spoke. "I'll be expecting your email, Dmitri. Good hunting." He hung up.

Dmitri hung up the phone. His body made a sighing motion, though no air came out. Then he looked up out the windows of the medbay and smiled. His Erates was waiting for him.

Virtue: Temperance
Vice: Pride

He follows the dictates of the Sacred Band, not of his Bloodline.
Skill Specialties:
Brawl
Weaponry
Stealth
Intimidation
Crafts

Merits:
Fighting Style: Boxing, Improvised Weaponry, Staff Fighting.
Fleet of Foot.
Iron Stamina
Language

Embraced, July 9, 371 BC (1 day after the battle of Leuctra, where Kalius first died)

His sire took him to Egypt, where he stayed 70 years until 285 BC. In 250 BC they went to Carthage to join the "Brujah". In 232 BC he was "released".

146BC Roman forces breached the walls of Carthage. All inhabitants were sold into slavery. The city was burned to the ground and the land was sown with salt.

Travelled to Rome. (Did not consider himself a real Brujah.) Stayed there until:

73BC Rome faced a 2nd slave uprising in Sicily.

Where he was captured and forced into "slavery" for a Methusalah, who was eventually killed 300 years later. He rose among the ranks of the Methusalah's "court" and became one of his more trusted warriors.

In 302, joined the under-armies of Constantine for 80 years. Eventually moved to Byzantium/Constatinople (330) and became a "General" with this army. They existed to eliminate the lycan population in addition to keeping things quiet. Harbinger of the Camarilla.

400 - Flees West to avoid the Huns.

455 - Joins in the Vandal sacking of Rome. Returns to Carthage with Genseric.

Lays low in Carthage for 500 years. While there, he becomes friends with many other clans, including Ventrue, Setites, and Nosferatu. Some are still his friends to this day.

Avoids the "diablarie" craze of the 1000 - 1200's. Wanders through Africa to escape the politics. Learns how to disappear in the soil like the Gangrel but can only do it as a last resort and only when full.

Returns in time for the Inquisition. Barely avoids that and heads back to Constantinople. Stays there until the 1400's. Makes more friends. Is attacked often by the Assamites. Moves back to Rome, and attends the Council of Thorns. His bloodline is examined and he is told he is Brujah, but he does not really fall in the typical stereotypes of that clan. Some of his friends shun him, but many others do not.

1658, takes the boat trip to the New World and deals with the Lycans. He constantly moves west, avoiding wars, politics, and revolutions. He hires himself out as a trainer and mercenary to any Princes who would want to pay for him. His friends get him many appointments. His most recent is in Houston, where his friend Rowena Zebulon is a Ventrue Primogen. She got him his present position as Sheriff of Houston.

V:TM notes:

300 B.C.-146 B.C.
Carthage built by Brujah, Baali and Assamites in an attempt to recreate Enoch (the First/Second City). The Brujah claim all the credit.
Punic Wars: Roman Kindred (mostly Ventrue and Malkavians) think Carthage is a BAD THING. Romans come and burn Carthage to the ground. The Brujah blame the Ventrue, and still hate them to this day, although many neonates have no clue why.


A.D. 1 (?)
Gangrel Antediluvian Ennoia falls into torpor.


A.D. 33
Set vanishes


121
Last verifiable sighting of Haqim, Assamite Antediluvian


413
The Cainite Heresy. Some priestly types decide that Caine was God's favorite child, or else God would have killed him right off for that whole Abel thing. They think it is their obligation to help Cainites.


642
Muslims invade Egypt, thoroughly upseting the Setites.


754
Cainite Heresy is declared anathema.


1005
Venetian Necromancer Agustus Giovanni is Embraced by the Antediluvian Cappadocius. Giovanni's family becomes an influential part of the Cappadocian clan.


1022
Goratrix of House Tremere uses a captured Tzimisce elder to turn the House's leaders into vampires. The Tzimisce are royally pissed.


1121
The Tremere witch Virstania (the Mother of Gargoyles, as she likes to call herself) creates the first Gargoyle, named Chaundice. Like most Gargoyles, Chaundice was presumably made from leftover Garngrel, Nosferatu and Tzimisce parts. The Nosferatu and Gangrel join the Tzimisce in the war against the Usurpers.


1133
Tremere finally finds the body of an Antediluvian after a long search. He and his followers raid Saulot's tomb, and Tremere himself diablerizes the Salubri Antediluvian. He sends his flunky LeDuc off to go start the purge of the Salubri.
1213
Beginning of the Inquisition


1314
Goratrix of House Tremere gets fed up waiting for the old man to die and leave him king (or whatever). He decides to go leave the Tremere. Eventually, he and his followers join the Sabbat, because they know how much the Tzimisce love the Tremere.


1347
Black Death sweeps through Europe. Cainites run low on food.


1381
The Brujah Tyler attacks the Ventrue Hardestadt, starting the Anarch revolt.
The Lasombra Gratiano and the Tzimisce Lugoj get the bright idea to diablerize their sires/Antediluvians.
Assamites take advantage of the chaos to begin campaign of diablerie.


1435
Hardestadt calls a meeting of elders to discuss the "Anarch Problem."


1444
Agustus Giovanni diablerizes Cappadocius, and begins Tremere-like purge of the Cappadocians and all related bloodlines. Most clans accept bribes not to interfere. In modern nights, even most elders don't recall the name of the clan that spawned the Giovanni.


1476
With the general air of revolution sweeping throuh Kindred society, some Cainites just can't help themselves. The formerly loyal Tremere Virstania (the Mother of Gargoyles), becomes fed up with Clan Tremere's hierarchy, and leads the Gargoyles in a revolt.


1493
The Convention of Thorns:
The Camarilla is founded.
The Anarch Revolt is officially over. No one tells the Anrachs, who go rampaging throughout the countryside and eventually form the Sabbat.


1495
A Nosferatu locates the Assamite fortress of Alamut. The Assamites decide it's best to sue for peace before someone else finds it.


1496
The Treaty of Tyre: The Assamites agree to stop killing everybody, and submit to the Tremere blood curse.


1529
Assamites lay siege to the Tremere stronghold in Vienna. Lots of Warlocks die, but they eventually push the Assamites back. Then the Assamites return several years later to do it again. And again. And then a couple more times.


1803
The Purchase Pact ends the Sabbat Civil War. Sabbat members are no longer allowed to fight amongst themselves. This news is spread throughout the sect, but no one pays attention.


1870
Gangrel Antitribu split into two distinct bloodlines: Country and City. Most Cainites who learn of this don't care.


1930
Ventrue Archon Lucinde becomes blood bound to the Setite Kemintiri, who is posing as her former lover. The Inner Circle creates the Red List and names Lucinde first Alastor. She is very good at hunting down Anathemas, just not Followers of Set named Kemintiri.


1933
The Sabbat's code of Milan. The tenets of the Sabbat are officially laid down, in Archbishop Giangaleazzo's city. More on him later.


1957
The Third Sabbat Civil War. Only lasts a hundred days, but the Panders (Sabbat Caitiff--Caitiff Antitribu?) end up gaining official Sabbat recognition and clan status. Noddists worldwide protest about the clanless coming to rule.


1997
The Night of Bloody Terrors. Giangaleazzo, Archbishop of Milan (told you we'd get back to him!), decides he would rather be a Prince, defects to the Camarilla, and burns the original copy of the Code of Milan (along with all Sabbat in his city). Sabbat high command is royally P.O.'d, but just can't seem to be able to do anything about it.


1998
Assamite Methuselah Ur-Shulgi wakes up and breaks the Tremere curse after a week's preparation. The Tremere are pissed, and the Assamites go back to diablerizing Cainites--especially the Tremere.
Gangrel Justicar Xavier thinks he's met an Antediluvian and decides to take his clan out of the Camarilla.
Saulot's spirit/soul finally takes over Tremere's body. Tremere decides that the thing to do is to go take over his errant-protege Goratrix's body. The end result is that Goratrix ends up trapped in a mirror and the majority of House Goratrix (the Tremere Antitribu) end up meeting Final Death.
The Camarilla Inner Circle chooses the new Justicars to guide the Camarilla through Gehenna. They pick such a sadly inept bunch that you wonder why they even bothered.


1999
Archbishop Moncada, a pillar of the Sabbat, is assassinated in his haven. Assamites claim credit.
Ravana/Dracian/Zapathasura (Ravnos Antediluvian) wakes up in India. Most Ravnos go crazy and diablerize each other. It takes the combined forces of the Kuei-jin, the Technocracy, and other mysterious forces to finally kill him. Most Kindred don't realize that Gehenna is about to start.


The not so distant future
Gehenna. It's the end of the world as we know it.

Other character notes:

Celerity, Potence, Presence

All difficulties to resist frenzy increase by two for Brujah characters, to a maximum of 10.

There are three main factions among the Brujahs: the Idealists, the most conservative traditionalists; the Iconoclasts, the most complete anarchs; and the Individualists, who combine the best of the two other factions. These latter factions have propelled the clan into leadership in some areas and to dominate in those small areas of Greece , Switzerland, and Italy which the Brujah control today.

In America , the Brujah helped forment the rebellion against England at the end of the eighteenth-century and many traveled to the new country after the Revolutionary War. In the 1940s, one of their number, Jeremy MacNeil, became the catalyst in driving the princes from the cities along the American West Coast and the setting up of the Anarch Free States out of a coalition of the Brujah, the Ravnos, the Nosferatu and the Gangrel . MacNeil is still the leading Anarch in Los Angeles.

Organizationally, the Brujah tend to be faddish, and their meetings largely celebrate their independence. They will gather occasionally for what is termed a rant. The rant provides an opportunity to share information and acknowledge accomplishments and failure. The clan has few rules, but does demand that members not violate the Masquerade that keeps their presence hidden from mortal society, and do nothing to endanger the clan. Those accused are tried and judged at a rant. There being little organization, the Brujah leadership is exercised by power individuals.

Potence is Discipline that grants the vampires supernatural strength. Each dot grants an automatic success on any rolls involving Strength, and does not require activation.

Presence, the discipline of unnatural attraction and emotional control. This discipline is the ultimate exaltation of the "Power of personality" that many kindred have. Clans Brujah, Followers of Set (including the Warrior Setites), Toreador and Ventrue possess mastery over the Discipline. Several Bloodlines, including the Baali, Daughters of Cacophony, Tlacique and True Brujah practice it as well. It is one of the three 'default Disciplines' for the Caitiff.

"Blush of life" spend one vitae to look more human.

Camarilla strongholds:
London
New York
Vienna (sometime meeting-place of the Inner Council; believed to be the resting-place of Tremere)
Venice (meeting place of the Inner Council)
Chicago (currently without a prince)

Houston: Neither the Camarilla nor the Sabbat has much interest in Houston - at least, not until they've finished fighting it out in the northeast. A few wandering Anarchs occassionally pass through, which means Houston is an open market for many Independents.

Eule spared a look at his father, Derek, sitting next to him in the Hero Corps office lobby. A couple of other people sat with them, most of them nervous.

He had gone home a couple of days ago, leaving the Safe Havens base. He wanted a vacation from Hero Corps, but when he called and asked them, they said he no longer worked for them. He realized that he had locked up some memories, but he didn't know the trigger word to release them. He and his father had a long talk, and Derek had suggested he got to counseling. Eule didn't care.

Derek had seen this before when interviewing some men who had come back from Afghanistan. He knew what his son was suffering from and knew there was treatment.

A well-dressed woman came out and summoned them. They followed her through the halls of Hero Corps, to another waiting room. "Next time, you can come right here," she said. Derek saw the receptionist and nodded, then continued to follow the woman along the hallways.

She stopped outside an office, opened the door, and let them in. They took seats on a large blue couch set against the wall. There was a bookcase, as in most doctor's offices, but this one had action figures of assorted heroes along the shelves.

She straightened her skirt and sat down, then smiled at the two men. "I am Dr. Roxanne Stoppler. You are Mark and Derek Barker?"

"Yes," Derek said. Mark stared at a spot on the floor.

"Why don't you tell me why you're here today?" she asked, looking at Mark.

"My father wanted me to come."

"Do you think you have any issues?"

"Yes." He shrugged.

Derek looked imploringly at Stoppler. She only nodded, and pulled out a pad and pen. "Mr. Barker, could you wait in the waiting room so I could talk to your son alone?"

"Of course," Derek said quietly, and patted Mark on the shoulder. "I'll be right down the hall."

"Okay, dad."

The door closed quietly behind him. Stoppler looked to Mark. "If you don't want to talk about it, I can read your mind instead."

Mark shrugged. "Doesn't matter."

Stoppler bent down and reached for Mark's hands. He gave them to her, and suddenly he felt connected to her. It wasn't like when he could read minds, when he created an avatar to look around, it was like they shared the same body. His mind filled with memories of the General, what they shared, his feelings toward him, and Kalius, and how he felt when he saw his bloody torn body on the stones. Always the feelings, but he was buffetted from it by a sense of distance.

The memories faded, and Stoppler was looking at him, her eyes a gentle sea-blue. He looked at her, blinking.

"I understand." She nodded, and released Mark's hands. He looked at the clock - an hour had gone by. "Are you all right?"

"Yes." The usual feeling of "blah" came over him.

"You are suffering from Posttraumatic Stress Disorder. It's very common among POW's."

"I'm not really a POW."

"Have you ever heard of Stockholm Syndrome?"

"No."

"It's when the captives have positive feelings toward their captors, even to the point of defending them. It felt to me that your captor sensed your feelings for his opposite and exploited them."

"I should have resisted."

"You did."

He looked up. "How?"

"You resisted that Mindlord."

"But not the General."

"We'll talk about that..."


Derek followed the doctor into her office, and saw Mark still sitting on the couch in the same position he left him. Part of him had hoped for a miracle, but hero or not, Mark was still a boy.

The doctor sat down. "Mark has a diagnosis of PTSD, Posttraumatic Stress Disorder. He's agreed to take medications, and to come back in a couple of days." She handed Derek a piece of paper. "He's going to be taking Paxil, are you familiar with it?"

"No."

"It usually used for depression, but it's commonly prescribed for PTSD. We're also going to be starting behavioral activation therapy. Do you think the Safe Havens would mind if he worked with them on a part-time basis?"

"I don't think they'll mind, they're very nice."

"He'll go work with them tomorrow for a couple of hours if they'll take him. Maybe every third or fourth day for now." She looked at Mark. Mark glanced at her and nodded.

As she wrote out the doctor's note, Derek smiled. Not quite a miracle, but a big step toward one.

The bell over the door rang shrilly as Tony "The Harpoon" Scorelli opened the door. Fucking Valentine's Day, fucking girlfriends want fucking flowers...

This was the only place open this late, and he had three girls to buy for. Three dozen roses - did they have any idea how much that was going to cost? On fucking Valentine's day, too.

"Good afternoon," said the blond man behind the counter.

"Yeah," growled Harpoon. "I need three dozen roses."

"Of course, sir. Would you like to come pick them out?"

"I don't have time for that shit."

"It will only be a moment," he said. Harpoon looked at the man, who had extensive scars across his face. He wore what looked like a quilted shirt and heavy thick gloves. Probably from handling thorns all day, he thought absently. The man lifted up the corner of the counter. "I have my own greenhouse."

The Harpoon rolled his eyes, grumbled, and followed the man through the counter, to the back. They walked down a short hallway.

"Today is a very busy day," the man said absently. "Many people have come in asking for the same thing as you."

"I'll bet," he said, and the man threw open a glass door at the end of the hallway. Immediately, he was assaulted by a fresh green smell, mulch, woods, and flowers. He sneezed.

The man turned to him, alarmed. "Oh, allergic?"

"No," he said and sniffled. "There's a lot of flowers."

"Oh yes," said the man, "that there are." The Harpoon walked a little ways following the man, and then tripped on something in the ground. He regained his footing, turned to see what he tripped over. A tree root was just under the dirt floor. He didn't know how he could have tripped over it.

The man brought him to face an entire wall of roses in full bloom. There were all different colors, from pink to crimson, even a dark blue and purple. "Pick any that you like," he said with a wave of his arm.

Disgusted and wanting to get out of there, The Harpoon touched one of the blue roses. Suddenly, something lashed out and wrapped like a whip around his hand. "Hey!" he yelled.

The wall of flowers rustled, as other whiplike things came out and wrapped around his extremities. He yelled at the man, who watched impassively. The whips were thin, but they were strong, and he couldn't pull out of them. Then a thick vine came out of the floor, wrapped around his legs and yanked him up. He fell on his back with a whoosh of air, and found himself being lifted by his legs up in the air.

"Put me the fuck down!"

"Such language," the man said. The roses seemed to part away from the wall, and the man's body was turned to face the opening. Beyond the wall of roses seemed a huge grove of flowers of all sorts, flowers he'd never seen before. The vines passed him along, as if hand-to-hand, so he found himself deeper into the grove.

His eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, and he focused on something else hanging in the air. He watched it as he was passed along, and his mind didn't want to register it.

It was a badly decomposed body of what could have been a man, headless. As he went deeper in, he saw more of them in various degrees of decomposition. Bones littered the floor.

Finally, he was stopped, and he swayed upside down. He tried to pull himself up, but he couldn't. He pulled out his gun in his shoulder holster and went to shoot at what was holding his feet. Then he realized he could very well hit his feet instead. He tried to turn, but could only move his head. He shot at the gloom behind him.

The vine that held his feet shook, and other vines came out to hold him completely still. One vine with thorns tore the gun out of his hand. He could no longer move.

He screamed for a while, but no one seemed to hear, so he stopped. All the blood was rushing to his head and he couldn't focus. He lost track of time.

"Yes," said a voice, "I think he's ready."

The Harpoon opened his eyes - he had a splitting headache. "You!"

The man from the shop - he could see his blond hair in the dim light. "I believe you are ready to water the plants."

"What are you talki--"

He didn't see the sickle come at him, cleaning lopping his head off.

Maulkin moved slowly. It all had to be perfect, choreographed perfectly. If one thing went wrong, he would be a dead man. He needed total concentration on this one task, and it needed to be done right. There was no room for error.

He had left the comm outside. He had closed the door to the dais room and posted Cobra there, ordering him to not open it no matter what he heard inside or what happened outside – even if the building was burning down.

He began the spell in the other area of the room, out of her earshot. He refused to think that he amazed himself that he remembered the words and their pronunciations correctly, he concentrated entirely on the spell, on its function and action. He said the words, made the motions, added the necessary ingredients as they were called for. Then he bathed the dagger in the paste he had made with the herbs and fluids, with everything from common every-day sage to Dragon’s blood to eagle’s brains. The last important ingredient was added – a drop of Grimaulkin’s blood.

He took the dagger out of the paste. It didn’t seem to glow or anything that he noticed. He continued with the spell as he walked over to the dais, where his demoness lay sleeping. He had added some sleeping medication to her last sacrifice, and hoped that would give him enough of an edge.

Maulkin stood over her sleeping form. In a loud voice, he commanded, “STIGO!” and thrust the dagger into her back.

The scream that erupted from her was absolutely not human, and sounded like a thousand throats howled the noise. He pulled out the dagger, dripping with black blood, and thrust again. At this, though, she had turned over, and put her hand up to catch his downward motion. She was far stronger than him, and caught his wrist.

“HOW DARE YOU!” she screamed, and slithered up.

He chanted again, and she stared open-mouthed at him, suddenly frozen. Two things went through her mind – she had taught him that paralyzing spell months ago! He had asked for it twice already, how could he remember? And the second thing: since when was she susceptible to mortal magic?

The dagger scratched her arm, and she pulled it away. She bled along the floor, and the wound didn’t close. The knife made her mortal!

Using her confusion for that moment, he then switched spells – the spell to take her power and life force. How dare he—

She lashed out at him, to try and distract him. He ignored her swipe across his chest, tearing through armor as if it was paper, slashing through muscle. He continued the chant, ignoring the pain and the injury. She moved to strike him again, but found she couldn’t move. The paralyzing spell already affected her.

Maulkin stopped the spell and watched as she froze. He took the dagger, raised it high, and stabbed it down at her chest. Blood spurted as if from a fountain. She was too paralyzed to scream.

He kept stabbing, blood kept spurting, until it was a thick pool of black ink on the floor, and her skin turned white. He tore out her eyes, and stared at them for a minute. Caught up in the blood lust, he bit into them and swallowed.

Then he threw down his cloak to sop up the blood. He started cutting her into pieces, and sat in the blood. Spearing a piece at a time and muttering an ancient Aztec spell, he consumed her.

As he did, he felt her power course through him, and all the spells that she knew passed through his head. All the languages, all the strength and power, flowed into and through him, taking his mind with it.

Grimaulkin always found it amusing whenever she saw her charge running around in a panic.

 

He often didn't act this way. If he messed up a spell, he blamed it on the acolytes, the components, or the environment. Sometimes he had no excuse. This was one of them.

 

Grimaulkin rose from her cushioned dais as her charge and his bodyguard entered the room. She smiled, seeing that they actually had to work at getting this sacrifice. The dockworker struggled against the bonds that held him, and the bodyguard betrayed his strength by keeping him steady. The dockworker smelled of grease and sweat, just the way she liked them.

 

"My demoness," Maulkin said, and bowed. "I bring you this sacrifice, and ask a boon."

"You must be in trouble," she said, laughing. She slithered over to the sacrifice, who stared at her wide-eyed in terror. Now she smelled urine.

"My Lady, I need something, spells, stronger wards…"

She sighed. He certainly wasn't very creative, but that's not why she stayed with him. She liked this corporeal form – she was free here. And he thought she had limitless powers. Well, here she could easily fool such petty mortals, but in Hell, not so much. He brought her what she needed, and she fed him trifles. So what if she had to do the same spell two or three times. He seemed not to notice; his mind was like a sieve. All he cared about was sex and power, but without having to work at it.

She turned to Maulkin. "I will give you a powerful spell. But you must connect the results directly to me."

"Of course," he said without thinking. "What do I need to do?"

She smiled. Little did the mortal know that this spell would take all the magic from everything in this building and feed it directly to her as pure energy, so she could grow immensely powerful and not need these petty sacrifices. She wondered how her charge would taste. "Give him to me."

He handed her the dockworker, who started screaming the moment she put her hands on him. When she finished, and threw up the clothes and bones, she approached Maulkin. She whispered the dark spell in his ear, and fished out a vial from his belt. She cut open her wrist and let a few drops of black blood fall into the vial. "Use this with the spell," she ordered.

He nodded, taking the vial from her hand. She gave him a little shove toward his bodyguard, turned, and went back to sleep on the dais.

She didn't see or hear Grey Maulkin grin at his servant and whisper, "I have her now."

Grim threw open the window of the warehouse down the street from the black building. He was dressed like a typical mage, stuffed under his Roman armor - the only thing that could keep his wings down - a cloak thrown over it and a mysterious arcane hood over his head. He greased the palm of the dock worker and faded into the shadows when he opened the door for him.

He had a clear view of the building. He saw the darkness roiling around it, like dark storm clouds churning in the wind. He knew magic from the Netherworld when he saw it. He had some idea how it was done. It was a ward, certainly, but consisted of what seemed to be layers upon layers of darkness and something else. He knew his magic couldn't get through. How the fae magic did it, he didn't know and technomancer magic might make it through. He narrowed his eyes - as if he'd ask for their help.

"Lot of souls there."

Grim turned at the voice. The young man who had appeared to him at the bank suddenly stepped out of the shadow. He wasn't there before. "All right," Grim said, not removing his hood, "who are you?"

The young man motioned out the window. "Going to try and claim them all?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Why else are you here?"

Grim finally had had it. "Stop asking me questions."

"Why? You seem to know what you're doing. Don't let me stop you."

They stared at each other silently. The young man had eyes like his, grey and seemingly blind. Finally, Grim decided to look back out the window and study the building again. He heard the young man moving behind him. Grim watched the darkness with more than his eyes. What he saw disgusted even him - the darkness wasn't pure Netherworld darkness, but layers upon layers of souls, all joined together in a writhing, noiselessly screaming mass, like bodies piled in a mass grave. The darkness bound them together, so all they could do was struggle against each other, striving to get loose.

"Oh, my God," Grim whispered, and stepped back from the window. He looked at the young man. "What do you know about this?"

"That? Nothing."

"Then why are you here?"

"I'm a Reaper, like you." Finally, he held out his hand. "I'm Lars. I'm supposed to teach you, but you seem to think you know what you're doing."

Grim removed his hood, and shook Lars' hand. "I'm Grim. And I don't know what I'm doing."

"I know." He glanced out the window. "I saw the botched job you did on that Soldier. And how you didn't take LeBeau."

"Was I supposed to?"

Lars folded his arms. "Just because you're a Reaper doesn't make you James Bond."

Grim had to blink for a minute.

"First rule: You can't kill anybody you feel like killing. Ever."

"I--"

"Shut up. I'm only going to say these things once, so pay attention."

Grim shut up.

"Second rule: You can't keep souveniers. You're not a serial killer. That means..." He held his hand out.

Grim looked down at his bag of finger bones. He undid them from his belt and handed it to him. Lars attached it to his belt.

"You're forgiven because you weren't trained. If you do it again, you'll be punshed."

"What kind of--"

"Shut up, I said." Grim did. "Three: Be as gentle as you can. That knife isn't a weapon for the body, it's meant to sever the soul and free it. Use one quick cut, then stab the soul anywhere to send it directly to Hades. Four: Do not take the soul from the body, make sure it's risen from the body before you take it. Yes, we know you have the ability to pull souls out of bodies, but refrain from doing it. Five: If you see a wandering or bound soul, send it to Hades immediately."

"But--"

He held up his hand. "You have a special rule. Five-a: You can summon a wandering soul for your use, provided it does not kill another person, and you must send it to Hades as soon as you're done. Bound souls must be immediately released. Zombies don't count because they have no souls.

"Listen: You will feel a pull to a certain person or place. You must wait for the death to occur there. You cannot cause it. You cannot stop it, except once in your lifetime. You will be invisible and intangible to the people there, unless they're sensitive to divine beings. You do your work, and then you have until the body is moved. If you stay there, and the body's moved, you'll be corporeal again. Do you understand all this?"

Grim nodded.

"The Scythe will assist you if you get stuck."

"It'll talk to me?"

Lars rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you don't know how to use enchanted items."

Grim did - you just let the power flow through you. You become the instrument of the item, and it's usually temporary. He looked out the window again. "Those are bound souls."

"It's your duty to release them."

Grim nodded, pulled the hood over his head.


"This one's a hot one, Al."

The heavyset guard leaned over the counter to look at the television monitor that his coworker was studying. "Looks like a student."

"They're hot, doncha think?"

The guard raised an eyebrow. "You're into the schoolgirl kink?"

"Plaid skirts, Al. Plaid mini-skirts."

"Sick bastard."

"Not like I'd do your daughter."

"You'd better not! I'll kick your ass from here to Galaxy City!"

The monitor flipped to infrared for two minutes. The men looked away, not liking the green blobs on the black screen. They talked about the game last night, as a green blob appeared on the screen and stood still. The monitor flipped back to real time for four minutes, and the men looked back. "Ah, the girl's gone..."


Grey Maulkin wiped the sweat from his brow and set aside the flexible cane. Ugly red welts were all over his servant's thighs, buttocks and lower back. Maulkin undid the cuffs holding Cobra's hands above his head, and let the arms drop. Cobra almost fell forward but righted himself - his Master would tell him when to rest. Maulkin put his shirt back on, and studied his servant, trying to think of another transgression to punish him for.

The room roared.

"What the fuck?!"

Maulkin ran out of the room into his workshop, which suddenly seemed to have a windstorm somewhere in it. Papers and items were flying everywhere, caught in a hurricane. Grim watched as ghosts seemed sucked away in a wild tornado that flew through his closed door. Maulkin battled through the psychic wind, threw open the door and found himself out onto the roof, seeing the souls caught up in something and flying off the roof. The darkness and souls all around the building swirled past him heading in the same direction.

It sounded like a train coming through, the roar was deafening. Maulkin followed the souls off the roof and saw something on the ground, glowing white, and all the souls were heading right for it.

Then he heard the spell: In paradisum deducant te Angeli! Chorus angelorum te suscipiat, et æternam habeas requiem! (May angels lead you into paradise! May the ranks of angels receive you, and may you have eternal rest!)*

"NO!" he screamed and flew at the white light below.


Grim had raised Scythe above his head, and the spell came unbidden. He had started it as a chant, something that his soul seemed to remember, and he found himself lost in the chant, totally ignoring the wind whipping his cloak around and his hood off, at the spirits grabbing at him and flowing into Scythe, then through him straight to Hades. He watched them all pass through him, some tried to touch him with memories, but he let them all go, his mind on the chant and the spell.

He heard a scream of "No!" and looked for a moment at his reflection in the glass windows of the building. He blinked - he was glowing white, he was blond and white again, and wore grey robes. He glanced up at his hands, they were still black. Grim realized he was seeing his own soul. He didn't stop the chant until someone broadsided him.

Grim focused now, and was looking into blue eyes not dissimilar from his own. It suddenly registered who it was. His doppleganger's face was furious. A gauntleted hand slammed into Grim's jaw. Grim summoned strength and shoved the man off him.

The two of them regarded each other. Grim held the knife like Kal had taught him with his knife fighting classes. "You think that will hurt me?" the man said with a smirk.

Do I sound like an asshole when I talk like that? Grim thought, and waited for the other man to make a move.

Then the man started moving his arms. Grim realized he was using old fashioned Circle magic, with lots of movement and words. Grim had moved beyond that a long time ago. Grim knew all he needed to do was throw him off somehow. Grim drew a rune of force and threw it at him - a very strong wind directed right at him. His doppleganger jerked an arm, dismantling the spell, and Grim laughed. Then he rushed at him.

The blade slashed across the man's chest, and he howled. "You made me bleed!" Grim grinned, knowing that he used to feel the same way about bleeding.

"You'll get over it," Grim said, and slashed at his face. Another gauntleted hand slammed into Grim's face. He stepped back, the bones reknitting. Then the man yelled something arcane and threw something glass on the ground, and it shattered.

A black soul came up screaming. Grim eyed it, unafraid.

"Kill him!"

The soul suddenly had a fiery sword in its hand. Darkness flowed from the originator into the soul, who started gaining definition and becoming corporeal. The fiery sword swung in Grim's general direction. Grim's Scythe blazed with white light and countered it. Grim had never had fencing before in his life, and allowed Scythe free reign with his body.

The soul continued to swing while Grim parried. It grew stronger and stronger as it advanced. Grim looked around himself to find a way out. That's when he noticed the guards running at him. He would be easily overpowered, and he knew it. Grim stopped, raised the Scythe in a salute at his forehead, and flew straight up. The soul followed, but as it gained distance, it started losing its form. Grim just kept on flying, not looking back, heading out across the ocean. He didn't look back until he got to the other side of Terra Volta. By then, he had stopped glowing, and so did Scythe. He looked at the blade and smiled as he sheathed it.

*(In Paradisum - modified - from the Latin Requiem Mass)

Eule pulled out the memory and slipped into a trance.

A tall, lanky man in a jarhead haircut, cleanshaven, with bright blue eyes that he can see easily from the front row, stands calmly in front of the students in the classroom. "Good morning. I am Light-shine, recently joined with the Kheldian Lightling. I had been known as Breakman." He walks around the desk as he speaks. "In the winter of 2004, I was captured by Arachnos in Sharkhead Isle, and was a prisoner for just over a year before escaping. This class will give you the rudementary methods of resisting interrogation, indoctrination, and exploitation should you become a prisoner. And, ladies and gentlemen, you should always expect to become a prisoner.

"First, remember this. If you are captured, you are still a member of Hero Corps. You are still bound by its rules and regulations, even if your captors are not. We follow the Geneva Convention requirements due to prisoners of war, and you should demand the same treatment of your captors. However, they may not be of the same belief. If that's the case, then hold true to your mission, regardless of what they do to you. No, it won't be fair. Yes, it will seem like the Corps forgot about you. It's most important if you keep the faith, that we are doing everything in our power to find you.

"Also, you need to do everything in your power to make sure we find you. If you get nothing else out of this class, think of these things first and foremost if you're ever captured: Resist and escape...You will tell them your super hero name, never your real name. Your age, and that you are affiliated with Hero Corps. In some circles, that may make them let you go. In others, that may make things worse. Repeat that constantly, regardless of what they ask. If they ask you if you're all right, repeat that. It will be a mantra, and will guide you through your interrogation.

"Do not be surprised if they suddenly have information on you. Hero Corps keeps public files, but many of these types of captors have hackers that can find out information on you no matter how small your footprint on the Net is. Again, what do you say to them?"

The class repeats: "Name, Age, Affiliation."

"Good...

The scene changes, and Light-shine is dressed slightly differently. "If captured you will resist. You will help others to resist. You will strive to escape and help others to escape. Never accept presents directly from the enemy, no matter how small. DO NOT work with them. DO NOT cooperate...."

It changes again. "You may slip. This happens to the best of us. You may be faced with information from them that you know is an outright lie. You may be accused of doing or saying something and you want to rectify it. You may feel tired and your guard is down. Don't beat yourself up over it. It happened once - make sure it doesn't happen again. Forgive others who do the same. Remember: Resist and escape...

"The best times to escape are very early in your captivity or when you are being moved, provided there are more prisoners than guards, and that is usually the case. Do everything you can to manipulate the situation so that you can escape. If that's not possible, watch constantly for opportunities - coffee breaks, distractions, areas you can hide among. Always think when you escape that you will succeed in doing so. The class on Urban and Wilderness Evasion will be helpful here...

"Keep your mind active. Do not dwell on what is happening. If necessary, rehash memories. Tell yourself stories, but don't make them too realistic. The more fantastic, the more imaginative the better...

"Torture. Under the Geneva Convention, this is not allowed. However, Arachnos and the Isles doesn't follow that. You will be tortured. You will be hurt, maimed, or killed. You will be psychologically put to the test. They may give you drugs, either directly or without you knowing. You must do what?"

The class: "Resist."

"Yes. Fight through the drugs as best you can. Put yourself in a different mindset when the torture begins, and repeat the name, age, affiliation. This will help you remember who you are and what you are doing. Your captors will try and strip that from you, calling you everything from a number to the generic 'prisoner'. You are a hero, remember that. Be proud - they will try to humble you. Be defiant, but don't antagonize them. Don't look for fights. Set them up in your mind to be less than they are. Ridicule them. Give them nasty nicknames.

"Always, always keep busy, in mind and body. Continue with your personal hygiene, keep your area clean."

"Resist and escape."

Eule opened his eyes, and looked out at the lab full of technicians. He unfocused, and reached out through the force field.

And if she doesn't want to go there, I guess I can take her to the Infront, but that place is always crowded at night, and I really don't feel like waiting 20 minutes for a table...

He did it again to the other researcher.

In order to redefine the mannitol pathway in the necrotrophic plant pathogen Botrytis cinerea, we need a targeted deletion strategy of genes encoding two proteins of mannitol metabolism, a mannitol dehydrogenase (BcMTDH), and a mannitol-1-phosphate dehydrogenase (BcMPD). Mobilization of mannitol and quantification of Bcmpd and Bcmtdh gene transcripts during development and osmotic stress should confirm a role for mannitol as temporary and disposable carbon storage compound...

He found he could touch many minds without being noticed. He could easily skim the surface thoughts. He detected the General - angry. He detected others that were blocked and he left them alone. He remembered the mind of his mentor at Hero Corps, and tried to reach for him. He couldn't seem to.

Eule came back to himself and rested. He'd try again later. In the meantime, he built up a "loop" in his mind so that the MindLord telepath would see those thoughts primarily, and he underneath it all would be his plans for resistance and escape.

((With information from: http://freelandtools.com/downloads/index.php?file=POW_Resistance_FM_21-78.pdf))

Grim stopped short at the entrance to the training room. Eule sat in the center, a bag of sand suspended in the air in front of him. Eule looked like he was struggling, and Grim realized that he was using telekinesis.


“Mark,” he called.

The bag dropped with a thud, and Eule turned to the door. “Hey, Mark,” Grim said.

Eule turned back to the bag. Grim climbed over the ropes and sat down across from him. “How do you feel?”

Eule wouldn’t look at him.

“So, did you see my copy?”

“Yeah.”

“Was he just as handsome as me?”  Grim smiled.

Eule focused on him. “He wasn’t black. He was blond. And he didn’t have wings.”

“What did you tell him about me?”

“Nothing.” He clammed up.

“Eule, listen.”

Eule now looked at Grim’s shoulder.

“Eule. You have people here who care about you. Kalius cares a lot about you. We wouldn’t have done what we did to get you out.”

“So I owe you?”

“No. But we don’t leave our friends behind. You don’t work for us anymore, Eule, you’re part of the family.”

“I would have been…”

“What? His lover? Until he’s done with you and finds more pleasant eye candy to feast upon? You going to be his puppy? Used?”

Eule stood up, seething with anger. “You don’t know!”

“Oh, I do know,” Grim said, looking at him steadily. “Because I know what this Kalius is fully capable of.”

Eule stopped.

“How deep did you go into his mind, Eule?”

“Just memories.”

“Did you see the rage, just barely kept in check? Did you see what kept the rage down?”

“No, I didn’t—“

“Love. Compassion. Tell me, did you see that in their Kalius’ mind?”

“I didn’t—“

“At all?”

Eule cast his mind back, to what the General had thought, and felt. There was no compassion, just hot and heavy lust. Eule had been caught up in it, and misunderstood. The Pooka was right – there was a difference between love and lust. He did know it in his head, but the General had stung his heart.

Grim waited, watching Eule, who showed no emotion on his face. Finally, Eule sighed. He looked at Grim. “Maybe…maybe if somebody shows him love…”

“I see where you’re going, Eule, and trust me, I went down the same path.” Grim got up. “What if he doesn’t change? You’ll be the one who gets hurt. Maybe even killed.”

Eule raised his head. “I’ll take that chance.”

“Is he worth it?”

“Everyone has some good in them, Grim. Even the insane – there’s good in them, I’ve seen it. You have to dust it off and show it to them.”

“Trust me, I know what you mean—“

“Don’t you think I can do it?”

“No,” Grim said calmly. “I don’t. You don’t know Kal’s like—“

Eule slipped into Grim’s mind and suggested gently that he wasn’t there. Eule seemed to then disappear from Grim’s sight.

“Dammit!” Grim ran to the main switch to shut the teleporters down, when he returned to the training room from that, he saw the remnants of an Oroborous portal close up.



Eule brushed back his hair and locked away his mind. All he knew now about Safe Havens was what was in their public file. Nothing about Raina’s cat, or Jack’s connection to her, or Stefan and Grim and Kalius, or even Oblique or Morgan. They would have to use some severe battering rams to get at that information. He would still be alive and functional afterward, but he would have a headache for a few days akin to a horrible migraine.

Eule had a plan in mind, and he knew that as long as he kept on that plan and didn’t get carried away, he could do it. He covered it in layers upon layers of thought, excuses, reasons, and then satisfied that the thought of “I wish to serve the General” seemed to fill his mind, he walked into the Mind’s Eye Enterprises building.

He shuddered, as if a sudden cold breeze caressed him as he walked in. He looked around, suddenly feeling very out of place. He took a breath from his training to calm his mind and walked directly to the front desk.

“May I help you?” asked the lady kindly.

“I am here to see General Kalius.”

The guards moved from their spot as the woman said gently, “I’m afraid you have the wrong place. There is no General Kalius here.”

Stay where you are, Eule suggested after going into the guards’ minds. One resisted, so he pushed the issue. When Eule had mentioned Kalius one of the guards pressed a button by the door. The elevator opened and some more security showed up.

Eule stood up straight and thought at them all, STAY.

They stopped where they were.

Eule turned his mind to the woman and meant to tell her to find General Kalius but he was met with a block of resistance. He quickly scanned her mind to see if she was offensive at all, but she wasn’t – just totally mind-blocked. It would probably hurt her to push his way through.

“I’ll wait,” he said. The guards moved again, slightly confused. Eule picked up a magazine, and sat calmly on the couch. If anyone picked up his thoughts, they would be for the General and whatever he was reading, and it wouldn’t look like he was hiding anything.

He waited.

Grim looked up from his breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon and saw George Whitney come up the stairs. “What’s somebody gotta do to get a cup of coffee around here?”

Grim smiled. “Pot’s right here.” He got a coffee cup and poured him a cup. “How do you take it?”

“Depends. Who made it?”

“I did.”

“Do you make good coffee?”

“Nope.”

“Lots of cream and sugar, then.”

Grim got a carton of light cream and the sugar bowl and set it before George, along with the coffee. “Have fun. Want anything to eat?”

“What do you have?”

“Whatever you want.”

“This a restaurant?”

Grim grinned. “You could say that.”

George took a sip of the coffee then practically poured the sugar bowl into the mug. "Got an everything bagel with chive cream cheese?"


"We got that." Grim went to the fridge, thought for a moment, then opened the door. He pulled out a plate with the bagel already sliced and cream cheese on the side. "We don't have a toaster, though."


George huffed. "That's pretty good."


Grim set the plate in front of George with a knife. "Cornucopia spell."


"Corna-what?"


Grim chuckled. "Cornucopia. Horn of Plenty."


George took a bite of the bagel. "What's with the wings? And you're black. You were blond the last time I saw you."


"This is how I used to look, when I did dark and evil things."


"You still do?"


"Hopefully not evil."


"One out of two ain't bad, I suppose." He ate the bagel thoughtfully. Grim continued with his breakfast for a short time, and George looked at Grim. "So how come you're going to kill this LeBeau bastard?"


"Got an hour?"

"I'm fucking serious." George set his bagel down and his eyes bored into Grim. "What do you need to kill him for?"

Grim started ticking off on his fingers. "He comes in here and starts acting like he's god. He's an arrogant and full of himself son of a bitch. He invited trouble. His "friends" treat the rest of us like shit. We got some son of a bitch from his group to invade our sanctuary. They fucked with Raina, fucked with Jack, fucked with their kids. And LeBeau's taking his sweet fucking time solving a problem that I would have figured out in less than 48 hours."

"Then why don't you?"

"Oh," Grim sounded lofty, "because my magic doesn't work with their tech."

"Then figure out how to work with their tech."

"Not as easy as--" He stopped suddenly. "Petite..." He tossed his plate in the sink with a clatter, and flew out of the kitchen.

“You’ll be drawn to them…”

Grim heard Stefan’s words as he walked among the crowd at Founder’s Falls. He caught some glances from Crey, but they didn’t want to start any trouble with him at the moment, and he didn’t want to get himself involved with them right now either. He went to the bank and let himself in.

The tellers weren’t busy, so they glanced up at his entrance. Grim looked around to see the security guard at the door. He nodded to him, and made a big show of pulling out his Hero ID. He went to sit beside a glass cubicle, where customer representatives and loan officers sat.

“Can I help you?” called a pleasant lady.

Grim smiled and got up. “I’d like to open a few mutual funds.”

“Do you have an account here?”

“No.” Grim knew that this could take some time, and he needed an excuse to wait. He sat across from her, and waited until she was settled before handing her his Hero ID.

“Do you want to go by your real name?”

“No,” he said, as she scanned the barcode on the back of his ID. He watched as his hero name, what agencies he was with, what his powers were, and who was listed as beneficiary. NONE. He'd have to fix that.

“Hm,” the lady said. “Not that many references.”

Just then, the door burst open. “This is a robbery!” yelled an electronic voice, and Grim jumped out of his seat to face them.

Arachnos.

The Wolf Spiders moved like lightning, grabbing a worker and throwing her into the other room. The Crab Spiders dashed into the vault, while Grim calmly walked out of the customer area to come face to face with a Night Widow.

Grim grinned, “Hello,” he said, and she threw a grenade at him. Grim dove back behind the glass – he realized that was probably a stupid move – and the grenade burst into smoke. Grim reached out and summoned a wandering soul -You hung yourself in the vault in 1929?- who appeared before him. The soul went out to the Night Widow, who screamed and froze in fear. Then Grim summoned darkness that encompassed the whole room, though he could see through it fine.

He walked out of the area and pawed through the smoke, seeing four people cowering in fear of the soul. The soul began to suck the life force out of them, even has he stood there. Grim walked beyond him to the room where the teller was held.

The Arachnos soldiers were well trained, but when he stepped out of the inky abyss that was the other room, they also cowered in fear. He put his hand out, and uttered a spell that would strike them with fear and dark energy that he gathered from the other room. He felt the power in him, writhing like tendrils, searching for a way out of him. He obliged, and threw a ball of darkness in their direction. It exploded at their feet, but the energy surged through them, stunning them. He pulled out his wand and struck them down with black energy.

"They're in the vault!" the teller screamed. Grim nodded, watched as the woman ran past him to the door. Grim turned, seething with darkness. He pulled together shadow, hardening them and making them like tentacles that lashed out and grabbed at the Wolf Soldiers. They were able to fire at him, and three bullets hit him. He felt the impact, but they didn't penetrate his skin. If they were point-blank, they would have. He raised his hand, and uttered a spell where all they would see was horrors of the Netherworld. They cowered, and Grim let loose again with his black wand.

He advanced past their prone bodies and headed to the vault. A Crab Spider was just heading his way, his arms full of bags. He fired at him using the guns and missiles on his back. Grim got hit, and his shoulder was blown apart. The soul stepped forward and robbed the Spider of his life force, even while Grim did the same and Raina's gift put things to rights. Then, Grim stood up slowly. He unsheathed his blade and stood in a crouch like Kal had taught him.

"You're kidding, right?" The Spider chuckled. "That won't go through my armor."

Grim took two steps and lunged, aiming right for the gut. The dagger slipped through the armored plates like butter, and Grim felt no resistance. He thrust further, feeling the stickiness of the blood flowing over the blade, and he cut horizontally, splitting the man's abdomen open.

All he could do was gasp and put his hands to his stomach, as blood flowed like a river and his intestines leaked out. He fell hard to the floor. Grim raised his hands, and spoke aloud the summoning chant to pull the soul out. The soul flew out of his body, and Grim cut the bond the held it. The man now looked up at him, his eyes empty. Grim bent to pull off the Spider's gauntlet to get at his fingers.

"Boy, you suck."

Grim whirled around to see dark-haired young man, dressed casually in jeans and a grey t-shirt. The young man, who looked no older than sixteen, shook his head at Grim. "What a mess."

"Who are you?"

"You'd better get out of here before the heroes come."

"I am a hero."

He looked at the body in a pool of blood. "Doesn't look like it from here."

Grim got up, sheathing the blade. The soul hovered.

"Well, dismiss him."

"I can't use that magic."

"Just do it!"

Grim made the rune and uttered the words that he knew from the time when he had the white magic and could send spirits on their way to their rest. He watched as the soul disappeared. Twice in twelve hours - could it be...?

"Let's go." The young man led Grim out, just as the doors burst open and a team of heroes came in.

They looked at Grim. "Stop right there!" a man in tights yelled.

Grim looked around. "Me?"

"Hold him!"

"Wait, you got the wrong guy. It's Arachnos."

The man in tights glared at him. "Likely story. You look like a robber to me."

A woman, also in tights came forward. "He works with dark magic," she said, looking down at him, disgusted. "I can smell it on him."

Grim blew her a kiss. The woman's look got even more disgusted.

An archer had his arrow on him, and a man held a fireball loosely in his hand. All four of them were glaring at Grim.

"Really, you got the wrong man." He looked around - the bank was empty of people. No one could come to his defense. Even the young kid was gone.

"Search the place," the first man ordered, and the archer pulled his arrow down, and the firebrand squished the fireball in his hand with a hiss. Grim would have paled if his skin wasn't black. If they went in the back and saw that Spider...

They headed into the back. Grim started moseying on over to the door, but got stopped with a glare from the leader. Grim held up his hands. "My hero ID is over there, on the desk."

The leader folded his arms against him. The archer came back. "No one here. There were some bags of money on the floor."

Grim stared at him. But the body...even the teleporter wouldn't have kicked in with a dead body...

"Caught you in the act!" the leader accused him.

Grim focused and found himself rolling his eyes. "If you'd get off your high horse and listen for a second, there were Arachnos here."

The firebrand said, "The radio did say Arachnos..."

"Do I look like Arachnos?" Grim pressed.

The woman and the leader didn't look too convinced. The archer and the firebrand merely shrugged, and started to the door. Grim went to the desk where he had left his ID and retrieved it. The leader held the door open for the woman and Grim. "Sorry, buddy," the leader said.

"It's okay. Heat of battle and all that."

He nodded. "Okay, let's see what else is on the radio..."

Grim left them, and wondered where the body went, and who the hell was that kid.