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The stage was set for a proper exchange of power. The delegation from Miami celebrated the elevation of one of their own to the station of Cardinal. The native daughter, Ofelia Castell, from the line of ancient Lasombra sat ensconced over the whole of the Southeast US from Miami to Baltimore and West to Biloxi. Her establishment in Atlanta’s stronghold was a source of pride for her hometown, where she had held the Archbishopric for the last half century. With the blessing of Mexico City, Cardinal Castell now chose her successor from among Miami’s four Bishops. The choice was made and ratified by the Regent. The highest station in Miami would remain in the hands of Clan Lasombra under the considerable reason, power, and insight of Gabriel de Rosario. Most of the Cainites of Miami agreed that he was the best choice - at least in public. But as the preparations for de Rosario’s confirmation were made, there was a murmur spreading out from the chambers of one of the other Bishops. Too long, the whispers said, had the Archbishopric remained with Clan Lasombra. A change was needed, a metamorphosis of the city, if Miami were to prevail in the deferred goal, long held, of the conquest of Florida. And so, the decision was made and a new set of preparations began in secret and in earnest, for only 4 nights remained until the Blood Bath that would create Archbishop de Rosario. The same night, one of de Rosario’s oracle advisers, Samuel Rhodes, who was known as Prophet, entered a trance and spoke. He spoke of blood and death and diablerie. So close to the ritual confirmation, such Malkavian’s babblings were simply inappropriate in the eyes of the Bishop’s personal Priest, and so Prophet was dismissed roughly from his position and told never to come near de Rosario again. Packs had come in from all over, as far as Chicago, Detroit, and Philadelphia to witness the event. The atmosphere was charged with bloodthirsty frivolity as out-of-town packs challenged locals in Games of Instinct. But all who survived these were brought into the ceremony of celebratory feasting the third night, the night before de Rosario’s confirmation by Blood Bath. The night following the Blood Feast, the Cainites were called together. High on a dais was the stone pool that would hold their vitae. Beside it, sat Gabriel de Rosario, dressed in an ornate robe of red. Each of the gathered monsters approached the dais and offered words of praise to the new Archbishop before opening a vein and willing a portion of his or her stolen liquid lifeforce to fill the pool. The procession of 527 Cainites took most of the night to perform their duties to the Blood Bath, but even with so many in attendance, some were pointedly missing. Nevertheless the ritual carried on, with a sermon of Caine being offered in inspiration by the Cardinal’s Priest before de Rosario cast off his robe and lowered himself into the pool of blood. Something happened then, just as de Rosario’s head dipped below the surface. Those who were watching saw the surface of the blood shimmer ever so slightly and another, one who was not de Rosario, rose from the pool. His eyes were wild with the pleasure of taking de Rosario’s soul and the grin on his face was without a hint of regret. This was Victor Constantin, Tzimisce Bishop of South Beach and now Usurper. He turned his eyes upon the crowd, cast the Cardinal’s Priest’s head from his neck, performed his own consecration of the vitae joined in the pool and spoke as his Paladins gathered to guard him. “Cainites of Miami, I am your true Archbishop. I will lead you into a glorious new era of conquest and we will slake our thirst upon Camarilla throats! Join me or be the first of that slaughter! If you are with me, drink this Vaulderie in renewal of your allegiance to the true sons of the Sword of Caine, then turn your fangs upon all those who will not. Let not one dissenter escape! KILL THEM ALL!” The chaos that ensued thereafter left the air thick with ash and the ground slick with blood. In the confusion, however, one pack slipped away, each drawn away from the horror and rage by a thin hand belonging to Samuel Rhodes. He would be their Prophet and he was ready to see them to safety - if only one of them would drive. He had never learned how.
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August 20th, 2019
Father,
We have them! The ones from Miami! We are certain this time. The signature matches the massacre in Miami and the attack on our operatives in Atlanta. This time they have made an even bigger mess with an even greater loss of human life. These monsters will pay.
I’ve heard it said that when your quarry goes to ground, leave no ground to go to. We have a team following predictive algorithms to likely ports of harbor for this brood of vipers. They will find no solace and no where to run but into our ambush.
May God’s will be done! We will send them all to Hell.
Prophet screams in his sleep, coming awake with sudden alarm. His hand goes to his belt and fumbles for a weapon he doesn’t find. He slides out of his bunk and screams again at what he sees: bodies and piles of ash: Gregor, Rashida, Gwen, Talia and Simone cut down in a blaze of blood and fire, whirling blades, flying flame.
Prophet is never one for much emotion outside his times of Vision, but a long-forgotten feeling begins to press on his shoulders and chest – GUILT. He struggles with it and feels a stirring of Frenzy. His Beast breaks forth and he rides the wave of horror, fury, fear and hunger to the bunks of his Packmates. He drains them one by one, slowly coming down from his Frenzy and justifying himself as he consumes soul after soul: he is protecting them all, holding them inside himself, keeping them safe. All their voices break out inside his mind. They are awash in the ocean of the Madness Network! Washed away! Torn apart! And never safe again – and it’s his fault.
He falls further, consumed by self-hatred and guilt. He falls into darkness. His Beast comes again to the fore, but there is no rational mind to resist anymore. Prophet succumbs to the Final Frenzy: Malkavian in Wassail.
Prophet wakes as Samuel Rhodes, the little boy with a cold lump of fear in his belly. He checks the time and raises the blackout in time to see the last glow of the sun descend behind the Chicago skyline. He wraps his arms around his legs and whispers self-comforting mantras to himself until he is Prophet once more.
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June 20th, 2019
"Yes, Regent. I am on my way." Sascha responded the only way they could. With obedience, despite their enjoyment of New York. They were summoned to Mexico City to convene the Consistory and to address the new threat, seeming invisible in the face of war. Montreal, once a shining beacon, a stronghold of the Sabbat, was in chaos.
Sascha spoke quietly to a black clad figure at their elbow, "Contact your Lady and tell her that her childe's pack must be accelerated along her chosen course for them. This is no matter for a rag tag pack that always seems to be in the right place at the right time. They will come through the fire and emerge refined. They must be brought into line before they reach Mexico City."
"Yes, your Grace," The young Cainite bowed briefly and was on his way.
May 8th, 2019
While Candace is recovering from her illness, the Thaumaturges and their Dark Master are still at large. You killed one, but at least two still remain. You don't know how many there may be. Before you leave Atlanta, you must find and destroy them - for Candace's sake.
But while you are hunting them, are they hunting you? Are they seeking vengeance for their fallen packmate?
May 1st, 2019
Constantin smiled when his Szlachta returned with news of the last pack's demise. "All stake for sun!" the happy monster declared. The Master rewarded his slave with a taste of his blood.
"There is no one to stop us now except..."
"What about the Cardinals, your Excellency?" Ricardo asked.
"When they learn who I am, they, too will fall in line," Constantin said, "In the meantime, I need to call my pocket Priscus." He laughed viciously.
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Kate Langdon called in to her team, "All I see here is a total blood bath. Send in a cleaning crew. I want tissue samples, blood samples, fabric samples, hell, sample everything. I need to try to reconstruct what happened here. And when I'm done, I Hunt."
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