The Sabbat
April 18th, 2012
Tony turned on the car. It had a nice hum to it. Sang a bit, like they used to, before everybody started driving those little rice balls. The car was riding low, with the load in the back seat, but he wasn't all that concerned. It's not like he'd paid for it.
"We going?" asked Mike, who was in the passenger seat.
"We're going," replied Tony. Mike was a bit of a freak, but that had never bothered Tony. Oh, sure, he had piercings in every bit of his face, but pack was pack, and Tony didn't let it get to him.
Mike turned around in the seat as they drove, and looked into the back. "I'm gonna suck down the one with the coat, and then maybe the girl. Fuckin hungry!"
"You can't take them all. Gotta save something for the pack." They had a trio of kine that they'd picked up off the street, all duct taped into the back of the car. Tony wasn't exactly sure how picking people up off the street had become his responsability, but he wasn't about to let his pack mates down. His mind raced ahead to the Vaulderie that would follow, revelling in the closeness and the joy of the ritae.
Then the girl got the duct tape off her mouth, and started to scream. Tony rolled his eyes as Mike squeezed the flesh of her lips, until they fused shut.
The drive wasn't far, and Tony carried the struggling food into the warehouse that the whole pack used as a haven. Mike had run ahead to get all the supplies set up. As he was carrying the third one in something strange came over him. A sense of loss, very briefly, flickered over his soul, like a cold drenched blanket thrown over a fire, and when it was gone, there was a sense that something was missing.
Anger roared up in him, as parts of his being long dormant burst to life, and exploded forth in a flame inside.
He dropped the food where it was, ignoring it as it started to crawl away, tearing its jacket and pulling itself along the ground, and went inside.
The whole pack was in there, except Tina, their Lasombra, who had been missing these last few nights. There was Mike, who was a freakshow, and proud of it. His eyes flickered over the rest of them. Saw the indolance, and laziness, and the conniving. The sight of them filled him with rage.
Mike looked at him. "Where's the food? Go get the food!"
That's when Tony hit him, and he'd never felt so alive.
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Nine years ago, the Sabbat fell to itself, in an orgy of violence. While the Sword could strike down any foe, that power turned overnight into a horrifying liability. Packmate turned on packmate, and pack on pack. One night, all of the Viniculi simply... stopped. With the Lasombra gone (More on that later), there was nothing to hold it together.
Some packs stayed together, tied by more than blood and false comraderie. Many of these are still active tonight, but without anything higher than the pack to hold a coherent theology, they drift apart from other packs on philosophical grounds. War packs turn on Fabians, and Ultra-Cons on Loyalists.
Then there are the loners, who survived the death of their packmates, all alone in the night.
All of these former Sabbat (some of whom still claim to be Sabbat, even the "only TRUE Sabbat") are dealing with new realities, where there are risen Ancients, but no Sword to meet them, and Federalist "free elections" but no true Freedom.
The Sword of Caine is broken, but broken swords can still kill.