Anarchs and Alastors Storyline Event - Introduction

Prologue

“Jan. You honor me. How good of you to come.”

Horatio Ballard made a half-hearted attempt to lift himself out of his chair as Jan Pieterzoon entered the drawing room. Jan crossed the room quickly and shook his hand. The corpulent Ventrue invited Jan to join him in an adjacent high-backed leather chair.

“A pleasure. Good seeing you again, Horatio.”

Horatio motioned for a nearby servant to bring a beverage for his guest. Jan immediately signaled that he appreciated the offer, but politely declined the unfamiliar vitae. This greeting ritual was common in their clan.

“And how is our fine friend the Reverend doing?” Horatio began.

“He’s as delusional and dangerous as ever. You’ve seen the reports.”

“I have spent quite a bit of time poring over them, yes. So, you don’t think there is anything to these prophecies of his?”

Jan looked at him quizzically, concealing his irritation. “Do I think the Lord Almighty speaks to us through a shaggy thin-blood from Kentucky? No. He’s convincing enough to be very dangerous. But he’s deranged. He’s a fraud, like all the charlatans before him. Fortunately, we control him now.”

“Of course. Very good. Yes. Yes, I’m sure you’re correct.” They regarded each other. Horatio took a moment to sip from his glass and began again, seeking another conversational tack. “I invited you here because there is another matter which I felt needed to be brought to your attention. Are you familiar with the activities of the anarch gang that has been causing so much trouble lately?”

“Germaine’s group? I’ve heard about them  a bunch of anarchs, setting cars on fire and making noise. Not exactly part of my portfolio.”

“No? One of our primogen, Critias, has impressed upon me the gravity of this situation. I hope you'll take a look at the information I’ve gathered together.” Horatio took a thick leather folder and slid it across the table. He watched with interest for several minutes as Jan flipped through the pages, reading over reports and press clippings, examining photographs.

“Strange. Since when did anarchs get religion?”

“I don’t know. Would you agree that this is a serious problem?”

“Yes. Once rumors like this get started, they spread like wildfire. This one already seems to be burning out of control. Anyone made a serious attempt to stop them?”

“Some of our associates tried, in Philadelphia. Two Kindred were destroyed, and four more are still in torpor. There were also three traitors who went anarch and left town with the gang. We need this dealt with, I fear. Quickly and quietly, before things get even further out of hand. I know you have friends in high places, and I hope you’ll be willing to seek their intercession on our behalf.”

“I’ll do what I can.” Jan’s gaze had not left the bundle of documents on the table while he spoke. “Sightings in L.A, San Diego, Atlanta, Louisville, Baltimore. They’re on the move…”

“Not surprisingly, yes. They’ve made enough enemies to feel a need to stay on the run. Bloodhunts have been called, and there’s been some saber-rattling talk about the Red List. They must know we’re coming for them.”

Jan considered this, and then shook his head slowly. “No. They’re not running. Germaine’s looking for something. Or someone…”

Yvette crashed into the side of the car, shattering the window, the impact caving in the side panel. She crumpled away from the parked vehicle and fell to the pavement, pain screaming up her spine. The loud honking of the car alarm further disoriented her until someone silenced it with several ringing blows from a steel pipe.

Rough hands grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled the young Toreador to her feet. Yvette looked into the face of the gang leader, Count Germaine.

“Helena. Where is she?”

Yvette felt the Beast rising within her, urging her to lash out. She gritted her teeth and fought against the pain to push it back. This was not a fight she could win if she lost her self-control.

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Really? Helena. Helen of Troy. Priestess of Narcise. I hear she’s quite memorable.”

Gemain’s hands were already clamped on her shoulder and elbow. They twisted until her left humerus broke with a loud snap. Yvette gasped at the rushing waves of agony as the Brujah worked the bone fragments back and forth.

“Montreal! I heard Helena left for Montreal. Two or three weeks ago.”

“That’s better.”

As Germaine released her arm, Yvette shifted it back into alignment and directed her vitae to the injury. She scanned the small crowd of Kindred that surrounded her, surprised by their varied appearances. A few of them bore the obligatory Brujah leathers and piercings, but there were also a few Kindred wearing business suits, some in party dresses, and even a stately pair of women in evening gowns.

“You guys are Menele's goons? You'll never find Helena. She'll know you're coming from miles away.”

“We aren't anyone's goons. We want to find Helena because we want to survive. And guess what? You're in luck, because you get to come with us.”

Yazid Tamari watched through the office window, a pair of binoculars in his hands. The portly Seraph observed in utter stillness as Germaine tossed the young Toreador into the back of a black SUV, his only motion the movement of his head as he visually tracked his targets. He lowered the field glasses after counting the anarchs as they climbed onto their motorcycles and into the backs of their trucks.

A whispered voice drifted from the darkness next to him. “Now?”

“No. Not yet.”

“When?”

“Soon. Very soon.”

Infernal Plague: Aftermath

Fall 2004 V:TES CCG Storyline Tournament

Forgotten what happened in the prologue? Go read it again.

Infernal Plague Epilogue

Jan Pieterzoon showed Alan Sovereign into the private chamber of Hardestadt the Elder.

"Welcome to Europe, Mr. Sovereign," Hardestadt said.

"Thank you, sir," Alan replied. "It's my pleasure to be here." Alan lowered his head in a subtle gesture reminiscent of a bow, then he raised his eyes to meet the elder's gaze. Although Alan doubted that a creature as powerful as Hardestadt would need to look him in the eyes to enthrall him, it couldn't hurt in these times of treachery to show his elder that he had nothing to hide.

"Quentin sends his regards, sir," Alan said.

"And I appreciate Mister King sparing one of his remaining, trusted advisors on such short notice," Hardestadt answered. Jan motioned Alan toward a leather seat as Pieterzoon and Hardestadt both sat. Alan took his seat. He had imagined many times meeting the founder of the Camarilla, and many times he had questioned his own ability to remain composed in the face of so potent a Kindred. Now he found Hardestadt's presence cool yet comfortable, not unlike the Old World luxuries that appointed the chamber.

"And how is Quentin managing the treason of Lorance and the others?" Hardestadt asked.

Alan had no doubt that Hardestadt knew exactly how things were being managed in every area of Camarilla domain, but he suspected there was some other purpose to the question.

"There was some initial shock and dismay at the number of traitors and that they had actually become infernalists," he began, "but now that that has come to light, affairs have been managed well."

Hardestadt nodded. "Our enemies within and without have finally revealed themselves for all Kindred to see. Some within our ranks are shocked by the extent of the Baali's corruption and the number of turncoats within our ranks, especially among the line of Arikel. The Toreador might think they can change masters whenever their passions drive them in a new direction, but now they have pledged themselves to a master who commands eternal obedience.

"For our part, we have faced this enemy before, and we ground the Baali into the dust. We now go to war to do so again, and you are to become a solider in that war, Mr. Sovereign."

"Yes, sir," Alan said, his thoughts tumbling. He was no soldier fit for battle. Surely other Kindred in the sect were more qualified for actual, physical conflict. Surely Hardestadt knew that. Surely he wasn't actually being drafted to literally follow Theo Bell into assaults on Baali havens.

"As we move all of our resources into their proper position," Hardestadt continued, "we find that we have need of someone with expertise in international banking and money laundering. Jan will provide you with the information on certain corporations and trusts and their worldwide bank accounts. He will also introduce you to certain arms-dealers known to us. It seems that ever since the Americans have put forth their efforts to stop the financing of international terrorism, it is no longer a simple matter to discretely purchase the conventional arsenal we need for the coming conflict. It is now your job to see that it gets done."

"Yes, sir," Alan said with no small relief.

"And my responsibilities to Quentin?"

"Mister King and I have made arrangements for your services. Your past loyalty to him concerns you no longer. You will make your haven here in Europe for now. Jan will direct you."

Although Alan was facing Hardestadt and listening to the elder's every word, he suddenly found it difficult to focus on what was being said. Hardestadt's eyes drew Alan's mental focus down into their depths. When Alan recovered his faculties, he found himself standing. Hardestadt and Pieterzoon both stood as well. Had some intervening moment passed?

"Alan, only you, Jan and I will know of the status of these accounts you will control," Hardestadt said. "In times of war, we leave nothing to chance, including further treachery from any who claim to remain loyal."

"Yes, sir." With that, Alan was dismissed to begin his duties and to wonder what Hardestadt might have done inside his mind.

* * *

Sela chaffed at the Toreador's presence, but she had little choice but to endure it. Barbaro had claimed that this Helena woman was the perfect tool, and Sela's new master had confirmed it in the omens that Sela was still learning to recognize as the way he communicated his will to her. Sela despised Helena for the very reason that Helena was perfect for the task ahead. Helena's blood was old and potent. It was all too clear that Helena's age and lineage put her in a higher stratum of power than Sela's own blood would ever allow. Perhaps that's why, in the months they spent together below the streets of Rome, Sela found herself dreaming of drinking Helena's heart's blood. She would imagine the taste of the rich, warm flow in her mouth only to have her Beast rise up within her, eager to make that dream a reality. Helena seemed all too serenely aware of Sela's fantasy and her struggle with her Beast, which made it all the more maddening to be around her.

Yet Sela did endure Helena's company. For nearly two months, she had taught the Toreador the secret of the Lasombra, the command of shadows. Sela had learned the art through so many trials that it annoyed her to just give the knowledge to Helena on a silver platter. The ease with which Helena mastered it only annoyed her further.

Admittedly, though, Sela had learned much from Helena as well during those months. The Toreador implied that she once controlled Rome-if not the whole Roman Empire. The elder Toreador's knowledge of Rome, at least Rome as it once was, seemed without peer. Once Sela felt certain that Helena had no desire to try to seize Rome as her own domain again, she listened more carefully to how the Toreador had once pulled the strings of power in the city. The strings had not changed so much from ancient to modern nights that the usefulness of the lessons was lost on Sela. During those months it also became clear to Sela how Barbaro intended to bring Helena fully into their master's bondage. Sela saw clearly what impassioned the Toreador and moved her beyond reason or prudence. She knew what might even make the Toreador abandon her unlife-perhaps even her soul. It was hate. Hate for the one she called Menele, whom Kindred legend referred to as the childe of Troile. What moved Helena to hate the ancient Brujah so intensely, however, Sela could not fathom.

Yet Barbaro used that hate like a tool in a master sculptor's hands. The impish man would stoke Helena's furor and other times call into question the depth of that hatred. The hatred and the promise of quenching her hate in Menele's blood proved a powerful motivator to keep Helena focused on the course ahead.

When Sela finally had to admit that she had taught Helena all she could of the Abyss, Barbaro revealed to them both a text he had found in the Vatican archives. An ancient text of Abyssal Mysticism that might prove to be the key to His prison.

The results of the Infernal Plague story line are tallied. The Baali's efforts to corrupt the other clans met with the most success among the Toreador, who turned infernal (won more Infernal Plague tournaments as infernalists) more than any other clan. Meanwhile, the Ventrue stood their ground, reinforcing their position as the Clan of Kings, leading the Camarilla efforts to thwart the infernal menace (and winning more tournaments as non-infernalists than any other clan). The infernal story line concludes with a sequel story-line tournament later this year (details to be announced). The sequel story line will feature a support kit complete with Toreador and Ventrue cards associated with those clans' Infernal Plague victories and another surprise item not to be missed!