Brick by Bloody Brick (Acheron Bloodline)

[Ambrose Acheron]

A monster walked the streets of the Westwall District. There was not a lot of buildings there that were not decrepit or abandoned be it warehouses, schools, apartment buildings. There were some homes, a bar, one of the city’s hospitals, apartments and a low-end commerce building still battling for its survival in the dying district.. Even the ironically named Westwall Arms Pub was really in Coastside. The criminal element he and his brethren had ousted had done it’s damage to the area it seemed. There was so little here that could be used to revitalize the area and so much here for criminals to use to run their operations. Abandoned buildings made for a good place to stash illegal items, conduct illicit activities and most important on the monster’s list… hide bodies. As it was a goodly distance away from Newborough, the area could easily be used to distract from his own activities there yet not so far away as to be an inconvenience to get to in a pinch. There was little to hold most vampire’s attention in the Westwall district.

It was close enough to Honeymead and Coastside, two more booming districts to be valuable though. The monster figured that Westwall gained quite a bit of foot traffic all in all but that it was very likely to be passersby. One of the three major in-roads to the city passed trough on the western edge of the land. The same road led to the Hunting Grounds. Tizoc Yayauhqui, the monster, known more commonly as Ambrose Acheron spent a fair amount of time there when he was sick of the stink and the noise and the bustling activity of the city.

It was perfect.

To most it would be useless, to him it was a very valuable resource. The next step in his plan was to begin to revitalize Newborough. He would need help doing it, the territory the Acheron resting place was located in was already held by a faction known as Helheim, a faction put together by the enigmatic Administrator. Tizoc was still undecided about the mysterious vampire and his pack of silent vampire supremacists. As long as they did not cross Acheron, Tizoc had no intention of trying to wrest control of the district from them. One drop of blood spilled from one of his line though…

The battle replayed in his head. The Brood had waited patiently in the darkness, one by one felling enemy after enemy as though it were less a battle and more a grisly horror movie starring doomed gang members against a group of vampires. The Bricks had done everything wrong. They had split up, one by one they had investigated the weird noises, spurred on by curiosity and perhaps drug-induced feelings of invincibility.

Muzzle flashes and glints of dim light on steel blades had worked to shatter their illusion of invincibility. The head enforcer of the group of gangsters had fallen to Jedediah, the '300 grain .45 caliber dose of lead poisoning' fired from his Marlin .45-70 taking him out of the world in no more time than it takes a man to blink. He never saw or felt the impact in all likelihood.

As the boss of the Set came around the corner to investigate, cursing his man for making such a racket. Kitchi moved in like a whirling dervish, his blade striking out and embedding in the man’s stomach, pistol simultaneously pressing to his temple muffling the report that snuffed out his life, his head malformed instantly as it snapped to the side, his body racked and strafed by gunfire, the other vampires reigning hot lead down on his falling body. Machk stepped out from the shadows, making short work of a gun-toting, mean looking son-of-a-*****, the heavy gunner of the group by the looks of him. All the mean fled right out of him as Machk’s .44 caliber bullet had him joining the eunuch club. His body joined those of his fellow Bricks over by the entryway, shrouded in the shadows as he bled out, shaking, face growing paler by the second as he bled out from where his manhood once resided..

Aaron Hunter quietly and efficiently dispatched a hired gun, a hitman as he huddled nearby peering into the shadows while Machk and Jedediah cut down another gangster, some muscle brought in likely for intimidation factor who had come with the hitman to see what was going on. Their still-twitching and bullet-riddled bodies, like the others were pulled into the shadows where the vampires waited.

Their triggerman had stepped around the corner to be lanced by a half dozen or more rounds from the waiting vampires, Tizoc moving toward him silently in the darkness, the sword Kika had given him on the eve of battle slicing open the femoral artery as he and the others moved silently deeper into the factory, retrieving their traps as they went.

They had not been invincible and at the end one of them had realized it. The Acheron members had found the punk cowering against a wall trying to escape the inevitable. When he had turned and caught sight of them he had tried to go down fighting. It had been admirable in its own way. The face had stared into the face of his approaching demise and met it head on as a warrior should.The district of Westwall passed from the Bricks to Acheron with little fanfare, many none the wiser as a bullet from Tizoc’s rifle, crafted painstakingly by Lecovio, crashed through the punks skull, painting the wall behind him with skull fragments and brain matter.

That was then, it was done and in the past. Now, Tizoc leaned against the wall of the abandoned school and closed his eyes. His mind reached out and he connected to the computer deity known as “The Google”. In his head a map of Harper Rock appeared.

The Bricks still had control of Coastside for the time being, and between there and the Acheron home of Newborough was yet another faction, Tytonidae, the holders of Stag Heath. They were rather infamous within the vampiric community from what Tizoc could gather, protecting either their own power base or the Masquerade depending who one asked. To Tizoc they were the same as Helheim. A non-factor unless made a factor. The human buffer between the two factions, Tytonidae and Acheron ensured they have minimal contact with Westwall. Tizoc intended to help the Bricks fortify this buffer.

They did however border on Newborough with their control over Coastside and having a faction known for killing other vampires on his doorstep made Tizoc somewhat wary. He had never met one of the Owls as they were called and thus his opinion of them was neutral, unformed simply because he felt uninformed. A gander through the forum threads of Crownet left him with the impression that they served very little purpose in the way of preserving the Masquerade until recently when it appeared one of their members started an academy of sorts.

Tizoc wasn’t sure about that being wise. Gathering too many of their kind in one location for any reason was dangerous. Problems would inevitably arise. The vampires of today were at the least as careless as those who had caused the Apocalypse to begin with if not more so. Large numbers of these floundering children would more than likely attract hunter attention even as they tried to teach them how not to. It was a double edged sword. It was the reason why siring had been taken so seriously by those who had followed the old code in centuries past.

Tizoc felt a slight pang of guilt. Who was he to judge? Recently he had breached that same code repeatedly and had seen at least two of his Brood on the violations list, much to his disappointment. One of them he had removed from the list himself, teaching a lesson with steel, pain and blood. Being immortal was a multi-faceted blade. There were so many aspects to balance. Even after centuries passed, perhaps because of the change the years wrought, it was difficult to maintain that balance. Things in the mortal world were in an ever-shifting state of flux and it was all the elders could do usually to try and understand the world around them much less impact it in any meaningful way. To do so would usually risk breaking the secrecy of vampire-kind anyway. The more power one had, the harder it was to bring it to bear.

Lessons had come at a clip hard to follow of late. He didn’t wish to think on many of them. Instead here thought of Newborough. To the east it was bordered by two factions, The Helheim who controlled Swansdale and the Yongheng Triads to the north, in the Redwood District. They may pose a problem, though word had filtered down that someone was moving against them. This was good timing for whoever that was since the Triad had just taken a massive hit when they lost a lucrative shipment of smuggled weapons and other contraband..Tizoc would have to reserve judgement for later on the District of Redwood, once he gleaned more information as to who it was the Triad was in contention with.

Of the gravest concern was the western edge of Newborough. The Hunting Grounds, where it seemed the tattooed zealots of the white man’s God had set up shop. If they retained a hold on the wilderness lands there much longer Tizoc would have to turn his eyes to wiping the scourge from the land once and for all.

All in all he felt fairly secure for the moment with those surrounding him and he was confident that Acheron could weather any storm brought forth from the three human factions that were nearby.

As for the vampires, he would just have to wait and see. Waiting was, after all, what Tizoc did best. He had waited for two centuries already. He was very, very patient.

His plan was simple, help the Bricks retain Coastside by any means necessary to keep a buffer between Westwall and Stag Heath, aid in destroying the Order of St. James and on a more personal note, if he had the chance to, the Sirens. From there it was catch-as-catch-can.

Tizoc moved from the wall of the deserted school, prowling through the streets of the Westwall District lost in his own thoughts...

It wasn't until he neared the one bar in the area that his attention was drawn from his musings.

Death roamed the streets this night. The young rogue vampire had picked his victim, a dumb ***** he’d seen in the Hammer and Tongs pub. Tall, red-head, one of those too-hot-for-you cheer-leaders that had shot him down in high school, in the hot chick in college who had no time for him, the hos in their short skirts in the bars that left with the rich looking motherfuckers, the cute co-worker at work who cried sexual harassment when he asked them if he could take them out sometime. Every woman who had hurt him had been gathered up in the vampire’s mind and focused into this one female . She was the personification of all the denial, abandonment, heartache and heartbreak he had ever felt.

The leggy red-head sashayed out of the pub, her high heeled boots clicking on the sidewalk as she folded her arms around herself, pulling her long jacket tightly against herself to keep out the bitter Canadian winter’s icy grip. She walked quickly, the car down the block her destination. She pressed the button on her key fob and the lights flashed as the alarm was deactivated and the doors unlocked. The streets were empty, she was done with her shift at the bar and intended on going home and curling up in front of the fire in her living room under a blanket on the couch and sleeping bathed in it’s warmth.

She had broken up with her loser boyfriend recently and was just getting used to sleeping alone, but the relationship, though rocky had been long and she had not reconciled it fully. Not enough to sleep in the bed where they had made love and where she had found him with one of his ex-flings that final day only a week ago. Though the pain was fresh she knew she had made the right choice first kicking him out and later ignoring his calls. They had only persisted three days. He must have found another woman to latch onto like a blood sucking leech.

She was unaware of the real bloodsucker coming up fast behind her, silent and deadly, a stalking predator designed outside of the natural world, somewhere in a realm of shadow and spirit…

The vampire had tunnel vision, his sights were set. If he were a military sniper it wouldn’t be far-fetched to call it a thousand yard stare. The rogues steps began to quicken as he approached, and the woman seemed to sense something, tensing at the last moment as the vampire’s hands reached out.

Things took an unexpected twist in that instant, the vampire’s hand reached out for her throat but only brushed her hair. His body suddenly hit the sidewalk as he howled. The woman spun and came eye to eyes with a man with near pitch black eyes that nearly swallowed her soul. “Go, now woman. Get in your automobile, drive for one and a half minutes then return.” The words slammed into her ears, pierced the fog of confusion and fear within her brain and moments later she would realize she was driving through the streets of the Coastside district before making a U-turn and coming back the way she came..

Meanwhile the rogue vampire leaped to his feet, drawing a razor sharp knife and fumbling for his revolver. He raised the .44 caliber pistol toward the new arrival and thumbed back the hammer.

“No”. The word was again backed with supernatural compulsion and the vampire found his hand lowering, the gun suddenly felt heavy in his hand. He didn’t want to raise it… he didn’t want to hurt this man, the thought was almost unimaginable.

The elder vampire shook his head. These young ones… they were all gall, no thought for subtleties. They wanted blood and violence which was fine, but they went about it like a virgin bedding his first woman. Fumbling around without any idea what they were doing and thinking only of the finish. They hadn’t learned the intricacies. The vampire hadn’t even known he had been there. He was a secrecy violation waiting to happen and would draw that attention here, to the elders backyard.

That wasn’t going to happen. Not tonight.

Unleashing the shadows roiling inside of him, the old vampire focused and sent out a wave of terror through the young vampire. “Leave! Do not return under penalty of death!” The words were backed with supernatural compulsion beyond the ken of the young vampire. He couldn’t resist the command, couldn’t bite back the clawing terror that rose within him. The rogue fled into the night as though pursued by the Hounds of Hell leaving Tizoc standing alone in the frigid night air.

Tizoc did not believe in the destruction of his own kind. Nor did he take kindly to poachers in his territory who had no concern for the veil of secrecy that separated vampire-kind from perhaps another two centuries restrained to the fade. The Sundering would perhaps change that if it came to pass, but it would bring with it a new host of problems. Tizoc suspected it would bring about the end of the human race, destroying all true life on the planet and plunging the vampires into forced necuratism that would eventually end with them all being weakened and destroyed either by each other, by the other undead creatures that would remain, or by the Fae if even they survived. After all, if the Shadow Realm and the physical world became one, where would the vampires have left to go but to their true Final Death upon their demise?

Perhaps the Disciples of Crow were more of a threat than he had initially anticipated. There were so many of these new underworld factions surfacing it was getting hard to keep track. Tizoc shook his head. He had managed to claw his way out of the Fade to find there were vampires trying to bring the Fade to them. The irony of it was not lost on him. He would have to seek counsel on this new development.

Two minutes later a pair of headlights approached again interrupting his idle thoughts. As the car came to a halt in a parking space, he made his way to the passenger side door and opened it. After giving a thorough investigatory look over the area for any possible witnesses. Seeing none he slipped into the vehicle and closed the door.

It was time to feed.

Tizoc stands back out in the cold some time later. The woman would be fine, enthralled still for the moment while filing a police report. He watches through her eyes as they take her statement, someone broke into her house, hit her on the head, took her purse and jewelry. There would be no fingerprints though, nor witnesses to the crime and the lump on the back of her head would heal. She was light-headed but that was more from the feeding. Tizoc had taken his pound of flesh from her veins along with her belongings.

The woman would come to him the next evening. She would bypass the traps throughout the haven by using the book resting on under the seat of her car and Tizoc would lay her back gently on the altar in the depths of the factory’s underbelly, slit her abdomen open with his onyx blade, reach up within her to the elbow, hand pushing through the diaphragm as he found the grapefruit sized organ beating frantically within. Then he would steal more than her freedom. He would take her heart, ripping it free from it’s place within her breast, a gift to Tezcatlipoca.

She would disappear like so many others in the city. There would be a fall guy of course, another enthralled human Tizoc would seek out by reading random thoughts of those he passed by.more than likely. Perhaps one of the members of one of the criminal factions that had sprung up. Perhaps though... she could fill another purpose.

At the moment though he was compiling a message within his mind to those of his blood. It would appear later on this evening on their private server if he chose to share his thoughts. He normally kept most things to himself but recently had decided it may be best to include at least those he has sired directly. They were all one Brood after all.

Factions have arisen to try and lay claim to the mortal realms “underworld”. Humans give things the most ironic and amusing names. They truly have no concept of the word “underworld”. Still, I write these notes to keep them straight in my mind while I learn more of them These are my initial impressions, mostly gleaned simply by hearsay and perusing Crownet.

The Sirens need to be crushed. The Fae have long been the enemies of vampire-kind and any type of sway they hold in Harper Rock only serves to aid in the destruction of vampires.They have attacked many of the vampiric populace while in the wilderness and others (myself included, centuries ago) were bewitched by one of them leading to an... embarrassing lapse in judgement. The Sirens need to be destroyed. They exert their twisted power in the southern sewers and the district of Bullwood. Granted much of my hatred for this faction is personal in nature but their decimation would certainly do nothing to hurt our kind. I would like to personally execute the one that passed by a few months back. Definite Threat.

The Order of Saint James has fractured off apparently from the rest of the Order. While I don’t know the specifics, I do know this presents an opportunity to weaken the Paladins as a whole. Wiping them out may mean little, unless the sorcerers who continue to create more Paladins are destroyed. Cull their numbers whenever possible, but the head of the serpent must be removed before any significant damage can be done to this regrettable Masquerade breach.Still, divided as they are from the rest of the Order the present a tempting target. They currently control the northern sewers systems and the hunting grounds, though word is that they are being targeted on that front. Definite Threat.

As far as the Westwall Bricks go, I have a laissez-faire attitude toward them. They must survive, but be held in check. They are human, a buffer between the crimes of the immortals done to the mortals and exposure. They are potential scapegoats and useful tools. If they are destroyed the Masquerade will lose a valuable survival tool. We left no survivors to allow a breach in secrecy so they still seem blissfully ignorant of our kind’s existence. It should be kept this way. Our recent rout of their forces should have taught them a lesson that they are not the dominant gang they thought themselves to be. Their hold on the Coastside district is tenuous at best as they are caught between us and Tytonidae currently. They have been attacked twice already. Once by use and once by another bloodline, Fforde. They managed to survive the battle against Fforde and retain Coastside but I believe that another attack will come shortly. Little threat.

The Yongheng Triads are another Masquerade breach. They should be controlled or wiped out quietly. The fact that they know of us and have not attempted to expose our kind perhaps means they could be useful allies. The fact that they seem driven only by greed means they are malleable and can be easily controlled. It also means they can not be trusted. We can destroy them with their own greed through careful planning. Wickbride and Redwood are currently districts under their sway but like the Order’s hold on the hunting grounds, there are whispers that they are besieged for their control of the Redwood district.. I wish the attackers well, The Triad has already weathered one attack from the Quartermaine vampires. Potential Threat More insight is needed

The Lionelli Family represent a threat to the balance between the supernatural and the mundane only because of their attitude toward secrecy. Were that to change, they would be worth courting as allies. As it is now they are a detriment to the survival of vampires and, regrettably, should be destroyed when possible. I do not condone the destruction of other vampires as there are usually better ways to teach them than does not simply beget more violence. These ones are an exception to that rule as I believe it was they who informed the hunters of the location of several vampires back in November. They are traitors of the basest nature and like any dog that bites, should be put down. They control the criminal activities in Gullsborough, Moss End and Elmworth. This needs to be changed though the districts are all three far away from the locales which concern me the most. Left unchecked these thick-headed idiots could seriously pose problems later on though. Definite Threat.

Simply put, the Disciples of Crow are short-sighted idiots. Children playing with forces they can not fathom. They may claim to be acting on behalf of a higher power but those actions can do nothing but destroy our kind. They should be destroyed without mercy. If they had spend two hundred years in the Fade they would not be so quick to try and bring the Shadow upon this realm. If destroying the Veil holding the two separate was the plan of the creature they use as their namesake then it is good he was banished. Their hold over Cherrydale must be taken from them as it it too close to the catacombs, obviously a thin spot between the worlds. They are perhaps the most dangerous of the factions currently as their work to complete the Sundering could end up with everywhere in the world being what the Quarantine Zone is now, dead and infested by zombies. Without human or animal life there will be no more blood. Only those who can feed with vampiric abilities and Necuratists like my sire was would remain. Definite Threat.

The Exiled Brotherhood matter little in the larger scheme of things unless they manage to put together a plan that damages the Masquerade. They seem to be a group of weak vampires huddled together for safety. As long as they remain slinking in the shadows and do not bother the Bloodlines, they are of no import, nor is their current hold on the River Rock district.It seems that the other elder I met, Miss Naarc’s forces known as Deux Corbeaux has wrested Thornside from their grip recently. I wonder what the point was outside of control of the locale itself. A band of rogue vampires hardly seems worth the effort to oust for any political or spiritual reason. Potential Threat

As for Helheim, the pawns of the enigma known as the Administrator, they are odd, but without knowing anything of their true purpose there is no reason to actively disrupt their plans yet. They claim to fight for the survival of our race and, if this is true, to rise against them would be tantamount to fighting against our kind’s survival. There is something about them that is odd though. They warrant a watchful eye. I do not believe their intent is truly as simple as they have claimed through their mysterious leader. Swansdale and Newborough are under their sway currently, after battles with the Order of Saint James and the Exiled Brotherhood. The choices of targets seem like a bid for territory rather than a matter of protecting our survival. A ragtag band of vampires and a weakened faction of hunters while the Disciples of Crow, the Sirens and the Lionelli Family are left untouched? It makes little sense. More insight is needed.

The Inmates who took the district of Honeymead from the Disciples of Crow are a mystery to me. I have not heard of them but for this tidbit of information. The battle it seems was bloody and but they are the Disciples of Crow lost members. It is a shame. I may have to seek out their leader and see if they fought to destroy the Disciples or if they had their own agenda such as we did with Westwall. More insight is needed.

I have heard the name d’Artois before.They seems to be a fairly social Bloodline. One of them owns the bar where my doomed marriage to the neonate Adelita ended. The establishment had no hint of the supernatural in its atmosphere so I would assume they are a secrecy-abiding lot. The attack on the Sirens holding is heartening. Perhaps I will try and make contact with the eldest of their lineage and see if my presumptions are correct. The question though that bothers me is why would they wish to control the Quarantine Zone? Are they planning to try and strengthen the Veil or weaken it? Time will tell. We would be wise to learn more of them. More insight is needed

Tytonidae is a name which comes up frequently on Crownet. They seem to believe themselves the enforcers of the Masquerade. They find violators, and then open fire on them with noisy guns. I don’t believe they are truly secrecy oriented. More likely that they simply enjoy hunting down their own kind. These reports remind me of the Sangñero clan of old with their beliefs that only they were fit to survive. Rather than Shadow-supremacists though it seems this group focuses on secrecy violations. From what I have seen, putting a vampire into the Shadow Realm will do nothing other than slowly drive them insane and make them less likely to be able to remain undetected so the strategy is largely ineffective. They did attack the Order of Saint James though, taking the district of Stag Heath from them and that in and of itself is a small benefit to our kind. Wiping out every tattooed hunter nowadays would do little more than keep the sewers slightly more vermin free. I have yet to run into any of these zealots outside of the foul depths of the undercity's bowels in any substantial number and the sorcerers who created them would likely just create more. Still, the attack on a long standing enemy of our kind is commendable. Being as they are our neighbors to the north as far as our haven goes, more insight is needed.

In truth all of the current factions seem to be very much wrapped up in their own survival and aspirations which mostly remain unknown to me. It is early days yet and until more of a pattern emerges it is unlikely that I will be able to gain any insight into the outcomes of this struggle for control of Harper Rock. I do know however that the criminal sector of the city is a vital element we need a foothold in to ensure our races survival as a whole and there are none that I trust to do the legwork for us.

From the limited information known, the Disciples of Crowthe Order of Saint James, The Lionelli Family and The Sirens are the biggest threats to our kind as they are blatantly attempting to destroy us. The Exiled Brotherhood the Yongheng Triads and Tytonidae represent a moderate threat since their actions could end up bringing human retaliation down upon us or they are known as vampire hunters. Of less concern are the Westwall Bricks, while Fforde, Quartermaine, Deux Corbeaux, d’Artois, the Inmates, and Helheim represent unknown quantities.

At this time, I don’t believe acting against any but the Sirens, the Order of Saint James, the Disciples or the Lionelli is in our best interests while further research into the others is warranted.

If any of you have any information on any of these factions or Bloodlines please bring it up to either myself, Machk, Kika or Vega if you can find her.

It was long winded and read a little too much like a dissertation for Tizoc’s liking, but he supposed getting into the spiritual connection between the realms and the possible effects of their disintegration would make it worse. If ever there was a time for them to band together and work toward a common purpose, this was it. There was a storm brewing, the winds of change were blowing and without information they were like a boat out in the middle of the sea waiting for a wave to capsize them.

He closed his eyes, seeking solace seeking wisdom. He needed guidance.

Xomolli, tlayoualli ticmotoctia, Tizoc.

His eyes narrowed in the shadows of the alleyway. “Tlaalaoa, tlapetzcaui in ixpan petlatl, icpalli aquineuhian, aquixoaian, Coahoma…” His words are whispered into empty air. There is no one with him. He is alone even so far as the street being empty.
Quauhyotica, oceloyotica…

The elder vampire scowls. He doesn’t look around for the source of the voice. He has been hearing it often of late. Her sweet voice, lost to the ages. Her wisdom lost for so long. He thought he had found her before but he had been so wrong. She was still one with his great lord Tezcatlipoca. She was able to reach out to him though even through the Veil. It was not a good sign.

He had gone to battle, he had led his line into combat, they had defeated the enemy and had claimed a small fragment of land back from those who had once taken it from the people of this land. It was not enough though. Not for him, not for his gods, not for the spirit of his lost love.

“Tell me how to bring you back to me. I have prayed, sacrificed, I have waited and I have studied and have found nothing. Can noyacauh. The only way I can find to be with you is to help tear open the Veil and this cannot be.”

In muztla, in uiptla...

Tizoc didn’t know how to answer. He stood mute, shaken. Did this mean that the end was drawing close? Did it mean that she was to be reborn? Was the barrier between the worlds so thin that the time of the Sundering was upon them? Perhaps his own death was imminent. “Nimitlailnamiqui, Coahoma.”

Coahoma didn’t answer him again. He knew she wouldn’t. Her voice it seemed came only with dire warnings or with premonitions. Usually vague and left in riddles.

Apparently tonight was to be no exception. He would gain no wisdom from the great beyond.

[Aaron Hunter]

Humans are inherently social animals, having recognizable and distinct societies. They like to herd together in communities, to talk, to interact, to work together to create thriving villages, towns, and sprawling cities. Often these groups are defined by the politics of the day, by socio-economic factors and restraints, or by a pure accident of birth. Call it luck of the draw, but sometimes children are born into wealth and health, whereas others enter a life of poverty and illness.

In today’s modern world, people tend to huddle together alongside those folk with whom they share a common interest. It could simply be that they work together, or it may be that they possess a deep and meaningful relationship fuelled by morals and religion, ethical values, or weird and wonderful hobbies. People are tribal, and they want a sense of togetherness, a sense that they are around likeminded people; a sense that they belong.

Back in New York, Aaron used to enjoy shooting a few hoops with his school friends. The boys could laugh and joke, chat about music or the hottest girl in class, and generally bond as they fooled around on the basketball court. Other guys preferred baseball, and a few of the crazier crew enjoyed ice hockey. There were gangs to join, alliances to be made, all based on one’s sport of choice. Even those who liked the same game had their own separate groups. Pretty much every kid at school followed the NFL, but while some chose to make their pilgrimage to Giants’ Stadium wrapped in blue hats and scarves supporting their beloved Giants, others followed the Jets. Aaron was a Jets fan, mainly because their green jerseys reminded him of the St. Patricks Day parades that were so popular. Aaron’s father, Ray, and his fellow fire fighters would always participate in the huge street parties with the Department’s marching band. In fairness, Aaron harboured a secret love for the San Francisco 49ers, basically because he loved their bright red shirts and their fiery golden helmets, but he kept that nugget of information to himself. A boy from New York simply shouldn’t be following a team from California!

As a boy, Aaron was always curious as to why, when everyone who suddenly claimed to be Irish and waxed lyrical about the amazing emerald isle, those loyal citizens of Ireland had moved to the US. It was only as he grew up and matured that he realized the answer. Yes, people did want to feel as though they belonged to a tribe and have a purpose, but they equally wanted to better their lives, and that often meant great upheaval. There was always a cooler gang to join, a better team to support, or a more prosperous place in which to live. Kids started wearing different clothes because the coolest guy in school wore it first, or they began listening to crappy music from a new band because they knew that the cute girl in class liked them. On a bigger scale, people moved from the East Coast to the West Coast in order to start a brand new life.

When Aaron arrived in LA, a youth on the verge of manhood, his new tribal allegiances were formed largely on the basis of music. The budding drummer discovered punk rock, adopting its style and its attitude as a mantra for his life. He joined a band, and its members really did become his band of brothers. They stuck together, they drank together, and they laughed and cried together; they had each other’s backs. In essence, his musical crowd was his family. He could rely on them; they’d bleed for him, and he’d do the same for them. Seeing the Jets move to a new ground, the MetLife Stadium, was a reminder that a fresh start was always potentially on the horizon, and that a new fan-base was hovering in wait, ready to fill the shoes of the old one.

Moving to Harper Rock was a truly painful, even though entirely necessary, experience. Wrenching himself away from his life and artistic family in LA was possibly the most difficult things that Aaron had ever had to do. He kept his past to himself, sweeping a new pathway for him to walk upon as he tried to formulate a brand new existence. Aaron was a pretty easy-going, affable kind of bloke, so finding new friends wasn’t a demanding task. He’d found a new job, a great new friend called Joey, and subsequently a new set of musical accomplices. Then came the big change.

There was a group of freaky kids back in New York who were into some dark ****. They liked extreme death metal, bizarre gothic clothing, and had a morbid fascination with the occult. As some kind of strange bonding ritual, they would slit each other’s hands across the palm, then form a circle, joining hands to allow blood too mingle between each other’s limbs. These “blood-brothers” were viewed as insane by most, and satanic by some, yet they were nothing compared to Aaron and his metamorphosis into a vampire.

Aaron quite literally had blood-brothers: an entirely new family of vampiric kin, joined in unity by the supernatural blood flowing inside their bodies. There was a connection, unholy or otherwise, that couldn’t be defined. It was always said that blood was thicker than water, and it was as yet to be determined if vampiric blood was even more viscous.

Sure, there had already been a few ups and downs within the bloodline, as new, previously unrelated faces were thrown together in the melting point like ingredients in an exciting new recipe, but so far the tribe was holding together, growing in strength and power. A recent battle had brought the faction closer together, as strength in numbers overcame the disorganized rabble that had held the Westwall territory of Harper Rock. It gave the recently formed family, known as Acheron, a genuine foothold in the city, a place to call “home” that all members could relate to as they went about their everyday lives.

Apparently Harper Rock was awash with gangs and factions, vying for position, jostling for power, but Aaron wasn’t really concerned about them. Some folk like Aaron loved punk rock, others preferred country & western, while the trendy kids seemed to be getting into electronic dance music. Live and let live was Aaron’s motto, each to his own. As long as those mobs didn’t harm his family, or the redhead from the rooftop, then he wouldn’t harm them either. The big question on the lips of their leader, some kind of Aztec descendant called Ambrose, related to these other factions. Would they come storming the Acheron ramparts, and would the clan be prepared?

[Noemi Michaux]

Well that was an interesting read...
closing her laptop with a gentle snap, she sat back and regarded the wall across from her, not really focused on any one thing. New enough to this world, she was confused over many things her sire had written.

Not politics, that she understood in spades. Cut her teeth on it from England to France. powers and teeth did not change the way it was done. It just gave you more time to maneuver events. Noemi was an excellent chess player.

If history had taught her anything it was research before you act. The problem with this was much like the secret societies of humans, her father had been a Free Mason, as had his father, etc... and it would drive her mother dafty when she would question something and he would just smile that secret smile and kiss her.

To Noemi however he responded differently. With Noemi he taught her secrets, dark secrets that when used, would bring to knee almost anyone. There was nothing more valuable than secrets...

She stood then and stretched, her high waisted charcoal pencil skirt and white silk blouse remained unwrinkled, her hair as she felt it was still coiffed in a fashionable 40's roll so she felt confident enough to go looking for family.

Shrugging into her wool trenchcoat of darkest charcoal, the Doctor decided to go to a few clubs and see if she could run into her line. Barring that, she could find her Sire.

She couldn't help him as he needed, and she knew that he wanted to secure their territory, make it thrive... but they could not do that without the richest of resources.

Secrets.

[Ambrose Acheron]

Tizoc:The winter was a harsh time for Tizoc. The white, frozen blanket covering everything was alien to him in his youth and even now after all this time still struck him as more problematic than beautiful. The ice hanging off buildings, frozen trails of run-off water looked more like the blades of hunters or the fangs of the wilderness-bound Fae than anything else. Standing before the gates of the Harper Rock University with the intention of taking a new thrall, one who knows their history and is adept at teaching it, the elder pauses, his eyes passing over the few meandering students and lighting on one in particular that sends the all-too-familiar feeling he gets when encountering another of his ilk. A female… a vampire. His appraising glance tells him she is not just a vampire, but one of his own. This puzzles the old Allurist and he waits, standing still to see if she notices his presence.

<Delaney> Laney was on the college campus in the middle of night, using the shroud of darkness to her advantage since she wasn’t supposed to actually be on the campus. Not since her incident with a group she was part of a couple years ago due to their ‘radical methods.’ Not that being kicked out ever deterred Delaney from doing what she wanted anyways-not when it came to the woman having to share some words of wisdom with the world!

The woman was busy plastering flyers on every solid surface that she could find, of various animals with what Delaney believed was a witty saying. Things like, ‘Wings are for flying and not for frying,’ with a large picture of a chicken on various colored paper, where just one of the many fliers seen all around the campus. Delaney was so busy spreading the word, that she didn’t see anyone standing, watching her.

Tizoc:Delaney. That was the name… Delaney. He knows this one is mated to Jedediah. A… couple. He finds the term odd. He thought a couple was two of something. How it ended up a romantic term he will have to ask the Google later. She had spoken on Crownet very little. He remembered only that she was involved when he, Kika, Machk and Castalia had gotten into a fight of sorts. Tizoc still wondered how Castalia knew of relics. He’d yet to speak to her. The elder reaches out with his mind, a slight mental tug of sorts. A barely heard whisper. “Over here.” Nothing direct enough to startle the woman, just enough to make her take a look around. If done right, it would seem her own idea to check her surroundings. Some people referred to a sixth sense. Tizoc believed these people were right. In this case the sixth sense of Delaney would be his own.

<Delaney> She had just hung up another flier of a chinchilla, with a saying ‘love me, don’t wear me,’ when the woman heard a thought in her head. Or a thought entered her mind. It was only two words, and she let her eyes roam around her, finding another light pole, that was screaming for a flyer on it.The dark haired woman turned around from the dormitory wall she had just applied a flyer to, and eyes landed on a guy. Watching her. Laney looked left, and then right and back at the guy again. Was he a student? A professor? Why was he watching her? Was he going to dob her into someone?

Laney put the flyers behind her back as she shifted the weight on her feet. There were two things she could do. Ignore him and keep on, or confront of him and see just who he was. A quick fingering of the stack of flyers had Laney thinking that she had about a dozen or so more to apply all over campus, but if he was watching her, Delaney couldn’t accomplish her work without wondering why the guy was watching her.

The woman brought the flyers back around to the front of her body, let them rest against her torso and her arm. Then, she started to slowly approach the guy, grab a flyer with her thumb and pointer finger and offered it to him. “Make the world a vegan place.” She told him before walking off in a direction she hadn’t immersed with a single flyer yet.

Tizoc:He took the flyer without a word. Looked at it a moment and then spoke into her mind. “Thank you Delaney. How is Jedediah doing?” He carefully folds the paper as he speaks telepathically, making it into quadrants and gingerly pushing it into the pocket of his parka. He hates this parka and will be glad of the spring when he can be rid of it. Pity the Canadians never seem to dress in more natural garb. Always fully covered as if ashamed of their bodies unless the situation dictated otherwise. Swimming, tanning, things that interested him little. Swimming was a method of locomotion, not a hobby and tanning would be lethal to Tizoc.

Aloud he says to the woman. “Tell me… why should I, and how could I become a… vegan?”

<Delaney> Her feet had just hit muddy ground, when Laney ‘heard’ her name in her head and then a question about Jedediah. The woman turned with narrowed her eyes and looked at the guy she had just handed a flyer to. It was the logical to assume he was the one thanking her and the one asking about Jedediah-since he was the only person she had actually engaged all night on the campus.

He actually talks to her when Laney is within an arm’s length or so and the woman stares at him skeptically. “Well, since you’re a vampire, I doubt you need to care or worry about it.” She shrugged her shoulders and shuffled the stack in her arms to the other side of her arms. “How do you know Jedediah?” That was her main concern and focus-Jedediah.

Tizoc:The vampire tilts his head at the question. Her initial words are dead on and he gives a small smile at them. Fangless, Tizoc lacks the protruding canines that some bear constantly, a recent development and one he is still adjusting to. He wondered how this woman would feel knowing his only way to get to the sustaining source of immortality was to either cut with a blade, or rend chunks from the victim like a human would have to. “I sired his sire… and yours.”

Tizoc keeps a level gaze, maintaining the small smile, now humorless, but not false. He is actually pleased to have run into one of his lineage outside of the chamber. It is a rarity for him. The only other of his line he’s found in such a manner so far was Cedric, playing piano as the undead hordes in Corvidae Flats wandered around mindlessly. This setting, though far from natural was much more appealing to the old Aztec descended Tizoc. “I am known as Ambrose. It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

<Delaney> He sired Kika. Laney knew who he was right away when he had said he sired their sire. She didn’t need the name, but the guy gave it to her anyways. Then he said it was nice to meet her, but somehow Delaney wasn’t sure if that was true or not. She had been a little short and abrasive with the guy on Crownet a time or two before.

The woman looked down and up the length of the guy, taking in his appearance and features, attempting to familiarize herself with the guy-in case she ever needed to avoid him and right now that idea was up in the air. “I should have guessed, because of the whole mind tapping powers.” Laney didn’t care, personally, but she remembered the tension it brought on the family forum a few months ago, for whatever reason.

Tizoc:“Others of our kind can do similar, though rarely to the same degree. Kika I believe will surpass me on that scale. I hope so at least. She shows great promise.” He keeps his eyes on hers as he speaks, reading snippets of her thoughts and memories here and there, familiarizing himself with her as a dog does with scent. To him it is as natural as a handshake, this glimpse into memories. He’s not known another way in centuries and to remove it from his repertoire would be the equivalent of plucking out one’s eyes.

[Delaney]

Tizoc: Still, it never told everything about a person. Only the things which seemed important to them. Communication was still essential. “I thinks we should get to know one another. We are after all… family. We share blood. Would you like to meet somewhere more private at a later time? You would be welcome to bring Jed and your sire if she wishes to attend.”


<Delaney> The mention of Kika doesn’t move or sway laney in any degree. She actually doesn’t know a lot about Kika, which she doesn’t feel one way or another about. Anything she needed or wanted, Jedediah provided for, or found out for her. The mention of family has the woman snorting a little. “We’re as dysfunctional as a family.” She agreed with a nod of her head, but didn’t confirm that she felt they were ‘family.’ Just because he sired Kika and she sired Delaney didn’t mean anything to the woman.

“I’ll ask them if they want to come.” She offered, but suspected she already knew the answer in one capacity and suspected she knew the answer in the other. “Private?” Laney asked the fliers going from one arm to the other again. “Private...how?” She couldn’t invite him to their apartment, not that Laney probably would, but knew how Jedediah was when he smelled another male on her. Thinking of their apartment ‘smelling,’ like Ambrose.

Tizoc:Doubt. She was full of doubt. “Private in that I can teach you some of the things you will need to know away from prying eyes and ears.” A motion of his head over to a group of humans not too far away. “There are things that everyone of our blood need be aware of. Responsibilities that those who sire should undertake in showing their childe. Circumstances made that difficult with some of those I sired. It falls on me until I can… rectify that.”

He makes a gesture toward the north and reaches into his parka, withdrawing a sheet of paper, rolled into a small leather cylinder. “When you wish to speak, read this. It will bring you to the place where I dwell. There will likely be others of our blood there. Sometimes your Jedediah is within.”

A second hand pulls out a small item, a business card. “Or you could call my cellular phone.. It’s much less personal and I try to avoid technology, but the option is there for you.”

<Delaney> The piece of paper that came from leather was held very loosely between two fingers after it had been offered to her. She wasn’t surprised to hear that Jedediah was there sometimes, she knew how…’fond?’ Optimistic, he was part of something...more? Laney wasn’t sure how to describe Jedediah’s feelings, desires and drive for the Acheron Bloodline.

When a card was offered, Laney put the paper in the stack of other papers, and took that card with a little more assertiveness and ‘oomph.’ “I’ll probably do that.” Laney vocalized, thinking about what she could do to the paper she had just been given that had been encased in something...dead. “That’s my preference. I’ll keep it short, or just text you.” Laney informed Ambrose with a shrug of her shoulders, eyes moving around the campus at the sounds of the voices drifting closer.

Tizoc:Tizoc nods. It had been weeks since he handed his hacked webphone to one of his Brood as he called the lineage. He accessed the messages on the phone mentally, deleting ones that applied to him and leaving the ones that didn’t alone. Somehow he had developed the power to access technology in the same way he could do with the human mind. He imagined it came with his sympathy to the telepathic. He’d always found it easy to affect emotions and thoughts. Everything else seemed much more difficult.

Truth be told, it was an effort not to manipulate Delaney more than he had when he simply whispered to gain her attention. His natural inclination was to bend her will, her feelings to his manner of thinking and to simply make her fall in line. It always worked in the short term but in the long run, time apart frayed the forced bonds rapidly and always turned the recipient of his… attentions… against him. Only thralls stayed loyal when co-erced by the supernatural methods. Tizoc never respected thralls, disposing them as needed and simply picking a new one as he planned to do tonight.

“That would be fine. I believe that I will need everyone to help bring me… up to speed? with this modern world. Beliefs have… changed… much… lately.”

<Delaney> Laney listened, nodded and then shrugged. “I guess so? I wouldn’t know. I’ve only been a vampire for a little while. But...maybe.” She was sure things changed, that was how life progressed. Things changed and that meant others had to change or adapt to those changes. “Technology alone has changed significantly, even in the last sixty or so years. I’ve read and heard computer's use to be the sizes of rooms. Now? Most of us have one in our phones.” Laney’s thoughts slip to her own phone then, thinking about how she should call Jedediah as soon as she was done here.

“Maybe I’ll tell you why you should go vegan, if we catch up again.” Laney was unsure for now-it was something she would have to talk to Jedediah about first, then offer the suggestion of a meeting between all three of them. Laney smiled, rolled her shoulders, not actually taking her suggestion to heart. One change at a time was probably the best for the guy.

Tizoc:He watched the woman closely as she spoke. Her body language was telling of a new vampire. A newborn, fledgling, neonate, whatever culture or name for it was in vogue these days. He could tell she wanted to be away from him, or had somewhere else she wanted to be. Not wishing to make her less comfortable than she already was the elder, he nods and gives her a small smile once more. “Then I shall hear from you soon Delaney. Give Jedediah my fondest regards.”

He stuffs his hands into his pockets and looked up to the university ahead of him and then started making his way toward it. He had a human to enthrall, things to learn. He figured that this could be a good step toward influencing some of the mortals if he played his cards right as they said nowadays.

<Delaney> He’s looking at the university and Delaney wonders why-but isn’t about to ask. She assumes that if he needs directions that he would ask, and he hasn’t. Instead, she just watches Ambrose leave, then continues on the way she was going to go, before his thoughts entered her own. The card is placed in Laney’s jean pocket on the back, right side, before she progresses on with decorating the campus with fluorescent flyers. While she does this, she does take her phone from the left side back pocket and sends Jedediah a text message letting him know she will be home soon and hopes he will be there when she gets back.

[Ambrose Acheron]

* Ambrose Acheron "Onil... est... heg," the old ritualists words flowed out and the demi-fae within the circle shuddered. Upon a parchment of flesh words began to appear, burning into the surface as if from nowhere. The offerings around the altar faded from existence along with the creature and Tizoc reached out plucking the new tome from the stone surface giving it a close examination. Yes, everything seemed in order. With an unneeded sigh he set the page down next to three more like it. He was so caught up in his work for a moment he lost track of his surroundings.

* Machk had been in the catacombs wandering in the hopes of collecting some decent parts that were often left lying around from previous battles. He hadn't been especially lucky but had a couple that he hoped his wife would be pleased with. As usual the woman was working tirelessly over the forge and rather than interrupt her he lounged around nearby soaking up the warmth and being lulled by the metallic rhythm that she belted out as she worked. In another time and place the whole scene would have been unacceptable but right here and now, he enjoyed the scenery and watched her lazily through heavily lidded eyes.

* Kika wasn’t sure how she liked this whole metalworking thing. It was extremely difficult to get any parts to a decent quality that she could use to make a nice looking blade, and she ruined more parts than she improved. It was frustrating and more often than not she had considered calling it quits, but she was no quitter. And besides, Machk had been working tirelessly to supply her with the parts she needed. Speaking of, her husband appeared seemingly out of nowhere to hand her another lot. “Thank you,” she said with a sweet smile. Sorting through them she nodded. “These will work nicely.” Putting the new ones off to the side she returned her attention to the part she had been working on.

* Ambrose Acheron The sounds of hammering coming from within the gloomy depths of the chamber was nothing new. Sounds of work coming from either the bellows of the forge, the machinery of the crafting table, even the tap tap tapping of the computer keys often emanated from other parts of the cavern. Tizoc noted it though when the rhythm, one he had unwittingly been working to ceased. He turned toward the forge and began to make his way through the darkness toward it, faintly hearing a voice, female in origin floating through the otherwise stillness of the scene. He only knew one female in the Brood who worked the flames and steel, and he had need of a conversation with her..

* Machk reached out to grab his wife's delicate wrist and his thumb caressed softly over the small bones beneath it. The amount of strength and determination she displayed on a regular basis was an endless source of surprise for the quiet male. She had changed since they had entered this new life and he couldn't say that he didn't appreciate most of them. Though her stubbornness....a trait she only displayed on rare occasions before was quite the fore runner these days. "Maybe you should take a break. Return with fresh eyes." Movement on the edge of his peripheral drew his attention and he hauled himself to his feet to greet their company. "Machayis."

* Kika pressed her lips together. “Perhaps I should.” Taking a break sounded like a wonderful idea. She certainly wasn’t getting anywhere with the parts. The ever growing piled of ruined bits and pieces had grown by a considerable margin just from that night alone. “Perhaps I should craft some ammo. I’ve run a bit low myself.” Kika prefered blades but she kept a gun on her person for those just in case situations that were always a possibility. “Do you need some Mac? You’ve not asked me for any for awhile. I’d be happy to make you what you need.” She looked up at the greeting her husband gave, and gave one of her own in a short bob of her head. "Ambrose."

* Ambrose Acheron inclined his head as not just one, but two of the prodigal childer came into view. Had he thought about it even for a moment he would have suspected that would be the case. The two had been inseparable in life. It only made sense that death and the shadow would heighten that bond. For a moment he regrets not having the knowledge to perform the ritual any longer that could entwine their souls. He supposed he had eternity to locate the tome though. Eternity and patience to match. "Machk, Kika... I am pleased to find you both in good health." His ancient gaze settles on them, moves between them and already his mind reaches out to theirs, scanning for any sign of injury, wounds... satisfied for the moment they are intact he smiles. "Do you both have time for a discussion?"

* Machk released his gentle hold on her wrist and took the opportunity to instead curl his arm about her small waist and pull her into his taller frame. It had been a long while since actually speaking to their maker at any length outside of the battles where he simply followed orders to the best of his ability. The Shadow dipped his head in a single nod. “As you can see we are both fine.” Health was a whole other matter as far as Machk was concerned….as it seemed a topic more pertinent to their more human counterparts. He turned to look at his wife questioningly before shrugging his shoulders. “Yes. I was just going to drag her out for a walk. It can wait.”

* Kika was clearly uncomfortable in the presence of Ambrose. They hadn’t had the best relationship almost from the start, and while she was willing to try it didn’t mean that all was forgotten and left to the past. She pressed as close to Machk as she could get, winding her arms around him and taking comfort in his strong presence at her side. It was on the tip of her tongue to say no, but Machk had agreed and so would she. A nod of her head was all the answer she was willing to give. It couldn’t be that bad, could it?

* Ambrose Acheron "Thank you." He kneels down, and sits, cross legged on the floor of the cavern, "Indian style" as it were. He thinks a brief moment before speaking, his voice somber, "I have lost my place in this world. My people have lost theirs. Everything has changed. My ways are not your ways and yours are a mystery to me. We are one blood though. That which flows in my veins flows in yours too. It will give you powers... I haven't taken the time to teach you anything. As your sire that is a failure and I would ask your forgiveness," he begins.

* Machk frowned a little feeling slightly uncomfortable standing as the elder sat so followed suit, dragging Kika down with him to settle in his lap, still wrapped safely within his arms. “Forgiveness? For me that would only be required if you had disappointed but you haven’t. I don’t know you and therefore expect nothing of you. Perhaps that situation some time to go was borne out of miscommunication. However….you have somehow managed to upset my wife. That does affect me.” Dark brown eyes assessed the older of the trio. “We have managed but I do not know what to expect of you or what you expect of either of us. We are just….here. As we have been since that...night.”

* Kika settled herself comfortably on Machk’s lap. The partially improved pommel was forgotten as her attention was drawn to other matters. Ambrose spoke of forgiveness and somehow Kika knew that her husband wasn’t going to be so easily swayed by a simple apology. Neither was she for that matter, but her issues with their sire didn’t have to be Machk’s but she understood. She would have reacted in the same way had their positions been switched. “I have to agree with my husband. We are managing. We require nothing, and I wouldn’t say we are unhappy. It’s just...difficult, I suppose you could say, to find where are places are to be in this life.” She shrugged her shoulders a bit. “Your apology is noted.” She didn’t accept it. Not yet.

* Ambrose Acheron nods at their words. "The failing is a personal one. When I was sired, it was by a vampire who never fed from humans nor animals. Though he could feed with the power stolen from spirits, and did on occasion, he preferred the blood of his own kind. He was by all standards, evil. A brute. Murderous, treacherous and still, he never left a childe of his untaught. He kept us close and taught us what he knew." Tizoc doesn't add in that he used them as feeding stock or that the mad elder sacrificed them all for vengeance against the Spaniards. "I should be showing you what I know of our kind, our history."
‹Ambrose Acheron› .

* Machk listened and studied the weathered features of the man that sat before them. He vaguely remember images of times long since past being thrust into his unsuspecting mind amid the chaos of his wife’s murder but they were vague and came to him in random snippets on occasion. “I imagine things were done very differently in your time. I can respect that. If we happened then maybe this all would be different. I understand that you go about things as you know how but respect is a two way street, Machayis. You are the ancient among us and you have no idea how to go about understanding us. How are we possibly expected to understand you or the times from which you came. The history of our people is a long and sordid one. There is much suffering in it. But much of the truth has been lost our generations through time. We must meet in the middle.” Machk lifted his hands and pressed his palms together in front of his wife, demonstrating the true meaning of his words.

* Kika remained quiet as her husband spoke. She didn’t really have anything more to add to his eloquent words because everything he said was true. Ambrose couldn’t expect them to respect him when they didn’t know him? He hadn’t seemed all that willing to take the time to meet and learn about either Kika or Machk so she couldn’t help but wonder - why now? What had changed that he was seeking them out for this discussion? He had apologized, but was there more to it? Did he want something from them? Though the questions were on the tip of her tongue she didn’t speak them.

* Ambrose Acheron holds up his right hand, a symbol of peace, understanding. "You are right. I am out of time in the now but am at peace with what I am due to knowledge. You are out of the world you once knew, but you understand it because of knowledge. Together what we know could help to bridge the gap between us. Create the bond that should be there between us." He pulls out his obsidian knife, well aware of the dubious nature of the black, shining blade and in the earth he creates a circle. "This is our world. The world of Flesh and Stone." He draws another circle, this one barely overlapping the other so the two are nearly side by side. "The Shadow Realm." He places the dagger in the small overlapping section, piercing the earth so it sits right in the middle where the two overlap. "We are here. Now. In all ways. Do you understand what these words mean?"

* Machk stiffened a little at the sight of the blade. No matter how much he tried to forget the memories of that night were imprinted on his brain that still caused him to wake from the dead of sleep with feelings of loss and despair. His head nodded slowly, his framed by the long dark brown hair that he left loose. “We are not one or the other but are both, belonging to neither but a part of each all at the same time. I think we have accepted that much about ourselves.” His chocolate brown gaze shifted to catch Kika’s profile for a moment. “I watched Kitchi die and be reborn. My wounds heal as I watch them. I do not know if we are monsters or gods or why you have made us this way, Machayis. Why have you?”

* Kika recoiled at the sight of that dagger. Did he carry it with him everywhere just in case he came across some other poor, unsuspecting victim? “Please, put that away.” It wasn’t a request. The sight of it brought way too many bad memories, not just for her but for Machk as well. Reaching for her bag she extracted a small dagger that she’d made. It was nothing fancy but it was better than the one that had been the catalyst for them being forced into this life. “If you must use a blade to draw diagrams on the ground then please, use one that doesn’t force us to recall the events of the night you made us this way.”

[Machk]

* Ambrose Acheron agreeably plucks the sleek black blade from the earth, replacing it with the one offered by his second eldest living childe. "The blade is but a tool. Much like the hammer, tongs and steel which you use in your craft Kika. It is the one behind the tool responsible. The dagger eventually will hold other connotations for you both, but for now I will respect your wishes." He slips the blade out of sight neatly behind him. Placing his hand over the shadow realm circle he says simply, "Me". Then he moves it over to the physical realms representation. "You". Then to the dagger he motions. "Us. The reason is within the drawing Machk. Everything about our kind is in that drawing". He falls silent a moment. Eyes narrowing in thought as he seems to search for something within his mind. "You were made as you are... because of what I had become. So I could be where the dagger is now. In that sense it is my hope the two circles become one."

* Machk 's arms tightened reassuringly around his wife as he listened. His slow nod a physical acknowledgement of his understanding. "That can only happen if we work together. We cannot know you without given a chance. You have been little more than a shadow so far. As have we in our way. We all have come to this place from separate journeys. From different tribes from different places and times. I had been told once that a good chief puts the welfare of his people first and in return those people offer him their respect and loyalty. You desire a tribe of your own. Building from the remnants and pieces of those like us discarded by our own. You must a forge a new path for us all. We can no more walk your path than you can walk ours. It will take time. I get the feeling your people were not known for their patience."

* Kika bit her tongue. The scathing retort that threatened to fly from her lips would only add tension to an already somewhat tense situation. It wasn’t needed, and Ambrose was trying. “Thank you,” came the quiet, simple response from her. It didn’t matter if the blade had just been the tool and Ambrose the puppet master. The sight of the blade took her back to that night and in turn made her think of all the nights she had spent wandering the city through the rain in search of her husband. How she thought that he hadn’t even survived, and the things that she had done because she didn’t know any better. Forcibly shaking herself from her thoughts she allowed her attention to return to the conversation at hand. Machk was much better at this than she was and so she left him to it, nodding her head every so often to show that she agreed.

* Ambrose Acheron “Patience was less of a necessity perhaps when I was growing in the blood. My sire taught me a ritualistic schedule and I kept to it. There was no time to worry about what lay ahead for much of my younger years as one of us. Blood. Blood was everything. It fed us, it fed the gods, it soaked altars and kept the cities alive. Blood was all we dealt in, all we knew.” He looks to Machk and then to Kika. “No one may walk another man’s path, but it is wise to follow in the footsteps of the man before you leading to knowledge and be wary when you see where he has travelled off the path of the one before him.” He motions to the physical circle again. “The world outside of Harper Rock.” He motions to the Shadow. “Harper Rock,” then to the center overlap. “What we must prevent.”

* Machk tipped his head as he again referred to the drawings in the dirt. His journey to discover and connect with his ancestors had only just begun before it ended so he had little to share or go on when it come to such matters but still there was so much about this that seemed to contradict much of what he had learned. "The things you shared that ....night. Are fragmented. The memories come to me in pieces at random times. Blood was also spilled out of pure greed and a need to conquer. The blood of our people has soaked the ground all over. It wasn't such a ....good thing then. Yet we insist on appeasing by spilling even more? It seems counter productive. Your time, your people are different to ours, violent. Ours were peaceful.Took only what they needed from the land. No more, no less. Therein was balance. I do not know how to bring these opposites together."

* Kika didn’t remember any of the memories that Ambrose had forced upon her. Not even a fragment, like Machk had mentioned. It was probably her own doing. She didn’t want to remember any of it so her mind chose to keep itself blocked. She was ok with that, just like she was fine with her husband doing all the speaking. There really wasn’t anything more she could offer to the conversation for the time being but she listened, every so often nodding her head to show that she was in agreement with whatever Mack had said, or that she understood something that Ambrose had said. For the time being her head bent as she focused on using her hands to craft the bullets Mack would need for his gun.

* Ambrose Acheron watches Kika's hands work. The method was foreign to him, familiar in that he had seen the same thing done, but alien in that his people had never utilized the skill. Gold, yes, they had beaten gold into priceless works of art, from body piercings, statues of the gods, even ceremonial weapons to be wielded only during those nights devoted to the highest of the gods. Lead, powder, brass... these things together were anathema to his people. They symbolized the impersonal destruction wrought by their assailants. Tizoc utilized the weapons of the white man in these days. He was actually very good at doing so. The bow and the gun were different but the gun was like a bow without half the needed skill. "We did only what was needed at the time to appease the gods. We loved as you love. We were as human as you were. Now, we are as displaced and abused as you are."

‹Machk› "You have seen what is around us now. Do you still the gods are listening?" There was still so much the young male did not know or understand but from the things he had seen and witnessed in his young life the gods had deserted their people a long time ago. "And how does any of this play into what needs to be done now to achieve this?" His pointer finger rested in the dirt besides the diagram. "I don't think we can reach this goal until we are able to unite as you say. But how do we do that? We fought together. Kitchi died and still we are no closer this unity. What will it take?" His arm tightened around Kika though not enough to restrict her work. No matter what path they walked in life, or death, they would walk it together. That was about the only thing that Machk was certain of these days.

* Kika felt her tongue loosen before she could stop herself. “I don’t understand any of this Ambrose. You said to not engage in war? Or something to that effect.” The details of the things Ambrose expected them to adhere to were in the back of her mind somewhere but yet she couldn’t recall what they were exactly. “But twice now you have taken my husband, and my childe, into battle over land. This last one I almost lost them both to the shadows so I don’t see how any of this is worth it. How much blood did you spill on those occasions? And through both of those battles they stuck by you and for what? To almost lose their lives? What is it you want from us?”

* Ambrose Acheron sits, still watching Kika's hands move, creating the instruments of war as she questions it's merits. War though is nothing new to him. Though it has become a disdained practice, particularly after Vietnam, Tizoc holds no such resentment to a necessary evil. "We could all die. The entire Bloodline could be wiped out in a single battle. In a single incident. One elder remembering the origins of our blood, one hunter of Spanish descent remembering our name. All of us. We fight for our survival when necessary. Kika, Machk, my childer. The battle with the Disciples is more a necessary battle than anything any of us have undertaken.. Whether it is due to selfishness, like those who took our land and killed our people, or pure malice like the holocaust of those Jews slaughtered in the Second World War, the ones we fight, they seek to destroy the world as we know it. This time though it is a holocaust against the living."

* Machk smirked a little at his wife's reaction. He had been on the receiving end of a tongue lashing the night they had returned. Her concern for him was just one of the reasons he loved her. His thoughts wandered for a moment though upon realising it he immediately refocused his attention. "How do you know these things, Machayis? I think if you truely wish for your goal to become a reality you need to start....sharing these things. Full disclosure. There must be trust and well...there has not been a whole lot of that on either side of this fence from the beginning. I know things were different for you but here ...now. We don't know who you are. You could be some charlatan with a great story and little more. Using your powers to make it more believable. This may or may not be true but we are none the wiser. For any sort of unity or healing to begin we must understand each other. Respect each other. This is the only way it can happen. You are older, more experienced in the ways of the vampire. We cannot hide from you should you wish to know anything yet you are a complete mystery. Would you be so gullible and easy to believe if you sat on this side of this circle, Machayis?"

* Kika sat up straight, spine stiffened and eyes narrowed into slits. “Why are you avoiding my questions Ambrose? Is it because I’m a female?” Anger, hot and furious, licked at her insides as she started to work herself into a real fury. “I asked you several and all I got was a bunch of your usual vague ******** wrapped up in a bunch of pretty words that I suppose are supposed to impress me. I am far from it. I want to know WHY. Why are you going for these lands, and why do you think it necessary to drag my husband and childe with you on your path to greed? What if I put my foot down and told you no more will I allow you to use me and mine as a means to an end?” It may not have been his intention but that was exactly how it felt to her. Kika wanted to give her sire the benefit of the doubt but he was making it extremely difficult.

* Ambrose Acheron looked calmly between the two. One doubted. Natural he supposed from what he learned from the modern era. One wanted to challenge. Also natural. "Because the Disciples of the Crow wish to merge the Shadow Realm with the physical realm. There is a partial merger of the two. Two of them. The Quarantine Zone and the Catacombs. If the Disciples manage to tear the Fade, as my god, Tezcatlipoca has been trying to do for the last age... the world will be as those two places are. You wish blunt words? You have them. I know this because I read it in the Prophet's thoughts before we put bullets and blade into his flesh and made him no more. I read in in his mind looking into his eyes before I pulled the trigger on the gun you crafted for that purpose Kika. There are few causes I will entertain becoming involved in. The eradication of the followers of that elder is one of them. They call her the Crow. Whether she is who I believe she is, or if the one I would name is merely another Disciple... her goal is clear. She means to rip the Fade away and create an eternal world of the death."

* Machk 's expression became one of deep consternation as several things seemed to be happening. He raised a hand bringing the current conversation to either an end or a start he wasn't sure which. Kika's growing agitation was easily felt and if she did not get the answers she sought this whole thing was going to be a waste of time. "Wait, Machayis. You....mean you went into battle before knowing this? We were already there and carrying wounds before receiving this...this revelation? Then you must answer my wife. She asked you why? The reason you give now is for continuing, not for the why it started. The humans...the first fight, were not a part of this. I doubt they even know of this Crow. I think you should answer her questions."

* Kika snapped her mouth closed. The tick that had developed in her jaw was the only indication that she was still furious. Again she had demanded an answer and again she was met with vague responses that held little to no meaning or understanding for her. Maybe it really was because she was a woman. Let Machk deal with Ambrose. He was better at it, and he got the answers he sought. As far as she was concerned her role in the conversation was finished. How did Ambrose propose to smooth things over and unite them if he only spoke in riddles?

[Kika]

* Ambrose Acheron paused. How would it sound to these modern ears for him to tell them his wife, dead 200+ years had told him? He had his suspicions before considering the haunting voice within his mind. The pieces of history fell into an interlocked pattern like a child's toy. To voice though, the driving factor to him waging war on the group of extremists... that was more than a leap of faith. It was near suicidal. They wanted logic and science. He could produce none. Still calm he looked between the two. "Coahoma spoke to me and told me." He'd never been much of a fan of science anyway.

* Machk eyed his sire suspiciously. The names he spoke meant so very little to him. Even this Crow held little weight in his mind as far as knowledge of anything vampire went. "And the humans. What did or do they have to do with any of this. Your reasons for battle seem to change as you see fit. And that is probably the biggest issue to date here. You supposedly know so much, we know so little. You want us to follow you ....blindly with little to no explanation as to why. We could be listening to the ramblings of a lunatic for all we know. Kika asked you why. What was the purpose of us fighting the first time...against humans no less. What was so important that the tenet of secrecy was put at risk for us to hold some title to a territory?"

* Kika shook her head. “No, husband. Don’t. I don’t need you to try and get the answers that i wanted though I do appreciate you trying.” She refused to let it get to her. Much like a duck she allowed the snub to roll off her back. A few months ago she would have cared. It would have mattered. Maybe if she toed the line and batted her lashes and was submissive to Ambrose’s laws and regulations she’d have better luck but not even Machk could get her to back down. She wasn’t about to start now, not when she clearly wasn’t valued. That was fine. She’d gotten this far on her own, she could continue to do so now.

* Ambrose Acheron gives a slight smile at the mention of the Bricks. "Humans are not so different from sheep. If you show them power, dominance, they quickly fall in line. the Bricks, they were used for that purpose. A stepping stone toward a greater cause. If need be, those who protect that which we consider a necessity, secrecy, could then be ceded that territory in order to thrive. Another reason was simply to hone our skills. We have never worked as a unit and I could not know if we would dissolve into a fractured mess. We stood more chance of survival against the Bricks than perhaps the Disciples. Kika. You want me to have answers which will give you the sense that we are the good guys so to speak. We are not. We are survivalists fighting against impending doom. It is possible to stave off annihilation and in time to bring all of the vampires of Harper Rock under one common flag. It will take much blood. Many sacrifices and some of them will be of the innocent. In order for us to survive, some humans will die so the rest can live. You will have to have some faith in me, both of you. Against your natures as it is against my nature to believe in others."

‹Machk› "Forgive me, Machayis for saying so but you cannot unite your own blood line and we are young and few yet you speak of uniting all of the lines?" He chuckled a little and shook his head. "I think you need to take a step back. It seems to me you are trying to build a house without having yet laid a foundation. Your plans and ideals are grand but you are using outdated tools and blueprints. And I am also wondering if you are hard of hearing. Kika's concerns are not for the humans but for her own. Me. Jedediah. Perhaps even Kitchi. Not once yet have you even asked us what we want. We might not share your ideals on uniting the bloodlines and would rather be left in peace with our own. One minute I think we are fighting for our own people then next you are talking about ruling them all. I don't know if you have noticed this, Machayis, but it seems many out there don't give much of a **** about anyone but themselves. Why would they give a **** about you?"

‹Kika› “That isn’t what I asked you,” came the flat response from the female sitting by the forge with her husband. “I never wanted to know if we were the good guys. I wanted to know why you keep dragging my husband and childe off to a battle for lands that no one seems to care about but you. How do you expect me to have faith in you when you can’t even be direct in your answers? How do you expect me to trust with the life of my husband when you only seem to care about material things? Your actions cause Kitchi to die. I almost lost Machk and Jed both. How does that not bother you? Coming that close to losing people over a battle for lands with humans seems harsh and pointless.”

* Ambrose Acheron paused, his mind reached out, searching terms. As they fell into place a la The Google he smiled. "Kika, you almost lost Machk and Jedediah, Lecovio, Kitchi, Moema we did lose, and you almost lost me as well. If need be, if it will wipe the power of the Crow from the face of the earth, will will lose us all. That fight, unlike the first was not about land. It was about the survival of the world as you know it. Yes. I suppose you are right. Machk. I should not 'give a ****' about them and vice versa. I am indeed asking you to march into a war that has everything to do with my believes that humans should exist to balance us and the Fae. I do see a need for that balance that others do not. If need be I will march alone against the Disciples come our next engagement. Not because others care, but because I know it is needed. I will not be upset if you do not engage them with me. I will not judge you for deciding not to fight because if you decide not to, I have failed in showing the importance of it. When the dead rule the living, when there are no more living, that will be on my shoulders, not yours.I do not wish to rule. I suppose govern would be closer by today's standards."The time or rulers is over. It served the people well, perhaps better than this... government which seems more interested in setting itself up to become more and more in charge of the people it governs while they bask in the illumination of democracy. The Greeks had a democracy and it worked for a long time. Hundreds of years. It takes but a few men hungry for more than what they have to make it fail. I hunger for nothing but a return to a live with my beloved and a world in which my Brood can all exist in safety. I yearn for a return to simplicity. We once were worshipped as gods, the old Aztec and Mayan way of secrecy. I do not wish that. I wish only the chance for our kind to exist in peace. Unless the rest fall into the same line of thinking and stop forcing knowledge of the supernatural upon humans, that is doomed."

* Machk frowned a little as he tried to put all he was told into a some ort of point form that he could more easily understand. "So, the first battle was merely a ....test trun. The rest, are and will be, about our survival according to your beliefs as told to you by a dead woman? Am I getting this right?" Mach shook his head a little, as crazy as it sounded it seemed crazy was the flavour of the year He fell silent not really knowing what to add further. His feelings on the matter at hand somewhat conflicted. He looked to his wife for some grounding, pulling her a little closer. "You do know that the humans would kill us as soon as look at us too right?"

* Kika was never going to see Ambrose’s point on this matter. “The old ways, as you call them, aren’t going to come back. We’ve evolved and times have changed. The things that are important to you hold very little meaning to those of us who have only ever known the modern world that you are still a stranger to.” She shook her head. “So essentially what you are saying is that you will continue to go on this quest for power regardless of how we feel about it? And you want us to trust you. How can we when we’re only getting half truths?”

* Ambrose Acheron sits quietly for a moment. Humans would kill them. This he knew better than anyone else present. He had two hundred years of dwelling on the matter. Most humans could try and fathom a life that long, but they would fail miserably. Power. Kika believed it was about power. In a way it was, but it wasn't a power grab. There was no power in his quest other than the power to keep the status quo. Even that was iffy. The Crow's Disciples had their hidden supporters and judging by timeframes, those supporters had their ears to the ground on Acheron's movements. Did any of that matter? Was it relevant to the conversation at hand? They had both asked their questions and only one answer seemed truly to fit them all."Yes. Yes I expect you to trust me as I have you. I expect you to do as I ask because you are my Blood and I want only the best for you. Yes, I am aware I risk everyone's life who walks this path with me and yes, my wife speaks to me and guides me in some things, this one included. Yes, she is dead. So are we all. So are those vampires who guide you to learn the secrets of other paths. In time, the Shadow will touch you more. Perhaps the same thing will happen to you. Perhaps not. We all change differently."

* Machk simply nodded. There was a lot to process. He needed to speak with his wife privately. It seemed others of their line were more than willing to do so. Kitchi, Jedediah, Lecovio. It seemed they were either going to jump on board and give their sire the benefit of the doubt or they were going to have to walk their own path leaving behind those they themselves had turned. It was a lot to ask of anyone really, especially when there was so little information to base that decision on. Machk nodded his head. "Perhaps. Somethings will just take time I guess. Our trusts have been severely damaged by those we should have been able to trust in the past. That is our own to deal with and not yours. My wife and I will need to talk. I am not one to half *** it. If I am in I am in...but if if I walk then I walk and Kika and I are in this together. I won't make a decision without her." Machk gave a final nod, an indication that for him, for now, he had what he needed and this conversation was over......for the time being.

* Kika had so much more she wanted to say but she held her tongue. She was too angry and it wouldn’t do anyone any good if she allowed her mouth to get away from her. Silently she stood and waited for her husband to join her. There was much to discuss and if he chose to continue to follow Ambrose then she would support him. But she didn’t trust her sire. Not yet. It was too soon and if things kept going the way that they were currently, it was doubtful that there would ever be more than a strained acceptance between them. “Enjoy your evening Ambrose.”

* Ambrose Acheron nodded. "I would be open to discussing everything including the known history of our kind with both of you. I understand that you have been dragged, by me, into a nightmare. Your lives have been torn away from you and I can not find fault in any hatred or anger, resentment even, that you hold against me. I want you to know though... I sincerely want you both to succeed. I want you both to find peace, love, contentment, and I want your immortality to be glorious. I can not make it so. If I could snap my fingers and have everything right I would. Our kinds currency is blood. When it all comes down to it, it's all blood. Blood to keep functioning, blood to gain power, blood to wake up each day, blood to grow our powers. Some of us even gain knowledge from blood, seeing images and flashes in each sip. You will come to terms with this. In past those who didn't merely... died. That option is not longer as easy for us. You are both strong. Stronger than I was at your age in many ways. I will await your decisions or your questions. Know that I am here. Any time. For either of you."