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<  Ancient Tomes  ~  Thorp in Cascadia

PostPosted: Thu Jan 01, 1970 1:00 am Reply with quote
"yes" said Sorenti, continuing, unsure of whether Thorp was still with him or lost in another world....he paused until Thorp's eyes became focused upon him again, then carried on.....

"The one I believe to be true from what I have read is this.....the Gangrel probably took it as a trophy, yet being so close to the sword itself, the spirits invoked into the blade caused the finger to become a sort of vessel. Channelling and absorbing the pieces of spirit and soul from those the sword slays....

A Tremere could probably explain it better, but the finger appears to be the link to the mortal world for the spirits constrained within the blade itself.....hence why it appears to be freshly cut.......the souls, along with the spirits in the sword, keep the finger living.....the spirits are dead, the finger is half dead, half alive.....and the final link is the wielder of the sword, which completes the circle of existence between the mortal world and the realm of death.....or as far as I can make out anyway.

I would advise you to only use the sword when you absolutely HAVE to....just in case....with forces like this, feasibly very strong, be careful....there is a chance they could leap into the wielder of the sword...namely you. But I do suggest going to see a Tremere, might be wise to be on the safe side.....very possibly they might know of a binding spell to prevent that from happening.

Anyway I'm sure you're aware, I have many things to attend to, so do excuse me.....and be damn careful with that thing."

Sorenti stood up, dusting himself off and eyeing Lupus Mortis warily. He felt for the hilt of La Magra, just for reassurance, and smiled to Thorp, nodding curtly as he headed for the door.

PostPosted: Thu Jan 01, 1970 1:00 am Reply with quote
((ummm ooops lol....the Cappa whose finger it is was killed by the Gangrel but nm lol....if he's alive....or unalive....he is gonna come for his finger lolol

PostPosted: Thu Jan 01, 1970 1:00 am Reply with quote
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((the above is actually a part of Thorp's story, and its the same night he was embraced, as you can see, Thorp stopped in a french town, where the Inn was, with his army, he was on his way to the holy land in what would turn out to be the last crusade. Just a little feedback. Oh, and the slash that the Cappa gave him with the scimitar left a scar that is still there.

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PostPosted: Thu Jan 01, 1970 1:00 am Reply with quote
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((ok, got tired of waiting, Don't worry Sor, I won't say nothing about a finger, this is right after my last post, but before what would be your next post..i now its confusing but...ah just read.

Thorp leaned closer, he wanted to know all about the sword and the finger. He caught and processed every single of Sorenti's words...
"well, there are many versions of what the finger really does..."

"Hey, fiend, leave the lady be!"
"Who wants me too?"
Graventhrop was only 19, but he was halfway to the latest Crusade called, and he felt the most powerful being in Earth.
"Graventhorp of Locksley."
Thorp unwieleded his sword, spilling the mug of ale in front of him, stood up and faced the drunk villager that was harassing the beautiful damsel.
The villager pushed the damsel, who was catched by another drunk villager, and unwielded a rapier.
Thorp removed the villager's belt in one swipe, and slashed at his hand with another. The drunk villager yelped and dropped the rapier. Suddenly mayhem exploded, every single person in the bar drew a weapon of a sort, or at least, smashed a bottle and wielded that.
Thorp used his own longsword and the villager's rapier, using all the skills he had acquired in Locksley.
Only two persons stayed out of the fight, for even the damsel was throwing chairs, both wore long black robes and were paler than a prisoner that has been in a  dungeon for years.
Suddenly one of them signaled to the other with a nod, and the figure stood up, unwielding something that seemed to be a bloody scimitar.
Thorp was having the most fun he had ever had, until he saw the robed figure's weapon, suddenly it wasn't fun anymore.
The robed figure approached Graventhorp:
"My sire does not appreciate being disturbed." The figure said signaling to the other robed figure, who was still seated. "And you started all this, so you will be punished."
With that, the figure's scimitar went for Thorp's head, Thorp ducked and tried to put both his blades into the figure's guts, but the scimitar's handle prevented him from doing it. Thorp gasped as he was kicked, way too hard, and found himself flying towards a wall. He stood up slowly, raging, and discovered he had lost the longsword somewhere during his flight towards the wall.
He broke a screaming run and tried to remove the figure's head from its place, being received by a slash in the chest.
Thorp's eyes grew in size, and a pained moan escaped his lips, he wielded the rapier in the longsword's sheath, and put his hands to his chest, there was now a pool of the blood at his feet. There was a smile from beneath the figure's hood, and the scimitar was hidden from view again.
Thorp lost his balance and fell on the table where the figure's "sire" was reading some manuscripts. Thorp could tell the figure was missing a finger when the finger less hand shoved him away, sending him flying out of the inn.
He half-crawled half-walked away from the inn, and soon found himself in the forest. He sat, leaning against a tree, and accepted his end was near.
Suddenly a figure was upon him, the figure had fangs that showed even when the mouth was closed, and yellow eyes that glowed like a wolf's.
Thorp stood up painfully and unsheathed the rapier.
"You stand up to me?" the figure said in a beast-like, raspy voice. "Your injured...but you stand against me."
Thorp was too weak to say anything, and instead brought the rapier up.
"You deserve to be Odnan's childe, brave one."
The rapier hit the forest's floor, Thorp losing its grip on him, and as the wolf creature bit his neck, Thorp distinguished a superb sword sheath  with embroidred  silver wolves, and focused on a specially attracting wolf's head...and blacked out...

Thorp was brack to the present, he had not thought about his last nigt as a mortal in centuries. But a detail kept nagging him at the back of his mind, the figures that were that night in the inn were obviously Cappadocians...and one of them, his attacker's sire, was missing a finger...

Sorenti continued: "...but the one I believe to be true..."

(Edited by Graventhorp at 10:46 am on Aug. 14, 2001)

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PostPosted: Thu Jan 01, 1970 1:00 am Reply with quote
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(( well, i just thought "Ventrue." Write asap man, we don't want to keep the fans waiting...

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PostPosted: Thu Jan 01, 1970 1:00 am Reply with quote
(('ll have to wait a couple of days lol...I'm only half way through researching rituals that require a part of the body.....also now you have added that the finger looks fresh yet is like 1500 years old....I gotta look that up too lmao.....I'll post asap :) nice post btw, you got Sor pretty accurately :)

PostPosted: Thu Jan 01, 1970 1:00 am Reply with quote
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((lets just say all of the above))

Thorp peered into the open the hell could it be so deep?  He sniffed thw hole beofre venturing into expsoing a finger putting it in. The scent that filled his nostril was a known one...kindred..kindred flesh and blood. Waht was confusing was that the smell was...gory, bloddy...Cappadocian. Thorp shrugged and shook out whatever could be in there, catching the small content befoe it hit the floor.
"What kind of sick, twisted joke is this?"
What Graventhorp held in his hand was a finger...still bleeding, in fact, still warm. It reeked of Cappadocian, and in fact, still had blood under the fingernail...gangrel blood by the smell of it.
"How could a freshly cut finger get in there? This finger was cut not 2 minutes ago... there isn't even blood clotting.... and I'm sure the sheathe was with me 2 minutes ago..."
Thorp whipped his head around, trying to tell if anyone had seen hm talk to himslef like that... he smiled at his own idiocy, and replaced the finger in its place, not sure why, and slid the gangrel logo/lid back in place.
He needed to find out all he could about the weapon handed on to him...and since the first obvious being to ask was dead...he pondered wethere to go with Sorenti..with his huge library, or a Cappadocian..with THEIR huge library.
A clean, unnatural smell invaded hs nostrils, instants later slow, steady footsteps above him. A Ventrue was about to get to Thorp's haven entrance. He stood up, sniffed again and raised an eyebrow.
"Why the hell is Sorenti here? ESP?"
He walked up the 2 flight of stairs and opened the concelaed door, founding the prince of Cascadia, his hand in an about-to-knock positon.
"Come in Prince"
"How di..." Sorenti smiled and sighed, walking in with an apparent gesture of disgust at the filthy place.Thorp checked, with nose, eyes and ears, that no one was nearby and closed the door.
"Your driver should learn how to conceal himself and the vehicle better....their practicaly at plain sight." Thorp mentioned as he signaled his guest to follow him downstairs.

"Beer?" Thorp asked as he opened the refrigerator that was nine tenths filled with beer, leaving one tenth for emergency plasma bags.
Sorenti stood in the center of the room, not knowing if to sit in the gnarled, dirty couch or the gnarled, dirty armchair.
Thorp took the armchair so Sorenti, not really comfortable, took the couch.
"Here." Thorp threw at Sorenti a beer bottle, as the prince catched it, he noticed it was the most expensive kind, the one he drank. "I personally don't like the stuff, but i keep some around for high-ranking guests..."
Sorenti smiled and took a long refreshing chug.
"You may not know why I'm he..."
"The sword."
Sorenti raised an eyebrow, inquiring.
"Well, I was thinkin' I should go either to you or the Cappas, and then you"
"Well, I don't know if you know what exactly the blade is, and I want to make sure you do. First, I might like to know where you got it, I'm sure you didn't have it when you first honored us with your presence in Cascadia..."
"My sire gave it to me...just before he took the long nap, if ya know what I mean."
Sorenti could notice Thorp joked about the death, but was not really comfortable with it.
"Oh? Odnan is dead?"
It was now Graventhorp's turn to be surprised.
"Ya know..knew Odnan? Ho..How did you know I was his childe??"
Sorenti waved his hand "Word gets around, I have my contacts..."
Thorp nodded.
"Well, I'll tell ya that that blade ain't normal.. I mean, even the first time i saw it...the last 2 minutes of my mortal life... i knew there was something fishy with it. And know that its in my possession..." Thorp let it hang, knowing his point had carried through.
"Yes. Well, I spotted you coming out of the sewers that night, and I couldn't help but noticing the blade. I did some researching, and found intersting facts."
Sorenti produced from the interior pocket of his trenchcoat about 30 pages that seemed to be photocopies of something.
Thorp boggled for a moment about how could the Prince put 30 normal-sized pages in his trenchcoat and still getting them without a sole wrinkle..he shook the thought off and concentrated.
"Whatever could be so interesting that you came yourself?"
Sorenti nodded, a grave look on his face.
"Well, this is not your normal sword..."
"I think we had established that...but please do tell me what you found..."

Sorenti told Graventhorp all about the Cappadocian sword-forging ritual, and the Gangrel's revenge. He also told him of the properties of the Soul Catcher..and its age...

"Since the 5th fuckin' century??!?!? How many bastards has the thing killed!? How strong is it!?"
Sorenti smiled. "Very, very strong."
Thorp sat back, finishing his 7th beer.
"Theres' something else... I do not know if you noticed, but concealed within the she..."
"You know about the finger? Good, good..go on..."
Sorenti raised an eyebrow and smiled.
"Well, there are many versions of what the finger really does, but the one i believe to be true..."

((ok, buddy, continue from there....

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PostPosted: Thu Jan 01, 1970 1:00 am Reply with quote
(( yea i thought of the gunshots but by the time it came to fireing them i wasn't thinking of you i was trying to save my life.  haha . you could have been preoccupied with your own battle  or you could be on your way back to the tunnells?  Maybe you haven't cleaned your ears out and they are getting verry hairy or covered in undead earwax?)) ((LMFAO))

PostPosted: Thu Jan 01, 1970 1:00 am Reply with quote
((let me know what you think :)

PostPosted: Thu Jan 01, 1970 1:00 am Reply with quote
Sorenti arrived back at Blenheim, told the taxi driver to put it on his account and hastily rushed into the dark, looming building. The sword had aroused his curiousity and he hurried through to his library, not wanting to lose the image of the sword from his mind.

He went into the third aisle of Blenheim's library and went to the far end, stooping low to pull out a book entitled "Home cooking tips - Dame Maria Slovary". He held it half out until he heard the minute click, replacing the book, he descended the roughly hewn, stone steps that had been revealed by one of the many stone slabs sliding back.

As he went down the steps, the slab slid back into place perfectly above him, leaving him in total darkness. Sorenti knew he would not find what he was looking for in the "normal" library. Before long, the steps took a sharp twist to the left, then the right, he knew his way by heart and didn't even have to feel the walls to continue his descent.

Finally the stairs ended with double oak doors, he unlocked them and pushed them open, the lights coming on as the doors broke the laser beam. Sorenti closed the doors and locked them behind him, pocketing the small silver key. He walked through the small tunnel and out into a large cavern of natural rock, the rows and rows of old, dusty manuscripts and books giving that musty, yet comforting smell.

The floor changed from rock to smart wooden flooring, his shoes echoing softly as he crossed it, he always believed a library should look like a library, no matter where it was. He spent about an hour or so pawing through books and papers until finally he came across what he was looking for.

Sorenti took out two large, leather bound books and one string bound bunch of papers....he carried them to the large mahogany reading desk, adjusted the lamp and began to read.

The sword was almost legendary, reputed not to exist by many and the accounts of it's properties were garbled and varied. Sorenti ignored the discrepancies and dug out the properties that were constant in all and obviously agreed on.

It was called Lupus Mortis, "Death by Wolf" to put it in modern had been made with a strange ceremony, originally intended to be a Cappadocian weapon of death, in a vain attempt to steal some of the Gangrel attributes. The sword had been crafted with blood, being passed through a Gangrel while still hot, the Gangrel's blood covering the sword as the ceremony dragged on.

Various spirit's of death were invoked and called to enter the sword etc etc...Sorenti skimmed a little as the accounts of the ceremony itself differed....At the end of the ceremony, it was removed from the Gangrel and struck by lightning etc etc.....some said bathed in fire....the upshot was that when the Cappas tried to use the sword to kill the Gangrel, so as to keep this a secret, the sword burned their hands badly.

From the accounts it seemed that they then tried to kill the Gangrel in other ways, but the Gangrel got hold of their own weapon and used it against them. Those that weren't killed, fled from the path of the Gangrel. Sorenti turned back to the manuscript pages, flipping through quickly.

It seemed the blood of the Gangrel had made the sword totally unusable and even dangerous to hold for anyone not "at one with the wild". The invocation of the spirit's had made the sword a...a....Sorenti typed the phrase into his computer, unsure of it's origins or even the language.....he waited impatiently as the hard drive whirred into life....then two words came up on his screen "Soul Gatherer"

Sorenti breathed an expletive and continued to read....the sword captured a tiny piece of every soul it killed, not much, but a tiny amount, each time adding to the strength and accuracy of the sword in the hand of it's wielder. Sorenti looked again at the rough dating of the ceremony....

"Christ....this thing has been around since the late 5th Century! bloody powerful is it now?" he exclaimed and questioned.

Turning back to the books, he read factual details of the sword and some vague accounts of sightings of it in battle. On it's sheath were wolves in silver....and a reputed compartment....said to hold the finger of the Cappa who acted as priest in the ritualistic ceremony, the one who first used the sword to sacrifice three large wolves and who slid the sword into the stomach of the Gangrel....subsequently the first to be burned by the sword too.

Sorenti read something about the finger keeping the spirits of the dead contained within the sword...then that it was just there as a trophy for the seemed vague and unclear, but he wondered what effect, if any, removing the finger would have. He sat back and rubbed his eyes, shutting off his PC and contemplating what he had read...

"Well it exists....and is here in Cascadia" he mused

Sorenti rose slowly and decided perhaps he ought to go see Graventhorp, just to make sure he realised exactly what he carried on him. A sword like that could feasibly have a mind of it's own....or several minds....yes..he ought to go see Thorp.

PostPosted: Thu Jan 01, 1970 1:00 am Reply with quote
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((its good... don't know how could've both odnan AND Thorp missed a garou/kindred fight...with Its cool.

Thorp sat in his dark, trashed haven. He had Lupus Mortis, still in its elegant black sheathe, on his lap. Thorp knew there was more to that legendary blade that he had thought when he had first seen it...just before being embraced...707 years ago.
He turned the sheath in his hands, not certain what he was looking for. The sheath was a piece of art by itself, it was black leather with silver embroiderings, representing mostly wolves.  Thorp followed the silver with his fingers and then stopped. One of the wolves had somethign way too familiar. He looked up to his long black trecnchaot on the floor..the one with the gangrel logo on the back. The wolf's head was the gangrel logo. Thorp didn't know exactly what that meant... the sword was so old that probably the logo itself had been taken from the sheath, or maybe it was the other way around.
Thorp passed his fingers over the logo, feeling the impressive craftmanship and then narrowed his eyes as the gangrel logo slided to the left. He grabbed the wolf's head and turned it more...the head turned out to be a secret compartment of a sort...

(ok, sorenti.. i know your supposed to psot somthing about your research on Lupus Mortis.. so maybe he found somehting about the sheath? what was in the secret compartment?? tune in to post by sorenti

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PostPosted: Thu Jan 01, 1970 1:00 am Reply with quote
Drain left Graventhrop in the tunnel to find his way out then waited 5 min.  He then went to a different exit to follow Graventhrop from.  It didn't take long to pick up his trail mainly because he had been there just a short tima ago.  The Nossferatu found a quiet  spot to watch Graven and what appeard to be a Garu of sorts.

The ugly spy placed the ear peice of his listening device into his ear, and turned on the machine.  Instantly the Garu thing looked up and to Drains hiding spot.  He was not a Garu he was obviously an old Gangrel whose inner animal has come out thru the years.  Drain continued to listen knowing full well that his spot was compromised.

The two Gangrel began talking harshly to one another.  The conversation came to sword blowes, and from blows of the swords to growles and snappes frome vicious teeth.  Off in the distance was a wolf howl.  Not just any wolf howl a were wolf howl. a summoning.  Damn we had been found.  Drain not wanting to be caught by the garu and not wanting to interfere with sir/ childe "conversation" lept down to the ground from his vantage point and began circeling the two combatents.50 ft from them he came accross an oversized wolf heading to the battle.  Drain vanisshed and Drew his pipe.   The wolf was more intent on reaching its destination than paying attention to its surroundings.  And for payment it recived a crack to the skull from the powerfull arm of the awating vampires enchanted makeshift weapon.  The Beast dropped  but recoverd more rappidly then expected.  It leapped for the obsfucated nossferatu and landed on his chest.. By blind luck more than skill the pipe was held up and positioned exactily in to the closing jaws of the attacker.  When it bit down the poison again surged thru the steel and caused a sharp pain in the mouth of the wolf.  Wolf and Vampire wresteld on the ground for a few more precious seconds before the Vampire escapped its grasp.  The pipe lie on the ground twisted and useless.  But the wolf had paid dearly for its destruction. Its jaws were locked in a snarl and not able to close on anything, at least for now.  Drain unholsterd his uzi and began to backpeddle away form the Wolf,  who was shifting form to its more powerfull half man form.  The man beast recived multiple gunshots to its chest while Drain was retreating.  When at what he concidered a safe distance the nossferatu truned and ran for the hole.  The quicker beast was up on him in no time and again the enernal strugle for life began anew between these two powerfull beings.  Without its Bite the Man beast was at a grave disadvantage.  The claws of the Nossfreatu came and rendered one arm useless shortly after the creature had ripped open half of the vampires head open.  The 2 broke away from each other and squared off again.  Drain this time faked a retreat but turned at the last instant and dropped to the ground.  letting the charging Garu leap over him.  While in the air the beast felt its underbelly being laid open by the claws from its mortal enemy.  It landed and looked down in time to see his lower intestens falling out of the hole in its lower stomach.  It fainted from trama and massive blood loss.  Drain quickly leapped onto the fallen beast to lap up the presious lifeblood, which he desperatly needed to continue his unlife.  He called upon his inner strength to heal himself as best he could befor again heading for the tunnell enterence.  Once inside he made good time heading back to the city, at times crawling on his hands and knees like large grotesque bug.

Back at the subway haven he pulled out the remains of the recording device.  the words that stood out were "lupus Mortis".  hmm that needs looking into.  and the only place he could think of where he could find information of that kind was in NY.  The nossferatu Liberary

(( sorry it took so long to complete, sorry for the spelling errors,  and i hope it reads right cause i am no writer.))

PostPosted: Thu Jan 01, 1970 1:00 am Reply with quote
((I will write up what i do and it will be for this spot lol))

PostPosted: Thu Jan 01, 1970 1:00 am Reply with quote
As Sorenti stood outside the Pub, movement to his right caught his eye, the dim streetlights and faint moonlight lit a figure emerging from what seemed to be a sewer entrance. Sorenti instantly assumed it to be either a workman or one of the Nosferatu and turned away, but a flash of light attracted his attention back to the figure.

Using his senses, Sorenti focused in on the bright blade reflecting the light almost as if it possessed it's own light source. Watching the figure as they sheathed the blade, Sorenti felt a pang of shock at a vague memory of that now slightly familiar blade. As the figure turned to light a cigar and walked into the light, Sorenti saw it was Graventhorp. He ducked and got into the waiting taxi, deciding to go back to Blenheim and research that blade, fixing it's image into his mind and making a note it may have a Gangrel history.

PostPosted: Thu Jan 01, 1970 1:00 am Reply with quote
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Thorp eyed his mentor, altough he was mostly covered in grey hair, it didn't hide his bulging muscles. Thorp had no doubt that if he wanted to, Odnan could sliceand dice most kindred in less than half a second., wich wasn't reassuring at all.
"Make the first move."
"odnan, I tell you, I'm like in half my strength right now...i cou.."
Thorp was rudely interrupted by a slash, which he could barely avoid by somersaulting backwards.
"What the.."
"Are we fighting or talking?"
Thorp ducked and rolled avoiding a slash that would've separated his head from his neck. He knew that Odnan wasn't giving it his all, he was trying to piss Thorp off. And he was doing a pretty good job.
Graventhorp stood up slowly...ready to avoid any other strikes.
"Odnan...don't do this..."
"Graventhorp... I'm tired. I've been alive for 999 years.. I'll be 1000 in 2 days.... I can't take it anymore. My memories of my mortal life are the only thing that kept me going.. but now, they're almost all gone..I can't keep this up. And what better way to leave than by the hands of my favorite childe?"
Thorp looked at his mentor in a way he had never before, in that of a normal being. Vulnerable, not the almost godly image he once had.
Odnan smiled...he was trying to look friendly, but with what he looked like...he only looked out-right terrifying.
"But... I could never kill you."
"You have one of the most ancient mysterious, and probably powerful weapons ever made. That, courage, and will, will make you invincible."
Odnan made another attempt to a friendly grin.
"That and good luck."
With that Odnan striked, Thorp parried, barely. And jumped over Odnan, somersaulting and being careful to be out of his mentor's blade. As soon as he landed, he ducked, turned stood up and slashed.
Odnan parried it easily, but, to Thorp's surprise Lupus Mortis kept going. Thorp gasped as Thorp's old rapier, the weapon odnan was using suddenly split in half, and instants later odnan's head fell to the floor.
Thorp couldn't know how long he stood in stupor. But then he sniffed what could be a garou not far off, and decided to leave, using the same way he used to get there.

He exited the sewer system, remembering how to by Drain's explanation, in mid-town Cascadia. He relaized he still had Lupus Mortis in his hand, and turned to sheathe it, smiling as he noticed that strapped where hsi old sheathe used to be, was the black, embroidered pieco of art that was Lupus Mortis' own sheathe.
Graventhorp put on his shades, lit a cigar, and began walking to hsi haven, thinking of the past.

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