[b:1899609bd0]By Julius[/b:1899609bd0]
The wind blew up the dust on the streets of Ankara. The few souls out after dark had wrapped their veils and headscarves tightly about their heads, too concerned with keeping the grit from their eyes to notice the pale skin of one of their carefully covered number. Julius and his guide walked towards a small building. It had taken two days of careful probing to get this far. The amount of bakshish this was costing would make it impossible for him to return to this place for a long time. Already, he was concerned that his apparently bottomless wallet had caused him to be noticed. The end of this part of his quest would, he hoped, end in this squat building on the outskirts of town. His guide talked little. An elderly mortal, schooled in certain arts. He was the key to finding Abetorius' missing Tremere. A mortal mage himself before his embrace, Julius had known what signs to leave. He was also eager to be gone. The place was crawling with Assamites, doubtless watching him, trying to fathom his purpose in the city. Julius could feel their eyes drilling into him from every shadowed corner. His guide stopped and Julius could detect magical currents running from him along the street. "You find him in bulding, insh Allah." Julius nodded and handed over a small phial containing his own vitae. This was the highest price yet, he could only imagine what this mage intended with it. He stepped forward into the wind and headed towards the building. Behind the door, which was surmounted with a stylised carven bird, Julius could hear chanting. He entered then, and stood quietly and respectfully surveying the scene. In the centre of the room burned a brazier, around which stood a circle of mortals apparently in prayer to it or perhaps to something represented by it. Peaceful and serene they seemed as though inhabitants of some other dreamworld in which they lived in harmony with their surroundings. At the back of the room sat a figure, rocking slightly in his chair, lips moving but no sound issuing from his mouth. Nor breath, nor heartbeat. Kindred from his aura. Julius bowed toward the flame, then proceeded to the strange kindred. The figure looked up, a wildness in his eyes and whispered Julius' name. Julius stopped short. The kindred cackled, whilst the figures surrounding the flame continued their ceremony, oblivious to the events at their rear. "The flames speak to me, Julius. They tell me you will come. They tell me I will not return with you."
"The clan orders it. You must come to Istanbul."
"My place is here."
"Your place is no longer here."
"I know what you seek Julius, the scroll and it's secrets."
"I seek Jerra." "You are transparent."
"You will come with me to Istanbul and you will tell me what you know of Salah Al-Hudin." The wildness in the Tremere's eyes seems to increase, betraying the edge of madness. He screams. "I know nothing of him. I tell nothing of him. Ali will...." His head jerks back as though possessed. Back and forth his head is thrown, the sickening crack of bone indicates his neck breaking. His eyes clear for but a moment. "Only Hassan Ibn-Sabbah knows all the hiding places of Salah, find him in Persepolis". His head is wrenched from his body, disappearing into dust. Julius leaves quickly, as the chanters continue their dance. Back aboard his jet, flying for Tehran, newly forged English passport in hand, Julius ponders where his quest is now taking him. Hassan Ibn-Sabbah, who invented that form of warfare which requires the killing of Kings, Princes and other prominent figures. Hassan Ibn-Sabbah who had given a new word to the English language. His operatives had drugged their victims, it was said, leading to the Arabic word Hashishim, Assassins. That he still lived after 800 years could mean only one thing. Julius had an elder of the Assamite Clan to treat with.

[b:63fa7d44b6]By Mundug[/b:63fa7d44b6]
A dry breeze coming from the Ionian Sea played with the twisted branches of the olivetrees that hung over the cliffside. Mundug parked his rented Fiat Punto in front of the entrance to the orchard of a once reconstructed Roman villa, that was miles away from the touristic centrum of the town. The whole place was dark and silent, the only noise that could be heard was the azure water that dug itself in the cliffwands. Rashid had told him this used to be Salah al-Hudin's base of operations. A villa in Syracuse, soon Mundug would find out what that information was worth. He closed the door of his yellow car behind him and slowly with sure steps walked on the sunscorched grass towards the entrance of the villa. The red painted wooden door seemed to have rusted in its hinges and it was covered with cobwebs. A creaky noise sounded when Mundug firmly pushed the door open. Through the vestibulum and the fauces, Mundug quickly landed in the atrium. Piles of stone and wooden debris lay scattered on the floor everywhere and the once colorful mosaics on the walls were now dull and dusty. The impluvium was filled with dirt and even more debris. One by one, Mundug walked through all the small rooms, but all he found was just more rocks, stones, debris, dust and old furniture. The building looked like it hadn't been used in at least 20 years and if this had indeed been Salah's operating base, then this was a masterful cover-up, so thought Mundug, heading through the tablinum towards the perystilium. More rocks, wooden debris and dull mosaics. The plants in the hortus were all dead and the fountain was dry. A dirty wooden table filled with old sculptured stones, surrounded by broken chairs stood in one of the two large bedrooms that were decorated by colorless mosaics on the walls and in the other one was an old bed, a chest and some other furniture. Rashid's information had proved to be useless. No one had come to the villa in years. Mundug cursed and headed back to his car. When he closed the door of the villa behind him, suddenly his eye fell on the gleaming door handle. It looked like it had been polished by hands due to frequent usage. This was indeed a masterful cover-up. Mundug headed back in the building and rummaged through the debris and found more. Cigarette stumps, some half burnt papers with arabian letters on it and some olive pits. In the pool of the dry fountain was a layer of brown reddish dirt. Blood... The mosaics in the bedrooms were glued on the walls and behind them the walls showed holes for plugs and wires. Mundug hadn't been fooled by Salah, he loaded everything he thought could be important in his little Fiat: the half burnt papers, some of the rocks on the table and some samples of the dried blood in the fountain. He shouted a chinook warcry and floored the accelerator of the yellow Punto, heading to Catania Airport...

[b:7da9cdb9b0]By Julius[/b:7da9cdb9b0]
Esfahan, jewel of Iran. Home of the Shah, prior to the uprising that led to the Ayatollahs and the formation of the Islamic State. Without doubt, the most beautiful of all the cities Julius had passed through in his travels through the middle east. The palaces were perfectly preserved, standing testament to Iranian architects and their skills in building and decoration, the streets were clean and lined with trees. To a man who has been crossing the desert in a jeep and using scrolls to sleep in the earth by day, this appeared as heaven itself. The journey was not yet done, however. To reach Persepolis, his guide (now thoroughly dominated) assured Julius that the best route was by camelback along the ancient silk road. Julius couldn't help but feel that a good sturdy automobile would be better, but somehow, looking into the eyes of his guide, he could see there was something more to it than simple travel arrangements. Heading into the depths of Iran one encountered custom and superstition. Perhaps the camels were better after all.
Julius Darrant
The ruins of Persepolis cast angular shadows in the cold moonlight of the desert night. Julius stood at one end of what had been a columned hall, whilst a collection of Assamites stood at the other, watching him intently.

The journey from Esfahan had been arduous. Camels, it seem came in only two varieties, bad tempered and downright mean. They smelt bad, wanted to go anywhere but the right direction and spat, kicked and bit anyone who got too close. Unfortunate really, as the whole idea was to sit on top of them. Julius' guide took this all in his stride, in fact the camels seemed far more pleasant to the guide, who moved about them with a calm authority, which perhaps these evil tempered beasts recognized. Julius had no such luck. The only concession they gave him was to stop spitting, and that only because his celerity allowed him to dodge. It wasn't that the camels didn't want to spit at him, they simply knew it wouldn't be worth their effort. They didn't like to travel at night, either. Julius had made a personal vow never... NEVER to take another ride by camelback.

Now he had arrived, Persepolis, ancient capital of Persia, home of King Darius, defeated by Alexander the Great, who had burnt the city to the ground, leaving only these ruined stones. Julius waited, a cold breeze ruffling his clothes and surveyed the kindred arrayed before him. "I will speak with your elder." He announced.

With a scream one of the Assamites charged him, "TREMERE!", Julius read his aura and saw hatred, defiance and death. A fiery lance of flame briefly illuminated the ancient ruins, and a shower of dust wafted gently to the floor. Julius stood calmly, looking into the eyes of each of the remaining Assamites in turn, "I will speak with your elder." Two of the Assamites vanished from view, had they forgotten that all Tremere use Auspex? Julius altered his vision to see the unseen, and with a vague gesture caused a ring of fire to appear in their paths, too late for them to stop their charge, they too became burnt dust, blowing away on the wind. Julius looked to those Assamites who yet stood at the far end of the ruined hall, his face betraying no emotion, nor seeing any upon their faces. Like an Arab version of a mexican standoff, the master magus confronted the ancient warriors. "I will speak with your elder." Julius repeated, in a cold stony voice.

The Assamites parted and a new face walked forth from them. His face was leathery and wrinkled, with piercing eyes, dressed in the finest of robes and walking with steady sure confidence. Half way up the hall he stopped, waiting. Julius walked towards him, stopping maybe two meters from him. The ancient spoke, "Why do you kill my childe, Tremere? Why do you seek Hassan Ibn Sabbah?"
"It is said, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Are you my friend, Hassan Ibn Sabbah? For my enemy is Salah Al-Hudin." The old Assamite's eyes shone in the moonlight, he clapped once and ghouls scurried forward, laying a carpet onto the stone floor, bringing cushions. Hassan gestured for Julius to sit. "Will you take salt with me Sheikh Sabbah?", Julius asked as he sat, "Indeed, but it would be better if seasoned with vitae." Replied his host, clapping once more. Julius produced a pouch of salt, and flicked a pinch of it to each of the cardinal directions before accepting the goblet of vitae from Hassan, sprinkling a little of the salt into it and passing the pouch to him. Hassan sprinkled some salt into his own goblet and drank deeply, Julius followed in kind. "You know our customs well, Tremere.", observed Hassan, "May I be permitted to know your name, enemy of my enemy?"
"I am called Julius Darrant, Sheikh Sabbah."
"And why have you sought me out, Julius Darrant?"
"I have been told that you know all the secret hiding places of Salah Al-Hudin. He has taken a friend of mine as prisoner and must be made to pay the price." Hassan nodded, "Little escapes my attention, even though I am confined to my Haven here in Persia. Salah has much to answer for, I would be glad to see him fall."
"You will help me then?"
"It is our tradition, within our clan, that no service is performed without a price. What price should I charge you, Julius Darrant of House and Clan Tremere?"
"What can a humble magician possibly give to the great Hassan Ibn Sabbah, father of the Hashishim?"
"The curse of Tremere. I hear my brothers are beginning to escape it, but so long without kindred blood, they become addicted at the first drop past their lips. Free me and my childe from the curse, yet allow us to continue as once we did. No addiction." Julius considered this for a moment. "If I do this, you will swear, on your honour that you will no longer persecute my clan within your domain. Assamite and Tremere shall have peace in this land, now known as Iran. You shall swear this and in token, your first drink of kindred blood in hundreds of years, shall be from my veins. In return, only you and your line shall be truly free of the curse."

Silence fell across the hall, broken only by the sound of the breeze blowing in from the desert, and the few insects that made this place their home. At length, Hassan spoke, "I agree to your terms, Tremere, we have a bargain.", they reached across and shook hands.

Under the moonlight, in that ancient place, Julius performed an old ritual. He had long since studied how Abetorius cursed the Assamites, lifting the curse was a simple matter. Ensuring that the curse would return in full force, should Hassan ever break his word was somewhat more complex, but Julius wove the magic with skill and surety, it was done. To complete the ritual, Julius drained his own blood into a goblet and passed it to Hassan. The old man of the mountains drank then passed the goblet to his companions. Julius smiled.

[b:85e114eb5a]By Mundug[/b:85e114eb5a]
Julius was back and he had said he had some valuable information that would certainly help him. When Julius had called him last night, when he was trying to decypher the arabian text on the notes he had found in Sicilia. He had almost forgotten about him, but now he wanted to discuss things in his chantry. Mundug pondered about that for a moment. He had never really trusted the tremeres, in fact, he had always been in some state of war with them, but this Julius...he had just offered to help him for no reason at all and now he had to go to the chantry. Mundug didn't trust that at all, maybe he had just needed some days to prepare a trap or something. Looking at the the rocks and the compact arabian dictionnary on his desk, Mundug sighed. It was hopeless, he knew he would never be able to find out what the texts and the inscriptions on the rocks meant and besides...that Julius still had Jerra's ring and he wanted it back...
Mundug paid the cab and slowly walked through the heavy rain towards the arched entrance of the tremere's chantry. He took the bag with the rocks from his shoulder, pinched in the spiritbag he wore under his T-shirt and rang the bell. At the same moment a lightning, soon followed by a rolling thunder, cleft the nightsky in twain. "Come in, Mr. Mundug.", a female voice sounded through the speaker and with a buzzing sound the door unlocked. Mundug hesitated for a moment, pushed the white door of the chantry open and slowly entered. A woman in blue business outfit holding a metal-detector walked towards him. She gave him a professional smile and introduced herself as Cynthia.

"I must remind you that weapons are not allowed in here, Mr. Mundug", she told him.

"I am unarmed.", Mundug replied in a dry voice.

Cynthia smiled "Please spread your legs.", and she started searching him and the bag with the detector and stopped when a red light started flashing above Mundug's left thigh. She moved away the wet furcoat that covered that part and looked at the shiny head of Mundug's tomahawk. She swallowed for a moment and asked him in a somewhat unsure voice what he thought the axe was.

"This is no weapon...", Mundug answered.

"...it is a symbol." Julius finished his sentence while walking from the stairs with the usual smile on his face. He nodded to the confused Cynthia, telling her that the axe was okay.

"Welcome to the Chantry.", Julius said, offering his hand, which Mundug firmly shaked. "Please, follow me."

Julius lead Mundug upstairs to a room upstairs. "Please, sit down." Julius said, while he was pouring out two drinks at the bar, and he pointed to one of the two comfortable looking chairs with white leather cushions. Mundug looked around the room, it looked just like he had imagined one of those rooms of some of those typical english old-farts-clubs, then he dropped the bag on the floor and took place in one of the chair. Julius soon followed, handing over the glass with cold milk to Mundug, while he had one filled with some old scottish whisky.

Then with a smile he passed the folder that was lying on the white marble coffee table to Mundug. "This is a list of all known havens and hide-out's of Salah al-Hudin.", he added. Mundug put down his glass and opened the folder...it was filled with descriptions of places, some polaroid pictures, taken from great height and of some places, there were even blue-prints.
"I am sure these will be usefull in the search, now what have you found on your trip to Syracuse?", he asked and he looked at the bag on the floor. Mundug took a look at the list of places, then he looked back at Julius Darant and opened the bag.

"Stones, burnt papers and some dried blood...", Mundug answered and he put everything on the marble.
Julius frowned, not quite what he had expected, but he started examining the clues anyway.

"This will take some time," he told Mundug, "I need to examine the blood, translate the texts and...uhm...see what I can find out about those rocks, that's all I can do at the moment. I'll call you when I find something." Mundug nodded in response, he didn't want to wait too long anymore, but...Julius had somehow already found that list of Salah's places in only a week time and...it was all he got. He finished his milk and stood up from the chair. "The ring?, do you still need it?", Mundug asked. For some reason Mundug didn't feel comfortable anymore with a tremere having Jerra's ring. Julius Darant shook his head, reached in the pocket of his Armani vest and gave Mundug the onyx ring back. Mundug nodded thankfully and Julius lead him out of his building.

It was still raining and Mundug walked through the night to his apartment, wondering how Julius Darrant had attracted that cattle-like smell he had scented around him.


Four days later...

Mundug put on his trusted furcoat. He had made it himself in 1954 of the mooses he had been feeding on during a long hunt. Jerry was already scratching the door, he couldn't wait to visit Measha again now she was back from Paris. Mundug opened the door, he had to find some prey again, but when he locked the door behind him, the phone started ringing. A few rings later, Mundug picked up...it was Julius Darrant he was obviously calling from his car since there was a loud enginenoise on the background, he was probably speeding too, Mundug thought.

"Pack your stuff and meet me at the airport, my jet leaves in 2 hours, we are going to Tunisia, I'll explain on board. - ROOOOOOAAARRR - I'll see you soon." Julius disconnected.

Mundug put down the horn. Jerry was already gone, Mundug hoped Eveshka would take care of him, during his absence. He packed his back, emptied a half bag of cold blood from his fridge and took a cab to Leeds/Bradford Airport.

Julius was looking how the crew of his big black Boeing 747-SP was loading his Ferrari in the cargo compartiment of the plane.

"Ah, there you are.", he said, smiling as always,"We are ready to take of in a minute." Mundug climbed the stairs and walked through the gigantic D that was painted on the plane.

In the plane Julius started explaining why they were flying to Tunis. The blood was just some human blood, but the texts and especially the rocks had helped Julius. The rocks were from an ancient Carthegian building, probably destroyed after Publius Cornelius Scipio, who was later given the nickname "Africanus", had vanquished the Carthegian army on the fields of Zama during the second Punic war. The area that was once called Carthege is now called Tunis and what bits of text was left on the notes Mundug had found in Syracuse had lead Julius right to Salah's base in the Atlas mountains of Tunisia.

Four and a half hour later, Julius's airplane landed it in Tunis. Tomorrow night, Mundug and Julius would seek out Salah's base, but it was almost dawn and Julius gave Mundug a place to sleep in the jumbojet.

Fifteen hours later...

Although the guide had told them the best way to travel through the desert to the mountains was by camel, Julius Darrant insisted on hiring a jeep. Mundug suddenly realized what the smell was he had scented on Julius a few days earlier in his Chantry, but there was no time for that, after they had thrown their lugage in the jeep, Julius and Mundug drove of to the mountains and 70 minutes later they arrived at a short distance of Salah's camp. It was exactly as described in Julius's information. Hiding behind some rocks, Julius and Mundug saw the assamites on climbing on their horses and riding away, like a group of dervishes, but Salah wasn't there, nor was Jerra. When they were gone, Mundug nodded to Julius to first check out what was left in the mountaincamp, before they would follow them. Two assamites were left in the tent that was placed against a cave in the mountain and just when Julius was preparing one of his spells to destroy them both in a large fireball, one of them came out and spotted them.

Without wasting anytime, he shouted an alarm and ran for his horse. Then Julius spell came and he burned down the whole tentstructure with the remaining assamite in it. But the other one was getting away on his horse. Mundug knew what to do, he sprinted for the other horse and in one fluent motion he jumped on it and started the pursuit. Charging over the rocky mountaindesert he was closing in at a steady pace on the fleeing assamite. Julius cursed and quickly ran back to the jeep, almost tripping over a boulder. Now Mundug would almost be in reach of the dervish, with one hand he took the tomahawk from his belt while controlling the horse with the other one. Mundug was almost riding next to him now and then he jumped from the horse catching the assamite in his arms and throwing him from his horse. The assamite landed on the hard rockfloor with Mundug right on top of him. Mundug finished him off with his axe while he was squeeling like a pig. Mundug, however had seen the other horses turning back, once Julius had burnt the camp and now they were closing in on him. Soon bullets start flying around him anywhere. But then suddenly 4 riders collapsed when a fireball struck in to them and soon after another three bit the dust. Julius had arrived and right on time too... Taking advantage of the sudden chaos among the assamites, Mundug grasped the automatic rifle from around his previous victims shoulder and started firing away. Soon the battle was over, with horses panicking because of the fireballs, the only thing Mundug had to do was just finishing off the job.

Mundug pulled his axe out of the assamite's skull and climbed back in the jeep. Julius drove them to the wooden structure the horsemen had been heading for. It was some sort of complex, probably a wooden replica of one of their next targets. Julius stopped the jeep on the white sand and started investigating it. Soon after he climbed back in the jeep and started the engine.

"Next stop, Rome...", he said,"the rectory of St.Peter's, that structure here looks just like it, trust me."

[b:af7159be54]By Eveshka[/b:af7159be54]
In a nondescript room of a non descript building, manned by nondescript personnel who had only moments to live, a shadow slithered across the nondescript floor. The nondescript men looked at nondescript monitors watching over an elegantly appointed residence. The men spoke to each other in quiet Italian, munching on some sort of snack food, to pass the boring night. After all, who would be sick enough to invade THIS house? They never got the answer.... instead, with a sclitching sound their heads were severed from their bodies by a man weilding a kukri in each hand. With a practiced hand the man flipped a few ordinary looking switches that enabled a very extraordinary event to take place. He tapped an ear piece twice in quick succession and then once after a pause. Then, the man was no more. Again, the shadow, glided across the floor and under the bottom of the door.
Six figures moved with blistering speed across the piazza. They vaulted up and over the tall gilt wrought iron fence adorned with a majestic cipher with obvious religious connotations. This was the main entrance to the living quarters of the Vatican City. Using crossbows with climbing ropes attached to the projectiles, they bolted them into the underside of the facade and climbed up the face of the wall.

Once on the roof they snuck around it and entered through an access duct. For a few hours they sat motionless waiting for something. From beneath them, they could hear footsteps of men walking around. The place had not gone to sleep yet.

Several hours passed and the hall beneath had quieted down. The lead figure removed a ceiling panel and looked around with a fiber optic snake. The coast was clear. With the litheness of gymnasts the 6 men flipped down slowly and quietly to the hall beneath them.

They all separated and ran off on prearranged routes. Moving with the practiced ease gained from running these same patterns in the mock up back in Tunisia, these six ghosts arrived at their destinations undetected. They assumed their shadowy forms and waited....

They did not have long to wait....

Up one of the corridors came belaboured footsteps. An elderly person was walking up a flight of steps. The outline of a weathered but large framed man appeared at the end of a hallway. He was right on time. It was him to be sure. The Holy Father Himself... Pope John Paul II. He came slowly up the corridor towards a waiting shadow. Four others were near by, ending the lives of some high level clergymen. One was rifling through His Holiness' personal Library. The shadow prepared to change form. Then something happened.

His Holiness stopped and straightened up. This was not the Pope, this was a much younger man. This was Julius Darrant. The Assamite changed form and charged at Julius with lightning speed, but not as fast as the lightning that struck his body out of nowhere, sending him to torpor.

A few levels down, an Assamite slinked along the wall of an atrium searching for a switch to open a door to the lower reaches of the building, where the library was. From out of the gloom came a hurled tomahawk flying end over end and imbedding itself in the back of the Assamite's head. The head split in two, covering the wall with gore and bone fragments. A hand retrieved it and then removed the spleen of the young assamite who was rapidly assuming his intended state of decomposition.

Circling Rome in the black "Huey" Helicopter, Sallah and Jerra listened in to the coded transmissions. Something was wrong. Ossama and Omar had not checked in. Then came a coded transmission indicating that the mission had been compromised. The Helicopter banked and headed to the roof of the Rectory.

Inside the rectory a chase was on. The Swiss Guards had been ordered to stand down for the night. A much different force was guarding the Vatican this night. Powerful vampires combed the hallways looking for the Assamites who were trying to make their way back to the roof for extraction. At least PART of the mission was successful. Three high level Cardinals had their lives shortened significantly. One while praying. Not a bad way to go the Assamite who did it thought.... one moment he was talking to God in prayer, the next... he was talking to God directly.

Two more Assamites were cut down, but not before sending several Tremere neonates and an ancillae to their final death. That was the thing about the Assamite, once they are roused from their security, the ballgame changes significantly.

Mundug moved in a blur after the lone Assamite who was also a blur. Through gardens and patios they flew. Leaping hedges and gracefully cut stone retaining walls, they rushed through the city. Back into the Rectory they went. The sound of an approaching helicopter reverberated throughout the stone walls.

Up, up, up they went until the assamite through open a door and ran out into the night on top of the roof with Mundug close behind. Suddenly the stonework exploded into chips flying everywhere. The tell tale sound of bullets zinging past punctuated by the staccato clack of a large caliber machine gun filled Mundug's senses. He dove away behind the facade of a large stone planter. He looked out and saw the Assamite climbing onto the skids of the helicopter. He had nothing that could reach. He looked closer and noticed..... JERRA. It was Jerra. She was in the helicopter, manning the machine gun.

Without thinking, Mundug moved into the open and the machine gun fired again. The bullets stitched across his chest and threw him to the ground out of the line of fire. Mundug was very hurt... not physiclly, Emotionally. He could not believe it. Then a moment of clarity came to him. He used his aura perception and read her aura while she was still visible. She was deeply in pain, obviously aching for something that just happened recently judging from the strength of the aura. She was probably still in danger and had shot him to save herself. But .... she could have shot him to kill him. Very easily. Yet she didn't.

He watched the black shape move off into the night and cried silently. Cried both with the pain of having seen Jerra and losing her, and in happiness that Jerra still loved him. He closed his eyes and groaned as Julius and a few Tremere burst through the door way with a cardinal or two in tow.

[b:ffa4ce6ef2]By Eveshka[/b:ffa4ce6ef2]
Back in the Supreme Pontiff's private receiving room, a meeting was assembled. John Paul II sat tiredly in a highbacked leather chair near a smoldering fire. Flanking him on either side were two Cardinals dressed in their scarlet robes of office. Across from him sat a wizened old man in a green cloak trimmed with gold. The only light came from the soft bulbs of brass lamps and candles encased in red shrouds. The result was a warm glow setting mellow shadows across the cold stone walls and ornate gothic facades. The two old men faced each other across a chess board. The over sized pieces of one side was made from gold, highlighted in blackened bronze, while the other commanded pieces of blackened bronze highlighted in gold.
The two men spoke in Latin. As they commanded their pieces.
"Salah must be stopped now you realize. His hatred of you knows no bounds Your Holiness," said Grimgroth.

"Yes, yes.... I suppose this has gone on long enough," His Holiness sighed. "Lord Grimgroth, I know that you have contacts in his circle. Is it true that he seeks the blood of the First Born?"

"So it would seem, Your Holiness. But my kind has been searching for the Chalice of Shal-ka-Mense as long as yours has been searching for the Cup of Christ. The link that the Kindred of York found beneath this very place seems to indicate that they MAY be one and the same."

The Pope looked up over the chess board just as he took one of Grimgroth's knights with his Queen. "I do not subscribe to that legend, you know that, it could be a case of mistaken identity but they are NOT the same."

"As you will Your Holiness."

The fragile detente that existed between the Highest levels of House Tremere and Holy Mother Church had been in place now for centuries. Yet, there were still topics that could not be discussed within the sanctified precincts of the Vatican. This was one of them. Although the Cycle of the Pontifici Maximus had been in place throughout the Burning Times and all the other low points of Kindred/Kine relations, The highest levels have always been on somewhat cordial terms.

The Cycle of Pontifici Maximus is an institution that has been in place almost since the Papacy was founded. There are 13 "Popes" that cycle through the post every score of years or so. A complete cycle takes about 200 to 300 years. Thus no mortal will ever know that the current Pope was already in office at several points in history.

"Have you found him yet," asked John Paul II.

"One of my people has several leads," Grimgroth responded. He motioned over his shoulder and a man stepped forward out of the shadows. "This is Julius Darrant, Pontifex of the Second Circle... Julius, tell the Supreme Pontiff what you know please."

Julius, whose Ferrari was being stolen at that very moment, stepped forwards. "Your Emminence," he intoned with his Pierce Brosnan-esque accent. "I have a list of havens that I procured from a contact in Iran. We are checking them now. One of them led us to Tunis. Which in turn led us here to you."

"I am most grateful for your intervention here this night. Were it not for you, I am not sure what would have happened. Already both of our Orders lost men to this damnedable Crusade. My Swiss Guards are unfortunately not very well equipped to deal with the Assamites. I cannot imagaine what they wanted here."

"I don't know Your Holiness," responded Julius.

"What about Jerra," asked a voice from the back of the room.

Both the Pope and Grimgroth looked back at Mundug. "Who is this person," asked Grimgroth.

"My Lord, this is Mundug, former Sheriff of York," said Julius. "He's been involved with this issue from the beginning. Jerra is the Toreador who was taken from Barcelona
and appears to be somehow working with the Assamites."

"She is not, I can assure you, I read her aura and she was deeply pained by what she was doing," growled Mundug.

The Pope looked down thoughtfully for a moment. "Well, when Sallah is found, so too will Jerra be found. Julius, as you are working on this already, I shall send a few of my men out to liase with the different Diocese around the area. Do not worry Pontifex, the Masquerade will NOT be broken. Only our top people know of the existence of Caine's Progeny. The burning times are over as far as Holy Mother Church are concerned. The Templars are another matter altogether though. Lord Grimgroth can well remember when we burnt their order nearly our of existance."

Julius looked moderately shocked, he had not known this. "Where do you suggest we start, Your Holiness?"

"My people shall go into the Levant again and see what can be found. The Greeks there are still troublesome at times, but they have remained on good terms with the Muslims there. They shall contact you if something is found."

"Pontifex, return unto York and work on deciphering the scroll with the Toreador Eveshka. That is where you will find something out as to where to find this damned thing. If it exists at all," said Grimgroth.

With that Mundug and Julius turned and left. They went down to the street to find a vacant parking lot. "Hmm, looks like Ferrari left with out us," grunted Mundug. Without a word Mundug turned and headed towards the train station leaving Julius to stand shaking in anger at the space once occupied by his Ferrari.

[b:811273c0c8]By Eveshka[/b:811273c0c8]
At Salah al-Hudin's haven in Tunisia..."I dont understand whats going on here Salah..." Jerra said concerned, as she sat up in her bed wrapped in her sheets, speaking to Salah to has awoken her, standing in her door way. "You will, in time. I have brought you garmets. Get dressed quickly, we have something...to attend to this night." He said tossing a gown on the bed infront of her, she backed away slightly, then nodded at the gift. She grabbed the gown, as Salah turned his back. While he isnt looking, she reaches under the pillow, taking a dagger she hid beneath it, and tucks it out of sight. "So what are you going to do now?.." As she stepped behind some curtians, to dress. Salah spoke, "I am not sure. I was thinking perhaps, our wedding, tomarrow night. Yes and I think, then you will be safe. Your friends from York will not bother you after this night, I can assure you..." Dressed, she pulls out the dagger, hidding it behind her back, as she slowly stepped out behind the curtian. "Wedding? Yes... um. How do I look?" Salah turned, with a smile on his lips "Beauty becomes you, my darling Jerra." He apporched her to greet her lips with a kiss, as she allowed him to do so, hopping to distract him enough to wound him. Unfortunately, she made a mistake by this, as she frowned feeling his swift hand take her wrist that held the dagger. He broke from the kiss, speaking still calm, but his grip tight as he looked at what she held, his eyes seeming to turn red. He twisted her wrist slightly, she winced dropping the dagger to the floor. "I see you will not come with me as willing as i hoped. Pity, I shall have you lock you away before we are bound as one." She growled "Let me go!!" With ease he shoved her away to the bed, she fell aginst it, becoming terrified relising he held the dagger now. "Intresting, I don't remember giving this to you. Ah well, No matter." With that he tossed it out the bared window. then turnd to the door. He took out a key from his pocket, and engaged it into the heavy lock. "You will remain here until tomarrow, at midnight percisly. I suggest you not try anythign stupid, less you wish a damp cold cell which your friends will soon be tortured in." She struggled to get up to protest, but too late, he had already slamed the door shut, locking it tightly. She ran to the door, peering from the slot. "Why, why must you do this..." she said. "To keep you beautiful." With that he turned, and walked into the dark. She banged on the door breifly..then sighed, walking to the window, looking out from it. "I've got to get out of here."

[b:4d36a17444]By Mundug[/b:4d36a17444]
Bizerte, Tunisia, 17 September 2001
A sand-colored hummer followed by a large cloud of dust sped through the barren land at the foot of the Atlas Mountains. Four yellow feline eyes stared determined through the front window. Tonight…it was going to happen. Tonight or never… Mundug scratched Jerry, who sat next to him in the passenger’s seat, behind his ears while leading the 4x4 towards the place where Salah al-Hudin was keeping Jerra. Julius had provided him with all the information and equipement he would need and he had even offered to come with him, but because of the recent events, a kidnapping of another Tremere in York, Mundug did not want to accept that offer. Located on a small hill in the middle of the rocky desert, it was virtually impossible to even come close to the fort without being noticed…especially when a cloud of dust surrounds you… Mundug parked his vehicle a few miles before Salah’s haven would become visible and there he started unloading all the equipement. Julius had really given him everything, going from nightgoggles, a flamethrower, explosives, submachineguns, grenades, communication equipement and a stinger missile… to a small fridge filled with blood…Way too much to ever use…and not that he wasn’t grateful, he just preferred to use the weapons he was used to fighting with. After he found his own bow, quiver with arrows, tomahawk, he hung his spiritbag around his neck and started to unbutton his shirt. Then he took the paint he had prepared in York and started to apply some war patterns on his face and chest, even Jerry got a few strokes on his face. Once done with that, Mundug took Jerry in his arms and started running, running towards the fort, to Jerra. With a high level of celerity and Clotho’s gift, it only took a few minutes before he arrived. The fort was covered in darkness but with his superior vision, Mundug could clearly see that it was heavily guarded. Now would have been time for a plan, but Mundug didn’t fool himself, he had never made an attack plan before, he had always just…fought his way in and this time was definitely not the time to start trying out new strategies…just knocking on the frontdoor had to do…

* * *

"Yussuf, did you hear anything?", one of the guards at the gates asked the other one, while switching on his flashlight. "No, I didn’t hear anything, you must have been dreaming about that white woman again, Ahmed", the guard answered, laughing. "<Blang>" , sound of metal sounded through the night. Yussuf and Ahmed unshouldered their rifles and ran towards the small shed where the jeeps where parked, when they heared the sound. "Who is there?", Ahmed asked. Meeeeoooww", Jerry slowly walked from behind the corner of the shed. "It’s just a stupid cat, Ahmed" laughed Yussuf again and soon Ahmed started laughing too but then soon he stopped. "There are no cats in the middle of the des…" Mundug released the sting of his bow. The arrow pierced Yussuf right in his throat and before Ahmed had even realised what was going on a second arrow ended his life in silence. The gate was free now and quickly Mundug ran to it while Jerry was marking his territory on one of the dead guard’s bodies. Once past the heavy wooden gate, Mundug and Jerry came in a large square courtyard filled with a few palmtrees and an old well made of dried clay. On the otherside under a small archway entrance door to the actual building was guarded by two dark individuals armed with curved scimitars. Several more guards were patrolling on the parapets, all of the armed with rifles. And then the show started…one of the guards on the walls spotted Mundug when he was crossing the courtyard. Without hesitation the guard sounded the alarm and soon a loud siren started to wail. Immediately the whole fort was bathed in light as powerful searchlights ignited. Mundug silently cursed and dove behind the well as bullets started to fly all around him. Jerry too was surprised and quickly climbed in one of the palmtrees, to take cover. Behind the well, Mundug carefully changed the head of one of his arrows with an explosive one, planted his four remaining arrows in the ground and put the arrow he had just prepared on his bow…and then the double door to the living quarters opened and a small cohort of Salah’s forces came out. At the same moment the doors opened, in a flash, Mundug jumped on his feet and fired away his arrow on the outcoming soldiers and even before the first arrow impacted, four more arrows were heading towards their targets on the walls. It was almost as if things happened in slow motion when an explosion sounded and men dropped off the walls. Meanwhile, Salah al-Hudin who had been enjoying the night before his wedding with a few of his other wives, had heard the alarm and the loud explosion that had come a little later. Immediately he had stopped his activities and went to his room on the 3rd floor to search his ancient scimitar of the sun. As soon as he found it he contacted his head of security… Mundug, still in the courtyard was heading to the building while a noise of a cellphone started to beep in the shadows. Rafiki al-Jafar cursed, he was waiting for Mundug to come closer so he could unnoticedly stab him from behind…but now his position was revealed. Mundug, quickly started to scan the are where the beeping came from with his heightened his senses was and soon he had spotted the hiding vampire. Rafiki, quickly drew his sword as Mundug, with claws the size of the arab’s head rushed towards him. The fight was quickly over as Rafiki’s blade did only minor injuries on Mundug’s muscled body while the gangrel literally ripped him to shreds. The phone was still beeping on the floor and Mundug slowly picked it up… It was Salah shouting and asking what was going on, Mundug immediately recognized the voice although he didn’t understand a word of what Salah was being said. “Rafiki is dead.” Mundug simply stated in clear english. "Who is this? Mundug?!” Salah replied and shook his head. “Yes!” “You’re mad, what do you want? You’ll never get out of here alive!” “Look through the window, Salah.” Salah on his cellphone, didn’t understand and slowly motioned towards the window of his room and pulled away the curtainss…and there he saw Mundug standing at the entrance of the door. Mundug turned his head looking at all the windows till his flickering eyes met Salah’s. "Good, now I know where you are…I am coming up…” and with that Mundug dropped the phone and entered the building.

Salah was stunned in disbelief. The past centuries no one had ever so bluntly tried to attack him, no one had ever dared to just walk in his place through the door and threaten him that he was going to come for him… For a few seconds Salah didn’t know what to do or say, but then he cursed loudly and shouted at all remaining guards that the should kill the Indian intruder.

Mundug could hear Salah shouting commands through the halls of the fort while he was running on the stairs. Soon he saw the first line of well-drilled soldiers waiting for him at the top of the stairs with drawn scimitars, but Mundug didn’t stop…With red painted face, glowing yellow eyes, feral looking fangs, fur-covered torso and huge hairy claws he started to accelerate and crying out all the pain, frustration and hatred he had accumulated during the past six months while running towards the soldiers. The sound of Mundug’s shouting could be heard through the whole building and even Salah’s commanding seemed more like whispering, compared to Mundug’s cry. The faces of the arabian soldiers became pale as snow and their bodies became paralysed of fear while they saw the raging chinook coming at them and even Salah al-Hudin’s face started to show some symptones of worry…and then the impact came…and casualties followed. The few hits Mundug received hardly cut through his toughened hide but on the side of the guards, blood was everywhere and soon not only Mundug’s face was painted red, but his whole body was soaked in blood. Salah meanwhile was heading for the room he imprisoned Jerra in while he was he was cursing the guards and the fact that he hadn’t killed Mundug in Rome when he had had the chance. He positioned himself in front the door and waited. Mundug arrived soon after and Salah, grinning greeted him. “Your quest ends here…”, Salah grinned, readying his scimitar, “and once again you fail…” Mundug drew his axe and jumped on Salah, but before he could strike, Salah struck both his arms with his sword…and this time, the blade burned through his skin. Mundug dropped his axe and cried out in pain. “MUNDUG!!!” A voice shouted from behind the door. It was Jerra, she had been hearing the alarm and the shouting going through the place and she had been wondering what was going on and now she heard Mundug screaming out in pain before her door and…Salah laughing while he struck again. Mundug fell on his knees as the burning blade slashed his right flank. "Don’t look so disappointed.” Salah joked, “You were a worthy opponent, just not very smart, but worthy nontheless…just…I don’t understand what she sees in a loser like you.”
“NOOOOO!” Jerra screamed from behind the locked door. Mundug was badly hurt and losing a lot of blood, he still felt his skin sizzling at the places where the curved blade had hit him, but he had kept his eyes on Salah at all times. “You’re making a mistake…Salah”, Mundug coughed. You are forgetting something… "Oh…really?…and what might that be?” the assamite asked in a sarcastic voice.” “I…didn’t come alone, Salah.” Mundug replied while slowly changing changing his hands back to claws. "No one would be stupid enough to join you in this ridiculous attack, I know your kind you’re doing everything by yourself, the lonely type…you’re bluffing and are bad at it, now prepare to die…” Salah raised his scimitar.

“I am not bluffing.” At that moment Jerry jumped up on Salah’s swordarm, distracting Salah that one split-second Mundug needed to claw the sword out of his hand.. But it was only a split-second and angrily Salah-al Huding threw Jerry against the wall and grasped Mundug’s claws before they could strike him again. Salah now was leaning against the wooden door, keeping of Mundug’s claws from his body. But although Mundug is strong, Salah was boosting his strenght with blood and started to push Mundug back.


“She…she likes me because…I have something you don’t have…Salah.” At that moment Salah pushed Mundug off him and both kindred, fueled with celerity and clotho’s gift started a deadly fight with fists and claws. Slowly Salah was gaining the upperhand as Mundug, who still was weakened started to fail in blocking Salah’s blows. “Really…and what might that be? A fur?” Salah asked as he threw Mundug against the wall. “I have a heart.” Mundug thrusted himself off the wall and even Salah al-Huding the powerful assamite could not stop the enormous force of Mundug’s body jumping on him. Both kindred fell against the wooden door of Jerra’s room, that broke open in a shower of splinters. Salah and Mundug landed on the floor. Immediately Mundug planted his claws in Salah’s chest, grasping his heart. Salah looked at Mundug in disbelief and coughed coughed up some blood while Mundug ripped out his heart and dropped it on the floor next to his head.

Jerra had been knocked on the floor too as she was listening at the door when it collapsed, but now she slowly got up to look at what had happened. Mundug too got on his feet and turned, looking for Jerra…and there she was…the nightmare was over. Mundug opened his blood-covered arms and Jerra jumped in his strong arms and kissed him. Jerry too had meanwhile recovered from Salah’s beating and started a joyful “meeooow-serenade”. A bit later Jerra interrupted the kiss and looked at Mundug.” "You’re…you’re all…yucky…”, she whispered with a radiant smile. “So are you.”, Mundug smiled while pointing at her now red-colored dress and then they continued the kiss.

* * *

One of Julius’ jets had brought them back to York and a few days laters Jerra and Mundug realised that there was no room for them in the camarilla community anymore. Mundug didn’t have a reason to stay and missed his homeland and with the camarilla of London hunting Jerra…staying in York was far from safe. On a following night they just left York, disappeared, flew back to New York., to Mundug’s apartment at the docks, where Jerra and Mundug had met only 12 months ago. The apartment was still in the same bad shape as when they had left it, and in the same room as before, Mundug reached in his pocket and looked at Jerra, smiling. "I have something of you”, he whispered and showed her the onyx ring she had lost in Barcelona months ago. Jerra smiled and thanked Mundug with a kiss, but at the same moment someone was knocking on the window and a few moments a repulsive nosferatu entered… It was Acidface. "Gni gni…, welcome back, honey and you too, Mundug..”, he said, “Unfortunately, there isn’t much time to catch up, gni gni…, Longear Knowsalot would like to meet you two in his haven…” Jerra and Mundug took their coats…

* * * THE END * *

(( [quote:937ad496e6]because of the recent events, a kidnapping of another Tremere in York[/quote:937ad496e6]

Would that be the Carlie Winter incident where I started to get involved in this?

Wonders if she should dig out her old "Anarchy in the UK" and "Iliad" posts and reread... ))

((Um.. yes.. probably it would.. however, let's leave Carlie well out of the equation :))

((woah shit. do you have all the old RiB posts on back up or something? I thought that title rang a bell

((I wish I did, but sadly, no I don't.

((I was just wondering is this part of a chronical you are going to be running, please count me in if it is as for background information this goes above and beyond anything anyone can expect. Please dont tell me that all this is going to be is be the background for more posts on the message board. For while I love reading such posts they dont really challenge the story as much as RPing it out. As in the posts I can write I beat Cain with a tooth pick and drank his blood, this is of course absolute rubbish but hell people can write anything they feel like.))

Unfortunately, Julius and I have absolutely no interest in playing in the game, so for the most part this is just a serial adventure on the message board. My mind could be changed I suppose if there is enough interest. We had great success message board roll playing back in RiB. Even had dice rolling, on the honors system of course. If you can work a way into it, then by all means do so. Just do it realistically is all I ask :)

((for my part I pray that people can sway your mind :D , but even if not I am sure that it will prove a most engrossing thread to follow. I shall definetly try to think of a way in, though I think it will be close to impossible to top such writting.))