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File: Brujah.jpg (43 KB, 600x800)
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It all happened in an instant. One minute some raggedy guys ran towards you with a shovel in hand and bashed your head in, the next you awoke in a blind red rage and slaughtered a group of people who were buried under the earth with you.

As you clawed and dug your way out of your grave, one above it took control of you with relative ease, his eyes and hair were silver and he seemed to command the rest, you never saw him again. Your mind was a haze after that, they used you like a rabid dog whenever they wanted to, leaving you famished and ready to go into a blind rage at the mere smell of blood.

They spoke of a grand attack at one of the beating hearts of the Camarilla and you were to be in the frontlines, running like a crazed monster towards whatever they wanted to fight.

It felt, at times, as if you were losing your individuality, as if as hard as you tried to remember who you were and what your life had once been, it was all for naught.
During the attack, you were quickly struck down by a bullet from a rifle ringing through the dark, empty lot that was used as a battleground. Your cold body slumped to the ground.

You wake up on top of a smelly mattress, a bunch of blood packs besides you, you wolf them down, tearing through the packs and wasting some of it, incapable of restraint. Yet you control yourself, Frenzying when it was uncalled for meant pain, a lot of it.

+5 blood

You look around, grey concrete walls surround you, a heavily boarded up window is at your side and a simple light bulb dangles from above. You’re surprised that you’re feeling no pain, you were given enough blood to heal all your wounds.

It’s the usual, time to wait for the Handler to come and send you to your next assignment.

But the person coming through the door is not one you’d think to be a Sabbat. A woman, dressed like a punkie, pale of skin and showing off her fangs as a threat.
“No bullshit, neonate.” She says. “What’s your name?”

>Male
>Female
>Name?
>>
>>4666367
>Male
>Name: Samuel Lampir
>>
>>4666367
>Female
Elisa Melchior
>>
>>4666367
>Male
>Name: Conrad Umber
>>
>>4666384
Locking Male
Choose a name:
>Samuel Lampir
>Conrad Umber
>>
>>4666396
>Samuel Lampir
>>
>>4666406
Locked in, writing
>>
File: cell.jpg (2.26 MB, 3008x2000)
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“Lampir? What kinda last name is that?” She asks, a mocking smile appearing on her face.

Now she does sound like a handler.

She shrugs. “Whatever, at least you speak English. Do you know where we are?”

You shake your head.

“An industrial estate, park, whatever you wanna call it. Big office building, discreet enough.” She crosses her arms and lets the door frame hold her weight. “West of Geneva. Know Geneva?”

You’ve heard the name but you shake your head anyway.

“Very busy city. Lots of big name international organizations use it as a base of operations, lots of money goes in and out. Most of it illegal.” She smiles and lets out a ‘heh’. “Not that many people live in the city itself, but the surroundings. Wew, those are filled with folks. Vampires crawling all over the place too, wanting to get a piece of the international action and influence mortals.”

You watch her, feeling like a cornered dog. Some handlers like to play around with vampires like you. Make you feel safe. Then they start betraying that trust, slowly but surely.

Observing your silent disposition, she sighs. “You’re acting like a shovelhead. Bunch of assholes knocked you over and buried you? Had to kill a bunch to get out of it?”
You watch a corner of the room instead of her, the shadows flickering around as the light bulb above moves.

She takes a step into the room and you recede towards the wall. It doesn’t matter anymore, trying to fight back is a surefire way of getting tortured for days on end. You just have to wait, eventually… She’ll leave you alone.

“C’mon lil’ bat.” She says. “I ain’t gonna hurt you. I’m Susan, Susan Lark.” Her demeanor changes, her voice pitches a little higher, a hand tries to reach out from afar. “I’m an Anarch. You don’t gotta be spooked anymore. We took you from the Sabbat.”

For a moment, a light flickers in your eyes, but you’ve heard that one too. She notices your eyes twitching open for an instant.

“It’s real, Samuel. It’s over, we’ll take care of you.”

Could it be?

>”Leave me alone.” [Distrusting]
>”Is it really over?” [Optimistic]
>>
>>4666431

>”Leave me alone you pale faced batty bitch.” [Distrusting]
>>
>>4666431
>”Leave me alone.” [Distrusting]
>>
>>4666431
>"Is it really over?"
>>
Next vote seals the deal.
>>
>>4666431
>"Leave me alone.” [Distrusting]
>>
File: 1516389270812.png (550 KB, 978x693)
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>>4666499
It’s been a while since you played into their hands. Most of them give it up when they see you don’t budge. Maybe they kick or punch once or twice to vent their frustration due to your reactionless attitude.

But this time, considering all that happened… Why would they bother saving you? Could it be?

“Is it really over?” You utter in disbelief. Your eyes swerve towards hers, a pale green iris meets yours.

“Yup.” She says, her hand reaching towards you. You move out of your huddled corner and take it. A part of you is expecting a slap, a punch or a kick. Maybe she’ll bite and suck out the blood she gave you and drive you to an uncontrolled Frenzy.

Instead, she presses her hand onto yours. “C’mon lil’ bat. There’s stuff we have to talk about.”

You follow sheepishly, out to the hall and making a left, she opens a double door leading to what seems like a central hallway where a coterie’s base has clearly been set up. Old couches, light bulbs hanging from the ceiling, well boarded up windows. The works.

Susan takes you to one of the broken sofas and sits. “Alright Samuel.” She says. “First thing I need to know is your clan.”

“My what?” You respond.

“Oh.” She says, surprised at first, but realization soon sweeps her. “Right, shovelhead. Vampires are from the same clan as their Sire, the guy that bit you and turned you into a vampire. I guess you don’t know your Sire either?”

You shake your head.

“Fine, don’t worry about it buddy.” She takes a finger to her chin, thinking of her next step. She gets up and walks around the room. You wonder what her next move will be.
She picks up a knife from a table and looks at you, a smile appears on her face.

“Catch.” She says.

Your astonished stare does not seem to force her to rethink her throw. You move up your hands in reflex right before the knife flies out of her hands.

“Oh.” You hear her say as you feel the blade slide into your arm, your unnatural resistance is able to stop the knife from piercing you, it flies out somewhere else, landing on the floor.

As you open your eyes, you see the shadows in the room dancing around in some sort of panic. An astonished Susan watches them dance from one place to the other.
“That’s crazy.” She says.

>Throw the knife back at her.
>Calm down and let her speak.
>Write-in.
>>
>>4666522
>Write-in.
>Throw the knife at the shadows.
>>
>>4666600
Yeet 4d10
>>
Rolled 9, 8, 8, 9 = 34 (4d10)

>>4666615
Rollan
>>
>>4666658
Sure hope this is a roll over system
>>
>>4666661
Ye
>>
As the shadows move around you pick the knife back up and, terrified still, throw it at the darkest area, the one right behind you. The knife lands precisely at its centermost point and latches onto the wooden floor, doing a bunch of nothing to the writhing shadows.

As you take a few step backs and start reassessing the situation, the shadows seem to calm down and you can hear Susan laughing a ghastly laugh.
She dries off some blood tears out of her eyes. “Oh wow.” She says, slowly composing herself and stopping her breathing. “I couldn’t help it, nice throw.” She picks the knife off the floor and the lighting in the room slowly returns to normal.

“What was that?” You ask.

“Your Clan.” She responds. “Didn’t it happen before?”

It did. But you always thought it was the others doing it. The more experienced members of the party. “I didn’t think it was me.”

“You’re a Lasombra, neonate.” She says. “Like Ventrues, but in the Sabbat...” She scratches her head. “Well, not that you’d know what a Ventrue is.
They’re like vampires with powers to control other vampires, sort of. The Lasombra are similar, but they like doing stuff with shadows too and aren’t too keen on looking good when commanding others.”

She slaps the knife on the table she took it from. “You still thirsty, knife-boy?”

Blood reserve: 5/1? You are. Hell, if this was lower you'd be thinking about eating her up.

She opens a fridge, bends into it and takes out a couple of blood packs. “C’mon, we can talk over some things while we share.” She sits on the broken couch and offers you one.

>”Whatever, sure.” [Trusting]
>”You just threw a knife at me.” [Cautious]
>Write-in.
>>
>>4666709
>”You just threw a knife at me.” [Cautious]
>>
While her eyes denote how irked she feels at the comment, she seems to ignore it and throws her boots onto a low table in front of her. “Whatever, suit yourself.” She says. A short awkward silence later and she looks at you. “You know our flesh is pretty hard, don’t you? We’re not living things.” She punches herself in the chest. “No air to knock out, no veins to bleed out of. Magic blood powers to heal ourselves.”

She bites onto the blood pack and empties it.

“Anyhow. I saved you, you know? Your buddies left you for dead.”

You shrug. No big surprise there.

“Right. So that means you owe me and my coterie. Favors for favors. Y’know.”

You nod.

“Alright, cool. So as a Lasombra, you know how to do shadow stuff, you punch harder than usual, and you can look people in the eyes and tell them to do stuff. Yadda yadda. You use those powers for us, we consider the deal done.” She says, throwing the plastic of the blood bag into a bin after playing around with it.

She continues talking, something about going to Geneva proper and doing some job or another… You can look people in the eyes and order them to do stuff?

Something inside you makes it almost inviting as you stare at Susan. She looks at you with a weirded out expression, noticing you're not quite listening to her.

[DOMINATE] Susan?
>Yes
>No
(You may write-in what you order her to do.)
>>
>>4666796
>>Yes
>>
>>4666796
>No
>>
>>4666796
>Yes
>>
>>4666796
>No
>>
>>4666796
>No
>>
>>4666796
>Yes
>>
>attempt to dominate someone more powerful than us
>while we are low on blood
>for the first ever try of our power
>on someone who knows how it works
Great idea guys.
>>
>>4666796
>No
>>
>>4666796
>No
>>
>>4666796
No
>>
>>4667218
Just for trying to talk us out of it
>>4666796
>Yes
>>
6 No and 4 Yes. "No" wins.
>>
>>4667710
You look away from Susan and to the ground, nervously. That was an impulse you never had thus far. Is that why they were so intent on keeping you down?

“You okay? You seemed out of it.” Susan asks, her weirded out posture now turning into a caring one.

“I’m good, just thinking.” You say, avoiding looking at her eyes in case the temptation returned.

A short silence follows, Susan sighs. She uses that time to pick up another bloodpack and sits back down. “As I was saying, most people here speak French, how’s your French?”

“Not good.” Hell, you only speak English. You’re not from Switzerland at all. It’s hard to believe they bothered carrying you around for so long and so far.

« Ah, tu ne connais pas la langue de l’amour. C’est triste. »

« Huh ? »

“I can help you out with the not speaking French part.” She says with taunting eyes. She looks away to sip onto the blood pack. “If you stick around with us, that is. We all work to better ourselves here.” A trail of blood falls from her mouth and she does not seem to mind it.

>”I’m trapped in here with you and your buddies. Do I even have a choice?” [Defiant]
>”You haven’t killed me yet and you were nice enough to give me blood. I’d best return the favor.” [Sympathetic]
>Write-in.
>>
>>4667716
>>”You haven’t killed me yet and you were nice enough to give me blood. I’d best return the favor.” [Sympathetic]
>>
>>4667716
>”You haven’t killed me yet and you were nice enough to give me blood. I’d best return the favor.” [Sympathetic]
>>
>>4667716
>”I’m trapped in here with you and your buddies. Do I even have a choice?” [Defiant]
>>
>>4667721
Writing
>>
File: jet deau.jpg (194 KB, 1280x960)
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194 KB JPG
>>4667805
“That’s a good Samuel.” She replies before checking her phone. “Alright, you and I gotta leave, I’ll show you the city for a bit, lots of stuff to explain.”

With that said, she gets up and walks towards a door leading to a set of stairs heading downwards. It’s eight floors down before you actually reach the entrance hall whose exit goes right out to a street. In your side, this old office block, at the other side of the road, abandoned plots of land full of whatever plant growth had the time to spark up.
You have time to see a deposit of all kinds of old trucks and cars, some sort of reseller, to your left, before Susan beckons you towards a black Peugeot 107. She opens the door and gets inside.

It had been a long time since you walked out to the open like this, without being held like an animal and stuffed into a truck or a van.

You take the time to smell the air, it smelled like old burnt up tires and gasoline, but to you it smelled like freedom.

You get into the car in the front seat, along with Susan, who duly starts it and heads on out to the road.

As she drives, she talks to you. “Geneva is an old-ass city, very rebellious. She likes kicking invader butts and thanks to that persistence, she’s become one of the cantons of Switzerland instead of some murky ass French city.”

You nod, don’t really feel like getting a history lesson, but it makes the drive easier. You can see the lights of the city prop up as Susan keeps talking of the city, what surprises you most is a gigantic water fountain atop the Lake Leman which emerges into view as you drive by the Rhone River. One huge streak of water climbs lord knows how far into the air and peters back down, illuminated by white lights below it.

“The fuck is that?” You ask.

“Oh, that’s the jet d’eau. A sort of water fountain they built up like a hundred years ago. Lake water jumping 140 meters up into the sky because why the fuck not.” She says with a sarcastic smile. “It’s a symbol of the city.”

“Damn.”

“It’s pretty enough.” Susan says, but seems uninclined to speak further of it. “Anyhow. You know what the Camarilla, Anarchs and Sabbat are right?”
You nod. They spoke to you about all three and the rest you overheard while caged somewhere.

“Big vampire sects.” She says, igniting the turn signal and heading right into the city. “Well that’s not how Geneva works. There’s a shitton of interests here, everywhere you look you’ll find vampires with different allegiances butting heads to control international organizations, they don’t give much of a fuck about the city itself.”
>>
>>4667830
“So why did we attack it?” You ask.

She laughs. “Oh, you didn’t attack Geneva. You attacked Genoa, in Italy. My buddies picked you up from there.”

“Then they took me to Geneva?”

“Yup, we need a bit of uuuh… Muscle.” She says. “I was kind of hoping you were a Brujah, considering you were in the frontlines, but a Lasombra is fine too.”

You sigh. If she was trying to not make you sound like a tool before, now she’s fucking it up.

She drives through an area that seems rather posh. Lots of ornate buildings, shops, theaters, even an opera house. “This is the section of the city that’s housing the Camarilla and its Elysium. The place where they gather. No powers, no bullshit here.”

“So you’re with the Camarilla?”

She smirks. “With the Anarchs. But they’re close-knit, it’s a complicated relationship, for sure.”

She parks the car in the first spot she finds. Making sure everything’s fine with it, and starts to walk, you follow along. This part of the city seems to be almost empty at this hour of the night.

“This territory is pretty safe. We’re probably already being watched by our Camarilla buddies.” She says, walking as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
You look around but don’t see anyone.

“So what favor am I supposed to do for you?” You ask.

“Just follow along and help me beat people up if they get rowdy.” She says. You start noticing more and more people walking about, a lot of them look wasted. “But first, we’re gonna get us some fresh blood.” She says.

You quickly find yourself by a street filled with bars and discos. People wearing all sorts of fashion and bars with various styles of music cranked up to eleven.
You watch the people streaming in and out of the locales, speaking slurred French.

“But I don’t know French.” You say. Susan responds “That’s the fun part.” And when you look, she’s disappeared into a crowd. Much as you try to link back with her, you can’t seem to find your new… mentor? Captor?

Shit.

-

To be continued soon. Gonna stop this session because I got a busy afternoon and I probably won't continue til late today or til tomorrow. Hope you guys found this interesting
>>
>>4667832
Just got here, but yeah, it looks interesting. It's always nice to see any kind of WoD quest, especially VtM. Freed shovelhead is a neat concept.
>>
>>4667832
We should run. Gut as far away from this place as possible, claim some small town as our own and be independent.
>>
>>4667899
That usually doesn't last long
>>
>>4667899
Bumblefucking into the territory of our erstwhile bosses of their rivals don't strike me as the smart play. We should at least get our bearings (and maybe build some bridges between us and the Anarchs) before striking it out on our own.





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