"Some stories, though, do circulate from hushed voices to attentive ear. One tells of a nomadic coterie of Gangrel being pursued by a pack of Sabbat through woodlands in southern Quebec on a night not so many months ago. They all Earth Melded to escape their attackers, and they experienced something terrifying: As they slipped into the cold confines of the earth, they were all met by a powerful, disturbing presence. It was not malevolent, only discomforting, yet at the same time strangely... familiar."
Gehenna
"DINA: Xaviar told the Inner Circle that they'd been lying to the Kindred for too long, and that he wouldn't stand for it any longer.
TOM: What were they lying about?"
Clanbook Gangrel Revised
"And the night will come when the blood runs thin. And the night will come when the Clanless will be crowned. And the night will come when the Beasts hunt in the strongest city."
Prophecies of Nod - Chaldean version, Text B517110, Sainte-Sophie Bibliothèque, Avignon
The Horror Awakens
As the full moon rose to the peak of its path, Old Joe was alone at the top of the hill at the heart of the caern, stripped naked and painted with signs in a language older than any human tongue - older than humanity itself, in fact. He spoke - chanted - in that same language now, and the wind stirred around him.
"Speak to me, ancient ones," Joe called out. His hands were raised to the sky and the stars and all the spirits there.
The answer was not long in coming.
She comes.
The voice reverberated through the rocks beneath Joe and the air around him. It was suddenly cold, so very very cold, and even a man born and bred in the forests of Quebec felt the chill down to his very bones. He could see, dimly as if through dark glass, a Shape before him, something undefinable, intangible, but like a whirling cloud of snow and frost.
"Father Wendigo," Joe breathed and then prostrated himself on the frigid dirt. Somehow, he'd Changed without even realizing it - it was paws and fur that touched the ground, not hands and skin.
They stir. In the dark defiled hollows of the world, they stir. Thirteen curses for Gaia's thirteen families. She is the first.
Joe didn't understand, and wouldn't have even if he hadn't been awed to within an inch of his sanity.
Call your brothers. Raise the packs. Sharpen your claws. She comes, and war comes with her.
Sister Jeanne walked down the hallway of the dormitory. Everything was dark and quiet.
No. There was a faint line of light beneath number 18.
She pursed her lips just a little. Odette. Not one for making trouble. So why was she up so long after light's out?
Sister Jeanne stopped at the door and listened. Odette was murmuring indistinctly. Talking to someone? A boyfriend?
The indistinct murmuring became less indistinct.
"She rose from the deep. She split the island. She crossed the water."
What? What is this? the young nun wondered. She turned the knob, then gasped a little. It was warm to the touch. One quick push and she was in the room... and then she gasped a lot.
Odette was sitting cross-legged near her bed. And two feet above it.
"She rose from the deep. She split the island. She crossed the water."
"Mother of God, Jesus, Mary, Joseph..."
"She rose from the deep. She split the island. She crossed the water."
"Odette!"
"She's coming. She's coming. She's coming here."
"Officer Delfino, hey hey," came the catcall from the corner.
Sibyl looked over. Little Clement Beaumont, neighborhood pest and apprentice drug dealer, emboldened somehow by the fact that she was out of uniform.
"Po-po-police," Clement whistled. He leered and made an obscene gesture, then took on a look of pure innocence, or what he thought one of those was like, when Sibyl fixed him with a glare.
"I don't think he respects you," the Egyptian working the hotdog cart noted as he finished slathering her hotdog with ketchup.
"I don't think he respects himself."
Ahmad shrugged. "Bad upbringing."
"Yeah, tell me about it."
"No reflections."
Sibyl blinked and looked over at Ahmad. "What?"
"Shadows cast no reflections."
"What?"
"Two dollars," Ahmad said loudly. "Same as always!"
Sibyl blinked again and then her gaze fell on the woman walking down the sidewalk behind the cart. A woman who wasn't casting any reflection in the big Future Shop window behind her. "Right... same as always..."
Sofiya caressed the French girl and ran an ice-cold tongue over her magnificent naked body.
"Hhh..."
She'd found the supermodel in the lobby bar of the downtown hotel, and fallen in lust instantly. And she knew nobody else in her pack would never ever get such a tasty one in tonight's game of Go Fish. And the girl was alllll hers.
Until she drained her dry and left her to rot in a gutter, anyway.
But that would come later. For now -
The rusty old door of the rusty old trailer smashed in, knocked clean off its hinges, and fell with a clang.
The French model gasped as that bang and clang snapped her out of the spell Sofiya had put on her. She looked around and started screaming bloody murder (heh, bloody) until Sofiya snapped her neck like a twig.
"What the fuck, John-John?" the little blonde Cainite snarled at the big tattooed one. He looked even uglier than usual, all snaggle-toothed and wild-eyed. And he was - shit, was he drooling?
"Mommmmma says mess you up," John-John said, his voice little more, or less, than a dog's whine. "Buh-buh-buh-roooken... broken sword." And then he came at her, claws and fangs and three hundred pounds of dead, deadly muscle.
Gehenna
"DINA: Xaviar told the Inner Circle that they'd been lying to the Kindred for too long, and that he wouldn't stand for it any longer.
TOM: What were they lying about?"
Clanbook Gangrel Revised
"And the night will come when the blood runs thin. And the night will come when the Clanless will be crowned. And the night will come when the Beasts hunt in the strongest city."
Prophecies of Nod - Chaldean version, Text B517110, Sainte-Sophie Bibliothèque, Avignon
The Horror Awakens
As the full moon rose to the peak of its path, Old Joe was alone at the top of the hill at the heart of the caern, stripped naked and painted with signs in a language older than any human tongue - older than humanity itself, in fact. He spoke - chanted - in that same language now, and the wind stirred around him.
"Speak to me, ancient ones," Joe called out. His hands were raised to the sky and the stars and all the spirits there.
The answer was not long in coming.
She comes.
The voice reverberated through the rocks beneath Joe and the air around him. It was suddenly cold, so very very cold, and even a man born and bred in the forests of Quebec felt the chill down to his very bones. He could see, dimly as if through dark glass, a Shape before him, something undefinable, intangible, but like a whirling cloud of snow and frost.
"Father Wendigo," Joe breathed and then prostrated himself on the frigid dirt. Somehow, he'd Changed without even realizing it - it was paws and fur that touched the ground, not hands and skin.
They stir. In the dark defiled hollows of the world, they stir. Thirteen curses for Gaia's thirteen families. She is the first.
Joe didn't understand, and wouldn't have even if he hadn't been awed to within an inch of his sanity.
Call your brothers. Raise the packs. Sharpen your claws. She comes, and war comes with her.
* * *
Sister Jeanne walked down the hallway of the dormitory. Everything was dark and quiet.
No. There was a faint line of light beneath number 18.
She pursed her lips just a little. Odette. Not one for making trouble. So why was she up so long after light's out?
Sister Jeanne stopped at the door and listened. Odette was murmuring indistinctly. Talking to someone? A boyfriend?
The indistinct murmuring became less indistinct.
"She rose from the deep. She split the island. She crossed the water."
What? What is this? the young nun wondered. She turned the knob, then gasped a little. It was warm to the touch. One quick push and she was in the room... and then she gasped a lot.
Odette was sitting cross-legged near her bed. And two feet above it.
"She rose from the deep. She split the island. She crossed the water."
"Mother of God, Jesus, Mary, Joseph..."
"She rose from the deep. She split the island. She crossed the water."
"Odette!"
"She's coming. She's coming. She's coming here."
* * *
"Officer Delfino, hey hey," came the catcall from the corner.
Sibyl looked over. Little Clement Beaumont, neighborhood pest and apprentice drug dealer, emboldened somehow by the fact that she was out of uniform.
"Po-po-police," Clement whistled. He leered and made an obscene gesture, then took on a look of pure innocence, or what he thought one of those was like, when Sibyl fixed him with a glare.
"I don't think he respects you," the Egyptian working the hotdog cart noted as he finished slathering her hotdog with ketchup.
"I don't think he respects himself."
Ahmad shrugged. "Bad upbringing."
"Yeah, tell me about it."
"No reflections."
Sibyl blinked and looked over at Ahmad. "What?"
"Shadows cast no reflections."
"What?"
"Two dollars," Ahmad said loudly. "Same as always!"
Sibyl blinked again and then her gaze fell on the woman walking down the sidewalk behind the cart. A woman who wasn't casting any reflection in the big Future Shop window behind her. "Right... same as always..."
* * *
Sofiya caressed the French girl and ran an ice-cold tongue over her magnificent naked body.
"Hhh..."
She'd found the supermodel in the lobby bar of the downtown hotel, and fallen in lust instantly. And she knew nobody else in her pack would never ever get such a tasty one in tonight's game of Go Fish. And the girl was alllll hers.
Until she drained her dry and left her to rot in a gutter, anyway.
But that would come later. For now -
The rusty old door of the rusty old trailer smashed in, knocked clean off its hinges, and fell with a clang.
The French model gasped as that bang and clang snapped her out of the spell Sofiya had put on her. She looked around and started screaming bloody murder (heh, bloody) until Sofiya snapped her neck like a twig.
"What the fuck, John-John?" the little blonde Cainite snarled at the big tattooed one. He looked even uglier than usual, all snaggle-toothed and wild-eyed. And he was - shit, was he drooling?
"Mommmmma says mess you up," John-John said, his voice little more, or less, than a dog's whine. "Buh-buh-buh-roooken... broken sword." And then he came at her, claws and fangs and three hundred pounds of dead, deadly muscle.
