This thread is intended as a communal location for telling stories in the Los Angeles area following the events of DoL 1.
For those that do not remember, a recap of those events may be in order:
A greater earthbound set events in motion to obtain world-ending supernatural power by enacting a ritual utilizing a torporous 3.5 generation Gratiano-Lasombra.
The DoL went on a spiritual journey to collect enough power to oppose the earthbound, and in the process released the seal on the chest housing the imprisoned exaltations since the beginning of the current reality.
Upon return their return, the DoL found supernatural forces unleashed by the earthbound were driving mortals to riot, and supernatural creatures were openly participating. The national guard was called in, but they were largely in service to the earthbound.
The final conflict resulted in the destruction of the earthbound, the diablerie of the ancient vampire used in the ritual, and the liberation of the mortal thralls of the earthbound.
Mortal memories were hazy regarding the several days of violence, and technocratic influence helped to further cloud the minds of the LA residents, but the residual damage to the city and the masquerade remains. The supernatural is an open secret, mortals live in fear, the supernatural community is heavily divided, and the city strains the efforts of both the Camarilla and the Technocracy to hide the supernatural from the world.
Several exaltations were drawn to LA during the fighting, and remain in the area. Consensus reality allows for both technocratic and mystical paradigms to function on roughly equal footing. Werewolves are grudgingly dominated by the DoL changers and their ragtag sept. Vampires are in a three-way conflict between Anarch, Sabbat, and Camarilla. Technocrats patrol the area, simultaneously more harshly enforcing their paradigm than any point since the Ascension War, and allowing grievous supernatural violations to go unaddressed due to lack of resources; Syndicate leadership even makes deals with reality deviants in hopes of gaining greater control over both the region, and the Technocracy as a whole. The shroud is weak in the region, allowing the dead to cross over and walk once more among the living. Demons capitalize on the confusion, gaining an incredible number of new thralls, while several mummies were dispatched to the region to fight the rising darkness. And finally, the DoL: though they are seemingly quite happy to eliminate anyone that claims permanent hegemony over the region and play the monstrous pink mammoth at the Christmas party, the DoL are increasingly drawn to worldwide conflicts, resulting in fewer visits to LA and ultimately destabilizing the region as much as they are helping it.
Stories from Los Angeles
Threading the Gerbil since 1982
Re: Stories from Los Angeles
The sickening sweet scent of human faith lingered around St. John's Cathedral distracting the jade lion from its prey. Prowling toward the heavy wooden doors, the demon retracted wickedly sharp claws that had unsheathed themselves instinctively. He idly thought about razing the church to its foundation and was rewarded with the psychic flaying of The Silent Wind, no she demanded a Chosen and what she demands she shall receive. Growling low his clawed hand grabbed the worn brass doorknob which warped and melted to slag in his tainted grasp. Silently the door swung open to a massive cathedral and a small broken man slumped forward in his wheelchair. Soft half sobbed prayers to The Martyr and His Father could be heard in the sacred silence. Prayers for forgiveness, for mercy, for redemption, for vengeance. The great jade lion's rumbling laughter rolled across the church like thunder, startling his prey.
"Poor Marcus…are those the same prayers that you made to your god when you saw your dad beat your mom to a bloody mess, time and time again? What about when you got the nerve to DO something about it, and you took the bullet meant for her…leaving you in that chair? Tell me, what did "God" do for you?!"
The room shook with the booming voice of the demon and the idol of the Martyr began to ooze black ichor out of his eyes and wounds.
Marcus looked around wide-eyed, panic-stricken looking for an escape route.
"Sh..sh…sh…shut up…you d…d…d…don't know w…w…w…what you are t…t…t…t…t…talking about!"
In a silken voice the jade lion growled, "Make me Marcus…go ahead…hit me, stab me, shoot me…or are you going to pray some more? How far did that get you with Guinevere? Your savior didn't hear your prayers, but I did.
'Please Lord, let her know how much I love her…'
'Please God, if you make her love me, I will do anything for you'
Or my favorite…the most delicious one
'Oh God, what is that?! Please save her! Make that monster take me, do whatever, just spare her!'
Or that is what you WANTED to pray…wasn't it? But no…in the end, all you cared about was your own worthless terrified hide!
'GOD SAVE ME!!!'
Me, Me, Me…hahaha…what use to her are you anyway??? Oh, I know all about the full extent of your paralysis…it effected EVERYTHING from your waist down, didn't it? So she was going to fall madly in love with you after you saved her. You were going to get married, and then what. Women aren't pure innocent creatures…they have needs…lustful needs…needs that they need a real man for, not a broken boy with a S…s…s…stutter hahaha."
"L…l…l…eave me alone!!! What d…d…d…do you want fr…fr…fr…from me?!"
"Oh no, it isn't about what I want, it is what you want…I am the answer to all of your impotent little prayers. I can make you whole again. You have prayed to be able to walk again, haven't you? I can give you the strength to be a real man…a man who never gets pushed around by his father, or by the kids in school. You would be the big man. I know what you want deep in your soul."
"Y…y…y…you d…d…d…d…don't….."
"I what? I don't know what you are trying to say. How would you like to lose your stutter? To be stronger than that creature…that vampire that took your beloved?"
"…."
"All you have to do is say yes, and you will have the power to change the world…that is what you want after all. To rule? You are smart enough, skilled enough, now if only you had the power. Power that is mine to give to you, if you just swear loyalty to the world's true Creators."
"T…t…t…t…Tempter, your n…n…n…name is Satan!"
"Not at all, Marcus. You know what I am…I am a servant of the True Gods, the creators of all. If your god and his martyr son existed and had any power over this realm, would I be able to be in the house of his worship? Would he have condemned you to that damnable chair after your sincere prayers to him? No, I am a servant of the old gods, the primordials who forged this existence in their image. All you have to do is swear fealty to they who built this world for you, and all that they have wrought will be yours to rule. You will be their chosen one…all of your wildest dreams open to fulfill."
The defeated man in one last chance to save his damned soul from the temptation that in his heart had already accepted, brandished his cross toward the Teodozjia, only to have it superheat and melt in his hand.
"This is your final chance to take my offer human. Do you accept my generous offer, or do you choose to die broken, and alone?"
"Y…y…yes…I accept. Whatever you w…w…w…want."
The great lion demon leapt upon his prey in response, grappling Marcus before the man could let out a cry. And during that embrace, the demon was unmade, his viscera and ichor pouring over the man, forming a quickly hardening shell.
Later that evening after firefighters concluded that the cooling foundation of the Cathedral was safe enough to pick through, all that would be found would be a statue depicting a lion, formed from pure jade.
"Poor Marcus…are those the same prayers that you made to your god when you saw your dad beat your mom to a bloody mess, time and time again? What about when you got the nerve to DO something about it, and you took the bullet meant for her…leaving you in that chair? Tell me, what did "God" do for you?!"
The room shook with the booming voice of the demon and the idol of the Martyr began to ooze black ichor out of his eyes and wounds.
Marcus looked around wide-eyed, panic-stricken looking for an escape route.
"Sh..sh…sh…shut up…you d…d…d…don't know w…w…w…what you are t…t…t…t…t…talking about!"
In a silken voice the jade lion growled, "Make me Marcus…go ahead…hit me, stab me, shoot me…or are you going to pray some more? How far did that get you with Guinevere? Your savior didn't hear your prayers, but I did.
'Please Lord, let her know how much I love her…'
'Please God, if you make her love me, I will do anything for you'
Or my favorite…the most delicious one
'Oh God, what is that?! Please save her! Make that monster take me, do whatever, just spare her!'
Or that is what you WANTED to pray…wasn't it? But no…in the end, all you cared about was your own worthless terrified hide!
'GOD SAVE ME!!!'
Me, Me, Me…hahaha…what use to her are you anyway??? Oh, I know all about the full extent of your paralysis…it effected EVERYTHING from your waist down, didn't it? So she was going to fall madly in love with you after you saved her. You were going to get married, and then what. Women aren't pure innocent creatures…they have needs…lustful needs…needs that they need a real man for, not a broken boy with a S…s…s…stutter hahaha."
"L…l…l…eave me alone!!! What d…d…d…do you want fr…fr…fr…from me?!"
"Oh no, it isn't about what I want, it is what you want…I am the answer to all of your impotent little prayers. I can make you whole again. You have prayed to be able to walk again, haven't you? I can give you the strength to be a real man…a man who never gets pushed around by his father, or by the kids in school. You would be the big man. I know what you want deep in your soul."
"Y…y…y…you d…d…d…d…don't….."
"I what? I don't know what you are trying to say. How would you like to lose your stutter? To be stronger than that creature…that vampire that took your beloved?"
"…."
"All you have to do is say yes, and you will have the power to change the world…that is what you want after all. To rule? You are smart enough, skilled enough, now if only you had the power. Power that is mine to give to you, if you just swear loyalty to the world's true Creators."
"T…t…t…t…Tempter, your n…n…n…name is Satan!"
"Not at all, Marcus. You know what I am…I am a servant of the True Gods, the creators of all. If your god and his martyr son existed and had any power over this realm, would I be able to be in the house of his worship? Would he have condemned you to that damnable chair after your sincere prayers to him? No, I am a servant of the old gods, the primordials who forged this existence in their image. All you have to do is swear fealty to they who built this world for you, and all that they have wrought will be yours to rule. You will be their chosen one…all of your wildest dreams open to fulfill."
The defeated man in one last chance to save his damned soul from the temptation that in his heart had already accepted, brandished his cross toward the Teodozjia, only to have it superheat and melt in his hand.
"This is your final chance to take my offer human. Do you accept my generous offer, or do you choose to die broken, and alone?"
"Y…y…yes…I accept. Whatever you w…w…w…want."
The great lion demon leapt upon his prey in response, grappling Marcus before the man could let out a cry. And during that embrace, the demon was unmade, his viscera and ichor pouring over the man, forming a quickly hardening shell.
Later that evening after firefighters concluded that the cooling foundation of the Cathedral was safe enough to pick through, all that would be found would be a statue depicting a lion, formed from pure jade.
Re: Stories from Los Angeles
"Magnificat * anima mea Dominum.
Et exsultavit spiritus meus * in Deo salutari meo.”
Marcus stirred from the confines of his jade cocoon as the chanting rose to a fevered pitch. In attempting to stretch he found his body trapped and he became enraged!
“Quia respexit humilitatem ancillae suae: * ecce enim ex hoc beatam me dicent omnes generationes.
Quia fecit mihi magna qui potens est: et sanctum nomen ejus.”
He felt the fires of Hell within his soul, pouring out of him to the crescendos and crashes of the Latin chant, illuminating the shell of his Chrysalis with the sickly green of Ligier. With closed fists, the reforged man hammered blows against the egg, and was rewarded with the crackling noise spider fractures all around him.
“Et misericordia ejus a progenie in progenies * timentibus eum.
Fecit potentiam in brachio suo * dispersit superbos mente cordis sui.
Deposuit potentes de sede, * et exaltavit humiles.”
Punch and punch weakened and then shattered the jade lion that had encapsulated him during his transformation.
“Esurientes implevit bonis: * et divites dimisit inanes.
Suscepit Israel puerum suum, recordatus misericordiae suae.
Sicut locutus est ad patres nostros * Lucifer at semini eius in saecula.
Gloria Patri, et Filio, * et Spiritui Sancto.
Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper, * et in saecula saeculorum. Amen!”
At the final climax of the incantation the Infernal was freed his Essence like a beacon blinding the hooded figures that surrounded him in rings, some in black and some in brown robes.
A woman with regal bearing wearing a fine dress in an outdated fashion, an elder man in the frock of a priest, and a beaten and bound man next to Marcus alone were the only people who didn't fall to their knees before him,
Can you smell it Marcus...their blood...it is faint but they have the blood of demons in their veins! They brought you to them...bind them in worship of your greatness!
The woman approached Marcus and with a fanged smile purred in heavily Italian accented English spoke to the dark robed worshippers , “My faithful children, your prayers and my prophecy have all come to pass after all these long centuries! The Lord, Our God, has given to us the protectors of His Flock His greatest weapon: The Sword of Michael that we shall wield in these Final Days!”
Addressing the monks in the brown robes the older man circled the infernal and the captive, “We have had our faith tested countless times, we have questioned His wisdom, nearly fell to the lies of the Deceiver, and faced death at the wicked claws of The Enemy. Through our tribulations we persevered although some of our brothers, weak in the faith, fell. Our God has rewarded our devotion with the weapon that shall deliver His enemies to Hell, never to prey upon His Flock again. As a final test though, we must bind the Sword to us, and bind ourselves to him!”
He bald priest reverently picked up an ornate chalice from an alter in front of the jade rubble of Marcus's chrysalis, while the lady pulled a plain looking silver dagger from her belt, and the two walked around to each of the devoted. Each robed figure held out their left hand palm up, and recited in the reverent tones of the worshipful, “I who have taken the sacrament and have been saved by Your Son, do solemnly offer my own blood to You through Your servant, that he may hunt Your enemies as they have hunted Your flock...” The woman took their hand slit their palm and turned it so their blood trickled into the chalice. 40 devotees in all made the sacrifice of blood.
What a sad people, to be eternal victims, to have never tasted greatness. You remember now don't you Marcus, you remember the time of Gods and Titans? The memories, they are foggy, but yes. Humans didn't hide in their homes and churches afraid of shadows. These people are like I was, afraid, praying for some uncaring god to save them from monsters. I will show them what a glorious monster is...and they will worship me for it!
As the last drop of blood was collected, the old priest approached the center of the room with the chalice. Marcus watched his every movement as he presented the sacrament. Not to him, the Weapon, but to the bound man next to him. The scourge saw it then, the hunger, the madness that was in both the eyes of the priest and the captive.
“Drink, child of darkness, taste the sweet blood of the faithful...”
Marcus watched in perverse fascination as the man, his canine teeth now clearly having been removed, drank deeply from the chalice, as a man lost in the endless expanses of Cecelyne.
The woman gracefully walked toward Marcus, and lightly touched his bare chest as she whispered in his ear, “To complete the ritual, you must take your prize from this vampire...he has clearly claimed it as his own. Prove to all the creatures of darkness that you are the Weapon that has been prophesied, take it from him.” Her other hand handed him the ceremonial knife, and both her and the priest stepped out of the circle.
The ageless eyes of the vampire stared into Marcus's, and seemed to be trying to bore into his very soul. “Kill the kine, and free me.” It wasn't a request, it was a demand...he saw mystic force of the words, and it enraged him! This creature had no authority over him, the inheritor of the power of Titans!
Marcus looked at the vampire, then down to the knife perfectly balanced in his hand, then back to the vampire whose face was still lit by the dimming light of his anima. In that moment, rage warred with absurdity, and the infernal cackled madly as he moved faster than the eye could see. The scourge couldn't tell how many times he stabbed and sliced the vampire in his fury, only that what he turned his back on was no longer recognizable as a man, but poorly butchered meat.
His heart racing with excitement, madness, fury, and effort, Marcus took a deep breath in and heard gasps from the worshipful as he breathed in the essence of his quickly eroding victim.
The two leaders of the ritual stepped back into the circle and spoke directly to him, the ritual seemingly completed.
“Hello Marcus Locke...or shall we call you Sword of Michael. I am Lucifuge, the Lady of Milan, there is much that we have to talk about.”
“I am Padre Ambrogio, and yes we do...welcome to the Truth that the Church works diligently to protect the flock from...welcome to the Hunt.”
* Translation of Latin chant
1. My soul doth magnify the Lord.
2. And my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour.
3. Because he hath regarded the humility of his handmaid: for behold from henceforth all generations shall call me blessed.
4. Because he that is mighty hath done great things to me: and holy is his name.
5. And his mercy is from generation unto generations, to them that fear him.
6. He hath shewed might in his arm: he hath scattered the proud in the conceit of their heart.
7. He hath put down the mighty from their seat and hath exalted the humble.
8. He hath filled the hungry with good things: and the rich he hath sent empty away.
9. He hath received Israel his servant, being mindful of his mercy.
10. As he spoke to our fathers: to Lucifer and to his seed for ever.
11. Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost.
12. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.
Et exsultavit spiritus meus * in Deo salutari meo.”
Marcus stirred from the confines of his jade cocoon as the chanting rose to a fevered pitch. In attempting to stretch he found his body trapped and he became enraged!
“Quia respexit humilitatem ancillae suae: * ecce enim ex hoc beatam me dicent omnes generationes.
Quia fecit mihi magna qui potens est: et sanctum nomen ejus.”
He felt the fires of Hell within his soul, pouring out of him to the crescendos and crashes of the Latin chant, illuminating the shell of his Chrysalis with the sickly green of Ligier. With closed fists, the reforged man hammered blows against the egg, and was rewarded with the crackling noise spider fractures all around him.
“Et misericordia ejus a progenie in progenies * timentibus eum.
Fecit potentiam in brachio suo * dispersit superbos mente cordis sui.
Deposuit potentes de sede, * et exaltavit humiles.”
Punch and punch weakened and then shattered the jade lion that had encapsulated him during his transformation.
“Esurientes implevit bonis: * et divites dimisit inanes.
Suscepit Israel puerum suum, recordatus misericordiae suae.
Sicut locutus est ad patres nostros * Lucifer at semini eius in saecula.
Gloria Patri, et Filio, * et Spiritui Sancto.
Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper, * et in saecula saeculorum. Amen!”
At the final climax of the incantation the Infernal was freed his Essence like a beacon blinding the hooded figures that surrounded him in rings, some in black and some in brown robes.
A woman with regal bearing wearing a fine dress in an outdated fashion, an elder man in the frock of a priest, and a beaten and bound man next to Marcus alone were the only people who didn't fall to their knees before him,
Can you smell it Marcus...their blood...it is faint but they have the blood of demons in their veins! They brought you to them...bind them in worship of your greatness!
The woman approached Marcus and with a fanged smile purred in heavily Italian accented English spoke to the dark robed worshippers , “My faithful children, your prayers and my prophecy have all come to pass after all these long centuries! The Lord, Our God, has given to us the protectors of His Flock His greatest weapon: The Sword of Michael that we shall wield in these Final Days!”
Addressing the monks in the brown robes the older man circled the infernal and the captive, “We have had our faith tested countless times, we have questioned His wisdom, nearly fell to the lies of the Deceiver, and faced death at the wicked claws of The Enemy. Through our tribulations we persevered although some of our brothers, weak in the faith, fell. Our God has rewarded our devotion with the weapon that shall deliver His enemies to Hell, never to prey upon His Flock again. As a final test though, we must bind the Sword to us, and bind ourselves to him!”
He bald priest reverently picked up an ornate chalice from an alter in front of the jade rubble of Marcus's chrysalis, while the lady pulled a plain looking silver dagger from her belt, and the two walked around to each of the devoted. Each robed figure held out their left hand palm up, and recited in the reverent tones of the worshipful, “I who have taken the sacrament and have been saved by Your Son, do solemnly offer my own blood to You through Your servant, that he may hunt Your enemies as they have hunted Your flock...” The woman took their hand slit their palm and turned it so their blood trickled into the chalice. 40 devotees in all made the sacrifice of blood.
What a sad people, to be eternal victims, to have never tasted greatness. You remember now don't you Marcus, you remember the time of Gods and Titans? The memories, they are foggy, but yes. Humans didn't hide in their homes and churches afraid of shadows. These people are like I was, afraid, praying for some uncaring god to save them from monsters. I will show them what a glorious monster is...and they will worship me for it!
As the last drop of blood was collected, the old priest approached the center of the room with the chalice. Marcus watched his every movement as he presented the sacrament. Not to him, the Weapon, but to the bound man next to him. The scourge saw it then, the hunger, the madness that was in both the eyes of the priest and the captive.
“Drink, child of darkness, taste the sweet blood of the faithful...”
Marcus watched in perverse fascination as the man, his canine teeth now clearly having been removed, drank deeply from the chalice, as a man lost in the endless expanses of Cecelyne.
The woman gracefully walked toward Marcus, and lightly touched his bare chest as she whispered in his ear, “To complete the ritual, you must take your prize from this vampire...he has clearly claimed it as his own. Prove to all the creatures of darkness that you are the Weapon that has been prophesied, take it from him.” Her other hand handed him the ceremonial knife, and both her and the priest stepped out of the circle.
The ageless eyes of the vampire stared into Marcus's, and seemed to be trying to bore into his very soul. “Kill the kine, and free me.” It wasn't a request, it was a demand...he saw mystic force of the words, and it enraged him! This creature had no authority over him, the inheritor of the power of Titans!
Marcus looked at the vampire, then down to the knife perfectly balanced in his hand, then back to the vampire whose face was still lit by the dimming light of his anima. In that moment, rage warred with absurdity, and the infernal cackled madly as he moved faster than the eye could see. The scourge couldn't tell how many times he stabbed and sliced the vampire in his fury, only that what he turned his back on was no longer recognizable as a man, but poorly butchered meat.
His heart racing with excitement, madness, fury, and effort, Marcus took a deep breath in and heard gasps from the worshipful as he breathed in the essence of his quickly eroding victim.
The two leaders of the ritual stepped back into the circle and spoke directly to him, the ritual seemingly completed.
“Hello Marcus Locke...or shall we call you Sword of Michael. I am Lucifuge, the Lady of Milan, there is much that we have to talk about.”
“I am Padre Ambrogio, and yes we do...welcome to the Truth that the Church works diligently to protect the flock from...welcome to the Hunt.”
* Translation of Latin chant
1. My soul doth magnify the Lord.
2. And my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour.
3. Because he hath regarded the humility of his handmaid: for behold from henceforth all generations shall call me blessed.
4. Because he that is mighty hath done great things to me: and holy is his name.
5. And his mercy is from generation unto generations, to them that fear him.
6. He hath shewed might in his arm: he hath scattered the proud in the conceit of their heart.
7. He hath put down the mighty from their seat and hath exalted the humble.
8. He hath filled the hungry with good things: and the rich he hath sent empty away.
9. He hath received Israel his servant, being mindful of his mercy.
10. As he spoke to our fathers: to Lucifer and to his seed for ever.
11. Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost.
12. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.