Chapter 13 -- How Not to Hunt a Dead Anathema in London -- L.B.

Lord Blake's Personal Journal

Chronology (OG:19/11/2012 | IG:31/10/2016)

My Appearance in London during 2016 C.E.
In the Autumn of 2016, I decided a change of look could be a healthy move, especially considering the enemy or enemies I was about to make. So, I went to a Tzimisce flesh-crafter named Naxios who lived at that time in the Bulgarian city of Vratsa to make the alterations; the following description was how I appeared during my entry into London.

I stood six foot - five inches (1.98 meters) tall and weighed a solid 265 pounds (about 120 kilos). In an attempt to seem more authoritarian, I appeared to be in my middle sixties; as an older person I had my share of laugh-lines around my mouth, crows-feet around my eyes, and worry-lines in general. For my apparent age, I was in very good physical shape, well cut, and rangy.

All hair was removed from my body, save the hair on my head which was steel-gray and crew-cut. All extraneous fat was removed to give me a lean physique and my body was a road-map of scars from: large animal bites, gunshot wounds, large blades and fire.

My eyes were honey brown and my face was dominated by a nose that had been broken several times. My cheeks were slightly hollow - giving the impression of faint emaciation and predatory hunger.

In terms of clothing, on the street, I wore whatever seemed to fit the setting. In official settings, like Elysium, I wore a black dress uniform with gold epaulettes. In battle, I wore modern black fatigues and armor, when necessary.

Time Line - From Awakening to Our Departure from Carfax Abbey

How does one begin to chronicle a night in which everything began with so much potential and turned so quickly to catastrophe?

At the beginning of course.

The previous evening, hoping to remove the Alastor Yan Syrkov from the immediate scene and gain some kind of idea what I might be dealing with in the form of this strange trio of Anathema hunters. I fabricated what I would describe as a credible excuse for him to visit the Tremere Regent of London - Edward Bainbridge. I will not describe the specifics here as they are irrelevant now.

With his departure from Mentmore Towers, presumably for London. I checked to make sure Madame Mina had already left to secure herself further bolt-holes and such. Then I went to speak to Yakoff, our Malkavian, thaumaturgic expert.

I found him in his room and proceeded to invite him to mine for a discussion. I began with a basic discourse of our mission and asked him what he might be able to contribute. His replies were suitably vague, obviously, he had received a stern rebuke from his master the Alastor. I then moved towards a different tactic, I asked him his opinion on the quarry and what we should do to find and neutralize the target; he relaxed at the question, obviously relishing the option to speak his mind.

While what he had to say about Dylan Bruce was mostly rehashed information I have already received form more than one source, he did reveal a side of the occult I had never before bothered to explore - infernalism. He seemed to know a great deal about the subject, even going into specifics without my request for minutia. I gather Yakoff has explored the darker side of thaumaturgy rather extensively.

With the Malkavian thoroughly relaxed by his scholarly recitation. I began the interrogation again from a different angle. I asked him how he would track down our quarry, neutralize his strengths and whether he should live or die.

Yakoff quickly launched into a description of how he would approach the problem, something to do with astral projection and ley lines, I do not pretend to understand his theories, but I tried to listen attentively. He then pointed out that it was nearly impossible to neutralize infernal investments, other than to anticipate them. But he was vehement that Dylan must die; I was completely honest when I said that I agreed, he is simply too dangerous to let live.

Sensing that he was vaguely anxious about the depth of the conversation and the potential for his having revealed too much to me. I pointed out that too much secrecy might very well spoil our ability to work together effectively and might lead to one or all of our deaths. I followed this observation up with the fiction that Madame Mina and I had discussed everything at the end of the previous night; the fact that she entered my rooms the previous evening and spent several minutes trying to gain information only helped the ruse. Belatedly, I realized that I would have to move on to the next phase of my plan, as Madame Mina and Mr.Syrkov were obviously getting suspicious of my intentions.

Yakoff immediately warmed up to the topic of Madame Mina and her inability to keep information secret, I sadly agreed and pointed out that she had spoken highly of Yakoff's skills but with obvious jealousy. The ploy worked perfectly, he launched into a long and detailed diatribe about they're previous exploits together and they're being at odds. With information flowing smoothly, I did not want to give the Malkavian time to think too long and pointed out that we should move to make as much of our time as possible. I informed him openly, that I had suggest that Mr. Syrkov visit the Regent for several reasons and that we could employ our time more successfully in a mission of our own.

But before we could hope to pursue any plan, dinner was called for and I selected a herd of cattle I had noticed the previous evening in a nearby pasture belonging to one of the local farmers. Yakoff never bothered to vocalize his disgust with my choice of repast, but clearly showed how he felt through body-language and attitude. Clearly, the Malkavian had never considered the possibility of actually dining upon real kine, preferring the two legged variety; he was obviously not a humanist. The meal was filling if not particularly satisfying and I moved to change clothes for my trip into London.

Yakoff on the other hand, chose to remain at Mentmore Towers and enchant my sword and dagger set. He also offered to prepare a enchanted amber icon that would hopefully ruin Dylan's next action if we should encounter him, an infernal pox is what he called it.

The trip into London was typified by heavy London traffic, nothing I had not handled many times before. The goal was one of London's trendier costume emporiums, it was Halloween after all and we were planning on attending the bash that Horace Holden always throws for the mortals at Carfax Abbey. If we got lucky, we might catch a glimpse of Dylan or at least learn something of value, as we had reasoned that Dylan could not resist a Halloween Party in a deconsecrated old church in one of the seedier neighborhoods of the East End. Who knew, maybe Dylan had even attended the old church in his breathing days. Certainly all the right elements would be present, a dark ambiance that sounded like our quarry, plenty of vessels to feed from and likely a number of Kindred attending with whom Dylan might be able to negotiate for information and whatnot.

When I arrived at the emporium, I found most of the costumes long gone, but there were still a few to be had. I paid a premium for a Roman gladiator kit and after consulting Yakoff, I picked out the outfit of a Roman senator for him. That confirmed a growing hunch that Yakoff was used to being in a position of authority and his current circumstances were wearing on him so much that he would opt for the fantasy of authority rather than blend in with the plebs.

The return trip to Mentmore Towers was pleasantly uneventful and I picked up Yakoff at the gates and turned around and headed back into London. We discussed the options of approach in the car and settled for a more distant parking spot rather than attract undue attention.

A Halloween Party in Carfax Abbey

The evening's revelry was to be based upon the dual themes of originality and or sensuality. So essentially, it was to be a Halloween orgy with Horace Holden being the master of ceremonies; what a debauched old hedonist Holden is, but he does throw a hell of a party. As the senator and I entered Carfax Abbey, I used 'Scry the Hearthstone', the second rank of Visceratika to gain a sense of what was going on in the club. What his eminence was doing to spot Dylan was anyone's guess. Our first order of business was to act natural, so we began the depravity early. I spotted a likely homosexual couple ogling us and suggest we get closer. The senator played hard to get, while the slave got down and dirty, feeding in Carfax Abbey is sinfully easy.

When we were both blood-glutted, we made our way up to the observation lounge and introduced ourselves to Horace Holden, Keeper of Elysium and the owner of the club. He was being himself by wearing ultra-tight black leather pants and nothing else. As far as I could tell, the senator was not bothering to masquerade as human, so much as blending in with the horny crowd.