Blake's Diary

Blake

Mortalitas Mea

First of all, since my embrace I have used many aliases to protect my mortal family until the eventuality of their natural and collective deaths. I was born in Phoenix, Arizona to a middle class American family of artisans and educators in 1969. I grew up in rural Georgia, about 70 miles north-west of Savannah, in the care of my maternal grand-parents.

When I was nine, I moved with my mother, a registered nurse to Denver, Colorado to become a family. The next five years were particularly hard on me as my mother often worked long hours and rarely had time to raise me. Mostly I grew up on the eastern plains and spent much of my time alone, exploring the extensive and wide open properties that surrounded my home.

When I was fourteen, my entire family moved to southern Colorado, to a little town just outside of Colorado Springs. I spent my first couple of years of high school there and then moved to an equally small town on the Western Slope of Colorado, where I finished high school. Despite rating extremely high in personal I.Q., I wasn't a very good student and could only afford to go to a local college with financial assistance.

I went to school for three years at Mesa State College in Grand Junction, Colorado. At that time, the school had just managed to qualify as a state college and had only a few thousand students. Until college, I had been socially stunted and began to rapidly evolve.

I initially majored in Business and minored in international studies; as I had decided I wanted to enter the American Foreign Service. Though that idea remained my goal for all three years of study, I did change my major to history in my second year.

My downfall, at least scholastically was the role-playing game Dungeons & Dragons which opened up many new friends and also distracted me from my studies. By the middle of my fourth year, I couldn't maintain the grades necessary to continue my education and went to work. Initially, I took a manufacturing job at my family's insistence and after seeing several industrial accidents, I moved back to Denver.

I had friends in Denver that I had made in college and I stayed with them while looking for work. Eventually I found a decently paying job and moved out on my own. By my mid twenties, I was ensconced in a mainstream job, not a career, but I had found a full measure of independence. Once again it was Dungeons & Dragons that brought me into contact with a new group of friends and also led me inevitably to undeath.

My first Death

Unknown to my and my friends, two opposed societies of vampires were waging a secret war in the night-time streets of Denver in late 1996 through the Spring of 1997. I and my friends were casualties of this shadow war; I was captured by a faction known as the Sabbat and taken to Fairmount Cemetery for that sect's creation rites. Though I was drained nearly to death by the Sabbat, it was a vampire elder of the opposing sect, the Camarilla that embraced me.

Don Alonzo De Vargas was an elder Lasombra Antitribu who was embraced during the early years of the Spanish Reconquest. He had journeyed to the the New World with Hernán Cortés and later settled in the northern territories of New Spain. He had watched Denver grow up around him and refused to let it fall into the hands of Sabbat scum. Don Alonzo and his get had trailed a Sabbat pack to the graveyard for their creation rites and ambushed them as they were creating canon-fodder. To this night, Don Alonzo has never explained why he embraced me while I lay dying; but I am no less grateful for his gift.

I was give an intense and rigorous education in the traditions of the undead, on my bloodline's illustrious history, swordplay, etiquette and my place in the world. Apparently, my embrace had created some kind of political difficulty with the prince of the Denver and I was declared a bastard and sent away. I left Denver with only a letter of introduction, a small stipend and a sword. I was told to make my way as a mercenary and my first job was to travel to Milan and aid its traitor Prince Giangaleazzo in riding his city of the Sabbat.

Mission to Milan

I was only six months under the shadow, when I found myself on the night-time streets of a foreign city, fighting a secret war against vampiric terrorists and trusting my life to other vampiric mercenaries. Though I adjusted, it was not an easy time for me. The Sabbat was fully driven from the City of Milan by the end of 1997 and I found myself face to face with Giangaleazzo - Prince of Milan. I was the only other Lasombra Antitribu in the city at the time and even if I were Don Alonzo's bastard childe, by the prince's reckoning, I was still of purer blood and better breeding than all the rest of the swine who had come to butcher the Sabbat. As such, Giangaleazzo granted me the dual rights of hunting and making my haven in Milan.

As a young Lasombra Antitribu, I learned a great deal about the Magisters of earlier centuries as I often sat long hours into the night listening with rapt attention as Giangaleazzo would speak of the Italian Renaissance and his own youth. In our few months together, the traitor prince and formed a unique and surprising friendship. I was loath to take my next assignment, but Giangaleazzo urged me to explore, as he had failed to do and find whatever adventures might be waiting for me in the wider world.

Toledo and the War of Shadows

My next assignment was to serve as a Camarilla irregular in Toledo against the 1998 Sabbat siege from Madrid. It was here that I first met the archons of the Tremere Justicar Anastasz Di Zagreb. I was better prepared for the struggle in Toledo, but still nearly died against the Lasombra forces sent to take the city. My knack for making friends served me well again as I made an unexpectedly good impression on both the Nosferatu and Tremere of Toledo. It was also in Toledo that I began to understand the value that each of the clans brought to the fight against the Sabbat. As payment for my services, I asked for nothing more than the right to create a haven and feed in Toledo, the elders of the small Spanish city granted my request without question.

New York and the Camarilla Reconquista

The Tremere Archon in Toledo, Randall Carley offered to take me with him to New York as the Camarilla was making its big push to remove the Sabbat from the Big Apple once and for all. During the 1999 Camarilla takeover of New York, I fought beside a wide variety of European neonates and ancilla making a name for themselves.

Once again the Tremere provided aid that greatly aided in the battle against the enemy, when they lent a Gargoyle named Verbruch for the assault on the Sabbat communal haven. I noticed throughout the early stages of the assault that Verbruch seemed to possess abilities that would be very useful to me, if they could be learned. After the fall of the Sabbat's communal haven, I sought out Verbruch and made the Gargoyle's acquaintance, though it would be months before I could convince the Rock-head to teach me the discipline called Visceratika. In return, the Gargoyle sought to learn the secrets of Obtenebration and I was only too happy to oblige.

Though the Battle of Manhattan was over in only a few nights, it took months to root the Sabbat out of the other boroughs. Emboldened by my previous experiences, I asked for a small domain in which to haven and exclusive feeding rights to that territory. To my surprise the request was granted. Despite my successes, I didn't want to stay in New York and leased the domain to a fellow Lasombra Antitribu, Dino Cerutti who did want to make his haven in the Big Apple.

A Yankee Magister in Queen Anne's Court

Through contacts made during the extensive cleanup, it was suggested to me that if I wanted to advance my career, I might take some time out to polish my social skills in the "night society" of London. Qadir Al-Asmai, the Toreador Sheriff of New York had spent a decade in London after emigrating from India and offered to introduce me to a fellow Lasombra Antitribu who might be able to help a neonate new to London.

Stephen Lenoir, the self-appointed tour-guide to London, was not what I expected, but then, nothing in London was remotely what it seemed to be. Stephen refused to discuss his personal history, other than to say he had been resident in London for centuries. Apparently Lenoir was a Welshman who lived the in capital and often acted as a local guide to those new to London. Stephen quickly found me a place to stay and introduced me to the new Prince of London, Lady Anne Bowesley. Lady Anne obviously wasn't pleased to have another Lasombra Antitribu in her city, but with several letters of recommendation, she could not turn me away without criticism from the harpies - so she welcomed a neonate magister to London with the minimum effort necessary to her station.

Stephen made arrangements for me to be invited to the most critical salons in the city and suggested that I act as a bodyguard rather than as an enforcer - it wasn't as if London lacked men-at-arms as it possessed two Sheriffs and one of Europe's most dangerous scourges. For three years the "Yankee" Lasombra Antitribu hired himself out as a bodyguard to those who were referred to him by Lenoir. Usually, neonates or newcomers or both who might need protection while doing business in London.

Courier and Courtier of Shadows

By 2004, I had made enough connections and learned enough languages to take up the business of courier to and from the numerous nocturnal courts of Europe. And for seven more years, I traveled Europe for business and pleasure. In 2011, the Tremere Justicar Anastasz Di Zagreb was re-elected and was casting about for skilled and relatively unknown neonates to act as Archons in his personal crusade to purify the Camarilla. Though initially I hesitated, the work was too intriguing and the potential payoff too lucrative to refuse.

To Protect and Serve the Camarilla

For the last five years, I have been on backup duty to the real archons, but recently I has been deemed worthy and given a real assignment to act as a mole in South-Eastern Europe because Anastasz believes that the Camarilla periphery may be chalk full of Sabbat sympathizers, anarchist, terrorists and a variety of other threats to the Ivory Tower.

As assigned, the mission is largely a fact finding tour, with only one caveat - that I not interfere with the current mission of observation and investigation already ongoing in Sofia on behalf of the Inner Council of the Camarilla. In all other respects, I have wide latitude in my investigations of the Bulgarian Camarilla.

Bulgaria has shown significant activity over the last twenty years, with the defection of Emil na Pes a long time Nosferatu elder ally of the former Brujah Council, who rose to become the Camarilla prince of Sofia in 1997. The 2002 appearance of Dylan Bruce the Anathema in Sofia and the Tremere Trophy on him being acquired by a Ventrue neonate resident - Jan Sirkov. The 2006 Sabbat Siege that was ended in record time by the combined efforts of the visiting Viennese Ventrue delegation and the city's disparate leadership. Later that same year, the overt involvement of the Ventrue Justicar Lucinde in the ouster of the Nosferatu prince and the appointment of a Ventrue ancilla as his replacement. The 2007 appointment of a resident Archon, first Lithrac, one of Cock Robin's most trusted agents and a few months later, Ilyana Ravidovich, the Ventrue Justicar's prized strategic analyst - both officially assigned as observers for the Inner Council. The unofficial 2008 expulsion of one of the Camarilla's rare Tzimisce members from the seat of Primogen and the mysterious events surrounding that elder's exodus from Sofia later that year. And most recently, the 2011 resurrection of several entorpored Sofia residents and the unusual behavior of the young Ventrue prince have all combined to form a pattern of interest for Anastasz Di Zagreb in the inner workings of Bulgarian Camarilla.

The Betrayal of a Backwoods Bulgarian Voivode

The decision of where to begin was an easy one, the Tzimisce Baron who was expelled from Sofia in 2008, had according to Nosferatu intelligence taken possession of a small city in central Bulgaria called Gabrovo Grad. After a year of careful research, I approached the Tremere Regent of Pleven for what data he might have on Baron Marius. That initial discussion resulted in a joint mission to Gabrovo Grad wherein I would approach the Tzimisce Baron as a mercenary for hire shortly before a Tremere invasion; if successful, the invading Tremere would get a chance to gauge the Tzimisce Baron's sorcerous skill and plant an agent close enough to him to discover his political acumen.

Both the Regent Lord Ludwig, and I, agreed that for the ploy to be a successful one, the Tremere invasion force would have to remain ignorant of my identity. I had to legitimately fight the Tremere invasion force on behalf of Baron Marius for the ploy to successfully place me inside the Tzimisce's camp.

The stratagem was far more successful that either the Tremere Regent or I could have imagined, and granted me nearly unlimited access to the Tzimisce stronghold and its defenders. There were only three complications, the first was a thaumaturgically induced blizzard that overwhelmed Gabrovo Province in late December of 2015 through early January of 2016 and that stalled the conflict between the Tremere and Tzimisce, reducing it to a rough stalemate.

The second complication was an ethical one for myself, Baron Marius Egnatius turned out to be neither an elder or an ancilla, but a neonate, who had been an associate of mine in life.

The most difficult and mysterious complication was in part responsible for my success, for reasons unknown, everyone who was associated with Benesj Cherno clearly reacted to me as if I really were the dead Tzimisce. I seriously considered posing as Benesj, but ultimately rejected the idea as too complicated and risky, made particularly difficult by the Lasombra heritage of being non-reflective and immune to photographs. The situation clearly had supernatural overtones, which I would have like to consult a mystical expert upon. Unfortunately, I do not dare take this issue to my warlock superiors for fear of being branded a traitor. For the time being, there is little I can do about the doppelganger effect, but when the chance permits, I may try to consult an Abyss Mystic on the issue. To alleviate the problem, I have gone to a Tzimisce flesh-crafter for a different face.

With my investigation of the Marius Egnatius complete, I informed the Regent Lord Ludwig of the Tzimisce vulnerabilities. But, seemingly before the Tremere of Pleven could take advantage of the Voivode's weakness, the Sabbat swooped in, devastating the city of Gabrovo Grad, and killing all its mortal residents with a potent nerve agent - VX gas. While the current whereabouts and circumstances of Marius Egnatius remain in question, I have come to the conclusion that the Baron may indeed have been a deep cover Sabbat agent and the extinction of Gabrovo the cover for his extraction. Unfortunately, these notions are completely unprovable and are ultimately irrelevant.

Shacking-Up with a Gypsy Woman in the City of Wisdom

After dispensing with my investigations in Gabrovo, I moved on to the periphery of Sofia Grad and began working with the Ravnos neonate Madame Mina. In the last few months I had journeyed to Casablanca as her bodyguard in her quest to find information or a body-relic of the Follower of Set, Vespa. While in Casablanca, I also acted as liaison between the Ravnos woman and the local Court of Shadows. Ultimately, my involvement was instrumental in the identification and acquisition of an item of sympathy with which Madame Mina could work her thaumaturgy.

Upon our return to Sofia Grad, it became apparent that Vespa had discovered our mission and was moving her influence against Madame Mina's domain of Fakulteta. Though the majority of my time spent in Fakulteta was spent allaying Madame Mina's suspicions and proving my willingness to work with her. Under that set of circumstances, I set about to negotiate with Vespa on behalf of Madame Mina to resolve their mutual conflict.

To that end I journeyed to the small city of Vratsa, the ancestral domain of the local Tzimisce ruler, Queen Lada who acted as an intermediary and guarantor of mutual safety. The negotiations proved fruitful and both sides managed to gain what they asked for, if not in the quantity that they desired.

As per the agreement hammered out in Vratsa, Madame Mina had to attend a public party held by Vespa to apologize for her interference in the serpent's affairs, after which Vespa provided Madame Mina with details of her departure from Sofia. Of course, as much as I would have liked to believe that the Follower of Set intended to follow through with her agreement, I suspected a subversive ploy on her part and prepared for as many eventualities as I could have imagined. Equally unfortunately, Madame Mina was far from the architect of her own circumstances and she was clearly working for a higher power and moved according to that entity's timetable.

A few nights later, the party was held at Vespa's mansion in Kostinbrod, both mortals and Kindred were present. As I recall, that evening seemed to last an eternity in which Madame Mina and I rubbed the greasy shoulders of Sofia's so called elite. Eventually, Vespa did bring the festivities to a head with the announcement of her departure for France.

Towards the end, I sincerely doubted the Ravnos would hold up her part of the bargain and actually apologize, but as it turned out, I was wrong. While waiting patiently for skullduggery on the part of the serpent, I witnessed a nearly believable and sincere apology from Mina to Vespa. Believing the worst to be over, I was caught off guard by Vespa's sudden emotional embrace of Mina, but as I feared the Follower of Set did have treachery in her heartless chest after all - for she cast a spell of some-kind on Mina. I was never privy to the details, but apparently, it was some sort of spell that would allow Vespa to track Mina regardless of where she might go.

And that was the end of the affair. Vespa did indeed leave Bulgaria for France, while Mina ceased to pursue the serpent woman's secrets. In addition, bringing the struggle to cessation, I also managed to gain monetary compensation from Vespa, not only for Mina, but for her sire and myself as well. Over the coming months, Mina used her new-found wealth to repair the damages to her domain. While I distributed my not inconsiderable recompense into numerous major banks throughout the European capitals and then I set off to see what could be learned of the turmoil in Greece.

A Season in Greece, A Season in Hell

Ostensibly, the journey into civil war torn Greece was to sniff out possible vampiric involvement. But the real reason was to put distance between myself and that strange coterie of people who looked and reminded me so much of my long lost friends.

I drove from Sofia to Petrich on the E79 with a myriad of questions about what could have changed them all so completely.

In Petrich, I tried to bribe the border guards, only to discover the cost too high and the guards too dishonorable to trust. Instead, I decided to simply walk across the border, or rather hike it, as I would have to avoid the well patrolled road and go overland.

Mountains separated the two countries, save for a narrow pass which was simply too well guarded for me to sneak through. I chose instead to hike over Slavyanka/Orvilos Mountain, where the natural beauty soothed my black mood. I managed to dodge several border patrols and lucky enough to not encounter the local lupines.

> Fill in the rest of the story.

(Out of Game -? / In Game - July 4th, 2016) After a month long journey, I have finally left Greece behind. I cannot say I will miss it. In the chaos of a civil war, any kind of breach or violation of the traditions could have occurred or be in progress and no one who could resolve those issues is in sight. Not that I blame them. The youth of Greece do whatever pleases them and the devil take the hindmost. While their elders split hairs over policy and procedure, all the while looking over their own shoulders and listening for something that probably cannot be heard. Yes, I have seen enough of Greece, even for someone like me.

Istanbul the Queen of Cities

(Out of Game - ? / In Game - July 5th, 2016)
Istanbul (Constantinople), known in past years as the "Queen of Cities" is my destination and that of my companion. We have settled on Istanbul as our destination for differing reasons. My companion seeks for something hidden, something of value; though we have discussed it, I will not further elaborate on its nature. For myself, I see one of the great cities of our society torn apart by a clandestine war that will in all likelihood destroy those among us who are best and fly in the face of our traditions in the process. If I can bring this clandestine war to an end, restore peace and contribute to the Dream, then that is destiny enough for me. Or is it? When did I suddenly feel the need to put down roots? I have always been a nomad, which is unusual for one of my kind, but not unheard of. Certainly, Istanbul has a nearly limitless myriad of curiosities to entice a being like me and it has a long illustrious history. But do I really want to settle down here? The coming nights may illuminate the possibilities and clarify my own ambitions.

(Out of Game - ? / In Game - July 7th, 2016)
Tonight we have met with a friend of my companion, who has revealed the lay of the land. There are a number of factions and each is its own mystery. Still, the friend of my companion has shed some light on who is who and what is what in the Queen of Cities. Later my companion and I discussed the matter late into the night by the subtle rocking of the sea. We have a number of options, but have settled upon the scholars as our best option under the circumstances. Tomorrow we will set up a meeting and see where it leads, but I must be careful not to give the game away.

(Out of Game - ? / In Game - July 10th, 2016)
Tonight is not a good night. In the process of working out a strategy to help my companion acquire the object of it's desire, my companion experienced a sudden and unprovoked case of suspicion. By asking a few questions in the hopes of helping define the specifics of the desired object, I inadvertently upset my companion. It seems that by the application of deduction and by acting as a sounding board, I have become a security risk to my companion. Initially, I tried to reason with my companion, but to no avail, the more reasonable I sought to be, the more suspicion I heaped upon myself - a sad, but illustrative case of what it is to be "lost in the maze of mirrors."

(Out of Game - ? / In Game - July 11th, 2016)
We have come up with a means by which my companion will be reassured of my "good" intentions; it has been decided that only my sire can guarantee my honorable behavior. So, I have written to him and now we must wait until he replies for us to move forward.

(*Out of Game - ? / In Game - July 20th, 2016)
Finally, I have received a reply and we are to travel to a neutral meeting site to meet with my sire. I feel my companion doesn't really understand what it is getting itself into, but how can I explain that if through subterfuge I discovered some of it's secrets, that it has no chance against my elder? They say, that the best learned lessons are the hard ones, I will try to distance myself from this situation and see what resolves itself. I also have questions that only my elder can answer and my life could depend on what he has to say.

(Out of Game - ? / In Game - July 27th, 2016)
As expected, the meeting has gone ill for my companion and I grieve for it's ill fortune. All I could do was step into the shadows and watch the futile struggle play out to the inevitable end - like watching a child play a grandmaster. Upon our return journey, we are both lost in our own thoughts and no words are exchanged. Likely my companion rails against a cruel and unjust world, but who ever said the world was a kind or just place? I reflect upon the riddle of what I have been told about Istanbul and how I can put it to some useful end. One good thing has come of our trip, my companion seems satisfied that I am now to be trusted to a reasonable degree. What deep, dark secrets must my companion have to be so paranoid? For now, it is best to leave sleeping dragons lie, after all, I too have my share of secrets and as long as I do not pry, likely neither will it.

(Out of Game - ? / In Game - August 3rd, 2016)
Our meeting with the scholars is set for tonight at a discreet quay. We are both prepared for a struggle as the meeting could "go sideways" as they say in my native tongue. Our counterparts are already waiting when we arrive.

I have spent considerable time considering how to defuse this particularly difficult situation, as I do not wish to blow my cover. After due reflection I have a set of likely responses that will deflect any unwanted questions and then the scholars come to my rescue and ask the most unreasonable thing - "give up not only my weapons, but my armor as well."

Too perfect really, I wonder if my cover is already blown, but no, they are just being overbearing. I spend a moment in thought and flatly refuse. The leader of the scholars is easily angered. My companion moves to salvage the negotiations that I have sabotaged and to it's credit, it does a fair job, but the damage is done and my cover intact. We depart as we came and once on the water we decide to pursue an alternate faction and hope for a better outcome.

Later that same night, we arrive at a watering hole that we have been told is a contact point for the faction with whom we wish to conduct business. We meet a dubious character who is frightened of us, but hides it well.

(Out of Game - ? / In Game - October 26th, 2016)
Tonight I received a summons to Vienna. To say that I feel trepidation is an understatement, and yet, I feel as though destiny is drawing me inexorably towards a specific challenge.

How Not to Hunt a Dead Anathema in London

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 from 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.

Six Years - Autumn of 2016 to the Summer of 2022

It had been six years since the fiasco of London against Dylan Bruce and the Sabbat. Where I had worked together with my formerly mortal friends to try and stop an insane demon-worshiping vampire from diablerie and worse; ...we failed miserably. The Tremere of London were diablerized to restore Dylan Bruce's lost generation, countless mortals died as our coterie sprang each of Dylan's vile traps and ultimately, London itself fell into the clutches of the Sabbat.

This is not to say that nothing was accomplished. Heretofore, I could not have imagined that as a vampire the world held any more potent a mystery than that of immortality itself. In London, the veil of ignorance was ripped from my face and I was forced to look upon the the true nature of reality. I cannot describe the experience itself, except to say that it nearly drove me mad. Once you look upon the occult and infinite nature of the world, there is no way to become blind, innocent or ignorant again. My old beliefs, conceptions and values were made hollow thereby and I felt completely lost.

Like my Lasombra ancestors before me, I was cast adrift on a sea of darkness without stars or compass. It was at that time, the late Autumn of 2016 that I turned to Titrit bint Akir. Titrit was a Lasombra oracle of shadows from Casablanca, whom I beseeched to aid me in unraveling the mystery of my doppelganger Benesj Cherno. Titrit's augury reveal that of Benesj or myself, only one of us would survive to see the next age of the world. Like a character in a fable, I was suddenly in the position of having to find and kill my double before he did the same to me. But Titrit did more than shed darkness on the subject, she also introduced me to an elder Abyss Mystic known as Nystor who resides upon the island of Sicily.

The Crusade of Dreams

Chronology (OG: February 12th - 2013 | IG: June of 2022)

June of 2022

Castle Bosiljevo lies just east of the foothills of the Dinaric Alps, twilight and night fall far sooner than the mortals who live in the shadow of my castle would probably like, but it has always suited me well enough.

As usual, I had risen long after the setting of the sun. Had my mentor Nystor been present, he would probably have explained it as a function of my budding relationship with the Abyss and in all likelihood, he would have been correct. Regardless,I was in the top room of the high-tower. I had just swept back the thick black curtains and thrown open the narrow windows to the fragrant night air. In doing so, my attention was draw down to the sprinkling of insignificant lights that represented the village of Bosiljevo, Croatia. My supernatural senses could not, at that time, reach all the way to the village; but at that moment, I easily imagined that the last laborers of the day had already hurried home and barred themselves in for the night. Despite their renewed fear of the castle and its new residents, they were in no danger from me, as I had already dined that night.

Then as if borne on the nocturnal summer wind or by silent black birds, I heard the disembodied voice of the Ravnos vadoma, Madame Mina. It was not the wind, imaginary birds or madness, however easy it would be to believe these things. I had seen far too much to believe it was my sanity that was lacking. London had changed all that, made me aware of just how much I did not understand about the really real world.

I turned from the window and walked across the nearly empty round room, to a single ornate walnut table upon which a single silver candlestick rested, small and simple. The candle stick had been carved in imitation of a 17th century French style that I had found particularly attractive. It possessed a crystal flue to shield it from stray currents of air. In the table's single drawer lay a box of common wooden matches for lighting the candle. I withdrew a match from the box, closed it and struck the match. Golden illumination exploded into the room, it made my shadow caper and the room to twist. I quickly removed the crystal flue and lit the candle, then snuffed the match.

The acrid smell of the dying match was pivotal, as the sense of smell is central in the process of memory. I crushed the cold match in my cold hand as I walked over to the only other furnishing in the room. The chair was a throne, one crafted in the 16th century for a Croatian prince, meant to remind those who saw it of his power and wealth. Now, other than myself, only the servants ever saw it when they came to clean this room of broken matches and dust.

I seated myself and listened to the vadoma's rambling rant about the events taking place in Istanbul in recent nights. I replied aloud out of habit and then thought better of it; it would not do to have the servants think me insane, as well as eccentric. Her voice was husky, as if she were a courtesan whispering in my ear after lovemaking. Not that I fancied Madame Mina, though beautiful in a simpering kind of way, she would have been far more trouble than her succulent beauty would have been worth.

She wanted to discuss plans for returning to Istanbul, finding and entering the haven of the Assamite sorcerer Kateb Zeke. I offered some thoughts and stratagems, but ultimately, little in the way of a plan came about because of our mystical conversation. And then, the night was near its end. I ended my side of the conversation by offering my aid, if the vadoma could find a way for me to help her in her quest to recover Zeke's library.

During our conversation, I carried on my nightly ritual of trying to snuff the candle with the shadows that it cast. To date, I had been unsuccessful, but eventually, I felt confident that I would find a way to douse the candle-flame and perhaps other forms of light. But with day coming, I closed and locked the windows, pulled the drapes close and snuffed the candle with a conscious breath. I then began the long descent to my subterranean suit and the safety my light-less chambers.

Ironically, a few nights later, it would be the Tremere who would solve our dilemma for us. One of the Tremere of Istanbul, I forget which, contacted me and asked if I would come to the city and help take Kateb Zeke's haven before the Assamites succeeded in doing so. Of course I said yes, what else does an archon of Clan Tremere do? A few hours later, I was on a Lear jet headed for the Turkish capital. I chose to bring my personal guard as well, as it would not do to be killed out of hand by some blood starved Saracen before I had learned all I could about the Abyss.

The plane landed at a small airstrip on the outskirts of Istanbul. I was met by the local Tremere envoy and escorted to a staging area. The Tremere are nothing if not generous in providing for their hirelings before a battle: thaumaturgically enhanced weapons, armor and ammunition. It was the one factor that I would miss most when I eventually terminated my employment with the Warlocks. I was also informed that Madame Mina was to join our strike force as soon as we moved into the zone of conflict.

Had I known then, what lay in store for me, I might very well have terminated my employ with Clan Tremere a bit prematurely. But, in many ways, our ignorance of the future is a blessing, for those trial and tribulations that common sense would have us avoid, are the very things that make us stronger, if they do not kill us outright.

A New Beginning - Glasgow - Circa 2029

December 22nd, 2028

The winter solstice has arrived once again, the most holy time for an Abyss mystic. Its a time of reflection and contemplation, and experimentation if as a magister one possesses the sorcery of shadows. As yet, I do not, but how long will I be able to resist the siren-song of the midnight arts? Alas, I make do with the myriad Discipline Techniques based on Obtenebration that I have been able to acquire and those few that I have crafted myself. However, I know eventually, that I must give in and learn the rituals of the Abyss that Nystor has offered to teach me; its the only way for me to truly understand the primordial darkness and through it perceive the secrets of creation. In the short term, it might also offer some kind of edge against my nemesis, my shadow-self, my doppelganger. May the darkest night shield me from my most potent enemy and gift me the guile I will need to best him before the passage of the Age.

Instead of holy contemplation and experimentation upon the sacred isle of Sicily, I sit this night reflecting on the Jyhad, or rather my most recent part in it, within my new lodgings in Glasgow, Scotland. I have come here at the urging of my dual patrons, Nystor my guide on the Road of the Abyss, and Guilelmo Aliprando, my grand-sire and the Archbishop of Nod. While each has offered different, yet equally compelling reasons for my presence in Caledonia, my actual reason for being here is an unlikely alliance with a scion of the Ventrue Clan, one Brian O'Reilly. Let me first say, it is nearly impossible to resist the machinations of an elder magister and thus, a herculean feat to resist the manipulations of two such. And so, to Scotland I have come, for a sword that does not bend, must break. Yet, my most secret reasons for coming remain still my own, for O'Reilly and his coterie of demigods represent the best vehicle for success against my doppelganger.

Each of these individuals is supposed to be one of my mortal associates from before the Embrace, and yet, while each appears to be the person I knew, they behave in ways that suggest they are centuries older than I. As yet, I have found no rational explanation for their superior skills, their expansive knowledge of the secret history of the Kindred, or their unparalleled aptitude for a variety of sorceries. On the surface of things, their facades are quite perfect; to someone who has not known them before, to strangers, they appear exactly like me, American expatriates who have moved on to the Old World, taken new identities as we all must and begun new lives. It is only when one peers past that too perfect facade, to what lies beneath, as only an old associate, friend or family member might that one begins to see the staggeringly powerful individuals who hide behind a masquerade within a masquerade.

Only one explanation, rational or otherwise has been offered to explain the unexplainable. The circumstances of the revelation may have contributed heavily to the fact that I received anything remotely like the truth and after all, they say that truth is stranger than fiction. It was the summer of 2015. I and my traveling companion Madame Mina (alias: Kaitlin Porter), a Ravnos Vadoma (sorceress) and thief, had just arrived in Istanbul. We knew that the city's Night Society was in the midst of a civil war of their own; a three sided conflict involving the unholy killers of Clan Assamite, those brave or stupid souls that remained of the Camarilla and the monstrous foot-soldiers of the Sabbat. Of course, there was the requisite neutral parties trying to mind their own business and the inevitable scavengers and carpetbaggers.

It was finally revealed to me that Madame Mina was looking for a piece of personal property that she had lost at some undisclosed time in the past. She was certain that it was hidden in the former haven of a now deceased Assamite sorcerer; the sorcerer turned out to be one of the greatest blood-magicians in history and an old enemy of Madame Mina. His name was Kateb Zeke, he was an Ashepu (Middle Eastern blood-wizard) born and Embraced right there in Istanbul. According to the good Vadoma, he was also the master sorcerer who taught her the arcane arts. Of course, all this started to make sense to me, except for Madame Mina's embarrassing level of skill, as it would have taken decades, if not centuries to acquire that kind of power. Its here that the story takes a truly strange twist, as Madame Mina tells me that Kateb Zeke was her mystical teacher in another life-time, centuries ago, when she was Embraced as an Assamite warrior. Here it is necessary for the suspension of disbelief, as I knew this woman as a mortal less than two decades ago. During a lull in such a fantastic tale, she explains that there are three castes of Assamites: warriors, sorcerers and viziers who apparently act as mediators in disputes, both within and outside of the clan.

Two Years in an English Suburban Limbo - Birmingham - Circa 2031

>> Hand printed via the discipline technique Shadow Script in crisp Gothic lettering, but in the colloquial English of the middle 21st Century. <<

I am unsure exactly what the date is, though it is definitely Autumn of 2031 C.E.

Two years in the Pax Britannica, what a laugh, aimless English urban sprawl is more like it. Scotland was supposed to be a new beginning, an opportunity to move forward in my goals as an aspiring Abyss Mystic, instead I have spent the last two years fighting street-battles against the loathsome and tasteless hordes of the English Sabbat. That would not be so bad, save for the fact that my goals have taken third position in a struggle of importance between the obvious, if impotent, goal of defeating the English Sabbat or the supposedly secret, but more likely irrelevant struggle to stop Augustus Giovanni from tearing away the Shroud between the world of the living and the world of the Dead, and thus preventing the inevitable cataclysm that is the end of the world as I know it.

To posterity I do not wish to offer simply feelings of acerbic frustration, nor do I see a point to indulging in meandering nihilistic remembrances. Rather, I seek to clarify my feelings and thoughts before a metaphorical and thus, literary mirror -- this journal.

To fairly sum up the last two years is no easy thing, but then, I was never given to a want for lesser challenges. As of two years ago, I had become a known, if negligible quantity within the Camarilla contingent of Scotland. I had joined my fortunes to the Ventrue Archon Brian O'Reilly after he had shared his discovery of Augustus Giovanni's mad plan to rip away the Shroud and rejoin the world of the living to that of the dead. I do not pretend to understand how the master of Clan Giovanni came to the conclusion that he should need or want to destroy the world, when as a member of the Third Generation, it is his for the taking. Equally, I find it hard to believe that such a thing is even possible, but then I am reminded of Lasombra's castle plucked from the crown of Sicily and transported in total to some nameless region of the Abyss, presumably by his diablerist childe Gratiano.

Winter Solstice of 2042

On the Winter Solstice of 2042, Blake experienced a crisis of faith as he was overwhelmed by the dark Typhonist faith of his dying Setite doppelgänger Seker-Aamon. He struggled for a few nights on his own and then sought out his confessor and teacher along the Road of the Abyss, Nystor the Black, at his temple on Sicily. There in the ruins of a Etruscan temple, Blake confessed to being a doppelganger and how he has been changed by Seker-Aamon's death. After hearing the entire story, Nystor helped guide Blake through his crisis of faith, a truly dark night of the soul not unlike an intellectual exorcism wherein the two dark religions were compared. Ultimately, the perfection and unknowable grandeur of the Abyss easily won out against the perverse idolatry of the Typhonian faith. The process took several nights, but Blake once more possessed clarity of mind and was able to grow from the experience, thereby moving closer to the dark truth at the heart of the Road of the Abyss.

Thereafter, Nystor counseled Blake to journey to Cairo in order to discover precisely what had happened to Seker-Aamon, for whatever this woman had done to the Setite doppelgänger, it most certainly wasn't diablerie. Nystor's reasoning lay in personal experience, diablerie he explained was the vampiric consumption of another Cainite's soul and thus the deepening of the diablerist's own curse by taking on the sins of his or her victim -- a kind of sin-eating and intentional self-damnation. The death of Seker-Aamon seemed to have worked in quite the reverse, releasing his memories, spiritual essence, perhaps even his sins and passing them on to Blake and in all likelihood his fellow doppelgängers.

If this hypothesis were true, he further reasoned, Blake and his other selves were getting stronger and would continue to grow stronger with each doppelgänger's death. Also, from Blake's description of Seker-Aamon's death, two other things were clear. The first was that all the doppelgängers were intrinsically connected, whether they were aware of it or not and that in some manner, it should be possible to trigger that awareness allowing Blake to keep tabs on his other selves. Furthermore, the woman who was killing the doppelgängers understood what they were, perhaps how they came to be, but not every permutation of their supernatural nature as she had clearly believed she was going to consume Seker-Aamon's soul and be able thereafter to track all the doppelgängers. His final postulation was that the murderess was obviously a knowledgeable occultist, if not a skilled sorceress and that despite her obvious failure to diablerize the Setite doppelgänger, she could in all probability still find a way to track the transmigration of Seker-Aamon's soul to his other doppelgängers.

This presented three very important questions that couldn't be easily answered, but that must be researched in order to stop the killer before she destroyed all of the doppelgängers. The first question then was: "Who was the killer and why did she want to kill the doppelgängers in the first place?" To answer that question quickly and efficiently, Nystor was willing to undergo the ritual of abyssal communion called Whispers in the Dark in order to discover the who and why of these killings, but of course there would be a price that Blake would eventually have to pay.

The second question was: "How had the doppelgängers come into being in the first place?" To that end, Nystor urged Blake to travel to Cairo in order to find out more about Seker-Aamon and how exactly he had died. While Nystor admitted that it was possible that this move was exactly what the murderess wanted Blake to do, that might not change the necessity of this strategy, because the dead doppelgänger's story held useful information that couldn't be easily acquired elsewhere and despite the likelihood that this action was something the killer had originally wanted, she might not feel the same tonight as diablerizing the doppelgängers didn't seem to work to her benefit. In fact, this miscalculation by the woman who killed Seker-Aamon could have been a fatal error that Blake could use to his advantage, because each of the other doppelgängers, regardless of how many there were, would be drawn to Cairo for the very same reason as Blake himself, in the primal goal of survival at all costs.

Obviously, the last question was: "How to stop the killer before she figures out how to successfully diablerize the doppelgängers?" This last question would prove the most difficult, to Nystor's way of thinking, but his theory was that the answer would become obvious once the doppelgängers had gathered together to work towards mutual survival and the first two questions had been successfully answered. To hasten the process, Nystor cast a ritual of the Abyss called Into the Chasm to teleport Blake and his childe Ahmal ibn Rawaid directly to Cairo.

Blake and Ahmal walled hand-in-hand into the swirling vortex of supernatural darkness and emerged into the 'Abyss'. They stepped onto what appeared to be a bridge connected to numerous other bridges stretching into infinite night. Ahmal, deeply shaken by the experience tried to pull away from his sire, but as the pair of magisters materialized in the dark, Nystor's warning seemed to carry to them from afar: "Speak the name of the place you seek and do not turn loose of one another...". Blake refused to release Ahmal's hand and uttered his destination boldly into the light-less air: "The Khan al Khalili marketplace of Cairo, Egypt". The words were barely spoken when there was the intense sense of suddenly falling from a great height, the darkness split asunder as otherworldly shadows writhed in the faint illumination of a dark hallway of the great marketplace...

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