Stories about the city in the song

Mercuzio Tiberus

It's not Istanbul. It's Constantinople

So the good news is that there's a place for us once we land. In the appropriately named Helenianae, my...apparently my niece Athanasia has a few places. One thing that was odd was the city gates are like a bank vault. It was odd and a bit painful, as my ears were waiting for the invention of WD40. A lot. Fortunately, it was early enough that I could go spend a few coins on some silk for the ladies and then maybe later we'll have something for a dress. Either way, Helena is continuing her confusing ways; on the one hand she's being a little protective of me. On thew other hand, it feels like she's kicking me to the curb and I really haven't needed or really wanted to have someones' approval, or desire, for a long time. So this is awkward and confusing on several levels. Athanasia is certainly sympathetic, but at the same time there's not much anyone can do - it's not easy for me to sack up against Helena, so it's almost like...waiting for her to leave. Or I could have a mild fit. But at some point I have to be more. Whether that's through a spectacular act of independence, or a spectacular act of obeisance is entirely unknown.

Speaking of mild fits, Petronius the Arbiter and I had a meeting of the minds. Well, it was more along the lines of "where's your sire" and "no stealing". I had to tapdance a little because I didn't really want to get Helena in a crack, but eventually Petronius grumped at me and I was a good little lad. And I did confirm that the theif of Golgotha would confine his theiving to Golgotha. Of course, I did also confirm I was staying for at least a bit. I do need to check on Corinth eventually, but first, bringing the people here to a nice little palazzo. This place...I could like it, but at the same time the house rules of Constantinople are odd. If you're family, you're rocking and rolling. If you're not, you are forfeit. As an example, I went house hunting and three...people were squatting in a place. They came at me and...well, they regretted their choice. Rapidly. The weird thing is that Helena was watching over me, somewhat. Which is pleasing and bothersome at the same time. However, I think she may be overwatching more, and there was a lengthy discussion while I was hunting the last interloper who was questioning life choices. On the one hand, if an enemy knows that something is a possibility, does that knowledge make them not attack or do they account for it and attack anyway? All of this was debated whilst I was...almost compelled to hunt down and kill all three, who were apparently serving some outsider in order to do...something. Of course they did discuss being avenged, but they're dead and I'm...I didn't need to kill them all. But sometimes Helena puts some kick into her voice and she gets what she wants. Some night I am going to ask her what she's training or guiding me toward.

And now for something completely different. My place is nice, near the docks, and getting redecorated; and more to the point - I'm becoming adopted, as it were. And then there are the dreams. Again, a side effect of being me is that I might be getting railed into an investigation. Essentially someone is actively working against the Dream of Constantinople. Of course, ask 3 people what the dream is, you're gonna get 5 answers minimum. Apparently I got drafted to find out who it is. So...now I'm spending time bending my skills with Auspex and I'm finding things out about people, but while there's a few slack jawed window lickers...nobody in the clan is actively working against it. Yet. So now to socialize with the others and get an answer and then...well...tell whoever needs to be told. But that said, while my clanmates are certainly not traitors, a few of them are...slackers. That said, my housewarming was a mild success; gifts were given, gifts were received, and some slaves came in and got to work. Thankfully I haven't been asked to sing.

Overall however, I'm working out my place in this, and really there's not much else I have happening except for making the place a nice place for when the rest of the crew gets here.

Pageant. Right.

So with more ships, comes time to gamble. And gamble big. So we loaded up all the ships in the fleet and engaged in what some would call piracy. Yep. I mean the target's worth it though; a years tribute from Egypt to Byzantium. Guarded by triremes, and...well, it was a prize. And damned if there's a lot of gold and fungible gems in the hold. Life is good...sort of. My soul seems to be getting...damaged. I'm not sure this time is built for this morality; maybe this is something else I need to talk to and have a long discussion about. It was easier back in the day, but at the same time I need to make efforts myself, one way or the other. I want so badly to be a good and moral person, and yet a lot of the time when it's critical...I come up short. And that's gonna be a problem.

But I digress. The sanctity of my soul must share space with current events - having secured the prize and, well, let's not kid ourselves tortured the shit out of some people and ensuring no witnesses, the next bit was getting everything offloaded and prepared for reshipping to my place where we can mint coins, jewelry, and bars to do business with. Damn. But while we're doing all that, the prize ship ran aground. Shit. And then it got iffy - we were doing a few things to transfer and I took a crew to check out a little camp.

It was not a little camp, it was the Pageant. Fuck. On the one hand, good stuff. On the other hand, shit oh fucking dear...it has been a year, and they're claiming me. It's not bad...in some ways. I mean...the days meld, really - Rambert's back and the Pageant has grown. It feels weird. I need to get out, but the pageant is resisting any attempts to get out - like some of my abilities don't work. On the one hand, the pageant is going in the same direction I am for now. On the other hand...will I care if the pageant goes its' own way?

But Astarte is smiling a bit and...well, she's not Helena, but she's got a look. The weirdest thing is that Rambert just shrugs and pines for some Asian hoochie. Seriously, I'm a fan of the Yung Hot Chik as much as any, but the brother is obsessed and it makes me wonder. But I digress, and find myself bemused that beautiful women appear to be a weakness of sorts. Oh woe is me.

The bad news is the Pageant gathered Artemecia back up and we appear to be rolling into the Crusades facefirst. Good and bad.

Paris is awesome, why?

So, after we hit Paris, straight up chaos has ensued. Get to town, had a great time meeting everyone, and that's where the fun stopped. The princes' consort was murdered. Brutally. And I got the blame. Except, well, I didn't kill her. Shortage of perfect breasts and all that. So there I was manacled and being browbeaten by the prince. Seriously, you can't tell the prince he's being an ass in front of everyone especially when he didn't just straight execute you.

Shenanigans and everyone got together to discover that there's a heretofore unknown bloodline playing Calvinball with the rest of the vampires of Paris. Good news, there's not a lot of them. Bad news, they're old and powerful. Worse news, they apparently have 0 fucks to give about anything except chaos. They've wrecked Bolverks' encampment, and just straight up been chaotic as heck. On the up side, they're self-destructive and paranoid and won't cause grief unless there's Paris involved.

Bad times ensued, but eventually things started to break my way. We were able to present evidence that I hadn't done it, but unfortunately I wasn't able to fake it up to look like the Prince had done it or ordered it. That earned me a black mark with the clan in Paris. On the up side, when I come back from the Crusades, I'll have a title and land. Bonus to me, and it seriously usurps the current power Toreador block. They were not amused.

However, they did want to give me some olive branch and so I accepted an invitation to dinner from Beatrix - one of the ones who was miffed. On the way, I liberated a few wagons of food for the poor and for Bolverks' army. I taught the Toreador how to play a few card games, won a ton of coin, and negotiated up what I thought was a decent deal. Seriously, the prince won't listen to them for shit for at least a decade without someone to speak for them. (The algebra here is that the toreador want Paris something fierce, and if they could take it they would. They can't, ergo the prince is badass. In order to take Paris, they need help. Their help got killed and the Setites are not reliable allies. Enter, moi.)

Unfortunately, Beatrix was apparently more interested in punishing me for being a bad neonate and put me in a box for awhile. It was a very nice box from what I saw. However, I didn't see much and Beatrix can freaking kill people with her mind. I have got to learn that. I woke up to everyone in various stages of relieved and unhappy; relieved because I wasn't going to be out for awhile, unhappy because I reflexively went "help!" to the coterie and they all kinda felt beatrix mentally assault me into torpor. The weirdest thing about this is that Mortis has a new wooby; the unconscious form of beatrix. I really don't even want to know how that happened. And to be honest, that's maybe only the 3rd weirdest thing she's done since we got here.

Anyway, with this mess done, we're on the move. Next stop is Well...European tour and then to the holy land. Good times will abound, and I have a chance at working on myself and my disciplines. If I give a city to anyone, it's gonna be me, and I'll be darned if I'm not gonna keep it.

Torpor, Rental Bodies, and offer sheets

They say in torpor, your brain shuts down - your body's healing, and as a defense mechanism, your brain devotes everything to healing, basically setting an alarm for when you're all better and then going offline. But what if your brain is the part that's damaged? (Make the joke. I'll wait. Better? Good.) Now then, this period was different from others I've experienced, in that I was and wasn't on the astral plane. I could see things, and even interact with those who had sufficient Auspex. But no cord connecting me. Some lines of communication were established with me and Bolverk directly, and possibly indirectly with myself and Lady Mortis through an intermediary. Events transpired and we had to go observe the pageant. Well, he observed, and got whipsawed back to the pageant. And into a body.

No matter how many times you wake up buried in dirt, it sucks. Tremendously. There's disorientation, realization, and then once you know which way is up, you go thataway. And so I popped out of the dirt wearing Master Mordblund. I really did not like the pageants' choice in spares here but there is a rule in re beggars and choosers. On the up side, Mordblund has a very lithe body. On the down sides, through a little testing I found he was way, way below par on a few things. His celerity is lacking, and he never met a leg day he couldn't skip. He dost not hoist in the least, methinks. Side question; what kind of effect does all this body-changing have on my soul? Seriously, I change bodies more often than most change their underwear. Side note two, I'm pretty sure deodorant was invented by a Toreador who'd finally had enough of everyone smelling rank as fuck after a couple millennia of having hygiene ignored.

However, with all that I still kept my mental disciplines, and so it was that I sent out a general "Back in Black" call, and there was general acclaim. There was also a request to cut the link if that happened again, on account of I gave everyone a cheep beer hangover. Next thing I did was check Mordblunds pockets for loose change and take stock of what was to hand. I didn't like what I found in the least. The word Nephandi kept crawling up and through my brain, and as I kept rifling through jars, bottles and reading through more than a few of them it seemed he had a system for things that was indecipherable. Of course when you're an insane wizard who makes deal with demons (are there sane wizards who make deals with demons? Asking for a friend) you develop your own way of looking at the world.

Of note was that in inheriting Mordblunds' body, I'd also caught a few of his deals, and the pageant was looking at me to do his gig. Fuckery was afoot, but I faked it far better then he actually did it apparently - enough that there were offers sidled at me from Mauritanus (MC of the Odeum) hinting that Mordblund had changed, the changes were well received, and it might not be the worst thing in the world for Mordblund to take a permanent vacation from his body. Couple things amiss there, one Mordblunds' gonna want his body back, and two, I don't want this body. His tent is a rampant psychosis fever dream, and sleeping there lasted two days after which I went back to my tent and told my servants to back the hell off. That said, I had a few plans to give Mordblund my pageant debt and walk away free. There were intense discussions with Bolverk in regard to this, and a plan was eventually hammered out in the broadest of details - Mordblunds soul appeared to be in a horn of sorts, and using the pageants' pageantry, we could probably communicate with it and cut a deal.

Meanwhile, Lady Mortis had gotten into a pickle or two courtesy of the local Setites and things were going south at Norte Dame. Action was required, so me and Rambert took a walk, opened a bottle and traveled, rapidly. Medieval Learjets are kinda nice, and we landed right in front of Notre Dame on a column of smoke.

That is how you make an entrance, people. Also, there was a little Calvin giggle in the back of my head, as I'd utterly wrecked Mordblunds' good name in Paris for at least a century. Possibly even a slight setback for the Tremere in general, but that's another thought. Winding through Notre Dame was easier than expected, as Lady Mortis had altered the energies of the building...somehow. Still, easy to motor through and get things done. I had a few demons bottled up with me, and hopefully we could recover the everything quickly.

We did, and it was of interest. Tests were set, tests were passed, and we ritualused interruptussed the shit out of the Setites. Bolverk did the Bolverk thing, whereas I was hamstrung a bit by the fact that Mordblund hadn't heard of cardio - it took a lot to get the sword going, but I did sort of pop a demon of fire loose - and gave it friend and foe instructions, in that foes were to be made ash. Friends were not. It set loose, and the temple got a good cleaning, of sorts. Escape happened, and, well, Mortis mighta kinda sorta wrecked some shit. Let's not lie, the only one getting away clean on this is Bolverk, because he don't do dramatic entrance. Also, there might have been one setite who got clear, buuuuut the real goal of getting Mortis out of there was accomplished. The aftershocks were bad, as I really took stock of what I'd done. Let's not kid ourselves, death by fire is a horrific means of exiting to the afterlife, and I'd just whipped through 30 of them. Hopefully the afterlife is kinder than I am. My soul...needs tending. Maybe a crusade isn't so bad.

Then came the real problem of getting the hell back to the Pageant or a safe place. Not enough time, but I was able to find shelter and a horse (well, I left 8 silver and took a draft horse and bridle), and then kicked it back to Bolverks' place where we'd made arrangements to have all of us get to Hamburg where my real body was waiting. Hamburg was a godless maze. the prince is majorly lost in his own world, but he saw me, and my soul, and gave me advice that a tree and a box would be waiting, and I would have to choose someday. The hell he says. But, we went to the church for the swap, and there I was, handsome as ever, lying on a bed of roses and bedecked in gold jewelry in front of the altar as the locals were saying a Mass for my soul. I probably paid for it. Say what you will about the Parisian Toreador, but they have the most elegant ways to say fuck you.

The mass ended, as I was contemplating a way to reply fuck you and everyone that looks like you, and the main doors closed. That wasn't anywhere in the script, and I contemplated that now that the exchange was complete, the Parisian Toreador could again be free and clear to visit misery on me. Nope. Pageant. Fuck. One of the Shanty of fools was able to rush up and block my way out - and he told me the most hilarious joke ever told. And I was laughing all the way back to the pageant. Fuck me again.

And I woke up in the Shanty of Fools. Fuck me thrice. Annnd I met with Nabil, who asked me how I like my new body and made me an offer I couldn't really refuse. Back to my original 1094 model badass body, or keep the Mordblund AMC Pacer I was currently tooling around in. Man, fuck these guys for running the same game I was gonna run on Mordblund. There were negotiations, but I owe Nabil a bit of information upon request. No refusal, no fibbing. I did also find out the price for walking away from the pageant with all my shit. Liiiittttle high. And then he made me an offer. Seriously, that's an offer from Astarte, Mauritanus, and now Nabil. What the hell kind of power moves are happening now, and more to the point, are they even happening or is this everyone wanting their own pet Toreador who knows his shit? Also of note, some of the events of the crusades are playing out - but they're not playing out as I learned them in school. Any school. This is not a good sign.

Upshot at this point, I took my body, left the cannoli, and now I'm in deep to the pageant. I'm wondering if I can get a better deal from someone else, or if there's an opt-out another way.