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. Side note, Rambert, Mortis, and Mordblund are all under Ye Blood Hunt from Alexander of Paris. I think I'll forget to mention that tidbit.

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.

Deus Vult this!?

So considering everything, it could be worse. I had my handsome face, my people weren't going to kick me out of my own damn tent for looking like a creepy Tremere, and I had my horse.

Son of a bitch my horse. Malik-Adham hadn't been properly exercised in heaven knows how long. Time to ride, and enjoy the open steppe, a falcon on the wrist, the wind in my hair, and a fleet horse. And that was my thought process right up until the stable boy ahemed and held out his hand. Apparently there's a side deal of sorts happening and I had to pay that account. Cripes. It's like I'm gonna spend my whole life paying off debts from one place or another. Note to self, check investments in Constantinople and Corinth. I dig, find enough coin on me to square up and go for a nice long ride. It was...epic. Right up until I saw a good bonfire or 5 outside Trier. I smelled something like bacon, and slowed down because this wasn't how history was supposed to go. Jews of Trier put to the sword? Check. Burned to ash on a pyre? Negative Ghostrider, the pattern is full. Something was amiss, so investigation was necessary. I walked among the camps and the soldiers were all drunk as lords on the good wine. I found one mostly sober (okay, he could still mostly walk) and talked to him about what the hell.

Every other sentence was Deus Vult. The way he was, it was wrong. And it utterly offended my sensibilities - and on top of all that, I was damned hungry and in short order I had a husk in front of me and the worst of the edge was taken off. I did bury him though. Through the rest of the nights' feeding it was the same thing, and I was browbeating myself the whole time. I mean, the peasant was starving; the Peoples' Crusade was a clusterfuck from the get-go because they had no logistical train, no real means of re-supply, no arms worth mentioning, and they were just straight-up god'll provide whatever we need. I was able to do some investigation and find out the next stop was Kirchberg. The Rhineland Massacres were part of that and also as a second goal, got a lot of the nobles out of debt because (originally) the ones that survived were converted to Catholicism and brought in line with regard to catholic practices in re debt/usury/"forgive the crusaders debts or you'll be killed and go to hell".

These guys were a little more brutal. That said, I didn't need to be the left hand of God for these people - it was just as much a crime for me to indiscriminately slaughter as it was for them to discriminately slaughter. And I really need to be careful cause I got no Pope to lay an indulgence. These were the drunken thoughts. Someone was changing history, and I needed to change it back. It was a long ride back, made a little less long by drunk-dialing Bolverk and letting him know what was up.

And as soon as I was settled in, a runner came in looking for me to go to the tent where the scout parties was being picked. Ohhhh I had no desire to be outdoors during the day, so to hell with me volunteering for that shit. With any luck, they'd skip me and my drunk ass could go rest and sleep this shit off. The wine was good, but I needed introspection.

Introspection would have to wait, as I drew a short straw for the press-gang. We were heading to Mainz - we being me, Ramirus, Aegon, and Landebert. I knew 'em, sorta. It's been a busy time for me and I was figuring out how we were gonna make Mainz by dawn or if we'd need to camp and I'd have to wake up and unbury myself yet a-frickin-gain. Meanwhile, also in the back of my head was making Kirchberg as soon as I could and alert the populace. Quite honestly, I shouldn't have worried, as we made damn good time. I'm preeeetttyy sure my horse was wreathed in flames at one point, but nobody mentioned it as we pulled up and were admitted to Kirchberg long enough to feed and water our horses. I asked (well, okay I demanded) the house of the local rabbi. There I gave him the news, which set him off in a wailing of Hebrew prayers for the dead - and that was an awkward awkward time. I gave the very large recommendation that he and his people leave or scatter to the hills as soon as they could, preferably as soon as dawn broke. And from there, to Mainz.

Mainz was awesome for a couple reasons. A, it still stood, and B, Bolverk had his army parked there. Again originally there was an army that was supposed to be besieging the city for 3 days starting tomorrow, and while there was an army across the river, they didn't look to be doing siege work. Score one for us. I found Bolverk, asked for some shelter for me and the boys, opened a channel and gave Bolverk the information. He was surprised we'd gotten as far as we did on horseback, but well...my horse got a Hemi. Plans were going to have to be formulated, but it was going to have to wait. I made sure my three were ready for tomorrow and pulled Ramirus aside and asked why he'd volunteered - he instantly spilled about Lambert and how Lambert had been given a scroll, and Sender had tasked him with watching to find out who the scroll was given to. After that, Ramirus admitted that he'd been in since Augsburg watching and covering Rambert and he finally stopped himself like he didn't know why he'd just spilled everything he just did. Note to self - drunk-auspexing can backfire.

The next night brought some fresh hell, as Ramirus indicated that Landbert was dead. Specifically, he was killed by the jews he'd given the scroll to. Obviously "Don't kill the messenger" is a new concept. Or the scroll said "PS. Kill the messenger." Which made it very important, as far as I could tell. I found out who he gave the scroll to, and explain to Bolverk what exactly was amiss. Also, called up Mortis, and found out she was at the steps of the Lasombra Homeworld. Oh. Damn. Hopefully she's got herself locked down, because that's gonna be fun times for her. Back to business, and the serious "here's the history I remember, here's what's not happening" - I'm not sure how far along Bolverk's gonna ride on this, but I have a serious immediate job. The Rhineland Massacres were a foundational block for the Holocaust. Someone's making them worse, which'll embolden people in 9 centuries to do more, faster. If we block 'em at the bris, we may be able to minimize the ripple effect, and get the Peoples' Crusade back to what it was; a disorganized grabasstic mess that meets its' end and folds in with the rest of the First Crusade. Possibly even better, we can keep a bunch of people alive and maybe keep the Jewish people alive. And hell, maybe I'll be honored as one of the Righteous Among Nations. Even better, I won't need to be.

But that sort of insanely optimistic thinking can wait, reality beckons. Bolverk has been invited to dine with Count Emicho, the leader of the army across the river and also guy who is really really into this crusade. I get to infiltrate their camp and gather loot and possibly make the siege harder, but to do this...I gotta be a woman. So, with one of Bolverks' valkyrie looking ladies, I'm now quite the hottie. The idea being I will be presented as a gift to the Count, discarded on account of "woman", and we get to go from there.

Heaven help me if we screw this up because my conscience will not forgive.

Painz in Mainz

To reiterate; I am officially a smokin' hot babe. However, I cannot fit well in the clothes. One tailor, later, that problem solved. And I'm not getting away with the mans' ponytail. Seriously, who invented this bullshit? And fighting? Mother of all things, I'm going to have to use one hand to keep my skirt at bay, even with the riding slit. However, I am able to pull off Russian nobility with a little work. Alas that I didn't go with the pseudonym Susan Ivanova. Maybe next time I have to play a Russian woman, I'll use it. Meanwhile, we had someone spying on us after Bolverk pulled his work off. Something to check out.

Riding was accomplished with a loaned Arabian of good lines and a fine manner, but a little skittish when I approached. It too some convincing and bribing, but it accepted me. And then Bolverk and I left with a few of his guards. One was shamelessly flirting with me, and I may have let my ladylike fingers play on my sword hilt while demurring in response. And really, the whole thing was an exercise in the looking glass. I mean, I know I'm the best looking person in 80% of all the rooms, but this was weird. Stares, sneak-a-looks, and I was a restrained noble lady. But there's going to be talk. Even with my bodyguards, I'm not sure they could say what color my eyes are if they had a month of Sundays to guess. It's creepy.

In any case, Mainz has a mist about it - and frankly, it looks like some sort of old blood magic at work as part of the river itself. Creepifying to be sure, but nothing too terrible to worry about. Going in to Mainz itself, we had some small problems getting in since it was night time, but we were on valid business, but damn this mist. And to the tavern we went. Brief interruption as there was something of murder and surprise-sex variety happening in an alley. I asked Bolverk to fix it if he could. Bolverk ordered the men to protect me, which was amusing and annoying at the same time. Seriously if something happens, one of these guys is gonna die before I can do anything. However, these boys took their job seriously. Whatever was in the alley was not worse that Bolverk, and Bolverk came out with clean clothes and a disheveled lady. We took her home, found out her brother had been killed, but the father of the house was pleased that the daughter was alive.

Finally, the Inn. Bad news, the count was not there, but he had designated someone to act in his stead. They passed a medallion to me to check and confirm as I was well schooled in Heraldry. I wasn't, but hey I knew me some Auspex, and was able to verify it was the counts'. I also found out a ton. The good count saw an angel. And...a lot. To the point where I know a great deal of his motivation, and I realllllly don't like it. A quick moment, and I found out he was riding hard to Cologne with 50 men. Because something told him he needed to be there. I was able to dump the info to Bolverk, and it's...bad. At the end of the day, he's seeing himself as an emperor and preparing the battlefield of Armageddon...for Armageddon. Because from what he believes, Christ won't return until the jews and saracens are all dead or converted. Which explains Trier. And his reward is going to be some high leadership and a first-ballot selection to the Hall of Fame. He's violent, but has no will or talent for deception. He's a good solid pawn, being moved by someone. Question is, who is that someone.

Crap. On the up side, sabotage could easily happen. And more things could be easily done by someone with a bent toward doing nefarious activities. As it so happens, I may be the woman for the job. But that'll have to wait, as what's happening is troublesome - something came out of the mist and slaughtered our horses as we'd completed negotiation; not good. So now we're going to need a cellar to wait out the day, and there's going to be some fast talking to get out of this mess. And, we need new horses.

Looking ahead, I could in theory disperse the army gathered, have it subsumed by Bolverks' banner and have it be legit. I could also send it ahead to a bad place, but that would get them killed - not a pleasant idea. However, the armies need to move, and soon; the land can't support an army sitting on its' ass for a multitude of reasons. One, simple logistics of food. Two, troops sitting on their ass are troops that get into trouble. And there's a city filled with trouble just over yonder.

Mainz, to-do lists, and Crusades

So Mainz got worse before it got better; old gods rose and were...well, not defeated, but survived. And the part that stuck was I did a lot to keep people alive. Life is precious, at the end of the night. And the old gods still have some kick to them, but at the same time, there's a price. The price is a lot of Mainz turned into pillars of salt. Kinda like Gomorrah, but epically worse. Not just lots' wife, but a good third of the town. We did also meet the prince, who whinged about us feeding without permission. A technical oversight - also, we were there for a night, and already in a grim place. But I do owe a small boon for his forbearance.

Having promptly gotten the hell out of Mainz and back to Bolverks' camp, it was time to take care of necessities. I was hungry, and had some handmaidens and an invitation to Frankfurt. Which was not the direction I was going, but peeking in on Count Amicio was giving me an idea that he wasn't rejoining his army any time soon. He was busy up north, riding horses into the ground and gathering not just coin but men. And they were calling him Fuhrer in a way that was frighteningly familiar.

They say history doesn't repeat itself, but it on occasion does rhyme. The question is, which verse came first. I suppose the answer to that depends on if you can travel through time. And it was quickly apparent on my ride to Frankfurt that there were more. The logistics were there, and this was something that took a long time to do.

Frankfurt was enlightening. The prince...I told her most of what happened; I skipped the time travel portion of the show but in exchange for some stunningly valuable information she offered me two things; one a possible way out of the pageant, and the other a guide to Golconda. I'd heard of it, but - on the one hand, it's a fairy tale. All the stories about it are of the "My best friend's sister's boyfriend's brother's girlfriend heard from this guy who knows this kid who's going with the girl who saw Ferris pass out at 31 Flavors last night before he achieved Golconda". Also, she's interested that I know as much about Count Amicio as I do. I promised her to feed her information, but...Golconda. Really? First things first though, what I did met with her approval; enough that she took an interest in me.

The real problems are many - starting with the fact that it's looking more and more like OG Nazis have slipped through the crack we made in time, and not only are they coming back to fix World War 2, they're going to make it unnecessary. Starting with the Final Solution. I'm going to have to call some people.

Assets - more than I think. 5 men from Bolverks' army, a whore who I've turned into my lady in waiting; I have plans for her. And I'm going to need someone from Wifilisburg‎. There's a few nearby.

The Thief of Golgotha's gonna steal some shit.

Why can't the plan ever go smooth?

So - the idea was to get to outside Wifilisburg‎, do some recon, find the plans they've got, and then either memorize and torch or steal. I summoned people from the Pageant with ties to the town, which was just a mess from the get-go. Frater Eadweard and Sunniva have a serious hate-on for each other; but Æthelred was pretty chill as long as I mentioned Godiva's pining heart. I mean, I suppose it's a little fib. But on the other hand, it's quite possible she actually does miss the hammer swinging smith. From there I went through and grabbed Anzo the Giant along with Avila the Chesty, and got the revert to guy done. It sucks, but if a plan's not going to work, it was time to abandon it - the prince of Frankfurts' mention that she hadn't gotten anyone close makes me think Count Amico has some defenses there.

That done, we got gone, and started working our way north. On the way, I gave my sister Eletria a headsup about the poor army of christ. I got a pat on my head for my trouble; on the one hand I can see her point, on the other hand...dammit. She did however indicate that I should come visit Paris in the near future, so that we can settle out the nasty business between myself and the Beatrix/Salianna pair. we'll put a pin in that, and come back to it as quickly as I can. Maybe this decade. She did also gently chide me for my current adventurous state, hinting it wasn't how vampires lived a long life. I know. Oh sister, do I know. But I'd done the math, and I knew where I needed to be. Note that I don't want to be there, but I'm going anyway.

At the same time, going north presented its' own challenges, chief of which being that not a goddamn one of these people can ride in the dark. Chased 'em down, got 'em together, and they promptly lost their minds and screwed it up a second time.

Oi vey.

That kinda set the tone for the whole trip. Of note, we were being followed by a black dragon. Astrally visible, but nobody else seemed to have a problem with it. Sunniva and Eadward were fighting so much part of me was begging them to just get a room and fuck already, but that's sorta what started the mess in the first place. I arranged the horses so they'd be far apart, switching them every night while I found an inn that would take the old italian silver in my pocket. At the same time, my horse, I forgot is occasionally an omnivore, so...yeah. The stableboy didn't need his head, but shit. That was messy to clean up. At the same time, hauling ass through the werewolf-filled forest at night was not fun. At all. I sent Sunniva off to harass and hopefully keep them away or see if they were just the local Welcome Wagon, and that ended when she came back looking like she got the worst of a bad fight. I saw a place, we put our backs to it and even better it had a place where we could stash the horses. On the up side, I could see well enough by the moon that I knew exactly what we were up against. On the down side, we were outnumbered 6 to 1. By werewolves. Who didn't like me a bit. I loaded everything up, and started hoping I didn't have to drink werewolves. It ain't healthy.

I didn't exactly have time to take notes, but I burned through a fair amount of blood with everything that happened, and there was a rescue of sorts by the black dragon - the werewolves chased after it with an intensity I was impressed with. I might have applauded but I was busy trying to keep myself mostly alive. My armor was shot and I had a neat little scar bisecting my abs. I consoled myself with the fact that medieval chicks dig scars. Anzo was alive but his arm was shot to hell; I could fix that. Eadward was brutalized, and Æthelred had a ding. And everywhere that dragon had been was dead and not coming back any time soon. Note - tell Godiva about that. By collective assent we camped for the night. I gave Anzo some fine Turkish medicine (read: blood) and he felt well enough to go play Shag Dat Ho with Avila. And Avila...is a screamer. I found a place to be and...well, there was one still alive that I couldn't bring myself to kill. Fighting is one thing, helpless and on the ground another. I found another that was charred from some fire from someone (I couldn't exactly take notes as to who did what, sue me. I'll hire a bard for my next trip) and it was still alive. I...well, I didn't know he was alive until I bit into him. Yes, I completely ignored what I told myself earlier and topped off with some werewolf blood.

Whoooo, werewolves is good eatin.

The rest of the night was...fuzzy. Ahem. Yes, I do believe I did happy-Calvin-mud-puddle-stomping through a few, and just ran, and howled, and generally did uncivilized things before holing up for the day. And I made my way back to discover that the crew had left without me, but I had my horse. We caught up, and I dunked into a trough before finding a place for some clean clothes and hit the inn where they were. Anzo looked off still, so more medication was in order. And then we made preparation to head Wifilisburg‎-ward for recon. One barrel, empty for me. Several barrels of wine, and a cart. With that done, we went forth. Because Cassel, quite frankly, freaks me the hell out. They straight up took their entire jewish populace, beat them until they couldn't move, and then laid timbers around them and lit a fire. Then they kicked out all the hookers and killed the madams and pimps. That's new and frightening, and it makes me want to just carpetbomb something. (Side note, I could be in Paris in 4 days.)

But that can wait. First, find the plan. We stopped about a day out where Anzo (who became suspicious of Turkish-blended medication) put me through some testing; apparently reading the bible was a thing. Revelations was amusing, as was Exodus. He was satisfied, and had a third shot.

That's one. Now for the other...might take some time. Because there's priorities. One was filling in everyone on their part in the plan. The wagon was going to break down during the day, the natives were going to head back into town, and reporting back would complete the circle. Anzo was listening outside with what appeared to be a newfound case of Auspex. He cautioned me against shagging Sunniva. Apparently his Auspex needs work.

It ws a brilliant plan, but I forgot I had two psychotic little furballs on the team who really wanted one person in town dead. I reached out, found their target, and was a little subtle and told her to seek the protection of the lord. She even thought it was her own idea, so she scooted out of the whorehouse she was working at (side note - how come the base has whorehouses, but everywell else it looks like it's forbidden?) and headed to church. A church I remembered. Oh...fun.

I was able to outrun them, and I definitely had a leg up as far as the "where the target was" question, but at the same time...not a good place for the undead to be. I went into Wafilisburg, every third step reminding myself that I could totally bail on this and do the thing where I show up in Paris to take my place there. But we are defined by our choices, and this was a choice. I wanted to be here, against all logic, to save a life. And, if I could save one life, perhaps at the same time saving thousands was not out of reach.

I went into the church and instantly hated it. The woman I was looking for was up front, along with a few others. The place was beating me down with its' residual faith - yes, I know I am well into the land of not redeemable, but at the same time did the reminders have to be so harsh? Two other frightening things stood out. One, Jesus was now depicted as Aryan perfection instead of a more traditional look, and there were 15 Apostles if the niches were anything to go by. Who were the three spares; don't know but I'm going to find out. But as I sat next to her, we exchanged momentary pleasantries and I was trying to organize my thoughts on redemption under the mentally crushing weight of all the horrific things I'd done in the past several centuries, Anzo mentioned there were 4 women in front of the church briefly...the other four that Sunniva had killed. So now, get Proto-Nazi plans, save this girl, keep Eadward and Sunniva at bay, and potentially sort out the 4 wraiths in town.

Did I buy problems in bulk and not realize it?