Blood-soaked Destinies (A Vampire the Masquerade Quest)

The sound of rain tip-tapping against glass is the first noise that greets you when you wake from your daily torpor. The sun must have set some time ago and with it the unnatural death-like state your body was in gives way to let you walk among the living once more.

You stir from your cot in the little apartment behind your office and get ready to begin another night. The tiny storage room you had designated as your bedroom wasn't much to look at. Cleaning supplies, an ironing board, dirty clothes and a few boxes with old keepsakes and clues from previous cases are haphazardly stacked against one wall to make room for your improvised bed and don't grant much in the way of ambience.

The little light on the ceiling hadn't worked for a few months now. Not that you needed it, your enhanced senses granting you the ability to see even in this near total darkness, the almost imperceptible light from under the door to your workspace being the only source of illumination.There weren't any windows, which was why you had chosen to sleep in here in the first place. You had a singular near-death experience with sunlight after your embrace and you would rather avoid giving the celestial body a second chance at turning you to ash.

With that sobering thought of your own semi-mortality, you stand up and walk into what equates to your living room, the only semi respectable part of your home. Granted, your home wasn't even close to what some of the other, older vampires in the city could boast with, but it was enough and more importantly, it was yours.

The living room is almost completely taken up by an old desk and a wooden bookshelf, with a collection of seemingly random reading materials and nick-nags, as well as a potted plant that looked to be at the end of its rope. The desk was currently covered with a variety of papers, hastily scribbled notes and a book titled "A Reevaluation of Darwin's Theories, part 2".

You had searched quite a while for that book after you had found the first volume in a local antique shop. There weren't many readily available books that could enhance your understanding of the supernatural and the inhabitants of the night, but if you know what to look for and are persistent enough, it is possible to find tidbits of written information. "A reevaluation of Darwin's theories" was such a book.

On the surface it was simply a badly written piece of academic literature by a petty and jealous biologist doing anything in his power to discredit a more successful man's studies. It was a work that would be ignored by any self-respecting scholar of the modern time and that was the point.

When you had pursued its pages in the shop you had found it in you had almost dismissed it, but a certain familiarity to vampiric concepts in the presented arguments and experiments gave you pause and after further investigation you had found patterns that seemed to repeat themselves too often to be coincidence.

After you bought the book and spend some time trying to find a cypher to decode the hidden meaning, it became clear that it was a book on vampiric evolution, specifically a journal of a series of experiments to determine if different environments or specific stressful or dangerous situations have any impact on the time required for a vampire to learn its inherent disciplines.

Some comments made in the decoded text make you question the ethical implications of the experiments conducted, but it would seem that they indeed produced visible results. Unfortunately, when you came to the end of the book you had realized that the journal was split up into multiple volumes and further research into the author as well as the institutions and places named in the book revealed them to be an elaborate set of lies and the publisher was nowhere to be found.

It took you months to find a bookshop that recognized the title and another three weeks to find one that could get you the second volume, but in the end you acquired part 2 of what you presume to be a 3 part series. You had begun the deciphering process a few days ago and you were eager to continue.

Shaking yourself from you reminiscing you tear your eyes away from your desk and to the sounds outside. Parting the heavy black curtains you confirm what you heard earlier as raindrops gently impact your small window. The large puddles in the alleyway behind your apartment told you that it had likely not started recently either.You shift your gaze once more and make your way to the bathroom.

Even smaller than your "bedroom" and seldom used as your bodily functions are no longer involuntary, the dirty white tiles and broken mirror make for a sorry sight. The cracked pieces of your reflection stare back at you. Long, lightly curled hair of the darkest shade of brown frames a pale face forever frozen near the cusp of its thirtieth year of life. Your eyes had always been your most captivating features, a light gray akin to the color of the sky on a rainy Sunday morning. You weren't quite sure how, but their shape coupled with the intensity of your gaze had always given you an air of authority, even when you had no right to it. The small crevices beneath them, formed from too many sleepless nights had only added to the effect.

The rest of your face was surprisingly ordinary, attractive by the standards of society, but not overly so, and neither overly round nor especially sharp. A quick splash of water to clean your face, more out of habit than anything else, before applying only the most rudimentary of makeup and you return to your studies. You light a few candles, sit down in your favorite (and only) armchair and listen to the relaxing sound of the rain as you continue your work on the book before you.

You are not even half an hour into decoding as you hear a tapping on the window. A quick look reveals the outline of a bird on your windowsill. You knew that vampires often used animals as messengers, but none of your previous clients had chosen to contact you in this way and not many other vampires knew where you lived. With a furrowed brow you reassure yourself that your Colt 1911 was still in the desk drawer where you left it. Grabbing the gun with your main hand, you make your way to the window to the impatient, irregular tapping of the bird's beak against the glass. A quick glance outside with Auspex and a careful 10 seconds of supernaturally boosted hearing didn't reveal anyone nearby and after careful consideration you let the irritated corvid into your apartment. Your quick check showed the very much avian aura of the bird, although tainted with a few pale blotches. A ghoul, a mortal creature fed a bit of vampire blood to make it subservient.

You expected as much, but you knew of vampires that could turn into animals themselves and one can never be too careful. The drenched and angry corvid cawed at you, bringing you back to the situation at hand. It fumbles for a few seconds with a harness it seems to be wearing, before throwing a small rolled up letter at you, somehow making its displeasure of being left in the rain clear the whole way through.

It gives you one last disapproving look, before turning around and flying back into the rainy night. You stare after it for a few seconds before curiosity gets the better of you, the window is closed and the letter is opened. A short text, written in immaculate red ink handwriting greets you:

Dear old friend,
Know that I have not forgotten our talks during those moonlit nights. Quite the opposite is in fact the case. Despite what one would assume it has become increasingly difficult to find conversation partners in the fields of Cainite nature who are willing to share their discoveries and I have begun to tire of the ever same religious philosophy that my compatriots are so fond of. Lewis, I have told you about him, is especially fervent recently, much to my dismay. But let me bore you no more about my intellectual plights. I write you this letter as I believe that the current circumstances in Philadelphia would allow for me to visit and because etiquette demands I send notice of my incoming arrival to your personage with ample time to spare. I await our meeting with great anticipation and hope that your thirst for knowledge and drive for discovery has not waned over the years.
See you soon,
W.

The contents of the letter bring back memories of porcelain skin and pure vermillion eyes, of words exchanged freely with something whose nature was unknown to you back then. She.. it?.. She was polite, knowledgeable and seemingly enjoyed your long, half-mad theories about what vampires truly were. All false, you know that now and you are certain they knew all along, but it was nice to talk to somebody that did not care about your clan's reputation when listening to your overeager thoughts.

A long time has passed since that night however, and you are aware now more than ever that even a single wrong word could have cost you your existence and the only reason she did not end you, or worse, is because your passions amused her. The thought of meeting her again was in equal parts thrilling and frightening.

After a while of rereading the letter, you decide that this is a problem for another time and push the matter from your mind. But once again, after only minimal progress is made on your translation, a noise interrupts your work. This time it is the sound of knuckles on wood as somebody is knocking on your door. Too early to be the guest announced by the letter, which means that this was probably your next job opportunity. This was shaping up to be an eventful night.

Extricating yourself from your comfortable position, you move through your office, a room just slightly smaller than your living room with an equally smaller, but nicer desk which you use to talk to your clients. There wasn't much else in the room, except for a bunch of half closed window blinds.

The knocking gets more impatient. "Calm down, I'll be right there." you shout as you prepare to meet your new guest, or perhaps guests, plural, as you can see multiple shadows through the milky glass window in the door.That could turn out problematic. Although there have been instances before where clients brought bodyguards, servants, or more rarely, friends, it wasn't exactly common. After a moment you decide that if these were truly Camarilla goons trying to get rid of you once and for all, they wouldn't bother knocking, so you open the door.

What greets you on the other side is a well dressed trio of middle-aged men. Both parties spend a moment seizing the other up, before you begin to speak: "Can I help you?"

The man at the front takes off his flat cap, gives the name stamped on your office door another long look and responds in a rather thick irish accent: "Are ye the PI?"

You give the stamp on the door a glance as well "it does say Private Detective Agency Alicia Liddell on the door."

Receiving only an annoyed stare in response to your joke you continue "Please, come in. Make yourself comfortable" You gesture for them to follow you and sit behind your desk, lighting your first cigarette of the evening.

The man that had spoken takes the seat opposite of you, while the other two look around awkwardly at the absence of further seating and after a short moment decide to lean against the walls in a vaguely menacing manner. A subtle use of auspex reveals to you that they are all human. Purely human this time, no pale blotches like the vampiric messenger earlier.

Once the man in front of you finished inspecting your admittedly barren office, he turns to you and speaks: "We may hav' work for ya, if ya know how to keep shut." Almost on cue the other men in the room subtly reveal the gun holsters tucked into their jackets

"I wouldn't be in this business if i couldn't" you answer with a certain amount of boredom in your voice, this spiel got old really fast and you had seen it too many times already.

The Irishman nods, seemingly satisfied with your reaction. "Ya came recommended, believe it ar' not." He motions for one of the other men, who moves from his position on the wall and places a stack of money in front of you. "One of our own has been murdered and a' would prefer if the cops don't get involved, it's a private business, ya understand." There was no doubt in your mind that you were in the process of being hired by the Irish gangs, and you coming recommended made it very likely that there was at least some vampiric influence at play, although not enough for a personal visit.

"Most people who come here do so because they value discretion" You say while counting the money. Enough to get you through the next two months.

"Half now, half after. This needs ta be solved quickly. End of the week would be best, can ya do 'dat?" At your nod he seems to relax a little bit, before placing a piece of paper on you desk. "Grand. This is where it happened. Someone will be waitin' for ya there til' the end of the night to fill ya in on de details."

With that said the man lifts himself from the uncomfortable seating on the other side of your desk and moves towards the exit. "And don't 'cha think about runnin with the money, lass. We would find ya'" You do not answer the man as he and his lackeys leave your office and slam the door with a lot more force than would have been necessary.

The amount of not so subtle displays of power in that short exchange could put some of the more brutish vampires in the city to shame. Considering who these people are probably vaguely connected to, that does't really surprise you either. Riley McLoughlin, the vampire behind the irish gangs in Philadelphia and the Primogen of Clan Gangrel, is a person you only had preliminary contact with in the past, although his wide ranging connections in the city's underworld coupled with his rather more hands on style of leadership make it easy to notice when he is involved.

You turn the piece of paper in one hand and the stack of bills in the other. The address on the former is not too far from your office and with one last longing thought about your translation project you decide to visit the crime scene before any potential leads grow cold. You slip into your favorite trench coat, an old gray piece of clothing that has served you well for many years, grab an umbrella and head down to the nightly streets of Philadelphia.

The cold and humid air of autumn greets you once you step outside and a quick walk brings you to a part of the city respectable enough for a taxi to be present. A quick gesture to the driver later and you find yourself in the back of the small car.

"Where to, Miss?" The driver, an older gentleman with salt and pepper hair, asked in a refreshingly polite manner. You gave him an address close to the one on the piece of paper and he gladly obliged. Without thinking, your second cigarette for the night had found its way into your hands and a burned match later saw it drawing its trails of smoke through the taxis limited cabin space.

As always the inherent fear of fire in the hearts of all vampires flashed through your being in an almost exciting way, before calming as quickly as it came. There was no small talk with the driver, your heavy gaze making it clear that none was wished for. Instead you watched the bright haze of the neon colored lights drifting by and for the moment that was all there was.

It took you a few seconds to realize what they spelled "YOU are being summoned Alice, dont be late" A message only visible to your eyes. The fretful imp that calls herself the leader of your clan in the city wishes to speak with you. As it just so happens, she is also Riley McLoughlin's main rival when it comes to the criminal ongoings in town.

Doubt hangs heavily on your mind at the thought that this could be a coincidence. A quick glance at the landmarks around gives you the impression that you are about halfway to your destination as plans race through your mind. On one hand the men earlier had made it sound like the murder had been recent and any delay might erase important clues or give chance for other, more dire complications. Or perhaps a few hours would not change anything at all. On the other hand, ignoring the summons of the little devil could have disastrous consequences, although technically speaking you were independent and she held no official sway over you, her summoning more of a demand than an order. With that your attention turns to the driver.



What will you choose:

[X] Tell him to turn around and meet with the Malkavian Primogen. (Unless things happen or you later choose not to, you can investigate the crime scene later, although you might miss clues or events at the crime scene)

[X] Stay Silent and continue with your plan to investigate the crime scene for now. (Unless things happen or you choose not to, you can follow this summon later. This action may anger the Malkavian Primogen)