Upon return to our abode I gather the pack, minus Sawney. He is still a lesser creature and has not the ability to perceive our motives and understandings. We are his gods, he should treat us as such, our whim is not to be questioned.

"I am pleased as is our father, it is written

I dream of the first times, the longest memory
I speak of the first times, the oldest Father
I sing of the first times and the dawn of Darkness
In Nod, where the light of Paradise lit up the night sky and the tears of our parents wet the ground
Each of us, in out way, set about to live and take our sustenance from the land.
And I first-born Caine, I, with sharp things, planted the dark seeds wet them in earth tended them, watched them grow
And Abel second-born Abel tended the animals aided their bloody births fed them, watched them grow
I loved him, my Brother
He was the brightest
The sweetest.
The strongest.
He was the first part of all my joy.
Then one day our Father said to us.
Caine, Abel to Him Above you must make a sacrifice a gift of the first part of all that you have
And I, first-born Caine, I gathered the tender shoots the brightest fruits the sweetest grass
And Abel, second-born, Abel slaughtered the youngest, the strongest, the sweetest of his animals
On the altar of our Father we laid our sacrifices and lit fire under them and watched the smoke carry them up to the One Above
The sacrifice of Abel, second-born, smelled sweet to the One Above and Abel was blessed.
And, I, first-born Caine, I was struck from beyond by a harsh word and a curse, for my sacrifice was unworthy.
I looked at Abel’s sacrifice, still smoking the flesh, the blood.
I cried, I held my eyes
I prayed in night and day
And when Father said the time for Sacrifice has come again
And Abel led his youngest, his sweetest, his most beloved to the sacrificial fire
I did not bring my youngest, my sweetest, for I knew the One Above would not want them.
And my brother, beloved Abel said to me,
‘Caine, you did not bring a sacrifice, a gift of the first part of you joy, to burn on the altar of the One Above.’
I cried tears of love as I, with sharp things, sacrificed that which was the first part of my joy, my brother.
And the Blood of Abel covered the altar and smelled sweet as it burned
But my Father said
‘Cursed are you, Caine, who killed your brother. As I was cast out so shall you be.’
And He exiled me to wander in Darkness, the land of Nod.

Our father has seen our sacrifice and is pleased, we have upheld the tenants of our sect and fear shall grip the infidels as a disease affects the kine. I place honor and glory upon our Ductis and pack. What shall be done next? Where shall you  guide your sword of vengeance?" I stand with gleaming eyes, looking at Pathos. He has lead us to victory throughout our unlives and it shall continue on. We are the Eye of the Storm and any caught by us shall be rended and trashed upon our shore.

Power, Pain and Conviction.

Our priests words are inspiring. Its a rare thing for me to sit enraptured, but Acids words seem to do the trick every time.

Our work for the night is all becoming a blur in my memory. This is the part i hate. The waiting, the watching. Our work will not be ignored.

The message of the Eye of the Storm will be like a sledgehammer to the gut of the camarilla stooges.

 We have driven a nail into the foot of the Infidels, yet things have remained somewhat quiet. I grow weary of this game. It is right in all things. I still enjoy the comforts of a dank and filthy bar. It would slay me should I ever explain my reasoning, so I must guide our presence their. I have seen a shovel party and have no desire to dig a grave.

"Perhaps we should perform a reconnaissance trip, to collect information. We may well run into one of the inferior packs and be able to exercise the Code of Milan. I seem to remember a small bar on the outskirts of town. Surely if there were a possibility of happening across any rumors of our sect that would be a perfect place to start."

I stand proud over my part, those assembled our my blood and they will surely see the necessity of an excursion from this tomb we have made. It has quickly become polluted and will shortly serve no purpose. We are a nomadic pack, we need to move.

Wasted time is a bad thing. I have been itching to be out, to fight, to stalk, to...anything.

When Enoch speaks up I am the first to add my agreement. Ive had nothing to do but wreck things inside this shell of a home and tattoo myself endlessly.

I am a violent picture of pent up agression. Each ethic of our code cryptically tattooed onto my arms, neck and stomach.

 Glancing at the pack I agree we need some information, some movement. We have seen the footage. It was controlled, they are predictable. I glance at Sawney, "Ready the vehicle, we move this evening," nodding at Pathos in his thoughts. We are alike him and I, should he just see it.

I don't stop to ask questions, not that I ever do, but with everyone being so antsy to get out of here lately, I knew this was coming soon. So, I have done what I could to prepare for it.

As I make my way out to the vehicle, I stop off at the house next door, the one across the street from it is almost complete, but they just poured the concrete for this one late this afternoon. As soon as the workers left, I sunk the corpse of Ward Cleaver, or whatever his name was into the foundation. No one will ever find him.

When the house goes up in flames, obviously from an act of arson, and both daddy-dearest and his car are nowhere to be found, well, it doesn't take a genius to connect those dots.

I make one last check of the concrete to be sure that his corpse didn't float up before I start the car and pull out front. The rest of the family have all been laid out in their beds.

Such a terrible way to go.

The Ghoul has seen to it that this place will go up quickly, we have only to set the flame as we exit.

We have lain dormant for too long. I nod to the Priest, it is time to move, perhaps a new location will allow us to glean some useful information. Or provide us with the impetus to move on to the next town, where our efforts will be appreciated.

Our information network has gone oddly silent in recent nights, I have a feeling that this town may already be lost to us. Though we would not leave this, or any place, without saying goodbye...

Goodbye, Goodbye. I am sick of this place.

I get to do the honors.I am the fire dancer, I have an odd fascination with fire, unhealthy, some might call it.

I wait until the others have cleared out and entered the van. I dump the last of the gasoline in the kitchen. A scattered pool, over family photos and various vacation mementos that i couldnt smash...

They would say he was emotionally damaged. They will say it was a passioned act of rage. I draw in an uneeded breathe and kneel to start the blaze.

I drop the lighter and smell the sudden oxygenation and release of chemicals from the photos. I feel ever hair on my body stand on end, every nerve scream out but i watch as long as i can...

2008-07-30 19:12:47 Dust rolls 3 dice to Conviction 6,4,3 (1 success)

As every last instinct i have screams for me to retreat and as the flames climb the curtains, rush up the stairs and explode jars of gasoline all around the house i will retreat.

I run into the van with an ecstatic smile on my face as the house goes up in an inferno behind me. Three quick stomps and Sawney will know we are all aboard, to take us on our way...