All that would be visible from the city would be final culmination of our fire... a sudden flash like an explosion barely visible off in the forest... Old residents and kindred who have been around for a few decades may remember the spot as where there used to be an airfeild, back when the mines were still active...

What really happened was the rite to step up our invasion of the City of Sanfield. We had lain in wait long enough... it was time to infiltrate and prepare...

We had subsisted on animal blood and the occassional hunter or stoned hiker for the last few months. Something no Cainite likes to do...

We gathered juicebags from both Sanfield and the surrounding towns, kept them locked away in one of the old hangars until our blood feast.

This night was perfect, a wicked sickle moon, a chill breeze and a dozen slashed throats and wrists to feed the ravenous packs...

There was fire dancing, blood feasting, Vaulderae and the final distribution of plans to the pack leaders.

The event finished with the bodies of the juicebags being piled onto the fire, and a failed sabbat who let a Cammie slip into the city with a group of old west actors, complete with a barrel of old jet fuel lashed to his chest being dropped into the blaze...

I watched from the makeshift war room in the contro ltower as three of the five packs headed through the forest for the city.

The remaining two spreading out along our stranglehold routes to make sure nooone escapes our crusade...

As Templar i am the last to leave. I do not run with a pack... Instead i go alone, heading for the old hunting lodge to tie up one last loose end....

(There may be more added here, it feels half assed, but im at work so thats all for right now. )  

--Last edited by Radiationjunkie on 2008-04-18 11:22:30 --