Jan. 25th, 2010

[identity profile] darkana9.livejournal.com
in year 1 SA, the church had begun its rise and he had been called by Lord Jack to serve, Mattias, had answered, many tremere had heeded the call but Mattias served one who told him deep truths and secrets, and thus Mattias planned and built for this age and the ones to come

the bases in scotland were doing well deep citadels in the rock and caverns below, havens for the magic users the 'church' condemned, well they would prove useful here, and there was a temple a small one, a subtle one, to the masters who made it, the Yozi lords who made creation so many ages ago,

noone had to go to them,
oppressive rules were not imposed
Corruption and degredation were not mandatory,

after all, we had won,
this time,

centuries as a vampire had taught him patience,
and as jack said, the age will end, the next one wont be so good, perhaps by then Mattias would have taken the step to become this Akuma thing jack could do or maybe he would still be what he was,

still 1000 years to plan and prepare for the seventh age,

more than enough time,

humming a tune he began another experiment, this time to promote plant growth in the subfields,
after all while it is safer to be feared a prince must ensure he is never hated
[identity profile] bringeroflight.livejournal.com
"Where's that fucking music coming from?"

The slaves panic, running from room to room. The punk rock tune is blasting through the entire building, resonating off the glass and impossible to escape . . . impossible to track down. They know their master will kill scores of them for this later, but the faster the music ends, the more chance each of them has for survival.

As five or six of the armed security men turn a corner, they spot an open window, curtains billowing in. A thin, pale figure in a black hockey jersey crouches, about to jump...


He looks up, and grins.

"Oh no. Quite the opposite..."

The music crescendos; "Coming at you on a count of . . . one, two"

The man leaps backwards, pirouetting neatly in a perfect arc. The monster's slaves reach for their weapons to fire and . . .


Fire blossoms.


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