World Of Darkness

I have always encouraged myself to keep a journal of what I see. Before my departure from Amsterdam, it was always to record what I had done and what I had seen. My last journal was left behind in Amsterdam’s chantry - along with whatever I might have called my own. Allow me to write an introduction in this new book. 

I am Onryo. I am a gargoyle of the scout bloodline. I cannot recall where, when, or by whom I was embraced.

Onryou is a 10th generation gargoyle serving the Camarilla in Amsterdam. As a member of the Scout caste, she chooses to obfuscate her actions in a mixture of stealth and assassination tactics. Her use of a rifle sets her aside from other members of her flight.

Naturally inquisitive, Onryou has been given employ with the Tremere in Amsterdam alongside her flight. Though recently, her flight has all but vanished - leaving her alone and aiding the Coalition in an attempt to fight back the menaces which threaten not only the city, but have taken her flight.

--

Tucked in the back of the notebook is a neatly folded letter.

I suppose if you’re reading this, then I, Jonathan Bear, am dead for good. Not certain how, or when this happened - but it probably happened in a fight. I’m hoping I died without much regret for my actions, both in the past and things going forward. I’m hoping that I killed whatever took me, or at the very least, gave him or her a bloody nose. Really, that’s the best any of us could hope for in this sorry state. I don’t have many people that would miss me now, though, so there’s not that much action to be taken for a final will and testament. What little family I have already thinks me dead, and I’d appreciate that it remains so.

For official business, I entrust this notebook and any of the sentiments enclosed in it to the next ductus of my pack, the Hounds of Ulster. I truly hope that it will help you guide them to victory better than I could. The sketches, and stories of the factories, will hopefully, in one way or another give you an idea of what you’ll be getting yourself into. If anything survives of my person, pass my rifle onto the next one - take anything I had on me; weapons and armor to be distributed amongst the pack. If there is a body, I’d like my remains to be scattered as ash. If there isn’t time, I understand.

Please give my sire the totem around my neck. She may not care, but, I have always admired her. Let her know I went out swinging and killing plenty of monsters.

The rest of the page is simply covered in idle, bored drawings and scribbles as though an absent mind had taken it. The text picks up on the next page, far more neater and serious.

Whoever undertakes this role of ductus, I will offer you some advice and thoughts that I have had. The first being is that, despite our backgrounds, we are still soldiers. Our job and duty is no longer to fight the wars of men - and that is something I have come to understand. The Nazis are puppets for something much larger, and darker - and while they are our enemies, it is important perhaps not to get too focused on waging war entirely. It will distract you from considering the shadows, and what remains in them. However, soon, there will come a time when you need to make a decision. This decision will be difficult, and it will test your morality - your humanity, but you will need to overcome that sense of morality and do what needs to be done.

We are the Sword of Caine. There is not much of a place for morality on the battlefield. Everything that you, as ductus, decides will be what sees your pack survive or thrive. Do not be too aggressive of a leader - but do not be too soft of a leader. If blood is needed to thrive, then do what needs to be done. Kill anyone you need to in order to get your mission done, but, be careful not to enjoy it. When you start to enjoy it, that’ll be when you can’t come back from yourself.

As for other packs? Treat them as allies, but, make certain that you prioritize your own pack. Try to stay close to your own pack, but keep an eye on the others. You need to match their own advantages and make sure you always remain strong. Set an example for your pack, but remain tolerant and open to other ideas.

I suppose that will be all then. I wish you the best of luck, and maybe we’ll see each other eventually.

J.B

Going out on a new mission; meant to bring the men around and help reconnoitre the installation known as Discovery. Nazis have moved into the area that used to be the local town, Ede, and fortified the camp present. From what I’ve been able to gather, it appears that there's some sort of research happening and that a few of the Camarilla were held there previously. It’s the place that Rembrandt came from, so maybe we’ll be able to find out more about the caitiffs being made there.

There is an interruption in the page, a line running through it to break the entry. The next scrawl is written in the same, neat type of writing.

Left Mort in command of the pack going to Discovery. Decided to head on off to the Tzimisce with Aurelescu and Elisabetta. First proper interactions with that Pack, and I don’t like the fact they’ve been able to interact with one side extensively. We need more information on what the Tzimisce are doing - or what’s happening, and make sure they’re not doing anything that’d run against the Hounds’ mission. Some would say it’s being paranoid, but, I don’t trust anyone that isn’t in my pack at this moment - especially when some of them are all too quick to jump into the Sabbat within a month. Besides, I need a change of scenery - every Nazi facility I break into seems to end up going poorly. I miss the forests.

I left Augustus at the Hamlet. Gave him a task to find the strongest, give them a mark - or keep note. Plan is to concentrate on feeding those ones, knowing where they congregate. The past few hunts around the village saw people coming up dry -- and while I know I hunt animals, I have to support my pack. Need to rely on the men beside me, keep them healthy and fed. We’re going to need to be ready for when we get our orders. I’ll let Mort indulge in some doctoring, but, the fact is we’re going to need a reliable source of food.

The last part is written at the end, done hastily and written in a sloppy hand. The notes themselves are blotted with lines correcting haphazard spelling mistakes.

Part of me is concerned. I still sympathise with the kine, but the fact is, we’re vampires. We drink blood to survive - and if the blood we have at our disposal is weak, we can’t function. Not everyone is resourceful like me. Hell, if half of the kindred in our collective walked out into the woods they’d get lost. Does this mean I’m falling too quickly?

@bloodoflordaeron

At the request of the Mage Agathe, we entered enemy territory and made contact with the group of wizards in the factory. Highly secret - we ultimately managed to sabotage their projects. Enemy wizards (What do I call a group of mages?) showed extensive progress in their work, with the assistance of our contact, Dr. Benjamin, we entered a breach and ultimately disrupted the mage’s plans to access the Abyss with the assistance of an elder by the name of Aleta Salazar.

Unfortunately, when attempting to exfiltrate, we were betrayed and captured by Dr. Benjamin alongside a number of the mage’s forces. They used highly advanced weaponry with the ability to render even the elder kindred incapacitated. We were rescued by a Dr. Brandt, and then subsequently fled the factory.

Loosely scrawled on the next page beside the drafted report are several markings; angry, and heavy with pooling indentations of ink.

When I was a child, I believed in the Creator. I listened to stories about animals, how they were apart of our life -- to respect and understand the environment. I can remember the warmth of the hearth in our home. Wooden walls, stuffed with newsprint and bits of tin to make a shack. I miss it.

When they took me, it wasn’t for a lack of effort. I fought. I scratched, kicked and even bit. Lost one of my teeth for that struggle. They took me to a cold place - away from the warmth. The school, they told us, was meant to bring us to the way of God. In God’s grace, we’d be redeemed and turned into productive members of society.

Of course, I never knew any of that shit until later. All I remember about God’s warmth was the chapel. It was beautiful, painted and decorated with stained glass windows depicting all sorts of things. Angels, I remember, were meant to be our saviours -- our judges and the instruments of God. Beautiful, awe-inspiring and glorious.

It was a lie. They’re terrifying, on fire and deadly.

At first, I was amazed with the mages - maybe I felt bad for that little fucker Benjamin. I’ve known people like him; too afraid to make their feelings known. Maybe he wasn’t like that. It could have been an act. All I know is that fucker betrayed us.

@bloodoflordaeron