Foreshadowing

by Mr Badger

Smoke rose from where the man stood like a twisting pillar of nothingness. The weather was cold so all that were out wore large jackets. Most for warmth but some for what could be concealed within. The footpath was filled with movement. People walking in steady progressions to avoid the winters ice, children trusting on faith and luck to avoid the same fate ran like any other season. The air was crisp with the icy touch of the wind, even the steady smell of civilisation was temporarily hidden beneath nature's shroud.
In the darkened corners of buildings eyes glinted as they darted from one side to the other. Sometimes people would hurry off the street to shove items at the shadow dwellers, in return they received plastic wrapped parcels. To the side of these merchants stood shapes that moved less often, stood out from the norm to a minimum. These were the predators that protected the merchants on one hand but doomed the customers on the other. Hired muscle to guard against the night and what more terribly may dwell within.

On an intersection, beside the traffic lights, stood the smoking man. He watched the traffic pass by with casual interest. The smoke rose steadily from him, masking the fact that the absence of heated breath gave off no obvious signature of life. One hand rested inside his jacket. Relaxed in position but not in preparation. At last the one he had been looking for passed. He was someone remarkable, an ordinary suit wearer on the way home but with an extra something that caught the eye. Hurrying as he did no-one noticed that he also gave off no breath of mist. The watcher lowered the cigarette to glance at his watch. A movement genuine in design but ever so fake in intent. On the other side of the road a larger man nodded imperceptibly. The signal was given so another would take up the pursuit.

Davion released the smoke from his lungs in a practised manoeuvre. With a slight turn of his head he watched Mr Badger follow the target from the opposite side of the road. They had been following this lead for most of the week by night, with Ghouls taking up the reins by day. Too much work was involved to let him go so easily. All trails had led to death so far. The death of the one they followed. Sometimes it appeared happenstance was to blame, other times dark intent. If it wasn't for the frustration and regularity of the loss of the hunt it would appear nothing more than an indication of the dangers one of the Undead faced night by night. The watchers knew there was more to this. Nothing is left to chance when chasing a Diabolist. Knowing they were close to discovery made them more cautious and also the watchers more determined. This one held himself high, thought himself to important to be considered a traitor, but what else do you suspect of the Ventrue? Especially one called a Prince.

Mr Badger threaded his way past the meandering cattle. His mind was focused on the chase, even the thought of food being so close by was of no concern. The Prince wasted his energy on foolish Disciplines. Instead of merging with the flow he calmly alternated from Dominating and the aura of Presence to force a gap in the crowd. The cattle seemed at a loss from the feelings of respect and were all too familiar with the tingle of fear to notice any difference from the norm. Across countless city blocks the two tireless Vampires walked, one leading and the other following at a constant distance. Twice did Badger give the chase to another. Davion was the last to follow the Prince while Badger at first Obfuscated than sprinted ahead to lay in wait for the target.
The Prince's Haven lay ahead. At the last intersection all three of the watchers were brought together for the first time. None of them spared any of the others a glance. All attention was focused first on the prey, then on the environment. Around the Haven the rest of the Pack were in position. As Davion turned to take station to the north east of the Haven he lit up another cigarette. Clearly shown as he raised his arm was an idealised picture of a Black Hand.

Even as the Ghouls had kept watch on the Prince the Prince's Haven had been invaded. Small insects, the size of coins, had entered the house though a number of openings. Having all day to get into position they were evenly spaced throughout the house. Each looked slightly angular and each was coloured as black as the night they now hid within. Like components of a machine with a single purpose they followed the progress of the Prince through the house with a patience born of manufacture rather than breeding.
Mr Badger watched though their eyes with the aid of a reflecting pool located in the garden. At his side a woman branded with the Displeasure of the Tremere guided the reflection places it had never been before.

The prince threw his coat to a fawning servant with a sneer. Hidden within its folds was an ornate wooden box. The opening of the box was sealed with a black wax covered with slight incisions. As the light flickered across its surface the incisions took on the appearance of something far more sinister, more deliberate. The Prince smiled as the box was unwrapped. His hands caressed its surface but the open joy turned to rage as he saw how eager his servant also looked at the box.
"Get away fool!" Screamed the Prince as he raked the servant across the face. Blood dripped from the torn flesh in rapidly decreasing amounts. In minutes the tears closed over till only a faint line remained to show the damage. The servant bowed and fled his Master. The Prince had been prone to these outbursts ever since he made peace with the local Sabbat Bishop. The city had certainly prospered but the forces of the Camarilla easily could have destroyed the Sabbat enclave. The servant crossed himself to think of the bargain that must have been closed to change such events.

Mr Badger growled deeply at sight of the box. This was what he had been warned about. This was what they had followed after their last lead had been destroyed in that house fire. The box had first come to light in a Setite temple that had been destroyed for insurrection against the Archbishop, Lord Tyger. The box had escaped capture and had travelled from the hands of a Setite novice to the hands of an Assamite trader through means of the Final Death. The box had disappeared from sight for over a century before surfacing in the hands of a known Diabolist. Now its trail had led from one burnt corpse to another, till finally it was in the hands of a prince suspected of dealing with those unforgiven. Badger snarled at the scene till the pool reverberated to his anger. The Tremere nodded and alerted the others in the Pack.

The Prince waited inside the Haven's basement. A large chair decorated with hunting scenes from a previous age held his impatient form. He had been forced to journey to this country on a war footing against the newly emerged Sabbat. He had befallen his own success and forced to stay on because of victory after victory. Before the embrace he had been born the Lord of a sprawling Manse. Coming to this country they refused to recognise his breeding, refused to offer him common courtesy. Ignominy after ignominy had he endured from both the Sabbat and those deemed to be his allies. At the peak of his triumph he had heard the Council of the Clans was going to leave him here after defeating the Sabbat forces. Leave him here as an example of how the Camarilla was a force to be recognised. The Prince was going to be forgotten as an example of what had been rather than what he was.
It had been one of his prisoners who had suggested the accord between the different forces. Before her execution at his hand she had told him about the special alliance the Sabbat Bishop enjoyed. The Prince laughed at the memory. It was all true, people do possess a soul. A soul desired by beings different than those considered safe, beings prophesied by mankind to be its destiny or its doom. Folk tales say that a deal can be made with such creatures. A deal that they honour to the word if not the intent. How could someone of such duel breeding as the Prince himself fail in this endeavour? The Prince had eagerly accepted the tutelage of the Sabbat Bishop. Luckily his Apprenticeship was over when his teacher in the Arts was killed by other fools in the Sabbat. Also he was fortunate to have discovered the source of his teacher's knowledge. The source was the wooden box.

Mr Badger was warned by his scouts of approaching Vampires. Each bore the taint of the unforgiven on their auras. The Pack members let the newcomers slip through positions without dispute, the more that met the Final Death here tonight the better.

The Prince glared at the newcomers as they entered his Sanctum. A necessary part of the ritual to be held but not a welcome one. They assumed their practised positions quickly so the Rite could begin without encouraging the Prince's wrath any further. With the first vestiges of power being focused on the sanctum a silver circle of flame erupted from the floor. It flowed around each chanting Vampire, they oblivious to its path, as if seeking its summoners but not wanting to engage them. The circle soon linked all the participants in the Rite, with the Prince standing in the centre. His chair glowed with more than shallow reflection as the Rite continued.

Outside the Pack made their way toward the Manse. Each made different preparations for entry then combat. Only the Tremere stayed outside. She meditated on the reflecting pool and the power directed through it. In the Haven the insects stirred from observer to participant.

The fire grew brighter as the Gateway opened. The box's seal crumbled as if from ageing than dropped away entirely to the floor. Of its own volition the box opened and a Presence quickly gained entrance rather than exit. The Prince frowned, this was not as his teacher explained. The fire in the design surged forwards and engulfed the box. As suddenly as it had moved it shifted form to that more humanoid. The shape of flame swallowed the box till no sign of it remained. The Fire Form opened its eyes and stared at the Prince. "Do you wish Arms or Knowledge?" Rasped the Demonic form.

The Pack entered the house from all directions. Each could see the Haven's layout in their minds eye, thanks to the Tremere's preparation. As guards stepped in the path of the Pack black darting shapes launched themselves from corners. The insects disabled than killed any who bared entrance to the Sanctum. The Hand members saved their strength for the conflict ahead.
Mr Badger tore the throat out of a thrashing guard as he passed. Distractions he did not need and any foe waiting in the rear could mean a mission's failure later. With the mortal opposition removed from the board the Pack entered the Sanctum proper.

Inside was a scene of bedlam. On the floor were the smoking remains of a number of the Cult members. Every few minutes the Flame form reached out an arm toward a frozen Cultist who than screamed in pain before falling to the floor lifeless. It seemed the energy required to manifest was enormous, this hunger had to be fed. Inside the circle of Cultists the Prince spoke rapidly at the Demonic form. Seeing the arrival of the Hand the Prince's eyes widened. "Destroy them!" Screamed the Prince as he easily remembered the fate of his former teacher.

"You chose knowledge, do you now wish Arms?" Asked the Flame Form.

"Yes, just destroy them before we are ruined!" Answered the panicked Prince.

"As you desire," replied the Flame Form as it blazed even brighter than before. A tongue of flame burst from its head and struck a Pack member full in the side. With a muffled scream the Vampire fell to the ground clawing at her own chest then lay still. The Flames grew brighter still.

The battle was commenced as Vampires engaged the Demonic form with all the methods they possessed. The battle from the Hand side was noticeably more defence than assault. Badger had noticed the Demon's energy needs and decided the best form of attack was to starve it out. Already it had consumed the remaining Cultists. All that now remained were the Black Hand Pack members and the Prince himself.
As planned the Demon's flames started to dim as they consumed all the stolen life essence. As it returned to the size it was before combat ensued it paused it's attack and nodded once at Badger. "You are familiar to us foundling. Your return will be welcomed by Us," rasped the Demon.

As Badger growled the Demon turned toward the confused Prince. "You chose Knowledge over Arms. The decision was over turned by your desire alone. The Agreement has been broken by your hand. Come...." said the Demon as it reached for, then embraced the Prince. With a final scream the Prince was consumed in body, but the spirit would not be given such an escape. That much was certain. All around the room the remaining fires were snuffed out as the Demon vanished from sight. A wooden box sealed with black engraved wax fell to the floor in its place. Mr Badger picked up the box, it was cool to the touch but vibrated slightly to the touch.

"It's over, clean up, purge the evidence and withdraw," whispered Mr Badger.

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As Mr Badger waited for his Sire to arrive at his Library he mused on the operation. They had witnessed the destruction of the Diabolists and recovered all the artefacts that others could use to reproduce the Rite. One thing still bothered him as he waited to hand over the box. The Demon had recognised him, that much was obvious. It had looked at him in the same way as his Sire and its voice was familiar. The arrival of Tyger brought these musings to an end.
"The box Sire. We were too late to stop its opening but all involved have been destroyed. As you asked here is the artefact in question." Mr Badger bowed and withdrew from the Library. His Sire was obviously deep in thought.

Lord Tyger waved his Paladin away, his mind elsewhere. The box had been the target of the raid, the Diabolists just an abstraction. In all his years as Archbishop he had never considered the idea there could be two boxes of this design. Tyger placed the box on a shelf hidden behind the oak panelling. As he closed the panel he took one more look at the two wooden boxes sealed by black engraved wax. 

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