A grim silence settles over the alleyway. JoN slowly begins to heal
the damage done to him. The purple suited youth shimmers and changes
appearance to the confused looking youth, battered, bloody, his neck bent
at an unnatural angle. The purple suited youth blinks into view standing over the body, as the green haired youth drops from a nearby fire escape. The simian-looking friend sighs. "Weren't you going to feed off of this one,
Alex?" "Well, yeah, but how was I supposed to know ugly was gonna bust
my, well his, chops? Wonder if it was the Obfuscate that fooled him, or
your Cantrip? " The purple clad youth smiles down at JoN, "Hey
there. Judging from the fact that you're not breathing but still trying
to stand up, I'd assume your a Vamp? Hi, I'm Alex Derenkov, writer and
Malkavian. My primate visaged companian is Petey, he's an Unseelie Pooka.
Want some help?"
(JoN lets out a few painful coughs, he pushes himself up form the ground,
not caring about the mud, filth and general crap covering him)
(He then moans and tries to regain balance)
-wHA? Oh! Ok, umm, no...not ok... (he falls to the ground again.)
(he mumbles around the floor, find his 3D Shades, and puts them back on with
authority)
-AH! Better! Whoa, cough A Pooka (JoN has the merit "Faerie Affinity")
How, nice. Alex! secret mLAKavian HandSHake Good to meet you, now is not
the time for chat! Now is the time for flee! Diable will not be long,
wherever he is. TO THE JoN-CAVE!!!!!
(JoN, Alex and company make a wild dash across the street, JoN then proceeds
to rip out a good portion of the street trying to open a manhole, he jumps
in and does not wait for the others, they'll have to catch up. He leads them
to a type of subterranean haven, filled with rotting corpses, disembodied
limbs, decomposed men, women, children and pets. An arsenal of weapons, a
collection of troll dolls, a complete library of TOM WAITS cds and an Old
top hat under glass. And 4 Sleeping Black Spiral Dancers.)
- WAKE THE FUCK UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Screams JoN, DIABLE IS BACK! And this
time he wans all MalkaVIANs!!!!!
(The four BSDS, who act like the 3 Jackals in the Lion Kings, except the
fourth is Albino and is extremely thin, get up and run all over the place,
until the all ram each other and fall unconscious)
- Damn mutts, Alex, Petey. (turns to face them) We have to find the others.
If Diable is after all of them, which I don't know why, we have to help them.
Diable is not smart enough to launch an all out attack on all MalKs,
someone's got to be behind THIS! (yes, a dramatic mood music is playing)
Wait a sec. (JoN pulls out his cellular phone and checks the last number
which called him.) Hmmm, Ere.
[Mix is the general plural term used to refer to a group of Malkavians;
similar to a pride of lions or a murder of crows. Historians believe it
may have originally come from the term 'mixed nuts'.]
* * *
Arriving at the Pittsburgh Airport, Erehwon stepped out of the
cab, his hat jingling as his foot hit the sidewalk. Turning to the
driver, he handed him a single dollar bill, and said clearly,
"Here is your fare. You have now been paid in full for the
ride. Accept it. Thank you."
As the cab driver drove off, Erehwon looked around the airport.
Noticing that quite a few people were staring at him rather oddly, he
soon decided that it would be best to travel without the unnecessary
attention, and so removed the jester's hat from his head, and placed it
within one of his everpresent inner trenchcoat pockets. After a cursory
glance around, he began to walk briskly towards the appropriate
terminal. Approaching the young lady behind the counter, he said,
"Excuse me. I believe I have tickets reserved for the next
flight to Toronto. My name is Stephen Gifford."
Paying for the ticket with a credit card in the same name, Erehwon
thought for a moment. He moved quickly to the escalators, black
trenchcoat flapping behind him. Scanning the shopping area of the
airport, he began checking off possible items of use. The bookstore
would most probably not have any useful information...clothes were
not a particularly beneficial item at this time...perhaps the electronics
store would have something he could use to boost the signal of his
cell-phone through the plane. Information gathering was always useful.
Alas, nothing within the small Radio Shack had any sort of capacity for
that purpose. However, a handheld tazer device was obtained, paid for
with the same credit card as before.
"2000 volts. At least it should be more useful than a yo-yo."
After obtaining a chronometer reading, Erehwon proceeded rapidly
to gate B 13, arriving with twenty minutes to spare.
"Enough time for another phone call," thought Erehwon. Dialing
a seldom-used string of digits, the phone rang somewhere in Australia.
"Hello?"
"fiend? It's Ere. There appears to be something coming after
Malkavians, apparently to..." At this point a crackle of static burst
through over the phone. "fiend? Are you there? You're breaking up."
Before the static descended into complete illegibility, Erehwon
heard faintly from the other end, "Breaking up? Ere, how could you? I
thought you cared...."
Erehwon sighed, hung up the phone, and thought for a moment.
"Since JoN's phone is apparently smashed, I'll need some sort of way to
contact..."
Ring, ring.
"Hello?"
"Eerie? WhAt the f#@&'s gOinG oN?!"
"JoN. I'm about to take off; I should be in Toronto in
approximately four hours. Are you able to meet me at the airport, or is
there a better correspondence point?"
"Airport? Nah, that's cool. Don't worry, we'll find you somehow...So,
what's this deal with Malkavians and Diable?"
"I'll try to explain when I get there. Oh, and JoN?"
"Yeah?"
"Inconspicuous. There's something after us, and if it finds us,
we've got problems. So try not to call attention to yourself. Tell any
others you find the same. Omnicynic should be meeting you shortly. I'll
see you in a few hours, and we'll figure out what to do then."
click
The boarding call was announced, and Erehwon easily made his way
into the plane, finding a window seat. After strapping himself in, he
began to ruminate over the events thus far.
"Apparently, something is trying to pick the Malkavian brain a
bit too literally. It's fairly powerful, obviously has some sort of
transportation abilities if JoN's already encountered it. If JoN knows
this 'Diable' already, we should have an advantage."
Mentally recalling the creature which had attacked him, Erehwon
summoned every detail to his mind, eidetically recalling every detail
while the plane took flight.
"It seems that the thing was not perfectly comfortable with its
movements. Perhaps it can assume a variety of forms. If that's the
case, it may be able to be tricked into one of them.
"The main problem at the moment is a lack of information. I
still don't know what this is, what it wants, or why it's coming after
Malkavians. Knowledge, apparently, but nothing specific. I'd think to
reason with it, if it didn't possess such hellacious manners. As such,
that seems to be a minimal possibility. Therefore, we need to find some
weakness and exploit it. Now, what sort of weaknesses might it have..."
The rest of the flight is spent researching historical myths and
a touch of mage data on his laptop. By the time the plane lands, without
any resources besides that already stored in the hard drive, Erehwon has
found nothing of use.
The mound of blankets lay still.
The presence in the room watched cautiously, it did not wish to attack
the hiding Malkavian. It knew that the Malk was weak and would easily
be defeated, but it knew that the strength of the youth lay in his
cunning and brains.....
It could wait.
Under his mound of blankets, Chriss studied the file he had received over
the e-mail.
There was no sender, it was simply to him.
The unix system had no record of the delivery path, or at which gateway
it had entered sinet.
It had simply appeared out of no-where! Only the super user could do
that, but he was the super user.
Curiouser and curiouser......
While clutching the phone willing it to ring (hint erehwon....)
He read the file carefully for any clue.......
------------
Date: Wed, 14 Feb 96 20:45:56 +0100
Message-Id: <2.2.16.19960228204001.131770cc@oslo.geco-prakla.slb.com>
X-Mailer: Windows Eudora Pro Version 2.2 (16)
Mime-Version: 1.0
Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii"
X-Ph: V4.1@sndsu8
To: Chriss Fieldhouse
Subject: for your keeping
X-UIDL: 825538949.000
My friend,
please look after this document for me. Do not try to find me.
X-Attachment: C:\EUDORA\ATTACH\MALKAV_1.TXT; UUENCODED.
And thus Caine did leave and was gone from sight of his own brood.
As one in shame, they did turn away from the father, the first,
the lonely, the wanderer, the outcast.
Not so the gentle Malkav.
He had felt shame with his brethren all the same, but had seen a
secret pain in the eyes of the first. Something that haunted him,
distressed him. Upon the face of the father was the look of sad
knowledge. He knew he could not rest until he knew what that secret was.
He would knoweth what pained the father.
And so journey Malkav all over the world, following the spirit
and the footsteps of the Wanderer. Whever he went, there were tales
of the Sad One, who brought a small bit of suffering with his arrival,
and left a small bit of bliss with his departure.
And as Caine did wander, he remembered the dreams he had when he
did sleep in Enoch, dreams that be of past and future, and thus Caine
did begin to write of what he did know and into the words, he did
weave magick for Caine was a great sorceror. From the four element, he
wove the magick that would guard and protect his words and from
the fifth, he gave the words a will.
At last, after years of searching, Malkav did come upon Caine,
in the mountains, where the cold, hard rock provided little protection
from the rising sun.
He found him upon a rocky ledge, high above, and the first did speak
unto him.
"Why have you followed me. Why have you become a partner to my
suffering?"
"When you left, I did look upon thy face my father, I saw, I know
not what..."
"Sorrow? My childe, I need not thy pity. Leave this mountain whilst
thy can."
"What do you know? I will not leave until I know it!"
"You are willing to die to learn the secret that devours my soul?
What kind of fool shall you be?"
"The worst kind. The inquisitive kind.
I yearn for thy guidance for we shall be as lost lambs without a
shepherd, sacrifice us not, I beg of thee"
And then the First did smile.
"You deserve something for your love, as I was rewarded for my
tilling of the fields.
"Very well, I tell you this. In that place in Enoch, from where I slept,
I finally have been given the vision of totality, of pasts, present,
and futures. I know all the things I am responsible for, and all thing I
cannot control. I carry the burden of all the worldly truth alone,
I did know not that one my grand-childes did care for what I know.
I wish to wander so that I can be at peace with the truth, for it is a
great burden, even for me, I am cheered by your devotion, but harken.
"My fair Malkav, to know what I know, would destroy your mind,
but to not know would also destroy. Before your brethren, you always
spoke kind and gentle wisdom, yet what I can give to you shall be the
greatest wisdom of all, yet who shall heed it?
"That shall be my last gift to you."
He held Malkav tightly, and whispered the secret into his ear.
It bled into his soul, and infected the blood which ran deep in his veins.
"Now all your children will know a fraction of the mystery.
It will run in your blood, and infect their souls.
"Each shall know but a single word, and that word shall be as a seed
that blossoms into its own secret wisdom. Thy childer will burrow deep
within their psyches to escape the truth, but there is no escape.
"Go take my wisdom to your brothers and sisters and disturb me not,
for I shall return some day."
And before the light of dawn did shine upon him, Malkav did stumble down
the mountain forever changed and returned to his brothers and sisters.
EOF
The alley is dark, lit only by the faded flare of a streetlight some
distance away. Shadows line the concrete and brick walls. Out of one of
those shadows steps a man, tall and thin, long hair over a faded green
canvas duster. He pulls away from the wall, adjusts his outfit, and
breathes in the night air. He exhales to form patterns of mist in the night.
It is cold, far colder than it was where Rev. Omnicynic began the shadow walk.
He looks over the alley, the garbage, the broken remains of tattered
lives. And the blood. Real blood, unreal blood. Bending down, the
malkavian wipes a little up with his finger, touches it to his lips. "JoN,"
says he.
The other blood is different, not right. Omnicynic can see patterns of
cellular structure that shouldn't, don't exist. The blood vanishes from
his sight.
There is a smell in the air...like the smell of blood on the ground,
like fear and escape, of pain and fur and fae. The scent leads out of the
alley, as does Omnicynic, following the traces of the past which find only
his mind to wander through. A car swerves around him as he crosses the
road. He doesn't even see it. Another figure steps up to Rev. Omnicynic,
harshly demands money. A word, a gesture, and the mugger runs screaming
away, forever cursed with raving madness. Rev. Omnicynic is on a trail, and
he will not be distracted.
The dark, slightly wet and worn manhole cover is askew, out of
place. The pattern upon it is the chaos that only a small group of people
can make. Noise bubbles up from below, a thunk, a whine, something like a
curse. JoN's curse...Rev. Omnicynic remembers the voice from when he
visited the vicious sabbat's mind. Potence works its wonder, and Rev.
Omnicynic is down the hole.
The cover slides back into place, solidly, and stays there.
Several multicoloured figures are in the chamber. They are animate.
Several garou lie sprawled on the floor...they breathe, but that is it. JoN
rises above it all, drowning out the corpses and bodies which line the walls
and hang.
Rev. Omnicynic drops his Obfuscate, and addresses the master of the
house with a curt bow. "Greetings, JoN. My name is Reverend Ubermensch
Omnicynic. Do you bid me welcome to your haven?"
Early that evening there was a clomping of boots. A soft mutter of phrases
and
the door swung open. A long pause, and then, that annoying voice....
"Well well, my little Malkvian, what have you been up to?"
Daran. Mage and all-around annoying guy. Damn.
"Daran...I should have known you would ooze your way in here...ugghhhhh!
Did someone run me over with a tank?"
There was a sort of shuffling sound as the mage gathered his oh-so-cool
trenchcoat
and kneeled closer. She could smell some cologne, no doubt expensive.
"Well, from the looks of it you were trying to tear your own flesh off with
your hands.
Here." A warm (ughh! she could never get used to that) hand helped her up
into a
sitting position, her back resting against the destroyed Lazy-E-boy. She
opened
her eyes and got a blurry glance of his oh-so-stylish boots, the black outfit
and, of
course, the trenchcoat. His hair was overstyled and his thin white face wore
a pair
of Calvin Klein eyewear. Mage or clotheshorse, who could tell?
"Thanks." It occurred to her that for once Daran was being civil, which was
nice
because she didn't feel like fighting. Their relationship was based solely
on mutual
interest, and she was sure he was just dying to know what had happened. What
the hell, why not just cut to the chase? (Hmm, was that a wolfie term?)
"You'd like to know what happened, wouldn't you, Mr. Merlin?" He hated it
when
she called him that. Well, she was getting damn tired of being called
'Malkavian',
herself. He appeared a bit taken aback.
"Yes, yes I would. Last night something happened here that disturbed some of
the spells I was..."
"Trying to conjour up Cindy Crawford again?" Guilty look. Aha!
"ahem SOME of the spells I was working on. Mage stuff. Nothing" he said,
arching an eyebrow, "that I may reveal."
"Oh yeah? Well I was just doing some, uh...vampire stuff, and oooooof"
she
exclaimed as she tried to stand up and could not. Someone was dropping irons
on her chest. Daran was staring at her--drat it. "Well don't just stand
there...go
pull the windowshade!" He scurried over and she resettled herself on the
ground
to tell the story.
* * *
"So," he said for the ump-teenth time, "you don't know what it was, who it
was,
why it was here,.."
"It was here because it wanted some stupid piece of knowledge I don't
possess!
Totally irrational. I thought being a Malkavian would exempt me from that
sort
of thing."
"It does. I wouldn't ask you for the time of day."
"Screw you. And you're sure it wasn't a mage? Someone who dug up the
necronomicononony or something?"
"That was no mage. There isn't one that matches your description, and
besides
they don't just pop up out of thin air. It takes ages of dedicated training,
hard work
and a discipline of..." A grandiose swell took over his tone and the next few
minutes were filled with flowery descriptions of the virtues of Mageness.
Parr wondered how he had ever made it.
I suppose, she thought as Daran chittered, that it's possible that I know
something that I don't know. If I didn't knew I knew it, then how would
they know
I knew it? I don't know. But now that I know that I know it, will I know
it again?
Perhaps it's that I know that I don't know it. Maybe that's it! No.
"Perhaps" she said, breaking into his monologue, "perhaps it is that by which
we define ourselves as Malkavians that is what it sought."
Dropping his hand from the air, Daran gave her an inquisitive look.
"But I thought it was just that you were all plain nuts. That's nothing
ordinary,
lots of mortals are."
"Well I suppose so. What the heck, perhaps they know it, too. Perhaps the
very nature of knowing it causes one to...to not know it! Or to be driven
mad by
it!" Parr was somewhat excited now. "And yet now, I know that I know it!
Perhaps it is within my grasp!"
"Well, what is it? What are you thinking right now??" Daran was catching her excitement. "Clear your mind...what is left?"
The vampire screwed shut her eyes and searched the depth of her being...it
was...it was...a word...yes...
" a word...a single word..."...
"Yes?! What? What????"
" The word is....... is.... is....."the"! That's it! That's the word!!"
"THE?!? That's the word? Damn you, I thought you actually had..."
"No I swear! It means...something!! Everything!" babbled Parr, "it really
does! But I need to know more. I must ask my fellow brethren, they may know something, help me..."
Daran was disgusted. "Well, Malk, have fun. But I'm leaving." He swished
his trenchcoat about him and turned to go.
"Oh, and Parr..." His tone was suddenly serious. It cut through her
excitement and she turned to him.
"Yes?"
"Look at your cuts. The scars, they're not healing."
She looked to her arms and saw it was true: the open cuts had healed, but long, white scars remained.
" Whatever this thing is, it can tear you apart and you'll never heal again.
Be....be careful."
* * *
Hours after Daran had left, Parr finally stirred from thought. She was in
trouble,
they were all in trouble. And, perhaps even more important she had found
something vital, something special.
She needed to reach out to the other Malkavians...but who?
the fiend was having one of his more lucid moments, and as always he
began to read. he was turning one of the pages of the big book of
conspiracies when he remembered the phone. he'd gotten a call earlier
hadn't he?
"oh well"
he continued to read. he got to the part about some abbey in france and
latin writing when his head started to hurt again. the bad hurt. he
remembered the phone. he was going to call JoN wasn't he? the book was
too heavy to continue with right now so he decided to go ahead and call.
he picked up the phone and dialled. he heard the operator and asked for JoN
"and how do you spell that sir? what town?"
the fiend moved his reality into the phone and entered the phone lines. he
entered the computer and got what he wanted and when he left the entire
system crashed.
"thank you," said the ever curteous fiend, and promptly hung up.
he dialed again.
"hello"
"JoN! buddy. pal. mate. gormph. how are you doing?"
"well actually fie...."
"great. look i called up to tell you something........"
a medium pause.
"what?" came the exasperated voice.
"i can't remember right now..... i've been reading you see."
"look fiendy i have other problems right now... there's this guy...."
"the guy!" gushed forth the fiend. "the guy who wouldn't listen to me
when i was talking and wanted to do no good so i sent him to see you!
that's what i remember!"
"what? What? WHAT?!? I'M GONNA....."
"just a friendly warning. bye"
the fiend hung up the phone but not before his ears caught the sound of
the phone being wacked repeatedly.
"i'd hate to be his service provider," thought the fiend.
he sat down and began to work on his projects and concentrating on how to
bring them all into the one. the location of the walking stick man? the
new ideas to hide from word eater? malkav's e-mail address? the big book
of conspiracies? the paths into arcadia and what the fairies won't even
let US look at? the secret herbs and spices? tremere's spell book(he
still had to thank some of the ravnos for that)? the works of roald dahl?
he gave up and went to grab a bite.
that was when the portal opened and several hands grabbed him and pulled
him through.
Go to the Broadway Geocities
