The long winter season may have been a cold one, but the war has not up unto this point been especially so. One could try telling that to Narcisa the Sheriff or Gui the enforcer of the Sabbat's more martial pack, but they would probably be too busy washing the blood off their hands to laugh. The same could be said of the vampires left for the sun or with their souls ripped from their bodies. They're otherwise occupied being the fallout of this war.
Otherwise occupied. It's a good phrase to describe the neonates, ancillae, and elders of either Sect in a city under siege. Otherwise occupied holding on to what they've got or holding on to what they've gained in the particularly notable flare-ups. They're a self-interested bunch, Kindred (individual and in coteries) or Cainite packs, but they get on with their unlives because they must.
* * *
This is very different from the nightly skirmishes in the street, so easily peddled to the news agencies as gang violence or psychotic breaks. This isn't some freak act and it isn't insulated to the areas of lower-socioeconomic-giving-a-fuck.
This was purposeful and skillful and unconcerned with the value of human life.
In any case someone had decided to affix an undisclosed (pending investigation) amount of remotely detonated explosive on the underside of a car. That had gotten the attention of local and federal law enforcement.
* * *
In any case someone had decided to do away with the prized errand boy and girl of one Jasper Durant, Toreador ancilla. Jack and Jill might as well be good names for them as they were out fetching pails of blood from The Fern. The Fern, sanctioned feeding ground of the Camarilla's posher high clan licks, was left shut down that night when the Kindred need waystations like it to stay in the red and keep their heads down. It had happened just down the street from all those high rises that one Ventrue had acquired before she'd gone off on some other directive from her Strategos.
The Camarilla takes notice and turns their eye on the only possible culprit: the Sabbat.
It's the cost of doing business, this sort of thing, and so is the ensuing retaliation.
* * *
Makeshift electrical wiring leads to a blaze in a building off Federal leaving five squatters dead. It's actually a pack of shovelheads and their two True Sabbat handlers, but if the Camarilla PR machine is already up out of bed and pulling strings what's one more atrocity swept under the rug?
Police raid a house off Colfax linked to a Brazilian gang making a move in the area and recover a sizable stash of illegal firearms. Gui will not be pleased with this.
Police are out and about on street corners, the city shelling out for overtime while some are canvassing for eyewitness reports and others units make shows of force in primarily Sabbat neighborhood.
Those more discreet Sabbat are out and about uptown, knowing there will be a blood shortage as people stay in their homes, trying to track uncontrollably peckish Camarilla Kindred back to their havens with plans to drop in unannounced.
Otherwise occupied. It's a good phrase to describe the neonates, ancillae, and elders of either Sect in a city under siege. Otherwise occupied holding on to what they've got or holding on to what they've gained in the particularly notable flare-ups. They're a self-interested bunch, Kindred (individual and in coteries) or Cainite packs, but they get on with their unlives because they must.
* * *
This is very different from the nightly skirmishes in the street, so easily peddled to the news agencies as gang violence or psychotic breaks. This isn't some freak act and it isn't insulated to the areas of lower-socioeconomic-giving-a-fuck.
This was purposeful and skillful and unconcerned with the value of human life.
In any case someone had decided to affix an undisclosed (pending investigation) amount of remotely detonated explosive on the underside of a car. That had gotten the attention of local and federal law enforcement.
* * *
In any case someone had decided to do away with the prized errand boy and girl of one Jasper Durant, Toreador ancilla. Jack and Jill might as well be good names for them as they were out fetching pails of blood from The Fern. The Fern, sanctioned feeding ground of the Camarilla's posher high clan licks, was left shut down that night when the Kindred need waystations like it to stay in the red and keep their heads down. It had happened just down the street from all those high rises that one Ventrue had acquired before she'd gone off on some other directive from her Strategos.
The Camarilla takes notice and turns their eye on the only possible culprit: the Sabbat.
It's the cost of doing business, this sort of thing, and so is the ensuing retaliation.
* * *
Makeshift electrical wiring leads to a blaze in a building off Federal leaving five squatters dead. It's actually a pack of shovelheads and their two True Sabbat handlers, but if the Camarilla PR machine is already up out of bed and pulling strings what's one more atrocity swept under the rug?
Police raid a house off Colfax linked to a Brazilian gang making a move in the area and recover a sizable stash of illegal firearms. Gui will not be pleased with this.
Police are out and about on street corners, the city shelling out for overtime while some are canvassing for eyewitness reports and others units make shows of force in primarily Sabbat neighborhood.
Those more discreet Sabbat are out and about uptown, knowing there will be a blood shortage as people stay in their homes, trying to track uncontrollably peckish Camarilla Kindred back to their havens with plans to drop in unannounced.