---- Recall start ----

Hilliard Memorial Hospital - Room 205
The smell of antiseptic permeates the room, hiding most of the other odors, 
though not quite. The white walls makes the room seem larger than it actually 
is, but despite the window, the room is fairly small and would make those who 
are claustrophobic shudder inwardly. A hospital bed sits in the middle of the 
room with an elevated table next to it. The table is on wheels and is easily 
rolled. A television set sits perched on a sturdy platform on the wall opposite 
from the bed. The window looks out onto the river, a peaceful scene.
A door set into the western wall of the room allows access out into the hallway.

Tibor pages to the room: Is there a problem with this being the Friday after 
the plant blew up? I'm thinking he got taken here, having been beaten or caught 
in the looting.
The Priest pages the room: Um. I think I could twist that into shape, yeah.
From afar, to the room, Tibor figures he normally hangs around downtown at The 
Temple, yes? That's in the south side?
Long distance to Tibor: The Priest nods. He'd been out of town for a while, 
probably back in Seattle, but came back to fiddle when he heard the city was 
burning.
Tibor pages to the room: What sorts of things was he up to?
You paged Tibor with 'Skulking. Gathering information. Trying to stay out of 
the public view.'.
From afar, to the room, Tibor hmm. What kind of info?
You paged Tibor with 'Who's doing what. Who's moving to aggregate power in the 
chaos. Who's still working black market. Where people are gathering after 
curfew. That sort of thing.'.
From afar, Tibor nods. Think then you might get beat up talking to someone who 
doesn't like what he hears? :) An enforcer for someone you've been asking 
after, etc?
You paged Tibor with 'Quite likely. Or somebody who just doesn't want to see 
him back in town. Or somebody who doesn't like him.'.
From afar, Tibor goes with that, then. You've been here about three days, only 
really conscious today. You've been beaten pretty badly, but nothing seems 
permanent. Mostly it was the head wound that kept you out.

It's about three in the morning, that time when the medical center finally 
seems quiet. Sirens blare occassionally outside as a police car, fire truck or 
ambulance blaze past. Shadows deepen, here on the tail end of night, offering 
the cool of oblivion. The tubes have been taken out, and only the IV remains, 
feding blood into you.

The Priest tests the range of his movement again, frowning at his arm-leash in 
annoyance. Then he turns his frown on his snoring room mate. "Damn, man," he 
grumbles, "You don't talk that loud when you're /awake/!" Longingly, he looks 
across the space between himself and the window. The city lights, the almost 
inaudible rumble of traffic calling him.

Slowly, the door opens, and an older man enters, dressed in the 
white-coat-over-business-clothes of a doctor making morning rounds. He glances 
at the other person in the bed, then looks over at the Priest. "The city draws 
you, does it?" he says quietly, his voice perhaps the first indication he is 
there.

You paged Tibor with 'Was the light on in the hall outside?'.
Tibor pages: Nope

The Priest turns his head quickly, eyeing the new arrival suspiciously. Then he 
shrugs. "Nothin' personal. I mean, y'all look after me, and that, and there's 
regular meals. But it's like that Born Free shit and all."

Tibor's face is like a mask. "Freedom, then, is what you desire?" He moves a 
little closer. Not threatening, but with a growing aura of menace all the same. 
The room is dark, the only light coming in knife-like slices from the 
streetlamps outside, through the blinds. "You seem like a man who appreciates 
his freedom."

The Priest swallows, almost imperceptibly, and leans toward the approaching man 
just to show he's not afraid. "Any man who don't ain't really a man." He 
glances toward the window again.

The Priest(#3868Pc)
Tall, thin and black, like a spider with topcoat and tails. A bony seven-foot 
frame with long arms and legs tends to tower over and dominate groups in the 
light and hide in the dark. A silk top hat settles on curly black hair which 
frames ebon black face. The only hint of light is the nicotine-stain yellow of 
the 'whites' of his eyes.
Until he smiles. Then, large white teeth seem to erupt from his mouth, tearing 
his face open as if he would swallow whatever caught his attention.
Strength:    2 (2) Charisma:    4 (4) Perception:  3 (3) Willpower:   7 (7)
Dexterity:   2 (2) Manipulation:4 (4) Intelligence:2 (2)
Stamina:     2 (2) Appearance:  2 (2) Wits:        4 (4)
Backgrounds:Resources:2 Contacts:3 Fame:1

Tibor seems almost to slide across the floor instead of walk. "A commendable 
attitude. Too many people these days are more...sheep than man. They do not 
know how to make themselves free, or would know what to do with such freedom if 
they had it. Pray tell...what would you do?"

The Priest tries not to look uncomfortable, glad for the darkness of the room. 
He wraps his arms around his knee and says "Walk my own way. People to see. 
Things to do. You heard that before."

Tibor is a nosy SOB.
You whisper "No hat. Hospital gown." to Tibor.

Tibor nods slowly, his voice almost a whisper. "Where would you go? What would 
you do?"

You say "At the moment--I mean, after the incident which brought me here--I'm 
sort of at an impasse. Gotta start carving out a new path. My old path just 
clocked me upside the head with a fuckin' bottle.""

Tibor smiles a bit, now beside the bed. "Yes," he says, as if he knows. "What 
path would you carve? And who would you carve it out of?"

The Priest tips his head. "You an insurance salesman, Sparky? Is that what this 
is all about?"
Tibor shakes his head. "No, I am a doctor, and one who is interested in your 
case."

Long distance to Tibor: The Priest blinks. I just figured out who the Priest is.
Tibor pages: Heh. Who?
You paged Tibor with 'He's Denzel Washington in 'Glory'.'.

The Priest smiles, his teeth the most visible feature in the dark room. "Path I 
want is to be happy. I'd carve it outta anybody who gets in my way, Doctor."

Tibor smiles as well, his fangs prominant in the dim light. He turns, just 
enough to let them flash. "As I had thought, yes... would you like that 
opportunity?"

The Priest fails his 'stay cool' roll, but not badly enough as to cause damage. 
He backs his way to the head of the bed. "Don't fuck with me, now, man. You 
don't wanna try to scare me with y'goofy teeth and shit." He tries to subtly 
reach for the call button, achingly far away on the other side of the bed.

Tibor smiles. "Is this 'goofy'?" He reaches back and hauls up the man in the 
other bed, who struggles to wakefullness even as Tibor drives his fangs into 
the man's neck in full view of the Priest.

Tibor
A non-descript man of middle years with short brown hair and a neatly trimmed 
dark brown beard and mustache. His eyes are small and mahogany-colored, perhaps 
the only really distinguishing feature of an over-all bland face.
He's dressed in conservative blacks and greys, looking like he belongs in a 
board room or at church. The only spot of color on his clothing is a single 
white carnation tucked into his lapel.

The Priest clutches at the wire leading to the call button, speechless and 
motionless as the large man struggles (more and more weakly) in the arms of the 
predator.

Tibor lets the half-dead man fall from his grasp, slumping over the bed as the 
twin wounds in his neck pump twin spurts of blood over the white linens and the 
Priest's leg. "That is freedom, sir. Are you brave enough for it?" The man on 
the bed twists in his last minutes, turning to look at the Priest, the light in 
his eyes going out.

The Priest licks his lips. "Now. Now. There's a difference between bein' brave 
and bein' stupid. I got plenty of the one, but I'm fresh out of the other. You 
understand me?"

Tibor nods. "Of course, I have had a long time to think about it." His now red 
eyes flick to the cooling corpse. "Are you brave enough to embrace a life that 
will allow you a freedom so total, so all-encompasing, most men fear to dream 
of it?"

Still scared, the Priest carefully unwraps his hand from the call button. "I 
got more fuckin' brave than you seen all week, baby." He almost looks down at 
the man sprawled on the floor. but keeps his eyes fixed on Tibor.

The man's blood stops flowing, stops oozing. Tibor's red eyes gaze back at the 
priest, and he reaches deep inside the man's mind, the weight of his will like 
a press. "Tell me the truth. Do you want to be free? What will you pay for it?"

The Priest tries to resist, to push back. "Fuck yeah, I do. There's times where 
I might've had to pay with my life, and I was ready to pony up, too." He points 
down, without looking away in the least. "I tell you, I'd go down better than 
that chump there."

Tibor says "You do not want to be food, then?"

The Priest smiles bravely. "Momma didn't raise me to be no hamburger."

Tibor smiles one last time. "Excellent. It is as I thought, but.. I had to be 
sure. I have a place to send you... where you can become strong."

The Priest swallows again. "So you're gonna... make me like that?

Tibor nods quietly, looking for the man's reactions in his eyes, and beyond.

From afar, to the room, Tibor checks his aura, etc.
You paged Tibor with 'Okay. Everything's dulled by the painkillers, but the 
adrenaline is working to even that out. Excitement. Doubt. Fear. A little 
suspicion mixed with the fear. Anticipation. Some pretty unhealthy glee.'.
From afar, Tibor cools.

The Priest looks back, daring, challenging.

Tibor nods once more. He reaches into his coat and pulls out a card, which he 
hands to Priest; it's the business card of an underground club in Seattle. "I 
think you are familiar with the place?" he says. "Go there. And we will see 
where your freedom takes you."

The Priest glances at the card. "And that's it, huh? You're in thick with this 
bunch?" He laughs, an escape of tension. "Wouldn't have taken you for that 
type, Doc." He twirls the card and slides it against his gown, right about 
where the breast pocket would be on a tuxedo.

Tibor laughs softly. "I taught that type," he says slowly, then reaches down to 
hook his fingers into the man's corpse. The flesh writhes at his touch, the 
skin withering and changing as he hefts up the body. "We will be in touch, 
later..."

The Priest scoots back across the mattress again, just enough to draw his feet 
up and out of reach of the thing lurking under the bed. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll catch 
you later, Doc." He licks his lips. "I was asleep all night, so I got no idea 
what happened to him."

Tibor gestures and the blood on the sheets writhes across the linen to follow 
him. He smiles a bit. "Another tragic overdose. What with the overcrowding 
following the accident, we're so dreadfully short of help..."

The Priest nods again and drags the blankets up over his bare legs. "It's been 
a real interesting night, Doc. Nice talking with you. But if I don't get some 
rest then I'll never get any better. That's what Nurse Han keeps tellin' me, 
you know."

Tibor nods to the man, and takes the corpse out of the room like so much trash.

You paged Tibor with 'Uncle Lew? Auntie Em? What a strange dream I've had.'.
Tibor pages: Uncle Lew and Aunti Em look up from feeding on the farmhand. "Go 
back to sleep dear, it was just a bad dream."

Seattle Underground(#2427RJ)
A flashing, twisted scene of clubs, bars and other less savory places jammed 
almost one on top of another.

The scene is Seattle, a few days later. Rain beats down, turning the pavement 
into silver. "Sliver's" is the name of the club, one of a dozen or more in the 
area. It's a weeknight, but the line of kids and punks is out into the street. 
The occassional person just walks right on in, to catcalls and hisses from the 
drenched partygoers.

The Priest strolls up to the man at the door, flashing his card. "Scuse me. I'm 
supposed to see Santiago. The man in St. Claire sent me." He's fully healed his 
smooth and is operating at full capacity by now.

The doorkeeper looks The Priest up and down, and nods, and admits the man amid 
cries and catcalls from the crowd. Inside, the air seems to vibrate with the 
music, seemingly given form by the swirling mist and smoke. People dance, hug, 
kiss and more on the dancefloor, while the terraces with the bars are almost as 
full. Young people in all manner of garb and style flit past, some running 
hands over the Priest. Amid all the chaos and confusion, a dark young man comes 
up to the Priest and motions for him to follow.

The Priest smiles to himself, touching one of the clubbers in return while 
keeping a hand on his wallet. This was definitely more like it. Much more like 
'it' than sitting in a hospital bed and having things drip into you. Leisurely, 
he follows the young man as he takes in his surroundings.

Long distance to Rave: The Priest hopes you don't mind a little exposition.
From afar, Rave certainly does not.

A turn into a hallway, where sounds of lovemaking and other cries echo off the 
thin walls. Even here, there are people, brushing by, touching, one even 
tasting. The dark young man ahead touches back as they pass, but still moves 
forwads. The drum beat of the music here is muted, like the thumping of a 
heart, more felt than heard.


The Priest occasionally tries to pause to reflect the attentions paid to him, 
but the primary objective is always to follow, to move toward the new step of 
his destiny.

The dark young man ahead opens a door at the end of the hall, and passes 
through. Beyond and down five steps is a sunken room, lit with dim light. 
Couches and chairs and spread about in seemingly random patterns. The dark 
young man turns to the Priest and smiles. "I've been told about you. I am 
Santiago, and I think we have a lot to talk about."

Not seeing a hand offered, the Priest keeps his to himself. "Recognised me 
pretty quick. Impressive." He glances at the door, then pushes it shut. "Been 
looking forward to meeting you--wondered if you were a guy or a girl."

Santiago smiles and slowly his face smooths and the features change, slightly. 
A trick of light and shadow at first, but then his chest shifts and his hips 
broaden, his hair spilling down like a raven waterfall. "Such boundries are not 
for us," she says with a soft laugh.

For the second time in a week, the Priest fails his 'stay cool' roll. but this 
time he just gapes. Once or twice he starts to speak, but abandons the process.

Santiago laughs again, only slightly mocking, and moves forward to run her hand 
down The Priest's front. "We are the only free creatures there are, freed from 
the chains that bind everyone else. Does this surprise you so much, then?"

The Priest shakes his head slightly, clearing it. "Caught me off guard, maybe. 
But that's all. The man said 'free' but when you're used to 'free' meaning 
'with purchase of equal or lesser value'..." His smile is broad and his manner 
smooth again, the momentary breach healed.

Santiago eyes the man's reaction carefully, like a scientist watching the 
reactions of a frog he's dissecting. Her fingers grow half again as long, and 
brush the Priest's face. "This is freedom from the bounds of flesh and the 
chains of blood. From the herd you've been submerged in."

This time he is prepared. Not so much shocked as pleased, now, Christmas with a 
new toy that cannot just yet be opened. "Damn," he breathes, "This looks worth 
losing sunrises for." He starts to lift a hand to touch hers, but lets it fall 
quickly.

Santiago reaches around, her lips quickly seeking his, then the soft flesh of 
the neck. The bite, when it comes, is quick and painless. The burning ecstacy 
of The Kiss, though, is something no mortal is prepared for...

Surprised at the speed and simplicity, only a soft cry escapes him before he is 
rendered speechless. Swooning into the contact, he drapes his arms over her 
shoulders to keep from falling.

Eventually, she pulls back. Or, rather, he does. He keeps one hand on the 
Priest's shoulders to steady him, and smiles, a trickle of blood escaping his 
mouth. "That is what freedom gives you. Humans have yearned for a simpler, less 
complicated existance for as long as they can remember. Only we, though, have 
acheived it. They are afraid, afraid of loosing the chains that bind them. 
Surely you have felt this?"

The Priest opens his mouth, eyes glazed, and fails to speak. So he just nods 
his head quietly.

A couple of other people have drifted towards the pair, coming slowly out of 
the shadows of the great room. The distant thudding sounds of the club seem to 
fall away into silence as a young woman comes up to one side of the Priest and 
draws a hand across his shoulder. Santiago smiles just slightly. "Do you want 
her?"

The Priest turns his head toward her, smiling widely at her, then looks back 
toward Santiago. "Heh. After what you just did? Nothing personal, girl, but 
there... there ain't no comparison."

Santiago extends a scalpel to the Priest. "No, I mean..."

The Priest takes the knife but shakes his head. "Honestly. Even a really 
intense cutting is... it's like nothing compared with that." He lifts his hand 
to brush his fingers across his neck, then looks at the girl. "Maybe later 
though, angel."

Santiago reaches and touches the girl's face, which begins to run like wax, her 
mouth and nose closing quietly. She stumbles back into the shadows, trying to 
do something which is no longer possible. "Do you see the lesson here?" 
Santiago says calmly.

The Priest jerks back away, looking rather agitated. "Jesus!"

Santiago laughs, a soft silken sound. "It bothers you?"

The Priest rolls his shoulders, shrugging, trying to look cool again. "Caught 
me by surprise, is more like. I mean, I'd seen you do that to yourself, but... 
that's somebody else."

Santiago nods calmly. "And what is the lesson there?" her repeats. He steps 
foward, raven hair thrown back, his mouth slightly parted, revealing 
needle-like fangs.

The Priest takes a breath. "Lesson is. When you're a worm, beauty is 
transitory. When you're free, you transcend it."

Santiago slowly smiles. "Everything is transitory, and when free, you transcend 
everything else. But...you must be tired. You can rest here, or.. we can go 
out, among the herd."

The Priest turns, at last, toward Santiago. "If I say I wanna rest, does that 
mean I admit I'm weak and not ready?"

Santiago laughs again. "A good question, but no. Or..." he shrugs. "I think, 
truly, you are ready."

The Priest visibly relaxes, and smiles again. "I'm not especially tired. 
Night's young, and all that shit."

You paged Rave: 'Is the girl visibly asphyxiating over in the shadow there?'.
Rave pages: asphyxiat/ed/. yep.

Santiago holds up a hand where the nails are growing to points. "No, I mean... 
I think you are ready..."

The Priest reaches for his lapels. "If this is gonna get blood all over, 
then... This is my only suit." He looks apologetic as he tugs on his jacket.

Rave pages: Santiago detects what on emotions?
You paged Rave with 'Excitement. Anticipation. Concern.'.

Santiago moves quickly. Not at a run, but just in one single motion that's hard 
to track. He's suddenly on the Priest, his mouth at the man's neck, the blood 
pumping out in sudden spurts.

Surprise, alarm, dismay, and then surrender to the Kiss sweep through the 
Priest before it becomes irrelevant what he thinks, says or does.

Santiago drinks deeply, and slowly lowers the Priest to the ground as the last 
rattling breath slips away. A motion, and a young man from the shadows comes 
forward, his movements as quiet and unnatural as Santiago's own. He bends down 
and Santiago touches his wrist, which gapes like a second mouth. Blood drips 
into the Priest's cold, pale lips, drop by crimson drop. After a long agonizing 
time, the Priest's mouth moves...

From afar, Rave is just about done. Figure we can do the first part now, and 
the rest some other time soon.
From afar, Rave hopes it's been good?
Long distance to Rave: The Priest nods. Oh yes, it will do.

He awakens hungry, seeking to fill the emptiness inside with something. With 
anything. And then there is the crushing blow from behind, the blow that all 
Sabbat know, the one that sends them either down into the darkness or raises 
them to the light....

---- Recall end ----

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