Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]
Add Reply
Prologue: Council of War
Topic Started: Dec 4 2017, 01:33 PM (48 Views)
Andrew Cutting
Member Avatar
Shovelhead
[ *  * ]
Golden Hippocras sat in a decanter at the centre of the large polished walnut table; maps of Detroit, building plans, maps of the sewer and other underground systems within the city, reports from spies and employees... a glut of documentation that could satiate the curiosity of even the most intense individuals. If you wanted to know about Detroit's situation then everything you needed was on that table; of course there were gaps here and there, the Prince's inner circle was after all a difficult thing the get eyes on and those eyes seemed to be more difficult to keep than to acquire. The Prince had a way of removing threats which was admirable in terms of efficiency but frustrating nonetheless. Around the table stood advisors and senior employees, as well as a few key allies of the Cutting cause, all carefully studying the maps and charts, getting an idea of the Anarch and Sabbat movements over the past few weeks.

Since the fall of Nash the situation among the Kindred of Detroit had been in flux. Where before a peace had existed between the different Sects and factions now there was all out war. The Sabbat had been lashing out wildly, flailing like a madman at first, but their attacks were becoming more and more methodical with each passing night and it was clear that their new leadership had some grand strategy. The Anarchs meanwhile were maintaining their own fragile internal alliances by a wing and a prayer, and the unspoken influence of the interminable former Baron, Deveaux, who seemed intent only on keeping the peace within the Sect. The trouble was that the Anarchs as a united front outnumbered the Camarilla; they may lack the Camarilla's material resources, but in terms of boots on the ground they were the largest Sect in Detroit. If they fully united and began a concerted effort to take all of Detroit then the Camarilla's fate was sealed,

Already the maps and charts showed clearly the facts that dismayed so many high ranking Camarilla members within the city; the Sect was losing ground almost everywhere. Only Downtown remained solidly within their grip, a heartland of safety and law in an otherwise lawless city. However Downtown's position was precarious; the Anarchs had shown no interest in trying to move in on that territory but if the Tribals had their way that would soon change. If the Sabbat attacked in force however, as they had tried to do once before, Andrew doubted that the Camarilla would be able to decisively defeat them. Well they couldn't without the support he could provide; sequestered in his headquarters he maintained a small army of well trained and well equipped men and women. He had no doubt the Prince suspected that he might have some sort of force available, but he knew that Matachelli, had no way of knowing for certain.

The situation shown on the maps and reports did not dismay Andrew however, not in the slightest. As the Sect lost ground to the Anarchs in Corktown-Woodbrige and to the Sabbat in the Jefferson Corridor it made Matachelli look weak. He was a soldier Prince with a reputation for martial skill; it was what made him both feared and respected among the kindred of the Camarilla, however it was also his greatest weakness politically, for if he lost a war his position was weakened. He had to give it the man he was doing a good job of holding things together; only a Prince of legendary skill and abilities and the height of his capability and power could have held back the onslaught which followed the Nash Incident. That he had not only weathered the storm, but also managed to secure Downtown against one major incursion was impressive, but Andrew held himself to higher standards.

His subordinates and allies were all studying the maps closely, trying to predict the Anarch's next move. Logically they should push to consolidate their power in Corktown-Woodbridge before looking to secure the Central Corridor, but the Anarchs were anything but logical. Not only that but their leadership and their forces were divided between three major factions and though they were nominally allies with one another the division between the three core Anarch factions in the city could not be overstated. Tadeu would doubtless try to establish strongholds as he had done in the West Side when he and his London Anarchs had first arrives; the Natives would more likely just trash the place, while the Tribals took the fight to the Camarilla forces remaining in the area. The trouble was that Tadeu's strategy would likely work, his forces would be entrenched and difficult to push out, and in the context of the Natives' rampages and the Tribals' endless hits the Camarilla would lose ground by degrees.

The real threat from the Anarchs to the Cutting interests though was not this war, or the encroaching hordes, it was Deveaux. The former Baron had been an elusive figure before the Nash Incident, and ever since he'd practically vanished. He had so far shown up three times, first to create the alliance between the Anarch factions, and twice more to enforce it. Deveaux's influence had waned, but his power as a Kindred had not, in fact since the incident Andrew got the distinct impression it may have increased. Whatever the case there was some invisible hand seeming to guide and assist the Anarchs at every turn and if Andrew was correct and it was Deveaux then they had a problem.

"Ladies, gentlemen." He broke the silence and instantly gained the attention of everyone in the room. "We need to find Deveaux."
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Andrew Cutting
Member Avatar
Shovelhead
[ *  * ]
Deveaux was a difficult man to find. Andrew had had his people watching the Deveaux House for years, even before the Nash Incident, it was the obvious place to find the man and it was well known among the Kindred of Detroit that this was the haven of the Baron, now former Baron of West Side. From the outside the property was nothing special, a crumbling manse surrounded by a cemetery, it was almost too cliché, except that he clearly had an exceptional reason for it. Andrew had looked into the property and as far as he can tell it shouldn't exist; there were no deeds and no records of the property prior to the 1900s, yet it was constructed in the style of the 1840s, and looked like it had been abandoned for about that long. To a mortal this would make no sense at all, the records showed that the manse had appeared out of nowhere at some point during prohibition, yet no-one had questioned it. To Andrew this stank of sorcery. It was no secret that Deveaux had dealings with the dark mysticism that the Samedi were known for; he had somehow managed to defeat and be all accounts consume a Methuselah after all.

Yet for all the surveillance Andrew had ordered around the manse he had received no significant information. Mortals wouldn't go near the place and the Anarchs themselves only rarely visited. All were received at the front door by a servant, most likely undead, and all left by the front door later on that night. Deveaux himself had never been seen to leave the property, but Andrew had no doubt there were other, rather more difficult to see, entrances to the place. Its location was a clue to that, the cemetery had several mausoleums which were known to be quite large; the local Nosferatu had used them for years as entryways into their networks of tunnels. Not only that by according the information he had obtained from a captured Giovanni the house was placed in a critical location as far as sorcery and necromancy were concerned; according to him the location was so potent that it interfered with nearby sorcery and necromancy which was why the Giovanni had remained well clear. The Veil was thin there, or so it seemed, Andrew could certainly believe that -something- was going on but whether he subscribed to the full extend of a necromancer's vague superstition was still open for debate.

The few accounts he had of the interior confirmed that some kind of superstitious ritual and blood sorcery was going on inside. They whole place was damp, not in the sense that old buildings usually get damp, no the walls were literally wet, marked by years of running water. The temperature inside was cool, the carpets saturated with water to the point the moss and fungi had started to grow in places; those people he had managed to interview who would talk about what they had seen inside all said the same thing, the place was full of ritual objects and fetishes. It didn't seem like the comfortable sort of haven he would have expected a man of power like Deveaux to live in; the ritual signs he could believe, but the utter dilapidation of the place was unreal. Yet for all that apparent neglect the house was sound, it wasn't collapsing, it was simply stagnant. Nothing about it seemed to change.

If any progress was to be made Andrew would have to pay the former Baron a visit in person.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
« Previous Topic · The Cutting Building · Next Topic »
Add Reply

Black Water created by tiptopolive of the Zetaboards Theme Zone