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| Climbing out of your own grave | |
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| Topic Started: Thursday, 26. May 2016, 23:31 (145 Views) | |
| Tsar Ilya the First | Thursday, 26. May 2016, 23:31 Post #1 |
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Claiming Tsar
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Ilya stared at the skull in his hand. A few meters away, Olga played some video game on a tablet. She was kneeling on the floor, wearing only lingerie. House rules hadn't change. But the owner was not the same man. Damascus had been everything he expected, but twisted in ways that made it pointless. Camarilla factions warming each other through kine proxies; flesh machines becoming ground meat on the streets, dark fanatics trying to win over anybody to their cause, and assassins lurking in the shadows, murdering indiscriminately people from every faction. Hell. The brujah from Moscow supported the current prince, while the ventrue from overseas maintained that the seneschal, pretender to the seat, had a better claim. They even assisted the existing anarchs, on the condition of them becoming terrorists for hire. Nobody complained about that. He went there with the idea of preaching the gospel of freedom for kindred, seeking to establish a secure network, like the one in London, for smart freedom fighters to congregate instead, he ended caught up in a thick web of dubious loyalties, judged by those who were supposes to be on his side, due to his ways of treating line. The irony was horrifying, Somebody had hired Bilal, promised him some outlandish reward for his head. He became a target. It had been a horrible experience. Bilal was extremely efficient. He killed three of ilya's local ghouls in less than a nig,leaving him mostly I defended. If he was still alive, and back in his palace at Princess Manor, it's all thanks to his amulets. Bilal couldn't commit to lighting the match that would have reduced Ilya to ashes, when subject to the shame projected trough Ilya's gold chain. Shame made him hesitate, cry blood tears, and bow. Ilya had no shame, but a machete. The head got turned into ashes quite fast, but he kept them in a flask, and later on used them to make a resin skull, to remember how his own vanity had nearly cost him hs life. He went to Damascus believing he could spread the seed of change, and build an empire from the ruins of yesterday's society, and only got trapped between questionable loyalties, and murderous enemies. London felt like a safer bet by now. He typed a quick message in the Network. There were no news. At all. Absolute silence. That could be a source of worry, or a blessing. It was time to take back the kingdom, and forget about the empire. |
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Languages: Russian, Japanese, English, French, Finnish, German Oleg's Voice You may know me as Yuri Mikhailov or as Khoza. | |
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1:14 AM Jul 11