2026-03-26 9:36 - 9:36 PST
Written by Calimastia’s player
Eagle jumps down from the rooftop, and lands silently within a buddle of Quietus. His target, a massive and herculean man, is roughing up a younger man who smelled of…yes. Brujah. Blow after blow to the head, until he returns to a corpselike state. His companion, who smelled of Ventrue, watched in awe. So easily impressed, these young.
He wet his blades with vitae. Barry Brickhouse was a large man, so a potent dose was required. His potent blood of the eighth generation should be more then sufficient, however. Two back to back applications of his venom should bring down this man, who was once Sheriff. A shame he could not destroy the other one, the usurper. But he had been paid to deliver, not to deviate.
Barry looked over, and said something to the smaller Ventrue, who turned his back. In the window he had, Eagle moved across the street, under cover of obfuscate, primed his blow, and struck. He whispered in the same breath:
-# “Autumn Cricket sends her regards”
Twin blades cut a vicious trio of arcs into Brickhouse’s back, venom scouring through his entire body, over and over, and over. He launched backwards, landing on the roof of the car nearby, grinning beneath his hood and mask, as the man staggered, surely doomed for torpor. His Ventrue companion turned, drawing a small arm, firing off a shot with surprising speed. He allowed it to impact him, to little effect. He was prepared to pounce onto the Ventrue, to demonstrate his ire, when suddenly, a projectile came hurling at him. He jumped, over the thrown torpid form of the Brujah, as he looked down, to see Barry Brickhouse looking up at him with fury.
He’d remained standing?
He dove, blades still coated, attempting to corkscrew down and around for another strike to the back. But, with surprising finesse, Brickhouse spun his arm like a sledgehammer-and a mere glancing blow sent the Eagle slammed into a wall across the street. He began to charge, and Johnny began to line up another shot. Too little too late. Eagle grinned, and primed his throwing arm, blade still coated in the caress of Bhaal. One more strike, and the Hound was finished.
A spread of 12 gauge pellets tore his hand from position. The knife struck the pavement, and began to sizzle. Eagle realized he would not win this battle. He had underestimated his target, as his compatriots had underestimated the traitor sorceress. He scowled, and vanished from the mind’s eye.
Wyatt lowered the shotgun, and looked over at his bosses. Barry walked over, and clasped him on the shoulder.
“Nice work, kid.”
He grunted, as Johnny scooped up the severed hand.
“Let’s go see what Mark has to say.”