Blood and Oil
Covenant: Carthian Movement
Mental Attributes: Intelligence 4, Wits 3, Resolve 2
Physical Attributes: Strength 1, Dexterity 2, Stamina 3
Social Merits: Presence 3, Manipulation 2, Composure 2
Mental Skills: Academics 3, Crafts 1, Investigation 2, Occult 4 (the blood), Politics 2
Physical Skills: Athletics 1, Firearms 2 (Red 9), Larceny 1
Social Skills: Empathy 1, Expression 3, Intimidation 1, Persuasion 1, Socialize 2 (Carthians)
Merits: Haven (size) 1, Haven (security) 1, Resources 2, Carthian Status 3, Secret Society 1, Study Group 1, Allies (Kindred mystics) 2
Disciplines: Auspex 3, Ars Speculorum 1
Blood Potency: 2
Starting Vitae: 3
From the Journal of Melchior Hessian:
The moon isn’t quite full tonight, and that means something.
Well, first things first. It means that the Free Press didn’t check its calendar correctly, and they put the wrong phase up tonight. No surprise, I guess. No one in this city care except for me (Lord, please let me be the only one who cares about the moon), so why should they?
Anyway, unimportant. It was quiet enough tonight for me to take a stroll around the Park, and I almost left the Mauser at home. The streets were… empty. Not quiet, empty. Like a ghost town, or those cities in the Ukraine under the shadow of Chernobyl. Sad, that it didn’t even take the insidious curse of fallout to make us leave.
The moon, I think, means that things aren’t changing any more. That’s what I think. It’s just the same moon as that night when the last thing I saw alive was the stained brick of a back alley. Last thing I ate… onion bagel. Cup of coffee, right outside Wayne State. The moon was the same then.
I’ve seen so many things since then, secrets. If I didn’t hate them so much, I’d dive full into them, join the Order and be done with politics. But I can’t. Transcendence and purity. Overcoming the old evils of society. Making something new and better. Removing the “parasites”. I’ve heard that before, and so did six million Jews. Everyone wants to know what the Dragons are hiding. I’d call it even that it’s the same symbol stamped on this pistol.
Filthy, fascist bastards.
They’re as bad as the Estate, just better educated. And the Estate don’t hide the menace. And the Lance don’t speak against them, throwing down two thousand years of earnest prayers. As if that was nothing, as if there’s no price for that.
There’s always the price, and someone’s always keeping score. We just can’t see the card. The moon did, maybe, all those years ago. Was this the same moon that saw Vlad Dracul murder the Turks and lose his humanity? Did it see the Crone walk in Cornwall or the Camarilla bleed out on perfectly level roads? Did it see the Sanctified turn from God and towards something different? Was the Witches Sabbath lit by candles or by moonlight?
Questions. But the answers are out there. And I can find them, and I can use them. And the moon will see them burn, and the dagger of the Cause will glow in its light. Revolutions are lit by moonglow, right before the fuses catch.
It’s not such a bad moon tonight, I suppose. And it shines on the dead and the undead alike, in Detroit.