Dr. Wichter Hechinger had been watching Tyler’s rise in the Ordo Dracul carefully for quite some time. He did not like what he saw – a pretender scholar, a failed experiment, a dupe turned golden child of Kahlil. No less than four Ordo Dracul were now associated with the naive and interested Black Doves, and they were pulling the Ordo Dracul into decidedly activist endeavors. They’d survived the fall of Gerald, the death of William Blake, the near-dissolution of the Carthian movement in Philadelphia, but still thrived. But all things could be broken. Dr. Hechinger made it his life’s work to study such things – the slow collapse of the mind, the will shattered, the crack in a seamless sculpture that signals its resounding break. He had been studying all the Doves but from his privileged position he analyzed the Ordo Dracul Doves especially. Solaina had been usefully distracted in the past half year. Elijah was unfortunately resting safely within Ordo Dracul chapterhouses by Ignatio’s plans. But he was no doubt weakened. Isandro had not been seen in almost a year now – another casualty to the broken city. Tyler remained. And Tyler had begun interesting new pursuits – seemingly confident in his safety. Dr. Hechinger assured Naqad that his latest experiment would yield insightful information on the Black Doves, information which they could use as a crack with which to pry the Black Doves open like a ripe rib cage.

Wasting no time, the coterie left The Last Drink. There was still time to catch Elijah; it was only a little after midnight. It had been a hard night already, with William Blake’s death, but they had no intention of losing Elijah too. Whatever was going on, it had something to do with some sort of secret. Before they left, Deep Throat had learned that Gagnier’s biggest fear was some sort of secret revealed- a secret he shared with Ambroise, a secret he half-feared for some other reason. Could it be true then? Could Ambroise have brought an ancient from the Old World? Could he plan to awaken an ancient, and if so, might he then feed Elijah to the ancient? They needed to get to Elijah fast.

One by one the Black Doves awaken groggy from their trials to awaken the Crone herself, Mother Farka. They wake up in the basement of the modest Germantown house that Deep Throat keeps as his safe haven. Upstairs Marco Ramos dutifully checks the cameras and the security. Dusting themselves off, checking their valuables, clearing their dry throats, they survey the situation. Grant’s left repeated texts calling for help, fighting with one of the elusive members of Seven. Elijah was strangely quiet. And then the rapping at the door: Marco Ramos calls Deep Throat to the door, his face ashen. Mother Farka stands in the doorway like a haunt, a messenger, holding a parcel which she slowly extends to Deep Throat. He stiffly takes it in his hand and looks inside. Something cracks and dies in his eyes, but hardly reaches the rest of his face. Ash. William Blake in ashes in his hands.

Your daydreams have a visitor. You wake up in your bed in the middle of the day. You can still feel the pull of slumber on you that indicates it’s still midday with the sun still high in the sky over the city. You can’t move. You can’t access your blood, your disciplines. But you see a shadow grow on the wall. You also see spiders crawl from your body quickly. You see a gruesomely long claw reach over your chest and pick one spider between two nails, crushing its abdomen. The shadow looks gaunt and crooked, with two spindly arms, and boney limbs. And then an ancient hag climbs over to your bedside and climbs onto your chest, like a great vulture peering down at its prey. You begin to sweat blood as she leans in and whispers, “You are my true daughter. You know you are good and you are evil. You do not bow to alien gods. You do not bows to kings. You are both naive and fresh-eyed and yet you are the hag, as I am. You are my true childe.” She leans back and looks you face to face, her hooked nose almost touching yours, the smell of rot and soil and … empty milk containers… rank off her. You realize you’re looking at Mother Farka. And you awaken with a start. – from the dreams of Rowana Arina O’ren

You Light My Heart on Fire

Elijah blinked and tried to see his dreams clearly, but they were already fading. He could remember two bishops, one white, one black, each falling and the sound of concrete cracking. He remembered black shapes spreading from a hole in the ground in some discarded alley. Once again he dreamt of a woman with flaming her and red lips leaning toward him invitingly, and bodies falling from the sky. And finally he dreamed of Paul Luis Reyes tumbling from the ceiling on fire – a vaulted ceiling, with marble pillars. He shuffled toward his closet to ready himself for the evening Elysium, trying to decipher the puzzle of his mind.

Deep Throat stopped by the Green Candle on his way to Luchesi’s monthly Elysium. William Blake had texted him a request to visit for urgent news. He found the receiving room empty, without the usual attendant, and walked through the open office door. He found this room empty too. On further investigation he discovered the lampshade slightly crooked and the smallest stain of blood, from what looked like a violent cut or piercing. Through Spirit’s Touch he learned an attacker Obfuscated into the office and struck William Blake with a stake successfully, under surprise. Someone dared to strike the Loyalist baron to torpor in his own office…

Twilight Reconnaissance

After recovering from the attack the previous night, the Black Doves try to decide what to do next. The memories of the mortals who attacked the Falcon Perch indicate they were “hired” by Olivetti and Papa Lacroix. The Carthian Armory robbers have cleared out and Deep Throat’s examination of their thoughts suggest they had been manipulated by Daniel Gagnier. All three of these individuals were current or former members of Ambroise’s Marble House. Deep Throat decides to enter Twilight Projection and spy on the main suspects.

The Carthian Armory

Grant receives a call from Sophe that there has been a break-in at the Carthian Armory and as the Anarch Collective sheriff she would like him to investigate. He and Rowana arrive at the armory to find the door has been blown off, perhaps with explosives. A significant number of arms are missing including the rocket launcher and a ghoul of Victor Flores lies dead on the floor. At first Grant is suspicious that the criminally prone Flores might be behind the break-in, but the logs show that it was actually Flores’s shift to guard the armory. It seemed highly improbable that he would fake a forced entry and sacrifice his own ghoul when he could have quietly pocketed a few items without raising suspicion – quite notably, a rocket launcher and several small packs of grenades. Someone wanted to have a party…

They drove from the scene in Solaina‘s signature black limo. The driver peeled away from the zombie covered streets with white knuckles gripping the wheel. They drove to Deep Throat’s new safehouse, the result of a recent arrangement with his mentor, William Blake. Then they settled The Sphinx into a chair for a more detailed conversation. Marko, as they found his name to be, is an ex-bodyguard who worked for Oleg Chernenko – otherwise known as Pripyat, Comrade Bones, Maxim Chernenko, Semyon Chernenko, Vladimir Chernenko, and Chernobyl Olie, as well as other names. But to Marko, he was just the monster he used to call ‘Boss.’

An Offer from the Shadows

Deep Throat awoke from his slumber to find the Sabbat lord Sebastian Goulet waiting in the shadows of own haven. A quick thought lead him to text all the Doves for quick descent upon his home in hopes of obtaining Goulet, and not just as a guest. Yet, only some of the doves arrive in time to see him take one step out the door then slip into the air of the night. Once all the Doves have arrived Deep Throat shares with them that his unwanted visitor wished to inform him that the city of Philadelphia was in disarray without a strong leader. Goulet proposed himself as that leader and asked for the Black Doves support. This of course did not sit well with the Doves, they all saw in an instant the destruction that would descend upon the city should he lead as Prince and everyone but Sand agreed this would invariably be a very bad thing.

Sphinx in Suds

The Conversation was interrupted by a phone call from the Alexei Tokoff. The Baron informs Deep Throat that he must come to his club at that very moment to discuss an urgent matter that will be of high interest to the Doves. Despite the urgency in the call, the Doves continue to discuss the political situation of Philadelphia…only to be interrupted yet again by a call from Alexei stressing his need for them right now. Having successfully directed the flock of Doves with his urgency they arrive at his club with style, in a long black limousine.

Some of the Doves have been awake all night. In the back of the basement Sand works at Solaina’s flesh with his macabre skill. Grant flexes his fist repeatedly, staring at the black veins which remain despite hours of effort to heal. Just before dawn, the remaining Doves awaken and prepare for the plan to stop the ritual summoning of a succubus demon at the Swanky Kitten…

The evening began with members having their bodies sculpted by Sand then took some time to fill their blood lusts prior to venturing out for an evening of disruption.
…DT, newly sculpted as Marshal
…Rowana, with somewhat ill-formed clothing, as Sunny
…Tyler, oddly comfortable in the skin of Tobias
…Elijah, fittingly as Christianus
…Solaina, ironically, as the pock-marked Jacob