The End Game: Part I

The Chambers of A Tremere Elder

"It is certain", the old vampire stood over the delivered message, written on old parchment, sealed with the house Tremere wax and written in Latin as is customary of all messages worth delivering. "Yes sire", the young vampire spoke through exposed fangs, doing everything he could to control the intensity of the blood flowing through his vein.
He stood from his wooden chair, elaborately decorated with silver embroidery on a satin cushion, the mark of wealth and prestige. "and the secrecy"? The man asked without taking his eyes off the message, eyes still scanning it as he read it for the third time. "presumed to be compromised", the young vampire answered, slurring his speech. He knew what this meant, his blood reacting to his barely contained emotions.
Dropping the parchment on his desk, the old vampire looked up at his progeny, "calm yourself my child", now looking up at the young vampire with the tempered look of an elder. He patiently stood and watched over the young progeny as the vampires teeth retracted after a few moments. "There you go, now perhaps we can think clearly", the old vampire said. "Yes sire", the progeny replied.
"We must consult the council and we must do so quickly. We will not be able to control the situation for much longer.", The old vampire started walking at a brisk pace towards the large wooden double doors to his chamber, the young kindred scampered behind him. "Prepare the portal".

Somewhere in London

Flashes of consciousness and clarity only last seconds, but despite everything that happened, Erik used the fleeting moments to think of her. Her eyes, her lips, her blood. What would she become without him, would she even survive the coming storm. He had been here before, he hated these dark moments of his unlife. Despite his state he pitied them all rather then himself. All of their games, their wasted centuries, the absence of substance. Erik knew that of all the elder vampires of this city, this life, he was the only one who had anything to lose. They fight over the scraps of power that drop from the tables of nobodies, their pitiful existence nothing but an illusion of control, yet he finds himself once again an unwitting pawn in their empty games.
He has made the arrangement and though it may be a betrayal, he can only hope that the deal with the devil will yield the ultimate prize. They want a pawn, he is going to give them one they will never forget.

Somewhere else in London

He stood in the street, in the rain, his fangs exposed, his claws at the ready, soaked in both the weather and the blood that carried him. Finally he would confront him, this night, no further. As the carriage approached, He thought of the novel he had been reading for months in his little hovel against the candle light, instinctively mouthing the words that had such an impression on him, perhaps even driving him to act. It was his strength, it would yield his victory.
"He piled upon the whale's white hump the sum of all the rage and hate felt by his whole race from Adam down; If his chest were a cannon, he would have shot his heart upon it".
The carriage stopped, the drivers face not visible on this dark night. He came around the side, he only whispered the word "silence", the driver stood frozen, unable to speak, yet piercing through the thunder and lightning the screams of pain were unmistakable. He relished the thought of his master fearing him so that it brought him pain. He peered menacingly through the cabs window, the vampire looked up at him, his eyes bleeding, his face contorted. He could only bring himself to say one word and though he wanted to say it with rage, the look upon his targets face softened his words.
"Father".

The Elysium

She gripped his hand tight as Isabella spoke, rambling on about the Giovanni joining the Camarilla, but to her it was all irrelevant. She watched Erik from the back, tears building in her eyes, her grip tightened so much that even Grimwalds unbreakable hands felt it enough to make him look down on her. He whispered "Are you ok?", his voice a comfort to her. She didn't blame him, she didn't hate him, she knew that somewhere in there was the young Grimwald that once lived free with her in the deep North. She closed her eyes, fighting back the tears, she was about to answer when suddenly his hand went limp.
He screamed in horror as he dropped to his knee's. She reached for him, "Grimwald", it was half question, half concern. It made no sense, she had never heard Grimwald cry out in pain, nor had she ever seen fear in his eyes. "Grimwald", she said again, but his eyes filled with blood as he collapsed to the floor. The room went from a respectful silence into complete chaos in moments, she looked up at Erik, hoping to find his comforting gaze but he had not even bothered to turn around, standing there like a frozen corpse.
Others rushed to her side, though Grimwalds reputation was enough to keep most away from him. Isabella made her way to them through the crowd, but before she reached them Grimwald looked up at her. He said nothing, but his face was contorted, confused, frightened. She didn't know how or why, but she knew that this was the work of Jean-Luc. What cruel game was he playing now, what vile plot is unavailing itself in front of her eyes. She hated him, with her heart, with her soul.