Styria by Night

I have restricted myself to observation for the most part, as I familiarise myself with Silas University. I began solely in Tenebrous Form, allowing for a thorough exploration of the campus; after going undetected for several nights and given the prevalence of super-, preter- or extra- natural goings-on in this place, I find that Shadowplay is sufficient for my purposes in most situations.

I am not convinced that Carmilla is descended from Caine. I have yet to encounter her apparent sire, but while I believe that I have identified the Dean's residence, my curiosity is tempered with caution. The Alchemy Club may yet prove to be a chantry, but I do not take Carmilla's use of the word 'antediluvian' lightly, especially in these Final Nights.

I still suspect Tremere involvement, given the university's proximity to Vienna. Their experiments in the dark ages resulted in constructed beings great and small, similiar to those of the foul Tzimisce. The gargoyle 'bloodline' is a direct result of their work. What if their experiments never stopped? Silas may be some sort of thinblood research site, or a testing ground for a new bloodline.

Beckett has an enduring curiousity regarding thinbloods, perhaps he would be interested in this matter. From what I have learned from him, and observed for myself, the weakest generations are less troubled by the curse of Caine. They are far less troubled by the Beast, therefore less likely to frenzy due to starvation, or suffer rotschreck as a result of sunlight. Their bodies sometimes mimic the habits of the living, and I have detected a heartbeat from Carmilla on several occasions, usually after she feeds. Perhaps the Dean is a Lasombra working with the Tremere, and they have been running experiments involving the intentional dilution of Cainite vitae in order to better undestand the nature of the weakest generations.

Of course, I must once again voice my protest against the role you label 'Scourge', as I do whenever the subject of thinbloods come up. Weak or not, they remain childer of Caine... and we both know what happens when too many Final Deaths occur in too short a time, do we not?

Another possibility involves the Kuei-jin (or Cathayans, as you probably refer to them).Their established presence on the west coast of America in recent years may have afforded the Tremere a new kind of test subject; I believe a member of the university's faculty may be one of them, or at least some sort of Tremere facsimile. The Asian vampires are not like us. They have no vitae, their blood is as inert as that of any corpse. There are no sires or childer, and because there are no bloodlines or generations involved, there are no preferences or limits to their disciplines. Instead of an instinctual raging Beast, they must contend with the reasoning, cunning devil of their darker nature. They feed on energy, though they do usually get it by consuming blood - perhaps we do too, does the Bible not say that the blood carries the soul? - but they canall consume mortal food and drink, compared to the very few of us.

Both theories have their merits and flaws, but one must proceed from what one knows. I shall begin probing the Alchemy Club in the near future, and then we shall see what trainspires.

 Vale poked the send button before returning to the contacts menu on his phone and staring at the only other number on the list. More than once, he had invoked Shadowplay and subtly presented himself to a lone student crossing the campus in the middle of the night, taking no action... and they have either ignored or avoided him instead of the customary panicked fleeing. The Lasombra clan had been behind the 'shadow men' myth for millennia; for the kine to be so inured to such a manifestation may suggest that his clan is involved after all. Still, it was best to leave that particular experiment out of his report; countless Camarilla stooges would construe it as breaking the Masquerade and be grateful for such a blatent excuse to clamour for his destruction.

The Nosferatu probably read the messages he sent to the Ventrue lickspittle that was 'in charge' of this whole affair. The question was, did the Sewer Rat share his messages with the Ventrue. Pisha had never spoken against modern forms of communication, but did she know how to operate an ordinary phone, let alone a smart one? He was not even sure where she was, these nights... on the other hand, if anyone could find her, it was the Nosferatu. She did want to be kept in the loop regarding Silas, and he suspected her insight would prove beneficial.

Long before the Usurpers, Indian death mages had created the Nagaraja bloodline. If Pisha knew their motives, she had never shared them with the Lasombra, but he suspected necromancy was involved. The deed had been done by experimenting on Cainite vitae, not the Cainites themselves as the House of Tremere had done. The flesh of their gargoyles had come from Gangrel and Tzimisce; rumour had it that the Nosferatu had also been victims of the warlocks, but they were typically harder to track down so who knew if that was true. The Tzimisce were fleshcrafters themselves, and as far as Vale was concerned, they deserved everything they got. The Gangrel, however... he considered them worthy of respect. Granted, they had been antisocial even before they gave the Camarilla the finger, but in a race of predators, they were among the most noble. Darquinian had been an ally until the elder took exception to his diablerie of the Sabbat archbishop, but they had parted on fairly peaceful terms. Alaana was far younger and quite a bit crazier, and had not given a damn about the black veins in his aura when Vale had finally returned to America. She was not a typical Gangrel (the blue hair was the biggest clue), and a friendly kind of violence typically ensued whenever one was sufficently annoyed by the other; but everything he knew about lockpicking, he had learned from her.

The destruction of the only virtuous clan founder - the only grandchilde that Caine did not curse - and the subsequent blood hunt of all its childer, were crimes for which the Tremere should pay. Such things were concepts to Vale, but his experience with the Gangrel was that there was an honesty in their ways that put them right up there with the Salubri, before the Tremere had labelled them infernalists. What an irony, then, that such dark thaumaturges were typically Tremere antitribu.

Of course, the Nagaraja were often accused of the same. Like with the Salubri, Vale knew better. If the Dean was as old as Carmilla claimed...

Resolved, Vale started tapping out a new message to the Sewer Rat.

There are two people I wish to contact regarding Silas. One is the Gangrel Beckett, whose reputation I assume you are familiar with. The other is far more reclusive, but I last met her in New York. She calls herself Pisha. She is of Indian descent - Asian, not American - with long dark hair, bright eyes and tattoos on her face and arm. It is extremely unlikely that she would come so close to the stronghold of the Tremere, but she is a less specialised occultist than myself, and I suspect that her input will prove useful after the things I have experienced here.

Speaking of which, the Dean's cult took LaFontaine. My sympathies, I know she is your favourite among the mortal menagerie. She returned on schedule with a brain full of celebratory parasites. During the two days of her absence, Carmilla and Laura must have been keeping Perry on sleeping pills or some such, since she did nothing but sleep the whole time I was there last night. And they waltzed, briefly. The affection seems to be genuine, and flowing in both directions. Congratulations, you were proven correct on the subject of useless social trivia.

During Laura's video editing efforts tonight, I learned that Perry suggested she delay release of the videos since the cult is probably watching them; I suspect I shall have to continue keeping you apprised on current developments... which, I must point out, is not why I am here. On that note, blood was spilled on the Sumerian book, revealing a fresh passage on the big bad that the Dean and her cult serve. I have no idea if Carmilla pronounced it correctly, let alone how it is spelled, so: La-fill-form-is. The light that devours consumes minds, and its victims remain conscious. The ritual requiring five virgins will occur on Friday night, so feel free to hurry when it comes to finding Beckett and Pisha. I am an Abyssal occultist; a hungry light is not within my purview.

Laura was still somewhat disconcerted by the existence of J.P. Armitage... or at least, the fact that he existed on a thumb drive. She had read Neuromancer (behind her father's back, he never would have allowed it, what with the drugs and sex and all), but it was still hard to believe that a previously human consciousness could survive in its entirety on something so small that it was really easy to lose. Even if he was not just an echo of his former self, he had been trapped in the library catalogue since long before it had been digitized. People may have been more polite back then, but she feared that his gentlemanly demeanour was masking some form of insanity. LaFontaine had said something about a vocal interface; Laura hoped it wouldn't send shivers up her spine like the computer from Wargames.

Still, J.P. had been the one to suggest researching mystical weapons that might prove effective against the Light That Devours, and he was capable of hacking the restricted files of the campus' historical records via the ethernet, so no more nocturnal forays into the tempremental library! The teenager was willing to give the potential crazy (that she could unplug at a moment's notice) the benefit of the doubt, compared to daring a third visit to a place that was definitely full of crazy.

Carmilla's face was still buried in the Sumerian book, only peeking out whenever she referred to one of the other books laying on her bed that helped her with the symbols she could not read. She was supposedly researching mystical weapons as well, but Laura knew that not being able to completely translate the entry on the Big Bad had been getting on the vampire's nerves. Combined with the fact that she had not slept since last night, and had been swigging blood like grape soda to make up for it... Laura suspected that her true motivation was freeing Ell from the Light.

She couldn't compete with a literal ghost from Carmilla's past. Yes, the vampire had shown that kind of interest in her more than once, but the teenager had borne witness to the study buddy parade. Flirting was probably her normal mode of behaviour with girls she didn't think were complete imbiciles, and Laura still had a lingering doubt that she was numbered among them. Crushing on a vampire still seemed like the worst idea ever, but after that momentary waltz, could anyone blame her? It was still mortifying to recall checking out Carmilla's ass in those tight jeans, until she had turned around unexpectedly, forcing Laura to fake a yawn, which led to the vampire offering her bed to the frail mortal... she glanced up at the camera to make sure it wasn't recording the blush rising across her cheeks at the memory. She had to stop letting these doubts get to her. Carmilla had tried to save her weeks ago with that batwing bracelet. She still was not sure exactly what she had said or done to engender to the vampire, and obviously their had been some ups and down in their relationship since then, but...

Laura sighed. Since she couldn't be any help on the mystical weapon front, she should be focusing on actual schoolwork; that had been the plan she came up with during her morning ablutions. Instead, she had sat at the desk all morning, staring at the paperwork and pining for the other girl in the room...

"What's the matter, cupcake?"

...Who had been distracted from her own studies by a mere sigh. "My brain is fried," Laura hedged, leaning back in her chair.

"Isn't it about time for you to go eat something?"

The clock confirmed it. "Yeah... are you coming this time?" the teenager asked as she rose. Carmilla actually seemed to ponder the question this time, so Laura added, "A break from the books would probably do you some good. And it might do you some good to have something solid after all the blood you've been drinking lately. You've obviously got chocolate cupcakes on the brain right now..."

Carmilla bit back a less offensive iteration of, 'It doesn't work like that', then avoided voicing the suggestion that Laura was the only cupcake she was thinking of eating these days. She grinned at the human instead. "You buying?"

"Don't I always? At least this way I'm actually giving you chocolate instead of you stealing it."

"That is half the fun," the vampire admitted as she uncrossed her legs and levered herself off the bed. As she closed the Sumerian book and shoved it under her mattress, she added, "But you do make it easy, leaving it lying around like you always do."

"Then this should be a nice change of pace," Laura reasoned, "And maybe I'll start thinking of hiding places when we get back."

"Good luck with that," Carmilla drawled as she followed Laura out of the room.

About fifteen minutes later, the door handle jiggled for a moment before turning enough for the door to creak open. Something, a cross between a cat and a shadow, padded silently into the room and took in its surroundings before heading to the desk. Hopping onto it via the chair, it deposited the silver necklace over the bloodstained glass, stared at the camera hooked up to the computer until it was content that the device was not currently in operation, and returned the way it had come, tugging the door closed behind it as it left.