Tyr removed his coat, and it clattered heavily onto the floor. As he melted into the stone, Mickey stepped over to the scholar dragging himself toward the stairs.

"Oh yeah," said Mickey, standing over his fallen clanmate. "Everyone."

He held out his hand, and drew the blood from the scholar's wounds into the air. He absorbed what he could, and the rest he spilled out onto the floor. The scholar stopped moving, slipping into torpor. From the far room, he heard the scraping of feet against the dusty floor for a moment, and then silence.

"Better make good use of your time," Mickey said. "They'll be here soon. I'm gonna go place a few wards in Seavers' place. Keep us from getting jumped from behind."

Liam stepped over to the incapacitated scholar and followed Mickey's lead, taking what further blood he could stomach. Having spent every day in Nowhere since it was ripped free of its terrestrial tethers, he was already running near peak ability - for the first time in his unlife he was quite literally running out of ways to spend it. Then he seized both of the torpid academics and dragged them into the back room before turning his attention to the piles of ashes scattered about the shrine.

Drinking and searching

Most of the other scholar's blood was already on the floor, but he did manage to get enough to recoup his most recent losses.

[+3 BP]

The scholars had little in the way of useful items. Amid the carnage he found several notebooks, a few smartphones - only one of which had survived the battle intact, a gold monocle, several archaeology toolkits, a few hex bags and all manner of pens and pencils. The Witch-Hunters weren't much better. One had some manner of modern compact sub-machine gun in a shoulder holster. The one Liam had torn apart carried a small round flask with some sort of viscous liquid with flakes of silvery metal suspended within. He'd come a hairsbreadth from shattering the vial during his attack.

There was more than enough string in the archaeology toolkits to rig together a simple tripwire for Liam's flashbang. Killing the lights in the Great Hall helped to conceal the trap. The first men down the stairs were in for a nasty surprise.

Tyr took the time to move the stone table in the far room over to block the doorway. This made for a foxhole with ample cover, albeit one that was a little awkward to climb in and out of.

The distant sound of diesel engines heralded the arrival of reinforcements. They'd need a few moments to offload and coordinate, but the enemy was soon to be upon them.

I'm going to spend the blood. For the first time ever, or at least in as long as I can remember, Liam is physically capped out. The last time he came close to this was the night he surrendered himself to Damar early on in the occupation. I figured I ought to document it somewhere.

All physical stats are buffed to 6 base.
Crinos adds +2 Str/+2 Dex/+1 Stam
Devil Channel grants +2 all physical attributes
Thickened Hide gives 2 soak dice (including aggro other than fire/sunlight), at the cost of 1 Dex

His working strength is 10 + 3 Potence (+1 aggro damage with claws/bite)
Dexterity is 9
Stamina is 9 + 5 Fortitude + 2 Thickened Hide.

He's sitting at 12/15 blood pool, 8/9 will power.

Liam secured the haul in a scavenged rucksack and laid it out in the mouth of the labyrinth - all apart from the SMG which he deposited in the fox hole. He resolved to ask Mickey about the flask later.

Doing a final sweep of the room he scooped up the floodlight stands, the bulbs still warm from having been on, and scattered the lot of them haphazardly on the East side of the basin leaving the only clear path around the shrine to the West - in clear view of the foxhole. Then he took up position behind the basin and checked his launcher. Four rounds remained. If he was lucky he'd get off two - maybe three - before Red Watch pushed into the room, but that was as much to their detriment as holding fast. As soon as they pushed into the room, they came within reach of his claws...

Either way it was going to be brutal, close quarters fight. But they didn't have to win - they just had to hold out long enough for Red Watch to realize they'd been played. And by then the Gangrel ought to be long gone from the tower.

The Tremere were content to let the invaders sweat it out for a few minutes. Liam could hear shouted conversations and movements upstairs, but nobody made for the stairs. Likely, they were well aware that they were heading into a killbox. Their first wave would likely not be their best and brightest. Tyr took the time to stash away his coat, and melt into the stone floor on the western side of the room.

Then, contact at last. Liam saw a light descend the stairs, and heard the faint whirring of a quadcopter approaching rapidly in the darkness. The tiny device passed over the booby-trap completely, and hovered in the air momentarily. Its light swept quickly across the room.

This again...

Liam remembered that sound from the Marsden - the whirring rotors of the quadcopters propellers as it descended into darkness. He'd had no answer for it at the time, and truthfully, he wasn't sure if he had a proper answer for it now but he wasn't about to let this one scope out their positions with out a response. The magnum revolver had a different feel than his usual sidearms and his first shot went well wide ricocheting up the steps and into the blackness beyond but his second one took the drone clean through its body and dropped it to the ground in a shower of sparks.

Well. Second times the charm.

16:56, Today: Liam O'Farrell rolled 3 successes using 14d10 with the World of Darkness 3rd ed system with a target of 8 with rolls of 3,7,6,6,6,7,10,5,10,3, 8,4,7,2. – 8,4,7,2' class='helphover'>3 successes

16:55, Today: Liam O'Farrell failed (3 failures) using 14d10 with the World of Darkness 3rd ed system with a target of 8 with rolls of 1,7,1,3,4,1,4,5,1,6, 7,5,4,8.  Dex + Firearms. – 7,5,4,8.  Dex + Firearms' class='helphover'>failed (3 failures)
This message was last edited by the player at 22:02, Fri 08 Mar.

The drone had seen enough to know their forces had been overrun. The response came promptly. There was a cacophony of hollow metallic clinks as several small cylinders bounced their way down the stairway, belching acrid white smoke as they did so. The fog obscured the entrance from even Liam's supernatural senses, and the chemical stench blotted out his sense of smell.

Shortly thereafter, there was a chorus of rapidly shuffling feet. Something about them sounded off. The footfalls were too light to be made by armoured targets. He wasn't even sure they were wearing combat boots. The figures stormed into the room, and there was a loud clatter as they tripped over the detritus in the hallway. Then the flashbang went off.

The heavy smoke did a good job preventing the blinding effects of the charge - at least from Liam's vantage. It was bright enough, however, to reveal five figures stumbling around in the smoke, tightly grouped together for the moment.

Liam pieced it together almost immediately. Riverhead. Just like with the Garou, Redwatch had sent down a wave of civilians into the meat grinder. But unlike Blue Tree, they probably didn't have an inexhaustible supply of mooks to throw at him - they would have been limited by the number they could bus in. Probably no more than a transport or two.

That left the question of what to do with them...

Liam was loath to fire. At the same time, the people were not without danger. Presumably they'd been armed with something. Guns he didn't fear but explosives - well even Liam had to show some deference where they were concerned.

If he was going to do something rash, now was the time while they were blind and disoriented. True, they'd still be blind once the effects of the flashbang wore off but they'd find their footing soon enough.

"Fuck."

Thumbing the safety back on the launcher he reached for his spray bottle, sprinted for the far wall and spritzed the closest two figures - dragging them bodily back from the staircase if he could.

As Liam charged the first two in the fog, something gave him pause. They were clearly civilians - even their silhouettes gave them away. None were built like fighters, and wouldn't present even a remote challenge to Liam even when he wasn't a few mountains above his physical peak. Each of them was gripping an object. Liam quickly surmised they were grenades, but the shape gave him pause. Then, recognition kicked in.

White Phosphorous. A horrible weapon that showered an area with sticky molten shrapnel that would continue burning inside a wound. While payloads of this scale would more reliably maim than kill, they still had the potential to do serious damage if Liam took one point blank - not to mention what it could do to the mooks at any range. Liam couldn't tell if the pins had been pulled, but it was a safe bet. Though the mooks still held on to the spoons, they could be easily dropped in a physical altercation, or even from the shock of having the fugue broken. Frankly, it was a miracle that none of them had dropped theirs when the flashbang went off.

Blinded and deafened, the mooks seemed to slow down. Perhaps there was a flaw in the orders they were given. If they'd been told to seek out the nearest target and throw their grenades - or simply let the spoon fly and grapple them - they were left with few alternatives besides groping around to stumble upon a target. Or perhaps they'd simply been told to run into the room and allow themselves to be shot.

Liam backed away, putting the shelter of the basin partly between himself and the mooks. He couldn't safely disarm them. He couldn't restrain them. But perhaps...

Perhaps he could control them.

The civilians in Verdant Falls had been programed to obey the commands of Vampires unhesitatingly. Well Liam was more vampire than any of those shovelhead Red Watch waiting to come spilling down the stairs. And while he was a public enemy topside, down here he was just a voice in the shadows. A voice that brook no refusal.

It was worth a shot.

"You will stop moving. You will stand tall and raise your hand to show me you understand."

Invoking Presence for the first time ever. Awe, 1 success.

10:12, Today: Liam O'Farrell rolled 1 success using 7d10 with the World of Darkness 3rd ed system with a target of 7 with rolls of 4,5,7,5,3,4,6.  Awe. – 1 success

Liam had assumed, quite correctly, that the Mooks had been conditioned to attack him on sight - but none had learned his voice. They complied, quickly and unquestioningly. Each of them stood, and raised their free hands. Each still clutched a grenade.

He had to move fast. If the vampires above were listening in, all it would take was another verbal command to stir the civilians into action again.

Holy fuck it worked.

Liam didn't have a moment to spare though. Redwatch was expecting explosions and he had to give it them or they'd come wandering down in search of answers. He dropped his voice low enough to be heard in the room, but hopefully not too much further.

"You will approach the sound of my voice," he said, angling himself askew of the shrine so that the mooks had a better vantage on the direction he needed them to go. "If I tap you on the shoulder you will hold out your weapon and keep it steady as I take it from you. Then you will go where I tell you."

He tapped the near two on the shoulder, careful took their arms and immediately hurled them one after another down the corridor to the labyrinth.

"Go towards the light. Stop in the corridor where it is safe and await instructions."

Then he got ready to take the next two grenades if Redwatch gave him the space to do so...

The first two mooks obediently followed Liam's instructions, heading down the corridor to the bright flare of violently oxidizing metal. He had stopped in front of the remaining three, and was reaching out for two more grenades when an impatient Tremere shouted from above "Drop 'em."

Liam's hands closed on the grenades before the mooks even registered the order. But there was nothing even Liam could do for the third grenade...

He heard it hit the floor with a dolorous clank.

"Follow the others," he said urgently, shoving them in the direction of the first two. "Hurry. Do not turn around. Do not look back."

20:13, Today: Liam O'Farrell rolled 6 successes using 12d10 with the World of Darkness 3rd ed system with a target of 8 ((9,2,4,3,10,9,7,8,2,10, 10,7)).
This message was last edited by the player at 02:02, Sun 10 Mar.

As Liam shoved the Mooks along, he was struck with the dreaded realization that they weren't going to move fast enough. Even a trained individual, ready to spring, would have issues outrunning a grenade dropped at their feet.

Fortunately, Tyr was following the situation. A stony fist shot from the ground, punching the grenade toward the eastern wall. It was still in the air when it burst, far enough away from Liam that he had a split-second to see it coming. He had a narrow opportunity to make himself smaller to protect himself, or make himself bigger to better protect the fleeing Mooks.

There was no decision. Liam encompassed the three mooks in his arms and threw the lot of them to the ground taking the brunt of the airburst. As soon as it was safe to do so he pushed them back forwards and bid them to run. "Go! Follow the others! Do not turn around!"

Liam moved over just in time to block a shower of explosives, taking the brunt of the blast in the upper back. The larger bits of phosphorous passed through Liam's kevlar as if it wasn't even there, sticking to his flesh and burning like the sun. The ceramic plates afforded a little protection, but the armor was now ruined and his shirt was fully ablaze, burning and melting at the same time.

[Take 1 unsoakable aggro. Soak 1 aggro per turn for the next five turns. If you're not spending the next turn taking off your gear, that damage increases to 3.]

Liam grit his teeth and hunkered down behind the basin, tearing at his ruined armor. The suit had done its job - to a point anyway. Now it was just compounding his misery. His claws made short work of the straps, though his efforts were complicated by the need to keep the grenades protected.

"Tyr if you can hear me, take the fucking spoons. I need my hands..."

Tyr burst out of the ground in front of Liam. First things first, he briskly tore off Liam's burning armor. He wasn't gentle about it, but managed to disrobe Liam with one quick yank. He then grabbed the two grenades and tossed them into the far room. The barricade kept most of the shrapnel from escaping out into the great hall. The rest had a high arc and was trivial to dodge.

Smoke was becoming a problem. The canisters the Tremere had thrown down were designed to provide cover to friendly troops, and keep the air somewhat breathable. The phosphorous was not. The choking white smoke had nowhere to escape, and the Mooks were coughing despite themselves. Until the phosphorous burned itself out, the tunnel into the labyrinth was impassable without severe damage to footwear, and likely to the feet within.

"Thank you," Liam said, nodding at the gargoyle. The cubby had been a good idea. He'd wanted to turn the grenades back on the Tremere, but it was better to be alive than prepared. If he needed the reminder, the phosphorous still sizzled against his flesh.

He cupped his hand to his mouth and called down the hallway. "Get down beneath the smoke. Stay away from the fire."

Then he rooted about for the discarded grenade launcher.

"They'll be coming soon. Where the fuck is Mickey? Can you see him?"

Liam risked a look around the basin. It was going to be damned near impossible to see his attackers until they were all but on top of him. But the smoke didn't dampen the sound.

"Coming back," said Tyr. "Slowly. He setting traps."

There was nothing for a moment. The commotion had died down. He heard a voice at the top of the stairs.

"Hey down there," he called casually. "Want some more?"

Liam glanced back at Tyr.

"Give it to me straight. How many of them are up there?"

The rock posed no impediment to the gargoyle's line of sight.

"I can't hear so good through dirt," said Tyr. The footprint of the ruined church was stone, but the rest of the old village was mostly packed dirt, long overgrown. He'd only be able to glean their compliment from the vibrations that reached the stone. "But plenty of houses around. They could have dozens. Many engines."

The old quarter of town was mostly shuttered storefronts and converted brownstones. The population was sparse, but the potential head count increased the longer they spent here.

"Many engines," Liam muttered. "Fuck."

He looked up at Tyr and then back at the silhouetted mooks in the tunnel, backlit by the sputtering phosphorus. "If they're really struggling, coral them into the tunnel back to Seavers. They'll breath better in there."

"I need a minute to deal with those engines."

Liam closed his eyes and took a breath. As he let his breath go, he felt his form slip away entirely and begin to rise on the billowing smoke.

Liam blended in perfectly with the billowing smoke. From this vantage, he had a clearer view of his opposition.

There were three Redwatch SUVs, a pair of black sedans from the Alhambra motor pool, and a transport truck. Liam counted a dozen heavily armed Redwatch veterans, seven witch-hunters, and almost twenty mooks. The Redwatch and Tremere had set a perimeter around the ruined church, using their vehicles as soft cover. He counted two machine gun emplacements, three RPGs, and six grenade launchers among the arsenal. The fact the Witch-Hunters weren't visibly armed at all seemed like something to worry more about.

The mooks were grouped by the deuce, lining up to receive grenades from one of the Redwatch. They had not yet been instructed to pull their pins. In the distance, Liam could see a group of mooks heading through the historic site on foot.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:01, Sun 10 Mar.