Moonlight glints off shards of broken glass as you creep along the length of a slowly decaying brick wall, an extended arm of the construction crew's crane shielding your party in its brooding shadow. The sound of your footsteps is masked by the rushing water of the nearby hydro-electric dam restraining the waters of Chaudière Falls. Sheriff Qui's mortal mercenaries are arrayed like a shield around their masters in a wedge of jet-black body armor and bristling semi-automatic rifles. They seem on-edge tonight, professional and competent as always, but there's something in their eyes that betrays uncertainty.
Next
Ahead of you, Bouchard raises a long, gnarled hand in warning and you stop in your tracks. Like all Kindred of Clan Nosferatu, Bouchard's appearance is monstrous and inhuman. Even his facial features are twisted and misshapen. He turns and raises a finger to his lips, a massive pus-filled boil stretching the skin impressively below the first knuckle. A part of you wonders if the old vampire misses the nightlife above ground, enjoyed by the majority of Kindred not afflicted by the Nosferatu's curse. "Ward's Anarchs have set up a perimeter," he gestures at the shadowed carcass of a long-abandoned factory not far ahead and you catch a brief glimpse of movement. "We should cut around. Over the rubble." Even his whispers grate and gurgle like the depths of a sewer.
"They weren't supposed to know we were coming, Agad the Imperishable," Jordan pipes up from behind you, taking advantage of the moment to tie back wisps of messy red hair in an impromptu topknot. "She may not care much for me, but Corliss is your sire! She should have been more certain before sending us in. I'm getting a bad read on this one."
Eden Corliss is acting Seneschal of the city, second in command to Prince Arundel himself, and also your sire—the vampire who Embraced you as a mortal and brought you into the hidden world of the Kindred.
Next