NationStates Jolt Archive

Nightime in Iraqstan wasn't exactly the friendliest time in what wasn't exactly the friendliest country on what wasn't exactly the friendliest planet in what was certainly not the friendliest system in a goddamn unfriendly galaxy.

Needless to say, the big, black Rolls Royce was decidedly out of place in Iraqstan. The two black SUVs that bracketed it to either end, however, were less so.

The destination was a little strange, though. The Temple of Sirithil? For a vehicle with Derallian plates? The hell is going on here?

The three vehicles maintained their formation as they double-parked before the temple, and the occupants of the two SUVs promptly un-assed their vehicles with military precision and quickness.

The only really remarkable figure out of the faceless black-fatigued, helmet, G36C carrying soldiers was the man in the long tan duster, carrying the M82A1, with the letters "A S T" engraved in the side of the stock.

Then the occupants of the Rolls would make their exit.

First out was a normally-sized man in a black duster. His eyes were hidden behind reflective sunglassed, but it was safe to say that they glancing around, searching for threats. The way his hands hovered at about hip level said that he probably was armed.

Second out, this time out of the back rather than out of the passenger's seat, was a short, dainty, almost feminine man with long black hair and a pretty smile. Yet for all that he radiated an incredible sort of menace that chilled the bones and caused a fear reaction in most creatures. For a good reason.

Third out was one of the biggest men that you were ever likely to see. He was damn near seven foot tall, and not -quite- as wide as he was tall. He was also carrying what was unmistakably an FN Minimi.

Finally, the last occupant of the car made his exit....

He was a few inches over six foot, and perfectly proportioned with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. He wore black clothing that was tight where it needed to be to show off his muscles and loose where it needed to be to glaze over imperfections...not that he had any.

He wore a long black cloak that did a nice job of combining with his rogueishly canted hat to shadow his features and make him appear mysterious...but not shadowing them enough to hide his odd purple eyes, or the long white hair that fell down the back of that black cloak.

With a simple hand gesture, the four men fell into formation around their master, and as a unit they made their way into the Temple...making not a sound in their movements save for the faintest rustle of cloth.

By the prickling of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes.

Watching the strangers cautiously Yu'Shaa's eyes slit serpentlike before stepping deeper into a shadow, her left hand snaking into her green robes to rest against the glock resting near her hip.

Sensing the presence of a powerful being she clicks her radio twice, a simple message stating company. Cursing the noise of the click over the speaker, which obviously given the visitors would reach their sensative ears.

Standing as still as possible she draws on the powers gifted to her by her clan and bloodline and hopes she remains hidden, her body humming with the threat delivered by these new comers.

"Why are you here?" She asks softly, her voice hissing like a snakes as she unhosltered the glock and watches the men calmly. "The temple is closed to visitors at night, return to your homes and pray to Sirithil in the peace and quiet of your own homes.

Sirithil be blessed that the temple will open tomorrow morning at the right time, return and pray then loyal worshipers." She hisses softly, running the usual denial of entry knowing full well it wont work on this group of men.......

Skilled though the Settite might be, she was nothing compared to that of the three men within the temple....

three men? But weren't there....

That was when the razor-edged steel would whip out to rest gently over her carotid artery. The whisper in her ear was in english, accented oddly...familiar. It was an arabian accent, yes, but it was odd...antiquated.

"I Wouldn't."

A wraith-like form swept up past her, relieving her of both her firearm and her radio. Then the man with the knife would effortlessly maneuver her out before the remaining three, the fifth man, presumably the one who had taken the Glock, the one with the M82, had seemingly vanished entirely.

The man in the duster looked her over, then nodded slowly, and the dainty killer who had placed the knife to her neck kicked her squarely in the back, forcing her down to her knees.

Then the man in the duster spoke.

"Your rules do not apply to us. We do not abide by the law. We are the law. Your lack of respect to my master...disturbs...me. He would speak with your Mistress. That he finds himself greeted by an underling is disappointing. Your Mistress would do well to learn to anticipate such things and take appropriate action."

He stepped forward and traced the line of her jaw with his index finger and thumb.

"My name is Caleb. Andrew Caleb. Archon. You do know what an Archon is, don't you?"

Then the cloaked man put his hand on Caleb's shoulder and drew him back.

"That will suffice, Andrew. I can speak for myself, now."

His accent was...entirely unplaceable.

Those deep purple eyes bored into Yu'Shaa's face.

"You go and tell your mistress that there is a man named Kalon waiting to see her. I am going to count off five minutes. If I do not have a suitable answer within that time period, my compatriots and I will have to take action on our own. This will not be a good thing for you."

Kalon withdrew his gaze with a confidence that was...disturbing.

He was, of course, Aleksandr Kalon, Justicar and Tzimisce Methuselah. He fit no stereotypes but those that were based on him. Not an individual to trifle with.

"You need not cout five minutessss" A voice says from the depths of the temple, as a red haired robed woman strides forward, her eyes strangely slitted as if a snakes. "Release my prophet, and humbly accept my apologies ancient one. She is still learning and we have for too long gone uncontacted by our kindred comradesss" She hisses, her voice faintly echoing a snakes.

Walking into the soft light of a nearby torch she bows to Kalon and rises "I am Sesha Ta, priestess of the Brides of Set we humbly welcome such a great one to our landsss." She says as he motions for the men to follower her, turning she walks quietly accross the room, a snake slithering from the darkness to enfold her leg as she pauses to look over her shoulder.

"Please, do not mind my petss, they tend to guard our temple whilst we sleep." She says as yet more snakes slither from the shadows, the snake around Sesha Ta's leg slithers up and sits curled around her neck and left arm.

Leading the group through the Temple of Sirithil one only needs look left or right to see the corrupting work of Setites at play, heiroglyphics cover some walls, whilst others show vivid pictures of priestesses being pleasured by giant serpents.

Entering a narrow hall Sesha leads the group down into a basement where a huge steel door rests open, soft footsteps can be heard as the door's guardians move to the side, controled by Sesha herself.

"please enter, do not pay any attention to the door wardens, they will only attack if I tell them too." She says as she motions for the men to enter. Once inside this temple, if a temple one can call a bunker beneath a temple the men see a true return to the form of Followers of Set, egyptian decoration and images of Set line the walls, heiroglyphics smother the walls, each telling a diferent story of Set's rise and fame.

Walking through the many rooms added to this small bunker Sesha stops at a golden room, where a single seat stands in the center. Turning to Kalon she motions, "Age precedents who sits within the seat old one. It would honour me if you honoured our temple by sitting to discuss thingss with us." She says softly, a smile playing accross her lips. Sesha Ta, Elder of the followers of Set and High Priestess definately knew the rules applied for respect among the kindred...

Kalon did not smile. Not in this company. He merely removed his hat and cloak, handed them both to his larger bodyguard, Spade, and gave the chair a withering glance.

What appeared to be steam began to rise from the chair, and then it began to flow freely in liquid form, remelding itself to the point in which it would perfectly fit his body. Then it solidified all to quickly to be normally possible. Only then did he settle himself down in it.

The short, dainty killer, Vincent, stood to Kalon's left as Spade stood to his right. Caleb took a slightly farther off-set stance, and the fifth man, the one with the Barrett, emerged from seemingly nowhere, even to Kalon's incredible senses.

Kalon nodded his head slowly.


"As you may have deduced, I am Aleksandr Kalon, Justicar. Andrew Caleb, My Archon, is known to you already. You have not yet been introduced to Spade and Vincent, my bodyguards. My stealthy companion is Hafiz Wraithhand of Clan Assamite, my oldest ally and closest friend."

The vampires bowed slightly in turn, all save for Hafiz who merely inclined his head as Kalon had done. Hafiz Wraithhand was, like Kalon, a Methuselah.



"Introductions complete, I will tell you right now that if thoughts of double-crossing me are running through your head, there are ten of my people outside with enough firepower to raze this temple to the ground. That doesn't even take into account what myself and my companions would do to your compatriots.

Know no that we have no interest in causing you and yours harm, so long as you remain civil in your dealings with me and mine. On that, you have my word, and my word, dear Sesha Ta, is a valuable quantity, indeed."

He tapped his fingers idly upon the pommel of his sheathed longsword. He had quite an extensive collection of swords, including one that he had possessed since before his embrace. This was not it. The blades he carried on his person were generally utilitarian battle blades made of modern carbon-steel titanium alloys.

"To the point. To the point. Iraqstan is in turmoil. Someone needs to fill the power vacuum. The current new, leadership will get there eventually...but it is quite possible indeed for us to...ensure...that this new regime maintains a favorable stance in regards to our...kind.

Of course, this is hardly the only reason for my visit...but it is the official one, shall we say?"

Nodding Sesha eyes the companions of Kalon in turn, nodding briefly to Hafiz as Yu'Shaa behind her bowed to everyone.

Listening to Kalon Sesha chuckles softly "We have already begun the process of bringing shall we say, more favourable relations between the government and the kindred.

We have in effect infiltrated the cheif religion of Iraqstan and myself have taken a key role in the church to further whisper my glorious Set's corruption in the ears of the higher ranked members of this regime." She says softly, the pride of her clan filling her voice evidently.

Pausing she frowns, "My people have heard rumours of a breech in the masquerade I am curious if you know anymore of this? Vampires, living openly amongst the mortals?" She asks before motioning Yu'Shaa foward who places a rolled up piece of parchment at the feet of Kalon.

"This is all we have gathered on the people involved, perhaps you could lend some advice on how to deal with such an issue aswell as further advice on bringing the regime here better into favouring us?" She asks almost hopefully.

Caution all you like, but Set has promised us much in this land. I will work with you only if I stand to profit from it. She thinks quietly to herself in a protected portion of her mind, you never can tell with kindred which powers are possesed by who after all....

Alek accepted the parchment with his left hand, then uncoiled it with his right, and rapidly scanned the contents. He nodded slowly...

"Yes. These...miscreants...are known to me. They most certainly do need a reminder of exactly who holds authority in this harsh universe of ours..."

He smiled a closed-lipped smile.

"Do you know who holds authority, my dear? It isn't the Camarilla, it isn't the Sabbat...it isn't your dear snake-god, and it isn't the pointy-eared fool to whom this Temple was originally dedicated."

His lips curled upwards and he showed his fangs.

"Authority is held by those with the Capability to hold it. Authority is acquired in two ways: Through the willing submission of the people, and by force."

His eyes flickered as if reflecting torchlight...

"In the one case, the case of these...traitors...it is my -duty- to call a Conclave and allow any and all Kindred who wish to to attend and sit in judgement. This is not my intention. My intention is to provide a very public and graphic example of why one should heed the Laws of Our Kind.

But first, I would bring Iraqstan under heel. It seems to me very much that this would yield much in the way of assets for an easier accomplishment of the stated intention..."

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes looking fully into Sesha's own.

"The Question, My Dear, is which method you would prefer. Force...or submission?"

Shivering slightly Sesha Ta returns the gaze of Kalon with a faint smile playing accross her lips.

"MY choice, old one, is obviously to instill cooperation through force and the continued threat of force."

Stepping forward slightly she leans closer to Kalon's face and whispers "Threaten to let the streets run with blood, and put actions to threats and the regime will bend to our will.....

In both aspects perhaps?" She finishes before stepping back, the bronze glow of her skin, glittering softly in the torch light.

Turning to Yu'Shaa Sesha Ta hisses a command in arabic and smiles as the smaller woman darts off her robes flapping in her breeze. Moments later she returns with a group of women, dressed in light leathers and wearing weapons.

"The brides old one, are prepared for a war, we have many more brides ready to fight for Set. Call us and we will come...." She says stepping back as the group of women disappear once more into the back rooms of the temple leaving only Sesha and Yu'shaa facing Kalon and his group.

Kalon's eyes flickered gently, and in that instant, he was whole.

In that instant, he was the Sumerian noble he had been before his embrace, the Greek hero, the Roman Auxiliary, the Byzantine noble, the crusader who had held Jerusalem against the Saracens, fought and killed legions of the most perfect killers amongst all the kindred...

He was the feudal lord, the noble who had kept his lands free of the ravages of the wars of Europe, kept his people safe. He was the American OSS agent, fighting a war few other Kindred dared fight.

His fingers tapped gently on the pommel of his sword, and his lips moved, his voice failing for an instant, then surging forward, carrying with it the experience of all those ages of his life.

"We might lay pressure upon one or two key individuals, by threatening their families, but widespread street warfare in Iraqstan cannot end well for our kind. Iraqstan has allies who would feel as if it were their...duty...to intervene in such an occurance. Subtlety, Childe. Finesse. I had thought that the Setites, of all people, would understand these concepts."

her eyes flashing slightly Sesha Ta bows her head. "Of course, subtle tricks would work well, as is the brides have a voice to a great many ears of the Iraqstani government.

We after all have infiltrated and taken over this branch of their mostly bastardised religion. Corruption in the name of set, has already taken one or two figures but they are lowly, and unable to influence the people we require.

I will dedicate my best hunters to the task of convincing the higher ups to listen to this temple's high priestess..." She says with a sly grin, stepping forward slightly.

"As for Iraqstan's allies, well they have been reluctant to help in many conflicts, the changing of power might make them more sympathetic or it might make them even more uneasy, perhaps we could fashion an illusion that makes them reluctant to step up and help.... Surely we could exploit this county's vuneralbility to gain influence with promises of greater security....." Sesha whispers, softly, her voice barely carrying accross the stone floors of her small temple.

Kalon nodded, slowly. Then a few rapid-fire words in Ancient Babylonian. Then Hafiz stepped forward and handed Kalon the Glock he had lifted from Yu'shaa.

Kalon hit the magazine release with his thumb and examined the bullets inside the magazine, then slowly unloaded the mag, letting the bullets cling upon the floor next to where he sat. Then he slid the magazine back into the pistol and worked the slide, making fully sure that the pistol was unloaded. Then he tossed it lazily towards Yu'shaa.

"In the future, Childe, I would suggest you only carry a gun if you plan to use it. Because I am going to assume that you were frightened and were using that gun as a talisman, instead of with intent to fire. More to the point, even if you had fired...a rule of thumb: don't take a gun to a swordfight unless that gun is going to stop the swordsman before he gets to you and cuts you into very small pieces."

He scritched his chin thoughtfully, "In effect, child, get something bigger if you want to carry a gun. Like a rocket launcher."

His eyes turned upwards and his lips took upon a most playful smile, then he began to sing softly..

"Here comes the helicopter -- second time today
Everybody scatters and hopes it goes away
How many kids they've murdered only God can say
If I had a Rocket Launcher, I'd make somebody pay."

Then his eyes slowly closed, and his smile drooped to merely content. Then they opened again, those magnificent purple eyes, and one eyebrow would inclince ever so lazily...

"I would prefer if we didn't have to go marching through the streets waving placards that read 'Here be Vampires,' if you wouldn't mind. That sort of thing plays hell with my image, you see.

They watchword here, Children, is subtlety. We cannot be overt in our activites, for in doing so we would become as those who I am sworn to hunt...and I will not do that. There once was a time when we could live in the open, aye, but that time has passed long since."

He slowly rose from his chair and began to pace. Not back and forth, but in a circular pattern. Pacing around the setites as if a predator around his prey...and as he moved, his companions moved with him. It might have been funny, the bodyguards attempting to keep their eccentric master safe...but it wasn't.

Mostly because they did it with such fluidity that it looked rehearsed.

He stroked his chin thoughtfully as he walked, "So the key, Children, is to take control without ever revealing the fact that we have done so. We must be the power behind the throne, as it were. I trust you understand me?"