Chronicle Timeline Section
November 1998

November of 1998 was a strange month for the Kindred of Atlanta. After winning the battle for Atlanta against the Sabbat, the whole city seemed to go mad. Police helicopters fell in fiery crashes from the sky, UPS trucks delivered cadaverous prizes to unsuspecting civilians and blood leaked from the walls of public works buildings. Zoos were liberated of their animals, museums were liberated of their precious works of art and Cainites swapped body parts as units of currency in trade for the spirits of their fellow damned.

When considering madness, why not begin our reminiscing with the clan most famous for madness in Atlanta, the Gangrel. Let me tell you a little story about Kevlar of clan Gangrel and his little ghoul. The ghoul was a sweet little dish by the name of Spirit. It seems that Spirit was being watched fondly by more than just her Regnant. A naughty Malkavian found Spirit walking in the forest alone and thus was she brought into the Immortal Nightlife against her will and against the wishes of her blood sugar daddy, Kevlar. For, when one cannot attack the unassailable godhead directly, it is often amusing to destroy his weakest allies to remind him of his own mortality, thus was November's lesson in the Malkavian university of life's tragedy fulfilled. Well, blood daddy Kevlar was mightily angered at the unwanted Malkavian Embrace of his newest plaything, but fond of her as he was, he didn't wish to seek the succor of the Tradition of Progeny whereby he could have smote the evil villain that had stolen away his property. The headmaster of the Malkavian academy, Jonathan Crow, called upon the bonds of blood to gather his little children unto himself, claiming that the newly Embraced Malkavian was rightly now part of the family of madness. And then, through methods and motives that shall forever be shrouded in mystery, Kevlar began to sever pieces of his own flesh to offer in trade for Spirit; distributing his body around the Malkavian clan as though it were a devil's sacrament. Only when the sensible Seneschal Nunzio appeared did the Cainite carving contest complete itself. The order to desist was given and the dread sovereign of the land was consulted for a solution to the maddening matter. Prince Sergei released the newly Embraced Childe, sparing the life of the unsanctioned Childe and the life of her Sire, declaring the new Childe Caitiff and free of the Malkavian family. Such is the wisdom of ancients.

Ah, but the Gangrel madness had only just begun. Werewolves and witches, oh my!

The Atlanta Zoo, home of rare and precious animals from around the world, was the scene of the next mad mayhem. Riff Raff, the friendly fox of a lupine led his disciples Nyx, Ren and Shadow to the untilled fields of Grant Park for a foray into the tamed wilds of the zoo. Despite the protests of animal rights activists, zoo employees, security guards and the police, several of the park's notable residents were liberated and set free into the night. Wolves, tigers, cougars and bears all were taken away from their iron bars and cages in the park and scurried across the steel and concrete of the inner city to their new homes in the havens of the city's Gangrel, where the happy animals could trade in their bonds of iron for bonds of blood and exchange their servitude as the public's entertainment for servitude as guards and companions in blood to the immortal slavemasters of the night. Ah, the PETA people couldn't be happier.

Ah, but the Gangrel tactics for world domination aren't over yet. The domain of the Toreador and a well known Elysium ground was their next target, the High Museum of Art. Ren, Pegboy, Luther Simons and Gabriel Raja made a van excursion to the pristine establishment for the preservation and sanctity of historical and aesthetic works of art and wonder. In a brilliant stroke of not only art theft but also political terrorism, the Gangrel squad smashed into an Egyptian artifact exhibit room that was on loan to the city of Atlanta from the Egyptian government and the Rosicrucian Order. Assassinating guards and crippling the security system, the thieves made their way out of the building with a van load of precious and irreplaceable items of historical significance, including the sarcophagus of a late dynasty pharaoh. The resulting political scandal set a poor tone for the museums, galleries and educational facilities around the city that still taints the climate a year later. Another victory for enlightened scholars.

Is it any coincidence that the Anubis Club opened its doors for the first time in November of 1998? Brosnan Zhesigov, the mysterious and self-important Tremere ghoul who owned the club, welcomed guests for the first time to the club that would eventually become a fixture of Cainite society in Atlanta.

And still the wolves were not finished with their follies. A noted guns dealer and arms runner who had been operating in the city for months known only as Jerome the Wolf was presumed killed in an attack that destroyed large sections of his facility and merchandise. As fate would have it, Jerome earned his nickname not only for his predatory business skills, but also because he was a large and ferocious Lupine. What a surprise the Licks were in for when their would be soft and fleshy human victim spawned out into a flying furball of fury. Alas, Jerome's arsenal was not sufficient to save him and his bones litter the landscape like so many others fallen before the greed and short-sighted gains of Atlanta's Kindred.

From there the real entertainment showed up. Cainites still at the Arts Exchange went outside to discover a Federal Express truck on fire and covered with blood and scattered body parts. Just as the wienie roast was getting started, an Atlanta Fire Department truck and police cruiser showed up. As several of the Cainites in the city began to deal out that special Atlanta Kindred Hospitality to the boys in blue, a police chopper arrived, complete with two rifle bearing snipers leaning out the sides. Much to the regret of the police inside, the chopper pilot mysteriously lost control of the helicopter and it crashed in a fiery ball into the middle of Interstate 20. Let's hear it for the First Tradition.

But the tide of blood was not over for the Atlanta PD. Lower East side precinct officials were baffled by the apparent appearance of several pools of blood near their office late that Saturday night. Reportedly while on routine routes, several officers noted pools of liquid within the block of their precinct house. Dismissing them initially as oil or other automotive fluids, one officer noticed that he was tracking in the red substance after inadvertently stepping in one of the pools. Preliminary laboratory tests have not been able to determine the origin of the blood nor how they ended up in the street in front of the station.

Yet let us not dwell solely upon the activities of so few in a city of so many. The Tremere had another jolt to their growing powerbase in November as Harley Quinn, a Neonate Tremere, discovered and captured one of his fellow Tremere, Matthew Pragan, attempting to barter and sell their most closely guarded secret, the dreaded Thaumaturgy known as the Path of Blood. Arliss Khavkin, the Tremere Regent, declared Pragan as a rogue, sentenced him to death for his treachery and summarily executed him. It was the second time in two months that a Tremere had been caught and destroyed for the same sin. It was also the second time that Regent Arliss Khavkin would destroy one of his own. He seemed to develop a taste for it that would become telling in months to pass. Like so many other tyrants, Khavkin's bloody rise to power began on the broken skulls of his own people.

On a quieter note, a small, non-descript box was sighted by many Kindred at various places around the Elysium. This artifact was identified later as the box formerly carried by the now deceased Dr. Martin-Lucas Prozac. Although some Kindred attempted to open the box, it proved to be an impossible task, as the latch would not budge even under the strength of potence. The box disappeared near the end of the night, seemingly into thin air.


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