Cults & Factions

The rumble of bass echoed across a slim courtyard between the two buildings. The dead potted plants had transitioned into ashtrays for reveling dancers. A broken tent sat crushed, left by transients who occupied the space as a site to crash during nights when it wasn't a fullblown club banger. It was easy to get around most laws in Chicago, but the smoking bans really brought down cops' attention. It was easy to pay off cops as an illegal rave thumped away, but Caine forbid if there was someone ingesting burning organic plant matter in tubular form. How things have changed, yet such is the way of the kine. Though that was more reason for the existence of the Church of Caine. Our purpose is to guide our fellow Cainites and, through the blessing of transference, guide the humans under their control. Nevertheless, the sound check seemed to be going well. That damned "Kiss-a-belle" song echoed around the darkening windows. The DJ, some new ghoul, had potential and was throwing down a remix of the record. We poached them from right under the Degenerates' noses. I'm sure Annabelle would hate to know we were the ones who broke him from her control. You can say what you want about religion, but when it works, it is useful. Not allowing the poseur Bennett to have another tool was useful to the Church's plan, though he is on the list for accessible targets for conversion. We need more draws to the "house" we are building. The backdoor opened, startling me from my musing. A man consumed by the dark gown of a cassock pulled out a cigarette and lit it, old habits dying hard. "Ruminating upon this squalid garden, dear Tasha?" The red-haired man looked down at me. "Praying before sacrament, Deacon. I enjoy watching the night grow pregnant," I lied. He knew I was nervous, but I needed to try to cover it. The Rite of Compunction always gave me shivers. I knew it was necessary, but I always feared someone breaking the covenant of it all. The courtyard silenced as the last echoes of the sound check fell deeper into the night. The newly rebuilt Warehouse Club sat squat as a backdrop to the reverend's glare. The serious moment was suddenly shattered by a howl of laughter. His fangs flashed and glittered beneath the lamplight as he chuckled, his broken smile reveling in the odd joy he found in her turmoil. "Dear Sister, really you must not always get yourself so worked up. I know it is difficult, but all things worth their merit are. It is a testament of our faith to one another. Do you wish to pray together? I always find it helpful." He walked briskly down the steps; the shimmering sound of cloth dragged across the stone steps as he flicked the smoke into the potter. "Yes, please Deacon. Help me find my faith once more." I whispered, desperate for his strange abilities to always calm my roiling mind. "Let us pray," he said grasping his cold hands in mine, the strange mixture of faith and blood magic tingling into my palms. The heavy stones of his rosary weighed into my hand as he pressed the sharp edges of our symbol into the flesh of my palm. The razor-edged pendant cut into our hands, mingling our vitae and commencing the rite. The shame flushed red on my face as I winced in pain. "Caine, Dark Father, beseech us in hearing our lowly prayers of need. May we cast off our weaknesses this night. Lo, and do I see the usurper who forged my lineage and stole power from you. Though his sins have passed down to me I now use this magic of the blood, a gift you have given me. Lo, do I see my sister's maker, and their maker, for their fearsome line shows the horrors that exist only underneath. This blessing assists us in knowing the movements of our enemies, for my sister is brave! Such is the curse of rebellion and the blessings of power. We know our sacrifices are true as they run through or vitae as they have the nights before and the nights to come! For you are the true gift, Father Caine, for your gifts transcend our petty follies! Such is our gift, to know your gospel, to use our truth, to believe and act in our sanctimonious unity and be your dark angels! Dark Father, I implore you, lend my sister your strength. For as you wander, as do we! Praise Caine! "Praise Caine, Brother!" I hollered, my voice commanding, given fortification by our prayer. "Now, Sister, are you ready for tonight's sacrament?" His eyes burned holes into my soul. "I am, Brother, Oh, I absolutely am. Amen, Amen, Caine cometh, Amen".