Shatterverse Panfandom RP

Father Jackal has experienced a setback.

(Inconceivable! Seven acolytes of the flesh, uncountable Szlachta, even a fully crafted Vohzd, and these, these mortals waltz right through them as if they were nothing! Three shapeshifting dragons, and a little human girl with power, and they ruin everything, everything that he had been working towards!)

And so he finds himself with nothing. Although two of his Acolytes survived the attack, they did not survive his displeasure.

(Weaklings! Failures such as them are not worthy of the eternal gift.His two greatest students died trying to stop the invaders, and those other two losers thought they could just crawl back and be accepted?)

He saved his Dark Lord. He ran, as his great cathedral fell around his ears, and dragged a sac of flesh holding the twisted fetus of his clans founder with him.

(Sometimes, in the last few minutes before sunrise, when the Antediluvians mind wanders, Jackal finds himself wondering when he began serving two masters. Cain had always been his lord, his most high, and Tzimice was dead, wasn't he? They'd always said he died...)

To here. Detroit. Where Jackal came from, Detroit was a Sabbat city. It was where he had been sent to cleanse the darkness, to remove the stain of the infernal from the heart of the Brotherhood. Here where the great Archbishop Tarantula had sent Jackal out to preach to the heathens, to spread the good word.

(And spread he had. In all the little towns, the Infernalists and heretics had screamed for mercy, had died for their sins, and Jackal had been pleased. He can still hear the screams of Isabella, who had thought to be his packmate, as she burned on the stake, the other Harpies gathered around to aide him. Good times.)

The building the Temple had been in was the same. The Leland Hotel, beautiful once, but like everything else in Detroit, now an old decaying mess. He remembered the ground breaking, way back when. But now, in this world, it was just another abandoned building. A perfect place, to start building a new home.

The dark lord is left to grow in the basement, as Jackal extend his reach in the city. Break through the sewers, take over the underground, make this city a Sabbat strong hold once more.

But for now, Father Jackal stands on the roof of the once proud hotel, looking down upon the city like a vengeful god. He allows himself a smile. It will be some time before he'll be ready to strike out again, but next time, he WILL be ready. Next time, he will triumph, in the name of Tzimice.

(And inside his head, a little bit more of the identity that was Father Jackal dies crying, subsumed by his ancestor.)