Chapter 3: The Breaking of Blood

(Game Session Sept 1 2023) (Game Date is Jan 30 2024)

San Francisco Rebirth — January 30, 2024

Four months had passed since the night the city’s shadows had shifted beneath their feet. The heist against Fabian Bullard had left a crater in the underworld’s balance, and the echoes still rippled through the kindred’s restless streets. Bullard, once a kingpin crowned in silver and sin, had vanished like a ghost — no whispers, no sightings. The city waited, breath bated for his return... or his fall.

In the quiet moments between the storms, the PCs found themselves carving new paths through the labyrinth of the night.

Maxwell, ever the tactician, secured a lucrative contract with Andrew Baglino, a titan in Tesla’s engineering empire. Knight Security, his company, was now the invisible shield protecting the cutting-edge facility rising like a beacon of power in San Francisco’s industrial heart. The whispers of opportunity grew louder, bolstered further when Austin Steel handed Max a weathered Brujah tome — a brutal, raw manifesto on how the Brujah viewed Kindred society: a world of fire, rebellion, and fractured loyalties.

Valmont, restless and haunted by whispers from beyond, communed with Dean Hawks — a ghostly presence tethered to the world by secrets and unfinished business. Hawks spoke of a ghoul ritual called Forever Day, a dark boon that forced eternal vigilance, where ghouls required only an hour of sleep each night to serve their masters tirelessly. The ritual was hidden in the ruins of the old Prince Cerrano’s mansion near the Satro Baths — a place whispered about in kindred legend and dread. But Hawks' spectral urging grew urgent: Valmont must find a body, a vessel to reclaim his place in the living world, or risk being lost to the void forever.

Meanwhile, Ban’s fingers brushed a faded piece of parchment tucked inside an ancient tome within the Mansion Elysium. The paper whispered of Cerrano’s Crucibulum, a blood relic of immense power — a chalice granting extra experience and deepening disciplines with every draught of its cursed contents. But the relic’s power came with a dire price: if destroyed, those who had drunk from it would suffer grievous losses, their disciplines diminished and willpower crushed. Ban guarded this secret closely, reluctant to reveal the full weight of its curse even to his companions.

The PCs sought alliance and wisdom from the Nosferatu underworld. They summoned Draco, the elusive caretaker of Coit Tower, to the Elysium. For ninety long minutes, Draco spun tales of San Francisco’s forgotten past — the ghosts of princes and the legacies buried beneath the city’s veins. In exchange for this knowledge, Max pledged to bolster the Tower’s security, sealing their fragile trust.

Draco spoke of another Nosferatu recluse — Graf Orlock, a shadow dwelling beneath the Mystic Mansion’s forgotten train tunnels. A cautious meeting ensued, and an uneasy pact was struck: Graf would claim sanctuary beneath the Elysium, granting the PCs a silent ally steeped in the city’s darkest secrets.

The revelation of the old Prince’s mansion — the likely resting place of Cerrano’s relics and the key to ancient power — now loomed as a tantalizing prize. But as the city turned and the Camarilla prepared for their Conclave in Europe, a new game began. The Justicars’ seats would be contested, and the fate of Nathan Kent — the enigmatic Justicar Valkrane — hung in the balance.

Graf, keeper of forgotten lore, entrusted the PCs with a tome: an extensive history of Nathan Kent’s rise and fall. Within its pages lay secrets that could unravel alliances and ignite old rivalries anew.

The night deepened, and San Francisco’s rebirth was far from over. The shadows stirred once again, and the players stood at the edge of a storm that would test their loyalty, their power, and their very souls.

The Elysium was quiet but charged with tension as Ban, Max, Valmont, Jarvis, and Graf gathered beneath its gothic arches. Word had been whispered in shadows—Cerrano’s Crucible, a legendary artifact belonging to the long-lost Prince of San Francisco, awaited rediscovery in the ruins of his abandoned estate near the Sutro Baths.

Cerrano had ruled with an iron fist from 1850 until the devastating earthquake of 1906, when he vanished from the city, declaring it forsaken. Now, nearly 120 years later, his mansion remained untouched, sealed by wards, magic, and perhaps dread.

The Kindred drove through the fog-drenched hills to the mansion’s decaying facade. The house looked frozen in time—plates still set on dining tables, water-stained floors sagging under a century’s neglect. Yet, despite its vulnerability, no scavenger or desperate mortal had dared to loot or vandalize the place. The wards against kine whispered warnings on the wind.

Inside, Max and Ban’s fingers brushed a pewter jug that thrummed with ancient power—the Vessel of Transference awakened with a chilling pulse. Nearby, Ban discovered a mysterious metal-encased wine bottle, its contents an enigma, sealed tight through decades.

Exploration led the group to a grim chamber warded against lupine intrusion. Bones littered the floor, remnants of a captive werewolf, its ward broken and the door ajar.

Suddenly, the lupine appeared—a snarling shadow in the dim hallway. Words failed; Max broke the standoff with gunfire. The mansion echoed with explosions as frag and phosphorous grenades tore into the creature, severing an arm. But the beast lashed out, clawing Max and Ban with vicious, aggravated wounds before limping into the forest.

Pursuit ended at an ancient mausoleum, where the PCs put the wounded lupine down, severing its head as grim proof.

Returning to the mansion, the party descended into the basement, uncovering a small locked chest protected by powerful kindred wards. Uncertain of its contents, they stowed it in Max’s truck for later.

A disturbing discovery awaited—an enormous portrait of Cerrano painted on stretched human skin, eyes seeming to follow them. Respecting the horror, they left it shrouded.

Another door bore an unfamiliar rune. Crossing its threshold triggered a ward that dissolved into a fiery pit, from which a voice hissed, “Who is there from its depths?” Fear and conviction that a demon lurked forced a hasty retreat.

But further searching revealed a secret door leading to a pristine chamber—shelves brimming with ancient tomes and relics. At the center, the Crucible, a bloodstained chalice, pulsed with dark promise.

Ban seized a dusty volume while the group’s attention was drawn to a ghostly apparition lingering nearby. The spirit’s desperate cry, “Don’t leave me. Vangard? DON’T leave me!!” shook them to their core, and they fled.

Back at the haven, the Crucible was tested. Each Kindred drank, feeling power surge through their veins.

• Max: Presence increased to level 3; unlocked Out of Clan Protean (level 1); soon advancing to level 2 with saved XP.
• Ban: Dominate increased to level 2; unlocked Out of Clan Potence (level 1).
• Valmont: Celerity rose to level 3; gained 1 point Presence (level 1).
• Graf: Potence and Animalism maxed at level 5.
• Jarvis: Presence and Fortitude maxed at level 5.

Yet the boon felt tainted—what eldritch horror had they awoken with the Crucible? Could such power remain hidden from prying eyes? What darkness would be unleashed upon San Francisco’s Kindred?

The night had grown darker... and the game had only just begun.

What lurks in the shadows of Cerrano’s legacy? Who will seek to steal or destroy the Crucible? And what price will these vampires pay for power beyond reckoning?

The city’s pulse quickened as the shadows deepened.

A message from Nathan Kent crackled through the PCs’ secure lines—he, Orion, and Austin had departed for Europe to attend the Camarilla Conclave. The vote for new Justicars was set for March 3rd. Fenris would remain behind, guarding San Francisco’s fragile order. Kent’s final warning echoed in their minds: “The Four Horsemen will likely make landfall while I’m gone. Be very careful.”

No sooner had the message faded than Ban’s curiosity proved costly. The ancient tome he’d taken from Cerrano’s mansion proved cursed—upon reading the first line, his vision flickered and blacked out. The only way to keep the blindness at bay was costly—three precious blood points each night to stave off the dark curse, a grim price confirmed by Fenris himself.

The group’s attention shifted to the locked chest they’d spirited away. Inside, nestled beneath a mysterious pile of sand, lay a large Chinese key and an odd note describing the sand as a “bag of holding.” As they emptied the sand, it slowly coalesced into a form—a spectral figure Jarvis recognized instantly: Lodin, the ex-Prince of Chicago. How Lodin’s spirit had found sanctuary in Cerrano’s mansion was a mystery that chilled them all.

With little choice, the group sealed Lodin’s ghost in the Elysium’s “Torpor” vault, a cryptic prison for restless spirits.

Suddenly, a frantic pounding at the mansion door shattered the uneasy calm. Max opened it to reveal Trina Von Dutch, a Brujah Anarch from the Fang—her eyes wild with fear.

“An unknown vampire... killed Declan O’Houlihan inside the hideout. I swear it was powerful. Terrifying.”

Her terror was contagious. The PCs resolved to investigate.

Arriving at the waterfront refuge, they quickly spotted two snipers—one perched on the roof of the Fang’s building, the other across the street, six floors up.

Ban’s mind leapt and soared, sneaking behind the sniper on the sixth floor. A silent strike with his sword ended the threat. Meanwhile, Max and Valmont approached the roof but found the door wedged shut. Prudence won out—they retreated rather than break in.

Ban then flew across the street, dispatching the second sniper with ease.

But danger was far from over.

Back inside the Fang building, Max and Valmont were ambushed by Renwick, a Sabbat assassin with deadly speed. Gunfire and claws clashed—Valmont’s shots forced Renwick’s retreat, while Max’s Protean claws left the Nosferatu bleeding and furious. Max fought the rising frenzy with sheer willpower, resisting the urge to pursue.

Outside, Ban spotted Sabbat members Sandor and Jace nearby. Seconds later, Jace pressed a detonator—the Fang hideout erupted in a fiery inferno, sending Ban flying.

Injured but alive, Ban staggered back to the Elysium.

Back at the Elysium, a horrifying scene greeted them—a pool of blood stained the lobby floor. Jarvis grimly confessed: he had killed Trina when she turned on him in a sudden, violent betrayal.

As the group gathered, footsteps echoed inside the mansion. Emerging from the shadows was not a stranger, but Lodin—or so it seemed.

Minutes into conversation, the truth emerged: this was not Lodin’s spirit, but Dean Hawkes, possessing Lodin’s body, returned to the land of the living. Hawkes claimed to hold secrets and knowledge about San Francisco’s Kindred that few alive could match.

• What bargains will the PCs strike with the enigmatic Hawkes?
• What dark secrets of the city’s past lie buried in his knowledge?
• Can they survive the fallout of the Fang’s destruction and the looming arrival of the Four Horsemen?
• Will the cursed book and Lodin’s prison unleash even darker forces?

The game’s threads are tangled deep — the city watches, waits, and whispers.

The Elysium was tense but calculated. Valmont, Ban, Max, and Jarvis gathered to map out their "circle of trust" — organizing allies and contacts into tiers: the Cup Circle, Inner Circle, Middle Circle, and Outer Circle. Trust was precious currency in these dark days.

Their planning was abruptly interrupted by two urgent calls.

• Didi Giovanni summoned them to a midnight meeting at the Palace of Fine Arts — a rare, large gathering of Primogen and Kindred to discuss the looming Sabbat threat.
• Ms. Ling reported a strange, paranormal disturbance north of the Golden Gate Bridge, in Marin County.

The PCs agreed to investigate the anomaly but vowed to remain observers — their true priority was the midnight summit.

Crossing the Golden Gate Bridge, Valmont’s gaze caught swirling black souls circling ominously overhead, a silent herald of danger.

Max spotted a large, black semi-trailer parked suspiciously by the roadside, facing south. The group made a quick U-turn to investigate, but the truck roared back to life and crossed the bridge ahead of them.

Stealthily tailing the vehicle, they followed it into Golden Gate Park, disembarking to sneak through the forest. From the shadows, they saw the truck parked — packed with Sabbat shock troops.

The PCs wisely chose retreat.

Back at the vehicle, a grim discovery awaited — all tires slashed. As they scrambled, two terrifying figures appeared: Kaine, the legendary Cainite, and Amritage, the ex-Bishop and leader of the infamous Four Horsemen.

Ban’s terror overtook him; he fled into the woods. Meanwhile, Jarvis, Max, and Valmont were captured and marched back to the semi-trailer filled with Sabbat forces.

A chilling revelation: Peter Takin, the Malkavian Priogen, was driving a car loaded with Sabbat—a traitor.

Surrounded by Sabbat, Max boldly challenged a shock troop in a deadly duel. The crowd closed in a circle as blades clashed.

In a spectacular display of skill and savage fury, Max killed his opponent and diabolized him—dark power unleashed in the moonlight. Cheers erupted. When Amritage asked who would face Max next, all hands shot up—an eerie show of submission.

Ban’s flight ended abruptly when he came face to face with Sting and Jan Sobashi, Nathan Kent’s former bodyguard.

Strangely, Ban saw a pack of lupines approaching the compound—led by none other than Nathan Kent himself. Kent was not in Europe. The entire Justicar Conclave had been a ruse—this was a trap.

Inside the semi-trailer’s back, Max, Valmont, and Jarvis found an unexpected companion: Dean Hawkes, the enigmatic revenant.

With a wave of his hand, Hawkes summoned a terrifying storm of spirits, launching an attack on the lupines outside.

Kent, Sting, and Jan fought alongside the supernatural onslaught. Above, Lazo swooped in, blasting Dyson Rinzler with a lightning bolt that tore his arm off.

Ban, wielding thaumaturgy, drained 8 blood points from Tama the Gargoyle, who plummeted onto the back of the trailer.

Just as the battle seemed lost, three attack helicopters appeared from the east, commanded by Felcia Nocturne.

Missiles and bullets rained down on the Sabbat. The tide turned.

A massive van rolled up, driven by Felcia and Prince Ambrogino. The area was purged—flames devouring the bloodstained forest as the Sabbat fled in disarray.

The PCs climbed aboard the back of the semi-trailer. The Sabbat were routed, their forces scattered. The deadly game of power in San Francisco had reached a fever pitch—and the city’s hidden war was far from over.