You remember those hangings that were happening in Melbourne? Well, the Malkavians were pretty sure that there was a prophecy connected to them, and were as usual full of dire warnings. I would have liked to look into them more, but there was an Archon to pick up from the Sabbat held airport and not a whole lot of time once people were through with the usual round of bitching. So, after a successful extraction of Archon Bishop from the Melbourne Airport, we returned to Elysium to discover some dire happenings.

The reason Archon Bishop was here was to pick up an imposter, a T.H. McMillen who was masquerading as one of Cock Robin's archons. Cock Robin has no archons. So he wasn't to bright to begin with. The Nosferatu left Mr. McMillen tied up in a bow as a present in Elysium, and I gave strict orders that no one was to mess with, in any way, Mr. McMillen's staked limp corpse. Unfortunately, this... well, as I understand it, a spectral figure appeared and began circling Mr. McMillen with a hangman's noose. Whatever it was, it didn't show up on the security tapes, but what did show was that good intentioned jackass Frances the Malkavian getting freaky and then getting strung up while Nicamardio decided that becoming a pillar of lightning would slow the spirit. As you might gather, it didn't. Neither did France's idea of ripping McMillen's head off. About this time is when the Archon and I got back. Bishop was, understandably, very very pissed off. There was some disagreement as to who was responsible for what, and he left very upset and told me to discover who was responsible for McMillen's lack of a head. Does this have something to do with where I am and what you are reading? Oh yeah.

While I squarely put Bishop's fury on the shoulders of Frances, the Malkavians had a decent theory. The 24th hanging was to fulfill this prophecy they spoke of. They didn't know quite what the prophecy was, or hadn't told me, but I found out. You see, it seems that while they all believed that McMillen was the 24th victim, it apparently didn't matter. Frances got hoisted, and even if he was later cut down, it didn't slow down what happened next to us. This Val Jean Coffin, the "Master" and the one who has proclaimed himself King over this pocket of hell we are trapped in, appeared and commanded everyone to exit the building. Some followed of their own will, some appeared compelled, and the rest just went with the crowd. It was then that hangmen's ropes appeared to encircle several miles worth of area, from the sky to the depths of the earth. Above me now, there is a red tempest raging. From that place, it appears (or perhaps simply perspective makes it so) the ropes come down to encircle us. We are trapped now in a pocket of reality that appears to be under the absolute control of Coffin. He told us that he had returned our friends (those dead fools), and that we could live together in peace without a need for violence. Coffin raised his arms, and this is the really freaky part. As he brought down his arms... from the sky fell those buildings which were the havens of Melbourne, those that had been destroyed and those which were not. Vladimir Kissov's old haunt, A piece of the wall, fell to the ground as well the Hampton Inn. There was not a breeze, not a tremor as they landed, and now they stand seemingly undamaged.
He allowed a brief question and answer period, during which Vernon (who seems to have lost his mind, become a wholehearted convert of the "Master") sung his praises and caused a deceased Tremere to exchange blows with Derek Bishop, Malkavian primogen. Odd, in that this "utopia" was to be heaven, a place free of violence, free of sect, where already those who were returned and those that could not stand to be imprisoned came to violence in less than 5 minutes. Then, a sensible question regarding our food was raised. Again, the arms raised, then came down, and there sprung to being many zombies from which he instructed us to feed. (It's not great. In fact it rightly blows. But when you're hungry, you'll eat anything.)

He has stripped us of technology... firearms simply do not fire in this place he holds us. Cell phones do not function. But he allows our access to the boards to continue to work. Oh, and a minor thing... the sun no longer shines down upon us. The sky is nothing but a red tempest, as I have said. And so, the saga unfolding before you followed. This story is not yet fully told.

And now, it appears that Vernon is speaking of pogroms against the "unbelievers" in his Master's vision.

*sigh* I've said it once already. I have been imprisoned in a Nazi concentration camp. With luck, my lot fell into the same as Talos, and his Romny brethren. Because of that, I not only escaped and had vengeance upon my captors, I became immortal and open to new realms of experience. Unfortunately, this time I do not believe I can rely on my great grandsire to give me such aid in escaping.

This is the saga. We are in a land of the lotus eaters, where there is food, there is shelter, there is even fair (if odd) weather. But there is no freedom to leave, and soon looks like little freedom of thought.

I hope I may endure to leave this place, and meet you again Aashe. If not... well, I tried my damnedest. I've still got a crossbow, and there's damn little technology involved in that. I always look to survive, but if I must find an end in this place, it will be with my claws bared and visions of my freedom restored in my mind.

-Doc Orrano