Magic is, by its nature, strange. What we know of such things come largely from our colleagues in the Tremere, and the rest from the vaguely understood powers of our Hecata contacts. Apparently, there are different types of magic, and even magic which is separated from "True Magic." To be honest, the nuances of this art are lost on me.

All I can safely say is: Leave it alone. For all the power our disciplines provide, they lack the versatility granted by true magecraft. The most ancient of our number might match their best, but the majority of Kindred would fare poorly against even neophyte mages. The Inquisition Hunters may even parley with them, exchanging knowledge of miracles for knowledge of magic and vice versa.

Mission Report from Nick Fontaine, Nosferatu Sheriff.

Information obtained from an "interview" with a member of the Celestial Chorus Mage order.

The interviewee has been Embraced and Relocated.

*********

Unnecessary. Sleep was unnecessary for Ruprecht Eisler, he had explored many deep mysteries both miraculous and mystical, and discovered all manner of ways to subsist. He didn't even have to eat. But he was still human. He enjoyed human comforts. And this small yet cozy room in the church common house was certainly comfortable.

Not luxurious of course, but decked in warm colors and little furnishings such as a nightstand by the bed and a hardwood desk with tomes both theological and philosophical stacked on top of it. Such things made the place homier and sleep, unnecessary as it may have been, was always welcome.

"To rest...To dream."

But there would be time for that later. For now, Ruprecht had to establish his beachhead. This church, St. Joan's, needed cleansing. Not of its staff or public image though. It was a simple neighborhood parish and the priests here had been accommodating and prudent enough to ask only essential questions. The wards signifying this place as holy ground were and different story, and so they needed to be rebuilt.

He left his pack behind, and he walked through the simple house until he went into the larger parish grounds. The walk from here to the church proper should have been a time of quiet and reflection. Ruprecht knew better though and had decided to take charge of the situation.

"Did you find the entrance?" He half-turned towards the roof of the common house and saw Lawrence perched on top of the wooden paneling.

"Yeah." Lawrence made a cursory examination of the area, looking for signs of surveillance no doubt. Even when he descended, there was a sharpness in his eyes and tenseness in his muscles.

"You don't think it's a little cliched? Hiding in the crypt?" That hint of returning spirit had grown in the past hour. Lawrence was on edge, but he also stood taller and his voice rang of determination.

This would be useful, as long as he cooperated.

"You are not there to hide. You are there to guard." Ruprecht kept his tone neutral, suppressing his condescension and watching Lawrence for a reaction. He'd kept his statement vague for a reason.

"Hmmm..." Lawrence picked up on this. Luckily, he didn't need much time to figure out the reason. "You think Patty'll show?"

"Indeed." Ruprecht was pleased, even allowing a slight smile. Lawrence was no mastermind, but he could keep up.

"Thank you: God in Heaven." This would mean less micromanaging on Ruprecht's part, and he could focus on his own task.

"In fact-" Ruprecht motioned for Lawrence to follow along his walk. "This is his current residence."

"What?" Lawrence followed at a respectful distance, but his voice had raised into a distressed whisper. "This is a domain?"

"If you mean God's domain, then yes." Ruprecht ignored the increased tension rising from his vampiric companion, and began his work. "But I suppose your "squealer" has staked a claim as well."

"Patty's not squealer, he's a pig. He introduced Jessie and that asshole Ian, told us they were trustworthy. Little shit..." Lawrence's gaze tightened, his mind playing out the possibilities of the incoming fight. Then they widened, as he apprehended the light emanating from Ruprecht's hands. "So, I've been meaning to ask: What's a priest doing with magic?"

"True Magic is a gift from God, it is within humanity alone." At those words, the light spread from Ruprecht's hands and sunk into the ground. It trailed through the grass and stone before disappearing into the walls, the various religious statures, and even ground itself.

"It is only right that it is studied, used...and even enjoyed." Memories came, of lessons from aged masters and adventures with friends...friends who died too young.

"What about witches? Heretics and all that shit." There was some sass in Lawrence's voice, but it was a natural kind. He stood with his arms crossed, and he was more curious than anything.

"He might have been a worthy acolyte, had fate been kinder...and he'd been smarter." A crack of his gloved knuckles and neck were all the hunter needed to prepare for the next part.

"What of murderers and adulterers?" The priest's tone was elevated know, educational and more patient than who was used to. "What of fists, love, and all the abilities we possess? Magic is no different from other things we cherish, or misuse. And so, no differently."

"That's not what history says."

"History is not so clear as your masters would have you think. I will admit though, I am considered a moderate by my colleagues."

"Oh..." The thought of more extreme hunters with similar powers to Ruprecht was...troubling to the young vampire. This of course expected but would hopefully motivate the boy.

"Pay attention now." Ruprecht waited to continue until he was certain Lawrence was focused. Once that was established, the hunter gave his instructions:

"The wards are set and await my word. All you must do is wait in the crypt. Your presence will be detected, your opponent will confront you, and then I will trap him. You must hold against his anger long enough for me to take him myself."

"Fistfight an older Nosferatu, on his home turf, till the wizard priest saves me? Sure, why not?" The eagerness in Lawrence's eyes outweighed any concern in his voice. He was clearly hungry and eager for battle against his betrayers.

Thus, the trap was set. Ruprecht waited in the common house, as his being present in and around the church would be suspicious. The original wards of the parish dotted the entire property, including the crypt. It came as a surprise in fact, that so many wards were present in a parish that was barely over a hundred years old.

But that was for later study. For now, Ruprecht meditated in his little room and meditated on the wards. He could not only sense but discern the individual nature of all within the parish grounds. Trees, mice, everything was laid bare before his eyes. Even the undead nature of the vampire was laid bare before the hunter's miraculous and mystically augmented eyes.

Lawrence was in position. He did his best to appear as a robber. He riffled through stacked papers, dug around for hidden compartments, and even managed to find a few baubles here and there. Then right on queue, a shadow descended. It tried to slip by, using its vampiric power (most likely the discipline Obfuscation) to enter the parish and without a trace. It entered the church slowly, most likely hearing the ruckus from Lawrence's act.

The dark power around this creature intensified. It was trying to hide further, but to Ruprecht's holy eyes, the darkness merely intensified. It made itself easier to see. And that presence was now descending rapidly into the crypt, obviously going for a sneak attack on Lawrence.

That was bad. Because even though Ruprecht could see the presence, the sheer mass of obfuscating power around it blocked all else in the crypt. Luckily, he could still feel the power of the wards there. And he decided to activate them.

"Not the ideal situation." He had hoped to try a new technique with the wards, one that he had prepared for a confrontation with a more dangerous opponent. "I'm not able to focus on the specific wards. Perhaps if I memorize their location beforehand...no matter."

He still had other powers available to him, as well as his own skills. So Ruprecht rushed as fast as he could through the common house, through the doors and pews of St. Joan's church, and into the crypt.

"About time!" Lawrence was performing better than expected. His limbs were intact and he was still moving with supernatural speed. But his left arm was broken, and there was a great slash across his chest. "Wanna tag in now?"

Even by the standards of his clan, Patty was an ugly piece of work. Bald, long bat ears, moist leathery skin, and pupil-less yellow eyes were some of the nicer features of his visage. But he was also massive, with obvious musculature that would indicate and athletic proclivity.

And so even without the enhanced speed of other clans, Patty was able to shift his massive bulk towards Ruprecht without much effort. And made ready for a wide haymaker with outstretched talons.

"Yield!" The word left Ruprecht's mouth and froze the charging monster in his tracks.

"W-What is happening!?" The monster's words were replaced by screams and the sound of cracking bones could just be heard beneath them. His talons shrunk, and so did his ears. His skin regained living complexion, and his face became as a man's.

"How?" Patty touched his lips with trembling hands, as he looked about for a mirror. He did not seem disturbed, nor did he appear joyful. "Did you cure me?"

"My methods are my own. For now, acknowledge your situation." Ruprecht knelt and then grabbed the now toothless undead by the hand, and squeezed. "You are helpless, and cooperation is your only chance of reprieve."

"Stop!" More cracking bones, and the bending of fingers in ways they weren't meant to. Patty screamed and screamed even as he tried to punch and kick away from his tormentor. All of it was in vain though. "All right. Please, just stop!"

"Shit. This how you always work?" Lawrence had healed up since his tussle. He was clearly nursing a grudge from his previous injuries though and was eying the now weakened Patty with a hungry glare.

It took only one glance from Ruprecht to wipe that look away.

"Ok, I'm shutting up now."

"Thank you, Lawrence." The hunter released Patty from his grip but kept his genuflected pose beside the creature. "You will tell us the locations of your colleagues."

"My what? I'm an independent operator man, I-"

"You work with others who function as this city's eyes and ears." Cold eyes, and barely a breath from his lips. Every feature of Ruprecht's face emanated control, and his utter lack of unconscious movement added further to this mechanical element. "You will give me their names and locations, or I will tear them from you: One bone at a time."

"Okay, just don't hurt me." Patty nodded hastily. He even held his unbroken hand up in appeasement and gave Ruprecht all the names he needed.

"There's two main guys you need to worry about." His lip wobbled, and tears started streaming down his face. "One is a Gangrel named Sabrina. She lives out in the main park and she uses the animals to see around the city and shit like that. She's a big muscly lady with dark brown hair and she runs around the main walkway with her crew at around 11 at night, so you missed her."

"There's always tomorrow." The hunter cracked his knuckles, making sure to put his hands close enough so that Patty could hear them. "Who's your other contact?"

"I don't know his name. All I know is that he's a Tremere, and he only talks to people through his goons...or apprentices or whatever." The defanged Nosferatu was scrambling for a name to give, and almost leaped from his seated position when he found one. "I know! You can look for Quincy. He runs a comic shop and does wet work for the cams, but everyone knows he's a main guy for the Tremere I told you about."

"If you kill those assholes, I bet you can find lists of their other contacts or people in their network. And even if you don't, you'll confuse everyone else." Eagerness and even hope. These emotions passed across Patty's face after he finished his treason. "Will you let me go now?"

"Do it quickly." Ruprecht stood and made a lazy gesture with his hand, and stood away from the incoming carnage.

Lawrence darted from his corner, tackled the still weakened Patty to the ground, and sunk his fangs in. Flailing and screams muted by the cold stone ground. Those were the last actions and noises from Patty, as Lawrence drank every last drop of blood.

The Nosferatu dispersed after that, into a scattered cloud of ashes. But Lawrence did not care. He licked his lips as a low bestial growl resonated through the crypt. He looked at his hands and saw them shake as blood began rushing through his veins.

"I feel good. I feel powerful."

"You should be stronger now, you told me he was of a lower generation."

"Shit, I feel like I could fight a whole army and win." He flexed his hands and stood with triumph and wonder at the unseen but certainly present power in his body. But he did not push the limits of this power. "I'm guessing I'm still not on your level."

"That is a fair assumption."

"Uh-huh." Just to test what powers he did have, Lawrence punched into the nearest wall and left a hole several times the size of his fist. "Damn."

"So, who are we killing next?" He was eager now, the high of power from the blood of an older vampire almost overwhelming him. "I can't wait."

"For now, you must rest." Ruprecht was kneeling beside the ashes now and praying. "Let the blood settle, and then we shall strike tomorrow."

"Yeah, ok." Lawrence knew better than to ask about The Hunter's personal business, but his curiosity got the better of him. "Why are you praying? Wasn't he just an unholy abomination? In defiance of most Holy Mary or whatever?"

"Tonight perhaps. But not always." The priest made a final sign of the cross, before standing from the remains. There was sorrow in his eyes, and the heaviness of a long life weighed on his shoulders. "He was once a man. He had a father and mother, perhaps friends and lovers. His death and pains were necessary, but that does not make them joyful."

"Kay..."

"Sleep now, Lawrence." Not one glance was given towards the young vampire, as the priest climbed the stairs into the church proper. "You will need all your strength, for the work to come."

That was the end of that, Ruprecht knew that Lawrence would sleep in the crypt, lording over whatever spoils he'd taken from his victim. It was just as well, for Ruprecht needed time. Time to meditate on the day and night's work. There were other vampires in need of salvation, other tortured souls trapped in undeath. It made him think of other nights, long since passed. It made him long for other souls, long since gone...