Quoted By:
>Typhon
Typhon, the monster who fought Zeus. Nearly won, if not for his thunderbolts. A monster from an ancient age and ancient parentage - you are the offspring of the Eldest of Clan Tzimisce, after all. Fighting against the posturing Olympians, usurpers who take on the guise of humans, when they are truly so much more. You smirk as you turn the key into the last door. You’d think the Camarilla would like being called Olympians - all that change they brought to Cainite, only for it to all be the same.
You glance up at the camera in the corner, its lens reflecting the dull light in the corridor. You know the haven keeper was watching, poor sod always was. Locking the door behind you, you enter one of the many havens the Ferrymen have around New York City. “Welcome back, Ty,” the keeper, Garm says as you enter the living quarters. This area was once part of a subway maintenance break room, but had been shut down. Garm was behind three fat computer monitors, wires hanging and slithering in all directions, like the veins of the earth.
“Garm,” you nod as you walk up to his desk. Garm has his ghoul sitting beside him, dark bags under his eyes. “How goes the watch?”
The Nosferatu grins, teeth like crowded tombstones jutting out from his lips. Sickly jaundice skin stretched over him, it looked more like someone was trying to make a yellow leather jacket, but the dye came out too pale. “Eleventh bell and all is quiet at the college,” Garm replies, referring to Barnard College, where the Tremere Chantry was located. “Cronus wanted to see you, he’s in the office.”
With another nod, you walk around the computer desk and into the circle of couches. A dark figure sat there, her legs crossed, smoking a cigarette. “How are you doing, Typhon?” A voice like rich silk comes from her lips. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen you.”
You look down at the woman and the cigarette in her hand. “I didn’t know you smoked, Hecate.” She chuckles and takes another drag.
(Cont)
