Rizardo Palladio

[mccabethemerciless]

Venezia is all but deserted at night, the moon provides only the most scant illumination and those few of us who are abroad in the night are delinquents, one and all. Make no mistake of course, I am very much included in that. My humble status in my illustrious bloodline is no bar to deviancy, indeed many among the Giovanni wallow in it, noble degenerates free from the constaints of mortal flesh and vaccuous mortal morality. When one is an eternal lord of the night with power over the dead, one begins to see the inherent irrationality in mortal conceits. It is this, in part, that makes me so effective in my role as Capo for Donata Palladio. Where other Cainites, more rigid in their philosophical codes will stumble in their duties, I find a work around. No deed is too dirty for me. No bargain that cannot be struck. My ends more than justify my means.

I had been running an errand earlier in the night, in exchange for the murder of his still-living trading partner, the Wraith of Hermann von Strasbourg had agreed to do a little spying for me, for a time. Hermann was a vindictive shit, and unreliable for the most part but he was often useful in patrolling Donata's estate when he could be reached. He enjoyed the thrill of Cainite politics he had once claimed, it was so trivial yet so gripping, the Greeks could not have written such a tragedy as the unlives of the Children of Caine. I really don't care as long as he gets results.

The murder was a simple one, the best murders always are I find. I waited in an alley by my target's home for him to return paralytic drunk from whatever hole he had festered in that evening, the revolting outsider was a grotesque of a man, a great sweaty, red-faced, porcine blob of a thing. Every step caused him to puff and wheeze, soaking his expensive clothes with yet more sweat.

I wasted no time. I never do, I merely stepped into his path and plunged my dagger in his gut, giving him a gentle nudge and letting his momentum carry him into the canal, barely breaking my stride to do so, in spite of his scream no one will suspect the monk, if no other reason than I was already well away from the crime. I had intended to have the body retrieved, one must never waste the opportunity to acquire reagents, but Lorenzo could find no trace. Perhaps he had fallen afoul of the Cainites that live beneath the canal? Perhaps. It didn't really matter anyway, I had fullfilled my side of the bargain with Hermann. I could have compelled him of course, reached out with the divine authority of my blood and bloodline to make him obey, but he would not be so accomodating to me after that, and I did not want to provoke the darkness in him. Wraiths are more useful in general than spectres after all.

By the time I had returned home, Hermann had news for me. A cainite intruder, undeclared to the Camarilla or the Giovanni had made a temporary lair in Donata's domain, nesting like a rat beneath the streets, entering and exiting his home via the canal. I am not a house proud Cainite, my home is as much a tool to me as my chalks, candles and body parts. But some depths that Cainites sink to are truly appauling. This interloper, from Spain so Hermann said, appeared to be of the Gangrel clan. It didn't matter, they would be dealt with.

I decided to send my men-at-arms to apparehend the intruder but first I wanted to soften him up, strip away his semblence of security. Cosimo brought me back a splinter of wood from a spot directly above his haven, it was not much of a bond to the cainite but it would have to do. I had time to make it work.

I stripped out of my habit, my ghouls taking their time in the ritual cleansing that cast away all outside resonances on me, so that they would not impede my work, once this was done I drew a circle in chalk around the splinter, chanting the litany of the dead while I did so. Once the circle was drawn, still chanting I spread grave dirt in the circle before burning incense in a silver censer for the next four hours to reinforce the spell with the divine authority invested in me. I could feel the power, and hear Hermann laughing and I knew it had worked. For the next seven days and seven nights the interloper would be afflicted with visions of his own impending demise, if he even lived that long.

The Gangrel, shaken by his harrowing was easy prey for the ghouls who ripped open his makeshift haven at midday, staking him and stuffing him in a bag. I presented the creature to Donata that night and she favoured me with her taste, allowing me to sup from her inner thigh as she scourged me with a lash.

I never did learn what she did to the Gangrel, but I never asked and never saw him again. There is always another pressing matter for a Capo to deal with, and I take pride in being an excellent Capo.