Goll: Las Vegas - The Aftermath
You serve me, Hound. No other. Tell the GrandMasters what you wish... but remember our pact. They serve me as you do, but never did I place them above you. Do you not remember? REMEMBER!
The memories had flooded back to Goll with such ferocity... he remembered the pain of the forced recall... it had felt like someone was tearing his mind apart with quick strokes. But he had remembered. He remembered the pact... he remembered why his Children walked the halls of the Ordo Dracul. And now he was free. Free from the impotent words of the mewling politicians. Free from the studies of the insipid scholars. And free from the commands of the blind guardians. He remembered the Hunt well... remembered how he had been unconstrained... remembered the feel of Mara's hand on the back of his neck... remembered the nights when Dracula himself had directed the first Pack to hunt.
Goll rode through the highways of Nevada on the back of his monster motorcycle. The motorcycle that the man who called himself 'the First Brujah' had given him. He could still feel his beast roiling in his veins, overjoyed at being set free from restriction - the tire left a trail of slick blood on the asphault. Goll felt alive, strong... but something held him back...
He could not help remembering the ancient nights in a different light. Times when he had been hated by much of the Ordo... when they saw him as a sword that would as likely cut back at them as in to their foes. Goll had not felt fear in his heart then... Mara would not let them touch him. And Dracula would have given anything for Mara. But Mara had... moved on, since. And Dracula did not have the same hold over the covenant that he once had. Had he truly told Goll to disobey the GrandMasters, or... no. He had only said not to attack Suren Gal's tool.
Goll's madness and delusions were taking hold, whiping away the thing that made the Hound uneasy. For even though he was the Hound of Darkness... Cullpepper. Aimnestos. The Harvester. Calypso. Exodus. These were not names to trifle with even individually, and as a group. And so Goll rationalized. Dracula had not told him not to obey... he had simply said that Goll was now only to count Dracula's word as law. Dracula's word above all others. But he would still do as he had... he was still the Hound of Darkness.
Goll pulled the green and silver motorcycle off to the side of the road and pulled out the small black cell phone he had been given. He punched in a few numbers and the voice mail account came up.
"The Hound remains faithful. The Target still walks. My hand was stayed by the Dragon. More information coming."
The memories had flooded back to Goll with such ferocity... he remembered the pain of the forced recall... it had felt like someone was tearing his mind apart with quick strokes. But he had remembered. He remembered the pact... he remembered why his Children walked the halls of the Ordo Dracul. And now he was free. Free from the impotent words of the mewling politicians. Free from the studies of the insipid scholars. And free from the commands of the blind guardians. He remembered the Hunt well... remembered how he had been unconstrained... remembered the feel of Mara's hand on the back of his neck... remembered the nights when Dracula himself had directed the first Pack to hunt.
Goll rode through the highways of Nevada on the back of his monster motorcycle. The motorcycle that the man who called himself 'the First Brujah' had given him. He could still feel his beast roiling in his veins, overjoyed at being set free from restriction - the tire left a trail of slick blood on the asphault. Goll felt alive, strong... but something held him back...
He could not help remembering the ancient nights in a different light. Times when he had been hated by much of the Ordo... when they saw him as a sword that would as likely cut back at them as in to their foes. Goll had not felt fear in his heart then... Mara would not let them touch him. And Dracula would have given anything for Mara. But Mara had... moved on, since. And Dracula did not have the same hold over the covenant that he once had. Had he truly told Goll to disobey the GrandMasters, or... no. He had only said not to attack Suren Gal's tool.
Goll's madness and delusions were taking hold, whiping away the thing that made the Hound uneasy. For even though he was the Hound of Darkness... Cullpepper. Aimnestos. The Harvester. Calypso. Exodus. These were not names to trifle with even individually, and as a group. And so Goll rationalized. Dracula had not told him not to obey... he had simply said that Goll was now only to count Dracula's word as law. Dracula's word above all others. But he would still do as he had... he was still the Hound of Darkness.
Goll pulled the green and silver motorcycle off to the side of the road and pulled out the small black cell phone he had been given. He punched in a few numbers and the voice mail account came up.
"The Hound remains faithful. The Target still walks. My hand was stayed by the Dragon. More information coming."