Talk from the Limits
Talk from the Limits
Like the urban blight of Southside, Houston's Limits are cut off from traditional media. Newspapers and websites don't mean much to people without electricity or money. So word travels slowly in Houston's outskirts, but it does travel. Bit by bit news passes from one isolated mortal community to the next. And bit by bit even the most detached and distant humans find out what's happening in the urban wastes. There isn't much in the Limits, but people eventually find out about it.
Alex - Your Friendly Neighborhood Storyteller
Re: Talk from the Limits
Most news in the Limits travels slowly. But it was hard to miss the plume of acrid smoke that rose to the west of Houston. It was beyond the borders of the Midlands gang in a place most of the destitute of the Limits had never been. But word wasn't far behind the black soot that rose into the air.
The Bazaar was burning. Its rickety stalls and the heavy metals of its black market goods combined to create a toxic plume that was visible for days after it was torched. And the witnesses who lived to tell the tale had quite the tale to tell.
"It was like what happened in the east but worse. Way worse."
"Wolves the size of horses were cutting into people. There were Aldine guys there and they just got fucking shredded."
"My buddy told me there were these...things...there. They looked human but not quite. And they just...cackled."
"My cousin said the things were some kind of Vampire. They clashed with the wolves, but left the Aldine guys alone."
"Then that Leech who lives in the Blood Acres - the big guy - came in and started cutting down the freaks."
"The fires started with the Aldine guys. I guess they realized there was no way they were holding it against the wolf-vampire."
"Those freaks went to ground the moment they saw fire and the big guy split. My sister told me the wolves stayed around looking for witnesses."
"Guess we won't be getting anymore bootleg movies anytime soon, huh?"
"And the Midlands guys weren't there? Don't they secure the Bazaar?"
"My cousin didn't see their colors. Maybe they got wind and fucked off ahead of time."
"They'd be the smartest fucking gang in the Limits if they did."
The Bazaar was burning. Its rickety stalls and the heavy metals of its black market goods combined to create a toxic plume that was visible for days after it was torched. And the witnesses who lived to tell the tale had quite the tale to tell.
"It was like what happened in the east but worse. Way worse."
"Wolves the size of horses were cutting into people. There were Aldine guys there and they just got fucking shredded."
"My buddy told me there were these...things...there. They looked human but not quite. And they just...cackled."
"My cousin said the things were some kind of Vampire. They clashed with the wolves, but left the Aldine guys alone."
"Then that Leech who lives in the Blood Acres - the big guy - came in and started cutting down the freaks."
"The fires started with the Aldine guys. I guess they realized there was no way they were holding it against the wolf-vampire."
"Those freaks went to ground the moment they saw fire and the big guy split. My sister told me the wolves stayed around looking for witnesses."
"Guess we won't be getting anymore bootleg movies anytime soon, huh?"
"And the Midlands guys weren't there? Don't they secure the Bazaar?"
"My cousin didn't see their colors. Maybe they got wind and fucked off ahead of time."
"They'd be the smartest fucking gang in the Limits if they did."
Alex - Your Friendly Neighborhood Storyteller
Re: Talk from the Limits
Not all news in the Limits signals itself through a roaring fire or a plume of smoke. Blood flows much slower than fire burn, and word can take a while to spread when gang wars begin. Especially when those wars are confined to a gang's own membership. That's where the latest gang war in the Limits began, at any rate. Why the Fairbanks Gang began to consume itself isn't well known to the living. But they assume - rightly - that it has something to do with the Leech lords who rule over their lives. When strange men nobody had ever seen showed up following a prophet in Fairbanks colors, people knew that schemes beyond their control were afoot.
Word was that some mortals were unhappy with this, though. That some of the gangs resented the role the undead played in their lives. To most humans, slavery under the Camarilla and slavery under petty gang lords were indistinguishable. But for the breathing brokers who had something to lose in a Vampiric power struggle, the allure of freedom was hard to resist. And word spread of one man offering it.
"Now I ain't no fucking pansy," Freddy said to the gangsters assembled at his shabby crackhouse. "I'm not going to give you a pretty speech like those perfumed motherfuckers across the highways. I just got something to say that needs saying."
"Every since I was a little baby gangster growing up here in the West Side, I always had to mind my manners about the fucking leeches. The Vampires. The bloodsucking, unliving fuckers who use us in their little gangs. You couldn't talk about 'em. You couldn't do anything about 'em. And if one took your girl or your drugs or your blood you had to just let it fucking be. We all been there. And we all know it's fucking bullshit!"
"The Fallbrook Cruisers who are with us tonight always knew that shit. And they had the stones to say it. Well now I'm saying it, too. Our Fairbanks gang ain't gonna be rolled by the dead no more. We're gonna take the fight to those fuckers and smoke 'em out at noon. And then we'll be free. The streets will belong to the living, and some other Vampires who fucking hate our overlords said they'll leave us alone."
"And you trust 'em?" asked a man in Fallbrooks Cruiser colors.
"Fuck no!" Freddy said to a roar of applause. "But I know if they fucking step to us we're gonna burn them out of their homes, too. We aren't running scared from the fucking dead no more. The Fairbanks Gang is working for us! And this turf will be ours!"
Word was that some mortals were unhappy with this, though. That some of the gangs resented the role the undead played in their lives. To most humans, slavery under the Camarilla and slavery under petty gang lords were indistinguishable. But for the breathing brokers who had something to lose in a Vampiric power struggle, the allure of freedom was hard to resist. And word spread of one man offering it.
"Now I ain't no fucking pansy," Freddy said to the gangsters assembled at his shabby crackhouse. "I'm not going to give you a pretty speech like those perfumed motherfuckers across the highways. I just got something to say that needs saying."
"Every since I was a little baby gangster growing up here in the West Side, I always had to mind my manners about the fucking leeches. The Vampires. The bloodsucking, unliving fuckers who use us in their little gangs. You couldn't talk about 'em. You couldn't do anything about 'em. And if one took your girl or your drugs or your blood you had to just let it fucking be. We all been there. And we all know it's fucking bullshit!"
"The Fallbrook Cruisers who are with us tonight always knew that shit. And they had the stones to say it. Well now I'm saying it, too. Our Fairbanks gang ain't gonna be rolled by the dead no more. We're gonna take the fight to those fuckers and smoke 'em out at noon. And then we'll be free. The streets will belong to the living, and some other Vampires who fucking hate our overlords said they'll leave us alone."
"And you trust 'em?" asked a man in Fallbrooks Cruiser colors.
"Fuck no!" Freddy said to a roar of applause. "But I know if they fucking step to us we're gonna burn them out of their homes, too. We aren't running scared from the fucking dead no more. The Fairbanks Gang is working for us! And this turf will be ours!"
Alex - Your Friendly Neighborhood Storyteller
Re: Talk from the Limits
Freddy Davis had become the leader of the Fairbanks Gang.
Gang civil wars were nothing new. But word spread throughout the northeastern limits all the same. People had known that there was a civil war going on. They could hear it in the gunshots at night. The shouting. The stabbings. The screaming. The all-out war that had invaded their already destitute lives. But then it stopped, and then news spread that Freddy Davis had won.
If someone else had won, it probably wouldn't have mattered. Most people didn't know who their local gang boss was and didn't care. But Freddy was at least a little different. He had waged war with a message - unusual for a gang boss. He didn't promise peace, love, or brotherhood. He was as violent as the rest of his ilk. A perfect fit for the unpleasant world he inhabited. But he did offer one thing.
He offered people freedom from the dead.
In the Limits there were no social conventions stopping people from talking about the bloosuckers in their midst. The Vampires who prayed on them. The guy before Freddy had been one. And the guy who tried to come after him was. But that man - Kaito, some said his name was - was driven off. Chased away by the guns he himself had planned to use to stop the Fairbanks Gang from rising up against him. Without those weapons, his operation imploded. He fled. Who knows where? And who cares? He was gone, and Freddy was in charge. A flesh and blood living human. Things probably wouldn't get too much better, but who knew?
They certainly couldn't get any worse.
Gang civil wars were nothing new. But word spread throughout the northeastern limits all the same. People had known that there was a civil war going on. They could hear it in the gunshots at night. The shouting. The stabbings. The screaming. The all-out war that had invaded their already destitute lives. But then it stopped, and then news spread that Freddy Davis had won.
If someone else had won, it probably wouldn't have mattered. Most people didn't know who their local gang boss was and didn't care. But Freddy was at least a little different. He had waged war with a message - unusual for a gang boss. He didn't promise peace, love, or brotherhood. He was as violent as the rest of his ilk. A perfect fit for the unpleasant world he inhabited. But he did offer one thing.
He offered people freedom from the dead.
In the Limits there were no social conventions stopping people from talking about the bloosuckers in their midst. The Vampires who prayed on them. The guy before Freddy had been one. And the guy who tried to come after him was. But that man - Kaito, some said his name was - was driven off. Chased away by the guns he himself had planned to use to stop the Fairbanks Gang from rising up against him. Without those weapons, his operation imploded. He fled. Who knows where? And who cares? He was gone, and Freddy was in charge. A flesh and blood living human. Things probably wouldn't get too much better, but who knew?
They certainly couldn't get any worse.
Alex - Your Friendly Neighborhood Storyteller
Re: Talk from the Limits
The East Limits burned. Fires in the Limits had never been uncommon - the hot, dry Texas summers saw to that. But this was a different fire. A fire that rained from the skies. Locals said it raged for nights on in, once again pouring acrid black smoke into the sky. The mortals whispered among themselves that it was the wages of Vampires doing battle. And now that they were known there was no reason for them not to unleash the weapons of war upon each other. And so the East Limits burned. The casualties were minimal, but the real impact was in the minds of its residents. Mortals already living through the terror of the Sabbat had been treated to death from above. And now as many as possible were packing what little they had. They were leaving.
The bombs that fell from the sky were not the only source of fire, though. Again, rumors spread. A friend of a friend heard that the Leeches who ran the two big gangs - Kylie and Monet - were dead. Their packs were dead. And without them their gangs had fallen apart. The tense peace of the Eastern Limits was broken. Some mortals fled. Others fought. The Packs that patrolled its confines began to turn on each other and their prey. The East Limits had fallen into chaos, and those who couldn't flee or fight were left at the mercy of the flames.
The bombs that fell from the sky were not the only source of fire, though. Again, rumors spread. A friend of a friend heard that the Leeches who ran the two big gangs - Kylie and Monet - were dead. Their packs were dead. And without them their gangs had fallen apart. The tense peace of the Eastern Limits was broken. Some mortals fled. Others fought. The Packs that patrolled its confines began to turn on each other and their prey. The East Limits had fallen into chaos, and those who couldn't flee or fight were left at the mercy of the flames.
Alex - Your Friendly Neighborhood Storyteller
Re: Talk from the Limits
It's quiet in the Limits.
It's been weeks and months since it was last quiet in the Limits. Since the last time a day or night had passed without a fire, an explosion, or Fangs tearing through the streets. Since the misery of crushing poverty was the worst thing facing Limits-dwellers in their daily lives. But now it was quiet. The guns had gone quiet. The fires had run out of fuel to burn. And in the East Limits, the skies were mercifully clear. No hovering war machines brought death on them these nights.
The hell that had engulfed the Limits - the collateral damage from wars between Vampires - had begun to unravel as the dominant gangs in the north and east themselves came tumbling down. In the north, the Aldine Families were wiped out in an attack by the Cultists who had struck the east. Witnesses spoke of hideous abominations and Fangs with great power tearing through their compound. In the chaos that followed, the Timber Ridge Kids led by a man named Dustin came to power. They promised peace and stability, and they showed that they had the means to keep that promise. The Aldine Families melted away, and the Timber Ridge Kids claimed to have beaten back the ravening Vampires and taken control of the area. The silence was proof of their success.
In the east, stories about a great mountain of a man traveling with ferocious wolves began to end in his demise. The mountain of a man, they said, was slain by something even more grotesque and foul. That beast would stalk the night for a bit longer, before an ambush claimed its life in turn. The Licks were said to have consumed themselves, either fleeing to the countryside or being slain by their fellows. A woman named Cleopatra had showed up to begin picking up the pieces. To begin building a new order where now there was nothing.
The mortals of the Limits were only vaguely aware of the contours of the battle they were killed and maimed in. Vampires in the city were besieged by Vampires from without. The Vampires of Houston had been reduced only to their contacts with the Timber Ridge Kids. It was as good as a siege. But to the people it didn't matter. It was quiet in the Limits. If there was to be more fighting, they hoped it would trouble the city instead.
It's been weeks and months since it was last quiet in the Limits. Since the last time a day or night had passed without a fire, an explosion, or Fangs tearing through the streets. Since the misery of crushing poverty was the worst thing facing Limits-dwellers in their daily lives. But now it was quiet. The guns had gone quiet. The fires had run out of fuel to burn. And in the East Limits, the skies were mercifully clear. No hovering war machines brought death on them these nights.
The hell that had engulfed the Limits - the collateral damage from wars between Vampires - had begun to unravel as the dominant gangs in the north and east themselves came tumbling down. In the north, the Aldine Families were wiped out in an attack by the Cultists who had struck the east. Witnesses spoke of hideous abominations and Fangs with great power tearing through their compound. In the chaos that followed, the Timber Ridge Kids led by a man named Dustin came to power. They promised peace and stability, and they showed that they had the means to keep that promise. The Aldine Families melted away, and the Timber Ridge Kids claimed to have beaten back the ravening Vampires and taken control of the area. The silence was proof of their success.
In the east, stories about a great mountain of a man traveling with ferocious wolves began to end in his demise. The mountain of a man, they said, was slain by something even more grotesque and foul. That beast would stalk the night for a bit longer, before an ambush claimed its life in turn. The Licks were said to have consumed themselves, either fleeing to the countryside or being slain by their fellows. A woman named Cleopatra had showed up to begin picking up the pieces. To begin building a new order where now there was nothing.
The mortals of the Limits were only vaguely aware of the contours of the battle they were killed and maimed in. Vampires in the city were besieged by Vampires from without. The Vampires of Houston had been reduced only to their contacts with the Timber Ridge Kids. It was as good as a siege. But to the people it didn't matter. It was quiet in the Limits. If there was to be more fighting, they hoped it would trouble the city instead.
Alex - Your Friendly Neighborhood Storyteller