Blade Play

((This is an old story by a friend named Judy, who played one of the best Sabbat characters on AOL. She sent it to me a long time ago, having wanted me to see it because Herself is mentioned and it's been sitting in my mailbox ever since. I wanted to pass it on to the rest of you to read.

AOL was where I got a lot of my ideas for how to do Granite, so it seems appropriate that I show you guys a little bit of what we did over there.))

The fascination with knives in her life could be traced back to her childhood, watching her brother proudly fold up his three bladed pocket knife. The older sibling would smirk at her as he jammed his knife into his dusty jeans after doing dissection on his latest victim, frog, toad, cricket whatever. His smile seemed to say, you can't have a knife, her pleas to see it fell on deaf ears, "You are a sissy Jordan, sissies can't handle knives". At night when he was asleep, she would steal into his room and run her fingers along the handle, carefully opening the blade, looking at it, palming it in her hands.

Years later, after her siring, it came as no surprise to that her weapon of choice had become a knife. Fursa had helped rekindle the love for knives when she had presented the Toreador Antitribu a jewel encrusted knife. The wise Gangrel knew how Toreadors were susceptible to beautiful things, and Kara had been no exception. A Sabbat associate had to bring her back into focus that night, the famous flaw causing her to get completely lost in the brilliance of the workmanship of the Norse weapon.

One after another were laid out on the black bar as she contemplated which blade to use tonight. Smiling at her victim she tells him "You know, my brother told me sissies can't handle knives, what do you think?" The first blade she raised up for consideration was an English Style Bowie, with a carbon steel blade blue diamond polished handle. Engraved bolsters with raised 24K gold on the tang and guard. exceptional in every way. The finish on the blue steel handle so flawless, it was often mistaken for jade, 24K gold and silver engraving gracing the handle as well. Observing the victim's discomfort, she tells him "I got this from Nikki T, turns out the brat had stolen it from Lady Bast"

Fear crossed the man's eyes, the names she spoke meant nothing to him, but the infliction in her voice and the ease in which she handled the blade speaking what the words did not. Shrugging she lays the blade down and picks up the next one. In a flash she has pulled a Straight Blade, 25" in overall length, wavering it in front of his eyes, the blade itself a 7" bar composite, the words Flame Edge etched into the stabilized flame grain walnut handle with scroll mosaic Damascus inlay. His eyes widen as she draws the straight blade close to his skin. "Want to know where I got this one?" without even waiting for an answer she tells him "Mark Drea gave it to me, he was one of the dreaded triplets, Illiar, Illiara and Illian". His eyes still have no glimmer of recognition, just the hopelessness one must feel as they are in a car careening over a cliff, knowing they will surely die. Waving her hand, "Surely you heard of him, or his brother Demandred?". The victim shakes his head, any words he tries to utter muffled by the gag. Gracing him with a chilling smile she tells him "I have more".

Pulling the next blade out her eyes crinkle as her hand flutters by his face, almost too quick for him to see the emblem. "Do you know what this one is?" Holding the blade still, he can clearly see the SEAL emblem. "Do you know a SEAL must rely on his knife as a tool, and in final extreme, as a deadly weapon. A SEAL studies knife fighting in graphic detail, employing astonishing computer animation to demonstrate the physiological effects of various attacks and parries. The SEAL credo is simple: neutralize your opponent on the first stroke. The ideal confrontation should last less than a second".Pausing for a moment to let her words sink in." However, don't plan on being that lucky tonight" she tells her captive " I intend to take longer than a second for our confrontation".

She began to slide blade the inside of the leg of his jeans, cutting the fabric, never piercing the skin. Pressure from the knife's point a constant reminder of the blades power. The noise the jeans made as the blade cut through was like music from a death march in the man's ears. Slowly she followed the contour of his leg, going deliberately along the skin, never cutting him, lulling him into a false security. As the blade crept up his inner thigh, she reversed the blade and begin to cut skin instead of fabric. It had taken a moment for the realization to register that the pressure of the blade had changed. Before his brain could transmit the impulse to create a scream, she had begun to dissever the fabric again. She continued to play her her blade along his skin, alternating strokes evenly now between cutting fabric, and then skin. The blood pooled along the thin lines at first, and then began to flow freely as she deepened her cuts. His frantic movements made it difficult for her to maintain the slow tempo she had started with, causing her knife to sink even deeper into his flesh. As his screams filled the room, she hissed to him................."Sissy"

Fiction

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