Gangrel Antitribu Newsletter


In this start-of-the-outdoor-sex-season issue .....
FICTION: The House of the McNabs chapter 2: The Last Fight of HIGMS
DECK: Smiling Tom's Goulet takes a walk in Hell deck.

FICTION: The House of the McNabs chapter 2: The Last Fight of HIGMS

With Anklebiter as Dr Jack Jefferson .... Lady Legbiter as Dr Shona
MacConochie .... Jack Drever as Major Colum O'Keefe ..... and Legbiter
as everyone else.

As the agents rowed for the Scottish shore, the sleek torpedo-boat
destroyer turned for home, and Lutyens lowered his binoculars and
raised the mug of tea to his lips. There was always danger in these
waters, too close to the British cruiser fleet, but so far they seemed
to have escaped detection, and their mission had been accomplished.
Suddenly this complacent chain of thought was interrupted by the
captain of the watch.

"Sir! Vessel off the starboard bow!"

And there it was, a squat dark shape on the flat grey sea - a large
trawler, steaming purposefully or possibly obliviously towards them.
Lutyens could take no chances.

"Port 15 and prepare number two tube for firing! Action stations!"

As the ship turned the men on the opposing bridges focussed their
binoculars, trying to assess the enemy. For the trawler was armed, His
Majesty's Royal Naval Auxiliary Ship Primrose Bank, Captain Townsend,
RN [rtd] RNAS in command. From both sides the guns began to fire.
Townsend, a paunchy and pink-faced sexuagenarian, turned to his
wireless operator.

"Send this to fleet: contact with German Torpedo Boat destroyer 15
miles south of Isle of May. Engaging the enemy."

The signalman tapped out the message, and had almost finished it when
the cry came:
 "Torpedo in the water! Fifty feet!"

Seconds later, it struck. With a tremendous explosion the British
vessel was torn into two parts, which immediately sank into the cold
North Sea. Down, deep down they sank, surrounded by a nimbus of debris
and body parts, down into the ancient slime which bubbled invisibly in
the impenetrable blackness. Something was awake down there, aroused by
the radio emissions of the German vessel, and it was hungry, a cruel
Eldritch hunger for the stuff of life. So when the ruined fragments of
the British crew struck the seabed, blind protoplasmic tentacles
snaked out of the darkness to envelop them.

Up on the surface the German vessel circled briefly for survivors, but
finding none it resumed its homeward course. A mist began to rise, and
the first grey glimmers of dawn appeared in the East. The sea was
silent and calm, not even the skaw and chakker of Herring Gulls to be
heard. As the fog thickened the vessel seemed to be wrapped in a shawl
of grey lace, and a profound feeling of lassitude settled upon the
crew. Mr Midshipman Reynauld, off-watch, tried alternately to read, to
write his diary and to doze, all to no avail, so he decided to take a
turn on deck.

Leaning on the rail Reynauld found himself gasping for air, the
tightness in his chest like that on a stifling summer's night, despite
the fact that in the fog it was cold. A light plopping hiss caught his
attention, and a dead fish rose to the surface, followed by another.
Soon the whole sea was dotted with the corpses of fish, and the ship
was wallowing in the midst of a vast piscine mortuary. Wallowing!
Reynauld staggered towards the bridge.

"Permission to report, sir! Ship has lost way."

And sure enough, the fast torpedo boat was at rest on the malodorous
ocean, its propellers churning uselessy in the viscous water.

"It's like the battle of Actium."


"At Actium, where the Remora fish seized hold of the keel of Mark
Anthony's ship. Or was it Cleopatra's? And they could not move."

A deep feeling of dread gripped the hearts of the German sailors, and
they gazed into the fog, wondering what ghastly fate it held for them.
Dawn was breaking over the land too, as Major Colum O'Keefe's batman
fussed over breakfast and the arrangements for his officer's golf
trip. Thigh-high furred leather boots, indeed! Motoring helmet and
goggles, forsooth! Extra balls and tees, and o fiddlesticks! there
goes another egg. The preparations made, O'Keefe's batman took the
bacon, sausage and easy-over eggs through to his officer's room, where
Colum was already up.

"Thanks, Jarvis! Any chance of another slice of toast?"

Some batmanly grumbling later the extra toast was produced, and a
contented Colum threw his bags into the back of a pony-trap. This he
always insited on driving himself, and so off he went. But not towards
the golf course. Out in the country he alighted, tied the pony to a
tree, and swiflty changed into flying gear. Half an hour later found
him at the officers' mess of number 7 squadron RNAC, near to Monifieth

"Hullo, O'Keefe! Here for another game of golf, i see!"

"Rather! Anything juicy today?"

"Maybe. Fleet lost contact with that armed trawler, Primrose Bank -
Townsend's ship, the chap who did that frightful thing with the whisky
bottles up his nose last Trafalgar day. But i forgot, you were in
France at the time having shrapnel prised out of your pins. Anyway, it
looks as though Townsend may have met his match - a German torpedo
boat destroyer, early this morning. We're to patrol for survivors and
a pot at the Jerry if we're lucky - make that VERY lucky, given this
bloomin' Haar. We'll take the Farman - you can be gunner."

Mechanics were guiding the Farman, a rickety-looking pusher
floatbiplane, down to the water. Squadron leader Llewellyn and Major
O'Keefe climbed into the nachelle and arranged themselves for take
off. One, two, three twists on the propellor and contact! The Farman's
Gnome Monosoupape rotary engine roared into life, and the aircraft
taxied out past the harbour bar, turned south into the wind and raced
over the grey-green water. Colum's heart skipped with excitement as
they became airborne, and they rose to a giddy 500 feet before
levelling off, their airspeed a respectable 70 mph. At this altitude
range would be limited, but their chances of seeing things were

From the log of HIGMS V106, August 1915; document washed ashore at
Dunbar, 18th August 1915.
14th August 0921. Lutyens in command. Wind SE 1 veering. Sea calm.
Heavy fog, visibility 30 metres. Near-complete carpet of dead fish on
ocean. Speed 1 knot, engines full ahead.
0925. Ship rocked by heavy swell from East. Foul stench.
0931. Ship at action stations. Fog clearing, large vessel of unknown
type off port beam. Unable to make way.
0934. Presumed enemy ship closing. Port torpedo tubes ready to fire.
No answer to signals or hailing. Foul stench intensifies.
0936. Engaging enemy. Ship underway, speed 5 knots. Launching
torpedoes, turning 90 to starboard.
0940. Explosions sighted on enemy vessel.
0942. Counterfire highly accurate, use of new weapon noted. Fires fore
and aft, projectiles that melt steel. Forrard gun destroyed, crew
0946. Reynauld in command. Lutyens and all officers killed. Bridge
destroyed. Secondary steering still active. Unable to escape enemy
craft. Turning 90 to starboard, releasing all remaining torpedoes.
0950 approx. All instruments destroyed. All crew slain save self and
Able Seaman Vaas. Torpedo salvo apparently ineffective. Turning 90 to
starboard and full ahead. Long live Germany! Long live the Kaiser!

High above the sea, some minutes earlier, Llewellyn and O'Keefe had
noted the flash of exploding torpedoes, the clearing mist and the
curious white carpet on the sea. O'Keefe fired off a few rounds from
the Lewis gun as his pilot turned the Farman towards the battle. The
mist cleared a little more, and they beheld their quarry, the German
torpedo boat destroyer, on fire but still under way. As they watched,
the vessel released 3 torpedoes from its starboard side, and
immediately turned to follow their silvery trails. The British
aviators' eyes lifted towards their target, and then they beheld
something which did not seem to belong on Earth, which did not seem
capable of belonging anywhere. A thing vast, protean, a great
mile-long brown jelly, punctuated by obscene pulsing orifices and
congeries of iridescent bubbles that seemed to scuttle across its
surface. Numbly they watched as it grew larger, unable much as they
might wish it to change course, to scream, to go mad, to die. At the
last moment Llewellyn jerked at the controls and they flew over it,
pursued by hundred-foot-long tentacles and globules of greenish pus.

"They're bloody well following us!" yelled Colum, pointing behind; and
truly, the projectiles launched from the dreadful thing were actually
turning in the air, following the Farman. At that moment however
several things happened simultaneously. V106 struck the thing squarely
amidships, its steel prow cutting into the hideous gelatinous stuff
like a knife. A ghastly bubbling ululation spread across the sea,
audible over their engine even to the airmen. And the pursuing
projectiles dropped like stones into the heaving water.

Acting Captain Reynauld, on the deck of V106, levelled his Mauser at a
passing bubble and emptied the magazine. The ship continued to tear
and rip its way through the thing's awful flesh, and he turned to the
speaking tube, his little beardless face set and grim.

"Vaas! On deck! If we get through, we'll abandon ship!" 

Long seconds later the ship was through, already settling as the
seawater poured into its hull. The two German sailors barely had time
to throw a life raft into the water and to step onto it, before the
ship went down. They sculled frantically to avoid the undertow.
Looking back they saw a hideous sight: the terrible trench which V106
had carved through the thing's centre was healing, filling with clouds
of iridescent bubbles .... and other bubbles, trails of them, were
spreading across the water, blindly questing .... for THEM.

"Why didn't it sink us before we hurt it, Sir?"

"The English aviators distracted it, i think. You've done well, Vaas.
You'll deserve your medal for seamanship, when we reach Kiel."

Both the sailors smiled grimly, but in fact they did reach Kiel again
after the war, and they both had long lives, which were as happy as
could reasonably be expected for anyone doomed to live in the
appalling twentieth century. For at that moment the Farman taxied up
beside them, and in response to its crew's frantic gestures the German
sailors each climbed aboard a float. A tentacle came down, missing
them by inches, and they took off.

......TO BE CONTINUED .......

DECK: Smiling Tom's "Goulet takes a walk in Hell" deck.
Once again this month's featured deck comes from the fertile brain of
Smiling Tom, who proposes the following ingenious use of Sebastien

"Ten days ago, Damnans asked me upon my point of view on Baalis and
of Topheth. After a brief brainstorming, we ended up with the strong
that the massive bloat you'll need to sustain any infernal vampire
recruiting these superb allies, and the cost to mantain the ally
would result in an extremely diluted deck. So the way to go was to
via non-infernal vamps. Adding clan impersonations drained less card
than the consistent pool gain you need to afford infernal vamps

The best recruiter around is, of course, Goulet. But to avoid adding
lots of
CI (which, after the first one, would be discarded) I added
sybil's tongue, which can be used to retrieve the needed cards for the
combo. The bloat comes from a hunting module, based on hungry
strip, as the requirements of Sybil and the discipline spread made it

Added some surprise cards to be played on/for the Heralds. Not just
also some intercept.

Comments welcome, as usual.

Deck Name:   Goulet takes a walk in hell
Created By:  Damnans and Smiling Tom

Crypt: (12 cards, Min: 16, Max: 32, Avg: 6,00)
2  Sebastian Goulet (ADV)  cel pre pro DOM OBF  8,  Gangrel
3  Sebastian Goulet        cel DOM OBF pre pro  8,  Gangrel
1  Reverend Blackwood  DOM THA obf      6,  Tremere antitribu:2
2  Uncle George            aus DEM dom obf      5,  Malkavian
1  Cristos Mantigo         aus cel dom obf pre  5,  Toreador
1  Roger Farnsworth        aus OBF              4,  Malkavian
1  Claven                  aus dem obf          4,  Malkavian
1  Yorik                   dem obf              3,  Malkavian

Library: (70 cards)
Master (13 cards)(1 trifle)
1  Barrens, The
6  Blood Doll
1  Charisma
1  Hungry Coyote, The
1  Into the Fire (baali are independent, you know)
1  Secure Haven
1  Sunset Strip, Hollywood
1  Vox Domini

Action (10 cards)
3  Clan Impersonation
4  Govern the Unaligned
3  Sibyl's Tongue

Action Modifier (12 cards)
2  Cloak the Gathering
3  Elder Impersonation
3  Forgotten Labyrinth
4  Lost in Crowds

Reaction (14 cards)
2  Babble
4  Deflection
2  Delaying Tactics
2  Patrol
4  Wake with Evening's Freshness

Combat (8 cards)
2  Conflagration
2  Disarm
2  Immortal Grapple
2  Pounce

Ally (8 cards)
1  Gregory Winter
6  Herald of Topheth
1  Vagabond Mystic

Equipment (3 cards)
1  Aaron's Feeding Razor (could be a Local 1111)
1  Sargon Fragment, The
1  Unlicensed Taxicab

Combo (2 cards)
2  Sense the Sin"

Our prophecies league ended on the first Wednesday night in May, after
ten tightly-fought evenings, eleven games, and the following

Idle Chatter + Foolish Kings
Foolish Kings + Eldest Awaken
Midnight of the Jyhad + Foolish Kings
Midnight of the Jyhad + The Hunger
Midnight of the Jyhad + Purging the Thin Bloods
Purging the Thin Bloods + Render Unto Caine
Purging the Thin Bloods + Nourished on Heart's Blood

There were a few weeks where the operational prophecies were not
changed, because the league organiser [me] could not turn up.

In the end the table looked like this:

Michael McClellan aka Anklebiter 6GW 20VP 9LP
James McClellan aka Legbiter 4 13 9
John Keech 3 13 11
Steve Read 2 12 11
Carolyn Coldwell 2 7 11
Garry Scarlett 1 4 5
Rob Treasure 1 4 1
Simon Coldwell 1 3 5
Richard Bennet 1 2 8
Matt Stockton 0 4 8
John Shuttleworth 0 0 4

So Michael is the winner of the coveted Black Tee shirt!
Congratulations to him! All of his victories came with a
Kiasyd-Lasombra deck.

We all enjoyed the league formula SOOOO much that we have started a
new one [i bought two league packs]. As before, entry is free, and the
venue is the public bar of the Northcote Hotel, Francis Avenue,
Portsmouth, with play starting at 8 pm. We still have two unused
prophecies from last time so these will be added to the mix, giving us
13 weeks of gaming fun. This time, however, we are implementing Ankur
Gupta's excellent idea of allowing the LOWEST placed person in the
league to choose which prophecy will remain in play for next week.
Additionally, this person makes their decision IMMEDIATELY AFTER each


And that's it for May! Next issue will obviously be Gehenna-centred,
but there may also be a light chocolate fondant icing of fiction and
other stuff EXTREMELY bad for those of you who are on a diet. See you

Address for correspondence: james"dot"mcclellan"at"port"dot"ac"dot"uk
[all my legbiter accounts have been taken over by spamsters].