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       #Post#: 21158--------------------------------------------------
       Sin City/London WIP: The Blackwood Triplets
   DIR By: Raven Tepes
       Date: August 17, 2026, 10:15 pm
       ---------------------------------------------------------
       The three stand atop a half‑finished high‑rise
       overlooking the neon sprawl of Las Vegas. The wind is hot, dry,
       and restless — like the city knows something terrible is about
       to happen.
       Aiden: His hands are clasped behind his back, voice smooth as
       obsidian. The Camarilla thinks they’ve stabilized their
       influence on the Strip. They’re wrong. We’ll start with the
       casinos they rely on for mortal leverage. Break the money, break
       the mortals, break their confidence.
       Kael: He leans against a steel beam, smirking. Ah yes,
       destabilize the economy. Classic Sabbat fun. Can we also ruin
       their favorite nightclub? I hate the music there. It offends me
       on a spiritual level.
       Rowan: He is dangling his legs over the edge of the building.
       Oh, we’re absolutely ruining the nightclub. I want to see the
       look on their faces when the lights go out and the shadows start
       moving on their own. He wiggles his fingers, delighted.
       Aiden: We’ll begin with targeted disappearances. Influencers,
       high‑rollers, a few politicians. Enough to create panic
       without revealing our hand. He says while ignoring Rowan’s
       theatrics.
       Kael: Subtle terror. I like it. It’s like seasoning — too much
       and you ruin the dish.
       Rowan: Can I pick the first target? There’s a magician on
       Fremont Street who keeps calling himself ‘Master of Shadows.’ I
       think we should show him what real shadows look like.
       Aiden: He gives a deadpan look. No. We’re not starting with a
       street magician.
       Kael: Why not? Rowan’s right. That guy’s annoying. And he wears
       eyeliner like he’s trying to summon a midlife crisis.
       Rowan: See? Kael gets it.
       Aiden: We are not wasting resources on petty grievances. Our
       first strike must be strategic. He says while exhaling slowly,
       the patience of a centuries‑old tyrant.
       Kael: Fine. Strategic. But can the second strike be petty? I
       have a list. He pulls out a folded piece of paper.
       Rowan: Ooooh, is my magician on it?
       Kael: Rowan, he’s the first name.
       Aiden: …You two are insufferable.
       Rowan: And yet you love us. He says while grinning.
       Aiden: I tolerate you. Because together, we are unstoppable. He
       turns back toward the city, eyes narrowing. Aiden: Tonight, Las
       Vegas learns what it means to be ruled by the Blackwood
       Triplets.
       Kael: Should we practice our evil laugh? For dramatic effect?
       Rowan: I already have one. Want to hear it?
       Aiden: No.
       Kael: Yes.
       Rowan unleashes a gleefully unhinged cackle that echoes across
       the construction site.
       Aiden closes his eyes.
       Kael applauds.
       And Las Vegas trembles — though it doesn’t yet know why.
       A half‑collapsed chapel on the outskirts of Vegas. The
       triplets stand among broken pews and dust‑choked stained
       glass — the place where their rise began.
       Aiden: He studies the ruined altar. This is where it started.
       The Sabbat packs were scattered, leaderless, feeding like
       animals. We gave them purpose. Structure. Fear.
       Kael: He kicks a chunk of plaster. Fear was the easy part. They
       were already terrified of the Camarilla. We just redirected it…
       pointed it like a weapon.
       Rowan: He runs his fingers through a beam of moonlight. And we
       made it fun. Remember the first pack meeting? Half of them
       thought we were here to kill them.
       Kael: To be fair, we were considering it.
       Aiden: He says with a dry tone and stoic face. We needed
       soldiers, not corpses. So we offered them a choice: Serve us, or
       be swallowed by the shadows.
       Rowan: He grins. They chose wisely.
       He twirls a shard of stained glass between his fingers. Kael:
       The real turning point was the Bishop. Arrogant bastard thought
       he could control us.
       Aiden: He underestimated us. He thought triplets meant weakness
       — divided loyalties, divided minds.
       Rowan: Instead he got three nightmares for the price of one.
       Kael: And when we dragged him into the Strip’s underbelly and
       let the shadows peel him apart… Well. The packs suddenly became
       very loyal.
       Aiden: He smiles a faint smirk. Leadership requires decisive
       action.
       Rowan: Leadership requires style. And that kill had style.
       Kael: After that, the Camarilla tried to intervene. Sent a
       coterie from L.A. All polished shoes and delusions of authority.
       Aiden: They thought Vegas was still theirs. They thought we were
       a rumor.
       Rowan: They learned we were a catastrophe.
       Kael: I still remember the look on the Ventrue’s face when the
       lights went out. He thought it was a power outage.
       Rowan: It was me.
       Aiden: And when the shadows lifted, the Strip belonged to us. He
       steps toward the broken window, looking out at the distant glow
       of Vegas. Aiden: We unified the packs. We silenced the
       Camarilla. We claimed the city.
       Kael: And we did it without pretending to be saints.
       Rowan: Or pretending to be anything other than what we are.
       Aiden: Lasombra. Sabbat. Blackwood.
       Kael: Vegas never stood a chance.
       Rowan: He laughs softly. And now it’s ours to play with.
       Aiden stands in the center of their penthouse war room, neon
       light from the Strip flickering across his face like a
       heartbeat. Kael lounges on a velvet couch, boots on the table.
       Rowan sits upside‑down in a chair because of course he
       does.
       Aiden: He speaks calm, precise. Danae Levesque. Cambion.
       Daughter of Satan. Damien’s half‑sister. And she’s been
       operating in Vegas without kneeling to us.
       Kael: He snorts. She doesn’t kneel to anyone. She said — and I
       quote — ‘I will bend a knee to no one ever again.’  Cute.
       Dramatic. Very
       teenage‑angst‑but‑make‑it‑demonic.
       Rowan: He grins, swinging upside‑down. I like her. She’s
       spicy. She told a fallen angel she’d send them on an express
       train to hell. With her bare hands.
       Aiden: He ignores Rowan. She’s powerful. Unpredictable. We
       cannot allow a cambion with her pedigree to roam freely.
       Kael: Right, because nothing says ‘good idea’ like letting
       Satan’s daughter wander around Vegas unsupervised. She’s one bad
       day away from turning half the Strip into a bonfire.
       Rowan: She already has hellfire, corrupted flames, mana flames…
       She’s basically a walking flamethrower with daddy issues.
       Aiden: He says coldly. We’re not killing her.
       Kael raises an eyebrow. Kael: Why not? She’s dangerous.
       Aiden: She’s useful. A cambion with demonic aura, hellfire,
       telekinesis, shapeshifting, exorcisms, and teleportation? That’s
       not a threat. That’s an asset.
       Rowan: Ooooh. You want to recruit her.
       Kael: She works alone. She said it herself — ‘Thanks, but I work
       better alone.’
       She’ll tell us to shove it.
       Aiden: She’ll tell us to shove it if we ask. So we won’t ask.
       Rowan flips upright, suddenly attentive. Rowan: Okay, now I’m
       interested.
       Kael: What’s the plan, oh fearless leader?
       Aiden: He steeples his fingers. Danae’s weakness isn’t pride.
       It’s loyalty. She said — ‘You mess with me or anyone I care
       about… you’re in my house, b!tch.’  She will burn the world for
       the people she loves.
       Kael: So we threaten her friends?
       Aiden: No. We protect them.
       Rowan blinks. Rowan: …That’s evil in a wholesome way.
       Kael: Explain.
       Aiden: Danae has spent her life in chains. She trusts almost no
       one. But she fights for the few she cares about — Ringmaster,
       Xylo, Feling. If we intervene when one of them is threatened… If
       we save them… She will owe us.
       Kael: And debts from cambions are… sticky.
       Rowan: And once she owes us, we can pull her closer. Slowly.
       Carefully. Like a shadow creeping under a door.
       Aiden: Exactly.
       Kael smirks. Kael: So we’re not hunting her. We’re… courting
       her.
       Rowan: Shadow‑courting! I love it.
       Aiden: He gets a cold smile. Danae Levesque will not be captured
       by force. She will be captured by inevitability. He turns toward
       the window, watching the Strip pulse with life. Aiden: Prepare
       the packs. We move tonight.
       Kael: Operation: Kidnap‑Her‑But‑Emotionally.
       Rowan: Operation:
       Make‑Satan’s‑Daughter‑Our‑Bestie.
       Aiden: …Operation: Blackwood.
       The triplets share a look — three predators, one plan. Vegas has
       no idea what’s coming.
       Last Name: Blackwood
       First Names: Aiden, Kael, and Rowan
       Age: 576 years old (Appears to be 27)
       Species: Vampire
       Gender: Male
       Height: 6'3"
       Weight: 198 lbs
       Vampire Clan: Lasombra
       Generation: 4th
       Sire: Joseph Cromwell
       Organization: Sabbat
       ~ Rank: Leaders of the Las Vegas Sabbat
       Family:
       ~ Father: Gerald Blackwood
       ~ Mother: Elizabeth Blackwood
       ~ Other Siblings: Can be made by players
       Abilities:
       Basic:
       Lasombra:
       Aiden's Unique:
       Telekinesis:
       Shadow Vector Manipulation: Aiden can bind his telekinesis to
       shadows, turning them into invisible “force rails.” Anything he
       touches can be launched, redirected, or suspended along these
       rails with perfect precision — even bullets, blades, or people.
       Gravitic Crush: He generates localized gravity wells that
       compress targets into immobility. Unlike normal telekinetic
       pressure, this feels like the weight of the abyss itself
       crushing bone, air, and hope.
       Umbra Suspension: Aiden can freeze someone in place by locking
       their physical form to their own shadow. As long as their shadow
       touches a surface, they cannot move — even if they resist
       telekinesis.
       Spatial Severance: He uses telekinetic force to “cut” space like
       a blade, creating invisible slashes that sever objects, limbs,
       or structures. These cuts leave no physical wound — only a
       clean, impossible separation.
       Dominion Pulse: Aiden releases a telekinetic shockwave that
       forces everyone within range to kneel or collapse. It doesn’t
       just hit the body — it hits the will. Sabbat packs call it “The
       Leader’s Command.”
       Shadowborne Levitation: He can levitate himself or others
       without visible motion, but the twist: the shadows beneath him
       ripple like liquid darkness. It’s silent, eerie, and deeply
       unsettling to anyone watching.
       Kinetic Memory: Aiden can “record” the motion of an object he
       touches — a punch, a sword swing, a bullet trajectory — and
       replay it telekinetically at full force later. He can even stack
       multiple recordings into a single devastating attack.
       Abyssal Armor: He forms a telekinetic barrier around himself
       that bends light and sound, making him appear like a silhouette
       carved out of void. Physical attacks bounce off; supernatural
       ones distort and weakened.
       Mind‑Force Override: Aiden can hijack the telekinetic
       abilities of others (if they have them) or override physical
       movement by controlling the kinetic impulses in their muscles.
       It’s not full mind control — it’s body control.
       Event Horizon: His ultimate ability: Aiden creates a sphere of
       crushing telekinetic force around a target, isolating them from
       the outside world. Inside the sphere, gravity, motion, and sound
       distort.
       Most victims describe it as being trapped inside a collapsing
       star.
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