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t h e . w a y w a r d - e v e n t
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On the surface,
an Elysium of unsurpassed splendor. Beneath, something sinister lurks...
Stercus Lord Vetrik
Stradstum
Vetrik looks up and for once
there is humor in his cold eyes Vetrik stands now, the better for people to hear and see him The text makes no mention of bestowing unlife to caine, in fact my research indicates caine was given only eternal life to ponder his 'crime'. Later on he would meet up with a person named "Lilith" who is reputed to be the founder of the Verbena... Vetrik looks appologetic at this point, as if he realizes some people do not understand. You must forgive me, I forget not all of us are familiar with the mage orders... or magick in general. The Verbena are part of what are known as the "awakened" they have the ability to shape reality to their will, and lilith is reputed to be their founder... but I get ahead of myself here. It is said in certain ancient texts that Lilith found caine and took pity on him, she attempted to awaken him through her magics but the curse of God twisted him. Now at this I would say that the awakening would have refered to Caine's avatar... err... the way mages do magick... and the curse of God twisted the avatar thus creating the undead... But there are other sources that can conflict with this and show that the vampiric curses to drink blood and fear sunlight and such as that were actually given to caine because of his refusal to repent... Two theories I currently ponder... time and more research will tell which is more acurate. After all the texts in question only contain one side of the story. More view points can prove or disprove such things... Vetrik sits down quickly as if he realized he's spoken to much ------------------ Nikodemus "How are vampires supposed to act? Depends on the vampire, I guess. Mindless slaves to elders...well, if that's your gig, fine. Doesn't work for this kid. A sad little bloodsucker with serious hollywooditis? I don't think so. Some Toreador will likely kill you to put you out of his misery. Drink blood? Absolutely. Early and often, if you want to avoid killing someone. "Kindred are the products of dual lines of descent. You are the son of Mr and Mrs Marks. You are a 'Child of Caine.' To deny otherwise is to deny half of yourself. You want to stick around to make a difference, you best adapt to your new condition and quickly. Niko shakes his head slowly. "Furthermore, you had best read some of Niccolo's works...and the Art of War by Sun Tzu...and the Book of the Five Rings...and anything else you can get your little vampire-slaying little meathooks on. You don't want to play Kindred Politics, fine. Personally, it offends me. Doesn't mean I can ignore it. You need that education if for no other reason than to recognize who's using you, why and how. Tough to be the captain of your destiny if you don't know the seas you're sailing in. "As far as God's intentions...who knows. Personally, I don't follow the traditional Judeo/Christian/Muslim belief set." Nikodemus smiles. "I've gotten this far without seriously screwing over someone without reason. So far, I've lived a pretty good unlife. And, I've done it without changing my personality, but by changing my perspective. As far as I can tell, we're pretty close to the top of the food chain. Werewolves may argue that they are, but who knows. I don't regret the need to drink blood. I never will. That's a 'gravity issue.' That means it's like gravity...you can't change it, so why rail against it? "Of course, you're going to have to determine what is the best course of action. I will tell you that if you do degenerate to a slavering beast, I'll put you down myself. I'd regret it, but I'd still do it. And, I'd expect the same from you." Altiriel Twice-Born "The Archangel Gabriel said unto me, ‘Son of Adam, Son of Eve, behold, the mercy of the Father is greater than you can ever know, for even now there is a path opened. A road of mercy, and you shall call this road Golconda, and tell your children of it, for by that road may they come once again to dwell in the Light…” *to Elijah* Being a vampire doesn't make you any less of a person, though it does bring out the instincts. Ask ten vampires what the proper way to act is, and you'll get eleven different answers. Follow your own mind, but make sure you're consistent. Inconsistency leads to the ascendancy of the Beast Within. The Red Fox Wise words Mr. Twice-borne,
wise indeed. The populas would believe different though would they not.
Aye, but they err in there ways and think more like the Beast then we
do at times. Those Enlightened by the truth of Cain, are better off to
make up their own minds then listen to rabble of others. Florindo o/~ Wilt thou, O maiden of fanciful
measure He's come for a maidenhead
for his estate. Florindo's gaze moves about the room as the song continues, but always returns to one in particular... Voracia
Laughs “I will give you a hint. The first line bears two of six teeth by which to feed. The second... “ She drifts a moment, as though something distracts her. A faint blush to her stark pallor, accompanied by a quizzical eyebrow. A smirk, halfway between embarrassment and glee. “Ahaha--I believe I am familiar with this...” Suddenly aware she’s failed to finish her previous sentence— “...the second line--the very wish of God Himself.” Both hands tuck stray locks behind her ears, past the arms of the shades. A slight clearing of the throat. An obsidian vessel lightly touches the bar before her. She smiles, sincere gratitude, and raises the stein to her lips...pauses, closes her eyes, and drinks. The vessel is emptied. Her head remains tilted a moment as her arm descends, only to stop halfway as she shudders from the drink’s effect-- The cup falls from her hand, forgotten—and is caught by a deft and well-timed hand, whisked away out of sight by the tireless procurator. “There are more verses, you know...” a heady whisper from slowww lips. “I know them...alllltooowellll...” Eyes closed. Half raised/lowered arm hanging in space. Body slack but poised upon the high oaken chair. The remnants of fluid brushed lightly away with a savoring tongue, the lips come together as one. The faintest of smiles. “Mmm...mmHmhmhmmhmhm...that’s good.” ------------------ Vash *mumbles under his breath* Wish I could sing that well. *Vash swirls the contents of his glass around before finishing it off in one big gulp. He covers his mouth as he burps* Kytios -dissappears up a staircase
to snoop around the place- Elijah Robert Marks OldanVisuce What is with sudden singing? Everyone suddenly sing! Is this Fiddler on Roof? Oh well, I join in. *starts singing in such a terrible manner that cats in the alley have more aptitude for this. It seems to be a gypsy folk song in Romanian* GothicHeresy Szandor, Clan Nosferatu Calibos ::smiles at every glance.....with a tip of his hat he moves to a comfy looking sofa he spies across the way:: GothicHeresy Yes. Well. Picks up a copy of the Wall Street Journal, shakes it signficantly while glancing at the thoroughly distasteful Larson, and begins to read >>Szandor, Clan Not-for-Hire Larson *Stands up and clears his throat dramatically* There once was a man From Nantuckete OOC you know the rest I don't need to repeat it here but Larson will for the enjoyment of those in the great hall *Bows dramatically several times as if recieving thunderous appaluse then takes his seat chuckeling to himself* OOC I know it's a late comment but I missed it when it was up, they dropped three or five nukes on Ravnos and he took it, there is your high fort. The sunlight was natural, the KOE were holding a monsoon over the city to let them fight into the day hoping Ravnos would be killed. As a last ditch effort released their hold on the storm and the mages cleared it. (The mages had been trying the entire time to clear the storm but the KOE had powerful magic holding on to it) Now Chimerstry, the ravnos illusionary power, a high levels actually lets you create your own reality. My money says that what ravnos did. And incase you're wondering ravnos spread that insanity that was witnessed in his childer, if he can't live no ravnos will. Those who were dissabled (Torpor/staked) at the time are the only ones who survived, and it lasted a few days. That's it WW put it in the begining of "Time of thin blood" ------------------ Voracia
The lingering hand moves as through thick syrup to grasp the frame of her eyeshades. Deliberately, the arm extends to it's full length straight up from her face, taking the captive sunshields away from their mooring. Then, the arm drops limply to her side, folding the glasses as it goes in a subtly deft maneuver. Half lidded, she stares at the ceiling a moment. "Do ye nae, wee bairn?" she affects, amused with herself. Shaking her head sharply, she bring her gaze around to focus upon Vash-- Without the shades the effect is no less than breathtaking: flecks of white hot gold sparkle amidst a sea of brilliant blue, invoking the distant sunlight of memory dancing unhindered upon the ocean. Vash, fettered instantly, falls paralyzed from the cliff into the depths-- "'Tis no mather ta vayce y'self," she continues, the Irish lilt becoming rhythmic in cadence, in tempo, in time... "An' why then should a
maid trip o'er briar and muir The brogue begins to slip as the song transcends the realm of play, to become...to become... "Misfortune once led off
a father ta jail Vash stumbles from her gaze, backpedaling drunken euphoric into his mind to land firmly seated in the arms of his own psyche. Blinking, he receives her stare again, but this time she's grinning conspiratorily through her words: I have a secret. Her gaze shifts now innocent about the room, and as she meets the eyes of the nomad, Oldan's gypsy blood hearkens to the call of his kith and kin of old, who stood rapt about fires while balladeers relieved themselves of the burden of genius through song--the resonant chords of heritage thrum electric through veins momentarily relieved of the burden of parasite Kindred. "And what could a vain
lass pray tell hope to borrow The smell of meat upon open flame once tantalizing, now cloying, becomes mouthwatering once more; jasmine and honeysuckle linger wanton in summer air, stirring the deepest slumber of passion...and simplicity...and freedom...and Oldan surfaces from his heritage into the Great Hall once more as the object of mesmerization removes herself gently from his mind and away, away... Aimless and seemingly without direction, she rests her head upon her arm across the surface of the bar, taking in the multitude of candles adorning the ornate and massive chandeliers--to close her eyes as the song reaches its inevitable crescendo. "True-- To fancy? -------Or pluck? -----------only one can surmise... Is't he with the emerald eyes? Is't he with the... A moment. The weaver slides up from the bar, into her seat, where her eyes open so slightly as to gaze through the prison bars of her eyelashes-- To observe the observer. ------------------ Calibos ::mutters:: A long time have I searched for such a place. Truly, our host is owed many thanks. ::scans the room attempting to spot said host:: Elijah Robert Marks It occurred to him that what he'd thought were simply swirls in the marble were actually some kind of pattern that repeated, quite regularly, every six squares. Writing? Wards or runes? Elijah had never seen any evidence that witchcraft was real, but due to his former line of work, he'd never discounted it -- and there were many references to Magicians when the tale of the destruction of Oldan's people was told. He remembered the feeling of electricity in the air when Mister Giovanni was... removed. And suddenly he remembered something he'd overlooked at the time, due to all the other distractions: the floors had seemed to flash and surge just before he had vanished. Looking around, he noticed that the pattern was actually everywhere -- very subtly woven into tapestries, dimly present in the walls, carved into the furniture. He couldn't recognize the symbols, though he thought perhaps they seemed vaguely Aramaic. ------------------ Vash *Vash whispers in a quiet voice* Secrets are strange things, are they not? They could be about wonderful things, or they could be things best left unknown. *With a blink it's all over and Vash smiles at her, in a kind manner* Or so I've been told... *Vash picks up his glass and tips it in Voracia's direction* I would offer to buy you a drink Miss... but they don't seem to charge anything for them. *Vash pauses for a moment and blows out the candle in front of him. He grins at Voracia as the last tendrils of smoke float about his face* But let's just say I did offer to buy you a drink. What will you have? *Vash stands and raises his hand with a flourish. He faces the rest of the kindred in the hall* Heck, all drinks are on me! Voracia We can pretend you just said, "Miss...?" [/OOC] Startled out of herself, startled again at the brief intimacy with Vash, she quickly laughs aloud at the invitation to drink. "Wonderful idea, Monsignore. I'll have-" Black stein on counter. She laughs again as she replaces the shades almost unconsciously. Almost. And as the procurator waves a swift hand over the extinguished candle, reviving it, the flame illuminates the tears on her cheeks-- --just before she raises the stein in a brief toast to no one in particular: "Aquela beleza eram amor, e ama meu aliado." Brisk nod. "Which reminds me--have you figured out my hints?" Before he can respond, she's quaffed the contents--and places the stein on the counter this time, smiling wryly at the procurator who lightly applauds her fortitude. Vash *Vash studies her for a few seconds before smiling broadly* Hints? *He shrugs his shoulders* Forgive me, I'm but a simple fledgeling... yep... Don't know much... *Vash sips at his drink, humming quietly as he stares at the bartop trying to look innocent. His gaze drifts over to Voracia for a second and he gives a little wink* Yes Ma'am... just simple little me... Florindo Lips part ever so slightly as a obligatory breath is taken in. They move like an expert jungleur, forming words that have no sound upon the floor of flesh through which they dance. Some sort of joke is being imparted... but to whom? The youth's wide green, almost crystaline eyes gaze around the room... Did Florindo's eyes just meet yours as the firey-haired sprite continued with this mockery of the spoken word? What is this one saying...? Florindo reaches a slender but muscular arm into the deep pockets of baggy black cargo pants and slips it out from that stygian pouch again like a snake shedding it's skin, through and back again between two saplings... Slowly, a small, metal pipe is pulled - no, cradled - out of the fabric folds of Florino's pockets. The nimble fingers twist and turn the straight copper pipe with an ivory mouthpiece... playing with it... twisting it like a small baton as the lights about the room flash off it's polished surface. Two crimson, tassled strings dangle from the obsidian crevice from which Florindo brought this musical instrument into the air of the great hall... a small fold of matching velvet cloth, like a happy puppy's tongue on a distantly-remembered summer's day, hangs from the pocket awaiting the return of its treasure. Florindo brushes the ivory mouthpiece across lips so soft they seem to tease each other - ivory bone and ivory flesh... and all the while, the soundless conversation continues... With whom you can only guess... OldanVisuce You know, is first time, in long time, I feel safe and at ease. *quickly glances Larson's way as if to make sure he isn't moving his direction* There are big egos here, but is relatively peaceful. *eyes seem to be focusing on a point far away* Reminds me of old-style gypsy meetings. When two gypsy bands met upon the roads, the two bands would stop for the night, and have fun untill even the moon was tired. We dance, and sing, tell stories of our travels. *chuckles* Usually the stories had basis in truth, but over the years had become more bullsh!t than anything.*chuckles again* I remember my father, may he find rest, telling another gypsy leader that he had once wrestled Lupine and the Lupine begged for forgiveness to cross him. The TRUE story was more like: Hello Mr. Werewolf, I am sorry we are intruding on your land Mr. Werewolf, please forgive us Mr. Werewolf. We will leave now, with your permission Mr. Werewolf. *chuckles and his eyes come into focus again* I wonder how long ago that was? I can barely remember any of it, but it comes to my lips without thinking about it. *glances at Elijah* Earlier, you were worried about forgetting. I dont think there is reason to. When I experience something similar to a memory, the memory floods back to me. Like now, feel at ease, remember another time when I feel at ease. Well, now whether you stiffs want to admit it or not, we are all gypsies! Does anyone but the kind hostess call this home? No. So everyone here is gypsy. And this seems to me to be a gypsy gathering. Would anyone care to tell a tale from earlier in their ..ehh life? It is tradition! Nikodemus "A home...that would be nice. It's been too long since I've actually had one. "Seems like I have to wander, and contrary to popular opinion, it is not romantic...not exciting. It's tiring and dangerous, and generally not a good time. "However, I occaisionally make myself unpopular and find my unlife better spent elsewhere. "Ah well, I just have to accept it and move on." LoneWar *Sassnik's eyes light up with unconcealed joy and longing* "I just love singing, may I join in?", and without waiting for a possible denial that would prevent her from doing the one thing she lives for, Sassnik launches into a song. (Don Henley's "End of the Innocence") /Melpominee 3: Melancholy Remember when the days were
long But happily ever after fails Ill find a place where we can
go You can lay your head back
down on the ground Oh beautiful for spacious skys Armchair warriors often fail Oh, I know a place where we
can go Just lay your head back down
on the ground Who knows how long this will
last I need to remember this You can lay your head back
down on the ground *When the song finishes Sassnik looks around the hall for some hint of approval, and lurking in the back of her eye is the fear of disapproval* /OOC I sure feel sorry for any Toreadors in this room hehe. 3 Daughters playing, they may NEVER move. Sassnik Dreameweaver
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