"I don't know, Julius," said Eveshka the next night. "I know that things are not always what they seem. ESPECIALLY among our kind."

Julius nodded. He got up and walked over to the liquor cabinet. He poured out a healthy dram of 25 Year Old MacCallan and sipped at it neat. "Well, that is true I suppose," he said.

"Why don't the Tremere want him around? I don't get it. He didn't seem to be any more or less cutthroat than umm... ," began Eve.

Julius started to laugh. "Than any other Tremere? Is that what you meant to say dear Toreador Princess," laughed Julius.

"After a fashion," she said rolling her eyes. "You said that for the most part the Sabbat were blown up in Mexico City, right?"

Julius nodded.

"But he wasn't among them?"

"Evidently not," said Julius.

"I don't know. Something tells me that he MIGHT not have been up to anything when he did that thing to Michelle and I," Eve said, her eyes becoming distant at the name Michelle. Julius noticed it but pretended not to. Eve saw his aura change but pretended not to notice that in return.

She walked over to him as he began to give his theory on that. She stopped him by placing her index finger delicately on his lips. Her lips softly met his and she said, "I love you," and walked away. Julius just stood there a moment, smiled, and then restarted his theory on what Goratrix was doing with Eve and Michelle.

"It is true, he didn't really seem to do anything. It was almost like he was gathering information on what the Camarilla was up to in England," said Julius. He shook his head. "I don't know. I just don't know."

"That makes two of us," said Eve. She walked over to the book in which she had written down the translation of the scroll and began to read. She didn't utter a word until nearly sunrise. Julius in the mean time went back to his Skull and analyzed some of the artifacts in an effort to find some clues or some leads. Eve looked over at him just as dawn was breaking and they were settling in for sleep. "Na'anna is an antedeluvian, right?" Julius nodded. "She sounds rather like a Toreador don't you think?" she asked. Julius' eyes flickered around to a bunch of books. He didn't even bother to walk over to them, rather, he summoned them to him and began to leaf through them before they even got to his hands.

"Na'anna is Nanna, the Sumerian Moon God. Djuti is another name for Thoth, ALSO a Moon God. For that matter, Allah is based on an ancient Arabian Moon God. But....." he trailed off. "Ishtar, the other potential candidate for the founder of Clan Toreador, Ishtar is a Goddess of Light, Love, Feritlity and all that."

"What if Ishtar was known as Ishtar while she was Mortal, and then changed her name and denomination of Divinity upon being embraced?" asked Eve. They both thought about it for a bit.

"It's possible I suppose," said Julius. They thought about it a bit more.

Eve shook her head. "It seems like too much of a stretch."

"Yeah," said Julius. "But Na'anna does seem particularly Toreador, especially given our shared dream, which could only be described as a vision."

"Ok, so what if Na'anna was Arikel?" asked Eve.

"That is possible. It seems more feasible than a goddess changing her coat. Unless, they were both the same person, and the Mortal's couldn't tell the difference."

"So," started Eve. "How do we follow THIS chain of reasoning?"

Julius went over to his stack of books and whiggled his fingers a bit. Pages began to turn. Suddenly one of the books stopped flapping pages. Julius looked over at it. "Nanna," he read. Another name for the moon god Sin." Eve giggled. Julius rolled his eyes with a smirk. "Born to yada yada yada...." Julius continued reading. "Sin was depicted as a fierce young bull, thick of horns, perfect of limbs, and so on." All of the books closed at once. "So... Nanna, or Sin, is shown as a bull. That's bloody useless and it makes no sense at all," he said.

Eveshka's eyes were wide open however. "What's with you?" Julius asked.

"Among the Toreador, Ishtar is known as the 'Bull Dancer' Julius," she said. His eyebrows raised.

Darkness coiled itself about the crowd like a blanket of matte velvet, falling gently from the sky to cover them all within it's midnight embrace. They had come, as they had for years uncounted. Witnesses, eyes to see the ritual, supplicants to the night.

The stage had been set, the wooden ring about which the people coalesced as if into a single entity, which writhed and coiled, movement of the whole, from movement of the individual, a symmetry of form amidst the chaos. And, as the first ray of moonlight bathed the sands in it's cold wan glow, so did the singing begin, making itself gradually heard.

As a paean of joy and delight rolled from the crowd to the starry firmament, she appeared, standing upon the dias, the moon reflecting in her eyes, the glistening oils winking from the golden skin. The vision bathing in turn the gathering horde. Her people, her audience, her worshippers.

Steam arose from the bodies and breath of the beasts penned in the stockade, rising up through the clear cold of the night. Their hot blood demanding the dance for the cycle of life. The tradition already ancient, the right of the goddess to perform the dance. To bring life to the fields, food to the people. The primal ritual, the circle repeated.

As if to some unspoken cue, a hush fell about the people, a muted silence which allowed the whispers of the wafting air to speak in sighing tones to the assembled crowd. Torches about the arena flickered into life, their flames licking tongues defiant against the ebon void.

A horn sounded. A low muffled tone, banishing the silence with it's heavy, intrusive tone. To this accompaniment did the white beast enter the arena, torchlight flashing from it's golden horns and so did the goddess meet it. Stepping delicately down from the dias to the dry sands to come to terms with the bull, snorting the hot breath from it's nostrils, pawing the ground in it's defiance.

She waited and for one silent moment, time seemed suspended from it's inexorable journey, the space between one second and the next a tangible thing, as though one could grasp it in the hand and keep it for all eternity. That one perfect moment.

Time clicked back into place with the first movement of the bull, as it's swift thrust powered it toward the goddess, who stood still and silent, unmoving. At the final instant, when the points of it's horns must surely rend her flesh the goddess leaped. A foot upon the bull's brow, a toss of the beast's head, the vaulting dancer spun into the air like gossamer down. Twisting sinuously over it's back the maiden discards her cloak in mid-flight, allowing it to fall, a silken cloth draped across the back of the male. She lands lightly on her feet, only to spin in place to face her chosen lover.

Now stood the wanton revealed. Black lustrous hair falling about her shoulder and neck, playing gently upon firm high breasts. The curve of her hips leading down in perfect symmetry over smooth, shapely thighs and calves to her bare feet, dusty from the ground upon which she stood. Her full lips croon softly to him and he turns toward her invitation. Spurred on by his desires, he races for the object of his longing and, once again, she eludes his thrusts by swaying out of his reach.

This time, as he glides by, she reaches out a hand and trails it in tenderness across his cheek and along his broad, sinewy neck. He curls into the touch, pivoting, seeking it's source. She rises on tiptoe and with seeming grace, she places one hand to his broad shoulders and springs to his other side. Bewildered, he can smell her fragrance but cannot see her and his frustration rages anew. Tossing his head from side to side, blasts of heated air issuing from his nostrils, he finds her once more and advances upon her alluring form.

Always she is one step away from his grasp, always she flirts with him as they continue their measured moves. Until she begins the next phase of the courtship. Stopping mid center of the arena she pulls a ritual knife from the air. The light of the cold moon's rays, kissing it's length and winking at the spectators. A soft moan rises in concert from those seated about and once more, the goddess courts her intended.

This time, it is the wicked love bites that enflame the bull and he redoubles his efforts to finally lay the teasing woman at his feet so that he might have his way with her. But his blood trickles and pools from the myriad pricks she accords him until, drop by drop, they stain the sand and mar it's pristine whiteness. His movements slow and exhaustion overtakes him. He can no longer follow the siren call of her presence. He stands with feet splayed, his head hung low and his coat smeared with his life's offering.

She approaches out of the shadows and walks to his head. He does not acknowledge her and she takes pity on him. Grasping his cheeks between her hands, she kisses him between his eyes and whispers of her love to him as she raises his head ever higher. And as he realizes that he has at last caught her, she slices across his throat with the razor's edge of the blade. A crimson tide bathes them both and with a satisfied groan his front knees give way. She follows him down, his head still clasped in her embrace and she cradles it much like a mother does her child.

Head bowed, the tears rain down on his nestling head and she whispers her promise that she will meet him in the after life. She beseeches him to remember her vow and that his lifegiving fluids will bless the people for another year. As the soul flees from his eyes, the goddess kisses him one last time and, rising, wraps the mantle of night about her tired form and disappears into the darkness.

A warm wind licks across the stilled body, bringing the scent of new-turned earth and budding leaves. A gentle patter begins as the heavens pour their own sorrows and the renewal of life into the waiting soil and, with a collective breath of fullfillment, the assembly melts away until only the silence is left.

----

Julius' eyelids flickered open, meeting Eveshka's own wide eyed stare. The vision, the dream, still fresh in their minds. "Ishtar", he whispered.

----

[i:a1ecbff1fe]((Big hugs and sloppy wet kisses to the Lady Cyrilynn for writing vast swathes of the dance, rescuing me after I had written myself into a corner.))[/i:a1ecbff1fe]

The archives were a bit like a maze, House Tremere had collected vast amounts of information during its mortal years and in almost a thousand years of undeath this had been added to constantly. The archive at Haus-de-Hexe gaining influxes as chantries closed or were relocated.

Gliding through this maze of stored arcane knowledge like a ghost in a white ankle length dress that contrasted with her long raven black hair, Morathi ignored the glare of the more traditionally dressed apprentices, pretending not to hear the whispers in her wake as some recognised her as the former Regentia for New Orleans that had been stripped of office, the observers speculating what errand the disgraced apprentice must have been sent on to send her into the oldest and least catalogued sections of the archive...

Confident she was now out of the gaze of the apprentices, Morathi paused by her destination, an ill stacked shelf full of dusty tomes detailing the daily log of a Regent of a long since closed and replaced chantry in Prague. The books themselves were irrelevant to her purpose in the archives, closing her eyes she called upon her auspex, her hand hovering over the books until finally she found one she was seeking, pulling it out of the shelf, flipping through the ancient pages she found what she sought...

A piece of modernly produced paper detailing a place and time that she would be able to meet and report to Meerlinda with whom she had not had contact since Cairo....

______________________
OOC: Call me impatient if you like :P But I'm trying to find my way back into the plot, and I figured it would not hurt for Mora to actually meet her 'Boss'

Eveshka looked over at Julius. "I think I have met her," she said. Julius raised his eyebrows. "At least I met an IMAGE of her."

"Go on," he said, trying to prod her further to see if there was something worthwhile, or if this was some sort of delusional thing.

"Remember several years ago when Michelle and I were at it all hot and heavy?" she asked.

"Yes. So?" he returned.

"Don't you remember the visions that i was having? The ones that started in the car park under our mansion in York? The mysterious foot falls and then that woman sitting in my car?"

Julius tried to remember back. It wasn't as if it was all THAT long ago, but he was preoccupied with a scatter brained apprentice from San Francisco. It was a period he'd deemed best forgotten. "Yeah, I vaguely remember that. You and I were not on the greatest of terms during that whole ordeal."

"I thought she was Arikel. She WAS Arikel," said Eve with wide eyes. "But she is also Ishtar. They are the same woman, Julius."

Julius narrowed his right eye while thinking. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," responded Eveshka without a moment's hesitation. "The visions have all been of the same person."

Just then Eveshka's cell phone rang. It was the number that only Julius and Montcalm had. As Julius was right here....

"Oui?" she asked.

"Vous-etes certain?" she asked again. Her aura flickered and took on a resignedly more worrysome look. "Poutain. Oui, J'arrive." She hung up the phone.

"Trouble, Love?" asked Julius.

Eveshka just sat there looking at the phone in her hand. "Yes," she said after a moment. "The new Toreador Archon is snooping around my domain."

"That is some Seneschal you have dear Comtesse," said Julius with a smirk. "Most would have used the chance to further their own gains."

She looked an icy look of death at him. "Who is to say he isn't."
She stood up and walked over to the armoire. She opened it up and put on a burgundy velvet gown, reminiscent of something she would have worn in the renaissance. Julius watched in facination. It never ceased to amaze him watching her transform from the scared little girl who was his thrall into an icy monarch that could still captivate the souls of the living and the dead.

"I'm sorry," she began.

"I know, Love," said Julius. "Duty calls." He picked up his phone and ordered his car brought around. Within minutes the two were rocketing towards the nearest airport. As they walked from the Ferrari to the Gulfstream V in Darrant Industries livery, Julius noticed the case that held Eveshka's vaunted Dread Rapier and main gauche. He suddenly grew very concerned. She did not normally travel on small visits with those, only when on a mission. "Are you expecting trouble?" he asked.

"Yes," she responded.

"Eve, who is this new Archon that has you so excited?" Julius asked, watching her aura flicker all over the place from extreme anger and rage to calm, to lovestruck, fearful.

She started up the stairs of the Gulfstream and turned to face him on the 3rd stair from the stop. Her face was completely white. "Rhiannon," she said, and boarded the plane. The hatch closed behind her. Through his regnant bond Julius could feel the anxiety radiating from Eve like so much heat from a hot grill.

((Before anyone has kittens over it, I have permission from the original Rhiannon to borrow her character and beat her up :twisted: ))

((damn that was a long read, good thread tho :D

A flash of lightning silhouetted the black gulfstream as it touched down on wet tarmac with that characteristic screech of undercarriage hitting runway. Rain fell in sheets from the sky, carpeting the ground with a thin film of water, forming into tiny rivers, which ran into the heavily taxed airport drains.

Moments after the aircraft taxied to a halt on the pad near the VIP terminal, the hatch opened to reveal two dark outlines. One turned to the other, who nodded, creating a path through the driving rain, protecting them from the downpour to reach the waiting limousine. A limousine which contained only the driver. No Archon Rhiannon, nor even Montcalm, the Seneschal, had come to greet the returning Prince.

The journey through Paris passed in silence, only the rhythm of the windscreen wipers provided any backdrop to the oppressive air within the vehicle as they fought, in abject futility, back and forth against the deluge. Once out on the open road and heading to Touraine the weather served to enclose the car, visibility practically zero, as though the couple were enclosed in a tin box, going nowhere, caught in a loop of time inside some claustrophobic hell.

"You didn't have to come." Said Eve, her voice a sudden and strange contrast against the sounds of car and weather.

Julius gave her a look. The same look that had been upon his face when she had found herself reopening the hatch on his Gulfstream to admit him. "Yes, I did. This time." He said, shortly. "No more facing trouble alone." He concluded, exercising his regnancy in a manner which would brook no argument.

In due time the limo arrived at the Chateau, it's lights painting a wan glow through the murky deluge. As it pulled up the long drive Eveshka turned again to Julius. "Please remember, Love. This is my realm."

"I know." Julius replied simply. "You're in charge."

The pair entered the mansion, no fanfare, no red carpet welcome from the local kindred for their long absent Prince. Simply Montcalm, waiting in the porch to show them in. Eveshka resplendent in her velvet gown. Julius all in black, from the black suit, to the black shirt and tie, only his sigil, hanging on a slim silver chain stood out from the ensemble. For once, he chose to play the powerful Tremere, to compliment the commanding presence of the ancient Toreador Prince.

"Where is the Archon?" Eveshka demanded of her Seneschal in icy tones, showing her displeasure at his lack of attentiveness. Montcalm almost shivered. "In the music room." Julius glowered at him. "Sire." Montcalm hastily appended.

Eveshka swept through her chateau, Julius bringing up the rear, to enter the music room. Rhiannon sat upon the piano stool, idly fiddling with the keys, making an irritating plink plonk issue from the rosewood Steinway. She stood as the pair entered, her own gown an explosion of green satin, her trademark, Rhiannon always wore green. "Dear sister." She said, kissing Eveshka upon each cheek. "It's been too long. I've missed you."

Julius watched Eveshka's aura shift through the same multitude of conflicting emotions he had witnessed before their departure. "I've missed you too, Rhia." She said, regaining her composure. "And who is your little magician friend?" Rhiannon asked. Julius narrowed his eyes and began radiating power like some dark avenging angel of death, capturing Rhiannon's gaze with an unshakeable hold. "Don't you remember?" asked Eveshka, surprised, "This is Julius Darrant, Pontifex of the third circle, House and Clan Tremere. Julius, you remember Rhiannon, lately risen to the rank of Archon?" Julius continued to play his role to the hilt, nodding almost imperceptibly, a mere acknowledgement from such a high ranking Tremere to a simple Archon, as he released his hold upon her.

"So, sister, what brings you to my realm?" Eveshka asked, stressing the word "my" slightly, but perceptibly. Rhiannon paused for a moment, then opened her mouth to speak.

"Well, Evey, I am afraid that the Toreador High Council is beginning to grow concerned about your prolonged absences from your domain," said Rhiannon.

Eveshka looked over at Montcalm who was shaking. He knew without a doubt that of the two Toreador noblewomen, Eveshka was the more immediate danger. Rhiannon carried the weight of the High Council with her. That was something of a more lasting threat. Although Montcalm truly loved his Comtesse, he still played the game of Vampire politics in which self preservation was priority number one.

Rhiannon saw Eve looking at Montcalm. "No, sister, Montcalm did not say anything. To his credit as a loyal Seneschal he has maintained that your presence has been continually felt in Touraine," she said. "It is Prince Delacroix in Paris who has grown concerned and has expressed feelings that you are not up to the task of ruling this province."

"This Province?" asked Eveshka in an even but icy tone. "I was not aware that vampire principalities were thought of in terms of subservience to a feudal overlord."

"No, no Evey, it's not that at all, I'm just saying..." began Rhiannon.

"So I am Renee's vassal then am I?" interrupted Eveshka.

"It would seem so, Comtesse," said Julius still glaring solar flares at Rhiannon.

Rhiannon began to get upset. "I will not be spoken to in this manner Comtesse Shuvolov," she said in a wavering tone. She too knew that of the two of them, Eveshka was the more immediately powerful. True, Rhiannon carried the charter of the High Council, but that wouldn't help her much if her mercurial former Seneschal and lover lost her temper and destroyed her.

Eveshka curtsied formally. "Forgive me My Lady, I don't know what came over me." Rhiannon looked visibly hurt. She truly had not thought that Eveshka would respond to her like this. This was why she had asked to make the visit rather than a different Archon. She thought she could reason with her "little" sister. A "little" sister who was far older, more powerful, and more cunning than she if blows came to blows. It seemed as if coming to blows was a distinct possibility.

"What has Renee said?" asked Eveshka using her powers of dominance and manipulation over Rhiannon. Rhiannon didn't even realize she was responding with the true reason until she had started speaking.

"Madame Meerlinda said tha-...." she began. "HOW DARE YOU, EVESHKA," she shrieked after suddenly regaining her faculties. "You abysmally STUPID whore." Rhiannon pulled back her cloak to reveal the ivory hilt of a katana. "I had hoped that it would not come to this Eve," said Rhiannon, with her voice full of remorse. "Please, just come along with me to Paris. I am sure this can be taken care of quickly and peacefully."

"Ever the peace-keeper you were, Rhiannon," said Eveshka. "Very well, I will come along, but not with you. I will deliver myself into their traitorous hands."

Julius' eyes had closed completely at the mention of 'Madame Meerlinda.' He could not believe this was actually happening. Nor did he truly know what he would do when and if he confronted Meerlinda.

"The Pontifex will see to it that I follow the instructions of the Inner Circle," said Eveshka. Rhiannon, knowing better than to accuse Julius of not being honorable, nodded her ascent.

"You have my word, Little Archon, that the Comtesse de Touraine shall indeed make her appearance before Meerlinda," said Julius.

Again, Rhiannon nodded, not even noticing that she had acknowledge that it was Meerlinda and not Madame Guil who was actually calling the shots.

[b:a3cabb0e0b]Paris[/b:a3cabb0e0b]

Morathi arrived from Austria in the guise of Lucilla Troy dressed in her now almost tradmark white. She looked up at the sky noting that a storm was building and wondered if it was possibly an omen for her meeting with Meerlinda. She had yet to meet her superior since she had become an Astor, but considering the nature of Julius' captivity in Cairo a report on the matter could not be entrusted to anything less than a direct meeting and suitable time had passed for such a report not to be noted as immediately in the wake of her action in Cairo.

For her own part Morathi was unhappy about the involvement of outsiders in the extraction, but she worked with the tools provided.

Visiting the Eiffel Tower, Lucilla Troy was enthusiasticly welcomed to the extremely expensive restaurant; 'Jules Verne' on the second platform by the management, bypassing the usual need for a reservation. It was a place to see and be seen, and undoubtedly there were members of Parisian vampiric high society, most likely Toreadors and Ventrue mingling among the herd of mortal high society. As she made a show of studying the wine list, Morathi's gaze was studying the auras of those in the restuarant to spot the sharks swimming among unsuspecting prey.

Not having visited Paris since she had become a vampire over a century past, Morathi reasoned it would be good to learn who the players in town were before she made her way to the location her invitation to meet with Meerlinda specified...

[i:ce8a23e2b4] ACT I: STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND

Cue Entrance Theme: Stranger in a Strange Land by Iron Maiden

Scene opens with camera zoomed in on the bottom half of a shapely female walking with stiletto heeled thigh high leather boots. Cue walk to beat of bass guitar. Left foot falls with bass drum strike, right foot falls with snare drum strike.

Change camera angle to show her from behind as guitar begins main riff.

Zoom out to show Eveshka in a chainmail mini skirt and chain mail top, hair slicked back and brought up into a tight bun, eye make up is silver. Lipstick is black. Cheekbones highlighted with silver.

Stationary camera tracks her movement through the outer fountains and into the Pyramid of the Louvre. Camera picks up that she is armed with a rapier and main gauche slung over her shoulder in an X form, the hilts poke up above her shoulders.

Music trails off as she enters upper chamber of the Louvre and comes to two large gilded doors guarded by men with powdered wigs in royal musketeer uniforms of the 17th century.

Cue camera inside as the doors are opened. Music changes to Renaissance era music of the French Court. [/i:ce8a23e2b4]

Doorman: Announcing Lady Eveshka Shuvolov, Comtesse de Touraine.

[i:ce8a23e2b4] Eveshka walks in without ceremony and heads straight to the corner where Prince Renee, Madame Guil, Rhiannon, and Meerlinda are seated [/i:ce8a23e2b4]

Renee rises to meet Eveshka: Dear Eve, how good of you to come.

Eveshka: Stow it Renee, what do you think you are doing?

Renee: My word, such abuse you deal to a fellow Peer.

[i:ce8a23e2b4] Madame Guil, and Meerlinda chuckle, Rhiannon stays stone faced.
Cue camera to show door open and close but nobody seem to notice [/i:ce8a23e2b4]

Eveshka: A Fellow Peer? You seem to think I am your little puppet from what I hear. So what was the point of me even being given Touraine?

Madame Guil: To rule for Renee of course. And to show us what you could do if left to your own devices. To show us how well you would fare as a Prince and not just a seductive spy as you previously were.

[i:ce8a23e2b4] Cue camera to Meerlinda who is staring right at Madame Guil, pan to Rhiannon who is looking at Eveshka in a passive sort of way [/i:ce8a23e2b4]

Eveshka: A spy? What misfeasance have I committed in Touraine? What nonfeasance have I engaged in?

Madame Guil: Nobody has denied that Touraine is flourishing. Yet there have been complaints as to the manner of your reign.

Eveshka: Complaints?

Renee: There have been reports of arbitrary destructions simply because a subject disagreed with you. Particularly one Renard.

Eveshka: Renard? You must be joking. He was a seditious wretch.

[i:ce8a23e2b4] Cue camera to Meerlinda who shifts her gaze from Madame Guil to something over Eveshka's shoulder. Zoom in as her eyes squint in anger at whatever it was she saw. Pan camera to area over Eveshka's shoulder to reveal nothing [/i:ce8a23e2b4]


Madame Guil: Have the Enlightened ways of the Toreador sunken so low as to denegrate into tyranny where opposing views are not tolerated?

Eveshka: He was outright plotting against me Madame Justicar.

Rhiannon: Do you have proof of this?

Eveshka: I have the testimony of my courtiers, of the Council of Primogen.

Renee: Yes, yes, all besmitten with you and brainwashed.

Eveshka: Come now Renee, surely there must have been some reason Madame Councillor summoned me. You could have just engineered a coup d'etat and been done with it. Why are you seeking to humiliate me?

Madame Guil: Are you accusing us of being pawns to the Tremere? When you yourself are bound to one?

[i:ce8a23e2b4] Cue Camera on Julius appearing from nowhere, right next to Eveshka. Change Camera angle to show the shock of the three other Toreador, but the narrowed eyes of Meerlinda. [/i:ce8a23e2b4]

Julius: And how would you be privy to such information Madame Justicar?

Madame Guil adjusts her self in her seat, the sheathe of a blade is visible for a moment in the folds of her dress: Pontifex. Is this true?

Julius: Perhaps. Perhaps not.

Rhiannon: Please Evey, just go along with this, it'll be so much easier in the end.

Eveshka: Easier? Like when you and Daisy engineered those charges to strip me of my rank back in Cascadia? Easy like that? You were afraid of me then. You are still afraid of me now.

Madame Guil: You will be damned for this Eveshka.

Eveshka: Come now Madame Justicar, you must leave some work for the Devil.

Madame Guil: Archon, take her in hand.

[i:ce8a23e2b4] Pan camera to Rhiannon standing up weilding a rapier and main gauche ensemble that seem to have a bit of a reddish glow coming from the blades [/i:ce8a23e2b4]

Rhiannon with eyes rimmed in red: Please Evey, don't fight me.

Meerlinda: Julius, where do you stand?

Julius: ....

[i:ce8a23e2b4] Fade camera to black with the words "To Be Continued" across screen [/i:ce8a23e2b4]

[i:c94e39386d]ACT 2: Let the Bodies Hit The Floor

Renaissance music continues as scene is replayed. Cue camera looking over Meerlinda's shoulder at Julius.[/i:c94e39386d]

Meerlinda: Julius, where do you stand?

[i:c94e39386d]Cue slow zoom onto Julius[/i:c94e39386d]

Julius: The affairs of Clan Toreador are not the concern of House and Clan Tremere. I choose not to involve myself in this.

[i:c94e39386d]Cue camera swing around behind Julius, looking over his shoulder at Meerlinda, triumphant expression upon her face.[/i:c94e39386d]

Julius: However...

[i:c94e39386d]Meerlinda's expression fades.[/i:c94e39386d]

Meerlinda: Pontifex?

[i:c94e39386d]Camera begins to pull back, Julius is looking straight at Madame Guil.[/i:c94e39386d]

Julius: The Justicar cannot have known of Eveshka's... attachment to me. Unless someone had been spying on me.

[i:c94e39386d]Madame Guil looks nervous, Meerlinda fidgets in her seat.[/i:c94e39386d]

Meerlinda: Your point?

[i:c94e39386d]Cue camera tracking Rhiannon who is slowly advancing upon Eveshka.[/i:c94e39386d]

Julius: I quote the Oath of Tremere, "I will not use magic to scry upon members of the House and Clan Tremere, nor shall I use it to peer into their affairs. It is expressly forbidden."

[i:c94e39386d]Cue close up on Meerlinda, who blanches.[/i:c94e39386d]

Meerlinda: You can prove nothing, Pontifex.

Julius: Even now you lend power to the Archon. Non-interference my arse, Councillor.

[i:c94e39386d]Cue camera to view of whole group. Rhiannon stops in her tracks, Meerlinda stands abruptly.[/i:c94e39386d]

Meerlinda (enraged): How dare you

Julius: I claim the ancient right. I challenge. Join me in the Certamén circle. (mutters something in latin)

[i:c94e39386d]Special effect: Magic circle of force appears, shimmering colours.

Close up on Eveshka and Julius. Julius turns to Eveshka.[/i:c94e39386d]

Julius: It seems that tonight we must each take a new partner for the dance.

[i:c94e39386d]Eveshka nods and draws blades, steel whispering from their sheaths.[/i:c94e39386d]

Rhiannon: Please Evey. I don't want to hurt you.

Eveshka: Too late for that... Dear.. Sister... Now you die.

[i:c94e39386d]Cue music: Let the Bodies Hit the Floor by Drowning Pool.

Special effect: Rhiannon summons wraiths as she charges at Eveshka.

Julius enters the circle with Meerlinda. As the guitars begin, Eveshka throws back her head and laughs. Cue camera above Eve, spinning, centred on her mouth and pulling back. As Eve engages Rhiannon, camera pans across to centre above the magic circle.

Special Effect: Julius and Meerlinda each have a bolt of force issuing from their hands, meeting in the middle and spilling out at 90 degrees to hit the force circle.

Camera pans down, still spinning, centred on the magic circle, then cue cameras switching between both duels...[/i:c94e39386d]

---

Eveshka became a whirl of flashing blades, moving at the speed of thought, the steel leaving an intricate dance around and about Rhiannon's swords, yet never touching, each of Rhiannon's attacks finding empty space. Still laughing, Eve threw her main gauche into the air, leaping up to catch it in her right hand and somersaulting to land behind Rhiannon, both blades held in the one hand. Now with one hand free, Eveshka began blasting away the wraiths with firebolts.

Meerlinda threw a myriad of tiny fireballs at Julius, who knocked them aside with his hands like some kind of kung fu master, whilst being driven back towards his side of the circle. At length one of the fireballs pierced his defences, hitting his shoulder. Julius howled in pain and fell to one knee

Rhiannon screamed in anger and used her powers to slow down Eveshka's attack. Now on more even terms, the duel began in earnest. The song of steel upon steel filled the room as the pair duelled back and force, striking, slashing, neither one gaining significant ground against the other.

Meerlinda prepared to deal the death blow to Julius, still upon the floor, head bowed. With a yell of truimph, lightning issued from her fingers, arcing towards his head, only to hit some invisible wall of force and be deflected harmlessly away. Julius looked up and Meerlinda took an involuntary step backward. Where his eyes had been, glowing orbs of fire now flickered angrily, the rage clear upon his face.

Renee stood and drew a pistol, taking pot shots at Eveshka. Without missing a beat in the dance of the blades, Eveshka shot her a look, tutting and shaking her head, before turning her gaze to the musketeer guards, crushing their will beneath her own. The guards ran to engage Renee.

Julius pointed and thorny vines sprang from the ground twining about Meerlinda's legs and pulling her back to her side of the circle. As she disentangled herself, Julius returned to his feet. They looked at each other for a moment, before Meerlinda threw spears of ice at Julius' chest. Julius smiled, sending a sheet of flame at Meerlinda, melting the spears and threatening to engulf her. Meerlinda smiled in turn, opening the flame sheet like a pair of curtains, to pass harmlessly behind her and impact on the force circle.

Evesha feinted, then counter feinted with her rapier, arcing around Rhiannon with her main gauche, lopping off her right hand, which fell to the floor, still grasping the rapier she had wielded. Rhiannon looked at Eveshka in fear, fear reinforced by Eve's use of her dread gaze. Rhiannon screamed and fell to the floor, beaten. Eve launched herself at Rhiannon, her fangs buried deep in the Archon's neck.

Julius made slapping motions as though hitting some unseen opponent. At each movement, Meerlinda's head moved from side to side as though receiving the blows, being driven backward herself now, under Julius' continuing onslaught. Finally, Julius leaped into the air, swinging his leg to kick into the air. Meerlinda received the blow and fell to the floor. Julius screamed words of latin, pinning Meerlinda down with flame shackles.

---

[i:c94e39386d]Music fades.

Special effect: Force circle fades into the ground, Meerlinda is pinned to the floor by bands of fire at wrists and ankles.

Camera pans about to look from the side of Julius at Eveshka, who is draining Rhiannon, showing no signs of stopping for anything.[/i:c94e39386d]

Julius: Eveshka! NO!!

[i:c94e39386d]Eveshka carries on drinking.

Julius extends his arm, as if grabbing something. Camera follows the movement, forwards and backwards with his grabbing motion. Eveshka is pulled by some force away from the torpored form of Rhiannon.

Meerlinda struggles under the shackles, Julius turns to her. Camera focuses on the two of them.[/i:c94e39386d]

Julius: I win, Meer. Now for my prize.

[i:c94e39386d]Meerlinda pales.[/i:c94e39386d]

Meerlinda: You wouldn't dare.

Julius (smiling in triumph): One spell, freely cast against the defenceless loser. That's the tradition. As you so enjoy using magic to see with, let it be your only vision.

[i:c94e39386d]Special effect: Fire issues from Julius' eyes, burning out Meerlinda's, blinding her permanently.[/i:c94e39386d]

Eveshka (rejoining Julius): I'm sick of these interfering, spiteful, pointless fuckwits.

Julius: Yes.

Madame Guil (raised voice): You will not speak of us in that...

[i:c94e39386d]Eveshka looks at Julius, who nods.[/i:c94e39386d]

Eveshka (shouting, interrupts Madame Guil): Screw you!

[i:c94e39386d]Eveshka pulls off her Toreador signet and throws it at Madame Guil, whilst simultanteously Julius pulls the Tremere sigil from around his neck, throwing at Meerlinda.

Special Effect: Meerlinda's flame shackles vanish.

Madame Guil catches the ring, Meerlinda takes the sigil, then gropes her way back to her seat.

Camera pans behind Julius and Eve.[/i:c94e39386d]

Julius: Shall we?

[i:c94e39386d]Julius and Eve turn to camera, Julius offers Eve his arm and they leave. Camera tracks their exit.

Cue closing credits and music.[/i:c94e39386d]

[b:c1f7efcf33]Paris: The Eiffel Tower[/b:c1f7efcf33]

[i:c1f7efcf33]"He did WHAT!"[/i:c1f7efcf33]

Morathi cried out, snatching the Tremere sigil from the now blinded Meerlinda they were the only ones prepared to face the elements in such an exposed location. The wrath of the stormwinds blowing about them on the open viewing platform of the Eiffel Tower almost intensifying in response to the young astor's anger at the unthinkable betrayal a Pontifex turning away from the House and Clan, let alone mutilating a member of the Council of Seven represented, a distinct rumble of thunder sounding...

Holding the Sigil, Morathi's auspex inadvertantly picked up the last few memories of its prior owner...

[i:c1f7efcf33]***The Justicar cannot have known of Eveshka's... attachment to me. Unless someone had been spying on me.***

***I quote the Oath of Tremere, "I will not use magic to scry upon members of the House and Clan Tremere, nor shall I use it to peer into their affairs. It is expressly forbidden."***

***I claim the ancient right. I challenge. Join me in the Certamén circle...***

***I win, Meer. Now for my prize...... One spell, freely cast against the defenceless loser. That's the tradition. As you so enjoy using magic to see with, let it be your only vision...***[/i:c1f7efcf33]

Lightning flashed and if Meerlinda's now scarred cloudy-white eyes could still see she would have noted Morathi's emerald eyes were now filled with new anger but this time directed at her as the thunder from the storm growled in response to its mistress anger...

[i:c1f7efcf33]"You of all people Councillor... Even if the charge is true or false it seems the Certamén circle has already ruled judgement on that issue... I as an Astor cannot contest that verdict..."[/i:c1f7efcf33]

She paused, the next part difficult for her, but her duty demanded it...

[i:c1f7efcf33]"A properly constituted Tribunal will have to be assembled to determine if the magus Julius Darrant is to be declared Anarch or Rogue to our House and Clan for his actions. This may have to be conducted 'in absentia'.... Depending on the verdict our House and clan will have to deal with him as appropriate...."[/i:c1f7efcf33]

Morathi knew that the difference between a declaration of Anarch or Rogue was critical in how she would follow up Julius' actions. As a Rogue she and her fellow Astors would be compelled to hunt him down and bring him to justice with all means at the 'Jackals' disposal. As an anarch her House and Clan may be prepared to ignore him as long as he did not 'rock the boat' however such a high ranking Tremere to be declared anarch would most likely need to be monitored, and such a duty would again most likely be tasked to the Astors....

Although Gabriel understood very little Italian, the language sounded almost like a symphony as it drifted from the streets below his room. Freshly awoken and still wrapped tightly in an authentic Japanese komono, the young Ventrue surely cut a striking figure as he gazed out over one of Rome's many historic districts.

The dark features of the lavishly decored guest room were illuminated as the hallway door was opened. One of Victorrio's retainers stood head bowed in the threshold.

"Master Venetti requests your presence in the dining hall sir."[/i]

Gabriel nodded without word and was once again enveloped in the silken darkness. He dressed to the acrid flourescent glow of the street lamps below and silently departed the room.

As he strode through the empty hallways of the building towards the dining room, he had ample time to reflect on the previous nights conversation with his Grand-Sire. Victorrio had dealt with Ali before, during the Crusades when he had been Monitor of Jerusalem. The holy city had seen it's fair share of strife over the centuries, but it hadn't seen anything comparable to Ali.

Aside from attesting to Ali's strength, Victorrio said very little else. He offered Gabriel safe haven and had then retired to tend to his own matters. Apparently Roman tradition had not died out in Victorrio. His schedule was nearly unheard of for a Cainite. He still tended to all his business in the morning hours as Romans had thousands of years prior. Whether it was through shuttered off meeting rooms or high levels fortitude Gabriel could only speculate.

As he stepped into the dining room the pungant aroma of vitae was evident over the softer scents of the various fruits and meats placed upon the table. At the far end, sitting comfortably in a black woolen sweater, sat Victorrio reading the evening paper.

He glanced up from behind a pair of wire rimmed spectacles. He folded the paper neatly, setting down on the table in front of him before topping it off with the glasses.


[i:531418b34a]"Purely for effect I assure you."[/i:531418b34a] he said, motioning towards the glasses.

[i:531418b34a]"I had assumed as much."[/i:531418b34a] Gabriel replied as he took his seat on the opposite side of the table. To his surprise, Victorrio hauled himself out of his chair and took a seat almost directly beside him.

[i:531418b34a]"Well, it's been a busy day. Much has happened."[/i:531418b34a] he said quietly. Gabriel gulped down a healthy dose of vitae before glancing over towards his elder.

[i:531418b34a]"Anything that I would be interested in."[/i:531418b34a]

[i:531418b34a]"I should think so."[/i:531418b34a] Victorrio replied, his face warmed by the influx of blood. The deep creases in his face hardened as the skin returned to some semblance of humanity. Gabriel could only imagine what an admirable person he must've been in his mortal years. [i:531418b34a]"Your cohorts have been particularly active in Touraine from my understanding."[/i:531418b34a]

[i:531418b34a]"You mean Julius and Eveshka?"[/i:531418b34a] Gabriel asked with no veiled curiousity.

[i:531418b34a]"I've yet to decipher their precise actions...but whatever they've done has put their positions within the Camarilla into a somewhat tentative nature."[/i:531418b34a] he said, now turning to glance out over his beloved city once more.

Gabriel sank back into his seat. He was already being pursued by Lucinde and the Inner Council for his actions in Cairo, but he could justify his absence with some excuse or other. But how could he justify this?

[i:531418b34a]"Yes Gabriel, my experience with Justicars is that they are extremely stubborn and often very pious. You will not earn her trust easily. The other side of the matter however, is that you need Julius and Eveshka to deal with Ali."[/i:531418b34a]

[i:531418b34a]"How're they going to stop a 4000 thousand year old Cainite?"[/i:531418b34a]

[i:531418b34a]"Well, not physically obviously. But there are other means..."[/i:531418b34a] Victorrio trailed off. [i:531418b34a]"There's something else you should know Gabriel. I don't have the connections I once had within the Camarilla...but my sources near the Ventrue Directorate are still strong. There's been an increasing amount of scrutiny put on your actions. You'd do well to take care."[/i:531418b34a]

Gabriel sighed and sat in disbelief.

[i:531418b34a]"I do have a suggestion however. A...friend...of mine has recently come across an old ally of yours. Someone who might prove useful..."[/i:531418b34a]

[i:7dcedc4d31] Several nights later [/i:7dcedc4d31]

The dark shadow that was Eveshka crept along in the shadows behind Notre Dame. She sped across the street and to the back of the building that contained her penthouse overlooking the Seine. She slipped on a ring of invisibility that Julius had crafted for her, but it was temporary. It would only last for 15 minutes.

She slipped in the door and padded, nearly soundlessly, along the corridor to the stairwell. Eve stopped at the door just as she was about to open it. Someone was coming down the stairs speaking in Italian. . Eve had never bothered to learn that language, thus she had no clue what the person was saying. When the door opened she figured she would slip in behind the passerby before it swung shut. The door opened and a handsome man appeared. He was dressed all in black leather. The man resembled some sort of rockstar from the British Metal phase of 80s hairbands. Another man followed in his wake looking a bit more conservative. She had no idea who either of the men were, yet she could tell by their unmistakeable auras that they were Kindred. Their air made Eve suspect them to be Toreador. Well, she knew that they would be here. Julius had tried to talk her out of coming back but refrained from using any regnancy powers over her to stop her.

Just as the door was closing, Eve used her celerity and clothos to zip through the door. One of the men looked back for a moment as if he felt something but then shook his head and continued on. She reached the top of the stairwell and slipped out onto the roof. There were two more vampires on the roof. Both seemed to be very young. Eve wondered why there would be only fledglings around. It could either be that none of the Elders supported this move, that Madame Guil and her host did not have the true support of the Clan, or it could be that her Clan had fallen so low as to not be able to RALLY anyone of note. She hoped that the former was the true reason but suspected that the latter was the how it actually was.

She slipped down onto the balcony and noticed that her presence was taking on more of a solid appearance. The magic was wearing off. Instead of being completely invisible she looked sort of like a vaguely human shaped distortion of light. If she stood still, she was still invisible. The French door to the inside was ajar. Eve slipped in with her heightened senses activated. There was one person in here. Rhiannon. She didn't seem to notice Eve though as she was looking in the other direction. Eve slipped in behind her and walked into a different part of the penthouse.

Eve went into her bedroom and opened a trunk. She took out a few items. Mostly priceless heirlooms from her Russian heritage, but there were a few other bits of jewelry as well. She picked up a purple lacquered box with Russian folk designs on it but gilded in solid gold. Something inside rattled. Eve crouched down behind one of the enormous pillars surrounding her bed and opened the box. It was a gold ring emblazoned with the Toreador Clan crest. Eve blanched and felt a sickly feeling as she recognized what this item truly was. This was the same ring Rhiannon had given her so many years ago before they had left Europe for that shit-hole Cascadia. It was the ring she gave her when Eve became Rhiannon's Harpy. The inscription was still readable even though it had dulled over the years. "Though not Sisters in life, We are Sisters in Death."

Blood tears welled up in Eveshka's eyes. Rhiannon whom she had loved and worshipped like nobody ever in her existance. Rhiannon whom she had grown to hate and resent like nobody ever in her existance. Rhiannon, who in the final analysis still truly held her heart. Eve could not take it and lost herself in a flurry of images of the past. Their first meeting, their first love making. Images of grief and joy ran through her head as 100 years of companionship, devotion, and often chaos passed before her eyes.

She didn't notice that the magic had worn completely off.

Rhiannon did though.

"Evey?" came the soft voice from across the room.

Eveshka came back to reality with a start. The room was still dark, but with her heightened senses she could see Rhiannon, plain as day, standing in the opening to her bedroom with her sword drawn but in her LEFT hand. Her right had not completely grown back yet. Eveshka moved slightly.

"Don't even try to run, Evey. All I need to do is press this button to call everyone to this penthouse. You wouldn't kill all of them to get out. You are not evil, love. I know you couldn't do it," said Rhiannon. Rhiannon continued to stand there. Her sword point was resting on the tiled floor.

"I wouldn't have to kill them Rhia, you know that." said Eve with a cold tone. "So, do you want to finish what we started back at Renee's? Or what? Plainly you have something in mind, otherwise you would have just sent for your dogs." Eveshka was speaking plainly, and was not using any vampiric powers of manipulation. "So what is it to be, Rhiannon?"

Rhiannon shook her head slightly. "Just come back with me," she said. "There will be no fighting, no betrayals, no nothing."

"And how am I supposed to trust you, of all people, Rhia?" asked Eve who stood up, but made no move to draw any weapons. In fact, she didn't appear to even be armed.

"That is a fair question," said Rhiannon. "There is really no choice, Evey. You either come, or we make you come. You might destroy me, but you could not destroy all of us. You physically have the capability to do so, yes, but you do not have the drive. You do not have that dark side. You tremble day and night for things you did in your youth centuries ago." Rhiannon had begun advancing on Eveshka, her sword still pointed down at the tiles. Eveshka just stood there listening.

"Don't you remember, my love?" asked Rhiannon. "I do. You used to share my bed when Mark was not around. You used to worship me as a Goddess. You used to drink my life from my sex. Remember? I do. I remember it all."

"Stop," whispered Eveshka.

Rhiannon smiled and continued to advance on her. She dropped her sword with a loud clank and walked towards her with a seductive look in her eye. Her green eyes flashed passionately and she licked her lips showing a little glimpse of protruding fang. Rhiannon remember that Eveshka always liked that. The mixture of pain and pleasure. That was ever Eveshka's way. That was ever the way Rhiannon could control her. With her left hand she slipped open the loose fitting white ruffled blouse she wore. The roundness of her breasts became very evident from the cleavage so prominently displayed. Eveshka stood there shaking. Rhiannon ever was the object of her desire. And here was the flaming haired syren before her.

"Stop," whimpered Eveshka.

Again Rhiannon smiled.

"Worship me, Eveshka," said Rhiannon in Eve's ear as she kissed it and then licked a path down to her neck. Eveshka shuddered. All manners of tingles were coursing up and down her body. She so wanted to give in and worship her goddess. She so wanted to taste the sweet nectar of her passion from the velvety petals of her delicate flower. She so wanted to.

"Worship me, Eveshka, and I can make it all go away," whispered Rhiannon. "Worship me." Rhiannon licked a spot near Eveshka's collar bone and then bit into it. Eveshka moaned in exstacy and gently ran her fingers through Rhiannon's hair. "I worship you my Rhiannon," whispered Eveshka. Rhiannon ran her hands down Eveshka's perfect flanks and gently touched slipped her index and middle fingers down below Eve's waistband, past the soft strip of hair on her padenda, and onto her clit. Eveshka moaned harder as Rhiannon bit deeper into her flesh, drinking more of her soul. Suddenly Eveshka grew paralyzed as the blissful sensations moved up and down her. She could not fight. She could not physically resist. She did not want to resist. She wanted to please her Goddess.

A small voice screamed inside her mind. That of her regent Julius who had been trying to monitor her. It screamed "[i:7dcedc4d31] CREO INCINDIA!!! CREO INCINDIA!!! [/i:7dcedc4d31] She started to repeat it in her mind as Rhiannon drank from her. The words formed in her mouth but wouldn't come out quite yet. She envisioned the spell Cauldron of Blood. She had no idea how to use it at this point. She couldn't touch Rhiannon actively, she could only... touch herself? [i:7dcedc4d31] CREO INCINDIA!! CREO VITAE INCINDIA!! [/i:7dcedc4d31] Vitae incindia? Vitea incindia. "Creo vitae incindia," she murmured and cast the spell upon herself. Instantly a searing pain coursed through Eveshka's vains and into Rhiannon's mouth and esophagus. Eveshka had boiled her own blood and gotten Rhiannon off of her. The spell was broken as Rhiannon recoiled away from her. The Goddess' manipulations were also destroyed with the searing pain. Eveshka shook her head as the firey sensation died within her. She knew that she had damaged aspects of her body irreparably. It didn't matter, Rhiannon's diablery had been stopped.

"You stupid whore," said Eveshka. "You know they are only using you too. They want you out of the way Rhiannon." Eveshka used blood healing upon herself and stood up. Rhiannon, used hers as well but did not have the ability to soak the damage as well as Eveshka could. There were benefits to being an older and more powerful vampire. "Why else would they make you an Archon tasked with hunting me down?" Eveshka held out her hand and a ball of fire appeared in it. "They knew I would destroy you." She tossed the ball into the air and it dissipated.

"No," said Rhiannon, but her aura gave belied her certainty. Rhiannon scrambled backwards for her sword. Eveshka was quicker. She picked up Rhiannon's sword and tossed it onto the bed. Rhiannon drew her main gauche and jabbed it at Eveshka. Eveshka moved with the practiced speed and grace only centuries can give and moved well within Rhiannon's arc, ripped the blade from her hand. She spun around behind Rhiannon, still gripping her arm and plunged the blade neck between her larynx and her collar bond. The blade pierced her heart and Rhiannon dropped to the ground. Eveshka kicked her over so that she could face her. "You are nothing, Rhiannon," she said into Rhiannon's wide open eyes. "You are nothing. You are beneath me. I am a Goddess," said Eveshka. "You are a blasphemus wretch you common Scots mongrel. You were NOTHING without me. You are NOTHING, she screamed. Voices could be heard from the hallway. Her penthouse door burst open and the Rockstar and the Conservative came rushing in with guns drawn. "Guns?" mocked Eveshka. "You dare to attack me with GUNS? What utter stupidity are they instilling into my Clan?" She met the Rockstar head on using her celerity. She sank her teeth into his neck and started to drink. At the same time she grabbed his hand and using his own gun shot the Conservative point blank in the face. His head disappeared in a fine pink mist and his body began to rapidly decompose. The Rockstar shuddered once and then turned to bones in her arms. She let them drop to the floor with the macabre clatter of a child striking the plates of a wooden toy xylophone.

More footsteps issued from the stair well. Eveshka scooped up Rhiannon and calmly walked over to the door with her bag of memorabilia slung over her shoulder. Several young Toreador and a Tremere came bursting out of the stairwell door. "Stop," Eveshka said simply. They stopped and looked at her dumbfounded. She was their Goddess, how could they ever think to refuse her wishes. "Get a car," she said. They did. Eveshka went back into her Penthouse to the security station, the only one in the building, and took the tape out of the recorder, that was recording everything the small cameras spaced throughout the building saw, and did not put a new one in. She calmly walked down the stairs and to the lobby where she boarded a waiting Citroen. Any vampires or mortals in the lobby seemed to not notice anything out of the ordinary and actually forgot that she had even passed through. "Drive," she ordered. They did.

[b:053a96633c]Haus de Hexe: Two nights ago[/b:053a96633c]

Morathi was dressed in full black robes, her face hidden in the shadows of the robe's hood that was decorated with sigils proclaiming her as an Astor, she was facing two other Astors similarly attired, one male one female, recognising his voice She had identified the male as the member of the order that had recruited her in the ruins of her house in York after she had destroyed her own renegade Sire in an improvised Certamén circle. For the purposes of this tribunal the almost rumored agents of Tremere Internal discipline that some thought were simply rumor had manifested themselves in physical form to hear the judgement they would enforce...

Originally the Tribunal was to have been comprised by Twelve Pontifexes despite the deceptive title, so that Julius was to be judged by his peers. However Meerlinda and Abetorius had managed to see to it that the case was to be decided by the highest authority in the House and Clan, indeed they were both for separate motivations pushing for a Rogue verdict and had made no secret of it. Grimgroth was making it clear he was going to vote Julius Anarch. Etrius, one of the very founders of the Camarilla who had been aided and advised by Meerlinda on the matter was always one of the more cautious of the seven Inner Councilors. The three Astors silently watched as the Council of Seven met and started to debate the case...

[b:053a96633c]Touraine: Mont Louis Chateau: Two days later[/b:053a96633c]
A sleek high powered motorcycle slewed to a halt in the driveway, gouging a gash in the gravel that resulted in some of the guests of the Chateau to dive for cover as the ensuing storm of shrapnel flew past...

[i:053a96633c]"Sorry about that..."[/i:053a96633c]

The rider remarked in a tone that showed no hint of sorrow as she dismounted and removed her helmet, a dangerous glint from her emerald eyes silencing and stalling the angry guests in their stride. Morathi unhooked one of her luggage cases and proceeded to walk into the Chateau in her dark blue and black armoured leathers. A ghouled guard moved to intercept her, Morathi simply thrust her case at the minion winding him as he staggered back with it in his arms, his initial resistance to her enforced arrival finally crushed as she dominated him via eyecontact...

[i:053a96633c]"I trust my guest room is still available... Please inform the Mistress of the Chateau that Lucilla Troy has arrived and would wish to meet with her and Julius Darrant..."[/i:053a96633c]

Entering the guest room, she waved at the dominated gaurd to set about its errand and proceeded to change from her armoured leathers into her now almost trademark ankle length dress. She removed one final item, her sword 'Arataka'

The 'Wild Falcon' was a ancient katanta that had survived since Japan's Tokugawa Period, its already keen edge having been reforged and tempered by her magics to survive the uses she put it to that had never been concieved by its original creator. The Tsuba, the guard on the hilt of a katana was circular and patterned as if a falcon had spread its wings, the hilt the Tsuba protected had been rewrapped with wire instead of leather strips to conduct stored lightning from her body directly into the blade. Morathi carefully checked the ties that secured the blade inside its black sheath. It was her intention she would not need this blade this day, but she had no idea how Julius and Eveshka would respond to the Council's verdict.

That Julius was to be declared Anarch... That she was to be tasked as a watchdog to ensure House secrets were to remain secret and to act if they were not...

Deep inside Morathi wondered if perhaps this mission had been crafted by Meerlinda and Abetorius to ensure her destruction and tidy up loose ends in her role in their mutual dealings with Julius in the past, and simultaneously offer the ammunition to prove Julius a menace to the Tremere and Camarilla. Certainly they could not have been happy to have lost the motion to have Julius declared rogue by a single vote...

She mused a little regretfully the last time she had been here, Eveshka had sensed she had changed since York, she had been unable to reveal what she had become at the time. And now here she was ordered into a situation where she would practically be declaring what she was, that she had acted as Meerlinda's hand in Julius' escape from Cairo and that she had been Meerlinda's eyes and ears. She suspected her mentor would not be pleased to learn these things, but deep inside Morathi questioned herself as to if she could actually raise a blade to whom one she loved almost to the point of abandoning her clan for. Events and duty had culled such a choice from needing to be faced, but it had lurked, bided its time and now threatened to challenge her....

It was thus with some uncertainty of her future, Morathi prepared to face those she once called mentors, and may soon be compelled to regard as hostile. Inside her diamond heart the spirit of the Chinese Wraith cared little for the politics of the kindred, but could sense its host may be endangered by them, it bided its time and watched silently through Morathi's emerald eyes, it would not allow its host to be harmed by such petty squabbling...

((::cyber applauds:: brilliantly written Morathi...