Julius took Eve's hand in his own, gently supporting it with his fingers, while his thumb wandered in a delicate caress over the surface. The smooth slender fingers he knew so well, yet, as happened every time he touched her, the feel of her soft skin against his own filled him with wonder and breathless desire.

Taking the sapphire ring in his other hand, Julius looked deep into her eyes, the blue of them, encompassing the sky on a summers day, the deepest shades of lapis lazuli, the darkness of a storm at sea. Drowning, helpless, he slipped the silver band onto her finger, whispering of his love.

With a fluid movement, Eveshka scooped up the second ring, the star ruby and placed it on the tip of Julius' finger, pushing it into place as she intertwined her fingers with his and as their lips met, it was as though the higher powers of the universe stopped for a moment to watch. Long had they journeyed together, firstly in a joining of minds, later in a joining of bodies and now they both knew, the beginnings of a joining of souls.

Several hours later, the two "wedded" lovers lay entwined in each other's arms.

"Julius?" asked Eve.

"Mmmm?" came the reply.

"What do we do with Rhiannon?" asked Eve.

Julius blinked for a moment. He had forgotten about her in all the hubbub.
A Toreador Archon was not something you kept around as a hostage if you did not want the full weight of the Cammarilla pouncing down upon you.

"I want her, Julius." said Eveshka firmly. "I want her to worship me."

[i:bb9817a512] "Oh, boy," [/i:bb9817a512] thought Julius. "Well, there is always um... hmm."

"The Toreador have to be straightened out. They have to be cleansed. We must awaken them. [i:bb9817a512] I [/i:bb9817a512] must awaken them. This bit of skullduggery cannot be allowed to continue."

Julius nodded noncommittally, more of an acknowledgement that she said something rather than an agreement of the idea espoused.

"If we can get our hands on this god awful Relic, we could fix things. I know we could," she said.

Julius just listened and thought a bit before he spoke.

"And then what?" Asked Julius at length.

"And then what, what?" Said Eve, raising a puzzled eyebrow.

"You, or we, awaken your clan, free it from the bonds of [i:d9c658e90d]"The Tremere Witch"[/i:d9c658e90d] and then what?"

"I don't understand."

"Don't you? Clan Toreador, discovers it has been manipulated by my clan. Even if it's just Meer, will they care? It'll be a fucking war, Eve."

"I can't let it continue, Julius." Answered Eve, laying a reassuring hand on his face. "I know you understand, my love."

Julius laid his own hand upon hers, bringing it to his mouth and kissing the palm. "I do understand, of course I understand, but there is more to this than Clan Toreador. The rot is within my own clan, or rather, I should say, my House."

"Go on.." Encouraged Eveshka, intrigued.

"House Tremere has lost it's way, just as much as has Clan Toreador. We should be getting on with the business of being wizards. Instead..." Julius sighed and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling.

"Instead what?" Eveshka pressed.

Julius rolled back to face her, a grim and slightly pained expression upon his face. "You don't see it from the outside, for the rot is at the core. The apple is bright and shiny, but maggots writhe within. House Tremere is one big power struggle. Oh, it's officially frowned upon, but the real rule is [i:d9c658e90d]"Don't get caught!"[/i:d9c658e90d]. Backstab, betray, lie, cheat and assassinate your way up the layers of the pyramid. Lick the arse of your superior, unless you can conveniently remove them. Use your inferior, or anyone else upon whom you can somehow get some leverage. Meanwhile, the art lies dormant. When was the last time any Magus of House Tremere came up with anything really new? The thaumaturgy you and I both practice has scarcely changed in hundreds of years. Oh yes, there is always the new ritual, or occasionally some new path, but it's the same old stuff recycled. We live in an age of wonders, science, computers. We shouldn't be using magic to boil blood, we should be using it to split the atom! Does anyone think micro, or macro? Where is the magic to deal with the modern world? Magically enhanced machines, computers. The clan is stuck in the dark ages, unable to think outside the box and I'm sick to death of it."

"Some people love power, Julius." Eve said softly. "You love magic. The fervour with which you persue your particular art would put most of my Clan to shame."

"It was all a big stupid mistake, Eve. The whole thing. The price of immortality is eternal stagnation. It's not how it was supposed to be."

"And how should it be?"

"Vibrant and colourful. Wielding our magic for it's own sake, for the love of it. Learning all we can, researching, finding the secrets to the universe, manipulating it's laws, not for the power we think we can gain over another, but for the simple pleasure in a spell well cast."

Eveshka smiled. "Oh, my sweet romantic dreamer. I do so love you. You need to live in the real world, Julius. Human nature and more especially kindred nature does not subscribe to your utopian vision."

"I know love. Really, I do. There will always be those affected by greed, the desire for revenge, lust for power. For my own part, I plan to be the greatest wizard who ever lived, died, or in my case, both. Yet, still, I submit that House Tremere should first and foremost be wielders of magic, not a collection of power hungry squabbling children."

Eveshka laughed, the humour falling from her lips like silver rain. "Proud words from the man who is yet a childe to so many of his peers. How then will you set your world to rights, Julius Darrant. How will you and I, we two, save House Tremere from it's own downfall, even as we awaken Clan Toreador."

"I don't know yet." Replied Julius, but his eyes were aglow with a fired determination. "But there may be someone who does. I have been thinking about something you said. How people are not always entirely how they appear. Perhaps it is time to return to the beginning of it all and consult the progenitor."

"The progenitor, you mean Caine?"

"No, love. I mean to find Goratrix."

Eveshka's eyes flitted to the left side her eye sockets as she thought about the words he just said.

"The implications of that are rather frightening, Julius," she said. "What the hell would the Camarilla label us? Sabbat? Anarch? Abject Looney?"

"Somewhere between the latter two I should think," said Julius in a slightly sullen way. He looked up at her. "It's the only real chance we've got. It's only a matter of time before Meer and Madame Guil come looking for us. I suspect that Lucinde would have found a pretext to come long ago."

"Speaking of which," Eve mused. "Why hasn't she come? I wonder if Michelle sucked her ass dry before blowing up my house."

Julius snickered at the thought of that. He had use for neither Michelle (in reality Khemintiri the dreaded Setite anathema), nor Lucinde. And Eve's description of the gutted Chateau de Chenonceau as a mere house was ridiculous by any stretch of the imagination.

"Who cares," said Julius. "Getting back to Goratrix...." he added with a cough, bringing Eve back on track as it already appeared she was about to go off on an Evey Tangent.

She smiled indulgently. "Of course. So where do we go to hunt down your fabled wizard?"

Julius thought for a moment. "We should probably start in .... "

"Vienna."

"What a wonderful idea!" Enthused Eveshka. "We can go to the amusement park."

"Sure. After I've broken into Haus Du Hexe."

"That's not funny, Julius."

"I'm not joking love, that's where he is and we need him. I need him. I just hope he's worth the risk."

---

[b:a60fc3fe56][i:a60fc3fe56]Earlier[/i:a60fc3fe56][/b:a60fc3fe56]

Julius looked at his skull, wondering who the man was, who had once walked living upon the earth, with this skull, enclosed in flesh upon his shoulders. How had he died, was he killed, was he, perhaps a magus of old? Perhaps it was wise not to dwell overlong on such things. Whoever he had been, his dry bones were now a tool, a tool to be used for the magus who now commanded it's power.

A sigil is an ephemeral thing, a word with many meanings, symbols both material and arcane. Each magus had their signature, the flourish to their magic, perhaps the smell of flowers, lingering on the wind or the spark of colour fading as a spell completes. This was the true wizards sigil, not these amulets worn by the magi of House and Clan Tremere, but the signature of any given magus, as unique as a fingerprint. It was this sigil Julius would use in his quest, for he had encountered Goratrix before and knew the precise detail of the ancient wizard's sigil.

Through the use of his skull and the other similar devices around the world, with which the skull could interface, Julius would trace Goratrix, by means of his sigil. Where Goratrix used magic, something would detect it, something would remember where he had been and so, Julius could track him down and this is what he had done.

The problem was that the trail went cold. It seemed that Goratrix had stopped using magic. He had, apparently disappeared, disappeared in a place once familiar, now hostile to Julius for the trail led to the Haus Du Hexe.

---

"I hope so too, love. I don't suppose there's any chance of persuading you against this foolhardy mission."

"About as much chance as there was of me persuading you not to go back to Notre Dame. It's my turn Evey, for us both. Your clan and mine."

Eve nodded slowly. "Ok love. You do what you have to do. We'll go to Vienna."

"Thanks babe. I guess if there is any business you need to wrap up." Julius nodded in the direction of the room, in which Rhiannon still lay in torpor, "You should get it dealt with."

She was truly magnificent, and Gabriel found that he had nearly forgotten her full splender. But there she stood, watching carefully as the bellhops unloaded her bags with a pair of dazzling eyes. The whisper of her silken dress as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, the raven shalk of hair that cascaded down the smooth curves of her back. He took it all in, and it would've been enough to take a mortal's breath away.

She nodded to the bell captain as he set down a particularly large steamer trunk, the last bag of her luggage. One by one, the young sweating Italian youths filed out of the suite, eyes down. Gabriel suspected their persperation was more out of nerves than physical activity. Reading their auras, he confirmed his suspicions. A heavy mixture of lust and rimmed with fear.

The figure merely flashed a radiant smile, before slipping into the room, leaving the door open. Gabriel followed and found her sitting facing the window, where a darkened Vienna stretched out before her.

[i:575036c423]"Where've you been? Julius and I were beginning to think you'd left for good."[/i:575036c423] she said, not turning to face him.

[i:575036c423]"Sorry Eveshka, things got a bit...complicated in Iraq."[/i:575036c423]

Morathi was trapped in a sense...

As an Astor it was her duty to ensure Tremere secrets were not revealed wholesale to outsiders and to ensure the spirit, if not the word of the Tremere Oath was held to, she was not intended as the enforcers of the private politics of the few in the clan that officially even knew her true role in the clan, yet somehow she had found herself their catspaw in regard to Julius and Eveshka...

She sought to serve her House and Clan faithfully, it was that she served, not individuals, not Meerlinda's plots. She served the Clan as a whole as a guardian of its traditions, but did the current structure she protected still represent what her order existed to protect. For an Astor this was a dangerous doubt to even consider let alone ponder...

At just over a hundred years of unlife, she was a young Tremere for such an important duty, she like Julius was among the new breed in the clan that had been able to embrace the advances of technology that many older members in her House and Clan had not yet adapted to. As a mortal she had been a student of the science of ecology, that had taught her that the world was a collection of interlinked systems that meshed together, things that impacted one cog could have impacts elsewhere in the machine of life. It had also taught that things rarely remained a constant, things needed to evolve to adapt to the changes some subtle some less so...

House Tremere, she mused was no different, the flaw was that undeath had a certain habit of 'Stopping the clock' the older members of the clan rarely came to become replaced by the younger generations and new influxes of creative thought. The size of the clan had also radically expanded since its founding almost a thousand years ago and perhaps the peak of the pyramid was in need of restructuring to adapt. However such change had to be carried out within the spirit of the Clan's founding intentions, and it seemed perhaps these founding intentions had become lost or constantly reinterpreted over time, during the initial struggle to survive as a new player in the politics of the night, through the changes caused by the formation of the Camarilla and Sabbat until the House and Clan entered modern times...

Tremere code specifically ruled against Tremere using of magic to monitor other Tremere. In that regard Julius' accusation that Meerlinda had done so true or not had been vindicated by the Certamén circle, a code of legal precedent even older than her House and Clan. However like Certamén, the Astors had also existed since before the House had turned to vampirism, they had their own specialised rituals to monitor transgressors.

One of these methods was an indirect monitoring of magical activity. Thus Morathi was aware of the magical surge of Julius's skull interfacing recently with similar artifacts about the world even if she did not know immediately to what purpose, she was aware Julius had such a skull having seen it as his apprentice and Whip in York, and thus was aware of some of the resources within House Tremere Julius could now still call upon in exile.

It was like Julius' Magic Skull was the fly in a web of magic, Morathi's monitoring ritual, felt for the vibrations in magic travelling away from the skull via the web and through it sensed the locations the skull was interacting with as they in turn vibrated in response. Such artifacts maintained a record of the information they had sifted and this record could be examined if you had the right access.

Which Morathi did...

As an astor, Morathi had an equivalent level of access to that level Julius had possessed as a Pontifex, unlike him however she was still part of the loop and her authorisations were still valid. After a few favors promised or collected from a few other astors known to her sifting through the web, Morathi had reconstructed the ghost of Julius' inquiry. The topic itself was cause enough for some alarm but there was another worrying factor given Julius' anarch status.

Haus-de-Hexe...

The reconstructed searches seemed to point towards Julius narrowing his search there... Too many threads were interlacing at that single common point for comfort. Still Eveshka may have been able to use what respect her title as prince might afford her <For as long as the Camarilla still respected her claim to that title> to impair the efficiency of her Astor duties, but if Julius intended to visit the 'Home office' for some reason, Morathi was damm sure she would wish to be there as well in the wings to 'Observe' and within the confines of Haus-de-Hexe Morathi answered to no laws but those that the Order of Astors were founded upon...

"A bit complicated?" she asked Gabriel. "Oh my GOD, what happened to you?" Eveshka had just noticed his empty left sleeve. Gabriel gave Eveshka the Cliff's Notes version of the meeting with Ali.

"So," she said. "Ali has finally shown his face."

"You could say that," said Gabriel. "What do you know about him?"

Eveshka looked back out the window overlooking Vienna. She wondered where Julius was. She wondered if he had started to infiltrate the Tremere Head Quarters. "Well," she began. "I know surprisingly little about him other than that he's sent a few minions after me starting all the way back when I was Prince Rhiannon's Harpy in Cascadia."

"Prince Rhiannon," repeated Gabriel. "There's a name I've not heard in a while. I hear that she has become an Archon in your clan."

"Yes," stated Eve with grim simplicity. "I've also heard that she's gone missing already." Eveshka made her aura demonstrate that she was genuinely concerned and rather distraught that "someone" might have abducted Rhiannon. "Imagine, after all this time and after all that has gone on, I still care for the bitch," said Eveshka.

"Well," said Gabriel, being conned by the Methuselah Toreador. "Your devotion to her was, um.. legendary.. in Cascadia."

She smiled slightly. "You put it so diplomatically Gabriel."

"The Ventrue in me," he said.

"Of course," she said while laughing.

Just then Eveshka's private and, relatively secret and secure, phone rang. "Excuse me," she said to Gabriel and walked away from him. "Oui?" she answered, knowing it was Montcalm calling from Touraine. Gabriel decided to pry into her conversation and read her aura at the same time. He listened to them speaking in rapid 18th century French. It wasn't quite what he was used to hearing and the accent and grammar threw him a bit but he got the jist of it.

"I thought should know you, My Lady," said the voice on the phone. "Madame Guil and of the Council High were at place with Prince Delacroix in follow."

"Yes," said a nervous Comtesse de Touraine.

"The Primogen of advisory voiced his opinion on the issue of your Principality," he said with rising excitement.

"Yes, go on," she said, her voice gettign even more tense.

"They is deciding to remain under your rule. The Toreador of Touraine are with you My Lady," he said proudly. "Madame Guil had gived to be voiced her recommendation to the Council High that you remain the Prince of Touraine."

Eveshka's aura showed extreme excitement, elation, and pridefulness.

"What did Renee say?" she asked.

"Prince Delacroix was not herself pleased and said same to Madame Guil," he started. "Madame Guil did to be urged her to hold her tongue while in another's domain. She then asked me if I cared to hear Prince Delacroix' accusations."

"And you said?" asked Eveshka, who was now giggling like a gossiping school girl.

"I told her that I did not wish to hear any of Prince Delacroix' theories on My Comtesse's ruling abilities," he said.

"Thank you so much Louis," said Eveshka. "I owe you for this."

Their conversation continued for another moment and then she hung up.

"Sorry about that," she said to Gabriel, assuming that he did not understand the conversation.

"Not at all, Eveshka," said Gabriel.

"So, what are you doing in Vienna, Gabriel?" asked Eveshka.

The Haus de Hexe with it's laboratories, libraries, labyrinthine corridors, rooms, halls and galleries had not always been so grand. Over the years, since it had been taken as the [i:4fd2bcae5c]Domus Magnus[/i:4fd2bcae5c] of House Tremere it had been added to, modified, altered and bastardised, yet at it's core an ancient chantry remained. Before House Tremere left the mortal realm and took upon themselves the mantle of Clan Tremere a simple Covenant of Wizards had lived on this site. At the heart of the Haus De Hexe, the ancient chambers of those wizards remained relatively intact. The magical centre of the building, from which it's magical aura arose. Unchanged, lest interference break the fragile magicks which hallowed the ground for the use of Magi and hidden, secret, the final threshold over which only the highest ranks were allowed to cross.

Julius knew it must be there, delving in those records of tribunals ages past, which his skull still held, he knew that the Covenant had stood upon this site. His own intimate knowledge of the Haus De Hexe, gained from his previous high rank allowed him to build a reasonable floor plan. It was the blank space on the paper which gave the game away. In the middle of the Haus De Hexe were rooms he had never seen and it could only be there that Goratrix was to be found.

It was almost as if his fingers were guided upon the paper, his senses drawn to that unmapped spot. As though someone were calling him, he could feel himself being driven to take that step, to enter those most ancient of halls. It was a strange sensation, as though a father cried out to his son to return to him. As though his own need to complete his search was mirrored by the desire of the object of that search to be found. For a moment Julius was minded of his twilight, flying as a gull above the sea, but no longer simply revelling in the power of his wings above wind and wave, but rather as a seeker, flying to a moment of destiny.

Gaining entrance to the Haus De Hexe had been digustingly easy. He had never realised how poorly protected the outer margins of the Mother House were, until he had to break past the wards. They were unchanged and covering himself with the magical signature of a Tremere sigil was childs play to one who once created them almost daily. Covering himself with a cloak of invisibility would have attracted too much attention, so he simply used his art with finesse, gently guiding attention away from him. Those who saw him, simply looked straight through him, they might remember seeing someone walk past, but whoever it was, he couldn't have been important. In this house of Magi, subtlety was a far better camouflage than blatant displays of power.

In some ways it was comforting to stand here. The workings of the House and Clan seemed to grind on like some great clockwork machine. Clan Tremere could manage well enough without him, it seemed and yet, that held some regret, for it was this ancient and well oiled machine that Julius may yet have to ruin. Sometimes the only way to replace a machine with a better one is to break the machine. Break the machine and the habits that go with it, shake up the system to make way for something new, something better. Mayhap it would, in time, be Julius that threw his sabot into the machine of House and Clan Tremere. Time would tell.

Julius progressed deeper into the building. Past chambers where Regents held council with their Lords, libraries containing the deeper knowledge. Studies and laboratories in which darker, more secret projects were realised. Still, all too easy, no challenge, no complex wards to be overcome, no great and heavily protected magical locks which must have their power carefully bled away. Abruptly Julius stopped. With a flash of insight, he realised the trap. It was too easy, he was being suckered in. Getting in would not be the problem. They wanted to know his purpose here. The real trick would be getting out again, and in one piece.

Julius concentrated. He could feel two presences. Two distinct auras. One watched through the magicks built into the very walls of the Haus De Hexe, the other melted into the shadows as he turned. Both were familiar to him and both for entirely different reasons. He smiled wryly. There was nothing for it now but to continue on, find the object of his quest and then deal with the consequences.

The door to the inner sanctum, the final door, was of oak, bound with cold iron and framed in a gothic stone arch. The wood looked to have seen wind and weather, a testament, perhaps, to the days when it and not the modern exterior, had been the entrance to the building. Unlike the others, this door was warded and heavily. The slightest mistake would cause Julius to vaporize and drift to the floor as so much fine ash. This far into the building nobody came, save the presence which continued to shadow him. Thus, Julius sat down and began to meditate.

In his trance, the door appeared alive with colour. Streams of magic writhed and coiled about the lock, spreading to the extremities of the wood and iron. Sorting out the strands to find the key was like trying to find the odd one out in a plate of spaghetti. Yet, underneath it all was the original. As the building had not been altered, neither had the original magicks. Like the Haus de Hexe itself, a modern framework had been built upon an original core. Remove the core and the whole would collapse. Julius opened his eyes and pulled his skull from a bag.

"Online" said the skull, it's dead tones somehow appropriate at the threshold of a long dead Covenant. Indeed, the skull was contemporary with the ancient wizards who had once dwelt in this place. Much of their knowledge was locked away in this skull, a quality Julius was counting on. "Access tribunal archives." Julius told it, in Hermetic Latin. A glow appeared in each of the eye sockets of the skull and when it answered it was in a different, deeper tone, it's words also spoken in Hermetic Latin, but with an accent, the inflection of hundreds of years past.

Julius spoke in a tone clearly intended to reach the ears of the two who still watched, one magically and one standing just a few feet away. "Access wards for Vienna Covenant main entrance and disable." The shock from both watchers as the door swung open was, in a smug sort of way, gratifying to Julius, though it was still with some trepidation that he took that first step over the threshold into the ancient halls.

Within the layout was much as he had expected for a well to do Covenant. Quarters for visiting magi, the barracks, where the grogs, the armed guard of a Covenant would have dwelt. All in stone, finely carved, symbols and sigils vying for places amongst carvings of magical creatures on the walls. Upon the floor a thin film of dust, the air not stale, but undisturbed. Rooms not so much forgotten, but rather infrequently visited. Here too, the calling which Julius had felt was stronger, his footsteps now felt guided, drawn to the centre of centres. The innermost part of this innermost sanctum. Past the quarters in which the old wizards had lived, their laboratories and studies did Julius walk. Even the original library, doubtless filled with ancient works so rare and valuable as to be beyond imagining did not distract him from his driven purpose.

The centre of it all. The sacred heart of the Haus de Hexe. The wizards chamber. A plain round room, with stone flags upon the floor. A small fountain in the centre bubbled and played giving the room a pleasant humidity in contrast with the dry and dusty air of the preceding rooms. Next to the fountain a few bottles were stacked, glass bottles containing what seemed to be a glowing blue liquid. A few [i:4fd2bcae5c]pawns[/i:4fd2bcae5c] of [i:4fd2bcae5c]Aquam vis[/i:4fd2bcae5c] the raw essence of water magic. Perhaps it was this magical spring that had caused those ancient wizards to build here and still someone was collecting it's essence. Surrounding the fountain where chairs, placed in a ring, none more senior than the others. Seven in total, with an eighth and more elaborate chair set at the back of the room, opposite the door. It took little imagination for Julius to make a leap of insight, to see the Council of Seven sat in these chairs, with, perhaps, Tremere himself occupying the eighth. Even if this room had not been used for the Council's deliberations for some time, still the weight of the hallowed ground upon which he stood was not lost on Julius, who for a brief moment felt at once small and humbled, whilst at the same time somehow special and honoured.

In between the fountain and the door stood something tall and thin, covered with a cloth. Whatever it was that had been calling to Julius, it was hidden under this piece of red velvet. Slowly, almost formally, Julius drew the cloth aside to reveal a mirror, yet it was not his face that appeared in it. Rather it was the face of someone familiar to him, the object of his search, the reason Julius stood in this place.

"Well, it took you long enough to find me." Said Goratrix.

"And now I have to decide what to do with you. Both of you." Said a voice from the doorway.

"Hello Etrius." Said Julius, without turning. "I wondered when you would come."

Etrius walked into the room. "Leaving the House and Clan, betraying your oath is one thing, Pontifex. Then to force your way into here, to find him." He shook his head. "We should have declared you rogue, Darrant. As it is, you cannot be allowed to leave."

Julius prepared himself. "The cost of keeping me here will be high, Councillor Etrius. I know I cannot stand against all the magi here, but will you pay that price in order to hold me, or destroy me?"

The mirror coughed pointedly. "If the two of you have quite finished posturing, perhaps I might say a word or two?" Asked Goratrix.

"Anything I wanted to say to you, I said hundreds of years ago, Goratrix." Replied Etrius.

"Then you can listen." Goratrix sighed from his glass prison. "I sometimes miss our arguments, old friend. One more, just for old times sake?"

Etrius nodded. "It can do no harm. Neither of you are going anywhere. Once more then old friend." He said, accenting the last two words with a staccato punch.

"I remember." Began Goratrix. "I remember how you and I and Tremere and all the rest, how we were aging. Tremere especially. It must have been..." He paused. "...Yes, lonely for him. All the others who made the Concord of Durenmar had passed away, he had just crushed the house of Tytalus, who like him, had studied at the feet of Guorna the Foetid. His own longevity potion was failing him and soon he must die. We were all getting old Etrius and so we turned inward, when we should have looked outward. We should have passed on, giving our knowledge to the next generation, but no. Like all Magi, we foolishly closeted our knowledge and wisdom to our bosoms, desperate not to allow our apprentices to learn the greatest secrets of our hundreds of years of study."

Etrius feigned a yawn. "A history lesson, how... ordinary."

"Shut up and listen. I may never have the chance to speak again, so you can damn well listen to me this time. Remember that once we were brothers in our House and let me speak." Goratrix raised his voice in frustration.

Etrius waved a hand at the mirror non-commitally. "Go on then, let's hear the rest."

"We learned of Vampires, remember? We found that they were immortal. So, instead of using our twilight years to pass on our knowledge, we conducted experiments. Horrific experiments on those poor bastard Tzimisce, back in Transylvania. Taking them apart, using magic upon their blood, finding out what made them tick and finally, may God forgive me, I found a way to give [b:4fd2bcae5c]us[/b:4fd2bcae5c] a share in that immortality.

"And what did I achieve? Did I create a House of immortal Magi? No. I created a Clan of Vampires. Bastard offshoot from the Tzimisce, is all we really are. We scrabbled and ran from their persecution, their wrathful revenge for what we had done, our magic crippled, unable to use the forms and techniques and having to relearn to use what magic remained to us. This was [b:4fd2bcae5c]not[/b:4fd2bcae5c] what I wanted, Etrius. I did not wish for a life beneath the stars, walking as an undead creature, forced to feed upon the blood of the living. I wanted to live and instead I condemned us all to death."

Etrius shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "Where are you going with this oh so delectable dissertation, Gor?"

Goratrix shook his head. "Don't you see? Tremere wanted this. Wanted the power. This is his doing. He pushed me in the direction and I took him right where he wanted to go. To immortality and to the tomb of Saulot. Each time he has destroyed for power. Tytalus, Diedne, Salubri. Each time to further his own aims and damn anyone else. We're all pawns to the meglomania of one man, Etrius. It is not I who is the dark stain upon our Clan, it is Tremere himself. The cost of our immortality has been the end of our growth. Tremere has grown mighty and powerful, whilst we have remained much as we were. Unless we can break free of the shackles our vampiric nature has created for us, we will ever be nothing more. Our magic has dwindled when it should have shone. Eternity to study, eternity to learn. It has taken eternity simply to regain most of the powers we lost. Whatever we gained for becoming Kindred, it is a small compensation for what we lost. Look at me now Etrius. Look at what Tremere has done to me. The spirit of Salubri resurfaces, so Tremere steals my body and imprisons me in this glass. So much thanks from the great founder of our House to his oldest servant."

"And what do you expect me to do?" Asked Etrius, slowly.

"Let Julius walk away, of course and me with him." Replied Goratrix.

"I will deny this conversation ever took place." Answered Etrius. "If the Quaesitors find out what is going on, then Julius shall be named rogue and you both will be thrown to the wolves. Whatever you choose to do, I cannot help you."

"So be it." Said Goratrix.

"There is a secret passage, leading from here directly out of the Haus De Hexe complex, Julius, I suggest you use it. All three of you. Fare you well." Etrius turned and left the room.

"Three of us?" Asked Goratrix

"Yes, I'm afraid so." Replied Julius. He turned and addressed the shadows where the presence still hid, shadowing his moves. "Morathi, you can come out now."

Morathi smiled wryly, moving from her observation point, materialising like a ghost in white as a shimmer of jade light dissipated about her into a faint glint within her emerald eyes which studied the occupants of the room as the magical illusion cast about her by the wraith inside her heart faded...

The wraith itself had a certain sympathy for Goratrix's situation. It had once been a powerful mage until it had been ripped from its mortal body and encased in ice-cold diamond for over three thousand years, its magics used a toy by the Demoness Sulphur during this time until it formed a symbiotic bond with Morathi when she pulled it from the hands of the dead demoness. Thus the tale of another mage trapped within a mirror gained the wraith's understanding, even if trust was still far from being bestowed by the wraith...

[i:73776e27a5]"You knew your fondness for that Skull was well known to me Julius... Yet you still used it whilst you were aware I was watching... One might almost have thought you wished to invite me here.... Regardless here I am.... Now the question is where do we each go from here..."[/i:73776e27a5]

She gracefully waved a hand towards the mirror a sigil formed by flame being traced by her fingertip in the air presenting her credentials to the mirror's occupant, the firey symbol of the Order of the Astors lingered briefly then faded into nothing...

[i:73776e27a5]"We do form a most curious trio you have to admit Julius... And I'm sure you did not come to Vienna alone.... So are we to be gracing the company of a certain prince far from her home soon?... Or are you going to try and push me away like she did as well... Such needless conflict cannot be your purpose in seeking this one..."[/i:73776e27a5]

She motioned towards the mirror again...

The submarine cavern was expansive. At first glance it was nothing more than the stiletto sheath of a Conger’s lair. But as Porter swam deeper, he discovered a literal trove of treasures. A stash of gold, jewels and coins that would rival Ventrue himself. He explored, finding traces of Mariner Gangrel, and something else.

He settled on the cavern’s base and pondered the past few months since his untimely arrival in Cairo, to his abandonment in York.

[i:850e60c7eb]I’m not exactly finding my niche these days, am I?[/i:850e60c7eb] He grumbled, sending bubbles roiling to the submerged ceiling. There they collected, becoming a mass of mercurial silver.

[i:850e60c7eb]"Your niche? And what sort of niche are you seeking, little cub?"[/i:850e60c7eb] The voice. No not a voice, was definitively old. The words resonated with a power Porter rarely encountered these days. He turned, scanning the darkness with his keen vision.

[i:850e60c7eb]"Do not be alarmed child. Had I wanted to eat you, I would have already."[/i:850e60c7eb] The "voice" chuckled with an affectionate warmth.

The "speaker" or "thinker" as it turned out, emerged silently. Flowing from it’s vantage point with terrifying grace. It was a shark? Porter’s eyes widened, becoming sulphurous lanterns, bathing his host in unholy light. As he focused, the shark seemed to "blur" before the illusion was removed from his mind. Swimming towards him was a creature so loathsome, so inhumanly disfigured, yet so at peace with itself it could only be one thing...Nosferatu.

[i:850e60c7eb]"Who are you?"[/i:850e60c7eb]

[i:850e60c7eb]"As you are the guest, I believe you should introduce yourself first. Don’t you?"[/i:850e60c7eb]

Porter ground his teeth.

[i:850e60c7eb]"Most call me Porter. Of Clan Gangrel."[/i:850e60c7eb]

If the [i:850e60c7eb]Shark[/i:850e60c7eb] was impressed, it didn’t show it.

[i:850e60c7eb]"Well Porter of Gangrel. I am Crom One-Eye, of Nosferatu. Some once called me the Shark. I’m sure you can guess why."[/i:850e60c7eb]

The pair circled each other.

[i:850e