[i:31cf9fee87] April 2002 [/i:31cf9fee87]

In a vault under the Chateau de Chenonceaux a single red candle suspended above a dusty, but immaculately appointed, four poster bed flared to life. A form moved beneath crimson satin sheets. With a soft russle of fabric on fabric the form sat up and pulled the sheet from its head. Dark Brown hair hung in limp strings about an exquisitely formed face, reaching down to the soft mounds of her breasts, milk white like finely sculpted Cannes stone.

She slowly looks to the torpored form laying on her right. In a flash, razor sharp fangs elongated from her top row of teeth... teeth which sank into the sleeping flesh of her former regent, the Setite Kemintiri. After three years of slumber she had awoken with an insatiable thirst. Kemintiri's vitae merely inflamed that thirst. She drank deeply and savagely. She drank beyond the bounds of vampiric feeding and drank in Kemintiri's soul. Flashes of light, gnashing teeth, screaming and wailing. Bringing her hands to her head to block out the insanity, she screams. Images of pyramids, castles, balls, battlefields, lovers, foes and red mist creeping across the vast Russian steppes flit through her mind. With convulsions brought on by the torment of nearly 1000 years of existance she thrashes about her oubliette destroying anything that comes into contact with her. One by one the images disappear until all that is left is that of the red mist blowing on the winds from the west.

Like a forgotten ghost from a forgotten time, she moved through the moonlit trees around the chateau and headed toward the town of Chenonceau. Instinct took her to a ruined abbey half way between Chenonceau and Vouvray. As if out of a dream a large and beautiful long haired cat appeared and led her inside. She touched a metal ring that opened a door leading into the hillside and recoiled as if in pain. A memory of a terrible battle flashed through her mind. A memory of hiding inside this vault with a Cappadocian while the armies of England and France slaughtered each other in the countryside around the abbey. What was his name. She closed her eyes and tried to remember 30 lifetimes ago. She knew him, she knew he owed her a life boon still. She couldn't remember his name, couldn't remember anything apart from his wild eyes and hatred for the Catholic Clergy.

(( that being me hehe

Awesome post man ! I'll reply to it asap ! :) ))

((Hmmmmm that you Sor?

((nope, not Sorenti))

Three weeks later.....

A figure draped in a cloak moved along the darkened street, wet from the drizzle, next to the river Seine on the Ile de la Cite. It stopped and looked up at the top row of balconies jutting out from a penthouse flat. The figure pulled back a hood to reveal long dark hair meticulously styled. She looked up at the darkened windows and knew that she was home. A few cars passed her as she walked along the street circling the outer edge of the island. She walked into the small park behind Notre Dame Cathedral and saw a woman sitting on a bench staring at her.

"I knew it was you, Lady Eveshka. My man sent word to me that you had arisen," said the woman.

"I don't want to be her anymore," said the woman in the cloak with a hint of remorse.

The other woman laughed mirthlessly. "You have no choice, little sister. We are what we are."

"Did you awaken me Renee?" asked Eveshka. "I have no wish to be awakened." She looked around her with a mixture of revulsion, terror, and wonder. "I had hoped to just sleep through the final nights and never wake again."

Renee regarded her a moment and then with a degree of softness said, "I did not awaken you, nor do i know who did. Nor why for that matter. I DO know from the looks of your aura that "Michelle St. Clair" is no more. Although nobody will miss her, we still need to get your aura cleaned up."

Katherine stood up and held out her hand. "Come my tempestuous one, I have a ravnos who owes me a favour."

Eveshka took her hand and was led to the limosine in which Renee Delacroix, Prince of Paris, arrived.

"Let us hope that the wake of destruction you used to leave has been tempered with a bit more wisdom my Firebird. You are too old to be acting the school girl."

The driver closed the door behind Prince Renee, climbed into the driver's seat and drove off into the night.

(( Awesome post again man ! , im gonna add on it really soon hehe . ))

Several nights later...

At superhuman speed, two black clad figures flashed across the Pont Neuf and across the road on the other side. For the briefest of moments, both figures; shapely, lithe, and very feminine, stopped in the recessed shadows of an archway as if to communicate, then disappeared in a blur heading west towards the Louvre. Through the Napoleon Gate they raced, past the pyramid, and into the Medieval Louvre. With the grace and strength born of centuries of existance, the two Toreador women ran at a corner of the magnificent structure. They seemed to run up the wall, their feet finding purchase in small fissures of the ancient masonry.

Coming to rest on the roof of the Louvre over looking the Pyramid they crouched like two lionesses ready to spring at a moment's notice.

Eve looked over at Renee with an enormous smile on her face. "My god this is fun," she giggled.

"Well, what do you feel like this evening," asked Renee.

Eveshka looked over her shoulder towards the original area of the Louvre and then back at Renee. Renee looked at her, blinked, smiled, and both said at the same time, "Egypt."

Both women stood hunched over and made their way along the roof to one of the many skylights looking into Louis XVIII's former apartments.
They crouched at the edge and looked in using their heightened senses.
Beneath them was a regal bedchamber filled with Empire era appointments and Flemish tapestries.

With a coy look, Renee chuckled and said, "You are, I believe, familiar with that particular bed, non? Why else would you choose this particular skylight?"

"Renee, I'm SHOCKED that you would think me such a brazen hussy," giggled Eveshka.

"I never said "brazen"... you hussy."

Eve slipped her fingers under a lose tile and moved it aside to reveal a small latch. She lifted the latch and the skylight shifted slightly. Dropping to her knees she gently lifted up on the skylight frame and shifted it a few feet to one side to make an opening. Eve then stood up right and with a flamboyant, but completely irreverant bow, said, "Age before beauty."

Renee looked at her with mild annoyance but then opened her mouth and licked her teeth in a gesture that was too blatant to be sexual, yet still made Eve tingle. Renee dropped a length of rope down to just above the floor and slid down it into the darkened room below.

Soon both women were in the bed chamber and quietly made their way to the stairwell that was outside the adjoining room. After several minutes of careful and quiet sneaking, they made it into the Egyptian display. Both women looked from artifact to artifact with looks of complete wonder and awe.

"I'd nearly forgotten how beautiful this place was," Eve whispered.

"You don't need to whisper My Firebird," said Renee, who turned on the lights as if she owned the place, which, she did.... after a fashion.

A security guard walked over to Renee and handed she and Eveshka guidebooks as if two women sneaking about after hours in black spandex were the norm.

"Thank you Guillaume," purred Renee who turned to Eve with a mischievious smile. Eve looked back at her with a look of open astonishment then laughed.

"Why didn't you stop me from breaking and entering if you had the bloody key," she asked while laughing.

"Well, you seemed to be having such a wonderful time skulking about in the shadows and racing about in the dark, who was I to interfere," returned Renee in a singsongy voice.

There were several other Cainites walking about the museum, a few ventrue, a Tzimisce skulking about in the Northern Renaissance section, but mostly Toreadors. The two women chatted about the different pieces as they went from display to display. Both of them got to forget the horrors of their past, and indeed the horrors of their present as they glided from the Egyptian section, to the Greco-Roman section, through the art and architecture of the various cultures throughout the entire recorded history of mankind.

As the sky started to brighten outside, Renee led Eveshka down under the donjon of the Medieval Louvre to a secret crypt. "We can stay here Eve," she said. "This is a place that a select few can use if they stay here too long into the night. At present there is only one other staying here on a regular basis, and I believe she has turned in already. A lovely setite from America. That IS your flavor of the month is it not?"

Eveshka gave Renee a playful smack on the arm and the two syrens made their way hand in hand past statues and other artifacts from Renee's private collection. They walked up a small set of stairs to a door, passing a bed chamber guarded by an Egyptian sarcophagus standing against a pillar. A light was on in the bed chamber and sounds of rustling papers could be heard from within, but Eveshka paid it no mind for the moment, she was thinking about her own bedchamber and enjoying Renee in it for the next few hours before slumber took them both. The two went into the door at the top of the stairs.

((wonderfully written :)

(( Yep , some excellent writting man :) , good work on that ! ))

(( heres a small post , just wanted to bring Valek in at some point hehe , nice posting once again man :) keep it up its a damn great story ! ))

It has been a long time now that Valek's reign of terror was there , for many having another Cappadocian as Prince wasnt such a good idea , especialy Valek , once there was a time where Cascadia was seen as the city of wonders , ruled under Sorenti some time ago made this city well known amongst the Kindred society for it's " richness " , a few years passed , and some events made Valek step up to the throne , that is EXACTLY when this city turned at Valek's exact image , a living dead graveyard , quickly Cascadia was then told to be the Darkest city of them all , a place where many enters ... and never come out , these true rumours spread amongst the world , however the Ventrue's influence was still great in Cascadia , for the Seneschal Gabriel O'Brien was and still remain a Ventrue of great influence . Many doubts and questions were raised when Valek and Gabriel had to co-exist with each other as rulers of Cascadia , everyone knew how they hated each other at some point , they were certainly the greatest ennemies , it took some time but they finally learned to work as a team , it took indeed a long time too for them to co-exist , for they were like Darkness and light .

[u:ab26bdf819][i:ab26bdf819][b:ab26bdf819]Valek's haven , Cascadia[/b:ab26bdf819][/i:ab26bdf819][/u:ab26bdf819]


The haven was filled with demonic carvings , demonic screams and whispers were heard non stop , screams of the lost souls who were getting tortured , screams of humans who were getting mutilated , dead bodies of nuns and priests hanging everywhere in the haven . Over time Valek got more twisted , sicker , more evil , his blood was a river of hate flowing in his vains , in 1339 years of existence , Valek never stoped to fight the catholic clergy , killing each of them one after another , wether if it was by torture , instant death , or years of demonic torments inflicted to his victims ...

[u:ab26bdf819][i:ab26bdf819][b:ab26bdf819]In the dungeon [/b:ab26bdf819][/i:ab26bdf819][/u:ab26bdf819]

- Nun - " What gives you the right , you have no right over life ! Who are you to do so ! "

Valek smirked and said in a demonic voice

" I am war , I am pain , I am all you ever wanted to slay , I am tears in your eyes , I am GRIEF , I am LIES "

with those words said , Valek than slit the throat of the nun and said while looking at her dying

" Demons fly high , they circle above , carry your cross to your own doom , meet my hatred ! "

Valek's eyes turned pitch black as he continued to stab endlessly this already dead nun while screaming in a demonic way ....

(( Sorry this took me so long to reply. I haven't wrote in ages .. so this will probably suck. Sorry hun!


Kiya's eyes scrambled from paper to paper. Her hand moving vigorously as the pen marked line after line. The candle flickered as a slight breeze swept past the desk. Kiya's eyes quickly shifted up somewhat startled.

“I wasn’t expecting you so soon Renee.” Kiya stood, her chair scrapping loudly on the floor as she pushed it back.

“You know me, full of surprises.” Renee smiled slightly as she looked at her guest.

Kiya smirked. An obvious annoyance radiated from her. She took a quick glimpse of the other woman. Something seemed familiar about her. Kiya looked down at the desk. Papers were scattered everywhere, turning the brilliant mahogany desk into a pile of crumpled papers.

“I’m sorry ladies, I don’t mean to be rude but I must finish this before sun rise. If you will kindly excuse me.” Kiya swiftly swooped the papers into her arms and headed towards the door, nodding briefly to the women as she approached them. “If you need anything I’ll be in the upper chamber.” She smiled courteously waiting for them to part so she could make her way through.


(( Sorry this is so short. I'm not sure where you wanted me to go with this. I'll post again soon :)

(( It's an awesome post baby :) ))

[i:af230018a5] 16 May, La Club d'Escrime de la Tour d'Auvergne, Paris, France: 23:00 [/i:af230018a5]

Two women walked proudly onto opposite ends of the strip in the center of the salle. They wore the traditional white breeches and jacket of fencers. The taller, more shapely, woman had a tail of dark hair hanging out the back of her mask. The shorter, more cat like, woman had a braided tail of blond. Both women carried live swept hilt rapiers with immaculately roped hand guards of gold in their right hands. And a matching main gauche in their left.

The dark haired swordswoman brought her rapier up to point at the blond, then tipped the blade up in a salute which ended with the sword's blade tracing a stylized "E" in the air. The blond mirrored her movements down to tracing the same stylized "E" pattern. As one, the women assumed neutral stances, each rapier in a closed six position, and the main gauche cutting across a modified parry one stance, to protect the head from down cutting blows.

The dark haired warrior spoke in Russian in a cold voice, “At your pleasure, Maryushka.”
To which the the blond Maryushka responded in an equally icy voice, “As you will, Eveshka.”

They stood motionless for a few tense moments but for the tips of their blades slowly circling one another. With superhuman speed, the blond warrior flicked the Eveshka’s blade and made a thrust towards her left shoulder that was parried by Eve’s main gauche. Maryushka did not give Eve the chance to riposte and made an over handed thrust with her main gauche. Eve tried to parry, but Mary made a feint and circled the main gauche underneath the rapier at the same time dropping her right hand down and cutting across her own midsection to do a back handed thrust with the rapier in Eve’s eight while simultaneously continuing with the main gauche into her four. Only Eveshka was not there any longer. She had given ground smoothely. Doing a split, she dropped beneath Maryushka’s line of attack, parried the rapier cut with her main gauche and merely extended her rapier. Maryushka stopped just short of Eve’s rapier blade. It pressed against the canvas of her jacket, making an indentation, but did not cut her. They stood in this tableau for a moment.

“Analyze what just happened My Little One,” said Eveshka, now with a warm tone in her voice. She lowered her blade and brought her legs around to sit Indian style on the floor and took off her mask.

“I over extended, Mother. I thought that I saw an opening and went for it too soon,” said Maryushka taking off her own mask and sitting down next to Eve.

“Da, that you did,” she giggled. “I made the opening in hopes that you would try for it. You must keep in mind that not everything is as it seems to be.”

Maryushka nodded.

“A good fencer will be thinking at least three or four combinations ahead. This time…. Well didn’t get that far into it. You attacked like a Gangrel would Little One. The essence of the Toreador is finesse, grace, and above all, beauty. Think of it as a dance. Yes it is survival, but it is still an art.”

Eveshka stood up and held her hand out for Maryushka to grasp. “Let us try that again.”

Again they put on their masks and went to opposite ends of the strip. They saluted and assumed their en garde positions. Eveshka saw something move over Mary’s right shoulder.

“DUCK!!!!,” she screamed.

Without questioning, Maryushka dived and rolled as a scimitar sang through the air where her head had just been. Another scimitar flashed down and and was parried by Eveshka’s rapier. She did several arial back flips to gain ground and time to recover from this ambush. A hooded assassin, dressed in loose fitting black garments and wielding two scimitars, stood in the middle of the strip. Speaking in Russian to Maryushka, Eveshka told her to come from the assassin’s left side while she took his right side.

So the battle ensued… the assassin resisted all of Eveshka’s attempts to qwell him with Majesty. Both Eveshka and Maryushka resisted all his attempts to utilize Quietus and Dominate. It was down to sheer speed, precision, and strength of steel. The combat was too close for Eveshka to use any of her thaumatergical powers or to summon any souls with Mortis. Blow by blow, parry by parry it became evident to Eveshka that unless she could gain breathing space somehow their assailant would triumph over them. She had knicked him a few times, but over all, the two women were getting the worst of the fight. They both had gashes and slashes throughout their bodies. His scimitars were simply too strong for the slender rapiers. Both women had lost their main gauches within the first few moments of the fight.

Eveshka, still speaking in Russian, called out, “I need to get a bit of room Maryushka.”
She did a complete sumersault high over the head of the assassin and landed to the side and a little behind Maryushka. The assassin turned and attacked Maryushka with the full brunt of his fury. She valiantly stood against him parrying and riposting with her rapier, and using marital arts kicks to fend him off. One of the scimitars sliced through the hamstring of her forward leg and down she went. Her defiance gave Eveshka enough time to summon several souls that started to bear down on the assassin. The time was enough to save Eveshka, but not Maryushka however. At the same instant his one blade cut into her hamstring and she began to fall, he stepped inside her sword arc and spun around holding the other scimitar like a knife with the blade pointing down from the bottom of his palm. Maryushka’s head was severed in one clean motion. She never knew what hit her.

Eveshka saw this but did not react with any outward emotion; she still appeared calm and collected. Murmoring in Hermetic Latin she summoned forth flames into her outstretched hand and cast it forth towards the assassin. A veritable inferno rained down upon the assassin completely emolating him. Within seconds the flames had disappated, as they could not burn into the cold stone floor. Eveshka knelt down next to the pile of dust that was Maryushka and began to weep. She murmored through her blood tears, “I am so sorry My Little One, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

After several more minutes she collected herself again, took up both hers and Maryushka’s blades and put them into a bag. She then picked up the assassin’s blades and put them in the same bag. She put on her long trench coat and headed out into the Paris night while dialing Renee’s number to get a clean up crew to the fencing studio before the mortals got there.

Within fourty minutes she was back at Renee’s penthouse in St. Germain. She recounted the tale of the fight and Maryushka’s valiant sacrifice.

“Let me see the weapons,” said Renee.

Eveshka brought them out and laid them on the desk. They both examined them for a time and looked up at each other with the same puzzled look on their faces.

“Assamite, but not Muslim,” said Renee. “This one is not a soldier of Alamut.”

“That is the mark of Set just above the cross guard,” murmored Eve, as her finger traced over the etching.

((Excellent. Just like the replies in the Oderint thread, masterful!

((sheesh, you're not kidding frank. it's a real eye-treat to have these on the boards.