Robin’s Background
Robin was born to a Minor Noble mixed elf father and mother. Her father was silver/high elf and her mother was a silver /woodelf mix. It was an arranged marriage, as is normal in the Elven Court, with both parties having lovers on the side. On her father’s side she was groomed for the Court, on her mother’s she was taught the ways of the forest and of hunting. She never had money of her own as her father pretty much lived on his title and did little else. To keep up appearances he made certain his only daughter and heir had all the trappings of wealth and the education. Her only escape from the tedium was her mother’s trips into the forest where her dresses were set aside for clothing made of animal skins. Robin associated herself more with the wildness of the forest than with the formality of the court, but never did fit perfectly into either world.
On her 100th birthday, the age of her majority, it was announced that her mother was again pregnant, a pregnancy that would last a full two years. After the first year it would be found that the child was to be a boy. During this time Robin’s father began searching for a suitor for his daughter. Robin in the meantime became a close friend to one of his father’s Mistress’ and learned from her what the other meaning of the word was. She wasn’t strict with Robin but did teach her the ways of knots and cuffs. She was also a switch so Robin got to practice what she was being taught on her teacher.
Sadly Robin’s mother and the child she was carrying both passed away in labor. None of her father’s mistresses were suitable as brides so his search for a suitor for his daughter changed focus to a search for a new bride for himself. Robin in the meantime grieved for her mother and lost little brother. She spent more time with her favorite of her father’s mistresses and wandered the forests on her own.
Ten years later Robin’s father found his bride and brought her home. At first she was sickly sweet and gave Robin an uneasy feeling. Shortly after his marriage she began finding fault with his various Mistresses and began having him send them away, Robin’s favorite lasted the longest. Even though Robin was twelve years into her adulthood her new mother tried to restrict her and make a proper lady of her. Robin spent more and more time in the forest, even venturing beyond into the lands of the humans. Although she still made the required appearances in court it was curiosity and adventure that became the ruling forces in her life.
When Robin turned 125 years old it was announced whom she would marry. He was a pureblood High Elf. He was polite and kind while he visited their lands but after overhearing a private conversation between he and her new mother about how he would tame Robin’s wild spirit, Robin decided it was time to leave. It was early fall when Robin said goodbye to her father and slipped quietly out of her father’s castle following the animals migrating to the south. She left her Elven name behind and took on the more human name of Sleydon.
One of her first encounters was with the City of Tharna where she tried to embrace her sub side. She was told she was good at heeling, but that very quickly became boring so she left. She soon found herself at a playground aptly called ENSLAVED where she met JW Randt. He taught her the ways of the collar and tried to help her find the Mistress she as looking for by having her stand and wait at some odd place she had never heard of and probably could never find again. So she went back to ENSLAVED and met Daniel Wonder who helped her learn the wonders of RLV.
It wasn’t long after that she ran into Stevie Hanly who introduced her Toy Ceriaptrix, who Robin now lives with and refers to as Mistress Toy. She also met a catman, named Jisper. They became fast friends and Robin began looking at him as her over protective little brother. She began emulating his look to some degree, using magical ears, tail and now whiskers. He introduced to ways of the vampires and she became a Blood Doll in the clan known as The Damned Sinners.
"Jisper and I were friends before he became a Blood Doll with The Damned Sinners. He got me interested but at first it was purely curiosity. I had a fear of vampires because of a number of unsolicteded bite attempts, especially at the freebie shops I frequented.
One particular day while I was with Jisper a vampire tried to bite me while I was rezzing at Sarah Nerds. I reported her to the site manager, but wanted to tell her what I had done. Unfortuneatly we did not speak the same language so Jisper look up where to get a language translator. As we were rezzing there another vampire made 6 or 7 bites attempts. I reported him as well. It was shortly thereafter that we ran into a noob Halo Aries. He wanted a girlfriend because he said he never had one. I told him I would not be his girlfriend but did friend him and gave him a LM to a place he might be able to find one.
Time went by and I heard from Halo infrequently though IM, but never saw him. One day I was introduced to Jisper's then liege Kimmie Snowpaw. She was very pretty and we hit it off well. I showed her some of my favorite places and we played with some of the toys there. She wanted to know about collars so I took her to the Temple of The Collar. Halo had IMed me several times and want to see me. I asked Kimmie and we though that woth her being a vampire we might be able to scare him off.
I TPed him in and right away I knew something was different about him, someone had done an extreme makeover. I told Kimmie he looked different, and right after he tried to bite me. Then he tried to bite Kimmie. I asked him why and he said he wanted a girlfriend. Kimmie was bringing in her fiance, Grim, while I was telling Halo off and unfriending him.
Grim arrived with two others and Grim pulled out some sort of weapon and used it on Halo. I started IMing some of my friends as the site manager came on and warned both Grim and Halo that they both better knock it off or be ejected.
Things settled down and one of Grim's friends asked if it worked and Grim replied "yes."
Jisper arrived and then Orkella, now Mistress Orkella, I think in that order, but I can'rt remember. I thought the two that came with Grim were members of the Damned Sinners, but Jisper remembers one of them asking Grim if he was going to ever play Legacy again. Anyway the most important part of this was Grim asking me to become House Bitch for his new castle. This didn't sit well with me as I had started out in Gor and have no plans on going back, hated it there. I told him I felt kind of bitchy but really didn't want to. The site manager was still on and said "poke her with sticks till she decides."
I asked Kimmie a day or two later about what Grim thought and was told he thought it was cheating.
After that I was invited out dancing with Kimmie and Jisper but their was no real talking except between jisper and myself. So I began looking elsewhere for a soul guardian, as I thought Kimmie was leaving the clan to go with Grim I didn't want my soul going someplace else.
Awhile later I met Phill, who I had head nothing but good things about. When I met the King later that weekend Jisper went into the room with me to fill out 'the form' and Phill kept in contact though IM. King Austin said he mostly wanted to know my skills and what I wanted to learn, but kept grilling me about my profile, he didn't like the term owned in it. He told me at first I had to change it, but Phill jumped on that as a freedom of speech issue and it was the first thing that got "fixed." King Austin also told me the clan was not a dictatorship.
Later I chose Phill as my soul guardian because he had helped me protect my profile. Jisper was set as my liege, because at that time he had been told that even a Blood Doll could be a liege. Kimmie, who I had been hearing less and less from IMed Jisper asking why I had chosen Phill over her. Jisper told her it was my choice and she expressed dissapointment.
Later that day day, then, Princess Mirit sent out a notice stating that it was the choice of the initiate who their liege and soul guardian are, basically backing up what was in the covenant that had helped me decide on The Damned Sinners above other clans I had looked at.
The next day, Princess Frey sent out a notice of her own stating that the person who brings in the initiate and works for them is to be their soul guardian and liege. In my case Jisper had been the one to work to get me, certainly not Kimmie, but being a Blood Doll he couldn't take my soul.
Not long after that a decision was made that Blood Dolls could not be lieges even to other Blood Dolls, but was told that if he became a Vampire that he could keep me. This upset Jisper a great deal and for the next few days he was just miserable. He was thinking about becoming a vampire, but did not want to be forced into it in this manner. He was depressed for days.
Monday June 1st, the day before my turning ceremony Queen Ronnie IMed me out of the blue because Jipser had spoken with Alonzo and Phill.
[16:28] ronnie17 Burnstein: i know i did it agine, but i need to deal with this is he with you
[16:29] Robin Sleydon: How so? Who, Jisper? Jisper is here. We are by the fire. Would you like a TP?
[16:31] ronnie17 Burnstein: yes pls
I teleported her to where Jisper, Christina and I were on the beach. She opened up her voice chat which Jisper can't hear. Then she IMed him. During and after the conversation Jisper was asking me in IM what was said over voice chat, because he could see the animation moving. I told him the truth repeatedly that she said nothing ove voice chat that it was static and her kid in the background. We went to ENSLAVED and there he gave me what she had told him in IM.
[16:31] Jisper Darkfold: My Queen, were you looking for me? I'm sorry I am upset by this.
[16:31] ronnie17 Burnstein: its ok. lets talk
[16:32] Jisper Darkfold: please.
[16:33] ronnie17 Burnstein: what about this upsets you hun
[16:33] Jisper Darkfold: The notice from the meeting. the fact that my Liege hadn't seen it. the changes about the Blood Dolls
[16:35] ronnie17 Burnstein: yes well you and your liege were invited to meeting and nothing will be dif as blood doll you are human so thigs are dif but its ok and as far as info you get it soon as possable
[16:35] Jisper Darkfold: I had rl work. I could not be at the meeting at all. So do I lose my minion?
[16:35] ronnie17 Burnstein: and thats fine this is how sl works. its hard to get everyone at once your welcome to go vamp if you want more to do in the clan we all like you here everything i do i do to better this clan. blooddolls dont have minions what do you mean
[16:37] Jisper Darkfold: Robin is my minion. I was told it was Ok long before I brough her in.
[16:39] ronnie17 Burnstein: ok look as bad as this sound s i am queen and i know how this works and you cant have miniond unless you are vamp someone guided you wrong. and sometimes things do change. and things have i am sorry your upset but you need to trust what i do is best for all
[16:40] Jisper Darkfold: So to keep her I must change all the way?
[16:41] ronnie17 Burnstein: yes are you put her under your liege. i will help you all you need sorry for the confusion. as a blooddoll you are not in the bloodline games there for things work dif that is bloodline not just our clan all
[16:45] Jisper Darkfold: She is listed on the website as my minion though, so I need to know exactly what is expected of me here.
[16:47] ronnie17 Burnstein: so are you sayen im not being truthful because yes you will see her but as the liege to minion line works it messes it up some clans dont even have bloodolls. as a blooddoll you are well lunch. lol and family
[16:47] Jisper Darkfold: No, I"m asking how to fix this
[16:48] ronnie17 Burnstein: well she goes under your liege and you do same as you have stust no minions unless you want to go vamp you would be a good vamp. so respectfuly except rules is all i ask
[16:50] Jisper Darkfold: Yes, my Queen. But it is difficult when the rules change in the middle of the game. What I was told has ended up being not what is. I want to fix this. I love this family
[16:51] ronnie17 Burnstein: ok then. would you like to go vamp so you can have minions and bite and collect souls and be in group are do you want to be a blooddoll? and jisper we love you as well and pls trust i only do what best for all
[16:53] Jisper Darkfold: I must speak with my liege. this impacts her too.
[16:53] ronnie17 Burnstein: kimmie
[16:53] Jisper Darkfold: Yes My Queen
[16:54] ronnie17 Burnstein: needs to speak with me also before yall go any further and yes you should but im top liege and it wont change anything
[16:55] Jisper Darkfold: It will change my decision, should she need me still as a feeder.
[16:56] ronnie17 Burnstein: i understand. you better you get it
[16:57] Jisper Darkfold: I understand perfectly. I don't think I like it all that much. but I do understand.
[16:58] ronnie17 Burnstein: well as a clan its better you should be happy about whats best for your clan and if you cant respect my rules then your in wrong clan
[16:59] Jisper Darkfold: Oh, yes. I do respect them.
[16:59] ronnie17 Burnstein: ok then be happy and do whats best for you. and if you need help come to me
[17:00] Jisper Darkfold: Yes My queen
[17:01] ronnie17 Burnstein: and jisper ty for your time hun
[17:01] Jisper Darkfold: Thank you for yours My Queen
[17:01] ronnie17 Burnstein: i really think you would prefer vampire role myself
[17:02] Jisper Darkfold: I will need to think long and hard about it.
[17:02] ronnie17 Burnstein: shur, and as bloodoll you are very needed also so think about it human are vamp ok
[17:03] Jisper Darkfold: Yes my queen
After this I realized how much we had been lied to. It was a dictatorship, and the covenant that helped me to decide on this clan was not worth the pixels it was made of. I had tried to play by the rules and the rules had failed, I was angry and that she had called my liege and every other Blood Doll "lunch" was more than I could stand after what they had put us through. Jisper and Christina begged me not to but I IMed the Queen who had gone offline.
[17:24] ronnie17 Burnstein is Offline
[17:26] Robin Sleydon: Kimmie may be leaving the clan, she asked Jisper if he would join her and I was offer the exhalted position as House Bitch by the charming Grimoire himself. I have been jumping throuhg one hoop after another, first with my profile and then with who I chose toguard my soul and after all this I am called Lunch. For a group that desipses slavery you sure have a funny way of showing it. I will be at Fairy's turning tonight but I may not be at my own tomorrow, I support my friends.
[17:30] Second Life: User not online - message will be stored and delivered later.
It wasn't long after the I was called in to see King Austin. I did not save the conversation that followed. King Austin Queen Ronnie Kimmie and Jisper were there. At first I tried to apologize and I remembering saying that what I had said I was responsible for and didn't want to get anybody else in trouble. Austin said nobody was in trouble. I blurted out the offer Grim had made. Much of the rest I don't remember, but King Austin stated that I had two choices, to either take Kimmie as my liege or leave the clan.
I stopped typing and trying to explain. I opened my inventory and got am LM prepared. I closed inventory and went into groups I switched my tag from damned Sinners to ToyTrix Trouble. I reopened inventory and made sure my LM was highlighted and I typed in local "I choose to leave." I was ejected before I could use the LM.
Fairies turning was posponed and I stayed away from the Sinners land though I kept in contact with some of the clan members. I started comming on at my RL lunch break trying to compose a letter of apology to Queen Ronnie. Alonzo invited me to come to the SIM for Fairy's turning. I did, hoping i wouldn't be noticed, very few people were there, and I stuck out.
The next day I found I had been banned from the SIM.
The day after that I completed a very simply apology to Ronnie and sent it, Alonzo also wrote to her stating that he had invited me to Fairys turning because I had promised her I would be there and the ban was lifted."
She straddles two worlds her soul literally belongs to Jisper but her heart belongs to her human Mistress Toy, her Demon Mistress Orkella, her dear friends Coco and Thelma and her Kittens Natalie and Lise and .of course, she cannot forget her snotty sis Stevie who always keeps her life interesting.
... More to come.
Saturday, November 3, 2012
Monday, March 19, 2012
Lyre's creation, Ishani, was the one who brought the Doll Maker to the BellaMorte. Having been but a dream which blossomed into reality those who know her find she is highly worth protecting. Today Ishani is a Dame in the clan, an friend to many, and valued beyond measure. Here is her story...
Ishani's first memory was a feeling she learned to associate with heaviness in the part of her body that was called her chest when the organs she learned to call lungs struggled to pull in something called a breath. What had happened before that was a haze. In truth it was just an impression of a floating colour with no real memory or reason to it. So she considered the memory of her maker leaning over her, rubbing her chest, coaxing her to relax, to take in a slow breath her first memory.
Her maker relaxed after her creation had been made. After all, Arai's work was done. The pinnacle of being was to draw from the void and to make it life itself! “Ishani,” she whispered into her creation's ear those first few moments, breathing out the desire that she had poured into this thing that lay soaked in alien experiences, struggling with full adult comprehension to understand what a child slowly evolved to through its life. “Ishani,” her creation whispered back, accepting that as her name rather than her reason.
The weeks were exhausting for Ishani as Arai sought to teach everything she thought important, while her doll wished nothing more than to engross herself in the world which surrounded them. “But why?” she asked her maker one day while Arai struggled to slip her into a long flowing loose gown. “Because people do not simply walk around all day that way.” It made no sense to Ishani's mind that clothing should be so important when they spent so much of their day naked, close, touching with nothing to inhibit them. This she seemed to enjoy the most: To be touched and caressed by her maker. Just the thought caused a thrill in her body. “All right,” Arai would finally sigh.
When her maker was busy with other things Ishani would venture through the forest which surrounded Arai's retreat. Like an island they were buffeted on all sides by wide expanses of trees that Ishani enjoyed visiting every day. And though Arai could understand her creation's extra touch to the world around them, often catching her conversing with an willow or singing with a brook, Ishani felt that somehow, in a way she could not understand herself, it was something that her maker could not experience of her own. So she'd return, body coated with drying mud, bits of leaves stuck in her hair, smiling at the twigs she brought, or the water that dripping out of her cupped hands, laughing and singing the songs and words she could hear and understand, spilling her joy into her maker until even Arai was laughing with her.
“Stay out of the forest,” Arai warned her one day. Her voice was hard. It scared her doll as she watched her maker dress and bunched up the sheets that they had lain beneath the night before to her body. “There are humans there,” a concept Ish only understood as an added warning, though she didn't truly understand what a human was.
Arai turned back to see the fear on her Ishani's face. “I will be back in a couple of days, Love,” she said with a brush of her fingers and a kiss on the lips she had molded so softly perfect.
Ish did not know what else to say except to whisper “my Hart” to her before her maker locked the doors that had never been locked, and bared the gate that had never been bared, then vanished through the trees.
But it was not a few days before she returned...it was a couple of weeks before Ishani's nerves (something else that was new to her) were frayed enough with worry (a thing that she had not experienced, and had no one to guide her through understanding) drove her out through that locked door, and beyond that bared gate. Fear gripped her throat as she wondered through the forest, through the trees that whispered but seemed to fear speaking, past the brook that babbled in a way that made Ishani's stomach clench as she followed the strange noises that hurt her ears and disturbed her mind.
From the edge of the forest the humans had been working their way in: Cutting trees, clearing paths, burning the stumps and destroying the land. The sight caused Ishani to scream and her eyes to instantly tear as she rushed from the forest, throwing herself against a man with a raised ax, beating on him wildly as she continued to scream to make him stop the killing that was crying out to her. At first he didn't seem to know what was happening as he ducked himself. Then he heard someone yell “Elf!” Another yelled “Get her!” He dropped his arms, felt her hand bounce off his shoulder, smack into his face, heard her scream more as someone grabbed her from behind, watched the bareness of the lithe thing struggle in the grip of one of the other workers, slipping out of them like a greased eel, dart away again while he stood there stunned, watching the others chasing her.
“This way!” someone screamed as Ishani fled in terror. They were monsters! MONSTERS! Monsters destroying her friends! “Over there!” She moved lithely through the forest, the ease of passage by such common knowledge of her surroundings while her pursuers crushed through and cursed as they tripped. It was only a moment of glancing back, of her long dark hair catching in her face, and suddenly there was a mountain in front of her, arms that gripped her not with the loving embrace that she was use to her from her maker, but a harsh grinding that did not let go as she struggled and cried and was carried back to their camp.
Inside a cage she cried, gripping the bars, then releasing them again, hating the taste the harsh metal left on her palms. As the day went the men found excuses to come by and look at her, look at the nudity that she didn't even bother to cover up, growling things that she couldn't understand to one another, laughing and making gestures she didn't understand.
It wasn't until night fell that the worst they could do came to her. And she stopped struggling, stopped fighting them after that, as they cleared more of the forest, then began truck back the timbers they had collected, leaving the scared ruins behind them as they carried her in her cage, sometimes making her walk with a rope around her neck, loosing interest when she just laid there and refused to speak or fight again. In the city, hustling and dirty, she was sold to a merchant, put on a boat, cast away, feeling the drifting of the water making her head ill. It did not sing the way the brook did back home. The creatures here did not converse the way she was use to. And the wood that surrounded her was dead and lifeless now, which made her cry as in another city she was clothed in material that didn't even hide her nudity, and was traded around like a sack to people who did to her until the pain excited a pleasure that made her weep.
“Put her down!”
A tall woman stood in the door way. “She's mine,” was all the more she said before she jerked Ishani's filthy form from the man who growled and grumbled behind them that he wasn't done yet. Practically being carried by the woman they left the hovel that was considered an inn in some port that Ishani didn't even care the name of. Nearly lifeless she felt the hands that caressed her. Calloused fingers like the men and women which had abused her for so long now, which made her flinch despite their gentleness.
For how long they traveled she wasn't certain. But at last she raised her head and looked at the world around her. “We're almost home,” her companion said from beside her while fingers played across the skin that was soft once more. “I am Tea,” she said. Ishani looked at her, saw the soft smile, felt her body tingle in response to the touch, then jerked when the wagon hit a bump. “Its okay,” she whispered, rising to pull Ishani back as she startled and look about. Turning back Ish allowed herself to be pulled down into the embrace that awaited her, to settle next to the warm skin that was so like her maker's...but still alien because it was not.
The castle on the lake boasted a broad expanse of land that allowed many cottages to rest comfortably beneath its protective shadow. Almost immediately Ishani cold feel a relation in her body as she felt the earth beneath her thrum with life. Around her body clothing had been draw, and she did not fight them this time, but relished in the way they hide her, even as light and airy as they were while she was lead to Tealeaf's cottage.
“This is our home.”
Inside it was nearly empty: A couch and a table, a winding stair to a short tower above that lead from a small bedroom, another room that was curtained off, closed away. “That is my daughter's,” Tea told her, stopping with a hand to keep her from parting them and looking. “Amadine prefers her privacy.”
The days were long and complicated as Ishani struggled to adapt to her new way of life. So use to kneeling either because she was thrown into a small space, or forced for someone's enjoyment, she only slowly learned how to stretch herself out again. So use to the rough touches and heavy assaults it took her a long time to trust the touches that came so softly and coaxed her so gently again, bringing her back from the horrors that would never leave her, but, she was promised, were over at last. It became a happy time for her, of laughter and silly awkwardness as she learned how to be something besides an animal again.
Then it happened. No one knew how...or at least no one admitted it. Tea was found dead, her body hustled off to be taken care of while her daughter clung to Ishani, revolving from broken pain to hatred that her mother would leave.
“You're welcome to stay,” the lord of the land told her when he visited a few days later. “We can find you another home if you prefer,” he said, seeing the hearth filled with only dust and ashes, leaving the room cold and dark. “Anywhere you prefer,” he added with an eye toward Ishani.
“No,” she answered. “This was her home.”
Ama bound back easier than Ishani did. With friends in the castle and the other homes she found distractions and support to help her mend. But Ishani did not. She kept to herself, went through the motions of day to day life, taking care of the girl who seemed to disappear more and more often to become a stranger to her again.
“You can't live like this,” someone said. A voice that she barely recognized anymore.
“Its the only way I can,” she said in one that she recognized even less.
It was months later that the lord came again. Amadine gone with his daughter, his wife out on some excursion, he invited Ishani to the castle, to see a room he had been decorating. A special room that he wanted her to see.
The castle was large, white, pristine. Inside everything was light and airy, welcoming as with open arms. Balls were held here, banquet feasts that everyone was invited to. It was not merely the lord's home, but a place built for everyone to enjoy. She had seen it often in the time she had lived here: From its tower and its grand bedrooms to the balconies that circled the upper floor. But as he lead her down a secret set of steps she realized she had never been this way before. A weird sense of excitement at being some place new shrugged off the melancholy that had wrapped itself around her, choking her off from the world. “Close your eyes,” he told her as they came to a door. She could hear it creek ever so softly as it was pushed open, felt him guide her in and close it behind them, smell the candles burning...along with something else that was familiar to her that she couldn't quite place.
Suddenly he was behind her, his hands on her shoulders, caressing her, his lips brushing through her hair to her ear, telling her she could open them again. The touching felt so nice, so welcoming in a way she hadn't felt for months that she realized it was a need that had grown deeply inside of her, and for a long moment she refused to open her eyes while she turned her head and allowed his lips to caress her smooth neck, and his hands to pass away the simple clothing she was wearing. When she did they were blinded by the candles, hazed over while he turned her around, pushed her backwards, his body blocking her view this time as he pulled her arms up and attached them to something over her head.
“I knew you'd enjoy it,” he said, taking her long silence and lack of reluctance to mean her eyes had taken in the view of the room. As he backed up and began to remove his own clothing he continued. “Your Mistress enjoyed this room, too. Enjoyed it willingly and veraciously, so I knew you would as well.” He was naked, his body ready, pointing at her stunned form as he walked back again and her eyes darted about the space before it was blocked again from view: The whips on the wall; the padded bench across the way; the chains that hung down, and other things she did not even recognize as he blocked her view for a moment and his head lowered down, caressing her body again, making her shiver and tighten.
“That smell...” she whispered.
“Yes. They enjoy it, too,” he muttered against the flesh of her shoulder. “Like mother, like daughter,” he said as his hands caressed her body.
“Let me go,” she whispered. When he didn't stop she said it again, and began twisting her body to get him to stop. To him it was a game as he pierced her and listened to her scream, thinking her body couldn't betray what she was really feeling. Through her tears she saw the devil that he was this time, and felt him abuse her in a way that she had been promised would never happen again.
When he was through he released her, smirked as he watched her escape only half clothed.
At the home she found Ama again. “We're leaving,” she said as she began to pack things.
“Why?” Once that question has been so common to her own lips, but now she thought how frustrating it must have been to her maker.
“Because I know what he's done.”
“What?”
Ishani stiffened. She didn't want to stay it, even as she didn't understand how. Didn't to turn around while she spoke. “I know what he's done to you.”
“Who did what?”
Finally she did. Slowly. Looked at Amadine standing there with a mixed look that Ishani couldn't read, but didn't like at all. Dropping the things she held she crossed the room, knelt and wrapped her arms around Ama's slender form, held her the way she wished someone could hold her now.
“I know what the Lord did to you.”
“What?” Ama's body stiffened in Ishani's hold. “He hasn't done anything to me!” she said.
“But he said...” Ishani pulled back, wanting to see Ama's face, and saw the lord's daughter standing half wrapped in the curtain that closed over Ama's room. “We're all leaving,” as she realized what the man had really said.
She tried to tell everyone before she left. But it was useless as she bundled up Amadine for a journey she wasn't sure how they would take, and was forced to leave the other girl behind. “We'll come back for you,” she knew Ama had said. But they couldn't...and never did.
In a new city the world seemed to have changed. “Its just temporary,” Ish said when she mistook Ama's sulkiness for the small space they were now living in: A modern building that felt too cold and lifeless for her while she found a job and did what she could to support the two of them. “Its not much,” she admitted when things were skimpy, but was felt relieved when, at last, the girl was adopted by a friend. “She'll be better now,” she thought to herself.
“You need a good night out.”
The voice came from one of the girls she worked with. It had been a while that Ish had been here, hiding her ears the best she could in long loose hair, making it work with her career as best she could so no one knew she was an elf.
“Come on,” Titanna said, when Ishani declined. “Afraid we'll bite?” she winked. That wink made Ishani laugh. “Well, maybe we will...if you ask nicely,” she teased.
But as Ishani walked into the ballroom she could feel an energy that was oddly familiar. It welcomed her, enveloped her, pulled her into it and refused to let go, and she thought this was where she could be happy again, then new it when she found her Hart again. A life time apart and they were together again, dancing in each others arms in a family that she had gone through Hell and back again to find.
Ishani's first memory was a feeling she learned to associate with heaviness in the part of her body that was called her chest when the organs she learned to call lungs struggled to pull in something called a breath. What had happened before that was a haze. In truth it was just an impression of a floating colour with no real memory or reason to it. So she considered the memory of her maker leaning over her, rubbing her chest, coaxing her to relax, to take in a slow breath her first memory.
Her maker relaxed after her creation had been made. After all, Arai's work was done. The pinnacle of being was to draw from the void and to make it life itself! “Ishani,” she whispered into her creation's ear those first few moments, breathing out the desire that she had poured into this thing that lay soaked in alien experiences, struggling with full adult comprehension to understand what a child slowly evolved to through its life. “Ishani,” her creation whispered back, accepting that as her name rather than her reason.
The weeks were exhausting for Ishani as Arai sought to teach everything she thought important, while her doll wished nothing more than to engross herself in the world which surrounded them. “But why?” she asked her maker one day while Arai struggled to slip her into a long flowing loose gown. “Because people do not simply walk around all day that way.” It made no sense to Ishani's mind that clothing should be so important when they spent so much of their day naked, close, touching with nothing to inhibit them. This she seemed to enjoy the most: To be touched and caressed by her maker. Just the thought caused a thrill in her body. “All right,” Arai would finally sigh.
When her maker was busy with other things Ishani would venture through the forest which surrounded Arai's retreat. Like an island they were buffeted on all sides by wide expanses of trees that Ishani enjoyed visiting every day. And though Arai could understand her creation's extra touch to the world around them, often catching her conversing with an willow or singing with a brook, Ishani felt that somehow, in a way she could not understand herself, it was something that her maker could not experience of her own. So she'd return, body coated with drying mud, bits of leaves stuck in her hair, smiling at the twigs she brought, or the water that dripping out of her cupped hands, laughing and singing the songs and words she could hear and understand, spilling her joy into her maker until even Arai was laughing with her.
“Stay out of the forest,” Arai warned her one day. Her voice was hard. It scared her doll as she watched her maker dress and bunched up the sheets that they had lain beneath the night before to her body. “There are humans there,” a concept Ish only understood as an added warning, though she didn't truly understand what a human was.
Arai turned back to see the fear on her Ishani's face. “I will be back in a couple of days, Love,” she said with a brush of her fingers and a kiss on the lips she had molded so softly perfect.
Ish did not know what else to say except to whisper “my Hart” to her before her maker locked the doors that had never been locked, and bared the gate that had never been bared, then vanished through the trees.
But it was not a few days before she returned...it was a couple of weeks before Ishani's nerves (something else that was new to her) were frayed enough with worry (a thing that she had not experienced, and had no one to guide her through understanding) drove her out through that locked door, and beyond that bared gate. Fear gripped her throat as she wondered through the forest, through the trees that whispered but seemed to fear speaking, past the brook that babbled in a way that made Ishani's stomach clench as she followed the strange noises that hurt her ears and disturbed her mind.
From the edge of the forest the humans had been working their way in: Cutting trees, clearing paths, burning the stumps and destroying the land. The sight caused Ishani to scream and her eyes to instantly tear as she rushed from the forest, throwing herself against a man with a raised ax, beating on him wildly as she continued to scream to make him stop the killing that was crying out to her. At first he didn't seem to know what was happening as he ducked himself. Then he heard someone yell “Elf!” Another yelled “Get her!” He dropped his arms, felt her hand bounce off his shoulder, smack into his face, heard her scream more as someone grabbed her from behind, watched the bareness of the lithe thing struggle in the grip of one of the other workers, slipping out of them like a greased eel, dart away again while he stood there stunned, watching the others chasing her.
“This way!” someone screamed as Ishani fled in terror. They were monsters! MONSTERS! Monsters destroying her friends! “Over there!” She moved lithely through the forest, the ease of passage by such common knowledge of her surroundings while her pursuers crushed through and cursed as they tripped. It was only a moment of glancing back, of her long dark hair catching in her face, and suddenly there was a mountain in front of her, arms that gripped her not with the loving embrace that she was use to her from her maker, but a harsh grinding that did not let go as she struggled and cried and was carried back to their camp.
Inside a cage she cried, gripping the bars, then releasing them again, hating the taste the harsh metal left on her palms. As the day went the men found excuses to come by and look at her, look at the nudity that she didn't even bother to cover up, growling things that she couldn't understand to one another, laughing and making gestures she didn't understand.
It wasn't until night fell that the worst they could do came to her. And she stopped struggling, stopped fighting them after that, as they cleared more of the forest, then began truck back the timbers they had collected, leaving the scared ruins behind them as they carried her in her cage, sometimes making her walk with a rope around her neck, loosing interest when she just laid there and refused to speak or fight again. In the city, hustling and dirty, she was sold to a merchant, put on a boat, cast away, feeling the drifting of the water making her head ill. It did not sing the way the brook did back home. The creatures here did not converse the way she was use to. And the wood that surrounded her was dead and lifeless now, which made her cry as in another city she was clothed in material that didn't even hide her nudity, and was traded around like a sack to people who did to her until the pain excited a pleasure that made her weep.
“Put her down!”
A tall woman stood in the door way. “She's mine,” was all the more she said before she jerked Ishani's filthy form from the man who growled and grumbled behind them that he wasn't done yet. Practically being carried by the woman they left the hovel that was considered an inn in some port that Ishani didn't even care the name of. Nearly lifeless she felt the hands that caressed her. Calloused fingers like the men and women which had abused her for so long now, which made her flinch despite their gentleness.
For how long they traveled she wasn't certain. But at last she raised her head and looked at the world around her. “We're almost home,” her companion said from beside her while fingers played across the skin that was soft once more. “I am Tea,” she said. Ishani looked at her, saw the soft smile, felt her body tingle in response to the touch, then jerked when the wagon hit a bump. “Its okay,” she whispered, rising to pull Ishani back as she startled and look about. Turning back Ish allowed herself to be pulled down into the embrace that awaited her, to settle next to the warm skin that was so like her maker's...but still alien because it was not.
The castle on the lake boasted a broad expanse of land that allowed many cottages to rest comfortably beneath its protective shadow. Almost immediately Ishani cold feel a relation in her body as she felt the earth beneath her thrum with life. Around her body clothing had been draw, and she did not fight them this time, but relished in the way they hide her, even as light and airy as they were while she was lead to Tealeaf's cottage.
“This is our home.”
Inside it was nearly empty: A couch and a table, a winding stair to a short tower above that lead from a small bedroom, another room that was curtained off, closed away. “That is my daughter's,” Tea told her, stopping with a hand to keep her from parting them and looking. “Amadine prefers her privacy.”
The days were long and complicated as Ishani struggled to adapt to her new way of life. So use to kneeling either because she was thrown into a small space, or forced for someone's enjoyment, she only slowly learned how to stretch herself out again. So use to the rough touches and heavy assaults it took her a long time to trust the touches that came so softly and coaxed her so gently again, bringing her back from the horrors that would never leave her, but, she was promised, were over at last. It became a happy time for her, of laughter and silly awkwardness as she learned how to be something besides an animal again.
Then it happened. No one knew how...or at least no one admitted it. Tea was found dead, her body hustled off to be taken care of while her daughter clung to Ishani, revolving from broken pain to hatred that her mother would leave.
“You're welcome to stay,” the lord of the land told her when he visited a few days later. “We can find you another home if you prefer,” he said, seeing the hearth filled with only dust and ashes, leaving the room cold and dark. “Anywhere you prefer,” he added with an eye toward Ishani.
“No,” she answered. “This was her home.”
Ama bound back easier than Ishani did. With friends in the castle and the other homes she found distractions and support to help her mend. But Ishani did not. She kept to herself, went through the motions of day to day life, taking care of the girl who seemed to disappear more and more often to become a stranger to her again.
“You can't live like this,” someone said. A voice that she barely recognized anymore.
“Its the only way I can,” she said in one that she recognized even less.
It was months later that the lord came again. Amadine gone with his daughter, his wife out on some excursion, he invited Ishani to the castle, to see a room he had been decorating. A special room that he wanted her to see.
The castle was large, white, pristine. Inside everything was light and airy, welcoming as with open arms. Balls were held here, banquet feasts that everyone was invited to. It was not merely the lord's home, but a place built for everyone to enjoy. She had seen it often in the time she had lived here: From its tower and its grand bedrooms to the balconies that circled the upper floor. But as he lead her down a secret set of steps she realized she had never been this way before. A weird sense of excitement at being some place new shrugged off the melancholy that had wrapped itself around her, choking her off from the world. “Close your eyes,” he told her as they came to a door. She could hear it creek ever so softly as it was pushed open, felt him guide her in and close it behind them, smell the candles burning...along with something else that was familiar to her that she couldn't quite place.
Suddenly he was behind her, his hands on her shoulders, caressing her, his lips brushing through her hair to her ear, telling her she could open them again. The touching felt so nice, so welcoming in a way she hadn't felt for months that she realized it was a need that had grown deeply inside of her, and for a long moment she refused to open her eyes while she turned her head and allowed his lips to caress her smooth neck, and his hands to pass away the simple clothing she was wearing. When she did they were blinded by the candles, hazed over while he turned her around, pushed her backwards, his body blocking her view this time as he pulled her arms up and attached them to something over her head.
“I knew you'd enjoy it,” he said, taking her long silence and lack of reluctance to mean her eyes had taken in the view of the room. As he backed up and began to remove his own clothing he continued. “Your Mistress enjoyed this room, too. Enjoyed it willingly and veraciously, so I knew you would as well.” He was naked, his body ready, pointing at her stunned form as he walked back again and her eyes darted about the space before it was blocked again from view: The whips on the wall; the padded bench across the way; the chains that hung down, and other things she did not even recognize as he blocked her view for a moment and his head lowered down, caressing her body again, making her shiver and tighten.
“That smell...” she whispered.
“Yes. They enjoy it, too,” he muttered against the flesh of her shoulder. “Like mother, like daughter,” he said as his hands caressed her body.
“Let me go,” she whispered. When he didn't stop she said it again, and began twisting her body to get him to stop. To him it was a game as he pierced her and listened to her scream, thinking her body couldn't betray what she was really feeling. Through her tears she saw the devil that he was this time, and felt him abuse her in a way that she had been promised would never happen again.
When he was through he released her, smirked as he watched her escape only half clothed.
At the home she found Ama again. “We're leaving,” she said as she began to pack things.
“Why?” Once that question has been so common to her own lips, but now she thought how frustrating it must have been to her maker.
“Because I know what he's done.”
“What?”
Ishani stiffened. She didn't want to stay it, even as she didn't understand how. Didn't to turn around while she spoke. “I know what he's done to you.”
“Who did what?”
Finally she did. Slowly. Looked at Amadine standing there with a mixed look that Ishani couldn't read, but didn't like at all. Dropping the things she held she crossed the room, knelt and wrapped her arms around Ama's slender form, held her the way she wished someone could hold her now.
“I know what the Lord did to you.”
“What?” Ama's body stiffened in Ishani's hold. “He hasn't done anything to me!” she said.
“But he said...” Ishani pulled back, wanting to see Ama's face, and saw the lord's daughter standing half wrapped in the curtain that closed over Ama's room. “We're all leaving,” as she realized what the man had really said.
She tried to tell everyone before she left. But it was useless as she bundled up Amadine for a journey she wasn't sure how they would take, and was forced to leave the other girl behind. “We'll come back for you,” she knew Ama had said. But they couldn't...and never did.
In a new city the world seemed to have changed. “Its just temporary,” Ish said when she mistook Ama's sulkiness for the small space they were now living in: A modern building that felt too cold and lifeless for her while she found a job and did what she could to support the two of them. “Its not much,” she admitted when things were skimpy, but was felt relieved when, at last, the girl was adopted by a friend. “She'll be better now,” she thought to herself.
“You need a good night out.”
The voice came from one of the girls she worked with. It had been a while that Ish had been here, hiding her ears the best she could in long loose hair, making it work with her career as best she could so no one knew she was an elf.
“Come on,” Titanna said, when Ishani declined. “Afraid we'll bite?” she winked. That wink made Ishani laugh. “Well, maybe we will...if you ask nicely,” she teased.
But as Ishani walked into the ballroom she could feel an energy that was oddly familiar. It welcomed her, enveloped her, pulled her into it and refused to let go, and she thought this was where she could be happy again, then new it when she found her Hart again. A life time apart and they were together again, dancing in each others arms in a family that she had gone through Hell and back again to find.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Lyre's Tale: When the Gods Forget....
The DollMaker of BellaMorte came into the Clan because her creation, Ishani, brought her there. It was her who helped me save Alonzo's life after the fire that nearly consumed him. Like Lemar, her soul had been lost to the abyss, but unlike a normal mortal, it being there made her forget what she was. Only upon gaining her trust and rescuing her soul did this story come to light. I share it with you now.
~First Section of the Gift~
*Lyre Arai*
*Lisren of Marien Domme*
*Lishrani of Orikan Elshen, and Derikai Morhaman*
I am what is known as an Aldeveir.. and as I write this I know I am the last one. We are spirits conceived from the dreams of the last Drakren of the lands. Our ancestors gave up the flesh to guard and protect the delicate balance between the world of dreams and reality.
We are the watchers of the worlds.. and I know my time is nearly done. For I have undergone the Elden Righ.. the last Rite of passage and my Chylde will soon be born, feasting upon the flesh I have been given for this short Cycle so she might live where I will die. Her Dono, my bonded for the cycle will care for her when I am gone.. but I must now write this to tell her the story of our kindred.. and why she is and will be the last and first of her kind.
~I am an elder, and have the last retaining memory of what has past... my dono gave me the memories of the Kitsunae and the Draco.. the younglings left when the Drakren became the Aldeveir. My Mere tied when she laid the egg that would birth me... and my birthing was hard on my Dono. I was the Larval form of my kindred, the most weakened form we hold for so short a time. Small little serpents in this form me learn and become what we will and wish... bound only by the limits our Dono have given us... we retain very little of our birth Arden, but the memories and the powers bestowed...
It took me only a score of decades before I transcended into the form of a Kittling... small and wild I took the form of a fox first.. and learned slowly the nature of the Tiger that my Dono Pere cared for so much. I am a changer unlike my mother, after all we all have our own abilities and no Aldeveir has ever been the same.
When we transcend.. we learn to shift into what will be our primary forms... but in the end we hold no real boundaries for what we can become.. after all our form and physical nature is bound only by the land we inhabit. We are wanderers and healers... and learners... We feed upon the light of the sun and moons. And we ever watch the dreaming worlds.
Our purpose is to watch and guard the rift between the Astral realms and the real... and when I die it will fall upon my little Tryniti to do the same.
After all this... I found the one thing that should never have come to be... my brother.
Aldeveir rarely live past the first birthing, and my mother being the rarity she is, half human not immortal she gave birth twice and lived past the first... in the end I had to kill the Eldzeddrin.. but that is a tale for another time.
We are all different littling, and no two are the same, bound by the elements I am a chylde of ice and wind.. and ye.. a chylde of fire and immortality... Learn well from your Ashidono.. and love them as even now I love you.~
*Elden Righ*
~I know not how it will be with you my little one... but with myself life was odd and hard at times... I learned quickly what I needed and where I was needed. I have been in many a battle where the dreams I can provide have proven useful to the world...
We are creatures of dreams.. we create spin and weave all you know and see. You are a dream.. created by those that looked beyond what was possible, for in reality Dono are strong dreamers, that we for a little while can bind with and create a dream that is in some small part a reality. When the drakren, became the Aldeveir they lost the ability to procreate, and learned in time to create from the flesh of others through a bond called the Elden Righ...
This takes all differently, I myself was nearly seven millennium in age before it took me and you were created. The dreamers that made you are special indeed, strong and precious to my heart.. it will hurt them to find I will pass with this birthing.. But I found mine perhaps in time it will be the same for you.. even if you are not truly of my kind you are still a dreamer.~
~Changling Time~
~The beginnings of the change come slowly my Kittling, as you learn the dreams that made you... come into fruitation and the powers that were given in those dreams waken... we are all different my Kittling, I was born of the dreams of a Changling, and a healer.. I heal and change at a whim and have the powers of the elements at my command. I am as much a Chylde of this earth as any because of this. It is not always so.. some of us are but shadows.. and smudges of reality... it all depends on the Dono... the dream shapers that make us who we are.~
~Learning Paths~
When you have discover your calling, who and what you are.. then you are awakened.. it depends only on this that you truly become an adult.~
~A pale from falls from the void... pale and lost in a dream from which she cannot seem to wake... each time she returns to the world it is within this bubble that she cannot seem to leave.
The pale form is indeed the lost and missing bondmate of Lakota and Malakai, though where she has been and why she left is not quite known at this time.
She just lays there, seeming to simply dream the world away, within a sphere of reality from another place.
She is Lyre.... Aldevier and guardian, but what befell her lies within the dreams of a slumbering dream... that only one person can wake her from.~
Sold is the soul, I am forgotten forsaken... so I will be what I am ... until I trust to give another of the pale ones a chance to rescue me... Until then I sleep...
~~~~
Asked as I have been for my history, I did not think it would be this hard to speak of the past as I remember it. A memory holds all that you once were and though time can make then hazy and strange almost like the very dreams I wonder, yet I can remember the beginning and where it brought me after all this time. I didn't start life as most do, born of a mortal creature and embraced into the life of immortality. Rather I was born into it an estranged creature that in truth most have forgotten even exist. So I will begin with that telling, the beginning as all stories should start. With all that brought me to the clan I now am learning, and the small fey creature that held onto my heart when it should have been lost.
I remember the hazy feeling of the time before being made, a birth you could call it I suppose if you consider being nothing more than a dream to start with a birth. I was 'born' in the dream of a child, my mother created me that way for a father I have none but the wind that blew me her way. As the seeds of my existence were sewed into being I learned as slowly as time itself of all that could be and all that had been. My mother was the last of her kind, and through her dreaming brought me to life as nothing more than a serpentine creature who watched the world but couldn't hold her own.
Then my mother died, and I was left drifting in the misty place of my beginnings, with nothing but the brush of the wind at my back to ease my pain. The winds then taught me where to go, and how to learn and grow in this place... it is still mine a quiet stillness that exists out of time. Yet it wasn't enough something pushed and pulled until finally I learned to listen and heard the voices of those dreamers deep in slumber and from those dreams I learned my craft and how to take a living form outside of this place and in the world of mankind, the strongest dreamers after all are those with little as it is. Time meant nothing there, so my age cannot truly be surmised... though I know that for a time those dreams had not existed at all.
That world was strange to me, as I began as nothing at first but a shadow that drifted across the land tying the unbound soul that was mine to living thing after living thing. In those years I was groundless, free as the wind that drew me across the world yet subjective to the things that I was learning. Four feet I grew and ran as the small fox, or a small cat in the huts and grass covered homes that these strange dreamers knew well. Then to the sands and deserts of dark skinned men that built things that were all but impossible to believe.
I learned to travel the dreams of these people, and to learn the lives they led and that led me finally to the clan of the Phoenix... where I learned how to be human. Where I learned how to dream a dream of my own. I lived with those there for years though those memories blur in the pain and bittersweet joy I held for a long time. And two of the strongest dreamers drew me into their midst, but innocent as I was I was ignorant of the fact that some dreamers are not those of bright joy.... but deepest sorrow and betrayal.
Mikhail and Lakota... the king and the queen of those there, let me feed from their dreams and time went on.. and I like my mother before me dreamed a dream and a kitling was to be born. I spun my dreams in the Misty place drawing power from those around me until it was too late to fight was coming. Before she even came into the word the childe I would have called Tryniti, Born of the three, died all for the sake of the power I held.
Those I trusted above all betrayed me to those that fed upon what I was, the decay of lost dreams and my soul bound as it was to them fled into the abyss and the body I held destroyed those that betrayed me and my power became as nothing. The shadow of what I had become without a soul and without a shred of true power and sight walked the world like those same nightmares that I would have belonged too.
That creature called herself the Doll-Maker, and the memories of that time still fill me with loathing and regret. Time passed as I watched and yet still did those things myself to the brightest dreamers the word had seen, tearing their dreams and turning them into a mockery of all that had come before. Those few centuries and I watched the world change around me, and more of those that were like the clan of Phoenix became apparent. Though they didn't feed off of the emotions of dreams... rather the blood of the living.
Curious I became about this kind, and those that changed with the light of the moon and for a time I stopped in my bitter killing, and experiments in the wrecked doll like body that kept that shade of me still upon the earth. There within the midst of everything I saw a bright soul that filled my own with a shred of what I thought couldn't exist. Fascinated I watched her.. in all her splendor and time after time she passed through difficult trials and won her own games. A dreamer so bright I could not touch, for it hurt to see what I had destroyed and what had been destroyed... for once I had dreamed as bright.
That creature is my Ishani, and slowly she drew a soul in shadow into the light of the world again, and helped that which was the Doll maker become the dreamer again. Through her I met those of her clan, and the few short months there after.. I learned slowly to trust until I allowed my soul to be bound again.. and there I stand bound to the creature Jisper born of need as I once was.. and share my power with another clan, though I am lesser than I once was I still have the sight to see what is to come..
One day... my sweet little kitling I'll be able to think of you without pain, and with joy to know at least I dreamed something to the world.
I am Lyre Arai... the Aldevier, spirit guardian of those I protect and that is what I always will be. For though the shape I hold changes from moment to moment... I am still the spirit that needs the bond to hold a living form and that is the way of belonging to a dream.
~First Section of the Gift~
*Lyre Arai*
*Lisren of Marien Domme*
*Lishrani of Orikan Elshen, and Derikai Morhaman*
I am what is known as an Aldeveir.. and as I write this I know I am the last one. We are spirits conceived from the dreams of the last Drakren of the lands. Our ancestors gave up the flesh to guard and protect the delicate balance between the world of dreams and reality.
We are the watchers of the worlds.. and I know my time is nearly done. For I have undergone the Elden Righ.. the last Rite of passage and my Chylde will soon be born, feasting upon the flesh I have been given for this short Cycle so she might live where I will die. Her Dono, my bonded for the cycle will care for her when I am gone.. but I must now write this to tell her the story of our kindred.. and why she is and will be the last and first of her kind.
~I am an elder, and have the last retaining memory of what has past... my dono gave me the memories of the Kitsunae and the Draco.. the younglings left when the Drakren became the Aldeveir. My Mere tied when she laid the egg that would birth me... and my birthing was hard on my Dono. I was the Larval form of my kindred, the most weakened form we hold for so short a time. Small little serpents in this form me learn and become what we will and wish... bound only by the limits our Dono have given us... we retain very little of our birth Arden, but the memories and the powers bestowed...
It took me only a score of decades before I transcended into the form of a Kittling... small and wild I took the form of a fox first.. and learned slowly the nature of the Tiger that my Dono Pere cared for so much. I am a changer unlike my mother, after all we all have our own abilities and no Aldeveir has ever been the same.
When we transcend.. we learn to shift into what will be our primary forms... but in the end we hold no real boundaries for what we can become.. after all our form and physical nature is bound only by the land we inhabit. We are wanderers and healers... and learners... We feed upon the light of the sun and moons. And we ever watch the dreaming worlds.
Our purpose is to watch and guard the rift between the Astral realms and the real... and when I die it will fall upon my little Tryniti to do the same.
After all this... I found the one thing that should never have come to be... my brother.
Aldeveir rarely live past the first birthing, and my mother being the rarity she is, half human not immortal she gave birth twice and lived past the first... in the end I had to kill the Eldzeddrin.. but that is a tale for another time.
We are all different littling, and no two are the same, bound by the elements I am a chylde of ice and wind.. and ye.. a chylde of fire and immortality... Learn well from your Ashidono.. and love them as even now I love you.~
*Elden Righ*
~I know not how it will be with you my little one... but with myself life was odd and hard at times... I learned quickly what I needed and where I was needed. I have been in many a battle where the dreams I can provide have proven useful to the world...
We are creatures of dreams.. we create spin and weave all you know and see. You are a dream.. created by those that looked beyond what was possible, for in reality Dono are strong dreamers, that we for a little while can bind with and create a dream that is in some small part a reality. When the drakren, became the Aldeveir they lost the ability to procreate, and learned in time to create from the flesh of others through a bond called the Elden Righ...
This takes all differently, I myself was nearly seven millennium in age before it took me and you were created. The dreamers that made you are special indeed, strong and precious to my heart.. it will hurt them to find I will pass with this birthing.. But I found mine perhaps in time it will be the same for you.. even if you are not truly of my kind you are still a dreamer.~
~Changling Time~
~The beginnings of the change come slowly my Kittling, as you learn the dreams that made you... come into fruitation and the powers that were given in those dreams waken... we are all different my Kittling, I was born of the dreams of a Changling, and a healer.. I heal and change at a whim and have the powers of the elements at my command. I am as much a Chylde of this earth as any because of this. It is not always so.. some of us are but shadows.. and smudges of reality... it all depends on the Dono... the dream shapers that make us who we are.~
~Learning Paths~
When you have discover your calling, who and what you are.. then you are awakened.. it depends only on this that you truly become an adult.~
~A pale from falls from the void... pale and lost in a dream from which she cannot seem to wake... each time she returns to the world it is within this bubble that she cannot seem to leave.
The pale form is indeed the lost and missing bondmate of Lakota and Malakai, though where she has been and why she left is not quite known at this time.
She just lays there, seeming to simply dream the world away, within a sphere of reality from another place.
She is Lyre.... Aldevier and guardian, but what befell her lies within the dreams of a slumbering dream... that only one person can wake her from.~
Sold is the soul, I am forgotten forsaken... so I will be what I am ... until I trust to give another of the pale ones a chance to rescue me... Until then I sleep...
~~~~
Asked as I have been for my history, I did not think it would be this hard to speak of the past as I remember it. A memory holds all that you once were and though time can make then hazy and strange almost like the very dreams I wonder, yet I can remember the beginning and where it brought me after all this time. I didn't start life as most do, born of a mortal creature and embraced into the life of immortality. Rather I was born into it an estranged creature that in truth most have forgotten even exist. So I will begin with that telling, the beginning as all stories should start. With all that brought me to the clan I now am learning, and the small fey creature that held onto my heart when it should have been lost.
I remember the hazy feeling of the time before being made, a birth you could call it I suppose if you consider being nothing more than a dream to start with a birth. I was 'born' in the dream of a child, my mother created me that way for a father I have none but the wind that blew me her way. As the seeds of my existence were sewed into being I learned as slowly as time itself of all that could be and all that had been. My mother was the last of her kind, and through her dreaming brought me to life as nothing more than a serpentine creature who watched the world but couldn't hold her own.
Then my mother died, and I was left drifting in the misty place of my beginnings, with nothing but the brush of the wind at my back to ease my pain. The winds then taught me where to go, and how to learn and grow in this place... it is still mine a quiet stillness that exists out of time. Yet it wasn't enough something pushed and pulled until finally I learned to listen and heard the voices of those dreamers deep in slumber and from those dreams I learned my craft and how to take a living form outside of this place and in the world of mankind, the strongest dreamers after all are those with little as it is. Time meant nothing there, so my age cannot truly be surmised... though I know that for a time those dreams had not existed at all.
That world was strange to me, as I began as nothing at first but a shadow that drifted across the land tying the unbound soul that was mine to living thing after living thing. In those years I was groundless, free as the wind that drew me across the world yet subjective to the things that I was learning. Four feet I grew and ran as the small fox, or a small cat in the huts and grass covered homes that these strange dreamers knew well. Then to the sands and deserts of dark skinned men that built things that were all but impossible to believe.
I learned to travel the dreams of these people, and to learn the lives they led and that led me finally to the clan of the Phoenix... where I learned how to be human. Where I learned how to dream a dream of my own. I lived with those there for years though those memories blur in the pain and bittersweet joy I held for a long time. And two of the strongest dreamers drew me into their midst, but innocent as I was I was ignorant of the fact that some dreamers are not those of bright joy.... but deepest sorrow and betrayal.
Mikhail and Lakota... the king and the queen of those there, let me feed from their dreams and time went on.. and I like my mother before me dreamed a dream and a kitling was to be born. I spun my dreams in the Misty place drawing power from those around me until it was too late to fight was coming. Before she even came into the word the childe I would have called Tryniti, Born of the three, died all for the sake of the power I held.
Those I trusted above all betrayed me to those that fed upon what I was, the decay of lost dreams and my soul bound as it was to them fled into the abyss and the body I held destroyed those that betrayed me and my power became as nothing. The shadow of what I had become without a soul and without a shred of true power and sight walked the world like those same nightmares that I would have belonged too.
That creature called herself the Doll-Maker, and the memories of that time still fill me with loathing and regret. Time passed as I watched and yet still did those things myself to the brightest dreamers the word had seen, tearing their dreams and turning them into a mockery of all that had come before. Those few centuries and I watched the world change around me, and more of those that were like the clan of Phoenix became apparent. Though they didn't feed off of the emotions of dreams... rather the blood of the living.
Curious I became about this kind, and those that changed with the light of the moon and for a time I stopped in my bitter killing, and experiments in the wrecked doll like body that kept that shade of me still upon the earth. There within the midst of everything I saw a bright soul that filled my own with a shred of what I thought couldn't exist. Fascinated I watched her.. in all her splendor and time after time she passed through difficult trials and won her own games. A dreamer so bright I could not touch, for it hurt to see what I had destroyed and what had been destroyed... for once I had dreamed as bright.
That creature is my Ishani, and slowly she drew a soul in shadow into the light of the world again, and helped that which was the Doll maker become the dreamer again. Through her I met those of her clan, and the few short months there after.. I learned slowly to trust until I allowed my soul to be bound again.. and there I stand bound to the creature Jisper born of need as I once was.. and share my power with another clan, though I am lesser than I once was I still have the sight to see what is to come..
One day... my sweet little kitling I'll be able to think of you without pain, and with joy to know at least I dreamed something to the world.
I am Lyre Arai... the Aldevier, spirit guardian of those I protect and that is what I always will be. For though the shape I hold changes from moment to moment... I am still the spirit that needs the bond to hold a living form and that is the way of belonging to a dream.
Friday, March 16, 2012
Rest In Peace: BloodlustMylia
The individual who played BloodlustMylia Passed away on March 10th, 2012. At one time she held the post of Lady and Club Manager in the clan. She will be missed.
Here is her Character Bio:
I was born a child of an unwed mother who was cast out by her peers. She decided to leave me and join a group of gypsies. Raised by two caring, loving people. I was taught to mind my manners, to share if it was asked of me and to always be a young lady. During my teenage years as most do I met a few people who was friends, was told that they needed something of me, and asked if I would share with them. Being brought up as I was of course I shared. What little did I know was that my life and soul was on the line.
Under a full moonlit night, I met this friend by the name of Kyloni, He talked to of what was needed and desired. I had second thoughts but gave into his soothing voice. I quivered a bit in his arms as he sank his fangs into my neck. I was in such pain and yet so much pleasure the two mixed and I felt my heart sink and knew death was close at hand. I did not care, I welcomed it for some reason. I left my adopted parents with a note telling them of how happy and honored I was to be their child growing up. I needed to find my own way.
Within the next two months, I had joined a vampire clan and became one, learning all their is to know, or so I thought about being a vamp. Years went by, that seemed only to be days. Troubled time arose and I moved on from the comforts of my home. A few of my brethren moved along with and I joined them as well. I was happy, maybe more happy then I should have been. I was in charge of clubs, events, hunting, gatherings of new souls. Taken upon myself to gain such high standards which my parents taught me so many years ago. This new family seemed to be closer together and more honorable then the one I was with before. I stayed many of years in their comforts.
Tragedy hit yet again and the clan was split. Being torn from my heart to my soul. I stayed while one of the best men I’ve ever know left. Regret, remorse, and unhappiness all made me hide for such a long time. I stayed hidden for what seemed like centuries. Until one day. I came across the one man who made my heart flutter, and ache to be near, even if it was dance. I thought for a moment the late night dances in his arms. A sense of calmness over came me, and we talked for some time. I knew where my place was, where I was to be.
It took some time before it was able to happen. My master did not like the fact that my thoughts was on another man. For years, I took the abuse of a sub from him since he called it love and his way of showing me love. Maybe I was blinded, maybe I thought it was true and he did love me, or maybe I just thought all hopes of being near the one would never be, whatever it was I stayed for it. I finally had enough. I kicked my master out and sat out in search for something that I needed and longed for.
I searched out the one who made my vampire dreams come true. I found him, I joined in his clan, knowing I’d never be harmed again. I feel at home and peaceful and my family now. It took me centuries, learning, pain, anger, heartache to get where I am. I am now over 800 years old. I have seen changes in the world and my surroundings. I know more is to come in the future and welcome them with my family.
Who is the one you ask of me, well he is my King, My soul holder, and very much my best friend. Alonzo Ozsvar is his name. Bella Morte is my family and shall be until the end of time. I have embraced a wonderful, beautiful death. Along with my family, I know nothing can harm us. We stand strong and honorable, proud to be of the vampires we are today. Each one has and does hold a special place within me.
Thank you for wondering what my life has been like. I leave you with this saying...
Nothing good can ever come if you live in the past, make today the one you live for and don’t hold off in telling the ones you love so much how important they are to you. For us vampires, tomorrow will be there, for the mortals, your tomorrow may never come. Love as if it will be your last chance to love again.
BloodlustMylia Rajal
Image by Akasha Ixtar
Here is her Character Bio:
I was born a child of an unwed mother who was cast out by her peers. She decided to leave me and join a group of gypsies. Raised by two caring, loving people. I was taught to mind my manners, to share if it was asked of me and to always be a young lady. During my teenage years as most do I met a few people who was friends, was told that they needed something of me, and asked if I would share with them. Being brought up as I was of course I shared. What little did I know was that my life and soul was on the line.
Under a full moonlit night, I met this friend by the name of Kyloni, He talked to of what was needed and desired. I had second thoughts but gave into his soothing voice. I quivered a bit in his arms as he sank his fangs into my neck. I was in such pain and yet so much pleasure the two mixed and I felt my heart sink and knew death was close at hand. I did not care, I welcomed it for some reason. I left my adopted parents with a note telling them of how happy and honored I was to be their child growing up. I needed to find my own way.
Within the next two months, I had joined a vampire clan and became one, learning all their is to know, or so I thought about being a vamp. Years went by, that seemed only to be days. Troubled time arose and I moved on from the comforts of my home. A few of my brethren moved along with and I joined them as well. I was happy, maybe more happy then I should have been. I was in charge of clubs, events, hunting, gatherings of new souls. Taken upon myself to gain such high standards which my parents taught me so many years ago. This new family seemed to be closer together and more honorable then the one I was with before. I stayed many of years in their comforts.
Tragedy hit yet again and the clan was split. Being torn from my heart to my soul. I stayed while one of the best men I’ve ever know left. Regret, remorse, and unhappiness all made me hide for such a long time. I stayed hidden for what seemed like centuries. Until one day. I came across the one man who made my heart flutter, and ache to be near, even if it was dance. I thought for a moment the late night dances in his arms. A sense of calmness over came me, and we talked for some time. I knew where my place was, where I was to be.
It took some time before it was able to happen. My master did not like the fact that my thoughts was on another man. For years, I took the abuse of a sub from him since he called it love and his way of showing me love. Maybe I was blinded, maybe I thought it was true and he did love me, or maybe I just thought all hopes of being near the one would never be, whatever it was I stayed for it. I finally had enough. I kicked my master out and sat out in search for something that I needed and longed for.
I searched out the one who made my vampire dreams come true. I found him, I joined in his clan, knowing I’d never be harmed again. I feel at home and peaceful and my family now. It took me centuries, learning, pain, anger, heartache to get where I am. I am now over 800 years old. I have seen changes in the world and my surroundings. I know more is to come in the future and welcome them with my family.
Who is the one you ask of me, well he is my King, My soul holder, and very much my best friend. Alonzo Ozsvar is his name. Bella Morte is my family and shall be until the end of time. I have embraced a wonderful, beautiful death. Along with my family, I know nothing can harm us. We stand strong and honorable, proud to be of the vampires we are today. Each one has and does hold a special place within me.
Thank you for wondering what my life has been like. I leave you with this saying...
Nothing good can ever come if you live in the past, make today the one you live for and don’t hold off in telling the ones you love so much how important they are to you. For us vampires, tomorrow will be there, for the mortals, your tomorrow may never come. Love as if it will be your last chance to love again.
BloodlustMylia Rajal
Sunday, March 11, 2012
An excerpt from the Past:: Lemar Ocello
Lemar's words were only learned later, although he pledged himself sooner then one might realize. His story, in his words, is below.
I am Lemar Ocello, born of the Sister and Brotherhood of Shilen. A dark elf whose skin stands out in the sunlight, but is at home in the pale moonlight. My dark eyes look almost as if I am looking deep inside you. And who's to say that I am not from time to time.
I was one of the few chosen out of the many to represent Shilen in the battlefield. As a warrior of Shilen, I was taught a hybrid of both magic and physical combat, both melee and ranged. Trained to be the very best warrior possible. I excelled above all the other students at my academy and rose quickly. I waged war against the different races of my world, Light Elves, Orcs, Dwarves, and Humans, it made no difference. All that matter was the glory of Shilen. I have taken on more quests than I know, been in more battles than I could ever remember and have both laid siege to and defended more castles than most know exist.
I traveled across the lands, from Gludin to Rune. Searching for worthy opponents, and laying ruin to any village I wanted. I was Lemar Ocello, champion oh the Shilen army. It was my right to do so. Wasn't it? Who was going to both tell me if wasn't, and then stop me from doing so?
As I continued on my path of what I thought was honor, I finally came upon a village that would change my life. In this village I found no worthy opponents. I found nothing. This is because a troop of Shilien Knights had already come through this now desolate town. And laid waste to everything. This was a different view point for me. As I have never stayed to witness the aftermath. What I saw revolted me.
So with little to no warning, I returned to Shilen Temple, and told them I would no longer take part in their wars. The backlash was worse than to be expected. For see, this was the worst offense a warrior such as I could do. I was exiled on the spot. Stripped of my armor. Stripped of my weapons. Stripped of all the possessions that were dear to me. And sent out on my own.
Once on my own, I did not just leave the land of Shilen. I used what little strength I had left to muster a spell, a spell that would take me to a completely different world, unknown to anyone from Shilen. Once there, I took the shape of a human, trying my best to fit in. I would then travel for years. Looking for my niche. Sadly, all of these places paled in comparison to the nation of Shilen. I slowly began to regret my decision, suddenly found myself wondering if I would never find the comfort level that I had in my glory days under Shilen. That is until I met new family.
During my travels I met some amazing people. Amazing people who decided to make their own family. Amazing people who did me the honor of offering me a spot among their ranks. Now I have been embraced by a "Beautiful Death". Deciding to take on "The Curse" and walk the line of darkness with them. In doing so, I have pledged my loyalty to King Alonzo, and in doing so, have promised to stop at nothing to protect the family name. I have since grown truly comfortable with my new family, opting to abandon my human form in favor of my true form.
I have found the niche I spent what seems like an eternity looking for. A niche that does not require me to lay waste to any beings, living or undead. A niche that has seen me for who I truly as, and have embraced me fully. A niche I will never leave
I am Lemar Ocello. Dark Elf. Warrior. Tyrant. Vampire. Friend. Lover. But, above all else, a Survivor.
The best is yet to come.
And his Poem:
Purgatory
Darkness. .. .
Where am I?
I go to speak the words, yet no sound comes out . . .
I was warm just a minute ago. . .
Why is it so cold?
Where is the comfort I once had?
There are others here. ..
Hundreds, maybe thousands.
They all seem to be heading to the same place. .
Should I follow?
That place is odd. . .
Scary yet comforting. . .
I do not wish to go there. . .
Yet it seems like I should.
The others mumble things.
Speak of eternity. . .
Speak of the end.
Is this where I am heading?
I am getting closer. . .
How long has it been?
Seems like days. . .
But has it even been hours?
The void, its closer still. . .
It’s not as dark there. . .
It’s welcoming me. . .
I guess it’s where I belong.
Wait. . .Something. . .
Something is going on behind me. ..
There is light!
It’s growing brighter. ..
I turn to look,
A scene is unfolding before my eyes,
Two familiar forms take shape,
One of them . . Is that me?
The other form,
He beckons me. . .
Asks me to come closer. . .
I feel myself being drawn in.
I watch as he leans close to my former self,
His fangs pierce,
My former eyes close. .
And I feel something happening. .
He begins to draw on what used to be my essence. . .
I feel myself floating up!
Closer and closer I get. . .
I travel from the darkness. . .
I find pure light. . .
It’s warm. . . Comfortable
Its home. . .
This wonderful being has chosen to save me. . .
Save me from the void. ..
The abyss. . .
He delivered me from purgatory.
He has my Loyalty.
My Gratitude.
My Trust.
My Love.
I am Lemar Ocello, born of the Sister and Brotherhood of Shilen. A dark elf whose skin stands out in the sunlight, but is at home in the pale moonlight. My dark eyes look almost as if I am looking deep inside you. And who's to say that I am not from time to time.
I was one of the few chosen out of the many to represent Shilen in the battlefield. As a warrior of Shilen, I was taught a hybrid of both magic and physical combat, both melee and ranged. Trained to be the very best warrior possible. I excelled above all the other students at my academy and rose quickly. I waged war against the different races of my world, Light Elves, Orcs, Dwarves, and Humans, it made no difference. All that matter was the glory of Shilen. I have taken on more quests than I know, been in more battles than I could ever remember and have both laid siege to and defended more castles than most know exist.
I traveled across the lands, from Gludin to Rune. Searching for worthy opponents, and laying ruin to any village I wanted. I was Lemar Ocello, champion oh the Shilen army. It was my right to do so. Wasn't it? Who was going to both tell me if wasn't, and then stop me from doing so?
As I continued on my path of what I thought was honor, I finally came upon a village that would change my life. In this village I found no worthy opponents. I found nothing. This is because a troop of Shilien Knights had already come through this now desolate town. And laid waste to everything. This was a different view point for me. As I have never stayed to witness the aftermath. What I saw revolted me.
So with little to no warning, I returned to Shilen Temple, and told them I would no longer take part in their wars. The backlash was worse than to be expected. For see, this was the worst offense a warrior such as I could do. I was exiled on the spot. Stripped of my armor. Stripped of my weapons. Stripped of all the possessions that were dear to me. And sent out on my own.
Once on my own, I did not just leave the land of Shilen. I used what little strength I had left to muster a spell, a spell that would take me to a completely different world, unknown to anyone from Shilen. Once there, I took the shape of a human, trying my best to fit in. I would then travel for years. Looking for my niche. Sadly, all of these places paled in comparison to the nation of Shilen. I slowly began to regret my decision, suddenly found myself wondering if I would never find the comfort level that I had in my glory days under Shilen. That is until I met new family.
During my travels I met some amazing people. Amazing people who decided to make their own family. Amazing people who did me the honor of offering me a spot among their ranks. Now I have been embraced by a "Beautiful Death". Deciding to take on "The Curse" and walk the line of darkness with them. In doing so, I have pledged my loyalty to King Alonzo, and in doing so, have promised to stop at nothing to protect the family name. I have since grown truly comfortable with my new family, opting to abandon my human form in favor of my true form.
I have found the niche I spent what seems like an eternity looking for. A niche that does not require me to lay waste to any beings, living or undead. A niche that has seen me for who I truly as, and have embraced me fully. A niche I will never leave
I am Lemar Ocello. Dark Elf. Warrior. Tyrant. Vampire. Friend. Lover. But, above all else, a Survivor.
The best is yet to come.
And his Poem:
Purgatory
Darkness. .. .
Where am I?
I go to speak the words, yet no sound comes out . . .
I was warm just a minute ago. . .
Why is it so cold?
Where is the comfort I once had?
There are others here. ..
Hundreds, maybe thousands.
They all seem to be heading to the same place. .
Should I follow?
That place is odd. . .
Scary yet comforting. . .
I do not wish to go there. . .
Yet it seems like I should.
The others mumble things.
Speak of eternity. . .
Speak of the end.
Is this where I am heading?
I am getting closer. . .
How long has it been?
Seems like days. . .
But has it even been hours?
The void, its closer still. . .
It’s not as dark there. . .
It’s welcoming me. . .
I guess it’s where I belong.
Wait. . .Something. . .
Something is going on behind me. ..
There is light!
It’s growing brighter. ..
I turn to look,
A scene is unfolding before my eyes,
Two familiar forms take shape,
One of them . . Is that me?
The other form,
He beckons me. . .
Asks me to come closer. . .
I feel myself being drawn in.
I watch as he leans close to my former self,
His fangs pierce,
My former eyes close. .
And I feel something happening. .
He begins to draw on what used to be my essence. . .
I feel myself floating up!
Closer and closer I get. . .
I travel from the darkness. . .
I find pure light. . .
It’s warm. . . Comfortable
Its home. . .
This wonderful being has chosen to save me. . .
Save me from the void. ..
The abyss. . .
He delivered me from purgatory.
He has my Loyalty.
My Gratitude.
My Trust.
My Love.
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Jisper's Tale, Part 2
After much thought I am publishing the second half of my personal history - there is much more then this, and many of the other histories to follow will, in all actuality, twine with this one.
I do not know how it happened or why it happened, but I do remember the first time my eyes landed upon the dark creature that had entered into my sanctuary. He was both powerful and weak, a proud but starving being - hunted by the humans that he, at a causal glance, appeared to be. But my acute senses knew better. He was ancient, far older than any human I'd ever seen. His scent was of something beyond the grave and time itself. He moved slowly and carefully, attempting to not awaken what he'd overheard existed here, clearly unwilling to act a challenger, but desperate for some place of safety and knowing that the legends would provide him with some measure of it. I alternatively followed and led, guiding him to shelter. I know not how long he remained in my valley, it may have been a season or several, beyond the count of a handful of days at least. After that amount of time I really lose track. The human concept of time somewhat fails me.
Slowly I came to the realization that I had seen his kind before, in a bit more of a twisted form. He was the same sort of creature that started me on this path – that had killed the kind woodsman who I'd sprung forth to act as family to. I was taken aback by the extreme difference in reaction between this new being and the one I'd first met. The last like him I'd encountered I'd been driven to destroy, but this one – my entire being was suddenly focused on protecting him. How strange a thing that was, I would later reflect, that I set out away from his hiding spot that early morn, unaware of what my deeds would lead me to.
At first all I intended was to get him strong enough to leave. I'd been alone for so long, and did not even think that perhaps I might want to stay with someone. So I hunted, but not for myself. He fed on what small animals I could exhaust and bring to him without his seeing me. I drove away the humans trying to seek him out, pestering them with bad dreams and mysterious fires until they learned to leave my valley alone. And the entire time I thought I was hidden. That was my delusion. This dark soulless being sensed me as clearly as I sensed him. Both of us chose to ignore that fact until I was forced to reveal myself in order to protect him on the fateful final night that led to my leaving that valley.
You see -- his kind usually remains alone, but he was old and wise, even among them. It was only natural that younger beings like him would seek him out for that wisdom. Some of these younger ones twinged at my sympathies, and I allowed them to pass into my realm as they followed whatever pull it was that lead them to him. Unfortunately, they also brought hunters in their wake.
On that night it was I that spotted the humans and realized that these were not the locals I'd dealt with before. Having become used to this dark creature, I could not conceive my world without him, even though he'd not seen me yet. In a fit of desperation as he prepared to fight for his very existence, I revealed myself and bid him to follow me into my sacred grotto, unaware that by doing so I would sever my connections with the land. Even if I had known - my actions would have been exactly the same. He'd become valuable to me on a level I was as of yet unaware of.
And we sat there -- he communicating to me wonders of the world his eyes had seen. Nearly timeless as I, he was, yet more aware of the passage of mortal life than I'd ever been... aching for something that he could not accept. His feet had taken him from one foreign world and culture to another, his mind sharp and eager to absorb the knowledge around it. I was awed by his brilliance, dark though it was, and saddened by the longing in his eyes.
None of those others had given him the missing thing in his existence, and I, a Bakeneko, was compelled to at least attempt it. If it was family he needed, my being was perfectly tailored to such a task. But would he accept me?
His tales mesmerized me – I think his power of suggestion came into play. Perhaps my eagerness was too much for him. Perhaps he had no idea what to do with the open heart I offered. Whatever reason, I became lost in visions of his wanderings, feeling only one intense wash of release and blackness before I knew of nothing for a time.
When my eyes started to see again I was alone in the grotto. And the place was no longer mine. Indeed, it was as if my heart and soul were already elsewhere. My feeling of unease grew through the night, for I had been unaware for nearly an entire day, before I set off on foot, knowing nothing about where I was going. My feet led me through my homelands beyond the valley into human culture and society. My mind, remembering how his was, seemed compelled to attempt understanding as he had. My Heart never thought it was enough, and so I kept moving -- following the pull of something myself that I had no name for.
From the islands of Japan, to the shores of China, across the mountains of Tibet, and the cities of India... Through vast deserts and dense jungles, bleak plains and packed areas with humanity, through both times that faded into nothing and those that would become important points in history --it was this way that I saw the world... following this never ending tug that led me again and again to that dark creature, again and again both saving and being saved. For many an adventure, neither of us knew the other by anything but feel. And that was enough. We both simply knew when we were needed.
After one particularly dangerous situation he turned to me as we marched across the sands of the Arabian desert and said, "You -- you are like holy salt... fit for danger, always causing trouble or pulling me out of it... I don't know if I should curse you or hug you half the time! 'Jisper' -- that's what these people call such a thing as you... I think I'll call you that from now on." And although the name was given in a fit of anger, perhaps even desperation, it did indeed suit me, and I have worn it as my own ever since.
During our wanderings I met many souls, some of which stayed with me, others traveled beside me only for a while before parting. One would become a minion of mine for a time, her name is Robin, a minor mixed Elven noble, partly Neko, my Childe, even when I was mortal, and now Queen of her own rather unique clan. But I get ahead of myself, I suppose... Robin and I did not take paths side by side as much as meet one another over and over. (Read about her history here)
In the depth of the night, eventually My sire and I would realize, jointly, that we were forever bound to one another. He asked me then, would I be one to stay with him until his final death, even if that never came? I told him a honestly as I could that I could see no other possibility for me, as we were destined to return to one another time and time again. Although he scoffed at the time, the centuries have proven me correct.
And sitting by a fire made of driftwood on some unnamed beach, he would tell me more of his story, for he already knew mine. He said to me then, "Little Brother, I have taken the name Alonzo Ozsvar, This is not my mortal name, for the place of my birth had no need for such things. To me you are a creature of darkness, Folded from the night, Forged from fire. I shall call you Brother Darkfold. And Little Brother, tonight I ask that you take my curse, share my destiny. I want you to meet someone who can tell us the nature of our connection, I suspect something." I agreed to the meeting, and when we went to seek shelter, he led me to a cave.
Inside this cave was a very unusual man, dusky skinned like ashes at midnight, intense eyes with otherworldly depth, unusually long pointed ears... This slight spry being motioned us both deeper into the dark, summoning gentle light upon his fingers, although I suspect none of us needed it. He Indicated seats formed of native stone and smiled before greeting the older of us, "We meet once more, sir Ozsvar, I had hoped you would find me again. Perhaps this time we can aid one another."
Alonzo gave a slight bow before sitting, "Sir Ocello, I believe perhaps we can, you asked before to find you someone with power to rescue souls. Perhaps if you could tell me now where mine is-- I can tell you if I've been successful?"
The rather --elven-- fellow laughed, and countered, "If I were to tell you where your soul was, my dear man, I'd know myself if you had succeeded. Like the last time, I would need a single drop of your blood, taken with this silver needle." With a frown, the older man carefully took the silver needle and drew out one drop of thick red liquid from his finger. "Here, here, place it here," the black eyed little gent said with some urgency.
Trembling slightly as the tiny prick of a wound closed, Alonzo touched the silver needle to the dish and jerked away from it as though it were filled with acid. I caught his slightly smoking fingers and without thinking licked them until they healed, unaware that the vampire was staring at my actions.
The elf nearly cackled with excitement, "Oh, it's here-- it's here very close." He placed the shallow bowl down as the needle spun. I looked down just in time to see it swing to a stop and reverse, moving past me, pausing and coming back. It did this several times before simply stopping. The Elf clapped his hands in jubilation, and then his face fell. "You are sure this one did not curse you?"
With a growl, Alonzo pulled his hand away, "Has he yet a beating heart? Of course I am sure!"
"Ah well then, we have our answer. I require of you then assistance -- my own soul is lost to the Abyss. It needs saving." I blinked, totally lost as to what was being said. "Stay here, rest awhile, I have a potion brewing... but you are both safe here."
"Wait -- just where is my Soul?" Alonzo demanded.
The Elf blinked, "Why, he has it, of course... and you his. But surely you knew this?"
Alonzo turned to look at me again and I met his eyes, neither of us were truly aware of the third man as he moved deeper into the cave. 'So it is true, and you hear my call when I need you.' came the familiar whisper into my mind, along with the wave of warmth that I knew to be unique to my brother. All I could do was nod. 'Then, my soul has pulled you to me, and me to you, all this time. When I bit you that night in your grotto, I sealed our fate. And yet, I was compelled to do it. Given the choice I'd do it again.'
I tilted my head, offering my throat, unspoken, but there was no need to speak... my blood was his to take, and it always had been. I gave freely. Somehow that night I took his curse, yet remained much the same, even when my heart ceased to beat, his soul remained with me, stubbornly refusing to detach. The elven male returned to us with a bowl of purple glowing brew, He looked from one to the other of us and said, "Because we know your young companion has the power to pull a soul from the Abyss, it is to him I offer mine, but if you will have me, I pledge to you both my undying loyalty." This offered and accepted, he drank his own brew and offered his throat to me.. and with my Brother's prompting I bit the exotic fellow, his already undead essence flowing into me, and into Alonzo, joining the three of us with a thin ethereal thread. (Read Lemar's History Here)
After this, Alonzo and I set out together, knowing that the elf, Lemar, would surface again. Our path took us through Africa, and back into Europe, where we slowly began to realize that another society existed below the human one, a society of Vampire clans and Lycan packs and mixed hoards. One of these groups pulled us in for a while, and although we learned much, there was much more about it we did not like-- and eventually we left to wander again on our own, leaving behind some who would prove staunch allies in the future.
The mortal world began to change rapidly now, and both myself and my brother were hard pressed to not be mesmerized by it. Because of this we were not totally aware of the dangers that the speedy progress brought with it. One of these changes would prove life altering, while I could control fire -- I nearly was not able to save my brother from destruction on that night in late 1887. Between the happenstance of Lemar's sudden reappearance and the unusual emergence of a living Clockwork Doll, Lyre, I was able to save my Liege and sire from Doom, but at the cost of most of his flesh. This too changed me, touching me with a bit of madness from Lyre, and forging a connection between us that never faded. (Read about Lyre's History Here)
While it would be Lemar's hearing my plea for help and his energy, power, magic even, that gave me time to craft what was needed, it was Lyre who guided me, even though she warned me of the risks -- I was consumed by need -- surely there was more to see, more to do-- and I could not, would not, do it alone. We labored to a fantastic degree, finally coaxing Alonzo back to awareness, his existence once more changed, and although hidden by elven trickery, his new nature would prove our saving grace many a time-- his clockworks inside making him more mechanical then flesh.
Just shy over two decades later, past the turn of the century, we braved again human society. It was late summer, this I remember. It was a ball we chose, masks to hide us just a bit more, cloaks to guard us, as much of a glamoure over us as we dared. We both were nervous that night, for different reasons. He because if his power failed there would be a riot, me because I knew I would give up everything to save him. As we stood off to the side in intense debate, SHE swept into the room. I did not need to look to know her destiny. Nor did my brother. The debate switched gears almost instantly, as to if we should tempt fate or leave. In our discourse we did not realize that the deceptively angelic creature draped in dramatic blood- red had swept up to us.
One look and I was -- captivated. Alonzo released his hold on my elbow with a mental wave of reassurance as I kissed the young woman's hand. She did something few others had dared to do, she asked me to dance. My impulse was to tell her no, This was over ridden by the mental command to tell her yes. I looked back at my Sire, and got a light squeeze on my arm for my trouble, The young lady seemed entranced already, aware of little else around her.
We moved to the ballroom floor, falling into the dance with timeless ease. Little was said. Little needed to be. Only when Alonzo stepped in, concerned and needing to know more about this creature did I release her. I watched over them from afar, keeping an eye on the approaching dawn, only sending a mental warning at the latest possible moment.
Alonzo put the mental suggestion on her to stay here, wanting to ward her off from following us-- from the danger that would bring to her, but she shook it off. We were moving swiftly, avoiding the rising sun, and I could hear her running behind us, the wind pushing her onward and driving her scent to me. We reached our carriage, and my my brother took his seat inside the darkened interior. The sun was threatening me, creeping up, whittling away the shadows, and I paused-- impossibly, risking my own existence to allow her one final moment.
She all but crashed into me, like a feather landing on pavement. I could see this was not her time, she had a life to live yet. I caught her to keep her from falling, barely risking touching her more than her elbows. I knew I had to leave her, even before Alonzo commanded me to get in the carriage. But I could not step away from her without something -- so I said to her, "We will meet again, my Childe, rest assured. Your place is here now." She blinked at me, flustered and breathless, beautiful, perhaps to much - enough that I should have been warned of the danger.
Oh, how my heart ached to ignore the fate in store for her and just pull her into our carriage and be done with it-- But Alonzo's mind pressed against mine again. I braved the sun for an instant, brushing my lips against her flushed cheek, keeping a memory of her taste to tide me by, leaving her there as I swirled into the shadows, rushed and carelessly. Slightly smoldering from my brush with the sun, I met my brother's eyes and we both knew that this would not be the last we saw of that seemingly angelic creature.
There would be others come into our lives, and this woman, Vivian Bunjie, would meet with us again several times. Indeed over time we watched her, as fate played it's hand, and the century passed. We would meet up again in the late 1980's in South America just in the nick of time to pull her out of the fire, but not in enough time to save her sire and lover. Perhaps that failure doomed her to forever seek what she had lost, and nothing Alonzo or I could give her would ever be enough to replace him.
(To be Continued...)
Asia after 1600
I do not know how it happened or why it happened, but I do remember the first time my eyes landed upon the dark creature that had entered into my sanctuary. He was both powerful and weak, a proud but starving being - hunted by the humans that he, at a causal glance, appeared to be. But my acute senses knew better. He was ancient, far older than any human I'd ever seen. His scent was of something beyond the grave and time itself. He moved slowly and carefully, attempting to not awaken what he'd overheard existed here, clearly unwilling to act a challenger, but desperate for some place of safety and knowing that the legends would provide him with some measure of it. I alternatively followed and led, guiding him to shelter. I know not how long he remained in my valley, it may have been a season or several, beyond the count of a handful of days at least. After that amount of time I really lose track. The human concept of time somewhat fails me.
Slowly I came to the realization that I had seen his kind before, in a bit more of a twisted form. He was the same sort of creature that started me on this path – that had killed the kind woodsman who I'd sprung forth to act as family to. I was taken aback by the extreme difference in reaction between this new being and the one I'd first met. The last like him I'd encountered I'd been driven to destroy, but this one – my entire being was suddenly focused on protecting him. How strange a thing that was, I would later reflect, that I set out away from his hiding spot that early morn, unaware of what my deeds would lead me to.
At first all I intended was to get him strong enough to leave. I'd been alone for so long, and did not even think that perhaps I might want to stay with someone. So I hunted, but not for myself. He fed on what small animals I could exhaust and bring to him without his seeing me. I drove away the humans trying to seek him out, pestering them with bad dreams and mysterious fires until they learned to leave my valley alone. And the entire time I thought I was hidden. That was my delusion. This dark soulless being sensed me as clearly as I sensed him. Both of us chose to ignore that fact until I was forced to reveal myself in order to protect him on the fateful final night that led to my leaving that valley.
You see -- his kind usually remains alone, but he was old and wise, even among them. It was only natural that younger beings like him would seek him out for that wisdom. Some of these younger ones twinged at my sympathies, and I allowed them to pass into my realm as they followed whatever pull it was that lead them to him. Unfortunately, they also brought hunters in their wake.
On that night it was I that spotted the humans and realized that these were not the locals I'd dealt with before. Having become used to this dark creature, I could not conceive my world without him, even though he'd not seen me yet. In a fit of desperation as he prepared to fight for his very existence, I revealed myself and bid him to follow me into my sacred grotto, unaware that by doing so I would sever my connections with the land. Even if I had known - my actions would have been exactly the same. He'd become valuable to me on a level I was as of yet unaware of.
And we sat there -- he communicating to me wonders of the world his eyes had seen. Nearly timeless as I, he was, yet more aware of the passage of mortal life than I'd ever been... aching for something that he could not accept. His feet had taken him from one foreign world and culture to another, his mind sharp and eager to absorb the knowledge around it. I was awed by his brilliance, dark though it was, and saddened by the longing in his eyes.
None of those others had given him the missing thing in his existence, and I, a Bakeneko, was compelled to at least attempt it. If it was family he needed, my being was perfectly tailored to such a task. But would he accept me?
His tales mesmerized me – I think his power of suggestion came into play. Perhaps my eagerness was too much for him. Perhaps he had no idea what to do with the open heart I offered. Whatever reason, I became lost in visions of his wanderings, feeling only one intense wash of release and blackness before I knew of nothing for a time.
When my eyes started to see again I was alone in the grotto. And the place was no longer mine. Indeed, it was as if my heart and soul were already elsewhere. My feeling of unease grew through the night, for I had been unaware for nearly an entire day, before I set off on foot, knowing nothing about where I was going. My feet led me through my homelands beyond the valley into human culture and society. My mind, remembering how his was, seemed compelled to attempt understanding as he had. My Heart never thought it was enough, and so I kept moving -- following the pull of something myself that I had no name for.
From the islands of Japan, to the shores of China, across the mountains of Tibet, and the cities of India... Through vast deserts and dense jungles, bleak plains and packed areas with humanity, through both times that faded into nothing and those that would become important points in history --it was this way that I saw the world... following this never ending tug that led me again and again to that dark creature, again and again both saving and being saved. For many an adventure, neither of us knew the other by anything but feel. And that was enough. We both simply knew when we were needed.
After one particularly dangerous situation he turned to me as we marched across the sands of the Arabian desert and said, "You -- you are like holy salt... fit for danger, always causing trouble or pulling me out of it... I don't know if I should curse you or hug you half the time! 'Jisper' -- that's what these people call such a thing as you... I think I'll call you that from now on." And although the name was given in a fit of anger, perhaps even desperation, it did indeed suit me, and I have worn it as my own ever since.
During our wanderings I met many souls, some of which stayed with me, others traveled beside me only for a while before parting. One would become a minion of mine for a time, her name is Robin, a minor mixed Elven noble, partly Neko, my Childe, even when I was mortal, and now Queen of her own rather unique clan. But I get ahead of myself, I suppose... Robin and I did not take paths side by side as much as meet one another over and over. (Read about her history here)
In the depth of the night, eventually My sire and I would realize, jointly, that we were forever bound to one another. He asked me then, would I be one to stay with him until his final death, even if that never came? I told him a honestly as I could that I could see no other possibility for me, as we were destined to return to one another time and time again. Although he scoffed at the time, the centuries have proven me correct.
And sitting by a fire made of driftwood on some unnamed beach, he would tell me more of his story, for he already knew mine. He said to me then, "Little Brother, I have taken the name Alonzo Ozsvar, This is not my mortal name, for the place of my birth had no need for such things. To me you are a creature of darkness, Folded from the night, Forged from fire. I shall call you Brother Darkfold. And Little Brother, tonight I ask that you take my curse, share my destiny. I want you to meet someone who can tell us the nature of our connection, I suspect something." I agreed to the meeting, and when we went to seek shelter, he led me to a cave.
Inside this cave was a very unusual man, dusky skinned like ashes at midnight, intense eyes with otherworldly depth, unusually long pointed ears... This slight spry being motioned us both deeper into the dark, summoning gentle light upon his fingers, although I suspect none of us needed it. He Indicated seats formed of native stone and smiled before greeting the older of us, "We meet once more, sir Ozsvar, I had hoped you would find me again. Perhaps this time we can aid one another."
Alonzo gave a slight bow before sitting, "Sir Ocello, I believe perhaps we can, you asked before to find you someone with power to rescue souls. Perhaps if you could tell me now where mine is-- I can tell you if I've been successful?"
The rather --elven-- fellow laughed, and countered, "If I were to tell you where your soul was, my dear man, I'd know myself if you had succeeded. Like the last time, I would need a single drop of your blood, taken with this silver needle." With a frown, the older man carefully took the silver needle and drew out one drop of thick red liquid from his finger. "Here, here, place it here," the black eyed little gent said with some urgency.
Trembling slightly as the tiny prick of a wound closed, Alonzo touched the silver needle to the dish and jerked away from it as though it were filled with acid. I caught his slightly smoking fingers and without thinking licked them until they healed, unaware that the vampire was staring at my actions.
The elf nearly cackled with excitement, "Oh, it's here-- it's here very close." He placed the shallow bowl down as the needle spun. I looked down just in time to see it swing to a stop and reverse, moving past me, pausing and coming back. It did this several times before simply stopping. The Elf clapped his hands in jubilation, and then his face fell. "You are sure this one did not curse you?"
With a growl, Alonzo pulled his hand away, "Has he yet a beating heart? Of course I am sure!"
"Ah well then, we have our answer. I require of you then assistance -- my own soul is lost to the Abyss. It needs saving." I blinked, totally lost as to what was being said. "Stay here, rest awhile, I have a potion brewing... but you are both safe here."
"Wait -- just where is my Soul?" Alonzo demanded.
The Elf blinked, "Why, he has it, of course... and you his. But surely you knew this?"
Alonzo turned to look at me again and I met his eyes, neither of us were truly aware of the third man as he moved deeper into the cave. 'So it is true, and you hear my call when I need you.' came the familiar whisper into my mind, along with the wave of warmth that I knew to be unique to my brother. All I could do was nod. 'Then, my soul has pulled you to me, and me to you, all this time. When I bit you that night in your grotto, I sealed our fate. And yet, I was compelled to do it. Given the choice I'd do it again.'
I tilted my head, offering my throat, unspoken, but there was no need to speak... my blood was his to take, and it always had been. I gave freely. Somehow that night I took his curse, yet remained much the same, even when my heart ceased to beat, his soul remained with me, stubbornly refusing to detach. The elven male returned to us with a bowl of purple glowing brew, He looked from one to the other of us and said, "Because we know your young companion has the power to pull a soul from the Abyss, it is to him I offer mine, but if you will have me, I pledge to you both my undying loyalty." This offered and accepted, he drank his own brew and offered his throat to me.. and with my Brother's prompting I bit the exotic fellow, his already undead essence flowing into me, and into Alonzo, joining the three of us with a thin ethereal thread. (Read Lemar's History Here)
After this, Alonzo and I set out together, knowing that the elf, Lemar, would surface again. Our path took us through Africa, and back into Europe, where we slowly began to realize that another society existed below the human one, a society of Vampire clans and Lycan packs and mixed hoards. One of these groups pulled us in for a while, and although we learned much, there was much more about it we did not like-- and eventually we left to wander again on our own, leaving behind some who would prove staunch allies in the future.
The mortal world began to change rapidly now, and both myself and my brother were hard pressed to not be mesmerized by it. Because of this we were not totally aware of the dangers that the speedy progress brought with it. One of these changes would prove life altering, while I could control fire -- I nearly was not able to save my brother from destruction on that night in late 1887. Between the happenstance of Lemar's sudden reappearance and the unusual emergence of a living Clockwork Doll, Lyre, I was able to save my Liege and sire from Doom, but at the cost of most of his flesh. This too changed me, touching me with a bit of madness from Lyre, and forging a connection between us that never faded. (Read about Lyre's History Here)
While it would be Lemar's hearing my plea for help and his energy, power, magic even, that gave me time to craft what was needed, it was Lyre who guided me, even though she warned me of the risks -- I was consumed by need -- surely there was more to see, more to do-- and I could not, would not, do it alone. We labored to a fantastic degree, finally coaxing Alonzo back to awareness, his existence once more changed, and although hidden by elven trickery, his new nature would prove our saving grace many a time-- his clockworks inside making him more mechanical then flesh.
Just shy over two decades later, past the turn of the century, we braved again human society. It was late summer, this I remember. It was a ball we chose, masks to hide us just a bit more, cloaks to guard us, as much of a glamoure over us as we dared. We both were nervous that night, for different reasons. He because if his power failed there would be a riot, me because I knew I would give up everything to save him. As we stood off to the side in intense debate, SHE swept into the room. I did not need to look to know her destiny. Nor did my brother. The debate switched gears almost instantly, as to if we should tempt fate or leave. In our discourse we did not realize that the deceptively angelic creature draped in dramatic blood- red had swept up to us.
One look and I was -- captivated. Alonzo released his hold on my elbow with a mental wave of reassurance as I kissed the young woman's hand. She did something few others had dared to do, she asked me to dance. My impulse was to tell her no, This was over ridden by the mental command to tell her yes. I looked back at my Sire, and got a light squeeze on my arm for my trouble, The young lady seemed entranced already, aware of little else around her.
We moved to the ballroom floor, falling into the dance with timeless ease. Little was said. Little needed to be. Only when Alonzo stepped in, concerned and needing to know more about this creature did I release her. I watched over them from afar, keeping an eye on the approaching dawn, only sending a mental warning at the latest possible moment.
Alonzo put the mental suggestion on her to stay here, wanting to ward her off from following us-- from the danger that would bring to her, but she shook it off. We were moving swiftly, avoiding the rising sun, and I could hear her running behind us, the wind pushing her onward and driving her scent to me. We reached our carriage, and my my brother took his seat inside the darkened interior. The sun was threatening me, creeping up, whittling away the shadows, and I paused-- impossibly, risking my own existence to allow her one final moment.
She all but crashed into me, like a feather landing on pavement. I could see this was not her time, she had a life to live yet. I caught her to keep her from falling, barely risking touching her more than her elbows. I knew I had to leave her, even before Alonzo commanded me to get in the carriage. But I could not step away from her without something -- so I said to her, "We will meet again, my Childe, rest assured. Your place is here now." She blinked at me, flustered and breathless, beautiful, perhaps to much - enough that I should have been warned of the danger.
Oh, how my heart ached to ignore the fate in store for her and just pull her into our carriage and be done with it-- But Alonzo's mind pressed against mine again. I braved the sun for an instant, brushing my lips against her flushed cheek, keeping a memory of her taste to tide me by, leaving her there as I swirled into the shadows, rushed and carelessly. Slightly smoldering from my brush with the sun, I met my brother's eyes and we both knew that this would not be the last we saw of that seemingly angelic creature.
There would be others come into our lives, and this woman, Vivian Bunjie, would meet with us again several times. Indeed over time we watched her, as fate played it's hand, and the century passed. We would meet up again in the late 1980's in South America just in the nick of time to pull her out of the fire, but not in enough time to save her sire and lover. Perhaps that failure doomed her to forever seek what she had lost, and nothing Alonzo or I could give her would ever be enough to replace him.
(To be Continued...)
Monday, November 7, 2011
Jisper's Tale, Part 1
By way of introduction, this is not my full history, rather it is the lead into it. It explains my formation and character, but does not detail more pressing matters. This is because there are other threads that need to be woven in before I continue.
~Duke Jisper Darkfold
Asia, after 1600
Many times Amil's path over the centuries are unmarked by the records. While he remained “free” on the lands the Church could not recall him to service. So he wandered the world from place to place, leaving track of his passage only by the occasional strange happenstance of one of his victims rising again with ravenous hunger of their own. These individuals did not always last long, as some places where he had passed before were already familiar with his kind. Or he moved through the territories of others who had been changed by one like him but unrelated to him. Some places he found very difficult to hide, and these locations he did not stay long. Other places he knew well and would spend years. And yet, his path slowly took him to the Far East and somehow he found himself wandering the isles of Japan. Here it was impossible to hide, so he was forever on the move. He might have believed himself to be the only supernatural being. He might have become careless with his success. Or he simply might have lost his mind....
Once night be chanced upon a mist shrouded valley which was the home to a single old woodcutter. He might have intended to take this man as he was near the end of his life anyway. He might simply been mad with hunger. He failed to overlook that this man had a large long tailed black cat. This cat had been very well taken care of, and was something the old woodcutter was very attached to. He often wished that he had a family, well not a family per say, but a son, someone to leave his possessions to. As it was the woodcutter only had the cat.
The force of the old man's desires and the goodwill he had shown his beloved cat came together just as Amil moved in for the kill. And this would be his doom, for his bound soul would be recalled to the Church where the “Reaper” would once more find himself chained to the will of clergy.
This is about when I find myself becoming more of a narrator then I might have liked, but only because I am speaking from personal experience. One thing is certain, we are molded by our pasts, formed into what we are by the experiences we have endured. Jumping ahead of myself, I should state that I write this not as a continual process, or even in starts and fits, but rather looking back on it now that my life, or undeath, has become stable enough for me to feel that I have the time to devote to doing the work.
So here is my tale, and read it as you will. I know there is much I am unaware of.
'Your appearance reminds me of the possibility of your essence incorporating the characteristics and ... adaptation of the habits of several different creatures. This could also incorporate your thirst for blood. That is what I had thought when i saw your original rendition of what you would be as a vampire. I immediately thought of an accidental mesh of things that somewhat upset a balance of nature. Nature would do anything to right what came into the world by supernatural means. That explained your appearance, strengths, and weaknesses. A hunter, but one that is foreign to the world.' -- Yannyth Uriza, Baron of BellaMorte
The words of my Minion, formulated as he attempted to make sense of what his eyes were telling him... hits on one very important fact. I am a supernatural creature. Even when "alive" I was not human. I have never been. But this world hides things in its bosom that most mortals never see. Creatures of legend and fable. I began my existence is a Bakeneko. If you have no idea what that is let me tell you this – I have much cat in me, and this colors my existence.
Long before my own tale started, another's not only nearly ended, but took on a new life and a new direction that would be forever woven within my own. Half a world away and who knows how many mortal years preceding, a dark insane creature took the soul of a dying man and left his childe to burn in the sunlight. This creature, this darkness, would flee from the holy man ascending the mountain. Somehow this cursed being made his way on foot across the land, and eventually to his doom.
Let me explain.
The man who does feature so strongly in my tale believes his mortal life was ended in the middle of the sixteenth century. He knew that he left behind his old life totally, with a new name, in 1615. He roamed far and wide, following the pull of what he had lost, unaware that it was this thing that he was drawn by. His path may not have taken him a direct route, but it did steadily lead him closer and closer to the place where his sire, foul as he was, fell for the last time.
How did this happen, you might wonder? Well, Bakeneko usually appear to serve a human. If the cat they transform from was taken good care of then the spirit that arises from it seeks to provide benefits for its caretaker. They are considered Lucky Bakeneko.
If, on the other hand, the cat is neglected or treated poorly, the spirit will take revenge in horrible and horrifying ways. In some cases the evil spirit may bring ruin and death down upon the caretaker and the family that neglected it so.
My own birth was mixed. As a cat I'd been well cared for. But my first memories were that of destruction. Because if this I have a very loyal kind core with an extremely violent and sometimes insane ability to lose control when those I care for are threatened. I am yet touched by the madness of my birth, as my tale will reveal.
I came to be in a fog shrouded and mostly inaccessible valley, one of the sort of places that time tends to overlook in its march. It was rather the point of awareness for me, where I transformed from a mere cat into a supernatural creature. My tame as a cat, when I struggle to remember back that far, was simple, and while the woodcutter was not wealthy, he did provide for me – I had a dry warm place, plenty of food, and much affection.
That moment of awareness leaves me in a state of confusion. At the time I was unsure of what had happened. There was blood and flames. I recall catching a glimpse of the life fleeing from the eyes of the kind old woodcutter and feeling anger. The attacker had not gone far. Perhaps my awareness and the loss of this individual are entwined with that of my current existence as a Vampire. Perhaps not. I do not recall much about this original human. I believe, looking back, that he was a wood cutter, poor and alone. And I am fairly sure he wished for a son instead of a daughter or a wife. I sprung forth on the power of his dying wish, to fire. I awoke just in time to avenge the death of the old woodsman whom I would have called 'father'.
Bakeneko are not indestructible, if the attacker knows what he or she is doing. Simply put, we can be banished or forced back to the aether from which we spring. My drive to extract revenge and sudden appearance caused the stranger to mindlessly turn on me, and I suppose the insane growl made him believe he had every right to defend himself. He, however, had the disadvantage of not knowing what this newly formed creature confronting him was, and while I also did not know what he was, I was far more lucky then my opponent. My fury fueled a power and affinity for the flames licking around me that would have burnt out the entire valley in an inferno – had he not proven quite easy to eradicate in this manner. The horrible evil being went up like he was made of lamp oil... and in a fit of madness I consumed whatever did not burn...
And this action in a moment of insanity would shape me from that point on. I developed a sensitivity for otherworldly beings. While my nature by creation was one of domestic helpfulness it was shadowed by the need to stalk, hunt, and consume what I killed. I cared little if it was animal or human – perhaps I was a little mad still. The valley gained a reputation for being haunted by a spirit that struck without warning, bringing some great fortune and others total annihilation. In this state, many seasons passed – And then something changed.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Threads Intertwined: BellaMorte Beginnings
The figure who had commissioned the book for the life of the young scribe fled the city and region. He would travel far and wide, from the uplands of Appenzell to the depths of the Egyptian deserts, across the sandy wastes and through tropical jungles. He would flee from his own actions always picking the sickly or weak or elderly on which to feed, leaving behind a string of individuals who shared his unique curse. What follows it the recount of a Childe's Childe. She would stop her search for a time with the clan before being driven by her triple curses on her way to find the essence of her lost love...
South America, 1575-1586
“The year was 1575, Iwonka lived a priest’s life within her birth village of Ninho da Serpente ("Snake's Nest"). It was nestled a stone’s throw south of Pico da Neblina (Fog Peak), the highest mountain in Brazil, in the Serra do Imeri, a section of the Guiana Highlands on the Brazil-Venezuela border. At the age of 11 her village was destroyed by enraged earthen elements, and she was one of two survivors.
The mark of scarred earth set upon her to burn as a curse for her life that she will find no peace in nature because of her Village's desecration of ancient burial grounds. She took her curse with her as she did the name of her destroyed village and became Iwonka Serpente.”
Egypt, Late 1500's
Amil Urizai often returned to the lands of those he resembled, because there he could walk through the masses or hide in the wilds for a time and be left alone. But being alone never stilled his thirst. While the sun burned, he was unable to send himself to his final rest and after over five hundred years of trying he simply chose to stop. It was not a matter of living with himself. That was rather impossible. But he could move like a restless hungry shadow from victim to victim. He selected those who were already at death's door, and he never stayed to witness the horror that his actions brought. If his deeds as judge and executioner made him the spawn of Satan in the eyes of the Church, so much the better.
Sometimes though his feedings would touch a soul and through fate or another cause his bite alone would not kill them. Once in a while one of these walking dead would figure out to bestow the curse on another. So his unknown and unmarked childer would spread and spawn from one to another, a loose web of hunters like himself. It was this way that an exotic, but once sickly, young man gained a new lease on “life” and was able to become the consort of someone very powerful. As with most things Amil touched, even those things he did not stay around to witness, the fate of that young man was to be tragic...
“It was at this time that (Iwonka), young and lost, followed the Mata Priest, the only other survivor, across the world to the deserts of Egypt and settled in Cairo where the Mata Priest found favor with the King and was given room and board within the walls of the palace. She studied there of the arts and of healing from the teachers of the palace. Her knowledge grew by leaps and bounds for she absorbed all and thirsted for more always.
The world was in a time of change and transition. Many travelers would stop in the palace and she was always the first to sit in the circles round the blazing fires to hear their stories and learn of their life’s path. It was through one of these fire side meetings that she met a young man named Arozal who, she found later, was the Queen's lover. Through no fault of theirs the two fell in love and soon after he trusted upon her the gift of bloodlust and eternal life in the form of vampirism. He kept her soul and the two made plans to leave the desert for Brazil. Through the Queen's wrath at discovering the two she banished Iwonka Serpente to the depths of the dungeons of the palace and killed Arozal by beheading, not the custom of the times but needed to tend to Arozal’s special condition.
This was the end of the thirteenth dynasty and soon Egypt was invaded by the Hyksos and Iwonka Serpente was released from her dungeons upon the lands. In her mourning she sought out Arozal’s spirit within the destroyed temple where he was murdered by the Queen’s authority. His spirit would not hear her through the deafness of injustice by which he died. She sought out and bartered for his life with a mystic necromancer offering her immortal life for the return of his love. She took part in the failed dark ritual witnessing the demise of the necromancer in the process. Arozal never came back to her, though his spirit was released from his confines to roam upon the earth. His anger with the Queen that ended him, dizzied him and he became lost on his way to his love, forced to walk the earth in his formless mist in frustration and fury. Iwonka’s immortality did not leave her. She was left cold, thrice cursed and incapable of love until she could find Arzol’s spirit upon the earth.
She traveled the seas, the lands, the mountains searching always for Arozal’s lost spirit and the return of emotion. Return of love. Growing ever sadder, ever sinking into the realization that the task befitted her was one that was near impossible to bring to fruition. She became hardened and chilled in her search, hiding her healing powers as she witnessed death and pain and never satisfaction from it to quench her. For hundreds of years she searched, never finding.”
Sometime past this tragic encounter Iwonka would meet up with another like her, Alonzo Ozsvar. While their paths were not destined to run parallel, they were destined to meet time and time again, as they both searched for something neither could find...
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
The Beginning of BellaMorte
Constantinople, Late Fall, 1148
He had heard a noise in the upper chambers where the master scribe often worked late into the night. There was no scream but the scent of moist iron raised goosebumps on his skin which was very unnatural in the warm night air. The apprentice picked up his quill sharpening knife, which was ridiculously unsuited to self defense, but better then a pointed feather, which was his other option. Swallowing his impulse to flee, he took to the round flight of stairs, silently climbing the stone flights in soft stocking covered feet.
The door was open on the room above, the moonlight and faint candle glow spilling onto the landing. He paused just outside of it, listening for the sound of a thief, or at least his master's scribbling in lieu of cursing over spilled ink. Instead his ears picked up the faintest rustle of fabric, as though someone was standing at the window, unmoving and looking out it. The moment extended with but a breath, before a raspy whisper said, “I have been expecting you to charge up here, sir. Or flee for the black of night.”
Lowering his knife, the apprentice squared his shoulders, and mustering bravery he did not feel, he stepped into the doorway, “But good Sir, entering through a window into a master's tower is hardly a way to a kind greeting.” As he spoke the scene in the room registered to him that this was not a normal situation at all. A dark skinned figure of a form stood by the window, backlit by the moon and shadowed by the flickering glow of a dying candle. A foreigner, surely, garbed in clothes that marked a warrior of nearly half a century before. His arms supported the body of the elder scribe, head drooped to the side, a red stain turning brown across the pale linen tunic it was dressed in. Shaken, the younger scribe found himself struggling to swallow. He finally whispered, “What is it you want?”
“Deliver my tale, and you might yet live,” the figure raspped out. The apprentice gave a nod. “I'll tell you- you write it. Then take it far from here, outside the reach of the Church. Hide it well.” And with that the process began, nightly for many a moon the words flowed from the lips of the undead form, where he would say what he thought was the truth. The scribe wrote, blindly, every word, not reading his own work. One night when the book was near its end, the dark figure simply said “It is done. Flee now, as fast as you can, lest the Church catch wind of your deeds and drag you through town for consorting with the devil.” Then he was gone.
The Arian Countryside, 1558
The book made its way through many a journey, being copied several times by different scribes who were tasked with preserving it. The Knights Templar saw to it as much. One such copy ended up in the north of Europe, in the hands of Brother Ozsvar. Being a young man, and one with great curiosity, he read this book, under the guise of coping it. Unsure if it were real or not, he reserved judgment on the players, knowing that God would handle that. This morn would mark a day for gathering from the bounty around the monastery. He placed the secret tome back and turned to ready himself for the day.
With the predawn he and the other Brothers set off on their pilgrimage. They would gather what they could, and take a circular route through the valley. It was on the way back that his life would change course. Not in a bad way, for his faith allowed him to do good regardless of the situation. So when the travelers came across a man in the hills the second day out who appeared to be dying, his instinct won out and he covered the fellow, enlisting the aid of his brethren to carry the form back to the monastery. The Brothers believed that the body would be set to burial, and took it where he bid, down to the cellars proper where no sun would threaten. Here he prepared a small room out of a storage area, and set about tending to the unique needs of the new inhabitant.
It would take time, weeks even, for his acts of kindness to get the fellow to regain some guise of humanity. Brother Ozsvar did not let this bother him. He knew what it was he had found, thanks to the secret works he had read. He knew that to sate the hunger of this newly turned creature meant saving the blood from the slaughtered animals – an thankfully the brethren believed he was making blood sausage with it. In time the creature would gain slow acceptance within the society of the monastery, particularly as he helped with tasks in the darkness that others could not do.
As time passed the man, as he would be accepted as a man, learned from the priests to read and write. He was granted the name Alonzo and brought into the common life of the brethren. They turned a blind eye to how he fed, instead seeing his presence as a blessing upon them. His remembrance of this time is as follows:
“Early sixteenth century is my best guess. Somewhere in the Arian countryside. I had outlived my family and friends. I was old by the standards of the time, old and tired. I left the village for the first time in my life to find a quiet place to die. Walking 3 days took me up above the tree line but not above the grass. Finding a grassy knoll, I laid down to sleep….
I do not know the dates of my birth or death. Time was not measured that way for country folk.
I do not know the land of my birth or death. My village was my world.
Upon finding my near lifeless body, Brother Ozsvar, a strong young man about a third my age, carried me down to the monastery. The monks spoke of the death of the Christ 1550 years earlier. That is how I figure my age.
I was told my clothes and manner of speech was from the region influenced by canton of Appenzell. That is how I place the land of my first birth.
I stayed in that monastery for 57 years, learning to read, write, to broaden my world of thought. No one mentioned my strength, my age or the scars that never faded.”
How strange that it was, an old man who never changed would stay for fifty seven years in the monastery perfectly content to take what nourishment he was offered. But that was the way of things then. He had found a new group to be family and friends, but like all things, time did not stop. One day he would be summoned to the side of the friend who had dared to save him. The tale goes on:
“Speaking to me from his deathbed, a very old Brother Ozsvar told me it was time to leave and explore the world. Brother Ozsvar was young when he carried the frail old man down from that grassy hilltop. He was a very old man when I carried him down to the crypts. The next day I left the monastery with the lessons they taught and the name of my teacher. The year was 1615.
I have roamed ever since, not staying long in any one place. Exploring many lands and many cultures at various times in history. Meeting people who became figures of importance and people who faded into the annuls of time. Every one of them left their mark on me. I have made a point of never getting close to any one person. It is not the look of death that drives me away. It is the loss of friends.
I never knew my sire. Probably a hapless traveler who stumbled upon a dying man no one would miss. Unconsciously I look for that beast, either to thank it or to kill it.”
But soon the pull of his sire's actions would lead him to One that would become his enduring companion....
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