"Damn you Childe, why have you given up? If I were not so loathe to destroy what I create, rest assured that I would consume you." He could not see anything of his sire in the flickering candle light that only seemed to make the shadows darker. He heard the movement of a cape as the sire he had never known turned on his heel. " Perhaps I can still find a use for you in the Jyhad. Never again will I feed you though. If you can survive then maybe you will be useful. I would hate to have squandered the Prince's permission." A slight shift in the air, accompanied by a feeling of just a little more space was the only way he knew that his sire had left.
A D W*
Time had passed then. Day and night had had no meaning, save as times when he could function better or worse. Back then he had tried to sleep as little as possible, knowing that he had little time if he used the blood for something as petty as waking. The room he had been in, and had just now returned to, would have been called a library if it had had a door. Sparsely furnished, there were tall cases of books on all four walls, two candles at the sides of a book stand on a massive desk, littered with blank books, pens, ink, and other materials, and a brazier in each corner of the room. He had not doubted that the key to his escape lay within one of the books in the room, and so he had poured of those ancient tomes, making notes on things he thought might be useful once he escaped, even as he had searched desperately for that which would make his hope a reality. It was from these books that he learnt of kindred history and found the myriad ways to use his blood. It was from
these books that he learnt history, both that of mortals and kindred, and it was these books that taught him how to escape. Now he was hunted by something that he did not know, or understand. So, much as a childe will return to its mother, seeking the safety of the womb when confronted with something he didn't understand, he had returned to this room which had been his genitor. He now hoped to find something that he could use against his foes.
He remembered that time long ago when he had last seen his sire. He had escaped, that he was here now was testament enough to that, but he had never found the fiend ever again. The threat he had made still lingered in the stagnant air here. He could feel it. As his eyes lighted on the flower that he had named himself after, and had left for his sire, with the short note still tucked underneath it, he smiled, and so cold was his smile that his normally benevolent countenance did not even look remotely human. He did not need to read the note to remember what it said, for each night before sleeping and after waking he recited it out loud, simply to be sure that he would never forget it.
With God as my witness, I swear that I will do nothing that I will regret, save only if it furthers the plans of the Almighty. I shall act as the Justicar of Heaven, until such time as God sees fit to remove from that post.
He opened the first of the books that he had called his journal during his enforced stay here. In truth, they were little more than a collection of insights, thoughts, and the titles of the books he had scoured, recorded simply for the purpose of preventing him from going insane. He had been trapped for more than four years, living off the rats and other small critters he had been able to find, but he hadn't known that until after he had escaped. In the beginning he had tried to keep track of the days, be before the second book was even started the journal entries had ceased to be labeled by days and been labeled as entries.
Idly he flipped through the heavy parchment pages, one of the entries caught his eye. He flipped back a few pages and began to read from the day before's entry. It was strange. He had found something, something he had been to afraid to mention even here and had hidden somewhere. But what he had found, and where it was hidden, were mysteries to him. He dismissed the thought that this was important, even though it continued to nag at him. He kept reading through the journals, remembering those days that he had spent sealed in the room.
It was at the end of the last book, in the ten pages that he had always left empty so as to give himself space to make notes if he had ever gone back through them that he found a note from his sire.
My childe, It began.
I have often wondered if I did the right thing by you. Even now, after such a long period of time the question nags at me, and I can not put my mind at rest, for you dropped from my view almost as soon as you escaped, and I thought it best to leave you to your own devices for a brief period of time, so as to allow you time to grow into your powers, and to prevent others from harming you to hurt me in the Jyhad. I have I think caused you far more grief then is your due, and for such I hope you can forgive me. To this end I have included a capsule of my blood, so that you may use as you see fit in the future. My Vitae is potent, and I fear that you may have need of it in the days to come... But such is not the reason for my writing this note to you.
In the past half century I have heard of you only infrequently, and only once from a source that I could trust. Her name Artemis when you met her, and with the exception of yourself she was the of my Childer.
She is also one of the two whom I can place any trust in currently. He was surprised to read this, for so far as he had known, he was the only creature that had ever been embraced by his sire and not been bound by his sire's blood. A vague memory, more than forty years old, of a Caitiff being pursued by a pack from the Sabbat was all he had for a memory of Artemis. He would have to think on her. If she should seek you out, I ask that you not destroy her until after you have heard all she has to say. I'm going to the other one know, to alert him to the threat we are facing.
Yes boy, a threat. By now I would imagine that you know what I am talking about. If not, then you will in a short period of time. I will not write anything that I know about them down here, instead trusting it all to Artemis, in the event that I die, and trusting to the fact that she will find you, should such need to happen.
I fear that if we do not all work together, with the whole of our abilities, to unite the Camarilla against the threat that I sense looming before us, then there shall be none of the Camarilla left when the time of Gehenna approaches.
I must go now, for they have found my haven, and I must flee the city least they attack me while I sleep. With luck they shall not know of this library, but I do not know how long such a state can last for. To this end I would ask you to preserve these books wherever you can. Do so quickly, else they be lost.
We will meet again,
Thomas Berium
He smiled at the words of his sire, and began gathering what he could of the books into the satchels he had brought with him. He filled all three quickly, and left the room behind.
A D W*
He was more than halfway back to his haven when he heard the screaming and the howls. He had hoped to avoid this, but a quick assessment of his situation said that would be impossible. He saw the band of Kindred come around the corner ahead of him, trailed by the pack of creatures. He had more contact with the wolves then any others of his kind that he new of, but even they would not speak of these creatures anymore than to say that they had been wolves, but were now twisted and corrupted, a danger to all. To fight them wasn't any harder, they were just more likely to be found in the city.
He stepped out into the street as the Coterie of kindred passed, having already put the books down on the sidewalk. His right hand gripped the hilt of his katana, concealed by the long coat he was wearing, while his left eased one of his sawed of Ithaca shotguns out into the open where it could be seen.
The werewolf in front snarled to its colleagues as it ran. "Fresh meat." The lone vampire standing before them smiled for a moment, and then with blinding speed brought the shotgun up and fired.
The misshapen face of the Spiral Dancer didn't even have time to register surprise as the hollow slug of silver, filled with a white phosphorus compound crashed into it. On fire and missing its head the nine foot tall killing machine of fur and muscle collapsed. The kindred's right hand left the hilt of the katana as the other four wolves pulled up short, rapidly reevaluating their strategy. The incessant hyena like cackles made the vampire wonder what they were saying, but he didn't worry about it. This pack had picked the wrong hunting ground tonight, and it was a simple as that to him. His right hand came out of his jacket with a second shotgun, identical to the first. Four gunshots and six seconds later, just burning corpses remained of the Spiral Dancers.
The vampire put both guns back into their respective holsters, walked back over to the satchels, and picked them back up. One of the young kindred from the coterie, a Ventrue he guessed, asked him his name so that they might know who they owed their unlives to.
As he walked away into the shadows he told them it.
"Amaranth." He said.
Author's Note: This was just an idea for a story I had while I was sitting in my African/Asian Lit class, and began to write during a pep rally. Tell me what you think. Suggestions for the title would be appreciated, as I don't have any good ideas.
A D W*
Time had passed then. Day and night had had no meaning, save as times when he could function better or worse. Back then he had tried to sleep as little as possible, knowing that he had little time if he used the blood for something as petty as waking. The room he had been in, and had just now returned to, would have been called a library if it had had a door. Sparsely furnished, there were tall cases of books on all four walls, two candles at the sides of a book stand on a massive desk, littered with blank books, pens, ink, and other materials, and a brazier in each corner of the room. He had not doubted that the key to his escape lay within one of the books in the room, and so he had poured of those ancient tomes, making notes on things he thought might be useful once he escaped, even as he had searched desperately for that which would make his hope a reality. It was from these books that he learnt of kindred history and found the myriad ways to use his blood. It was from
these books that he learnt history, both that of mortals and kindred, and it was these books that taught him how to escape. Now he was hunted by something that he did not know, or understand. So, much as a childe will return to its mother, seeking the safety of the womb when confronted with something he didn't understand, he had returned to this room which had been his genitor. He now hoped to find something that he could use against his foes.
He remembered that time long ago when he had last seen his sire. He had escaped, that he was here now was testament enough to that, but he had never found the fiend ever again. The threat he had made still lingered in the stagnant air here. He could feel it. As his eyes lighted on the flower that he had named himself after, and had left for his sire, with the short note still tucked underneath it, he smiled, and so cold was his smile that his normally benevolent countenance did not even look remotely human. He did not need to read the note to remember what it said, for each night before sleeping and after waking he recited it out loud, simply to be sure that he would never forget it.
With God as my witness, I swear that I will do nothing that I will regret, save only if it furthers the plans of the Almighty. I shall act as the Justicar of Heaven, until such time as God sees fit to remove from that post.
He opened the first of the books that he had called his journal during his enforced stay here. In truth, they were little more than a collection of insights, thoughts, and the titles of the books he had scoured, recorded simply for the purpose of preventing him from going insane. He had been trapped for more than four years, living off the rats and other small critters he had been able to find, but he hadn't known that until after he had escaped. In the beginning he had tried to keep track of the days, be before the second book was even started the journal entries had ceased to be labeled by days and been labeled as entries.
Idly he flipped through the heavy parchment pages, one of the entries caught his eye. He flipped back a few pages and began to read from the day before's entry. It was strange. He had found something, something he had been to afraid to mention even here and had hidden somewhere. But what he had found, and where it was hidden, were mysteries to him. He dismissed the thought that this was important, even though it continued to nag at him. He kept reading through the journals, remembering those days that he had spent sealed in the room.
It was at the end of the last book, in the ten pages that he had always left empty so as to give himself space to make notes if he had ever gone back through them that he found a note from his sire.
My childe, It began.
I have often wondered if I did the right thing by you. Even now, after such a long period of time the question nags at me, and I can not put my mind at rest, for you dropped from my view almost as soon as you escaped, and I thought it best to leave you to your own devices for a brief period of time, so as to allow you time to grow into your powers, and to prevent others from harming you to hurt me in the Jyhad. I have I think caused you far more grief then is your due, and for such I hope you can forgive me. To this end I have included a capsule of my blood, so that you may use as you see fit in the future. My Vitae is potent, and I fear that you may have need of it in the days to come... But such is not the reason for my writing this note to you.
In the past half century I have heard of you only infrequently, and only once from a source that I could trust. Her name Artemis when you met her, and with the exception of yourself she was the of my Childer.
She is also one of the two whom I can place any trust in currently. He was surprised to read this, for so far as he had known, he was the only creature that had ever been embraced by his sire and not been bound by his sire's blood. A vague memory, more than forty years old, of a Caitiff being pursued by a pack from the Sabbat was all he had for a memory of Artemis. He would have to think on her. If she should seek you out, I ask that you not destroy her until after you have heard all she has to say. I'm going to the other one know, to alert him to the threat we are facing.
Yes boy, a threat. By now I would imagine that you know what I am talking about. If not, then you will in a short period of time. I will not write anything that I know about them down here, instead trusting it all to Artemis, in the event that I die, and trusting to the fact that she will find you, should such need to happen.
I fear that if we do not all work together, with the whole of our abilities, to unite the Camarilla against the threat that I sense looming before us, then there shall be none of the Camarilla left when the time of Gehenna approaches.
I must go now, for they have found my haven, and I must flee the city least they attack me while I sleep. With luck they shall not know of this library, but I do not know how long such a state can last for. To this end I would ask you to preserve these books wherever you can. Do so quickly, else they be lost.
We will meet again,
Thomas Berium
He smiled at the words of his sire, and began gathering what he could of the books into the satchels he had brought with him. He filled all three quickly, and left the room behind.
A D W*
He was more than halfway back to his haven when he heard the screaming and the howls. He had hoped to avoid this, but a quick assessment of his situation said that would be impossible. He saw the band of Kindred come around the corner ahead of him, trailed by the pack of creatures. He had more contact with the wolves then any others of his kind that he new of, but even they would not speak of these creatures anymore than to say that they had been wolves, but were now twisted and corrupted, a danger to all. To fight them wasn't any harder, they were just more likely to be found in the city.
He stepped out into the street as the Coterie of kindred passed, having already put the books down on the sidewalk. His right hand gripped the hilt of his katana, concealed by the long coat he was wearing, while his left eased one of his sawed of Ithaca shotguns out into the open where it could be seen.
The werewolf in front snarled to its colleagues as it ran. "Fresh meat." The lone vampire standing before them smiled for a moment, and then with blinding speed brought the shotgun up and fired.
The misshapen face of the Spiral Dancer didn't even have time to register surprise as the hollow slug of silver, filled with a white phosphorus compound crashed into it. On fire and missing its head the nine foot tall killing machine of fur and muscle collapsed. The kindred's right hand left the hilt of the katana as the other four wolves pulled up short, rapidly reevaluating their strategy. The incessant hyena like cackles made the vampire wonder what they were saying, but he didn't worry about it. This pack had picked the wrong hunting ground tonight, and it was a simple as that to him. His right hand came out of his jacket with a second shotgun, identical to the first. Four gunshots and six seconds later, just burning corpses remained of the Spiral Dancers.
The vampire put both guns back into their respective holsters, walked back over to the satchels, and picked them back up. One of the young kindred from the coterie, a Ventrue he guessed, asked him his name so that they might know who they owed their unlives to.
As he walked away into the shadows he told them it.
"Amaranth." He said.
Author's Note: This was just an idea for a story I had while I was sitting in my African/Asian Lit class, and began to write during a pep rally. Tell me what you think. Suggestions for the title would be appreciated, as I don't have any good ideas.