Friendly Conversations and Serious Decisions

Lessa watched Novanus leave the chamber and turned to talk to Admar. "Does Novanus always like to wind people up, or is it just me?" "Yes, you're right m'lady, but especially Gadorian," replied Admar with a chuckle while tucking into the chicken. "You are a puzzle to me, Admar. You serve Novanus even knowing what we are. I am made to wonder why? I have known many of your kind in the past that would have run a mile. True, Moebius manipulates most, but all the same, why do you follow him as you would a friend?" Lessa asked, sitting down on a couch, motioning Admar to sit next to her as she did so.
Admar sat ready to tell his story. He liked this female vampire. "Well...… Tw'er many years ago if you must know. I had just begun my apprenticeship as a merchant. My father, truth be told, was a member of the Merchants Guild and he had put a good word in for me with the merchant I was to train with, at a cost of course. Anyway after just two years of my apprenticeship my father died in debt. Having neglecting me for the past twelve years of my life he had sold everything but his soul to see me through my time with the merchant, as way of recompense. Even at the extent of his own business. With no one to pay for me the merchant turned me out with nothing but the clothes I had on my back.
"I fell to the gutter and stayed there with Thieves, murderers, whores and other wasters, for the next two years. During that time I had fallen in with a gang of thieves. Now during the years of neglect I suffered I began to steal as a feeble attempt to get the attention of my father. I became well skilled in picking locks, cat burglary and general thievery, so when the thieves asked if I could lend them a hand I did the occasional job with them.
"One job I did them went so wrong that we ended up with the Sarafan on us. We'd tried to get some of these precious artifacts from the Sarafan stronghold. In our escape we were running along the ramparts and I tripped and fell over. But I didn't fall. I sat in the air but not falling. It was then that my Lord Novanus appeared out of the sky and decapitated the two Sarafan who were chasing me. He landed on the rampart, turned to me and said, 'What will you give me if I save you from the fall, the Sarafan and any other evils which may befall you for the rest of your natural days?' I could barely speak but I managed to regain my voice and say, 'My Lord I would give you my very life.' To which he replied 'Done,' smiled and leapt into the air beside me. He took me to his home and there I served him. But then about twelve years ago he said to me, 'You are released of your bond to me.' He set me free. But I serve him still. I owe him everything.
"And that, my Lady, is how and why I serve My Lord." "I see. Well you seem a good friend as any mortal can be to us. I am Lessa sired of Vorador," replied Lessa to the man's story. He was as nice as a mortal could look to a vampire before becoming a food interest anyway. "Well if you will excuse me Admar, I am going to see where your master has got to." Lessa rose and with a nod left to find Novanus in the crypt.
Lessa walked down the hallway again and came to the door to the crypt. The smell of fresh blood swept out but it did not entice her, she had fed well. Lent was just finishing feeding Kain and Novanus was talking of something to him.
"You're taking your time Novanus, your guests are missing you," said Lessa as she strode into the large crypt. The crypt was a large domed room with paintings depicting various scenes of the Ancients. Lessa knew of them of course as Vorador had been her sire, and an ancient his.
Lessa walked up to Novanus. "There was something I wanted your advice on Novanus. I'm sure you know of the healing power of my blood, Vorador probably told you. I could probably rouse Kain quicker if I let him drink of me, but I would not like to disrupt your plans. You are wiser in this time than I, and know the dangers that come. What would you have me do?" asked Lessa, looking Novanus in the eyes.
Novanus was about to answer when Lent butted in. "You must feed him, do it now, vampire. You must wake your lord. What do you wait for?" Lent shouted full of excitement that his Lord would rise quicker with this vampire's blood, and confused as to why she did not slit her wrists and feed Kain...

"I would agree with Lent. I had all but forgotten your remarkable healing abilities. However, don't let him feed for too long. Give him a small infusion of your blood. Then if the process works, we can do it again." Novanus turned to Lent. "Lent, you must realize that it is not just Kain's body that is damaged, but also his mind. I have seen vampires in worse physical states than your master walking around quite happily. Kain's mind is damaged. I have caught flickers of consciousness from him but only very faint. I will have to think of the best way to awaken his dormant mind. Now, Lessa, let us see what your blood can do for Kain." Novanus stepped back, allowing Lessa near the bier that bore Kain. "Don't worry, I won't let any harm befall you."

Izael was quite amazed. How on earth could such a party be HERE? It looked like the vampires were capable of doing anything. However, he couldn't relax here in the middle of his enemies (and Izael had sworn an oath not to drink when he had joined the brotherhood, though he had "understood" it as not to get drunk). So, after eating a few things he was bored. He decided to seek a silent corner where to read the two books he had stolen from the Library. So Izael walked over to Gadorian and spoke, "Is there a place where I could read all these books? I am in no mood of a party with vampires, as you must understand. Heck, I still don't fully trust even YOU. Oh, and if you could, sire, get me armor. I feel so unsafe without a full-plate."

Novanus left the crypt, and Lent soon followed carrying Lessa. "I won't let any harm befall you," Novanus had said. None of them realized the frenzy of Kain, and how he would not be denied a decent amount of blood. "Could have been worse," Lent said, trying to comfort Novanus, "It's not your fault." Lent put Lessa down carefully on the couch, slit his wrist and poured a few drops of blood on her lips. "That won't be necessary," Novanus said. "I know," Lent replied, "But it's my duty."

Lessa stirred and rose. "Feeling better?" Novanus asked. "What happened?"
"Kain fed and took more than his share from you," Novanus replied. "Let's not do that again," Lent said. Novanus and Lessa were both shocked at this. Why a vampire worshipper would not try again to wake his master was beyond them. "There are so few of you left," said Lent, "we must covet what numbers we have left."
Lent wrapped up his fresh wound. A scent of blood still wafted from the air, the scent of Vorador. Looking around the room Lent had noticed a few more mortals had joined his party. More importantly, the heir of the Serioli was here too. Lent looked disgusted. "What is he doing here?" Lent asked with contempt. "He's here to help," Novanus said. "You trust that fiend? Just last week he would have attempted to kill us all and not thought twice about it, now you enlist his service?" "It's not your concern," Lessa said. "And you're with him as well, child of Vorador? Have you forgotten the words of your master? 'Trust not a man who betrays his own master, nor take him into his service; lest he betray you too.' He is the descendant of the Serioli, and he's taken the oath of the Sarafan. This man changes sides like a human changes loin cloths, it's in his blood."
Novanus and Lessa didn't respond. Lent glared at the two of them and stormed off, "Your recklessness will spell your demise, Novanus." He didn't like this at all. This betrayer could jeopardize Kain's safety. Whatever Novanus was planning with this Serioli and Nerayan, he wanted no part in it. Lent returned to a small quarter he had made for himself in the temple. It was humble but it suited his needs. It had a bed, a small desk, and candles. Lent sat on the desk and gave a sigh as he set down ink, a quill, and a large textbook bearing the mark of Vorador. This was the diary of his ancestors, all of them. In it contained the history of his family, the history of vampires, the history of men, written in ancient Nosgoth blood script. Lent calmed himself and quietly turned the pages to the last one. It was blank... his page... the last page. He had always wondered what he would write on there one day, but now he wondered if he would actually be the last one to write something down. With no sons or daughters, he could not carry on his bloodline. His family name would die with him, his bloodline would be erased, and all that remained was this book, its pages near rotted. It was fitting that the number of pages ended with his bloodline, ironically fitting. He could not stand to dwell on it any longer. He put the book away, and left the room to train. Training for battle had always helped him clear his mind, and he had more than enough on it.

Lessa sat up on the couch to talk to Novanus, she felt light headed but what was left of her blood was already healing her slit wrists. She would have to feed again later. "We could try again Novanus, but next time I'll put it in a chalice and not directly from me, Lent can collect some more when I have fed," Lessa rose to find food and turned back to Novanus. "And don't worry, it wasn't you fault." Smiling, Lessa bent down and kissed him on the cheek, and turning went up to the pimp and proceeded to rip his throat out and drink him dry.

Gadorian pushed his hair out of his eyes and peered down at Izael. "Armor? Psht. And your apprehension? You realize you would be long dead already if any one of us wished it." Still, Gadorian understood the boy's sentiments, and realized the request was entirely reasonable. Although there had been friction between himself and Novanus in the past, he knew that they would have to work together, and understood that Novanus saw the significance of Izael and the sword as well as he did.

Then he considered the great volume of mortals brought up for the party. Although he appreciated the offering, and the worshipper was certainly as thorough as possible in covering his tracks, it was still a risk for that many humans to be brought to a place so sacred. A surprise attack could come at any moment, and this human was less...durable...than Gadorian and his fellow vampires. He nearly wept when he thought of Lent and his hatred for this boy. Everyone was clearly alarmed by his association with the Sarafan, but the vampires had forgiven him that. Lent's malice, however, grew from his knowledge of the sword's origin and Izael's lineage. Would the vampire-worshipper even listen if he were to tell him that whatever masters he had listened to, all the tomes he had studied with fanatic zeal, were wrong about the sacred sword and its human bearer? History is written by the victors, and thus it seemed that the existence of the sword's true original champion had been wiped entirely from its pages. He would try to heal the wounds hate had wrought, but perhaps there was no hope in this cause. Gadorian again turned his attention to Izael.
"Follow me." Gadorian walked to the atrium and through a partially hidden door, Izael following close behind. He led the Sarafan interminably deep into the mountain, although they covered hardly a fraction of the full area of the temple. Finally, they reached a small room covered in a glass-like dome, invisible from the outside. Gadorian lit the lanterns in the room, set down some food he had taken from upstairs, and a few small books of his own he had been carrying inside his cloak. He left the room for a few minutes and returned with an ancient yet formidable looking suit of black armor, etched with blood red runes. The moonlight shone off the armor as if it was polished obsidian, but the sound it made against the stone floor was clearly metallic.
"Here. I will come to fetch you by midday tomorrow. I suggest you not leave this room. The temple is a labyrinth which has claimed even vampires, and many more humans...And…I understand why you may not trust me, but if ever you doubt, just look to the sword." Gadorian began his ascent towards the others. He felt so different than before, filled with a sense of purpose, of valor, since he held the sword. The flood of memories contained inside the weapon echoed through his mind, though each was no more substantial than a shooting star. The most palpable memories that began to return to him were entirely his own. He looked around inside the temple, at its pillars and archways, its murals and altars. He was home again.