A Moonlit Calling Card

[Alira Drakrul]

Alira stood silently at the top of the Abbey surveying the heavily forested town. The courtyard below was quiet and the winery doors had been locked and shut for the night. It was still several hours from dawn and the sleepy guards leaned heavily on their halberds as they waited for the next shift to relieve them. In her entire life, this spot had always been associated with sentiment. She had stood in this same spot alongside those who would later become her elders. Ceverin... Lilith... She remember her sister, Adara... they had all stood along this edge and watched the melodrama of frail humanity unfold below. It was here that Alira, comforted by the figments of memory, stood deep in reflection.

The night at the Shattered Skull had been alarming for Alira. She saw faces that she thought knew, but didn't appear to know her. On the other hand, she met people who seemed to know who she was, but she wasn't quite positive on who they were. A gentleman mentioned knowing her from her association with Kenyon and the Black Rose Society. He knew who she was, but whether or not he knew what she was remained unspoken. The rangers there didn't react to her presence despite her having heard that known vampires were now under threat of death in the city. When she had claimed Skara Brae as her domain, the vampires and the rangers had co-existed. Alira's presence as Prince and the added power of her faithful covenant had discouraged rogue kindred from feeding on the inhabitants of the city. She kept the mortals safe and they didn't bang on her door and demand her head. It was a perfectly acceptable and mutually beneficial arrangement. It may be her memories of that time were false and the rangers had always been against them.

Either way, she was convinced the mental fog from her extended session in torpor had severely impacted her memories. She was obviously having difficulty figuring out which memories were based on fact and which were fables. The very prospect of not knowing her own self unsettled the elder vampire greatly. How could she trust anyone? What if she thought someone was an ally and they were an enemy?

She couldn't recall much about many of those who laid in the chamber with her. She reasoned that though that by their vulnerable proximity she must have trusted them. She had chosen one to awaken, her grandchilde Cirilia. She had always been a handful as a fledgling, causing great problems for Portia in her antics with her brother Niko. Niko and Cirilia were twins, not in body, but in spirit and ability to give the elders headaches. They did almost everything together, often finishing each others sentences and even shared a coffin. Awakening her without awakening her kindred brother was difficult to watch for Alira, but she needed muscle, not headaches.

Alira had heard of stories of elders who had slept and then awoken not themselves. The older they got, the more some seemed prone to paranoia, delusions and other mental deficits. She wasn't old enough for this nonsense. Was this how it started with all of them? With each extended torpor you lost more and more of yourself. Some suggest that mental fog of eternity lifts with exposure to familiar places and people. Others suggest that you may recover some with time, but not all your memories return. The idea that a vampire placing themselves so close to Death for an extended period of time... leaves a piece behind as payment. How large was the restitution this time for running from Him so many years ago?

A visible shudder of discomfort ran through her body perched atop the roof. Her normally composed expression faltered and a furrow appeared on her brow. She felt deep within her... fear.

She stood shivering ever so slightly in the moonlight for several minutes. It wasn't the cool night air that brought that chill. She took a few silent steps back from the edge, dropping into the shadows. She brought her wrist up to her mouth, tearing her skin with her slender fangs. The thick, dark crimson vitae welled in the wound, but not a drop fell to the ground. She walked to the two pairs of stone spires that stood on each end of the roof above the Abbey doors, keeping care to stay in the shadows. She crouched down and dragged her open wrist along the lower backside of each set of pillars. The movement left a broken trail of darkness on the stones that would be more black than red when it dried. To most, it would just look like a smear of something mundane like oil or grease. It wasn't enough of a streak to likely cause concern with the abbey masons, but enough so that the scent would catch the attention of another kindred near by. She would return and refresh it every so often in hopes of hearing from kin and also testing the claims of any resident kindred.

An' so her calling card lay drying upon the stone, awaiting to see if any would answer.

 

[Izznet H'unar]

*passing by pillars she noticed discoloration on the stone. sniffing the air a very distinctive odor is realized. taking a thin blade from her pouch and cutting a thin line in her palm, an 'answer' is left.*

 

[Alira Drakrul]

[[The following was written based with Izznet player's input and blessing.]]

Alira shimmered into view at the back of the roof as the magic from the recall spell faded. She dropped to the ground in an effortless crouch as she tuned into her surrounding. She listened to the night, inhaling a deep breath in of salty chilled night air that flowed off the ocean. Her sculpted legs held her stable and unwavering as she checked for any signs that she wasn't alone. Only the sounds of the waves breaking on the shore and the chirps of crickets serenaded her paranoia as she exhaled the held breath. She rose after several minutes, staying in the shadows and moved towards the front of the abbey roof. Her feet were bare this evening, not even the scrape of supple leather of her boots would make her presence known. She was extra cautious in case there had been a resident kindred claiming the area. Her regular returns to the abbey roof might be the perfect opportunity to lay down a trap to oust the intruder. As civilized as they might be in many ways, at their core they were all predators. A challenge would mostly likely be met with ferocity and a viciousness that may leave Alira lucky to escape with her life. She wouldn't fault them, after all she'd want to do the same if another kindred threatened to take away something that belonged to her.

She neared the first set of stone pillars where she left the marks, still on her guard. She could see a thin line of dark vitae smeared underneath her own mark. Instantly, her eyes narrowed and she let out a low rumbling growl. Then something made her building rage pause. She tilted her head slightly as she studied it's placement as she crouched to get a better look at the mark. No part of any of the blood crossed over Alira's mark, nor was it higher upon the pillar. Alira leaned in and took a slow breath in, the muscles in her legs tense as to move if danger came. The scent did not share any similarity to her bloodline and in fact, was completely foreign to her. While the mark looked as if it held a submissive intent, she had to make sure. She did not know this vampire and she did not wish to get her interpretation wrong.

She lifted her right hand and bit roughly into the fleshy part at the base of her thumb. Willing the vitae to the surface, she carefully ran the wound directly on top of the mysterious kindred's mark, matching it's length. It was a dominant, pushy move on Alira's part. She had translated the kindred's mark as submissive, but this would confirm it. She went over to the other pillar and repeated the same. If the visiting kindred came back and marked over Alira's, there might be a fight brewing. If the vampire allowed her covering blood to stand, it was safe to say that they accepted her claim to the territory and would likely not cause any problems. She retreated in the shadows towards the back of the Abbey and would return in a couple of nights to check again. Patience is a virtue, especially to kindred.



[edit: grammar error]

 

[Izznet H'unar]

The sea breeze felt good across her face and ears. It was a calming presence that helped ease the tension of the task at hand. There had been marks left and she needed to check for a response.

Sitting tall in the saddle Izznet rode through the Abby unabashed garnering some looks from the pious monks. A simple glare made them forget her face or her presence. There had already been far too much violence, they were not eager to invite more.

Standing by the pillars she knew the presence had returned. Looking at the marks made her chuckle to herself. Her ‘answer’ had been covered. There was one who wished to claim territory.

Leaning close to the stone Izznet removed a glove and placed her hand on the marks. It would not be marked over, but her scent would remain. The answer was received.

“I hold no claim to this town. There is only one I will fight for. Remember this scent for when next we meet,” she whispered into the stone.

A slight nod satisfied the message would be heard she summoned her charger and vanished into the darkness.

 

[Norrar]

He did not often visit the city of Yew these days, mostly staying to Moonglow or Wind. The Abbey however always had a certain calmness about itself that he appreciated on rare occasions, a soothing balm for his temper. As of late he found he needed that treatment more and more due to recent events.

While it had been weeks since his last visit he had not anticipated the new scents that reached him as he walked the dew covered grass outside the Abbey. Inhaling deeply, he cast his eyes about for the source before finally settling them upon the stones. A tilt of his head and his curiosity overtook his wariness.

Examining the marks he recognized one although it was now barely there and not the other. Interesting to say the least, or at least interesting to him. Always eager to learn new things for the sake of knowledge or personal gain, he lightly traced them noting the length and amount left there. A calling card perhaps? A warning?

Well there were several ways he could go about learning the truth, but he was done playing casual games as of late. Slipping one of his gloves off he dragged a short blade along his palm, blood quickly flowed from the wound and he swiped it down over the marks upon the stone. A long, angled message that he would be interested to see how it played out.

His glove replaced upon his hand, he stretched and gazed out towards the city one last time before three words slid past his lips and into the night air.

"Kal Ort Por"

 

[Alira Drakrul]

[[ I will be responding with a story to recent contributions, but for now... below is a graphic of the actual physical location of my marks. It is on the backside of the two pairs of pillars marked with an X in the graphic I'm sorry if my initial story post was confusing in explaining their location. They are on the roof. Yes, my character can get there in-game so the location isn't a well traveled route. If anyone participating would like to edit to reflect their location, please feel free to do so. Looking forward to some awesome rp from all of this!! ]]

 

[Alira Drakrul]

Ever since the mark of the unknown vampire who marked below her, Alira was uneasy.
There was at least one unfamiliar kindred in this town, possibly more.

She moved cautiously towards the front of the abbey alongside the low stone wall bordering the roof. She paused every so often to stop and let her senses try and find anything amiss. Nothing seemed different or out of the ordinary. The air smelled as just as salty as a cool evening breeze flowed off the ocean.

The smell of salt, triggered her a silent lament for Skara Brae.

With the public threats against vampires, it would have been foolish for her to stay in her old domain. With most of the covenant still in torpor or unaccounted for she would be endangering herself and her family's bloodline. In that haze of uncertainty and fear, she had sought refuge in a place that her foggy memory associated with safety. She had traveled first to the where Satamarin had once stood so very long ago. She found nothing familiar to her broken memory in the area. The large stone citadels with the sounds of cackling of the undead inside nor the beautiful marble homes of the kindred along the edge of the water. She remembered the comfy chairs on the covered white porch where the elders used to sit and talk. She remember sitting on the floor at their feet, alongside her sister. She would rest her head against one of their knees as they would absent mindlessly stroke her hair.

Life was uncomplicated in the beginning.


It was those memories of them that caused her to initially make the marks upon the stones. This is where they had been together and if they one day awoke from their slumber, they would hopefully return to this spot as she had. She knew that she would likely be punished for some of the actions of her foolish youth, but she was ready to accept whatever pain was necessary. She deserved it.

So it was with this glimmer of hope, that Alira vowed to maintain her connection to these ordinary stone pillars. Her desire for a safe haven was in some
part a motivation, but more so to keep hold of this vital link to her past. If she lost access to this spot, she would lose any chance of atoning for her sins to her grandsire and the other elders to whom had hunted her, her sister and their sire across the lands.

Alira shook her head slightly to clear her thoughts, lightly snorting the salt air she had held onto so tightly. She moved quietly towards the pillars to see if the unknown vampire had marked again or if anyone else had left her a message.

 

[Izznet H'unar]

“Bothersome!”

The fresh mark was familiar, regardless of the fact they had not seen or spoken to each other in quite some time. She was not eager or ready to have dealings concerning him. There was enough suspicion already without adding to it by being seen together in any capacity.

Day’s events dictated a change of plan. To that end the whisper across the stones would have to be sufficient warning of the Watcher.

“My Watcher will keep vigil over these stones.”

Whispering across the marks then laying a hand over them all, Izznet returned to ShadowMoore to show the gargoyle, Avalon, what had been discovered and what she required.

 

[Alira Drakrul]

As she walked within eyesight of the first set of pillars, she realized something had changed. She paused for a moment and then walked closer, stopping in front. She tuned her senses into surroundings for reassurance she was alone and then lowered herself into a crouch to study the new mark.

Pale blue eyes meticulously studied the dark line of vitae. It sloped at an angle and crossed her original mark and the one she had made to assert her dominance. She took a slow, controlled breath in and detected no familiarity in this new mark. Another stranger.

"Was this truly another stranger? Do I know this vampire or has my patchy memory betrayed me into assumed ignorance? " Alira considered. "The vitae appears to be darker that means it is most likely not a fledgling. "

The ultimate question she pondered was what was it's intention.

"It did not cover my marks as I did the other ones. However, it starts above mine... , " she trailed off momentarily as she could feel her beast slowly uncurl within her at the mere notion of a challenge. She closed her eyes and concentrated on maintaining her composure as she attempted to firmly quash the sensation. The rage inside her flash burned inside her, flashes of vivid, bloody images coaxing threatening to bring her into madness. She expertly used her force of will to smother the sensation and bring control back into her mind.

She opened her eyes and looked again at the image. Without looking down to guide herself, she took a small flask of spring water from her pouch with her left hand. She brought it up to her mouth as she opened her mouth to reveal her strong, but slender fangs. She used her left fang to delicately hold the cork against her bottom lip. She gave a gentle jerk of her head and uncorked the flask. Her eyes were still fixated on the stone as she poured the water into the palm of her right hand. Her hand formed a cup, nestling the water into a cradle of white flesh.

In a quick motion, she slapped her hand against the marks, centered on the junction where its blood intersected hers. She held the water cupped against the stone, pressing hard to force her flesh to form a seal. She brought the flask back up to her lips to cork it again before placing sight unseen back within the pouch. She then brought her left hand under her right readying it to catch any stray drops that might disturb the covered mark underneath. She then began to flatten her right hand against the stone, compressing the water until it oozed out of her seal. The water having soaked into the dried vitae was a dark reddish brown as it seeped out from under pale skin. She then began to rub her hand in a circular motion over the rough stone, mixing both hers and her potential challengers vitae. The carnal vortex swirled together in an ever-expanding coil outward until it had reached the start of his mark. She appeared to be carefully avoiding the covered mark of the other kindred. The chiseled stone scraped her delicate hands, but she didn't pause until she had finished.

She leaned back slightly still balanced effortlessly in the crouched position as she lifted her hands from the stone. Her right hand was covered in the older brown vitae of both her and the newest visitor. It coated the underside of her hand thickly as if she had rested her hand upon mud. She tilted her head as she studied her handiwork before giving a gentle nod as if satisfied. She slowly stood, keeping her hands away from the raw silk of her imported dress. She moved to the other stone, crouched and began to repeat the process.

After she was finished with both locations, she removed a small square piece of cloth and wiped her hands thoroughly. She gave a look at the marks and appeared quite pleased with the outcome and turned walking towards the inscribed rune that would teleport her to the Yew Courtyard. Her body passed behind the pillars closest to the rune. She did not appear on the other side. A few moments later, the soft chime of the rune's magic bring activated joined the chorus of the ocean waves.