Blood Nights (Maeve Moireach's Journal)

Arrival.

After so many journeys and strange places since the moors. Of all the courts my master has brought me to - the sight of another city should not be so striking.

The books I have transcribed for my master have oft made mention of it, but the most eloquent words could not do this city justice. So much joy and hate and pain. It wreathes itself in gaudy words and thoughts and knowledge. It writhes in sweet agony from the secrets it holds. I have never seen something so terrifying and wonderful in my short unlife, like a vast storm in spring. I want to watch cainite and kine twist in madness as they are made to see and drink their screams up.

Calm.

I must not falter nor show weakness within court. If I am to take up residence here for any time, and delve the great depths of this place, I must not make a poor introduction.

A perfect city to make my place.

(Set after the end of the second game night)

“A pity you were taken by ‘Bad Blood’!”

Maeve stewed quietly in her home, a small goblet of blood on her desk forgotten as she strode about. Brooding over the meeting with the Tzimisce lord and the words of her sire. Her sire had rightly censured her for her foolish and reckless behavior. She must be more careful to avoid notice.

The Dracons words rankled her like few had since Rome. Only her sires warning not to allow her shadow escape had allowed her to keep her anger in check. Rainer was right to warn her, as always. Shadow was dangerous and would only serve to attract unwanted attention from the Tzimisce lord, and she had no ability to defend herself against that which ruled this city. In the privacy of her room, however, only the sheer force of will kept her from hurling a chair through the window.

“Bad Blood”

No, I must remain calm and in command. Revenge for such a slight is so far beyond my reach that I would but touch the stars first. My tasks are clear and I must remain focused on that.

Notes:

Blood must be the key. Spilled blood brought our kind unto this world, and through blood created those that would sire our lords. Through blood, it has laid curse on clan lines across time, bent wills and commanded man and lesser blood as they bid. It is what fuels our motion after a cold grave, sends us to the highest fury and blackest brood.

I can see it in the visions, dancing like a moth over heather – just outside of my reach.

I can remember every page, every word my lord has shown me since we left the moors, but not that which I seek most. At the moment of embrace, it hovered in my hand. My sire knows it was there too, but neither he nor I have been able to extract it.

WHY CAN’T I REMEMBER?

I must find the answer for my lord. I know not this strange script on the stone he has presented to me, but the owl-eyed woman in my vision… there is aught in Christian lore for such as that. Druids told stories of Blodeuwedd, but I shall have to delve into my memory for the writings of the mythos of old for answers.

Notes:

(Written between session five and our last game)

It cannot be coincidence that two such in this city have had visions of fire and ruination. Though Falhalah’s center around the endless hallways of his blacked past, the portents are the same and that I would be fool to ignore.

Disaster comes for the heart of the city. We must be prepared.

Sometime I curse my sire for dragging me from my moors. From the sweet fields of heather and green. For burdening me with the terrible sight that is our line. But what’s done is done. I must do what I can now – take what knowledge and resources I can gain and be ready to take flight. Do what I can to protect my moors and my people, though I may not see them again for many centuries.

Níl aon tinteán mar do thinteán féin! What does that Setite want with my homeland? What is Mithras scheming? Cerridwen guard my words, I’ll carve Horus’ mind out until he’s hollow if he seeks ill for my people.

Maeve's mind buzzed with questions as she traveled home. Her memory was a blessing that Rainer had valued her for, but it was a damndable curse all it's own when she was trying to tie the web together. So many bits and pieces danced around.

Cerridwen, I slipped. What babbling idiocy did I say to Horus?

She'd heard from neither Rainer or Tereza about the first coin, and now she had a spy with two more on their person. A ring still to investigate. Something still picked at the edge of her about Horus, and made her wary as a cat out on the moors at midnight.

Perhaps she could have taken the spy alive to question... but the Nosferatu were soft here about mortals. She doubted Malachite would be pleased with her methods. She needed to establish a secret place for less pleasant tasks if this kept up.

Rainer's opinion was valid. But until the circumstances changed, the Nosferatu in her debt was too valuable, even with their apparent becoming a target by others. With what she knew of Malachite's ties back to the Baron and Dracon.

Rainer. Damn her sire! He'd dragged them over mountain and travel to this place, and know when they needed information from him, the stubborn bastard clammed up.

Iberia. She had two reason now to pry that information from him. She also needed him present when she looked into the coins and ring. His sight was different from hers, but they had cracked more then one puzzle together in that way.

Maeve's mouth curved into an angry grimace. Too much reliance on being inconspicuous for safety had made her vulnerable - weak. The time for that was over.

First though, a message to Rainer.

Distant Thoughts of the Lost.

Red pooled on the floor. Poetry in french.

Rainer, why did you betray me?
I'm really dying.
The voice said he was sick....

I don't care!
Look what he did to me!
But I'm sorry sire, so sorry for failing you so often.

I'm not sorry!
Tomas, where did you go?
So alone here at the end...

Shut up. I won't live as a slave - better to die free.
Is Rainer going to be okay?
I don't want to die.

I'm sorry for being so weak.
I regret not dragging Gregory off for a night.
Please, please spare Rainer.

Bad blood, ha - A lovely paint for the walls.
I hope Falhalah gets out OK, it's not your fault.
I failed everyone.

I hope the bastard chokes on it someday.
No, I won't die until I know Rainer is well.
At least... at least to ask him why...

What why is there?
I don't want...
No, I won't die until I ask him why!