To my sister Maria, may Allah find you in glory;

As you read this, I will have met the fate intended for you. These words are important, but not for others. To prevent observance in the off chance the traitors use spies on the other side of the shroud, I put these words to paper rather than say them aloud.

By now, you are the sole remaining pure member from the blood of Ashur remaining, but despair not, for our founder was a clever one. He foresaw this, and prepared for it. I played my role, but now the hopes for us all rests with you.

You are much younger than I, so I do not know if you are aware of the full scope of our clans history. Before I was embraced in darkness, we had three strongholds east of Byzantium. The traitors know of Erciyes and Derinkuyu, and have destroyed both. But the third, Kaymakli, they dare not enter for what Ashur did there.

You may have heard whispers of what is known as the Feast of Folly. In it, Ashur took 10,000 of us, and imprisoned them behind a curse he placed using his own blood – “No child of Seth may enter, no child of Caine may leave.” That seal remains in place, I have checked it myself. Those within have turned upon the most forbidden acts in order to survive. Several of us have also supplied them with the vitae needed, to help keep them as best we can. But, so long as the blood seal remains over the doorway, they may never leave.

Now you are the sole remaining member of the blood of Ashur. Your will is the bloods command. If I am right, you, and you alone, may wipe away the seal, and free our kin from within. By count last time I visited, that is a hundred or soul, with the power of 10,000 split between them.

Once free, you all must flee before the traitors discover your presence. My prodigy have hid among the new world, so I would recommend you travel there. I have arranged for passage. From Kaymakli travel to the port of Mersin, to the south. Once there, I have put my fortune to securing travel for all of you to the new world, where you may vanish until such time of your choosing.

You now carry with you the hope of us all my sister.

God be with you, and may the angels guide your footsteps.

Malik diMaag al Cappadocian, late Prince of Sighisoara

Em Hotep Blessed Keeper

It has been now 18 months since the destruction of the last true Cappadocian, and I am settling in to my new role well. Darius and Elvira both have proven themselves to be resourceful enough to make use of the information we have fed to them, yet not too wily to extract more out of it than desired – both useful and productive. As they should, they do not keep me in confidence, after all I am a new player on their chessboard. But I am certain they will come around.

Victor and Twopaws, by comparison, are less the leaders and more the enforcement of will for the group. While Darius and Elvira are both plotting, Victor and Twopaws ensure that their plots are turned into actions when needed. They may appear simpler, but in truth are complex minds who know their place within the framework of the team.

What i have noticed is that this coterie is quite astute. They do not relax, they do not indulge. Corrupting them is highly likely to fail, which means they are the perfect allies for us. After all, the corruptible are tools. As the Grand Master would say, it is only those able to overcome corruption who are to be seen as the friends of Set.

I do ponder about the history of this group however. I was notified that the coterie began as six, and while one has become isolated due to his indulgences, the story for the last one seems out of place. A Sabbat attack on her city is known to have happened, but no body, no claims of amarath or recruitment. Just, nothing.

Beyond this mystery, this coterie seems to have some incredible luck, being in the right place at the right time for key events of history. As such, my continued placement here will be of utmost utility to our aims. For when history smiles on a group so bright, the deeper the shadows from which to observe, and later strike.

Your faithful brother,

Yrji

The plan had been perfect, a subtle push to the local anarchs, or Sabbat as they want to be known now, the hint of a lightly guarded elder, and Malik’s plan was in motion. The fire would be blamed on them, and her escape from the noose of the upstarts hunt would be complete.

It was when she was onboard the boat to Barcelona that she found out her plan had been anticipated.

Leandro Giovanni diFirenza was a skilled hunter, with over a dozen of her kin already doomed by his hand. The deception had tricked his fellows, but not him. He feigned a need to visit his cousin in Castile to arrange his passage without raising their suspicions, for if they knew of his plans, they would have frowned upon what came next.

While the Bedouin was strong, Leandro was stronger. Their fight lasted for hours. The unfortunate crew, a victim of the two warriors as they worked to gain the upper hand. Blade against blade, a pair of perfect khopech against his cinquedea. Using his cape as a defense, he was difficult to hit, while she was difficult to hurt.

She fought with methods he’d never seen before, even turning his own body against itself, having it rot whenever they touched. Yet he pushed on, refusing to give up the prize he so desired. He saw the power his kin had stolen, and here was his own chance to grab some of it for himself. Leave the anarch’s to their celebration, they knew not what power they could have.

By the time the battle was won, his resolve was made. He would taste her power and make it his own. Without even removing the cover to see her face for himself, he acted before thought. His hunger for that power overtook him, a passion he had not felt since his heart last beat. For it was this woman’s hearts blood he so craved, and the power it held.

While she lied there, waiting for the end, he paused and lifted the veil from her face. His heat turned to pity, and he brushed the hair from the decomposed features, Leandro sat and stared as if in disbelief, unable to move. And that was when he discovered that it was but a ruse.

Her eyes suddenly focused, and a rotting hand grabbed his face. His scream was filled with pain he had never before imagined, as his own flesh rotted away under her touch. Soon enough, the scream was replaced by a silence even louder than the noise that once filled it.

When will finally asserted itself, and she stood, holding the now dessicated corpse of Leandro, she looked down at his own hands as if in disbelief. Then, almost absentmindedly, she picked up and slung the two khopesh along with resheathing her signet dagger which had fallen out from among the folds of her dress.

A hand to her face, she looked over the side to his own reflection in the water and laughed.

For the first time, she was truly free.

Master Etrius,

It has been some years since our last exchange. I had thought with the fulfillment of the boon it might have been our last exchange but fate may have made that impossible. I have discovered something which could shift winds around all of us, and it is my view that Clan Tremere should be forewarned for all of our sakes. And I will be frank, for the danger may be larger than I am currently aware.

i do not know how much of my clans history you are aware of. We are an insular and isolated group, often times ignored by the larger Cainite community, after all. Our clan has always been for the study of death, that is well known. Not as well known is that our nature changed not long before my embrace, around the time you and your clan was born.

Our founder, known commonly as Cappadocius but to us as Ashur, had long searched for the secrets of death. At that time, our clan was the most numerous of all, with over twelve thousand living in darkness. But one evening, just outside of the city of Jerusalem, he encountered a strange man. What happened is not entirely clear, but when he left the mans tent, he was experiencing visions which directed him to a mission that would nearly destroy the clan and may have put us all in danger.

He had not taken on a new childer in millennia, and had no urge to do so. What childer he had were all studious, reserved, who would prefer to study a forgotten tome than to care for the world around him. They were all detached, not with deep living connections. Suddenly, he sought a new childer, a greedy businessman from Vienna with an incestuous family – very out of character for him. He then set this man and his family a task of refining their own mortal magical talents for the clans benefit.

Then he led his clan to our underground city of Kaymakli. There he sorted the clan, those who were willful, who did not study in the same manner as he, who did not hold the particular interpretation as he, who were strong in battle, who could resist change, his criteria effectively came to those who would be able to break free of direct control. Those who could were imprisoned within its catacombs along with those who had no talent for what was to come.

That is how I met my sire, he was called to Kaymakli but while travelling had heard of my visions, ones I had since I could talk. He was curious, and I warned him that he was walking to his own prison. He stole me away, and so I came to be who I am today.

Recently, I had encounter with some clansmen, who were quite strange. Our discipline of Mortus has been our hallmark since the Second City. They had no concept of it, and some of them were older than I. Instead, they spoke of Necromancy, a Cainite death magic which reminded me of your own capability. It was completely unknown to me and still was yet different from your own talent, with a focus on the lands of spirits. I had heard rumors of a Nigrimancy from the new childer of Ashur, but this was something else, something strange.

Then they spoke of Ashur’s quest, given to him by the visions he had gained since the encounter with the strange man in the desert. As I inquired, the details became very clear, and very dangerous. In heretic language, they spoke of Ashur replacing God himself. What alarmed me was the mechanism for him to do it. As they described it, that is when all of his actions began to become clear. The process for this, the ceremony by which he believes to achieve this, he needs to rip down the barrier between this and the spirit world.

In exchange with my own sire, he has run into clansmen who spoke of the same, all those who had no concept of Mortus and knew only Necromancy all were insistent that they must rip down the barrier. Even our own group, those who did not heed the call to Kaymakli, has had its leader fallen to this madness. He was the most potent user of Mortus of us all, even surpassing Ashur himself. Now he knew none of it, and spoke only of Necromancy. His own quest rejected Ashurs, and had his own goals to accomplish, yet he still spoke of destroying the the barrier as needed.

My sire is now fleeing deep into the dark continent with others. This heresy is to fear, the change in dynamic is wrong. Our kin are strangers to us, and now are engaging as some of the mortal zealots – embrace our thought or die. Even our clans bloodline the Lamia, our protectors, are wary I have been led to understand. I would not be surprised if they abandoned the clan rather than stay.

It all stems from this one man, this stranger in the desert. The embrace of a new childer of unorthodox nature in order to get this new, unknown ability, and then to forget our original ability. The imprisonment of those who had no aptitude for the ability along with those who would be able to resist a controlling force. And all of it with a goal which would unleash the land of spirits on to this world, it must be related, it must be from this man.

Etrius, I know the seriousness of this is not lost on you. If the barrier is destroyed, not torn but destroyed entirely, it would undo our world entire. I do not know who the stranger is, but with the absolute nature shift, and the near plague like spread among my clan, my instinct tells me it may have been a mortal mage. It is lost on me why one would wish to see hell released upon earth, but this must be stopped.

I write to you due to your history, your knowledge of the mortal magical world, and because you would be one who could understand the danger this holds. I leave you to consider any actions. I shall await for a response if any.

Malik al’Dimaag, Prince of Sighisoara

November 28th, 1431

The clock which began to work in the tower across the way some weeks ago has started to strike 9 as my library’s door began to rattle from the stern knocking at it. Without even waiting for an answer, it swung open revealing the once child I had overseen for near three decades entering with his wife. The eagerness in his eyes was almost a defiance of the pain in hers as my eyes grazed down to the swollen stomach. And with the scent of fluid as it reached me, I knew that Vlad Basarab, younger brother to the duke of Wallachia, had acted in haste. As I sat down his bride of six years and checked, it was clear that Vlad was not the only one in a hurry.

“Vlad, lay that blanket down on the ground there. We do not have time to move her any further,” the command quipped from my lips as I helped poor Cneajna over to the floor.

She gripped me as another contraction hit her. I barely registered what would have hurt those of lesser stamina, the woman’s grip was as a blacksmith’s hammer blow. Vlad looked almost gleeful for this, as it was his first child with the princess. His older two children, one from his first wife and one from his mistress, were not as exceptional as Vlad himself. I fear that Vlad’s manipulations may have won him prized positions in the nobility, but had soured his own offspring. I feared my earlier investments in him would come to naught.

But, the moment was here. “Hush, just push now child,” the words came from my mouth without even considering. I could have been this woman’s ancestor so far removed even memory would have been gone. A smile would have crossed my lips had they remained considering that nobody would remember even her face save myself and the few other Cainites she may encounter in her lifetime. And here came yet another life in to this world, just as all before, bloody, screaming, angry at being thrust upon this world such.

“Well, is he coming?” Vlad lost his patience.

“You presume too much, we do not know if it is a he or a she, and no, not yet, another minute,” my irritation at my pupil remained. “And you never did thank me for the arrangement to join the Emperors personal knightly order. It cost me much influence to have that come to pass.”

“Yes, the ‘Order of the Dragon,’ which was to attempt to recreate the might of the Knights Templar anew. I do not hold out any hope of that to come to pass, but it was a nice ceremony,” the mustache moved with firm purpose.

Focusing on the task at hand, “Now Cneajna, this should be it. When the pressure starts, one more big push… and now.”

Without even a slight delay, out came the new life, a strong set of male lungs filled the room. Cneajna breathed a sigh of relief. “How is it?”

“He is beautiful my wife,” Vlad piped up. “Vlad is beautiful indeed.”

My eyes grew dark as I finished cleaning up the newborn and handed him to his mother. “Vlad, join me in my antechamber a moment.”

As the duke’s brother entered my mask flew off and my full fury was in his face. “You have a son named Vlad already, or had you forgotten?”

“Yes, but his mother is a commoner. My will is written such that my son, Vlad, would inherit my line should Mircea not make it to age. My new wife, she is nobility, and Vlad, this Vlad, will gain position as such. I cannot deny him fortune due to my indiscressions.” He never even grimaced at my appearance. Good, he remembers my lessons.

I backed off slowly. “Very clever posturing. In the evening tomorrow I expect to see the elder Vlad at my door. If you aim to send him off to the monastery, I will tutor him myself.” I raised one hand to silence his protest. “You cannot have it both ways young one. If your new son is to be your heir recourse, then the intermediary must be cared for in seclusion lest we put your new son Vlad’s position at risk.”

Mask returned, I looked in on Cneajna as she coo’d at the infant in her arms. “Now go to her and be there for her. I shall fetch for bedding, as it is too late to take to the inn.”

it was then that I noticed the infant’s cord blood was on my glove still. I had not time to put on my garb, it happened too fast. A taste, and a stern shock as I recognized the blood of a ghoul. Eyes turned to Cnaejna, and then the politics of the arrangement dawned on me. A revenant family, of course.

Vlad had indeed learned from me, and sought to give his child every advantage he could muster. Indeed, now it was clear, Cnaejna’s father Alexander was one of Radu’s get, his great-great-great grandnephew in fact. The dedication to the family, of course they were Revenants. And now, Radu had his claws in my own plans. The infidel will suffer for this.

But, not all was lost, for the bastard may be something to salvage. I wish I had figured this out before using what little ties to the Ventrue up north I had to give this little man the title and honors of belonging to the Holy Roman Emperor’s court.

A gentle sigh passed my teeth as I crossed the grounds of the new church, still under construction, and up to the dias, and the chair under which the Eldest’s remains stayed. “Your kin have taken what I had considered mine, fiend,” I spoke to the stone chair as if the ashes within could hear me. “Let it be their luck that he is their undoing. Son of the Dragon, Vlad Dracula indeed.”

And yet, at having said it, in the back of my head, somewhere I swore someone, or something, was laughing.

The failure at having not prevented the death of the Eldest still burns me. While we had not always managed to complete our tasks to their fullest extent, this is the first true failure of mine. I have taken his ashes and stored them within the catacombs of the church being constructed near my haven, sanctified holy ground to protect them from those who would seek them out.

I cannot shake the feeling that the Eldest could not be taken down so swiftly as we witnessed.

Our foundation has been shaken but not destroyed. The rumors about what happened with Tzimisce will be flying, but I am laying low. No maneuvers, no manipulations, no letters, just silence. Those who come looking will be dealt with, but otherwise, nothing.

With her loss of position, I have extended an offer of haven within my domain to Elvira. It is quiet here, and also close enough to her power base to enable her machinations to continue while far enough away to prevent intrusion. I do not trust these circumstances here, and she is too valuable an ally, and too good a friend, to leave hanging as a loose end.

Victor’s continuing courtship with these anarchs is making me highly nervous. The problem with rebels is that they often times turn on their allies in some push for ideological purity. I do not want to see him get hurt by some eager neonate with a desire for his position. After all, look at what happened with Dragomir, who came to betray us. These type only gather to power with the goal to snuff it out.

My instinct is to gather, that we may be too spread out for effective protection. We are still stronger than those who seek to harm us, we just need to close ranks.

Greetings Sire,

I hope this missive finds you well as you were of ill temper when we last parted ways. I have had long to reflect on the happenings of that day and in the years intervening. It is abundantly clear to me there was a misunderstanding in our parting, but that misunderstanding is of no consequence now.

When you brought me into the fold, taught me and nurtured me, you instilled upon me the need for respect and duty. These two things were things I knew and understood well. I attended you and learned quickly that which you set upon me. Even before you had gifted me, I put your life afore mine own as was the right and tradition of all the women in my line.

What the last few years have shown me is that there was either a failing in that teaching, or in your faith of your ability as a teacher. Had I not done as you bid? Had I not followed all your portents, paid debts and tributes and given honor to you as was right and good as a childer might her sire?

I built my princedom, fledgling as it was, in your name an your honor, as was my duty. I built so that I might better assist and support you in any manner you may require.

And still, when you came to me with a request that questioned my loyalty, devotion to you and your teachings, I could naught but sit, in shock and repeat unto you the very lessons you drilled into me not two centuries earlier.

I had hoped the reminder of those lessons would have proven that I not only knew, accepted and supported your position, and did honor to it, but that I would be finally seen as a true, respected, ally. One you would be glad to have.

It has become apparent, though your actions which are entirely known to me, that you not only doubt the teachings, you doubt your abilities as well. Your demand, albeit phrased as a request, was proof of your fear and insecurity. You have spent a goodly amount of effort to undermine the power base that I had built in your honor. Your efforts alone have removed an ally that would have given you succor without question.

As much as I might love and honor you sire, there are limits to my abilities. I cannot protect you from yourself.

Ever thy childe,
Elvira

This evening I spent exploring my city some more. The changes which have occurred these past many years, how strange they would seem to my younger self. Now the hilltop fortress has 14 towers, one for each of the guilds which inhabit my town. The rope makers tower sits over my burrow, unbenownst to them. It gives me quick access to both the crypt under the cathedral, and the cemetery immediately down the hill. The people here, different than the ones I knew, but much the same. I no longer wander openly, hiding myself away so as to not be seen. There is much fear of those who are of the true faith and I have no desire to be the cause of a disturbance.

But tonight the usual activities, to examine the recently departed, to study the taverns, or to analyze the soldiers who invariably are passing through just felt dull. The same patterns, repeated over again. But in the tavern, something drew my attention. A woman in a midwife’s apron was taking some bottles of the strongest drink they had before fleeing down the road.

How could I resist such a scene?

When I found her destination, it was clear that the woman was but an apprentice, with an elderly woman, I knew her as Ingrid and she was in excess of 80 years of age, actually in charge over the scene before me. The woman in labor was clearly in trouble, the blood I could smell from before I even entered the room unseen.

Silent and unseen, I witnessed the scene as it unfolded. A life and death struggle, this battle to bring a new being into the world. Ingrid was focused, but her strength was waning. This was not the first child she had helped in to this world, she had actually helped guide the grandmother to the woman now before her when she was but an apprentice. But this time, something was different.

It began as but a pain in her arm, but clearly, this midwifery might have been one too many. I knew before she did when Ingrid’s heart began to fail, the sound was all too familiar to me. But now there was another two lives in the balance. Mortal, fleeting, moths which died in the flame, but life none the less. For a moment, I was Malik Al Ashun again, the studious girl who learned about medicine and the body from a teacher who looked more dead than the corpses I helped him study.

Without a thought, I helped lie Ingrid down. Her time was coming all too quickly, and it would be over too soon for those who were fighting. With the focus on the struggle, the assistant and woman did not even notice as the hands and voice instructing changed. Back to old memories, as a child in the desert, where we had to help as our own eldest woman oversaw the entry of new warriors into our clan, and my own centuries to study the way a human’s body worked, this came too naturally for me.

“Fantomă închis” I heard Ingrid whisper as she finally gave her final breath – a name the children of the town called me, the “black ghost” in their native tongue for my Bedouin clothing and mask. A mark of recognition I suppose, or of acceptance. As a child, she joined in the telling of scary stories, some of which included me as a ghost or spirit who would steal them away. She may have thought me to be there to steal her away. But sightings of me were brief now, since I could hide myself away without worry.

Instead, I finished her duty, as the child finally slipped free. The mother cried briefly, then was silent as exhaustion overtook her. I checked on her injuries, and while they were serious, with some cleaning, and help from the alcohol that the assistant had forgotten about in the stress of the moment, she would recover.

“Were you a friend of the midwife,” the hapless girl who tried to assist asked. A stern look from me was her only answer as I continued to clean and wrap the now quite loud child who was in my hands. Once properly swaddled, then I turned to answer.

“I have known Ingrid for a long time, since before you were even born child. You should be thankful that fortune had me find you when I did.” I then looked at Ingrid, at peace. “Let her children know. I will arrange the funeral services on the hill for her.”

“But ma’am, she was a midwife, they are always buried in the unsanctified grounds, never at the church.”

“This midwife will be,” was my simple response as I looked at the bundled up child. Helpless in this world, but with a fighting spirit. “Fetch the father, and when you get back, you will need a new mistress to teach you I imagine.”

As the girl left, a new feeling overcame me. I had been surrounded by death almost my entire life, both before and after my becoming. But to assist in the bringing of life, this was something new to me. Something remarkable, and comfortable. I had looked into deaths eyes, now in my arms the hope of life.

When the father entered the room, his eyes went to his wife, then they rested upon me.

“How dare you, a heathen, enter my house!”

The assistant tried to explain, but it fell on deaf ears. A stark reminder of what I was in this land, an outsider. Without word, I gently moved the child to the side of her mother, and left the room, curses and epitaphs flying at me from behind.

I could snap his neck, or curse him with the image of death itself. But tonight, I did not care. I found something remarkable, new. It was only when the sound of Ingrid’s assistant running after me that I became aware of the world again.

Turning, I found Ingrid’s midwife apron pressed into my hands. Without a word, I looked down at it, then at the young girl who presented it to me. I nodded my understanding as she turned to run and get Ingrid’s family.

A new role, an outsider still, but one with a role in the human world. Almost remarkable, how long it had been since I even pretended to be mortal. And now, a role to play has been thrust into my hands.

The bitter irony when the woman of death now is to oversee the arrival of life.

Nova Arpad, what a more foolish Ventrue I have not met. Her attempt at being discrete, to not expose her weakness, may have given a window she would not want others to view in.

Stolen jewelry, and who does she turn to? Neighboring princes, specifically those of a particular coterie, who have fewer allies in the area. Using princes as common sheriffs.

She did not pursue the thieves herself. She was afraid to leave her domain. She has at least two havens. She is showing a fear, a weakness of position. Perhaps, just perhaps, it would be to our advantage to exploit this position.

She used some very rough tactics on a mere peasant rabble. On a spy, I could see them. But on someone unable to even read? What useful information could she gain from him? She turned to torture not out of spite or anger, but out of fear. Does she see daggers in every shadow?

Why did she not let the thief go? Aside from the idea of sentimentality, she cannot expose weakness. If she let the robbery pass, the fear that the thieves would talk will stay in the back of her mind. The same form of fear as drove the use of the rack on an ignorant fool.

She is alone, cut off from aid. She had noone else to turn to. She did not turn to us out of loyalty, or a boon, but because we were the only choice she had. Mercenaries talk of their jobs. Princes know discretion. But Radu, Dragomir and Otto have no love of Nova, after her attempt to seize control over multiple cities at once during the formation of the Council of Ashes. We came after, so we were isolated from her past sins.

Weak, clearly weak. And unlike Radu, she clearly has no strong allies to rely upon. She must stay put, or else she will lose her domain. Yes, a very easy target indeed, and too tempting not to pursue.

I shall continue my correspondence with Etrius, suggesting that the Tremere look into using Nova as a gateway for access to the Ventrue of the Holy Roman Empire. Placing a similar bug in Prince Hardestadt, may be able to work on this from both sides at once.

Then, we just need to increase the pressure on Nova. A dead inquisitor, in her domain? A lot of questions will be raised, a lot of answers will be found. Add in that fear to her existing, and giving a door out to the Tremere, I believe she will willingly flee her own domain.

But what then? A city needs a prince, and a power vacuum will appear. As Elvira has run into walls with Radu, she seems the ideal candidate to move into an open and empty city, freshly cleared out of the Ventrue currently in control. And she would be near by to two allies, a good strategic retreat. Yes, Elvira in Mediasch, leaving Radu open to all sorts of options without the need for getting our own hands dirty.

I will need to bring this up with Elvira when we next meet. Switching from a tougher target to a softer one is perfectly valid when an opportunity presents itself. And present it has.

Nova, we could have been allies. But your arrogance just could not deign yourself to admit that you need them. Such a pity.

Honorable Prince Hardestadt
Prince of the Black Cross

Word had reached me of your efforts in the formation of a grand society of princes, and I wished to learn more of your ideas.

Allow me the kindness of introducing myself. I am Prince Malik of Sighisoara within the Siebenburgen, on the Council of Ashes. While the Council was suffering its first few years, my coterie and I have worked tirelessly to solidify our domains against all onslaught. This land has been a challenge to tame, but it has become relatively stable.

Now we have the concerns of the Inquisition, whose actions have caused my own kin such pain in recent times. The idea of a grand society, a stronger form of our own Council, would do well to help prevent such attacks in the future one would think.

The reason for my correspondence is to offer you my services. As I sit on the council, and have sway with several other members, I could help convey your ideas to my fellow princes, and to help sway them to a mutually beneficial cause.

I await your reply,

Prince Malik of Sighisoara, childe of Ashun, childe of Timothy, childe of Brigid, childe of Sabbato, childe of Troglodyta, childe of Unre, childe of Lazarus, childe of Cappadocius