Kat-Lyn Ember Mei's Story

Was the entire Terra going to Hell in a handbag? Zosimos all but fumed on the spot, his face set firm to display no emotion. Secret societies plotting their demise, soldiers occupying every street corner. Was this the future, the utopia Casren had imagined? As the Greek man listened, he doubted his kin more than ever. Who had he sired? What was Casren tangled up in?

Grove of Aurora

The trees give way to a thicket of thorns, dangerous vines, and spiny trees. What could be deer paths all eventually crossthrough a small clearing. In the center of the clearing is an odd statue of a woman lying asleep.

The ring glistened in the low light of the room as Zosimos examined it. Daemala examined hers in turn, Manik sneaking a peek from where he was stationed. Yves entered, and the attention of the room shifted. The Grove of Aurora, a piece of their domain, had presented a threat. What was the old tomb, in which Frederic Bistreo had so comfortably rested for so long, have to do with any of this? With Athena missing somewhere in it's depths, as well as Casren lost presumably in the North, Yves was absolutely right. It was all too much. Zosimos leaned back, Daemala not moving a hair.

Finally, Zosimos leaned back. He nodded to Ember, respectfully acknowledging her gain of rank. He cast a sweeping gaze around the room, catching Manik's eye. The impish man stepped forth, bloodshot eyes gleaming, and drew a crumpled envelope from the pocket of his pants. He tossed it onto the table. Zosimos looked to Daemala, ordering her to take it. She did. Again Zosimos swept the room with his gaze, Manik falling back into the shadows.

"A thousand years ago, an alchemist bore a ring of similar craft, " Zosimos held up the offending object for all to see.

"A thousand, a million, different depending on what bloodsucker you ask. It was the same time many walkers of the night were sired, bleeding into history and leaving an ugly stain. A stain which darkens with age, edges ebbing outward as new blood falls where old blood has caked. The civilizations of Terra presented themselves true, fabric strong despite the stain. Some would argue stronger. It was around that time the Grove of Aurora first appears in tale and lore. It was around that time the Castle Vankoryth was built, that the Sangue di Bistreo and many other strong families of our kind became a thing."

Zosimos paused, glaring at everyone again. Daemala thought of the Lessards, Manik of the Draculs. The Scarlet Devils crossed Daemala's mind as well, she almost smiled thinking of tea parties. Surely there were other families strewn across the globe that others would recall, some might remember the Lahmian Sisterhood.

"From then until now, societies have risen and raged, they have burned to the ground. Terra has been offended, defended, and yet here we are. Here we are, in old stone walls speaking in whispers of wrongdoers who have no faces, the same wrongdoers who have been at our throats for centuries. What of these rings, this alchemist, that grove? Here we are, peddling with affairs in space and walkie talkies and secure castles while a greater threat looms that cares not for walls or lanterns. Roughly a thousand years ago, Terra was a very different place, and I fear that we may have forgotten about the ways that will save us. Is it a coincidence Casren and Athena are missing, as Terra around us seems to descend into madness?"

He turned to lock eyes with Yves, then Alexander.

"Investigate we shall. May the Crawling Chaos protect the Cursed Wood evermore, lest the Vankoryth Detente fails in this time of utter shit," Zosimos sighed and flicked a hand to Daemala, signaling her to open the envelope. She gasped audibly, he didn't bother to spare her a glance. He was too busy staring deep into the eyes of Alexander.

The WCPD

The Wing City Police Department, dedicated to protect and serve. One of the most formidable law enforcement agencies on the planet, considering the near limitless potential crime for a city on the crossroads of worlds.

"Wanted," Daemala announced in a shaky voice, swallowing to disperse the sense of panic overwhelming her throat. "Lazarus Bloodwheel," It was the name of her kin, her most recent sire, someone who protected her life and death, who was there to beat down doors and be her personal bodyguard. A siring that was truly worth it, a challange in the Cursed Wood.

"Murder." She turned wide eyes to Zosimos, who looked solemnly to Yves.

"We are in full compliance with the Wing City Police Department," Zosimos stated gravely. Daemala cast a sideways glance at the Gae Ceann, then turned to Kaine. Zosimos cared not if Lazarus was of his line, or alliance. Injustice was injustice, and this was no time for childish games of blood and lust.