Magdeburg

[Freiherr von Rosen]

Characters present: Albrecht von Wulfhard, Ernst Hirschler, Sophia d'Auxerre.

*Pretty much everyone has arrived by now, though the carts are not yet organized, nor is there an order of movement determined. As the servants see to the last touches of the packing endeavour, more and more of their masters and mistresses gravitate towards the centre, the main carriage and the two Komturs.
Anselm von Heidenauer nods in agreement as his "clanmate" finishes speaking.*

-/Ger/ From our recent reports, you will have plenty an opportunity to soak your blade in the blood of heretics and monsters. And much like last time, many years ago, nobody will stand before our combined might.

*By now, almost every vampire of the vanguard force is more or less nearby, prompting von Heidenauer to louden his voice and address all participants at once.
The other Komtur, von Hartz, is nowhere to be found, however.*

-/Lat/ Listen up now, brothers and sisters! Most of you have gone a long way already to be here, but this holy pilgrimage will take far, far longer! I want you to bolster your faith and courage, and whenever they'd falter along the long road, whenever you feel the burdens are overwhelming, the temptations of Satan irresistible, steel yourselves and cast your eyes upon the Holy Cross, upon which our Lord died! Remember that we are chosen, we are superior in every manner to the herds following in our pioneer tracks. We will secure the road for this Crusade, we will break down the walls and tear out the eyes and tongues of evil, and God willing, we will turn the tide of history!

*General cheering ensues, with even those caught up in it who aren't learned in the tongue of the Church. And indeed, there's something in his voice, something so honest, so simple, so pure, you wouldn't even believe it comes from the mouth of a blood-sucking undead monstrousity.
These are ironic times.
But even then, the Komtur's strict, but genuine attitude is a welcome change from the silk-tongued antics of the mortal archbishop. Already, he cuts his "speech" short.*

-/Lat/ I would be a coward, but not a leader, if my carriage wouldn't be the one in the front. My fellow Komtur will stay as the rear guard and the middle one, the largest and most accommodated, can be used by those of you without your own means of transport. The rest of you will be distributed between these two spaces in the column. If anything out of the ordinary happens, send a rider immediately to me, or when I'm not available, to my squire, Gerunch von Käsenburg. Let us move into position now, finish loading in and get ready to leave! We won't stop until the city of Prague!

*And so it finally begins. The Crusade, or rather its spearhead slowly rides and rolls out of Magdeburg, escorted by snowfall, heading south and east along the river Elbe. The planned route is well-known to everyone; leave the Empire by way of Prague and Ostmark, traverse the Kingdom of Hungary and the tiny rebel "Empire" of Bulgaria, and finally, enter Byznatium through Constantinople and cross into Asia. From then on, it's a straight path through the mountainous desert hell of Anatolia to the Principality of Antioch and all the riches of the Holy Land. The coming circumstances will determine future maneuvers.*

Ambience

*At first, everything goes smoothly. They barely meet anyone on the snowy road, the winter is not particularly harsh, but certainly cold enough to discourage travelers, especially with the recent increase in outlaw activity. The bandits have been exploiting the chaos caused by the Emperor Frederick's recent wars in Italy, and the moves of his own barons against him, leaving much of the hinterlands unpoliced. Not that the life of the simple peasant, or even a traveling merchant would otherwise be of much consequence to the powers-that-be. The days of roadside cutthroats are coming to an end though, at least for now, for imperial power is stronger than in many decades before. And the armies of tens of thousands will be marching east now.
Headed by less than a hundred men and women, thirteen of which are Cainites, children of the First Sinner, damned, rejected and cast out by God himself. Yet, they consider themselves His chosen. Chosen for what exactly is a question to which every vampiric mind formulates a different answer.

Moving night and day with only a modicum of rest for the hardworking ghoul horses (and it ain't much), the Bohemian city is reached within a couple of days. The Ventrue Prince there receives this First Company with all the pomp he can afford, assuring them there's absolutely nothing that can hinder the massive forces that may or may not pass through here. Therefore, only a few nights of lingering is needed, in which time a smaller group of Gangrel forest-dwellers is exterminated alongside (hopefully) a ghost inside the city. There's not much to see there in this season, other than the merchant pavilons of German, Slav and Jewish traders alike, offering various goods both typical of Central-Eastern Europe, and completely exotic to it.
The next aim is the river Danube to the south, which leads them into the heart of the continent, the Carpathian Basin. Here, flatland is the norm, making travel relatively fast, and the number of mortal thugs to defend against also saw a considerable decrease.

The starting tension between group members has not eased much. Due to the near-constant manner of traveling involved, there hasn’t been much opportunity for socializations, and neither were many of them seeking it. The pagan Gangrel and his seven horse archers – more likely than not ghouls from the same era – are especially aloof, usually riding beside, or in front of the caravan, mercilessly stopping any sort of ambush in its wake and also providing some fresh meat from hunting. Of the others, only Laevinus and Habladora possess a carriage of their own; Bulgarus and Zwertvegher travel inside the safest, middle ironed cart, while the other two Ventrue alternate between joining them and riding on horseback. Reginleif chooses this type of travel exclusively, riding on the opposite side of the column than the Magyar archers on her sizable white horse. Untypical of a Brujah, she still hasn’t uttered a single word during the journey.

By contrast, the two Komturs do their best to control, command and coordinate, their mounted „runners” are a frequent sight near the moving carts, as they (especially von Hartz) appear to find mere shouting to be below their status, avoidable when not necessary. Von Heidenauer appears to be the charismatic natural leader of the group, while his female counterpart tends to silently watch and listen, intervening only when necessary. It quickly becomes apparent that her inquisitive nature holds at least as much sway over the course of happenings as the open, clear commands of the Teutonic giant.
At any rate, time seems to fly slow, and pretty much everyone appears to be glad when the Magyar forward scouts report that the next destination, the town of Buda is but half a day’s distance away.

Consequently, von Heidenauer orders a halt, finally setting up camp; though only a temporary one on a nearby field. It is customary to send a delegation to a town's Prince before marching in with an army, even if it "only" numbers around a hundred, and indeed, runners arrive everywhere, asking for the eleven Kindred to gather up, for the Komturs wish to address them soon. A large bonfire is lighted for the freezing ghouls, and those not required by their masters happily join it to thaw their freezing limbs; and indeed, to not-so-subtly signal their arrival to the people of Buda and Pest. Some of them also start begging for blood.
The Eleven gather up around the middle carriage, already emptied by the Frisian and the Scholar, and are now awaiting the arrival of the Komturs. This is certainly one of the very few times they have all been together in one place, and many suspicious glances are fired still, sometimes in all directions.*

-/Lat/ Ah, travel's a curse...

*Murmurs the ancient(-looking) Cappadochian.*

-/Lat/ Alas, it's not what it used to be.

*Replies Laevinus, dusting off his expensive robes. He completes the gesture with a forceful sigh.*

-/Lat/ Especially the roads, my friend. Especially the roads. I'm telling you, this one time when I journeyed from Moesia to Lusitania in the second year of the reign of Honori-... ohh. I'm sorry... let me calculate the year...

-/Ita/ Soo, are you from Venice then, my dear?

*Thus spoke Eufemia Habladora, edging closer to Sophia now. Chatter mode turned on, she also begins to casually flip her elaborate wooden fan around, even though an undead being has absolutely no need for such an item, let alone in the winter, at night, outside.
This doesn't seem to bother her in the least.*

-/Ger/ Your warriors seem to be rather tireless. I can't wait to see them in real action.

*Says von Messer to a recently-arrived Albrecht with a smirk and a nod. The tone is complimentary; it seems he doesn't dare to pick on the one with the bigger sword.
Some of the others start their chattering as well, with the usual suspects staying silent, sitting on their horse, or leaning on their spear. Alas, Ernst appears to be ignored for now. But it can't be long before the "bosses" arrive.*

Continue here.
_________________

[RedDrake]

*Punishment is a precision tool only rarely used in a smoothly operating pack. A good leader is always aware of that. Everyday punishments loose their meaning: To educate once and for all. No doubt von Heidenaur knows this well. *

/Ger/ - God brought you here.

*I nod.*

/Ger/ - When the enemy is amassing its forces, there is no time to rest.
Maybe I’ve been away from the battlefield for too long.

*After a slight pause a I continue*

/Ger/ - It’s an honor to fight by your side. If you’re in charge it means the Vanguard force will be the real spearhead of the marching crusade.
_________________
"Ashes to Ashes
Dust to Dust.
From ashes you've come
And to ash you'll return!
AMEN!"
(Angel Dust Andersen)

[Dronaw]

*We successfully arrive to our destination. Karl halts the two horses and I also stop next to them. They both look at me. Irene is wearing a light brown travel cloak which covers her warm clothes and weapons. The hood of the cloak is on her head protecting her face from the cold. Karl wears his daily armor, his sword is on his right and his small round shield is on his back. The hatchment of my Sire is set on Karl’s shield as well as on both sides of the wagon. Our covered wagon looks like any regular ones except for the hatchments. But under the tilt, it is hardened by wood only visible from inside.*

- /Ger/ Don’t care about these assholes! Don’t let them flutter you! They are just playing who's the man. Take them easy and don’t get nervous.

*I regulate my travel cloak. It’s a dark white cloak with my Sire’s hatchment on its back, of course. It has no hood and doesn’t cover my sword. I don’t want to look like a shiny knight nor a rich prince. I'm here because this pleases my Sire and I can see further lands. I do what I have to do but only what I have to and I don’t care about those idiots trying to fight for hierarchy or honor. All in all the most important is God. And for me, He is everywhere in Nature.*
_________________
Sunny Black

[Sophia d'Auxerre]

*Sophia notices a few of the odd and some scornful glances she earns from some of those around her for riding upon horseback and allowing the night air to touch her hair.
She barely gives it a thought, having cast care about these concerns away this night. Convenience as well as a dig toward status taking precedence this time given that they set out on their travels tonight.

Sophia glances back toward her carts, checking to see if there is any movement within the traffic jam at the moment. Looking over the carts, she can't help but allow a soft, barely audible chuckle escape her as she watches Ernst halt, her gaze turning back to those who were shouting him out.
Looking to the twig knight and his companion as they politely bow, she paints a flattered smile upon her lips she lowers her head in a polite gesture back, keeping a coy demeanour under others gazes.*

[Freiherr von Rosen]

Characters present: Albrecht von Wulfhard, Ernst Hirschler, Sophia d'Auxerre.

*Apparently, the arrival of the beautiful Lasombra hasn't gone completely unnoticed. The very sight of a daughter of God being seated alone on horseback is a unique curiousity these days, especially if the one in question does not modestly cover her flaming, sin-spawningly seductive hair. The grumpy duo of Ventrue knights halts again, sharply turning around to slowly eye her up and down. Unfortunately (luckily for some), undeath does not make one lose his ability to appreciate the aesthetic. Both "vons" go on to present a moderate, polite bow towards Sophia.

Ernst is not far away either, riding near his carriage, trying to find a proper place to stop. After all, he'd not wish to intrude upon the way of the three main, ironed carts.
As he's looking around, directing the cart-driving Karl, he too notices the entry of the new, extremely rich and well-decorated Italian carriage, a black-silver masterwork. Oh, and its out-of-place mistress. As the merchant's eyes inadvertently drink in the sight of this expensive poetry of a wagon, he suddenly finds his horse has stopped. Turning back forward, he notices with some awkwardness that he's nearly collided with the Black Cross vessel at the front.
His ghouls have found a fitting spot nearby.

Anselm von Heidenauer, Komtur of the Black Cross stands as impressive as ever, at least for a blood-sucking affront against Gaia; but who's Albrecht to talk now? The Teuton certainly has the bearing and demeanour of an "alpha", his sharp, rigid voice commands immediate attention and obedience, though he's not one for unnecessary barking and petty punishment. Makes one wonder what he'd do though when he actually felt the need to punish someone.
He tilts his head slightly to his left now, at the Salzburg Ventrue certainly more accustomed to riding a cart than such a sizable war stallion and produces a faint, forgiving smile. He stops leaning against the carriage, folding his arms instead and greeting Albrecht with swift and simple words.*

-/Ger/ God brought you here, brother. I knew you'd answer the call.
_________________

[RedDrake]

*No duel, just petty words and the grudge keeps on. The first enemy will solve this, either way. If I were the leader I’d aim for a dangerous foe for first. It’d unite our forces. But those days… are over.

But for von Heidenauer, the ungrateful role of the alpha is just beginning. The kindred are lone predators, this pack.. or group as they call it is not organized at all, and this time not their holy faith will even help. I also nod friendly and make my way to him.

Besides the five riders described below my cart is massive and reinforced with steel-plating under the dark brown wood covering. It's well prepared to endure hard environment and a winter. In the back the Wulfhard family shield-crest is present with a Falcon on the top of it, and three wolves inside the shields. Of course royal colors, argent and red are used. Of course for this heavy cart, four massive black-furred muscular horses are present, they are probably ghouls. The coachman is quietly singing old ballads as controlling the horses. All the equipments are-well wrapped, and as nearly everybody wears travelling hood, it's not easy to tell what they're carrying. Of course it's nearly impossible to hide the hild of Albrecht's two-handed sword.*
_________________
"Ashes to Ashes
Dust to Dust.
From ashes you've come
And to ash you'll return!
AMEN!"
(Angel Dust Andersen)

[Sophia d'Auxerre]

The sky threatens with the breaking of the sun by the time she arrives back at the inn, truly the passing of time was ignored within the library.
For once, Sophia pays little attention to the social buzzing of the inn. The tales and boasts of some of the warriors are ignored by her as she retires to her room to mull on all that she’s read, having memorised the side notes. But indeed, the proclamation “The Oldest of All” turned over in her mind a few times. She had found very little, but rumours and texts whose sources could not be fully trusted.
Naturally most details about this... crusade would be held back from everyone’s knowledge. But this did not prevent her from pondering on what was to come as she rests that morning. *

*Equipment and appearance: Sophia’s cart is of course impressive. Silver embossed markings upon black as well as silver gilded sides. It certainly shows status while, naturally, it has been made for long term travel and well tended to. The horses are of fine breeds, chosen for endurance. All of which wait as obediently as her guards regardless of the noise around them.
Sophia herself wears an elegant blue travelling robe, a show of style but of course not as fine as her usual attire. At her belt sits a small blade, as well as a further, larger one strapped to her horse. Sophia also wears a large, white-fur lined cloak with hood which is currently lowered. The cloak is fastened at the front with a silver clasp and is black in lining upon the outside. Her red hair flowing free at current with a ribbon wrapped around her wrist to tie it back.
Most of the equipment that is strapped up is covered in protective lining to shield it from the winter weather, camping items seeming to be the only things fully on show. *

After settling payments and double checking over the mercenaries works, she makes her way to the gathering for departure. Slightly late, but then, what woman isn’t to at least make a small statement of their importance? Even after turning, such a trait is still considered the norm... Much to all men’s annoyances!
Her carriage halts a bit suddenly due to the blockage. Sophia hauls on the reigns of her steed, having chosen to ride at the moment for convenience. Sitting up, she raises her chin as she eyes the impressive chariot that sits in the way. Her gaze studies the guards who stand so rigidly to attention, disciplined and waiting for orders. Indeed impressive.
Barely a moment passes though before her gaze is drawn to the gesturing and risen voices that are partly concealed by the passing of other soldiers.
Sophia studies those involved in the exchange. Ahhh, the twig of a knight. No surprise there... The insults seem to be directed and gestured at the one mounted, who, upon inspection seems to be the dim-witted one who sat by her in the cathedral. Well there’s no surprise that there is exchanges between these two. Typical behaviour but certainly it has the opportunity to provide a little amusement.
Her brow rises in surprise as she sees who joins the exchange. The silent prince, he who was so shrouded in secret at the meeting, seems to be moving to them.
She exhales a light laugh to herself at some of the shouts. Sophia pulls on the reigns of her horse, egging the beast to make its way closer to catch more of the trade of words. Not making any attempt to sneak and eavesdrop, no. She has no qualms with showing her amusement in this matter as her gaze moves over those who speak. Taking a few moments to study Albrecht now that he’s shown himself... But he still proves quite unreadable.
Sophia arches an eyebrow at the slowly fleeing Ernst before the twig knight, Von Messer, feels the need to flex his ego further by speaking loudly of his threats. Though irritated loud muttering of why Ernst was invited seems shared among his men. Sophia keeps her gaze upon Ernst for a moment, quite unable to find an answer to that question herself given what has been displayed so far.*

[Freiherr von Rosen]

Character present: Sophia d'Auxerre.

*Some of the glossaries on "A Valediction" and "Caine's Law and Punishment" include clarifications of older, or unclear Latin phrases, "correcting" the spelling from a different era, or explaining the meanings of metaphors. Others include a note written with a distinctly different type of ink:*

"And they tried to embrace their Father --> The Great Serpent did not
with steely things
and things of wood"

*And again:*

"It is very hard, my children,
to prescribe for you the punishment
of burning,
of exsanguination, --> Without any consumption!
of beheading,
of torture,
of paralysis,
of the sundeath."

*The third page, "Of the Moon-Beasts" is completely uncommented, and it also seems to be the oldest of the three. The animal skin that bears the ink is several centuries old and is apparently the work of an experienced translator, or copier. There is something strangely gloomy about the excellent condition and lack of glossaries about this page, though of course Sophia is not one to be affected by momentary whims. Perhaps for her, the passage much more troubling than those dealing with the claws and fangs of these horrors is the one that proclaims them "The Oldest of All".
When she's finished, the monks escort her out, apparently still rather... enchanted in her presence. She could even take a blink into their thoughts, but it's hardly time now to pursue the faith-testing "games" of her inner Road.
The way back to the Golden Sceptre passes slowly. She doesn't ride fast, still occupied by her thoughts on what she's just read and what is about to come in the following months. The heavy footsteps of a passing patrol quickly answer much of the latter question. When she arrives, already at dawntime, the inn is still a busy beehive of mead, blood, games and tall tales.
The servants and mercenaries did a good job while the sun was up, also managing to catch a sleep, so everything is set for departure. The elegant Lasombra manages her debts and says her farewells to both the owner and his... endurable inn.
Slightly late for midnight due to packing, they too arrive at the scene of the Crusade's beginning near the south gate, though the likewise impressive carriage of von Wulfhard appears to be blocking the way.*

By all means, all three of you take a few minutes to describe the carts you're using for travel, as well as your traveling gear and visible equipment in your next post.
_________________

[Sophia d'Auxerre]

*Moving alone, by horseback she explores the city. Not one to pass up the opportunity to learn of new places. The damage is still very obvious, of course. Having not expected anywhere to be able to recover so swiftly from the ravaging fires she had heard gasped whispers about as well as read of. But still, the city holds its charm, its history. She has no doubts that the masters of this area will take advantage of the “cleansing” and mould it to their own visions. Just a pity it was so long ago since the last visit.

It isn’t long before she’s tempted to the library. She eyes the Cathedral with a small smirk of previous night’s events as well as some admiration of the building.
With politeness and charming smiles she thanks the monks as they assist her, shaking her head when they leave her to her own devices. Such easily controlled little creatures, and so proud of it!
A tiny, soft laugh escapes her lips before she trails her thin fingers along the spines of the books.

It seems that the passing of time is almost forbidden within the library as Sophia drinks in the guarded volumes and parchments. She lingers upon the forgotten Books of the Bible, finding this particularly drawing.
Naturally she notes the three pages from the Book of Nod, a hint of a frown showing upon her features. Having read them many times, her focused gaze merely scans the words before being drawn to the notes and references upon the margins of the texts.
Fire, drawn by blades, torture... the Sundeath. She reads the warning words, that which is forbidden and that which is promised to those who sin. The flames of the candles within the library flicker almost in promise of the written words.
Flicking back a couple pages though, she re-reads the commentary of the first of the three pages that she initially lingered over.
“The Moon-Beasts”...
Naturally, given her curiosities, she had been drawn many times to texts of these creatures. Her sire also had spoken warnings of them. Never, thankfully, had she seen one in person though.
“Their bite is as our bite. Their claws are as our claws.” Her fingers lightly trail across the commentary words that are linked to this passage, before she looks to the illustration, the massive beast displaying it's claws while devouring a human. It's wild eyes wide. Sophia peers over the twisted limbs of the creature, as well as the pitch black eyes.
“Tarry not in the path of them, they are of one kind... and we are another.”
She glances to the parchments that were provided to her but chooses to memorise the side notes to memory. What use would collecting notes be?
A last glance to the illustration, she closes the tome. The night having mostly passed outside the library, she decides to take her leave. Satisfied at reading all that was relevant and indulging some of her own curiosities, she thanks the monks before leaving, mulling over the notes...*

[Freiherr von Rosen]

Characters present: Albrecht von Wulfhard, Ernst Hirschler.

*This one's a game changer. Von Messer is prevented from any further mockery by the timely arrival of von Wulfhard. He and his friend turn towards him now with a modicum of grudging respect.*

-/Ger/ Hah! He's not fit to fight me. Just wait and see. He'll break...

*Von Schmitt, still frowning, adds his own take on the matter, turning slightly towards his horse-seated companion.*

-/Ger/ He didn't even look at you while speaking. His Final Death will be swift, I'm sure.

*They both snort, with von Messer waving a dismissive hand in annoyance, turning back and moving away, still muttering in an agitated tone about the absurdity of inviting Ernst.*

-/Ger/ What a pair of oxes.

*Whispers a similarly displeased Irene, while letting go of her dagger underneath her cloak. Their cart is slowly parked nearby, awaiting the start.
Meanwhile, Albrecht catches the sight of his old "comrade", Anselm von Heidenauer, who's apparently going to be the leader of this expedition. Just having issued several commands, the blond giant is leaning against the side of the main carriage now, looking at him and producing a friendly nod.
In all likeliness, he's soon going to address the crowd before setting out. Perhaps he could be caught for a few words beforehand.*
_________________

[Dronaw]

*I turn towards the newcomer without stopping my horse.*

<Another mouth of us...>

-/Ger/ I don’t think that my prince, Lord Jürgen would appreciate a fight now, in this crowd. He just likes to hear his voice. I shouldn’t even take notice of him.

*I turn back and we continue our ride. We will soon reach our destination between the other private carriages.*
_________________
Sunny Black

[RedDrake]

*Five riders surround the chariot. They are muscular, fine horses, armored properly but they lack the ostentatious decorations so typical for a Ventrue. The same goes for the riders; they wear long dark cloaks without any visible sign or symbol. For a caring eye, of course, it can be seen that they’re highly disciplined and well-armed. Their “leader”, a cruel-looking man, in this mid-thirties and a well-known former mercenary captain, is commanding them with an iron-fist. Next to the chariot rides Albrecht himself.*

*Our “troupe” stops immediately and I’m calmly gazing this little “scene”. How typical and so familiar. I ride forward a little and clear my throat, loudly. I have a clear and strong voice, a voice of calm reason. *

/Ger/ - My good lords, actions speak louder than words. These petty quarrels are far below our dignity. You’ll have all the way to prove your values. However, if you find inevitably necessary to demonstrate your strength right now then choose the honorable way for a knight!

*By that I mean a duel. A simple way to calm a hot-headed person and the inner hierarchy will be formed. I prepare to continue my way after the replies. *
_________________
"Ashes to Ashes
Dust to Dust.
From ashes you've come
And to ash you'll return!
AMEN!"
(Angel Dust Andersen)

[Dronaw]

*I don’t turn around when I hear the shout.*

<What a loudmouth!>

-/Ger/ Please beware of your nerves! Don’t get a heart attack! It would be better to save your strength for the Tzimisces. I mean your pets' strength ‘cause I’m sure you have that many to compensate your lack of it.
_________________
Sunny Black

[Freiherr von Rosen]

Characters present: Albrecht von Wulfhard, Ernst Hirschler.

*As it is to be expected from a noble Ventrue knight in cocky bully mode, von Messer completely ignores the retorts to formulate the next wave of his own.
Loudly.*

-/Ger/ Hah! You dare?! You'll be run over by the first Tzimisce fiendette, you nameless peasant, you nobody! I bet your blood is thinner than the manhood of Salzburgian swine! Lord Jürgen shouldn't bring you along; a Crusade is for the strong.

*To make things worse, another Kindred of the vanguard force, the Bremen Ventrue von Schmitt also appears, currently on foot, standing beside his friend. He remains silent for now, but his huge, folded arms and heavily scornful glare at Ernst leaves no place for doubt about his allegiances.
And this is exactly when Albrecht and his men rumble in on his chariot.*
_________________

[RedDrake]

*For a long time I’m only staring the monumental entrance of this holy sanctum. A sanctum dedicated only for the sole reason to emphasize how impure and how incomplete you are. No wonder, in the old times, humans always worshipped something with light. The silver beautiful shining light of the moon-goddesses, the radiant glorious light of the sun-gods, even the glimmering light of a gold coin, there were- and there are always light. It brings flesh closer to the hidden and invisible spirit world. When you leave your body or transcends the flesh disappears and your spirit shines with pure light. A body without a spirit it’s just an empty shell of its former glory, as I am right now.*

<O holy Mother, I know my sins will never be forgiven, but I’ll now make a vow in this sacred monument of the humans that I’ll vanquish your foes till my last drop of blood till the last shard of my damned soul.>

*The moment of sorrow calms. I begin to move and walk right through entrance and enter the cathedral. I take my seat and formally greeting the others as the customs require, nothing more, nothing less. I watch mostly the cross rarely looking to the “preaching” archbishop. This temple reminds me of another place, a place which has changed everything and now the air of change is lingering in this very room. Although I’m not moved at all, I can feel the fire waking in the hearts of the people or even in the heart of the kindred. The speech is a masterwork, while listening to it, and seeing the fanatical gazes I’m almost reunited with an old friend: the thrill of battle. The glory of righteously spilled blood, the justice of victory.*

<… and the fall of a fool…>

*Faces appear in my memory again and again. I repeat the prayers loudly with the others, but only watching inside. It all began when the sky rained fire, when that wretched riding the fires of the underworld died. That was a glorious battle. In these fellow soldiers I feel the same. They will want to fight same battles.*

<And they’ll fall unless …>

*Now I understand the subtle irony of fate.*

<If only you’d know the true power of goddess Luna, blessed her be forever>

*The silver cross, shining with the light of the moon is indeed impressive. I follow it and sign with a just hand wave to my men to prepare everything. They themselves can be under the effect of this masterful celebration, but I trust them, they’ll never forget their duties.
In my thoughts I’m now visiting the fortress of Byzantium, a monastery where…
The young Cathar drives me back to the present for a fleeting moment.*

<The wyrm never rests. The pure light has been dimmed by his corrupted blood>

*Sacrificed himself, for only to shatter the light of a holy symbol. These kinds of enemies are always dangerous. As the rotten filths were in the monks disguise. They had no chance, yet they have managed to kill an honest noble warrior. I murmur a silent prayer for his soul.
The fires are lit the torches are like stars. As I’ve said there is always light.
I begin to make my way to the castle gate stopping only in the courtyard. I value the robust inflammable design of this castle. A truly spectacular place for a ruler.*

<Ancient knowledge on the walls?>

*It was just a short glimpse before taking seat. I’ve travelled much but few others were this confident in their defenses against the mortal flock. My face remains still unmoved, only my eyes follow the events taking place. I’m wondering if the prince has a true noble pure blooded ascendant. His born gestures and confident voice indicates so. Soon a long travel will be commenced. A travel to places he has already visited. Of course a vague impression is formed in his mind from everybody:
Decimus Flavius Laevinus of Clan Ventrue, Patriarch from the Eternal City of Rome: A wretched old-one from the cursed Roman Empire. No more words needed.

Eufemia Habladora of Clan Toreador, from the Kingdom of Aragon: Undying beauty is only a mere imitation of the living beauty. Besides that, when it comes to diplomacy, this “mistress” will be the most talented one.

Thiadward Zwertvegher of Clan Ventrue, Antasian from the town of Utrecht: As my sire once said: “Where the Venture knock, the door of intrigue will open.”

Bulgarus the Scholar of Clan Cappadocian, from the learned and illustrous city of Bologna: Hopefully a scholar. Despite their bizarre interests their wisdom is always appreciated.

Sophia d'Auxerre of Clan Lasombra, from the Republic of Venice: So sad that her natural beauty was consumed by the endless darkness of Abyss.

Friderich von Messer of Clan Ventrue, Patriarch from the town of Hamburg: A noble knight, probably.

Ernst Hirschler of Clan Ventrue, Patriarch from the town of Salzburg: This one will do nearly everything to prove himself.

Gotzstaf von Schmitt of Clan Ventrue, Patriarch from the town of Bremen: Not much first impression.

Csongor of Clan Gangrel, from the Tribe of Kürt: Reminds me a Fenrir Ahroun. He will delight the, usually polite, company.

Reginleif Valkyrja of Clan Brujah, from the Kingdom of Denmark: Troille’s blood. I was expecting at least one of their kinds. I should watch her carefully.

So this will our… “pack”. After discussing the minor details I take my leave. The past is haunting this night so leave every minor detail for Erik to handle. I will spend the next night speaking with only one can still remember that time, my ever loyal friend L’argent. For the night of the departure I arrive back as fully calm and ready for the journey.*
_________________
"Ashes to Ashes
Dust to Dust.
From ashes you've come
And to ash you'll return!
AMEN!"
(Angel Dust Andersen)