Alixandra "Ali" Greenwood [Resurgence LARP] : "Dear Nat..." #1

[Josée's Note: This is the first of a series of notes written to Nat, who, if you've read the previous pieces about Ali, you will know accompanied her for a single mission and then sold a year of his life to the imps.]

Letter date: 20/07/2014

Hi Nat,

I hope this message reaches you safely. I have paid the imps for delivery and (only if you wanted to, of course) the safe return of any replies.

So...how is the world of the Djinn? Warmer than home, I imagine? I hope they're treating you well?

I was thinking on some of what you said to me as we went looking for Jack. I...think you're wrong about yourself. You said you fought for the fight, while I fought to defend others. But...you were willing to sacrifice yourself and let me escape. You were incredulous when you thought I was going to leave the two who saved us from Jack to fight him alone. Numerous times you offered to heal me...when you were almost as badly injured as I was. If anything, you fought to defend others more than I did, on that journey. I think you view yourself too cruelly. I wouldn't have survived that journey without you, a fact I am all too aware of. I really wish you hadn't made that deal. [This sentence is so scribbled out it is illegible]. You would have been a great asset to the team.

Stay safe. You're coming back safe, sound and whole - that's an order. ;)

Ali.

Alixandra "Ali" Greenwood [Resurgence LARP] : "Innocence Lost"

[Josée's Note: Resurgence this week was full of interesting things for Ali to think about. She got her Imp Mail service begun to Nat, she was able to speak with the Paladins and take their "Test of Mettle"...and things became VERY interesting from then on. While there were many tests, one in particular might just haunt Ali.]

[Josée's Note to those who were at Resurgence: You may recall I said there would be two blog posts regarding this game. I lied. I have merged them into one as the second was going to be VERRRRRRY short! I hope you enjoy - you guys were the ones making it interesting! Also, if anyone knows the name of the character Ali was wandering around with, please let me know. Calling her "Ali's Companion" sounds way too Ali-centric and Doctor Who-esque for my liking!]

Song List:

Roses of May - Kate Covington (Erutan). (Kate wrote about how her lyrics to Roses of May were meant to represent the loss of innocence in a warrior's life due to the lives they've taken and blood they've spilt. I don't think there is any better song to represent how Ali is feeling right now.)

Innocence Lost

Ali stepped off the bus, the still night stuffy and warm. Taking a deep sigh, she readjusted her backpack, her “re-enactment” sword and shield strapped firmly to its front, and strode without pause, back home.

She unlocked the door, snapped it shut smartly, and proceeded to throw her rucksack, almost angrily, at the sofa. She ran a hand through her hair and lumped herself down on the armchair. She leant back, resting her head against the back of the chair, looking up at the ceiling. She sat silent for a minute or two before looking down at her right hand. Almost cautiously, she focused on it; on the image she had seen in that forest, and with her focus, a bright, blinding white light began to emanate from her palm, growing brighter and brighter. She smiled softly for a second, before the smile became a frown, and the light disappeared, as if a switch had been flicked.

Her eyes never moved from her hand, but her mind was not focussed any more on what was in front of her. Instead, her memory kept flicking back to what had led to the bestowal of that particular gift. And not just back to the trials…but to one particular part of it.

The child.

Josée does Skyrim: Of Werewolves and Marriage (and Leaflets. Lots of Leaflets.)

[Part 1 of ???]

Okay, so those of you who have read this blog before (or who have taken a peek now because of that) will know that this is a bit of a jump from what I usually put up here. However, it is me, it is gaming, and it is going to be different to anyone else’s Skyrim stuff because that’s the joy of Skyrim being as big as it is: while the quests are the same for everyone, the order in which you meet them (if at all) is always going to be different. I should warn you now that spoilers will abound so please ignore this post if you intend to play Skyrim, or have begun to already. If you read on, it is completely and unequivocally at your own risk!

This particular post boasts spoilers for (not necessarily a conclusive list, as it is hard to know what is a spoiler and what isn’t in some cases…):
The Companions Questline

The Dark Brotherhood Questline (minor)

Mara’s Quests

Now that’s done, I present to you:

Josée does Skyrim: Of Werewolves and Marriage (and Leaflets. Lots of Leaflets.)

I first began to play Skyrim on my housemate’s Xbox while winding down as the University year drew to a close. I then struggled (for reasons unbeknownst to me) with the Steam version as it seemed far more difficult even when I dropped the difficulty to the lowest, and then two on my (not-so-shiny-but-still-playing-games) secondhand 360 I bought from my brother. One of those was on a non-live account, so was deleted just so I didn't keep accidentally logging into it and wondering why I was playing a level 10 Argonian rather than a level 2 Imperial, and now I have a shiny Xbox Live account with an (no longer level 2) Imperial player character.

A New Type of Gaming for Josée...

Hello everyone!

I, as you've seen, usually cover my tabletop, live-gaming and LARP gaming here. Well...today I have decided (due to spamming all my Facebook friends for the majority of this evening) to start chronicling my Skyrim journeys too. Mainly because I found myself simultaneously laughing out loud and facepalming at the strangeness of some of what was happening in my questing this evening, and the fact I was still enjoying myself.

I don't know how long these posts will be or how often they will go up. I'll write, and write and write and then decide "This is too long, I'm going to split it!" or "This is okay, this can go up!" and see how it goes.

All I will say is, there will, of course be spoilers, so skip the posts if you wish (I will try to signpost potential spoilers the best I can, and give each section a clear heading, but you read at your own peril, I am afraid!) and I cannot guarantee the words I use will be grammatically correct (I enjoy making words up to suit my needs) or that there will be no adult humour or language. Sorry.

Enjoy, and please do feed back to me what you think. I write and then post (no proofreaders here, I'm afraid (I'm proud and hope my grasp of the English language is decent enough to not require one.)) and so never have a clue as to what people might think when they read the things I post. I enjoy getting feedback, and would love to know what brought you to my blog and what you think of what I write.

Josée

Alixandra "Ali" Greenwood [Resurgence LARP] : "Infuriation and Introspection"

[Josée's Note: Last Resurgence, Ali went on a recce with a new guy called Nat. To cut a long story short, he sold a year of his life to Imps to get information about a murderer. After they had fought tooth and nail together, and almost died together (1HP left at the end of the encounter EACH) Ali received a phone call a few days later, where Nat told her "See you around." Ali is determined to write Nat letters for the Imps to pass between them, and this is how she got on.]

Song List:
Stuck in the Middle with You - Stealers Wheel (made me laugh and seems to fit too well!)
Extra Dry, Extra Olives - Ramin Djawadi (fits her epiphany quite well, and is a lovely piece of music)

Infuriation and Introspection

Ali pushed herself away from the small, plastic desk and sighed, frustrated. She walked across the main living room of her one-bed flat on the edge of Riverside and into its tiny kitchen. Pulling a wine glass roughly from the cupboard, she poured herself a drink.

"Letters should not be this hard to write." She thought, as she took a rather large sip from her glass.

Alixandra "Ali" Greenwood [Resurgence LARP] : Backstory

[Josée's Update: This has now been seen by the Ref and is now canon! *cheers*]

Alixandra "Ali" Greenwood

Alixandra Greenwood ("Ali", as she prefers to be known) was born Delilah Jane Greenwood in 1986. She was a determined, feisty young girl, who much preferred to play "cops and robbers" with the boys than with the dolls and jewellery that were thrown upon her on her birthdays and Christmases. She rebelled heavily against her parents in her teenage years, becoming something of a revival Punk in the mid 1990s. As her parents despaired, 15-year-old Delilah (taken to calling herself "Alix" or "Alixandra" because it was "edgy") found herself spending time with some Army Cadets who frequented the same music clubs she did. Their talk of proving themselves, making a difference and being part of a team hit something within her and she enrolled in the Army Cadets, one of the oldest new recruits that year. One of the cadets was a reenacter and got her involved in the local historical reenactment society, where she learnt to fight with sword and shield (which was, in her words, "fly").

Resurgence LARP

Hi everyone!

Having looked at Blogger's useful statistics screen, I've noticed I've got quite a range of visitors from a range of countries! So hello to everyone, especially those overseas! I hope everything I'm writing makes sense!

I know I haven't posted for a while, and this is due to returning home as the University year ended, and having been away from the internet for a week on my annual holiday with my family...and trying a new LARP system out! Since I live away from my home city for most of the year, I don't often get to join in systems or games back home; so this summer is going be a change for me.

"Resurgence" is a homespun system by a local LARPer, and (this is going to be a very basic overview because I've only played in two games!) is a fantasy/modern setting. The premise is: there are people in the world who can see things that no "normal" person can. (So far, my character has come across spirits, "demons" (as she calls them), angels/paladins and djinn.) The characters have been "picked up" by a team who claim (note this word; as there are a few characters who may/may not believe this) to be trying to limit the negative impact these beings are having on the world. This often requires the characters to either go and kill the beings, go and talk to the beings, go and make deals with the beings (which has meant a few...interesting deals have been created...) or all of the above in small amounts. To normal people, the characters...look like LARPers; carrying fake weapons or odd bits of pipe and stuff, and anything odd they see is rationalised as "That giant thing attacking me must have been a very large wolf" or "OOOOH, awesome special effects!" etc.

I, personally, have had great fun in the first two games I've played. My character (backstory will follow) has already seen small amounts of character development, and because the player group has been between 4-8 people, I've played with two different sets of different types of character. Also, because the group is so small, it is run in two parts; with half the group playing and half the group NPCing for the morning, and then swapping over for the afternoon. Think of it like swapping ends at half time on a football pitch (I hate football...the World Cup must have subconsciously seeped into my psyche...). My favourite NPCs I've played so far have been an imp focussed on trading for the player's "shinies" (anything that glitters/glistens/shines) and a normal woman called Sally who got caught up in a wendigo attack.

Anyway, I think I've fawned over the game for long enough! Coming up soon will be my character (Ali)'s backstory and a couple of fluff pieces, written in regard to the most recent game.

Enjoy!

Josée
x

Marie d'Albeau [Hunter: The Vigil] : Concern and Contemplation

[Josée's Note : This was written just...after the second or third Hunter game, where Marie had been brought back to reform the compact. There were few games after the first (I think four was the total?) so this was the only real character development Marie was lucky enough to get.]

Concern and Contemplation
Marie recalls the evening's events, and pours her heart out to her walls.

Marie watched the others disappear up the staircase to bed, still sat on the floor in the entrance hall of their makeshift home. As she saw the last of them disappear from sight, she heaved a sigh, ran a hand down her face and undid her heels. Holding them in one hand with her handbag, she stood up, the dress pooling around her feet now she was a few inches shorter. It was crumpled and creased...but she couldn't have cared less. She gathered some of the material in her free hand, lifting it above her feet, and began to ascend the stairs.

She reached her door and fumbled with her bag to find her key. Her hair was hanging across her face and her face betrayed her tiredness and the stress of the evening she had just had. She eventually unlocked her door, and walked into what was - for all intents and purposes - her only private area for the forseeable future. She threw her bag on to the bed, let her shoes clatter to the floor next to the door, and looked around.

Marie d'Albeau ["Cerberus"] : A Grandmother's Tale

[Josée's Note: The child in Ceinwyn's post "Turn the Page", is Frank. I adored writing Frank's thumb-in-mouth speech, as it was so much fun trying to figure out how to write a small child talking in that way.]

A Grandmother's Tale
Marie tells her grandson a true bedtime story.

"Grandma, Grandma!! Will you tell me one of your stories at bedtime?" Asked her excitable six-year-old grandson, Frank. Marie laughed, her once long, olive black hair now shorter and silver. Her face was lined from years of emotion, and she looked weary, though her eyes still had a youthful sparkle. As they climbed the stairs together; Marie's hand held by the fragile grip of the small boy, Marie chuckled.

"Every time you come over, you ask for the same old stories. Don't you get bored?" She asked him, smiling gently. "Don't you want me to read you a book - you have hundreds of them. What about one about dragons?" She queried.

"Don't like dragons." Her grandson replied, sulkily.

Marie d'Albeau ["Cerberus" / Hunter: the Vigil] : Backstory

[Josée's Note: Marie d'Albeau came about as a Cerberus prequel NPC for another character (Richard Talon). After the game, it transpired that an NPC in Cerberus was her grandson. We also decided to run an ill-fated Hunter game for a while, where Marie was one of the senior Hunters. Her backstory was written post-prequel game. I did a lot of background research for the timeline of events for this character, but I did have to use an internet translator for the French, so apologies for any...issues!]

Marie d'Albeau [Mah-ree Dall-boh]

Early Life

Marie d’Albeau was born on July 16^th, 1914 in Monthermé (Mon-thur-may (said quickly)) in the French Ardennes to Mathieu (Ma-tue) and Esmé (Ez-may) d’Albeau. Mathieu was a 30-year-old sergent-chef (sair-gent chef) in the Armée de Terre (Arr-may deh T-air), and Esmé was a 24-year-old schoolteacher within Monthermé itself.

12 days after Marie’s birth, the First World War began, and towns but a few hours away from Monthermé were attacked by Germany. Mathieu was sent to fight in towns and cities that had seemed so peaceful previously.

Her father returned to Monthermé in 1918, when Marie was 4 years old, and as Marie grew up, Mathieu began to treat her like the son he had never had. Marie was taught how to handle a Lebel and was shown the Hotchkiss and Chauchat machine guns. She learnt to wield bayonets and knives, and this “training” later proved fantastically useful to her.

Esmé was naturally concerned about the influence that being around weapons of war and destruction would have on her impressionable young daughter.

Marie adored her father and grew up loving the ideals he held in high esteem; that they should be proud to be French and of the heritage they had as French people. He also strongly believed in “fight and win or die fighting”, something that Marie went and did in her later life many, many times.

When Marie turned ten, her father was in the Rhineland, occupying the area as part of the Armée de Terre, yet he sent her a wooden necklace he had whittled for her to occupy his free time, with a small fox-cub charm as its focal point. Marie was surprised and overjoyed at her present, and refused to take the necklace off except for when bathing. This necklace would later go on to give her the name she became known under to many members of the Résistance Française (ray-sis-tense frahn-say-z) and the German military alike.

When Marie was 15, France felt the shockwaves the Great Depression emanated. Marie spent this time honing her skills whenever she wasn’t up at the schoolhouse aiding her mother with her young classes. Marie’s knife skills reached the point where she could hit a target cleanly from 30 paces. Her father was impressed, but Esmé began to feel that her daughter was more soldier than woman, and they had many disagreements at this point in Marie’s life. Mathieu saw the divide between his wife and daughter and convinced Esmé to give Marie a day off from helping at the schoolhouse so she could “help with the housework”, while telling Marie to use that time to do her “training”, rather than in her mother’s view.

Esmé continued to suggest to Marie as she reached the age of 19 and 20, that she was reaching a suitable age for marriage to a man who could look out for her and provide her with her own home to look after. Marie was adamant that she didn’t want to marry anyone, and that she was quite capable of looking after a home on her own. Esmé and Marie both understood that there was going to be a stalemate and very little chance of them seeing eye-to-eye. From that day on, Marie and her mother barely spoke at home, and Marie continued her training in the knowledge of her mother’s disdain.

World War II

As the threat to France from Germany grew in 1939 and 1940, Mathieu was promoted to Sergent-Chef-Major of the 9^th Army. It was a ceremonial role alone, to signify that he was one of the best non-commissioned officers that the Armée de Terre had. He was posted to the Maginot Line, to keep watch over the border between France and Belgium.

While her father was a couple of miles away at the Maginot Line, Marie began to get in touch with the very first disorganised beginnings of the Résistance Française, and began working with them, trying to build a network of contacts and allies in case of invasion. Her ability to create friends and allies easily, alongside her high skill levels with knives and guns made her a useful member of their little group, and the fox necklace she wore earned her the nickname and alias of “La Renarde Noir” (“La ren-ahh-ed no-are) or “The Black Vixen”.

On May 13^th, 1940, a battle broke out at Sedan, close to Monthermé, and the Maginot Line was broken through. On May 15^th, Monthermé itself was attacked. The other Résistance members rushed forward into battle and engaged with the Germans, while Marie and a couple of others stayed back, hidden, attacking from a distance – some using guns, others (like Marie) using the much more silent but equally deadly knives and other implements.

The Armée de Terre (including Sergent-Chef-Major d’Albeau) struggled to hold the line, and by the end of the battle, only three of Marie’s allies had survived, and the 9^th Army had surrendered en mass. Shocked that her father would allow his men to surrender as they had, Marie looked around and tried to spot him in the columns of men now at the mercy of the German footsoldiers. She couldn’t see him, and once the Germans and their prisoners had moved on, she realised why.

Lying in the mud, mouth half open as if about to speak, and eyes glassy, she saw her father’s lifeless body. Marie, filled with the burning desire for revenge, furiously wiped her tears aside, as she and her two colleagues pulled his bulletholed and bayoneted body from the carnage. As they did so, a small brown paper package fell from her father’s body. Marie picked it up, and stashed it away in her coat pocket. She took his wedding ring, to return to her mother, and solemnly replaced it with the necklace he had crafted for her, winding it between his fingers, and then the three of them buried him in a secluded spot, away from the battlefield, marking it with his helmet.

As she returned home, her eyes red and sore, she gently took the brown package from her pocket. In her father’s handwriting, she saw the words “Pour ma fille la plus chere, Marie”. She gently turned it over and untied the string holding it together neatly. As the packet fell open, a long silver hairpin was revealed, set with glass gems of varying shades of blue. What Marie found most interesting was the shape of the pin itself. It was almost kite-shaped, and its edge seemed thinner than any pin she had ever seen before. Intrigued, she traced its edge with her finger, and gasped in pain and shock as she withdrew her finger, now bleeding from something akin to a papercut. Feeling betrayed, she looked at it with distrustful eyes...until it dawned on her. Her father had found her a weapon her mother couldn’t spot, that she could wear on her person in plain sight without arousing suspicion, and that could be more deadly than some other weapons she had been trained with if it was used properly. She said a silent thankful prayer, and prepared to see her mother, as she slid the hairpin into place.

When she returned home and told her mother of her father’s death, Esmé was more distressed that her daughter had been there than at the news of her husband’s passing. Esmé had known for a long time that her husband might end up dead in the line of work he did. But she had never considered the possibility that their daughter might follow in his footsteps. Marie handed her mother her father’s wedding band and told her she would return soon. Esmé’s concerned queries as to Marie’s next moves fell on deaf ears, and she was left alone as her daughter walked out, into the twilight, alone.

Marie and her remaining colleagues met up at a secret “hideout” near the town that evening, the gem encrusted hairpin worn with pride. She was brought up to speed with the situation along the Maginot Line, which was dire in every direction. She was chosen to be the new leader of their résistance group, due to her attacking prowess and her ability to think quickly in a tight situation. She accepted the position, and set about co-ordinating a response to the new German occupation. Her father’s death, and the nerve of the Germans to just waltz into her country spurred her on.

All through France, there was a buzz about the Dunkirk landings and evacuation at the end of May and beginning of June 1940. Marie arranged for her maquis (Résistance squad) to head from Monthermé to Dunkirk. It took them a couple of days, but they eventually made it to the locality.

They were of little help on the beaches, but arranging hiding places for those soldiers trying to escape back to Britain was where the Résistance as a whole came into its own. It was also where Marie made a name for herself, not just in her area, but in the Résistance Française as a whole. It was here that her maquis gained most of its people, as disenchanted Frenchmen and women decided that the Résistance was where they wanted their allegiance to lie.

As they left the dismal beaches of Dunkirk, Marie had not expected to find more Englishmen further inland. A group led by a “Richard Talon” had missed the last boat out of Dunkirk. Marie and her maquis helped them find shelter and to stay hidden undercover. Often, this involved Marie using her charm to enamour herself to the Germans, before leading them out or... “disposing” of them, as the case sometimes was. The rest of the maquis would shuffle the Englishmen to safety, or keep a close guard on them as Marie did what she did best.

There were times that Monsieur Talon and Marie didn’t see eye-to-yeux. There were moments Talon and his team were almost discovered and they blamed each other for almost losing their cover. A couple of times, Marie was taken out into the street and questioned at length by more senior German officers about the establishment(s) she ran, and the clientele they served. The soldiers never had enough evidence to do anything more serious to her, but the continual questioning and mild beatings she received was more than enough to enflame Marie’s hate for them yet again. Eventually, the maquis managed to get Talon and his men out of the area and into the countryside, where they could be a little freer from the Résistance’s all-seeing eyes.

During that time, General Charles de Gaulles sent out radio broadcasts calling for la résistance française to stand strong, and he had even gained the title of “Leader of All Free Frenchmen”.

Marie’s regard for Charles de Gaulles was eventually matched by the respect she had for the British, when she heard the radio broadcasts from the World Service proclaiming that Britain was going to do what Marie had hoped the French would – fight the Germans until the bitter end, and were prepared for any eventuality.

It was a shock to Marie and the whole Résistance movement to find out that the Nazi’s had reinstated Pierre Lavel to lead Vichy France, and Marie decided in an instant that she would be the one to arrange for his death. He was weakhearted in her eyes, and had caved in to the Germans. She loathed conspirators; they betrayed her glorious country and everything they stood for.

One of the maquis volunteered to assassinate him at a rally to be held in 7 months time, and Marie and her team began preparations for this to occur.

In August 1941, the Free French and Résistance Française were attacked in a speech given on radio by the Germans. Anyone found to be a part of either group or to be aiding them was to be killed. Marie and her team knew that this threat was very real, but they continued regardless. Since Dunkirk, many other Résistance groups had come to know of Marie d’Albeau and had given her the nickname “Marie de la Garde” (Marie of the Guard), which in turned became shortened to “Marie La Garde” (Marie the Guard or Marie the Protector). Her alias – “La Renarde Noir” had also entered common usage – as a name for the leader of the Resistance. Any German officer asking for names while torturing Résistance members would receive the same answer – La Renarde Noir. To the Résistance, La Renarde Noir became a symbol of a Free France and hope for the future, while to the Germans and their sympathisers, it was a name meaning impudence and revolt. Anyone who was even vaguely aware of the existence of the Résistance was aware of La Renarde Noir.

Not long after this speech, Marie’s colleague fired his shot at Pierre Lavel, but failed their assassination attempt. The Germans caught and tortured him, and eventually executed him. During torture, he had told them of La Renarde Noir, and of how she was not only pretty, but was skilled in both gunwork and knifework. He told them she was a crack-shot and that she had killed more men than the Résistance could care to count, and that she was going to lead France from the Nazi’s clutches and make it a free country once more. This set the Germans on edge. First of all, La Renarde Noir was female, and young, not an ex-soldier as they had previously thought, and she was apparently just as skilled as some of their highest trained soldiers. Though nothing was said, they were on high alert to anyone who seemed to fit that image...but no-one stuck out as their “black fox”, or as some of the soldiers referred to her, their “bitch of the night”.

The Hunter Compact

Marie came across the English soldiers once more in mid-1942. After some confusing situations, she saw their once close-knit unit split. Frank refused to continue with Talon and the rest of the team, declaring that there was more to the war than was visible. He was badly injured, and he offered Marie the opportunity to stay with him and form a partnership – working together. Marie, after a brief contemplation, said a very sincere goodbye to Talon and the group, and joined Frank.

Marie’s life got far more complex from that moment on. They were no longer just fighting the Germans and their collaborators, but anyone from anywhere, if they were “not as they seemed”.  Frank and Marie made a great team – Marie’s ability to kill in the blink of an eye, and Frank’s ability to see the unseen. For a few months, Marie ran her Résistance team and helped organise the “Hunter” compact that she and Frank had begun.  While training up the Hunters, she was organising the Résistance’s response to coded messages from England, forewarning the invasion of non-Vichy France.

She trained her Hunters as she had been trained herself, moving through the basics up to the highest level of proficiency possible.

The Cracks Begin to Show

While running and training the Hunter compact, Marie found herself caring more and more about her co-leader, and eventually, the two of them developed a relationship, and in mid-1944, Marie found out that she was pregnant with Frank’s child...or children. At the age of 30, Marie suddenly found herself in a position she had never expected nor intended. She had told her mother many years beforehand that she didn’t want a husband, or children...or...anything of that sort. Indeed, the reason she had got on so well with Frank originally was because he didn’t treat her like her father had treated her mother. She was given the same respect as the soldiers Frank had fought with, and that was what had...lead to where she found herself now.

Sucking up all the courage she had in her body, she told Frank of her pregnancy, and the conversations seemed to go well, up until Marie asked for the child – or children – to be kept away from the compact. Her argument was that while she had wanted to be trained by her father, their child(ren) might not have wanted that, and she wanted them to have a choice  - rather than to be thrust into the dark world that their parents both worked in. Frank’s argument was almost the exact opposite of Marie’s – that he had wanted to be trained but had never received the chance. He wanted that, so maybe his child(ren) would too – and the world that they worked in was the real world, the world their child(ren) would grow up in anyway – it was just a matter of whether their eyes were open to it or not.

The argument lasted for some time, both sides knowing that no agreement was likely to be reached. Eventually, Marie ended the conversation, and told him that until he accepted her terms, she would take care of the children; away from the unit. She would still be working under the organisation...just without the child(ren) around.

As she walked out, Marie had no real plans of where to go or who to turn to...so she went to the one person she knew would hopefully accept her regardless of the situation she found herself in. At thirty years of age, Marie ran to her mother.

Esmé had given up hoping that her daughter would return. 4 years had passed since Marie had left their familial home and run into the twilight, so when she turned up, back on the doorstep, flinging her arms around her, Esmé was in shock. As Marie explained how she had let herself “finally” fall in love to an English soldier (as many of the (albeit slightly younger) girls had done), Esmé found herself patting her daughter on the shoulder, and even offering up suggestions of help and aid when she told her she was pregnant. Esmé, to an extent, was glad. Glad that her daughter had finally stopped her foolish wargames and was becoming a woman; the woman she should have been from the start, had her father not corrupted her with his tales and instruments of war.

It was with her mother by her side that Marie gave birth on the 28^th March, 1945. She stayed with her two daughters, Hélène (Heh-leh-nn) and Jeanne (Zhe-enn), who were non-identical twins, until October, when she left them with her mother, so she could make a very specific trip to Paris, as Pierre Lavel was being tried for treason. She hadn’t forgotten the price her country had paid during his leadership, nor her friend who had been tortured and shot after the failed assassination.

Reverting back to her Résistance days, she climbed atop the Governmental buildings and aimed a small stiletto knife. As the firing squad carrying out the execution were told to ready themselves, so did Marie. A fraction of a second before the order to shoot was given, Marie threw the knife as she had so expertly been taught to by her father. She saw it hit its mark – Lavel’s heart and she watched as the conspirator began to fall just as the guns fired. A vengeful smile on her face, La Renarde Noir left the roof silently, in the knowledge that justice had been done.

Making her way through the busy streets of Paris, Marie headed back to her mother’s, via a detour to the Hunter’s base. The air was thick with tension and as she walked in she could feel it, stifling her. The power shift was subtle, but it was definitely there. Marie’s job became purely training the recruits – nothing more, nothing less. Frank barely spoke to her, and Marie hardly ever intentionally got near him. It hurt her that things had got to that stage...but she wasn’t about to rescind her ultimatum – not until he accepted that it had to be that way.

Over the months, things got worse and worse – Marie having to sometimes struggle to get things heard that she had no issues with saying previously. Marie – partly by choice and partly due to Frank’s decisions – ended up working further and further afield, Tibet and Bolivia were two places she was “sent” during her years in the compact.

When Marie wasn’t away from France, she spent her time at her childhood home, with her mother and daughters, learning how to be a mother. Marie had never been particularly maternal, and she had never expected to need to be. She saw her mother treating them as her own, and tried to follow, and to bend her hardened shell into something more soft and malleable. But she also had to learn to change her persona in the flick of an eye. One day she could be the doting mother, kissing injured hands and legs, and the next have to be a stealthy, ruthless killer to get rid of those who were a risk to the world. Marie d’Albeau had to morph into La Renarde Noir...and back again.

Marie knew better than to think that Frank would leave well alone. They ran the Hunter compact together; they both had their own spy network and people to tap into...and that didn’t bother her. She, in her heart of hearts, wanted him to be a part of his daughter’s lives. But she couldn’t...she didn’t know why she was so vehement about it...but she couldn’t let him impose the lifestyle they lead on to their daughters. She spent many nights sleepless, unable to stop herself from wondering if she was in the wrong, and whether she was being cruel or unkind...or just plain nasty to the man who had once been her lover, and nothing could change that.

But things changed in 1951. Marie returned from Bolivia to find everything in a mess. Marie grabbed the nearest Hunter to find out what had happened and was told there had been an attempt made on Frank’s life. The cell had had a huge influx of POWs and refugees from the war’s end, and it seemed as if though one of them had done the deed. Marie rushed to find Frank, and – though he seemed as if he would survive fairly well, he was ranting and raving about something or another. He had been getting steadily more paranoid about everything, and this seemed to be his tipping point. Everyone and everything was in the firing line, and Frank just screeched at all of them to get out – the rest of the group scarpered, and left Marie and Frank alone. Marie tried to soothe him and find ways of dealing with the situation, but he refused to listen, and with heavy heart, Marie also left him, to rant and rage alone.

The rest of the cell were stood outside, waiting, and they seemed to perk up as Marie stood in the centre – Marie feeling almost as if she were back in charge; respected and considered important to the very heart and soul of the compact.

“Renarde,” called one of their number, “Qu'est-ce qui va se passer maintenant?” (“Vixen, what’s going to happen now?”)

Marie sighed. “Nous faisons ce qu'il demande.” (“We’ll do as he asks.”) She said, halfheartedly.  “C'est fini, mes amis.” (“It’s over, my friends.”)

There were shouts and gasps. A lone voice called out across the furore.  “Mais vous pouvez exécuter la compacte, Renarde, non? Démarrez ailleurs - de faire cavalier seul?” (“But you could run the compact, Vixen, no? Start up somewhere else – go it alone?”)

Marie shook her head. “Non.” (“No.”) And then, with pursed lips, she posited, “Peut-être que c'est pour le mieux que cela s'estompe à rien, et devient juste une autre partie de l'histoire de la France.” (“Maybe it is for the best that this fades to nothing, and becomes just another part of the history of France.”) And then she added, “Partie de l'histoire du monde.” (“Part of the history of the world.”)

She looked at them all, and then said “Go. Aller. Gehen. Vivez vos vies.” (“Go. Live your lives.”)

As the area cleared, Marie sighed, took a deep breath and headed back to her mother’s house. She moved the family away, to Malta – a small place, quiet and serene. She was called on by those who had previously been in the compact only in the direst of need, and they were often in some official capacity as Governmental officers or UN ambassadors. She left her daughters in her mother’s care while she was away, and always returned when the chance came.

That was...until she was asked to go to Rwanda in 1959, to help calm the “Wind of Destruction”. A message was sent to her while out there. A message with just three words.

“You’re needed - Frank.”

Marie’s life was about to get a whole lot more stranger, in a whole barrage of ways.

La Renarde Noir was about to come out of “retirement”.

Eleri James ["Cerberus"] : A Letter to Kyle

[Josée's Note: Using her real name, Ceinwyn leaves her old friend a note. An apology. A plea.]

A Letter to Kyle
Eleri writes a letter, for Boyd's eyes only.

Boyd,

I'm sorry for dropping in on you as I did. I didn't know what stories or rumours had been circulated about my disappearance...and I didn't mean to drop in so unexpectedly.

Firstly...I feel I should apologise for leaving you so long without a word. The situation I found myself in was difficult for me to comprehend...let alone explain to anyone else. I never wanted to cause you more pain, and leave you on your own as I have done. That was never in my plans, I promise you. But sometimes life...doesn't always go the way you wish it had.

Ceinwyn Roberts ["Cerberus"] : "Bittersweet Reunions"

[Josée's Note: Following the prequel game, Ceinwyn sought out her ex-boss, and old friend.]

Bittersweet Reunions
Ceinwyn writes in her diary about the evening she was reunited with her former boss.

The past few days began as they meant to continue. I went to feed and apparently, no-one was around. I was forced to prey on a couple of drunk chavs near the pier. Ugh. After I'd had my fill, I decided to help Darwin out a little and place the idiot (now sleeping) close to the sea and see whether or not he ever appeared again. I didn't get quite as far as I liked as I must've passed out. Cain was sitting in an office, and we had a lengthy discussion. Apparently...he's in my head, he's only ever around because I want him to be, and he was the person who gave me all the information about Kray when I was a kine.

He kept asking if I had a plan, and I kept replying that if he was in my head, he knew what my plan was. He did have a point though, when he finally admitted he knew what I was about to do. I was going to go see Boyd...I knew I had to. But he reminded me that I didn't know what I was going to do when I got there. After much talking and little resolution, I walked away. But he wasn't willing to let me leave that easily. He mentioned (purely to aggravate and frustrate me, probably) that I looked a lot like my mother.

Ceinwyn Roberts ["Cerberus"] : "Unforgotten Dreams"

[Josée's Note: Every character got a "Prequel" game. This was mine. I think I will leave you with the original note I wrote to the player group regarding this particular piece. Note that I was 19 years old - hence the "teenage girl" reference!

"I had "I Giorni" by Ludovico Einaudi playing throughout writing this song (it was on repeat and played 21 times.) I had no issue with it until I got to the last italicised part, at which point, probably in part due to me being a teenage girl and it also being gone 4 in the bloody morning, I ended up in tears. Quite a lot. I don't mind admitting this, and I doubt any of you will experience the same, but I did. In short, this was quite emotional to write, and I hope it comes through. One day, I will get round to writing Ceinwyn as if she's not feeling sad...but that day is not today! - A very tired, emotional, pleased, rambling Josée."

Unforgotten Dreams
Ceinwyn reflects on the life she once lead...and regrets a few things along the way.

I couldn't help but let my mind turn to the past, today. Something told me I had to revisit it...as much as it hurt to do so. I try not to dwell on such things as...all it does is make me miss my life...and those within it.

I left the house today, and the fog had cleared, just as we had been told it would. I decided to go alone, as I needed some time to myself. Living in a house together can make you feel like a family...but it can also become claustrophobic and crowded. I found myself along the beach once more, where Raphael and I...the memory still hurt...where he had consoled me, and tried to convince me to carry on, and not let myself fall victim to the despair of my Requiem.

Ceinwyn Roberts ["Cerberus"] : Turn the Page

[Josée's Note: Ceinwyn's moral struggles reach a new level. The young boy mentioned here is the same child mentioned in "A Grandmother's Tale", written from the perspective of his grandmother, another character I played in a Cerberus prequel, later that year.]

Turn the Page
Ceinwyn relives the night she killed her mentor.

I don't quite know what to do now.

I know, deep down in my hea...
I know what I did was right, regardless of where I know it from.

Ugh...this isn't going to make any sense if I start here...I guess I have to go back to where I was, and relive it from there.

After I'd returned to the house, Leo was talking to the others about Father Raphael; which was fine...except that he was suggesting Raphael was a slaughterer and murderer - even going so far to say that the two of them had both done it together. Talon - that insufferable man - was declaring his intent to find and kill Father Raphael every few seconds, which...as you would expect, didn't particularly endear him any further to me. First he barged in waving that stupid "Book of Nod" and presumed because he had it I would somehow be more keen to speak to him, and then he begins to threaten my mentor. I don't know if he's stupid or has a death wish, but either way, it's a very good way of making me even more loathing of him.

After Talon's continual "I will kill him" rant, Leo asked about the composition of our band of not-so-merry men. Christopher referred to Angus, himself, and I as "family". It was a strange moment...as I couldn't tell if that was the bloodbond talking...or if he really believes that...that I come into his "family circle". I have to admit...it was a nice feeling...even if it wasn't wholly of his choice. If I hadn't been around everyone else...I think I might just have hugged him.

The girl we saved, Mary, came down. She looked just as nervy as she had been when we first got her out of the Ordo Chapter House. Christopher tried to calm her, but I'm not sure that was such a clever idea...as, after all, he had been there when the other Ordo were trying to harm her. I knew she had felt more at ease with me, so I offered to take her for a walk. I didn't want to be sat around - even if Talon had decided to go searching for Raphael and wasn't in the house. I felt trapped in there...as if I was unable to have my own space with that many people. It was also nice to have a chance to chat to another woman. Having that many men around the house - you can practically taste the testosterone!

I ended up back on the beach, still deserted...but not so alone. Just having someone there with me made it seem like a far less barren place...and a little more inviting. I let my wings show, as there was nobody around, and because I know Mary began to trust me more originally because my wings were on show. She did open up to me. She reiterated that she didn't trust the others and that she had no understanding of the situation she was in. I gave her a hug, something that Kindred seem to rarely do. I tried to reassure her that Christopher - as at least I can partly speak on his behalf - would be of no threat to her. Trying to explain why without explaining why was difficult; I'm pretty sure she would have hidden back inside her shell has she known about bloodbonds. I told her of my siring, and of how I had got to the point of not caring. I don't know why I told her...I just...felt like she had bared her soul, and therefore I could bare some of mine. The hug we had seemed to go on for a while - though when it ended, Mary did seem to be more calm, as if her burden had been lifted slightly. I told her I would look after her, and as we returned, she seemed to get very close to me. There was always some contact between us on the way back - even if it were just a hand on a shoulder, her clutching on to my arm or holding hands. She seemed to need the contact; the knowledge that there was someone there who understood her situation.

Christopher seemed to get very jealous when I returned. I know that he is bound to me and that this is just an effect of the binding, but he really has no need to be concerned about her. She is a very traumatised, new neonate, and I just hope that my aid and being a friendly face will give her a starting point to develop and blossom into someone who - doesn't love what she is - but at least feels she can be of service in the capacity she is in. I offered for her to share my room for the day, and she accepted. She ended up cuddled up next to me through the night, and while it was unusual to not only be sharing a bad, but also with another woman and one who was so clingy; to know I was helping her through her trauma almost convinced me that maybe my time is not yet up.

The next night, Christopher wanted to show us some work he was doing. Talon had - yet again - disappeared off to go find Raphael. It all involved a lot of science and some really bright lights and lasers, and - if you couldn't tell - I'm no weapons expert. I did, however, have Dr. Carmine's laptop. There was a file called "TALOS.pdf" which contained all sorts of scanned paperwork from top secret archives from the 1940's at Bletchley Park. It looked like TALOS was a weapons programme running, with Alan Turing and Tobias Vaughn. When they were mentioned, mentions of "Awakened" kept appearing. The mages seemed to be helping the allies during the war. I told Christopher and Leo this, before Angus pulled me aside and asked to see the Book of Nod.

I took him down to my room and sat with him as he looked through. We kept discussing things and trying to figure out what it could mean. The word "Gehenna" always appeared and there was mention of the "Lord of Heaven returning to cast judgement". The Crone would get revenge on Cain's childe.

Getting concerned about Talon's jaunt (which had now had Leo also join it),  I decided to try and find Raphael myself...and I managed it.

I could feel his beast from a distance away, and it lead me to a house...or rather, below a house. I tried to force my way through the door, to no avail, so I climbed in through a back window. The house seemed deserted, and I found myself trying to get into the cellar. As I climbed down the stairs...there was Raphael...and he was torturing a family. I could see a young boy - he couldn't have been more than six or seven years old - hiding, as Raphael tortured his parents!

I know that the role of the Lance et Sanctum is to herd Kine in the direction of the Lord's light, and I understand and agree with that...but I couldn't let him go on attacking those who were defenceless. Without announcing myself, I drew my knife and used my sorcery to create the scourges that have become synonymous with my name. With no warning, I flayed him with them; the scourges raking his back, tearing his skin and the cassock protecting it. I don't think I've ever felt fury like it...

He looked enraged that I had done such a thing. He began trying to take the moral high ground, explaining that the boy would not sin in his life again, knowing the punishment his parents were receiving. The intention was palatable, but the commission of the intent was beyond anything I could have feared. I bit back every comment of his with a retort, and every explanation with a harder, more determined question. Shadows bound me, and I struggled to move much. Pulling my lighter from my kit for rituals, I burned a scrap of paper that Raphael had signed. The next thing I knew, Talon and Leo were also fighting Raphael at my side. Once I was free of the shadows - the lighter did well to remove them - I set about freeing the kine, and sending them upstairs with their son. I asked them not to do anything until the situation was controlled. The last thing we needed was for a police or Hunter squad to make their way down, as the Masquerade would be wholly breached and we would be seen as the perpetrators.

As I returned to the battle, the boys had done well, but things seemed to look up as I flayed him again with my scourges. Leo dealt the final blow, and we saw Raphael's body wither. Leo went to consume his soul, but I stood in his way. Raphael was my mentor, and he had betrayed me completely. I felt a right of my own to consume his soul...but I know the Sanctum decries anything of that nature. Leo kept shouting and ranting at me, which stunned me, and hurt. Leo and I had seemed to be getting on well until then. Still, I guess it still proves I'm a bad judge of character. Setting my hopes on Christopher to stop the others from going towards the body, I returned to the room upstairs.

Angus was making tea, trying to soothe the family. The boy was the most alert of them all, and he looked petrified. I handed him a cup of tea. I didn't really know what to say, so I said...despite it sounding clichéd and stupid..."Be brave. Be brave for me." He puffed his chest out slightly and nodded. He seemed to see the wings, as he kept staring slightly beyond me. I wasn't going to drop my obfuscate, though...I don't think his parents would have survived yet another shock.

Angus and I both whispered our concerns about the masquerade, and - after what seemed like a small gunfight down in the cellar - Leo and Talon left to find a couple of people skilled in Dominate. They dealt with the parents...though they may have left the boy...and we returned home.

Or at least...Christopher and I returned home. With Raphael's body.

Laying Raphael's decaying body on the table in the main room...I knew I only had one option. There was no way of reviving him, and no way to restrain him if we did. I didn't want to diablerise him...so final death seemed like the only choice. I used my ceremonial knife - despite his shortcomings, he was a member of the Sanctified - to cut off his head. I knew Leo and probably Talon would probably try to do the same to me when they returned...but it was the only safe thing to do.

I rang the Archbishop in Canterbury, and told him of Raphael's sad, sad demise in a far away town. He wanted me to return to Canterbury so he could take the title of Inquisitor away after I told him I felt it was the wrong title for me...and then I admitted I no longer wanted my place in the Lancea Sanctum. The erasal of my membership was quick, and I was told in no uncertain terms to remain out of contact for eternity. I don't know why, but it was a relief. I didn't need to be focussing on that, especially after I had sent my own mentor to final death. I had killed another Sanctified. I didn't deserve to be part of the covenant...and the covenant wasn't necessarily right for me anymore, anyway.

As Leo and Talon arrived, the phone rang. Talon answered it and then hung up, quickly without saying a word. It rang once more and someone asked for me. Hesitantly, I took the receiver. It was Carmine - the man I had believed to be dead in Thetford Forest. He told me to meet him in the fog. That was it. Meet him in the fog. That really doesn't sound ominous at all.

Next thing I knew, Leo had entered the room where I had been with Raphael. His yell at me reached my ears quickly, and I walked in. He asked if the pile of dust was who he thought it was. My flippant response yielded just another snarl and a burst of angrily worded questions. Eventually, Leo calmed, and agreed that maybe my actions were for the best. Somewhat surprisingly, he then went on to suggest that I was a good leader...a leader who could be trusted with authority. Considering the amount of time he had spent yelling and ranting and disagreeing with me over the course of a single evening, it scares me to think how he behaves towards someone he considers unworthy to hold the power they do.

Now...I just need to find out where my tale is leading to. And why has this prophecy of my death not yet been fulfilled...?

Ceinwyn Roberts ["Cerberus"] : "Alone on the Beach"

[Josée's Note: Ceinwyn's struggles with Kindred life and the sheer magnitude of the task she is expected to achieve ("saving the world") begin to get to her, and she comes to a tragic conclusion. Apologies for the mild swearing!]

Alone on the Beach
On the beach, distraught and desolate, Ceinwyn soliloquises.

So this is it? This is what I've been reduced to? A grown woman crying in the middle of a deserted beach - a prime target for Hunters or those wishing me harm. Anyone who wanted to take me or kill me could do so right now and I wouldn't have a chance to resist, and nor would I try. I have nothing to look forward to and not even my dreams can now save me for a few hours from the nightmare I live.

I relied on Raphael to make things make sense...I relied on him to teach me the way of this stupid world, and now I find he may not be what he claims? He evaded every question I asked and I know nothing more about him than I did before. He was the one who sent me to find the first tear. He is the one who caused these stupid wings to grow and cause me all these problems...and yet I run to him when I need solace and a friend in the world, and he leaves me once again. Always. Perhaps I'm just a bad judge of monsters...and men.

Ceinwyn Roberts ["Cerberus"] : "Not Waving, But Drowning"

[Josée's Note: Ceinwyn had been "gifted" a pair of angel wings, which to hide she had had to learn Obfuscate for. She once again turns to her God...this time, to explain herself.]

Not Waving, But Drowning
Ceinwyn explains to her God why she "sold her soul" to the Ordo Dracul

Well, my Lord...it's me. Eleri. As always.

You cleared up a lot of my concerns tonight, my Lord. Mainly by proving them to be true. I was right in that the World seems to believe that the wings mark me as one of Your Chosen. They have even begun calling me that...the "Chosen". But what have You chosen me for? Because if it's the heartache and pain You have shown me so far, my Lord...you can un-Choose me right now. I am not one to be ungrateful of Your Gifts, my Lord...but this has been no Gift. This has been my Curse from the start.

Ceinwyn Roberts ["Cerberus"] : "Troubles on My Mind"

[Josée's Note: Ceinwyn was a Daeva member of the Lancea Sanctum. This is something of a prayer, or call for aid to her God as she returned to her haven in the crypts of Westminster Abbey. The "man she had to bind to her" was another PC called Christopher who she had blood bound to her because she couldn't trust him not to talk about what was going on. The "one who has killed their kind" was a character named Talon, who was constantly getting on her nerves and was something of a vicious, wildhearted Gangrel, and I can't remember who the low morality person was now...]

Troubles on My Mind

Ceinwyn contemplates her Faith, returning to Westminster Abbey

[This is spoken quietly to the sky, on Ceinwyn's long walk back to the Abbey]

What am I? Some kind of martyr for my kind? Lead to a destiny not of my choosing, but one I am forced by others to walk the path of?

I never asked for people to follow me or want to find me for their own ends or reasons unknown. I was nobody - a faceless Kindred doing what I pleased...when my Faith...lead my life to become of utmost importance to the whole damned world. And why? Just...why?

Eleri Ceri James / Ceinwyn Roberts ["Cerberus" World of Darkness Vampire] : Backstory

[Josée's Note: Ceinwyn Roberts was originally a one-shot character in a game that extended into a fully fledged campaign. It drew elements from New World of Darkness Vampire : the Requiem, Old World of Darkness Vampire : The Masquerade and other elements of the World of Darkness as well. I loved this character as I don't think I've ever had a character since with the sheer amount of character development in such a short time. Her story is dark, her journeys are long, and her heart was (generally) in the right place.]

Eleri Ceri James / Ceinwyn Roberts

In 1985 in Conwy, North Wales, Eleri [Elle-ay-er-ee] Cery [Kerry] James was born to Ayrwen and Iwan James. As she grew up, she was considered a charming, if quiet, girl. She was a natural leader and took charge if anything ever got out of hand, but in a polite and graceful manner. She was well-liked in the town, and was known by name, if not sight. Her family kept themselves to themselves aside from the town fairs and fêtes that happened every so often. She did well in her studies (though found her attention drawn more to the boys than the work at hand quite often) and eventually went to study Psychology at Aberystwyth University. She then joined the prison service and worked on becoming a Forensic Psychologist, which she achieved after studying part time for two years. It was in her first year as a fully fledged psychologist that she met her demise.

She had been working with prisoners on a part-time basis for two years, and had had plenty of time to meet many...unsavoury characters. Some of them, she was pleased to say, had met her, spoken with her and changed their lives around. Others did not. She sat for many hours over the three years in a room with murderers...rapists...you name it, she’d come across someone who’d done (or attempted to do) it. She had heard – in great detail – of what some of those people had done and how they had tied every single knot, or traced every single victim etc. Naturally, she always had a prison officer – or at least a probation officer – in the room with her whenever she was talking to prisoners, or they were standing outside and a panic button was close to her palm. This, however, did not save her on that fateful day.

The whole prison was tense that day. Something was wrong...something was going on. There were rumours, she was told, that a prisoner was not what they seemed. Apparently prison officers who had gone into his solitary confinement cell hating his guts had returned with nothing but good things to say about him. He was diagnosed by the prison doctor as having achromatopsia, or photophobia – a severe aversion to light, and had been placed in solitary confinement not because of anything he had done, but because the windows were smaller and caused him less pain. The doctor had recommended that he be allowed to work during the night hours only and that for his sake his nights should be treated like normal people’s days. This, of course, lead to rumours. “He’s a vampire” was the common shout from the cells. “He’s not human”, “He’s unnatural”. Eleri believed none of this, but she had been called in to take a look at the guards who had met him, and at the man himself, nonetheless.

There was definitely something strange about the guards. They were almost enthralled by the man – his notes referred to him as Laurence Renner - as if his crimes had completely vanished from their heads. Eleri jotted down all her thoughts on a pad and felt concerned and confused. She wrote as a recommendation that the guards be allowed to take a few days off to gather their minds together and meet her in a week or so for a reassessment. Then came the turn of Laurence.

He was a new prisoner, one who had only been brought in a couple of days previously. He had attacked, assaulted and then murdered a young girl in a dark street, and then tried to cover it up – and failed. He was caught moving the body and sure enough, the whole country was in uproar. The whole prison population abhorred what he had done (which is saying something given the calibre of people held there...) and he had swiftly become the most hated man in the prison.

Given his history, Eleri was given the option of having an officer stand in on her meeting with Laurence and she gratefully accepted. The doctor was also invited to check that Laurence was treated well by her and was not...Eleri didn’t know what he was there for really. To check for torture? That was the most...logical?...reason she could find.

As soon as Laurence walked in, Eleri was on guard. She came across many predators in her line of work...but there was something even more malevolent and predatory about him. He looked about 20-something, but the records in front of her suggested he was older than that...by possibly double. Yet he looked scary, and frightening even in handcuffs...and she had seen many frightening people.

Eleri saw the doctor stand at the back of the room, next to the guard, and she ignored them both. She quickly got down to questioning the man about his mental wellbeing – his condition, and the way he felt about what he had done to the girl in the street. As she continued, and was about to press on to the way the officers had begun to act around him, there was a loud “thud”, and she looked over Laurence’s shoulder. The officer was lying on the floor, and Eleri reflexively stood up, concerned. The doctor assured her that he had everything under control, and she sat back down, her hand reaching for the panic button that had been sitting on her lap...but it had gone.

Now acutely aware of how tight a situation she could find herself in, Eleri stood up...as did Laurence. Standing at 5’6, the 6’1 man towered above her, yet she tried to sound in control as she told him to sit. He jeered at her, holding the panic button up in one cuffed hand. “Or what?” He asked. “You’re going to...panic?” He waved the handset at her. Eleri’s eyes flashed with panic for a second, and then she dashed across the room towards the door in her business suit and heels. She heard no footsteps behind her, so she reached a hand for the door...when the doctor stood in her way. Shouting at him to step aside, as she looked at him she felt the same pang in her stomach as she had when she looked at Laurence; that feeling of being...prey.

She stepped back, and found she had a pair of handcuffs resting against her throat, Laurence sliding his arms over her head as she focussed on the doctor. “Oh yes...” Laurence began, Eleri feeling his breath on her neck as he whispered in her ear. “...I’m not a lone...” he sniggered, “...wolf.”       Eleri gulped, the magnitude of the situation she was in causing her to shake slightly in fear. “So that’s why you’re here.” She whispered, her eyes stationed on the doctor. “His back-up man...his crony...his...bagman.” She spat the last words, and heard a chuckle from behind. “You’re so cute when you’re being feisty, doc.” She heard in her ear. “I could just eat you up.” She felt two needle-like sensations on her neck before a deep, overwhelming pleasure over took her. And then darkness.

Eleri’s eyes flickered open, trying to adjust to the dim half-light. She was lying down...on grass. Outside. There were stars in the sky and she tried to piece her mind back together. Sitting up, she resteadied herself, feeling slightly dizzy, and was shocked to see a man sitting next to her, in a suave evening suit, adjusting his cufflinks; the same man she had been interviewing before...but how was he no longer in an orange jumpsuit...out of prison... uncuffed...and...smart?

In the distance she could hear alarms...a lot of them. Sirens were wailing and the faint sound of helicopter blades was distinguishable. She swallowed and then asked “What did you do...to the prison? To me?” He laughed and shushed her. “Come with me. I promise I won’t hurt you...but you’ll understand everything when you get inside.” Eleri looked at him with distrustful eyes, but followed him through a gap in a bush and then down into a row of houses. He unlocked the door of one, and then beckoned her inside. Despite looking like a run-of-the-mill semi-detached house in the suburbs, inside it was like a bachelor’s mansion. Her jaw dropped and her mouth opened wide. He gestured – almost seductively - for her to enter the first room, and there, lying on the floor of the living room, was the body of the guard from the prison. Eleri gasped and backed away.  Laurence laughed, and took her hand, leading her into his dining room. He sat her down, and it was there that she found out what had happened – the way she was no longer human, how she needed blood to survive...that the prisoners had been right...he really was a vampire.

At this point, the front door clicked open, and Laurence stood up and welcomed his “friend”...the Doctor...in. She was then told that the doctor was in fact this vampire’s “thrall”, whatever one of those was, and that he was bloodbound to Laurence. It was then that a small moan got the three of them moving. Entering the room first, Laurence asked Eleri to remain outside, so as not to cause the man to have a heart attack. He spoke softly and graciously to the police officer, but there was an edge to his voice...the same edge he had had before Eleri lost consciousness. The room went quiet and then Eleri heard her name. Walking in, she saw a scene like none she had seen before. Her co-worker was completely relaxed and content. Even when Laurence announced that Eleri was to take her first drink from him, the officer did nothing to resist. Laurence asked for Eleri to feed opposite him – from the other side of the law enforcer’s neck, while the ghoul was forced to drink from a wrist. It was an indescribable feeling and one that Eleri loved, especially feeding alongside others. When they were suitably satiated...and the body was – given the amount of people feeding at once – drained, Laurence explained what had happened in the street with the young girl. He had found her, beaten and abused, after a long night and no vitae. He did what any – she was told – starving kindred would...and fed from her. However, given his huge hunger and her tiny frame, he had fed not unlike the three of them had from the officer and had found himself with a body to dispose of...which was how they came to find him with a body. Eleri asked him to let her find a dumping ground for the body, and he refused, saying that she was now his “childe” and therefore he had a duty to protect her. He told her that the ghoul would deal with the body – no doubt a doctor with mortuary experience would happen to come across an extra dead body or two, and that they were moving to London in a matter of days, until the case of the missing police officer, psychologist and escapee were declared cold.

They slept shortly after, and when the next night came, Laurence (who she had now found out was operating under an alibi, and his real name was Elliot Mardon) and Eleri (who had now given herself a new alias and new wardrobe – and had become Ceinwyn Roberts) began preparations for moving. The Doctor was handing his resignation in so he could move too (apparently ghouls could be dangerous if left without their masters for too long) and slowly but surely, the vampiric group moved from Conwy to London, stopping off each day at yet another of Elliot’s contacts’ homes. Elliot introduced Ceinwyn to Kindred contacts as his childe, and to mortal contacts as his girlfriend. This was not untrue, as during their long journey to London, Elliot and Ceinwyn had both been drinking of each other’s blood during the journey, forming a two-way blood bond, partly due to lack of feeding stops and partly due to Elliot’s need to “own” Ceinwyn, and Ceinwyn’s growing affection for Elliot. Ceinwyn had also become a second regnant to their accompanying ghoul, as it was thought at least then, if either of them had to go away without him on business, he would at least still fall under the effects of the bond.

It was on the third and final night when they sealed their dual blood bond, that Ceinwyn found out a large secret about her sire. He was a member of VII. This meant nothing to her until he explained that he was part of Cerberus...a group of vampires set on protecting the humans from the kindred – and occasionally the other races. Ceinwyn suddenly understood his laughter at the phrase “lone wolf”. He told her that they needed people capable of not just hitting things with sticks, axes and other pointed objects, but people like him and her; people capable of thinking before acting, people capable of creating plans and backup plans with the ability to organise others. Ceinwyn grinned. That was exactly what she was – a  thinker, a planner...an organiser and leader. She agreed to join them and to help with protecting kine by eliminating those who had strayed from the path they were set upon in the kindred world.

It was then that she found her niche. Having worked with some of the most brutal, terrible minds in the kine world, she had a way of planning brutal, terrible things for those who preyed too heavily upon them. She was an organiser and it was clear to see that she was damn good at it. However, those who worked with her came to find that unless her “beloved” – her bloodbonded pseudolover Elliot or her ghoul (whose name she never really bothered to find out) – told her she was doing something wrong or had not catered for every eventuality...or anything else negative about her, her work, or (woe betide you) said something negative or scandalous about Elliot...that those people who dared were either shouted at, at a volume of at least 260 decibels, or were given the task to set up the more dangerous aspects of her finest plans...meaning they faced final death or torpor every moment they did as they had been shouted at to do, but if they did die or get torpored, they were hailed as heroes for being stupid enough to actually go out and do it in the first damn place.

She was very quickly told by Elliot that she should find herself a covenant to nestle in – one where she could benefit from their patronage and use their skills to her advantage. It was at that point that she joined the Lancea Sanctum, taking on the role – without the knowledge of the covenant – of not just wolf to the mortal sheep, but of hunter to the kindred wolf.

 For the first time in her unlife...unlife felt good.