The gentleman, who was carrying a torch, led them down a walkway between the old buildings and then to a smaller alley, where at the end was a small wooden door.
Hadel waited patiently at the door as the seven vampires entered what they thought would be a small room off the larger warehouse. What they found was a long, dark staircase leading deep beneath the city’s streets.
Hadel, upon securing the door, carefully made his way to the front of the Coterie, making sure not to draw his torch too close. Even with their incredible senses Kiril was the only one able to keep track of his location. First the staircase turned in on itself at least a half dozen times only for them to find themselves in a labyrinth of tunnels, carved out of the very earth that the city called a foundation. Sylvian marveled at the workmanship, noting that it must have taken a generation to build something of this magnitude.
Eventually Hadel showed them another simple wooden door. When he opened it light cascaded into the corridor, briefly blinding Anton (who had begun shifting light into darkness to more easily see).
The chamber was low ceilinged, and appeared to be some sort of tomb. Three sarcophagi stood at the far wall, one perpendicular to the door, each of the others took up one of the two far corners, all three seemed to be carved of the same rock that made up the floor.
Only the sarcophagus on the left still had its cap, the worn engraving showed a man in his later years holding what was once probably an encrusted sword, the gems though were long gone. The central sarcophagus was being used as a table. The stone lid having been replaced with a thick wooden slab. Candles were lit upon the slab and a book stood open at its center.
The Sarcophagus to the right lay open in the dark recesses.
The chamber was lit by three torches, each kept safely in a recess far from the center of the room. As the vampires entered they saw that they were not the first. Six individuals sat on heavy wooden stools.
Farthest to the right sat an absolutely gorgeous woman wearing fine silken clothing. Her blue eyes stand out on a pale and fragile face, the picture of beauteous innocence.
Sylvian immediately goes to her, entering a rather intimate embrace with his sire.
Next to the french woman sat a man whose feral disposition was only barely hidden behind a worn cloak and matted fur. Long black hair contrasted by cold blue eyes leave Daniel no doubt as to the man's identity - this is Arnulf, the ancient gangrel who turned him so many nights ago. Giving a brief, dangerous smile at his childer's appearance, Arnulf shows off razor teeth. Small tufts of fur grow out of his ears, and Daniel knows that if he checked, the man's torso would be covered in fur - all marks of the Beast that he would himself grow in time.
Kiril and Anton saw their sire, Basilio, the moment they walked into the room. Dressed in blue, silver and sable, the dark prince was hard to miss. His robes were Greek, and his beard was long and full. On his head he wore a decorative head dress. The prince studied the shadows as if they held secrets no other could dare fathom - but his attention is turned by the appearance of his two childer.
Malachite, the Rock of Constantinople and Michael's Chosen, sits next to Basilio, as if they had been having a conversation that the group had interrupted. His dead, dry skin is tightly drawn over his bones. It cracks and splits as he moves and contorts his face to look at Heldric. He lacks hair, even eyebrows, and his nose is knife-thin. Yet the scars of the Nosferatu's embrace fade in contrast to his bearing - despite a touch of rictus, he is noble and tall, thin and regal. His terrible gaze is unflinching and carries with it meaningful intensity.
Next to him is a grim and dangerous looking man, whose long and pronounced features accentuate the projected image of a regal nobleman, who would look down on all others before him. Stephan Vladivostok, Steeple Carson Olaf Trevesky the fourth's sire, was not a kind man. Or vampire, for that matter. Beneath his eyes lied the terrible madness of power and hunger, made all the greater by Malkav's curse. Steeple, were he a lesser vampire, might have felt the ghost of a shiver run down his spine as his sire acknowledged his presence, and bid his approach.
Lastly is the koldun Sandor, Vovoide of Arad. The powerful sorcerer and talented fleshcrafter waited patiently for his childe to join him. Lucien finds it almost weird to see the vovoide without the almost constant retinue of Vozhd, Schlacta and other assorted guards and creations. Tall and slim, Lucien is well aware that the koldun is deceptively - hell, monstrously powerful. His eyes glow grey with inhuman power, constant storms seem to be raging within his pupils. These are signs of greater power and magical rituals that Lucien is aware the sorcerer uses to make easier the casting of Koldunic rituals.
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Topic: Chapter 1: Dark Tides Rising (Read 619282 times)