A Message for The Requiem Curae

[BrokenDreamer]

Shifts of power were not always welcomed and nothing came without a price. It would seem that someone has noticed the rise of The Requiem Curae. Someone who was not entirely pleased with the rumors that got stuck within the ears.

Scrawled upon a few walls across Myrken, in the seedier parts of town ... and in no particular patterning:

The Requiem Curae is little more than ill-bred, ill-behaved dogs. They shall be dealt with as such. Leave now while you are still able to.

Or course, to mortal eyes such things would not make sense. Those words had been written in the secret scrawling and codes that belong to the children of the night. A message meant for only certain eyes.

Silly men would do anything for the right amount of money. Any attempt to read tell-tale auras off that scrawl would give up no answer as to whom the true writer was. Men can be bought and men can be permenantly made silent. One way, or another.

The secret drums of war were beginning to stir.

[ShadowRose]

Wiping off the crimson liquid from her mouth, Vexis skipped merrily down an abandoned, ill-lit alleyway, fully energized from her most recent meal; a poor peasant woman, pleading for a few gold coins. And she would have quite a few.. now that she had gone to the gods in a thrashing mess of blood and gore. The insane, harlequin grin on her face only widened at the sight of the scrawling, written in a tongue she knew all too well. With so many vampires as of late, and more arriving from other regions, the archaic message would have been found by a member of the Requiem Curae eventually. And why not be found by one truly out of her mind?

It only took a moment for the Lunatic to read and process the information provided by the message.. to which she responded: "Oh no! I must tell Mother!" feigning the epitome of concern and dramatic mannerisms of that found in the pathetic theatrics of the era.

Vexis smirked, spat on the message and skipped off.. to Mother.

[CroWWing]

-- It was night time. It was always that time in her world and now that darkness served her as it always did. Ever faithful companion that never faltered.

There in her domain of manor grand she paced back and forth and the fathered end of the quill tap-tapped at the delicate curve of her chin. There were others there and after a moment of muted murmuring from them she spoke.

" Well, what do you all think? I mean really. This sort of thing is really quite trivial. Compared to our usual business." Only those that had long lives knew of her and what she could do and of course she like other wise creatures of her kind did not flaunt her talent or connections. Quiet creature that had mellowed with age.

Quill set to the nearby table, among the crystal cut goblets that held various amounts of scarlet colored liquid. Still, the silence was deafening - but it seemed to suit such a gathering and again some murmurs filled the air.

" Yes I know. It is a messy adventure. Not like our last amusement."

Again, all the Keepers made some sort of noise in agreement. They were all cloaked in shadow. Of course. Like some sort of weird, dark council. Squatting in a toady fashion. Gargoyle like they had neither face nor gender. Dark blobs that seemed to be created to keep the seats filled.

Still she paced and once again the silence filled the room with a pensive and pregnant stillness.

[BrokenDreamer]

It would start again, scrawlings of words and symbols upon the wretched walls of Myrken's less savory parts of town. Hidden meanings that only the children of the night would understand, precautions taken once again to hide the author of these notes.

Scaredy cat, Scaredy cat!
What good is a Prince who hides behind walls?

[ShadowRose]

If the darkness could chuckle, it surely did.

Hide behind walls? What then, is the good of a challenge merely written on berumored walls when no fist follows? The Lady Reverence responds not to trivial messages scrawled on inanimate objects when spoken words carry so much more weight. You know where I am. Come then. Come then with your quills and your torches. Is your challenge worthy of my attention? Let us see.

The response was written in kind and for only those born of the night.