"They'll stab you in the back, but that's because they know how Kindred games are played."
"I hide from those I once commanded, I cower from an institution against which I once waged war. But all of this is worth the look on a fellow Keeper's face when 'the little Ventrue' rips the shadows asunder."
Maria Valorenzo doesn't want to hide. She doesn't want to have to live, forever, cloaked by the very shadows she controls. But, in New Orleans, such is necessity - the Prince beds the Sabbat, the Camarilla is rife with suspicion. Should anyone find out.. Maria would be ash within hours.
A challenging scenario, most certainly. However, under the pretense of being Ventrue, Maria owns a large museum of the Occult. There, she offers her gallery to the Toreador and her Occult stores to the Tremere - it is only a matter of time, Maria hopes, before the three most powerful clans in the city are wrapped around her little finger.
Life is good, is it not?
It has been only one week since you purchased the ancient
building and began work on renovating it, changing it into "Relics", a
museum of the ancient and occult. You know it's one of a kind, not only
in the state of Louisianna but likely in the entire United States. There
are still a few workers present, though most of them are packing up and
going home for the night.
A flicker of light thin and almost imperceptible, draws your
attention.
Another bulb gone out?
No, every bulb is glowing, though another peculiar disturbance
is noticed by some of the workers as well. Perhaps a power surge...
All thoughts of lighting vanish as -she- enters.
Stunningly beautiful, the woman's graceful glide turns more than
a few male heads as she slides towards you.
A razor-sharp smile is intended for you alone, a sly wink from
impossibly dark eyes conjures all manner of lustful thoughts.
Then, a soft caress from ghoulishly cold fingers slams a reality
into you, the reality of what -she- is.
For you, hell began thirty years before when your eyes were
opened to that horrific World of Darkness. She told you of the Kindred,
the Clans, the constant feud between Sabbat and Camarilla. Then, for the
price of eternal servitude, you could share in that dark miracle.
Indeed, a pact with the devil.
One sip, and you stopped aging. Over fifty, you don't look a day
past nineteen. One sip, and you were blessed with the powers of the
Kindred. One sip, and you were her ghoul. Mind, body and soul.
Following her around this celebrated "Land of Opportunity",
servicing her every whim and desire, this museum being but the latest of
her.. fancies.
All this flows through your mind as you timidly address your
Keeper.
"Mistress?"
A silent nod from her heart-shaped face and you are ushered away
from the workers, down a short hallway and straight into the demon's
lair.
The secret door closes, leaving you without light.
"Shhh..." she says, pushing you into one of the stools,
invisible to you in the darkness. Suddenly, two pinpricks of red in the
night stop your mind from wandering.
A voice floats out of the black abyss.
"You truly know so little. A newborn babe, blind to the.. real
world."
You nod, confident she can see you and happy to humor the witch.
"Do you know how old I am, Phillipe?"
"N-no," you stammer.
"I was born before this country was."
You blink, startled. She's over...
"Almost two centuries ago."
The surprise and horror on your face is obviously noticed, and
responded to with an amused, serpentine chuckle.
A rustle punctuates the sudden silence, the red eyes dipping as
the woman seats herself. "My parents, foolish kine as they were, loved
and cared for me like none other. My first twenty years were sheltered
and protected." She laughs melodiously, and the red eyes grow as she
leans forward. "Do you think they would be proud of me now, Phillipe?"
The voice trails off, leaving you alone in the darkness.
After what seems like an eternity, she recommences what's
chalking up to be her life story. Her voice, smooth as silk..
"I killed them, you know. Unfortunately messy, but feeding is
something of an acquired skill. Poor mother, she never could stand the
sight of blood.
"It was another Phillipe who Embraced me one of those lonely
nights in the cold, spanish manor. We'd fallen so deeply in love many
years before, every secret of his divulged to me long before I was
reborn."
All this talk of blood awakens within you the familiar and
surprisingly strong urge for vampiric vitae.
"It was odd, you know. I murdered them decades before I gave
into the dark majesty of the Embrace, but I never felt anything for my
parents' death. They were my first kill as Kindred and I shed no
remorse. Of course," she mutters, almost to herself, "that was then."
The cryptic tangent is ignored as the eyes wobble dismissively.
Your need is growing, becoming harder to ignore.
"Bred for nobility, I was. Educated by the best, prepared for a
life of rule. I threw it all away. For what? Unlife in a rabble as
chaotic and unorganized as the Sabbat?" She scoffs, apalled at the
rediculous notion. "I think not."
Jumping back and forth in topic, your dark master is becoming
hard to follow. In a fluttery voice, mocking some precocious Ventrue,
"eleven removed from the Blood of Caine. That wasn't good enough for one
as refined as I." She sighs longingly. "Phillipe will always be a part
of me.." her sigh develops a chuckle. "And to think, I was able to find
a Phillipe to serve me again."
A "huh?" almost escapes your lips before you realize she's
referring to you. The 'hunger' pangs intensifying, you shift
uncomfortably. The red eyes grow. "All in due time, Phillipe."
Straightening, she continues her story. "I spent the first three
centuries of my life trying as best I could to shape the Sabbat in my
image, building a reputation for myself - that of a decadent collector
of the old and mysterious. My skills at negotiation and.. changing
opinions caused me great honor in the sect and I rose through the ranks
quickly." She sighs. "However, very little of what I did made a
difference. Even after approaching the New World as Ductus of an entire
pack of Lasombra, my word meant little when I attempted to impress the
Sabbat with stores of the 'good life' and the abandonment of this
chaotic unlife they were living." She smiles. "I was one hundred and
twenty-seven when I left the Sabbat, sickened by their refusal to
change. Fleeing by cover of darkness" - a common phrase which holds
deeper meaning for Lasombra - "I wandered independantly for decades,
holding little more status than Anarchs. Occasionally I found myself in
positions of power, but hunted by both the Sabbat and the Camarilla, as
well as the damned Sorcerers, I didn't hold them long." She sighs. "I
quickly grew bored."
Too fearful and in pain to say the feeling is mutual, you
nonetheless pray this story is coming to an end. A particularily savage
cramp grips your abdomen and you groan in pain. The eyes bounce as Maria
chuckles. She's enjoying this.
"I counted on building off this new land, so my journey to the
New World was motivated entirely by a thirst for power. It was now the
twentieth century, and my more.. primal.. urges had settled. I was
curious as to how a more comfortable life could be led."
A cold sweat breaks out on your forehead, your breathing coming
in short pants. The pain...
Her voice becomes venemous in a second, like a graceful swan
baring teeth. "Silence, you pitiful wretch! Demand something of me again
and I'll add your skull to my collection." The darkness fades for a
moment, permitting you a glimpse of the countless books and bleached
bones which line the walls of this chamber.
You weren't aware you'd been crying out for her vitae.
The darkness is once again absolute, the voice once again
deceptively smooth. "As I was saying, Maine became my first experiment.
The Camarilla had already settled there - hell, they'd settled
everywhere - and I had to work beneath them. My deep interests in the
Occult were of paramount importance to me. I had no need for politics or
manipulation at the time, so I focussed my attentions once more on my
collection. I had to hide from everyone who was hunting me." Again, that
dark snicker. "My.. skills.. were honed during those difficult days."
Absolute blackness grips the room as she blinks, sealing off her eyes,
the only source of light.
"A century of careful building destroyed when the Camarilla
discovered me. Lost once more, I ran swiftly by night, burying myself in
shallow graves during the day." In response to your sharp intake of
breath, the eyes nod but say nothing.
"By this time, the Sabbat had firmly entrenched themselves in
the USA, and I had to hide from them. Growing more powerful - and more
knowledgable - by the decade, I did the only thing I could. Sought
acceptance in the Camarilla.
"It's easier than you might think. They don't like you, but
announce you're Kindred and no one challenges. Plus, there are all the
bells and whistles of Camarilla politics." Another sharp intake of
breath, this time from the vampire. "Exhilarating."
"Fortunately, enough gullible Ventrue Princes felt a Lasombra in
their midst too much a prize to take for granted. Upon arriving in
Atlanta in 1971, I was made sherrif at once."
The woman laughs. "Call me what you will," - as if, you think -
"but I took advantage of an advantageous situation. This time, to combat
my arch-enemies, the Sabbat. Though I cost the lives of many Camarilla,
the deaths of so many Sabbat earned me great standing amongst Princes
and Justicars."
The eyes rise above you as she stands and approaches. "New
Orleans, exotic and decadent, was chosen from many cities, others like
you relaying pertinent information." She pauses, the fiery eyes growing
even larger. Her voice drops to a whisper. "You should be happy to know
that I've made my decision."
The pain, unbelievably strong. You -need- her blood.
"How to ensure my continued unlife, Phillipe? I haven't survived
since the dawn of the modern age by neglecting to clean up after
myself."
She bends down, staring into your eyes. The impact of her words
doesn't impress you, mind clouded by the haze of pain. Another frigid
caress brings back memories of the workers. You've left them alone for
too long...
"You've been such a doll, Phillipe." A pause, as her eyes grow
to encompass all that is darkness. "Good night, fair Phillipe."
The night lingers on, silently, as your scream rebounds
harmlessly off of soundproofed walls.
Maria Valorenzo has yet to be approved, yet to enter the grid on Cajun Nights. However, it's only a matter of time before the petite, shy woman from Atlanta enters Elysium and begins her own subtle intrigue for the first time.
Ryan West, 1999.
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