by Rajst Kalizkhanavar » December 17th, 2006, 9:24 pm
Rajst stood in the forgotten cemetary, his sable clothing matching the melancholous mood of the night. Before him, about thirty feet away, was a young girl that he had never seen before. She was a young blonde, around the age of seventeen, and held a red rose in her hand. She approached Rajst slowly, her head down and tears streaming down her slender face. She stood before Rajst and, in an attempt to comfort her, he made to wipe away her tears. It was then that the scene changed to black and white, the girl's blonde hair and the rose turning black, and her tears becoming blood. She looked at Rajst, her soft voice whimpering for him to kill her. Slowly, he brought his mouth closer to the veins in her neck, his vampyric teeth extending, and took a deep bite, tasting the thick blood rush into his mouth.
Rajst's eyes were immediately open, staring at the crimson cloth lining of the coffin he had been sleeping in. It was shortly after sunset, the time where his Kindred comrades would be awaking from their torpor to feed. Rajst continued to lie motionless for several minutes, staring at the lining. Even in the pitch black darkness, he could see every detail clearly. Finally, a soft knock on his coffin pulled him back to reality. It was his daughter, Jade. Her voice soon followed.
"Father, ur-Shulgi and the Du'at request your presence at once. They say it is urgent."
"Alright, give me a minute."
The Assamite placed his pale hands upon the coffin lid and pushed upwards and away, letting it crash unceremoniously on the stone floor. Rajst then stood up and got out of the coffin, streched, popped his back and neck, and donned his sable cloak. It fit perfectly and did well to conceal any weapons he had hidden. When combined with the sable clothes he was wearing, it was near impossible to spot him with the naked eye. The assassin then donned a pair of matching sable gloves and ran his fingers through his hair.
Rajst quickly found his katanas and strapped them to his belt. Despite the fact that he was in the Assamite headquarters with hundreds of allies willing to fight and die for each other, he always felt more secure with his weapons. Always. He turned back around and placed the lid back on his coffin. Jade was waiting impatiently for him to finish. Rajst walked slowly over to his daughter and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. She growled audibly before pushing her glasses back on the bridge of her nose. Much anger in that one, Rajst thought to himself. Without thinking a second thought, he trekked down the vast, dark corridors of Alamut. Finally, he reached his destination: the Great Hall of Alamut.
The doors to the Great Hall of Alamut silently swung open, the breeze of their passage swirling about Rajst's ankles. Perhaps a hundred or more of his clanmates were there, standing silent and rock-steady. They were arrayed in two ranks, split evenly to make an aisle straight from the doors to the da'is at the far end of the Hall. Halfway down the aisle, the black tiles of the floor bear the ancient sigil of Haqim, inlaid in silver and jade. Along each wall stood three clan elders dressed in the ceremonial robes of the silsila, with crossbows held at port arms and scimitars slung at their sides. At the far end of the aisle was the Black Throne, a squat seat of obsidian with a wooden shaft protruding from the right-hand armrest. The dark figure who sat on the throne, ur-Shulgi himself, met Rajst's eyes and beckoned him forward.
"Rafiq Rajst Kalizkhanaver, step forward."
"As my lord commands."
Ur-Shulgi was a fourth generation Antediluvian, one of the most powerful Kindred alive. His will was law, and few objected his return. It was he who reunited the Assamites, both loyalist and antitribu. With every eye staring upon him, Rajst stood straighter and walked forth with all of the dignity that he could muster. He stopped before the sigil of Haqim and knelt. He kissed the ground before the symbol seven times, as was the tradition of the Assamites, and recited a soft prayer. Finished, he rose again and continued his approach to the Black Throne. Leading up to the Black Throne were thirteen steps, one for each Antediluvian. Rajst stopped before the stairs and knelt, his eyes refusing to meet ur-Shulgi's.
"I have come as you have commanded, my lord."
"Rajst Kalizkhanavar, you have no doubt heard of the Schism and the seperatists. And no doubt you have heard of the seperatist leader, Al-Ashrad."
"I have, my lord."
"Then I have a task for you and a small group of select assassins to undertake. Al-Ashrad and his seperatists represent a great threat to our agenda that cannot be tolerated. They have sought shelter with the Camarilla, and are using the protection of the Camarilla to their advantage. We cannot risk Al-Ashrad compromising the location of Alamut. If Alamut's location is compromised, then entire armies of Kindred will come knocking down our gates. We simply can not fight off those many enemies at once."
"What will my lord have me do?"
"I am assigning you and your men with a grand, holy task. Assassinate Al-Ashrad and his advisors by diablerie, bring back their heads on a stake, kill any and all seperatists you find, but most importantly, make sure that the location of Alamut isn't compromised. If it is necessary, kill any and all Camarilla that know of its location. If you should die, you shall die with the honor and courage that is expected of all Assamites."
"I shall do as my lord pleases."
"Excellent. Then you shall now rise as Silsila Rajst Kalizkhanavar, Keeper of the Blood, and a newly ordained member of the Web of Knives."
"Thank you, my lord."
"Go now, and begin your search. The longer you wait, the more likely he is to reveal our location."
"Yes, my lord."
With that, Rajst stood up, bowed, and walked down the Great Hall again. The once still and quiet Assamites that lined the hallway began to cheer and shout their approval. The title of Silsila was beyond his wildest imaginations, despite the fact it was the next progression after a Rafiq.
Minutes later he walked into an armory where the majority of the clan's weapons were kept. It was there that he found six Rafiq's waiting for him. They were all wearing black from head to toe, and bore the legendary sigil of the Web of Knives, the clan's best assassins. The oldest one spoke first.
"Silsila Rajst, when shall we leave?"
"Now. Gather your things. We will begin our investigation in a realm called Dragon Court. I know a Nosferatu there who has a knack of getting hard to find information."
"You would trust a Camarilla to point us to our enemy?"
"He is unlike any other Camarilla. He is fiercely independent and strong-willed. He despises the rest of the Camarilla and their laws. If his information can help disrupt their networks and leadership, he will be help us to the best of his abilities."
"Very well. We shall trust in your greater judgement, Silsila. We're ready to depart now."
"Then lets go."
Rajst and the rest of the Assamites made their way to the Gates of Alamut and gave their final farewells. Before midnight, the seven Assamites were travelling deep in the mountains of Alamut, making their way to a nearby city where they would pay a wizard to teleport them to Dragon Court. By daybreak, they were hidden safely in the catacombs of an abandoned church just outside of Titan. They slept their until nightfall, then made their way to the Golden Griffin.
And it would be here, in the Tavern, that they would wait for the Nosferatu to arrive.
My siggy
Revenge is the ending of wrath, the beginning of peace. Only in vengeance can peace exist. They fear us, and rightly. We shall be their doom, and they know it. You too shall be feared, if you are found worthy. Guard these pages well, for they are truth and will show you the way. Resolve your heart; if you fail, you shall die with honour. You have already seen too much to turn back.
Come.