The Journal of Lady Avella Netha Isilian

[Avella Netha Isilian]

The journal is clearly ancient, yet the binding and cover remain supple as if kept in status by some spell or curse. The pages within are filled with passages and symbols. Some passages are written in languages long thought dead. There are glyphs and sigils, formulas and rites, some in blood. Many of the pages are stained with what could be ink, blood, or tears. A few have deep angry scratch marks. Many passages are in a fine delicate hand. Others are in bold angry script. The newer entries are written in a clear hand and the script appears to float upon the page as if the words had not yet committed themselves to the entry. In older passages the letters have sunk within the page becoming a part of it; as if bonded to the paper at the time of its creation. When the journal is opened it emits an audible, mournful sigh.

[Avella Netha Isilian]

*In the depths of the Governor’s Palace in Nujel’m, in a suite of rooms where daylight never reaches, Avella sits at an ornate desk and writes in her journal. Written with human blood, the words hover over the parchment before settling and adhering to the vellum *

Strange energies shift the sands of Nujel’m. This was my home when I was Countess to the House of Draven and ruled here in his name. Mortals were my servants and lesser Kindred did my bidding. Business ventures were started and flourished here. The world was different then. The Kindred flourished on all continents and in some places my word was law. Now the Kindred have all but vanished and I am alone, once again. But I do not fear the dark places. I do not fear the lonely depths of time. My house will be restored. Of that I am certain.

My ledgers and documents returned to me. Michael makes deals with mortals on my behalf while the girl Anna betrays my trust. She is not the first, nor, I suspect will be the last. She will, however, pay the price for such betrayal and will soon come to understand the eternity of the hunger and the emptiness of abandonment.

The Daemon Wolf no longer abides me but rather does his masters bidding instead of mine. Yet he follows me like a trained dog and laps up the souls of those upon whom I feed. Trinsic blood is hard to come by so I must settle for the poor of Nujel’m and, although they are sweet; they are not as intoxicating.

Michael tells me of these changing times and the name of the little whelp who once served Lord Draven falls from his lips like spittle. So, the little pup will soon have a litter. Draven was wrong not to heed my counsel and destroy the foul smelling dogs when he had them all under his command. But, she may yet prove useful. The weak minded always seem to serve some purpose for a time and hers was weak indeed.

It is time for new deals. Time for new alliances. Judas owes me for Draven. He will aide me in restoring my house or he will pay a greater price than even he can imagine.

But first ... we must see to Anna.

[Avella Netha Isilian]

Agreements!

I have made agreements and spared the lives of those who would, without hesitation, destroy me and no doubt celebrate afterward. Have I become such a fool that I am blind to my own errors?

But, they have kept their word and rid my house of daemons and now I sit, once again, in the Great Hall and listen to the echo of silence. Are there any of the Kindred left that have not ailed themselves with the humans? Are there any Kindred left who understand their place in this world? So many centuries. So many lives. There are now so few of my kind that the world makes no sense anymore. Has the time of the Vampire truly passed?

Many great and noble Kindred once sat here in this chamber and debated how to rule over our vast holdings. Now there is only Beatrice, my little puppet who's vacant mind is filled with music unless I fill it with my own thoughts and words. She is useful only as a conduit for my own ends. I can chose to leave all my holdings to her ... or ... destroy her before I take my leave. Indeed, my wealth would be better in the hands of Judas than left to this mindless Child.

Three hundred years of rest does, indeed, sound inviting. To rise again centuries hence to a new world filled with new inventions and new horizons. The prospect is thrilling. But ... the question arises ... can I trust those to whom I give all my wealth to protect it and keep secret my resting place? And what of their children? Will my legacy be kept whole? Will my name be remembered or will the age of the kindred be turned to myth and fable? And, in the end, does it really matter?

I will keep my agreement and let Beatrice live as an example of what fate could await those who would betray me.

The time of the Great Houses is passed. It is time to rest.

[Avella Netha Isilian]

Final entry:


So it is done. The age of the great Vampire Lords is ended.

We have finally arrived in the depths of the Compassion Mountains. My Gypsy servants, whose clan I once saved from certain doom, whose loyalty remains unquestioned, stand ready to fulfill their promise. Three hundred years they will hold the secret of my resting place. Instructions carved in obscure Gypsy runes upon the stone of my sarcophagus hidden deep in the untraveled, unexplored regions of this mountains, will insure my return.

The age of the Great Kindred Lords has ended. I leave behind the weak and timid of our kind. Those of our blood who have compromised their powers so they may exist among the humans and pretend to be like them. I spit upon their bloodlines. Mere shadows of their true selves they bargain for the right to exist. Like lepers they hide their true faces behind the mask of humanity. Their survival is not in question. Theirs is the power over life and the power over death. It is the humans who should bargain for their existence.

But alas, the weak among us now rule and so much mores the pity.

I gladly go to my rest. And may the gods of Blood and Chaos be not forgotten.