Origins of the Montriarch

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Origins of the Montriarch

Post by Draven on Fri Mar 23, 2018 4:07 pm

He watched her as she slept. She tossed and turned, almost as if her subconscious knew he was near. Her eyes moved rapidly behind closed lids. Even in her rest she was vigil. He had chosen well. Though she had been born with the gift of sight and the unheard-of ability to communicate directly with the Gods, there was a draw to her that even he had felt. Reaching out cautiously, he let the tips of his fingers trail lightly over the flawless snow-white skin of the curve of her jaw line. She was still as beautiful as ever, more so now it seemed. This life suited her more than either of them thought. He gave a soft sigh, trailing a single thumb over that lush lower lip of hers. So perfectly curved. He had denied lusting after her, but he had been lying to himself for her desired her greatly. He knew each dark secret she harbored. He knew what drove her crazy just as he knew how to please her. He had been her first, and she had given herself freely to him in order to exact revenge on those that had taken the lives of her people. His very own warriors.

She moved in her sleep, the subtle pull of her lower lip between her teeth was a gesture sensual enough to make any man crave her. He had watched over her, always. He knew of her past transgressions against the Humans and certainly did not fault her for the swathe of blood she had left in her wake. He faulted himself. He gave her those abilities, he was the one to make her what she was. He knew that without such carnage, she wouldn't be as strong as she was now. In his human form, she nearly rivaled him in power. He reached out with his free hand, fingertips moving slowly up the inside of her right calf. So soft. He moved higher, taking his time. He watched his own hand as it slid beneath the furs that covered her to touch the sensitive flesh at the inside of her thigh. A strong grip on his wrist stopped him.

"You tread a thin line, Anubis." Her voice was as seductive as he remembered it. Husky with the edges of sleep, breathy and singing with the power of the blood that flowed in her veins. His power.

"Surely you cannot fault a man for touching such a temptation." He replied, his voice deep, rich and nearly booming. There was a faint accent that would ordinarily be hard to place, but they both knew that it carried with it the sands of Egypt.

"The only reason you're not missing that arm is because I knew it was you. Do not touch me like that again." Slowly, she let go of his wrist, pulling the sheet up against her. The black furs did little to mask the fact that she wore nothing beneath it but skin.

He sat back for a moment, his silver gaze searching her own for the sincerity of her words. He was surprised and even more intrigued to find that she meant them. "You have a consort?" He inquired, fascinated by the emotion in her eyes.

"No, I do not."

The God leaned forward, his sinful mouth a breath away from her own. "Then I will be your consort."

A single, perfectly shaped brow quirked up and she tilted her head back away from his, more for breathing space than anything else. "You think it will be that easy to win my favor?"

Draven caught the subtle flash of anger in Anubis' gaze, but he quickly masked it with another heart stopping grin.

"Naturally not. I know you, Draven, better than any other here. Why do you deny it?" He tilted his head lightly to the left. His right hand lifted, the backs of his large fingers trailing faintly over her bare shoulder and down along her upper arm. "I know your desires. I know what pleases you."

"There is more to it than just knowing what I want, or what pleases me." She replied, standing from the comfort of bed. She wrapped the large fur around her small frame, securing the ends of it beneath her arms to keep it firmly in place.

"There is someone you desire." Anubis made it a statement rather than a question, though he already knew. She had just never admitted it out loud.

"Not anymore." She replied simply, feeling a subtle weight lifted off of her shoulders with the admission. The God stood, looming over her with his seven-foot-tall stature. Taunt sun kissed skin greeted her vision as he crowded into her personal space, forcing her to back up against the wall beside the hearth.

"What happened?" Again, he already knew the answer.

"He was a good man, but things did not work out as I had hoped."

He crowded her, leaning forward and placing a forearm against the wall beside her head. "How is it that a Vampire can rival a God? Especially one who does not appreciate what he has before him?"

Her head tilted, her red gaze taking in each perfectly proportioned feature of his face. "Because I do not crave more power, Anubis. I do not seek it out. All I want is to protect. To protect those that call this place home, Human or otherwise. It was a long time ago and I do not fault you for what happened. Those men would have come for us even if you hadn't brought them."

"They killed you because you threatened their power base."

Draven nodded once. "Yes, and if my assumptions are correct, I feel they may have played a part in your dethronement of the Underworld."

The God stiffened and pulled back away from her almost abruptly. Even after all these years it was still a sore subject for him. To be cast aside like refuse. "To be honest with you, I have grown weary of seeking revenge. I no longer wish to rule the Underworld."

For a moment, she was speechless. She stared at him as if he had spouted another six heads on his shoulders. "You claimed I was your champion, that you would call on me when you needed my services. I have been patient and now you're saying what? That this day will never come?"

"Yes. I thought perhaps you and I could rule this city of yours. It seems you have greater enemies plotting against you."

"I always have enemies plotting against me. Perks of being the Montriarch." She reached up and ran the palms of her hands over her face as a deep sigh caused her shoulders to droop. "Why are you here? And I don't just mean in Sanguine. Why are you in this realm?"

He ran a massive hand through his short  dark hair. His powerful, lean build looked even more delightful in what appeared to be an expensively tailored black suit. He wore a whitedress shirt beneath, the top few buttons undone and showing an enticing glimpse of the hollow of his throat. There was no jewelry or trinkets nor any other significant marking that pegged him for what he was. He gave a deep sigh before turning back to face her.

"Your former companion that goes by the name of Trine is the reason why I am here, both in Sanguine and in this realm. He has been siphoning souls both lost and stolen. It would seem he is using them to gain strength. It was how he managed to escape the Ether."


Trine, former ronin. She had been one of his best Trackers, one of the only people whom he had trusted with his deepest secret. She remembered well, the day she had returned to his lands with him in hopes of gaining warriors for a raid on some far away land.

What do you want of me, Anubis?” She inquired, carefully running the palms of her hands over her face in what nearly appeared to be defeat.

I have already told you what I want from you.” He replied with a purr, stalking closer to her. He, once again, crowded into her personal space.

That was not what I meant and you know it. What do you want me to do about Trine?”

He reached up and lightly trailed the tip of his index finger along the exposed curve of her shoulder, following along the ridge of her collar bone. When he reached the hollow of her throat, he allowed his entire palm to glide up and over her throat, caressing her soft skin with a gentle touch. The tip of his nose brushed along her jaw line and he breathed deep of her scent, noticing the spike in her desire. Oh yes, he knew she wanted him, but her stubborn mind was stuck on that Dasani character. The husband who had betrayed her trust, who had left her broken and fragile.

I would never hurt you, Akhet.” He whispered seductively against her chin as he very lightly brushed his lower lip against her skin. He heard her sharp intake of breath. He felt the press of her breasts against him and it was nearly his undoing. “Let me show you.” He pleaded. He could tell that she was very close to giving in. He could feel her resolve faltering.

I-I cannot.” With a strength of will she did not realize she had, she escaped around his broad frame, taking a deep shuddering breath when she was far enough away from him. His presence seemed to smother her but it wasn’t a bad sensation and that was why she resisted. She didn’t want to be consumed. Or did she? She still had some resemblance of feelings for Dasani despite his betrayal, and she felt as if she was the one betraying him.

You do not owe him anything, Draven. You had divulged your secrets to him and he turned on you. He broke open like a gate at the first sign that he wasn’t able to handle the truth of what you were. I already know your secrets.

You’re already married, Anubis!” She whirled on him, eyes blazing like fire. They were void of any pupil, seemingly sightless but he found them beautiful for they were the mirror image of his own. But he had to admit, she made them all the more alluring.

I am not. That was a rumor I had started to keep other women; and some men, away.”

She snorted faintly. “How can I trust you?”

Have I ever steered you wrong? Have I ever once given you reason not to trust me?”

She could clearly hear the hurt evident in his voice and she found herself crumbling. “I am sorry.”

He waved it away with a simple sweep of his hand. “It doesn’t matter. I have loved you for a long time. I have always been accepting of what you were.” He turned away from her then, glancing over his shoulder almost forlornly at her. “Please think about what I have said. Give it some serious thought. You know where to find me when you have made your decision.” Without another word, he vanished in a whirlwind of scorching, sand crusted air.


Last edited by Draven on Mon Apr 16, 2018 4:28 pm; edited 2 times in total

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Re: Origins of the Montriarch

Post by Draven on Fri Mar 23, 2018 7:41 pm

He sat looking both reagl and lethal in the fabric covered, high backed leather chair. One arm propped by the elbow on the arm rest. He idly rubbed his index finger across his thumb, silver gaze snapping over towards the presence he felt enter the room. A sinister smirk crossed his full lips, a glint in his eyes that promised sin.

"I thought it would have taken you longer to come to me on your own."

The soft slither of movement as her lithe silhouette peeled away from the darkness of the doorway.

"I was trying to avoid coming here all together." She paused for a moment, watching a crest fallen expression flit across his face. "Though I do not mean those words the way you think I do." Draven gave a soft sigh, running her slender fingers absently through her raven hued hair, pulling it across one shoulder almost automatically. "I have always felt...something for you, Anubis. I do not know if it simply a bi-product of my Power being a part of yours, or if it is because you gave me another chance at life. Hell, or even if my feelings for you are real. Whatever the case may be, you have always held a spot in my heart, my soul. I waited centuries for the time to come when you would call on me. Perhaps call me to your side to which I would have run to simply for the sake of it. When that time didn't seem as if it was coming, I made an attempt to have some semblance of a life. I married a man whom I had grew to love more than the others, whom I had shared almost everything with. He gave me a child, a daughter whom I would have given everything for."

The Montriarch paused, her voice quivering with the severity and extent of her emotions, of her inner turmoil.

"Six months before his departure, I spoke with Dasani at great length. Revealing to him the truth behind what I had done to become a Vampire, the severity of my commitment and how deep I had dug my soul. He grew distant. I wouldn't see him for days unless a Meeting of the Council was called. He blind-sided me one night, began asking questions about the Blood Ritual. I think I knew then that he no longer wanted me, but I held on to a shred of hope that my instincts were lying. When he requested to be the Vitae sent to Europe to establish a Council there, I knew he wasn't coming back to Sanguine. I knew that he no longer wanted me. I granted him permission and even gave him the Blood Ritual he desperately wanted. When he took Radraven with him, I knew it was over. My daughter hadn't been the same since Kain had left her. I didn't blame her for not wanting to remain where the memories of him were the strongest. I gave them both permission to remain in Rome."

He voice broken then, and Anubis found himself up and out of the chair, taking her seemingly fragile form into his arms. He held her gingerly against his lean, powerful chest and felt her body tremble. She was more broken than he had thought. He simply held her against him, swaying them both back and forth to an unheard beat.

"Trine took them from me, Anubis." Draven clung to him, her fingers curled into the black shirt he wore. "He killed them when my wounds were at their deepest. He drove the nail home that tore me apart. They were gone from my life here in Sanguine, but now they are gone from my life for good. No matter where I go, they will not be there waiting for me. I will never look upon them again."

The God of the Underworld felt himself shatter with her. Never before had he ever seen her like this. Not once in the near ten thousand years he knew her. She had always been so strong, so filled with spirit and determination. To see her reduced to such a fragile state broke him. The stoic God. His large fingers delved into her hair, sliding along her scalp as he gently cradled her head to the steady strum of his heart. His lips brushed the top of her head.

"There are no words that I can give that would offer comfort. To loose something you care about so deeply. I can not fathom what that must feel like. What you feel now is what I would feel if you were not in my life, Akhet." He used the fingers that were woven into her hair to tilt her head up to face him. His silver gaze caught her green one and held it, refusing to let it go. "I could never replace the spot in which Dasani and Radraven had taken in your heart. I wouldn't begin to know how, but let me try to fill the hole that their loss left behind. You can not do this alone. Trine has gathered nearly enough souls to bring his full powers back in check. The Blood Ritual has left you weakened with the loss of power that Dasani had drained from you. Their deaths have left you mentally and emotionally vulnerable. He knew just where to strike to weaken you. Let me help you heal. Let me bring you back to where and what you should be."

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Re: Origins of the Montriarch

Post by Draven on Sat Apr 14, 2018 5:23 pm

"Do you have any idea how many of your kind I have killed over the centuries?" The Demon inquired, sitting nearly ram-rod straight in a high-backed chair of red leather. Long, waist length dark red hair flowed down her back to the small of her waist. Piercing black eyes held no emotion and were as cold as ice as they looked over the Vampire that sat opposite of the large round table. "What is to keep me from killing you right now, Markus?" She gestured faintly with a hand tipped in lethal black claw like nails.

"There has been a recent development in Sanguine. One in which has left the Montriarch vulnerable, weak. An old companion of hers has returned from the Ether and has laid waste to Draven's estranged husband Dasani and their daughter Radraven. Their headless corpses were found alongside the members of a Council Draven was attempting to form in Europe." The Mortuus proclaimed almost proudly, as if he was throwing the Demon a juicy tidbit of bone or table scraps. "If there is any time to dethrone the Montriarch, it is now."

Rionach scoffed. "You seek to betray the Mother of your kind, the very first Vampire whom we all know is powerful enough to have held her position for several centuries. Either you have a death wish, Markus, or you are certifiably insane. I have yet to decide which."

"You are Lucifer's daughter, Rionach. You are powerful enough to match Draven."

"No, I am not. I am Demon enough to admit that. Draven is more powerful than any Demon that walks Sanguine."

Markus stood almost violently from his chair, it toppled over in his anger. "She must be made to suffer! She embarassed me in front of the Council!"

"And how did she do that, Markus? Did Mother Dearest put you in your place? Did she place you in time out?"

His face pinched as if he was pained and the Demon knew that it was only the first strike of the nail on the head.

"She is forming an attachment to another. A younger Vampire that has not even begun to tap into his abilities. She saved his life a few weeks ago when he foolishly made a scene among the humans." He began to pace, back and forth in front of the table. "The other night at the emergency Council meeting, she gifted him with a new Vitae chair and gave him the position as her right hand, as Head of Security for the entire city. That should be me sitting by her side! It should have been me in her bed! Good riddance to Dasani, but now my chances of seeking her favor have already been thwarted! Thwarted by this so called...Anubis."

The face of the Demoness blanched. "Anubis? Are you foolish, Markus? Do you even know of your Montriarch's origins?"

The confused expression on his face was her answer. "Draven has always been cryptic about her past. She never divulged, even once, where she came from nor how she came to be a Vampire."

"It is not my story to tell, Mortuus. If you seek answers, ask but do not seek to cross your Mother. She is a very formidable and merciless woman."

What I have told Fallon about my past wasn't entirely true. I had not been Human during the Viking Age. No, my history dates back much further.  Roughly c. 4000 BC. A very long time to hold any kind of grudge against the Gods. As I sit in the Archives, I feel a draw to tell a brief summary of my past. I have kept the truth of it a secret for far too long. While I had been around during the Viking Age, and had come to respect their beliefs, I was not by any means apart of them. I was born the only daughter to a very prominant royal family. Not Pharaoh, but close enough that my birth was seen as an omen. Sons were the pride and joy among families during that time, thought to carry on the legacy. I was sent to serve as a Priestess to the God Anubis. There was great honor in sacrificing one self to the Gods and it was not an uncommon practice for a woman of virginal blood to give herself freely to said God.  I was chosen, gifted with the vision of prophecy, of foresight and often communicated with the God Anubis who had grown displeased with the work of his disciples. When I spoke to the priests of his displeasure with them, they thought my words blasphemy, false. I was executed at dawn.

Anubis refused to let me die. For my gifts and my unwavering loyalty to serve him, he took me, mind, body and soul. He gave me life as I lay dying, bleeding out on the stones of his very temple. But his power did not come without a price. As my blood pulled itself back into my body, he told me that I would have ever lasting life, untold power at my command but would be unable to see the light of the sun again. I would feed on the blood of my enemies to grow stronger, to carry out his will. I learned later that Osiris had replaced him as the God of the Dead and in his bitter anger he had chosen me as a means to gain revenge. Anubis has yet to call on me. After thousands of years I have to wonder if he has given up his plans of vengeance but I don't think so. Gods can be so very patient.

Would my Children think me weak for lying about my past? Perhaps, perhaps not. It isn't every day one believes that they were gifted by an Ancient God. Fallon was right in a way, it is a curse. I have seen so many people I have grown to care for, to love, die. And yet I have remained. One of the oldest living beings to walk this Earth. Strangely, I have not tired of living. Despite everything I have gone through, it has only made me stronger, wiser. Perhaps this is what Anubis was waiting for, for me to grow stronger.

The Blood no longer pulls at me. I no longer hear it's call. A thimble full is all I require to maintain my abilities and I am greatful that I do not have to kill thousands to stave off my hunger. It grew tiresome to hide the bodies. For a while, I was beginning to run out of places to hide them.


The Montriarch  stopped writing, black gel ink pen poised over the journal she had been writing in. Her thoughts drifted back to the first time she had met Trine. He had been the very first she had ever Transformed and it had all been done on instinct. Mostly for companionship. She had been so very bored and lonely. For thousands of years she had traveled the world in search of some kind of excitement. She killed for the enjoyment of it, feeding on anyone and everyone she chose to, anyone that crossed her path with an ill look in her direction. Her memory flashed to her long and bloody swathe she had cut through Japan.

The beauty of the Japanese country side was not lost on her. The vivid colors were a very stark contrast to the neutral hues of the desert sands in Egypt and with her vastly acute vision, they were even richer, bolder. It nearly made her weep. Nearly. She crouched down, washing the dried blood from beneath her sharp nails in the babbling stream than ran beneath a small wooden bridge. It took a bit of scraping on her part to remove the reddish brown stains, but if there was one thing she had learned over the last 4,000 years, it was patience. Though the sun shone brightly in the mid day sky, it did not burn her skin as it had in the first few centuries of her existence. She still wore a thick cloak of black that trailed down to the ground behind her and the hood was perpetually pulled up, shrouding her features in the thick shadows. Her snow white skin and glowing red eyes tended to frighten the natives. On more than one occasion, she had to slaughter an entire village for the simple sake of staying alive and silencing their curses to the female "oni". Her full lips pulled back from her straight, pearl white teeth in a mock snarl. She was no demon. She was gifted, granted unspeakable power and abilities by the god Anubis. She was far superior to these mere...mortals.

The woman dried her hands on the edges of her cloak, satisfied that most of the blood had been scraped out from beneath her nails. She could still smell it, but it was passable for the time being. It didn't gnaw at her hunger. At the small of her back, beneath the cloak, she kept an ornate dagger from her homeland. It was the last piece of her former life, the only piece she allowed herself. She moved silently across the bridge, ignoring the stares and whispers in Japanese as she passed by. She kept her head tilted down faintly to make it appear as if she was staring at the ground when she walked, but her eerie red gaze was pinned on everything around her, sweeping over every detail and comitting it to memory. A subtle tilt of her head revealed the shadow of someone mirroring her path on the opposite side of the road. From the size of the shadow, she gauged it to be a man, roughly close to six feet. For the time being, she allowed him to follow as she entered the tea house. The sign above the open door way of the tea house itself named it as the Red Leaf.

The mysterious woman entered, paying careful attention to her surroundings. She slipped quietly into a table in the corner, keeping her hood up even as an older woman came to take her request.

"Green tea." Was all the woman requested, the fluent Japanese that passed her lips was spoken perfectly and in a voice that held some foreign accent. The voice itself was methodical, breathy, and alluring. Almost as if those very wouds could reach out and caress your skin. It caught the attention of several men who sat around a large table, staring in her direction in hopes of getting a glimpse of the face the voice belonged to. Many of them had swords strapped to their waists, pegging them for either samuari or the lordless ronin. She had heard much of them in her travels among this land and found both sects honorable. But the looks in these mens eyes were the only tell-tale give a way that they weren't the honorable sort. She could smell the blood and death on them. Days old perhaps, but it still clung to them like the dirt clung to their skin. The dark taint staining the edge of their auras was another sign that these men were killers and had no qualms over who met the edge of their blades.

Her tea was served, but she dismissed the elderly woman before she could pour it for her. With precise and graceful movements, she served herself, taking her time to pour the steaming liquid into the handless mug.

"Will it be your blood I add to my tea, I wonder, or will it be the blood of your friends." She stated almost casually towards the small group of men who took the opportunity to make their way towards her shadowed table in the corner. The one who stood a pace or two ahead of the rest was the one she had addressed and he seemed to almost hesitate for a split second. "If you value your lives, I would not move any closer to this table." There was a flash of vivid red under the hood of the cloak, but it only lasted for a slit second before the darkness shrouded her face once more.

"Who are you to threaten us?" The leader of the group questioned, his words clipped and almost angry. "We are the White Dragons."

"Ah, yes, the so called gang of thugs that rob from the vulnerable farmers and rape their women. Such bad men." She taunted, a pale white hand snaking out to bring the mug up to her lips. "I fear the lot of you would cower beneath a real threat. You think yourselves monsters, lawless men. You know nothing of what it means to be a monster. I suggest you step away from this table before I show you one." She took a tentative sip of the tea. "I do not fear the White Dragons, nor any man."

"Foolish woman. I would have your head." The leader reached for his sword, but she was out of her chair before his fingers could brush it's hilt. Her finger gripped his throat, sharp nails digging into the flesh surrounding his windpipe and cutting off his air. With a swift yank of her hand, she ripped his throat out. Blood poured over her hand and down her arm, staining the snow white flesh crimson. When she had moved, the hood of her cloak had been shoved back. Jet black hair fell down her back and nearly to the dip of her waist.  The snow white skin was flawless, perfect and looked achingly soft. Her lips were full and just as black as her hair, but it was her eyes that were the most startling. They glowed and inhuman shade of red, glittering with eerie light. This woman was beautiful, there was no doubt about that, an enthralling dark beauty even though she was now painted in gore.

"No, foolish Dragons. I will have yours."


The Montriarch had known what it was that had drawn Trine to her. Power. The power she held within her blood had called to the Ronin far strongly that the opium that the White Dragons had been known for smoking. Was it Power that had called him back from the Ether?

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Re: Origins of the Montriarch

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