The Last Supper

April 4^th, Year of our Lord 1444.

The Dinner Party. Such an innocuous term for the event that would change my existance forever. All of Giovanni's guests, including myself prepared themselves for their dinner before Rodrigo arrived with two carriages to carry the thirteen guests.

While the carriages took us to our destination, the view we had slowly grew more desolate, the lands seeming to die as we approched Claudius' Estate. We saw some men and women crucified against dead trees. My apprehension grew, as I'm sure many of the others felt the same. We arrived at the Estate,and it looked less like a summer home and more like a fortified Castle as the sun set behind it.

We left our carriage and were guided into the main hall, stone gargoyles in vicous poses set above us. Apparently we had arrived before expected and Lothar was displeased to see us, backhanding Rodrigo for bringing us before the proper time, telling Rodrigo to be mindful of the source of the blood that now trickled down Rodrigo's chin. Rodrigo assured him he was. Though I know it's true meaning now, I am still surprised Rodrigo took such treatment. Luckily, Lothar continued, the dinner area was ready for us, so we were brought to a large dining hall, well decorated with musicians playing soft music in the background.

Our host Claudius Giovanni entered shortly after the sun set, and he seemed genteel enough, though I remember recalling how short and paunchy he looked. Where was the nobility in this Lord? He welcomed us all as honored guests and asked us to toast to the most memorable meal of our lives, and met with each of us, thanking us for coming and making innuendos to what his plans for us were, though we did not understand them at the time. He then introduced his other guests, names that I will always remember as his conspirators, even though some have already met their end. Marchetas the Bold, Lady Dimetra, Matron Violetta, Lady Theophina, Sire Wenceslas, Lord Casmir, Lord Leopold Valdimar, Lord Mieczyslav, Lady Amisa, Lord Bajazet Alnazir, a man known simply as Gabrin, and the bitch who sired me, Lady Jadviga Almanov.

She was pleasant enough at first when she approached, and though I did not recognize it then, I realize all of his announced guests circled us like carrion birds before approaching us one by one. Each came to someone that would suit their particular tastes it seems. And apparently I was the perfect flavor for Lady Almanov. She appreciated my status as a noble, and the fact that I had seen battle, even though I avoided the details of how I'd seen battle. She wanted to speak in private, and as I hoped I might be able to learn more about the purpose of this dinner party, I agreed. She asked me many questions, and doubted my ability to lead. She had a.... test for me, if I can put it that. A young girl, 16 perhaps was brought in, along with a whip, and told me to show her that I was fit to command. Apparently in her mind the ability to inflict punishment was the mark of a true leader. I disagreed, asking her why this girl deserved to be punished, what crime had she committed? None was the answer, saying that hard choices were required of leaders, and if I could not beat this girl, I was just a sheep like the rest. Well, she was right about one thing.... Hard choices are required of leaders. I have already had more then I could have ever wished. I hope I have made the right choices.

After her little speech she commanded me to knees. And I knelt against my will. My first experience of a vampiric discipline was a horrifying one, to have your own body rebel against your will and respond to the will of another is a terror indescribable. In truth, I should thank her for that experience, as it is what makes me so hesitant to use that power of domination on others. Then Almanov proceeded to beat us the girl and myself, though I did what I could to taunt her and direct the beatings to myself. I still bear the scars of her whip on my back, and I always will unless a fleshcrafter sees to them. In a way however they are badges of pride, so I think I shall keep them.

Eventually, I do not know exactly how long I was whipped, a servant came and informed Lady Almanov dinner was about to be served. She cleaned herself up, told me to do the same and return to the Dining Hall. I did. I had no choice. When I returned I saw the others from the Red Lamb had gone through similarily harrowing experiences, if not worse. Archibald's fingers were broken, Lady Beatrice's dress had been ripped and tears dripped down her face, others seemed better off, but still shaken.

Claudius appeared, I tried to shout out what Almanov had done, her use of powers which I thought witchcraft at the time. He seemed annoyed at my interruption and told me to be silent. Again, I could not disobey. Lady Almanov offers a toast to the host, and I first hear of the plot against noble Japeth of Cappadocius. The 13 allies of Claudius joined in and cheered him on as Claudius rose to give his speech. Here we learned the reason for our purpose at this dinner meeting, the golden coins had been enchanted to seek out and find those whose blood was of a particular... "vintage" as Claudius put it. This was to be the celebration of the Conspiracy of IssaacWe were to be the meal for these fiends. Some tried to flee, others to fight, others just sat there and allowed it. All who struggled were simply stopped and returned to there seats and told not to attempt anything again. Then, one of the guests from Red Lamb, a girl named Marianna who seemed to have been the one to suffer Claudius' attentions was told to get on top of the table and disrobe. She did so as if in a trance, I averted my eyes. Iron circlets were put around each of our necks, though each circlet had a small hole in the middle. The disgusting purpose of that hole was shown as Claudius stabs a small dagger into the hole, then jams a keg tap into the hole, speaking of how fear enhances the flavor. Claudius announced there was to be a test. Paul was brought in. He was to prove his loyalty and to... tap each of us. Like a barrel of Ale, jam a tap into our necks through the circlet so the beasts might savor us slowly.

Paul refused, thankfully finding courage in his faith and knowing the wrongess of all of this. Claudius backhands him and Paul goes flying, his neck twisting and I fear Paul is dead. God must have protected his life that night, but my fears for Paul quickly change to fears for my own life. We can not struggle as we are each tapped individually, and the monsters slowly begin to pour themselves cups of our lifeblood.

I slowly grew cold, weary and dizzy, and I was praying to God for salvation. I am still not sure if it was God who answered my prayer. A large crash shook the manor and the warning bells toll. Another crash, and a sentry burst in saying the estate was under attack.
Hardestadt. He was blamed for the attack. I hoped for a savior in this man whoever he was. He ended up as much a devil as Claudius. So many, including him have forgotten what the progenitor of our line taught. I suppose I blame him for my current condition almost as much as Claudius and Almanov, because of his attack, instead of dying and my soul going to God, the Conspirators of Isaac, needed a diversion. Their meal became their diversion. And so they each turned one of us, draining us dry and returning a bit of their crimson ill begotten gains, and the peaceful embrace of death within reach was denied to us.

Like Lambs to the Slaughter

January to April, in the Year of our Lord, 1444

During my ride(a journey of significant length) to the Giovanni estate, two others from Venezia joined me. A pity our shared residence in the city has not united us more, though that may be my fault as much as theirs. Vascille Miercrow who was 14 at the time, and was not the wisest in his choice of discussion topics. The second was Marcus Bonisaro, the man who later chose to be called Stygar, though no doubt he would be angry that I record his true name here, such is his paranoia. The journey was not unpleasant, but we had little in common between us, and I suppose we still have little in common besides what would become our shared experiences.

We arrived at the Red Lamb Inn a day before the date of the dinner party. I often wonder if Claudius himself named the inn in some sick joke, or whether it is merely coincidence. Knowing Claudius' character I think it the former.

There I met the people who were also to be victims of Claudius' machinations. Some to become my future companions, some to suffer final death, and some whose fates have escaped the same pattern my own has become woven into. At the time, the only ones there sufficient of station to discuss with me were Ser Ruegar Von Vaught a german Teutonic Knight, and Lady Beatrice Montross. Conversation was had among all the guests, and some seemed to converse for a long time with an old gypsy beggar woman named Synnova.  While some spoke with her, ayoung man named Paul approached the table where I and the others of station sat when he learned we would be supping with Claudius Giovanni. He was a former crusader, and had injured his leg in battle and was hoping for employment as a Guard from the Giovanni. I am still thankful I promised him I would speak to the Giovanni on his behalf, as the simple act of kindess eventually provided me with a loyal(albeit a well paid) guard for some time.

That evening the despicable Lothar arrived, his demeanor already hinting at his darker nature. He was civil enough, but cruelty and arrogance marred his face. He informed us that on the morrow eve, Rodrigo(a much friendlier, if far more devious man though I did not know it at the time) would drive us to the Giovanni estate for dinner. He stayed for a while, and during that time I was able to convince him to take Paul on as a guardsman for the Giovanni. Before he left however Brother Clemente,a local monk to arrive to warn us all about going to Claudius' Estate. Clemente seemed mad, but he was right in the end about his claims, and only time will tell if he was right in his latter attempt to kill us. But that night, he merely sought to save us, and Lothar would have none of it. He might have killed the brother had I not intervened, though I think Ser Ruegar's silent stare as he stood beside me did more to convince Lothar to let Clemente go then my words did. A pity Clemente did not see fit to return our kindess, but then again perhaps in his eyes his future attack on was a kindess.

Regardless, Lothar and Rodrigo left with Paul in tow to begin his training as a guardsmen and we were left the night at the inn. God did not see fit to give us our last night as humans a pleasant rest, as a local farmstead was attacked by wolves through the night. Here was the first time we saw Diego cared only for his own benefit, though at the time he went by the name Alfonso. He refused to assist in helping us drive off the wolves. True, I was not as altruistic as Ser Reugar in my reasoning for wanting to help the peasants, but I still did want to help, I simply saw helping to defend the Giovanni lands might provide me with some benefit in any negotiation with Claudius as well as saving the peasants livelyhood. Ser Reugar eventually threatened "Alfonso" into assisting himself, myself, Marcus, Simon Autenbach, Renaldo(his real name to be later revealed as Batista), and even the young lad Vascille agreed to carry a torch for light.

The family was thankful enough, and the wolves dealt with in a quick manner. The beasts were starved and not eager to fight armed men, but we could not allow them to hunt further in the area. Apparently one of the wolves had nearby pups, which we ended up gifting to the farmstead to raise against my objections. I felt the pups could not be properly trained by farmers, but it mattered little overall and we returned to the Red Lamb to sleep away what was left of the evening.

Genesis

January in the year of our Lord, 1444

There are so many places to start, perhaps Claudius' Dinner party would be the most proper if this is to be a journal simply of my existance as a being Damned by the Lord, our God. However, I feel it best to start earlier, at the time when I first realized when the creatures that lurk in shadows and the darkest hours of night plague the civilized cities as much as the darkest recesses of the world.

The stage is then set in Venezia, with the more insidious characters still waiting to take the stage, the place of my formal education, though I learned just as much from the streets and taverns of that city as the classroom. I had been sent to Venezia to continue my education because I had displeased my father greatly, he thought I could get into very little trouble within the city, relative to what I had done at home at least. And that was true for the most part, though my good friend Etzio Pitoni brought us our share of adventures, it was nothing compared to the carnage of war I had endangered myself in Denmark.

Despite all that occured in Venezia and who controls it now, I suppose I shall always have a fondness for the city because of my youthful time spent there. But those who have been to Venezia know of what I speak, and to those who have not, describing it's wonders and dangers would prove of little interest, so I will move on to the fateful event that triggered everything else.

The Carnival.... How I wonder what might have occured if Etzio had never met those young women. Even sadder still that I can not remember their names, only their faces, and even that starts to fade from mind. Still, they were lovely enough and impressed by our titles, even if I was foreign born. I think Etzio was still thinking my... innocence, as something to be cured, and to be honest he had cured much of it, though I still saved myself for marriage.

These girls wished us to go to a carnival that was visiting town, and so we did. While I have a somewhat greater understanding and appreciate of Gypsies thanks to my time with Durga Syn and Mireela, the discomfort I felt at there gypsy carnival is still with me when I see their folk. Still, it was enjoyable enough if you were lucky. And we were lucky for a time, until I won an archery contest, my prize being a golden coin that cut my finger and seemed to absorb some of my blood, turning blood red for a moment before turning back to gold. We should have left then... But no one else saw it, and I thought to myself perhaps I had drank to much of the wine. And then one of the girls wished to visit the house of haunts. We went, and it was underwhelming, until when we exited the girl who was my companion.... Diana perhaps? Well, whatever the poor girls name was, she disapeared. And we searched, the haunted house and the carnival and could not find her. Eventually the carnival closed, the gypsies telling us the girl had probably left before us and simply went home. She had not, and so I reported the incident to the constable Julian Marlette. He was a good and honorable man, he believed my concerns and returned with me and some of the guard to the carnival only to discover the gypsies were cultists of some pagan god seeking to rape and sacrifice the missing girl. We stopped them, but the cost was the noble sacrifice of some of the guards in battle, and nearly Julian himself. I did not think of it before, but thinking of it now they seemed to share some symbolism with the monks in Galtry.... Hmm, something to consider later. The girl was saved, and returned home and during his time healing Julian and myself bonded and became friends. I hope he is still alive when I return to Venezia, I could use a friend like him again.

And then, the Courier arrived. A man wearing Giovanni colors, a merchant house of prestige within the Italian City-States. Claudius Giovanni was inviting me to a dinner party at his estate north of Sofia in Bulgaria. I could not refuse, even though a part of me did... Why invite me? How did this strange coin belong to Giovanni, and why did he want it back? But I could not refuse without offending the man and that might have made my stay in Venezia a very short one with a sudden stop.

So, I went. My last journey where I could see the sun.

Foreword

January, in the year of our Lord 1198

With my journal damaged by the ocean waters of my recent ship wrecking, I must rewrite much of what has happened to me. While I will strive to copy what I can, much of the ink was washed away. I almost question why I bother, butwho can say how time might affect the mind of what I now am. The old ones of my accursed kind that I have met seem to barely, if it all remember what it is to be human. To feel your heart beat, to feel the sun on your skin. I already miss both sensations. I have chosen to keep this record, so that I will always have a record of how I became what I now am, and so that I will never forget why Claudius Giovanni must be brought to justice for the crimes he has committed against myself and others. And maybe in this record, I can keep some connection to my humanity.

I am Van Folken, third son of Lord Reinhart Folken of Denmark. I was raised to be an honorable man, and though I have made mistakes, I will continue to strive to do so. The night I stop, I have forgotten all that has brought me here, and so I write to remember all I can, and should this ever be read by someone other then myself, to caution them to the dark truths of this existance.