Vincent’s head lolled, they had kept him prisoner for a day and a night and while they seemed quite interested in how he tasted. They had to his surprise not drank his soul.
A wooden stake jammed firmly into his chest he was helpless they only thing left open to him was to wait and see what they intended to do.
He cursed his own stupidity he could have used his aura of majesty to prevent such an attack, but he’d not wished to go into the camp seeming hostile and forced supernatural awe often rubbed other kindred up the wrong way.
Anya would know by now he hadn’t returned last night and while Allard would cover for him as best he could. He knew his steward would already be fretting.
The gaily painted caravan then kept him chained in had been moving as best he could tell for at least the last eight hours perhaps even longer than that. Where they were taking him or why he had no idea but just as he wondered the caravan stopped.
The door opened and the man he had first encountered entered throwing a large sack over his head. He was helpless but it was clear they did not want him to see where he was going.
Small hope flickered within him… there was no reason to hide your whereabouts from a kindred to intended to kill.
He was dragged from the caravan with an unceremonious crash, the floor was wet and the air had the unmistakable order of sewage. Heaved to his feet the stake prevented his body from doing anything to aid his travel he was dragged across smooth flat rock as he tried to take in as much of his surroundings he could fathom while unable to trigger his supernatural senses.
He was underground he was certain of it, the smell of sewage in his nostril’s reminded him of the great sewers found in the major city’s of the world. But Grimstead was to small, it’s villages to meagre to have such systems, but … perhaps a castle would, likewise there were scarce few castles large enough to warrant a sewer system. Siren’s, Daniel’s perhaps… maybe even Darkfire but no-more than that.
Suddenly they stopped, he heard two men chatting in a language he didn’t recognise followed by the creaking of a metal door opening. Suddenly the atmosphere changed, they left the ‘Sewers’ heading into some form of indoor complex, down some stairs and though a maze of corridors he could not hope to fathom in his current state.
Eventually they stopped, he could hear music from the other side of the door which got louder as he heard them being opened. Suddenly he was half dragged half thrown across the floor skidding to a stop as soon as momentum would allow.
“Well uncover him” a female voice demanded.
Suddenly he found himself bathed in light as the cover was removed, but from his position all he could see was feet.. lots of them, lots and lots of them.
“Help him up” the voice demanded again, it was female melodic and yet powerful, leaving him no-doubt that it’s owner was not only kindred but powerful.
Suddenly hoisted he found himself on his feet, or as close as his limp body being held up by two powerful looking men would allow.
Glancing around the room he saw dozen’s and dozen’s of kindred, he had no doubt they where kindred no doubt whatsoever and judging by there appearance a mixture of clan’s existed her from the deformed Nosferatu to the bestial Gangrel and rotting Samadhi the rest where harder to ascertain. As so many clan’s where difficult to judge by mere appearance at yet his eye’s drawn to several exceedingly well dressed individual’s, his own clan making it’s presence known.
Finally his eye’s fell upon the woman before him. Well groomed and well dressed she was beautiful in a cold and lifeless way that betrayed her age.
“Welcome to the Court of Souls” she purred.