WARNING!! This is a very lengthy story, but its worth it to read through!
Our story begins in the shrouded community of Dark Witches. These
men and women, out-cast from society in one way or another, lived, almost
in secret, deep in the heart of the Fangstone Mountains. The Witches were
all aging, and because they were mere mortals, they needed 'young blood'
to continue their tradition. Plans were carefully set, and Watchers were
sent into the village, in search of possible candidates.
Now, shortly after the Watchers were posted, a very young, unwed couple
were facing the imminence of a child. Vivien DeFluté and Joseph
Gladistonne were lovers, doomed to a fate of ridicule
and disregard after they learned Vivien was great with child.
Both of their parents disowned them, forcing them into a
dank cottage on the outskirts of the town, RavensDale.
Late one evening, the two were discussing their bleak future over a pathetic meal,
the fire on the hearth not even large enough to cast any warmth into the room. And as they did this, a Watcher stood silent, peering through a window listening...and then dissappeared into the bushes, a satisfied smile gracing its lips.
The Watcher raced back to its Coven, and told them of the news. The Witches celebrated that night, and the next morning, a kindly looking Mid-Wife was dispatched to the couples home.
Several days passed, and then one cool, violently windy morning, Vivien announced that this was the day. Joseph held her, tears stinging his eyes as he watched his poor love helplessly, her face beginning to contort in the first of many contractions. In his heart, he suspected neither the child, nor his love would live, but he bit this back, the tears flowing freely down his cheeks as he held her...rocked her...mumoured comforting words.
He was stroking her hair, kissing her feverish forehead when he heard the knock. Who could it be? He did not want to leave Vivien, but she too had heard it, and she begged him to answer, telling him, slightly delerious, that the 'good people' had sent them help. Finally, he rose from her side, and crossed the short distance to the door, opening it slowly, soon to find out that Vivien was wrong...it was not the good people who had sent help, infact, it was quite the opposite...
The mid-wife rushed in, barking orders to him as she knelt at Vivien's side, and prepared to deliver their baby.
Hours later. The moon high up in the star-studded sky. Their daughter, Camilla Diane Gladistonne, lay peacefully at her exhausted mothers side. The mid-wife hovered closely over Vivien, eyeing the child possesivly.
"Dear woman," Joseph began, "You have saved both my love, and my child. I feel I should repay you somehow..." and here he paused, "but we have no money...nor any possessions to trade for your services.." his eyes searched the floor in shame when the Mid-Wife spoke, with an un-kind purpose.
"You are weak of spirit, despite this child. You fear you cannot afford her, and it is because of this that I have come for her." Joseph's face was a mask of disbelief as she collected the sleeping child. "She will do nicely as a payment. I'll be sure she is well educated. Perhaps even return her for a visit, hm? Yes, that may just do." she made her way, Camilla held close to her body, towards the door. Joseph stepped towards her in protest, and she held her hand out, freezing him there. "Thank you for the child, Joseph." with this she turned, and was gone.
Seventeen years passed. Vivien and Joseph learned to cope with their loss, they regained at least some respect amoung the towns people, and eventually had a son.
Meanwhile, Camilla was raised as a Dark Witch. She knew, in her heart, that this was not her heritage, nor was it right, however until she could get away, she played along, and learned a great deal of Magick. Until her chance came late one evening.
The Witches were having a huge gather of all the Dark Creatures inhibiting the Mountains, and Camilla took her chance, running swiftly across stone, down hills, through forests and swamps, until she reached a clearing. An Inn, close to town, filled with light, love, and laughter. Drawn by the warm glow, she took refuge.
Now, being kept so far from civilization all of her life, Camilla had no idea of what people were like, and her first few months at the Inn were strange and difficult. Her first friend, and love, was a man named Vincent Greystorm. Their friendship quickly turned to love, and Camilla seemed on top of her world.
Inside, though, she was hurt. Vincent was rarely around, always off on one errand or another, and one day, after a particularly long lag in their relationship, Camilla saught out her former Coven. She expected their understanding, their warm acceptance, but the Witches had other plans for her, and a few days later, she fled the Coven once more, this time with their child growing rapidly inside of her.
She returned to her room at the Inn, frightened and more alone than ever. Later that evening, while she was drinking heavily, she met another man, soon to become a dear and trusted friend, Michael LaSalle. Drunk and distraught, she spilled all to him, telling him of Vincent, or the lack there of, and of her dark, not so distant past, and ultimatly of her child.
LaSalle promised he would help her, and to prove this friendship, he gave her a small panther cub, whom she named Kubla Kahn.
Months passed, during which she was engaged to Vincent, who still was scarce about the Inn. She gave birth to her daughter, Tabitha Gladistonne. Her daughter met Vincent only once, and after he dissappeared, seemingly for good, Camilla privatly declared the engagment over.
The Dark Witches were after her, and yet she was alone, defenseless. Her sanity rapidly deteriorating, Camilla saught out her birth parents, and found them to be aging quite happily in the WildWood. She gave her daughter to them, knowing the child would be safer away from her.
Another year, and the last thread of Camilla's carefully woven sanity was frayed, warn, and dismissed to a dark recess. She knew she could not live this way, and she knew what she should so.
An evening filled with heavy, purposeful drinking led to her self-chosen end. Her daughter a painful memory of sanity, her eager Coven her insane future, and Kubla, faithfull and ever loving, her soft, quiet present. She lured a man by the name of Algeroth Ohmsford into the WildWood. Unsuspecting and oblivious was this man's expression as she gave him Kubla. "Keep good care of him" she said, tears of a final relief in her eyes. Still naive, the man watched as she disgarded her heavy cloak, her worn woolen gown, and lay down on a moonlight bathed stone table. Realization hit Algeroth as she produced an elaborate blade, seemingly out of nowhere. A final, silent good bye to her world, and the blade found a warm home deep withing her chest. Camilla Diane Gladistonne; Daughter, Witch, Friend, and Mother, was thankfully no longer.
Tabitha
