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Alegra had not been in the city for longer than a few months at best, and she had spent even less time with the general population. The woods had become her home. She found herself deep in the forest, happy with her little shanty and chests full of her ritual supplies. A High Priestess really had no need for civilization, hence why she had left her home in the Voodoo central of the modern world, New Orleans. She was top of the line as far as a practicing mortal could be. She had mastered multiple seemingly unrealistic tasks on a regular basis and had a very working and growing knowledge of the supernatural world and all that inhabited it. Which brought her here… to this moment in time when she was about to carry out what would normally be completely unheard of for 99% of the Wiccan/Voodoo community… sacrifice; human sacrifice. The Gods and Demons demanded payment for their services and assistance with the other side. Because what was a Voodoo Priestess without her demonic and spiritual guides? Alegra served them well and the payment for their assistance wasn’t cheap. It didn’t have to be done often, so she “paid” them annually.

The shivering man lay on a large boulder of sandstone, bound and unconscious, in the middle of a red pentagram painted with the blood of a goat. Surrounding her affectionately nicknamed Gypsy Camp was a series of blessed Talismans; each dipped in holy water for protection from the creatures she knew without question existed. She was dressed in her long black, hooded cloak and her amber eyes shimmered as she began to speak in a foreign language, native to only the spirits around her. To most it would sound like gibberish, but to the trained ear, they would recognize the language as a combination of West African Vodun with a Cajun twang and Creole. The twist? This particular Priestess was purebred Italian by ethnicity.

After taking the time to ground herself, she focused on the task at hand and slowly drew her arms upwards towards the black night sky, bringing the flames in the fire pit up along with them. The torches that surrounded her alter also sparked to life, shooting flames a good ten feet in the air. Her eyes closed and the wind swirled around her, whipping her naturally black locks peeking out of her hood around her face, and stirred the flames of the fire pit into a fire devil (tornado made of fire). A broad smile perched her full lips and she exhaled aloud before beginning her chant. “Ade due amballa. Secoise entienne mais pois de morte. Morteisma lieu de vocuier de mieu vochette. Endonline pour de boisette damballa! Secoise entienne mais pois de morte. Endelieu pour de boisette damballa!”

As she spoke, the man on the rock began to stir and the fire started to return to its original flaming shapes. Blindly, Alegra reached over to her alter where she stuck her hand in one of many mortars and pulled out a handful of a brilliantly white, powered substance and threw it at the fire. The flames immediately parted directly down the middle, leaving a gap for her to enter into the circle. She stepped in and folded her hands as if in prayer and the flames then took the shape of the circle itself, encasing her in the rapturous glow.

Throughout the entire ceremony, she felt the presence of two supernatural beings. If she had to guess, she would say that they were the creatures of the night… vampires. She thought that she would be safe from harm or intrusion due to the talismans, but little did she know that the two in question were practiced members of the same or similar cultures. Alegra could feel their eyes on her… a strong man and a mysterious woman. She could feel their curiosity and something else… something she couldn’t quite describe as anything but concern. Surely not for her… perhaps for her sacrifice? The sacrifice would never know what hit him… or bled him for that matter. It was something that had to be done. Surely they understood that?

She could feel their anticipation and knew she had to speed things up. With shimmering eyes, she turned to look at the place she knew they were, and even though she could not personally see them, she gave them a look and sent a psychic mind wave, warning them to stand back while she completed the ceremony. Her hands rose quickly into the air where a dagger of rubies was now visible just briefly before the flames engulfed her and she cried out into the night, “As gratitude for your assistance, I, your humble servant Alegra offer you up this sacrifice! Accept his blood into the veins of the earth!” The flames then vanished and she stepped over the rocks of the circle, glowing eyes now focused on the man breathing with agitation. She lifted the dagger back into the air as she came close and prepared to complete the ritual.

The bare sliver of waxing moon showing low above the treeline as the two vampires moved through the wilderness provided just about the only meager light to be had that evening, if one was mortal and one did not count the stars. Luckily, as the pair knew well from a night long past, the stars could give them more than enough light to see by, all on their own. Hands were clasped together as they walked, slow and steady as ever, enjoying the company and the very feel of the other as they worked out the latest conundrum and what it might mean in the long run for their lineage.

The newest nests of strange, unearthly creatures that had begun cropping up in the catacombs had had them both slightly worried; populated with creatures that could make even the most austere vampire falter, there was no telling if any of these things could or would one night make it out of the dank, dark chambers under the earth and start appearing all over the City. Or, worse, for humans to happen upon them and leave yet more unexplainable bodies dotted about, or unexplained disappearances that lured all manner of suspicious people to find the trail grown cold within the city limits.

This, paired with the recent upheaval on the Crownet, its discovery by several paladins and blood thieves, and the subsequent mass murdering of those of their kind who were known to violate secrecy, by vampires as well as mortals, had the elder pair considering all options at present. Habren's nerves were frayed and on edge of late - the repercussions were growing and each one, though colored with the modern time's version of life, brought her straight back to the nights of the holocaust once more. Shops that catered to their needs had closed up. The Crow was sporadically posting bounties, large and small, and the City alert was now recklessly high.

It had become almost too much while residing in the thick of everything and, though she made a nightly journey into the Quarantine Zone to do her part and try to assist in lowering the alert by clearing out some of the creatures that were known to have an affect on the alert, she and Mircea had removed themselves to their remote home deep into the woods again. It was the only place she found she could think clearly anymore, and luckily, Mircea was only too happy to oblige, finding the cozy, rustic place to be much closer to their idea of home than any apartment or luxe house in the City itself ever could be.

They had fallen silent for a moment as they moved deeper into the wood, with the woman biting her lip in thought at the things they had just discussed. Was it time to relocate and take whoever of their blood who wished to go with them? Was it in their better interest to stay put and do what they could to repair the damage? One way or the other, Habren had made utterly clear that she had no intention of either of them dying again, even if it meant living away from Harper Rock. That was a risk all on its own, she knew, but she supposed it was far preferable to another two centuries stuck in the Fade.

The couple wound their way deeper into the thicker parts of the wilderness, soaking up the quiet energy of nature. Habren, for one, happily let it seep into her very being, finding a sense of peace that had become more elusive of late and that only seemed to be remedied here, or in her husband's embrace. She was just taking a deep breath of cold night air when she realized the freshness was tainted with a lacing of smoke. She took another breath, focusing on the direction of what was shaping up to be quite a fire. There was at least one mortal there, too, that she could determine, but there was no telling for certain until they drew closer. A glance at Mircea told her he had caught the scent on the air, too, and with a silent nod to him, the pair veered left, tracking the direction of the flames all the while.

Strange, unsettling things were happening in the city and though some of them could be put down to the direct actions of others of their kind, still others were much more a mystery. The wraith, Eskoph, who seemed to infrequently find a means to speak out to the masses against the Crow had managed to stir up a portion of the population into actively attempting to hunt the mysterious entity and a silent war had broken out between those opposed to the status quo and those who believed in it. It had been fought throughout the city, with strange devices blocking Crow’s view of the world or sharpening it in kind and cameras being installed or destroyed throughout buildings the city’s thieves considered most profitable; curses and inspirations had flown in all directions, countering one another; ritualists had taken to their altars to cloud entire portions of the city or reveal them more keenly to those who hunted while the fadewalkers among their kind battled in the darkness to open small gateways they called windows throughout the fade, offering glimpses to the city for those within, and into the abyss for those upon the mortal plane.

It had seemed to do little for a while and then, suddenly, all madness broke loose. The CrowNet became unstable and humans found their way to previously secure section of the internet, the bounty list seemed to go awry with prices being added to people’s heads haphazardly. As expected, Tytonidae had latched upon the confusion and begun their hunt, beginning with those who appeared upon the list, as was normal, but then continuing to kill those with no such bounty upon their head with no explanation offered. The theory had grown that they were targeting those known or suspected of having an affiliation with a particular anti-Crow group, though such thoughts remained unconfirmed.

All in all, it was a worrying, violent, loud time for the couple and one that was all too familiar to times past. So it was that they had secluded themselves away in the wilderness to walk, talk and consider what they might do next. There was a great temptation to simply take to the wind and see where it might next take them, but there was a far wider circle of their lineage to consider than had once been the case and an inescapable need to be available for their assistance and protection whenever the need arose.

With the upheaval, it was natural then that Mircea was wary, breathing steadily as they walked to monitor the scents around them. It had been a common habit between the pair for centuries that Habren would extend her sense of… otherness while Mircea would seek out more physical signs of disturbances and between them they were fairly secure in the knowledge that they were unlikely to be surprised on their walk. It was possible, as both knew well from personal experience, to move through the woods in near silence and hidden in darkness, but harder would be to disguise a scent from the old hunter when he was searching for it and yet it seemed to be at almost an identical moment that they caught the scent. There was someone nearby and they were doing little to hide their presence. The trees were thick enough that they couldn’t see the light of the fire, but a slight chill breeze brought the smoke to their noses and with it something more subtle. Something human, something animal, something… Else. There was nothing to be done but to answer the scent and the two vampires altered their course to investigate.

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Mircea turned towards his wife and lifted both eyebrows in a silent question. They were both well schooled in rituals, both of their own particular belief systems and those of others, but it was always a rare thing to see a human sacrifice. Few things required quite so much payment in exchange for what was being asked. Mircea had come to practice such magic later in his life that Habren who had grown up learning the intricacies of such things and so, even decades older than she, he often found it prudent to seek her advice and guidance on such things. The questions in the expression would be as clear to her as if he’d spoken them aloud.

”What is she doing? What do we do? I follow you.”

Alegra felt the intensity of the pair even as she brought the knife down to the man’s chest. The peyote must have been wearing off because he started to stir a lot more now. In small doses, the psychoactive alkaloids would cause hallucinations and an overall high similar to that of opiates. However, in high doses, the drug caused a painless coma… perfect for keeping the person chosen for the ritual sacrifice out long enough to complete it. Her distraction with the pair watching her had delayed her some, so now she would have to make up for lost time by picking up the pace.

Bringing the athame down to his chest, Alegra started to carve a pentagram into the soft flesh, her eyes settling over the trickles of blood that slipped over his sides. The pentagram would serve as a map this time and a focal point of power. All she could do was hope that her talismans would be strong enough to keep the pair out long enough to finish the job. She began to chant again as she cut, “Papa Legba ouvre baye pou mwen, Ago eh! Papa Legba Ouvre baye pou mwen, Ouvre baye pou mwen, Papa Pou mwen passe, Le'm tounnen map remesi Lwa yo!” Her voice had taken on a slightly deeper, almost unearthly tone and the flames started again, slowly at first, but by the time she had finished, were like a raging bonfire, driving her on.

The carving was complete and Alegra took the athame to the alter where she dropped three drops of blood into a small copper dish that had been filled with various bones and glittering stones of quartz, diamonds, rubies, and emeralds. It was to act as a balance… the good to the evil she was doing by providing a separate offer to what she liked to refer to as the “White Gods”. The bowl seemed to have a soft glow to it, emitting effervescent light and all that was left was to finish off the sacrifice, and so she headed back over to the man and lifted the blade back over her head, preparing to take the man’s life.

A hand slid over her husband's as the ceremony grew more intense, both a silent "stay back with me" as well as an expression of her barely contained interest in what was taking place before their very eyes. At first, as the flames grew and danced, it wasn't entirely certain that the girl had any intentions of sacrificing the bound mortal, but as she chanted with an almost ferocious, unearthly sound to her voice and the blood was dripped into a dish on the altar, the elder witch knew just what would come next. She had heard those words perhaps only one time before, or at least a variation of them, when an old African soothsayer had come to visit Llanddona one hot summer when Habren was in her fourteenth year. So much she had learned from the woman, and though the rite hadn't been performed at that time, the young girl had soaked up every bit of knowledge the elder had been willing to share with her.

As much as she felt the urge to rescue the male, the vampire simply could not justify encroaching upon another person's time of worship, no matter how grisly or seemingly brutal. The girl's talismans would do nothing if the pair decided to interrupt after all; Habren had long been adept at sidestepping such things with ease, but she was content to let her believe they worked yet. At the very least, just by the feel of them, they would do to keep the fae away, for a time.

Her gaze snapped between Mircea and the mortal girl who now had her athame raised high above her head. The sight was breathtakingly beautiful, and, as Habren's slight breath hitched in her throat, a little tremor of excitement rippled through her. Her fingers tightened around his as a whisper-quiet thought was sent to his mind.

Let us wait and observe for now, love. She honors her gods; there is no strange conjuring afoot that I can tell... we can approach her when it is done.