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[Zh`Azhak Szvoyza]

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The slim figure pulled at his robe that was stuck on a thorny branch of a shrub by the hem. With a litany of curses and an animalistic tug later, the figure slammed the ground. The hard earth under all the plants had revealed itself to the figure, who was not too happy of this discovery. The scene he had caused had caught the attention of his fellow cage carriers. They were muttering and cursing in hushed tones while urging the man to take up his place at the side of the second cage again. With a murderous glance at the shrub, the robed man took a firm hold of the handle set out for him. The creatures within the cage crawled from their corners and screeched at him, perhaps in their own way, they were mocking him.

The grim procession of cursing carriers and screeches made its way though the moist jungle terrain, slowly, but surely. One of the cages had been opened once on an accident and the carrier near the door had launched away from the cage, but a savage torrent of leathery wings soon clouded around him, silencing his screams with the flapping of wings. While the carriers fled the cages, the leader of the procession came near the now dead corpse of the unfortunate carrier. The robed figure extended his arm over the feeding creatures, his hand hidden in the sleeve of his robe. After a moment, the mouth of his sleeve started dripping with a thick liquid. The ravenous creatures ceased their feeding, instead contesting to lick up the drops of that dark liquid. After one of them would catch a drop, it fell into a relaxed state, almost paralyzed. The leader motioned for the terrified carriers to move the now drugged critters back into the cage.

After all the mishaps and cursing, finally, they reached their destination. There it was, the once fine inn, now reduced to ruin. Deuce’s folly. Nevertheless, that was the site of realization of Zemyaza’s legacy. The myths titled Zemyaza the first of the kindred, the dark father of the kindred. Whether the lore was right or not, Zemyaza surely existed. Thoughts raced through the mind of the leader of the procession as they arrived. Thoughts of Zemyaza, the future and what he hand planned for. A plain golden ring rubbed against his cheek when he raised his hand to his face. Familiar radiance came off it, though it was not visible. His eyes had already taken up the same radiance as the ring. No light would touch the ring or his eyes. A thin smile crossed his face as he lowered his hand, signalling the carriers to drop the cages. He then sent them away with a swift twist of his wrist.

After the last noises made by the departing faded from his ears, the man turned around. His robe fell down his rather thin form, revealing an outfit of a nobleman. Reaching for the robes that lay on the ground, he picked up a pair of elbow length leather gloves and slid them on in silence. The caged creatures had fallen quiet.

Two days. The Ne’Sveti has two days to reach the gypsy if he hasn’t already. Then she has to gather her contacts… too little time. They need to journey here as well, which is time consuming. Yes… the bats. Lead them here and maybe we can re-forge Zemyaza’s reign, in our own way. His thoughts trailed off, and he began to speak to the caged critters, as if he had memorized it all beforehand.

“You, accursed. Unfortunate offspring of savagery and our blood. You serve me, as you serve my kind, through the blood we share. Fly over the mountains and the forests, where I cannot reach now, capture the scent of all of kindred you can find and bring them here. Harm them not, for they will destroy you. You will be my hand in this moment of need.” The man walked by each of the cages and unlocked the doors. Some of the more curious bats skittered to the doors, cautiously pushing them with their winged claws.

“Bring them here in two days, when the bell tower rings for the seventh time, for let us subtract one turn of the hourglass in remembrance of the traitor Del’Roh, and one in remembrance of the cursed childer of Zemyaza, the Baali. Go now, you of our blood. Bring forth your brothers and sisters, for it is their time to march to glory once again in a day when no sun shines and no torch lights the way.” The bats screeched and rushed out of the cages. For a moment, the inhabitants of the jungles surrounding the ruined inn paused to gaze upon the dark cloud of bats gathering to the sky. After circling over the ruins, the bats departed, each on their own path.

The man clasped his hands behind his back. One more push for a new world. Maybe it would happen, this time. He felt the ring stirring, and smiled to himself. Yes. Zemyaza was with him now, though unwillingly, but with him nonetheless. He closed his eyes and imagined the vision he had had of the First City, of Zemyaza sitting on his basalt throne with rage filled eyes. Yes. It would work this time. He scanned the jungle once more, before disappearing in the shadows of the ruined inn.