The women that met with my Sire the night I was sent away were as beautiful as they were powerful. One of them, the eldest, was named Roma, I believe. She seemed to know my Sire from a long time ago. They talked in private while I waited a distance away, out of earshot. They made some kind of agreement between themselves, then bade me come.
I couldn’t help but admire Roma. Attractive, powerful, and I was human enough to feel an urge that I quickly had to hide. Roma was out of my league and I knew it from the moment I set eyes on her. Frankly, she scared the hell out of me. Thankfully, it was a more girlish Kindred that did much of the speaking with me, though we did exchange a few polite words.
The younger one was related to Roma somehow, I’m not certain precisely how but that doesn’t really matter to me. She was powerful, too, but closer to me in age I think. Her name is Aife and she was hot. Very hot. But my Sire approached and told me that I was to go with Aife and her Childe, called Moire, and that I was to protect them from harm. I’d have loved to engage in something far more recreational with them, but somehow, the moment he told me I was to do as Aife instructed, such thoughts fled from my mind. I think she’s exceptionally attractive, certainly. But she’s not on the menu, so to speak.
Moire, her Childe, was more my age in terms of experience as a Kindred. Aife told me she wanted me to be a part of something with Moire. It had something to do with retaking a city from the forces of chaos, darkness, and evil. That got my attention right away.
What could I say? I told them I looked forward to it as my first challenge and it was the truth. I knew I’d do everything in my power to keep them safe and save the city. At last, I had the first inklings of my true purpose.
My Sire’s parting instructions was to not fail him, and not to return for 10 years. I had that time to prove myself to him. I left without looking back, but I think of him — and the Magda — often.
In Belfast I met Shawn Thornton, another young kindred. He’d been abandoned by a murderous Sire and very lost. Moire and I tried to help as best we could, but we were new, too, and strangers to the city.
It wasn’t long after we’d scraped out our first haven of some abandoned, dingy hole, that Aife found for us the fourth member of our new group. She was trapped in a water pipe, something that held the flow of a river, I was told. She had to be saved or eventually she might be swept out to sea and forever lost. So we found her, and Aife brought her to life from the living death that is unending torpor. Her name is Brenna, and she spoke old Gaelic. It took her a long time to pick up English.
So then the number of our group, our coterie, was four.