The King – Mat Fini
The queen -Hazy Cygnet
My Back story
In Romany we own the road. The land the hills the forest everything we are the guardians of nature and the spirits of change who rule the wherever we are. The fruit of our wombs are many, and often their play and laughter is heard by many as their natural joy overflows. Our dogs are fierce, loyal and forever by our sides in every thing we do . Our horses are the finest stock ever to grace the earth, powerful majestic beasts, smart and gentle enough for our children to ride without fear, yet courageous enough to bear our warriors into battle with those who would dare to resist us. Who are we ?
We are known in your tounge as gypsy people you may hate for we are everywhere yet no where at the same time but we are Merchants of travel and traders like no other.
My child hood memories are filled with the smell of seasoned meet sizzling on the fire, filling the air with a fragrance so mixed with sweet and sour that the the smell of the smoke was pale in my memories. Elders and youth drank freely the ale we crafted with our own hands each batch seemed better and stronger than the one before. Laughter and stories filed our hearts with joy. I in my prime a woman strong of mind body and purpose first felt the call of my destiny for i was genetically chosen by my birth to be the next great healer of mind and flesh. the one in the family who had the ability to do alchemy
My true journey began one spring as we broke camp and i lead the train of my clan with Magpie beside me as she bulled the caravan on to the first place as we broke winter camp. with children laughing and running along the road and our family streached out along the road behind me
as i rounded a bend and the road parted the woods before me i felt it once more
as the sun passed behind some thick clouds i felt it again and Magpie stopped as if fear gripped her heart as it once had mine
many times in my sleep my mind was visited by a cloaked presence, for a 1000 years there beeen voices warning of the coming , he is lord of the shadows he emerges every 1000 years gathering vampire,lycan,human,demon or drow ushering a newdarkage for supernatural beings with the offer of an eternl life
i awoke cold and trembling. heart racing and small drops of blood sprinkling from my neck….
fear struck me but deeper longing that made my body ache as i stumblled back into the edge of the woodlands i could see my caravan i touched my neck and blood ran thro my fingers i had now become …
The Prince- Dbloc swag
The duchess-sandra Fini ( the kings wife)
The Princess Caitlin Rachel Baily
My name is Caitlin Rachel, though later i became known as Caitlin Rachel Baily. I was born in 1901, on a small farm in Salem outside the New England city of Boston. My father, a farmer, was a simple man, kind, gentle, loyal. He lived and breathed for his family and I was his only child. His daughter, the one child my mother was ever able to conceive. We lived happily there working together to keep the farm and our contented lives. Our days were busy but in the evenings I would sit by the fire with my father, listening to him talk while the embers flickered in the background. he would read stories of the most magical things, things i knew could never exist, monsters, angel, demon like things. Tales of our town, witches and burnings, what had happened here. I would crouch with my hands around my knees, enthralled and by every word. One night as the dinner was set on the table, father did not return. Mother and i threw on our cloaks and set onto the rainy darkness to investigate. We searched the barn, the back field, near the far gate I could see something was wrong. I could hear sounds of struggling. I could see my father, he was pinned beneath the tractor. I screamed and ran to him, falling to my knees, my hair wet and sticking to my face. I put my palm against his face and in that instant, that touch his eyes locked mine, there was no more struggle, for an instant he was going to be alright and everything would carry on and then that instant was over. His eyes went cold, his body limp and life as I knew ended. I don’t remember much after that, mothers screaming, the rain, a funeral, the next months were a blur. For my mother as well, that night I lost both my parents, for mother was never the same. From then on,, she was a shell of her former self. When i looked at her, her eyes were as dead as his had been. She rarely spoke or noticed me at all.
Eventually she remarried as many poor widows tend to do. He was a foul man, in every way. His speech, his way of thinking, the way he treated the both of us. My every waking moment was spent trying to appease his demands, working hard enough to make him happy and every attempt failed. He would slap me, kick me and if i really displeased him, he would get the belt. My young skin carried ivory welts across it, adorned with bruises. Mother could not have stopped him , but she was gone inside herself and she did not even try.
As I aged, my hips began to curve and my breast began to swell. I would often notice his looks of disgust turn to leers. One cold night, I had escaped to the barn trying to hide from his beatings. I crouched in the loft near the hay with a blanket around me trying to keep warm. I heard the door bang open, battering against the frame. I shuddered as the cold feeling of knowing i was to be hurt slid up my spine. He called my name, called my filthy names, his words were slurred. I tried to crouch lower but there was no where to go. I started to move toward the door but his hand grabbed my arms hard and forceful. The back of his hand hit my across my face and I could taste blood as it dripped off my lips and down my cheek. This time his hands weren’t beating me, they were clawing at me. Ripping at my clothes, and then he was on top of me, his breath hot and stinking of the drink. I screamed, pushed and scratched but i could not stop him. I was powerless and for a moment I was defeated, I wanted to let myself go to the blank place my mother had been but i could not. I remembered my father’s smile as he would tell me stories and knew I wanted to fight, something told me to fight. I reached around scrambling for anything, my eyes darting around the room. I spied a broken piece of equipment not to far. I knew I had to get to it, I sunk my teeth into his vile skin as hard as I could, he cried out in pain and pulled back for a moment, I reached for the rusted metal as he lunged at me. I swung it hard and it collided with his skull vibrating in my palms as I gripped it. He let out a inaudible grunt and fell to the floor. Blood pooled around his head and he lay motionless. I staggered back, dropping the weapon. He would never touch me again, I knew it then.
I ran and I didn’t stop running, all I could feel were my feet pounding against the gravel. I knew I was never going back. I had nothing. No where to go, no money but I was never going back. Somehow my legs brought me to the graveyard. I wanted to see my father. The air was crisp and my dark hair whipped in the wind wildly. I knelt at his grave letting the tears fall freely. Tears for so much; all the pain, the fear for what to do now, my lost innocence. Tears seeped down my face in streams as I rocked gently back and fourth. I do not know how long I sat there my mind blurring in and out of consciousness .
“Child. why do you cry so?”
The voice was cool and smooth and out of nowhere, surely I would have heard footsteps approaching. I turned and looked. It was a woman, or woman was as close as I could describe, I had never seen anything like her. She was still as ice, her body seemed to almost float in her stance, her long dark hair cascaded over her silken gown. She was the most beautiful, most terrifying thing I had ever seen. I stood frozen in awe and terror. She smiled at me with an outreached hand. That is the day I met the elder Vampyre Countess Samantha Baily of The Full Moon Clan. Someone I would one day call my liege.