End Chronicle
Part One: The Chronicle of Henry MacNeish
The mist behind, the world ahead
And there are many paths to tread
Through shadow, to the edge of night
Until the stars are all alight
Mist and shadow, cloud and shade
All shall fade, all shall fade
-The Return of the King
Philadelphia, Pennsyllvania
Saturday, Febuary 10th, 2004
10:15pm
Life begins in blood. Life ends in blood. For the warrior, life is one long chain of beginnings and endings. When the battle is joined, the one ends his life in the blood that is spilled, and the other is once again born to the life he would not have had if he had fallen. So this cycle continues throught their lives. Every day you are reborn, the death of sleep leaves you and you are given the life of one more day to live as you will. All the way until you earn the final rebirth, unto spirit, and the reward that lies after. Let the lord guide our blades, may each rebirth lead us to justice and the greater good of all.
Amen.
This is the prayer of my fathers. It is forgotten in my descendants, and in the past eight hundred years my lips have been the only left to utter it. I am Iain Neish, of the clan MacGregor, last of the sept Neish. Seven hundred and fifty years ago, Iain the elder, undying warrior of the MacGregors, gave to me the responsibility of becoming one of the protectors of the MacGregors, of Scotland, my home. And now by my honor I cannot return there, her hills now but images that pass beneath my eyelids at day. I have none of the purpose to which I was given the gift, the war and lands of Scotland have given their freedom. I had lost my cause as I staggered from my grave and fled my home, the lands of my birth, and I wandered aimlessly through this vast land that wasn't even a colony when I passed beyond time so long ago. The Scotland I knew has passed now, living only in it's spirit, and I am the last shade that lurks in the shadow of what it was. So I found some people to protect, to stand by, those two. And for a time my steel called to righteous fray again, whenever danger came to them, I vowed to the darkened sky and the Lord that I as long as they had need of me, I would not lay down my sword. And I have not. Though once again my honor accounts that I leave them to keep my vow. I will not lay it down.
The wretched shadow-man and his have grown in strength...far more then I have let the others know in my correspondence. I saw him drink the heart's blood of the elders, through his treachery he has taken the power of the ancients. For a time, I tracked him, dogged his steps, led him and his to believe that I was hiding the others, safe and far away though they were. Finally, I tracked him back..to Philadelphia, where it all began. I found allies. He found others. We dug in, and beyond the eyes of the city, we began to war. This was six months ago.
For six months we have been at a standstill, neither I nor he gaining any lasting advantage. The killing continues, the world has become blood. I am soaked in it, and covered in it deeper than will ever wash away. I have seen more Final Deaths in these days then I have in my entire long lifetime. None know of it's full scope in the mortal world. They know only that violence has increased in the city, but bodies never seem to turn up to the mortal authorities. Even the kindred outside of the city barely know. Thank the Lord for that...lord knows AJ might try to come back if she knew, or tell me to get out. She could do that sometimes...get her head in a world of trouble for her friends even when she couldn't do anything, she'd want to try. This is what I must do...all they know is that I'm off after that bastard Keeper. They don't know what he's become.
There's been word coming in...he's preparing for something big. We have him walled in, but somehow beyond our comprehension, he's getting fresh troops into the city. A vast number of fresh troops, and not just embraced either, from the reports. The missing persons rate hasn't gone up, and some flocking to him were recognized by the scouts. It's said he has a least two dozen ancillae and three elders...and what's more,the methuselah known as Morad. God help us all if it is true. My men are all stout and true, but they are young to the man. But we will fight...by heaven, we will fight. I fear far more is at stake now then even there was when I set out on this journey.
Watch over me, Anna. I may need it very soon.
