The Journal of Cathbodua Vitae

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[Cathbodua]

Entry One -

(Page 1)
Chaos reigns. It is the holiest night of the year for the Druchii, Death Night. Mother has barricaded the windows and doors of our home, but the pounding of daggers, feet, and something heavier and wet – perhaps our own slaves – against the door staggers me.

Afraid that my fate will end up like that of my sister, Xhyce ((pronounced Zice, like ice with a z in front)), taken to the temple many years ago to be trained, or killed in training, as a bride of Khaine, mother has shorn my hair and covered me with ash, to make me less noticeable - or perhaps simply because she's cruel. She bid me take shelter under my bed and to be silent. The imprint of her hand on my face burns still. I am such a trouble to her.

Will this night never end? I lay here on my belly, with the dust and debris. My only company is smoke, chanting, and this journal my crazy mother gave me to stop my rambling.

(Page 2)
Someone's in the house.

[Cathbodua]

Entry two -

(Page 1)
All I can hear is screaming and laughter.

It’s been this way for hours.

Wet screaming, hoarse laughter.

Ah Khaine! I hear them now!

They’re screaming at my mother! They know I’m in the house! Xhyce told them of a sister, the traitorous bitch!

She knows I hate school…

(Page 2)
I smuggled you in my pants!

Here’s what has happened to me so far. The Brides of Khaine are not fools, it took them awhile, I think because of the ash, but eventually they found me.

They think I’m a son! My stupid, imbecile mother cut my hair off and they think I’m male! They wont look!!!!

They’re in a frenzy and they’re going to throw me in the cauldron, to be a sacrifice on this most holy night to Khaine – as if I’m MALE! If I survive this.. there will be hell to pay.

[Ghazto]

so much foreshadowing it makes me go crazy waiting for the next installment.

can you go into some detail on what "Death Night" is?

[Darcros]

I really like the journal entry thing you are going for. I like the story so far even though details are limited but that is half the fun of the journal entry style and that is being mysterious hehe.

[Cathbodua]

((The holiest time of the year for Dark Elves is Death Night. During this night the Witch Elves rule the streets of the Dark Elf cities, capturing anyone they find (whether they are slaves or Dark Elves) and dragging them back to the temples as sacrifice to Khaine. The Witch Elves will even go so far as to break into houses, which has led to Dark Elf families barricading windows and doors during this night. On Death Night, the Witch Elves will also steal away a number of children. Girls captured like this will be trained to become Witch Elves. Boys are tossed in a cauldron of boiling blood. Those that survive are trained to be true adepts of Khaine: the feared assassins. As dawn breaks after Death Night, it is customary for those who lived through the night to make a sacrifice from their own household (usually a favoured slave or elderly relative) as a thanks to the Lord of Murder for sparing their family. It is doubtful that anyone would even attempt to defend themselves against the Witches, as the retribution for successfully doing so would be cruel even by the standards of the Dark Elves.))


((So basically we have a young Dark Elf female, young enough to be mistaken for male when her hair is cut off, being hidden by her mother (big mistake, hence the wet screams) which is most likely for her own selfish ends, to save her from being taken by the Witch Elves. Mom's a crazy nutjob, probably a Slaneesh worshipper, Cat never knew..but mom decided that she would outsmart them, and it didn't work. Now Cat's in a holding pen waiting to be sacrificed to Khaine in a giant bubbling cauldron of blood. I tried to convey young, eyerolling adolescent behavior, and this will change quickly soon. She's panicked and angry, so far))

[Cathbodua]

Entry 3 -

(Page 1)
I found this barely used, and certainly neglected, piece of my childhood in the old cell where all boys are kept before sacrifice. It has been 30 long years, and children still hide their curios under a loose stone, as I hid my own. I do so enjoy writing, perhaps I'll pick up the habit again. I would like to describe what happened to me, and what happened to the Witch Elves that stole me from my home on that long ago night. Fools pay for folly, but they never saw me coming.

After I wrote my last missive, I was shepherded along with well on one hundred and fourty other children - all male, except for myself - into the central chapel, where the enormous cauldron full of boiling blood was being prepared. The vessel was massive - even at my age, I could not pretend to be unimpressed. It was all magnificent. Golden engraving, rubies the size of a child and broiling the same deep red that filled the cauldron itself. Small details, really, but so few do I remember. I have not been back into that chapel since that evening, I have not again visited the place of my rebirth.

As we were climbing the steps, I shivered with fear. My mother was not a follower of Khaine, and I had never really experienced anything like this. And, I was certain I was going to die. The Brides of Khaine did not listen to me when I protested that I was not male, and I got beaten more than once for daring to speak a word at all. They really, really should have listened.

Covered in ash I was still, and dust, and the smell of smoke clung to my nostrils. Atop the platform, above the cauldron, I realized this was the end of me. No matter the outcome, this was death. A peace came over me, and I heard a voice echo in my ear, "Do not fear this death, child. They murder because it is what I require. You will see, you will understand."

I was numb, and I stepped forward thinking to throw myself in. Of course, there's a lot of pompous ceremony the Brides must conduct, and so they stalled me and began the ritual chanting, slicing, blood letting. My own blood flowed into that cauldron, I watched it's progress, each tiny droplet. I must have looked a small monster, standing there, barely four feet tall was I, with brutally shorn black hair that was a muted black-brown from the ash, and my skin a muted, pale pearl. My eyes were black coals burning from a fevered mind. I can see it now, quite clearly. Like I was outside myself - perhaps I was.

Then, I remember heat. I remember the taste of copper, and the knowledge that my eyes were open! They should not be open! They were burning out of my head. I don't know how long I endured these things, this drowning, this boiling. I do, however, recall the feeling of being lifted from the center of the cauldron by a hand that brought me peace. I remember floating above the cauldron, the remnants of my rebirth dripping from me, the golden glow of light that surrounded me and played across my naked flesh, and the gasps of the Priests, Priestesses, Disciples and Brides in particular. Ah the Brides. They screamed! Yet I, I wore the face of the saved. The face of the uplifted. The face of the chosen of my god.

"Khaine! Spare us!" was what I then heard from around me. I could see through the eyes of those around me, as if I had been granted this gift of seing my own life beginning anew. What I saw was startling. My hair had grown thick and full around me, pert little breasts had budded on my chest - I was, of course, naked, my clothes having been boiled and melted away - I was a woman. I was a frightening countenance. The color of the ash had not left me, I was still muted in color. Like something not really there. Blended and pale. But I was real. I was there.

Floating, I spun an excited little circle, then stopped. I felt cold metal in my hot, graceful hands. I looked to my hands and beheld the weapons of my destiny. Two of them, long and graceful. These swords were not crude weapons to simply be used in service to Khaine, they were extensions of my arms themselves. I felt my blood pulse in them as I felt it pulse through every vein and artery my body contained. It was glorius! I think I laughed, I'm really unsure, but I know the three Brides that had entered my home were not laughing. They were screaming - others were descending on them, grabbing hold, waiting for the will of Khaine.


(Page 2)
The next thing I recall was stepping back down upon the platform that I had been sacrificed from. A Priestess came to me with a chalice, "Drink, Disciple. Blood must first pass your lips." I drank, deeply. I felt good. I felt alive and whole and firm. I only half realized that I now towered above the Priestess, I had grown taller, as well as aging. Hmm. I let it leave my mind, no longer important.

I heard the echo in my mind and heart, "Cathbodua, you will exact punishment for Me. Some of My brides failed in their obligation this night, and this cannot be unpunished." My eyes locked onto the first of my three victims then, and I watched them arc into the air with her head, a look of comical surprise in the "O" of her mouth. The same became of my second victim, although her look was outrage. The third Bride prayed aloud to Khaine and bowed her head to me in supplication, ready for what would come. She did not die that night; she was to be an instrument in my education, though little did I really need. Every move, every cut, every blessed incision was decided by my hands which were the hands of Khaine. That, my dears, was a very long month for her.

[Darcros]

wonderful installment I cant wait for more.

[MiztrezzLyn]

Very nice, Cathbodua ;) I love the journal thing you're doing and that last entry was fantastic! Some really great writing, keep them coming.

May 2012

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