Progeny Magazine

At my awakening among the Gifted Ones of Lachiel, our world looked a bit different. 

There was a castle that seemed to reach into the heights of the sky, straight up through the clouds and beyond. A lake and a dilapidated dock led to a tavern that seemed to have been forgotten in time.

In truth, to reach that tavern, you often had to walk through the water, because the wooden dock — oddly — did not float. That always seemed strange to me. Whoever heard of a dock that didn’t float?

The land itself was shadowed, as if the light of the sun was somehow obscured or simply unwilling to reach it.

It was within these sparse beginnings, our gifted kind began to thrive — to interact, to wage war, to forge peace, and to form into groups of friends, foes, and families. 

Why were we gifted beyond the other vampires of that time? Because we could feed in the shadows without seeking permission. Back then — sometime before September of 2011 — all who called themselves ‘immortal’ had been reduced to a supplicating race beneath mortal men. Only with the gift of Lachiel did we rise beyond that. Not all who claimed to be of the immortal race were invited — only a few.

The leadership cadre were known as Arches, of whom there were just six. They were young then, and even younger, to the gift of Lachiel. To be honest, one could call them juvenile back then, and with justification. But, almost like a flash, years and centuries fell upon them.

There were many times, in order to have a meeting, our Source would chair because the process would often go: a hot word here, a hotter word there, and soon someone was biting another outside of the council chamber.

All this talk of biting reminds me of my visits to the Progeny Land as a familiar and later as a fledgling.

I would sometimes sneak out of my family’s castle. In doing so, I had to bypass my elder brothers and sisters. To be honest it was not hard. They were so busy huddled together discussing strategies to get laws put into place they did not even consider I would sneak out. But I was careful nonetheless. I had been warned many times by my fathers about the risk of going to the Progeny sim.  I could be hunted, bitten, attacked, even killed on the Progeny Lands. Like any young one I wanted to see, to watch, to look at all that was going on.

I remember the adrenaline rush as my feet hit the Progeny lands. I did not land inside No, I was blessed with landing outside in the marshes. I would pull my hood up over my long red hair and yank down the sleeves of my gown to cover my claw embellished hands. Thinking I was hiding my partially therian form, I would then curse the grey water that splashed over my paws. I had to be careful, so very careful, and sneak through the reeds so that every thirsty, thrill-seeking vampire on the premises would be oblivious to the fact that I walked among them.

The first goal was to make it to the stairs. But to be honest that was not very much of an escape because the stairs were in plain sight. They were steep and led straight up and when you were on them everyone could see you if they cared to see. As I made my way higher up those stairs I could feel my heart racing. I just knew it was just a matter of time before the noise would draw the gifted immortals to me. My only recourse was to make it to the rug. At the end of the stairs, I would suddenly find myself pressed against the solid, cool wall, only then realizing how fear had moved me there. I would stretch my arm, shoulder and torso around the corner; I swear my eyes also had the ability to stretch in order to see around that wall before being seen.  If I was lucky, the coast was clear and I could run to my next goal, a pillar. There were four of these pillars .. each one offering a backside and a shadow to hide in. There I hid frozen in time, breathing hard while trying to hold my breath, cursing my thumping heart until I deemed it safe to run to the next pillar.

Each time was the same routine. If I was lucky, there would be more familiars or new fledglings than just me doing the same thing. When I finally reached the last pillar, the goal was the rug. By the luck of my goal, if I could make it even to the edge of the rug, I was safe.

On occasion, a brave fledgling or familiar, or maybe just a crazy one, would put on a brave face and walk right in as if they owned the place; usually, they did not last long.

I know you’re asking — a rug was considered safe? Yes! And to be honest, it was the safest thing around. Safer than even the presence of the only two Diabolics of that time, Super Dexing and Saint. Because these two could choose to see or not see a bite. So yes, that rug was the safest thing around, and how we got it — and what it later came to mean — had no real connection.

You never knew when an immortal, in a fit of mischief, would think that one’s sitting upon the chair that allowed you to fill or withdraw from a blood tank created the perfect opportunity for an attack or opportunistic feeding. As you can imagine there were a few unhappy or delighted vampires depending on if you were the one feeding or being fed from. Because of this action one of the very first System Laws was created: To bite or feed while on this one rather small rug was forbidden.

So of course many of us familiars and even some fledglings found their way to that small rug. Some to watch, some to bait the gifted vampires, and some to test their courage.

Yes, you heard me right, a familiar and fledgling could be bitten or attacked. There was no law against it. Yes! It caused issues; sometimes even unsanctioned wars would happen without permission from the Arches or even the Diabolics over such bites.

You ask, how could one bite where it was against the System Laws?

I smile here and laugh at this thought. You see… back then there was no such System Law forbidding the biting of another. One would have enraged the majority of our kind if someone even considered making a law against biting. Hell, it would have started an outright war. Blood would have been shed during a council meeting for even considering it. After all, back then we were the newly Gifted of Lachiel. We were greater than all other immortals because we could bite who we wanted, when we wanted, and we did not have to ask.  Our Source gave us that right; we defined it as our birthright, this freedom. We were certainly not going to give it up through a law. I guess you could call us intensely protective of our newfound freedom.

These same vampires who were on the hunt were suave, and would pretend to befriend you — or even more. They would try to lure you in any number of ways off that rug. One way was by offering a Dancer, a small device that played music when you put it on, and would magically make you dance. It was great fun until you accidentally stepped off the rug. Or better yet, someone pushed you off the rug.

I laughed at the memory, and it reminded me… this brought about a game, a battle, a war… what have you; I am not sure what one would call it. But we stayed up there that night for hours, trying to push each other off or onto that rug, depending on who you were and whether you were trying to save someone or use someone as food.

Many did fall to these devices, and sometimes they made a friend; sometimes it provided a great opportunity to poach young ones from other clans; and sometimes the trust given was in vain, and a pursuit would follow.

We would watch, shaking our heads — not in disbelief, because we had seen this all before, but rather in shock that someone had fallen for this charade again. They would race around the floor, jumping onto and off the furniture placed around the room. They would zigzag around a corner, only to return and jump off the balcony, somehow climb up the outside wall, and pop in through a window, followed by leapfrogging from chair to chair in what I believe was the very first actual council chambers, only to find themselves eventually cornered. Those vampires — I swear they clung to you as if bound by some unseen tether; wherever you went, they followed, impossible to shake loose. There was no getting away unless you teleported home. Of course, very few did that. It was a disgrace.

We would all watch with our enhanced senses to see what the end of that day’s events would be.

Those moments were frightening to the very new, yet enthralling just the same. There on that rug, which provided us all with a feeling of safety to some degree, familiars and vampires talked; some made friends, some made enemies. That rug allowed more than just a chance to determine if we were courageous. On that rug… that one small rug, we learned about our world of Progeny from another’s point of view. There were discussions about meetings we could not attend, proposals some wanted to become law, and votes that were going to happen — many of which we had never even heard of. Hearing such things spoken aloud on that rug was rare, enlightening, and for many of us the first glimpse into what truly governed our world.

There on that rug, some discovered that Progeny was far more than their Sovereigns or Princepts had ever shared. It opened up a whole new world.

In those moments, when our race of the Gifted was young, we were unruly; we were ever‑changing Chaos — one day enemies, the next allies to an end. Maybe it would have been better if they had termed their kinship “frenemies,” just to keep the options open.

Some of those once‑young familiars and vampires still walk among us; some choose sleep instead of the continued gift of immortality. Sadly, some had to be dusted.

But in the struggle of becoming, we all became the truly Gifted of Lachiel.