#putting it under a readmore again so i haev it sourced on my own blog b/c i loved this one | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

Three short stories were posted on the official Swansong website, providing more information on its main characters. Originally posted on 6/20/2022 at “news.vampire-swansong.com”, this was the entry that feature Galeb, his origin story and his sire, Tavernier.

***

“Justice. You must understand, Galeb, that there’s no better motivation for our kind than the righting of wrongs.” Tavernier’s elbows rested on the ship’s balustrade, his chin perched on his interlaced fingers as he looked not as his progeny, but at the restless sea, and tried to make sense of where the darkness of the water gave way to the sky. The stars above were scant and the moon absent behind thick clouds, forcing Tavernier into the very human gesture of screwing up his eyes to see a little better. Of course, it did nothing. Light proved elusive beyond the lamps hanging and placed on the ship, their flames protected but still caught in the stiff wind.

“Whether it’s seeking vengeance for wrongs done to us, or making amends for sins we witnessed but did nothing about in our lives. Think of everything you’ve ever lost and what you could gain, in your mind and your heart, by preventing others from falling to the same ill fates.” Tavernier remained locked in position, finally certain he could spot the horizon, though it may have been a trick of the light.

“There was I, thinking the answer was blood.” Galeb leaned next to his sire, but unlike the elder vampire, Galeb’s back was to the sea and his gaze cast purely to Tavernier. He was examining the old creature’s form, from the blonde, bound hair on his head, resisting the breeze, to his arched nose, his tight shoulders, his narrow waist, his feet poised on the planks in their soft leather shoes. “You’re immovable, you know? Like a statue carved from…”

“Yes?” Tavernier’s mouth twitched a little, concealing a smile.

“… ah, I don’t have the words. I’ll opt for a pale wood.”

Tavernier let out a laugh and stood straight. “Wooden. Yes. You wouldn’t be the first to describe me that way. But I believe it’s more complimentary to be described as a rare gem, or carved from alabaster. You know?” He clapped Galeb on the shoulder and walked the deck with his childe, the two unaffected by the churning sea not far beneath them.

“Allow me to reserve for you the finer compliments, to be delivered at a time where you rightly deserve them. For a deed,” Galeb gestured with one hand out to the right, “or a misdeed,” his left hand reached out in the opposite direction, before he dropped both to his waist. “I’ve known you for a score of years, and you are still unknowable. You patronize, but you don’t direct. You advise, but I never gather you have any motives of your own…”

“And so this is why you ask again about motivation?” Jean-Baptiste Tavernier grinned at his undead offspring. “Well as I’ve told you many times, the righting of wrongs…”

“I am not some angel to go about delivering vengeance on behalf of the helpless, my friend. And nor have I seen you performing such heroic deeds, so clearly as motivations go,” Galeb spoke the words clearly, but found himself trailing off, “you must be lacking…” There were wrongs in need of righting, but he was too far removed from them to address them in any meaningful way.

Just over ten years prior, Galeb had first made Tavernier’s acquaintance, the two becoming associates and business partners. Galeb wasn’t blindsided by Tavernier’s eventual admission of undeath; he knew there was something mysterious and dangerous about the merchant explorer, but the vital parts he was missing were the ones regarding blood drinking and ungodly powers. The night-time existence was one he was more prepared to handle, having only encountered Jean-Baptiste Tavernier — in all their time together — in the hours after dusk. But when Tavernier, after five years of knowing him, offered him what he called “the gift of an eternity to explore, learn, and change the world,” Galeb wasn’t thinking about the curses that came with such an existence.

Galeb accepted the gift, but found it left him bitter and empty. Where immediately Tavernier tried to turn his childe toward growth and influence at best, or at worst, avenging slights against him, Galeb was unable to see unlife through either lens. He swiftly detached himself from humankind and living concerns, and closer to his sire, courting interest from other Kindred in the ports they visited, but ignoring the overtures of mortal politics and wealth. He was content to expand his mercantile empire and fill his pockets with the profits, but the day-to-day interested him far less than the night-to-night. And so, as they came to cross the sea on one of their many voyages together, Galeb had asked Tavernier again for motivation. And again, Tavernier directed him toward justice.

“Why is it that you repeatedly peddle this line?” Galeb’s buoyant demeanor had slipped, his expression blank, his words low. “What is it you want from me? I hear you frustratedly describe to others like us that I won’t be drawn on the matters of mortals, that you expected more of me upon my Embrace, and that my merely furnishing us both with fortune is insufficient. Do I disappoint you, sire?” He spat the last word.

“Do not call me that.” Tavernier held up his left hand, his right steadying his balance against the mast as the ship’s crew darted about, trying to control the vessel as it overcame a swell. For the first time in a long while, Tavernier looked unsteady on his feet, and he couldn’t meet his childe’s gaze. “You see me that way, but I see us as equals, as friends, peers, lovers. I’m not your commander. It’s not my place to be disappointed in you.” He lifted his face to study Galeb. “I am in awe of you. We’re told that a fledgling Kindred requires a mentor’s steady hand. In our clan, in particular, great importance is placed on lineage and the relationship between creator and creation. But here you are, Galeb, already prepared to step aside from the trivialities of the living and embrace the world of the dead. Your mind works differently to others. Sometimes you flourish, sometimes you lay as if you were a corpse, in need of affirmation before you can continue. And I believe I know what you need to become whole.”

Galeb forced a roll of his eyes and walked close to his sire, holding him tightly in his arms. “And you say what I need is justice. That if I were to adopt your view, I’d better understand my place in this world?”

Tavernier kissed Galeb on the lips and counted to ten before pulling away. “Set yourself a cause among the living, stand up for what is right among them, and yes, you’ll grip onto this world with firmness instead of just sailing on the tides from vampire court to vampire court. There must be an injustice you want answered. Now you have the power to address it!”

Galeb stroked Jean-Baptiste’s cheek before backing away. “There is. Of course there is.” He took Tavernier’s previous position at the balustrade, looking out to sea as the ship mounted a wave and crashed into the churn, sending sailors tumbling with shouts and nervous laughter. It was starting to rain. “But I maintain blood is the motivation, regardless of how you dress it in terms like ‘vengeance’ and ‘justice.’”

***

“Hektor, it’s been too long.” Galeb strode through the vampire’s antechamber and clasped the thick-set Brujah’s hand in a tight grip. Galeb had only arrived at Cyprus’s shore the night before, but whenever visiting a domain, it was his belief that early introductions made for better exchanges.

Hektor chuckled loudly as he pulled Galeb in close and patted him hard, three times, in the center of his back. “I received your message, though not long ago! As soon as I heard Galeb Bazory was sailing his way down the Mediterranean, and would be pulling into port on my island, well… I prepared for your arrival with what limited time I had! I’m frankly surprised you didn’t outpace the messenger!”

The two laughed and each took a mortal by the arm, placed in the hall by Hektor in the style of posed statues, ordered to not move until a Kindred came to claim them. Galeb’s prey had a dry trickle of urine down his leg, while Hektor’s struggled to move from having been held in place for so long. “I appreciate your grace in offering me a meal. I hadn’t wished to hunt in your domain, and Hunger stings after such a long voyage. I have to be very careful around my crew, Hektor.” Galeb’s fangs became visible in his mouth, thin and sharp. “They’re too well-trained and far too expensive to replace in every port just because I have an appetite.”

The two compatriots fed from their vessels, both man and woman stiffening and groaning, first in pleasure and then in distress, as the Prince of Cyprus and the visiting Galeb Bazory took their fill, and more besides. The air filled with the sound of the victims’ panting, hurried breaths, before Galeb dropped his mortal gently to the pillowed floor. Hektor however, didn’t relent. By the time he dropped the young woman, her chest had stopped rising and falling with breath.

The rotund Brujah wiped the gore from his mouth and dragged fingers through his knotted gray beard, forcing blood to spatter the tiles. “In my family, we consider it improper to leave a meal half-finished,” Hektor smiled through his thick facial hair, “but of course, you’re not of my family, are you, Galeb? Do you ever wonder how I know your preferences for feeding?”

Galeb stared at the fallen woman. Not the first dead body he’d witnessed, and unlikely to be the last. “No, I can’t say it’s ever troubled me. I doubt you’d be a Prince if you weren’t well-versed in knowing your guests ahead of their arrival.”

“Ah, well, on that matter you are correct. Praxis is a many-splendored thing, but does come with its share of demands… But you’re not here to engage me in political discussion, are you?” Hektor clapped his hands together loudly, drawing Galeb’s attention from the corpse on the floor. “Don’t worry about her. Someone will come to clean up the mess.”

The young Ventrue shook his head. Tavernier made clear to him early on in their new relationship that some Kindred valued life more cheaply than others. Galeb had long convinced himself he would see mortals as little more than feeding stock, but still; when presented with the unfeeling way with which Hektor fed from and dumped his bodies, and the rumors of the Brujah’s habit of tossing them off Cyprus’s cliffs, leaving families forever in the dark as to their relatives’ fates, Galeb clenches his teeth. There was a difference between vampires like he and Hektor, and it wasn’t — as Tavernier liked to say — due to lineage. This was a question of morality, and what brought Galeb to this island in the Mediterranean.

Galeb was in no mood to continue dwelling on the monstrosity of his host. “If my messenger arrived here, you’ll know my reasons for visiting, and that my stay will not be overlong. I promised high payment for good information. So tell me, Hektor: is the information good?” Galeb pulled a purse from his belt and threw it directly into Hektor’s cupped hands. The Brujah didn’t check the contents, but did squeeze the small pouch before giving a nod… which swiftly evolved into a shake of the head.

“Galeb, boy. You should blame that rogue, Jean-Baptiste Tavernier, for all this. You’ve sailed a long way and I’m sad to say I do not have the information you seek.” Hektor shrugged stiffly. “Only news you do not wish to hear.”

Galeb’s jaw once again clenched, and he ground his fangs together. He felt his hands balling into fists. Another very mortal gesture. Interesting how proximity to my mortal life makes me behave in mortal ways, he thought to himself before making an effort to temper his temper and ask for more information. “Please do not think me rude, Hektor, but get to the damn point. Fair or foul, I wanted to know the location of my mother and my brother in Constantinople. I doubt very much that you discovered nothing, so tell me what it is you know.”

Galeb had departed Constantinople as a youth, and not of his own volition. His mother, once named Jeannette de Bazory, served as an honored concubine in Sultan Ahmed III’s court in Constantinople. It was a good life for her, and a wondrous existence for the young Galeb, or Şehzade Süleyman, as his father named him. He enjoyed the luxuries of the court, the doting of dozens of beautiful, caring, intelligent women, and the love of a mother who adored him.

And then his father fell from power, and the young Galeb conspired, in foolish and naive ways, to have Ahmed restored. His mother, discovering this, and suspecting others might have done the same, sent her resisting son away from Constantinople before the Janissaries could capture him and murder him for treason. He’d not seen his family since, had never again set foot in Constantinople, and had resisted the urge to discover their fates.

But then came Jean-Baptiste Tavernier, with his talk of wrongs being righted, of justice being done, of vengeance for past ills. Again and again, Tavernier drummed into Galeb’s head that he would find purpose and satisfaction were he to revisit the past and see to it that injustices were answered. So, finally, Galeb agreed to sail for Constantinople and find his family.

“Answer me, Hektor. What became of them?” Galeb leaned forward, close enough to touch the bulbous vampire.

Hektor imitated an appearance of sadness. Galeb knew it was false as soon as he saw it on the Brujah’s face. Hektor had never looked anything other than angry or jubilant in the time he’d known him. Sorrow didn’t seem to appear in his register. “My poor boy… Ahh, Galeb. I’m sorry. I hate to be the bearer of such tidings, but I present you with the unfortunate truth that your mother was killed not long after you left the Holy City, and your brother was imprisoned. His fate is not confirmed, but it’s likely he expired in the cells and his body disposed of as that of a peasant or criminal. Always… tragic, when that happens to children.” Hektor offered his hands in condolence.

Galeb didn’t take them. He looked away from Hektor and out through an archway in the wall, where he could see the sea beneath the moonlight. “I… I cannot blame you for this, though I feel a rage stirring within me. They were not your responsibility, but mine, and I have been gone too long.”

Hektor laughed, much to Galeb’s annoyance. “And they say Ventrue are without emotion! Ah, Galeb. My boy. I truly am sorry you travelled all this way for such bad news. Still, you are welcome to remain here for as long as you desire it. I am always happy to host you, and your diamonds are always welcome in my court.” The implication was clear. You can stay, but you’ll be paying for it.

Galeb stood sharply, and once again clasped Hektor’s hand. “No, I will not be staying. Though my family may be dead, my journey remains incomplete. Tavernier says I need this to complete myself, or further my growth, or…” Galeb lifted his hand to his head and pressed his wrist to his temple. What was the point of this? How is this supposed to help me? What do you want from me, Jean-Baptiste? As Galeb contemplated, he felt that familiar roar inside his heart. That old voice, wanting to lash out.

Galeb locked eyes with Hektor.

“Can you see that ship out there in the bay, Hektor?” Galeb walked over to the archway, pointing into the distance.

The Prince moved to join him, sucking at some of the pieces of skin still wedged between his teeth. “Which one?”

Galeb didn’t answer. Instead, he moved back a step, and rammed his shoulder into the Brujah’s back, sending him tumbling through the archway and down the side of the building.

The drop wouldn’t kill the Prince. It wouldn’t even hurt him significantly, if rumors of his age were to be believed. But random and sudden acts of violence like this? Galeb found them to be very useful in curtailing the Beast. Even with his increasing distance from mortality, Galeb felt it better to unleash on a monster like Hektor than some undeserving mortal.

With vampires like Hektor, another purse filled with diamonds would be enough to make up for the poor manners.

***

Constantinople. Galeb recognized the streets, the sounds of a hundred accents, and when he forced himself to take a breath, he recognized the smells.

In particular, he recognized the odor of blood.

Currently, Galeb was covered in the tacky fluid, occasionally licking around his mouth or sucking some of it from his hands. He stared through a crimson mask at a Janissary he knew was named Ibrahim, the disarmed man cowering before the vampire. “Please understand, I’ve not lost control.” Galeb kicked the man’s sword far away, lodging the blade into the back of one of the Janissary’s fallen bodyguards. “This is exactly what I’m supposed to be doing.”

The Janissary nodded feverishly, his eyes wide, his one good hand held up in surrender.

“I’m not berserk. I’m not in a rage. I’m delivering justice in place of injustice. I find the entire concept ludicrous, honestly, but Jean-Baptiste says this is what I need to do, so…” Galeb thrust his dagger into the Janissary’s stomach and provoked a scream from the terrified man. “I’m not going to lie to you. You’ll die here. But how quickly you pass on to the next life comes down to your answers to my questions.”

The Janissary didn’t respond with anything intelligible, instead gurgling in pain.

Galeb wasn’t feeling sympathetic, squatting down and leaning over the man as he twisted the blade. “When I lived here, my name was Şehzade Süleyman. I was one of the Sultan’s many bastards. It’s possible you remember me.”

Galeb gritted his teeth. He wasn’t a sadist, but there was that growl again, deep inside him. All this blood spilled, and he hadn’t fallen to his hands and knees to lap it up yet. He needed to maintain control to get the answers he sought.

“Even if you don’t, these are the facts: you and your cohorts ousted my father and made him place his nephew on the throne. By rights, that throne should have been mine, but I care little for rulership over your kind. What I care for more, is the fate of my father, who I’ve found died incarcerated; my mother, who smuggled me from this place and was subsequently butchered by you, and your friends; and my brother, Mustafa. It’s his whereabouts I need to discover, to ensure wrongs are righted.” Galeb extracted the dagger, and as it left the Janissary’s body, a small fountain of blood followed, which swiftly formed a spreading puddle on and around the old man. “So tell me. Where did you put him?”

The Janissary’s eyes were shut, but they opened as Galeb struck him across the face. “Yes! Yes! Mustafa! He’s imprisoned in the Topkapı Palace! Please! Please have mercy…”

The vampire considered his next move. End this traitor’s life. Drink deep and leave him as a drained husk. Leave him in agonizing pain… “I’m not a cruel man, but I am who I am tonight, because of men like you. And frankly,” Galeb surveyed the blood leaking from the Janissary’s body, “I doubt you’re my type.”

Galeb gripped the man’s jaw and stared into his wide eyes. “You will not remember my face, my name, or what I asked. Know that you’re dying, call out for help, but forget your attacker.”

The Janissary slowly nodded as Galeb stood and walked away, the dying man’s mind completely altered, left only with a blank space where the vampire once stood. Galeb licked the blood from his dagger and winced, before spitting it to the floor. “Definitely not my type.”

***

Seven throats were cut in the palace as Galeb made his way to the dungeons. The fledgling Ventrue was coated near head to foot in blood, and stood on one side of the bars separating him from his mortal brothers and cousins. It appeared the new Sultan was keen on locking away any potential claimants to the throne, but desired to keep them alive, in case he required their support. The prisoners awake to see Galeb gasped and let out moans of fear. Words like “demon” and “monster” reached his ears from their trembling lips.

“I’m not here to harm any of you. I’m here for Mustafa.”

Some of the prisoners gathered to hide the soft young man, who closely resembled the more severe Galeb. Others pointed him out in fear of what might happen if they refused to follow Galeb’s command.

Galeb fell to one knee and passed his dagger through the bars toward Mustafa, who let the blade drop to the stones. There was no recognition in Mustafa’s eyes toward his brother, whether due to their time apart, or the blood caked over him. “Mustafa. You do not need to know who I am, but know I’ve killed the men who killed our mother, and I will do my best to ensure you one day come to power, as… It would be justice.” Galeb’s voice lowered. “This blade opened the throats of your enemies. Keep it close and do not hesitate to use it to protect your own family, when you escape this place. I should have used it long ago to protect my own.”

Without receiving a response, Galeb rose and turned on his heel, quickly leaving the prison. He only found one guard in his path, who made no effort to tackle the vampire when she saw the monster before him.

***

Emerging from the Bosphorus, the blood streaking and washed from his skin, Galeb let out a roar, giving his Beast voice for the first time since arriving in Constantinople. As he trudged ashore and in the direction of his ship, he thought of the life he’d once lived, the eternity ahead of him, and his connection to Kindred, kine, and the world. He reflected on his relationship with his sire, how scared his brother looked, how those Janissaries screamed…

As he climbed the side of his ship, making his way up to the deck, Galeb muttered to himself, looking for the last time at Constantinople. “I was right, Tavernier… It wasn’t ‘justice’ that would make me grow. It wasn’t ‘righting wrongs.’ The motivation for all our kind is simply blood.”

Swansong short story #1: Blood

Archived from the official Vampire the Masquerade: Swansong website.

Three short stories were posted on the official Swansong website, providing more information on its main characters. Originally posted on 6/20/2022 at "news.vampire-swansong.com", this was the entry that feature Galeb, his origin story and his sire, Tavernier.

***

“Justice. You must understand, Galeb, that there’s no better motivation for our kind than the righting of wrongs.” Tavernier’s elbows rested on the ship’s balustrade, his chin perched on his interlaced fingers as he looked not as his progeny, but at the restless sea, and tried to make sense of where the darkness of the water gave way to the sky. The stars above were scant and the moon absent behind thick clouds, forcing Tavernier into the very human gesture of screwing up his eyes to see a little better. Of course, it did nothing. Light proved elusive beyond the lamps hanging and placed on the ship, their flames protected but still caught in the stiff wind.

“Whether it’s seeking vengeance for wrongs done to us, or making amends for sins we witnessed but did nothing about in our lives. Think of everything you’ve ever lost and what you could gain, in your mind and your heart, by preventing others from falling to the same ill fates.” Tavernier remained locked in position, finally certain he could spot the horizon, though it may have been a trick of the light.

“There was I, thinking the answer was blood.” Galeb leaned next to his sire, but unlike the elder vampire, Galeb’s back was to the sea and his gaze cast purely to Tavernier. He was examining the old creature’s form, from the blonde, bound hair on his head, resisting the breeze, to his arched nose, his tight shoulders, his narrow waist, his feet poised on the planks in their soft leather shoes. “You’re immovable, you know? Like a statue carved from…”

“Yes?” Tavernier’s mouth twitched a little, concealing a smile.

“... ah, I don’t have the words. I’ll opt for a pale wood.”

Tavernier let out a laugh and stood straight. “Wooden. Yes. You wouldn’t be the first to describe me that way. But I believe it’s more complimentary to be described as a rare gem, or carved from alabaster. You know?” He clapped Galeb on the shoulder and walked the deck with his childe, the two unaffected by the churning sea not far beneath them.

“Allow me to reserve for you the finer compliments, to be delivered at a time where you rightly deserve them. For a deed,” Galeb gestured with one hand out to the right, “or a misdeed,” his left hand reached out in the opposite direction, before he dropped both to his waist. “I’ve known you for a score of years, and you are still unknowable. You patronize, but you don’t direct. You advise, but I never gather you have any motives of your own…”

“And so this is why you ask again about motivation?” Jean-Baptiste Tavernier grinned at his undead offspring. “Well as I’ve told you many times, the righting of wrongs…”

“I am not some angel to go about delivering vengeance on behalf of the helpless, my friend. And nor have I seen you performing such heroic deeds, so clearly as motivations go,” Galeb spoke the words clearly, but found himself trailing off, “you must be lacking...” There were wrongs in need of righting, but he was too far removed from them to address them in any meaningful way.

Just over ten years prior, Galeb had first made Tavernier’s acquaintance, the two becoming associates and business partners. Galeb wasn’t blindsided by Tavernier’s eventual admission of undeath; he knew there was something mysterious and dangerous about the merchant explorer, but the vital parts he was missing were the ones regarding blood drinking and ungodly powers. The night-time existence was one he was more prepared to handle, having only encountered Jean-Baptiste Tavernier — in all their time together — in the hours after dusk. But when Tavernier, after five years of knowing him, offered him what he called “the gift of an eternity to explore, learn, and change the world,” Galeb wasn’t thinking about the curses that came with such an existence.

Galeb accepted the gift, but found it left him bitter and empty. Where immediately Tavernier tried to turn his childe toward growth and influence at best, or at worst, avenging slights against him, Galeb was unable to see unlife through either lens. He swiftly detached himself from humankind and living concerns, and closer to his sire, courting interest from other Kindred in the ports they visited, but ignoring the overtures of mortal politics and wealth. He was content to expand his mercantile empire and fill his pockets with the profits, but the day-to-day interested him far less than the night-to-night. And so, as they came to cross the sea on one of their many voyages together, Galeb had asked Tavernier again for motivation. And again, Tavernier directed him toward justice.

“Why is it that you repeatedly peddle this line?” Galeb’s buoyant demeanor had slipped, his expression blank, his words low. “What is it you want from me? I hear you frustratedly describe to others like us that I won’t be drawn on the matters of mortals, that you expected more of me upon my Embrace, and that my merely furnishing us both with fortune is insufficient. Do I disappoint you, sire?” He spat the last word.

“Do not call me that.” Tavernier held up his left hand, his right steadying his balance against the mast as the ship’s crew darted about, trying to control the vessel as it overcame a swell. For the first time in a long while, Tavernier looked unsteady on his feet, and he couldn’t meet his childe’s gaze. “You see me that way, but I see us as equals, as friends, peers, lovers. I’m not your commander. It’s not my place to be disappointed in you.” He lifted his face to study Galeb. “I am in awe of you. We’re told that a fledgling Kindred requires a mentor’s steady hand. In our clan, in particular, great importance is placed on lineage and the relationship between creator and creation. But here you are, Galeb, already prepared to step aside from the trivialities of the living and embrace the world of the dead. Your mind works differently to others. Sometimes you flourish, sometimes you lay as if you were a corpse, in need of affirmation before you can continue. And I believe I know what you need to become whole.”

Galeb forced a roll of his eyes and walked close to his sire, holding him tightly in his arms. “And you say what I need is justice. That if I were to adopt your view, I'd better understand my place in this world?”