<div align="center"><strong>Stráž (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=93697.msg4078385#msg4078385)</strong></div><br/>It began as a faint movement in the dark recess of the cave, strange and unsettling had anyone been there to witness it. Slowly, eerily, a shape began to grow from the living rock itself, first hands, then arms and soon came a horned head like that of a demon before the entire creature emerged from the cave wall. He stood there for almost a minute, rousing his sleepy mind from the quiet rest within the mountain. He always felt a pang of regret whenever he extricated himself after having slept in stone: It was such a wondrously secure feeling to be completely enveloped in its unyielding embrace, like having returned to one's mother's womb. But it would not do to remain inside, as he made a point of always remaining fed to the brim at any given night: The sleep, the use of<em>Bond with the Mountain</em>and whatever powers he needed to use when hunting meant he was drained much more than most Kindred on a night to night basis and so had less time for slacking off.<br/><br/>Soon after he stepped out of the mouth of the cave and surveyed the valley before him, both he and it swathed in darkness. He had come here to the Isle of Mull off the coast of Scotland as a sort of vacation from the recent happenings in southern England. As a Gargoyle he could not operate within London and so his duties largely consisted of policing the countryside whenever he was summoned for duty. He didn't dislike his work; it afforded him a measure of status one of his clan seldomly enjoyed and sometimes it included excitement at low risk. The last month's job had nearly cost him his life and he was convinced elements within the city power structure had been involved in the debacle. It was therefore he now found himself hiding up here in the wilderness where no one would ever think to come looking for him, until he decided it was time to return. The Sheriff would chew him out for it, of course, but he was simply too great an asset to fear any serious reprisals.<br/><br/>Clearing his mind of the troubling thoughts, he threw himself out into the air, a 100 foot drop below him, a fell silently for a second or two before he stretched out his enormous wings, catching the updraft and leveling out. He steered himself down toward the coast and the small fishing villages situated there. There was almost never any nocturnal drunkards hereabout and it was driving him nearly insane; he<em>craved</em>alcoholic blood and the misers on this isle drank far too sparingly. Even so his skills of stealth were stretched to their limits as he had to sneak into people's houses to feed upon them. He had just decided to try out the mainland side of the isle when he suddenly turned about and aimed his flight straight south-by-southeast. After a few moments he realised he was being Summoned. He knew he couldn't resist it for any greater period of time and so, with a growl, a settled his shoulders and prepared to make the long journey toward what he presumed was London or some suburb. It would take a day or two and he might be able to feed at some point during the trip, but be was more worried about daytime sleeping arrangements: Not much rock between here and South East Britain - He would have to find temporary and risky lodgings on the way.<br/><br/>All he could do now was hope the party Summoning him meant him well rather than ill. In either case, he would deal with it when he reached them. If this had been done to him frivolously, there would be a reckoning.