The Circle preserves the ancient traditions of the pagan gods, from the days before the tyranny of the lancea sanctum and their crusade to exterminate these ancient traditions, with your brethren you have danced, and sang, laughed and cried, made love and made war, while you have enemys amongst the circle their is no one you can think of who you would trust more. for now your in your circles glade...

... the gathered Acolytes crouched in the darkness of the forest.  No light touched their flesh but the thinnest streams of starlight which fought through the dense trees, creating only the barest ripples of shadow within the inky blackness of night.  Even their keen hunter's eyes could not pierce that absolute dark, and so they were guided by more primal things, by smell and taste and sound.  They crouched in a tight circle, hands and bare feet pressed into the earth and loam, swaying back and forth in absolute silence.  There was no signal, no spoken word or ringing bell that warned of the change, but suddenly each and every monster there reached deep inside themselves and grasped onto the Beast.  Each intensified the Beast within, throwing it out into the night air in an utterly silent scream to lay challenge to each and every other voiceless cry.  A rushing wave and tide of psychic energy that caught all within its sweeping force, magnifying and the combined energy of their wills as they clashed together in the most primal of combats.

One by one, the gathered Acolytes fell, until only one remained.  She stood from where she had crouched, the alpha among alphas, and reached her taloned hands towards the darkness above.  One by one, her sisters regained their feet from where they had fallen, the first whispered words punctuating the night air.  The ritual was over, and the Kindred of the Circle of the Crone were born anew.

Anca stood among her sisters, only just containing the fierce pride she felt.  She had done well, for a neonate, the strength of her Beast overpowering many of her more experienced sisters before she had fallen to older blood.  The aura that had finally taken her had been a competitive one, and she could feel the aftershocks of it moving through her body in waves.  She could not see her fellow Acolytes in the absolute blackness, but she could hear and smell them, and her unbeating heart sang to know them for what they truly were.

the ritual over for the night some others are going off to do their own things at this point, does Anca wist to hunt to make alliances or what?

Anca sought out the one who had led them, the one whose Beast had won over them all when the rest of them had fallen.  It was past due to pay her respects.

the leader gives her a slight nod of respect "How do you do?" he asks.

"Thank you for giving me a place at your circle, it has been too long since I danced among my own kind."

She said, returning the nod.

"I hoped you'd be willing to tell me a bit more about the Acolyte presence here?  How many do we number, what our role here is?  Are their other Kindred outside of our circle, or all we all Mother's Army here?"

She was glad the darkness hid the mistrust in her face, she could focus her effort on leaving it out of her voice.  The scars of her past meant she could not sit easy with the idea of power being centralized in one Vampire, it stunk too much of home.

OOC: He?  The leader of the Circle of the Crone is a he?

(OOC: Good point thought of retconning it for a while a long while, but hey not all hierophants have to be Crones) He looks like a middle aged clean shaven man, he is charismatic, capable, but she knows, brutal when he feels he needs to be.

"Were strong in the city, though not as strong as we'd like,  And a long ways from even contemplating a bid for praxis" He says sighing  "Maybe you'll be one who changes that we can only hope"

"So who runs things?"

She was unused to their being more than just the Circle, but she didn't want it to show.  In truth, she was still ignorant of most of Kindred Society.

"The Invictus Holds Praxis Currently, they tolerate us and generally leave us to worship in peace, in spite of being goaded by the sanctum into doing otherwise.