One-Winged Angel
05-16-2006, 10:17 PM
Well, here's the start of a story I have been writing. It's not finished, and I'm not sure if it will ever be, as I keep going on and on. This is just the prologue, the making of a new vampire. This is based on the White Wolf games, and if you have no knowledge of the Vampire games and their mechanics and such, you may not grasp this story too well. However, quite a few people I know have enjoyed it with little to no experience with those books whatsoever, so feel free to read. This is his origin, and if people want more, I will post the next part, which will begin to delve into the time I spent playing him. It will summarize the events that happened in the game, and then, later on, becomes just a story out of my imagination again. Anyway, I'm rambling...here it is. :)
Cold Stone and Lost Memories
My tale is one of slavery and suffering. Fate has been cruel to me, and my immortality has sometimes proven more of a burden than a blessing, though many would not believe me if I told them so. There is a sense of foreboding that I endure daily, though I cannot quite describe its source, and I have yet to come across whatever it is that causes me to feel this way. Perhaps there is someone of great power who seeks to harm me for reasons unknown. I would not exclude God from this possibility, but as of yet I have seen no evidence of His wrath, besides that which is rumored to have befallen Caine himself. I know only what my master has told me of Caine, and that is little. I question his very existence, though there must be a first vampire. If indeed this first creature of the night does still walk the earth, I cannot fathom the knowledge he must have gained over these long years. I wonder, also, if he has ever wished for a second death. I have wished it myself many times, but it never comes. I also fear it, though, for I do not have any recollection of my first death, just of the rebirth that followed. That, I can assure you, I would not live through again.
My mortal self is no longer a part of me. Somehow, in the turmoil of my being brought into this form, I seem to have lost it. My sire, though he knew much, could tell me nothing of it. I never bothered to ask my master, as he was always cruel and selfish. Any knowledge he had, he refused to share with me. It seemed, however, that Grimlok, my sire, had been in his service long enough to gain some of it. As for myself, I stole into his library occasionally and learned a few things. I have always wondered what sort of magic was at work in my veins. I have met other kindred, and no other group that I have seen has resembled us in any way, save the fangs set in their jaws and their lust for blood. My rebirth I remember in excruciating detail. I will not go into it, but I will tell you that having your flesh turned to stone can be a very painful process. I would only wish it on the foulest of beings, which makes me wonder what sort of person I was before I was transformed into this shape. Perhaps I was some kind of murderous fiend, or maybe I betrayed my country in a time of great need. I know not, and I fear it shall remain as such, for in my many years of wandering, I have not come across any evidence of my previous existence. I am beginning to dismiss the idea from my thoughts, as it tends to get in the way of more important matters on occasion.
As for my unlife, I can only express regret for the first few years, which I spent in the service of a man I will never hold any respect for. His name was Reinhardt, and the flesh on his bones concealed a beast whose torture I endured for decades. He used a sort of supernatural power that I wished I had never known of, as it became the stuff of nightmares. I do not recall some of the other few powers he exhibited on occasion, but the fire....oh I could never forget the fire. My body still shows some signs of the burns he caused, though few would actually notice due to the material I am made of. It was but a few days into my unlife that I first experienced the horror of the Tremere magic. I had always been afraid of fire. I was in the presence of torches and such every night, and at first I found myself running in fear every time I looked at one, but after the first couple of days I overcame it, though I still had an inner fear that never rested. One night, while I was still familiarizing myself with the castle as I had been instructed, Reinhardt emerged from one of the rooms in front of me. He told me to come with him, and I obeyed him, as had been my habit since I came into being. He took me into a dark chamber, where a stench overpowered me. I will never forget that smell, as it haunts my dreams to this day. Burned flesh is what it was, though I did not yet know that in my fledgling days. He shut the door behind him, and his face contorted into an expression I had never seen before. It frightened me, and in the torchlight it looked so menacing I would have thought he had made a deal with the devil and took on some of his features. He began chanting in a strange tongue, and after a second or 2 a flame appeared in his hand. I was startled by this and took a step back, but he instructed me to hold my ground, and so I did.
He moved his hand a bit and it grew larger, then he tossed it at me as if it was a child's toy. I screamed in pain as even my stone body was burned by this magical fire. No matter how much I slapped at it, it remained on me. By reflex, my then small wings even flapped to try to put out the searing flames, but to no avail. This went on for some thirty seconds, in which I felt such pain that I cannot describe it well enough for anyone who has not felt it to understand. Suddenly, it disappeared, and I fell to the floor, still writhing in agony from the burns I had sustained. He told me I would learn to shrug off this pain as if it were nothing, but at the time I didn't believe him. He left me there for some time, returning only to scoff at my wailing. It would be days before I returned to my full strength, and even then, the scars left on my body never fully healed. Grimlok explained to me that this was the master's way of training his guards, and that I truly would eventually be able to master my endurance to the point where even fire could not harm me. Reinhardt put me through this torture almost daily, but he was sure to leave me with enough stamina to heal myself. After a year or two, I did develop a resistance to the flames, but I could not shake the full force of its damage. In times of battle, I saw Grimlok take flaming arrows by the dozen without showing any signs of weakness, and I longed to have such strength. He taught me much about my abilities, and I soon began to master them, but the master was relentless. He would always find a way to harm me.
My love for the master was not always existent. There were small amounts of time in which I felt hate and utter loathing of him come over me, and I was on the verge of escape for many years. One night, I found my opportunity. Reinhardt left the castle for some sort of business, though we never knew what it was or where he went, and I happened to be in full control of myself at the time. I made sure he did not realize his error, and when he was gone, I sprang into action. My wings, though relatively small, were somehow able to carry me if I got a good start on the ground first, and I took to the skies. I thought perhaps I might have some luck, that perhaps my sire would also find it in himself to leave this horrible place, but he stayed behind, giving me but a nod in response to my look back at him. There were two others as well, but they remained at their posts as if they had no life in them. I vowed to one day return and liberate my brethren, but I did not know how long I might be away before I had the strength to do so.
Freedom At Long Last
I wandered the countryside for a long time, scared and confused. I had never been outside the castle walls before, and the world was vast beyond my imagining. I began to avoid the forests in my nights of exploration, as I had many times heard the cries of wolves within them, and they somehow sounded different than others. They sent a chill down my spine every time. Once, as I was flying above, I saw a huge form below me. I could not make out details, but it towered at least eight feet in height, and some of its features resembled those of a wolf. To this day I am not sure what I saw, but it looked up at me with gleaming red eyes and let out a howl I will never forget. It did not surprise me that such creatures existed. I decided that if a statue could live and have a consciousness, anything else I saw or heard rumors of was wholly possible. I saw many strange creatures in my travels, but always from the skies. After that night, I made the decision to walk as little as possible. Flight was always the faster way to go anyhow, and I enjoyed it. I still wonder, though, how my wings are able to carry me. I am not sure of my weight, but considering my composition, I'm sure I am quite heavy. Until recently, they have been disproportionately small, but it seems the more I use them, the larger they grow, and the greater my abilities become.
Cold Stone and Lost Memories
My tale is one of slavery and suffering. Fate has been cruel to me, and my immortality has sometimes proven more of a burden than a blessing, though many would not believe me if I told them so. There is a sense of foreboding that I endure daily, though I cannot quite describe its source, and I have yet to come across whatever it is that causes me to feel this way. Perhaps there is someone of great power who seeks to harm me for reasons unknown. I would not exclude God from this possibility, but as of yet I have seen no evidence of His wrath, besides that which is rumored to have befallen Caine himself. I know only what my master has told me of Caine, and that is little. I question his very existence, though there must be a first vampire. If indeed this first creature of the night does still walk the earth, I cannot fathom the knowledge he must have gained over these long years. I wonder, also, if he has ever wished for a second death. I have wished it myself many times, but it never comes. I also fear it, though, for I do not have any recollection of my first death, just of the rebirth that followed. That, I can assure you, I would not live through again.
My mortal self is no longer a part of me. Somehow, in the turmoil of my being brought into this form, I seem to have lost it. My sire, though he knew much, could tell me nothing of it. I never bothered to ask my master, as he was always cruel and selfish. Any knowledge he had, he refused to share with me. It seemed, however, that Grimlok, my sire, had been in his service long enough to gain some of it. As for myself, I stole into his library occasionally and learned a few things. I have always wondered what sort of magic was at work in my veins. I have met other kindred, and no other group that I have seen has resembled us in any way, save the fangs set in their jaws and their lust for blood. My rebirth I remember in excruciating detail. I will not go into it, but I will tell you that having your flesh turned to stone can be a very painful process. I would only wish it on the foulest of beings, which makes me wonder what sort of person I was before I was transformed into this shape. Perhaps I was some kind of murderous fiend, or maybe I betrayed my country in a time of great need. I know not, and I fear it shall remain as such, for in my many years of wandering, I have not come across any evidence of my previous existence. I am beginning to dismiss the idea from my thoughts, as it tends to get in the way of more important matters on occasion.
As for my unlife, I can only express regret for the first few years, which I spent in the service of a man I will never hold any respect for. His name was Reinhardt, and the flesh on his bones concealed a beast whose torture I endured for decades. He used a sort of supernatural power that I wished I had never known of, as it became the stuff of nightmares. I do not recall some of the other few powers he exhibited on occasion, but the fire....oh I could never forget the fire. My body still shows some signs of the burns he caused, though few would actually notice due to the material I am made of. It was but a few days into my unlife that I first experienced the horror of the Tremere magic. I had always been afraid of fire. I was in the presence of torches and such every night, and at first I found myself running in fear every time I looked at one, but after the first couple of days I overcame it, though I still had an inner fear that never rested. One night, while I was still familiarizing myself with the castle as I had been instructed, Reinhardt emerged from one of the rooms in front of me. He told me to come with him, and I obeyed him, as had been my habit since I came into being. He took me into a dark chamber, where a stench overpowered me. I will never forget that smell, as it haunts my dreams to this day. Burned flesh is what it was, though I did not yet know that in my fledgling days. He shut the door behind him, and his face contorted into an expression I had never seen before. It frightened me, and in the torchlight it looked so menacing I would have thought he had made a deal with the devil and took on some of his features. He began chanting in a strange tongue, and after a second or 2 a flame appeared in his hand. I was startled by this and took a step back, but he instructed me to hold my ground, and so I did.
He moved his hand a bit and it grew larger, then he tossed it at me as if it was a child's toy. I screamed in pain as even my stone body was burned by this magical fire. No matter how much I slapped at it, it remained on me. By reflex, my then small wings even flapped to try to put out the searing flames, but to no avail. This went on for some thirty seconds, in which I felt such pain that I cannot describe it well enough for anyone who has not felt it to understand. Suddenly, it disappeared, and I fell to the floor, still writhing in agony from the burns I had sustained. He told me I would learn to shrug off this pain as if it were nothing, but at the time I didn't believe him. He left me there for some time, returning only to scoff at my wailing. It would be days before I returned to my full strength, and even then, the scars left on my body never fully healed. Grimlok explained to me that this was the master's way of training his guards, and that I truly would eventually be able to master my endurance to the point where even fire could not harm me. Reinhardt put me through this torture almost daily, but he was sure to leave me with enough stamina to heal myself. After a year or two, I did develop a resistance to the flames, but I could not shake the full force of its damage. In times of battle, I saw Grimlok take flaming arrows by the dozen without showing any signs of weakness, and I longed to have such strength. He taught me much about my abilities, and I soon began to master them, but the master was relentless. He would always find a way to harm me.
My love for the master was not always existent. There were small amounts of time in which I felt hate and utter loathing of him come over me, and I was on the verge of escape for many years. One night, I found my opportunity. Reinhardt left the castle for some sort of business, though we never knew what it was or where he went, and I happened to be in full control of myself at the time. I made sure he did not realize his error, and when he was gone, I sprang into action. My wings, though relatively small, were somehow able to carry me if I got a good start on the ground first, and I took to the skies. I thought perhaps I might have some luck, that perhaps my sire would also find it in himself to leave this horrible place, but he stayed behind, giving me but a nod in response to my look back at him. There were two others as well, but they remained at their posts as if they had no life in them. I vowed to one day return and liberate my brethren, but I did not know how long I might be away before I had the strength to do so.
Freedom At Long Last
I wandered the countryside for a long time, scared and confused. I had never been outside the castle walls before, and the world was vast beyond my imagining. I began to avoid the forests in my nights of exploration, as I had many times heard the cries of wolves within them, and they somehow sounded different than others. They sent a chill down my spine every time. Once, as I was flying above, I saw a huge form below me. I could not make out details, but it towered at least eight feet in height, and some of its features resembled those of a wolf. To this day I am not sure what I saw, but it looked up at me with gleaming red eyes and let out a howl I will never forget. It did not surprise me that such creatures existed. I decided that if a statue could live and have a consciousness, anything else I saw or heard rumors of was wholly possible. I saw many strange creatures in my travels, but always from the skies. After that night, I made the decision to walk as little as possible. Flight was always the faster way to go anyhow, and I enjoyed it. I still wonder, though, how my wings are able to carry me. I am not sure of my weight, but considering my composition, I'm sure I am quite heavy. Until recently, they have been disproportionately small, but it seems the more I use them, the larger they grow, and the greater my abilities become.