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 Posted: Wed Sep 16, 2009 12:12 am
The air is cold and the stench of death fills the stoned made chamber from all over. There are no windows nor any other noticeable features inside the large tomb-like room other than the large hole deep in the center. Inside the hole is a Rosewood coffin with black dirt packed inside it. No candles or electricity runs through the strange room, so everything is in pitch black darkness. The the vaulted ceiling of the eerie tomb stands thirty feet tall and the dimensions of the place is twenty by twenty feet.
The coffin, with the dimensions of seven by four by three feet is laced with fine red silk and beneath the smooth polished wooden surface is heavy reinforced steel, capable to handle any size caliber weapon with the exception of heavy artillery.
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Posted: Wed Sep 16, 2009 1:02 am
Already the arrangements have been made for the lone vampire as he seemingly glided to the heavy steel doorway to the underground tomb. Keeping his large black wide brim hat low to shield the upper portion of his face and his cowl close to the lower portion of his face, the creature of the night stood and listen for any movements around him. Sensing none with his inhuman hearing, the satisfied man placed an archaic key into a small key slot and twisted it till a click was heard. Pushing open the ton of solid metal, the mysterious figure glided inside and closed the door gently to leave not a sound upon reaching it's resting spot.
Inside the cold and damp chamber was nothing but darkness, at least to the normal spectrum. But behind the piercing brow eyes of the vampire, the difference between light and darkness was slim to none. He could see it as though the room was exposed to daylight, though in honestly there wasn't much to see. Set up by servants who were rewarded for their work earlier, was a large hole and in it, the vampire's most prized treasure, his coffin.
Gliding to the edge, the cloaked shadowy figure glanced down at the hole and sneered. At one time, he would of opened such a coffin and have his sword ready to pierce the heart of a bloodthirsty fiend. But now, this was his bed for as long as he existed. Four centuries and still the undead man has never gotten use to his resting place. Silently, the figure descended down into the makeshift grave, laying down onto the black soot of his unknown homeland. There his piercing eyes closed as his hand went over to the top of the heavy coffin and began to close it over him. What would take ten men to push, took only an simple tug from the single vampire to close the massive metal enforced lid.
Once more surrounded in darkness, the monster known as Solomon Mathews, aka Father Cain, closed his eyes, knowing nothing but darkness awaited him during his slumber, for he never dreamed of anything. At least, not since his change those many many years ago. Despite his long travel and even more dangerous confrontation with a few ruffians, the puritan vampire had finally found some peace. The next night though, he would go out for some blood to quench his everlasting thirst.
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Posted: Wed Sep 16, 2009 10:53 am
Awakening to the bleak void of light, the dark haired pale man let out a sigh as he gently pushed aside his heavy coffin lid, rising from his unearthly bed as he attempted to silently overcome the stiffness his body was experiencing due to his still posture in the Rosewood coffin. A dull expression covered his face as he adjusted his wide brim hat and the sheathed long sword he kept by his hip. Leaping out of the hole and onto the stone floor, the paraffin skinned vampire adjusted his cloak, dusting off some of the black soil that clung to his cloak as he began his walk to his massive steel gateway.
Tonight was his true first night in the new city of New York. For a brief moment, a smirk spread across the pasty blemish free face before quickly being lost in his usual stoic expression. Checking once more to see his equipment were set and ready, Father Cain left his new home to wander the dark streets of his new hunting ground.
[Exit]
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Posted: Wed Sep 16, 2009 11:31 pm
Fatigue plagued the puritan's body as he finally reached it back to his chamber. Mustering what strength he had, it took him twice as long than usual to open his large chamber metal door as well as closing it. The two deadly UV rounds in his arm continued to pulse as he felt the unholy light from the modern day weapon destroy more and more of his Undead tissue. Crying pain once alone in the darkness, Solomon removed his sword from its sheathed and glared in the darkness in disgust.
"Curse you, devils. Curse you, monsters and beasts. Curse you all for your darkness and wicked paths." After crying out his anger, the man took his crusader sword in his hand, gripping around the midsection of the blade and removing his article of clothing that was covered in both the blood of his last victim and his own, Solomon began the dirty dead of digging into his wounds for the poisonous rounds that ate into his inhuman flesh. Curses in Latin flowed from his mouth as he grunted and cried, feeling out the bullets with his fingers as his whole arm went numb from both the bullet and the process of removal.
Eventually both glowing rounds were thrown into the ground, illuminating the usually pitch black room. Squinting at the small UV light rounds, Solomon fell back and threw his sword to the side, hearing it echoed as it bounced off the stone floor. Recalling the entire combat in his head, Solomon attempted to comprehend what just happened. Did he just get bested by a mortal? Fury and rage overcame the dull ache and pain that radiated from his arm. Clenching and unclenching his fist, the man roared in Latin as dark devious thoughts filled his mind, imagining what the man's blood must of tasted like. Even better, thoughts of killing and eating his loved ones grew in him. A wicked grin played on his face as he continued to fume on the cold stone surface of his floor, his mind flowing like a raging current of violent thoughts.
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Posted: Thu Sep 17, 2009 9:49 pm
How time moves for an immortal is very different than mortals. Having lived for centuries, days and nights simply blended together and what would be hours would feel like seconds. For those who have lived their first two centuries, the feeling can be a mixture of depressing and disorientation to the quasi-recent turned vampire. For Solomon, time was still disorienting and upset him greatly whenever he found that he had lost more than he thought of the precious commodity.
The wounds from his scuffle last night finally began to heal, but not without leaving a few scarring from the UV burns of the bullets. Already, the room was back to pitch black darkness as the chemical the bullets emitted died off eventually. Despite the lack of having no light, the vampire's eyes adjusted to it and made everything illuminating. Glancing around and noticing his gear thrown aside, the hunger in him echoed pained and remorse urged him to gather himself together and go out hunting again.
"Our father, who arts in Heaven, Hollow be thy name..." With a bowed head, that allowed his long raven locks to cascade down to his shoulders, the puritan vampire finished his prayer before getting up, clothing himself and returning to his old appearance of the cloak wanderer. Adjusting his black wide brim hat, Solomon glanced once at his cold surroundings and gave a satisfying nod. Having gained a bit his strength, the undead swordsman knew he'd have to go hunting soon to heal more of his unnatural wounds.
Sheathing his sword and reloading his empty Lupara with another buckshot of silver, Solomon left the empty quiet tomb to head out once more to the city, hoping this time to be lucky and find a nice clean virign.
[exit]
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Posted: Thu Sep 24, 2009 12:31 pm
In a flash of light, the Immortal nude body of Solomon Mathews laid in silk coffee. With his eyes closed and his skin free of all battle scars and blemish, the over four century year old vampire slumbered in peace. Though he technically died a second time in the Utility Station, some liberating waved over the vampire's body. He wasn't just dead. He was truly Immortal now, or at least, finally felt that way. For many centuries, the being of night simply lived for the moment, believing his purpose was to bring about the word of God through the hands of his designed angels, the Vampires. However, tonight, that illusion was shattered and truth embraced him with comfort. The Void showed him the truth behind the night. The truth that laid secret in the darkness.
Though he looked newly raised, the vampire was far from it. Despite the Void saving his life and healing what damage he has suffered during these past nights, Solomon was mentally unprepared for the power that swelled in him. Not only this, but his feed of only animals and those two humans since his epic fight against three hunters weakened him physically. Laying there, the undead Priest embraced rest and the pitch black night, resting till the night he could come out of his coffin and perhaps extract his revenge on all those who wronged him. First an image of the Vampire Void Master named Veroen flashed in his mind eye. Then the hooded figure who Solomon has yet to learn his name. Finally the face of the human named Marcus. Soon he would extract revenge from them and from there, he would truly be free.
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