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isolated malicious Captain
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 Posted: Wed Dec 16, 2009 2:01 am
StoryLine________________ The year was 1357 in the Stronghold City of Red Clouds. The city streets sweet with the smell of death and blood caked lust. Children of the night, Nosferatu, Lamia all bloody paths lead to the same gate in hell. Simply put. A vampire is a vampire with any name he or she bares in any language. I don’t speak simply of only the Vampire and its slowly growing legions of covenants because no other Nightstalker exists. I only speak of them first as that is what I am. Three hundred and six years of endless nights. Born from the mud belched from a long lost Irish spring trickling into a dying pond. Descended of the Celts under a nation long been raped by the Romans only to be bent over a barrel by the British.
I run on to long of my own personal history. These words I lay down to let the dead rest are not just my own. They are a collective of still present and past lives. From the lips that have tasted blood, the ones who have tasted flesh and those who have uttered arcane knowledge to bless or curse a living soul.
Don’t worry this isn’t a simple tale of a vampire who wasn’t given a choice. Let alone damsels in such simple distress as to be saved so easily from the wicked witch…
There was small district dubbed The Hidden Moon by its many inhabitants struck with an itch for the nightlife is where most of us have wondered too and now reside. Webbed by wards hiding the very presence of vibrant life from those who do not bear the blood of legend and myth. The tyranny of human rule had come into full swing, as we were pushed back into the shadowed corners of existence yet there were those of us who fought back. There had been many but only a handful come to mind…
(This is where we add character profiles as if the narrator is listing the ones he remembers.)
The Stronghold of Red Cloud built upon the ashen corpses of my brethren. Once a land where we roamed free. We slept in our peaceful dreams. The noon sun baking the earth above us as others hid themselves in their own respected ways. Man, like he has always done sought to conquer what was not theirs. Awaking to the screams of so immortal coils being severed. Raising from my crypt to join my fellows at arms. Feeling the sun sear away my skin like so many others. The sounds of raged howls and smelling burnt ozone with every flash of magic. Heartwood, Silver, Iron and Fire put many down into the earth and upon the breeze.
The last of us fled to the surrounding forest awaiting our time of vengeance. Nearly a hundred years past in a blink of an as we watched from the shadows. Our green valley shaped and disfigured by stonewalls that hid the city of Red Cloud. For so long we waited, many let vengeance devour them, many forgot our cause. The few of us left sane slipped into the breathing city finding ourselves stalking the shadows of night slowly picking off our human prey to take back out homeland in hopes one day we would be strong enough. Strong enough to amass a great army to crush our human foes.
Nearly 800years have past since the day we slipped over and under the city walls and through its many gates. Slowly breeding fear and growing strength. Memories of the past come alive as I scroll these words from every edge of gray matter. From hence forth I shall write as if it is the present giving voice to those who had carved their names in history…
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Posted: Wed Dec 16, 2009 3:24 am
Gods/Religions_______________ Ninth Swordsman of The Ninth Tribe of the First nation.
The First Nation was founded by nomads. Claiming their territory with crude spears and bows. But the day Magdade forged the first blade began what seemed to be an endless war. The First Nation divided into eight tribes. Those who were to young to know the reason for such bloody reckoning from the first blade were shackled and chained into slavery. What do you call such a bloody path carved from war that destroys so many mortal coils. Faith in old gods all but extinguished. All but one of hundreds was still praised. The God was only praised by the ones he chained to be his children. The ones who would claim true victory. He watched his shackled and chained children grow in numbers. He watched their hatred and rage for their supposed masters grow.
The day a nameless young slave roared like a beast in his rage using his body as a simple yet effective weapon. Slaughtering his masters and freeing his fellow slaves he screamed for an answer from his god.
‘Answer me and head my words though you may be my God and hear my words I do not hear yours. “I do not see signs of your grace, I do not even know your name!’
The boy did not get his answer nor a name for his efforts. And so he fled into hiding from the war. Years past as he secretly freed his fellow slaves throughout the nation. Slowly he amassed an army willing to fight for freedom from the eight tribes. It wasn’t until he become old enough and strong enough to swing a blade that he heard the whispers upon the breeze. The whispers told him to use the shackles that had enslaved him to forge his own blades to enslave those would be his masters and shackle them with chains they could not remove, death…
The blades were forged and so many battles won fighting for only themselves yet with belief in their nameless god. Again the boy screamed but the sound he made was the holler of a young man as he beheaded each chief of the eight tribes.
“What is my gods name! “Bequeath it upon me and mine to give our rage a name!”
The God spoke not in words. Wind howled as Shindai rumbled lifting the young mans beaten enemies towards Chithai. The sky seemed to opened, devouring his enemies letting the blood drip from his maw staining the clouds red causing blood to rain down upon his children in victory. So their god was named by the visage he had presented to them. ‘Red Cloud, devourer of nations and father of the Berserkers. The nameless young man from that day forth was no longer nameless. Red Cloud himself came to his tent in the form of a great red fox covered in runes of silver. Red Cloud named the boy Rugaou dubbing him a man henceforth. Rugarou went on to quell and destroy the uprisings of those who would enslave him and his people until his dieing day. His children lived on to become The Ninth Tribe of the First Nation. Every Ninth child born to the tribe is trained and taught their ancestry and made Shaman. Rugarou to this day is still revered as being the Ninth Swordsman of The Ninth Tribe of The First Nation. Having destroyed the eight swordsman chiefs of the broken nation. They even still whisper this prayer.
Decide the fate of an endless walk upon a miracle mile.
Stare at the still sand in an hourglass.
The sight of pain lit with rage within.
Sorrow give me flight, death carry my wings.
I am the order of chaos.
Prayer to “Red Cloud.”
Rugarou The “Sheathing Blade.” The Ninth Swordsman of The Ninth Tribe of The First Nation.
Third battle of the war of ‘The Ending of The First Nation.’
Year of the Monolith. 913 A.R.C.
It was said that though Rugarou bared a human guise to his people he walked amongst his enemies as a demon. It is said he was something of a mutt. It is also said there may be a few that bare his blood searing in their veins.
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isolated malicious Captain
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isolated malicious Captain
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Posted: Wed Dec 16, 2009 3:27 am
Kingdom___________________ Chithail- Heaven
Shindai- (Our planet)
Ashedare- Hell
Oudine- Star/Sun
Red Cloud:
A stronghold City it sits a top of the ravaged lands of legend and myth. It is now home to every vile breed of human that tried to destroy its original inhabitants. Red Cloud was originally the name of one of the previous inhabitants gods. Red Cloud was a god in which devoured his enemies letting the blood drip from his maw staining the clouds red causing blood to rain down upon his children in victory. The humans took this name tarnishing it in an effort to destroy the pride of their enemy.
Hidden Moon:
It is an unknown district hidden from humans within the Stronghold city of Red Cloud where many creatures of myth and legend reside. It is located deep within the heart of the city. Though the district itself is not very large it’s a bit like the above ground capital for an underground city.
Iron Gate:
A pub dubbed do to its iron door set oddly in a brick wall within the district of Hidden Moon. The Iron Gate is a pub where many a creature of legend, myth and nightmare congregate to find a mug to drown in.
The Moors:
Not the best of names for a brothel. It is located just before a secret tunnel entrance to the Hidden Moon. The women who roam its parlor and many rooms lure in their prey seeking the taste of flesh, blood and swelled purses of any dumb enough to enter. Located beside the docks the brothel earned its name from the eerie depths of the river as it is a quick dumping ground for what’s left of their customers bodies.
Heldane:
Is an underground city for the shadow dwellers. The city is home to those who tend to abstain from human contact let alone the bright rays of Oudine. You will find Thieves, Assassins for hire, pickpockets and murderers as well as quite a few hermits. Many use Heldane as a place to seek refuge from the stress of the workings from the world above.
Forest of Vahnsholt:
The forest is where many fled from the humans. It is said to be haunted and only the brave or stupid hunt beneath its dark canopy of towering trees. The forest surrounds Red Cloud as far as the eye can see.
Calderu:
A grove within the forest of Vahnsholt. It is said the grove is where the sleeping kings await the last battle.
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