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first off...very bad at grammer so dont hold that against me. Secondly his name was undetermined so i filled it in with my username here (woohoo right?) so ya just what i could post n write here...copying from my notebook isnt fun.
The weak light filtered through the window. Scarring on him all that it touched this fresh pain brought a smile to his face. Between clenched teeth he felt the burn as each second it was a wave of horror upon his flesh. “Enough..” he thought to himself, pulling his hand away. The pain was needed though, to make one of immortal turmoil feel alive tonight. Sundown was not coming soon enough the young one seemed to think as he paced. 200 years of peace, 200 years of ignorance, 200 years of false security. This is what the ruling vampires brought, the noble ones. The First, the pathetic Patriarchs of Hominous Nocturnal. They would pay for their crime was this young one’s sovereign pledge. His promise to the ethereal moon would be fulfilled.
Grabbing what supplies he needed he ran out of the door to the bustling city. Locking was not needed as this place was void of all life and seemed to forbade all that approached it. Happily leaving it unlocked and unguarded he shuffled through the busy traffic of humans. Their filthy smell wafting through the air to his attuned sense of smell was more than enough to make him want to gag. They were pathetic excuses in creation. Weak, short-lived, and driven by emotions. They were all that was weak and the reason that everything seemed a darker grey than normal. Hating them for no other reason than that he would angrily shove one or two here. It progressed the neared to their scent he came to be. Striving for control over the animal inside was not the easiest task. Finally, the crowd broke apart and away to tranquil emptiness. Wrapping the darkness around his cold flesh he descended into the darkness of Elune Cemetery, the only site where the privileged few among The First could exist in secret.
Wound in secrets and strange runes the cemetery ran around in an odd pattern portraying nothing of his or their kind. Nothing of symbolism to say the least even, let alone poetic justice. Shining down in strands upon the cold, hard tombstones and mausoleums, the moon was the last life to be here. Never going further in the shadows of these rows upon rows would it penetrate. Only touching the rim, the lip, of the extensive grounds. It mingled with the flowers. Singing a song of life forgotten of long ago it splashed upon the plants and vegetation.
Zevika, our lone damned soul, wandered among the dead here. Gliding it seemed over stone after stone his shining blue eyes were fixed upon one target. Like a beast he moved undeterred and undaunted by the seemingly endless search. In the end his labors were proven to be justified as he fell down with his last strength upon the tomb of choice. Down on the ground in front of the last great monument to time’s ravages. Towering over the land it brought wonder and awe to any that had seen it. Not to our soul here though. Here it brought more hate and distaste. Setting hands upon the cold stone from where he lay was no easier than finding this place of woe.
Crouched now on the dewy ground new strength coursed through the limbs of the broken body he had to live in. Gripping the stone with malice, hands digging into the thick concrete and stone. Lifting with all his heart would give, the stone was moved slowly at first. Crumbling from the rubbing between two pieces of ancient earth and rock fell down upon the blades of grass. The grass hated this feeling Zevika could sense. “ARRRRGH” his cry rang through the night like a bullet into the heart of any passerby. The slab moved now flinging through the air crashing into the wall opposite. Sliding down to the floor dust filled the room and ran its course into his body. Slightly covering his smile that had become mixed with a cough from the dust he jumped into the pitch black darkness into where his future would be decided.
The weak light filtered through the window. Scarring on him all that it touched this fresh pain brought a smile to his face. Between clenched teeth he felt the burn as each second it was a wave of horror upon his flesh. “Enough..” he thought to himself, pulling his hand away. The pain was needed though, to make one of immortal turmoil feel alive tonight. Sundown was not coming soon enough the young one seemed to think as he paced. 200 years of peace, 200 years of ignorance, 200 years of false security. This is what the ruling vampires brought, the noble ones. The First, the pathetic Patriarchs of Hominous Nocturnal. They would pay for their crime was this young one’s sovereign pledge. His promise to the ethereal moon would be fulfilled.
Grabbing what supplies he needed he ran out of the door to the bustling city. Locking was not needed as this place was void of all life and seemed to forbade all that approached it. Happily leaving it unlocked and unguarded he shuffled through the busy traffic of humans. Their filthy smell wafting through the air to his attuned sense of smell was more than enough to make him want to gag. They were pathetic excuses in creation. Weak, short-lived, and driven by emotions. They were all that was weak and the reason that everything seemed a darker grey than normal. Hating them for no other reason than that he would angrily shove one or two here. It progressed the neared to their scent he came to be. Striving for control over the animal inside was not the easiest task. Finally, the crowd broke apart and away to tranquil emptiness. Wrapping the darkness around his cold flesh he descended into the darkness of Elune Cemetery, the only site where the privileged few among The First could exist in secret.
Wound in secrets and strange runes the cemetery ran around in an odd pattern portraying nothing of his or their kind. Nothing of symbolism to say the least even, let alone poetic justice. Shining down in strands upon the cold, hard tombstones and mausoleums, the moon was the last life to be here. Never going further in the shadows of these rows upon rows would it penetrate. Only touching the rim, the lip, of the extensive grounds. It mingled with the flowers. Singing a song of life forgotten of long ago it splashed upon the plants and vegetation.
Zevika, our lone damned soul, wandered among the dead here. Gliding it seemed over stone after stone his shining blue eyes were fixed upon one target. Like a beast he moved undeterred and undaunted by the seemingly endless search. In the end his labors were proven to be justified as he fell down with his last strength upon the tomb of choice. Down on the ground in front of the last great monument to time’s ravages. Towering over the land it brought wonder and awe to any that had seen it. Not to our soul here though. Here it brought more hate and distaste. Setting hands upon the cold stone from where he lay was no easier than finding this place of woe.
Crouched now on the dewy ground new strength coursed through the limbs of the broken body he had to live in. Gripping the stone with malice, hands digging into the thick concrete and stone. Lifting with all his heart would give, the stone was moved slowly at first. Crumbling from the rubbing between two pieces of ancient earth and rock fell down upon the blades of grass. The grass hated this feeling Zevika could sense. “ARRRRGH” his cry rang through the night like a bullet into the heart of any passerby. The slab moved now flinging through the air crashing into the wall opposite. Sliding down to the floor dust filled the room and ran its course into his body. Slightly covering his smile that had become mixed with a cough from the dust he jumped into the pitch black darkness into where his future would be decided.
