09-26-2007, 07:55 PM
Volume I
A cold wind flew like a knife edge through the valley as Vernim Straith strided homewards. The trickle of the water matched his pace as he lumbered on, the calls of the Guar echoing. Ahead, the dusty ruins of Riverhold stood as eternal sentries,the legacy of their forgotten builders; before the blood-fanged cursed the land.
Now however, they had disappeared, for reasons unknown, and due to events ignored. What was important at that time for Vernim, was that he was going to get home. At long last, after countless sword strokes and bloody battles, he was back. And with a whole lot of gold, too. He looked forward to his hearth, his mother's broth, his brother's tales. He looked forward to what he had been denied for 6 years.
But as he stepped over the last hill before his family dwelling, he heard a rustling in the grasses. A shard of moonlight alerted him to his fears, a vampire!! Before he could draw his weapon, the fell creature was upon him, struggling for a taste of his cursed addiction. Finally, Vernim managed to draw his dagger, and he thrust at the vermin's throat. Stepping up, he paused to study his assailer's corpse. Not very well fed, it seemed, and young. But before he could determine any further details, a shrill shreek came from his home. Bounding towards his house, sword drawn, Vernim hurried across the hill.
The blood fangs were back. It would be a long night.
Volume II
As he dodged the rocks and leapt towards his house, Vernim became aware of the flames in his home being doused one by one, each accompanied by a crash, a thump - a scream. When he finally reached the house, no lights were on. The blood fangs were beginning their hunt.
An ancient practice of the vampires, this involved locking the victims indoors, and in total darkness stalking them before feeding. A muffled footstep from behind the front window told him all he needed to know. Using the hilt of his sword, he broke the glass and leapt inside; cutting down he who had been guarding the door. An eerie silver stream flowed through the window now, allowing Vernim to study his surroundings. The stairs to his left were barricaded - by whom, he did not know, but the kitchen lay wide open. The hunters would now be the hunted.
Creeping into the small cupboard beneath the stair, he waited. Patience was the key, as he knew that the clamour was bound to attract the attention of his quarry. Sure enough, quiet as a mouse, a looming shadow stepped through from the kitchen. Seeing his brother lying dead on the floor, his moonlit eyes flashed anger, then pleasure. And he began to feed.
Once his comrade, Vernim's kill was now this monster's carrion. Feeding from his still warm body, he did not notice the icy feel of the blade on ihs throat till too late. Stepping up, Vernim now proceeded to continue the hunt.
Wary of making his presence known, he wiped his blade of the filth and stalked up to the kitchen. Inside, the moonlight from the window enlightened specks of thick liquid: blood. He hoped that it was vampire blood, not his own kin's. Noticing a flicker in the corner, he realised he himself was being stalked. But little did his apparent hunter know his intentions. Just before he came within reach of the wrench's fangs, Vernim thrust his sword in the creatures heart. Yet there was still knifework to be done.
Volume III
The howling of the wind outside was the only sound to be heard as Vernim Drath continued to lurk down the lower halls of his home. There was a vampire here somewhere, he could feel it.
A creak halted his steps. The rafters perhaps.... or something else? Before he could react, a hulking vampire leapt from the shadows, knocking him to the floor. His sword slid helplessly to the other side of the room. So then, this was to be a battle in the old way.
As the vampire moved to strike again, Vernim dodged, but not before the vampir's sleek fangs cut his arm. It had tasted its sweet liqour, and its lust burned through it's blood-red eyes. Moving recklessly now, it tried to kill Vernim through brute force, but this was anticipated by Vernim, who broke his neck with a single kick. The corpse of his would-be predator lay broken in a heap on the floor. Picking up his sword, he proceeded up the dark stairs.
What he saw struck terror and fury into his very soul.
His mother lay drained and mutilated, a victim of the cruel forces unleashed on this fateful night. Where the rest of his family was, he knew not, but the window lay wide open, and in his heart he knew that they had been taken. The very idea chilled his bones. In the old days, the Order of the Blood-Fangs had terrorised the numerous villages in the area. Their vilest act was the art of 'herding', where a victim was paralysed then repeatedly bitten, in a way to cause maximum pain and suffering. Most of these victims eventually went mad, while the old and weak died from repeated loss of blood.
Cruel as these vampires were, they knew not the power of the vengeance they had unleashed.
A cold wind flew like a knife edge through the valley as Vernim Straith strided homewards. The trickle of the water matched his pace as he lumbered on, the calls of the Guar echoing. Ahead, the dusty ruins of Riverhold stood as eternal sentries,the legacy of their forgotten builders; before the blood-fanged cursed the land.
Now however, they had disappeared, for reasons unknown, and due to events ignored. What was important at that time for Vernim, was that he was going to get home. At long last, after countless sword strokes and bloody battles, he was back. And with a whole lot of gold, too. He looked forward to his hearth, his mother's broth, his brother's tales. He looked forward to what he had been denied for 6 years.
But as he stepped over the last hill before his family dwelling, he heard a rustling in the grasses. A shard of moonlight alerted him to his fears, a vampire!! Before he could draw his weapon, the fell creature was upon him, struggling for a taste of his cursed addiction. Finally, Vernim managed to draw his dagger, and he thrust at the vermin's throat. Stepping up, he paused to study his assailer's corpse. Not very well fed, it seemed, and young. But before he could determine any further details, a shrill shreek came from his home. Bounding towards his house, sword drawn, Vernim hurried across the hill.
The blood fangs were back. It would be a long night.
Volume II
As he dodged the rocks and leapt towards his house, Vernim became aware of the flames in his home being doused one by one, each accompanied by a crash, a thump - a scream. When he finally reached the house, no lights were on. The blood fangs were beginning their hunt.
An ancient practice of the vampires, this involved locking the victims indoors, and in total darkness stalking them before feeding. A muffled footstep from behind the front window told him all he needed to know. Using the hilt of his sword, he broke the glass and leapt inside; cutting down he who had been guarding the door. An eerie silver stream flowed through the window now, allowing Vernim to study his surroundings. The stairs to his left were barricaded - by whom, he did not know, but the kitchen lay wide open. The hunters would now be the hunted.
Creeping into the small cupboard beneath the stair, he waited. Patience was the key, as he knew that the clamour was bound to attract the attention of his quarry. Sure enough, quiet as a mouse, a looming shadow stepped through from the kitchen. Seeing his brother lying dead on the floor, his moonlit eyes flashed anger, then pleasure. And he began to feed.
Once his comrade, Vernim's kill was now this monster's carrion. Feeding from his still warm body, he did not notice the icy feel of the blade on ihs throat till too late. Stepping up, Vernim now proceeded to continue the hunt.
Wary of making his presence known, he wiped his blade of the filth and stalked up to the kitchen. Inside, the moonlight from the window enlightened specks of thick liquid: blood. He hoped that it was vampire blood, not his own kin's. Noticing a flicker in the corner, he realised he himself was being stalked. But little did his apparent hunter know his intentions. Just before he came within reach of the wrench's fangs, Vernim thrust his sword in the creatures heart. Yet there was still knifework to be done.
Volume III
The howling of the wind outside was the only sound to be heard as Vernim Drath continued to lurk down the lower halls of his home. There was a vampire here somewhere, he could feel it.
A creak halted his steps. The rafters perhaps.... or something else? Before he could react, a hulking vampire leapt from the shadows, knocking him to the floor. His sword slid helplessly to the other side of the room. So then, this was to be a battle in the old way.
As the vampire moved to strike again, Vernim dodged, but not before the vampir's sleek fangs cut his arm. It had tasted its sweet liqour, and its lust burned through it's blood-red eyes. Moving recklessly now, it tried to kill Vernim through brute force, but this was anticipated by Vernim, who broke his neck with a single kick. The corpse of his would-be predator lay broken in a heap on the floor. Picking up his sword, he proceeded up the dark stairs.
What he saw struck terror and fury into his very soul.
His mother lay drained and mutilated, a victim of the cruel forces unleashed on this fateful night. Where the rest of his family was, he knew not, but the window lay wide open, and in his heart he knew that they had been taken. The very idea chilled his bones. In the old days, the Order of the Blood-Fangs had terrorised the numerous villages in the area. Their vilest act was the art of 'herding', where a victim was paralysed then repeatedly bitten, in a way to cause maximum pain and suffering. Most of these victims eventually went mad, while the old and weak died from repeated loss of blood.
Cruel as these vampires were, they knew not the power of the vengeance they had unleashed.
