For many years I trudged the world with bloody sharpened ax in tow. I found myself first taking orders, then giving them to battalions and legionaries. I was trained as a dragoon by the people of Gaul. Then I was found nationless acting using this training to accomplish mercenary activities for this nation or that. It did not matter what nation my ax would swing for, as long as the pay was good and the killing was better. I would take to the killing fields for these prices paid with blood and treasure. On one unfavorable night a bad moon rising. I was the last of the mercenaries standing against a small troop of foreign legionaries. I killed the enclave, grit and blood, gibs and meat, fueled my joy! Until all but one tenebrous fiend was left, and he had killed the soldiers mercilessly, ceaselessly that I had commanded. This person, the last of them seemed more shadow than flesh. I tried to slash him through, and my blade was but a dream to this ghostly being. My ax so often striking true finding its place within men’s hearts. The attack failed I dropped the ax seeing that it was going to do nothing against this foe. I tried to grapple this phantom, and unlike the blows with the ax, I found a solid being.
I had a solid grasp on this man, and I have never had a man break my hold until then. The man’s eyes twinkled - he was playing a sinister game. Was it he or I that was prey today? Many men's backs broken when they found this fierce embrace. For one of the first times in my life I was in terror at this man's wide eyes and grimace. I felt an impending doom: then his entire mouth went sharp and his eyes black. He almost broke my hands by simply flexing his body. What gave this man such unholy strength? I had to release him the pain shuttered through my arms as I tried to maintain my grip. Why did I have to release him in this troubled challenge? If I could have only suffocated this being, in my mind I growled.
I would have rather died in this struggle than to discover the terrors of the longs nights. I would however discover these terrors that writhed and tore me apart from the inside. As well as the beast I was and the beast I was to become, I would come to be what haunts the dreams of others a night terror.
The terrors never escaped me they tore at me from within and without, these fiends about tormenting me with their devilish play, cursing me with their blood.
I screamed out to the new world, I would resist even myself.
As I would, as I did, as I am REBEL!
So I shall be, so it shall be known.
When I came to be, I gorged myself on blood of the damned, and the blood of the dead. I awoke when the sun was still full in the sky and as I raised my hand up. My hands flesh burned and splintered in that day's sky, and I screamed and damned the gods and men, that did this to me.
So I waited until the cool embrace of the night that came upon me. I learned now that the darkness was my mistress. I was abandoned in that conflict and burning day. It would not be very long, before I met another of my kind. These blood fiends were drawn to me as the leeches they were - The damned and their blood song.
The damned always seeking for more power, more blood and in our blood was power. When I met the second vampire in these long nights the man bore arms against me, and it was a hard fight, and a strange victory. The death of the dead my baptism into this world of hell I had long been born into, even in my mortal life.
The blood of the vampire I hacked through was spread upon me, and it sprayed as I cut through him with a final deadly blow.
Still I then made my way to a city unknown to me at this time and there I was to meet the first devil of my night’s life. She was drawn to me by the smell of blood, and I did swoon to her presence.
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Going Home By: Stephan Handbringer
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