The hum of battered steel, reverberated through out the corridors of the vampire citadel, even though Vorador worked so far far below everyone
In the depths of the structure...
It was an arduous job he had taken on, vampires had little use for weapons and armor. That made it even stranger that an outsider like him would even bother.
But he toiled day and night...
He was the first human to be bestowed the ancients' gift, and the burden that comes with it...
Many had joined the cause, wishing to succeed them in their roles as pillar guardians, though many were reluctant as well...
The gift of immortality is like a sword with twin edges, that allows you to glide through the ocean of time - without succumbing to age and illness.
However the other side of the blade, forever thirsted for the blood of mankind, such was the tragedy of the first vampires...
Vorador had been reluctant, but Janos Audron had seen something in him- some greater purpose... And somehow he had managed to convince Vorador to join them.
He never withheld the consequences of accepting the gift...
He was inducted, and became the first of Janos' sons... And he had been looking for his purpose ever since then...
Now he was no longer just a fledgling, he was beginning to take on the visage of his maker... His ears pointed, his jawline more pronounced than it had ever been- giving him a stern strong look. His already muscular physique from his days as a human, had become so defined from hundreds upon hundreds of years of craftsmanship, he had some aptitude for magic as well, though it was never his true passion...
Steel was reliable, predictable... And required no incantations, to be deadly- or a general aid for that matter... No, it was what he knew- at the time...
His blades had always been straight, and polished to a mirror sheen in his days a mortal... He studied each and every work with great scrutiny, and now...
He was just as skeptical of his work...
His forge was a great deal different these days, he had unimaginable heat at his disposal- Magma veins that ran deep in the land's crust, had been excavated by him personally- he'd risked his life on many occasions- few other vampires even the oldest and hardiest dared not set foot in Vorador's lair... Of course complex tunneling was accounted for, funneling water into the depths from the land, to aid the vampire in his work-
He had been offered protection from the elements by his kin, but he had refused... He felt strangely alive in the heat- even if it scorched him... The water was no less hazardous to him... But he appreciated having a basin to quench his blades in...
The cave-like interior of Vorador's workspace, was cloudy with steam that stung the skin- and eroded flesh...
It wasn't pleasant Janos thought- as he cast a warding barrier around himself, before joining his palms together on the front of his tunics- taking great care as he descended the staircase- the sound of seering hot steel evaporating water in the basin subsided.
Janos raised his brows at the sight of Vorador when he paced closer to his son- steam dispersing around him as he looked on with intrigue.
Vorador's skin looked like it was cracking at the seams, in places... It had already. His face, his upperbody - was running with blood. But he looked unphased by it, the mere act of Janos dispersing the mist was enough for many of his wounds to start closing up- his regenerative ability was still wanting...
"You are gored, my child"
Janos smiled pleasantly, and raised his hand to cast a rejuvenating spell to aid Vorador's recovery.
"I know..." Vorador cracked a fanged smile, as he twisted the blade held by the hot tang that had burned the flesh of his palm- now also healing at a steady rate. Inspected his newly forged blade for warps.
Soon he was whole again, his features pale to the point it had almost become an entirely different color.
In time, living like this would leave it's marks on Vorador- Janos thought...
Vorador cupped his chin with his free cloven hand, his fingers kneading over a couple bony protrusions that had begun sprouting some years back-
He'd almost looked dragon-like... He let a deep breath escape his lungs through flared nostrils, as he dunked the blade back into the basin and shook his head.
"I assume you have a task for me Sire, otherwise why would you come to me when I could go to you"
He looked at Vorador as he nursed the scars in his palm while the look he shot Janos was one of inquiry...
Janos lowered his talon clad hand, and inclined his head- "Ah, yes... " He pulled from within his tunics a scroll of parchment, newly pressed- even vampires had gotten better at things with time- they weren't all spellcasting and consumption of blood...
He undid a seal on the scroll, and put it on one of Vorador's adjacent tables, unfurling the scripture for his son to see...
Vorador looked down upon the contents of the table, but didn't hunch over- he had made it a habit not to take postures that made him look small or unimposing.
"What's this?" he asked, as he used a rag to wipe his own blood, and dissolved tissues from his upperbody and face.
"This is the age..." Janos likewise straightened his back, and gestured over the scripture for Vorador to examine.
It was a curious excerpt that Vorador did not recognize, a foretelling of the future-
"The age..." Vorador lofted his brows and awaited an explanation patiently
"The age we must set prophecy in motion" Janos nodded, and pointed out one part of the text, isolating it between the talon of his thumb and index...
Vorador squinted, reading the ancient language he had been taught so long ago- though never opted to use much himself...
He looked up at Janos, who staredback into his amber eyes- then he spoke the words.
"Soul... Reaver?"
Janos looked kind as ever, his sons ignorance did not displease him.
"It is an important piece in the prophecy that will secure Nosgoth's future... Vampires are no longer being born... Man no longer wishes to cooperate with us... Our thirst makes them look to us as though we are savages. And rumors only poison our sullied reputation further... But the lineage must go on..."
Vorador looked to his creator with a tinge of concern-
"What must I do?"
Janos gestured vaguely at the forge- and left the text behind for Vorador to study as he began to ascend the steps once more.
"I trust your hand will be guided by fate, and I will return soon with enthusiasm to see your work my son"-
Janos attitude had been too cheerful to be genuine as he departed Vorador's lair.
Vorador picked up his hammer from the anvil near the forge- and held it up to look at it-
his mouth tight lipped as he pondered the meaning of all this... Eventually, he shook his head and prepared to make his last sword...
He huffed the word with distaste, as he began working once anew/
"Hah... Fate..."