Chapter 2
Aurelius. The pride of Vasserbunde. One of the greatest defenders of Nosgoth. He was a Knight in the court of King Frederick of Stahlberg, and had been given command of a platoon of troops during a battle against the Ward and his minions. He and his soldiers were riding through a forest when dozens of armored troops leapt at them from the surrounding cover. Surprised and overwhelmed, his men had no chance. Sir Aurelius of Vasserbunde, heir to the noble house, had fallen to a simple ambush. He was forced to watch as each of his men were impaled upon their own blades. He was about to give in to the weakness and bloodloss when a figure in a red robe seemed to appear out of the darkness. The being had large, pointed ears and no hair at all. Strangest of all, it appeared that it had dark green skin. The Ward troopers hesitated for a moment before attacking the figure. They would not live to regret it.
The figure seemed to move on air, dodging blades while his own weaved in and out like a sewing needle. His strange, flamebridged sword darted into one of the minions, going through him as if the steel were butter. Three of them leapt at the figure, who seemed to become absolutely nothing. The troopers collided with eachother, and as they fell, the figure re-appeared, quickly dispatching them all. The remaining troopers turned to run, and the figure appeared to let them go as he turned to Aurelius.
"You are dying."
Aurelius attempted to nod, but could not summon the strength. The creature lifted its arm, and swiped at its wrist with a strange clawed hand. Blood dripped onto Aurelius' face. Cold blood.
"You are... a Vampire!" the dying Knight whispered.
"Mortal, you have not the time for a philosophical dilemma."
As the Vampire's blood seeped into Aurelius' wounds, the noble Knight could feel strange strength rising within him. Soon, the Vampire turned, and held his hand over a dead soldier of Aurelius' command, a 16 year old lad from Stahlberg who had spoken often about the girl he wished to marry. Aurelius watched in horror as the young lad's wounds began to tremble. Suddenly, a thick stream of blood erupted from the boy's mangled chest and flew directly into the monster's open mouth. This grisly scene went on for a few more seconds before the stream ended and the Vampire turned.
"You must feed, fledgling."
Aurelius shook his head.
"Not on my men. Not on anyone! Demon! Why did you curse me so?!"
The beast sighed.
"I shall never know what Master Janos saw in you cattle. Why do you speak to me so? Did I not save your life when it was forfeit? Did I kill your men? I fed on one who was already dead. Do you not also feed on slain creatures?"
"Do not twist words with me, monster! You robbed me of Paradise!"
"Die then, if you so wish. Return to your friends and loved ones, and watch them murder you without a second thought."
The Vampire turned and vanished down the forest trail, leaving Aurelius alone. He knew that the monster was right, that King Frederick would never accept him back. Damn that Vampire! He had been robbed of his birthright. Robbed!
The Knight stood up and looked down at his chest. There had been a deep gash, where the enemy's axe had bit into him. Now, however, the wound was healed and, even more shocking to him, his skin was almost completely plae. He was truly a Vampire. Aurelius recoiled in horrorat this affirmation, and picked up his sword from where it had fallen when he had been defeated. He turned the sword around, held the blade to his abdomen, and, uttering a prayer, impaled himself.
Aurelius had always believed that Vampires felt no pain, and died instantly when impaled. He had believed that those who are walking corpses feel nothing. He discovered that this theory was seriously flawed. Pain ripped through his entire body, and his knees buckled. He found just enough strength to pull the sword from his body before collapsing to the earth. He felt a horrible constriction in his throat, and his tongue shriveled from thirst.
He needed blood.
He had been so adamant about not feeding. Only moments before he practically swore that he would never drink the blood of another. He had not been dying then. He opened his mouth, and felt a strange current of air entering into his throat. He inhaled slightly, as if preparing to take a breath, and suddely discovered that a thick stream of human blood was jetting into his mouth.
It was delicious.
Never before had he tasted anything so exquisite. It tasted of beef and boar, mead and wine. He felt as a newborn, hungrily suckling on a mother's teat for more rick milk. He stood up as his strength returned, still feeding. When the stream finished, he kept his mouth open and eyes closed, reveling in the taste of the blood and the strength it brought. He opened his eyes and saw that he had fed upon his lieutenant, a brave man who died trying to defend him. Died trying being the operative words, he grimaced.
Aurelius turned and began to feed on another fallen soldier, not bothering to check if he were friend or foe. As fresh blood surged through his veins, he could feel strength inside him, the likes of which he had never experienced.The taste was dizzying; it was a wonder that the Vampires did not kill hundreds each night! How they controlled themselves was beyond him. As he fed, he realized that if people allowed Vampires to feed on their newly dead, there would be no more atacks. The selfishness of Humans forced his kind to feed on the living. It took him a few moemnts to realize that he had referred to Vampires as "his kind."
He took a seat and tried to remember what he knew of Vampires. The Sarafan taught that the Vampires were an unholy abomination and a murderous plague upon the land. Yet, try as he might, he could remember no more than three or four instances of Vampire attacks. More people were killed by other Humans in a single week in Vasserbunde than had been slain by Vampires in his entire life. When he thought of how many Vampires were killed by Humans, he shuddered. Vasserbunde alone had put at least two thousand of them to the sword, many impaled in large killing fields amongst hundreds of their brethren.
Aurelius had believed that Vampires were evil. He had always been taught that they were completely evil. But he was not evil' neither, apparently, was the one who had saed him. The Knight-turned-night dweller pondered this as he picked up his sword. He would have to find that other Vampire. Then... then, he could decide what to do.
Aurelius. The pride of Vasserbunde. One of the greatest defenders of Nosgoth. He was a Knight in the court of King Frederick of Stahlberg, and had been given command of a platoon of troops during a battle against the Ward and his minions. He and his soldiers were riding through a forest when dozens of armored troops leapt at them from the surrounding cover. Surprised and overwhelmed, his men had no chance. Sir Aurelius of Vasserbunde, heir to the noble house, had fallen to a simple ambush. He was forced to watch as each of his men were impaled upon their own blades. He was about to give in to the weakness and bloodloss when a figure in a red robe seemed to appear out of the darkness. The being had large, pointed ears and no hair at all. Strangest of all, it appeared that it had dark green skin. The Ward troopers hesitated for a moment before attacking the figure. They would not live to regret it.
The figure seemed to move on air, dodging blades while his own weaved in and out like a sewing needle. His strange, flamebridged sword darted into one of the minions, going through him as if the steel were butter. Three of them leapt at the figure, who seemed to become absolutely nothing. The troopers collided with eachother, and as they fell, the figure re-appeared, quickly dispatching them all. The remaining troopers turned to run, and the figure appeared to let them go as he turned to Aurelius.
"You are dying."
Aurelius attempted to nod, but could not summon the strength. The creature lifted its arm, and swiped at its wrist with a strange clawed hand. Blood dripped onto Aurelius' face. Cold blood.
"You are... a Vampire!" the dying Knight whispered.
"Mortal, you have not the time for a philosophical dilemma."
As the Vampire's blood seeped into Aurelius' wounds, the noble Knight could feel strange strength rising within him. Soon, the Vampire turned, and held his hand over a dead soldier of Aurelius' command, a 16 year old lad from Stahlberg who had spoken often about the girl he wished to marry. Aurelius watched in horror as the young lad's wounds began to tremble. Suddenly, a thick stream of blood erupted from the boy's mangled chest and flew directly into the monster's open mouth. This grisly scene went on for a few more seconds before the stream ended and the Vampire turned.
"You must feed, fledgling."
Aurelius shook his head.
"Not on my men. Not on anyone! Demon! Why did you curse me so?!"
The beast sighed.
"I shall never know what Master Janos saw in you cattle. Why do you speak to me so? Did I not save your life when it was forfeit? Did I kill your men? I fed on one who was already dead. Do you not also feed on slain creatures?"
"Do not twist words with me, monster! You robbed me of Paradise!"
"Die then, if you so wish. Return to your friends and loved ones, and watch them murder you without a second thought."
The Vampire turned and vanished down the forest trail, leaving Aurelius alone. He knew that the monster was right, that King Frederick would never accept him back. Damn that Vampire! He had been robbed of his birthright. Robbed!
The Knight stood up and looked down at his chest. There had been a deep gash, where the enemy's axe had bit into him. Now, however, the wound was healed and, even more shocking to him, his skin was almost completely plae. He was truly a Vampire. Aurelius recoiled in horrorat this affirmation, and picked up his sword from where it had fallen when he had been defeated. He turned the sword around, held the blade to his abdomen, and, uttering a prayer, impaled himself.
Aurelius had always believed that Vampires felt no pain, and died instantly when impaled. He had believed that those who are walking corpses feel nothing. He discovered that this theory was seriously flawed. Pain ripped through his entire body, and his knees buckled. He found just enough strength to pull the sword from his body before collapsing to the earth. He felt a horrible constriction in his throat, and his tongue shriveled from thirst.
He needed blood.
He had been so adamant about not feeding. Only moments before he practically swore that he would never drink the blood of another. He had not been dying then. He opened his mouth, and felt a strange current of air entering into his throat. He inhaled slightly, as if preparing to take a breath, and suddely discovered that a thick stream of human blood was jetting into his mouth.
It was delicious.
Never before had he tasted anything so exquisite. It tasted of beef and boar, mead and wine. He felt as a newborn, hungrily suckling on a mother's teat for more rick milk. He stood up as his strength returned, still feeding. When the stream finished, he kept his mouth open and eyes closed, reveling in the taste of the blood and the strength it brought. He opened his eyes and saw that he had fed upon his lieutenant, a brave man who died trying to defend him. Died trying being the operative words, he grimaced.
Aurelius turned and began to feed on another fallen soldier, not bothering to check if he were friend or foe. As fresh blood surged through his veins, he could feel strength inside him, the likes of which he had never experienced.The taste was dizzying; it was a wonder that the Vampires did not kill hundreds each night! How they controlled themselves was beyond him. As he fed, he realized that if people allowed Vampires to feed on their newly dead, there would be no more atacks. The selfishness of Humans forced his kind to feed on the living. It took him a few moemnts to realize that he had referred to Vampires as "his kind."
He took a seat and tried to remember what he knew of Vampires. The Sarafan taught that the Vampires were an unholy abomination and a murderous plague upon the land. Yet, try as he might, he could remember no more than three or four instances of Vampire attacks. More people were killed by other Humans in a single week in Vasserbunde than had been slain by Vampires in his entire life. When he thought of how many Vampires were killed by Humans, he shuddered. Vasserbunde alone had put at least two thousand of them to the sword, many impaled in large killing fields amongst hundreds of their brethren.
Aurelius had believed that Vampires were evil. He had always been taught that they were completely evil. But he was not evil' neither, apparently, was the one who had saed him. The Knight-turned-night dweller pondered this as he picked up his sword. He would have to find that other Vampire. Then... then, he could decide what to do.