- The Underworld -
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- For generations, werewolves were held once as slaves to vampires, a war began when they rose up against their suppressors and fought for their freedom.
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The war rages on between the two warring bodies; a war of secret, one unseen by humankind.
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After years of fighting between the two enemy races, there was no winner in sight, some many had died.
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In the course of their history, werewolves were no longer held by the rules of the full moon and were able to change at their own will.
The Vampire elders felt threatened and called to arms.
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Vampires entered into battle with new weapons and had seemingly gained the upper hand following the death of Lucian, the most feared and ruthless of werewolves, at the hands of an unexpected vampire, by the name of Kraven, a bureaucrat rather than a warrior.
The werewolf horde scattered to the wind in a single evening of flame and retribution.
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With this victory, Kraven was able to stand at the side of the triumvirate of elders as their second-in-command. Serving at this time is Amelia, who now after her time in power stands to awaken Marcus.
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The war now seemed to be over. True victory in their grasp, the end day in sight, as the birthright of the vampire. -
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Within the house of Tordihnă, the elder, Amelia, calls a gathering of her coven. With the elder truly wanting, needing to cement her time as ruler, as she prepares to hand over power and to enter her time of rest.
Like any vampire coven, the Tordihnă is a well net group of vampires, those who have come to be apart of this vampire coven have gathered together to be one in peace and unity,
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The meeting room was very gothic in decor and style; of black and scarlet red.
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"I shall not hand over my power to Marcus knowing that there are still werewolves out there… Even though they are few in number they still manage to have a hold of this world… Hear my words, our sight should not be lowered. Our stance must remain the same, to kill them all… every last one!"
Amelia looks out, sees that she has the room's backing. Although nearly fifteen centuries old, the vampire still had youthful beauty. Amelia was a relatively tall woman with pale skin and dark brown hair. She wore a long grey dress, a gold choker around her neck, and earrings. "I therefore call for an end to this damn war, and with it a full union of vampires."
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She now turned to her commanding officer. "Rigal a lot rests upon your shoulders, but know that I can feel it now more than ever, true victory is in our grasp!"
Rigal was a death dealer; these are an elite warrior group of vampires. Being a death dealer he and the other soldiers are trained to fight and hunt, each dealer strives for war and battle, mostly against werewolves, but with orders can go into battle against other covens of vampires. This commander had killed countless werewolves than any other vampire could readily recall. "I shall not fail you, your death dealers, Amelia, are strong and are ready to strike, it will be a successful campaign… Perhaps the most successful!"
He was a clear fighter, having a defined and muscular frame, turquoise eyes, slicked back blonde hair and refined facial features.
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A female vampire stood near, she had pale skin, she had kept her beauty of age. Her eyes were of a dark-hazel and her shoulder-length hair a dark brown. As a death dealer, Selene as a death dealer was wearing her black uniform, with a protective-style corset and combat boots. And although this vampire was pleased to be entering into battle once again against the werewolves, Like any death dealers, Selene was no stranger to conflict and battle, over the long shadowy months of war this dealer had taken many lives of werewolves.
Selene felt unsettled, 'Yes the war will soon be over, but in a way a grave pity... signalling an end of an era for me!' she thought in reflection, now questioning what her purpose will be next. After all, the end of this war is what she had been brought up and trained for. 'I long for battle, long for revenge against those who murdered my family in cold blood.' Selene long since being told by Viktor that it was the werewolves, who murdered her parents when she was a child. 'And with the end of this raging war, then I too will come to an end, be seen as obsolete… as what am I if not a vampire of war, a death dealer?'
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Amelia stepped forward, now standing before the death dealer commander, "Good! Now go, Rigal,' here placing her hands over his. 'Our city, our course is in need of one last sweep… hunt them down… kill them off, one by one! We shall see an end to all werewolf survivors."
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Selene is assigned to join this mission, the commander knowing her skill and professionalism. Rigal stating, as he stood before her. "Know that this would be what Viktor would have wanted for you… Together we will end this…drive them all to extinction."
Selene nods in agreement, knowing all too well that his words were true. "Yes indeed… I shall not rest until the last of their kind lay burnt." Selene here hiding all her doubts and fears behind a stern and determined look.
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Out on this mission that night, with the day still in fall flow, the roads with a flow of traffic and the streets a flow of pedestrians.
Rigal leads a group of Death Dealers through the moonlit skyline of the ancient city. About 20 meters below, Rigal had come to spot amongst them two characters who roughly made their way through the crowd, his eyes narrowed as he came to recognise the werewolf, Rahzia, a key werewolf and once Lucian's loyal fighter. These two werewolves were no stranger to war and conflict throughout their existence.
Out in his plain human form, the werewolf still looks impressive compared to mere mortals around him, he is a tall black muscular male, with a bold head, a dark muzzled facial hair and dark skin, a true alpha, wearing clothes that didn't clearly didn't suit him, nor fit him too fell; as the werewolf does his utmost to blend in with the crowd around him in the central hub of the city. Scoffed old boots, black faded out denim jeans, a shirt that held tight to his flesh, and the only garment that suited him was the leather coat he wore, the collar up to offer a little cover from the coat, not that he needed it.
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