My name is Azrael. It what I choose to call myself, for it best describes my purpose here on Earth; to slay the unholy abominations that stalk the shadows of man's domain.
I do not wish to waste your valuable time with the age old ramblings of yet another hunter. So perhaps a story if thou so wish to bend an ear to these wethered lips of mine.
My story begins in the small village of Gevaudan in what
is now known as The Black Forest of Germany. It was my home long before it suffered during your World Wars. It was once a kind and peaceful hamlet where children played in the hatch fields by day and the men would sit by the fire side at night and tell their tales. My father was one such man.
My home and its people never hurt anyone, we were for all my memory a kind people, of farmers, hunters, woodsmen, and crafters. Though my mother was no artisan, she wove such elaborate tapestries. I still have the last one she ever finished before the massacre.
Yes, the massacre. The village elders always spoke tales of the forest beasts; of witches, lyckan, and vampyres. Tales meant to scare children to be good and not stray into the forest at night. I never held much stock in folk tales. I only wish now that I had.
Shadows of The Night
Shadows of The Night
Last edited by Azrael on Sat Feb 24, 2007 10:09 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"By my hand, they shall know death."
It was in late autumn when the evil that was Menakhier came to our village, a name that for would ever be burned into my memory. The deaths at the very beinning were unnoiced, so no one had any idea of what fate would befall us.
The evil began in Oktober the year 1590. Our village was one of few the were along the Black Forest's northern most border, but still nestled deep amongst its evergreen cast.
It was subtle, a body here, a body there. Always the same; victims found with their throats torn out and others drained of every drop of blood.
A single name ran rampant through the shadows of hamlet. A name that drew a cold breath on every voice that dared to say it aloud; Vampyre.
I was but a lad then. A boy of no more than 12 when it the evil came. My sister Natalia was its third victim. The sight of the supersticious elders decapitating her lifeless body and buring the remains was more than my sweet mother could bare.
More bodies now were appearing not just within the forest, but in the fields of hatch where I myself once played, and in the meadows where the women would meet to beat their laundry in the stream. My once familiar and warm village had grown cold, lifeless, and dark much like an old grave stone.
The attacks happened more frequent come winter. By the time January had come, half the village had perished. If nt from the monster itself, then from the terror it brought, and the shattered lives left in its wake. My mother was one of those lives.
In the end, she could not bare to live any longer and simply passed away.
The evil began in Oktober the year 1590. Our village was one of few the were along the Black Forest's northern most border, but still nestled deep amongst its evergreen cast.
It was subtle, a body here, a body there. Always the same; victims found with their throats torn out and others drained of every drop of blood.
A single name ran rampant through the shadows of hamlet. A name that drew a cold breath on every voice that dared to say it aloud; Vampyre.
I was but a lad then. A boy of no more than 12 when it the evil came. My sister Natalia was its third victim. The sight of the supersticious elders decapitating her lifeless body and buring the remains was more than my sweet mother could bare.
More bodies now were appearing not just within the forest, but in the fields of hatch where I myself once played, and in the meadows where the women would meet to beat their laundry in the stream. My once familiar and warm village had grown cold, lifeless, and dark much like an old grave stone.
The attacks happened more frequent come winter. By the time January had come, half the village had perished. If nt from the monster itself, then from the terror it brought, and the shattered lives left in its wake. My mother was one of those lives.
In the end, she could not bare to live any longer and simply passed away.
"By my hand, they shall know death."
By March, my village was all but deserted. Those that were not amongst the dead, had fled for their lives, or were cursed to walk the earth as one of the undead.
My father, being the village's
only source of spiritual guidance remained to fight the evil that had infected our home an its people. A few also stood with us, brave men who had family and loved ones taken by these monsters. I stood by my father for he was courage made flesh before my eyes.
That is when what was left of the world I knew ended, the night that Menekhier and two of his followers came to our home seeking revenge against my father, those who stood with him, and God himself.
I remember it as though if it were happening now. The torch lights extinguishing one by one anticipating the evil one's arrival. Then the fire in the hearth soon grew cold and lifeless.
Then they came. The doors to the common house were torn
asunder as they entered. The men that stood alongside my father fought bravely but were caught offgaurd by the sudden attack. One by one they fell, dieing honorably to the very last. My father was critically wounded, and I remained by his side.
Menekhier order the others be
be slain, brutally, drained of every drop, and we were made to watch. Then, as the last man died, Menekhier grabbed my father's broken body from the floor and laughed. My father cursed his name, and with his final act stabbed the monster deep in its side with a stake caved from the purest rosewood
missing the beast's heart by less than an inch.
Menekhier screamed agony and collapsed to his knees as my father too hit the floor. The other two rushed to their master's side and removed the stake. Enraged the monster tore my father's head from his body and rested it upon the alter. The other two who I had heard their names spoken as Dhamestir and Radu, began to feed on the remains of my father like bloated parasites feasting on their master's left overs.
Furious I flung a saucer of holy water at them, grabbed a sword from one of my father's dead men, and attacked their master. Being but a mere boy I was hurled back against the wall with as much effort as it would have been for me to shoe away a bothersome fly.
I saw through blurred vision Menekhier order Dhamestir and Radu to burn the building to ashes, then returned me. The others did as their master so bid of them and fled the building as the flames spread.
Then, as I final act the monster lifted me up in the air, his undead hand clenched around my throat. His final words to me, " They died in vain, as long as I remain your father shall never know peace. " He relesaed me, turned, and fled from the fire.
As I lay there, watching what was left of my life being consumed by the cleansing flames of the inferno that was to soon engulf me, I saw my father's lifeless eyes staring blankly at me from dead sockets upon the alter.
I waited for death, and he came.
Amongst the swriling flames and dancing shadows a figure did emerge, a cloaked vision of death, a skeletal being with tattered black angelic
wings brandishing a scythe in hand approached me. I could feel the flames lick across my body, but they were cold. All time froze, but I and Death did not.
He spoke to me in a voice that sounded as those it was calling up from the bottom of the village well; " Do you seek vengeance boy, vengeance against those who slew your family, vengeance against those who you would not live to see die. "
I stared off into nothingness and responded the only way I could, " Yes. "
Again Death spoke onto me, " Then drink deep of my blood and rise from the dead as the pheonix from the ashes. You are now the Chakhan, and you shall not know peace until their kind is no more. " He then handed me a skeletal chalice and bid me to drink.
I did so, drinking deep of its contents. When I finished, I could feel the world turn and spin, then the agony, then nothing.
I awoke sometime later, admist the charred remains of the common house, and of the village. I was unscathed by the flames. I was alive, my heart still beat, but upon my chest a Celestial brand, a mark of the script of the angelic host had been burned into my flesh. I was from that moment on no longer mortal, I was what Menekhir would come to fear, and those fiends that preyed upon humanity like him.
By the age of 24 I had stopped aging entirely, by then my training brought me across the world from Tibet to Rome, my persuits to the deserts Egypt
to the tundra of Siberia.
I have learned from the samurai of Japan, to the swordsmasters of Europe, and the gunfighters of America.
It would not be until fifty years later that I would find a weapon suitable to be wielded by my hands; a blade whose name is Deathkiss. But that is another story for another night.
My father, being the village's
only source of spiritual guidance remained to fight the evil that had infected our home an its people. A few also stood with us, brave men who had family and loved ones taken by these monsters. I stood by my father for he was courage made flesh before my eyes.
That is when what was left of the world I knew ended, the night that Menekhier and two of his followers came to our home seeking revenge against my father, those who stood with him, and God himself.
I remember it as though if it were happening now. The torch lights extinguishing one by one anticipating the evil one's arrival. Then the fire in the hearth soon grew cold and lifeless.
Then they came. The doors to the common house were torn
asunder as they entered. The men that stood alongside my father fought bravely but were caught offgaurd by the sudden attack. One by one they fell, dieing honorably to the very last. My father was critically wounded, and I remained by his side.
Menekhier order the others be
be slain, brutally, drained of every drop, and we were made to watch. Then, as the last man died, Menekhier grabbed my father's broken body from the floor and laughed. My father cursed his name, and with his final act stabbed the monster deep in its side with a stake caved from the purest rosewood
missing the beast's heart by less than an inch.
Menekhier screamed agony and collapsed to his knees as my father too hit the floor. The other two rushed to their master's side and removed the stake. Enraged the monster tore my father's head from his body and rested it upon the alter. The other two who I had heard their names spoken as Dhamestir and Radu, began to feed on the remains of my father like bloated parasites feasting on their master's left overs.
Furious I flung a saucer of holy water at them, grabbed a sword from one of my father's dead men, and attacked their master. Being but a mere boy I was hurled back against the wall with as much effort as it would have been for me to shoe away a bothersome fly.
I saw through blurred vision Menekhier order Dhamestir and Radu to burn the building to ashes, then returned me. The others did as their master so bid of them and fled the building as the flames spread.
Then, as I final act the monster lifted me up in the air, his undead hand clenched around my throat. His final words to me, " They died in vain, as long as I remain your father shall never know peace. " He relesaed me, turned, and fled from the fire.
As I lay there, watching what was left of my life being consumed by the cleansing flames of the inferno that was to soon engulf me, I saw my father's lifeless eyes staring blankly at me from dead sockets upon the alter.
I waited for death, and he came.
Amongst the swriling flames and dancing shadows a figure did emerge, a cloaked vision of death, a skeletal being with tattered black angelic
wings brandishing a scythe in hand approached me. I could feel the flames lick across my body, but they were cold. All time froze, but I and Death did not.
He spoke to me in a voice that sounded as those it was calling up from the bottom of the village well; " Do you seek vengeance boy, vengeance against those who slew your family, vengeance against those who you would not live to see die. "
I stared off into nothingness and responded the only way I could, " Yes. "
Again Death spoke onto me, " Then drink deep of my blood and rise from the dead as the pheonix from the ashes. You are now the Chakhan, and you shall not know peace until their kind is no more. " He then handed me a skeletal chalice and bid me to drink.
I did so, drinking deep of its contents. When I finished, I could feel the world turn and spin, then the agony, then nothing.
I awoke sometime later, admist the charred remains of the common house, and of the village. I was unscathed by the flames. I was alive, my heart still beat, but upon my chest a Celestial brand, a mark of the script of the angelic host had been burned into my flesh. I was from that moment on no longer mortal, I was what Menekhir would come to fear, and those fiends that preyed upon humanity like him.
By the age of 24 I had stopped aging entirely, by then my training brought me across the world from Tibet to Rome, my persuits to the deserts Egypt
to the tundra of Siberia.
I have learned from the samurai of Japan, to the swordsmasters of Europe, and the gunfighters of America.
It would not be until fifty years later that I would find a weapon suitable to be wielded by my hands; a blade whose name is Deathkiss. But that is another story for another night.
"By my hand, they shall know death."
I have seen centuries born and die, kindoms rise and fall, wars fought and end time and time again. My life, my curse is t o vanquish evil in all of its unholy forms. Hopefully, here, amongst fellow slayers and hunters, I will find allies in my fight to rid the world of Menekhir who yet still walks this world from the shadows, and abominations like him.
I have much to offer in the ways of knowledge, wisdom, training, and yes, weapons to destroy these horrors that prey upon humanity. All I ask for in return is to one day
mentor a pupil to carry on my work. For one day teach one as I myself have been taught.
I was told of the Lazlo Society and for the past few years have been watching you and your heroic acts. I am impressed by your courage, and with the right training and knowledge, perhaps the right one will come to me. I will not approach any of you for I fear it would only discourage you from my offer. I will allow you to decide and seek me out.
In the mean while I will still continue to hunt those things
that stalk that night like the cowardaly abominations that they are. Our paths my cross,
they may not, but it is only a matter of time before you find
some fiend cowering in the dark, muttering my name.
I have much to offer in the ways of knowledge, wisdom, training, and yes, weapons to destroy these horrors that prey upon humanity. All I ask for in return is to one day
mentor a pupil to carry on my work. For one day teach one as I myself have been taught.
I was told of the Lazlo Society and for the past few years have been watching you and your heroic acts. I am impressed by your courage, and with the right training and knowledge, perhaps the right one will come to me. I will not approach any of you for I fear it would only discourage you from my offer. I will allow you to decide and seek me out.
In the mean while I will still continue to hunt those things
that stalk that night like the cowardaly abominations that they are. Our paths my cross,
they may not, but it is only a matter of time before you find
some fiend cowering in the dark, muttering my name.
"By my hand, they shall know death."
