The mistakes of greed.
Mischievous schemes upon twisted thoughts, burned into the minds of mortals with the fear of a demon born not of their minds but of their hate. His was a legend which would never die that of the forsaken of the gods, the god without grace the king of Vampires Suroth Azrial Daigorith. For centuries uncounted he had reigned upon the highest peaks of darkness, casting his gaze down upon the ancient vampire city of Alistar, and ruling it with an iron fist, it was once said that he would rule forever unchallenged, for such was the strength of the great vampire lord that it could not be matched. Yet one day all of that had ended in one brutal action, the forsaken one had suffocated his own empire devouring it from within with a rage like no other, none would ever know the events which had taken place on that day save three Suroth, himself Valick, Romanian Frost, and Hierutoi Daigorith, the father of the king whom had been slain on that night presumably by the hands of his son. When he attempted to destroy all Suroth held dear, but legend did carry that the Vampire lord thereafter had never been heard from again. Of course legend often times finds it’s self flawed by time, for in time legends become obsolete and are rewritten by the hand of fate itself and old legends even those that howl in the night come again to the world of the living.
The year 1999 the year of the supposed Apocalypse, when fear and delusion run wild like the great plagues themselves unleashed on the world a new. In this time man is no longer ruled by the tip of the sword ,nor even truly by superior intellect, but by one singular entity the almighty dollar itself, how fitting that of this very obsession would be born a new one of the darkest, and most tortured shadows to ever cast itself over the world.
The president grinned proudly as he adjusted his suit watching as the Old Catholic church tumbled to the ground in the face of the unending onslaught of the dozer, its powerful diesel engine forcing the remnants of the church which had stood for nearly three hundred years to the ground. Already today the wrecking crews had been to work, and it toppled with such ease just like everything else which had stood in Nicolai Vorstiches way. He had come from Russia only five years ago and found America ripe for the picking. He had made a killing selling computer software, or so it seemed in reality Vorstiche technical was just a cover, his real money was from the connections he had made as a former military officer in Russia. Americans loved guns, and one thing Nicolai knew were to get was guns, he grinned almost proudly and in the place of this dusty old pile of wood would stand his new global head quarters a marvel to what a superior Russian intellect could do when pitted against those of the pitiful Americans. He turned away his face beaming with pride, yes he had won and the world was his for the taking but it was getting dark, and right now he was thinking about the American women which would be his for the taking tonight, as he sat down in his limousine, and was driven away from the construction site.
The Devil or a saint?
Jack Callihan hated his job but nobody paid as good as that bastard Nicolai and so he and his crew the former Callihan construction corps had been bought into his company and now he was going to do something that did not sit well with him at all. Standing there he was staring down at the last stone left from the old cathedral his mouth dry. Everyone knew the legend of how supposedly one of the old saints had placed this stone here to protect the city, it was something which had been told to get smiles from kids for ages and now he had been ordered to remove it that bastard was selling it to a local museum. Sighing he kneeled down and placed the crowbar beneath it.. well little jack was going to need braces this year he didn't have a choice and with that he heaved up, and the ancient stone gave way coming out of the ground whole, and he picked it up carrying it to a small lock box were he placed it locking it away for transport to the museum. Yeah he was going to hell but at least his kids wouldn't have to.
The awakening, of hatred.
The hatred, the sin it washed over he whom had lain buried beneath that forsaken stone for centuries, truth be told he had allowed the little priest to come along and place that stone over his place of sleeping, here where the ancient entrance to Alistar had once lain, for he did not wish to ever return, but now some fool had awakened him. This sent an outrage through his entire body. What fool would dare disturb the sleep of the king of all vampires? What fool would wish such a death upon himself? The hand curled from deep within the dirt, pale digits rising from within, to gain purchase in the night air and slowly a form began to rise from beneath, already the Zenith was awakening the consciousness of the vamperic council revitalizing him. Within the zenith, blood was beginning to move once again inside his body. The form wore the tattered remains of black slacks and a long black coat which hung nearly down to his ankles encompassing his whole body like a shroud, only this seemed unscathed by time as if it had somehow resisted the ages and the soil it had lain within. The form would rise ever so slowly, dirt falling from hair of an at the moment unidentifiable color, though the creature whatever it may be stood nearly six feet four inches tall and as its crimson eyes fell on the foreign world to which it had awakened it grinned. He had awakened in a new Babylon it seemed, what luck he'd be right at home he could smell the pain, the death ,the greed this was a city where the success of others was built on the backs of those they could knock down to get it. The entire feeling was intoxicating and then his eyes fell on the man standing by the large seeming steel contraption. Whatever it was it must have weighed several tons, it had wheels mayhaps it was a modern carriage? He would study it once he had killed the man, the forsaken moved with a purpose now but stopped, this was not the man, he sensed loathing in the man’s heart for what he had done he was not the one, ancient digits moved to embrace the soil, as he whispered in his mind " speak " He saw it so clearly a great tyrant from across the ocean had come and enslaved all with his lies and deceit, it was he whom had torn down the ancient cathedral which had been the last monument to the great lords existence, apparently it was he whom now thought himself a king. The shadow grinned, as it weakly staggered silently away from the servant, looking up at a large character set on steel it bore the face of a dishonest man smiling as if he were some saint, " well Mr. Vorstiche ill be seeing you real soon" The shadow faded away into the nothingness now, it would need to regain its strength the great lord of the dark could not make an appearance like this one thing Suroth Azrial Daigorith knew when manipulating mortal appearances kept properly could make things so much easier fear was such a fine motivator.