Chronicles of CainbyAztek Pagan©
This story is based on the White Wolf Game series. Those that know the games will understand better. For everyone else I hope I made the world of darkness sum-what clear. If not then I appologize.
A dark figure stood before an altar raising his hands to the heavens. His words were incomprehensible, seemingly a gibberish language that had no meaning. His black robes hung over the woman that lay on the table. Her nakedness glowing the torchlight.
Tears streamed down her face as she tried to no avail to free her hands that were bound to the table. Her eyes never leaving the robed figure that worked some ancient ritual around her. She had long since given up on yelling for help. Her mouth was sealed shut by something strong. She could not feel her lips, it was as if he had sewn her lips shut.
She was in a darkroom that looked a lot like a cavern. The walls appeared to be rock or concrete of some sort. She could hear water dripping and a low rumbling. Torches lined the walls, but gave off little light. Ropes hung from the ceiling, though she could not see the ceiling itself.
She could not understand why this was happening to her. She had just wanted a drink and walked to a local bar to get one. She had been approached by a good-looking guy, who bought her many drinks. They went back to his place where they had another drink. That is all she remembers.
Next thing she knew she was shackled to a wall, in a black room. There was no light in the room and her lips didn't work. She tried to scream but nothing happened. People came into the room once a night to feed her.
It seemed to be a different person every night. They would touch her face and her lips would part. She ate and then they would touch her. Feeling every crevasse of her body, then they would kiss her neck and a feeling of ecstasy would come over her. A feeling so overwhelming that she would pass out from over stimulation.
When she awoke, her lips did not work again.
The fear seemed to subside after the first couple of days; she figured that if they wanted her dead then she would be already. Although, when she saw the man in the robes approach her, the fear returned. The closer he got the sicker she got. A feeling of dread engulfed her senses and burned her brain. Never before had she felt such fear until he walked up to her.
This fear was still with her even now, as he walked around her chanting words she could not understand. His voice was getting deeper and more demonic with each repetition. With the pull on one of ropes a tapestry unraveled from the ceiling. It dangled down looking at the table, flapping and waving. It appeared to be old leather or parchment, she had no clue the difference between the two.
There was a picture painted on the tapestry, a smear of colors and shapes. Eyes could be made out, and also a mouth, but their proportions so off balance it appeared to be abstract. The tapestry seemed to have facial expressions, she thought. It was looking at her, flapping and nodding then steadying.
"Lord," the man shouted. "I am here, speak to me."
This guy has gone nuts, she thought to herself. Looking up at the tapestry awaiting a reply of his lord, so she did not see the blade as he drew it from its sheath. She felt it enter her though, it cut through her skin just below her belly button.
He jerked the blade to the side then back, opening a wide gash in her stomach. She scream muffled by the skin over her lips, but not entirely. He smiled at the sound of her pain. He looked into her eyes as he placed the knife on the table and grasped the goblet next to it. He watched her face twist in agony as he pushed the goblet into her open stomach, filling it with blood.
Another robed figure walked next to him. "Mystro, shall we hold her down?"
Mystro smiled, "No let her think there is a way out. I'll give her that hope, but nothing else." He turned to the tapestry and flung the blood from the goblet on to it. "Lord speak!"
The blood splashed on the drapery and soaked into it. Blood that streamed down it got absorbed before it dripped down onto the ground. The abstract form in the tapestry came to life, bubbling with laughter.
Its eyes, which had appeared to be smears of color, now were looking around the room. Its mouth now was opening and closing, mouthing something to Mystro. It looked down at the bleeding woman and smiled, mouthing something she could not hear.
"Yes, lord." Mystro replied. "She is yours."
She increased her thrashing, pulling on the ropes that bind her hands, and screaming as best as she could. The blood flowing from her open wound, running down the table soaking her back and hair. Her hands were getting colder and her strength was leaving her. She felt her bladder release as she stopped her thrashing for a moment. That is when she knew. She was already dead, just waiting for her body to catch up.
Mystro looked down at her and nodded his head. His hand stroking her blood soaked hair. His eyes promised that it would be over soon. Strangely enough, she was glad that he was here. At least she would not be alone when she died.
Its lips moved more as if it was speaking, but no words came out.
Mystro nodded and filled the goblet again and splashed the drapery with blood once more. "There how is that? Speak to me, tell me what do I have to look forward to?"
A voice entered his head, screams and moaning followed the hushed voice. "Defiler! Murderer! Betrayer! Judas has found you! It will be your down fall!" Laughter echoed in Mystro's head.
"Is there nothing I can do?" he pleaded.
Mystro flung another goblet full of blood on the tapestry.
"The heart of darkness has entered your realm. The Destroyer comes! He will crush all in his path!" more laughter. "Look into the mirror of the past for the key to unlock the mystery of The Destroyer."
Mystro looked down, "Stop talking in riddles! Do you think I am a Neonate?!"
"Compared you him! You! Are!" roared the voice in his head. "Your existence is in danger of ceasing! I have given you what you wanted! NOW! GIVE ME MY SACRIFICE!"
Mystro hesitated a moment. "And will it all come to an end?"
"YES!" it screamed. "Everything GONE!"
He grabbed the body of the young woman, tore her from the ropes that bound her, and kissed her forehead and mouth, her eyes looking into his. Feeling the cold lips on her lips, feeling her bowels empty and her mind praying for forgiveness. Then without another word he flung her into the awaiting mouth of the tapestry. It caught her in its gaping mouth and sucked her down. As Mystro walked away the drapery rolled back up to the ceiling, the only sound that could be heard echoing down the halls was the crushing of bones and a muffled scream.
From lost books of the Bible comes a new chapter in the book of Genesis.....
The city of Enoch rose from the depths of ashes,
Its maker calling himself Cain.
Cain created this city in the image of himself,
Grand lavish buildings, among hollow halls.
He brought forth people from local villages,
To populate this great city he created.
He lived for years watching the city grow,
He bore many children that were condemned.
Cain grew restless and left the city,
His children ruling in his stead.
They feed on the peoples of the city,
Bearing their own children.
Generations passed, as the children grew old,
And had children of their own.
Those children growing up,
And giving life to their own children.
A new city was built beside the thriving city of Enoch,
A city equal to Enoch's vastness.
The new city brought new life to the decaying land,
New people nurtured the land and brought it back to life.
The two cities existed together,
Enoch the city of Darkness.
And Mezareph, the city of light,
Shining bright for all to see.
Enoch was lost to the curse of its maker,
Generations of incest and lust taking its people.
The sins of the past echoing in every home,
Twisting all that it touched.
A great war began.
The citizens of Enoch, deformed and sinful,
Striking against Mezareph and its inhabitants.
Blood was shed for generations.
Years passed and children born,
And children died.
The sins of the past never again forgiven,
As war is unforgiven.
Lakeen, the son of a carpenter,
Entered the city of Enoch.
He brought with him the hope of the city,
Promising victory over their foes.
The inhabitants of Enoch baptized him,
Making him one with the city.
With the power of darkness in him,
Mezareph soon fell to his dark incarnations.
Those that escaped he destruction of the city,
Called him Cataclysm, the destroyer of cities.
His darkness spread out across the land,
Destroying all villages and cities alike.
The once lavish land turned lifeless,
The land died with each city that fell.
Enoch, the city of evil thrived,
The inhabitants feeding on blood and living flesh.
In this life may things can not be taken as they appear. A man walking down the street appearing to be late for some midnight tryst or meeting with an old friend may only be on his way home. In fact, that same man may not be a man at all and his tryst or meeting may only be an impending victim that he has stalked. Though even that can not be taken as it is, because in this life there are many things that are not as they appear. That man may be a creature set aside from death, a creature that feeds on the blood of living men. He may be a beast in a human guise, a beast that rages into a gigantic muscled creature only told about to small children in folklore and fairy tales.
In deed this life can take a man by surprise, plunging him into a world darker than the one he was born to. Although perhaps this world was never so bright. Just perhaps this world is a myriad of heavens and hells, visiting each person at different times in a man's life.
Steven now faced one these hells as he sat in his throne. Seeing it in the man's blue-black eyes across from were he sat. Hearing it in the aged whisper, "You have to destroy him!" A sparkle of glee flashed in those dark eyes and a smile almost showed its presence as well. "There is no other way, just no other reasonable choice of action." Marcus Levi screamed in dramatic and theatrical excess. Marcus never did like the idea that Steven was the only Archbishop that he, Marcus, did not appoint himself. In fact, the man had been too frightened to campaign against Steven from the very start. The man was too old and not very powerful. While Steven was considerably young and very powerful, this made Marcus uneasy just thinking about it.
The man, Marcus, looked like a man of forty; brown hair showing much gray, loose flaky skin, and a small frame that supported a three piece suit and a heavy overcoat. His hands and face were the color of bleached sheets. The manner in which he presented himself was that of a wise old English man not that of a three hundred-year-old vampire.
Steven took a deep breath, "He's not a problem to us."
"He sure as bloody hell is! You are the one that fucked up." Marcus said now pacing in front of Steven. "It should be you up there with him. And believe me if I had my way you would!" With each foul word, he cursed at Steven, his head jerked left then right making him appear more like a chicken than that of a Cardinal of the Sabbat.
"I'm sure," Steven spoke as his unveiled the most dread of gazes. "I would be cooking in a vat of boiling oil if you had your way about it. But do not forget whose home you are in Cardinal. My loyal servants may not like the words you choose. And it would be a pity if something where to happen to you," Steven smiled, "wouldn't it."
Marcus felt the blood drain from his face making him look even more white than before. His eyes wide in disbelief, "You wouldn't dare," he breathed. The thought sickened him. Even the thought that Steven might want him dead or destroyed sent a myriad of feelings and floods of emotions through Marcus. Awe, humility, anger, furry, and fear all threatened to undo Marcus's control over his own emotions.
"Listen to me sir," gone was the threats and sarcasm. "Ian is a complex man and I have taken it upon my self to bring him over. But this is a delicate business, rushing him too fast will kill him, but taking it too slowly and you will kill him." A measure of calm was bestowed over both the men. "I hope you can understand I need more time."
Marcus began to wring his hands, "Steven, I realize the challenge Ian is for you, but judgment has been passed. This is not a request. The council has voted and death is the only way, but if you refuse then I must unfortunately find someone that will." The card dealt and played, Marcus waited to see what hand his opponent had.
Steven sat silently for a long moment, weighing the odds. Then his face seemed to drain of humanity, if in fact humanity could be drained, and reason. Steven's already unnaturally white face seemed to change, though Marcus could not find any differences. Shadows collected in the depths of his face. Steven was demonic, that was all Marcus could think.
Poor Steven was gone replaced by this living shadow of himself. Or maybe even more unspeakable still, there never was a Steven only this masked Demon that was no longer masked. He bathed in the shadows of the night like a leech, sucking life from all around him. Even now Marcus could feel his life draining away in this cold void as this Shadow sat upon a Throne of souls engulfed in black fire. Marcus could see the blackness envelope Steven's eyes, still not convinced that they were Steven's eyes, and he could still feel the black fire about the Demon.
"Okay," spoke the Creature in Steven's voice. "I will do the deed. However, know this 'Cardinal' if I ever see you again in this city, My City. I will personally drink your soul. Oh yes, and as for a replacement for me there will be none.
"I would destroy the city be for I hand it over to any other Kindred."
Marcus was not use to this much opposition and the sad part was he believed every word. His blood ran cold and there was a chill in his body that he could not combat. It was not until he turned to leave, did the cold that had a hold of his being, begin to subside. With each step closer to the door he came, further and further away, the cold got, seeming to melt away.
He did not stop until he was at the door and then, "I'll be watching you Steven Ramos," he said.
Then as Marcus Levi was about to walk threw the door Steven said, "And I too will watch you... Philip Cowling."
Marcus stopped in mid motion, paralyzed by the name spoken. Thoughts raced though his mind. 'How could he know?' Marcus asked himself, not believing he heard those words. Words he had not thought about in centuries. 'How could he know my birth name?'
Marcus looking back at the Creature that was being consumed in its black fiery configuration, seeing the souls of all that it had destroyed and the chill returned. Running up his spine, but it was not until he saw his own face screaming out of the black fire, did his body start to shake. Feeling the dark eyes on him and knowing that Steven was enjoying his victory he made no further response, and simply walked out leaving the Archbishop smiling.
Shortly after the Cardinal left the Hall, David, the Bishop of the city walked into the room. His untidy clothes and appearance showed his clanlessness. He was a caitiff. He was a man without a clan. His kind, the caitiffs were very common in this day and age, but one that commanded as much power as he was uncommon. He had rose to power with Steven. He seemingly rose to power on Steven's coat tails.
Steven and David were not the best of friend's, as a matter of fact they fought for the right to be Prince of the city. Steven had won the battle, and turned over the city to the Sabbat in return for knowledge. David escaped with many scars that would heal and as a reward for his courage, Marcus appointed him Bishop.
Steven never liked the idea of David being his Bishop, but nothing could be done about it. As long as Marcus was Cardinal, he was going to make Steven's reign a very unpleasant one. So he thought. Steven never liked orders and hated them more when they were his orders.
David walked to the throne and kneeled before Steven. "Sire," he hated the word. "Sire, why was the Cardinal here?"
Steven smiled as David rose. His eyes looking into David's eyes as he replied. "He was here to deliver a message to me from the council." Steven stood and walked to the table that came out from the wall.
The Grand hall was a huge room lined with tables along its walls. The walls were decorated with tapestries and paintings of many mediums. The themes presented in these decorations were dark, smears of red over a black background suggested a vein had just been opened and blood was spewing forth. Eyes filled with pain and pleasure looked back at those that gazed into these paintings.
The tables were set; plates in place, forks and knives one both sides of them. Glasses filled with water and crystal jars filled with wine. This is what Steven retrieved from the table now. A glass in his left hand and pouring the jar with his right.
He downed his drink and filled the glass again. "They want me to destroy Ian D'Amour." He laughed. "They say his is too much of a risk."
David was stunned. "Ian? But your certainly are not-" David began.
"I certainly am! This Cardinal thinks he can control me." Steven drank the second glass. "Well, we will see about that. I will kill Ian and then I will kill Marcus." Steven crushed the glass in his hand. "The blood I have to shed for him will be paid back ten fold."
David stood. "Sire going against the Sabbat? They will surely destroy all of us!"
"Patience David, the answers you seek will come to you in time, and as for the Sabbat. They wouldn't have this city if it were not for me." He paced in front of David.
"Yes I understand, but you cannot take on the Sabbat by yourself! Are you insane!?" David's voice rose as he turned to face the Archbishop. "You must have lost it. Marcus has more power than you can imagine! And you want to bump heads with him?"
Steven stopped and turned towards David. "Perhaps I have gone insane. But you still must follow me! Or give up your right to be Bishop. This Cardinal came in to my home and threatened me! And for this I will tear him apart! Him and anyone that gets in my way!"
David lowered his head, "Then you will do this alone. I cannot be apart of this. If you go after him, do it according to Sabbat laws. Don't go renegade."
Steven walked around David and sat in his throne once again. "David this man has twisted the laws of the Sabbat to suit his needs. And this time he has gone too far." Steven watched David intently, "now I need a group of Assimites to follow him and report to me where he sleeps during the day."
David bowed then exited the hall.
Ian D'Amour had very few friends among the Kindred and even fewer outside of the vampire society, but those Kindred that he could call friends were powerful and uncontrolled which made them a lethal ally. Among these friends are three that he new could be trusted unquestionably. His loyalty to them as well equaled or exceeded theirs.
There is Alison, a beautiful yet deadly Eco terrorist. She was raised by her father, that was an executive suit for the Pentex Corporation, until the time of her change occurred at the ripe age of eighteen. Her father had sent her to all the best military schools to bestow a sense of discipline in her life, but instead it became the root of all her terrorist activity.