Post by Marcus Fai on Jun 5, 2005 14:08:11 GMT -8
For every one who is horrified by Victor being in love, here is some good old Victor posts to wipe that love struck image out of your mind.
Specificly this is for (Sarah) Rochelle - as these are the images she gets to see in the coming weeks.
The Nightmare
September 6th, 2003 - 02:47
The Nightmare stepped beyond the confines of his damned haven. With each step his visage faded until nothing remained but void and vengeance. The Nightmare followed the wind in whatever direction its chaotic gods directed until the distance was sufficient and its trail but a whisper. Vengeance wanted blood, the void death, tonight was a night to satisfy old hungers.
In the beginning he was an archeologist, who searched for lost relics and great wonders of the world that had been lost over the centuries and millennia. His search delivered success in the planes old Europe, a treasure lost so long ago by a great king brought the attention of a group he knew only in folklore and fairytale. Vampires came to claim his prize. He survived the assault by the band of Sabbat vampires and was found later by a hunting party of Camarilla Tremere. The Tremere appreciated his ability to find an artifact before them and made him one of their own as a reward so he could continue his search forever.
He could not have been more thrilled. The new state of being was wonderful, he was now amongst ancient relics and people of power his quests became more ambitious and his Tremere brethren looked fondly on. He learned all the rules and drank of this new life like a starving mare lost at a desert oasis. He lost his family that night at the dig, his brother taken for what he knew by the Sabbat his parents lost to him by the ravages of age only years before. In death he found a family again. His purpose remained the same but the tools available to him grew with every secret of kindred life told to him. This was heaven, death a small sacrifice for all things gained. He would have remained his gentle self except for the nightmares reborn that visited him on lonely nights.
Violence, after all, had little use in a sage's life. Scholars had no need for wanton bloodshed.
Decades of bliss interrupted by the past. His brother was not gone but returned to him and begged him to follow, begged him to join him in freedom. How can you deny a favor asked by family? In the still dark sands he fled heaven out of loyalty to family and soon found himself trapped in hell. His brother was embraced Tremere Antitribue, a traitor to his own birth. How can family betray, he was so confused, so lost; but family, he must hold onto family. He was taken to a meeting hall, introduced to his brother’s allies. The brothers held each-others arms as they entered the ritual hall. He knew rituals but his training was not detailed enough. His knowledge had not prepared him for the ritual that would in time mark him the betrayer until the end of time.
His forehead stung fiercely even now...
Trust family, my brother. The words echoed in his mind with every step as he walked past horrors chained to walls, and crossed tiny rivers of blood from corpses strewn about. The ritual progressed seeming so very simple yet incredibly complex in its details. Over the next hour blood was shed and shared, in the end the vauldrie was complete. He had sold his soul to Satan’s minions never knowing a deal had been made. The true consequence did not become apparent until several years had passed. His loyalty to his brother had forced him to betray the libraries of heaven for the grimoire's of blood and bone. His soul had been sold, collected upon every hour of his existence, but with all things you can get used to Nightmares. He did adapt to this new way of life. POWER at all cost, KNOWLEDGE at all cost, lay waste to the world in order to climb above it. The next 20 years ate his soul and changed him, but loyalty had to be maintained.
How did you maintain loyalty?
You toed the line.
Repeated the words.
Did as you were told.
Great wars between the armies of heaven and hell collided across the fields of Europe and he stood at the gate of hell watching it all, watching as heavens soldiers fight for a greater domain, fight as a family and not as individuals. The truth laid itself out in a tapestry before him; his brother was no longer family, these soldiers of heaven were. Time passed and wars ragged until his war arrived. He had aided in its details, chosen some of its best soldiers and a prince would fall because he willed it. The lame prince stood before him at the moment of execution he raised his hand of blood to drive the life from him and with glorious righteousness fed from the lame prince. The prince stood weak and the hand of blood raised again to end this war as the voice of god forced itself past motions and intent and commanded the hand of blood to fall and the soldier of heaven return to his cage. The hand of blood paralyzed by contradictions was lost, the leader of heavens armies’ commanded retreat.
Retreat.
When the throat of Satan lay bared.
He looked around the room, confused, lost and Satan raised his puppet hand. The armies of heaven held in his fingers his apprentice on the left hand attacking the soldiers of his army, and god in his right hand defending the lame prince.
TRAITORS, USURPER, BETRAYER... His family was befouled, sullen by evil. He wanted to charge forward and sacrifice himself against his traitorous god, to avenge the betrayal of his soldiers by his family. The voice of his lord blasted his mind "The Tremere stand with our Camarilla appointed Prince". Hell’s minions approached as fire engulfed his allies. "Why are you here, traitor"? Traitor, family, centuries of existence were brought to question. All he could do was leave, leave it all, no one can be trusted.
He left, as the soldiers of heaven burned and fled themselves there was nothing more that could be done here god had spoken.
Loyalty be damned.
The Nightmare caught his reflection in the windowpane of a bus shelter...
The hand of blood ran dry in crimson waterfalls across his face and shirt.
In its mimic world he could see not only himself, but the eyes of the buildings round...
Eyes that were watching him...
The city, watching him.
His forehead stung, the mark burned him, burned hotter and hotter the more he thought of it, thought of Family.
How could you deny Family?
Let them all see, see the purity of agony and flesh. Let the streets flow red in my vengeance.
He left the bus shelter behind, stirred into motion and made his way down the gridiron of streets, deserted in the early morning lull.
I have never trusted them; for all that I have tried. Could they not see it, with my pocket demons and skeletal servants, could I not see it?
Somewhere in the blocks of houses round him, here in suburbia...a dog barked.
He caught sight of a vague shape flitting in the glass of the windows behind him...
The bark brought flashes of dreams and Nightmare across his vision, memories of betrayal too often had they invaded his family.
How could you deny Family?
You find another one.
Specificly this is for (Sarah) Rochelle - as these are the images she gets to see in the coming weeks.
The Nightmare
September 6th, 2003 - 02:47
The Nightmare stepped beyond the confines of his damned haven. With each step his visage faded until nothing remained but void and vengeance. The Nightmare followed the wind in whatever direction its chaotic gods directed until the distance was sufficient and its trail but a whisper. Vengeance wanted blood, the void death, tonight was a night to satisfy old hungers.
In the beginning he was an archeologist, who searched for lost relics and great wonders of the world that had been lost over the centuries and millennia. His search delivered success in the planes old Europe, a treasure lost so long ago by a great king brought the attention of a group he knew only in folklore and fairytale. Vampires came to claim his prize. He survived the assault by the band of Sabbat vampires and was found later by a hunting party of Camarilla Tremere. The Tremere appreciated his ability to find an artifact before them and made him one of their own as a reward so he could continue his search forever.
He could not have been more thrilled. The new state of being was wonderful, he was now amongst ancient relics and people of power his quests became more ambitious and his Tremere brethren looked fondly on. He learned all the rules and drank of this new life like a starving mare lost at a desert oasis. He lost his family that night at the dig, his brother taken for what he knew by the Sabbat his parents lost to him by the ravages of age only years before. In death he found a family again. His purpose remained the same but the tools available to him grew with every secret of kindred life told to him. This was heaven, death a small sacrifice for all things gained. He would have remained his gentle self except for the nightmares reborn that visited him on lonely nights.
Violence, after all, had little use in a sage's life. Scholars had no need for wanton bloodshed.
Decades of bliss interrupted by the past. His brother was not gone but returned to him and begged him to follow, begged him to join him in freedom. How can you deny a favor asked by family? In the still dark sands he fled heaven out of loyalty to family and soon found himself trapped in hell. His brother was embraced Tremere Antitribue, a traitor to his own birth. How can family betray, he was so confused, so lost; but family, he must hold onto family. He was taken to a meeting hall, introduced to his brother’s allies. The brothers held each-others arms as they entered the ritual hall. He knew rituals but his training was not detailed enough. His knowledge had not prepared him for the ritual that would in time mark him the betrayer until the end of time.
His forehead stung fiercely even now...
Trust family, my brother. The words echoed in his mind with every step as he walked past horrors chained to walls, and crossed tiny rivers of blood from corpses strewn about. The ritual progressed seeming so very simple yet incredibly complex in its details. Over the next hour blood was shed and shared, in the end the vauldrie was complete. He had sold his soul to Satan’s minions never knowing a deal had been made. The true consequence did not become apparent until several years had passed. His loyalty to his brother had forced him to betray the libraries of heaven for the grimoire's of blood and bone. His soul had been sold, collected upon every hour of his existence, but with all things you can get used to Nightmares. He did adapt to this new way of life. POWER at all cost, KNOWLEDGE at all cost, lay waste to the world in order to climb above it. The next 20 years ate his soul and changed him, but loyalty had to be maintained.
How did you maintain loyalty?
You toed the line.
Repeated the words.
Did as you were told.
Great wars between the armies of heaven and hell collided across the fields of Europe and he stood at the gate of hell watching it all, watching as heavens soldiers fight for a greater domain, fight as a family and not as individuals. The truth laid itself out in a tapestry before him; his brother was no longer family, these soldiers of heaven were. Time passed and wars ragged until his war arrived. He had aided in its details, chosen some of its best soldiers and a prince would fall because he willed it. The lame prince stood before him at the moment of execution he raised his hand of blood to drive the life from him and with glorious righteousness fed from the lame prince. The prince stood weak and the hand of blood raised again to end this war as the voice of god forced itself past motions and intent and commanded the hand of blood to fall and the soldier of heaven return to his cage. The hand of blood paralyzed by contradictions was lost, the leader of heavens armies’ commanded retreat.
Retreat.
When the throat of Satan lay bared.
He looked around the room, confused, lost and Satan raised his puppet hand. The armies of heaven held in his fingers his apprentice on the left hand attacking the soldiers of his army, and god in his right hand defending the lame prince.
TRAITORS, USURPER, BETRAYER... His family was befouled, sullen by evil. He wanted to charge forward and sacrifice himself against his traitorous god, to avenge the betrayal of his soldiers by his family. The voice of his lord blasted his mind "The Tremere stand with our Camarilla appointed Prince". Hell’s minions approached as fire engulfed his allies. "Why are you here, traitor"? Traitor, family, centuries of existence were brought to question. All he could do was leave, leave it all, no one can be trusted.
He left, as the soldiers of heaven burned and fled themselves there was nothing more that could be done here god had spoken.
Loyalty be damned.
The Nightmare caught his reflection in the windowpane of a bus shelter...
The hand of blood ran dry in crimson waterfalls across his face and shirt.
In its mimic world he could see not only himself, but the eyes of the buildings round...
Eyes that were watching him...
The city, watching him.
His forehead stung, the mark burned him, burned hotter and hotter the more he thought of it, thought of Family.
How could you deny Family?
Let them all see, see the purity of agony and flesh. Let the streets flow red in my vengeance.
He left the bus shelter behind, stirred into motion and made his way down the gridiron of streets, deserted in the early morning lull.
I have never trusted them; for all that I have tried. Could they not see it, with my pocket demons and skeletal servants, could I not see it?
Somewhere in the blocks of houses round him, here in suburbia...a dog barked.
He caught sight of a vague shape flitting in the glass of the windows behind him...
The bark brought flashes of dreams and Nightmare across his vision, memories of betrayal too often had they invaded his family.
How could you deny Family?
You find another one.
