Post by sleeps on Aug 3, 2006 12:00:18 GMT -5
[This story is a work in progress. As such, I only know the beginning as of yet. The 100-word-description thing is below, but it's not very good since I know little about the story... eh, I try, I do. Unless it's not needed... meh.]
Copyright: B.D. Fagan, 2006
Constructive criticism is a good thing, suggestions will be recognized, feedback in general is always good...unless it contains the word "gay". If it's bad, give me a reason so I might find it useful and solve whatever problem there is.
Derivative works...can wait until after the story is complete. I don't want people taking the story and setting a course that I didn't want.
THAT-TEXT-ON-THE-BACK-OF-A-BOOK:
Following the Vampire-Human wars, the vampires were looked down upon by the then-victorious humans for a decade since, seen as bloodthirsty, warmongering barbarians. The prejudice was bearable, and some humans were compassionate. But for Drakken, a vampire who was a child during the war and disliked by humans, the prejudice would be trivial compared to finding your family murdered and home destroyed by a human. So starts his burning hunger for vengeance...
PROLOGUE
Vampires had been accepted among the other peoples of Naggaroth for as long as any would have cared to retrace. Before the barbarian empire of Racul was made manifest in the region, and before the Naggar tribes took hold of the nation. In truth, the area was what one may call a neutral region. All peoples were accepted and granted freedom. But this all changed around two decades before the story of Drakken and his search for revenge.
At that time, there was no established union between the races to ensure that there was no unnecessary conflict amongst them. It was simply accepted that the entirety of the community were to live together and in peace. But of course, all good things must come to an end. Three days after the time of the King's death, a vampire named Macconis (pronounce Mak-son-iss) took it upon himself to lead a cult of his vampire brethren to battle against the country, and capture the entire nation in the name of his feined religion. His head spirit was known as "Paeatob", and seemed to be bent on what he called "bringing vengeance to the spirit, and giving him what was rightfully his". Indeed, it was a ploy to gain the trust of over 3000 vampires and get them to join his Paeatob's Army and retake the area for his own selfish wants. The unfortunate people who were his target were the humans, who had, over the years, become the most powerful force in the land. With them out of the way, Macconis would be able to advance across to each coast, and conquer the land. He had, over a period of 5 short years, pushed the men back to the east coast. The attacks were almost always conducted under cover of night, generating a foolish myth that vampires could only be outside at night. It was one of many examples of the prejudice that would plague vampires for years after the war. 4 out of every 5 vampires in the region were part of the army. With Macconis preparing to move in for the final assault, the human Lars Illusensor, the legendary tactician of that era, devised a plan: unite the humans in one last assault, travelling around the island in a ditch effort to end the attack by attacking the vampiric capital on the other coastline. What he didn't know was that there was a river that was previously unheard of, cutting straight down through the island to the other side. He fluked into it on his way down the coast with his fleet of ferries, and they changed course to downstream. They emerged a day away from the capital, hitting the enemy from behind and quickly assassinating Macconis. However, this was not without its losses. Over half of the total human population had been destroyed during the war, and Illusensor was slaughtered during the attack, along with all but a dozen of his men.
For the next 10 years, the continental skirmishes kept the citizens in relative turmoil. What order there was seemed to only control the massacres closer to the nation's capital on the east coast. The remainder of the attacks had gone unchecked, but for what retaliation the townsfolk would organize themselves. Communication was close to impossible, and the opression continued on until the summer of the 11th year, with the formation of the Human-Vampire Peace Alliance. About one hundred men and vampires constituted the alliance. It was dedicated to the quelling of rebellion, racism, and overall skirmish between the two races until they could grow to accept each other. Although there were so little of them, and so many others to defeat, the fighting had been reduced to near-nonexistance over the rest of the decade, until the end of the 19th year. There was a new government that had been sworn to look upon both races equally that ruled over the nation, and even though there was still a far reach of the southeasternmost point of the area that was in a state of relative anarchy, Naggaroth was now under control. Not a totally peaceful land, but it was far superior to the Naggaroth of 19 years before. The people had finally started to rebuild, and were reunited once again. The races were at last acquainting themselves with each other again, and surprisingly, with very little conflict.
Since then, there had been a legislation put into place such that a vampire could no longer use human blood for consumption without consent, and no more than once per 3 days. There were also a number of shops that provided blood, gathered from the lifeless bodies of bandits and thieves that were executed for their crimes. Usually the purchase of blood was the choice taken, since few humans were consenting to being bitten by a vampire, whom they would have hated not 10 years earlier. There was, in fact, still certain prejudices that existed among both vampires and humans, against each other.
-- CHAPTER I --
It was getting late. Drakken quickened his pace as he proceeded down the forest path towards the well. He had been trapped outside during the night before, endured the cold, the fear. He knew better than to tarry now. Fog covered the path before him like a curtain; he lost all track of time in the mist and broke into a run.
Finally, as though his wishes were a governing force, the fog seemed to lift. The purple mist was pierced and broken by the full moonlight, allowing Drakken to see the path in front of him much better. He breathed a sigh of relief, not knowing whom or what to thank, so the gratitude stayed inside of him. It felt like it was pressing against his chest, trying to get out. But it stays inside, and eventually dwindles away into nothing.
The ground was coated with a thin layer of dew from the mist. The loose pebbles and rocks glistened white in the moonlight. Although he still couldn't see much of his surroundings, the fact that he could see gave him renewed strength. He felt now that completing his formerly near-impossible task was a joke. After all, he had just left and was already over halfway there. He berated himself for being so worried about it in the first place. Such is the effect of the clear, full-moon night on him.
A sudden gust of wind played on the treetops, the leaves chiming a first chord in a symphony that developped with the wind. With that, the trip no longer seemed difficult to any degree. His load seemed to have become weightless, and while it collectively was simply two empty buckets on a piece of board, he knew somehow that it would feel no different once filled with water. A contented sigh filled him and slipped out as these thoughts began occupying his mind, accompanied by the music of the wind.
*****
At long last, he reached a small incline that was familiar to him. He realized that he had reached the hill on which stood the well he had been trying to reach. He looked up the hill and saw the circular brick structure that obstructed half of the moon from his sight. The hill gradually came to a steeper rise, then levelled out at the top. It was here the well was situated. Drakken shifted his weightless burden on his back and proceeded up the incline. The well was completely hidden by the hill, and he wasn't looking up to see it. The path was mostly a straight line, so during the entire trip, Drakken was in a deep state of thought, letting his body guide him by the routine of how simple it had become to go to the well from his home over and over along the same path, over the course of all these years. He thought about how strange it was that by now, he imagined himself able to sit at home and have enough money to get a servant to get water for him. Yet, here he was. The thought itself, in retrospect, did seem unrealistic. Where would he get the money, anyway? Vampires can't get those kinds of jobs anywhere, without already having a great deal of experience. No human would accept a vampire into his workforce, no matter who the vampire was. Vampires don't need servants, anyway. They're immortal. They can go get water themselves. The mere notion was laughable.
He was already halfway up the hill, and it was at this time that he realized just how beautiful the night was. He sprinted the rest of the way up the hill, the tall grass brushing against his legs as he went, the budding plants knocking at his ankles, and he sat on the edge of the stone ring that encircled the well. Looking up, he could see the entire forest through which he had just come. The hilltop rose above the trees, so he could almost see the full length of the path he walked, from the small, deep depressions in the grass on the side of the hill from his recent footsteps, down to the treeline, where a small opening could be seen that stretched down in a line that became less and less apparent as he scanned farther. It faded and became invisible only a small way down from the outer edge of the forest. He hadn't noticed it before, but he could see a cluster of dark specks just barely beyond the edge of the forest that seemed to him to be the village from whence he came. It stood to reason, since the moon was rarely as bright as it was on this particular night. The village had always been there, but it had been too dark to see the lights, until now. There was a stream of smoke pouring out of it. Around this time each year the village would have a fire outside to celebrate the year, so he thought no more of it. He saw the pond inside the town that people would swim in. The ambiance of the village, sitting on the edge of the forest that looked like a platform for it from where he was sitting, was overwhelming to the point where he started to worry about how long it would stand. Over the course of his life, he was taught that all good things must end in one way or another. They always have, and always will. There was nothing he could do about it. He gazed with helpless worry and excitement unto the village for what seemed to be hours, but he knew by the moon's position that it had been a few minutes.
Finally, he regained his senses. The night was beautiful, but the water meant more to him. He lowered the bucket down into the well, waiting until he felt it dip and fill with water before pulling it back up. As he repeated this process for the other pail, he looked back to watch the moon. Tonight it was hard not to observe. It was smaller than the land man had walked, yet still it gave off more light than the millions of suns around it in the sky. Its constant, never-changing expression of cold listlessness seemed to be the very force that somehow syphoned the color out of the world, leaving behind melancholy white and grey that hung on the treetops, in the grass, on himself... even the birds that sang happily throughout the day retreated from the monochrome depression of night. Drakken, on the other hand, couldn't have enjoyed anything as much as he did this.
The night also brought back memories of his life; eventless and opressed as it was. He remembered a vague segment of life from when he was a small child, and he and his parents were in the market looking for something that he could no longer remember. He could recall feeling moisture in his clothes from the sweat, and he was overdressed for the kind of weather there was that night. Although it was very late in the fall, it was incredibly warm. He remembered wanting to go back home, to cool off and lie down, for what must have been at least 3 hours before they found what they were looking for. The lake was surrounded by vampires as well as humans, and they were each in silent conversation. Not as if it were normal, for it was kept to a lull instead of the usual rule-free public chatter that abounded around town. They were the government of the province and they had gathered by the lake to meet and discuss the betterment of the King's Peninsula as a whole. The town itself had been situated at the tip of this peninsula, a small piece of land that jutted out, and was known as King's Point. Since the place was an essential city for trade and economy at that time, the discussions usually took place there, since it was easily accessible by all kinds of people. The details of the discussion were now lost to Drakken, and he wished he could remember. Living back then was nothing like living now. When the war started, vampires and humans shunned each other, and now the freedom both had once enjoyed was gone, as was the economy of King's Point. The population had been cut in half during the war, and even though people slowly started to come back and re-settle, it would be a long time before the city would regain the economic strength it had before. It had been a prized land during the war, and much of the town was still war-torn and ravaged by the battles fought. As a result, many of the people retreated to safer areas. He had a feeling that they would eventually return, but that wouldn't be until the damage had been repaired, both for the people and the city.
Drakken, realizing just how late he was, lifted the now-filled pails onto his back and took one last long look at the moon. He had already started down the hill and almost fell over twice before conscious, proactive thought returned to him. It lasted long enough for him to realize he had to step over another large rock, but then he fell back into a thoughtful trance and would not escape for awhile. This, he reasoned, was for the better. He needed time to think. It was why he craved the solitude he had at that moment. People in general interfered with his thoughts. The time he had now, away from everyone and from everything he knew, was something that he treasured. Thought is his best source of entertainment. His mind was a refuge from which nothing, not even the moon, now, could hold him.
On the way back, Drakken involuntarily recalled events in his life that he'd never normally try to remember, but he had lost all thought at this point and was letting the moon and habit guide his actions, and now even his thoughts. Memories of his parents floated behind his eyes. It was in the early stages of the vampire-human war, and the town had still been relatively unaffected. It was about 3 weeks before the first attack on King's Point. He was in his early teens. He remembered that a man had come to the door of their home. He was wearing a hat that had been visibly worn down after years of use, and a cloak-like piece of cloth that came down around his knees. With him he carried a large bag that appeared to be containing something. His colleague, or so it appeared, was right behind him.
"Good day, sir!" he said said to Drakken's father, "My name is Regek, my friend here is Blake. We run a small business and we've come to tell you about it. Come to our shop in town and we'll practically give you merchandise. That's what you'll think after seeing our low prices, sir! We also buy your merchandise and land for gold. Allow us to give a demonstration." He stepped inside, his colleague close behind. He dropped his bag on a table. Pulling it open, he said, "I would love to buy this house for all of the gold in this bag." While what he was asking for was insane, the gold inside the bag justified it. The bag was filled with pure gold. That money could buy 3 or 4 other houses, much bigger than the one they had! Drakken would have accepted whole-heartedly, but he was not the owner of the house then, and his father was to make that choice.
"We will respectfully decline your offer. While it is very generous, this has been the home of our family for hundreds of years, and we could not bear to part with it, for any sum of money." Drakken couldn't believe his ears. He didn't say anything, but he was astonished that his father would turn down such a large amount of gold for an old house that was hundreds of years old. He had been slow to learn the home's real value. Although he was surprised, he couldn't help but feel a pang of relief from his chest. It was inexplicable to him. It was only much later that he knew why the deal had been declined. Still, at that point he hadn't any idea why, yet he had still felt relief.
"What?!" Regek had exclaimed rather than asked, "But this is worth 5 times your home!"
"I said...we decline your offer. We would not sell this house for anything. Got it?" his father had opened his mouth and been just angry enough that his fangs had decided to show themselves.
"Oh my god... a vampire!" the two men pulled the bag off the table and bolted out the door.
"I do sincerely hope that not all humans are like that," his father commented nonchalantly. He had always idolized his father for his seemingly infinite patience and his ability to stay above anger. In fact, he remembered this particular moment because it was the only time that he recalled his father being mad. The moment in which he said "Got it?" was the angriest tone of voice he'd ever heard him use. As a result, he never forgot the names Regek and Blake.
Drakken's mind continued to wander for the remainder of the trip. He could have sworn he would have went on past the house in a trance if it hadn't been for the fact that a great light disturbed him. He could see the light was coming from around the last of the trees. The path he was walking would take him around them and would become the road that went by the front of the house. He watched the strange glow and saw it get gradually brighter as he approached the edge of the treeline. It seemed almost heavenly, even brighter than the moon would usually have been. Its glow against the trees made it look like winter frost on the leaves, glinting and waving around in the light and the wind. Then he realized that the moon was above him. What, then, was the light? After a few seconds of wondering what it could be, the location struck him. This glow was coming from the house. He broke into a sprint, dropping the pails on the path. When he finally emerged from the forest, he saw his home engulfed in flame.
-- END OF CHAPTER I --
I apologize if there's a lot of filler material. The beginning is always difficult. ><;
More chapters to follow... please leave feedback.
Copyright: B.D. Fagan, 2006
Constructive criticism is a good thing, suggestions will be recognized, feedback in general is always good...unless it contains the word "gay". If it's bad, give me a reason so I might find it useful and solve whatever problem there is.
Derivative works...can wait until after the story is complete. I don't want people taking the story and setting a course that I didn't want.
THAT-TEXT-ON-THE-BACK-OF-A-BOOK:
Following the Vampire-Human wars, the vampires were looked down upon by the then-victorious humans for a decade since, seen as bloodthirsty, warmongering barbarians. The prejudice was bearable, and some humans were compassionate. But for Drakken, a vampire who was a child during the war and disliked by humans, the prejudice would be trivial compared to finding your family murdered and home destroyed by a human. So starts his burning hunger for vengeance...
PROLOGUE
Vampires had been accepted among the other peoples of Naggaroth for as long as any would have cared to retrace. Before the barbarian empire of Racul was made manifest in the region, and before the Naggar tribes took hold of the nation. In truth, the area was what one may call a neutral region. All peoples were accepted and granted freedom. But this all changed around two decades before the story of Drakken and his search for revenge.
At that time, there was no established union between the races to ensure that there was no unnecessary conflict amongst them. It was simply accepted that the entirety of the community were to live together and in peace. But of course, all good things must come to an end. Three days after the time of the King's death, a vampire named Macconis (pronounce Mak-son-iss) took it upon himself to lead a cult of his vampire brethren to battle against the country, and capture the entire nation in the name of his feined religion. His head spirit was known as "Paeatob", and seemed to be bent on what he called "bringing vengeance to the spirit, and giving him what was rightfully his". Indeed, it was a ploy to gain the trust of over 3000 vampires and get them to join his Paeatob's Army and retake the area for his own selfish wants. The unfortunate people who were his target were the humans, who had, over the years, become the most powerful force in the land. With them out of the way, Macconis would be able to advance across to each coast, and conquer the land. He had, over a period of 5 short years, pushed the men back to the east coast. The attacks were almost always conducted under cover of night, generating a foolish myth that vampires could only be outside at night. It was one of many examples of the prejudice that would plague vampires for years after the war. 4 out of every 5 vampires in the region were part of the army. With Macconis preparing to move in for the final assault, the human Lars Illusensor, the legendary tactician of that era, devised a plan: unite the humans in one last assault, travelling around the island in a ditch effort to end the attack by attacking the vampiric capital on the other coastline. What he didn't know was that there was a river that was previously unheard of, cutting straight down through the island to the other side. He fluked into it on his way down the coast with his fleet of ferries, and they changed course to downstream. They emerged a day away from the capital, hitting the enemy from behind and quickly assassinating Macconis. However, this was not without its losses. Over half of the total human population had been destroyed during the war, and Illusensor was slaughtered during the attack, along with all but a dozen of his men.
For the next 10 years, the continental skirmishes kept the citizens in relative turmoil. What order there was seemed to only control the massacres closer to the nation's capital on the east coast. The remainder of the attacks had gone unchecked, but for what retaliation the townsfolk would organize themselves. Communication was close to impossible, and the opression continued on until the summer of the 11th year, with the formation of the Human-Vampire Peace Alliance. About one hundred men and vampires constituted the alliance. It was dedicated to the quelling of rebellion, racism, and overall skirmish between the two races until they could grow to accept each other. Although there were so little of them, and so many others to defeat, the fighting had been reduced to near-nonexistance over the rest of the decade, until the end of the 19th year. There was a new government that had been sworn to look upon both races equally that ruled over the nation, and even though there was still a far reach of the southeasternmost point of the area that was in a state of relative anarchy, Naggaroth was now under control. Not a totally peaceful land, but it was far superior to the Naggaroth of 19 years before. The people had finally started to rebuild, and were reunited once again. The races were at last acquainting themselves with each other again, and surprisingly, with very little conflict.
Since then, there had been a legislation put into place such that a vampire could no longer use human blood for consumption without consent, and no more than once per 3 days. There were also a number of shops that provided blood, gathered from the lifeless bodies of bandits and thieves that were executed for their crimes. Usually the purchase of blood was the choice taken, since few humans were consenting to being bitten by a vampire, whom they would have hated not 10 years earlier. There was, in fact, still certain prejudices that existed among both vampires and humans, against each other.
-- CHAPTER I --
It was getting late. Drakken quickened his pace as he proceeded down the forest path towards the well. He had been trapped outside during the night before, endured the cold, the fear. He knew better than to tarry now. Fog covered the path before him like a curtain; he lost all track of time in the mist and broke into a run.
Finally, as though his wishes were a governing force, the fog seemed to lift. The purple mist was pierced and broken by the full moonlight, allowing Drakken to see the path in front of him much better. He breathed a sigh of relief, not knowing whom or what to thank, so the gratitude stayed inside of him. It felt like it was pressing against his chest, trying to get out. But it stays inside, and eventually dwindles away into nothing.
The ground was coated with a thin layer of dew from the mist. The loose pebbles and rocks glistened white in the moonlight. Although he still couldn't see much of his surroundings, the fact that he could see gave him renewed strength. He felt now that completing his formerly near-impossible task was a joke. After all, he had just left and was already over halfway there. He berated himself for being so worried about it in the first place. Such is the effect of the clear, full-moon night on him.
A sudden gust of wind played on the treetops, the leaves chiming a first chord in a symphony that developped with the wind. With that, the trip no longer seemed difficult to any degree. His load seemed to have become weightless, and while it collectively was simply two empty buckets on a piece of board, he knew somehow that it would feel no different once filled with water. A contented sigh filled him and slipped out as these thoughts began occupying his mind, accompanied by the music of the wind.
*****
At long last, he reached a small incline that was familiar to him. He realized that he had reached the hill on which stood the well he had been trying to reach. He looked up the hill and saw the circular brick structure that obstructed half of the moon from his sight. The hill gradually came to a steeper rise, then levelled out at the top. It was here the well was situated. Drakken shifted his weightless burden on his back and proceeded up the incline. The well was completely hidden by the hill, and he wasn't looking up to see it. The path was mostly a straight line, so during the entire trip, Drakken was in a deep state of thought, letting his body guide him by the routine of how simple it had become to go to the well from his home over and over along the same path, over the course of all these years. He thought about how strange it was that by now, he imagined himself able to sit at home and have enough money to get a servant to get water for him. Yet, here he was. The thought itself, in retrospect, did seem unrealistic. Where would he get the money, anyway? Vampires can't get those kinds of jobs anywhere, without already having a great deal of experience. No human would accept a vampire into his workforce, no matter who the vampire was. Vampires don't need servants, anyway. They're immortal. They can go get water themselves. The mere notion was laughable.
He was already halfway up the hill, and it was at this time that he realized just how beautiful the night was. He sprinted the rest of the way up the hill, the tall grass brushing against his legs as he went, the budding plants knocking at his ankles, and he sat on the edge of the stone ring that encircled the well. Looking up, he could see the entire forest through which he had just come. The hilltop rose above the trees, so he could almost see the full length of the path he walked, from the small, deep depressions in the grass on the side of the hill from his recent footsteps, down to the treeline, where a small opening could be seen that stretched down in a line that became less and less apparent as he scanned farther. It faded and became invisible only a small way down from the outer edge of the forest. He hadn't noticed it before, but he could see a cluster of dark specks just barely beyond the edge of the forest that seemed to him to be the village from whence he came. It stood to reason, since the moon was rarely as bright as it was on this particular night. The village had always been there, but it had been too dark to see the lights, until now. There was a stream of smoke pouring out of it. Around this time each year the village would have a fire outside to celebrate the year, so he thought no more of it. He saw the pond inside the town that people would swim in. The ambiance of the village, sitting on the edge of the forest that looked like a platform for it from where he was sitting, was overwhelming to the point where he started to worry about how long it would stand. Over the course of his life, he was taught that all good things must end in one way or another. They always have, and always will. There was nothing he could do about it. He gazed with helpless worry and excitement unto the village for what seemed to be hours, but he knew by the moon's position that it had been a few minutes.
Finally, he regained his senses. The night was beautiful, but the water meant more to him. He lowered the bucket down into the well, waiting until he felt it dip and fill with water before pulling it back up. As he repeated this process for the other pail, he looked back to watch the moon. Tonight it was hard not to observe. It was smaller than the land man had walked, yet still it gave off more light than the millions of suns around it in the sky. Its constant, never-changing expression of cold listlessness seemed to be the very force that somehow syphoned the color out of the world, leaving behind melancholy white and grey that hung on the treetops, in the grass, on himself... even the birds that sang happily throughout the day retreated from the monochrome depression of night. Drakken, on the other hand, couldn't have enjoyed anything as much as he did this.
The night also brought back memories of his life; eventless and opressed as it was. He remembered a vague segment of life from when he was a small child, and he and his parents were in the market looking for something that he could no longer remember. He could recall feeling moisture in his clothes from the sweat, and he was overdressed for the kind of weather there was that night. Although it was very late in the fall, it was incredibly warm. He remembered wanting to go back home, to cool off and lie down, for what must have been at least 3 hours before they found what they were looking for. The lake was surrounded by vampires as well as humans, and they were each in silent conversation. Not as if it were normal, for it was kept to a lull instead of the usual rule-free public chatter that abounded around town. They were the government of the province and they had gathered by the lake to meet and discuss the betterment of the King's Peninsula as a whole. The town itself had been situated at the tip of this peninsula, a small piece of land that jutted out, and was known as King's Point. Since the place was an essential city for trade and economy at that time, the discussions usually took place there, since it was easily accessible by all kinds of people. The details of the discussion were now lost to Drakken, and he wished he could remember. Living back then was nothing like living now. When the war started, vampires and humans shunned each other, and now the freedom both had once enjoyed was gone, as was the economy of King's Point. The population had been cut in half during the war, and even though people slowly started to come back and re-settle, it would be a long time before the city would regain the economic strength it had before. It had been a prized land during the war, and much of the town was still war-torn and ravaged by the battles fought. As a result, many of the people retreated to safer areas. He had a feeling that they would eventually return, but that wouldn't be until the damage had been repaired, both for the people and the city.
Drakken, realizing just how late he was, lifted the now-filled pails onto his back and took one last long look at the moon. He had already started down the hill and almost fell over twice before conscious, proactive thought returned to him. It lasted long enough for him to realize he had to step over another large rock, but then he fell back into a thoughtful trance and would not escape for awhile. This, he reasoned, was for the better. He needed time to think. It was why he craved the solitude he had at that moment. People in general interfered with his thoughts. The time he had now, away from everyone and from everything he knew, was something that he treasured. Thought is his best source of entertainment. His mind was a refuge from which nothing, not even the moon, now, could hold him.
On the way back, Drakken involuntarily recalled events in his life that he'd never normally try to remember, but he had lost all thought at this point and was letting the moon and habit guide his actions, and now even his thoughts. Memories of his parents floated behind his eyes. It was in the early stages of the vampire-human war, and the town had still been relatively unaffected. It was about 3 weeks before the first attack on King's Point. He was in his early teens. He remembered that a man had come to the door of their home. He was wearing a hat that had been visibly worn down after years of use, and a cloak-like piece of cloth that came down around his knees. With him he carried a large bag that appeared to be containing something. His colleague, or so it appeared, was right behind him.
"Good day, sir!" he said said to Drakken's father, "My name is Regek, my friend here is Blake. We run a small business and we've come to tell you about it. Come to our shop in town and we'll practically give you merchandise. That's what you'll think after seeing our low prices, sir! We also buy your merchandise and land for gold. Allow us to give a demonstration." He stepped inside, his colleague close behind. He dropped his bag on a table. Pulling it open, he said, "I would love to buy this house for all of the gold in this bag." While what he was asking for was insane, the gold inside the bag justified it. The bag was filled with pure gold. That money could buy 3 or 4 other houses, much bigger than the one they had! Drakken would have accepted whole-heartedly, but he was not the owner of the house then, and his father was to make that choice.
"We will respectfully decline your offer. While it is very generous, this has been the home of our family for hundreds of years, and we could not bear to part with it, for any sum of money." Drakken couldn't believe his ears. He didn't say anything, but he was astonished that his father would turn down such a large amount of gold for an old house that was hundreds of years old. He had been slow to learn the home's real value. Although he was surprised, he couldn't help but feel a pang of relief from his chest. It was inexplicable to him. It was only much later that he knew why the deal had been declined. Still, at that point he hadn't any idea why, yet he had still felt relief.
"What?!" Regek had exclaimed rather than asked, "But this is worth 5 times your home!"
"I said...we decline your offer. We would not sell this house for anything. Got it?" his father had opened his mouth and been just angry enough that his fangs had decided to show themselves.
"Oh my god... a vampire!" the two men pulled the bag off the table and bolted out the door.
"I do sincerely hope that not all humans are like that," his father commented nonchalantly. He had always idolized his father for his seemingly infinite patience and his ability to stay above anger. In fact, he remembered this particular moment because it was the only time that he recalled his father being mad. The moment in which he said "Got it?" was the angriest tone of voice he'd ever heard him use. As a result, he never forgot the names Regek and Blake.
Drakken's mind continued to wander for the remainder of the trip. He could have sworn he would have went on past the house in a trance if it hadn't been for the fact that a great light disturbed him. He could see the light was coming from around the last of the trees. The path he was walking would take him around them and would become the road that went by the front of the house. He watched the strange glow and saw it get gradually brighter as he approached the edge of the treeline. It seemed almost heavenly, even brighter than the moon would usually have been. Its glow against the trees made it look like winter frost on the leaves, glinting and waving around in the light and the wind. Then he realized that the moon was above him. What, then, was the light? After a few seconds of wondering what it could be, the location struck him. This glow was coming from the house. He broke into a sprint, dropping the pails on the path. When he finally emerged from the forest, he saw his home engulfed in flame.
-- END OF CHAPTER I --
I apologize if there's a lot of filler material. The beginning is always difficult. ><;
More chapters to follow... please leave feedback.