This is dedicated to all of my lupine family on Bloodwars, long may they endure.
The year was 2562, and the Hall of the Wolf was echoing with the shouts of young vampires. They had been alive for a good thirty or more years now, but still had the bodies and faces of twelve year-olds. They were heading to the Library, as tonight they were to hear the tale of the Blood Wars, from one of those who fought in it, one of the first to be turned. As the young ones flooded into the room, they saw him draped across a wingbacked chair, his head resting on a heavily scarred hand. His face though, his face was what stopped them dead. Long, fine silver hair cascaded over his shoulders, starkly contrasting with the tribal tattoos curling around his cheeks, over his eyelids and across his temples. He wore a pair of midnight-blue cargo trousers with silver chains looped around the waist, while his torso was bare save for a sleeveless biker jacket, black with red shoulders and a golden pentagram worked onto the collar.
Two ice-blue eyes snapped open at their entrance, and he stretched himself hard enough for the bones in his arms to be heard creaking. 'Come on then, stop standing there. You may have all night but I don't want to be speaking for too long.' His voice was deep, yet warm so that none felt threatened by him, and they instantly complied with his order. After they spread out around him in a semicircle, he stared at each for a moment before speaking. 'Before I start, let me say two things. I expect you to remain silent during this retelling of the past, and that everything I tell you from here on out is the truth. I am Naedra Koralint, and this is how you came to be.'
'Our past, our beginnings even, started a mere three hundred years ago. At the end of the twenty-third century, mankind was growing restless. War had been a myth for the past fifty years, since scientists had found ways to solve the main problems of the planet, they being famine, disease and prejudice. But humanity was not content with this. They wanted to alter themselves at the genetic level, to take characteristics from animals to enhance themselves. This idea swept through country after country, with scientists of every nation devoting their efforts to solving this most complex of riddles. However, none were able to understand how you could fix all the extra information into a single strand of DNA.
A mere five years after the ideas inception though, a young biology student solved the question. If the basic double helix of human DNA was insufficient, then the shape of such a substance must me altered. He took the basic shape, then wrapped half a strand of animal DNA around the human piece, affixing it with a mixture of nanites and artificial proteins. This new triple-helix strand was inserted into a nanobot, and then entered into a series of fifty volunteers, each with a different animal for the third strand. The nanobot reproduced inside them and acted like a retrovirus, destroying human DNA and replacing it with the new. But the stress caused by such a dramatic change to the bodies very genetic makeup caused all but one of the subjects to expire. Subject thirty-nine, the only survivor, lapsed into a coma from which the doctors feared he would not recover. Six months later, at the research facility, subject thirty-nine awoke. He left a trail of bloodless bodies through the building before his flesh sloughed from his bones as a tide of nanites. The animal strand given to him? Chiroptera, the bat.'
'Over the next fifty years the nanobots picked random humans to change into this new form, dubbed 'vampires' by those who knew of the old legends, but no longer did people dissolve into more nanobots. they stayed alive, staying young for longer than should have been possible. people thought that would be it, that a percentage of humanity would become these 'vampires' and they could be hunted down and destroyed. They did not reckon on the A.I. of the miniature machines.
The DNA mutated yet again, the infected gaining unnatural abilities. Those in Asia became the Bibitor Sanguinus, Blood Takers or Absorbers in English. They could drain blood from anything animal, merely by coming close to the subject. In Africa the Domus Durbentia originate, commonly known as Cultists. Their abilities manipulate blood to hyper-accelerate themselves, as well as to recover from normally fatal wounds. From Russia and Eastern Europe came the Magister Bestia, Beastmasters, a savage bloodline who use blood to augment their strength or to make themselves resilient to damage. Finally, from Italy and North America are the Copit Cogitatio, Thoughtcatchers, using their abilities to influence and distort peoples perceptions of their surroundings.'
'The remnants of mankind tried to defeat these new foes, but they were too strong for the weakened state of man to subdue. In the end, Mankind was the one defeated, defeated and subjugated, to live their lives in the shadow of the Chiropterans. Yet, as the vampires gained control of the planet they began to fight amongst themselves for power, territory, and people to bleed. Due to this, clans were formed to control and maintain areas of the globe, to keep mankind suppressed and able to slake the Chiropterans insatiable thirst. However, Mankind has never been a species to give up easily, and some vampires are outcasts from all other clans. What will happen, or rather, what did happen? Well, let me speak my tale, and then you shall know. Maybe not understand yet, but know..'
'The first memory that was truly relevant to this tale was wandering. Wandering endlessly outside of this safe haven, many miles away from what passed for civilization in those days. I wasn't sure of the exact date, just that it had been more than two hundred years since mankind had been subjugated. I wasn't even sure what I was doing out there, only that I had fled something. Some details others have filled me in on, so don't complain if I speak about something I couldn't have seen. Now, let me immerse you..."
The sand was blinding. Howling winds swirled around a huddled form as something tried to dig a shelter in the sands of the Desert Ephermeh. The sandstorm was slowly worsening as it dug, the stinging grains flying through the air reshaping into glass before they nicked the tough hide. Frantically scooping sand out from in front of it seemed it's only goal, to hide itself from the storm. It stood up, thin crimson rivulets streaking the reddish-black hide, a hide the color of old blood. But if anyone had been around to see, they would have noticed the surface darken to black and solidify, only to shatter around the body of what appeared to be a human, however the slowly dissolving shell of black material would tell you otherwise. a brief glance would have showed you a muscular body, well developed but not overly so, a thick matted mane of dark hair and swirling patterns across his shoulders, for it was undeniably a he due to his nakedness, the patterns thickening at his spine and thinning out as they traced along his arms. His face was obscured due to flapping hair and the gloom in a sandstorm, but you would not have seen more as he disappeared into the hole he had dug, the entrance collapsing behind him. No trace of his being here remained, save for the rapidly dissolving remnants of the black hide-armor.
Dark halls of granite, lit by torches and occasionally light bulbs, three people walked along one of the interconnecting corridors, the light illuminating them starkly. They walked abreast, two men and one woman, she walking between. The female, far smaller than the two men, would capture your attention easily, no, more than that. She was a striking figure, petite and alluring. Her hourglass figure was perfectly shown off by a rich brown leather corset, the stiff material cupping an ample chest and fitting like a second skin. Her waist itself surrounded by a thick leather belt with a bronze buckle, fitted just loose enough to fall over one hip. Her legs, shapely and toned, were fitted in olive suede with lace-up sides, most of the material covered by thigh-high boots. This however, was not what drew the eye. A cascade of deep crimson hair fell across her shoulders to reach down her back, making her flawless skin seem like alabaster, yet this otherwise pure skin had black tracery across her arms and what was visible of her back. And her face, full lips, high cheekbones and deep green eyes ringed with gold were turned up to the man on her left, dressed all in eighteenth century clothes save for a baseball cap and steel toe-capped boots. 'Listen Lycan, we aren't exactly a powerhouse in this day and age.'
Her voice, a rich husky sound, was answered by Lycans mellow tones. 'We may not be strong in numbers, but surely we are powerful enough on an individual basis?'
'Maybe, but I am not willing to risk you all on such a low chance!'
Lycan’s face went dark, and he swung his face round to meet the third member’s gaze. ‘Armand, you tell her that we have to do something!’ Armand stopped, his ragged clothes and slouched stance completely at odds with Lycan’s refined look. ‘I agree something must be done Lycan, but we cannot just charge blindly at our enemy with only nine people!’ His voice was hoarse, as if it was used very little, and both others stopped and looked at him. ‘Amand, did you just advocate my decision?’ Guiltys face was one of shock and slight wonder, but her face fell at his next statement. ‘No Guilty, I don’t. I will not advocate charging against an overwhelming opponent, but neither can I stand for leaving clan members in enemy hands.’
Lycan chipped back in, ‘It’s true Guilty, all of us think that…’
His voice trailed off as they both noticed her head hang and small frame start shaking. Although not from fear but from anger, as Lycan found when he went to touch her shoulder but she slapped it away with enough force to slam it into the wall. Things broke, and they weren’t the granite blocks. ‘I know!’ she screamed at them, her voice rising in pitch and volume as tears of blood began to trickle from her eyes.
‘I know we can’t leave them, but what can we do for the time being? We can’t stay here, you know that they’ll come to flush us out, so we have to run. How can we help our pack if we are captured?’
Her voice trailed off as her fury abated, and she suddenly became aware of the two staring at her. Other members would have heard her outburst, and she knew that acting quickly would be the only way to save everyone from death, or worse. ‘Fine. This is how we’ll do it.’ Her voice was now cold and devoid of emotion, her eyes like emeralds, cold and hard. You may not like me for this, but it’s a damn sight better than all of us being strapped down and exsanguinated for the next few centuries. Now get everyone, grab your essentials, and meet me in the cellar, we leave in ten minutes’
They stood stunned, until she yelled at them ‘Go, now!’ They left swiftly, and sounds of hurried activity began to fill the air. Guilty walked back to her room unhurried, blood dropping from her cheeks to splash on her chest as she walked, and as she opened her oak door was greeted by the strangely knowledgeable eyes of Jones, her panther and familiar. She knelt down and hugged him, clenching and releasing his fur to calm herself. She stood again, no longer sorrow in her eyes, nor her cold gaze, but they instead held a burning rage, rage at the fact that they had to run from the very people that were once allies. The only possessions she took before leaving were her weapons, a small pouch of coin and a change of clothes. Shutting the door behind her for what seemed like the last time, she wlked down to the cellar with Jones padding beside her and stood before the nine remaining members of her once-proud clan, Cabal of Wolf. ‘We will come back!’
Her rich voice echoed amongst the pillars of the wine cellar, the attention of all there fixated on her. ‘As I said, we will return,’ she continued, looking each person in the eyes as she spoke, ‘ We will go to the wastelands, to the Desert Ephermeh, there to live until we are strong enough to return.’
She was cut of by a cry of ‘Madness!’ from one person, another male who went by the name of Somebody. He was wearing faded blue jeans, a polo shirt in dark green and a black sleeveless jacket. His necklace of canines bounced against his solid chest as he strode forwards to stand before Guilty. Armand, now with a pair of wolves on either side of him, and another, garbed in the vestments of a priest and carrying a mace and broadsword, stepped forwards to block his passage, only to be waved aside by the one they tried to guard. ‘Come on Somebody, surely you know that you will die if we stay in the City?’
‘Yes,’ was the arrogant reply, ‘but at least if we stay here we can take some of them with us…’ His voice slowly silenced as he saw the look of pure contempt that grew across his mistress’ face. ‘Take some of them with you? And how do you expect to do that, little Somebody, you who has always hid, and run, and scavenged until we found you. You, who did not know how to use those pistols you are now so proud of your skill with? And so you expect me to let the rest of my Wolves die when we can live and return? Stay here, and we will die. Leave with me, and we only may die. So what is it to be?’
The silence was deafening for a few seconds, then a loud crash came from upstairs, followed swiftly by the sounds of a great many footfalls. ‘Looks like the decision has been made for us.’ Guilty nodded, pointed to a section of the wall and said ‘Amarth, the way out if you please?’ The priest-garbed nodded, then swung his mace at the indicated spot, shattering the bricks into rubble. The noise made the footsteps upstairs stop, then they resumed, this time moving towards the cellar entrance. With dust thick in the air and a cry of ‘Get in!’ from Guilty, the vampires shot through the newly found hole and down a tunnel, a tunnel choked with ancient webs. ‘Keep Running!’ shouted one of them in worn brown leather chaps, a black shirt and adorned by an ankh, a sniper rifle hefted in one hand. ‘We keep moving, this tunnel comes out in the brothels. From there we will split up and get to the walls, and then make for the wastes. We rendezvous at Hot Spring Oasis in two days, make sure you say alive!’
Exiting the tunnel, all glanced at each other, then turned and ran in different directions. As Guilty ran with jones following her, only one thought was in her head. Yes, please stay alive.
