The Tide of Darkness
This is a short little story that my hubby and I wrote up for a character he use to play in an RPG called GemStone IV. This is kind of a twist upon the Drackula story with this being some what like a summary, and we plan on making it full length story with all the various different adventures and run in they had, as well as their sexual escapades.
Long ago in a dark forbidding land, a mighty Dark Elf warrior arose... Vlaadamier Drackule. His heart belonged to Neamie, and none other could surpass the love that was between them, for their hearts and souls were bound in such a way that each was the other's very reason for living. Connected in the purest of devotion, one without the other would surely wither away and die. At the time, a great war raged within the land and the holy conciliate called Vlaadamier to fight with their allies. Dutifully accepting his part in this great battle, he tenderly stroked his wife's cheeks as he kissed her, then left her to fight for gods and king... praying to his gods to see them safely united. As the war went on, his thoughts turned to his beloved wife, time and again, giving him greater courage and strength to over come his enemies so that he could once more be by her side.
Finally, the war was won, and Vlaadamier embarked on his journey home. But even defeated, the enemy had learned of this remarkable coupling, and plotted one last strike of revenge to destroy this great warrior at the very core of his being. Sneaking upon the shadows of the night, they sent a swift runner disguised as one of the royal guards and bearing a false message to his Neamie, telling her of Vlaadamier's death during the fiercest part of the battle. With spectral tears of unfathomable grief spilling forlornly down her cheeks, Neamie's heart was torn with anguish and despair. Unable to accept a life without her most precious of possessions, she cried out to the heavens in utter torment, before flinging herself off the highest tower of the castle... sacrificing her life on the rocks below to once more be in her husband's arms.
Vlaadamier rides into his homeland seeking nothing more then the soft welcoming embrace of the woman he loves so much. His long white hair is tangled and matted with sweat and grime, his black skin a dusty gray from his thunderous journey home which had pushed his charger to the very brink of collapse. Even his long, pointed ears sagged from fatigue. Upon reaching his castle, however, he is ordered briskly to the Hall of the Holy Conciliate without even getting a glimpse of his wife. Kneeling before the high priest, he tells Vlaadamier what a great warrior he is and how his ventures have served a greater purpose for the gods and his people. Many praises and flatteries are lavished upon the noble warrior. Then the priest hesitates, before proceeding to relate the tale of how his wife had been tricked into believing him dead, and had killed herself. The priest sadly shook his head as he intoned, "I am sorry, my child, but since she took her own life and the life of her unborn child, I fear you shall not see her in the after life. For it is a crime against the very foundation of the heavens."
Vlaadamier simply looks upon the priest... stunned. Not only had he lost his beloved heart, but she had been pregnant with his child to? It slowly seeps in, and with it, so does a dark and bitter fury. Suddenly he throws his head back and screams "Noooooo!!! This cannot be true!!" He rises from his knees, and in a blind rage proclaims, "Why?! Why did you not protect her? I fought this war for you and the gods, so why did they let her die! If I had not taken your quest she would still be alive!" Spitting at the priest's feet, he snarls, "I curse you and the gods you serve!" Drawing his skull-pommelled baidlaire from his scabbard, Vlaadamier flings it into the onyx cross behind the council members, and as the blade pierces the very heart of the cross, blood begins to flow like water. The conciliate looks on in stunned disbelief as the blood flows down the face of the cross dripping into an offering bowl which had been set beneath it. To their utter horror, Vlaadamier steps forward and picks up the bowl, rising it above his head as he cries out, "Hence forth, I serve NO gods. For I will be a god in my own right... and as I partake of this holy of holiest blood... let it be so!" With this he brings the bowl to his lips and drinks of the sacred sacrament.
Suddenly the bowl clatters to the floor as Vlaadamier's body begins to writhe and contort in agony. He falls to the ground screaming in pain, and his countenance begins to change. Long sharp fangs begin to appear as his skin turns the cold ashen gray of the grave, and his hair turns coal black as though seeped in pure evil. Lifting his head, his eyes glow a deep crimson red, and the council members scream, "Flee! He has been possed by a demon from hell!" Smiling evilly, Vlaadamier roars, "No... I "AM" hell!" With an astounding speed born from his new demonic form, he leaps upon the high priest whom had told him of his loves death, and starts to partake of his first feast of blood. Now he walks the lands in darkness, a tormented soul preying on others while seeking what he had lost.
As time passes, Vlaadamier roamed over the lands feeding upon the life force of other less fortunate souls, and seeking the solitude of night as the anguish of his torment follows him... a constant companion to haunt every moment of his days. Yet his soul is lonely, for he is utterly alone in the creation of this dark realm he has made. As he comes upon a small village, he spies a young Elven ranger standing by a well talking to her companions. Looking upon her golden hair, he is reminded of the radiant warmth of the sun... and the glowing health of her tanned skin reminds him of a life long lost to him. He decides then that he shall not be alone in his journeys any more.
The Dark One waits, hidden in the shadows for the right time to set forth his plan. Soon, this young Elven maid and her companions depart for the eve, heading towards their homes. As she starts through the woods, Vlaadamier appears before her blocking her path. She comes to a dead stop, her eyes narrowing warily as she draws her dagger, preparing to defend herself. For all she knows, he could be a highwayman or rogue of some sort. Vlaadamier holds up his hands in a sign of peace as he inclines his head to her in greeting. With a deceptively kind smile upon his pale lips, he asks, "Child, pray tell, what is your name?" She stands tall and proud, her deep blue eyes flashing with indignant fires as she snaps back almost defiantly, "I am Florra Whisperingvine of sylvankind. What concern is that to you stranger?" He grins, admiring her strong spirit and pride, and asks her if she would like to live forever. Florra quirks a brow at such a strange question, but ponders this a moment before replying with a slight shrug, "Sure, who wouldn't? But I find this a rather odd question since it's not possible." The corners of Vlaadamier's lips turn up in a soft smile. "Oh, but how wrong you are my child... for "I" can and "shall" make it so." Leaping forward with incredible speed, he grabs her and pulls her tightly against his strong masculine body before she even has time to react. She tries to fight him, but is no match for his awesome power and strength. Pushing the silken strands of her golden hair aside, Vlaadamier sinks his teeth deep into her jugular... drinking her life force. Florra's struggles grow weak, and finally she lies limp in his arms, and just stares up at him with dull glazed eyes. He stops just short of taking all of her life, picks her up, and carries her deeper into the forest. Laying her upon a cushion of pine needles, he croons to her, "Rest now little one, for whence you awake this next night, you will no longer be Sylvankind. Henceforth, you shall be known as Veratu, and all will call you daughter of Vlaadamier Drackule."
Vlaadamier and Florra roamed the lands together for many centuries as he showed her the awesome power and freedom of what she had become, fulfilling their thirsts for both blood and erotic designs. For many ages they were happy together as father and daughter, but inevitably, Florra eventually grows apart from him and finally goes her own way seeking her own destiny. Once again, Vlaadamier's heart is lonely and he thinks often of his lost love and humanity. He resigns himself to the fact that he will never again see his beloved wife, and that the only way he can end his loneliness, is seek out his lost humanity. So, slowly he begins to seek those that are so full of life and vitality, not to feed, but to draw strength and essence from their presence. Instead, he feeds from the bodies of rats and other creatures of the wild so that he no longer has to feed from those he is now beginning to care so much for.
Traveling long and far, Vlaadamier finally comes to a small town call Icemule trace. This town seems to suit him with it cold places and solitude, so he decides to stay for a while. Again, he is drawn to the vibrance and vitality of the people here, yearning to gain a little more of his humanity that might someday break the bonds of his living hell. By and by, he comes to meet a beautiful young cleric named Bikine whom is introduced to him by way of a mutual friend. In her, he sees the soul of his lost love now reborn. Alas, she is a holy woman, and so at first he keeps his distance out of his unease for the ominous presence of divine power. Yet from the very first glance, he knows he loves her, even though he cannot tell her for fearing her rejection and disgust for what he was. However, his love for her is strong and knows no bounds, and finally he forsakes his evil ways to try and be with her. He trembles to think she may not return his love, but he soon realizes she loves him as much as he loves her as their bond transends the very fabric of time. Now they reside happily together in Icemule along with their two sons, Arkainan and Zaaknafien. Vlaadamier hopes that some day he will again see his daughter Florra and that she will become a part of his new family. He still seeks total humanity... and with the help of his love and her father, Lord Seaven, he may once again find that most treasured of gifts.... salvation.