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Old 07-27-2006, 09:44 PM
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Jackson
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Awakening

Awakening

Braelon broke through the crust, his long, curly fingernails clawing at the dirt and mire under the scant light of a new moon. Standing, a near skeletal form, his eyes small yellowish bags, his skin drawn like old leather, he coughed dust from his mouth, and shook his long black hair, spraying dirt clots and mud in every direction.

He had slept so long in the cold earth. Trapped by the wards of Rangers, but was suddenly awakened. Called forth from the grave, as the wards that bound him in sleep were broken.

Awakening was pain and his mind filled with images of his past lives. He only vaguely remembered the land of his birth, the war, and the destruction of their kingdom. Thoughts of the war, brought memories of Innana. How sweetly she had guided him, and then betrayed his love. Betrayed his people.

They had spread throughout the world mingling with and hiding among the savage humans and watched in the dark recesses of early cities and ziggurats as the first civilizations were built by Innana and her kin.

He then thought of his teacher, Aris, and how he had called him to serve the Macedonian King, but how it was the King’s son who would be emperor. Had the boy not been weak of heart, they could have ruled the world.

He smiled at the memory, and as his senses came to him he noticed the distant lights, burning artificial fires in the night. “They have come far, it seems,” he murmured, and he moved to a nearby stone monument of an angel and began breaking off the long curved fingernails of his hands on the rough hewn stone.

He studied the angel and the inscription; “Stephanie Ann Conner. Our Angel Released 1868.” He played through his most recent memories, but made no real connections.
A horn blared in the distance, and human voices called out some vulgarities. He needed strength. He needed to feed.

“Whoa! It worked. We did it, man!” A young voice called out nearby. He hadn’t noticed them at first. Two humans. Young males. The one who had spoken had blond curly hair, wore a dark t-shirt and black jeans. The other had his hair dyed black to match his painted fingernails, lips, and the eyeliner around his eyes. Much like the Egyptians used kohl, Braelon thought.

“Yeah. Of course it did. The power of the Vril man.” The dark one answered and stepped forward. “I have called you. I broke the seals. You will serve me.” He held out his right hand, a large silver skull ring upon his third finger.

Braelon’s eyes narrowed, as passing car lights reflected of his yellow iris’ giving him a predatory animalistic look. He took a shaky step towards the boy, his long atrophied body difficult to move.

“Dude, this rocks!” The blond teen smiled and made a motion with both of his hands, bending the middle fingers down, and the end ones pointed up.

The dark one, his confidence growing, nodded towards his outstretched hand, much in the manner of a King of the Middle-Ages. “I called you. You are mine. I am your master. Show me fealty….now!” He ordered.

Braelon moved slowly and bent with effort, taking a knee and sitting before his “master.” His yellow-eyes moving slowly from the hand to the face of the dark teen, challenging him to continue. A brief second of panic flashed across the youth’s features, but his course was set.

“I am your master. I demand your fealty.” He shook his hand in Braelon’s face, demanding a response.

Braelon reached slowly for the hand and began by kissing the youth’s painted fingers and working slowly upwards towards the ring.

“Dude! It’s working. You’re really doing it,” the blonde teen bounced on his heels with excitement.

The dark one smiled and whispered, “You are my servant.”

Braelon returned the smile, with a slowly widening grin, his fangs, sharp and deadly, gleaming in the passing lights of the cars on the highway. “Of course,” and proceeded to bite through the teens wrist, taking the hand clean off and bringing the boy to his knees, too panicked to scream.

The warm blood called to Braelon and he pounced on the boy in a blur of motion and utter savagery.

The blond teen, stricken by the horrific bloodletting collapsed, the dark stain and smell of urine spreading down the front of his jeans.

Braelon, satiated at last, stood, his frame fleshy once more, his eyes restored, and covered in the blood of his master. He moved to look down at the whimpering blond teen and smiled, slowly opening his mouth and spitting the silver skull ring into his hand. He looked at the ring and slowly placed it onto his own finger.

“The world is changed boy. Now I am your master. Rise and serve me.”

The boy, his face catatonic, rose as commanded, and the two left the cemetery, and walked down the highway a few blocks, before entering Pinebox.

“Interesting name. I like it,” Braelon smiled at the city limits sign. “This will do nicely.”
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