by Varian » Sat Jul 28, 2007 8:56 am
Although Tristen was no longer mortal, like his brother, their rivalry had subsided. The two were as they had been in their younger years, allied and inseperable. As brothers, their allegiance was unquestioned and as warriors, their skill was unmatched.
Leading a series of campaigns with a group of mercenaries Tristen dubbed "The Knights", the older brother convinced Varian of his cause and enlisted him in his gruesome scheme. Though Varian was loyal to his brother, it was not long after this that he knew it was best to leave Tristen's side and forge ahead on his own. Varian was aging, older then than his brother was when he gave up his mortality. So, with reluctance, Varian slipped away without a word of farewell.
After the time he had spent with his brother and those within his command, Varian had come to terms with what supernatural things existed in the world. He had embraced these things as real and was bewildered by them no longer. Instead, he sought them out no matter where his travels took him. It was this indulgance that lead him to his fate.
One evening, while travelling alone through a forest path, Varian was attacked. Outnumbered, Varian did his best to defend himself, but was overcome. Beaten and broken, the thieves took all but the his clothing. In the forest, he lay for days until he conjured the strength to climb to his feet and make his way to a nearby town.
It was night when he reached the outskirts of the place, but it seems eerily empty. In an alleyway he collapsed. Barely conscious, he was unaware he had been watched, followed during his entire ordeal. When a man approached him, Varian threw tired fists. His weakened attacks were brushed away and the man took Varian in his arms. What he offered was life, strength and the promise that the young man would never feel the pain he was suffering again.
When Varian could not answer, the man closed his eyes and brought his lips to his throat. Varian struggled, but could do nothing. The vampire's fangs pierced his dirt-and-blood covered flesh and Varian cried out.
The creature drank his fill, then cut his own wrist and pressed it to Varian's lips. Hungrily, vengefully, Varian drank at the warm blood as it gushed from the wrist of his attacker. The vampire wrenched himself free and as simply as he had appeared, left Varian to the ravages that would follow.
Cursed, the hallucinations that came to him during the agonizing change his body made, questioned reality more so than the event itself. Angels and demons alike came for Varian's penance. They offered salvation, in the form of light and fire. Varian refused them all and suffered their wrath.
Like his brother, Varian opened his heart to the darkness and it welcomed him eagerly.
I'm like a prisoner getting ready to talk. I feel the blood in my hands and the threat in your walk.