The Necromancer's Journal
Posted: 11 Apr 2012, 03:02
((A plain, leather-bound book lies on a nondescript desk inside a nondescript crypt. The handwriting upon its pages is equally unremarkable.))
April 5, 2012
It appears that the lost Stella Blake will soon be meeting her first true brush with death. In case I do not find my way back (though I have no doubt in my mind that I will), I hope that my sister will find this book before any others do. She has understood me more than the others have, which, unfortunately, isn't saying much.
I will preface this volume by saying outright that my loyalty to our sire, my savior, was never a question. Because of what I was as a human, I am immune to some of her charms, like I would be to any other's. She alone kept me from a far worse fate, the one that was waiting for me that very night when my body was about to give out. I did not join Habren and Mircea in their hunt out of any sort of misplaced loyalty. I aided them because it was the quickest way to ensure a hand in avenging the death of Vivianna. It is unfortunate that the one target I was able to inflict damage upon was one who did not participate in hunting my childe down.
So, where did this story begin? Tristan, my brother, if you can call him that (and I am sure he feels just as warmly about me) was killed at the club. Further casualties were Oria's leg and Sundial's guts. All for a bounty posted by an entity no one really knows anything about. Well, Tristan's death was for the bounty. Oria and Sundial? Apparently being in the wrong place at the wrong time, when a brat who apparently was never disciplined enough decided she has no reason to obey the same rules set forth for everyone else.
I will come out and say for the record here that Amaranthia shows no favoritism. My sister had her ribs broken by her then-boyfriend, who showed up for his shift as though nothing happened. When I shot him at point-blank range and left, Asmodeus was bewitched to attack me back, right on the streets. Amusingly, it is always those who act as if the rules are above them who complain about the "unfairness."
Let me apologize, by the way, for my less-than-stellar grasp of grammar. It seems that the head wound Phoenix inflicted upon me has left me a mere mediocre genius. Thankfully, I was able to heal the brunt of it.
Yes, anyway. Tristan was killed, and the lovely Phoenix posted his obituary. They have been at each others' throats since before even I took issue with her. I'm sure it was quite the victory, to kill off the Telepath. I still have the hope that I will take her down with me. The little voyeur will regret the night she crossed me.
Which was not tonight, when she struck back, by the way. Nor was it yesterday, after her puppet tried to strike me in the catacombs. (As an aside, it took the two of them double-teaming me before I took any damage. Two strong young people to strike a little old lady, and even then, left me with two gashes in my left thigh. I would have expected more, to be honest).
No, that night was late last spring. I had spent most of the night with Chad, and invited him to my apartment for a bit. Nothing like that happened. He's a gentleman. We were talking and I noticed a figure in the shadows. I do not know if Chad saw her, but I was able to smack Phoenix's hand away before she could pick my pockets.
Who does that? Who sneaks into people's homes, especially when they are entertaining, just for pocket change?
Did I use the Necropolis as an excuse to hit Phoenix? Of course I did. She had it coming for almost a year.
April 5, 2012
It appears that the lost Stella Blake will soon be meeting her first true brush with death. In case I do not find my way back (though I have no doubt in my mind that I will), I hope that my sister will find this book before any others do. She has understood me more than the others have, which, unfortunately, isn't saying much.
I will preface this volume by saying outright that my loyalty to our sire, my savior, was never a question. Because of what I was as a human, I am immune to some of her charms, like I would be to any other's. She alone kept me from a far worse fate, the one that was waiting for me that very night when my body was about to give out. I did not join Habren and Mircea in their hunt out of any sort of misplaced loyalty. I aided them because it was the quickest way to ensure a hand in avenging the death of Vivianna. It is unfortunate that the one target I was able to inflict damage upon was one who did not participate in hunting my childe down.
So, where did this story begin? Tristan, my brother, if you can call him that (and I am sure he feels just as warmly about me) was killed at the club. Further casualties were Oria's leg and Sundial's guts. All for a bounty posted by an entity no one really knows anything about. Well, Tristan's death was for the bounty. Oria and Sundial? Apparently being in the wrong place at the wrong time, when a brat who apparently was never disciplined enough decided she has no reason to obey the same rules set forth for everyone else.
I will come out and say for the record here that Amaranthia shows no favoritism. My sister had her ribs broken by her then-boyfriend, who showed up for his shift as though nothing happened. When I shot him at point-blank range and left, Asmodeus was bewitched to attack me back, right on the streets. Amusingly, it is always those who act as if the rules are above them who complain about the "unfairness."
Let me apologize, by the way, for my less-than-stellar grasp of grammar. It seems that the head wound Phoenix inflicted upon me has left me a mere mediocre genius. Thankfully, I was able to heal the brunt of it.
Yes, anyway. Tristan was killed, and the lovely Phoenix posted his obituary. They have been at each others' throats since before even I took issue with her. I'm sure it was quite the victory, to kill off the Telepath. I still have the hope that I will take her down with me. The little voyeur will regret the night she crossed me.
Which was not tonight, when she struck back, by the way. Nor was it yesterday, after her puppet tried to strike me in the catacombs. (As an aside, it took the two of them double-teaming me before I took any damage. Two strong young people to strike a little old lady, and even then, left me with two gashes in my left thigh. I would have expected more, to be honest).
No, that night was late last spring. I had spent most of the night with Chad, and invited him to my apartment for a bit. Nothing like that happened. He's a gentleman. We were talking and I noticed a figure in the shadows. I do not know if Chad saw her, but I was able to smack Phoenix's hand away before she could pick my pockets.
Who does that? Who sneaks into people's homes, especially when they are entertaining, just for pocket change?
Did I use the Necropolis as an excuse to hit Phoenix? Of course I did. She had it coming for almost a year.