In Off-topic

Make sure you have alot of time before reading this.



Intro:
An underground supernatural culture is hidden from the judgmental society known as the human race.
The citizens of this society are made up of creatures once thought to be the stuff of human fiction and faerie tales: people like Werewolves, Elves, Draconians, and Vampires. They eke out normal existences as they live among you.
Theres crime, poverty, and even rivalry in this strange civilization.
You are the first to know of it.


THE DAMIAN CHRONOLOGY







Present Day

It was 10:30 on a Friday night. The video store was cold and devoid of business at this hour. A woman walked deep into the store dragging around a heavy box filled with tapes to reshelf. The clerk looked at his watch torturedly. He then took a sip of his Slurpee, grabbed his guitar magazine and reclined in his chair.

The clerk tensed up as he heard the electronic bell announce a new customer. Glancing away from his magazine he saw a man in is early to mid twenties, shuffling through the “bargain bin” in front of him. Judging from the stranger’s heavy black trenchcoat and long, blonde hair which is short in the back, one can assume he's a street punk. A large, wide brim fedora hat is hanging off his shoulder. We know him by the name Damian Warrington.

"Can I help you?" the clerk said irritably, his eyes never leaving his magazine.

Damian stopped in his tracks and glared at him through his thin red sunglasses. "No, thank you, I'll think I'll manage sir." Damian spoke in a Cockney accent. The clerk heavily sighed and did not respond to anything else Damian did. He then headed off to the Horror section of the store. Damian always loved how wrong horror movies were.


While browsing through the large library of tapes, he saw a beautiful Asian woman crouched over on the other end of the section, reshelving the "Faces of Death" tapes. Her figure intrigued him. Grabbing the tape he wanted, he walked a little closer to her, and silently watched her shelf for a moment. He was enticed by soft look of her face. He then broke the silence.

"Good Evening, miss" He started. She looked up at him, fully showing her face.

"Saw II is in the new releases". She automatically, yet tiredly uttered, completely interrupting him. She then went back to work.

The full image of her face froze in his mind, and a small pain in his head made him wince. After opening his eyes, the woman appeared in an elegant black dress, and her hair up in a bun. On her side and neck were large bloody gashes. He stared in horror for a moment, as his heart pounded. He shut his eyes and opened them again. She looked normal again, only looking at him a bit irritated. He dropped the tape and quickly walked out of the building. The clerk jumped out of his chair as Damian sped across him.

He dropped to his knees in the parking lot beside the store, firmly grasping his chest, and panting loudly. Saliva coursed in his mouth, and with his final convulsion, collapsed on the pavement.  Slowly collecting himself, he weakly rose to his feet and hoofed it to the alley across the street, entering a door with a sign that reads "The Stake."

The Stake is an underground "blood bar", where vampires can feast on willing human "fan-girls and boys", as well as get a stiff drink. The air was pungent of blood, and sweat, at least to Damian, who has a keen sense of smell, as is usual for a vampire his age. The vampires in the tables around the bar are talking up a storm with their seemingly adolescent hopefuls.


He slumped into a stool, and ordered up a shot of Jagermeister.

“Something wrong, mate?” The bartender lisped in an Australian accent.

”A great deal” Damian weakly replied.

”That drink should perk you up then!”

Thoughts coursed throughout his mind.

1918... After all these years, the memory remains

Damian was 45 years old when she died. Her name was Akiko Kitano, his human companion. She not only was his lover, but assistant in his work as a freelance soldier. Her death was very damaging to him. Somebody merely looking like her can make him sick to his stomach with the pain of loss.

4/5/1918

Damian limped as he carried Akiko to the foyer of his house, lying her down gently. He had a large cut down and across his eye like a cross. A dagger the size and shape of a Bowie knife was sticking out of his back, a pain all too familiar to him. Blood seeped out Akiko's side and neck, running through the spaces of the tile floor. Quickly grabbing gauze, he began patching up her wound, shakily saying "Youre going to be alright. Stay calm."

Calmly, she smiled. The look in her eyes was a sign of euphoria, a symptom of massive blood loss.

Her eyes widened. The smile was quickly wiped from her face. At the same time, a large black rod burst from her chest, with a torrent of blood. Her body rose from the ground as the owner of it emerged from a portal in the floor. It was a male humanoid figure dressed in a dark green two piece suit, and top hat. Akiko was limply impaled on his cane. Throwing her off, he walked over to Damian.

"It hurts you, doesn’t it?" The intruder hissed. Looking over at the body, he smirked. "Actually, it probably hurt her more. I told you to stay out of my affairs, Mr. Warrington, you revealed my business, and now I’ve reached my wits-end."

"You ruin human lives!" Damian retorted, with eyes ready to tear up. From off a plaque on the wall, He ripped a particularly large sword with the word BANESTRYKE etched in the hilt. One side of the blade had three leather buckle straps. With tears flowing from his eyes, he screamed "GEOFF! SHOW ME WHAT KIND OF A MONSTER YOU REALLY ARE!"

He charged at Geoff with the extremely large sword. Damian slashed it with great force considering his bodily proportions. Geoff stood there, with a large dagger like the one in Damian’s back, ready to block a potential decapitation. With an abnormal ripping noise, like tearing meat with bare hands, He sliced Geoffs stomach deeply.

Not so much as a squeal came from Geoff, who still was smirking evily. He put his hand on the wound, pushing in a piece of flesh hanging out of his belly.

Suddeny, his image flashed and changed. His figure was now a red skinned, large, limbless, bulbous creature. Saliva reflected in his gaping blue mouth. A hypnotizing glare came from its singular green irised eye. A large, wide-open cut is across from where his cheek would be.

He is a Cacodemon: an Interdimensional creature capable of traveling on two sides of the world in an instant.

Damian dropped to the ground, terribly exausted. The creature bellowed a low frequency howl of pain, and warped away in retreat.

After desperately crawling toward Akiko’s lifeless mound, Damian sunk his fangs in her cold neck with tears in his eyes. Feeling her flesh, he'd found that it was too late


“Why…?” The sobbing faded off into the distance.

Dude so far it's good! When are you gonna update? I'd like to read more.

EvilNES, that was awesome. If you manage to write an entire book about this, I bet it would sell very well.

Dammit. How come when I write about my story ideas, they end up as a rambling mess?

I was eating lunch while reading this, got to the bloody parts and had to put the plate down (AKA, it was very good)!

sorry, Todd, I had no idea it was that bloody. maybe I should have put a warning.

thanks for the input guys!!!

Yeah dude, it's a cool story! I like it so far. Here's what I think would be cool to add to it though (I'm not an English major by far though, so take this with a grain of salt):

Something I've noticed that sets a good author apart from the average, is the way a background is described. Make sure you paint a picture for everyone to see... when you introduce the vampire bar, or whatever it is exactly, describe it to the reader. If the reader can get a good picture of it, they will be able to relate more. That might sound lame, but it's true. J.R.R. Tolkien got so far because of his descriptions, IMO. I don't know if you've ever read any Michael Moorcock (Elric Saga, etc.), but he does this really well without taking up alot of pages.

Dont be afraid that I will jump from time period to time period. I envision this universe as being like comic books, where they have adventures from all over time. As soon as I'm comfortable with the universe I'll start making a linear story arc.

This is the "Origin Issue: Part I"

10/4/1891

The carriage ride from London was surprisingly smooth, partially settling eighteen year old Damian's nervousness. The view outside of the elaborately decorated carriage was a drab and dismal forest path. The bright gray sky pierced through patches of the dark green overlooking trees. The only sound heard was the grinding of wood on dry dirt, and hooves pounding rhythmically. He took his eyes off of the outside and looked at the letter in his hand for the tenth time.

The letter was an acceptance from an important college, so it had plenty of confusingly ambiguous paragraphs, so Damian skipped them and read the part he knew would make or break him.

"...It is with great thought and consideration to select you, Mr. Warrington to become a scholar at Wadsworth College for Young Men. We hope to see you this following year.
Sincerely, Mitchell Hall- Dean of Students "

The sound outside transitioned from hooves on dirt to hooves clapping stone, a sound that excited young Damian. When the carriage stopped, He gathered his personal effects, and stepped off the carriage. Walking towards the main dormitory building, the details of the place got clearer. He stopped when he came right in front of it. The building was a large Victorian mansion with a mixture of Russian architecture. It had grey stone outer walls, and atop the onion shaped rooftops were twisted and almost archaic looking spires. As he climbed the stairs to the front door, he noticed the stairs a solid white marble.

He took a deep breath before stepping inside the building. Before he can take a step, a man from behind him tapped him on the shoulder. He was a young gentleman in a black suit.

"Excuse me," The man tipped his bowler derby. " I come from an organization that you may find quite interesting." He then handed Damian a card, and walked away.

It was a small, black card with the text written in gold.

The Night Brotherhood needs new members this year.

Come to the north building to apply.
Come tonight at midnight.


He walked into the building with the utmost curiosity as to who these people were.

Later that night, a feeling of impending doom permeated throughout the lone dorm room. Damian nervously fixed his tie, constantly eying the card given to him on his recently unpacked dresser drawer. He walked over the recently received card, and placed it in his breast pocket. The feeling of anxiety started at his gullet, and sank into his chest. He eyed the door to leave his room, which seemed to grow and loom over him. He started to walk toward it. For that instant, time distorted. With each stride, his legs gave a spectral, imagistic trail. Visually, everything seemed clearer to him. He felt as if he can see objects from several angles, even though he is facing it in one direction. In a tense, uncomfortable instant, time snapped back to its normal flow. The effect wracked his mind.

After he opened the door to the dorm building, a rush of cold night air blew across his face. The chill instantly filled his body. He had to slowly collect himself, for he knew it would be a long walk to see if he was fraternity material, and he couldnt have nervousness completely ruin this experience for him.

It was a typical Victorian fall night. The trees were entangled webs of wood, and the air was crisp and fresh. The moonlight illuminated the dark forest path, making it look like a black and white photograph, which fittingly were the only colors he could see.

He was alone on the path, so he had lots of time to think to himself, though one question constantly echoed throughout his psyche:
The intricate entanglement of the trees slowly parted to dramatically reveal the formerly obscure north building of the campus.

The buildings architecture was Gothic, which seemed unfitting to the rest of the campus. The rooftops were steep and triangular. A large gargoyle with a weathered and mangled face was perched on a ledge above the door. Its skin matched the light gray stone of the rest of the building, which was cracking and growing moss in some places. The condition of this place lead to a humorous little thought in Damians mind:

After he stepped on the front stoop, he eyed the semi full wine bottle on the tin box next to the door. Due to Damians curious personality, he picked it up and examined it. The label on it had no words, just archaic symbols and an inverse pentacle written in gold leaf, like the one on his card.

He smelled it. It wasnt obviously poisoned. He took a large swig of it, figuring it was a test of faith. It tasted like red wine with a slight coppery taste.

Inside the derelict building, he heard a voice call out. "Youre just in time, come inside."

The foyer was torch lit. A large stone altar was in the middle with a robed man behind it.

" I can smell your breath " The robed man commented. It was humanly impossible considering Damian was a few feet away from him. Damian backed off, a little worried.

" Congratulations, you passed..." he continued, with quite an inviting voice. He then directed his hand to the left of the altar. "...unlike this poor soul." Damian was shocked to see a body lying face down on the floor. what disturbed him more was the large open cut on the robed mans palm. Damians eyes widened when he came into the realization of what that coppery taste in the wine he drank.

"Welcome, Night Brother!" A voice from behind Damian hissed. Before he could turn, a large stabbing sensation pulsed through his neck. He dropped on to his knees in a dizzy spell, warmth leaving his body. When his body grew limp, everything around him faded to black. Unreasonably to Damian, he was still conscious as he lay in his darkness. He knew he was not dead. The proof came to him from a sharp sensation in his tounge. Strangely enough, it came from his tooth.