Author Message

<  Ancient Tomes  ~  A bleek insight.

PostPosted: Mon Mar 18, 2002 3:47 pm Reply with quote
== 1852 - London, England ==
((Mark Archer - Vampire 75 years old))

The stone pebbled street branched off in several directions, some of which connected to other main streets. However a few broke off into blind alleys that were un-penetrated by the flickering street lamps.

The sky was dark, a void of anger and hate that was unleashing a relentless stream of rain upon the town. The wind was strong and cold as it rushed its way through the otherwise silent streets. The town was dead with no activity, except for in one alley.

The bolt of swirling blue energy shot forward from the slender fingertips of the hooded figure and hurtled towards its target, illuminating the alley.

Swinging his prey in front of himself Mark Archer watched as the ball of energy intended for him struck against the young man he was feeding from. The man’s body began to flow with blue energy that shone brightly until it consumed him making him evaporate into nothing more than air.

Mark’s attention quickly turned to the cloaked and hooded figure. Beneath the shadows wrapping around her features he spotted the familiar look of horrific shock covering her face. Leaving no time for her to react he swiftly moved towards her. His right hand curled into a fist and drew back to strike her across the face. Her body spun slightly and she fell to the floor on her hands and knees.

The hood fell from her face exposing her gentle delicate featured face. The woman before him was in her early 20’s. Her long strawberry blonde hair caressed her face. Her head slowly turned to the side and her emerald green eyes locked onto the Ice Blue ones of Mark Archer.

A smug look shot across Mark’s face. He began to speak as the women tried to rise to her feet.

“Do you have any idea how rude that was? Do you think you can just go around shooting balls of swirling stuff at…”

He was cut of mid-sentence as the lady spun round planting a firm backhand against Marks face. She attempted to strike again only to have her arm gripped tightly in Marks hand. Almost instantly her other hand tried to make contact with his face only to be deflected.

A short-lived smile flashed across Mark’s face that was wiped away by a roundhouse kick to his face causing him to stumble backwards.

“I will no longer allow you to walk these streets causing terror foul demon…” Her voice was soft yet harsh and warding.

[ This Message was edited by: Mark Archer on 2002-03-18 10:37 ]

PostPosted: Mon Mar 18, 2002 4:47 pm Reply with quote
== 1799 – Yorkshire, England ==
((Mark Archer – Mortal 22 years old))

The sky whistled a violent and harsh tune that tore through the village. Shattering anything in its path. God frowned upon this village, his wraith flashing across the sky.
The streets were empty; save for a few drunken or sinister men. The pebbled streets were straining against the flow of the rain. Lanterns were loosing a battle against the darkness.

Mark Archer was awakened by the whimpering howl of a women. Leaping from his bed he rushed down the stairs to the main room of the small humble house of his parents. The fireplace was alight. Its flames danced to a harsh beat that changed rhythm with the gentle breeze of air that rushed through a crack in the window. The flames created many beautiful and enrapturing images but also destroyed them all in the wink of an eye.

The crackling was soothing to the ear, the colours of the flame transfixing me. Its freedom fascinated Mark. The Fireplace was made of old wood that was hollowing out. A door to the right was an escape. An escape from the horror that haunted Mark Archer. Pictures of the family lined the filthy walls; chairs and tables occupied the middle of the room. A rug rested before the fire.

Upon this rug was the women who had waken him. It was his mother. Her clothes were ripped. Her battered and abused body exposed to the elements of the world. Her husband and father to Mark kneeled above her; one hand holding a belt that was rapped around her skinny, withered wrists. In his other hand was a cane, his tool of pain.

Mark had lived with knowing his father raped and beat his mother from a young age. Fear kept him away... hate kept him silent. Knowing his whole life he was a mistake. A rejected gift, the unfortunate product of his father’s game.

She lay there, suffocating on a sock that silenced her pleas, her pain. The belt was cutting off her hands circulation. A look of terror and sorrow filled her face. Her stares could not penetrate the harsh exterior of the heartless basterds face. His stern face showed no sign of remorse... no sign of pleasure... no sign of emotion. He through the cane behind him and began to strike her with his hands. His rough hands struck the soft gentle beauty of her face.

A single tear rolled down her face... this single tear struck Mark like a hammer. His hand griped tightly around his Father’s shoulder, pulling him to his feet. He was shocked and Mark took advantage of this. With his free hand he punched his father in the face and then the stomach. He bent over in pain until Mark’s knee made contact wit his body. He fell to the floor, winded and hurt.

Mark’s gaze turned to his mother. For a few moments he was lost in her beauty until his Fathers fist struck Mark above his left eye ripping open the gently soft skin. He then grabbed Mark by both shoulders, hurling him into the fireplace. Marl slowly slumped down to the floor as his father ran towards him.

His father stopped, he grunted, he screamed, clutching at the object that penetrated him. The smell of burnt flesh filled the room. His shattered body fell to the floor. His life flowed out of his empty shell.

Mark stared in awe at his right hand, which had been burnt by the red-hot poker. Standing Mark looked at his father. He had killed the weak old fool that had ruled his life. He was free from the pain but only to be haunted by it. He moved over to his mother and unbound her.

"You fool. You’re insane. Look what you have done! I wish you were never born you complete waste of space. Get out of my house now! It’s your entire fault. I hate you. If you dare step foot again in this house ill kill you!"

As the words left her mouth she broke down into tears. The words cut deep into Mark’s soul shattering it.

Don't FUCK up the jacket!

[ This Message was edited by: Mark Archer on 2002-03-18 11:16 ]

PostPosted: Mon Mar 18, 2002 5:12 pm Reply with quote
== Return to 1852 – London, England ==
((Mark Archer – Vampire 75 years old))

A chuckle left Mark’s lips. The two continued to face each other in a stand off, circling around each other waiting and anticipating for the other to make the next move. Mark made that move by walking towards her. As he spoke his voice sounded dark and evil.

“Firstly…” His first punch made a swing to strike her face, leaning to the side she dodged it “ I’m a vampire…” his follow up punch with his other hand also made contact with nothing but air “…not a demon. And secondly.”

This time his punch was thrown with deadly accuracy. A look of annoyed surprise filled his face as his hand once again hit nothing and the women before him vaporized into thin air.A moment later she remateralized behind him. She planted a firm kick half way up his back sending him flying into a wall.

Moving swiftly in a almost fluidic movement Mark turned and wrapped his hand around her neck in a vice like grip. A disappointed frown covered his face and he spoke in a matter of fact tone.

“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted” His grip tightened and the women clawed at his hands in an attempt to break free “you will never stop me”

Slamming his head forwards he head butted her hard and released his grip. She toppled over from the force of the blow. As she tried to move agony and pain writhed through her body.

“Get up and dance bitch!”
“You… think we are… dancing?”

Don't FUCK up the jacket!

[ This Message was edited by: Mark Archer on 2002-03-18 11:15 ]

PostPosted: Mon Mar 18, 2002 6:14 pm Reply with quote
== 1800 – Yorkshire, England ==
((Mark Archer – Mortal, 23 years old))

It was a long cold night when Mark first set his eyes upon the women who change him forever. The fog that lined the alleyway seemed to separate and a shining light aura seemed to surround her as she approached Mark. Her clothed were of the finest quality and she carried herself with pride.

She knelt down beside the traumatized young Mark who was mumbling and rocking in the corner. Her mouth hovered over his ear and she whispered into it of a better life, of salvation and of justice. Surrendering himself to her she penetrated the fragile flesh of his neck and began to suck on his life force.

== A few Months Later ==
((Mark Archer – Vampire, 23 years old))

The wooden door to his Families house opened with little effort. Mark was now standing in the room where he had once spent most of his life. His eyes gazed back to the fireplace where he had killed his father.He stared, lost in his thoughts as his mind replayed what had happened on that night.

“Mark…” an exasperated gasp left her mouth as she walked into the room and saw her lost son.
“Mummy…” Mark turned to face her. Joy filled his face and tears his eyes.
“How dare you return to my house? I hate you. I don’t love you, I have never loved you, and I wish you were never born. Get out now or…”

The harsh words she spoke were more damaging to Mark than a thousand suns beating there light against his naked skin. Stepping towards her he exposed his kindred fangs. Terror filled her eyes and she stood helpless, frozen in fear.

Mark’s right hand gracefully moved forward and gripped her neck tightly. Raising her from the floor his grasp tightened and her fragile neck snapped with a loud echoing crack. He thrust his other hand forward puncturing her skin and ripping deep into her chest.

He retracted his hand and held her heart in it. For a few moments it continued to beat and blood spurted out sporadically covering Mark in her life force. He stared at her heads that laid limp to one side. Her face looked innocent, gentle and kind, free from her troubled life.

Dropping the lifeless corpse Mark noticed his sister in the corner of the room. Tears were running down the sides of her face. He knelt down next to her. Whispering reassurances into her ear he once more exposed his fangs.

Don't FUCK up the jacket!

[ This Message was edited by: Mark Archer on 2002-03-18 12:32 ]

PostPosted: Mon Mar 18, 2002 7:11 pm Reply with quote
((Mark, you're a sick sick man :smile:

PostPosted: Mon Mar 18, 2002 7:37 pm Reply with quote
(( Why thank you :eek: :lol:

PostPosted: Mon Mar 18, 2002 7:56 pm Reply with quote
== Return to 1852 – London, England ==
((Mark Archer – Vampire 75 years old))

Mark’s focus stayed on the wounded women who had pulled herself up to her knees. She raised her head to look into Mark’s eyes. Her hair was in dismay and her clothes worn and slightly ripped. She took several long heavy breaths.

Mark looked at her and spoke with a mocking tone. “What’s the matter? Bitten of more than you can chew?” He clicked his jaws together making a loud biting noise and baring his fangs.

“No just buying my time!” She reached out her hand, with her fingers spread, in Mark’s direction and a stream of blue energy shot forth from each of her fingertips. The energy struck Mark in the chest creating an explosion that through him into the air. Before he hit the floor Mark activated his Obfuscate abilities landing hidden from the women’s sight.

Her eyes darted around the dark alley in search of her now hidden enemy. Her eyes opened wide as she struggled for breath feeling Mark’s arm around her neck in a deadly strangulating headlock. Her hands struggled to free herself and her eyes rolled back as she fought a losing battle for air.

Leaning his head in towards hers he planted a kiss on her left cheek making a loud ‘mwaah’ noise. His face filled with a look of satisfaction and his voice was dark.

“Good night my love!”

PostPosted: Mon Mar 18, 2002 8:36 pm Reply with quote
== 1829– Nottinghamshire, England ==
((Mark Archer – Vampire 52 years old))

“Sir, Are you okay?”

Mark looked up from his curled up position next to wall of the town inn. His eyes set gaze upon a young innocent child who was no older than 6 or 7. The young boys clothes were tatty and he had probably lived his life as a street child, homeless and uncared for.

Mark sat up; his right forearm had deep scratch marks that had been ripped into his flesh by his own blood-covered hands. He spoke unsteadily like a wounded lost child.

“N…no. They’re inside me. Like little bugs. Moving, crawling, swarming through my body. Click click click! And they wont shut up! And I know they will never stop.” A single blood tear rolled down Marks face.

The young boy looked on at mark slightly scared and shocked. A smile broke out across Mark’s face.

“You want to see something cool that I made?” The child nodded and moved towards Mark who handed him a piece of paper folded four ways. He slowly opened the paper up and looked at the large spots of smeared blood

“Isn’t… isn’t that blood?” The boys voice was broken and slow.
“Yes it is” Mark smiles proudly “do you like it?”
“Its disgusting!” the boy dropped the paper to the floor and started backing away from Mark “ what kind of a sick freak are you?”

Jumping to his feet Mark quickly took the young boys fragile neck in his hand and his intense dark eyes penetrated a message of hate and anger into the young boys soul. He bared his fangs and he took on the tone of voice akin to a demon.

“What did you just say?” Marks grip stayed firmly around the young boys neck who was paralysed in fear. His body lay limp and he coughed and spluttered as he struggled for breath.

“What did you say?” The anger was rising in Mark and he continued to tighten in his Grip. The defenceless child struggled to free himself from the grip, his head was becoming light and he was drifting into unconsciousness.

Mark let go of his grip and dropped the boy to the floor that crawled up into a ball to try and defend himself. Crouching next to the boy Mark glared harshly at him.

“ I asked you what did you…” Mark stopped mid-sentence as his eyes came to rest on the child’s tongue. “Maybe this will help you speak…” Reaching out with his hand Mark gripped tightly to the tongue and yanking wit hall his strength he ripped it free from the boys mouth.

The child let out an agonizing scream that was followed by coughing and spluttering as blood began to fill his mouth.

“I’m going to ask you one more time. WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST SAY!”

Mark unleashed a fury of relentless kicks into the child’s ribs. After hearing a satisfying snapping noise he stopped and his attention turned to his hand holding the tongue where he let out a little sigh

“Oops I’m sorry. How are you supposed to talk when you have no tongue.” Mark propped his mouth open with one of his hands and with the other he pushed the tongue back into the young boys throat.

Mark grimaced as a deep pain filled his head and a blinding light filled his eyes.
“Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!”

Marks fist plummeted deep into the child’s chest were he gripped onto his heart. Pulling it out from his victim’s chest he held it in his hands, examining it.

PostPosted: Mon Mar 18, 2002 8:53 pm Reply with quote
((lame post lol!))

== Return to 1852 – London, England ==
((Mark Archer – Vampire 75 years old))

Mark’s smug look continued to grow as he felt the opposition the women was putting up beginning to fade. A strange tingling sensation ran through his body. The odd sensation continued to grow causing Mark’s body to convulse slowly. His grip started to loosen around her neck as he lost control of his body and his body entered some kind of fit. He collapsed to the floor and began to shake uncontrollably.

The women fell to her knees holding her neck desperately trying to catch her breath. A few moments later she moved over to Mark who had now stopped shaking. Tears were streaming from his eyes and he began to mumble in a shaking scared voice.

“ I killed them all. I only wanted to help… why did I have to kill them. I don’t want to kill anymore. Help me… somebody help me. It wasn’t me. I’m not a FREAK! I’m normal, normal, normal…. normal. Clicking clacking in my head. WHY wont it stop. Make it stop. SHUT UP!”

"I will help you... on one condition." The women spoke in a warm reasuring tone.

Don't FUCK up the jacket!

[ This Message was edited by: Mark Archer on 2002-03-18 16:15 ]

PostPosted: Mon Mar 18, 2002 9:29 pm Reply with quote
User avatarMalkavianPosts: 0Location: San Francisco Bay AreaJoined: Thu Nov 20, 2003 9:52 am
((:;is wondering if it was wise of her to ask mark to stay:: coolllll posts markie:):):):):)

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PostPosted: Tue Mar 19, 2002 10:36 am Reply with quote
== 1889 – France ==
((Mark Archer – Vampire 112 years old))
((Excuse my French! If I’ve made any big mistakes lemme know so I can change it so I don’t look like to much of a fool:P lol))

“Bonjour Princesse.”

The startled women turned around to see the male who had followed her down the dark path. Her eyes looked over him until they settled on the large knife he was brandishing. She clutched at her handbag and raised it to below her neck in a almost defensive manor.

“Quelle est la chienne de matière?” The youth walked up to the women and grabbed her firmly by the scruff of her neck. His evil eyes starred into hers and his voice of darkness-instilled fear into her. “Effrayé je vais vous couper?”

“Non! Svp non! Vous ne devez pas faire ceci. Ne me tuez pas!” The women’s quaking pleas appeared wasted on her attacker.

An evil smirk crossed his face as he placed the blade to her cleavage “Qui a indiqué quelque chose au sujet du massacre vous putain?” Pushing the blade into the fabric he made a long cut in it that exposed part of her breasts. She let out a whimper as tears flooded her eyes.

“Laissez la dame partir et mettre le couteau vers le bas avant que je vous mette avalez.”

Both the women and the man turned to see the new arrival that was dressed in a long black coat and black trousers. His short black hair was now spiked up and his piercing Ice blue eyes darted between the two, Mark Archer smiled as the attacker of the lady smirked at him.

“Im montant au va te faire foutre mal anormal” The attacker snarled. His threat got a response of a laugh from Mark which apparently pushed him over the edge.

Running towards Mark the attacker held out his knife that was destined to imbed its self inside Marks chest. Stepping to the side Mark avoided the weapon and he reached out his own hand taking the attackers arm by the wrist. With his other hand Mark planted a firm backhand against the attackers face that sent him stumbling backwards and caused him to drop his weapon

The dazed youth bent down in search for his weapon. Before his exploring hand had time to grab onto it Mark grabbed his arm and giving it a firm twist he snapped several of the bones in the arm.

An agonizing scream left the youths mouth as his arm was twisted behind his back into an arm lock. Looking over in the direction of the women Mark spoke.


The startled lady ran as fast as she could away from the nightmare she had just encountered. Pushing forwards Mark sent the young man flying into the wall. The terrified youth made a dash towards the exit only to stop in his tracks as his own knife had been thrown at him. The blade pierced his skin and punctured his right lung.

Mark walked slowly over to his now disabled prey. Crouching beside him he looked deep into the eyes of the attacker. A strange swirling green mist of bright energy began to flow between the two men’s eyes.

As the flow stopped both men fell to the floor.

[ This Message was edited by: Mark Archer on 2002-03-19 10:53 ]

PostPosted: Tue Mar 19, 2002 9:24 pm Reply with quote
== 1898 – France ==
((Mark Archer – Vampire 121 years old))

Mark Archer stood slowly clutching his head. The pain was intense but only brief. His eyes looked down to the women who had been laying beside him. Brushing of the dirt from his coat he turned to leave the French graveyard. He stopped at the gate that provided an exit as he heard the horrific screaming behind him.

“Faites- sortirle de moi! Faites- sortirle de moi. Oh aucun son rampement. L'obscurité. Ahhh. un, deux, trois. Bleu. Rouge. Le son prochain OH mon dieu son venir!”

Mark sighed heavily as he left the graveyard.

== Later that night ==

The door to the small house opened with a soft creek and closed with a bang. Taking of his jacket Mark through it over a chair. His eyes scanned the room where he found the oh so familiar face once more sitting at book covered desk and staring into the fire. The women he had first met in the alley was now in her mid 60’s but had a physical appearance of that of a 35 year old. Walking over towards the fire he obscured her view and smiled.

“You’re looking old”

The women met Mark’s eyes and smiled “I’ve been reading about you” She motioned towards the newspaper. “Apparently there is a stranger in this city who travels the street at night defending the citizens and leaving criminals as nothing more than blabbering fools. Oh and you look terrible” the women retorted, a smirk across her face.

“I feel terrible” Mark let out a sigh as he grimaced.

Standing up the concerned women moved towards him.
“Is it the side affects?”
Mark nodded slowly.

“It’s getting worse. Every time it gets harder to resist. I can feel their thoughts inside my head like a part of them is becoming a part of me. Trying to make me carry out there will and… a part of me wants to give in to the evil” Mark sighed heavily, his eyes looking to the floor in shame.

“Mark listen to me. The call of evil is strong and tempting and you show great strength in resisting it.”

Mark briskly walked towards the window of the room.
“But for how long Sandy? I don’t want to be like I used to. I did many evil things. I killed everyone I loved. I…” Mark stopped silently as a single tear rolled down his face “ I killed the mall and now there blood in is on my hands. I see all of there faces every time I close my eyes”

Sandy followed him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Does it still work?”

Mark nodded slowly “ Yes. When I do it the bad thoughts go away for a little while. But they come back quicker and quicker.”

“Good. There is another solution but until then you must carry out your side of the deal and protect the innocent people. I think I know how to help you but there is a draw back.”

A dark chuckle left Mark’s mouth. “ All you ever talk about is draw back this, side affects that. Have you ever thought that I might possible prefer it if you shut the fuck up and let me finish what we started in the alleyway?” Spinning round mark struck a kick into Sandy’s face. Before Mark had a chance to strike again he was stopped in his tracks by a hurling blue bolt of energy.

“Tomorrow we travel to Italy old friend.”

PostPosted: Wed Mar 20, 2002 9:41 am Reply with quote
== 1899 – Italy ==
((Mark Archer – Vampire 122 years old))

Mark Archer’s long black coat wavered behind him as he jumped down from the roof of the two-story house landing in a feral like crouching position between the two men, separating the renowned attacker from its victim. Mark rose to a standing position, never breaking the eye contact with the attacker.

“Il saviour francese della gente infine è venuto in Italia. Sto osservando a lungo in avanti a questo. Un tempo molto molto.”

Mark cocked his head to the side and frowned. He spoke in a matter of fact tone, “I’m sorry I don’t speak ‘Italia’ but I do know one thing and that’s…”

Mark winced in pain as he felt the attackers blade penetrate the skin of his chest. Mark looked down slowly then raised his eyes to meet the now somewhat shocked man.

“Che cosa sono voi?” The words stumbled out of the man’s mouth. He then smiled and looked Mark up and down “L'OH quanto insensato di me. Potrebbe essere che il saviour della gente è affine”

“Ahh get over it. That was god damn antisocial and I don’t think I like you anymore!” Mark looked deep into the eyes of the man before him. A puzzled expression came across his face as he read an aura unlike any he had seen before. This was his first encounter with a Garou.

Pulling out the blade that he had been attacked with he through it to the floor and watched as his wound almost instantly healed.

“I’m going to enjoy feasting on your mind wolf man”
“Le vostre parole lo annoiano affine. Preparisi per combattere!”

The Garou made a swing at Mark but before it made contact the Garou suddenly lost balance as he felt himself flying across the Alley, his back hitting hard against the wall winding him slightly. Looking down he saw Mark holding him in a rugby tackle.

Mark felt the brutal impact of the werewolf’s elbow on his back. His journey towards the floor was interrupted by a well timed knee to the face on behalf of the Garou. Falling to the ground Mark activated his obfuscate powers before he hit the floor vanishing into darkness.

The startled Garou’s eyes darted around the area in search of its now hidden prey. Realizing that its visual senses would be no longer of any use it began to take several long deep breaths into its nose sniffing the air. Taking advantage of his momentary upper hand Mark brought into play his Malkavian powers.

The Garous senses ran rampant as the overpowering stench of vampire dominated them entirely. His head moved back and forth as he tried to locate the invisible prey. His frustrated movements became quicker as his sense of smell lied to him.

A gentle whisper spoke in the back of his mind in a dark tone of voice. "Where am I wolf man?". A fleeting image of a dark man flashed passed him, as he turned round rapidly to face it the image had disappeard.

He was rewarded by the firm implantation of a metal pole across his face. Blood spewed out of the corner of the garou’s mouth as he flew back once more against the wall. The wounded and winded man stood dazed.

Dropping the metalic object to the floor Mark approached the beast dropping his cloak.

"I thought your kind was meant to be tough!”

Planting a firm punch in the stomach of the Garou it bent over in pain as more blood exited his body via his mouth. Gripping his hand firmly around its neck he pinned the beast against the wall raising it several feet from the floor.

A Smirk crossed Mark’s face as the lupine struggled to free itself from the ever-tightening grasp around its neck. The struggle to breath was obvious as its eyes rolled back slowly into the back of its head.

Marks victory was cut short when his smile began to fade. His grip loosened as his vice like hand was being pushed apart. The neck he was holding was growing thicker and becoming covered in a layer of fur. The beast was changing into its wolfman form. Its muscles bulged out shredding the clothes that were stretched over them. Its fingernails lengthened into deadly claws ands its fangs protruded from its snarling mouth.

A horrified and shocked looked engulfed Marks face. Lowering his eyes down he caught a glimpse of the beasts gigantic claws embedded in his chest, travelling inside his body and rupturing out of his back impaling several of his organs on there journey.

Blood dripped slowly from the corner of his mouth. His eyes narrowed into a evil glare. " that was my… favourite…. Shirt" Marks voice was resonating with pain , his sentence broken up by grunts of agony as the claws moved around inside his body.

Retracting its claws sharply Mark fell to the floor on his knees. Looking up in awe of the beast he let out a little laugh. Pulling himself up to his feet slowly he once again looked in the direction of the beast. Blood was dripping from the five large wounds in his chest. Before he could react the beast once more struck mark with the back of its hand, impacting across his skull sending Mark flying across the alley. In a vain struggle Mark stood once more using the wall for support. Stumbling towards the towering beast he was stopped in his tracks by another blow.

Looking up at the wolfman their eyes made a brief momentary connection. The beast stumbled back wards reverting to its human form. He clutched at his head and blood trickled slowly from his nose.

Taking advantage Mark used all his remaining strength to move over to the startled Garou. Gripping it by the scruff of its neck their eyes made contact and the swirling green energy traversed between their eyes. The connection lasted longer than any previously attempted. As it broke the Garou fell to the floor and a sharp searing pain filled Marks head.He fell to his knees clutching to his head.

“No…. No… stop stop stop! Argggggh”

The screaming stopped and he stood slowly, his wounds almost fully healed. After taking a long slow deep breath a smirk shot across his face.

“Whoa… Damn that was cool!”

Mark waved his hand passed his eyes several times.
“l'illusione non è cambiato mai in qualche cosa di reale”

[ This Message was edited by: Mark Archer on 2002-03-20 04:31 ]

PostPosted: Wed Mar 20, 2002 11:51 am Reply with quote
== 1899 – Italy, Continued ==
((Mark Archer – Vampire 122 years old))

Sandy’s heavy boots created a long echoing of her footsteps as she moved down the streets of the Italian city. Her eyes scanned the streets and the buildings as she briskly walked passed intent on completing her mission.

It had been nights since she had heard from Mark and that was odd on its own but what she had been reading in the newspapers disturbed her even more. A Plague of insanity had seemed to strike the city and several massacres had taken place.

Sensing his presence near by she concentrated heavily and honed in on his location inside a small office building. Pushing the flimsy door open she was greeted by a horrific sight.

Before her sprawled across the blood soaked room were nine bodies. Each body mutilated and defiled; Limbs were severed, bones were broken. Some had patches of flesh removed, others had been drained of blood but in each one behind their eyes was nothing but an empty shell, drained of its soul.

The stench of death filled the room and in the middle of it stood one Man, one vampire. Mark Archer. Sandy’s attention turned to Mark as she heard the sound of a lifeless corpse fall to the floor. Her eyes moved slowly from the dead body and up to Mark.

Darkness was preoccupying his eyes and blood was slowly dripping from the corners of his blood-covered mouth. His hands and arms, the tools of his creation, were red and angry with blood and his naked torso was covered in stolen smears of his victims life force.

A soft squelching noise filled the room as he let the heartof his last victim fall to the floor. Turning round to face Sandy Mark smiled.

“Hey Sandy” He smiled a large fake happy grin. He ran his left hand through his hair and down the side of his neck transferring some of the blood and his right hand down the front of his chest.

“Mark what has happened to you?” Sandy stood and watched in horror as Mark slowly inserted his fingers into his mouth and began to suck each one clean as moans of ecstasy left his mouth. “ You gave into it didn’t you? The darkness has consumed you…”

Mark stopped and stood up straight giving sandy a sarcastic puzzled look and speaking in a mimicking tone “Ya Think?” A evil smirk crossed his face and he let out a little chuckle “Each time I look into one of those pathetic people’s eyes, I see what no one else can see. They strengthen me. I can feel their emotions inside me. With each one I am becoming stronger, more powerful.” Mark’s eyes were wide and almost ‘desperate’.

“Mark listen to me… you are addicted to it. There is still time to fight it. Don’t let it control you.”

Mark sighed heavily shaking his head “ Sandy… Sandy. It’s not controlling me. I am finally remembering who I am, what I am. I can feel it growing inside me.”

“It will consume you until it kills you!”

Mark walked over to Sandy taking her by throat. “Wrong! It is my rebirth!”

The door to building opened violently as several Italian law enforcement men entered the buildings. There weapons raised and ready to shoot.

“Good bye Sandy”

Mark released his grip on Sandy and barged passed the officers as he vanished into the night.

Don't FUCK up the jacket!

[ This Message was edited by: Mark Archer on 2002-03-20 05:52 ]

[ This Message was edited by: Mark Archer on 2002-03-20 05:56 ]

PostPosted: Wed Mar 20, 2002 4:47 pm Reply with quote
=== 1906, Austria ==
(( Mark Archer – Vampire 129 Years old.))

The sun had just set and darkness was taking over the still busy Austrian streets. Mark was wearing a huge smile as he walked down the street. His arms were swinging in the air as he took long slow steps moving his body as if he didn’t have a care in the world and inviting people to dare to stare.

He was wearing clothes that were suitable for a businessman. As he continued his walk down the street he caught the eye of an attractive lady walking in the other direction. As there eyes met Mark smirked at her and continued walking past.

The women braced herself against the wall as a headache overcame her and her nose began to trickle blood. After several worried people showed there concern she wiped the blood away and continued her journey.

The walk to his haven beneath the foundations of a modern apartment building was not a long one. As he entered it he was greeted by a surprise. Four figures stood before him dressed in ceremonial robes. One of the centre figures took of her hood.

Mark sighed heavily and shook his head “ SANDY! Its great to see you again after all these years. Hmm your not getting wrinkles are you?

Sandy’s voice and posture were emotionless as she confronted Mark “We have come to stop you from continuing your destruction. If you surrender yourself I will be able to help you otherwise I will be forced to take whatever action I have too, to stop you again”

Mark shook his head sadly. “ You shouldn’t have come back here Sandy… I’m afraid thins between you and I are not going to work out properly. Regrettably I’m going to have to kill you. All of you.”

Mark began to walk forwards towards the four mages before him. As he took his next step one of them fired a ball of electrical blue energy at Mark. The blast hit but caused Mark to merely take a step back before continuing forward. The Mage released a second bolt that had a similar affect.

Turning to face the baffled Mage Mark smirked. “You’re a good shot” swinging his hand round from his back Mark revealed a small revolver that he aimed at the mage. “I’m better.” The trigger clicked and the small metal projectile cut through the air as it headed towards its target. The bullet implanted itself firmly in the skull of the Mage. Blood began to rush out of the hole in the front of his head and his eyes rolled back in his head as he fell to the floor.

Dropping the weapon to the floor Mark acted upset in a mimicking manner. “ Oh my did I do that? I’m terribly sorry.”

Scanning the remaining stunned 3 Mages Mark made eye contact with one of them. This mage fell to the floor screaming in agonising fear of the fake horror that was haunting him.

Sandy begin to chant her ritual spell as the final Mage engaged Mark in unarmed combat. Mark allowed the Mage to plant several firm punches into him before ending the charade. Take the mage by his robe he looked into his eyes and the green energy once again flowed. The now brain dead Mage fell to the floor and the reenergized Mark Walked towards Sandy.

As the last word in the ritual left her mouth a sharp agonizing pain struck Mark’s mind and he collapsed to the floor.

The door to the family house opened slowly as the two young children entered the room. The boy was roughly 12 years old and his younger sister was 8or9. The two children were giggling amongst each other as they walked through the house towards the Kitchen.

The lady who stood behind the stove was the same as the one Mark had encountered on the street. A large soup broth was cooking on the stove. Her nose was still slowly trickling. Her skin looked paler than useless and clammy with sweat dripping from her pores. Her face carried a bigger smile than usual. In her right she held a blood stained carving knife.

The young girl took a seat at the table and the boy moved over towards his mother.

“Hey mum” He took a long deep breath “mmmmm something smells good”
Humming happily to herself the mother looked to her son “ Set the table please Juan”

Juan grabbed four bowls and spoons and set the table for four. The mother then brought the large soup container over to the table. The two children now sat at the table as the mother raised the lid of the soup and inserted a ladle, stirring the soup.

The little girl spoke up “Is Daddy coming home for dinner?”

The mother let out a short little controlled laugh “ No Daddy can’t have dinner tonight Cas”

“Umm why not mam?”

The mother started to laugh uncontrollably in an almost maniac way unable to speak. Every time she tried another burst of laughter left her mouth. After several minutes she looked into the soup dish smiled and spoke

“Because daddy is dinner.”

Humming happily to herself once more she inserted the ladle into the soup and retrieved enough to fill up all four dishes. The children looked in unspeakable horror as blood stained water spun in there dishes and recognisable features of there father floated in there soup.

Standing up sharply from the table Juan knocked his chair backwards and unleashed a torrent of puke onto the floor.


Grabbing hold of her knife she jumped at her own son and proceeded to impale his young fragile flesh on the knife over thirty times. Standing up she sat back at the table and proceeded to eat a mouthful of the soup.

She glared at the daughter. “ Eat up your soup” she smiled warmly and went back to humming.

[ This Message was edited by: Mark Archer on 2002-03-21 08:06 ]

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