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NightShade · Lore Master Joined: 11 Nov 2005 Posts: 1152

As I stared down another dead lover, I began to ponder once more. It was the growing restlessness inside me that had brought me to this point in my existence. Like cards they had fallen over the years. I had become a creature of gluttonous pleasure, living only for the wild moments.

It always began the same way. I would go for days hungry. Hour by hour I counted, hoping that perhaps just this once I would be able to resist this overwhelming urge. Eating was a source of great consternation for me, I would walk into Deuces, toss a few coins at the counter and sit down to once more imbibe a loaf of bread and a small hunk of cheese. Then staring into a goblet of wine, remarking upon the likeness of the red liquid I would wash it all down, hoping….like I always did.

This time I told myself, it would be different. This time the food would merit a warmth of expression and taste upon my dead self. With each bite I felt closer to something elusive, mysterious, and just outside my reach. The aching grew then, deep in the pit of my stomach I yearned, my hunger growing stronger with each soul satisfying bite.

Yet this ritual of imbibing, was only a ruse I played upon myself. The ache in my stomach would grow, burn, twist within me. My body, yet new in its ways of expulsion, would shake and shudder. Contorting oddly, I would lose those precious bites, those morsels of life. Once more, staring into the bloody pile of wasted food. The refuse of another nights folly, it hit me deeply all that I was and all that I had become.

It was then, lost like a child in the night, I would wander, the sound of the wolves echoing across the hills. They sang to me, their sad song tugging at my heart. This had become my bane, my burden to carry. I do not know how far I wandered, often my mind would move into an instinctual mode. Soon I would find myself crossing between the gates landing somewhere soft and green. A spot where life clung boldy to its existence. Taunting me, laughing at me it would swirl softly in front of me, the dream so far from my reality. My journey, only just beginning would push me forward to sit quietly often watching them move around me. My need growing, my heart aching as it did, the denial strong upon my soul.

AT LAST, I gave in, my eyes filled with laughter, my body soft, beckoning. I would cling to reliving the feeling of dying, draining not just them, but my spirit to. I hoped that this time would be the last, this time I would find some peace. This was no choice, thrust upon me I could not resist. So overwhelming was its call that I often found myself waking naked, laying next to them. The taste of them still on my lips, My body stained with blood and the silence overwhelming. Their eyes rolled back, my hands clenched tight. It was the cry of the mocking bird that awakened me. Once more he had found me, and his quiet mockery moved me from my spot. Or I think I should of never moved.

He reminded me, that mine should not be just another vampire story. I was determined that I would be and grow to be so much more then a hollow empty shell.

That is when I met my first true love,

Necromancy...
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Something is Wrong, I can still feel Existence...

NightShade · Lore Master Joined: 11 Nov 2005 Posts: 1152

It was an odd moment defined by existence, but held shining beyond the pale. There in the shadows of the library lay a book. Its cover bound in leather, the ages smelt strongly upon it. This book was like a fairy tale to me, but it was indeed fact, not fiction. Shining within it was my rebirth into knowledge and it held the wonder of years of searching.

As I read this story the moments came to life, swirling in front of me. I could smell, see, taste, hear,and touch the events. More then a dream, a vision of the past. A time long forgotten, filled with misery and woe. I could feel thier lingering spirits guiding me, haunting me. Some would rebuke this fact, for surely there was no residue of this nortorious pair left. Yet I could hear the hearts, rotten, beating and pouring thru my mind. I finally closed the book, my senses alive, my body tingling in places long forgotten, from what I had experienced and relived. My fingers shook as they etched the engraving of the title..

A Candid Biography of the Notorious Lich Twins

Undeath, death magic, Necromancia, affeared by common folk. Exalted, heartful, and triumph is what I felt. My head growing dizzier I ran from the room my feet cutting swiftly down the path. The harbinger, of my coming behind me, his cries high in the night sky, Mimus spurned me forward.

I ran until another would fall, I ran until the stars in the night sky faded. There beneath the waning moon, buried under the giant oak tree, I began to dig my hands clawing at the soft earth. Concealed within the roots they held it tightly and others could not pry it forth. Yet for mine hands, the roots quaked, shrieking and dying the oak wilted, fueling my conviction. Burnt by my eyes the green of the tree's leaves faded and sparkled in my eyes, fueling the strength of my spirit. It was here at last, that which I had long forsaken, in despair I had left all behind me.

I pulled it from its earthly grave and it vibrated darkly in my hands. Hope rose again in me. Cradled within its pages,a legacy of Strathmores, sung in its bindings and living within its confines.

There I held it close to my dead heart, tho it did not beat, I felt....Alive.

The Channeler's Grimmoire

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Something is Wrong, I can still feel Existence...

NightShade · Lore Master Joined: 11 Nov 2005 Posts: 1152

The room was small and rough. The wood not finely sanded. Splintered in many places, the rain often drizzled in from outside. Today I had sauntered forth thru the woods, skipping a bit pondering my latest find. Though try as I might to enchant the words with my tongue, no spell would come forth. No hidden power would rupture my form. It seemed a bit sad as I struggled until my voice gave out to speak the words of power.

I lacked the power.

Yet how could this be? My families mark upon the spellbook, a long and studied fold, ancient necromancers the lot of them. It was in my blood, it was in my soul.

That is when the tree whispered softly and I stared at it angrily trying to ignore it. Oh yes, the trees tried to speak to me. They tried to use their ancient words to bind my soul to them. Yet I would not be bound. My sister's face loomed like a scourge within my mind's eye. Then suddenly and without warning a change of fate overtook my life. I cursed her foul name and the tree shuddered from my black tongue. Moment's later my curse was repeated in a much rougher voice, that was a screeching revelation upon mine ears.

Shiny dark feathers enveloped him, casting off the light, and beckoning the depth of darkness. His eyes were golden with a ring of red looped around him, intelligence above that of an ordinary bird's shown in them.

It was in this moment, when the novice necromancer, met her familiar, that greatness was conceived.

I named him Mimus...
Spirit Guide and
Father of the Dark Brood.
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Something is Wrong, I can still feel Existence...

NightShade · Lore Master Joined: 11 Nov 2005 Posts: 1152

I had begun to hear their whispers, faint and cold in the night. I was progressing in my craft though I still considered myself a novice. Now the trees had grown silent, much to my relief, and were heavily replaced by the tongues of the dead. Everywhere I went I could feel the dead's mark upon the land. I could smell the essence of those departed close at hand. They say undeath has no smell and that is precisely wrong and yet right at the same time. Often times spirits will cling to familiarity, where they passed, where they lived. The air is darker and colder there and they hide from mortal eyes. Yet the gift opens our eyes to that which is not seen. The gift is an art to be relished and revered.

I had easily begun to see what was not right in things. What was outside of the normal. For these were key components. Perhaps, that is why the dark Paladin stood out so starkly against the pale sky. He was well armoured, a virtual death machine, yet he was no bone knight. In fact he was not a servant of deaths whims. He held none of the gift that I had. Yet his aura was corruptive, his eyes burnt like hot coals in the night. Every move was disruptive, corruptive, destructive. I loved disaster and chaos, I loved him instantly. My reckless nature pulled me forward, entranced like I had so often entranced others.. That is when the true disaster began, a violent and bloody relationship was forged. I had not only met a member of the notorious Zog Cabal but I had met Toren......

Toren was not like the others that lay dead at my feet. You could not kill what was in a sense dead. Blackrock had corrupted him and his soul and he answered to the Xornite. I loved the feeling of this corruption, it washed over me with deadly force and the call of it was irresistable. I was soon part of the fold, this secret clan of scholars..hell bent on the Cleansing.

I relished Toren and I's chaotic and destructive relationship. Often times, my friends Xandria or Narcissa would shake thier heads at the raw violence. They feared that Toren would destroy me. Some part of me knew he was capable of it and almost yearned for such destruction. Yet I was not prepared for what happened next, something I had run from for years had finally caught up with me.

Toren left, or perhaps died it was never very clear to me, yet it left a gaping hole within me and in my frantic anger it happened. Nay....She happened.

The hellspawn of our destroyed relationship emerged. The alter I used, was made of blackrock. There I cast a curse, and sacrificed the blood of two young lovers. I myself in a moment of folly even threw a bit of my blood upon the alter. Apparently that was the mistake, or the boon, however you wish to look upon it. You see the curse was mine. She was my curse, my punishment. A reminder of folly, broken heart, recklessness. I had indeed cursed myself. That is how she began, a wraith by nature, but altered slightly by blackrock. She was born of my heartbreak and sorrow....

My Willow, came to be...
She was the Child of Reckless Chaos
Born of Grief and Sorrow, Nightshades curse,
Strength and destruction were her guides....

I was born and named Willow De'Chambray, an old name handed down in my family, given by my mother. So I named her Willow after myself, casting that name aside for myself forever, it was a mark of leaving the past behind and moving forward into my future. The future my father had wanted for me when he christened me Nightshade.
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Something is Wrong, I can still feel Existence...

NightShade · Lore Master Joined: 11 Nov 2005 Posts: 1152

I was fourteen and restless. I had matured quickly over the years, and for my age I certainly had the body of an older female, perhaps around 18-19. Always tall with an angular face, and well endowed I had suffered much taunting from my peers all thru our schooling. Indeed, boys my age would avoid me like I was the plague and older gentlemen would leer at me as if I was a finely ripened apple, fresh for the plucking.

My father, Gray, was insistent that I did something, dressed in some way to lure the men's attention. He felt strongly that I was a wanton trollop and dressed me in high necked grey dresses. He made me secure my long green hair in a tight bun at the back of my head and of course, I was always forced to bind my chest. My dresses were baggy on purpose, and made of a stiff and unappealing wool. Gray insisted he did all this to protect me. However, I could not deny that I had always felt out of place here. While it was exceedingly fashionable for a young lady to remain pale and her skin soft, my palor had a bit of a sickly white tinge he always remarked, not pleasing as my older sister Wisteria's. Gray was certain that I would fetch a very small dowry, he assured me daily that he would most likely have to pay a young man to take me off his hands....

Wisteria was indeed a vision of loveliness. She was curvy in all the right places, she moved with a grace and gentle sweetness much like our mother possessed. Or so I was told, almost on a daily basis it seemed like. I was often regailed with how much Wisteria mirrored our mother's beauty, for Violetta had enchanted Gray from the start. I could only agree, as I stared into the mirror that I definitely did not seem to possess much of any De'Chambray characteristic. Though I could see the faint markings of my mothers finely arched eyebrows, and the curve of her full lips. I would often stare at her painting enviously, wishing I could wear a lovely green dress just as she had.

It was a cold day at the end of January, when my life changed for good, spiraling quickly out of control. Dr. Strathmore, my doctor since birth, had come to give us our annual exams. He always looked at me with curious eyes and asked many questions that were odd and felt at times somewhat intrusive. Yet he was a doctor and I was to answer them all, and do as he said. That all changed though, for today he had brought his son , Jonathan Strathmore jr. His son was soon to take over his fathers practice, Introductions were made...

The whispering began in the hall, the servants eyes would look upon me dissaprovingly, at least more so then ussual. My mother's portrait was quickly pulled down off the wall, only a pale barren spot was left. Wisteria, could be heard in her room crying soft, angelic tears, and Gray had locked himself in fit of rage in his study.

I didnt understand the upset, until I met the doctor's son. Indeed it could not be mistaken now, perhaps it was my newfound maturity that brought it cleanly to light. He and I possessed the exact same eye color. His chin, and cheek bones were exactly mine and if I had stood next to the man, you could not mistake it. He stared at me, his eyes piercing, and reached out to me. Yet in the next moment I was dragged away, locked in my room.

The Strathmore's were thrown from the premises. From my window I could see, Dr. Strathmore and his son, my heart aching at this new found revelation. Yet something about the doctors smile as he turned to look up to my window, Yes, he could see me I was sure of it.

They would be back..

Someday I would be free...
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Something is Wrong, I can still feel Existence...