Journal Entry
I have decided to keep a journal of my times on these islands. I have found out that where I am is called Mercy Island, though I cannot say there is much in the way of mercy here. Gang violence, and fights for control of these islands are constant.
It is a breeding ground for the criminal minds. It makes me now ponder if I have so become such. I never considered myself a criminal. The laws of man no longer applies to me, since I am no longer man. Is this simply a coincidence that has brought me to such a place? Is it fate?
There is much talk of this Lord Recluse, that he is the ruler of these islands. I cannot fully agree with this, since I see no real rule. However I now seem to be in his "employ", though I have never met "him". Does he truely exist? Is he simply a name used to describe the ruling body of the islands?
I get ahead of myself, and I must not do such, if I wish to keep a proper journal. I shall now retrack to how I came to be in this situation.
There is some law officials on the islands, though one cannot call them lawful. They are little more than gang members themselves. It was these officials I found myself in trouble with.
The time at sea weakened me greatly, and I still have not regained my full streangth. Lack of feeding has made my flesh barely hang from my bones, nothing to sustain it. However, I did not wish to feed right away on these people. It is not wise to jump into things. Though the blood lust flowed through me, I still fought it. It is not something I am unuse to, as I have many times in the past fought the desire.
In my weakened state I was stopped by one of these law officials, and asked to pay some kind of tribute. I cannot say exactly what it was he wished, but when I could not, he attempted to bind my hands with metal.
I would not allow such, not without a fight.
Fight him I did, and had gotten the better of him, even in my weakened state. He could not resist my dark magics, and he fell. However in the fight he pushed some mechanism that called to others, and they came upon me fast.
These were not mere officials, instead they wore some kind of armor I have never seen, and used weapons that were quite foreign to me. I fought as best I could, even tried to call on Baron Smit to aid me. Before I could however, they had me down, and darkness came over me. It was not their poundings that did such, for I am undead and cannot feel that sort of pain. However, my energy was used up, and I was depleted. I fell into the "sleep", and knew nothing more.
I awoke in a prison of sorts, with sirenes sounding all about me. Apparently there was some prisoners making a break, and I used this oppertunity to make my own.
This man met me, and said Lord Recluse made such for my own benefit. I do not know how he would know me from any else here, but he called me by name. I did not trust him, however, I did not have to. He interested me in his tale of knowing of me, and me having been watched.
He helicoptered me away, and as I looked down I saw the guards taking back over the prison.
My next few days were spent doing some petty jobs for a lady claiming to be the voice of this Lord Recluse. How long I will do this depends. I feed on the ones she sends me to kill. It seems to be a working relationship of sorts. I grow stronger though, and soon I will have ti insist on meeting this Lord of the Rogue Islands.
There are also whispers of another land, not so far away, with a wasteland in between. It is a place of law and order as rumor goes. I will build my streangth here, and make my way there mayhaps. I know I do not belong in this place of unlawful people, little more than animals the most of them are. Some are very close to animals, with snake bodies and such.
They say there is a gang of "the infected", but I know they are all infected. They are infected with a chaos of sorts, and most dont even know it.
Has it infected me as well? As of this journal entry, I cannot yet say.
End Entry
The shadow seemed to move conspicuisly as she left the tavern. She paid it little mind though, it was something that the people of these islands grew use to since childhood. She often wondered where the great heroes of the other lands were, and why they did not come to rescue those of these horrid islands.
She often wondered why she couldnt just make herself leave, but quickly she thought of her mother and her illness, and knew why. She could not take her mother, and would not leave her here alone.
Ellana walked the street for a bit, the hooting and hollaring of the gang members as she passed barely a background noise even. Her small skirt, that she was forced to wear at the tavern, showed enough leg to get her into trouble on the streets, so she wore the long coat.
"Evening Ellana," Lt Bowser smiled as she passed, passing the young gang members a look.
"Evening," she muttered back, but kept walking. He was a member of the police dept in the area, but he was very much like the gangs in his own right. She felt his eyes on her back as she walked down the lighted street.
The wind picked up some, and the street became a bit more deserted. Old paper and trash blew about.
It was not something she did often, but tonight she was running late, and the alley would take her home much faster than walking about the whole four blocks. She stopped for a moment on the lighted street, and saw a begger sleeping only a block away. One place was by far no more dangerous than the rest in this place, or so she convinced herself.
The alley was dark, but her eyes soon focused in the lessoned light. Again the shadows moved, and she wondered what it was. Her pace picked up almost unconsciously, that inner voice now taking control of her movements as it says there is danger about.
He watched her from the shadows as she left the bar, his dead eyes taking her in. She was not like the most of the ones that walked the street this late at night. She worked, and all the nights he saw her, she went straight home. She reminded him of his lost love. It was this reason he watched her so now. It was this reason he feared it would damn her to a life as his own.
As she entered her small house, Jerrin looked about. She was home safe. None of the bad people had harmed her in this unlawful, unkind place. He did sense however her fear of the man in uniform as she passed, and of the gang members as they taunted and hooted.
His dark eyes looked back now, reddening as they did so. He would remove her fears, and take the evil man out of her path.
Jerrin quickly rose above the rooftops, and lighted almost like an perched angel on the edge, looking down to the unsuspecting victims. He would feed this night, and feed well. He would feed on them for her.
Or so he told himself.
BEGINNINGS
He had awakened, but was not sure how or why. There was no air to fill his lungs, in fact he didnt need it. Had he needed it he would have been in very much trouble. Instead of air filling his lungs, it would have been salt water.
The water was murky, but Jerrin neednt see to know what was around him. He simply closed his eyes, and let his own consciosness filter out around him.
There was no immediate danger, nothing to worry him much anyway. He did sense something in the distance, an island of sorts. Something that gained his curiousity.
Then it came to him, and he knew why he was where he was. The island would have to wait, as he chose instead of contemplate exactly what had happened.
BC
The world was somewhat new now, though not so much to him. Things had come to make changes since his turn in the being he was now. A powerful son of a god was spoke of in whispers among thier kind. Some had dared to go near the being, and had not been heard from since.
Power was of course relative, and Jerrin was indeed powerful when it came to mortals. However, even at over two hundred years as an immortal, he was still a fledgling compared to some. His best defense was to stay from the human born of the god, as well as the other powerful vampires.
His master, or so the being wished be called, was not of beauty like some of the others. Instead he chose to remain looking grotesque and undead, never changing nor binding the reflection about him to cause eyes to see him as the beauty that their race was.
Jerrin did not question him on this. He did not question the elder on anything. Instead he listened and learned. His master was not one to tolerate silly questions anyway. Abusive was his method. He would cause the fledgling great pain to prove how powerful he was.
Jerrin however just waited. Listened, watched, learned, and waited.
AD
There was a change in the fabric at the start of the new age, and many of his kind did not make it. The most powerful shown as a beacon, and upon the death of this human born of a god, most were destroyed and laid to dust.
Others survived, but found themselves only a shell of what they were once.
Jerrin's "master" was among these.
"Come to me Jerrin, so that I may have of your blood. It will revive me," he said, beckoning with a burnt and gnarled finger to the younger undead.
It was his best chance to destroy his master, yet, something in him, something mayhaps still human, stopped him.
He said nothing, but walked away from the being, the curses and profane sounding to his ears, and once out of distance of sound, in his head.
Baron Van Smit would someday have his vengeance, or so he swore.
Centuries had passed, and Jerrin had found his place in his unlife. He would prey only on humans when he needed food, their blood vitalizing him and in time growing him stronger. He lived among them, as one of them as much as he could.
Time to time someone would figure out something was not right, and living in those times, people were increasingly suspicious of anything, superstition taking over and leading to many fictitous reasons to search out something as a vampire. It was good times, but it was also trying, and Jerrin moved on much.
Jerrin had a mortal companion, one of twnety five years. Many nights he fretted on losing her, how his immortal life was as much a curse as it was a blessing. He contemplated bringing her to the darkness, making her his own fledgling so that they would remain together. He never held long to the thought however. She would hate him for such.
It was in these good, bad times, that Baron Van Smit returned. He watched his child of the darkness, and waited. His streangth not having returned to what it once was. He knew he could not defeat Jerrin, but then neither could Jerrin destroy him.
There was one way to get to him though. The lovely college professor, Natalie Sanders. His companion.
Did she know what he was? Did she accept him as an undead, and stay with a child that was outside of all that was good?
It was a new time to the Baron, much like it was to Jerrin. He had acquired a following, those looking for darkness to guide them in these days of superstition. He was their darkness, the god of the ruins. They would do as he commanded.
She was brought to him, in his dark, ruined cathedral of old. She feared him and he enjoyed it. He had his living followers commit vile acts on her, then his immortal ones drink from her till she was all but true dead. He would then order them stop, and bring her back from death, only to commit the horrors on her again.
He whispered to her what Jerrin was, and was somewhat surprised to learn that she already knew, though she never told Jerrin. This angered him, and in his anger, he drank from her till her heart exploded.
"Bring me Jerrin!" he ordered. His vengeance would be had once the younger vampire saw what was done to his lady companion.
Jerrin did come, but not one of Baron Van Smit's minions remained. The younger undead's anger sent them up in a blaze of dark fire. However the Baron was not without his own defense, and soon both undead were weakened from a battle of will.
It all went as the baron planned.
Mortals rushed in, knowing this was the time. The Baron had paid them well to do this work. They would cast the younger vampire down with silver and holy water, but not destroy him.
No, he had other plans.
Jerrin, now weakened, was taken and locked into a metal box, a coffin for him that he could not escape. He heard the screaching as he was dragged, heard the horses as the wagon took him away.
The sounds of water, the feel of a boat, then the splash as the coffin hit the sea, and sank into it's depths.
Baron Van Smit however faired no better, in fact, one can say far worse. The ones he hired could not hold their tongue, and when he went to see them destroyed as well, he was met with holy men. Holy men ready to get rid of the scurge they knew him to be.
It did not take long for them to weaken him. It did not take long to drive the wooden stake into his heart. They then contained his ashed, and locked them away in a tomb so he would never be raised again.
Present Time
A passing ship, a dredging, something had released Jerrin from his water tomb. What it was, he did not know. He only knew he was free, and he only knew he was hungry, but not only for the blood that would revitalize his dead flesh, but for revenge against the one that destroyed his love, and companion. Revenge against him, and anything and everything living, everything that his unconscious mind had come to hate.
His vengeance would be had.
As Jerrin walked onto the beach of this strange island, he sensed the Baron's remains near. How ironic it was. Using his darkest of powers, he summoned his evil father, and bound him to his own will now, little more than a powerful zombie, his mind barely understanding what was the truth. He was now the slave, and Jerrin was now the master.