~ Another AU brought to you by Crazy Dragon

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything LoK. I do own a few ideas n theories etc., which may conflict everyone else’s but then it wouldn’t be much of a fic now if it were just like all the other ones? That’s all cause like the first one, this is an alternate universe or aka an AU fic and will eventually contain my twisted half child, Evil Janos.

E. Janos: *grin* heh heh heh...

CD: back in your cage ot it’s the tentacle monster for you!

E: Janos: *eep* *runs*

CD: Good birdy :P Now....If you’re still listening, enjoy! ^_^

He stared out the window, hands clasped behind his back, watching over the city from a high spire if his home. The city itself was vast, enormous compared to what it once was. Meridian certainly had grown. From a large village, to later a city, during the industrial era, and now a mega-city. Thousands upon thousands lived there now amongst the high buildings, air vehicles darting to and fro various places where they needed to be. High towers of glass and steel rose from the very earth to miles into the air, reaching up to the sky just to house those same inhabitants and businesses. Those who still lived on the ground were the dregs of the city. Gangs, thieves and their ilk swelled there, preying on the occasional nieve person whom happened to become lost and find their way there. Not even his kind dared go there, not even to feed.

He looked down a little, recalling the times he had lived. Remembering the times when a good sword and a little skill was all that you needed to get your point across. His eyes narrowed a little, remembering that one time, so long ago when he had killed six sorcerers, guardians, all in the name of vengeance and all he had used was a couple of spells and his old bone sword. Not any more...those days were long since past.

And like everything else, he had changed as well. Still a penance for the lavishly designed and decorated home, about himself and immaculate in action. The overcoat he wore was the same deep red he had liked to wear, and had done so, for many centuries, and always, the style had changed somewhat. It draped and fell over his armor, decorated at the sleeves, collar and belt with spun golden, silky threads in a swirling pattern, the rest a lavish velvet. His armor was the real change. He had never really worn armor in his life, but his position and status easily put him on the number one of those to assassinate by many a being, and thus he needed it to protect himself. He only wore part of it, the inner, more protective armor when he was about his home. When he went out, he donned the rest of it.

He looked back up, at the dying sunset, or what he could see of it. Its purple and reddish hues bouncing off the skyscrapers, lending them color in an otherwise dull gray city. He stared at, unable to call up an emotion to put to it. He shook hs head and gave up on it, futile anymore to go back...

“Sire?”

He turned, looking at one of his servants. No longer vampire fledglings learning humility before they do wealth serving him. No. More like a few mindlessly loyal humans and machines. The timid human bowed jerkily to him before he straightened and spoke, his voice trembling with its usual tense edge, “Lord Vorador, their back. Um...”

“Speak,” Vorador commanded. No longer harshly did he speak to his human servants; he was tired of replacing those whom had died of shock while speaking with him.

“Um...it’s Lord Kain, Sire...he’s been..um..wounded...”

Vorador tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “How?”

“I wasn’t told, Sire. I was told to fetch you immediately for your presence was required.”

He nodded. “And so you have. You are dismissed.”

“Thank you, Sire.” The thin man gave another hasty bow and scampered off. Vorador sighed, then teleported himself down, to a lower level of his home.

Where Vorador arrived, the smell of spilled vampiric blood was thick, and so it was upon the floor. He looked around, seeing several young vampires injured. They bowed their heads to him, mumbling their allegiances to him and gratefulness. He nodded to them, acknowledging them, and walking past to the center of attention. Nearly to it, one grasped the hem of his overcoat.

“Sire, please...”

Vorador turned. “What do you wish of my attention?”

“Sire, he’s pretty bad. He’s lost another...” the young vampire’s eyes drifted to the floor. This was Da’avid, a fledgling he had raised long ago, raised him along side Kain as a surrogate brother for him. Kain has been neive then, strong willed, but knowledgeable enough to know he needed a guide to follow in his undeath and to learn with, thus the childe he had raised then. Serving also as a surrogate father, he taught them side by side the skills needed to survive. He had decided then he liked Kain, powerful even as a fledgling, though very cold in mind and heart. He created a brother for him to teach him other nessicary skills and encourage him mentally out of his barren shell to more compassionate ways of thinking. It had worked partially, better than nothing.

They spent plenty of time teaching each other to the point that one would have thought them to actually be brothers if it weren’t for differences in appearance. Da’avid’s skin color contrasted Kain’s a skyish blue, but different from the other being he knew with similar color, and he had developed a more intricate natural body armor, spikes and bony ridges interrupted his waning dark hair, and down his body as he turned more and more into some beast. He had always been thinner, so thankfully in the end he was not so bulky looking despair his appearance. When they were fledglings, his lanky body hadn’t provided him much with strength or agility, but the there was always Kain, jumping to defend him. That same body armor was now coated in metal to protect him better and that same metal was flayed from his shoulder, dripping with blood still.

Vorador looked at him, his face still as blank as ever, concern not even in his mind. “How so?” He asked, as simply as if he wondered the weather that day.

“Go, quickly. He may not have much more time...” Da’avid’s eyes shifted to the floor, sadness creeping into his mind. “Please...go...you should be the last one with him...”

“You can comfort him by far better than I can, Da’avid., but I will go. He is still your brother.”

Da’avid nodded absently, slowly sinking down the wall as his knees gave away, the scraping sound of metal against painted metal irritating Vorador’s some some. He put a gentle hand on his head, sliding down to caress the side of his face gently. “I’ll see what I can do for him.”

“T-thank you...” came a soft reply.

Slowly, Vorador turned and went towards the real emergency. A team of expert medics and doctors were struggling to keep someone alive. He knew who before he got there, having not seen him amongst the others and from Da’avid. It was Kain they were trying to force life upon. Blood ran form the table, making his greenish skin paler, his very life, had be been vampire or not, was ebbing away. Someone was trying to force some wires into his chest, to force his stopped heart to reassume its sluggish beat, and perhaps keep him alive enough to attempt to save.

Vorador watched as they vainly tried to stop the blood flow as well, attempt to replace it, slip around in already spilled blood. That was one of the biggest problems they faced. They weapon that had been used on him, and on others put them down /fast/. Some trait about them that was still being studied kept a vampire’s flesh open, not letting it close and heal like it should. It made sure they didn’t even heal at a human’s pace and thus was a large hazard to them. To be left with a constant thirst for blood drove them feral in attempts to find more, and usually, their death from either bleeding and unsuccessful hunts, or by hunters and anyone stronger than them at that moment.

Now Kain suffered those wounds, his lifeblood everywhere at this point, coating the floor, the doctors and personelle, and all over him. He watched coldly as one of Kain’s very lifeless looking hands twitched under some automatic nervous response, tickling the air with the tips of his claws. The other, he couldn’t see. He heard the tearing of leather as they tore away the last shreds of his underclothing, various dialog and such. When everything was finally under control, successful but a break was nessicary before they could do anything more.

Vorador had now the opportunity to walk over ot him as some whom had been standing by started to clean, pushing puddles of blood towards the drain, mopping and soaping up the gory mess. A couple others worked on cleaning up Kain, wiping the darkening blood free of his pale skin. The blood had been stopped before they left, having done so drastically with hot iron, the stench clinging and mingling with the already thick air. His heart was beating steady, so the monitor had shown, assisted by the small device dangling from his still split chest. The break wouldn’t be for long, so they could do this, provided that the bloody rag that kept in his internal moisture was left there.

One of his hands went to his once silvery hair, now a very deep red from blood that had collected and matted into his hair. He looked closer at him, over him, seeing the grave damage. Looking closer still, to his face, he could see the lingering, frozen expression of grief penetrate his drug induced rest. He stroked the remaining side of his face and spoke softly, “I grieve with you again childe. Live, so that hope will still remain.”

He lingered for a moment longer, half thoughts coming to his mind but went unvoiced. Then he later left the area, going back to his chambers to rest and recharge.

Sometime later, he received a report on the condition of the numerous vampires within his home. He read though it, taking in the information, letting it sink in and set it aside, deleting the message from the datapad. He sighed and sat back in the luxurious chair. He looked over at the arm rest, where a embroidered cloth lit to protect the velvet of the chair, fringed in dangling twists of gold silk. He played with them, twisting and fiddling with the strands. He craved to feel their softness, but no more. He sighed again, heavily, then decided he should go back down to the medical level.

Vorador walked into the room, the dim lighting not affecting him any. Around him were the dim blinking lights of various machines. He walked over to the being on the bed, and sat down next to him. Cleaned up, but not totally there, literally and mentally, he could do little to help at this point. Clean now, he could gently run his fingers though the other’s hair, smoothing it back and away from the bandages at the side of his skull. He sat there silently, tenderly doing this.

He paid no mind to the grief filled being across from him. He thought it best to let Da’avid sit, slumped in his seat, arms folded over his chest, eyes closed. From the slow rise and fall of his chest, Vorador knew he was asleep as well. He watched the other for a couple minutes then bent his head down to the other, whispering to him, lips nearly to the bony ridges of his forehead. “Rest. I’ll take care of everything.” His hand came up and caressed the side of his face, “I’ll see to it that you get the best and are on your feet again.”

Silently, he pulled away, and left again.

He walked to the upper levels, his schedule popped up near him, the little projector in his armor popping out and displaying before him that he needed to be elsewhere at the moment. He sighed, calling up the things he had written in return, going though all of it as he made his way to a different level, two higher than the one he was on. On the way, he teleported back to his chambers, donned the rest of his armor, then re-assumed the journey to his aircar. It was armored, and secure, more so since some guards always went with him.

He continued flipping though information as the car sped off to its destination, putting together a speech, carefully wording it. He hated being on the council, but as a wealthy owner and a being of notable power, he had to be lest his voice be lost to human ignorance. He sighed, scanned though the news as part of a quick review, then went back to his previous task.

He looked though several of the reports. He hated the new rulers of the realm. Sadistic, harsh and very demanding upon the people. The Sarafan, when they ruled, were harsh, but nothing like this. Then, at least people were fed well enough, but now he seriously wondered when he looked upon crowds of humans who were attempting to get into their place of employment. Thin, showing their need for better and more food, the desperate look in their eyes as they met day after another, struggling to stay afloat to feed their families. Poor prey he would have called them along ago. Now, just very unlucky.

The truth was, the war never really ended, just the numbers of innocents dying by the scores has been drastically reduced. The numbers of who perished in the fighting were no longer listed, even in the daily news. In that which he had just read dismissed the fight which Kain had been so grievously injured as a mere accident with some military equipment and no casualties. No casualties in deed. Truthfully, their numbers were declining again, both of their raised children were dying off a few at a time. Differences between such methods in turning their offspring had helped greatly. No one truly knew how Kain raised his children, nor would he tell. He used the dead, the deceased, raising him as a near blank slate. It made them a little more difficult to train and raise, but the supply was endless and no one would say anything about a missing dead body.

His own methods...he could barely raise anymore. His kind were dying. their whole race was dying. He closed his eyes, his fists clenched and shaking, metal was stressed with the tightness of his balled fist. There was a time when he would have been lead to rage over such a fact. Now...nothing...barely able to feel...Either way it drained the both of them terribly to turn and raise their offspring. more so since they were aiming more for strong offspring. None as weak as Melchiah had been created in many millennia, nor perhaps ever again. Had been...only two left of the original six...He closed his eyes, and shook his head, trying to clear it of irrational thoughts that were no longer needed...or held any weight on his mind...

”And you!” Durjaya pointing an accusing finger. “Vile monster! You are the one behind all of the accidents. For centuries your kind have plagued all of society! You feast on our lives!”

“I know not what you mean,” Vorador replied cooly, so very used to this. All though out the ages he had been accused of the large, bloody trail of death his kind and himself had left upon the land. Having once been known quite well as the Father of Vampires had a good deal to do with it. The more recent generations know but pieced together parts of folklore and legends that were just as old anymore. Many doubted the man in the richly made amour was even the same being, but true to the stories surrounding him, from his personality they knew it was him.

“You lie!” The other’s voice accused. “Again today, more soldiers were injured and killed because of your kind! When will you ever stop?” A short pause, then his voice turned cold. “We should have you arrested and executed.”

He shook his head. “I think not. And I know nothing of what you accuse me of. I have heard of no accidents.” He looked Durjaya over again, sizing the fool up. A nobel, whom like many inherited his fortune and land, dresses in similarly elaborate armor though of a different style. Arrogant, conceited, and totally absorbed in his personal goals, Durjaya would have married one of Vorador’s children if it meant getting his fortune and estate. He considered Durjaya to be a vile creature, best to be trusted about as far as he could flick him, a blessedly short distance.

“You know perfectly well what I speak of! In the reports the one called Kain was there. He was severely wounded by gunfire and taken back to your estate. You harbor a fugitive!”

“Perhaps. You know full well that I have always given others the benefit of a doubt and offer sanctuary to others in need,” Vorador replied calmly. “Whether he is a fugitive or not, that is none of your concern. Show me the proper paperwork and I will consider it. Until then I grant him and his followers full asylum at my estate.”

Inside his helmet, Durjaya’s eyes narrowed at the ancient vampire. “Then you can see that he stays or I will have him arrested for destruction of personal property amongst a number of things.”

“That, you won’t have to worry about,” He replied coldly, then turned to the others. “I do believe we should review more important matters, not personal ones and connivence for the day as scheduled.”

The others in the room nodded, turning to their collections of disks and datapads before them, shuffling though to organize their things.
 

One shadowed figure turned to the other, heavy robes guising the both of them. “A room of fools...”

“Indeed. They are foolish, absorbed in primal needs and do not see the truth. We will have to bring them to the light.”

“Yesss....startinig with that one.” The figure pointed to one of the meeker looking counselors in the corner, having sat quietly though out the meeting.

“He would do nicely.”

The one turned to the other. “What about him?”

“The vampire? Feh. All in good time. He would be the most difficult to change. We will have to move carefully.”

The two watched in silence as the meeting was drawn to a close and various beings slowly made their way out of the room until the last two was Vorador and the meek one.

“S-sire?”

“Yes, Ludvik?”

“I-I think you should..um...”

“You do not have to be intimidated by me. I am not going to eat you,” Vorador said with a slight smile, though ti went unseen.

“It’s not that Sire...”

“If you speak of us electing a new leader since the last Monarch has passed on, no, I do not want it. I am not a leader. Kain was raised for the position as a leader and carved his way higher once. But I am not him.”

“Why not? You would do well...”

Vorador shook his head. “No. I wouldn’t. I am not a leader. I am neither Kain nor any sort of king. I have always simply wished to be left to live in peace.”

“You can build just that...”

“No. I would rather petition for you, Ludvik. You would do by far better in such a position than I ever would. You have more potential than an old creature such as myself.”

“Sire, you’re-”

“I am and at least I admit my flaw. I am not so keen to change as I would have been at one time, but I know it must happen. It has to. Nosgoth will not improve to be a more peaceful place until then.”

“I wish I had your confidence in me...no one here respects me...”

“They won’t for you are the youngest and have yet to prove yourself. I will help you. I will be watching for such a needed opportunity. I would much rather see you, with your more open mind, sit on the throne over these other fools. Their kind are the kind that have always destroyed Nosgoth, not save it.”

“Thank you, Sire.”

“It is the truth. And please, don’t call me ‘Sire.’ That title doesn’t fit me very well anymore.”

“Sorry.”

“Keep your sense of respect however,” Vorador added. “I remember once being told by a very wise man many such things. Respect and understanding is the some of the keys to bringing peace.” Ludvik looked up at him curiously, wondering of whom he spoke of. Vorador started to turn away, paused then looked back at him. “Come to my place sometime this week for dinner. I promise I will find something that is more to your liking than my own diet.”

Ludvik smiled behind his helm, “Thank you Sir. I will look forward to it.”

Vorador returned the expression, “As will I. We would have a chance to speak more privately then.” He then turned and headed off, back to his air car, Ludvik not too far behind him, heading for his own transport.

Vorador carefully stripped away the bulkier portions of his armor, setting the pieces carefully back into their settings for the next time he would need them. As usual, he kept the tougher core armor on just in case. He stared down at the gold accented helm, sighing and setting it back into place. He closed his eyes, a piece of his mind shutting down for now. He hated to use it, but had to to keep appearances in the outside world. Here...everyone knew different.

After a bit, he opened his eyes again and decided to head ot the lower levels, to visit a couple people....

“Kain?” he asked quietly, walking into the room.

“He still can’t hear you. At least I don’t think so,” Da’avid said quietly from the corner. “He hasn’t changed while you were gone. The most he’d done was stare at the ceiling, absently picked at the sheet over him and then fell back asleep.”

Vorador walked over and sat next to him. “Have they said anything?”

“Just that he isn’t healing. They used those bullets again. He’s going to loose more of himself this time.”

“He already has.”

“I know....”

For a while they sat in silence, watching the pale figure on the bed, life still being forced upon him. Vorador’s eyes shifted to the floor in thought. The bullets the younger vampire spoke of were infamous amongst living and undead alike. Of the high velocity type, having a tendency to liquify organs and shatter flesh and bone. They were also coated with a powerful protein inhibitor making them the most effective thing to use on the undead. A vampire’s flesh healed instantly after it was cut, should they be healthy, and bones in a few hours. However, due to that coating, that same flesh did not heal. Bone could, but not soft tissues. Many vampires hit by them later bleed to death. Normal bullets only succeeded in annoying a vampire great deal, usually resulting in the death of the one who wielded the weapon.

However, Kain was lucky. They knew now how to deal with it. Though flushed out with the blood that ran freely, the effects lingered, having been absorbed in deeply. Cauterization was the best, though rather primitive, way to end the bleeding. He also was lucky in that he had an alliance with Vorador in the first place. One that covered his needs for things such as this. He would be put back together again, one way or another. The most likely by the way of bio-mechanics. Become less than what he was and gaining more common place with a household toaster, but by far more complex.

Losses...Vorador recounted them. Kain had one son left, and his life was in danger, perhaps best counted dead already. Each one before him, were killed. Directly in front of their sire. It was as if it were to be on purpose and executed in such a way that one would have wondered if someone, or thing, was trying to break him though the one place he seemed vulnerable. It worked, partially. He had grieved and both Vorador and Da’avid had been there for him. then he would seemingly pull himself together, literally over night and be fine, as if nothing had happened. That thick, though worked best after the first two were killed. After that, it got more difficult for him.

Vorador knew that pain. He couldn’t escape it anymore than the next vampire with offspring could. To create strong offspring, one had to literally put their soul into it otherwise they would be little more than a mindless goul or a drone if they were fortunate. This also ensured a closer bond between progenitor and child. That same bond also made it hurt all the more when it was shattered. He had lost count of the numbers of times it had happened to him. Kain had only raised a half a dozen offspring, but had been closer to them than he let on.

And now, who knows how he will act, once he finally wakens. He reached over and touched one cold shoulder. From the looks of it, it was one limb he was going to loose soon, most likely cut off from blood for enough time for the flesh to die. Insufficient flow now didn’t help any. Vorador patted that shoulder, as if to reassure him then left.

He solemnly walked over to another room. This one was dimmer, the beating sounds with in quieter though the amount of things there were greater. Inside lie a single figure whom was diligently kept clean and comfortable as he could be made. His breath was forced into his lungs, one of the steady rhythms in the room, too weak to function anymore. As Vorador neared him, he could see he was awake, half lidded eyes stared out, but were dull, unfocusing, unaware. How could he be? Drugs kept him from feeling the pain that otherwise would drive him mad.

He sat, reaching for a bony hand, the skin covering it like thin paper, delicate and so real compared to many these days. Only a few beings left whole, untouched, anymore. He was one of them, and yet, he was still touched by machines. They weren’t too direct, but dictated his life, right down to his every breath. He ran a finger over dull colored claws. Once black and healthy, now graying with his indisposition. So lifeless and still alive...

“Father...” He spoke breathlessly at first. The word itself hurt. It hurt him to see him like this still. One thing he could still feel...

“Father I have news...hopefully it will cheer you some thought I am still uncertain if you can even hear me...I keep trying in hope...” He reached up, plucking a few strands of stress whitened hair out of his face and putting them back with the others. “Kain was hurt today, lost another son. I hope for his sake, he recovers well. His mind grows more hallow with each childe gone. I fear with this one he may become reckless and a anger to himself with nothing to live for.”

His eyes shifted to the other’s frail chest, watching it rise and fall, but not under its own power. “I’ve been investigating those rumors. Perhaps...perhaps soon you shall be whole again. Hopefully you would be able to take to the sky as you always relished and enjoyed so...I never liked heights...never could understand, but it always made you happy...” his voice faltered. “You...you shouldn’t be trapped like this...”

Grief...what was he truly left with? Not joy, not love, not fear, not pain, not hate....grief, sorrow and misery.....

He pulled that same frail hand up, to touch his forehead as tears started to break free, soft sobs shaking his strong shoulders.

“Look at me...I’m not even what I once was...I am nothing....a shell of what I was...” He fell silent for a while, weeping softly. The only place he could anymore. To the only one he ever felt secure doing so to. To the only one who ever understood him....”Ever since that accident....it tore away my mind...and it tore you away from me....”

He looked up, wiping away a couple blood tears, “I’ll find a way...least you can be whole...”

Then, the other actually moved, tilting his head, dull eyes looking at the course of the sounds. He did not blink, did not speak, just stared as usual, his near catatonic state preventing real actions. Vorador reached forward, gently taking his head in his hands. “I will save you...” He leaned down to carefully embrace the other, forcing himself to calm down. “Everything will be alright...I’ll see to it.”

For a while after that, he spent the time in silence, composing himself. He finally stood, putting the other’s hand back. “Please hold on...we still need you. I still need you.”

Index - Next