| |
[Jan. 2nd, 2009|09:10 pm] |
 Marion
Full Name: Lorcan Marione Addonis
Race: Vampyre
Date of Birth: Year 227 B.C.
Place of Birth: Unknown
Eye Color: Ice Blue or White.
Height: Six Foot, Five Inches.
Date & Age of Death: Year 206 B.C. at the age of 21
Sire: Unknown
Family: Unknown
Co-Leader of the Meat-Eaters
Current Age: Appears 25. Is 2,235
Notables:
*A four inch vertical scar running the center length of his lower abdominal muscles.
*Has branded upside down crucifix scars on the palms of his hands.
*Wears a series of five surgical steel plugs along his spine.
*Carries an unknown family crescent in the form of a ring, cufflink, and pendant.
History:
The heavens couldn't lie enough to hide the creation of an angel as he fell into the depths of eternal damnation. To want to fall, is an aspect completely unheard of. What sort of creation made by the hand of the Almighty would want to fall from his graces?
The years didn't matter, they had never mattered when it came to him. He had no time to worry about something as minute as a year, or a hundred for that matter. The world was a playground that turned darker with each day passing. His youth. His humanity. What he was known to be before the Kingdoms of Hell dragged him into their depths is far from known. Thus it will always remain that way, for all eternity.
Marion had drifted through the ages without much notice, or at least to his name. His face however, very little change, had been pinpointed by historian's throughout several centuries. These historian's have always been something of a nuisance to him, but a welcomed one at the same time. His first notable appearance according to the world would take place in the wars against the Carthaginian's with the Roman Republic. Of course since this has become the first known placement of Marion, many believe that he was in fact of Roman decent himself.
His darkest of hours would come not once, but so many times as he continued to walk the Earth, a damned soul for all eternity. He would make sure that the sky could not ignore him. The myths of time standing still could never be any more true then they had been for Marion. What must one due in order to have his own kind turn against him? The heartbeats of ten thousand humans would have to come to a halt. Marion would be cast off from the world he knew, it seemed even Hell had moral's and he broke those as well.
The time has come. The place is now. Here I am. I can hear them. They are up there. I can taste the air, and I can see them in my mind. This darkness. It's sweet embrace, it tastes like salt on the wound of a perishing child. Lick. Lick. Taste so sweet. Soon they'll all see me once again. Soon I'll be free. These bars, they hold me but not for long. This dark embrace, I'll soon retrace. The marks, the scars they'll tell the story. My lips, they'll be busy. Busy. Busy. Killing the death inside of their black hearts. Tasting their rotten blood on my tongue. Show them what I am. Show them what they made of me. Show them how we all should wish to be. I am Death. I am Murder. I am the Silent Killer that sweeps the city streets when dusk has come to cloud the streets in a thick fog. They fear the hunt. The hunt that not only beats a heart, but takes the heart that does not beat as well.
Delivered into a world that held no meaning. A darkness that became his own, fighting his mind as it became unbound. Lost within the shadow beside him, he would no longer protest the insanity that dragged his body through the Hell others had created for him. Scraps and rats to live off of, dust and dirt to live among, not a soul alive or dead felt by him. The insanity of the situation would have driven others to take their own blood, but not Marion. He knew that this would not end here for him, he would have his day once again. Opening the living tomb, they expected to find nothing after such a time had passed. What they found would be their own demise. Playing games had always been one of Marion's pastimes.
Hunting down each and every Vampyre that had sent him into his Hellish Isolation, he would end each of them only after he was able to toy with their minds. His own mind far from the stability of what once resembled that of humanity, no, he was far from anything like that now. Embracing that which he had become, he hunted. Not human's, but the dead as well. The refusal to 'mind his manners' in the public, to keep within the shadows as they had always been told to do. He lived by no ones rules, the Elder's were of those he disregarded the most. They had turned their back on him when he was shoved aside, an unwanted child of the night. They would never earn his respects, only the masks in which they wish to see until he could play their game back at them.
Tomorrow they'll turn up dead. Every single one of them, and what will he think of me then? Is he to continue his attempts to convince me of otherwise. Never in all of my years, never in all of the ages have I managed to pick such a perfect specimen as he. Irwin has proved to be all that I knew he could be, and so much more. Already attempting to lead us in dominance, a role he is meant to hold high. He hates me right now, of course this is to be expected. I've drawn him in and away from that in which he only knows as life. He will learn though, there is so much to be learned. A world that I can show him with my own two eyes, and our two mind's as destined to be. Truely we will come to wreak havoc upon the world until the end of days. We'll watch the world burn, sit back, and laugh...
Concentration, Self-Discipline, Control. These were all things that he would have to learn if he wanted to remain alive long enough to follow through with his plan. Which were to have no plans what so ever. He no longer killed for vengeance. He no longer cared for the life that he led, loosing the will to feed for health. Instead he fed, merely for the pleasure of the kill. A hunter who took more than just a pleasure in his trade, it was his reason for being. His existence was merely to kill. He could never turn his back on such basic matters. None the less, the aire of greatness was to be upheld in the society that was quickly developing around him.
What hid behind every door, was the crimson cure. What was not his, he made such. What he could have, he would destroy. What he could not destroy...only became apart of what he is known to be today.
Throughout the ages, Marion has done nothing but put to shambles any town, or city he has come across. Enlisting the help of many of his own spawned hellion's, he leads them into a world they are hardly ever ready for. A mind lost ages ago, only consumed with the raw emotions that control him now. His origins unknown, his myth's unlike any other. His only purpose is to watch the world tear itself apart. |
|
|
