I'm just wondering what everyone thinks, I'm still working on it but here's what I've got so far,it's my Dungeons and Dragons character back-story.
Kestral: Darkness Unliving
I have traveled in this land for one hundred years, living amongst it's people, feeding upon it's creatures, stalking it's beautiful women in the dead of night and watching them unclothe from afar with my vampire eyes... What? I can't have a little humour in here every now and again? Well if you wish to know of my life then you must accept its contents for everything it has to offer. None of this, “I've been stalking my prey for one hundred years killing mercilessly and without remorse for I am big, dark and grizzly, grrrr”. I may be a vampire but I'm not without my morals, geez. Ahem, back to my story.
As I was saying, I've traveled this land, lived amongst it's people, fed upon it's creatures and stalked my fair share of beautiful women from afar with my vampire eyes... for a hundred years. I've taken upon myself various jobs, important jobs mind you, for various kings, queens and nobles. What jobs you ask? Why, I've slain the most powerful of foes in combat and toppled many a kingdom and quelled many rebellions. What creatures? Ahem, well, ah, you see, umm... I'm not entirely at liberty to state which various creatures I've slain. Alright, alright, it was rats, but don't get me wrong, those things were vicious and I believe they had rabies. And the kings, queens and nobles I'd spoken of earlier may have been peasants. However, I did quell rebellions and topple kingdoms, or rather a rebellion and one kingdom. It was the Great Rebellion of the Cocks a few years back. No, not the male appendage sicko! The Great Chicken Rebellion in that one village. Don't let those dirty cocks fool you, they had a monarchy of sorts and could understand the common language moderately well, and be wary of the black ones, they're the biggest and have no decency whatsoever. The foreign cocks were always the smallest, though.
Anyway, I was born amongst a group of vampires in the middle of a forest in broad daylight. Yes, I know, kind of ironic that a creature of darkness would be born in sunlight, rest assured that I was not unharmed in any way. In fact, it nearly killed me. My mother had given birth in the shade under a rock, a rather large rock at that. I began to come out legs first and apparently refused to come out completely, my head got stuck. They later nonchalantly joked that it was my rather large ego. We'd been migrating from places where vampire hunters were becoming prevalent, they'd pick a few of us off here and there. And before you start poking fun, yes; I was, in fact, born under a rock.
I was the son of the leader of our group of vampires, his name was Craven. Next to him in our vampire hierarchy was his best friend and oldest companion Wes, the two of them enjoyed writing books together about their journeys together and often sold their work to book sellers. Their books were widely regarded as “horror” which I've always found odd. The author, as they'd put it, was “The Grim Brothers Craven Wes”. They'd always seemed to fabricate the events of their lives quite remarkably with tales of princesses who were forever asleep, or a laundry wench who became royalty over her stepmother and two evil stepsisters. I believe the titles of those particular books were “Dreaming Beauty” and “Rendercella”.
While traveling, we had to avoid hunters and other vampires, the more powerful vampires and those of our kind who were not as... morally inclined as ourselves. Eventually, however, we did settle. We'd settled in a rather crypt under an old and abandoned cemetery. There we had founded a “society”, a place for safe haven as well as a school for those of us who were young, like myself who was only eleven at the time. I remember that place fondly, especially my old friends Mabus and Natalia. They were both my rivals in everything; hunting, academics, sparring, everything. Mabus was tall, he had blond hair and blue eyes. Natalia was a bit shorter than I, she had long wavy orange hair and green eyes. Oh, I remember the first time I'd looked upon a girl in lust! I was fifteen and in my vampire history studies, her name was Lysandra. I was examining my paper which was on my table during a study and she walked in front of my table, dropped her paper and bent over in front of me. After that I was excused to rest in my quarters due to a rather remarkable headache from a quick rush of blood straight to my head.
As I'd gotten older, Natalia, Mabus and I were each assigned to the same hunting party. We once ran into a bear, stories high, and were chased all throughout the night. When we'd first seen it, I was looking for some mushrooms for the cook who said it could be used to spice the food up. I heard a branch snap, looked up, saw it and took a step backwards. Unfortunately for me, however, I also snapped a branch and alerted the bear to my presence. It looked up at me slowly, it's eyes glimmering in the moonlight, and let out a rather loud roar. I, in retaliation, roared back and did NOT squeal like a girl nor did I relieve myself within my trousers and hunting gear... Ahem, moving on. We'd killed the beast and brought it back with us as our prize catch of the month. I was twenty-three by this point. We'd prepared a feats to our leaders Craven and Wes for their one-hundredth anniversary as leaders of our coven. Where was my mother in all of this you ask? She was... slain by a hunter, a vampire hunter.
We fed upon the creatures of the forest, never draining them completely, it was a skill we were forced to learn so that we can hide our identity and whereabouts more effectively. We also dealt with passing murderers and the like, giving them trials and dealing with them as the masters saw fit. How they knew which group of people or lonesome traveler was a murderer and which ones weren't is still beyond me. My father had always said, “It's the cold look in their eyes, the way they move and the way they present themselves as though they've no shame which indicated their barbarism or that they had something to hide”. He was always... creepy. Hmm, now I know where I get it from, or rather from whom I get it.
We were never allowed to travel alone whether it be hunting, gathering supplies like wood and herbs or traveling to the nearest village for oil or rope. Mabus, Natalia and I were out gathering wood for winter was soon to be upon us, upon returning, however; we'd borne witness to the most gruesome thing we could ever hope to imagine. Our home was aflame, our people were impaled outside upon crosses, the babies were taken upon various gravestones and their heads were smashed in, the women were decapitated and thrown aside. Everyone's fangs were removed. Out from the flames pured a group of people, two of which were holding two familiar faces. I soon came to recognize the faces as my father, Craven and Wes. The man who was holding Wes was adorned in black plate armor, his helmet had a red mane. The man who was holding my father had a wide brimmed hat, brown, with a long coat, black riding boots, black pants, and a vest. His face had a beard without the moustache, stretching from one ear, over the chin, to the other ear. The right side of his face was scarred from the middle of his cheek to just below his jaw.
That man looked to my father and said, “I thought you said there wasn't no more of you out there!” The man in black armor said, “Looks like we have a liar, Beltane.” My father looked at the three of us and yelled, “RUN!” We began running into the forest but were closely followed by the hunters, firing bolts from their crossbows at us. I was hit in the leg and I had to hide in a nearby tree as I'd watched the hunters run past me. As for Mabus and Natalia, I cannot say, that is the last I'd ever seen them.
Once I believed the coast to be clear, I made for the nearby village. Upon my arrival, I fainted and as I awoke, I'd seen a becoming old man taking care of my wounds. He looked upon me in amazement and stated, “My, you're recovering quite quickly.” He then smiled, warmly. I don't know if that man had ever suspected anything but soon after, I'd heard rapping at my door. “Who's in there” someone shouted in a booming voice, it was quite loud and irritating. He knocked again and repeated the question. I went to get up, but as I was getting up my foot got caught in my blanket which was apparently tied to the bed, so I tripped, ripped the blanket and fell out of the window. When I'd hit the ground, I was pleased to hear his booming voice yell at his dismay of no one being inside the room I'd awoken in.
It was late in the day, almost nightfall, so I decided to quickly make my way to the pin where the livestock were being kept and drank from a cow to replenish my energy, then I'd left the village.
A few decades had passed and I was thrown from a few villages as a sexual offender. I wasn't aware that groping a beautiful ladies backside and breast was frowned upon, they seemed to have wanted it with their cold hearted demeanor and apparent lack of interest in me. Appearances can be deceiving, or so I'd thought. They should learn to just be nice and not not unobtainable. One happened to be a priestess who had a rather nasty temper. I'd seen her walking throughout the marketplace buying food, and she'd bought a couple of melons. I, being the bold, daring stud of a man I undoubtedly am, took this opportunity to ask her about her melons. “You have nice melons”, I'd said, “I'd be willing to bet that they're quite firm”. “Oh yes, quite firm indeed, my good sir,” she'd replied. “I don't believe you,” retorted I. Her response was, “You don't believe me? You can feel them if you'd like”. Oh, I'd felt them alright, they were indeed firm. Her face turned as red as a ruby and she punched me as hard as she could. “HELP”, she screamed, “PERVERT, HELP” and immediately the city guard came.
“What's the meaning of this”, the guard asked. The woman, in an angry fit pointed at me and shouted, “This man is a pervert! He grabbed my breasts in the most provocative of manner! I am a virgin priestess!” The guard looked at me, scorn written across his face, and he pointed his spear at me as the rest of the town guard surrounded me and pointed theirs. “You're under arrest for violation of this virgin priestess, what say you in your defense?!” I replied, “Can't we all just... get along?” Upon saying this, I stepped on the woman's melon that she'd apparently dropped and fell on my face. The melon flew in the air and hit one of the guards in the face, turning his helmet halfway around his head. In his handicap, he swung his spear and hit the guard next to him in the stomach and once again in the back which knocked him to the ground. He then backed into the guard and fell over him which caused the rest of the guard to stumble. I'd taken this opportunity to escape and so I did.
It really has been a while since I've typed one of what I'm going to call a flog, a Facebook Blog. I know of few of you enjoy my flogs whether it be for opportunities to make fun of my logic or because it's interesting to you. Unfortunately, this note may be a bit depressing, not because it lacks in size or it talks about very few points but because I'm addressing everyone in it, including myself. There has been quite a bit on my mind as of late, to be honest, and I'm a bit depressed for a plethora of reasons, most of which I won't bother mentioning in this flog of mine, most of which are only accessible by a select privileged few, no offence. Perhaps that comes as a fortunate thing for you seeing as how you won't be bothered with my issues, so pity that select privileged few who have to deal with my incessant whining. For now, though, you may have to deal with a bit of it if you so choose. If you wish not to be bored by those things which addle my mind then I'd suggest you read no further; otherwise, read on.
This flog will consist of one main topic, I won't go on about my various problems but instead I'll only carry on about one thing I've been troubled by that I think everyone should know. I've noticed something lately, something which I've not been paying attention to but rather have had suggestive hints thrown in my direction by the various actions of society. We lack purpose. I see ignorance, proud ignorance at that, and I see no attempt towards changing that. I see people who are more concerned about whether or not they'll have a boyfriend or girlfriend and if they do then whether or not they'll keep them. I see people who are focused on whether or not someone is spreading rumours about them, about whether or not people like them, about whether or not they'll have to beat someone up over a difference of opinion and being proud of it despite the fact that the person they've beaten still retains the same opinions but is now more afraid to speak them.
It is our actions in life that echo through eternity, what have we done that is going to echo through eternity? What have we done to benefit others? What have we done to better the world? Nothing, and we continue to do just that; nothing. We whine, whine about how things don't make sense, about how things are unfair and yet we're unwilling to do anything about it. No, instead we expect, expect everything to be handed to us. What have we done to earn recognition for future generations? When I think of this, I laugh, not out of joy or amusement but rather sadness and disgust. In the past one hundred years we've done more damage to the planet and to ourselves than we've done in the entirety of human existence before then. We've grown less intelligent, and we're proud of it.
We're constantly worried about who's saying behind our backs, trying to prove that we're better than one another when in reality we're all just as pathetic as those next to us. I see kids in schools fighting with the adults over a dress code as they're better than the rules, as if they're more privileged, as if they're royalty. I see people fighting each other over something the other said that was completely meaningless and trivial but blown out of proportion because they need excitement or because they simply don't like what the other person said. We all have this mentality as though we're gods, as if we expect to be treated better than those around us. People are constantly worrying about religion, who's beliefs are better than whose, which opinion is more right than the other. Trivial things, things which, even in their religion, mean nothing. It's not about whose beliefs are more right than other's, it's about using those beliefs to better the world and those around you; but again, we expect to be pampered.
We all run about as though we have purpose when we don't. We expect to be given a purpose but a purpose isn't something that's given, it's something that's gained, something you make for yourself. "God has a purpose for everyone", a statement used by those who have not yet given themselves purpose either due to confusion or laziness. Life isn't about being handed things, it's about earning things and so many of us whine about how some things just aren't right or fair. Instead of complaining, do something. If you don't like the way our government is handling things, stop being a lazy, ignorant person and learn about the various federal laws and do something about it. "That's too hard", no it's not, if you can read this then that means you have internet which means you have the knowledge of the world at your fingertips, literally.
Our legacy is that we're ignorant, vane, and completely arrogant without reason, that's how we'll be recognized in future generations because that's what our actions reflect upon eternity. We can change that; instead of doing for yourself, do for others, inspire people to do great things and show them that it's not impossible. Especially if you're a Christian, one would think that because you follow a certain faith that you'd act more like Christ. I mean he did die for you, not to give you a free ride but to inspire you to do good things to benefit humanity. I'm not even a Christian and I know that, but it seems to be a belief that has been long forgotten. We no longer have honor, virtue, or anything that was once held in high esteem. No, instead we focus what we can do to have fun, on what we can do to earn an extra bit of money even if it means hitting the lowest points imaginable. Even a homeless man can set an example, and it always seems to be the low man who opens people's eyes. We live in luxury, we've forgotten what a necessity is, what it's like to work for even a scrap of food, how valuable knowledge is. Instead we focus on fun, what we can do for ourselves to make our life more enjoyable. That's what we'll show for ourselves for future generations. We're a mockery of our own race, even our ancestors would be disappointed. I'm disappointed, even in myself.
I grow tired of Lucifer. Anyone think I should?