A'oran (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fanguinary) wrote2034-08-21 11:06 am
fanguinary) wrote2034-08-21 11:06 am
Entry tags:
[OOC] Character and World Information
Name: A’oran (pronounced A-O-run with first two syllables said quickly)
Birth Name: Aryn Lane
Age: 539 (looks to be in early-to-mid 20s)
DOB: September 13
PB: Caesar from Ozmafia!
Type: Sangarde (“Vampire”)
Basics: A’oran is a young middle class college student who wanted to be an artist but got bitten by a vampire and taken in by the Sangarde, the order of Blood Servants. They spent years training him into being a proper Sangarde and helping him search for the right candidate to be his first Lorde so he can set a blood bond and not lose his soul completely. He pragmatically chose a well-mannered, but sickly rich kid. Only didn’t expect to care about him as much as he did and agreed to a Counter Ritual to try and cure his illness. His Lorde betrayed him and locked him in a Coffin, or special cage for Sangarde that they can’t break out of so he could continue to drink his blood and keep the Counter Ritual in place. He wouldn’t be freed from it for 500 years. He’s extremely bitter about his lot in life, but focuses instead on working with it, because he’s a self-preservationist at heart. After he’s freed from the Coffin by an undercover Hunter working within his Lorde’s household.
Visual
Sangarde
Short Form
Sangarde Abilities:
Long Form
Most in present time would think of them simply as vampires, but there is far more to them. The first Sangarde sold their souls into eternal servitude through making a blood bond contract. Through this contract they gained superior strength, vision, speed, agility, etc, and other special abilities, like the ability to cast spells using their own blood. The crux of this contract is that they gain this ability through servitude and the consumption of blood.
Sangarde made this sacrifice to gain the strength to protect their people during the great wars that riddled the land and left many of the small villages and city-states vulnerable to attack. It was a sacred act of selflessness that was taken only with the greatest of care and full knowledge of the possible hell that would be awaiting them upon death, or the immortal life of servitude they would subscribe to. By making the blood bond they were bound to one person, their Lorde. They agree to drink only the blood of their Lorde and to obey their will, until the time of the Lorde’s death. To kill their own Lorde is to permanently lose their soul, damaging it beyond repair, and causes one to Fall and become a beast, all negative traits amplified tenfold until they subsume everything good left. A Lorde can end a contract through a separate ritual but a Sangarde once changed can never return to being a human once more. It is why Sangardes give up their human names and take on new ones after their Conversions.
After the death of a Lorde or the end of a contract, a Sangarde does have a certain amount of time before they must make a new contract to protect themselves. Ten years is the longest time in which they can drink the blood of others to survive before seeking another Lorde, but the more they drink, the more they lose their way, their souls decaying, and should they die with their soul still damaged this way, they will never go in peace, becoming a demonic Spectre that must be exorcised. The longer they go without the bond to keep their soul intact the more they are twisted into a darker version of themselves. The contract and exchange of blood for servitude is an act of trust and honor, a bond in which the blood of the Lorde heals the damage to the soul of the Sangarde, so to disregard it is to show your soul unworthy of the salvation. Many Sangarde in the beginning did not even choose to survive their first contract, their duties fulfilled in driving back the attacking forces or protecting the life of their Lorde, and would take their own lives by ripping out their hearts and crushing them. Heavy damage to the heart is the only way to kill a true Sangarde.
A Fallen/Vampire still has much of the same strength and abilities of a Sangarde, but lacks conscience and care for the consequences of their actions. They can leave massacres in their wake to slake their bloodlust. The only difference is that the loss of their souls weakens the state of their body. They need to consume more blood at a time to keep the strength and constitution of their physical forms. For many years Sangarde themselves were the guardians and enforcers, keeping watch over all known Sangarde and removing any who had Fallen or were in high risk of doing so. But as time went on, the ritual became known to kings, queens, nobility, and the rich, and many of them sought to create their own Sangarde, to the point of transforming knights, soldiers, and eventually mercenaries for their own purposes.
As these people did not often know the true nature of a Sangarde’s duties or the threat of their souls being lost to them, they would not honor the contracts or would not make new ones should their original Lorde pass on. Some of these Lordes would even allow their Sanguarde to Fall rather than provide their blood beyond the initial bonding ritual. It led to a high rise in vampires who would in turn cause havoc across the land and bite others against their will. If a Sangarde has already Fallen, their blood and bite are essentially infectious. Those they bite will either die in excruciating pain as they body is burned from the inside out or become “vampires” themselves if they survive the attack.
The Watch is the council of Sangarde and their Lordes that keep an eye on all Sangarde and see it as their personal duty to take care of the threats that the Fallen pose to humanity. If a victim survives to become a vampire they are taken in by the Watch and trained, teaching them everything they can until it is time for them to make their own contract and thus become a full Sangarde. They try to find someone they believe is trustworthy.
Of course the authority and reputation of the Watch fell as the number of vampires rose, leading many to believe they were incapable of fulfilling this duty. Humans took the matters into their own hands, creating various clans and organizations of their own to fight vampires. Vampires as known around the world now, but the truth of Sangarde is barely acknowledge or even known to the general society.
Backstory:
A’oran was born Aryn Lane to an average family of the middle class in Velsa. It wasn’t a huge town by far, but it was growing with new economic opportunities as more natural resources were being utilized in the area and the beginnings of the industrial era were just starting. The denila plant, whose flowers and leaves when processed created a unique substance that caused inks and dyes to look bolder and more iridescent, became a huge boom to the area. It’s a flower that grows in abundance by the large mineral springs the town was built around.
Teryll Lane was a man of strong reputation for all that his business was a simple one. The tanning business in the mountain area was very strong because of the abundance of wildlife that hunters would bring to them. They would either buy the skins from the hunters or deskin them and provide the meat to the hunter for a discounted rate. He had three sons and two daughters, of which Aryn was the second youngest. His father didn’t want him to become a tanner (Aryn didn’t have the “hands” for it, he would say), but to go to school to learn how to manage the business as it grew instead, with the new people traveling through the area and the trading of leather spreading not just in their regional area, but further out into the country.
This upset some of his brothers, for they believed that being older meant they deserved to have charge of the business, but their father intended all of them to own and work in the business together. His daughters were not expected to become simple housewives for fair share of the work was expected amongst the entire family, just as it had been at his own father’s tannery, but they were given the option of a secondary education that the older brothers weren’t. The boys were expected to work at the tannery and remain there until they struck out on their own with their own wives to do their own business, but the girls has options. This made Tyrell somewhat of an odd person in the small town because most girls were expected to be married off, not given prospects where they could leave the town and have careers of all things. But for all that he was a man that got his hands dirty for a living, Tyrell Lane knew the impact knowing every aspect of your business could have and that it was better to work dirty and manage clean.
Aryn didn’t want to manage the tannery, because in truth he wanted to be an artist. Painting and sculpting were his passions. He loved working with a new slab of clay or mixing paints to get just the right colors for a sunset over the trees or light shining off one of the lakes. He wanted to live in one of the bigger cities, like Bridgefort, where universities were said to be the places of learning and community and professors and philosophers would hold dialogues on their very stoops.
Still the expectations of his father worked in his favor because he did get to go to university in Bridgefort, at the same time as his older sister, Aliss. It was not exactly what he expected, on his first day, but he could not let go of the excitement he felt. He got to meet people from all over the country and some were even foreign students. He got to take philosophy classes along with the accounting classes and business lectures. He even secretly joined the Artists Association on campus, and managed to hide it from Aliss who he knew would report it to his father.
Three years of schooling and he knew he only had a few short months left before he would be returning to Velsa. The knowledge was weighing down on him to the point he couldn’t even concentrate on his art. He was trying to enjoy as much of the life as he could because he was certain that his life would be “over” once he had to return to Velsa and take up the managerial duties of the tannery.
And then he was bitten. He was attacked late at night while on his way home from a friendly art show in the city. His friends had asked him to go to the nearby tavern for a few drinks but he declined because he has a test in the morning and for all that he hated it, he wasn’t going to fail at it and disappoint his father. So he returned to the campus dormitories on his own. He should have asked for someone to go with him, he should have called down a carriage instead of walking on his own, but he didn’t even think about it.
He had heard the warnings. That there had been attacks recently in the city, a vampire afoot draining citizens of all their blood. But one had been caught just two days previous so surely it was safe enough? He was wrong.
He awoke in the infirmary of the medical college, in a secluded room which was warded so he couldn’t exit. The people who eventually walked through the door to speak with him were Trackers, Sangarde who worked beyond their Blood Bonds or while in between them to hunt down those who had Fallen, and assess them. They had arrived too late to stop the vampire from biting him, but they did stop it from killing him. The fact he had survived the attack and his body didn’t give out from the process of the Tainted Conversion was as much a shock to them as it was to him.
That was when they told him that he was now officially Dead. The conversion meant he could no longer be left to live without supervision or amongst human civilians. His life as a normal human is over and he’ll either, join the Sangarde or be dispatched as a potential threat to public safety. Aryn was terrified and angry but Shae’van and Ta’resa didn’t give him a choice. They placed a blood seal on him, something that can very temporarily keep the bloodlust at bay (for the protection of civilians as they traveled), and transported him to the Watch regional base, where he was confined.
Though they were strict guards and provided him little information about what was to happen to him at first, it was Shae’van and Ta’resa that visited him most often during his lock down. Shae’van is the one who told him what to expect as a Sangarde and about the threat to his soul if he were Fall. Aryn wasn’t particularly religious but the thought that he could be damned to a tortuous purgatory after losing his soul was not something he cared much for.
He was left with three unpleasing options: becoming a Sangarde and making a blood bond, being executed by the Watch as a mercy to prevent him from Falling, or Falling and corrupting his soul beyond saving until all that was left was an abomination. So he took the offer to become a Sangarde, as it was the only one that involved him staying alive and relatively whole. He had lost his family, his dream of being an artist in a big city even further away, and all he had left was to survive. If there is one thing that Aryn would always do, it was survive.
He gave up his birth name, as that young man was long dead and he could never go back to that life. He took the name A’oran (when normally the person going through the Conversion takes on their new name during their Oath Ritual) and thus his training began. He kept in contact with Shae’van and Ta’resa, who he would come to see as his closest friends among the Sangarde, as he was put to work learning all of the primary skills expected of him. His trainer was Uol’ua, an older Sangarde who had been part of the Watch while serving the same family for generations while his tutor in the history of the Sangarde and their traditions was Rasht’ya. He was trained in sword-fighting, hand-to-hand combat, how to act, how to serve, and when to recognize a worthy Lorde before taking the Oath.
They wanted to protect him as best they could, finding him a way to serve honorably and faithfully even though this was not a choice he had taken selflessly. Those who are Tainted are more likely to Fall due to the fact they are forced into the situation, their soul more vulnerable to the decay. They created a list of candidates for him to pick from, people he could spend time with and see if they were a suitable match. It made him feel like he was looking for a spouse. Feeding on other Sangarde helped him gain strength and stave off the decay, but he didn’t have the time waste and so within less than five years he had to make the choice.
What Rasht’ya (who had vetted all of the candidates) hadn’t realized is that A’oran had already found someone. In the year before he made his choice, A’oran had been allowed to spend time out in the town, Argilen, an hour’s ride from the Watch’s sanctuary. It was small, but reminded him a bit of the town he had come from, so he took the chances he could visit it and see people living their lives and doing normal things he once thought boring and inconsequential. It was during this time that he met Gillian Matthias Blythe III, the son of the wealthy landowner and businessman who all but controlled the town.
The Blythes were staunch supporters of the Watch, being descendants of one of the first Lordes known to Sangarde history, although at that time the Sangarde had taken their own lives upon the death of their Lorde. He met Gillian while at the local supply store, looking at paints and brushes, but not attempting to buy them. Gillian was checking on an order for his mother. He would collapse while exiting the shop and A’oran caught him, calling out for a doctor as his carriage man came to help. A’oran rode with him to his home and watched over him until a doctor and his parents arrived. Then he was sent back to the Watch’s Sanctuary.
They would run into each other again a week later when A’oran visits the town again, and he’s surprised to find out that Gillian had been looking for him and keeping an ear out in the village for his return. Gillian wanted to thank him for his help and revealed that his health had been in decline since he was a child. He worked to avoid overstraining himself but sometimes even the simples of activities would leave him weak and fatigued. No doctor thought he would make it to thirty years of age.
But he spoke so easily about it, talking as if his poor health was nothing more than something he had to work with in life. A’oran had been hiding the anger and bitterness he felt over what had happened to him for years now, but seeing Gillian take his condition, that could kill him at any time, so casually left him feeling somewhat jealous. They would spend time together on and off as the year passed, getting to know one another and finding out they had more in common than A’oran would have expected considering their differences.
A’oran liked Gillian. He couldn’t help it. They got along, had similar interests in art and philosophy, and Gillian was so sickly that he wasn’t expect to live another ten years. It was a dark thought, but the fact that his first Lorde might not be around long and A’oran would be free of the Blood Bond sooner rather than later was a benefit to him. He hated the idea of binding himself into servitude, but also understood the power and strength of it if he saw it more like a transactional exchange. Not completely selfless, but still with the loyalty to the duty that would also serve him in return.
Gillian was only 17 when they met and 18 by the time A’oran officially selected him to be his Lorde, despite him not having even been one of the candidates Rasht’ya had picked. Still the Watch saw it as a solid choice, considering all the support that the Blythes had given them and the fact that Gillian was known as a philanthropist and scholar. Simple, unassuming, perfect. He wasn’t even expected to take over his father’s businesses as the stress of the work was thought as “too much” for him, while A’oran could protect him from potential threats from rivals of his father. A very practical and beneficial match.
The Bond changed nothing at first (except everything, some may say, considering A’oran was stronger, faster, and felt more whole than he had since before he was bitten), their cordial acquaintanceship became an easy partnership. A’oran became bodyguard and advisor. Nothing changed about how they interacted with each other, and they worked well together in their simple life. Gillian even started up a patronage of artists in the area and encouraged A’oran to begin painting again. Gillian he found to be insightful and thoughtful, kind and caring to his family, but also somewhat lazy. He didn’t put as much effort into anything that he could and A’oran would like, but he attributed that to the consistent fatigue that seemed to follow the young man everywhere.
But slowly things were shifting. Gillian became A’oran’s closest friend, his confidante, who he could speak to openly in a way he hadn’t in some time to anyone else (not since his younger sister, Luisa). He even admitted to Gillian that he had come to enjoy their time together, that despite his initial reservations and bitterness about the blood bond...he didn’t think that any other Lorde could have suited him so well. They worked together, lived together, and Gillian became such a part of A’oran’s life that he even forgot, for a time, that Gillian’s health was so poor.
Until it started falling apart again. Fainting spells, catching every illness within a three town radius, and bruising easily from the simplest of bumps and stubs to the point he looked like he’d fallen down a steep, rocky hill just from slipping down a step or two. Two years of his health spiraling down and A’oran didn’t know what to do, what could be done. Doctors were at the end of their capabilities, telling his parents to prepare for his death and keep him comfortable.
A’oran wasn’t sure he could accept that now. After giving up his old life, losing touch with the few companions he had within the Sangarde by taking up his Oath, and focusing so much of his energy into the Blythes…he didn’t know what he would do without Gillian. A’oran who saw himself as a survivor, who would keep moving on despite all the trials and pitfalls of life, was trapped with the knowledge that there was someone in his life now that he wasn’t sure he could live without. Yes, he had always known Gillian would die young, it had even been part of why he chose him, but it was upon the now instead of the “later,” and A’oran was lost.
He tried to push it away, trying to ignore the truth in front of him, the reminders that he had set himself up for this loss, and focused instead on enjoying what time they had left. He even helped Gillian with his studies, only to find that Gillian had taken interest in Sangardes and their history, something he had only peripheral care for before. When A’oran asked why, Gillian told him, “If you’re the only person I’ll see most days trapped in this bed, until that time finally comes, I may as well learn more about what it’s like to be you.” It touched A’oran in a way he couldn’t explain and wasn’t sure he wanted to examine, already caught in the throes of denial at Gillian’s impending death.
It is Gillian who finds the passage in the tome about the Counter Ritual. The second Oath that would allow a Lorde to feed on his Sangarde in the case of extreme emergencies, tying them even more tightly together as the Lorde gained all the strengths of the Sangarde and could not die as long as his Sangarde lived. After the discovery, A’oran couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was such a simple solution, by everything written in the book, but if it failed, if A’oran’s resolve was not true and pure in wanting to save Gillian’s life, Gillian would die all the faster in worst pain than anything he’s suffered before now. Was that a chance to take?
And then Mister Blythe, Gillian’s father, died in a tragic accident. He had been returning home during a storm that hadn’t seemed too troublesome until something spooked his horses and sent them racing too sharply around a bend. The carriage was thrown over a ridge and crashed down below in a ravine. Blythe and his nephew, who he has been training to take over his businesses in Gillian’s stead had both died. It had crushed Gillian’s mother, to lose both her husband and nephew while her son was already so close to death’s door. A’oran watched the family mourn and how Gillian tried to remain strong for his mother, only to collapse once again when standing for the final rites at his father’s funeral.
So A’oran made the choice to perform the ritual. As it was, he had been getting steadily weaker himself, refusing to feed on Gillian while his health was so poor and using a secondary contract with one of the maids he was cordial with, Melana, instead. But this was too important. Gillian tried to dissuade him at first, reminding him that it may not work, but A’oran refused to turn back, believing it was better to try than leave Gillian to inevitably waste away to his death. He even seemed to gain more energy and enthusiasm in the hours leading up to the ritual, a new belief in the future, A’oran thought. It made him sure that he was doing the right thing.
He gave himself willingly to Gillian that night, letting him feed from him and binding their souls together permanently. The change was miraculous. By the next morning Gillian looked strong, full of energy and color, smiling and confident. The following days were as if he was watching a different person. Gillian comforted his mother and told her he would be taking over his father’s business with him and his cousin gone, because ensuring she had money to care for herself was his highest priority. She had no reason to deny him now.
Each night Gillian would feed on A’oran, drinking his blood to continue to fortify himself. And A’oran let him. He was becoming weaker himself, and hungrier. To the point he almost fed too much from Melana and forced himself to back away from her lest he do her harm trying to sate himself. He brings this up to Gillian and he apologized right away, giving A’oran some of his blood while insisting he’d merely become so busy with managing the business that he had forgotten the last time he’d fed A’oran instead of the other way around. He insisted that all A’oran needed to do was speak up, as he had always done with Gillian, to get what he needed. If he couldn’t do so, how was Gillian to keep track with so many other responsibilities now?
He wasn’t wrong and A’oran took the blame onto himself for not asking when he knew the need was rising. And perhaps his own loneliness was his fault too, the effects of the counter ritual making him more needy and focused on Gillian. For a few more weeks, things improved. Gillian was strong and healthy and so very busy, to the point he would often leave A’oran at home so he could travel without “intimidating” his business partners. And A’oran let it go, for he knew that in business sometimes a show of power was needed less than a show of equality. Yes, things had changed, but Gillian was alive and A’oran had saved him. Things would calm down once Gillian got his father’s business back on track and he would have his friend again.
Or so he thought. The feedings continued, A’oran giving himself to Gillian regularly to stave off the potential that his illnesses could return. But he seemed stable enough that A’oran told him it was time for him to visit the Sanctuary. They had given A’oran a reprieve from his debriefings as Gillian’s health plummeted, expecting he would stay with his Lorde in his time of need. But now that Gillian was heathy and hale, A’oran would need to visit and tell them of what they had done. They couldn’t avoid it, or they would risk the Watch choosing to seek him out instead.
Gillian agreed and even offered to travel with him, proof of the Counter Oath’s success. They spent hours alone that day and it felt like they were finally sliding back into place, their friendship steadying after all of the upheavals.
It was that night everything went wrong, or perhaps had gone so wrong that A’oran saw what he had ignored before. A’oran had slept in his own bed for the first time in weeks and was pulled out of it by the burning sensation of a blood seal being drawn on his chest. He had tried to move, to get away, but he was held down until it was completed and when his vision cleared from the pain the only thing he could see was Gillian. Gillian who had used the seal to bind all of his abilities and then had the men helping him, who A’oran realized were Vampires, Fallen Sangarde or victims of them, move him. They chained him with blessed iron and dragged him down into the damp caverns beneath the manor, used for food storage and wine and forced him into the Coffin. The cage is built originally to bind Fallen and keep them trapped, unable to move or escape and worked just as well on a Sangarde. His arms were pulled apart and trapped spread in special slots for ease of access, so Gillian could cut his wrists and fingers to drink from him as needed.
He didn’t understand, he demanded to know why this was happening and Gillian laughed right in his face. For this was merely A’oran fulfilling his duties as a Sangarde, wasn’t it? Protecting Gillian now that their lives were so tightly bound by staying in one place so he could never be harmed and put Gillian in danger. After all, A’oran could be so reckless when the right emotions were pressed. How else would he have managed to make A’oran think performing the Counter Oath was his own idea to selflessly save his dearest friend? To think all it took was speeding up his plans to get rid of his own father. Had he known his mother’s distress in her grief would get A’oran to act he would have done it even sooner.
It was a wound to the heart in a way no physical injury could surpass. To know that not only was he being betrayed by the person who mattered most to him, but that their friendship had been a lie, everything A’oran had thought he had known about them had been a complete falsehood. And now he was trapped, locked inside the cage, unable to even fight to free himself with magic of the Coffin binding his powers. Although his “death” had come years ago, now he had been buried away, left to be forgotten by the world.
He lost track of time, only marking it by Gillian’s visits to feed and be fed. He couldn’t let A’oran completely starve, for he would Fall and while it was a curious thought of what would become of them should A’oran’s soul be completely damned, it was not a chance Gillian would take with his own health and prosperity in the balance. So instead, every other week, at first, blood was provided, mostly the blood of some other human, with Gillian’s blood mixed in. Just enough to stave off the Fall. It became obvious that Gillian had put a great deal of thought and planning, research into just how much blood A’oran would need to survive—how long he could go without and how little he would need to sustain himself.
After a while, it was no longer Gillian who visited him each time, but other servants, proxies. Proxies, who remained completely silent, refusing to answer questions as they took his blood and fed him by hand. Those that broke this rule, did not return to feed him again. So Gillian—or someone reporting to him—was watching still, somehow. In all that time, the only person he could think about was Gillian. He let the anger and hurt fester inside of him, but had nowhere to direct it, nowhere to look, nowhere to go, no one to speak to. So A’oran chose to Sleep. He lowered his heart rate and breathing and let himself descend into Rest, a meditation like state of suspended animation.
And thus he would remain like that, only brought out of that state by the arrival of people into his prison for feedings. Time passed, things changed, the people who came grew older and other new proxies replaced them. Clothing changed, even the containers they used to collect his blood or bring blood to him to drink altered as time went on, though he wouldn’t be able to name differences that distinctly as the years went on. A’oran remained in a fog of a half-wake state, trying to preserve his own mind less the rage and hurt consume him entirely and drive him mad.
Then came the Moves, as he thought of them. A large group of armed guards came and his Coffin was moved. Put into a large iron box and transported out of the damp cavern cell. He didn’t know where he was taken, no one would speak to him, and in his half-state he barely acknowledged what was happening. They didn’t happen too often, enough that he would idly wonder if Gillian was forever searching for the deepest, blackest hole in which to leave him until he has a use for him.
And then came The Day. Something changed. He was awakened from his Rest by the Proxies, but something changed. The chains and cuffs binding him were suddenly released. And he wasn’t Sealed. He was free. And in an instinctive reaction of rage and preservation, he attacked, killing all of the guards in the room. It took him a moment to collect himself, for his mind to focus enough to realize what he has just done and that something had gone wrong this time like it hadn’t in hundreds of years.
Then he heard a voice calling to him from the doorway and he turned to see two people staring at him, guns out, but to their sides. They asked him if he knew who he was and where he was.
TBC
Birth Name: Aryn Lane
Age: 539 (looks to be in early-to-mid 20s)
DOB: September 13
PB: Caesar from Ozmafia!
Type: Sangarde (“Vampire”)
Basics: A’oran is a young middle class college student who wanted to be an artist but got bitten by a vampire and taken in by the Sangarde, the order of Blood Servants. They spent years training him into being a proper Sangarde and helping him search for the right candidate to be his first Lorde so he can set a blood bond and not lose his soul completely. He pragmatically chose a well-mannered, but sickly rich kid. Only didn’t expect to care about him as much as he did and agreed to a Counter Ritual to try and cure his illness. His Lorde betrayed him and locked him in a Coffin, or special cage for Sangarde that they can’t break out of so he could continue to drink his blood and keep the Counter Ritual in place. He wouldn’t be freed from it for 500 years. He’s extremely bitter about his lot in life, but focuses instead on working with it, because he’s a self-preservationist at heart. After he’s freed from the Coffin by an undercover Hunter working within his Lorde’s household.
Visual
- Height: 5’10”
- Weight: 165 lbs
- Eyes: Purple
- Description: Tall and lanky, but with muscular definition to his build. His hair long in the back with a messy shorter cut around his face. He tends to wear simple button up shirts, long-sleeved, and plain slacks or dark jeans (still getting used to jeans). Purple eyes with elongated pupils, more like that of a cat, and longer, sharper incisors. He doesn’t smile a great deal, and usually when he does, it’s him being more sarcastic or condescending.
Sangarde
Short Form
- Go through a Conversion to gain special abilities by bonding themselves to someone else and drinking their blood for strength and to repair the degrading of their souls that occurs post Conversion.
- During the Oath Ritual, Sangarde swear their loyalty and service to the human whose blood they consume, aka their Lorde. It is a covenant that binds their souls together.
- The act of Conversion is sacrificing the soul for the sake of power and slowly the soul withers and decays until the Sangarde becomes a monster, all of their negative traits amplified and their bloodlust insatiable, known as the act of Falling.
- To save their souls, they feel on the blood of their Bonded, the soul of their Lorde in turn heals the damage during feeding.
- If Sangarde kill their Lorde, their souls are irreparably damaged/corrupted and they Fall immediately. Those this happen to are called Fallen by Sangarde and vampires by general people.
- Many of the first Sangarde killed themselves after their Lordes died, as they never intended to be immortal. Those that lived found new Lordes.
- From this came The Watch, a council of Sangarde and their Lordes that makes sure that Sangarde are following their Laws and that Fallen are dealt with.
- The true nature of Sangarde are lost to the general public, only knowing of them as vampires who are corrupt and feed on the blood of their victims (the Fallen).
- The rich and nobility began to pay people to become Sangarde in order to use them for their own means, such as for bodyguards and assassins. These people rarely lasted without Falling, not knowing the dangers they faced. Some even killed their Lordes for lack of payment. It led to a large increase in Vampires.
- A Fallen’s saliva is like poison when it enters a normal human’s bloodstream, forcing a Conversion on the person without the stabilizing agent of the Blood Bond (aka a Tainted Conversion).
- If the Tainted Conversion doesn’t kill them, the victims become vampires themselves and only a Blood Bond or feeding on the blood of another Sangarde until they achieve one will keep them from Falling faster than a normal Sangarde would.
- The Watch sends out Trackers to hunt down Fallen and victims who survive. They give them the options of becoming a full Sangarde or death.
Sangarde Abilities:
- Superior Strength (level of strength based on how recently they’ve consumed blood, but on average 5-10x that of an average human.)
- Agility
- Immortality (except in regards to the heart. If it is destroyed, or critically damaged, they die.)
- Healing Factor (they can heal from any wound/injury within seconds/minutes/hours depending on the severity, except severe injury to the heart.)
- Blood Magic (using their blood to cast spells, strength of the spells depend on amount of blood and strength of the Sangarde.)
- Shapeshifting (each Sangarde can train in one specific animal they can shift into but most Sangarde don’t have this skill.)
- Blood Bond (the ability to make contracts and gain strength from the consuming of the blood of their Lorde, who they swear servitude to in exchange for their blood. The ability to perform the Counter Oath which is a ritual in which the Lorde drinks the blood of the Sangarde and gains all of their strengths but not the craving and need to feed on blood. The Sangarde in the case of the Counter Oath takes on all injuries of their Lorde onto themselves and take a lot longer to heal from it than they normally would. If their Lorde dies, so do they and vice versa.)
- Secondary Contracts (Sangarde can have secondary blood contracts, but all bonds are superseded by the first one with their Lorde. It is meant to allow them to feed from others in the chance their Lorde is injured or otherwise absent for an extended amount of time. A secondary contract is not the same as a Blood Bond and a Sangarde can only have two of them at most, with the blood being given willingly. One cannot be forced into a bond or contract.)
- A Sangarde who has spent too long outside of a Blood Bond slowly weakens and will eventually Fall. They become weaker against silver, Blessed artifacts (including things like “Holy Water”), and their bloodlust rises as the decay of their soul happens more rapidly. They can only strengthen themselves against these weaknesses by consuming more and more blood as time goes on.
- Sangarde created by a Tainted Conversion is one born through being bitten by a Fallen One, a Vampire. They are weaker upon transformation than a True Sangarde and Fall more easily if they are not brought into a Blood Contract to stabilize them and build their strength.
Long Form
Most in present time would think of them simply as vampires, but there is far more to them. The first Sangarde sold their souls into eternal servitude through making a blood bond contract. Through this contract they gained superior strength, vision, speed, agility, etc, and other special abilities, like the ability to cast spells using their own blood. The crux of this contract is that they gain this ability through servitude and the consumption of blood.
Sangarde made this sacrifice to gain the strength to protect their people during the great wars that riddled the land and left many of the small villages and city-states vulnerable to attack. It was a sacred act of selflessness that was taken only with the greatest of care and full knowledge of the possible hell that would be awaiting them upon death, or the immortal life of servitude they would subscribe to. By making the blood bond they were bound to one person, their Lorde. They agree to drink only the blood of their Lorde and to obey their will, until the time of the Lorde’s death. To kill their own Lorde is to permanently lose their soul, damaging it beyond repair, and causes one to Fall and become a beast, all negative traits amplified tenfold until they subsume everything good left. A Lorde can end a contract through a separate ritual but a Sangarde once changed can never return to being a human once more. It is why Sangardes give up their human names and take on new ones after their Conversions.
After the death of a Lorde or the end of a contract, a Sangarde does have a certain amount of time before they must make a new contract to protect themselves. Ten years is the longest time in which they can drink the blood of others to survive before seeking another Lorde, but the more they drink, the more they lose their way, their souls decaying, and should they die with their soul still damaged this way, they will never go in peace, becoming a demonic Spectre that must be exorcised. The longer they go without the bond to keep their soul intact the more they are twisted into a darker version of themselves. The contract and exchange of blood for servitude is an act of trust and honor, a bond in which the blood of the Lorde heals the damage to the soul of the Sangarde, so to disregard it is to show your soul unworthy of the salvation. Many Sangarde in the beginning did not even choose to survive their first contract, their duties fulfilled in driving back the attacking forces or protecting the life of their Lorde, and would take their own lives by ripping out their hearts and crushing them. Heavy damage to the heart is the only way to kill a true Sangarde.
A Fallen/Vampire still has much of the same strength and abilities of a Sangarde, but lacks conscience and care for the consequences of their actions. They can leave massacres in their wake to slake their bloodlust. The only difference is that the loss of their souls weakens the state of their body. They need to consume more blood at a time to keep the strength and constitution of their physical forms. For many years Sangarde themselves were the guardians and enforcers, keeping watch over all known Sangarde and removing any who had Fallen or were in high risk of doing so. But as time went on, the ritual became known to kings, queens, nobility, and the rich, and many of them sought to create their own Sangarde, to the point of transforming knights, soldiers, and eventually mercenaries for their own purposes.
As these people did not often know the true nature of a Sangarde’s duties or the threat of their souls being lost to them, they would not honor the contracts or would not make new ones should their original Lorde pass on. Some of these Lordes would even allow their Sanguarde to Fall rather than provide their blood beyond the initial bonding ritual. It led to a high rise in vampires who would in turn cause havoc across the land and bite others against their will. If a Sangarde has already Fallen, their blood and bite are essentially infectious. Those they bite will either die in excruciating pain as they body is burned from the inside out or become “vampires” themselves if they survive the attack.
The Watch is the council of Sangarde and their Lordes that keep an eye on all Sangarde and see it as their personal duty to take care of the threats that the Fallen pose to humanity. If a victim survives to become a vampire they are taken in by the Watch and trained, teaching them everything they can until it is time for them to make their own contract and thus become a full Sangarde. They try to find someone they believe is trustworthy.
Of course the authority and reputation of the Watch fell as the number of vampires rose, leading many to believe they were incapable of fulfilling this duty. Humans took the matters into their own hands, creating various clans and organizations of their own to fight vampires. Vampires as known around the world now, but the truth of Sangarde is barely acknowledge or even known to the general society.
Backstory:
A’oran was born Aryn Lane to an average family of the middle class in Velsa. It wasn’t a huge town by far, but it was growing with new economic opportunities as more natural resources were being utilized in the area and the beginnings of the industrial era were just starting. The denila plant, whose flowers and leaves when processed created a unique substance that caused inks and dyes to look bolder and more iridescent, became a huge boom to the area. It’s a flower that grows in abundance by the large mineral springs the town was built around.
Teryll Lane was a man of strong reputation for all that his business was a simple one. The tanning business in the mountain area was very strong because of the abundance of wildlife that hunters would bring to them. They would either buy the skins from the hunters or deskin them and provide the meat to the hunter for a discounted rate. He had three sons and two daughters, of which Aryn was the second youngest. His father didn’t want him to become a tanner (Aryn didn’t have the “hands” for it, he would say), but to go to school to learn how to manage the business as it grew instead, with the new people traveling through the area and the trading of leather spreading not just in their regional area, but further out into the country.
This upset some of his brothers, for they believed that being older meant they deserved to have charge of the business, but their father intended all of them to own and work in the business together. His daughters were not expected to become simple housewives for fair share of the work was expected amongst the entire family, just as it had been at his own father’s tannery, but they were given the option of a secondary education that the older brothers weren’t. The boys were expected to work at the tannery and remain there until they struck out on their own with their own wives to do their own business, but the girls has options. This made Tyrell somewhat of an odd person in the small town because most girls were expected to be married off, not given prospects where they could leave the town and have careers of all things. But for all that he was a man that got his hands dirty for a living, Tyrell Lane knew the impact knowing every aspect of your business could have and that it was better to work dirty and manage clean.
Aryn didn’t want to manage the tannery, because in truth he wanted to be an artist. Painting and sculpting were his passions. He loved working with a new slab of clay or mixing paints to get just the right colors for a sunset over the trees or light shining off one of the lakes. He wanted to live in one of the bigger cities, like Bridgefort, where universities were said to be the places of learning and community and professors and philosophers would hold dialogues on their very stoops.
Still the expectations of his father worked in his favor because he did get to go to university in Bridgefort, at the same time as his older sister, Aliss. It was not exactly what he expected, on his first day, but he could not let go of the excitement he felt. He got to meet people from all over the country and some were even foreign students. He got to take philosophy classes along with the accounting classes and business lectures. He even secretly joined the Artists Association on campus, and managed to hide it from Aliss who he knew would report it to his father.
Three years of schooling and he knew he only had a few short months left before he would be returning to Velsa. The knowledge was weighing down on him to the point he couldn’t even concentrate on his art. He was trying to enjoy as much of the life as he could because he was certain that his life would be “over” once he had to return to Velsa and take up the managerial duties of the tannery.
And then he was bitten. He was attacked late at night while on his way home from a friendly art show in the city. His friends had asked him to go to the nearby tavern for a few drinks but he declined because he has a test in the morning and for all that he hated it, he wasn’t going to fail at it and disappoint his father. So he returned to the campus dormitories on his own. He should have asked for someone to go with him, he should have called down a carriage instead of walking on his own, but he didn’t even think about it.
He had heard the warnings. That there had been attacks recently in the city, a vampire afoot draining citizens of all their blood. But one had been caught just two days previous so surely it was safe enough? He was wrong.
He awoke in the infirmary of the medical college, in a secluded room which was warded so he couldn’t exit. The people who eventually walked through the door to speak with him were Trackers, Sangarde who worked beyond their Blood Bonds or while in between them to hunt down those who had Fallen, and assess them. They had arrived too late to stop the vampire from biting him, but they did stop it from killing him. The fact he had survived the attack and his body didn’t give out from the process of the Tainted Conversion was as much a shock to them as it was to him.
That was when they told him that he was now officially Dead. The conversion meant he could no longer be left to live without supervision or amongst human civilians. His life as a normal human is over and he’ll either, join the Sangarde or be dispatched as a potential threat to public safety. Aryn was terrified and angry but Shae’van and Ta’resa didn’t give him a choice. They placed a blood seal on him, something that can very temporarily keep the bloodlust at bay (for the protection of civilians as they traveled), and transported him to the Watch regional base, where he was confined.
Though they were strict guards and provided him little information about what was to happen to him at first, it was Shae’van and Ta’resa that visited him most often during his lock down. Shae’van is the one who told him what to expect as a Sangarde and about the threat to his soul if he were Fall. Aryn wasn’t particularly religious but the thought that he could be damned to a tortuous purgatory after losing his soul was not something he cared much for.
He was left with three unpleasing options: becoming a Sangarde and making a blood bond, being executed by the Watch as a mercy to prevent him from Falling, or Falling and corrupting his soul beyond saving until all that was left was an abomination. So he took the offer to become a Sangarde, as it was the only one that involved him staying alive and relatively whole. He had lost his family, his dream of being an artist in a big city even further away, and all he had left was to survive. If there is one thing that Aryn would always do, it was survive.
He gave up his birth name, as that young man was long dead and he could never go back to that life. He took the name A’oran (when normally the person going through the Conversion takes on their new name during their Oath Ritual) and thus his training began. He kept in contact with Shae’van and Ta’resa, who he would come to see as his closest friends among the Sangarde, as he was put to work learning all of the primary skills expected of him. His trainer was Uol’ua, an older Sangarde who had been part of the Watch while serving the same family for generations while his tutor in the history of the Sangarde and their traditions was Rasht’ya. He was trained in sword-fighting, hand-to-hand combat, how to act, how to serve, and when to recognize a worthy Lorde before taking the Oath.
They wanted to protect him as best they could, finding him a way to serve honorably and faithfully even though this was not a choice he had taken selflessly. Those who are Tainted are more likely to Fall due to the fact they are forced into the situation, their soul more vulnerable to the decay. They created a list of candidates for him to pick from, people he could spend time with and see if they were a suitable match. It made him feel like he was looking for a spouse. Feeding on other Sangarde helped him gain strength and stave off the decay, but he didn’t have the time waste and so within less than five years he had to make the choice.
What Rasht’ya (who had vetted all of the candidates) hadn’t realized is that A’oran had already found someone. In the year before he made his choice, A’oran had been allowed to spend time out in the town, Argilen, an hour’s ride from the Watch’s sanctuary. It was small, but reminded him a bit of the town he had come from, so he took the chances he could visit it and see people living their lives and doing normal things he once thought boring and inconsequential. It was during this time that he met Gillian Matthias Blythe III, the son of the wealthy landowner and businessman who all but controlled the town.
The Blythes were staunch supporters of the Watch, being descendants of one of the first Lordes known to Sangarde history, although at that time the Sangarde had taken their own lives upon the death of their Lorde. He met Gillian while at the local supply store, looking at paints and brushes, but not attempting to buy them. Gillian was checking on an order for his mother. He would collapse while exiting the shop and A’oran caught him, calling out for a doctor as his carriage man came to help. A’oran rode with him to his home and watched over him until a doctor and his parents arrived. Then he was sent back to the Watch’s Sanctuary.
They would run into each other again a week later when A’oran visits the town again, and he’s surprised to find out that Gillian had been looking for him and keeping an ear out in the village for his return. Gillian wanted to thank him for his help and revealed that his health had been in decline since he was a child. He worked to avoid overstraining himself but sometimes even the simples of activities would leave him weak and fatigued. No doctor thought he would make it to thirty years of age.
But he spoke so easily about it, talking as if his poor health was nothing more than something he had to work with in life. A’oran had been hiding the anger and bitterness he felt over what had happened to him for years now, but seeing Gillian take his condition, that could kill him at any time, so casually left him feeling somewhat jealous. They would spend time together on and off as the year passed, getting to know one another and finding out they had more in common than A’oran would have expected considering their differences.
A’oran liked Gillian. He couldn’t help it. They got along, had similar interests in art and philosophy, and Gillian was so sickly that he wasn’t expect to live another ten years. It was a dark thought, but the fact that his first Lorde might not be around long and A’oran would be free of the Blood Bond sooner rather than later was a benefit to him. He hated the idea of binding himself into servitude, but also understood the power and strength of it if he saw it more like a transactional exchange. Not completely selfless, but still with the loyalty to the duty that would also serve him in return.
Gillian was only 17 when they met and 18 by the time A’oran officially selected him to be his Lorde, despite him not having even been one of the candidates Rasht’ya had picked. Still the Watch saw it as a solid choice, considering all the support that the Blythes had given them and the fact that Gillian was known as a philanthropist and scholar. Simple, unassuming, perfect. He wasn’t even expected to take over his father’s businesses as the stress of the work was thought as “too much” for him, while A’oran could protect him from potential threats from rivals of his father. A very practical and beneficial match.
The Bond changed nothing at first (except everything, some may say, considering A’oran was stronger, faster, and felt more whole than he had since before he was bitten), their cordial acquaintanceship became an easy partnership. A’oran became bodyguard and advisor. Nothing changed about how they interacted with each other, and they worked well together in their simple life. Gillian even started up a patronage of artists in the area and encouraged A’oran to begin painting again. Gillian he found to be insightful and thoughtful, kind and caring to his family, but also somewhat lazy. He didn’t put as much effort into anything that he could and A’oran would like, but he attributed that to the consistent fatigue that seemed to follow the young man everywhere.
But slowly things were shifting. Gillian became A’oran’s closest friend, his confidante, who he could speak to openly in a way he hadn’t in some time to anyone else (not since his younger sister, Luisa). He even admitted to Gillian that he had come to enjoy their time together, that despite his initial reservations and bitterness about the blood bond...he didn’t think that any other Lorde could have suited him so well. They worked together, lived together, and Gillian became such a part of A’oran’s life that he even forgot, for a time, that Gillian’s health was so poor.
Until it started falling apart again. Fainting spells, catching every illness within a three town radius, and bruising easily from the simplest of bumps and stubs to the point he looked like he’d fallen down a steep, rocky hill just from slipping down a step or two. Two years of his health spiraling down and A’oran didn’t know what to do, what could be done. Doctors were at the end of their capabilities, telling his parents to prepare for his death and keep him comfortable.
A’oran wasn’t sure he could accept that now. After giving up his old life, losing touch with the few companions he had within the Sangarde by taking up his Oath, and focusing so much of his energy into the Blythes…he didn’t know what he would do without Gillian. A’oran who saw himself as a survivor, who would keep moving on despite all the trials and pitfalls of life, was trapped with the knowledge that there was someone in his life now that he wasn’t sure he could live without. Yes, he had always known Gillian would die young, it had even been part of why he chose him, but it was upon the now instead of the “later,” and A’oran was lost.
He tried to push it away, trying to ignore the truth in front of him, the reminders that he had set himself up for this loss, and focused instead on enjoying what time they had left. He even helped Gillian with his studies, only to find that Gillian had taken interest in Sangardes and their history, something he had only peripheral care for before. When A’oran asked why, Gillian told him, “If you’re the only person I’ll see most days trapped in this bed, until that time finally comes, I may as well learn more about what it’s like to be you.” It touched A’oran in a way he couldn’t explain and wasn’t sure he wanted to examine, already caught in the throes of denial at Gillian’s impending death.
It is Gillian who finds the passage in the tome about the Counter Ritual. The second Oath that would allow a Lorde to feed on his Sangarde in the case of extreme emergencies, tying them even more tightly together as the Lorde gained all the strengths of the Sangarde and could not die as long as his Sangarde lived. After the discovery, A’oran couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was such a simple solution, by everything written in the book, but if it failed, if A’oran’s resolve was not true and pure in wanting to save Gillian’s life, Gillian would die all the faster in worst pain than anything he’s suffered before now. Was that a chance to take?
And then Mister Blythe, Gillian’s father, died in a tragic accident. He had been returning home during a storm that hadn’t seemed too troublesome until something spooked his horses and sent them racing too sharply around a bend. The carriage was thrown over a ridge and crashed down below in a ravine. Blythe and his nephew, who he has been training to take over his businesses in Gillian’s stead had both died. It had crushed Gillian’s mother, to lose both her husband and nephew while her son was already so close to death’s door. A’oran watched the family mourn and how Gillian tried to remain strong for his mother, only to collapse once again when standing for the final rites at his father’s funeral.
So A’oran made the choice to perform the ritual. As it was, he had been getting steadily weaker himself, refusing to feed on Gillian while his health was so poor and using a secondary contract with one of the maids he was cordial with, Melana, instead. But this was too important. Gillian tried to dissuade him at first, reminding him that it may not work, but A’oran refused to turn back, believing it was better to try than leave Gillian to inevitably waste away to his death. He even seemed to gain more energy and enthusiasm in the hours leading up to the ritual, a new belief in the future, A’oran thought. It made him sure that he was doing the right thing.
He gave himself willingly to Gillian that night, letting him feed from him and binding their souls together permanently. The change was miraculous. By the next morning Gillian looked strong, full of energy and color, smiling and confident. The following days were as if he was watching a different person. Gillian comforted his mother and told her he would be taking over his father’s business with him and his cousin gone, because ensuring she had money to care for herself was his highest priority. She had no reason to deny him now.
Each night Gillian would feed on A’oran, drinking his blood to continue to fortify himself. And A’oran let him. He was becoming weaker himself, and hungrier. To the point he almost fed too much from Melana and forced himself to back away from her lest he do her harm trying to sate himself. He brings this up to Gillian and he apologized right away, giving A’oran some of his blood while insisting he’d merely become so busy with managing the business that he had forgotten the last time he’d fed A’oran instead of the other way around. He insisted that all A’oran needed to do was speak up, as he had always done with Gillian, to get what he needed. If he couldn’t do so, how was Gillian to keep track with so many other responsibilities now?
He wasn’t wrong and A’oran took the blame onto himself for not asking when he knew the need was rising. And perhaps his own loneliness was his fault too, the effects of the counter ritual making him more needy and focused on Gillian. For a few more weeks, things improved. Gillian was strong and healthy and so very busy, to the point he would often leave A’oran at home so he could travel without “intimidating” his business partners. And A’oran let it go, for he knew that in business sometimes a show of power was needed less than a show of equality. Yes, things had changed, but Gillian was alive and A’oran had saved him. Things would calm down once Gillian got his father’s business back on track and he would have his friend again.
Or so he thought. The feedings continued, A’oran giving himself to Gillian regularly to stave off the potential that his illnesses could return. But he seemed stable enough that A’oran told him it was time for him to visit the Sanctuary. They had given A’oran a reprieve from his debriefings as Gillian’s health plummeted, expecting he would stay with his Lorde in his time of need. But now that Gillian was heathy and hale, A’oran would need to visit and tell them of what they had done. They couldn’t avoid it, or they would risk the Watch choosing to seek him out instead.
Gillian agreed and even offered to travel with him, proof of the Counter Oath’s success. They spent hours alone that day and it felt like they were finally sliding back into place, their friendship steadying after all of the upheavals.
It was that night everything went wrong, or perhaps had gone so wrong that A’oran saw what he had ignored before. A’oran had slept in his own bed for the first time in weeks and was pulled out of it by the burning sensation of a blood seal being drawn on his chest. He had tried to move, to get away, but he was held down until it was completed and when his vision cleared from the pain the only thing he could see was Gillian. Gillian who had used the seal to bind all of his abilities and then had the men helping him, who A’oran realized were Vampires, Fallen Sangarde or victims of them, move him. They chained him with blessed iron and dragged him down into the damp caverns beneath the manor, used for food storage and wine and forced him into the Coffin. The cage is built originally to bind Fallen and keep them trapped, unable to move or escape and worked just as well on a Sangarde. His arms were pulled apart and trapped spread in special slots for ease of access, so Gillian could cut his wrists and fingers to drink from him as needed.
He didn’t understand, he demanded to know why this was happening and Gillian laughed right in his face. For this was merely A’oran fulfilling his duties as a Sangarde, wasn’t it? Protecting Gillian now that their lives were so tightly bound by staying in one place so he could never be harmed and put Gillian in danger. After all, A’oran could be so reckless when the right emotions were pressed. How else would he have managed to make A’oran think performing the Counter Oath was his own idea to selflessly save his dearest friend? To think all it took was speeding up his plans to get rid of his own father. Had he known his mother’s distress in her grief would get A’oran to act he would have done it even sooner.
It was a wound to the heart in a way no physical injury could surpass. To know that not only was he being betrayed by the person who mattered most to him, but that their friendship had been a lie, everything A’oran had thought he had known about them had been a complete falsehood. And now he was trapped, locked inside the cage, unable to even fight to free himself with magic of the Coffin binding his powers. Although his “death” had come years ago, now he had been buried away, left to be forgotten by the world.
He lost track of time, only marking it by Gillian’s visits to feed and be fed. He couldn’t let A’oran completely starve, for he would Fall and while it was a curious thought of what would become of them should A’oran’s soul be completely damned, it was not a chance Gillian would take with his own health and prosperity in the balance. So instead, every other week, at first, blood was provided, mostly the blood of some other human, with Gillian’s blood mixed in. Just enough to stave off the Fall. It became obvious that Gillian had put a great deal of thought and planning, research into just how much blood A’oran would need to survive—how long he could go without and how little he would need to sustain himself.
After a while, it was no longer Gillian who visited him each time, but other servants, proxies. Proxies, who remained completely silent, refusing to answer questions as they took his blood and fed him by hand. Those that broke this rule, did not return to feed him again. So Gillian—or someone reporting to him—was watching still, somehow. In all that time, the only person he could think about was Gillian. He let the anger and hurt fester inside of him, but had nowhere to direct it, nowhere to look, nowhere to go, no one to speak to. So A’oran chose to Sleep. He lowered his heart rate and breathing and let himself descend into Rest, a meditation like state of suspended animation.
And thus he would remain like that, only brought out of that state by the arrival of people into his prison for feedings. Time passed, things changed, the people who came grew older and other new proxies replaced them. Clothing changed, even the containers they used to collect his blood or bring blood to him to drink altered as time went on, though he wouldn’t be able to name differences that distinctly as the years went on. A’oran remained in a fog of a half-wake state, trying to preserve his own mind less the rage and hurt consume him entirely and drive him mad.
Then came the Moves, as he thought of them. A large group of armed guards came and his Coffin was moved. Put into a large iron box and transported out of the damp cavern cell. He didn’t know where he was taken, no one would speak to him, and in his half-state he barely acknowledged what was happening. They didn’t happen too often, enough that he would idly wonder if Gillian was forever searching for the deepest, blackest hole in which to leave him until he has a use for him.
And then came The Day. Something changed. He was awakened from his Rest by the Proxies, but something changed. The chains and cuffs binding him were suddenly released. And he wasn’t Sealed. He was free. And in an instinctive reaction of rage and preservation, he attacked, killing all of the guards in the room. It took him a moment to collect himself, for his mind to focus enough to realize what he has just done and that something had gone wrong this time like it hadn’t in hundreds of years.
Then he heard a voice calling to him from the doorway and he turned to see two people staring at him, guns out, but to their sides. They asked him if he knew who he was and where he was.
TBC