Epic of the Vampire: Canto V- Fabula

With all great legends

embellishments are  added-

just a grain of truth

to the liar’s sea.

So too the vampire’s story

changed with each telling.

Unable to pray

(For the Lord’s name burned their lips,

bitterness, their souls)

extends to the cross,

holy water, reliquaries.

Chastened by prayers,

victim’s devotions,

legends armed the peasantry.

Aversion to tastes

(strong herbs sour the lifeblood)

added to the arsenal

garlic- a weapon.

The castled hemmed in

by rapid flowing waters

another rumor.

Though they could not drown,

the waves battery was fierce

with no bridge at hand.

So moving waters

became the villager’s friend-

another roadblock

for night’s own hunter.

A stake to their undead heart

could end a vampire-

at least cause him pause.

A brick in mouth to starve him

in his mortal grave.

The bricks broke his teeth,

sometimes his jaw, pinning him

under the cold earth.

The prey turned to fight,

emboldened by these stories,

outnumbered them.

And so now the beast

was relegated to myth,

and he relinquished

his power by might

as the man who could not die

fled into the night.

Ev’ry so often

the monster walked amongst men

taking on a guise-

human in their eyes-

gaining trust, admiration,

accumulate wealth,

and they made him king.

A kind, cold monarch by day

holding power close,

hunting with new stealth-

an indiscreet prostitute,

or a servant child,

vanished in the dark.

As time passed and he changed not,

schemes were set in place-

an heir would appear

and the vampire king vanish,

power passing hands

between the undead

as an empire was built up

unbeknownst by men.

The enemy ruled

as the hunter was hunted,

it became a game

of cat and of mouse,

while the cat wore crowns.

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Epic of the Vampire; Canto IV- Venenum

The years passed along,

slowly, but surely crawled by,

and the immortals

continued their lives.

The darkness claimed their dear souls

as they sank into it.

Unable to think

of redemption from the curse

they became placant.

Convinced of their fate

they ruled the mortals with fear

and hatred blossomed

like a spring flower,

filling their whole existence.

They questioned themselves,

for what does sin mean,

when its your very nature,

an unchanging fact?

You kill for your food,

you feed on the unholy.

Evil fed on them.

That which made them man

trickled away like lifeblood-

compassion, mercy,

loving-kindness, faith.

Their souls became as their flesh-

cold, dead, frozen.

They yearned for something,

to feel human once again-

to feel anything.

Unable to die,

possessed of a half a life,

they cursed their maker

til anger faded

as despair shrouded their sight

and hatred was dulled.

How the years crawled by,

how quickly does dischord spread

among the undead.

They sought love in flesh;

new life unattainable

through normal methods,

even this lost charm,

in became vain and empty,

a passing pleasure.

How fleeting is lust,

how meaningless is pleasure

with its purpose lost.

An escape was sought

in drink- intoxication.

This- impossible,

when the deadened flesh

can feel none of the poison

imbibed as liquors.

There is no torment,

no torture, no power of dark,

no hell on this earth

quite like that they lived.

As generations passed on

and villages grew,

becoming cities

which then became nation states,

powers united

with other such towns,

the fortress sat unchanging,

claimed by deep despair.

Poisoned by the curse

which grew stronger as time passed,

with no redemption.

And the immortals

continued their lives.

Morgan le Fay; The Truth: Intro

I sighed as I closed my eyes and relaxed, wondering how much longer I would live. For a year now, I had been hovering in this uncertainty, never knowing what the next day would hold, or if I would even live through the night. And who am I?
Some call me a witch, or a sorceress. To some, I am a traitor to the heroic king. But that is not who I am. I am Morgan Le Fey, the half-sister to the king, Arthur.
Am I a true sorceress? That is up to you to decide. I possess no magic, contrary to what most believe. However I am different, and have always been different.
This is my story, and may the Lord judge me as He sees fit. I lay the facts bare, unearthing my secrets after a long voyage. It has been a long life, mine, and it shall take some time to tell.Take a seat, my readers, and pay heed to my words, for I shall not repeat my tale.