story of a vampire | Teen Ink

story of a vampire

January 12, 2012
By samuel_wolf_nightwing GOLD, mt. carmle, Illinois
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samuel_wolf_nightwing GOLD, Mt. Carmle, Illinois
11 articles 1 photo 3 comments

Favorite Quote:
"just because we aren't saints dosent mean we'll burn in hell"


Author's note: this story came to my from a game i play online its called reignofblood.net and my char on there is samuel wolf and i made him a life. samuel is a part of me so in a way i am only writing about myself.

The author's comments:
this first chapter is long but it explains a few things off the bat. also the chapters i put up will probably be revised and edited befor getting published

Chapter 1





Who I am

Hello, my name is Samuel wolf and this is my story, the story of a vampire.
I was born in three-hundred-seven A.D. on what is now England, throughout my life I had heard of demons and the heroes who killed them. When I was six years of age, and unfortunate event took place that sent me to where I am now, my home was invaded and the only two people I cared about murdered….
When my mother found out what was happening she took me to the wood box, it was nothing fancy just a four foot by four foot hole with a lid, and put me in it to hide. I don’t know who they were but as I looked up I poked my head out so I could see and I saw my father pushed to his knees and my mother in the hands of one of the men. The man holding my mother put a knife to her throat and jerked on it I heard my father yell, if from pain or agony I could not tell as we both watched my mother’s body fall to the ground and her blood pool around her. The guy holding my father jerked out another knife and repeated the process and my father died holding my mother on his knees her body in his lap, I saw my parents murdered before my eyes.
My father, though he was one of the top assassins was defeated by his grief from the loss of his wife and my mother. He lived on a farm on the outskirts of the castle, and thanks to him I knew how to farm and plant and thanks to my mother I knew how to cook somewhat so I wouldn’t starve. I lived alone for two years learning the tricks of the land and how to use it to protect and survive, but it didn’t last long. On December fifth 315 A.D. the king’s men came took my home and threw me in the dungeon, along with other criminals, for lack of payment on the land, after two days in the dungeon I was before the king.
My king was just, king, fair, but firm and I told him my story the story of my father his friend died two years ago, but to this day I never knew what took him so long to come arrest me guess it don’t matter now.
This man who could have my head sat through my story, listening without interrupting and learning and after I was done he said.
“My boy I knew your father he was a good man and an excellent solder…I am sorry for your loss. As for your house I’m afraid the law states that the owners of the house must be among the living or sold, however I will make you a deal with you, if you join my army and serve me I will hold your lands in reserve and give it to you on your eighteenth birthday, and in the mean time you will train as a starting solder. Is it a deal?”
Overwhelmed with joy the kind of which has been absent for 2 years I said.
“My king I would gladly join, thank you and maybe revenge for my parents is not out of my grasp after all.” Looking up I also asked in a voice that was more firm than a c child should hold “however I will not join as a solder I will become an assassin the likes of which will surpass even my father!”


From then on I was an assassin of my king Drago ruler of Zipheran.


The training was long and hard, survival, weapon mastery, poisons, agility, and strength were needed along with the ability to think clearly under pressure. These skills are necessary for a true assassin, and I was going to be greater than my father. Fueled by rage and lust for revenge I trained harder longer and learned faster, by the age of twelve I was able to lift a boulder three times my size and weight. My eyes, they say the eyes are the windows to the soul….and my eyes were full of haltered and my soul blackened from lust of revenge.


During the day I was the hard, fast, killing machine, but at night while asleep nightmares of my mothers and fathers death haunt me.


My features changed dramatically over the years, my blond, golden hair turned to solid black and my eyes from a soft gentle warm blue to a cold, hard amber color. The men alongside me blamed it on my unstoppable rage that threatens to burst out, and my nightmares only added fuel to the fire. The angrier I got, the more I trained and the better I got.


At the age of seventeen I was one of the top assassins in our army and had just one more year to go until I got my home back, then I could set out on my own quest to find my parents murderers. Even with just a year away I would never see my home again. That morning, three months and twelve days after I turned seventeen I got my one-hundred-twenty-fifth assassination order, the ruler of Necromannia, a strong and powerful king, but a tyrant king.

Among the Zipheronian assassins there are three main weapon classes’ daggers and swords, spears and bows, and poisons and hand to hand combat. With swords there are three fighting styles, one sword style - you use just one sword for very powerful blows, it is uneven and crude and because of this you tire faster and the blades tend to break if you hit something wrong so it’s not used often. Two sword style – with two sword style you have one sword in each hand and you can use the flow of your body’s strength into each evenly for more powerful and devastating blows the strain on the swords is taken off and your blocking abilities are greatly improved. The power of the attack is reinforced by the second blade so the second attack adds to the first. And for the third style it is three sword style one sword in each hand and the third griped between your teeth. This is the most powerful of the styles but that power comes at a price if untrained this style can tear your own body to shreds because of the third sword in your mouth you can attack with the swords in your hand and then almost charge forward and push your opponent and with this style each sword reinforces the next in an endless cycle so if used right the power is up to you.

The only difference with daggers is that there are four styles and six poison dagger styles. You get four daggers with grooves in the hilt to where they can fit between your fingers and you can make a fist. There are the first three styles same as swords just with daggers instead of swords. Then there are three for each hand between the fingers. And with poison daggers it’s the same just with poison coated blades.

We assassins are taught at an early age to not be seen to hide and if necessary to kill whoever is in your way to reach your target. After the target is dead we are taught to flee and not be seen to stay hidden is out power the shadows are our lovers and family and the darkness is our friend and allies, and we use our friends and family to flee at all cost.

Bows are what I am best at, in most cases bows are mid or long ranged weapons well in mine it is also close, once you reach the level of assassin I am you get a bow with blades on the front of it for close combat.

Our spears are something to behold, they are split into 4 pieces all held together by a stretchy silk type substance that despite my tries I have not been able to break, and it lasts for hundreds of years always retaining its shape. This thread is connected to the last section of the spear and to the blade and the two pieces in the middle are hollow so the thread can run through it. Each section is two-and-a-half feet long with a two foot blade for a total of a nine-and-a-half foot spear. We hide the pieces in our boots so we can pull the last section out and the rest follows and when pulled together by the thread it’s held tight as if it were one solid thing.

Poisons, darts, injections, food, drinks, it’s all a form of alchemy that creates one substance from many others to end life. The true price of poison is…life; we just make sure it’s theirs and not ours.

Hand to hand, from years of training out bodies are killing machines. We know several fighting styles to help us in need and we will use every one before we die to make sure we complete our goal.

This was just another mission, nothing more nothing less so I thought I never could have guessed how much it would have affected me. When on a mission you can get information from poor locals, gold to starving people can buy you a lot, and people will do almost anything to save the ones the love. I herd roomers of people disappearing in the night, whole families gone, and stories of monsters and a maze, a maze of demons and hell on earth under the royal palace.

Then a story of a demon, a demon with long flowing hair of gold, deep penetrating amber eyes, skin of steel with a soft pale color, a demon in the form of a girl, a defenseless young girl with fangs and blood lust, a vampire. At the time I didn’t believe in such things, just stories, just myths to scare little kids into sleeping or so I thought. She was supposed to be in a room in the center of the maze, a room of bones and death. But like I said at the time I thought it was nothing but stories. As rumored if you can find her before her cell opens then you can get out alive… none ever survived they said.

Staying at the local inn, my excuse is I was resting for a few days, I left early in the morning before the sun and I went to the palace patrolling in the sands doing guard count circling the palace several times, and in that time I saw the best way to get in and due to the information I bought I found a direct route to the king, king Steffen.

Mapping out this route I headed back to the inn to sleep, before I went to sleep I sent a message via messenger hawk back to my home. The message stated that I would need my three poisons, my harness to hold all seven of my daggers and my swords and my leggings to hole my two spears. Also my bow and my quiver for my arrows, and a message to the king “I can and will complete this mission and return as soon as I can after collecting my items and returning for the job to be done.” With my message sent I drifted to sleep.

Chapter 2





My Dream

Coming home from playing, I’m in the kitchen with my mom.
“Mama Can we have that noodle stuff you make so well?” I asked her as I have almost every night.
Mama froze as she did every time before saying “of cores dear now stay here for a moment until I get back ok?” knowing what’s going to happen my insides tear as I watch my mother leave knowing just knowing she isn’t coming back, but I can’t get there in time the smile on my body isn’t mine it belongs to who I was but I can’t move my body I can’t move at all. In a few moments I hear the same terrified scream then the sound of running feet and my mama bursting through the doors picking me up rushing to the living room. In the living room she ran to the corner to our wood box. At first glance it’s nothing special but instead of going for the lid she put her hand under it and lifted up to revel a four foot by four foot by four foot square whole in the ground. Putting me inside the hole she told me in a worried voice. “No matter what my little one stay here you will know when to come out.” She lowered the box back down but it was so light I could lift it up enough to see out of it through the crack. I heard running and then another scream as someone caught my mother.
Stricken with a long gone fear and silently crying the tears of a kid who can’t understand what he was seeing I watch as they dragged my mother and father into the room.

Like always my ears are deft to what their saying and then someone pulls out a dagger plunging it into my mother’s chest, the glow of the fire on their faces I could see the life leave my mother’s eyes, the flow of the fire falling on closed windows of an empty house that used to house my mother’s soul.

My eyes fell on my father as a howl of rage pain and loss flows from him and as he stands up the fanged tipped daggers find the back of my father’s legs slicing deep through them cutting the back muscle and he falls to his knees but manages to pull my mother into his lap. One guy, the leader, with dark cloths and a red eye, blood red with black where whit should be, gripped my father’s hair pulling it back so his throat was visible and for the first time I heard two words….words the man yelled as he pulled out a dagger slashing my father’s throat, the only words I heard that night….
”NOW DIE!!!”

Chapter three






End of the tyrant
Sitting up drenched in sweat I looked towards the opened window to find dawn approaching. After packing my few things, I went downstairs paid for my stay then left heading to the Zipheran kingdom for my requested items.

Though my trip home was uneventful I found myself trying to remember the faces of my parents as I stared at the dark night sky. “No stars” I said sadly, the one time I look for them they are nowhere to be seen, just like my parents faces…”this is a strange night, no stars, just darkness always darkness.”

After that night I left and arrived at my house the, the requested weapons setting on my bet. Looking down at them they seemed meaningless but I had a job to do. “One more year, only a few more jobs and I can get my house.” Grabbing my harness I pull it on then my bow and quiver then strapping on my spear leggings pulling on my black cloak with a hood and I put all my weapons in their places on the harness and I leave the house moving as fast as I can to the palace gates.

Easley passing through the gates I stop at the big doors guarded by a group of men. Among them the tallest and most noticed was Gradack an assassin of the past only second to my father. He was roughly six-foot-nine but quiet and as fast as a cheetah on the hunt, his face bore scars of past battles and missions and the most noticeable one is the one running from his left temple over his left eye and the bridge of his nose to the corner of his lip and down to his chin. The wound had left his eye undamaged somehow missing it eyeball, stepping forward the old warrior, now head of the guard, didn’t speak just looked down at me.
“Old man I’m am here to see king Drago.”
Instead of words he simply turned and walked into the palace the doors opened by his men and I followed without another word.

Past the doors we entered a hall of nothing but portraits of the royal families of past walking a ways ahead we stop at the royal family of king Drago and I say to Gradack.
“Gradack, I have a boon for you, if you would old friend.”
If he was surprised he didn’t show it, instead he stopped, turned and gazed at me with a hard look that seemed to pierce through my very soul.
“Alright, I will answer if I can.”
Staring at the old hardy guard I sighed once and asked.
“You were one of us at one time; did you ever regret starting…or leaving?”
Staring at me still he was silent before saying.
“Samuel, this is the second time you have asked me this and the answer is the same as last, I do not and I don’t regret. What I have done in the past was horrifying, yes, but…” taking me by the shoulder he lead me to a portrait of the late king Airgrof, and said “I started back when Airgrof was king, and Drago was just a boy, what I did, I did for our kingdom and to assist king Drago in ruling, justice you do for king Drago to make safe for his son and family.” Sighing he added “It will never get easier…”
Shaking my head to stop him I say, “Killing is always easy, living whit the fact that you did it is what’s hard.” Sighing I had my answer and he continued to lead the way to the king, king Drago.



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