Avatar of Metronome
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  • Old Guild Username: Metronome
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    1. Metronome 12 yrs ago
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The travelers approached and halted outside of the gate. Sasha watched them from above as they were allowed in. They were definitely from Isam's group. Their copper complexions and the language they spoke to each other in gave that much away. However, an unexpected visitor came from around back of the party, his sleek, chocolate brown horse bringing up the rear.

The familiar black curls bounced and shifted as he rode around to the front of the party. Isam gave a small smile at his old friends as he slid down from the saddle.
"Hello, friends. It's been a while," He said as he approached Ravenia. He looked a bit different from the days he had spent inside the city's walls. There was a small, but barely noticeable, spring in his step. His smile was a bit more sincere. His eyes were a little bit more alive. Perhaps the success of his civilization had given the man new hope over the years.

"I thought I might come by, since we were sending out a load. Would you be interested in a little trading?"
Vampires live in a dark and hidden world, unbeknownst to the general, human population. They are government by a council that makes and enforces laws, all for the sake of keeping their existence a secret.

As of two decades ago, the council made a huge decision that didn't go over so well with the community. Due to suspicion raised by sloppy individual, despite guidelines being put into place, hunting humans was made illegal. The blood that the vampires needed to thrive would be sold by the council at different outposts around the world. Keeping blood slaves, a practice that dated back many centuries, was also acceptable.

Despite the outrage, this no-hunting law was strictly enforced.

So flash-forward two decades later. Out story follows a finicky feaster who just isn't satisfied by this 'store-bought' blood, watered down and thin. So, despite not being a particularly wealthy individual, she decides to save up and buy a blood slave to supply her own personal stash. She gets one cheap from an underground auction hosted by the council itself. Every few decades, they try to sell off their blood donors to make room for new, fresh ones. This particular human met the requirements for being a donor...about two decades ago.

Our vampiress buys this servant sight-unseen and picks him up the next day. He is brought out to her in an animal cage, pale as a sheet and thin from malnutrition. His arms are purple from the IVs and drip bags that he had been constantly hooked up to over the years. Obviously, this sickly servant isn't what the vampire had in mind, but she had already paid, and there was no return policy.

So she takes the lack-luster servant home and decides that she will nurse him back to health. However, having not been human herself for centuries, doing so may be easier said than done. Perhaps she has bitten off more than she can chew.
Sasha was about halfway through his jog when he was stopped by Ravenia. He stopped immediately and came over, his eyes wandering up the wall as she spoke to him. He nodded. "Sure, no problem. Whatever you need." Sasha could do with a little down time. He glanced at the other gate guard, a man who's name slipped his mind, and grunted as he began to climb the ladder up.

Sasha settled in at the top, looking out over the barren landscape. He didn't miss that crap for one second.

A mere couple moments ticked by when a cloud of dust off in the distance caught Sasha's attention. He cupped his hands over his eyes to shield them from the sun, trying to see what was approaching. As it grew closer, the form of a couple horse drawn wagons could be made out among the dust kicked up from the party. Several riders flanked the wagons, no doubt on guard duty. It looked like some supplies runners from Isam's group were paying them a visit.

"Incoming," Sasha hollered down at Marcus and Ravenia.
Sasha rolled off of his cot as the sun began to shine through the window. His bare feet met the dirt floor. His pale, shirtless torso gleemed in the sun, untouched by its rays long enough to give it any sort of color. Sasha didn't tend to go around shirtless much anymore; the hideous scars on his back weren't something he liked to show off.

It seemed like not too long ago that he got those scars, and he was fighting for his life in the medical ward. Weeks of recovery after infection had set in left the large man weak. Five years later, he had fully recovered, but those scars still seemed like they hurt from time to time.

Sasha stood and began going about his morning routine: get dressed, wash his face, eat something, and go out for his morning jog. After the Arab migrants had left, the area they had once inhabited was left up for grabs. While the hand-built houses and huts were nothing fancy, Sasha was easy to please. He'd happily moved into one.

He set down at his shabby table and poured himself a bowl of milk and cereal. Both were something that Isam's community had imported. Apparently they had quite the little farm going on over there. They came by often to trade cows, grains, and produce for salvaged electronic parts and metal scraps. Sasha often wondered what they were planning on building with all that crap.

He munched on his breakfast, staring at the brick walls of the house until his bowl ran dry. Sasha got up and put the bowl in the sink before heading out for the day.

The Paradise Land was nothing like he'd ever seen before. It wasn't a struggle to survive here; not like out there anyway. Nobody had to kill to live, and there was usually enough to go around. Sasha didn't feel like someone would try to kill him at any given moment, a security he hadn't felt in his previous years.

Of course, after the war, people weren't all that welcoming towards him. Everyone knew he had come from the despicable group that had attacked them, and his attitude didn't help. Sasha's defensive barriers were still up towards those he didn't know well enough. Or those he didn't care to know at all. The few he had let past that thick outer skin mostly consisted of those who had first met him in the medical ward. The people who had helped him recover through what was a very painful end to a very painful chapter of his life. Those few people knew that he was loyal to the Promise Land, so everyone else could shove it for all he cared.

Sasha started off down the road on his usual route. It took him around the city wall, letting him get a good patrol in while he jogged.
I may be able to post tomorrow
Fuck my shit with a wooden spoon.

So here's my somewhat work in progress sheet for Sasha. I'm going to take a cereal bowl of tylenol and go to bed.
Let me throw my computer out the window first.
Cool. I'll have to make Sasha's form later. My head kinda' hurts right now :/


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