World of Darkness

Varro Kessler

He frantically made his way back to their hotel room. He stepped in the room, closed the door behind him and leaned against it, panting and looking about the room for his things. He was out of breath and partially still in a panicked state of being. As he glanced about he couldn’t help, but look at his partners things and feel guilty. As far as he knew he was the only one who had made it out of that ally on Bardstown Road alive. He had just watched the Seth Bullock, the Vatican’s own Left Hand of God, get his throat ripped out by the vampire they had been tracking. He would pack his things and leave this city for good. Matthew Anger was a member of an elite team of vampire hunters. His team, lead by Seth Bullock, were on the trail of a vampire that Seth believed was fronting a tobacco plant on 7th St. They had followed the target, who was accompanied with three other individuals, in to a back alley. The head Vampire Slayer, Douglas Robertson made the call to engage them; his arrogance would be his downfall for he was killed by the Barghest, Arthur Doyle. When he saw Seth murdered and Douglas eaten by some sort of hell hound the feeling of dread sunk into Matthew deeper than any parasite could ever penetrate a host. He fled to the streets and ran all the way back to room 64 of the In- town Suites. As he was frantically shoving his clothes into a small black, leather suitcase Matthew was unaware of the being within the room watching him with great amusement. It would be so easy for this being to snap the mortals neck and claim his blood, but what would be the sport in that. All children lose the thrill of squashing bugs at an early age and Varro Kessler was over 200 years old. He enjoyed playing with his victims. At the moment however he wasn’t viewing this particular individual as a victim, but more as a tool to be molded. It was true he had followed Matthew into the hotel room to feed upon him, but he paused as he considered the wonderful cohort the man could make. As Varro peered down at Matthew form the ceiling his excitement turned his eyes blood red and he thought back to when he was embraced. He was given no choice, hunted like an animal and forced into a cemetery. His sire had brought him before other vampires and their future progeny. All of them, including himself were scared to death. There they all stood, barely dressed, freezing in the October night. Thinking back he could still feel the breeze and hear its mournful cry. He peered down before him where several open graves were waiting next to several open coffins. One of the men begged and pleaded to be let go and he was promptly killed. The rest of the captives were fed upon until they were unconscious. When Varro awoke he was in a state of semi-consciousness inside a coffin buried beneath the surface and he was bombarded with hallucinations. The hallucinations twisted his former life and the more he believed in them the more he was driven further away form humanity. He clawed and dug his way out of the coffin and up through the cold, hard dirt. When he was free of his impromptu prison he was greeted by a Sabbat grave watcher who promptly knocked him out with a shovel. He awoke again, but this time within a dark chamber with the other captives. It was there he took part in the creation rites and was fed human blood for the first time. ‚óŹ

“Leaving so soon?” Varro said as he floated down behind Matthew. The man turned on Varro with a pistol, but it was easily knocked aside. “Do you not enjoy the Derby City and the finery it has to offer?” Sleeking ever so slightly closer to Matthew as he spoke. Matthew tried to back away, but had nowhere to go. “Relax, I am not here to harm you, else you would already be dead.” “Then what do you want?” Matthew visibly stammered. “You are going to become that which you have hunted. You have knowledge which I require and it is your usefulness that will keep you alive for quite some time if utilized properly, maybe even for eternity.” Varro snickered at the last part. “I would never..”Matthew started to say, but was interrupted by a horrible grimace upon Varro’s face. His fangs bared and he seemed to take on much more of a threat than previously seemed. Something far greater than dread gripped Matthew and he froze in fear. He felt a slight prickle sensation as the fangs penetrated his neck and the blood was sucked from his veins. At first he fought hard against the man who was shorter than him, but he could not break free from his grip. Eventually he began to enjoy it and just before Matthew’s life left him Varro stopped himself and dropped him upon the blood soaked floor. He wiped his mouth clean with the bed sheet and grabbed the body. With ease he tossed it onto his shoulders and hopped out of the window never looking back. When Matthew Anger awoke next he would be a vampire bonded with a Tzimisce and he would be the hunted.



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