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t h e · t r u e · d e a t h
____________________________________V E R U M • M OR T E M
Y E A R: 1266
Marcello Armati met his true death on the eve of February 26, 1266 at 30 years of age. Raised in the farmlands of southern Italy, he was one of thousands of men enlisted into the armies of Italy during political unrest. First drafted into the military force as a mercenary, Marcello’s was relocated from the small settlements into the capital of Naples. He advanced through the ranks until he was made a rider in the cavalry. The army was employed by the usurper of the throne, a German bloodline, they would fight against the true heir to the throne when the cavalry was called into battle.
Marcello was among the Saracen army that would attempt to defend the Kingdom of Sicily from the advancement of the French legion, led by Charles of Anjou. He fell along with 3,000 other soldiers of the Saracen army when their advancement allowed the French army to flank them. Though the Sicilians outnumbered the invading armies, their poor strategies in war would lead to their downfall. As soldiers fell rapidly, the remnants of the Sicilian army began to flee and desert their Kingdom. Eventually the leaders of the Sicilian army were forced to take to the battlefield, where they also met their timely deaths. The fall of the cavalry lost the Kingdom of Sicily, allowing Charles of Anjou to take the throne as per the promise of the Pope Urban IV.
Among the second battle Marcello rode with 300 other riders across the Bridge at River Calore. They drove back the first and second wave sent by Charles of Anjou. Their enemies were hardened soldiers and, despite their thin numbers, managed to destroy the cavalry and entire third Sicilian battle with ease. Marcello and his string of riders charged upon the front lines of the French legion, but they were ripped from their horses and sent into the battlefield. Marcello and his men were slain after they were dismounted, swords and spears forced into their chests and stomachs. Marcello was unfortunate enough to suffer through his end, but not before his pained moans caught the attention of a French soldier.
In the haze of pain and the inevitable death that followed, Marcello would’ve sworn that the soldier cut his wrist and forced the blood into Marcello’s mouth. He could faintly remember the sweet relief of his wounds healing and the pain subsiding. And then, just as quickly as his wounds had been healed, the soldier forced the broken end of his spear into his heart. When he woke, night had fallen and the world was clear for a few short minutes until Marcello was drug and forced to the lifeless corpse of his fallen comrade, decorated in broken armor and blood. “Drink! Finish the bond!” The words were uttered angrily and his mouth was pressed into the pools of blood. When it was unclear whether Marcello had ingested any liquids, a bloody dagger was dragged roughly across his tongue.
Their ritual did not go unnoticed: another French soldier had come across the two. The new arrival had outranked Marcello’s savior, who was seized by the throat and forced away from Marcello as he lay recovering from the transformation. “Leave him to die. The army is advancing.” The ranked soldier would command his lesser, marching away the battlefield and Marcello who lay among the corpses. Unfortunately for the soldiers, Marcello did not die.
He flourished as a vampire. Without the guidance of a more experienced vampire, Marcello was unable to learn to grasp the concept that would allow him to glamour his victims. He lacked the control that meant he would be able to feed without completely draining his victims. For years he traveled through the night, slaughtering helpless victims and leaving a path of bodies in his wake. Marcello abused his gift until he fell upon the wrong prey; he set his sights on a coven of witches, arrogant to the power of their magic. He shred the first of his victims, leaving a gut-wrenching scene for the rest of the witches to find. Their punishment would leave him in a forced state of desiccation, unable to awaken. His punishment would be an eternity of pain and loneliness as he remained forced in a near-dead state. Unfortunately it was not a punishment that meant the world would be without Marcello.
t h e · f i r s t · a w a k e n i n g
__________________________________________________P R I M O • E X C I T A T I O
Y E A R: 1380
80 years after being forced into desiccation, Marcello's tomb was disturbed by a group of necromancers with foolish intentions. A sacrifice was offered to him, restoring him with enough strength to be pulled from the cursed sleep. The ritual restored Marcello, but also allowed the necromancers to gain control of the vampire. When the necromancers sought to gain control over the undead, their sights had been set on reigning destruction to the world. Fortunately for the necromancers, they had selected a vampire who needed very little convincing to carry out their evil objectives. He simply needed redirection when he turned to those who raised him.
Marcello was simply the first of many. A weak vampire like him had been an experiment of sorts. Much of Italy had begun to experience the Black Death, and nearly a dozen controlled vampires would bring a dark demise to those who would remain without affliction. The dark priests had visions of their own prophecies they wished to carry out in their search for immortality. Eventually they would also catch the symptoms of the Black Death, falling to ill to end. Their control over the vampires would subside once their mortality had run out, unleashing eleven monsters into the remnants of civilization.
In their division Marcello was unsure whatever became of the raised vampires. Most left to their own dark corners of the universe, but Marcello was not so bright and would remain in Italy. Even through the time he remained locked in his coffin, one would assume he used the time to reflect on his actions. Unfortunately such was not the case and so Marcello would return to the lifestyle of a murderous butcher. He was foolish with his comfort in ripping his prey to shreds that he did not care to lock down his killing grounds. When the vampire had been outed to the community, he was then targeted for destruction. Eventually seeking refuge during the day had proved to be difficult, and Marcello was caught again.
Imprisoned at the hand of the mundanes meant his disposal would not be completed successfully. They bound him in silver (a metal that was discovered to severely weaken a vampire) and dismembered him. His body parts had been wrapped in silver and then carelessly tossed into a coffin and boarded onto a ship, sent out into sea to drop the casket into the open ocean. They would assume the sea would be site of burial, but they did not prepare for the bad luck that seemed to surround the vampire. The ship was destroyed during a storm, and though his coffin would find its rest at the bottom of the ocean floor, it would not remain there.
Many years later, the choppy and warm waves of the North Atlantic drift eventually washed the coffin back toward Europe. The strong current brought the coffin to the shores of England, where his next unsuspecting victims would pry open the coffin. The weathered box would barely hold together after several years being battered by saltwater. In the agitation the silver chains had unwrapped from each limb, allowing the vampire to slowly piece himself back together.
t h e · s e c o n d · a w a k e n i n g
________________________________________________________S E C U N D U S • E X C I T A T I O
Y E A R: 1509
Marcello's casket had been found by the most deserving of characters. It was the only kindness he had ever been shown since his transformation into darkness. His body was not yet pieced back together once its waterlogged boards were forced open. Barnacles and parasitic growths littered the casket, but with careful tending of a witches' touch, Marcello's body was partially restored. Unfortunately the process would prove to be time consuming, and in an effort to hasten the process, the witch attempted to force his body together with magic. It was not their first reanimation, nor was Marcello their first vampire thrall. In her attempt to raise him, Marcello's mind was wiped completely.
Repairing his memories was beyond the skill of the witch, but a single identifier of the vampire's initials had been carved into the casket, offering them a starting point. The witch bestowed a new name upon the vampire that day, a new moniker that would have no relation to the legends of Italy's murderous vampires: Maius Alcott. With the guidance of the powerful witch and her posse of vampires, Maius was reintroduced to the modern world with some modicum of grace. Finally the vampire learned the art of glamouring his subjects. He could drain his victims with such discipline that he no longer feared leaving his prey lifeless and in need of disposal.
It would seem that Maius had finally found his comforts in a lifestyle that had been forced upon him. He had thought that his ravenous and homicidal rampage through Italy had allowed him to flourish, but under the guidance of the witch and her coven of vampires, Maius prospered and grew in strength. They travelled and fed on the tastes of the world together. Once the vampire had aged and grown enough in strength he was able to unravel the abilities that surrounded his vampirism. While the vampires in the coven had their own abilities, ranging from telekinesis to abilities more evil in nature, Maius discovered the gift of flight. His wings were mighty and scaled, stretching in a wingspan nearly triple his size. They could be glamoured, hidden from mundane and select supernaturals. When he could not will them to be hidden, Maius could simply shed them altogether.
When Maius no longer received the attention of a blossoming newcomer, he grew jealous and petty. He fought for the love of the witch who led him to greatness, but when her sights of love remained fixated on his vampire allies, Maius lost his desire to dwell with the others. He began to lash out for her attention, but was met only with her disappointment. He would fight for her attention like a dog over meat scraps. His actions seemed to drive her further away, much to his dislike and Maius began to grow desperate. When it was evident he would not succeed over his competition, it became all too clear to him that it would be far easier to remove the competition completely. Though these vampires had helped Maius gain the control over his curse, teaching him how to live in a modernized world, Maius could still destroy their existence without even blinking an eye.
One of the vampires Maius had slain was the love of the witch's life, her soul mate. The others had simply been adopted into the family like Maius had been: found, educated and given a family. That was not enough for the greedy vampire though, and when the witch learned of Maius' betrayal, she reacted with intense hate for the vampire. When it was not satisfying enough to cause Maius physical pain, she instead locked him away, cursing him. The witch immobilised him, forcing a motionless state on the undead man. Silver bound him completely, and once he lay in a coffin that had been smelt from the powerful metal, silver coins covered his eyes, blinding him. His head had been decapitated and limbs amputated. Each dismembered body part was wrapped in rough burlap and the largest of the limbs (torso, legs and hands) were brutally speared through with a wooden stake. The coffin was bound shut with silver and steel chains, but knowing this was not enough to bind him completely (and death would be too kind) the witch would mark his casket with a powerful curse.
Cum niger flavit spiritus grandis et umbra mortis sedent,
Frigidus in manu, cor et os. Frigida sub lapide in somno.
In Black Spiritus astra morietur, et requiescent ibi in perpetuum.
When the Black Breath has blown and Death's shadow grown,
Cold be hand, heart, bone. Cold be sleep under stone.
In Black Breath stars shall die, forever here you shall lie.
Maius' corpse was sealed in a stone monument. The vampire was not given the honour of being laid to rest in his Homeland; it was far easier for the witch to dispose of Maius on the road as they traveled. She could abandon him in an area she had no ties to, no reason to return or long to see again. Each year locked away was a satisfying victory for the witch. Maius could feel her intense hate for him even in his magic-induced desiccation. He led a painful existence locked in the casket, and this time, the temporary death was taken as a punishment. When the pain of desiccation had become so unbearable, Maius succumbed to the slumber. He fell into a deep sleep, unable to be woken unless it had been by the witch who bestowed the curse upon him.
Some hundred years later, the witch met her unnatural end. Her termination would call Maius from his magic induced desiccation, but he would remain starved and stone-like in his tomb. The silver bound him still and in such a weak state he was unable to free himself. Silver coins would remained burned into his eye sockets and his body was wrapped tightly with thick chain. He would begin to reach out to anyone who managed to come near his tomb, but would there be anyone to listen?
