For years our race has been the common prey to both Mutants and Werewolves with Queen Mary acting Puppet Master in the darkness, a clever ruse that has most humans believing it is the act of us Vampires. Slowly we are being hunted for who we are instead of the acts committed; misinterpreted, even the once friendly Mutants have taken a cold shoulder yet hope for their alliance remains.

Along the dark streets of London of the year 1516 the one to be Queen of England was born in the early mourn of the year. I remember it as though memory does not pass readily from the mind like a passing thought but like memory should be, melted and cast into the cornerstone for always. It had just turned morning and I was heading back home when news of her birth ran like wildfire across the growing town. Hundreds, no thousand upon foot and horseback rushed the castle gates hoping for a chance to see her, to bow and give thanks. I didn’t understand it then, nor do I think I ever will; the inner workings and customs of humans was no longer any of my concern.

Many years later she was pronounced Queen under circumstances that left a sour taste in everyone’s mouth. Ligament heirs, father and mothers were being targeted easily and perished with little chance for escape. Theories rose up one after another so fast and vast that soon knowledge of what truly happened began to fade away like smoke in the wind. Poison, a clever assassination, or could it have been a fluke that ended the harsh hierarchy that plagued the nation, all truth was clouded as panic roamed the streets at night.

Of course though, as an outcast I knew the true reasons yet spoke none of it to others. Again the humans problems were not my own, each race was responsible for their own. The problem with that however was that this was no longer not just the humans problem; the Mutants suffered heavy casualties also suspected to be the ones behind the attack. Yet, the humans were only showing their fear of the Mutants and acting upon them in the only fashion man knew of: to kill.

Oddly enough, much of the nighttime killings were not caused by us Vampires as man believes but of a race I believed to be dead. The race that I had personally seen the end to long ago, an end that should have ended that night (Jenereth is referring to Beowulf and Grendel for those that are curious)). Werewolves rose up in typical pack fashion and ravaged any human dumb enough to walk in the dreary night. Naturally the blame has been put on the Vampires who are known to be present with sightings proven, sometimes we die and other times escape with the deed done.

The Werewolves were always a stupid race that killed for fun rather then survival, catching a meal for them had always been much easier with the ability to also roam the day and blend in perfectly. But under the direction of Queen Mary, a human, the one stupid pack became organized groups with precise killings and disposals.

Without the help of the Mutants Queen Mary will surely win this war and rule all races and kingdoms. As Lord of the Vampires, I, Jenereth, swear to have her blood coursing my veins as a human should.


Vampire Lord is Me.

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