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| Subject: God Of War | |
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Author: Telcoltl Mateo |
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Date Posted: 18:45:31 08/18/09 Tue Name: Telcoltl Mateo Age: 800 yrs *give or take* Gender: Male Species: Vampire- Aztec Description: reddish blond hair and a clean shaven face. Muscular build with transparently pale skin. Approximately 5'6. Several tattoos cover his body including a large Aztec calendar tattooed along his right rib cage. He also has a large temple cat on his right arm. Personality: unforgiving and cruel. He does not trust anyone and is commanding of everyone. He loves the sculpture of women forms but does not respect the female mind. History: The circuit of culture intrigues me. The world has harkened back to a prehistoric structure were government rules all aspects of life including punishment, taxes, and market trading. This is a world I am familiar with. This “modern day” society is a theatrical repeat of the Aztec culture I was born into. My earliest memory has faded overtime but I can still see the canals that my forefathers had made in the marshy island of Lake Texcoco. My mother sat with me on the edge of our floating hut, which had been made from a log raft and then packed with dirt and seed so it would hold with the roots. I was young. My mother was telling me the stories of our people at how we were the chosen ones. For the rest of my living life I kept my eyes out for that eagle perched on a cactus. But things cloud over the centuries. I could no longer recall my mother’s face. If I thought hard enough, though, I can trace the lines of sorrow in her eyes, from the loss of two younger sisters to disease as my tribe traveled and built new temples, but I am never able to remember the mouth that had kissed me goodnight so many times, or her hands that held and comforted me no matter what had happened to me. We, as a tribe, had grown stronger and were capable of defending ourselves. What I remember most of our new home were the human sacrifices to Yaicyicatl, our God of War. Even today I can recall the vivid red blood and the pleading screams. I soaked up those sacrifices and longed for them throughout the year. I took a fancy to knowing the person and guessing how they would plead for their lives. Something inside of me lived through those deaths. But that had been eight centuries ago or more. I no longer lived for those deaths. I lived for the ones I created. The nights had spread longer when I was attacked. I know this because I should have been home before dusk. But that quiet darkness had appealed to me and I had wandered slowly homeward. Though the sun no longer watched me, I could feel the eyes of greatness against my back. If greatness wanted me, then greatness could have me. The thought had barely escaped my brain when suddenly I was pinned to the ground. I let my body lay limp and defenseless, wondering if what had me was the same animal that had ripped the throats out of those cattle the week prior, I was turned over with an unknown strength and I found my eyes grasping at the unfamiliar and terrifying face of a man. My breath calmed. His teeth were longer and whiter than I have ever seen. He was bare chest as I was but his body was covered with different tattoos than any I had seen before. He was pale and glowed in the dim lighting. “God, Yaicyicatl” I acknowledged the lord my father had taught me of, shifting my eyes away. He laughed hysterically and let me loose from the ground. I could feel the grit of the dirt against my back, elbows, and hands as I got to my knees. I could smell the blood on his body and could even see it now as I stole glances from the dirt up to his face. He spoke in my language, Nahuatl, but his words were tinged with an accent I had never heard or been taught of. He told me he wasn’t the God of War but that I could be. That night stands as the most potent memory I have. I could hear my own screams as I died that night. I could see my own crimson blood escape my throat. I heard my screams curdle through my blood. This was the creature that had killed the cattle and countless men, the bodies of we had never found. But this was my creation. This was my salvation. The next centuries I did my best to fuel the flames of rage and hatred among tribes. I could proudly accept blame for several major bloodsheds. But I had grown tired of this godlike life and decided to roost myself amongst others that would last in this fading, crumbling world. Cascade City was just as good as any other. Picture:  [ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ] |