We have all heard the tale of the feud between the Lycans and the Vampires. It is an age-old war, after all, one that still rages today. Many I have come to cross paths with, always think it to be a looming hatred between the two races. I can tell you that, it is a far more bizarre and intricate story. You see, it all started over one soul. A hellhound had been sent to collect it for her Master, which stood a high ranking demon of Drathell known as a Cu'tar'rae. Hellhounds had been enslaved to demons since they came to be, they were the pets of the winged spawns of Dovium. They did their bidding, fought civil wars, snatched souls and even tormented the living. It was not until the creation of Reanon the Red that the hounds found the courage to bite the hand that fed them.
Reanon was born into what was known as the Vanquisher Master Class among his kind. He was unique among the breed he called his own. His race was referred to as the Ver'shey'vesh Frayed Fur, they were tall canine's with long thin muzzles. Their fur adorned their bodies in a luxurious texture, much like a freshly cut rope. They were black as a shadow with ruby stained eyes, and ears that sat long and sharp above their head's. Like many in their realm, the Frayed Fur was equipt with hypodermic fangs. The collection of their teeth could grow to over nine inches in length and sat swaddled by a large sac which held their venom. Dovium's Embrace is what they used to call it, one injection could leave a man petrified and begging to journey into the underworld with his attacker.
Reanon was born with six red eyes, a rare happening in his breed. Upon reaching sexual maturity, he was paired with a female named Gaia. Both hounds were given to the Cu'tar'rae Basrin, who later ordered them to collect the soul of a virginal maiden. Gaia went alone, returning empty handed. Basrin saw her slaughtered before her mates eyes. Hellhounds back then were known to mate for all eternity, the demons cruelty against Reanon was too much to overlook. He and several others of his making who had grown tired of the suppression of their creators turned against them. They killed hundreds of demons before at least they fled onto the soils of Evernia.
For centuries the two god-like creatures came to battle until they realized that their numbers were dwindling far too low. So each began to create a weapon, one that could spare their lives, but claim that of the enemy they wished to devour. The hellhound races traveled the lands of Evernia until they found the perfect host. Us, the weak and powerless humans they had been consuming and snatching since the beginning of time. One bite could turn a man to stone, two could kill, and three could resurrect. You would never rise the same as you had been. Instead, you kept some of your original features and came to evolve into theirs. It all depended solely on which predecessor bit you. The Frayed sought out tall, muscular men, ones who could support the weight and strength of themselves. The demons, not being the most creative beings, took their foe's idea as their own. Unlike those they sought to destroy, the demons captured those of tall and frail build. They wanted to create a being like them, one who could call upon both agility and flight. The end result came as a gruesome cast of a human, one who held stygian flesh and lived by consuming the blood of others. They could not walk in the sun, nor could they survive for longer than half a week without feeding.
They like the creatures who came to be known as the Katima Di Malsvir, had strengths and weaknesses. They could fly, their feet were able to clutch and hold more than four times their weight. They held incredible speed, it was said that if you came to cross path's with one and blinked, that they would vanish. The new race came to be given the name Vean'ta, meaning prisoner of blood. The Vean'ta could sustain life with the blood of human's but to fully attain their power, they would have to return to Drathell to drink from their Cu'tar'rae. It was a bond the demons never had with the hound's, and a way that they could ensure their spawn would forever remain loyal to them.
The Katima however, walked day and night, unburnt by the power of the sun. They held the ability to fight on two legs or four, their hands more than capable of holding man-made weapons. The only way to become a man once more was by consuming Oil of Sunsbane. Its potency was robust enough to force the curse of the hounds into remission. But as soon as it wore off the transformation began. It was painful, your body set to flame, your bones broke and turned to dust, only to be reformed into the warrior you were forced to become. I would know, I stand a human drafted in this war I did not begin. While my journey was hard, I thank my Creators every day for the gifts of power they bestowed upon me. I am Eric Elmunli, I stand a proud Katima Di Malsvir, and this is my story.
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