# Zalzasatrean; The Last Vampire



## Ambush Beast (Oct 31, 2010)

If you ever wondered what a vampire could become with no religion, crosses, or holy water to keep the balance and having partaken of the Emperor's blood; this may enlighten you. Please leave comments as this will help me become a better writer. Positive or neigitive, the comments will be put to good use. Thank you-Adrian

Zalzasatrean; The Last Vampire 

Today Dominak Zalzasatrean is a black man. He has darker skin, but not completely black; not ashen, but not lightly tanned either. The skin is dark brown like the dirt on the ancient jungle floor of distant Terra or the sandstone that crumbled upon the cliff-shores of the recently decimated world of Colescant Three. 

Today he walks through the streets of Stardust Minor. Stardust Minor is just one of thousands of industrial hive-cities feeding upon the blood of the dog. The dog would be the planet Caldustrioun Sol. There is a population of sixty-two billion three hundred-seventy-two million-nine hundred thousand two hundred and fifty-one humans on this world…and just one true predator. 

Sure there are the gangers, the mafias, the militants and the power hungry. There are the destitute that would do anything to get a next meal or a last fix upon their carnal drugs…and there are many of those. Business men of all classes and ilk seek to rob those who are less educated or well connected with the ‘proper’ ways of doing business. 

There are religious factions by the hundreds and all are under scrutiny by the illustrious Inquisition. Religion is dead…or supposed to be.

Dominak Zalzasatrean remembered the day the Emperor of mankind abolished all religion and violently purged all those who continued to worship anything but science. Science, so it seemed, was the only thing that could be sought after with all the passion that could be brought forth by man. 

Science; pure and unrestrained. Science the only thing worth the worship of man. No one called the undeviated and undaunted desire for science…worship, but that is exactly what it was and for that flaw the whole universe of man and alien alike would suffer.

The Emperor spoke to his dear son Lorgar, these words, ‘I am not a God.’ But no matter how many times the Emperor stated that he was not a God, someone would exalt him higher and higher until now he has become the only figure that is allowed any worship at all. 

Dominak Zalzasatrean remembered the Emperor just after his battle with Horus and his being placed in a liquefied bio-chamber; the universe unsure if their god would live or die. Zalzasatrean smiled at the memory as he walked through the crowds now some ten-thousand years later; the endless streams of shoal. He remembered the Emperor floating in the life-fluid, his golden hair swaying this way and that in the gentle currents caused by the recircluators.

His eyes had opened for just a moment, but there was very little life in them; nothing of any purpose anyway. There was one thing though, one thing that Zalzasatrean did remember about those eyes that still sends joyous shivers down his spine. There was one emotion there in those dyeing eyes; Sadness. 

In those days Dominak Zalzasatrean had just started out upon the long road of immortality, becoming more than just a single scientist among the thousands who worked both day and night before the fallen Emperor’s life-tank. Humanity was struggling with the reality that their hope was ebbing away with every waning moment. 

Seven days before the fall of the Emperor of man, Zalzasatrean had become acquainted with a woman. She spoke sweetly in his ear. She touched him gently and caressed his ego with gentle nudges of encouragement and spoken words that caused his blood to burn and his body to shake with desire. Once alone she took him into her chambers and seduced him.

For long hours they made love and spoke softly to each other, moving gently beneath the scarlet covers. But in the darkness that comes in the early morning hours she plunged her serpent teeth through the soft skin of his neck and began to drink ravenously from his life essence. At first the only thing he felt was the wetness upon his neck and her warm breath upon his throat, but after a moment the weakness struck him and he nearly blacked out. 

Panic overtook him and he struck her with all the strength he had left. He pushed her and kicked frantically under the rose-red sheets, but she could not be moved. Her thirst fulfilled, she rose from the bed, her nakedness revealed to the darkness that surrounded her, and was not seen again for three hundred years.

Two days later Dominak Zalzasatrean awoke with a start. It was three in the afternoon and cloudy outside. The outside light caused his skin to tingle and his eyes to hurt. To keep the pain away he retreated back into the room and took in his surroundings. The bed was covered in blood and filth and the sheets were stained with the smell of sweat and old perfume. His mind raced: what had happened to him? He was thirsty but nothing could quench the overpowering feelings of dehydration and nausea that caused him great distress.

He was hungry, but nothing could stave off the hunger or longing for something more. On the fourth day, Zalzasatrean went back to work in the Emperor’s secret lab. When asked what had happened to him, he just simply said he had been sick. Nothing more had been asked and nothing more had been volunteered, there was an invasion underway and nobody really cared about the personal life of just one person in a sea of millions anyway. 

He worked both day and night in solitude behind the main arterial fabricator for the building of gene-codes while the others gathered various information required of them for their positions. The air was sterile and smelled of antiseptics and purifications administered by robotic adepts from the enclaves of shadowed doorways.


Dominak Zalzasatrean’s hunger and thirst grew over the days and his weakness consumed him until he could barely move, but no one paid him any heed, there was a war on and he was the least of the worries at the moment.

Zalzasatrean watched pod after pod of Astartes blood filled with their D.N.A. pass by. The genetic alphabet of the Emperor’s own sons held in statikos, moved along padded escalator trains before his watchful gaze. As he watched the vials rock gently upon the escalator train he found that he could not look away… even if he had wanted to.

For hours he watched the blood packs come to him, right within his reach… and then vanish around the corner and on to the next platform where they would be packed and shipped to the medicae upon the Astartes ships and used in transfers of battle wounded Space marines.

Zalzasatrean found that for the first time in five days he was genuinely thirsty and hungry. He found that his mouth watered as the vials rocked before him. He was mesmerized by the gentle stirrings and ripples within. He found that he longed with deep intensity to reach out and take one and then another and then another. 

His body ached like an alcoholic in withdrawal peering through a window while standing outside a bar or tavern. He shook and found that inch by inch he was moving closer to the blood. It was a voice, a song…a siren that called out to him with a seduction that could not be dammed. He longed for it like a child longs for his mother’s milk, like a lover longs for his mate. He would not be denied. 

It was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted. First he had looked this way, to his right and then to his left. He looked over his shoulder and watched to make sure the cam-skulls were not lingering upon his position. He could not be seen…he could not be found out. When he was sure he was truly alone and ignored in a laboratory of thousands, he reached out and pressed his hand through the static field, grabbed one of the vials and withdrew his hand again.

Quickly looking around again and not seeing any eyes upon him, he removed the topper and spilled the contents into his open mouth. At once a shock shot through his body and he convulsed once and then twice. He staggered back and knocked a vase from a platform behind him where it broke upon the floor. As he regained his balance he looked around. A few faces stared at him holding mild concern, and a couple of women asked if he was all right. One said his mouth was bleeding. 

It took all the strength he had to keep himself from rushing her and tearing into her flesh…he could smell her from here. He could hear her breathing and the sound of her heart beating. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard and he longed for her like a starving animal longs for its next meal. Excusing himself he wiped his lip and made his way into the lavatory where he washed himself and tried to calm his racing nerves. 

Walking into the lavatory, Zalzasatrean washed his face and hands, looked up into the mirror and stopped. Nothing looked back at him. There was no reflection to be seen except the lavatory’s interior, empty and cold... it was as if he was not there at all. At first he was shocked but only for a moment. He had heard the tails of the vampire. But he knew they were not true. They were just stories; just fables meant to entertain, amuse or frighten. But here he was in the Emperor’s sacred lab, having just partaken of the blood of the Astartes and now standing here with no reflection.

He felt alive and strong and suddenly very alert. Every fiber of his being longed to indulge in this new found source of nourishment, but he knew that to abandon discipline would only reveal him for what he was. He knew he could not allow that, so, purposefully, he left the lavatory and took his position standing behind the main arterial fabricator, longingly watching the Astartes blood pass by.

Chapter 2

Two days later the battle for Terra had ended. The Great Enemy had been defeated but at a terrible cost. The universe mourned the falling of their savior made god. The galaxy burned and the seas had boiled away, the mountains had fallen and valleys had risen under the mêlée between the father and his created sons. 

The Emperor’s broken body was brought into his most sacred place and reverently placed into a bio-chamber where his prone form would be submerged into a soup of nutrients and proteins that would help to heal his wounds. Select groupings of scientists were chosen to accompany the Emperor of mankind into that secret place. Among them was the blood worker…Dominak Zalzasatrean.

Under close guard and careful observation, multiple cam-skulls hovering overhead, Zalzasatrean worked with nine others to save the life of their fallen master, but there was not much they could do. It all felt hopeless to everyone in the universe except one. 

Dominak Zalzasatrean watched the Emperor’s blood as it flowed from his veins and circulated through the blood-fabricator units where it was cloned in the most exacting way and then recycled back into the Emperor’s other arm to replace the astounding amount of blood loss. More blood had to be made. Not having any blood stock stored up for the Emperor and because of the considered purity of the Emperor’s blood, no transfusions could be made for him…not even from the Primark’s own veins.

The Astartes watched from around the room, stoic and unmoving. They were armed and deeply distressed, but they were disciplined and steady in their faith. The cam-skulls hovered on grav-fields above the scientists, recording every step of the process and while Dominak Zalzasatrean worked he watched them from the edges of his vision.

For thirteen days they worked, only taking breaks to eat, drink and use the lavatory. They were watched and guarded the whole time. They were allowed two hours sleep every fourteen hours and then only in shifts. The work to save the Emperor of mankind could not be stopped…even for a moment.

On the last day that the scientists were allowed to do their work before they were replaced by another ten scientists, a thought began to take root in Dominak Zalzasatrean’s mind. What if the cam-skulls were not able to record his movements? What if they were like the mirrors and did not even know he was in the room. The others knew he was there. He knew he could not hide himself from them. They had spoken with him and he with them on many occasions. He would have to be careful to hide his movements from the watchful eyes of the Astartes and the other scientists, but what of the cam-skulls?

For a moment he considered what to do. Slowly he stood and moved away from the fabricator unit and made his way to the water dispenser. As he did so he watched the cam-skulls from the corner of his eye. As he bent to drink he watched them. As he moved around the room and stretched his arms and back, he watched them. Not once did they fallow his movements and he smiled.

“What are you doing?’ The question came from the captain of the Astartes. The armored giant moved from the archway of the far wall and was before Zalzasatrean before he was even aware the Captain had even moved. The question, the movement and the fear that he had been undone caused Dominak Zalzasatrean to nearly fall to his knees in supplication, but before he could fall the Astartes Captain reached out and caught him by the arm held him up.

Leaning over the shaken scientist the Captain watched him intently. His bio-scans showed in bright red laser over Zalzasatrean’s features and instantly registered his complete name, history, social network, account information, family line and gene-code, blood type and temperature to the Captain’s helm. The Captain read the information instantly and repeated the question. ‘What are you doing?’ and then added, ‘Why are you so cold? Are you sickly?’

The Astartes voice was a wash of static and growl as it exuded from the helm’s mouth grill and set Zalzasatrean’s nerves on edge, but he recovered as best as he could. ‘Sir, I only wished to stretch my back and get a drink, for I was getting a little tired and needed a small break. I am sorry for breaking the routine and discipline, sir. It will not happen again.’

The Captain watched him for a long moment and finally satisfied, released him and allowed him to move back to his proper place…working with the pure blood of the Emperor. 

Chapter 3

The hunger and thirst for the Emperor’s blood now shook Dominak Zalzasatrean to the core. Close to fainting and malnourished even with the protein and vitamin rich diet they were provided with, Zalzasatrean longed for more. His hunger could not be sated; he knew he was going to die if he did not feed. What could he do? He had to get at the blood. Blood was life and he had to have it. Almost wild with animal need, he knew what must be done.

Slowly he pulled a syringe from the research pack that sat on the edge of his desk and did as he had done a thousand times since entering this sacred place. He was a blood worker. He worked with the blood in all its facets. He almost laughed when the thought struck him. He nearly lost his discipline as he plunged the hollow needle into the vial that contained a measure of the Emperor’s blood. With a measured breath he filled the syringe and withdrew it from the red-black fluid.

He could smell it and taste it even from afar; even contained within the confines of the syringe. His mouth began to water and he struggled to contain his shaking hands. Slowly he looked around the sanitized research facility to see if there was anyone watching him. There was. There was always someone watching him…especially now that he was holding the Emperor’s own blood.

All eight Astartes were looking directly at him. All had their weapons raised and aimed directly at him. The Captain spoke with exaggerated care, ‘What. Are. You. Doing?’ His voice was that of thunder and cold as ice. Even with his face hidden behind his grill-plate the shock of what he was seeing was terrifying. 

Dominak Zalzasatrean watched the other scientists as they took notice of what was happening. He could not see himself in the reflection of the Life-tank’s glass but he could see the terror stricken faces of the others as they fled from him. The room became cold and hoar frost covered the equipment and the Astartes armor and weapons as the Emperor stirred in the bio-fluids behind the glass. Even in the Emperor’s catatonic state he could feel the horror of what was happening. 

Quicker than the eye could fallow Dominak Zalzasatrean plunged the syringe into his heart and injected the sacred blood of the Emperor.

A fraction of a moment later, the Astartes opened up with a hail of fire from their massive storm-bolters and turned the body of Dominak Zalzasatrean into ground meat. The flames of hell itself seemed to engulf Dominak Zalzasatrean’s body, but then the pain subsided and darkness took its place.

Chapter 4

Dominak Zalzasatrean awoke in a rush of torment and pain in a nightmarish landscape of nothingness. The weight of the darkness was all consuming and ever dominating. His flesh crawled as if something moved underneath it. He felt cold and totally alone. Indeed the grave is a place of loneliness. 

He fought to gain a breath, but his lungs could not expand to take in the air he so richly needed. He began to panic for but a moment, when he realized that he did not need to breath. He was alive but dead. He was alive! He opened his mouth to laugh but dirt poured into it. It was not until that moment that he truly understood where he was. 

The ground was cold but not packed down. It moved easily enough once Zalzasatrean started to move this way and that, like a worm under the surface of the rich toiled soil. After what felt like an eternity his hand broke the surface and he felt the wash of warm sun-filled air brush against his ice-cold skin. He retracted it instantly back under the grave’s foul surface with a pain he had never known before.

The sun, he thought. The daylight will kill me. With that moment of clarity his decision was made. The sun’s setting brought a fresh feeling upon Dominak Zalzasatrean’s mind. That feeling was freedom. After that, the feeling became hunger. His hand broke the surface again, but this time there was no pain and within a second from reaching out from the moist earth, he was moving through the field of unmarked graves. 

Two thousand years later upon the battlefields of Boraskus Copal, the forces of Chaos met once more to wage war against the children of the Imperiam. Dominak Zalzasatrean watched from the heights of the Andidas, skull shaped ridges that overlooked the valleys of destruction wherein the seeker of souls lay dormant… waiting for the time of blood and the sacrifice of men and beast alike. 

Breathlessly, Zalzasatrean watched the battle wage back and forth. His heightened senses sought out the week and wounded, the embittered and the needy. His soul had become backer than the heart of the eye of terror and he longed for Astartes blood again. 

For nearly two thousand years the blood of man, beast and alien soothed the veins of the vampire, but there was nothing like the sensation of tasting the souls of the Emperor’s own. 

The air was filled with the curses of men, the metallic tastes of melted armor, the horror of burning bodies, trees and blood. The sky burned away and was replaced by fire and ash. Clouds of corruption lay siege to the stratosphere and the concussive force of detonations felled the forests and cracked the earth. Tanks and mass weapons ground the dead and churned the dyeing into soup-like substances that never again could be called human.

Titans moved forth, protected by void-shields and thickly set armor. Their weaponry could decimate cities or lay hold of continents. Even the mighty Astartes had to retreat from their violent anger. Nothing was unmoved or untouched by the forces of wrath and malice. Even those who believed themselves to be pure received stains upon their immortal souls, for great was the hate that burned within both sides. 

Zalzasatrean watched all of this and still he hungered for the blood of the near immortal. Time had passed since the great violation of the Emperor’s blood and he still felt it coursing through his veins. That blood would never leave him and he smiled as he felt it writhe within his very cells. From the clefts he watched the armored sheep wage their tiny war. When the night fell he would show them all who was truly the master of this world.

Chapter 5


The night was icy cold except where the battle was still alight with the flames of destruction. Seven million guardsmen trampled the earth and marched behind their armored front line. They moved against eleven million of the traitors own, ex-guardsmen who thought it better to serve the foul gods of the warp rather than stand firm against them. The Astartes marched with them as did the traitor legions among their own.


Among them all, surrounding them, caressing them, tasting them among the shadows and the darkness, Zalzasatrean hungered for their flesh and their blood. With a will that was not their own they moved against each other, both sides coming together like two oceans colliding in the night. The sounds of screaming, wailing, gunfire and the detonations of hundreds of thousands of warheads could be heard without aid, within the smaller war-ships anchored in low orbit. 
Fear gripped every man and sought to lay hold of even the mightiest of Astartes hearts. There was no order and the battle raged until the blood flowed within the valley of Destruction thigh deep. The seeker of souls stirred within the valley and laughed as it took part in the battle. 


Zalzasatrean gasped when he felt the stirring of the seeker of souls, even as he drank deeply of the blood. With each drop of the sanguine fluid the memories of men and Astartes alike, both good and evil, filled his mind. The seeker of souls awoke fully, three days later upon the setting of the second sun and the completion of the great battle. The ground had soaked it all up until it could drink no longer, until it rose to chest level and drowned all who fell under its stirrings. 
The ground shook and then collapsed under the feet of those who still fought and the blood swirled like a whirlpool before an angry god. Hundreds of thousands caught in its currents struggled helplessly like a ships caught in the currents of a black hole. Their screams filled the air once more before they were pulled under and devoured by the seeker of souls. 
In the darkness of that fallen world, Dominak Zalzasatrean fed until he felt he would never thirst again. His feasting done, he stole away from the surface of Boraskus Copal and took refuge on the “Emperor’s Voice,” a small battleship fleeing from the wrath of the seeker of souls.


Chapter 6


Four thousand years later, Dominak Zalzasatrean thanked the Emperor of mankind once more. After all it was really because of him that he had become so powerful. When the Emperor rose in power so long ago he outlawed religion. With the buffer of faith in an ultimate creator, without the strength of the cross, the reality of the resurrection, the function of the Catholic Church, the vampire hunters of the Illuminati or the ability of the average person to demonstrate their beliefs, there was nothing to stop him from growing in his knowledge or his power.


With every drop of blood the vampire consumed, he took on the thoughts, ambitions, personality traits and individuality of that person. It had been nearly six-thousand years since the partaking of the Emperor’s blood and he still cherished the taste. 


The dark forests of Vallusia Set were wet with the essence of the souls of man. Three-hundred thousand men were entrenched behind sandbags, rocks, logs and anything else they could put in front of them to keep them separated from the advancing Ork line. The Orks screamed their war-cry and beat the ground with the body parts of their victims.
They advanced from the tree line and fired their explosive shells from nearly pointblank range, but such was their battle-lust that their shots went overhead most of their intended targets or exploded within their own ranks, killing or maiming dozens of their own instead. Their leader screamed until bloody spittle escaped his toothy, tusked mouth and flowed in river-like streams of drool down his jetting jaw and down his massive-heavily muscled, skull covered chest.


He was rewarded by the 155th Infantry screaming back with the shouts of their plas-cannons and artillery fire. Again the richness of the smell of blood floated through the forest and into the sinuses of Dominak Zalzasatrean. His mouth began to water and his teeth began their almost instant change. They became like sharks teeth, serrated and edged and hollow but still strong enough to bite through steel. The darkness was closing in and his need was growing stronger with each passing second.


For three months he had watched the fighting and contented himself with the occasional straggler or wounded man left behind. But now he was done with snacks or morsels. He was truly hungry and tonight he would feed like he had not fed in four thousand years.


It was rare for the orks to fight at night. It was hard for them to see in the darkness if there were bright lights and fire flashes from las-guns and bombs to ruin their night vision, so the 155th Infantry made camp and prepared themselves for the next day’s excitement. In the firelight one of the soldiers watched as a single man approached from the west. He walked right into the camp without any hesitation or thought about safety. ‘Hail! Who goes there?’ the soldier yelled. 
The approaching figure did not answer, but continued to move forward, neither slowing nor hurrying at the soldier’s voice. ‘Hail! Who goes there? Stop or you will be fired upon and you shall be dead before you hit the ground!’ the man yelled at the approaching man. A few other soldiers joined him at his position. They watched the advancing man until he came to within forty feet of them. ‘Sir, if you do not identify yourself and yield yourself to my command at this moment I will be forced to kill you where you stand.’ He said. ‘Do you hear me, sir?’


Zalzasatrean took one more step to test the man’s resolve and was pleased to find the man did exactly what he said he would do. He felt the las-round hit him square in the chest and explode from his back. At once the wound began to seal. ‘Very well then.’ He said.


The soldiers stood in shock as they watched the man dissolve into the ground and from the place where his flesh melted into the soil, spiders began to flow. They moved like lightning upon the ground, spreading thin silky webs behind them as they advanced.


The soldiers fired at the swarming legion of eight-legged creatures but could not hit them all. There was no way to track them as they shifted and ran. Their screams alerted the main body of the regiment and the lights were lit to expose the attackers. In the incandescent light, the spiders jumped and ran and floated on web strings that caught on tents and posts and weapons and anything else they could reach.


Each cell of the vampire became a living spider that hunted for the blood of man. Flamers were brought forth and lit but the spiders were everywhere. There were many of them and one bite was death to the man who received it. Without fail, every soldier to a man perished that night, their bodies reduced to hallow shells covered in the silky webs of a hundred million spiders. 


In the morning light, when the Orks charged from the forest there was not any resistance. The Orks screamed their war-cry and fired their weapons. Every body that was hit by one of the Ork rounds turned to powder and blew away in the slight breeze. 


At the lack of resistance the Ork leader advanced slowly, followed by his greatest warriors. Cautiously they advanced into the soldier’s encampment but still there was no resistance. The corpses lined the trenches and hung from watch towers and lay upon the ground or sat at their massive war-machines, but not one man lived, not one man had even the slightest amount of blood in his veins.


The Ork leader ordered his armies away from that place and did not take any plunder. Fear and superstition culled his fiery heart. ‘The gods themselves hated the hoomins!’ he had said to his tribe. They passed by the place in silence, lest they awaken the sleeping god. 


Four thousand years later upon the streets of Stardust Minor, Dominak Zalzasatrean walks among mortals. Today he is a black man. Yesterday he was a priest. The day before that he was a little girl and the day before that he was a servant in the governor’s mansion; the day before that he was the Governor himself. Today he walks the streets of Stardust Minor waiting for the time he would feed again.


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## Ambush Beast (Oct 31, 2010)

*I am Zalzasatrean the last vampire*

I am Zalzasatrean the last Vampire

‘In the beginning God created… and life fallowed.

In the end man created… and death fallowed.

How cold this world has become. The end of all things is drawing near. Cold days of winter approach and the hearts of men decay. Silence fallows in death’s wake and the end of all things draws nigh.

The blood of a trillion humans spills like a never ending river through the valleys and fills the low places like the forming of lakes that in the due course of time grow ever deeper and spread ever farther until the lakes have been overwhelmed and the forming of oceans begin.

The voices of a trillion souls scream out from the walls of eternity…their echoes resounding from the beginning to the end of all things.

Here in the silence…hidden behind the veil and blind, deaf and dumb, humanity wages never ending war within a never ending universe…darkened by the vain attempts to gain what some would believe is total power but in reality is the parody of greatness…that will slip from one generation’s hands to the next like the grasping of water or air in the untrained hands of children!

I have lived long enough to know this and have striven from the conception of understanding in my own mind to gain that power. Not the power to only wound beat or kill the flesh… but the power to hold ones soul captive for eternity. 

What once was the beginning of the end has now become the end of the beginning. I misunderstood and underestimated my opponent and now I suffer for it.

I am alone and shall be, I think…until the end of time. What is mortality to a being like me? I am what humanity would call immortal…I cannot die.

That has always been a blessing and a curse…a double edged sword. Before my captivity I subdued worlds and lived off of the blood of the living. Within my veins I still feel his blood screaming out…longing for freedom.

Oh yes, blood screams. It also speaks and sings and cries and brings such joy one could never explain it fully. 

You are most likely all wondering who I am. Who is it that is telling this story? You most likely think that I am a god or some deity bent on revenge or caught in the trap of self loathing or the memories of the past. 

Maybe at one time I could have been described as that. Certainly at one time I had deluded myself into believing that I was a god.

I am immortal…I cannot die. I can kill with little more than a thought. I can move faster than most men can even see. I am a shadow that consumes the night. 

I have tasted of the blood of the Emperor of mankind…his blood-voice still echoes through my every cell. 

But in truth…I am not a god nor have I ever been one. I am a vampire. What is the difference? A God is worshipped or feared or both. I am not worshiped; no, I am only feared.

I will tell you who I am later, when it does me well to tell you. Ha, Ha! I can read your mind, your every thought and you are afraid. I can smell your blood and I long for it Space marine! I long for it.

Draw near to meeee; come near to my mouth and listen to my words. I cannot hurt you. I am a captive held within the confines of your void-shields. What could I possibly do to you? I am alone, but you are not. I can see them out there in the shadows and I know they watch my every move. I will not disappoint them.’

Time has passed. I know it has. They move me in the light of day, confined with psycher shields and void-shields. They take no chances with me…they are afraid. 

I can smell it in their blood and hear the blood-song within the beating of their double hearts. 

They know their armor cannot protect them from me. Space Marines do not fear…they are not capable of the emotion. 

That is a lie. The blood of the Emperor flows within my veins and I torment the spirit of his blood daily and have done so for ten thousand years. If the Blood of the Emperor can scream than so can yours Space Marine.

You wish for me to shut my mouth and stop filling your nights and days with fear? Oh I will shut my mouth but you will not enjoy my silence either.

In the silence I listen for the sound I have been longing for…but it does not come. I have done my best to play upon their fears, but they are more disciplined than the others. 

In the silence I showed them their worst fears and allowed them to hear the captive screams from the souls that I have consumed…but they do not succumb to my torments. 

In the transport they take me, by the light of day to meet the Inquisition. I am not afraid. I am not tormented by the thought of that. I have invaded the minds of countless thousands and made them turn upon each other. Whole armies, both xenos and human have fallen at the very sound of my voice.

What is it about these souls that do not flinch before me? I truly underestimated them.

Upon the human world I walked among them, I was one of them. They did not know or even care that I was there. They were sheep before me…prey that knew not that they were prey. One would die and I would live on. I walked among them and consumed them all until there were none…than I would leave and seek another world.

I walked among the Space Marines of the Iron Fists chapter and they knew it not. I was among them in their very midst!

Upon their ship I sought them out one by one until they were all but dust within their precious armor.

One time, I allowed myself to be seen by them before I slipped once again into the shadows and stalked them from behind, beneath, above and before.

I did so to test them…to their credit they did not retreat or even show any fear. Instead they quoted scriptures and songs and yelled ‘The Emperor protects!’

Their blood still screams within my veins as their torment never ends.

Upon the Icy fields of Abalone I walked. I saw them from afar… the Chaos armies of the Iron Warriors. They marched onward through the ice and snow, but did not seem to even feel it. 

The Imperial Guard were dreadfully overmatched and were sure to be overrun…but in a feeling of … Kindness I chose to advance upon the ranks of the impure.

The night was long, cold and dark for them, but to me it was a fleeting moment of elation.

They fought hard against each other, each believing they were their own enemies and I laughed as their minds were consumed by my words. In the winds I sent my words and infected their minds with terror.

In their panic they turned upon one another even as I sought them out. 

Four-hundred-thousand bodies still lay frozen upon the ice laden fields of Abalone while the Imperial Guard still rest behind their walls not knowing just how close their lives were to ending.

The blood of the Chaos army still shivers within my cells and the very core of my being. 

Blood! It calls out to me and I must come to it. I must…cradle it as a loved one cradles her new-born baby. I can hear it calling out in the night and feel it as it moves past in the day. I must have it! I MUST HAVE IT NOW!

I charge the void-shield and reap the benefits of pain. 

I reach out with my mind but the psycher in the transport next to me groans under his stress, yet smiles as he controls my mental outburst.

The Space Marine in gray looks over to the psycher and asks if she is safe.

She nods and says she is well. Now I will play a new game. I smile at her through the void-shield, through its ghost-red glow. She can see me with her inner eye.

I can feel her restraining thoughts upon me and I push back gently upon her own psyche…probing for weakness. 

The hours go by and our minds are engaged with words that none other can hear. She groans and cries within as I seek to wear her down. 

The giant in gray begins to watch her but can do nothing. This is a battle that he cannot wage…a battle that rests upon this woman’s failing discipline.

At long last she crumbles and screams as her fears overwhelm her and her mind breaks under my foul spell. Her eyes bleed as she claws them out. But her suffering and my pleasure do not last long as the Space Marine outside the void-shield mercifully shoots her one time in the chest.

Now with the psycher out of the way I send my thoughts toward the warrior before me. He turns slowly and just watches me, but says nothing, but the pain I feel is not his but mine as the psychic force I used on him bounces back and slams me to the floor.

I am weakened by the force of it and struggle to calm myself. I think back to a better time when the weak struggled beneath my gaze and the foolish sought to end my life. 

How fleeting is time that others pay attention to it? 

I am startled that at this very moment I am very aware of the passing of time. I wonder if it is running out for me.

‘I am Zalzasatrean! I am the last vampire!’ I scream. 

The Gray Knight looks back at me and says. ‘Yes you are the last vampire. Soon there shall be no more.’

In rage I scream but he hears it not. I am aware for the first time in ten thousand years of something that I have not felt…fear. 
It is not his but mine. I am afraid. 

I grapple with this emotion for the first time in eons and struggle to wrestle it to the never-place that it came from, but it will not go. I am alone and for the first time since I partook of the Emperor’s blood it does not scream but laughs.

The Gray Knights have found me and now my time has come. I laugh at the thought of it.

I am the one that taught the worlds to fear.

I am the one that trapped the souls of man and hold them within my blood. 

I am the one who treads upon the gods of Chaos and taught the Emperor to scream. 

When they came for me it was in the day. I was at my weakest, for with their coming the shadows fled away. My skin began to burn as they pulled me from my crypt and my screams echoed in my ears as they confined me in the light.

I lashed out at them with all the force that I could but they overwhelmed me and laughed as they loaded me upon the transport. 

I once believed I was a god. I believed that I was the god. I believed that none could touch me or look me in the eye. I believed that the worlds were mine and mine alone to control and to consume.

I was wrong. 

I can feel the night around me now. I can feel my strength growing more. They will be the weaker ones and I will be the stronger. They shall fall before me and I shall consume their souls. I can feel the night and hear the torments of mankind. Their blood shall be my strength.

Time marches on. 

The transport stops and I hear voices behind me as the doors open up. Moonlight enters and so does the Inquisitor backed by more Gray Knights.

The void-shield drops and I move without hesitation. 

What fool would drop a void-shield when their death rests on the other side?
My body collapses into the shadows and I move towards the door.

My body jerks to a standstill and for a moment I am in such pain that I cannot even scream. 

When I awaken I am on the floor…restrained in the confines of the void-shield once more. With venom in my voice I lash out at the man before me but he doesn’t even flinch.

‘I am Zalzasatrean!’

The Inquisitor nods his head as if in acceptance and leans over a little bit before saying, ‘I am your death, vampire… I pleased to meet you.’ 

In a flash I remember the woman that seduced me ten thousand years before and blessed me with this foul curse.

I speak aloud before my dying breath, ‘What death I have felt as I looked into her eyes…those beautiful black eyes; the fire in her pupils…the perfume of her breath.

Sweet death! What hold thou doest have on me? What hold I give to thee when I run into those gentle arms and am caressed by her deep distain? 

Save me now, oh sweet lady of the tomb! Save me now!

My soul does falter at thy beauty… at the touch of your alabaster skin; your touch…so soft…your kiss so sweet.

Your change does come over thee but I carest not as thy flesh does fall from your bones and your blood turns to smoke. 

Now I am lost and my soul does writhe in agony as I struggle to pull away; but alas I cannot, for I am enslaved to her! 

Oh the cost of lust! Yes the reward of passion! 

Behold the coldness of the grave I share with thee.’ 

At the ending of my prayer the Inquisitor says one of his own.

‘You who have partaken of the Emperor’s own blood; you who have laughed and killed our own… I curse you to the grave and beyond. You are excommunicate now and forever more!’ 

Upon his last word the void-shield fell once more, but I could not move. The last thing I saw before I died was my body still standing as my head rolled away. 

Am I really dead? If I was dead…how could I tell you of this story?


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## greywulf (Dec 21, 2009)

Great stuff, and highly original too.


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## Karnax (Sep 23, 2010)

A great read. + rep Adrian. I wonder what would happen if a normal human had injected himself with the Emperor's blood?
EDIT: I need to spread rep around before I can give it to you. When will the next one be?


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## Karnax (Sep 23, 2010)

A great read. + rep Adrian. I wonder what would happen if a normal human was injected with the Emperor's blood?


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## Ambush Beast (Oct 31, 2010)

*I have added a personal view*

I have added to this story and provided a personal view from the vampires perspective. I hope you enjoy. -Adrian :shok:


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## Ambush Beast (Oct 31, 2010)

*Zalzasatrean!*

Zalzasatrean!

I wait until I am alone. They had the audacity to think that separating my head from my body then burning me in an open field would be enough to keep me down. Clearly it was not. It took a lot of time to gather myself some the ashes, but I did it. I believe it took years for me to pull myself together again. It was painful, but I am no stranger to pain. I have suffered more than most could understand.

The field is cold and windswept and the grasses are tan and brown, dead. The next field over is green and healthy and alive. I keep myself separated and buried in the dust, my cells small enough to hide from the blazing killing light of the sun. I am hungry, hungrier then I have ever been.

The pain I feel from my lack has been almost too much to bear. I can sense something nearby. It is a child in the field next to the one I am in. I can smell her flesh and blood carried upon the wind and it stirs my hunger to the point of agony.

It takes all of my strength to keep myself separated and buried in the dust. The sun will surely kill me if I come out from hiding now. The sun will set soon.

Last light drops over the ancient mountains in the far distance to the East. The dust begins to stir as I will myself to come together again. I can feel the wind fighting my will. The wind struggles to lift me and toss me away with the dust, but I am stronger. As my cells draw closer to my will they begin to come in contact with each other. I allow them to bond anew.

As the cells bond they grow and when they are large enough they become small spiders. There is one at first and then two and then three. In the end they become millions.

I watch the cell spiders grow in the darkness and will them to me. Upon shaky legs they come to my center and begin to reform my body. It takes hours because I am so weak, but at last I am whole again.

My first steps are clumsy and awkward, shaky and unsteady. I lack the strength to defend myself if trouble comes. I watch the darkness and take in the sense around me. In the distance a small house has been built, the lights are on but I do not need the lights to tell me someone lives there and it has not been abandoned. I can smell them upon the breeze.

It took longer than I had hoped for me to make my way to it. The sun will be up soon. I kill them as quickly as I can, but because of my weakness they suffer greatly. There is screaming and crying; they struggle against me and nearly overcome me, but in the end they are dead and I am fed.

The blood gives me strength again and my body grows from a cadaverous skeletal creature to the form of a young man once more. I stretch and breathe in the smell of carnage, of blood and of fear. It feels good to be myself again.

****

It is a hive world that I have come to. The sounds of industrial labor, traffic and humanity stirs something in me. I smile as the shadows envelope my body. I can feel them; the shadows are alive and I am glad for the darkness they bring.

Seven billion people upon the surface of Sandaca should be enough for me to feed upon for the moment. I need time to plan my course of action against the Inquisitor who nearly ended my existence. Sandaca will allow me the time to grow strong again and the ability to blend in and hide should trouble arise.

I have learned a good lesson by the things that I have gone through. It was good for me to suffer. I had become lazy and complacent and stupid. I believed that I had become immortal, that I was a god. It was good for me to become acquainted with humility and pain.

My lack of awareness will never be my weakness again.

Tonight I am a black man coming home from his labors at the iron mill. Taking on his form was easy after I had consumed is soul. His memories are fresh in my mind and I smile as the door opens before me. Sandra stands before me and smiles, glad to see me safely home, secure in her husband’s presence.

Life is hard enough in this world so I do not make her suffer long. The surprise and fear in her eyes was enough to make me giddy with delight. Her blood was intoxicating.

Some may think of me as a predator but that would be a mistake. I am a survivor. Ten years have passed since my renewal. I never take that time for granted. I must find that man who taught me this lesson and gave me back my joy of existence.

****

There was a time when domination meant everything to me. It does not anymore. World killer had such a sweet ring to it. That name strikes fear in even the most stout of hearts. World killer. Those very words are terrifying.

The hive is quiet now that everyone is dead. There are other hives for me to attend to upon the surface of Sandaca. Before I leave I take a last look at my handy work. I smile at the bodies that swing by silken webs from girders and platforms and scaffolds and posts and light poles. I grin broadly as I see millions of corpses secured to the walls and windows of buildings by the fabric of the webs I have laid.

The blood has been drained from each one and yet I still thirst for more. I know this will get the attention of the universe around me soon. It will attract the Inquisition and those accursed Grey Knights. I do not like them at all, nor does the thought of being near them again bring me excitement. But the task must be done.

****

The year is 451.M41. The world is Sandaca.

Reports have come to my attention of the atrocities committed upon that world. Seven hive cities dead. Nothing mechanical has been harmed, only the biological has suffered.

I have seen the picts and they are terrifying to me. Seven billion souls consumed, bodies shriveled like dehydrated berries. Each person was found buried under silken webs. No spiders have yet been found upon the planet.

I have only seen one other time in my career these same settings. The name of the world is unimportant, the place unimportant. The armies of the Emperor of mankind were, however, very important.

I do not wish to think about the consequences of my failure. The deaths of Sandaca are upon my hands and yours until the vampire is dealt with once more.

Therefore I request the presence of the Grey Knights.

Zalzasatrean is still alive.

May the Emperor guide you as does He all.

Inquisitor Rion Osenda.

****

“Twenty-one Grey Knights are able to join me in the fight. Seven billion people murdered in the course of a week by one soulless vampire and this is all the Grey Knights send to avenge them. This is shameful at least and uncareing at most.” Inquisitor Rion Osenda thinks to himself.

To voice such opinions could alter the cooperation of the Knights.

‘Thank you for coming. The trail is clear, but beware he is more powerful than before and he is not caught off guard again. He will end us all if we do not end him first.’ Osenda says.

‘Understood.’ Brother Captain Mandrose growls through the vox speaker in his helm. They turn as one and advance into the shadows of Balastral Primary. The hive is massive. It could take days to find our foe; weeks if he does not wish to be found.

“He is sure of himself. I can feel his psychic energy permeating the darkness. Zalzasatrean knows we are here. I know he is watching us even as we advance.” Osenda considers these thoughts as he moves into the shadows of the hive behind the Knights.

****

This is all they send? Twenty-one Knights and the Inquisitor; it is insulting to me. I am pleased though; at least I will get to share my thoughts with the man who taught me such truths.

I make them search for me for two days. I watch them closely as they stalk through the darkness of the hive. They are careful and the wards upon their armor burn brightly into my consciousness. They hurt my eyes and somewhat un-focus me.

Their prayers do not bother me as much as their faith does. I must kill their faith before I kill their flesh.

The Inquisitor is aware that I am near. His mind is sharp and his perception is a bladed weapon. He does have the power, but how much I do not know. I will play with him soon enough.

The third day of the hunt continues until sunset without event. The bodies that I have fed upon begin to stink in the humid air. Their flesh is like cold wax, bruised and tacky to the touch.

From the shadows I strike with my bladed thoughts. They react like lightning and raise their shields. The shout with one voice, ‘The Emperor protects!’

Their faith is strong but weaker now, just a little bit. There are now twenty Knights alive. One lays dead upon the floor of the cauldron; his neck a mess of ruined flesh, tendons and muscle.

It takes a moment for them to realize that I have left them. They mourn the loss of their Brother Captain silently as they seek to remove his gene-seed from his throat. I can sense the anger like a fire in the night when they see that it is gone.

I smile as I consume it; it is sweet to the taste.

Three days go by before I strike again. They react the same way; shields up and shouting scripture. But one more is dead while another bleeds from the neck. His wound is meant to weaken them. Their armor is weak under the chin so they are flawed. They are beginning to understand that they are helpless. I can get past their wards and their faith. I can do as I wish as I will.

I can sense the bitterness of their doubt seeping in. I strike when they turn their backs. I strike when they take a step. From the all encompassing darkness I ruin their will and abuse their hope. I laugh at them from the shadows.

I can see the Inquisitor searching the shadows, but he cannot see me. His will is strong, but I am much much stronger.

By the end of the week they are all dead; all except for one. The Inquisitor runs through the darkness. He falls over a body and saves himself by extending his arms. I am done playing with him, done making him suffer.

‘Stop and face your doom, Inquisitor or do you want me to find your home world and kill it too.’

He turns and sees me for the first time. I am tall, my skin is sunless white and my hair is bone white and long. I can see the fear in his eyes, but he does not try to fight me or run anymore.

‘Why have you done this?’ he asks through gritted teeth.

‘Because I could. Because if you had killed me properly, I would not have been able to. Because you failed in your duty. You burned me until I was only ash. I hid in the dust away from the sun. In the night I became myself again.’ I answered.

The man dropped to his knees. I could see the torment in his features. In the blink of an eye I had him by the throat and pressed my teeth into his neck. I drank his sweet blood, but stopped before he was dead.

As he lay there in the darkness I whispered in his ear. ‘You will live for an eternity. Only the sun will kill you. You will never be able to forget your failure. With each soul you consume you will think of me. I am Zalzasatrean. I am no longer the last vampire.’


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## Dave T Hobbit (Dec 3, 2009)

Fixed anomalous FONT code

A good 40K twist on a classic vampire story.

I was a little confused by:

_I have seen the picts and they are terrifying to me. Seven billion souls consumed, bodies shriveled like dehydrated berries. Each person was found buried under silken webs. No spiders have yet been found upon the planet.

I have only seen one other time in my career these same settings. The name of the world is unimportant, the place unimportant. The armies of the Emperor of mankind were, however, very important.

I do not wish to think about the consequences of my failure. The deaths of Sandaca are upon my hands and yours until the vampire is dealt with once more.

Therefore I request the presence of the Grey Knights.

Zalzasatrean is still alive.

May the Emperor guide you as does He all.

Inquisitor Rion Osenda._​
It seems to begin as the Inquisitor's thoughts but end up reading like a letter. If it is all supposed to be thought then it might work better if reduced to fewer paragraphs.


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## Ambush Beast (Oct 31, 2010)

*Considered*



Dave T Hobbit said:


> Fixed anomalous FONT code
> 
> A good 40K twist on a classic vampire story.
> 
> ...


It was meant to feel like that for a brief moment. I did not feel that the Inquisitor, in this case, could just demand the Knights to help, but he had to convince them with no doubts that his failure to properly kill Z. was also the Knight's fault as well. Therefore the history had to be made where the connection to past event was evidence enough for the Knights to agree.


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