And Upon Her Forehead Was A Name Written

[Gog of Magog]

Here.

The world is dying. Some say that it is dead. The Final World War brought about the end of everything. The end of humanity's Golden Age. The End of Ages.

And it all started here.

In the highest room of the Black Tower that stands high above the ruins of New York and the Empire of the Horde. Built on the bones of the millions of humans killed during and after the Final War. By the word of High Lord Gog, Supreme Ruler of the Horde, ruler of North America, and soon the world.

Tonight, as he surveys the Empire he has built from his place at the peak of the Black Tower, Lord Gog is pleased. Pleased, and yet disappointed. The extinction of the humans, the weak, has been slowed to a halt. The self-righteous interlopers of the Host have risen to defend the remaining humans and stop Lord Gog. As if they could. The very concept strikes him the same as trying to stop the wind from blowing. You can only redirect it for a short while before it finds a way. And Gog of Magog would find a way. He did not rise to his place by allowing others to to him away. No, he rose to power by the only edict that matters: survival of the fittest.

His dark chamber is lit only by the light of the shinning moon through the great window that he now stands before. Where some would see this position as unguarded and vulnerable, other no better. Those very few who are granted access to Lord Gog's private quarters are among his most trusted lieutenants: his Horsemen. And they would not dare raise a hand to their master. Not yet, anyways. Lord Gog gives himself no disillusionment on that matter. If they did not strive to rule they would not be the strongest. And only the strongest survive. For now though, he was secure in his place; his Horsemen content in theirs, hoarding the favor of their Lord.

But none have it more in recent days then his newest Horseman, the child- vampire Evangeline. The only Horseman to be placed in her position and not rise to it through the death of her superiors. While mages of the Horde utter their contempt for such an act to each other, no objection is given to Lord Gog for this decision. Most know better when it comes to Lord Gog's own student. The idea amused him greatly and his thoughts turned to the night he found the child-vampire. He remained in those memories while he awaited her arrival. They had much to discuss tonight.

Beyond the great window, the final rays of sunlight fall away over the horizon and darkness descends on the Empire of the Horde below.

[Evangeline Annunziata]

It would be a lie to say that Evangeline felt nothing though rumours spread around quite quickly that she was soulless, by the look in her eyes it wouldn't be all that difficult to believe. It would also be a lie to say she could felt the full spectrum of emotions, she most definitely did not. She did not feel guilt or sorrow, she most definitely felt lust, pain, anger, jealousy. She did not feel happiness though she did feel pleasure, she could fake a childlike happiness with ease and innocence was written on her beautiful face. This is all leading up to the current moment where Evangeline, the Angel of Death, felt nervousness. This emotion was not shown in the slightest as she skipped down the hallways in a pair of two inch heels which clicked upon the marble floors, a smile on her lips as she swung her newest raven haired porcelain doll by the arm back and forth beside her.

She had been summoned, summoned by her Lord Master.

Evangeline could have fought her way here, fought and murdered those who stood in her way if she had been sane enough to do it at the time. She was found feeding, the parents already dead and drained, bodies decomposing. She perched in the filth with the young daughter of seven tied in a chair, steadily cutting into her with a short blade while whispering to her in a gentle coo. With what strange magik she already possessed, the magik she hadn't yet honed she could already bar the doors and windows from the inside so that the family couldn't escape. Their home and sanctuary had been turned into a hell house and prison, locked in to watch their loved ones die slowly. When the Horde army came for her she killed five mages and had tranced another until he was writhing on the ground, screaming of being on fire from the inside. Since then mental illusion of flame had been her calling, it was Gog who had taught her how to really kick it up and now she couldn't only flame, but she could drown them, electrocute them and was trying her hand at tearing them apart from the inside. In return for her work in interrogation and torture, she lived here, got all the playthings she could ever hope for and lead her own district. It was all a fair trade in the end.

As she appeared at the doors to Gog's study, the two Commander mages who guarded the area shrank back- if only slightly when they saw the child in the black satin dress who skipped toward them with the doll swinging about. Who would have ever thought something so sweet and innocent could be so terrifying? The doors were opened for her quickly, all under her knew not to stand in the way of the Death Angel for with a single look she could have you at her feet screaming in agony. Moving into the room she smiled and curtsied, “Hello Lord Master Gog, I am here as you asked.” She spoke in her eerie tone. Clutching her doll to her chest she patted the hair down, the blood vial around the dolls neck was of little Rosie who had died just that previous night.

[Gog of Magog]

The arrival of his Horseman was a welcomed presence in the chambers of the High Lord. While the memories of the day he found her still stirred in his mind, Lord Gog was ever aware of the present. He turned to face her, his child of darkness, his thirsty servant. Her wide eyes and childlike features forever frozen in the undeath of her eternity. "Welcome, my Angel of Death," his voice is like thunder and he has a presence that would snap the gods to attention if they had the courage to face him. But not his Evangeline. Not his avenging angel of death. She feared nothing. It made her the most dangerous weapon to wield for one day he knew she would swing back on him.

"You are as perfect as you were the day I found you." The house, Gog remembered. It all began in that house. His Infinites had forced their way inside in search of humans for the cullings but instead they had found the child. Mistaking her for a mere human they attacked. And they died. The Commander had given the excuse that they had not expected such resistance. Nor had they taken the time to see that the child was not hiding, but feeing. The truth was that the Infinites had proven themselves weak. Unfit to survive. And the Commander had done the same with his excuses. Where they saw only a vampire filth, Lord Gog saw potential. He saw strength. The chil-vampire was a unique creature, somehow able to do what no other of her kind had done before. She could tap the Infernal magic. She was young and raw, but he had taken her into his house. He had shown her the rites and tirutals and now she stood before him as a Horseman of the Horde.

He smiled to her as he approached, taking note of her new doll. Gog wondered if anyone ever thought about how she acuired those "toys" of hers. He gentle caressed her cheek when he met her, "Tell me, my dear, what is happening in the Empire?"

[Evangeline Annunziata]

Forever in his debt, forever fawning on him until the day she threw him off his throne- Evangeline would be the perfect subject. In the eyes of the vampire child he was a father to her, not in the bloodline sense, but in the sense that he had given her a new life to call her own. Like most children in a close family, she would eventually take over the family business. This was where people were wrong, where they faltered, Evangeline was entirely content with her position and didn't want the responsibility of running the entire empire although she would never admit it to the High Lord before her. As he welcomed her, she inclined her pale chin and smiled, “My Lord.” She announced softly.

As he spoke to her she smiled a beautiful, shining smile, her fangs hidden as they were retracted for the moment. In the light she did look like a pale, young human, the only thing giving her away were those bloody eyes. As his mind strayed away to the past, as did hers though she also envisioned the kill of the night before. Looking down at the raven haired doll she gazed upon the vial full of blood with a glint in her eye. Both Rosie and the girl she was found feeding on that fateful night were so similar, one seemed linked to the other. Since she had been saved from insanity and scavenging like an animal on the street, as she looked back up to the lord Gog she smiled brightly once more.

As his hand patted her cheek she nuzzled it against his hand, eyes closed before opening them once more. The Empire, of course. “We have captured a Host trio, they are in the Pens now and are being subjected to questioning. We have patrol groups out and some of the puppy packs are watching our borders.” She used her own little crowned term for the werewolves whom she hated so much. Clutching the raven haired doll to her chest she looked up at Gog and smiled her charming smile. “Is there something you wish of me my lord?”

[Gog of Magog]

"Puppies," Gog smiled at his little Angel of Death. He was pleased. Indeed, he was always pleased with her. From before the child had even been presented him, he was pleased. The child.... no, she was a killer. A perfect creature flawed only others' misconceptions of her. When he first laid eyes on her he did not see a child. Lord Gog saw Evangeline for what she was. Strong. Fit to survive. The killer of his Infinites as this underestimated what they faced in that house. But Lord Gog of Magog saw it and was please.

Despite his references to her appearance, Lord Gog has never seen her as a child. Evangeline's appearance means nothing to him. It is her desire to grow, to survive, and to spill the blood of the weak. He might even goes as far as to say that she was the incarnation of his edict of survival of the fittest. And she has served him faithfully.

"There is always something I wish of you, my Angel," Gog replied as she nuzzled into his hand. With his free hand, Lord Gog cut a thin line crimson across the wrist of the hand that held her perfect face. It was an act no one outside of these two knew had ever transpired. Lord Gog watch her eyes as his blood begin to seep slowly out. He watch and waited for their red color to darken with the thirst.

[Evangeline Annunziata]

She was so cute, so childish and yet such a monster. The innocent facade was something she saw both as a gift and a curse for it aided in both deceiving and terribly frightening those who she wished to 'play' with, though after being in the body of a child after nearly a century- well it was lonely, for what grown man would look at her and feel lust? Who in his right mind would look at the young creature and want her? She did not have the body to match her aged mind and that was something she would always miss out on, something that she would yearn for until the end of her existence. As he re-voiced her term for the dogs, she nodded happily with the same charming smile on her lips, “Puppies.” She agreed. Gog knew more so then anyone else of her distaste for the furry mongrels, she didn't like them in the slightest and when she could she liked to kill off their young offspring when the males had their way with the women, in hopes of new pack members.

She may not have killed a Horseman to gain the position, though the litres upon litres of blood spilled as the small being made her way to the top was far more than the few which would be shed should she have killed her Horseman. She was no different than the rest of them, she just went about gaining her title a little bit differently.

She had fed on the full blood of young Rosie the night before, though as a vampire she could feed whenever there was blood presented- more likely to go into a blood frenzy if she hadn't fed in a few days, even worse if it were over a week. These set rules of reaction went out the window when presented with the blood of someone holding so much raw power, her Lord Master who offered her blood on rare occurrences. Eyes went directly to the blood which seeped around the blade, the glint of the red liquid in the flickering oil lamp lighting made her react so strongly that her eyes went from bright cherry to a dark maroon which quite matched the blood which dripped from his skin. In seconds all of the blood she'd filled herself with was nothing, she was starved once again and the slightest tremble shook her frame as she tightly gripped the doll to her chest to hold herself back from lunging at the High Lord. Although she wanted to look up to his eyes, the small female couldn't rip her eyes from the blood which was now being wasted upon the floor. “Please ...” Her voice was meek, pleading and lusting- she needed it.

[Gog of Magog]

Control. Power. Lust. Lord Gog had long ago proved that he alone was worthy to wield such weapons. That no creature alive or dead had more claim to his throne than he. As Evangeline's eyes grew darker, hungrier, and as she begged him for the taste of his potent blood, Lord Gog had once more cemented his claim. How could no one desire her? How could one not look upon her and want nothing more than to taste her fruits and lay her down with them? While the Host would claim that such carnal desires to a creature that looked as young as she was a Sin beyond redemption, Lord Gog knew the hearts of men. He knew the sickness of their corruption. He had given it to them.

What would the Horde become if Evangeline were to rise up one night? The High Lord smiled. For he knew. He alone had unlocked the secrets of the Horde's origins. He alone had learned of the dominion that the cinites once held over the Horde. And despite that knowledge, or perhaps because of it, Gog had brought the child-vampire, the woman of lust trapped in the body of innocence, into the Horde. Had named her Horseman. For even if Evangeline did not know it yet, it was her birthright. He plea to suck once more on his life blood excited Lord Gog. He could feel the sign of his darkness, the tree etched into his skin beneath his robes swell as she craved his blood. Its branches stretch along his body in excruciating pain. Pain and pleasure.

His eyes were flooded with the blackness of his soul and Lord Gog's free hand cradled Evangeline's head from behind, drawing his face to his blood. [glow=white,2,900]"Drink, my Angel. Drink deep."[/glow]

[Evangeline Annunziata]

Now for the vampire child, no thought of past, present or future would graze her mind for her focus was entirely locked on the pale wrist which was being held before her. The blood of her Lord was something that couldn't be described in any simple words, it was rich and the cells within it seemed to throb with dark power the last time she'd drank from him she hadn't needed to feed for two weeks and her eyes retained the light, bright colour without fading. Not only that, but her mind was far more focused and she could hold her tormenting illusions for far longer, she even brainstormed over a dozen new ways to torture and abuse without killing her playmates. The downside to this rich, dark blood was it's slight addiction, and the fact that if she stayed in sight of him for too long she was liable to attack him- something she'd done the first time she'd smelled his freshly offered blood. His powers were great though and he used them to hold her back.

The dark flickering light only seemed to illuminate the dark which stained his wrist, she felt it deep inside the excitement and pull toward him. She would do anything for the blood he was offering, and yet he gave it freely now, trusting that she would continue to carry out her work for the Empire. As an addict she would, of course she would, and she'd continue as well – or possibly better – than before in the hopes of being called into Gog's study for a score.

As his hand reached for the back of her head, bringing her lips closer to the blood already readily flowing- well, it didn't take much more then that. Lips pressed against hiss skin as greedily sucked on the slice down his flesh. His life essence sliding down her throat and giving her new strength from the moment it touched her taste buds. It was both sweet like sugar, and potent like the taste of alcohol which was a strange mix though when put together it was enough to drive the vampire child over the edge. Fangs slipping out they brushed his skin though did not dig into his flesh- not yet at least, as they grazed his pale wrist her eyes closed and a hand reached out to further steady his arm as she continued to feast on him.

[Gog of Magog]

The sensation of having her suck the blood through the wound on his wrist was nearly overwhelming for the high Lord. But something was missing. She had not yet used her fangs. That mix of pain and pleasure was a part of the seduction. Holding her close to him as she held firm his arm to her mouth, Lord Gog of Magog and Evangeline were, for that moment, one. He new his Angel would do whatever he asked for a chance at even one more drop of his potent blood.

The High Lord's hand stroked the back of her head, running his hand along the nap of her neck. His dark energy within swelled in an orgy of internal violence as more and more of him was drank by the vampire horseman he had chosen to favor. Evangeline had already consumed much of his dark essence, nearly binding herself to him as an addict is bound to her drug. At these times even Lord Gog would forget the true reasons why he was feeding her. The power of the moment was to intoxicating.

His hand cupped the back of her neck, his long hands gripping around her neck as Lord Gog pulled her off of his wrist. "Enough, beautiful.... for now."