As told by Naamah herself:
This is a record of my brood; The vampires of Ravens landing that I have taken under my wing. My Vampiric children that I have adopted, hear about them from their own words. For I haven't the time or the patience... Respectfully yours - Naamah.
As told by Anthony Detonas - Beauty in Death
So, I am too explain myself to you? How gauche. Oh, well, noblesse oblige and all that. I am the son of nobles, French men and women who dedicated themselves to supporting the arts and the people. They gave their all for the masses, and were repaid in blood. It was the Revolution which they supported and the Revolution which killed them. I shall assuredly not make the same mistake.
I was rescued from the guillotine by Ennoia, who had seen my sculptures in the past, and hoped to keep me alive to make more. We fled France and went east, first to Venice and then to Rome. We eventually went our separate ways, and I began to seek a new place to live. The Revolutions which shook Europe and the freedom movements in Italy kept these lands from being any place for a true artiste, so I left and came to America, hoping for a land free from war.
The "Civil" war dashed these hopes. I left that madness and went as far north as I thought I could without entering the lands of the damned British. I thought Ravens Landing would be that, but as you know, it is as much a land of madness as any I have left.
Now I strive to keep some culture alive in this barbaric land. Thanks to Naamah, I no longer have to keep the iconoclastic Elders from destroying everything on my own. Together we fight these dogs, and will continue to do so fuate de mieux.
Oh and there is Zillah as well.(Rolls his eyes)
As told by Zillah Ciminelli - Gawd Zillah
I was born on the street. I suppose my mom must have had a bed, but all I know is that I didn't have one. My first memory is of being lost in the park. A homeless Korean War vet used to take care of me; that's how I grew up. First I begged, then I stole, then I sold my body. That's probably what I would have done for the rest of my life if Jackie had not showed me how much money you could make killing people.
Our first hit took out a junkie who hadn't paid his bills. For just slicing the little sh*t behind a liquor store we made $500. The money I got from hits, added to the money I still made turning tricks, made life easy. I split from my mentor early, and had little problem handling jobs myself. I suppose that's why my job caused me so much trouble.
It should have been no problem; some guy carrying on an affair offered me five grand to waste the lady's house killing her husband. The only stipulation was that I hit the guy in the day so the wife wouldn't be home to witness it. He also insisted I burn the body, some odd wish of the wife. Watching the house were the husband lived did me no good. The first evening, as I got ready to leave the area, I finally saw the husband appear from the backyard, white as a ghost, dressed in black and carrying a shotgun. I had no luck following him.
For the next month I tried to keep up with my pale mark. He never appeared during the day, but at night he would materialize from inside the house or from the back yard and vanish into the night. With the help of an old friend I tried to find out more about my target, looking though the tax, water and electricity records, talking to neighbors, digging through what little trash he put out and even breaking into his empty house when he left. The more I looked, the less I found.
Soon his pallid face filled my dreams and I saw his waxen features everywhere I looked. After a month with nothing to show for it but a fading cash roll and growing nightmares, I made my move. When he left for the night I broke the lock on the window and climbed in. Hiding behind a sofa, one of the few pieces of furniture in the house, I waited with my pistol in hand. An hour before dawn, however, I felt a presence coalescing into human form, dressed in tatters and scarred with wounds that did not bleed. I lifted my silenced .38 to shoot at him, but he knocked it from my hand with ease. I tried to flee but he caught my shirt and pulled me to the ground. His hands caught my wrists like handcuffs and his teeth played around my neck before violently piercing the skin. I felt myself reaching into the heights of ecstasy before I passed out.
For the next week he kept me chained in the basement where he melded with the earth. Each night he would feed off me before going off to fight his enemy. At the end of the week he sank his teeth into me for the final time. I returned to my chains but now the situation was different. For two more nights I fed off him, and then he released me.
I still don't know what happened, but I know I love him with all my heart and soul. He disappeared after that and I never saw him again after that. I would do anything for him, and I don't even know his name or where to find him... That is when Naamah found me. I was in shambles. I had know idea what had happened to me, I was surviving off of alley rats when she saved me. I am eternally grateful... That is for sure. Yeah... I still long for my dark angel however.
(More to come)