Tara

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“Every Necromancer worth his salt (avoidance) has an origin story. A raison d’etre, without it you become lost, unfocused and unbalanced. An unbalanced necromancer is a dangerous necromancer – the actions of one can influence the reputation of many.it is for this reason that you should determine and define your origin, you are the master of your own destiny, and only you can own your story.”
Baldassare, W.T: How to raise friends and influence people. Chapter 1, p33

I read this book on the boat and it got me thinking of my story.

My mum was a human, she fell in love with a vampire. She wanted to convert, to become just like him, but she fell pregnant with me so she had to delay the transition as they were not sure if they would terminate me by turning her. Once I was born and weaned they turned their eyes to converting her again, they wanted to do it slowly and gradually so that my mum could retain enough humanity or memory of humanity to raise me, I was to be turned on my 17th birthday. However the process involves blood transfusions which ended up making my mum queasy. She told my father that he was never to feed from her again, and that I would never be getting turned. She always resented the fact that I looked half dead already and that the sun burned my skin. The doctor thought I was dead when I was born, he claimed I “smelled of the devil himself” although my mum would only tell me that when she had had too much wine, so I’m not sure if that was true.

When my father found out that he could not sire my mother he turned to other beautiful women who wished to be turned. I don’t think he romantically cheated on her, but when my mum saw the beauty of these women she banished him from the house. Due to my condition I was home schooled and the only places I went to were the market (during day time) or the chapel. Naturally my father could not attend these places. This was before rings of darkness and the such were so readily available as vampires stayed more hidden and didn’t want to approach human wizards for aid.

I wished that my parents hadn’t told me of the plans for my 17th birthday but as my dad didn’t “leave” until I was 7, I remembered the promise clearly.

When I turned 17 I went off the rails. If people asked me my surname I’d claim “bloodsucker” because you were supposed to take your fathers name, but my mum would only refer to him as “that bloodsucking so-and-so” although her language was not so polite as that. This angered my mum as she had wished me to take “churchson” to prove to the world that I was not unholy. This was becoming harder for her to prove as I spent my youth obsessed with undeath. She thought I was evil when I would capture and dissect insects, but I was just interested in the science of it all.

About a month after my 17th birthday I think something in me snapped and I wanted to be closer to my father. I would disappear for weeks at a time. I found this place, it was a bit like a brothel for vampires, there wasn’t any dirty “brothel” stuff going on, or at least not much – it was blood. All of these humans got a rush from us drinking them and would go along and we’d just have a party. It was a difficult balance to make sure that you don’t harm the person, and sometimes people did hurt, but the leaders would just bribe, or hypnotise, the policeman and all of the statements blamed bats in the area.

After a while (2 years) I decided that I was maybe getting a bit addicted, so I chose to stop going. It helps that somebody burned the place down. I decided to try and go cold turkey and then the “offer” of service came up just 2 weeks later.

Tara

Fall From Grace (Cameron's Sunday afternoon game) sciuto