Kindred: James Toulor Part 1

The year of our lord, 1592; Rennet France, a small child is born prematurely to a mother, who, in her rush to have her child in the room she was born in, ruptures and suffers a drawn out and painful death narrowly escaping the death of her infant child as well. James was the first child of Maria and Jean Toulor and Jean both hated and loved his child at the same time.

On birthdays, James got nothing but it was not so for Christmas or any other holiday. His family was Roman Catholic by tradition and though his father attended significant church events, he scorned God in secret for taking his wife till his death in 1617 by his own son's side. Jean never let his son, James, forget that he was the cause of his mother's death but Jean also never could bring himself to not see his wife in his son's face. During his youth, James often learned to survive in the wild for days on end when his father was home because of his father's severe alcoholism and disdain.

His home became the wolf den and his family, the wolves. When he was 12, he became entrapped by 6 wolves who ripped and tore his clothes and skin but as one went for the killing bite, an alpha female tore the heads from all the attacking wolves. Later, in his memoirs, James would come to describe her as massive; "a great beast who dwarfed the petulance and vitriol of humanity's disdain itself. Six foot seven at the shoulder and roughly a ton due to its muscle and mass. In all my years of vicious murder, mayhem and psychological torture, I could never inflict the pain of her jaws... well... at least not in a single session." The wolf mother spoke to him upon saving him, "foolish child! My kin are dead due to your wandering." He could not explain it but he had heard and understood her words. When he spoke back, she was amazed, "I don't wander, I hunt and kill for this is all I know."

She found him foolish for much of his time with her and even loathed his love of the slaughter. Despite her great size, she was kind and full of humility for lower life forms, which she considered James to be from. She did not hate humans but rather took pity on them and considered them lower for their base instincts which guided them.
It was because of her philosophy that James took an interest in psychology and began to dissect the human Psyche in bizarre, unusual and sometimes even cruel experimentation. "Humanity is nature's bane," he would say, "their sheer existence seems nothing short of a mistake. Therefore it is the duty of those of us outside their Psyche to interpret their society and find its purpose... or if there even is one..."

On his 25th birthday, James and his father went hunting together. Jean Toulor was a practical man and felt that his son's love for hunting and survivalist instinct in nature would make James a great soldier. Little did he know the things that went on under his own roof and that when James went "hunting" he wasn't always hunting in nature. Jean also had no idea the massive she-wolf that lived in the private forest of the Toulor family.
There was a third surprise that neither of the two could have expected that day and that was: Marau, the she-wolf, was the, "bitch of the forest," Jean Toulor had dreamed of killing ever since half of his first flock of deer had disappeared years before. She had also hated him equally for his crusade to rid her kind from the forest. When the two had seen each other, the reaction was explosive.

Jean ran a javelin through her heart a she lunged at him with the intent to kill. With his reaction time limited and his choices unclear and contested in front of him, James killed the only creature he had ever loved. With a great swing of his Claymore, he cut her head clear from her body which in turn, used the last bit of life it had to fly forward and kill Jean Toulor in one bite.

The castle was very quiet after that day and James blamed himself for both of their deaths but more than that, James's disdain of humanity only grew because he blamed them for the conflict arising in the first place. He begged and pleaded night after night for either God to make him any creature but human or take him from the earth altogether.

He took stupid risks: fights at bars with murderers, hand-to-hand combat with bucks, impaling thieves and scoundrels to intimidate their bosses but he grew strong and survived through it all as they threw money at him for his success. His "victories" of eliminating crime and prowess made him lavished upon like a prince, though he was only a Duke.  Until one night shortly after his 26th birthday in February.

She came in like a mist, cloudy to his vision and covered him in bite marks all over his body. His guards could not understand the sudden illness that struck their master. He no longer left the room, he handled all decisions in his room with the curtains drawn.  "You're not the master I once served" said his chief guard one night in 1620.  James tore his throat from his body for his insubordination.  After this night, many of his royal guard left his service.  His people paid him for his protection and the safety of his lands and at night he hunted the evil doers so his taxes would continue to come in.  It was in 1621, as he thrashed about in his room after being burned by sunlight that day that his sire appeared.

"You are my creation, James..." She said.  He ran at her with sword drawn but he only passed right through her as she changed to mist with each strike he laid to her form.  "It is of no use.  I am much older than you and much stronger but in time, you will become as I am."

"I will never become as you are, demon," said James.

"Wrong again, my silly child," said Elora.

Elora was the vampire mother many of her kind did not have.  She bred him in hatred and wrath and taught him to seize a Machiavellian rule in all he did. He ran companies and businesses that stretched the world around and all the time, he found no pleasure or joy greater than the viciousness that he would inflict upon mankind for the "wrong" they had wrought.  She loved him for his drive and motivation but she hated him for his lust for brutal justice without reason.  He knew, deep down, that half of his victims did not deserve their punishments but he could not help that he had died a man scorned and so too, did he live an undead life, scorned.

It was for this reason that in his third year of life, she vanished without a trace.  A sire who breeds in hatred, exists for breeding the perfect kindred, however, without the quick show of flawlessness, a kindred knows quicker than a human, the road ahead.  Especially one that was as old as the one that made James...