Name pronounciation:      Embrosali: Em-bro-sah-lie        Dartenel:   Dar-ten-el     Kaman:  Come-on

             It's the same every night, when she walks into the club. Same persons, same amount of unpredictable chaos. She hides her aura, like she always does, as she always has for the last few thousand years. Everyone's talking, drinking, dancing, fighting, or just being alone, as they tend to be. Except tonight.

            The dark red round tables seem to glow in the flashing of the strobe lights more than usual. The music is booming, the bass heavy, as it always is and yet, it seems to be slightly muffled. The red glass counter is glossier, as if none had spilled a drink. The other patrons are subdued, talking amongst themselves quietly, or else not talking at all and just sipping their irregular drinks. They all know and wait.

            She walks to her favorite table, one in the farthest corner from the door, the darkest corner. There she would watch all of them go about their antics. There she watches the dancing. It always amazes her how quickly the centuries go by and how the world changes. There she sits as the night stalkers go about their endless lives. But tonight, something's different.

            The dancers aren't as free as they usually are. Soon, one by one, they stop dancing and just go their separate ways. She knows something's different.

             She closes her eyes and seems to rest peacefully. But she is aware of all things. A male approaches her, his aura very strong, stronger then she appears to be. She doesn't open her eyes, even when he sits down. His aura is almost unfamiliar to her.

            A few moments pass, as they sit in silence and the rest of the club watches, before he speaks. His voice is perfect, deep. "Embrosali." Her eyes spring open. How does he know her true name? She goes by Embrosa and has for a very long time. She stares at the man before her, her eyes glinting with annoyance. And she remembers.

            He is handsome. Hair a black deeper than the night, eyes burning like embers on a fire, and his skin pale yet dark, as if it were tan once but had gathered a translucent hue. He smiles at her, showing his perfect white teeth, his canines sharp. "I see I am right." He leans forward, eyes sparkling with anger. "My lady, thou hast trespassed upon my land," he whispered in the era he was born to. "And I shall not let thou go unpunished for killing my food upon it." With that he stood, unleashing his true aura.

            The night stalkers strength is based upon age and their original power. If born, as a human, with natural strength, physical and mental, it doubles when turned. The older they get, the more experience and the more power. Auras are what the vampires see that tells them of their opponent's power. It can be dampened as they age, hidden from prying eyes who wish to kill. When they are killed, the killer vampire gains their strength. If they can.

            Embrosali watched the male stand and show his true self. His power is great, having been born some five thousand years before, judging by his speech as well as strength. She knew this by the fact that she was there for his turning. He stood there, glowering, waiting to attack. Never is a vampire to trespass upon known and marked territory without retribution. She did not. She had gotten bored and so trespassed intentionally, knowing that a night stalker would cure her ill.

            Unfortunately, she unknowingly picked one who knew her from years past, though he did not know her truly. He sees her as weaker than him, thinking she's younger, especially with her aura hidden. Being his age and power he believes he can see through everyone's trick of hiding, if they are hidden, and he can. Mostly.

            "Come, Embrosali, fight me or succumb to me." Many snicker at her, most reading her, as if she really is weak. How they enjoy the suffering of the meek.

            Her eyes flash with irritation. She is neither weak nor tempted to fight. And she's sick of hiding. But, she'll try without anyway. "Dartenel. I did not recognize you at first." Her voice purred, her romanian accent helping to create the effect. "I shant succumb to you nor shall I fight you. You do not want to fight me." Those who had laughed, and the rest, went quiet when she spoke. They knew he would not take this well. Though, to them, she seemed foolish, something still scared them. She had called him by his human name. Not with him, should you dare this.

            "It's Kaman." He snapped, his fiery eyes dangerous.

            Everyone shivered, even the more powerful vampires, at her laugh. "Dartenel fits you better. My gods name does not suit you." Shock registered on his face as only he understood this. Kaman is the name of a long dead god of Death. Of a culture dead before the Egyptians came upon the Earth. Only those centuries old know of it and none worship those gods. Save those who lived then.

            He attacked, swiping the heavy table out of the way with one hand, the other going for her throat. He never touched her.

            She had stood and had a hand clasped around his neck, stopping him in mid lunge. Though he is taller than she, his feet were off the ground. She had lifted her arm as well, her grip like steel, her face unkind. She has had enough. Of him and of hiding.

            As he watched, and as others watch, shock, fear, and dread spread upon their features. Embroasli became true. All illusions and masks went away as all watched. The black hair that crowned her head became crimson blood red. When she was turned, that is the color it became. Her red eyes, the color all night stalkers have, became the blackest abyss any could have known. Her aura is unleashed and it fills the room, deadly and old. Older than any could really perceive. She was not the first vampire but she owned the night. It belongs to her, as do all vampires alive today. She is not their queen or anything such as that. Merely, she is the eldest living vampire and knows the night and everything about it. Thus, it belongs to her.

            Dartenel shivered under that icy touch as she was herself again. He closed his eyes. Her laugh made him shiver even more. "Now you are afraid as you should be. But do not worry," she drops him to the ground, where his legs crumble. "I shant fight you or hurt you." She bent to one knee, putting her face inches from his. "Dartenel, you are one of the oldest after me. May Kaman protect you, even though you stole his name. If he does not, you will surely parish before you see me again. I hope that won't be so." She stood, looking at the night stalkers, her colorless eyes catching each of their fire ones in turn. Some recoiled, some looked away, others held their own for a few seconds, others hid. She smiled kindly. "Don't be afraid of me. I won't kill my brother's children." With that she walked from the establishment, moving with such grace only she could possess.

            Outside, she returned her illusions, becoming hidden again. She smiled widely. She knew each of those vampires by name and thus, will no longer have to hide around any of them. She walked into the night, her playful laughter reaching the club patrons ears. Some shudder, some smile.

            It was the same every night, same club, came chaos. Except tonight. Now, it will never be the same. Dartenel feels more human. The night stalkers are more aware, and scared. Embrosali is home and very much alive.

I'm tired of always being wrong
I'm tired of always being strong
I'm sick of always being stupid
I'm sick of always being cupid
For once I'd like to be happy
For once I'd like to be sappy
Instead I'm crying everyday
Instead I'm dying away
I'm tired of always dying inside
I'm tired of being pushed aside
There's nothing I can be
There's nothing but me