Life to Death

Slowly, Vincent rotated on his chair…fingers drumming against the desk as his mind focused fourth upon the laptop, the words that where upon the illuminated page as he began to read his journal aloud.
On the night of June 21st 2004, I, one Vincent WarR, have decided to chronicle my life, unlife and my exploits for both the Gangrel and the Sabbat, a smile came across the face of Vincent, as his fingers drifted over to the mouse wheel - scrolling it down as he continued fourth on reading the passages.
I came into this world, Victor WarR, born in Russian upon the 1736, to Alexandru and Dominika WarR. In a village, 30miles from what now is St. Petersburg. I was born the Eldest of four brothers and two sisters, and by the age of 10 I had joined the army. Russia, holding fear that it would go to war with the other European superpowers. With only three months army service I was drafted into the Navy due to a shortage of men. My first expedition was with Vitus Bering, yes, I was one of the unfortunate 10,000men to take part in The Second Kamchatka Expedition. His head shook from side to side, as fingers drifted back over to the keyboard and he began to type once more.
A long sigh of relief rolled fourth from Vincent’s lips as he reread the last passage:
My first expedition was with Vitus Bering, yes, I was one of the unfortunate 10,000men to take part in The Second Kamchatka Expedition. I served upon the St. Peter and on July the 16th I can remember waking to the call of ‘Land ahoy’ as we spotted what is now known as the St. Elias mountain range.
I remember the storm, exceptionally well, I remember fearing for my life as ice rained down from the sky, shredding the sheets of the sails like shrapnel does to mankind. It was a fearful day when we landed on one of the Commander Islands. We thought it was the coast of Kamchatka. Our foolish mistake cost us half the crew, the Captain himself, my friends, people who I had grown up with, who I had spent my teenage years with, shaping myself - I watched freeze to death on the baron wasteland that is Alaska. Vincent shook his head, images of finding the bodies of his friends covered in frost, red, bleeding at times, and the frozen blood - filling his mind once more.
The hardest thing of all was burying Captain Bering, he was a great man - not like the myth you see portrayed over television screens and in books, where the Captain would be harsh, mistreating, he taught all of the crew well. And that day was a sad one for many. His mind skimming over the next passage as slowly he highlighted text and erased it from the log - the next part of the story skipping ahead almost 6months.
In the summer of 1942 we finally returned home landing on Kamchatka. It was a strange feeling, seeing all the families reunited with there loved ones. It felt strange when my family never came for me. That was the last day I was in the Russian Navy, the last day I ever served in any sort of forces. At the age of 16 I had gone through more perils and tribulations then any would know. But, what made it worse - was returning to the village of his birth, the home he grew up in destroyed, looted.
He was told the army, his own troops, did it? The people he once served with had revolted near the area, destroying most of the village. His mother raped as with his sisters, then like many others of the village they where killed.
I gathered my stuff that evening, what was left in my room, just simple clothes that no longer fitted me. A few personal trinkets and a golden watch, the only thing of value my father ever had was left under his mattress. Almost as if they had intended for me to find it.
And with that, I left for St. Petersburg. I left my village and travelled north, through the bleak wilderness towards my new destination, little did I know this would be my first encounter with inhumane creatures. Ones of pure wicked and evil intent.
Just a little past midnight I heard a loud ‘howl’ bellow fourth from a near tree line. Wolves! Was my first thought but I was mistaken, it was something else. Something I know no as werewolves. This may sound stupid to any kindred who haven’t met one. But the day you do…run…run like hell and pray you do not fall fourth into his jaws. Because, I have seen Elders destroyed in one swipe of their claws. Their teeth can tare the strongest of kindred in two. Heed my words and do not fall into the trap of standing and fighting.
The Path of Orion is a fool’s choice.
Slowly I slipped over through the tree line - my instincts telling me to run…like I knew in the back of my head I should fear them…but I pushed my body further over the edge until my eyes fell on two murky figures, shadows where all I could see before…before…I guess my eyes fell upon them. The memory is a black, the next thing I remember was running. Feet pounding off of the fresh snow, the blanket of ice on the land as my mind slowly became my own once more. How long had I been running? I fell fourth, hands pushed on the cold of the snow as my ligaments locked up…frostbite setting in…but I used all of my strength to overcome it. Within two more days I was in St. Petersburg.
Vincent’s attention turned off of the current event as they looked outside. Who would of ever thought he would arrive in St. Petersburg? Or even be around over 200years later. A slight shrug as he looked out the window - the clear nights sky letting moonlight shine fourth and praise the figure of Natasha, his childer as she moved around the outskirts of his grounds. His eyes watching her for a long moment as he gulped, swallowing air before turning back to the laptop.
I arrived in the Northern quarter of the City and proceeded to seek shelter. He had little money, over six years in the Navy and a gold watch were all he owned…the watch pawned to a merchant banker - travelling to London, England. The money he earned from that little escapade used to seek housing for several nights. Food, clothing all re-bought as his uneducated self tried to seek work in the City.
He found menial work, cleaning, factory labour, nothing he was used to and after a year of living on nothing - he finally spent his savings. Buying a small farmhouse in a village North of St. Petersburg. He moved there as a simple farmer - trying to earn his keep by helping others.
The next few years went steadily, nothing special happened for Vincent, nothing revolutionary or new. He hired more labour, men to help on his farm and in the spring of his 19th year he married. It was to say, not the most joyous of occasions…a marriage of connivance… was the truth. She was the Eldest daughter of another local farmer who had no male spawn. Vincent would inherit her land as his own and thus further his ideals - his goals of the time.
What foolish youth I once was? To think I could of ever progressed by scheming my way through women. A wise man would of known she was doing it for the same reasons…a wiser man would of never tried to become a farmer.
The next few years where a happy marriage - the farm grew more prosperous, as more people where hired. Money came fourth, enough to feed both Vincent and Evelina. As she fell pregnant in the winter of 1959. Her father dying just two months before.