Elder
ToC
Elder: A vampire who has experienced at least three or more centuries of unlife.[1]
The choices and sacrifices they have made in order to survive so long instills a degree of amorality and slow caution; it is not unusual for elders to design plans that take decades or centuries before coming to fruition. Such beings are often cold, if not monstrous, and focused completely on their own interests and well-being, though a rare few struggle to maintain their human sentiments.
elder: A vampire who has survived for over 150 years; also a term of respect. This is the tiger story. This is the tale based on ideas and shadowy influence. It is lonely at the top, and the apex predator can afford a little malaise, a little reflection, belly bloated with slaughter. There is enough room and time for turning thoughts inward, and that is a very dangerous place to look. From neonate to ancilla, you have collected a gallery of transcendental horrors. It is only now that you get to tour it. In the All Night Society, you perch your bulk atop all others. You are a walking conspiracy, spreading influence over a domain, or even a region. You let your voice drift down to the ancillae. You barely notice the neonates. It is hard to identify them as individuals. There is your hungry self, and there are others. What more distinction need be made? Humanity is a half-forgotten dream. Elders are the unmarked grave of many. The names on the tombstones dotting your shriveled soul are worn nearly smooth. You are no longer just a vampire, you’ve evolved into something alien and inscrutable. You are the pupa for something even more unknowable. All you need to do is survive the long chrysalis, and you might get to spread your terrible wings.
elder: A vampire who has survived for over 150 years; also a term of respect. This is the tiger story. This is the tale based on ideas and shadowy influence. It is lonely at the top, and the apex predator can afford a little malaise, a little reflection, belly bloated with slaughter. There is enough room and time for turning thoughts inward, and that is a very dangerous place to look. From neonate to ancilla, you have collected a gallery of transcendental horrors. It is only now that you get to tour it. In the All Night Society, you perch your bulk atop all others. You are a walking conspiracy, spreading influence over a domain, or even a region. You let your voice drift down to the ancillae. You barely notice the neonates. It is hard to identify them as individuals. There is your hungry self, and there are others. What more distinction need be made? Humanity is a half-forgotten dream. Elders are the unmarked grave of many. The names on the tombstones dotting your shriveled soul are worn nearly smooth. You are no longer just a vampire, you’ve evolved into something alien and inscrutable. You are the pupa for something even more unknowable. All you need to do is survive the long chrysalis, and you might get to spread your terrible wings.
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