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The House "Opening coments"

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OK now that apologies are out of the way let me give you all an idea of what this game is about. The house is a game about vampires, not shiny frilly silly boys and their hyperventilating girlfriend, no the blood lusting demons that have no choice but feed the endless hunger. The players who I will introduce in the next installment... ( not a ploy to keep you reading Honest) all made human beings that were fro one reason or another desperate for another life. Whether it is the rock star with burns allover his body, or the assassin who just could not take another life. they all needed a way out and the house sought them out. The following is my house origin, it explains how it came to life in the bogs near New Orleans.

The moon slides across the Atlantic Ocean. The water is liquid silver being pulled along by a giant glowing magnet. A dark tide growing with each mile. The silver disk in the heavens begins to sweep along the clouds in its tide of darkness. Soon the rolling waves are met by a rolling sky with a single bar of silver light. The storm is born. That storm builds into a hurricane so powerful it will set the world on its edge.
In its path a city sits waiting patiently. This city is old and strong. The people who live in it do not fear the storm. All the news reports tell the people that the storm is coming and they should seek shelter or evacuate the city. Salt of the earth as they are they stay and face the storm and all it has to offer. Memories of other storms tell the people they will be expected to give their pint of blood and pound of flesh. So the people settle in and take the good with the bad as they always have, but this storm is different somehow it is malicious hatful, almost evil. Fueled by sin and pain fed by the blood and filth that fill the city streets.
The storm crests the horizon, and the people of the city see their folly. Some say they saw a face in the storm, others say they saw the reaper; still others say they could see the four horseman riding in to take their souls. Under the dark sky the souls of the city scatter under the shadow of death. Huddling in corners of basements and bathrooms the people prey to all the lords of creation for salvation. Their prayers fall on deaf ears for the rain cuts their faith down and the wind carries it away. No one can hear their prayers except the dark waters filling their lungs.
Just because the darkness hears your pleads doesn’t mean that it wont answer. Remember that this is a world of darkness that we live in, and the darkness has just as much right to be your salvation as any idyllic god. The darkness answers with a dead man lying peacefully in a cast iron coffin. Reaching out the storm strikes the earth reaching deep with its lightning. Deep enough to crack the Iron prison, spilling the blood of the earth into the berried church bell. Inside the man is not really dead, he is undead, and as the blood reaches his lips his eyes open and he drinks of the blood of the city he once called home.
Lying with the vampire is an ancient home; more an entity now for it has grown in the passing centuries. It fed like a tumor of the pestilence that men have been feeding the earth for the last hundred years. Waste of all manners of the modern world gave it new power. All it needed was a way out of the earth so it could return the blessings of man. The coming storm was the perfect opportunity.
Digging hands of lightning claw at the earth and illuminate an Iron cross slowly being washed clean by the raging storm. The deluge of rain taking away the thick dark earth that holds the building in its eternal grasp. The following thunder shakes the earth sending echoes of the storms wrath deep into the earth.
Bubbling up from the depths of muck and slime comes at first just the cross on the top of the tower, the crown of the dark earth’s demonic child. The storm surges and the earth contracts trying to crush the building in its grasp, but that only serves to push the house out of its earthen prison. It slides free of the earth with each wave, with each serge another foot lurches out of the muck and mud. Thunder marks the cries of the mother each time she pushes out the filth inside her.
The macabre twisted building slides slowly up to meet the storm the tower then the study, then the bulk of the building the shoulders of a beast sliding out of mother earths protective womb. Lightning strikes back into the sky into the storm, hands reaching for something to hold some way to pull it free. The earth holds tight trying to crush the building in the weight of the wet earth. Hold as she might the levy breaks, and with it comes the waters of the sea crashing against the earth. A huge dark wave comes and drowns the house washing away the remainder of the earthen prison.
The storm finally passes leaving a deep wet pool filling the house with dark stinking fluids, the blood of the earth, and men. The feast is set.
As the house gulps the pool down it begins to draw on the darkness of the local swamp. Calling like a siren to the most depraved, vilest monsters in the world of darkness around it.
The light of day finally comes and with its warmth comes a healing. Scabs of swamp muck dry and fall off to reveal fresh paint and gothic marble construction. With each passing day the sun burns away the evidence of the storm, and with each silver dawn the things of the night come crawling out to meet their new master.

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