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Because Oral Tradition is no longer a favorable way of learning from others, I have compiled my life’s and unlife’s story. I, Aemilius Torgath, was born into a poor Irish family out-side of Dublin on a cold October night in 1395. Yes, October 7, 1395, a day few remember was a miserable day indeed...
Fifteen long years passed when my father decided that the Torgath’s would have an educated man to brag about. So, with a Latin name I was shipped to Britain with roughly the equivalent of $40.00. I worked at any odd jobs I could find. During my four years of advanced schooling, I also worked as a clerk in a banking office as well as an assistant to several professors. This was difficult for me because I had Astronomy and Biology courses to juggle, too.
After collage, I met a young women who hailed from Dublin, not twenty miles from my own farm,. Her name was Isabel Dornach. We met off and on for three months before I asked her father for her hand in marriage. We were wed on July 14, 1414. It was that night I made a horrible decision, one I pay for to this day.
Both my wife and I lay asleep when her scream awoke me. A tall well-built man was carrying her to the window. By the time I reached the window he had jumped of my two-story house and was making his way to a carriage. I grabbed my own horse and raced after his impossibly fast mounts. Two hours later I reached his castle. He had made it there in half the time I had and my horse was near death with exhaustion. I banged on the door and found it locked. So I contented myself with climbing to a window and entering. As I entered I was hit about the head with a wooden stick. I closed my eyes and knew no more.
When I awoke the second time that night, I found a horrible sight before my eyes. My Isabel was hung seven meters above the floor with invisible bonds. I found a latter and discovered the unseen restraints might have been steel for all the good pulling did me. I climbed back down and turned to be faced with the man, now with tousled, wheat-coloured hair. He raised his hands and I howled with pain as my insides were pulled from my body.
As it turns out it was only some, roughly two pints, blood that flew across the room and absorbed into his all to pale skin. I passed out. When I had fully healed from most of my injuries approximately two weeks later, my beloved has walking about again. Little did I know her only sustenance was the blood of the living.
Later that day I attempted to assault my captors. Only to find myself fettered to a wall 10 meters from the floor by those invisible hands. To teach me a lesson in humility He killed my Isabel before my very eyes. Twice was I damned that night by Him. First to watch her die and second to hear this dreadful monologue that I’ll tell you now.
"Man, unworthy are thy of House and clan Tremere. I shall curse you with my un-humanly nature and give thy eternal life." I struggled against him but his mage-slave held me fast. A cage was opened and I was thrown in. I turned to stare into the glowing red eyes of a two and a half-meter tall monstrosity, a monstrosity with fangs. This nigh I was embraced into clan Gangrel- the only mercy I had that night.
I had many years to think about this night and I decided that had my sire been in a less bestial form I would know more. I was educated in Gangrel Lore and History, but little concerning other Kindred. I was tortured with garlic, because it was purely psychological I retain this discomfort today. I was also forced to consume beef as well as blood each night. Today I can still stomach some foods. Because Sire was so bestial he told me he could communicate with Garou and to seek them out, for they might help me in a dire circumstance. So he told me beware silver and I am uneasy around it occasionally.
After several years I was released, but not befor the proverbial third curse. The Tremere, with his mage-slave, diluted my blood to pull me away from Cain. With rough calculations the thought that the eleventh generation would be the time of the Thin-blood. Thank God they were wrong. So I was embraced an eighth generation Vampire and now am eleventh.
For 605 years I have roamed from city to city looking for my Tremere captor. Searching for him so I may diablorize him.
Using all methods available to me I have searched. I came to West Virginia because it is a fabled stronghold for Gangrel, or at least it was. I will elicit help. And hunt my captor. Sires said seek Garou, so I do. Sire said, "My Aemilius, watch back, run always with friends, stay alive, avenge us!" So my quest continues...