Before the long sleep the vampire children of the world faced
utter oblivion. Fear had driven the
cattle to retaliate under the guise of the holy cross; the sin of greed had
corrupted the delicate balance between hunter and prey. Certain vampires drank too deep, indulged too
greatly, and had risen suspicion amongst the sheep, a great fear that lead to
the trampling of the night tribes under a tidal wave of the man herd. After centuries of safe co-existence the
vampiric race found themselves questioning their very survival. The modern world had too many eyes; the
disease of human expansion had grown, bloated, wild and unkempt, like a garden
in need of hedge clippers. The safety of
shadows was waning; only the dusty sanctuary of the grave and tombs offered some
hope of reprieve, but not for all of night’s creatures. Many vampires were impaled and desecrated
while in deep rest, the long sleep; many bloodlines that have existed since the
dawn of ape sentience wantonly severed in the name of the lamb god.
The long sleep, the return to darkness and dream, a cunning
plan to out stride race memory, to outlive the terrible legends of their own
design, and arise anew upon a world free of Christ-man and people-think; this
was the plan concocted by the elite and purebloods. To retreat below the ground with the dead and
forgotten, find solace in the empire of rot as the extinction clock for mankind
winds down to zero.
While interred in
their punctuated rest the vampire finds itself precariously weak and vulnerable
to grave robbery, bandits, and other ghoulish endeavors. The slow imperceptible drift of sand and rock
can imprison a vampire in his or her tomb for all eternity, the coffin land
locked, like a dead seed, never to bloom.
Precautions were needed to ensure the vampire culture could persist well
after the fingerprint of man was eroded from the land. They would need the grave dogs.
I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE! Stirring under the dark earth of Camp Blackfoot in upstate NY, Cropsy sits in his crypt watching hours upon pain staking hours of wretched B-rated filth and reading tomes of unholy pulp comics, swearing revenge on all those who've wronged him. His brain melts, slowly absolving his sanity. It spills forth on the inter-webs, contaminating the digital frontier like a burrowing parasite. Fans of flicks and funnybooks that defy common sense and moral decency welcome. Bring your own beer.... and body-bags!