User:Wannabe rockstar
From Create Your Own Story
O hai. I'm writing a story called Darklands. You can write it too! Yay!
ROUGH NOTES ON LAURA DE ANGELIS FOR DARKLANDS - DON'T EDIT
Born in a rat-infested hovel in Fiume, in the small hours of a rainy Sunday morning in 1380. After the deaths of her parents and older sister, she became the last direct male-line descendant of the great Roman Emperor Justinian I, who in this fictional story fathered an illegitimate son in the city during the reconquest of Italy (he and the Empress Theodora never produced a legitimate heir). She was raised on the streets by her older sister, barely getting by, relying on charity and odd jobs to survive. When she was 7 and her sister 13, one snowy Christmas Eve, she and her sister prayed that they might be taken to a castle to live as princesses. Later that night, a man (an angel of the Lord or a witch possessed by a shapeshifting demon - not sure yet, probs the latter) with his face hidden approached the starving, frostbitten children and only said that if they followed him, their lives would be changed forever. They followed.
He fed the girls bread and hot wine, dressed them in warm blankets and led them out of the city, through a blizzard to a beautiful hidden castle (in the Gothic style) on a wooded hillside, miles from the city. The swirling snow blinded them, and their escort vanished. Moments later a figure rode out to meet them and brought them into the fortress. He explained that the lady of the castle was barren, and she and her lord husband wished to adopt two girls from the city. In reality, the once-pious and noble lord and lady so desperately craved trueborn children that they had sought the help of the evil Templars. The Templars promised that by a ritual requiring the consumption of the blood of a unicorn and a royal maiden (two of God's most beloved creatures), Satan would repair the lady's womb. For their part, the Templars knew of an old prophecy which spoke of a descendant of Justinian who would one day complete the Emperor's mission to rid Italy of the plague of heresy once and for all, and wished to destroy his remaining heirs before they grew powerful. The girls were led to the top of a tower, into a chamber that had been converted into a small, torchlit chapel, with tall stained-glass windows at the far wall, though there were many symbols they didn't recognize on the windows, walls and floor and they couldn't see a cross. The lord and lady were waiting, white-faced and nervous, and greeted the girls. The lady of the castle explained that they only wished to ask them a few questions. She asked them where they were from, and their parents' names, then asked if they were left anything. Marina lied in response to the last question, but upon being pressed reluctantly pulled out the silver circlet inlaid with amethyst that Justinian had left the mother of his bastard (a Fiuman prostitute) nearly 900 years earlier. The lord nodded to the man who brought the girls in - he brought in a beautiful, gleaming white unicorn. While they were petting it, the lord croaked out something in Latin the girls couldn't understand.
13 men in red hooded robes emerged from the shadows and surrounded the girls and the unicorn. The lady quietly told the girls that she was sorry. The lord ordered the girls to stand in the middle of a pentagram painted on the floor; frightened, they obeyed. The robed figures began chanting ominously in Latin. Although the blizzard was still blowing fiercely, a bolt of lightning cracked across the window as one of the figures pulled out a long, gleaming knife and drove it through the throat of the unicorn. Marina shrieked in horror, while Laura was too stunned to react. The killer filled a chalice with silver unicorn blood. The lady of the castle drank the blood, then fell to the floor, coughing and retching. The men chanted ever louder and paced in a circle around the girls, closing in tighter around them. Marina pulled her sister to her and tried to shield her with her body. Laura found later that at this point, Marina slipped the silver circlet into her pocket. The figures stopped pacing and pressed their hands as if in prayer, uttering an incantation. The pentagram glowed red. The tallest of the robed figures, wearing a golden pentagram around his neck on a chain, stepped forward and, bellowing an evil curse in an arcane tongue, raised his arms to the heavens. Marina was lifted up into the air, her body arched and stiff. After a few moments, she whimpered softly and went limp, her lifeless body falling to the floor in a heap. A bolt of lightning struck the tower, shattering the stained glass windows. The cultist with the knife advanced on Laura to make the blood sacrifice, but as he lifted the blade to strike, a blinding light appeared between himself and the girl. Shielding his eyes, he and the other cultists stumbled backwards, except for the chief priest, who advanced into the circle and uttered the hex that killed Marina.
At that moment, a deafening clap of thunder rang out, and lightning struck the tower once again, extinguishing all the torches in the chapel. Instead of being suspended in midair, Laura was blasted backwards out of the tower as the cultists stumbled and scattered and the pentagram went black. She fell a hundred feet to the stone-cold earth, and her story would have ended that night, had God not had greater plans for her. An angel breathed life back into her shattered body, as the blizzard abruptly died and gave way to a starry night sky. The angel carried her on horseback to the city, and left her in the care of the good abbot of San Vito Cathedral. Slowly, Laura was nursed back to health by the monks. Unfortunately, the good abbot died shortly before Laura was fully healed and his less charitably inclined successor sent her away the moment she was well enough to leave.
Nine months after the Satanic ceremony in the tower, the lady died giving birth to a hideous stillborn monster.
Since then, Laura has barely eked out a living on the streets, through not entirely honest means. The only clue as to why God decided to save her came on another snowy Christmas Eve, three years ago. She was walking down an alleyway, as drifts blew around her, when she saw a shadowy figure approaching her. She immediately drew her dull dagger and poised to defend herself, but the figure stopped, its face still obscured by the blowing snow. A voice in her head spoke: "There are great plans for you, should you choose to follow the path which is laid out. To find what you seek, you must cross the sea." Since then she has procrastinated, and procrastinated some more. Now your story begins.
