Imetri DeMorte



Imetri Pietro Francezi, born to Antonio and Julietta, 1923, came into a world where money was scarce, and the Kingdom of Italy suffering a post-war depression. He was an only child out of necessity, his father barely having made enough to keep them fed and clothed in his work at road construction. The Francezi family was struggling, and Imetri was reminded of it by his growling stomach each day. As a youth, he began to resent his parents, and in turn, started to neglect his academic duties.

Imetri learned to respect two things: money and power. They were the only things to admire in the streets of Agrigento, when you either had to be a nobleman or a mafiosi to enjoy a life of wealth and luxury. It was the dream of every italian mind, to furnish himself with the finer things. How low he stood, a rat compared to these great lions, these kings. A mali estremi, estremi rimedi. His desperate times had now called for desperate measures. By the age of eight, he vowed to himself to do whatever was necessary to ensure he would never go hungry, to grow thick and fat if he could. If only life was as simple as wishing something.

At thirteen, he began to recruit his classmates into a band of pickpockets and thieves. They became the envy of their peers, skipping class to frequent the cinema and restaurants to fill their bellies. Their work involved a lot of running, from lawmen and victims alike, and when his comrades were caught, they would quit their crimes altogether. Probably from the scolding of the parents who had to pay for such acts. But Imetri hadn't been like them, he'd never been caught. The one time he was, however, was more blessing than curse. At sixteen, Imetri dared to target the first mafiosi he would have in his career thus far. One of the man's entourage took him by the arm before he could take his first few fleeting steps away, and he was forced to turn towards the lot.

The man was Luigi Castellano, a fat capodecina to the local family, and he had a knack for recruiting young talent. The mafiosi would take the boy off the street, and employ him in his ranks. Around the same time, his father had been drafted into World War 2, joining the Axis forces and leaving him and his mother behind. With plenty of free time, Imetri put his petty crime days behind him, and became Luigi's protege. He was a soldier to the family, and did plenty of their dirty work, learning to kill and that gunning a man down was acceptable if it meant getting paid. His work was enough to support himself and his mother both, though the woman never brought herself to ask where this income had come from. She was simply grateful for the food on the table. Other than that, Imetri hadn't bothered to spend a penny more on her behalf.

Winning the approval of Luigi, he was introduced to the bosses and underbosses of the family as one of his most loyal and devoted. He would often brag how he had found this boy as a pickpocket and made him into a fierce killer. It wasn't long before Imetri became a part of Luigi's personal entourage, accompanying the man to many of his meetings and learning the players of the game all the while.

In 1943, the two approached a great mansion in a volkswagen KdF-877 Kommandeurwagen, the newest of the year, with Imetri behind the wheel. The young man's jaw dropped at the mere sight of the place, an abode known as Le Manse DeMorte. They were here to meet the master, a man outside of the family but holding the same respect any boss had. Passing the guard at the gate, Luigi instructed him to remain quiet and allow him to do all of the talking. They were here by request, and when this man requested one of their presences, it always meant he had some news. The family never did know how this individual obtained the information he did, or how it was always spot on, but they valued it and was in main one of the reasons they had risen in power so swiftly. Rising up a set of external steps to the door, they entered the dimly lit place. Scanning the area, Imetri grew slightly nervous at the fact that all the curtains had been drawn, blocking out any sight of the outside world.. or blocking the goings of the house from those out there! Sensing his uneasiness, Luigi advised him to remain calm, as they waited.

Descending from the floor above, it was the first time Imetri had seen this man, and it was an impression that would remain with him for the greater part of his unholy long life. Dressed in fine velvet robes, he carried himself with grace down those steps, bearing a beauty that before Imetri wouldn't have even been able to fathom an imagination about. And this in a man, at that! Feral red eyes seemed to burn from the man's deep sunken sockets, focused first on Imetri for a while before turning to Luigi. "Castellano. How good of you to come. There's much to discuss.. in private." The words were in english, and fell deaf to Imetri, but his capodecina seemed to understand and responded in the same tongue. Then turning to the young man, he told him to wait there, and proceeded into the next room with the man.

Alone to his own devices, Imetri looked around the area he was in. The lobby was very nicely decorated, surely the man had caretakers, for he imagined that one of this fellow's status wouldn't bother with tidying up. One day he hoped to have a similar place, as he made his way over to an armchair and slouched back onto it. Those red eyes remained in his memory, and he swore he could feel them, as if they peered into his mind even now. Imetri was unable to shake the feeling of being watched the entire time, though he seemed totally lonesome with his own thoughts. An hour ticked by, and he noticed an elderly woman come into the room, paying him no notice as she drew back the curtains to reveal a darkening sky devoid of the sun's shining rays. She continued the task for all the windows before disappearing around the corner.

Yet another hour passed before Luigi emerged from a joining room, holding a hankerchief in hand and dabbing at the droplets of sweat on his brow. Imetri stood up, but his capodecina bid him to sit back down, informing him that he would be staying here overnight. The man of the house was apparently very interested in him, though why he could not say. And as simple as that, he left, and Imetri was alone again, and now very nervous. He didn't know who this great man was, but if he had some sort of funny business in mind, surely he wouldn't go down without a fight. Reaching into his jacket, his tense hand fell on the handle of his colt revolver. 'Ah, you still cling to a mundane weapon such as that.. rest assured, those bullets would do you no good here..' Those red eyes returned in his mind, burning through his brain as that uneasy feeling of being watched came yet again. The words were foreign, but the meaning was more than clear. Imetri had enough, turning to leave the place, but the master of the mansion had inexplicably been there to bar his exit. As soon as he drew his gun, it was swatted away from his grasp and he was in the other's the following moment. A sting at his neck, a bite?, soon had his strength being drained away rapidly. It hurt for a split second, before the pain quickly subsided into a recumbent bliss that had him on his back. Vision tunneling, the young man whimpered softly before falling into death.

And rising again in undeath! Gasping awake, he sat up in a bed that was not his own and stripped of his fine suit and cloths. The old caretaker from before was at his bedside, though he didn't have the chance to voice a complaint before the voice in his head returned, one he was certain belonged to the man who attacked him. 'You've risen.. good. Remain there with Adalina, and wait for me.' He felt he had no choice but to comply. Lacking in weapon and strength, he hardly believed he could even overpower the elderly hag.

The following months he learned a great deal about his new 'father'. His name was Denoth DeMorte, a vampire, who's abilities astounded the fledgling when first presented. His greatest prowess was in his telepathy, the secret of his information gathering, which knew no bounds. He was not only advisor to the Mafia here in Sicily, but a great deal of other sects around the world. The Cheka in Russia, the MI6 in Great Britain, and even the United States Army paid well for the knowledge that Denoth possessed and accessed. Imetri learned of the other clans, and a great deal of his own; the Mekhet. Those abilities would be passed down onto him, and he would stay there at Le Manse DeMorte alongside his vampric father.

Though he was never warned of his own growing ambitions. 1973 marked the year of his rise as the new master. In the cellar of the great mansion, Denoth was thrown into a deep well. For all his telepathy, Imetri dared not think against the man, but his actions had been otherwise that night. He called down to his father that death did not suit him. Instead, he would return the day when the vampire had calmed. With women tossed down likewise, he would bargain with his tutor to access that information he was so privy to, and continue the role as advisor. In this way he profitted, though money was in no short supply at Le Manse DeMorte. He came to be known as Imetri DeMorte, discarding the human surname that had been given to him.

Imetri grew lazy, no longer practicing his own vampric powers, but relying on those of his sire. He knew the fine luxuries of life he had always strived for. Though only the blood satisfied his true desires. However, he was ignorant. Tenacity is the great strength of the vampire, but word had gotten out of a man who was too aged to look as he did. On the night of December 14th, 2011, Le Manse DeMorte came under attack by the hunters of his kind. Security systems gave Imetri prior warning, though he was furious as he descended the mansion steps into the cellar. Cursing and swearing at Denoth for not having given him time to prepare, the vampire only held a single assault rifle in his defense and knew his end was fast-approaching. Already he could hear the sound of gunfire in the levels above. Then the vampire in the well's venomous laugh filled his head. 'Ah, but you've grown weak, my son, if you could not have seen this for yourself.. A new beginning, you've been offered, to truly come into the rights of what it is to be a vampire. I know just the place..' And again his laugh. Fortunately for the still above ground vampire, there was a hidden tunnel there in the cellar to take him to safety. Though he knew he had no reason to trust Denoth, he hardly believed a creature in the ground could do him any harm. So he took his advice, and fled the country by evening, the jewelry on his person enough to head overseas and into the states. What laid before him in Georgia, he didn't know. But with the promise from his sire that this would be the best place for a new beginning, he had no other options.

Sheet:Imetri DeMorte