Marcus moved from the arena slouching.  e knew it was only a
simulation.  A mix of tecnological lightshow, and magical energy.
But the pain was real.  And so too was the frenzy of combat.
  Thats why Marcus hated losing his head like that.  Weather he
lost it because he couldnt fight, or with magical spells that he
had picked up in his 5 millenia or so on the planet.
  Marcus undressed and stepped into the shower.  As he washed he
let his mind wander back to ta time when things were simpler.
Before the ricfts came, when Marcus was only 70 or 80 years young.
  Vampires were revered and feared.  They simply lived out their
lives in the shadows.  Content with using humans only for food or
the occational slave.  But humans, and their ignorance, called 
apon unknown forces, weather they be of darkness, or light, drove 
the leaders, including Marcus, who's father, Grel, was a Methsula 
of great renoun, into the dark abyss, santioned off from magical 
energy, leaving them weak and trapped for millenia.  Marcus sighed 
at the thoughts of that dank place, where they were left to starve 
their days into oblivion.  The thoughts of the great release however
welled up pride in him.  The day that great streak of blue green
energy ripped through the crypt bringing enough magical energy 
that they just about forgot their hunger for blood and energised
them with a great life not felt for thousands of years.  They
knew not where the lay lines come from, nor did they care. The
survivours were very quick to depart the crypt and never return.