critique my first half please

[bearded]

   He was of the earth.  He was unmoving, unfeeling, and uncaring.  Insensiate to all things, he had no identity, did not know he existed on any level.  This is what it means to be dead. 
   Then, the earth moved.  Still, no sense of self, but a feeling of movement in the stone, a shifting, crumbling of the dirt.  A scratching at the stone of his tomb.  A thrusting stab into the deep darkness, and a shifting in the currents of his awareness, and in the stale air of his corporeal being.  A cool wind caressed his face, and he was aware he had a face.  There was a lassitude in his limbs, and he was aware he had appendages.  There was a knifelike stabbing movement in his chest.  He had a heart?
   As the dust creeped around his body, the dust that was his body, so his mind began to move.  And his first thought, the first and all prevailing thought of any creature that fills the vicarious definition of life, was a curiousity, a basic instinctive wonder.
   'I...I am...I exist...What/Who am I?' 
   With the ideation of identity came a knowledge of self.  A name, to define one's self.  'I am the Dragon.'  This created imagery, scaled beasts, fire, and an inner burning.  But this was not himself.  This was an appelation granted.  'I am the Impaler.  I am the Dracul, impaled.'
   There were eyes, to be opened, and a mind, to think.  These were all the things he had.
   There was movement in the earth.  And a movement in the air.  A movement in his mind.  Something was coming.
   The eyes were open, but there was no light to see.  No sound, no smell, no taste on his lips except for the dust of ancient years.  In his mind he could feel the life force approaching.  An ancient life, like himself.  An ancient force, and the Dracul was vulnerable.  The dust in his veins kept him from greeting his visitor properly.  But he had his mind, and his will.  It would look into his eyes and see his will and all would be as it should.  None could look into his eyes and refute him.  The Dracul's will was all.  Yet, it was an ancient force that approached.  A strange life approached.  Something never experienced before, a Weird.
   It came slow.  He had time to think, time to remember.  His life of depredations.  He was Vlad, and his will was such that even death did not stop him.  The blood he had taken in life became the humours that fed his predations beyond life.  His will was all.  He was the eternal predator, and all of creation was his prey.
   There was a spark in the darkness.  Through the layers of dirt and stone, still he sensed it.  A feeling of heat, a smell...of fire.  Always they came at him with the fire.  His mind roiled with the distaste of it.  The flickering destruction of the perfection of his darkness.  Anathemea to the darkness of his pit and of his soul.  Bring the fire, and he would destroy the fire, destroy the light and bring the darkness of death to their very souls.  'Come!  Come and look into my eyes.  See the darkness within.  Let the night envelope you and smother the fire of life within you.'
   Crack!  The sound of stone breaking filled his ears.  This being was powerful, able to break through into his fortress.  It was old, and terrible, and it brought fire.  Vlad had never known fear, neither in his waking life, nor in his nightmare unlife.  Yet, there was a quiver in his mind.  A mental shiver that silenced his thoughts.  Were there beings older than himself?  Elder beings that have finally found him in his innocent rest?  Why were they bothering with him?  In his burial chambers, deep in the earth, he was simply resting, without guile, nor intent, nor motive.  Let this elder god come!  Let it awake the wrath of the eternal!  No matter the (power) there would be a reckoning!
   Boom!  The doors sealed by holy men thundered open!
   "I  Am  Here!"  Vlad vainly closed his eyelids against the heat and light and power of the fire in the voice that spoke.  His body would not respond to his desperate desire to simply move, to move any part of him, to even turn his head away from this monster that has invaded his domain.  He was paralyzed, and helpless.  But, he was Vlad.  He was the Impaler.  He was the Dragon.  And he would dare to look upon this creature.  Let it see the evil in his soul, and see if it did not quail before him as all others have.  It was to be a duel, a contest of wills.  Dracula would prevail!
   The vampire opened his eyes into the horrible brightness.  He did not know fear.  He refused fear.  But he had never seen a wonder of this nature before.  What was this angel or demon that spoke with flames?  The fires reflected over the entire redness of it's monstrously large body, and reflected in the deep eyes, eyes that were older and wiser.  Vlad felt a reverence, reminescnent of his younger living days as a holy man when he was a crusader for God.  Perhaps this Wonder was his fate.  It had come to finally free him from the chains of his undeath.  He welcomed it.
   There was a shimmer, and the undead remembered what it looked like when one cried tears.  The Elder was changing, the nascent fire dimming as it shriveled into the form of man.  Only until he looked into the eyes did Tepes see the fire and power that was still there in spite of the less imposing shape.

[BlueBard]

I've got to say, I'm impressed.

The subject matter is not exactly to my tastes, but it is still a compelling read.  You've got some great imagery in there and you really create a sense of what it is like for the vampire as he stirs in his tomb.

Let's see the rest.

[Previsionary]

I agree with B(lue)B(ard), but I would be aware of the amount of redundancy you put into the story especially if it's within the same paragraph or only sentences apart. If you must do it, try to space it out better, so it doesn't seem like the information is being pounded into the reader's head.

[mrmajic]

It's very interesting.  The only problem I would point out is that the setting is very unclear.  Perhaps that was your intention - to keep it all shifting and ambiguous?