17th of the 11th Epoch, 768 of The First Age.
My luck is piss poor even after the Master have turned me and invited me into the Lord’s grace. First all of my kin endlessly look down on me which is the least bad part, thanks to me completing the tasks the Master had given me so far without a hitch I gained their respect and I had the chance to beat the new neonates to bloody pulps. But then fate smiled wickedly once more at me, for the Gods know how many time and the Lord and his council have given me the task to journey to the north that was ravaged by the accursed Dragon and his Horde and try to initiate diplomacy with him and his servants.
Which wouldn’t be that bad all in all, but ever since we subjugated the dwarves who for whatever reason built and outpost in this damned mountain, the mission turned quite unpromising if I am being honest with myself. In the first weeks after we settled down here, I sent a small group led by two of our seven vampiric mages down to pass the letter of the Lord himself to the right hand of the Dragon, the Dark Elven Lich, who then sent back our group dead and raised into undeath, killing even more of us.
We were already in a pretty bad situation thanks to the dwarves putting up a tough front, loosing quite the many spawns. After that I sent back one of two of remaining our mages with a few spawns to maybe have a better luck with the Horde, but that was days ago and they should be back by now, but they were most likely killed by them too.
That left us with four mages and a few hundred spawns, mostly the lesser ones, with only a few greater ones left here with us, that I sent out hunting with a few of the lesser to bolster our forces. I am not a fool and well aware that Dragon has no intention of joining us, if I had to guess, he found something in the deep heart of the mountain, something that keeps him down there, even though before he reveled in destroying the cities down in the south while getting endlessly worshipped by the orcs and human barbarians he collected together.
And then the third and final bad luck we had is that in the past few days my spawns started to not return from their hunt. I first thought that they ran into the minions, the Tainted of the Dragon but now I am sure that it was not his doing. It was something or more likely someone else who now assaults this damned dwarven outpost with a horde of undead, including some of my spawns raised according to the reports we got from the last of the three vampiric mages stationed at the entrance hall with a larger force. And then I felt him die not long after he made the report through the link that binds us together in close proximity to each other.
I order the remaining two to hold the enemy back until I make my preparations, mainly just getting my vambrace and the spear the Master bestowed upon me before we left to this accursed and doomed from the start journey to Mount Dhaugrúz a month or two ago now I think. Tracking time down in the dark caverns of the mountain is completely impossible. I even started to think that they just sent me here to die honestly, but I won’t if I survived until now, I will survive even longer to maybe get my answer to that in some way.
The sound of the battle reaching the dining hall assaults the tall stone doors of the Armory which I made my home, the screams of the undead and the vampire spawns echoes through the quite spacious room as I fasten the vambraces to my arms and grip my clawed hand pale hand around the cold and dark metal shaft of my spear with a double edged blade capable of not just poking but cutting through flesh and armor thanks to the enchantments that have been placed on it by the Master.
I walk to the stone door, placing both my hands on the two sides besides the thin line of the gap between them and then take a deep breath. It has been sometime since I took part in a battle. Ever since I turned into a vampire, most of the tasks given to me were about infiltrating the cities of the Empire down in the south, gathering information and recruiting fellow-minded people to our cause.
My last battle was just before the humans of the north captured me and took me to one of their cities to be sold to the Horde me and my former moon elven kin fought against in our forests. I still remember the screams of that battle, the growls of their war beasts and the orcs. The sound of bone and flesh being sliced by their axes and swords made of bone, wood and metal.
I take one last deep breath or at least imitate it now that I am no longer dependent on the air to live and push the dark stone doors decorated with bronze etchings of dwarven figures and runes on the sides going around the frame. No light comes through the door, thanks to our eyes and the way our God have made us we do not have to rely on the light of the sun and fire to guide us.
Then the sight of a bloody battle enters my vision, my spawns being ripped apart by undead, some still possessing rotten decaying flesh on their bodies, making it easier to identify them as humans, elves, dwarves and various other humanoid races that were once either lived here, or for some foolish reason decided to venture in the dark tunnels running through this massive mountain, meeting their untimely fate in a grizzly manner most likely, while others no longer possess any of their features from before being raised, their skeletons being the only indicator that they were once maybe part of an intelligent race of our world. Then there are a few bestial undead, not ghouls from what I can tell, similarly a mix of both.
But what connects both is the strange pitch blackness that flows within their rotten moving carcasses, a darkness that even our vampiric eyes can’t see through, eating away the fabric of our reality with faint lighter darkness appearing in them mimicking what once their pupils. These are definitely not the servants of the Dragon, unless the Lich evolved or the Dragon found a new maybe more powerful necromancer.
I almost forgot about him, but my loyal beast, a greater spawn no longer having any human like features walks out from the open doorway from behind me, growling in his monstrous deep voice. He was gifted to me as part of my elevation in our ranks by the Lord and The Master, whom never told me what this beast once was, I am not particularly intrigued if I am being honest. I pat its bat like head where its long dark mane runs through the back of its bulky massive body with wings attached to his arms and sides and ears that reach back to its massive shoulders, above them four slightly shorter dark grayish horns protruding beside its mane.
It never really got a name, there is no point in giving it one, when it already possessed one in its past.
Then I quickly give the command to it through our shared blood link tying us to the Master, and it quickly leaps into the air diving towards the horde of undead. It quickly mauls numerous undead to pieces, while I am walking towards the two remaining mages we still have putting up a good fight, casting their spells destroying the bodies of numerous undead rushing up the stairs, held back by their wards and by the lesser spawns blocking the way, fighting back with tooth and claw.
Strangely while I am slowly reaching the edge of the elevated floor, the fear I felt before in the Armory subsides and slowly turns into excitement. I feel my self-confidence breaking free from the chains of doubt and fear of death, even though during my capture I was craving for it, to be reunited with all those I lost, even the ones I abandoned during the last battle.
My grip on the spear’s shaft tightens and I take another look around the room, taking in the hundreds of undead marching in from the other side, my mood lifted to new highs when I spot what I believe to be the necromancer behind these. A faint laugh escapes my mouth, thinking what a fool of a necromancer he is, a fellow moon elf, at least I think a moon elf in tattered robes similar to the ones the youth wore in my village when we went out to scout the forest for the enemy, but it is riddled with holes that extend along the dirty and bloody white fabric like he was dragged alonged a thorny or rocky pathway.
Yet his arms are dark as the night, like the skin of the dark elves, his eyes the typical white silvery color similar to the light of the moon coursing through the dark forests and plains of the night on clear nights, his skin the same pale snow whitish but without the icy bluish silver hue that we possess, making me doubt my previous thought. At least from the distance between us that is all I can see.
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But if I wish to survive this battle, I will have to listen to my gut feeling. I leap into the air with my vampiric strength landing on top of a group of undead composed of dark elven and various bestial undead, the force of my landing mixed with simple aspectless magic sends them flying off the stairs to the sides on top of the other undead that started climbing kicking them back down to the floor.
I stab one of the undead resembling the larger ape-like hobgoblins living in the darkness of the mountain, then with great force dislodge it through its sides effectively cutting it in two. Compared to what I experienced with our necromancers while training, these undead are much more durable, a stronger magic binding them to this world, as I watch the creature upper body crawling towards me, the darkness pouring out from it flowing towards its legs that try to get up without success, while screaming in an unnatural voice even for an undead, its high pitched hobgoblin voice mixed with others piercing my ears and giving me shivers that I have not felt since the day I turned. I manage to end its unnatural second life bound to the will of another, the screaming stops as its decaying small body stops its movement and the darkness dissipates.
Then three more of the accursed undead rush towards me, the same scream escaping their partially destroyed jaws, the result of their gruesome demise, but they never reach me, thanks to one of my blood spells. I feel the tendrils of blood red energies breaking out from my back shaping into chains with a sharp end similar to my spears, quickly extending and in a whirlwind like motion, slice the three undead and a few others that were nearby us, this time sending them to the other world.
Then in the next moment a coldness, a shiver runs through my body, no on my whole being, much stronger than when I heard the scream of the undead hobgoblin. It is like the feeling when the Lord first looked at me, the pathetic me laying powerless in a cold metal cage, surrounded by death all around us, the moment when I truly realized I am not ready to die. And a part of me can tell where this feeling comes from, and just as I decide to turn around I face him.
The elven necromancer I thought to be my kin, but I am no longer sure of that. While his right eye is the same color as the moon elves, his other is more like the dark elves, while his arms are like as I described it, they do possess bestial claws and the outlines of scales on them make me think that he may be just a weird amalgamation made by the Dragon or the Lich if not for two things.
One, his eyes showing intelligence even though his face is motionless, without a hint of emotion in it staring into me and my soul, like beast that cornered its prey after a long hunt, appraising the quality of the prey one last time before it takes the first bite to the last, while at the same time I feel my confidence shrinking down, second by second, like I am under a spell of illusion of his basilisk like eyes.
The second that makes it sure to me that he is not just a minion of them, but something else, a new player so to speak is that I do not feel a speck of power coming from him. I feel idiotic as the realization comes over me, while feeling this sense of dread and hopelessness. My mind is confused, and I close my eyes like a child that does not want to face the monster hiding in the clearing of the dark forest. I feel my confidence returning, a feeling of warmness courses through my body, feeling like a fool once again and I ready myself into a battle stance.
Meanwhile he just stares at me while I am rushing toward him with the blade of my spear ready to taste his flesh and blood. And just as it enters the weird body of his, he dissipates in a bluish light in front of my eyes. I was right, he put me under some illusion spell. That weirdly feels good, but for now I better focus on where he is.
I swiftly turn around, cutting down a few undead rushing towards me then spot him opposite of me. He seems to be not paying attention to me, instead looks solemnly towards the top of the stairs, and I follow where he looks noticing that the two remaining vampiric mages have been killed. A darkness envelopes the ground underneath him, quickly creeping towards the stairs going upwards and I see the dead lesser spawns and mages slowly get up, the darkness entering into all of their orifices.
I am practically now alone and I prepare to strike down the necromancer standing a few feet away from me, in a last effort to survive, or the least to try to take him with myself to the other world. I propel myself with a kick quickly shortening the distance between the two of us, the tip of my spear’s blade enters his back, right at where his heart should be without a problem.
I feel relief for a moment before looking around noticing all the undead stopped in place, not moving an inch, not even trying to help their master or as I just now realize they haven’t even tried to attack me while I was debating for a second before I stroke, even though many of them only stood a few steps away from me in that moment.
Then as I look back at him, I notice the spear directly enters his chest, like him standing with his back to me was just an illusion, but I am sure that it was not. I swear on Tsukuyomi and the Lord’s name that he was not paying any attention to me. Or was he? I am brought back to reality at the sound of him grabbing onto the metal shaft of the spear, slowly pulling himself closer to me. A primal unexplainable fear comes over me, a fear that people feel when the inevitable is coming towards them I assume, no I am one hundred percent sure of that
“STOP!” I scream from the top of my lungs, gripping onto the spear ever so strongly for some reason. I know the reason, it is him. And the voices. I hear the amalgamation of a hundred voices all whispering into my head “Join us!” and “True freedom awaits!”
They all get louder and louder, until he grabs onto my head with his two abnormal hands, the claws on them cutting into my skin and say “Do not be afraid” in his deep voice mixed in with the hundred different voices, this time instead of piercing my ears, it feels good like how my mother used to caress my long snow whitish hair and ears, a cold warmness filling me as I look at him, seeing the long shaft and the blade of the spear starting to meld together into him.
Then not long after the world surrounding us seems to end, the same pitch black darkness surrounding us that filled my moving carcasses, then in the next moment his figure dissipates, becoming one with the surrounding void. I start screaming silently as a pain assaults my being making me completely numb, noticing faint outlines of darkness within the darkness with small maws approaching me while others already dug into my flesh and soul, feeling eyes upon my memories and knowledge reviewed like a lexicon, then I fight through the pain after the last of the tendrils dug their small maws in me and notice a wound in the void with deep crimson red light slowly opening revealing featureless people for teeth and a tongue made of obsidian bone and shadow mixed into one, my brain or mind recognizes it as a mouth that quickly extends, a crimson dark void within it and the featureless people chanting in unison in languages I can’t understand. I slowly notice as I get closer and closer to the mouth, the tendrils digging into me lifting me up in the nothingness bringing me closer to the mouth. The last thing I see before the darkness surrounds me once again is a shadowy figure standing at the end of the tongue with his arms open to hug me, but before he could the darkness swallows me up, for a moment I think I went blind from the pain, but then I wake up floating in the dark waters of an ocean, the pain no more surrounded by hundred if not thousands of others around me in various clothes, some weird, some familiar even a naked beast, a basilisk If I recall it correctly. The same tendril that assaulted me attached to the back of their heads, extending down into the dark depths where I notice one coming towards me, entering into my head. While I try to resist, my body won’t move into action, and the panic and anger I feel is replaced with empty calmness as I wake up standing in the dining hall, surrounded by my undead.
Post-Chapter Note:
Vampires Part II
Middle-Class Vampires: As previously was mentioned, Neonates are the lowest rank amongst the intelligent, non-bestial vampires. In a sense vampires are similar to dragons, the older a vampire gets, or to be more precise the longer it can survive, the difference is that they have to feed on their victims, while dragons can substitute it with leyline points instead of devouring each other or to quote one “Lower lifeforms”.
Middle-Class Vampires tend to hunt in groups with their lesser and greater spawns for the simple reason of their preferred prey being experienced mages and warriors, even the less experienced ones. The reason for those two is simply because blood contains parts of our being, and vampires gain their powers and techniques from draining, that can make a Middle-Class vampire that is close to stepping into the High-Class a national threat that needs at least a medium sized group of highly experienced heroes and or adventurers to be put down. Besides gaining powers from blood, it also boosts their durability. While a Lower Middle-Class vampire can be killed with a stake in the heart or with a silver weapon, one that is close to be a High-Class Vampire is impervious to an extent to these even if they are only partially fed.
While feeding makes them stronger, they can also gain powers if they have been turned by a High-Class Vampire, who can grant them powers and Gifts through their shared Blood Link, something that is similar to the necrotic link between a Necromancer and their undead in a sense, in the case of vampires it is less dominating though. And it can even boost Lower-Class Vampires to be a threat that needs an experienced group. But it is rare, the number of High-Class Vampires have dwindled ever since the Ur-Reaper has been banished beyond the Veil.