My awareness snapped into place. One moment I was a disembodied soul in the hand of a goddess, next I became painfully aware of how extremely uncomfortable I was laying on the ground. I spent the next few seconds untangling my limbs from the horrible knot of human anatomy I found myself in. Seemed like I was flexible. "Ass," I said, thinking about the goddess as I lay face down on the ground, flat this time.

After riding my own little misery train in the sea of mental chaos for a while I decided enough was enough. Slowly I pushed myself off the ground, with a grunt I picked a sharp rock out of my boob. Seemed like I was a girl then. But my attention was drawn to the rivulet of blood slipping down my chest. The coppery tang unmistakable and far stronger than expected. That drop held a great power that resonated within my core. I could do something with it, something great, something powerful, but what?

A cold gust of wind against my bare skin drew me from my thoughts. Yet it didn’t bother me the way it should have, I just knew it was a cold wind the same way I knew what I saw through a window. I should find some clothes anyways, wouldn’t do me any good to go around like a stripper who forgot their show had finished six hours ago. I gazed upon the field of poppies around me, felled trees intermittently littering the ground. Whatever happened here wasn’t the most diplomatic of events. The last beams of sunlight clung to the sky behind some distant mountains, whispering threats of doom and gloom even as they retreated. I sighed, finding those clothes was gonna be a real pain in the ass wasn’t it?

I cursed as I my feet dragged me through the forest, why did my humming keep turning into a fucking rickroll!? THIS WAS THE SIXTH TIME DAMNIT! I sighed as I took another look around, the earth here broken apart, jutted out as chaotically as my thought process. I knew nothing of this world, I knew nothing of my new body. But I knew just where to start learning. The new sixth sense I had somehow managed to ignore up till now grabbed my attention like it wanted to wring out my neck like a dishrag. It sung to me in a Song without sound, of power flowing in and around me. Of the great battle against an ancient magus that had taken place not long ago in these places, spells and armies clashing in tides of blood. I could feel the battle taking place around me; The clashing of swords, the salvos of arrows and the pounding of boots.

My heart accelerated as the drums of war reverberated through me. Blood rushed through my veins as it had rushed over the ground. The growling wolves warned not to approach as the archmagus tore the ground apart with his magic. Grand spells few could hope to ever wield clashed against entire cohorts of war mages when pain tore me from my reverie. My attention fixed to the present once more, I gazed uncomprehendingly at the wolf clamping down on my arm. Before I realised it I swung my arm, wolf and all, with strength belying my frame and forced it to release with the tearing of my flesh. I grimaced as pain stormed into my mind. Driving me to sprint forwards even as it yelped with a crash against a nearby tree. Before the wolf could get up again I stomped on its head, cracking its skull and ending its Story. The feat of slaying it added to my own Story even as the shock finally cleared from my mind.

I stared at the corpse as I puzzled the series of events back together. I could take more, I realised. I could take more of its Story than just the end, an overwhelming desire to do just that drove me forwards. Before I understood what that meant I felt my fangs sinking into its flesh as I drank upon its lifeblood to slake a deep running thirst I never knew I always had. I felt my power extend through the corpse, rooting through and ravaging its Song and Story. Draining the notes that sung its life, carrying them into me and adding the power it had earned throughout into my own. I let go of the drained out husk, a sack of meat with no significance left. It was thin, I realised. Not quite starving but not far from it, he had lost his pack and struggled to live without them. Now it was over. With a shake of my head I looked at my arm, the missing flesh already replaced with new meat. Even the blood that had stained me had disappeared somehow.

Distantly I realised I should be far more shaken than I was, but all that was overwhelmed by the rush of victory and the satisfaction of my first meal. I caught myself grinning against my will, shocked at how fast and easy it was even as I savoured the taste of victory. I wanted more, I realised. That sweet taste of blood and victory satisfying in a primal way nothing else ever had before. I wanted nothing more in the world than another taste. I sniffed the air in search of prey, the scent of distant blood drawing my attention. I was headed there before my conscious mind caught onto the fact I’d already made my decision.

Time passed in a blur as instinct drove me forwards. One step the same as the next even as the ground sped past me. I couldn’t run this fast before, I realised. I smiled as I felt the power singing in my veins to the beat of my heart. I ran faster and faster as the Song reached a crescendo, adrenaline surging me onwards as I felt like I could run forever. Wind rushed past my skin and branches snapped back behind me. Far too soon I had to stop, the Song in my blood slowed down as I calmed myself to approach at a more sedate, stealthy pace.

I focused my senses, softly stepping through the forest as I followed my nose. I heard sounds in the distance, were those voices? I’d been hunting people? But then- no. I hadn’t actually hurt anyone, just followed the scent of blood. It’d only change my intention, someone had recently bled and that couldn’t be good. Stealth now an afterthought I once more ran through the woods. The voices became clearer and clearer, the words meant nothing to me. But I heard their tone well enough. They spat in rage, insults I didn’t understand flinging back and forth, but the venom was clear.

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I slowed down as the camp came into vision. Six men, unwashed and worn from travel and battle. I read their Story. They’d fought someone mere hours ago. A small merchant cart, travelling alone with a pair of guards. They had little of worth, but the bandits came anyway. It was a slaughter, they were uninterested in mercy. With judgement cast the young naïve merchant lost everything of what little he had, barely escaping with his life. His cart set ablaze in the aftermath to add insult to injury. The forest had gone silent, I realised that I had hissed. No animal or insect dared to move in the presence of the apex.

One of the bandits barked something, I could smell their fear, they were weak. I licked my lips in anticipation even as it dawned on me just how much that made me want to feast. I froze as the nature of my new life finally truly dawned on me. I heard an alarmed yell, one of the bandits pointing at me. I’d been spotted, yet my mind was caught up contemplating how easy it would be to kill them. One of them came stomping over, angrily demanding something I did not understand. A lecherous gaze over my still naked form. I had forgotten about that. How had I forgotten about that? I’d known it was cold yet hadn’t felt it, why? I felt a calloused hand grip my shoulder, the man looked at me like he’d just found a treasure. I could tell, he had plans and no wasn’t an option. It had never been before, not with him.

Next thing I saw his wide open eyes, shocked in silent horror as I felt my clawed hand piercing his diaphragm. The other men were shouting, drawing their weapons as the world became an incoherent blur. I felt my leg cracking under the strain as I rushed forwards, a body crashing against two others, the cracking of my ribs as a spear drove through them and kept driving myself further, spurred on by the pain. An axe almost taking off my arm even as my other tore open a throat and the following rush of satisfaction. Spikes of blood impaling running prey. Tackling another even as I started sucking it dry.

As awareness slowly returned to me I stood in a field of blood and corpses. Basking in my victory as I was savouring the taste of their blood, so much better than the wolf. Then with a shock I jerked away and took in the scene, four corpses and two dying. One was gurgling on his blood as he desperately tried to clamp the wound shut with his hands. The other, the first man, stared at me accusingly as his lungs refused to draw breath. But… no, you would have… it didn't matter. Not to him, he was dying and it was by my hand. Not to me, I'd just killed someone and it had been oh so easy, oh so satisfying. I hated myself for how badly I wanted to do it again.

I don't know how long I stood there, but I watched the light die in his eyes, at some point the gurgling stopped. The blood was unappetising and the stink of rot had set in when I came to my senses. But I came out of my shock eventually. I looked around again at the scene of carnage, birds picking through the remains. I was about to walk away when I realised that they had equipment whereas I had none. I didn't want to take more from them, but on the other hand I'd have to walk around naked. I struggled with the thought for a bit, but ultimately decided the real crime had already been committed, the animals and corpses couldn't make use of it anyways. So I started looting.

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“Well, I guess we're getting a freebie,” Leosen joked with a grimace, looking at the camp of corpses. No-one laughed. “Not quite,” Orun responded, he quickly took in the scene and gave a curt nod. “Let’s get to it then,” without another word he began to pick the ruined camp for clues. Leosen rolled his eyes, but didn't argue. Orun was just like that.

Instead he closed his eyes, taking deep meditative breaths. He was sensitive to the Worldsong and had qualified for divination training. The esoteric field of magic was rare and well paid to those who were strong in it. Sadly Leosen had only the talent to do some basic stuff.

Slowly he felt the notes of his Song creep up on him, he waited until it was crystal clear in his mind. Then and only then did he try to feel beyond, his fragile grip on the Song threatening to slip out of his hands. He listened to what the location told him, most of the notes of the event escaped his grip, catching only a stray note here and there. But he got enough.

A wave of exhaustion fell over him as he became aware of the world at large once more. "What did you find?" Came Ifred's brusque voice, not even looking in Leo's direction. He took a deep breath to steady himself. "A creature of the night. A moment of vulnerability and a loss of control leading into a rain of blood," a grunt of acknowledgement was the only response.

Ifred pointed towards an end of the little clearing. "Something approached from that direction, big guy over there approached it. He was surprised and hit two others from the marks on the ground. Lanky here shot that arrow over there, pierced it from the blood. But it's clearly been pushed out from the inside. Either way, he was next," pointing at the naked footprints in the dirt far too deep to be without extra force, yet too focused to be from carrying something heavy. "Axe man was rushing in and got a good hit but you see the result. The pair from before tried to run but got hit with a bunch of darts. Magic probably, from how it didn't clean anything else. Spear was next, pierced it but it didn't give a fuck and tore his head off anyways. The equipment was picked through, but I think it's animals that got the rations," Orun finished his spiel.

Leo grimaced, he didn't need the other man to spell out the writing on the wall. "Vampire."