Master Vampire Kirain Yith

Adventurer Level: N/A

Drow Master Vampire - Balushenian

I watched daemons and brood spar with each other from the balcony of my new accommodations. Since the thralls are limited to my own combat training, they weren't participating in the training. They were on standby in a nearby building that sheltered them from the weather. Namely, the hells-fire that fell from the cloudless sky on seemingly random occasion.

When we had first arrived, I had wondered why everything seemed to be made of stone or metal. Then I came to the realization that there was absolutely no plant-life. Before I could comment on this oddity, our daemonic hosts rushed us indoors and I received an answer to the questions my observations had raised.

This rain of fire clings to everything it touches and burns for a few minutes, unless it lands upon something flammable, like cloth or flesh. The daemons seemed to instinctively know when this was about to happen, and were trying their best to keep the brood safe from it while they trained. A couple of them had been lost, though.

I watched several daemons knock their brood partners to the ground and scoffed, turning back into my quarters. My faith in this training program had never wavered, mostly because I had no faith to begin with. Brood are brutish and rely on brute strength to overpower their foes. Teaching them tactics is a fool's errand. But, we have little else to do until the daemons are ready for the invasion.

I turned my attention to one of the paintings in my room. It was a macabre scene of several figures being impaled upon stakes, framed in solid gold. Such items were all over this over-sized castle, lining every hall and room that I had come across thus far.

Perhaps palace would be a better description for this colossal construction. Even though its halls and rooms were filled with finery, its massive size made it feel eerily empty. This creepy feeling had caused me to confine myself to my room, only occasionally receiving visits from Thalomus and other daemons to check on me and provide me with sustenance.

The blood I'd been given was adequate, but had a certain taste to it that I recognized. The brackish after-taste denoted that its point of origin was that of a malnourished prisoner. Every time I tasted it, I remembered Esmira and hoped that Lofin managed to kill her before the orcs took the Night Kingdom.

I'd been able to confirm the fate of the rest of my family, but news of my youngest sister had proved impossible to come by. If anyone in our family deserved the fate of death, it would be Esmira and myself. It would be an absolute tragedy if we both managed to be the only survivors.

"Master General Yith?" a familiar voice called from my door. "May I enter?"

"Yes," I said, annoyed by the use of my old title.

The door opened and Thalomus came in, dressed in a suit of full-plate that looked decorative to the untrained eye. Blackened steel, jagged curves, and inlays of precious metals carefully masked the brutal functionality of the armor. I could tell instinctively that it was enchanted, and protection was an afterthought in its design. Even if Thalomus was unarmed, his gauntlets could rip and tear flesh with little to no effort.

"How are you settling in, Master General?" the daemon asked.

"I am well. Busying myself with observing our... Mutual training," I gestured to the windowed balcony.

"Glad to hear it. I come bearing news," Thalomus smiled wickedly. "Our leader has returned from the inner hells. He sends for you."

I felt a prickle of indignity at the thought of being sent for, as well as the way that Thalomus emphasized the word 'our'. It served as a subtle reminder that I had agreed to this subservience. A glimmer of their true colors? Perhaps, but there isn't anything that can be done about it now that we're in their maw.

They would have no motive to strike this bargain if we didn't somehow fit into their upcoming plans, but it was difficult to shake the feeling that all was not as it seemed. They had been polite, even courteous, but something about them was off. I would be foolish to blindly trust them, and decided to endeavor to find some form of leverage to ensure they keep their end of the bargain.

"Understood. Lead the way," I smiled and gestured toward the door.

Thalomus nodded, turned, and held the door open for me. I exited the room and began to follow him down the hall, fighting the uncanny feeling that the massive structure brought upon me. Full yet also empty, absolutely maddening.

"How goes our mutual training?" the daemon asked, perhaps sensing my unease.

"Progress is being made, though the daemons seem to be more interested in fun than actually teaching the brood," I replied. "Though I can hardly blame them. The brood are simple in mind, and one with an interest in fighting can hardly be faulted for taking enjoyment from a fast-healing foe."

"That is true. Oh, it would be marvelous if I could participate," Thalomus chuckled. "It's been quite some time since I have had a good fight."

"Why can't you?"

"I'm too strong. Neither your brood nor our infantry could provide a challenge for me, and fighting me would be... Significantly detrimental to them. Unfortunately, there would be no point to it other than my own amusement."

"Significantly detrimental? What do you mean?"

"From my understanding, your brood are not quite as adept at regeneration as yourself or your thralls. So if they were to fight against me, they would die quite quickly," Thalomus sighed. "Our daemons would suffer a similar fate."

"You told me that your kind is able to reform when you're killed-"

"By your kind. Daemons and beings like daemons take a sort of energy, or power, if you'd rather, from those we kill. This includes other daemons. When I defeat another daemon, they are weakened to the point of near uselessness. They must then defeat other daemons in the inner hells to regain their strength, and such a task is fraught with difficulties."

"But you are strengthened, aren't you?"

"Yes, but I'm at an awkward level of strength at the moment. Our infantry are too weak to supply me with any measurable gain. It would be like tossing a bucket of water into the ocean. Yet, I'm not yet strong enough to fight those above me, and my peers are few and far between."

"I'm afraid I don't understand. Those daemons are stronger than my brood, which aren't exactly weak. How can you be that much stronger than them and still need our aid?"

"That's a good question," the daemon laughed. "If you must know, we don't normally exist in fleshy vessels. We are beings beyond flesh, and have to use our powers to craft and manipulate bodies for ourselves. Yet flesh... Flesh has its limits. Muscles can only flex so hard before they shatter or tear themselves from the bones they're attached to. Bones can only become so sturdy before they're too heavy for the muscles to lift. And that's not even taking into account internal and external organs. Most of us do without the internal ones entirely, supplying our muscles and bones with the energy that they require from our ethereal power. But that also has its pros and cons."

"Oh?"

"Yes. When one lacks internal organs, there is less to heal and most wounds can be ignored for longer before the flesh will fail. However, it takes a great deal more power to keep the body functional. Conversely, internal organs would allow one to use one's power sparingly, but they are vulnerable to the types of injury that can almost instantly destroy one's body. Plus, the organs must be maintained with food and drink," he explained, pausing in front of a massive door. "Here we are. Please stay close behind me and allow me the honor of introducing you."

I nodded, and he shouted a command in a tongue I couldn't understand. The door creaked open, and we walked through into the largest room that I'd ever seen. The ceiling rose so far that it resembled a starless sky, and the other end of the room seemed to be a mile away. It took me a moment to figure out that it was a throne-room, and with my keen vision I could barely make out a throne with a figure sitting upon it at the far end.

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Following Thalomus' instructions, I stayed close behind him as we made the trek along the velvet carpet that bisected the room. The throne was atop a pedestal of steps, and several daemons were gathered near it. The figure upon the throne slowly came into focus, and I noticed that the daemon that had accompanied Thalomus was standing to his right. Hirgarus the Decimator, if memory served.

Both daemons had shown their true selves when we arrived in the hells. The shift in appearance had startled Count Hesseth and some of the other vampires, which nearly allowed them to slip from my control. I had made a mental note to practice strengthening my control during stressful situations to prevent a recurrence of that phenomenon.

It suddenly occurred to me that I had not heard Hirgarus speak. Thalomus had done all of the talking while the larger daemon remained silent and stoic throughout all our interactions. The unemotive daemon's face remained neutral as he studied our approach.

Once we reached the throne, Thalomus halted and stiffened with his arms at his sides. The daemon adorning the throne dismissed two crows and locked eyes with me with the most predatory stare I'd ever witnessed. Even the darkest depths of my soul could never even hope to be as eager to cause harm as this being.

The only thing more obvious than his malice was his elegance. The armor he wore was similar to that worn by Thalomus, but with augmented inlays of platinum, and rings of platinum and gold subtly adorned his magnificent horns. I found myself in awe as Thalomus introduced me with various titles of dubious grandiosity. My guide then stiffly turned until he was perpendicular to the throne and myself.

"Master General Kirain Yith, Master Vampire of the Forsaken Realm, etcetera, I present you to Marquess Naberius, Commander of all nineteen legions of the Extra-Planer Vanguard, Ruler of-"

"That's quite enough," Naberius gestured dismissively. "We're down to eight legions, anyway. The rest have yet to reform. I assume that your presence within my not-so-humble castle means that you've accepted my offer?"

It took me a moment to snap out of my awe and realize he was speaking to me.

"Y-yes," I stammered. "Though I-"

"You have your doubts regarding whether or not we will live up to our end of the bargain," he smiled warmly, his eyes maintaining their predatory glare. "That is completely understandable. We've offered little more than our word, and the word of a daemon is often worth little more than the air consumed uttering it."

"That is my understanding, yes," I replied, feeling emboldened by his acknowledgment of the issue.

"Then you should be commended for your bravery in accepting such a risk. I will ensure that you will find it worthwhile," the Marquess stood and gestured to those gathered around his throne. "All of you, leave us. I'd speak to our ally alone to dissuade his doubts."

"Sire-" Thalomus' protest was cut short by his leg disappearing.

I watched the daemon with confusion. His leg had been there, then it wasn't. A dark substance flowed from the wound, filling the room with the scent of week old bird eggs. Ichor, not blood. Shock filled me as I realized what had happened, then envy as I wished I could have done the same to my more insubordinate subordinates.

"I'll not repeat myself," Naberius warned.

Daemons began to leave the throne room in haste, some actually running. Hirgarus picked up Thalomus and carried him. Once the other daemons had reached an acceptable distance, Naberius retook his seat.

"You have many questions. I'll allow you to ask them, but first permit me a bit of selfishness with one of my own," he said, regarding me with a warm expression but ever-hostile eyes. "What is the Night Kingdom worth to you, exactly?"

The question caught me off-guard. The possible motives behind the question made it difficult to focus on finding a way to eloquate my answer. Why would this daemon be asking me about the worth of my reward? Is it not enough that I consider it worthy enough to be my reward in the first place? Is it trying to swindle me into accepting a less generous offer?

Naberius smiled at my hesitation.

"Your inability to answer the question speaks volumes. Yes, I can see that the Night Kingdom means a great deal to you," he said. "So important that you can't even put it into words, just as I thought. We've long had eyes and ears on the mortal plane, but some would doubt the information that they bring."

"What information is that?"

"That certain vampires are very driven to restore their kingdom. For a lesser mind, this might seem like a great piece of bait for a trap. However, that would be a trap that could easily bite the hunter. The vampires in question would likely resist any attempts at subjugation, no? Therefor, by granting you the Night Kingdom we eliminate a risk factor against our overall goal."

"The goal of subjugating the mortal plane?"

"Correct. All of the mortal kingdoms for the price of one of them isn't such a bad deal for us, is it?"

I examined the daemon for a moment, trying to pierce the logic of its motive. It seemed like the perfect argument to be rid of my doubts, but something was still nagging at me. It took some time to put my finger on it.

"What's to stop you from backing out of our deal once the lands you are after are subjugated?" I asked.

"Our defensive needs," Naberius answered with a small shrug. "As I mentioned previously, we are down to eight legions. That is half of the original forces that I previously used against the mortals. We will likely take more losses as we fight, and what we have left will be tasked with maintaining our hold over the mortals. Put simply, even if we manage to take no losses, we will not have enough soldiers to conquer you."

"I see... What happened to the eight legions that have yet to reform? Daemons aren't permanently affected by mortals, right?"

Naberius laughed, "I see that Thalomus still has loose lips and a wagging tongue. You are correct, our losses from mortal forces are quick to rejuvenate themselves and rejoin our ranks. But there will be forces that rush to the aid of the mortals that can do much more lasting damage to daemons."

"The fair folk?"

"Those humble dimension hoppers can be a threat to us, yes, but they are creatures of law. These laws limit their effectiveness against us, and we plan to use those laws against them. No, the true threat to our forces comes from the anyels and their mighty host."

Several pieces of history finally clicked into place within my mind, and I felt like a fool. Of course, the anyels will interfere with the daemonic invasion, just as they had in the past. But...

"Why are anyels able to harm you?" I asked.

"Because anyels and daemons are effectively the same type of being but with opposing needs. Two sides of the same coin, as it were. When an anyel kills a daemon, they take our essence, our power, strengthening themselves in the process. The reverse is true when a daemon kills an anyel. And, of course, when a daemon kills a daemon or an anyel kills an anyel. Though the latter is rare."

"So why risk an invasion at all? Are the anyels not stronger than they were last time?"

"Of course they are, but so are my surviving legions," the Marquess chuckled. "There are two reasons we want the mortal plane for our own. The first is obvious. We want to fight and kill anyels to bring more might to the hells. They caught us by surprise with the ferocity of their attacks last time, but this time we're well-prepared. The second reason is... Somewhat more complicated. Come, follow me."

Naberius rose and led me to a relatively nearby door hidden behind the grandiose throne. The massive door opened as if acted upon by the unseen might of the daemon alone, and we passed through it into a corridor lined with horrors. Elves, orcs, gnomes, dwarves, and even beings that I couldn't hope to recognize were attached to the walls with various contraptions, in various states of disassembly and silently screaming in pain.

"This is our true and original purpose," the Marquess gestured to the victims.

"I-I don't understand," I stammered.

"We are beings beyond flesh, Kirain Yith. Beings that mortals have eternally described as pure evil. Evil, of course, is a matter of perspective, but they are quite correct in this judgment from their perspective."

"D-does this... Do you feed upon pain?"

"No. We don't 'feed' at all. We're immortal. Eternal. Everlasting. We will exist long after all the stars in your skies fade, whether we try to or not."

"Then, does this make you stronger?"

"No. The only way a daemon can gain strength is by defeating another of our kind."

"Th-then why?" I asked, despair entering my voice. "For what purpose does this torture serve?"

"Because we know no other pleasure. Those from your plane of existence are enviable to us in that regard. Imagine looking at a pretty landscape, examining shiny trinkets, wearing nice clothes, eating warm goods, or even just sipping a cold drink on a hot day. All of these mundane acts grant you moments of happiness, however brief. That wonderfully fuzzy feeling within that all beings strive for. However, we can only feel happiness when there is pain. Causing pain, feeling pain, even just observing pain fills us with the very same fuzzy feeling that your kind take for granted. Tell me, Master Vampire, what is existence without happiness?"

"Painful?"

"Unfortunately, no. Well, perhaps it is for a being such as yourself. For us, it is an existential void. A sense of nothingness that can drive one quite mad. We require pain like mortals require air, except we won't even get the benefit of death if we're denied it. Physical pain is wonderful, but the best pain comes from the spirit, of course."

"That's..."

"Woeful? Yes. I harbor no delusions on how this must look to you. Perhaps you would feel more comfortable working with the anyels? They have opposing desires to us. Desires that are met through the natural course of mortal happenings."

"What, pleasure?"

"That's one way to put it," Naberius laughed. "Though, it's lacking in description. They gain their happiness from the happiness of others. Specifically, the kind of happiness that a life well-lived can bring. All pleasures, great and small, breathe life into their void just as all pains breathe life into ours."

"But then, how could they be so tyrannical that the mortals rose against them?"

"Oh, that's mostly propaganda. Some of the less wizened anyels tried to interfere in mortal affairs in an attempt to make them happier. This, of course, back-fired and led to a rebellion or two. Once our host was driven back, the anyels left your plane willingly, but we had agents alter the histories ever so slightly. One of the many ways we have prepared for the next bout."

The shock of what I was witnessing began to wear off and I finally saw the end-game of the daemons.

"You want to turn the mortal realm into-"

"A pain factory, yes. We will create every type of pain that a mortal can experience, and in such abundance that no daemon will be left wanting. They will happily sacrifice their power to us for access to the delectable pains we're going to create. Perhaps we will even consolidate enough power to launch an offensive against the anyels. Maybe even the planes beyond. Though I'll settle for a simple promotion to King, honestly."

I stared at the daemon blankly for a moment.

"What's a factory?" I asked.