“You call me undead?! I am offended and appalled at your insinuation, sir! Nay, I am a true vampire, not some disgusting imitation that needs to drain vitality from the living. Rather, I am a creature of refined life and vitality, blessed with eternal youth and conditional immortality. When I drink your blood, it is not because I need your life essence- rather, I need to dilute my own blood with weaker stuff, lest I ‘regenerate’ into an infant. Now would you please hold still? I think I worked up an appetite while educating you.” - an anonymous vampire, now deceased after attempting to drain a paladin from the Order of the Seventh Spring
Vreem - at the Elective Fair
“For the last time, I don’t buy second hand blood. Both because funding serial killers is bad for my image, and because old blood is disgusting and unsanitary.”
“I will repeat myself a third time; I can provide at least three litres of my own blood, fresh and with more vitality than most humans. The sign said you pay 30 gold per litre correct?”
I’m trying to acquire money. Recent feedback from Jensen- delivered through brutal impacts- has proven that my current leather armour, even made from skin as quality as mine, is not effective. However, while I am confident in my abilities they are rather narrow. I can kill, I can survive, and I can improve my flesh, but I don’t know the first thing about how to acquire funds except by taking them from defeated foes. I suspect that Hoplix would object to me killing and/or crippling and maiming people in order to fund my new armour though, which unfortunately also rules out joining electives like ‘bounty hunting’ or ‘independant and guild thievery’. So, I find myself somehow failing to convince a vampire to accept my blood. The fact that it likely contains more vitality than their own is hardly my problem.
“If you’re trying to commit suicide, just say so! I’d need a telepath’s seal of approval that your existence is more suffering than joy, but if you have that then I’d happily pay for a full five litres and have it sent to the people or charities of your choosing.”
They are frustratingly bound to their morals, a lone figure as pale as ash under a dark coat, a thick umbrella and a thicker canopy, blending into the other stalls and tentoids strung up haphazardly around the verdant field; most are advertising to join some elective or club, but some stand out. Like this place, with a sign in front of it saying ‘Sell Me Your Blood! 30 Gold Per Litre!’. I’m starting to consider the merits of slitting my wrist, force-feeding this vampire my blood and then just taking the appropriate payment when a familiar voice interrupts my thoughts.
“Your moral fibre is commendable, Avery. However, this student, despite their relatively mundane appearance possesses anomalous regenerative abilities. If they claim to be able to survive with three litres less blood, then I am inclined to believe them. Please prepare the container for them.”
Healer Ashtrunk, as withered and unnerving as ever, somehow snuck up behind me; my senses barely even register them as a living thing. But even now, the vampire seems about to speak up in objection- until the skin around my wrist splits apart and they rush to put a wineskin and funnel under it, catching the crimson waterfall that gushes forth. That is not what alarms me. What alarms me is that that wasn’t me. I don’t have time to panic, however, before a shrivelled hand grasps my shoulder.
“Do not be alarmed. I merely parted the skin; after the blood is deposited, simply push the skin back together and it will reconnect in moments. I do not take chances with lives, Vreem.”
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
That is a slight relief, and indeed the skin reconnects like wet clay once I’ve deposited exactly three litres of blood. However, that isn’t really the problem. The problem is that they altered my body. No matter how harmless the alteration, their magic reached through me and split my skin.
My body is mine. They can batter and break it, cut it and crush it, but it is mine to shape, mine to change, MINE. How dare they? I’ll show them how it feels. I’ll change THEM, warp them, twist them into a protean mass as the Way of Things decrees! I am the one who changes, I am Change! Simmering in a fury I haven’t felt in eternities, I reach for my the power I have earned, the power I AM- and feel nothing. The power is gone, destroyed, and it hurts to feel how much I’ve lost, the hollowness instantly shattering the bottles and barriers I’ve been using to contain emotions I cannot bear. It hurts so much more than any wound ever could, it hurts more than death; I am weak once more. Dimly, I realise that I am crying, but I can’t bring myself to care.
“What happened?!? Ashtrunk, did you not numb them? Don’t worry kid, I’ve got some potions of pain nullification somewhere here-”
“Those cannot help with the kind of pain Vreem is feeling. Please have the payment delivered to his Triad dorm, I shall take it from here. Vreem, please follow me. We have much to discuss away from curious ears.”
I am unresponsive; it doesn’t matter any which way. Why did I struggle so hard to endure all those months ago? I’ve already been not just defeated, but destroyed. When Ashtrunk gently but firmly grabs my arm and begins walking, pulling me along behind them, I don’t resist. In my spiraling hopelessness, I barely register where he’s taking me- a dark tent with thick walls and a sign in front of it stating, in plain font, ‘Aberrant Mind Rehabilitation and Repair’. He pulls me inside, closing the flap behind us. Instantly, all the noise from outside is instantly muted.
“Now we have some privacy, and I have quite a few questions to ask you. First of all, I’m going to need a very good explanation for why your soul is grinding against your mind like the gears of rusty clockwork, wearing both down into fragile husks.”
I remain unresponsive; I’m not sure what I want. Death? No, Hoplix wouldn’t let me escape so easily.
“Vreem, I am a healer and you are one of my students. That means I am responsible for your health: mind, body and soul. And I’m going to help you, whether or not you want me to. You have one minute to answer me, or I’ll start looking for more answers in the alchemy of your brain. The last time I did that, I seemed to have destabilised you enough to start crying and become unresponsive.”
I’m not entirely sure why I did what happened next. Much later, I would reflect on this moment and tell myself that it was my mind simply having had enough, returning to my most ingrained and basic instincts.
“I AM THE ONE WHO CHANGES!”
Hoplix POV
I watch the scrying pool with great interest as Vreem lunges at Ashtrunk. For a moment, I consider interfering; it would be a shame if either were to die. I dismiss the notion as quickly as I conceive it, it would be a much greater shame to miss out on such a fascinating combat. Eyes locked on the fight, a dozen enchanted quills scribble notes and observations. I’m far beyond needing notes for memory, but I enjoy the nostalgia somewhat. Nevertheless, I’m not learning too terribly much. I learn that Vreem can continue moving even as tumours the size of fists pull apart his spine, and that Ashtrunk is slower than Vreem, but still able to heal themselves faster than Vreem can tear them apart. I’m not particularly worried about Ashtrunk killing Vreem- Perceive Thoughts shows that Ashtrunk is genuine in their intentions to help Vreem. And besides, I’m not too proud to admit that Ashtrunk is a better biomancer than I. I do wonder how they figured out the state of Vreem’s mind and soul, but then again I should expect no less. They are my apprentice, after all.