In contrast, we, elves who rejected black magic, who eventually came to be known as wood elves, remained as weak as elves were before the separation, favoring the bow as our weapon. At least most of us did. Some of us tried to be stronger. We had to. Arghard was always a troubled land, even before the Great War. I and my two brothers were raised with such principles. Our mother died when I was very young. I have no memory of her at all. Our father has always taught us to be strong, both in body and in soul. Engnal and I always tried to heed his words. He taught Engnal to be a great warrior, and he taught me how to fight unarmed. It's all thanks to him that I could join the Black Panthers. The most elite hunter's guild in the elven lands. They respected my skills, and helped me improve. I always felt this was something my father would be proud of.
He died much before I joined the guild. Some kind of disease took him. It came swiftly and unexpectedly. Engnal was with him when he passed away, while I was far from home at the time. I rushed back as soon as I heard that he had fallen sick, but I came too late...
Engnal and I did not cry when he died. We instead mourned him in the way he taught us. We knew he would be ashamed if we cried. We loved him, but we also respected him. And he did teach us well.
Shayeld was different. He never could follow our father's teachings, never could identify himself with them. He was the oldest of us, he knew our mother best, he still was heavily influenced by her. She was much the opposite of our father. At least that's what he always told us.
He became a merchant, and never bothered to learn how to fight, not even with the bow. Our father always disagreed with his choice of life, but he respected it. There was no hatred between them, but always there was this unspoken tension. When our father died, Shayeld broke down in tears, full of regret that he never could make our father proud, and that suddenly it was too late. For him, it was the loss of a parent whom he could never please. For Engnal and me, it was the loss of more than a parent. It was also the loss of a mentor whom we respected endlessly.
It's been a long time, but I still remember all of that. I will never forget it. Just as I won't forget how Engnal died...
I didn't cry when he died. Instead, I went and took vengeance for his death. I killed the bastard responsible for his death. And I felt satisfaction. I, a wood elf, found satisfaction in taking a life. That day, I thought the world around me had taken a strange turn.
But what was that, compared to what happened to me here, in Kh'Tal, in this dark world? I spent a day here, and my life was changed forever. I became a vampire, and now I must hunt for blood day by day just to survive. The strangest of it all is, that by now, I have made peace with what I am. I have come to accept, that I am elven no more.
It's been almost a year since I became a vampire. Seems like an eternity. Yet it's been such a small time in elven terms. I was born over two centuries ago, and I've seen a lot in all that time. In retrospect, none of it compares to what I lived through in this past year...
When I left Kurt Aurach's castle, I tried desperately to avoid killing. When I left the castle, I left because I feared I might accidentally kill Jason. I didn't want to harm him. I felt for certain that I could not control the instinctive thirst in me. In time, I understood that this instinct was immensely strong, and it could drive me to kill uncontrollably. I also learned, that like any instinct, it is supposed to help me. In this case, help me feed, and thereby, help me stay alive...
But I had to be conscious of it. When I fed, I had to make a choice. Let the victim live, or kill them. Either by sucking them dry, or just simply finishing them off after I had enough blood. If I let the victim live, there was a chance that they'd become a vampire eventually. This is what I had to decide over and over again.
The first time, I didn't really have a choice. My instincts didn't let me choose... When I left the castle, I didn't feel the need to feed for two whole days. Jason's blood was not the blood of a mere mortal: it was full of power. It kept me satisfied for long. But in time the thirst came back, and I had to feed.
I spent those two days just exploring Kh'Tal as best I could, and as carefully as I could. After my first encounter with vampires earlier, I knew well that this world held great dangers, and I understood that I was a stranger in a strange land. So I explored slowly and aware. I made sure to avoid unnecessary encounters with the natives. For most of the time, I traveled off the roads. When I felt that it was time to feed, I knew I had to catch someone, or something. So I tried to get to the nearest road, maybe find some traveler to feed on.
Before I could get there however, I stumbled onto a hunting wolf. I was surprised to see a lonely wolf on the hunt, as wolves generally hunt in packs, but I've come to see much stranger things in Kh'Tal over time.
The wolf was chasing a creature that looked like a deer, but had much thicker legs, and a somewhat longer neck. I chased after them. Eventually, the wolf was able to catch up with the deer, and caught one of its hind legs between its teeth. The deer cried out, and the wolf growled. I snuck up behind them, but they somehow noticed me, perhaps instinctively.
The wolf released the deer and attacked me. I tried to duck away but I was too late, it bit on my left arm. It was very painful, and I cried out. I instinctively grabbed the fur on the back of the wolf's neck and tried to pull it off me. I was greatly surprised at how easily I was able to do that. As soon as my left hand was free, I grabbed the wolf with both hands, and tossed it towards a nearby tree. It fell against it with tremendous force, and lay motionless afterwards. It still lived, and it was silently yowling. I knelt beside it, and sank my teeth into its neck. I slowly sucked out the blood of the wolf, until it was finally dead. I stood up, and turned towards the wounded deer.
It was whining, it probably knew what was coming. I didn't want to kill it, but the thirst inside me drove me to do it. For the wolf's blood was not enough, it was nowhere near as satisfying as Jason's blood was. I needed more. So, I knelt beside the wounded deer, and bit on its neck. I sucked it dry, just like I did the wolf, but I was still unsatisfied. I stood there and looked at the fallen deer for many long minutes, feeling sorry for the creature. Eventually, my instinct made me move on. I needed more blood.
Some hours later I finally made it out to the road. Eventually, I came across some unlucky traveler. He was a lone human, and he was easy prey. I think he greeted me, but all I could see was a creature whose blood might finally sate my thirst. So I jumped on him as soon as I got close enough. He tried to defend himself, but he couldn't even draw his weapon. Once I sank my teeth in his neck, there was no way out for him.
I drained him dry. Finally the thirst was gone. I stood beside the dead body of this unfortunate traveler for quite some time. I think I muttered something like I'm sorry, or something similar. I don't remember very well. What I do remember, is that the blood was very satisfying. I realized that the blood of common animals, such as wolves and deers, could never satisfy me, I must hunt humans, or more powerful creatures.
I had to realize one more thing. I thought back to the time two days before that, when I drank of Jason's blood. The blood of this human was nothing in comparison. Jason's half-demon blood was much more powerful, much more satisfying. As cruel as it sounds, I missed that blood. I desired more of it. When I understood that, I felt ashamed. At least I realized that I did well to leave Aurach's castle, to leave Jason behind. Today, I guess, I could easily resist the temptation that Jason's presence would provide. But back then... Back then my instincts would have made me take his blood again, and I would never have forgiven myself for that. I've still not forgiven myself for the one time when I did draw his blood, when I almost killed him. Still, to this day I desire his blood...
*
In the few weeks that followed, I gained valuable experience of my vampiric nature, and my abilities. I constantly traveled, exploring Kh'Tal. Seeing the sights that this dark world had to offer was the one thing that brought peace into my troubled existence back then, the one thing that I could h
ang on to. Sometimes I spoke to people here and there, mostly to learn of my surroundings, but I chose carefully whom to talk to. I made it my principle never to feed on those who helped me by telling me of this world. I traveled a lot and mostly in the wild, but I made sure to stay close to the roads, so that I could prey on travelers whenever I needed to feed.
I had many chances to test my skills, for most of the time these travelers were not alone. Sometimes I ran across lonely travelers for sure, but most of them traveled in small groups. Sometimes even groups of five or six. Back then, I was still thinking like a wood elf. I did not want to kill more than necessary, and I needed only one victim a day to sate the thirst. So I tried to knock them unconscious, and kill only one of them. Of course it didn't always work out like that. I was still just learning my new strength, after all, and so I sometimes injured them more severely than I had intended.
I was amazed at how uneven these battles were. Even if there were six of them, they posed no real threat to me. My skill in unarmed combat proved to be a real asset, and I never once missed the bow I had left behind in Aurach's castle. My kicks and punches were so much stronger now, that a few well-placed strikes were all I needed to take someone down. I fought them unarmed, even when they came with large swords, axes, and the like. They could injure me with their weapons, but the wounds would not slow me down, and they could not injure me enough to kill me before I got what I wanted from them.
So feeding was not much of a problem. It was more the question of how I could make myself do it. In time I learned that my instinct was strong enough to drive me to feed whether I wanted it, or not. And I preferred to feed at my own terms.
There was also the question of whether or not I should let my victims live. I knew well that allowing them to live meant that they might become vampires themselves. This question didn't arise often though. When I fought a small group, they were always able to wound me enough that my body required more blood than normally, and so I had to completely drain my victim dry. Sometimes I met lonely travelers, and with them, I had this choice.
In the beginning, I always let them go. I took their blood, as much as I needed, and then let them leave. I have no idea what became of them. Did they survive? If yes, what did they do as vampires? Perhaps I'll never know.
Weeks passed, and slowly I started having second thoughts about allowing them to live. I thought about how many more people would die at the hands of these newborn vampires, and I argued with myself whether or not it was justified to let them do so. I was basically washing my hands. I let them live so that their deaths would not weigh on my conscience, but in exchange, many others would die by their hands. It was a long time until I decided that I must take responsibility for what I do, for whom I bite. That I must live with what I've done, that no matter what I chose, it leads to deaths. Ultimately, I was still thinking like a wood elf, despite that I was elven no more. I wanted as few lives to be lost as possible. This line of thinking led me to accept, that I should always drain my victims dry, and not let them live.
The strange thing about this is that if I had been thinking like a vampire back then, I'd have come to the same conclusion. For as a vampire, I am merely a predator. And why would a predator leave its prey alive?
Of course, I was still thinking like a wood elf, so this way of thinking didn't even occur to me at the time. I was more concerned with how I could make myself kill less often. I started experimenting, testing how long I could go without feeding. I found that I could take even three days without blood, but also that I get weaker as I go for long without blood. This ran the risk that I would not be able to stand my ground against my victims. So I had to be careful. I had to take lone victims if I was without blood for three days.
So, I tried to make myself feed less often, so as to kill less. I just didn't want to take more lives than absolutely necessary to survive. I just couldn't accept that I was elven no more, that I have become a predator, and must hunt prey daily to survive. For a long time I was still thinking like what I had been, and not like the creature I had become. All that changed when something happened to me. Something that some elves would call tragic, and other elves would call amusing. Depending on whom one asks: wood elves, or night elves. Either way, it is something I hate to remember, but will not forget as long as I exist. Not because of what happened to me, but because of what it made me do.
And I will not forget that son of a bitch that got me in that mess in the first place... Belwor... I'll get him back for it someday. I swear I will...
Belwor
Somewhere in the world of Kh'Tal, five months ago (1 year, 8 months, and 26 days before Twilightfall)
It happened roughly half a year after I became a vampire. Ever since my transformation I had spent most of the time traveling in the wilderness, never staying in one place for long. I was afraid Jason might come after me. I didn't want to risk harming him, so when I left, I did my best to disappear into the wild. During the first few days of my travels, I realized that I admired the vast, wild forests of this world, and felt almost at home among these woods. So I decided to keep moving, to explore, to see more of it. I saw many strange beasts during that time, but it was only after so long that I met a creature that I'd never seen even in Arghard, I only heard of them. A skeleton.
I was just walking in the forest some hours after feeding when it suddenly appeared some thirty feet ahead. A humanoid animated skeleton, walking slowly but steadily in my direction. It was unarmed, but such creatures are dangerous even without a weapon.
When I spotted it, at first I tried to avoid it, thinking it may not have noticed me. When I tried to circle around it, it slowly changed direction, and came towards me again.
`Shit...'
I tried to get around it again, but it was no use. So I showed myself to it. It kept coming slowly, but stopped some ten feet away. It didn't move any more.
`Come on, you pile of bones! Are you gonna fight, or not?' I asked, after it's been standing there for a minute in silence.
The skeleton slowly turned its head left, then right, then back to the middle. Like it was shaking its head.
`If you don't want to fight, then get out of the way!'
Then, it opened its mouth. An eerie voice was heard as it spoke.
`I greet you... Young one...'
`What? You can talk now? Why didn't you speak before?'
`I... am not... the creature you see before you... It merely serves as a vessel... My messenger... I speak to you through it... Follow it, young one... Follow it... Come speak to me in my lair... I have a proposal for you...'
`What proposal?'
`Follow... I will tell you...'
`Tell me here, now!'
`No... You must... see me... Know me... Know what I am... To understand what you can expect from me... Follow...'
`Oh, very well...'
*
I followed the skeleton, more out of curiosity than anything else, and it lead me to a small crypt hidden in the forest. It entered through the door, and motioned for me to follow.
I went in after it and followed it as it went past a pair of stone coffins to the far wall of the crypt. It pushed a loose brick on the wall, and the floor in front of the wall slid aside, revealing a set of stairs. The skeleton descended the stairs, and I followed.
Underground, the crypt was much larger. The skeleton guided me through several chambers filled with urns, crates, caskets, and the like. In the end, it led me into a room with an old, undecorated stone throne. There was a creature sitting on it.
At first it seemed like another skeleton, but as I got closer, I could see that there was rotting flesh hanging from the bones of the creature, and there was a faint, eerie light glowing in the empty eye sockets of its skull. It was no ordinary skeleton, this I could tell.
It arose from the throne, and slowly moved its left arm at the skeleton that guided me here. Then, it pointed to a door to my right, and the skeleton slowly walked out of the room through that door.
The strange creature then began to speak.
`Greetings... young one...' it said, speaking slowly.
`Greetings, whatever you are...' I replied.
`You have... not met... one such as I... Have you... young one?'
`No.'
`Surely... you've at least... heard of... my kind... A lich, my kind is called... My name... is Belwor...'
A lich. An undead mage. Arcane magicians of great power often transform themselves into undead creatures in order to cheat death. As liches, they continue to exist and are potentially immortal. They can still be destroyed, but they will not die of old age. Even their magical power is increased by the transformation. But at what cost... I will never understand how anyone would choose to live in such a loathsome form of existence. Yet it was a path that the cursed night elves chose very often.
`Yes. I have heard of your kind...'
`Your voice... betrays... how... you feel... for us... young one... You were... a wood elf... am I correct?'
`Yes. So what?'
`Just curious... Young one...'
`Did you call me here just to appease your curiosity?'
`No, young one... Not at all... My servants saw you above... Through them... so did I... And I... have a task for you...'
`What do you want?'
`There is... an item... of mine... Which was stolen... from here... Some time ago... I want... you... to bring it back...'
`Do I look like an errand girl to you? Why don't you send your stupid skeletons?'
`My skeletons... cannot venture far from here... I need... an outsider... And you... are whom I want...'
Monsters Page 3