Ah, yes, that's right. The earliest thing you remember, excepting vague flashes of war, is the moment when you were first turned. At this point, you can't even say if you were originally a Turk or a Wallachian. You can only remember what Dracula told you. You were a general, brave and powerful in command. After your death, he revived you in his service. Of course, the Turks didn't last long after that point, and Dracula soon freed you to act independently of his orders. Gratefully, you remained in Wallachia for several years, before moving on. You traveled Europe for centuries, gaining experience in the arts of both life and death. You killed many, and befriended the same number. During the nightmare of bloodshed that was the Great War, you finally had your fill of war, and emigrated to the United States. From your perspective, the country was still young, and you hoped to experience it before it eventually turned into just another monarchy.
Perhaps, in that prediction, you lacked foresight. Since 1918, you've lived in North America, travelling the nation and generally enjoying the experience here. Supernatural beings had always been rarer in the New World, particularly vampires, which meant that vampire hunters were also generally less populous, and your life was therefore far more relaxed.
It was during your stay in the United States that you finally mastered an ability that had only been spoken of in rumor and legend, a supernatural power so esoteric that as far as you knew, you were the very first to learn it after Dracula himself. The power to manipulate a mortal's mind with a mere glance. By staring into the eyes of a human or feral animal, you could put them into a trance. During the time in which they were entranced, they'd be powerless to disobey your commands, leaving you entirely in control of their actions. Unfortunately, you still haven't managed to figure out how to use this ability on multiple individuals at once, and after your "victims" leave their trance, they remember every moment of what happened while you were in control- it made it very difficult to keep that ability secret, limiting its use except on lone humans.
Furthermore, your years of experience had left you skilled in the use of nearly every weapon ever used by man up to those designed and used in the first World War. Centuries upon centuries of battle would do that to you, you supposed. Of course, you had only rarely needed to use them in the 100 years since you made your home in the United States, so perhaps you were a bit rusty.
You realize there isn't much point on musing over your history while lying in bed, and so you finally get around to getting the rest you came here for. You close your eyes and will your brain to shut down.
When you open your eyes, seven days and nights have passed. Perfect timing. You rise on your heels, going from a prone position to standing straight like the villain in a cheesy slasher movie, before stepping off of your bed, quickly and efficiently getting dressed, and strolling outside. You wear casual street clothes, jeans and a light jacket. You despise modern clothing, but wearing your cloak always attracts such obnoxious attention, and you really aren't in the mood for that tonight. The top is ever so itchy, though, and you find yourself scratching your arm quite a bit on the way there.
You open your flip phone, another "modern" convenience that's become a necessity despite your distaste for them, and check your messages. Typically, if anything important had happened while you were asleep, your contacts would handle it themselves, but there are some problems that just aren't mortal-sized, and require your direct assistance. You're surprised to see you have over two-dozen messages, but when you attempt to open them, you can't. No service. Useless piece of junk doesn't actually save the messages until you open them, apparently. You're annoyed enough that you actually throw the phone away. You were already tired of its bullshit in the first place. You'll head into town and see what's going on yourself.
During the walk, you can't help but notice you're a bit more thirsty than you'd expect yourself to be. Usually a good rest takes the edge off of your bloodlust, but you feel like you might have woken up with even more of an appetite than you got to sleep with.
To your surprise, the town's usual hustle-and-bustle seems missing as you approach it. It's silent, still, and most surprisingly, dark. You don't exactly live in a big city, but you've grown used to there always being lights on at night- especially the street lights that mortals need so badly to keep from killing each other in their vehicles. But right now, there's nothing. No lights in windows, no street lights- not even any headlights in cars. You can't hear anything, either, even with your superhuman hearing, save the faint sound of a beeping car alarm somewhere in the distance. Odd. You sniff the air, and can't help but notice the sour tinge of rotten blood. Something happened here. You find yourself being reminded of the dead stillness in Wallachia's air, which always seemed most oppressive right before you rounded a corner to find rows of bodies, impaled on poles.
Dracula was a wonderful ruler, but he did really like his stakes.
As you move further into the town, the silence only becomes more unnerving- it's only then that you see your first overturned car, halfway smashed into a storefront. You step toward it and glance inside. The amount of blood on the windshield seems to be evidence that someone died in the vehicle, but there's no body. Your mind flashes back to the memory of the strange... being? Creature? Human? that you met on the way home last week. While it seems very unlikely, it's the only thing you can think of that could even remotely be related.
You move deeper into town, vaguely heading toward work, since that *was* your objective when you first headed into town. It's on the way that you first hear signs of life... quiet, seemingly mindless moaning. You raise your eyebrows, immediately reaffirming your suspicion that this has something to do with the figure that attacked you last week. You swiftly change course and head in that direction, travelling several city blocks in under a minute to find yourself face-to-face with...
It's a horror you haven't seen the likes of since the Great War. Shambling men and women who seem to be rotting on their feet. Skin falls off of them in brown flakes with each movement, their hair also largely missing and occasionally sliding from their dull-colored scalps. Their eyes are unfocused and either bloodshot or milky and blank. Limbs jut out at unnatural angles, occasionally seizing up and jerking around for seemingly no reason. Some of them seem to have large, likely lethal wounds peppering their bodies, everything from crushed limbs to bullet holes. Every one of them is spattered with blood. It takes you a moment to adapt to the sight and stop staring in disbelief. This was a bloodbath. There had to be something supernatural at hand. No mortal attack or illness could cause this. A moment later, you catch sight of the common denominator between all of them- every last one has what appears to be a bite wound on them.
You itch your arm.
Soon after you step into the area they seem to be strangely congregating in, they catch sight of you as well. Slowly, but surely, they begin shuffling in your direction, their movements slow and inefficient. Some of them even trip and fall over curbs, each other, or just their own feet. You distinctly watch one trip, and hear its ankle twist and crunch. Just a moment later, it gets to its feet and keeps moving toward you, with a notably increased limp, but otherwise no sign of even feeling the pain of its severely broken bone.
What are these things? You take a few steps back, and with a new angle, coupled with their movement, you see why they were congregating here. You see a human body, torn absolutely to shreds, huddled in a corner. Its been almost completely devoured by these monsters, and judging by the color of its blood and its lack of rotting, it must have been alive not long ago. That's when the body twitches, and its eyes snap open. It tries to get to its feet, but its muscles are so severely devoured it can barely move its limbs at all, much less hold its body.
It hits you that this must be some sort of unnatural disease or infection. It spreads via the bite, and when one is infected, they lose their mind and think only of spreading the infection to others- and in the case of this particular group, apparently devouring human flesh as well. These things have to be destroyed, they must be. But you remember the near-immortality of the one you encountered last week, and don't want to get into a pointless fight. There's surely some way to kill them, but now isn't the time for experimenting. Mortal society here has almost completely fallen apart, and the few contacts you have, if they're still alive, might not be for much longer. You leap backwards, mere moments before the closest of them reaches you, and land on a rooftop behind you.
It never even crosses your mind that you were bitten the same way these mortals were. You're a vampire. No infection could possibly affect you, and the possibility of such is the furthest thing from your mind at a time like this. Either way, there has to be some explanation for this nightmare.
You need answers, and without service (or a phone. Oops.), you're going to have to get it from someone in person. Of course, you do have a few different options for who to seek out. You decide to head to-
[] Work. They're professionals there, but not infallible. You have little doubt that they're still alive now, but that might not be the case if you wait too much longer.
[] The home of the only mortal in a century to have your respect. She and you have had a symbiotic relationship for several years. She is, though, only one human, and these things could be a serious danger to her.
[] The home of a certain... supernatural contact you have. You met him a few decades ago, and though you don't always see eye-to-eye, he could be a useful asset in these... unique circumstances.
[] Write in...
