I remember the first time I saw him when I was a boy of seventeen. He was tall and savage, a barbarian brought to life that would eat my flesh and use my skin as clothes. He was awe inspiring, a blood covered machine of death and destruction that brought righteous retribution to the deserting cowards that had killed my family and destroyed my home.
He was my hero, and he would be my master forevermore when I shook his hand and sealed our pact in holy blood. That day I was no longer Germon, first born son of Herlon the cobbler. I was someone new, someone with a destiny, and my name would be earned in blood and deeds. Such was my pact and my oath.
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With the pact sealed and a small portion of my blood running through his veins I left the boy behind. He wouldn't be a concern of mine for many years to come as I still had my own journey to see through to the end. I left the camp a wreck of dead bodies and spilled blood that I hadn't bothered to lick off the ground.
The next few days were slow as I journeyed through the forest. I relied primarily upon the memories of the bandits to navigate, my goal being a small village to the south east where I could integrate myself and feed. I made it perhaps half way there before the results of my rampage throughout the land came back to bite me.
The night was beginning to descend upon the world once more and the sound of the wind was a harmonious melody to my hyper-sensitive ears. It moved through valleys and streams, rolled down mountains and hills, glided through glen and glade, and sang a song of life and opportunity. It was beautiful and for the first time that night I was truly able to appreciate it in all of its enormity.
The days following the bandit camp had been strange. My hunger was no longer nearly as all consuming, and it seems to have even receded for a time. I realized I was no longer the newborn Vampire that I had once been. My hunger was at an all time low and my power, magical and physical, was growing steadily even without constantly feeding. Almost as if my body was settling into a new stage.
It was a strange revelation to have, and one that brought new and familiar emotions. For the first time since I had arrived in this world I was beginning to truly feel like a normal person again, as if my emotions and ability to relate to others had been stunted and left to rot. Even as I walked in the direction of my next source of food and pondered upon my existence and newly returning emotions I heard it.
A small clump of leaves crackling under a boot.
Instantly I turned and called upon the blood to surround and protect me. That decision saved my life when over a dozen arrows appeared from the woodline and fell upon my wall of blood. They pierced through the magically hardened blood almost as if it wasn't even there in the first place, but still losing enough velocity that I was able to either dodge or let my blood armor take the damage. I could hear the movement in the tree line, see the outline of my attackers in the dark, and smell their odor on the wind.
Once more I moved and suddenly I was among them faster than they could react. They were truly shades in the evening light. They were humans, that much was obvious enough from their body shape and the smell of their blood. Beyond that however their bodies were more ethereal than real, they seemed to blend in with their surroundings, warping and shaping as they moved to be less visible to the naked eye.
Their tricks meant little and less to me as I engaged the first of the assassins in combat. He was swift, and the arrows of his compatriots boxed me in from every side, but I was faster and stronger than he could ever hope to be. My blade rang against his once, twice, thrice, and there was no fourth. I severed his arm at the shoulder and while he howled in pain my teeth ripped out his neck.
Unable to savor the taste while still surrounded I instead tried something I hadn't before, and instinctively I knew it would work. I reached out to the man's blood with a pulse of concentrated magic, and suddenly he was no longer a man. In his place was a desiccated corpse and a whirlwind of blood.
While not quite as responsive as my own blood it was exactly what I needed in the moment. I formed the blood into three twin sets of spears that I rotated with a force of will to be as fast as I could possibly make them. At the same time I had never stopped moving, I was a whirlwind of crimson and a blur in the night as I desperately fought to avoid the blades and arrows of the assassins that surrounded me.
The second assassin fell when I was able to catch him by surprise by literally grabbing his leg and throwing him to the ground. Stunned for just a second it was long enough for me to crush his head like a melon under my boot. Within seconds the blood within his body had joined the rest to either reinforce my barrier of blood or join my growing flotilla of spears.
The seconds ticked past as our battle continued and two more of the assassins slowly fell prey to my blade, boot, or bite. Their blood flowed through the air and when the last of the spears came into being a whoosh howled for a split second as the spinning spears of blood moved with near sonic speed and pierced through each of the remaining assassins.
Silence filled the air and blood flowed like a river along the ground. I fell to the ground a second later as exhaustion and hunger wracked my body. Even Vampires could feel exhaustion when they were forced to fight against twelve near invisible assassins with weapons and skills that could threaten its life. Slowly I caught my breath and focused myself amidst the death that surrounded me.
Slowly I pulsed my magic and pulled upon the blood in the clearing and brought it to my parched throat. I sat there drinking, absorbing the memories of the assassins as their blood slowly quenched the throat that had been creeping upon me in the last few days.
Their memories were interesting, even at the time I had been surprised to learn just how far and wide my legend had spread due to my actions. Apparently the forest of Tob had always been a place of monsters and legends in the new world and I was yet another on the rise.
The assassins had been sent by a noble of the new human Empire being created by the six great gods that had been receiving reports for months of my activities. Survivors of my attacks spreading rumors, men and beasts found drained of all blood, a father and daughter mauled after having survived a Demi-human raid on their village, and the newest reports of an entire band of deserters turned bandits and brigands wiped out over the course of two weeks.
I hadn't been subtle nor had I been particularly intelligent in those early days, more beast than man and it had come back to haunt me. I was known as the Blood fiend by the noble and his retinue apparently and he had made it his mission to find and kill me. It was already a stain on his honor that I had been allowed to survive as long as I had, and from what the memories told me even the Six had taken a small amount of interest.
Unfortunately for him I had no plans of dying at the time. Unfortunately for me the assassins were just the first group to find me as he had apparently sent multiple hunting parties into the forest with the express purpose of finding and killing me.
Thus began the next stage of my life in this cruel, cruel world. I was hunted down like a beast for months. It was hell through and through, a new battle nearly daily, a new set of enemies to kill and devour while desperately trying to avoid being surrounded by the dozens of hunting parties after me.
At the same time I grew. My skill with blood and soul manipulation became ever greater and eventually I was able to walk around with nearly a dozen blood knights summoned at all times. They fought, and killed, and died on my behalf. They saved my life a dozen times and I still regretted reabsorbing the first ten I had made after I left the bandits camp, more worried about my supply of magic and blood than I was about keeping myself safe.
I had thought I was invincible after the camp. Those months being hunted taught me I wasn't. My skill with magic grew, and in return I was gutted no less than three times while running from a group of particularly nasty hunters. I became proficient in real swordsmanship, no longer relying purely on my strength and speed to win the day. I only truly began to learn when a singular hunter faced me in combat and nearly cut my head clean off.
Every skill learned was a death evaded. Every kill was a night spent desperately trying to evade the larger groups. I was an animal on the run and yet I was growing all the more powerful for it as I was forced to adapt and grow to survive. I was a predator, yes, but I was nowhere near the apex yet.
Eventually after three months on the hunt the hunters grew wary. I had killed dozens of them, they had seen me literally revive from mortal wounds, and every day I grew more and more capable of killing them with ease. Eventually the tide turned and with my Knights supporting me I began to hunt them.
First it was only the smaller groups that I went after, those whom I had already fought and escaped from leaving them with less men and material to work with. I wiped them out and drank deep from their corpses, feeding without fear of attack for the first time in months.
Group after group fell, my thirst was satiated, my power grew, my knights grew ever more numerous, and slowly I was grinding my once hunters down. I felt powerful once more and from the memories gained from my fallen foes I learned that my Legend had grown both within and beyond the forest. No longer was I the Blood fiend but Blood Lord, Lord of Crimson, and King of Western Tob.
The Human Empire was no longer unaware of my presence in the slightest and even as I finished mopping up the last of the hunting parties that had been stupid or brave enough to stay within the forest I knew the real battles had yet to begin. No longer was I a singular monster with minor notoriety that needed to be killed to stop peasants and commoners from panicking.
Now I was something more, a threat to the integrity of the Empire being made by the Six. Not only was I personally powerful but the presence of my knights only confirmed in the minds of the humans that I was a threat in the making, converting the dead into my servants. Which I guess was partially right, but my knights were made from my own blood with the memories and souls of those I had drank from serving as a base to make them partially independent.
I had an army of them by then, a thousand knights spread across my claimed region of the forest moving in groups of a hundred capturing and bringing me any who thought to enter my territory. I will not lie, I was not a great man during that time. Cornered and boxed in, known and hunted from all sides by players who I knew could kill me with a look if they one day decided to simply end my threat themselves.
It wouldn't even take all of them. Just a single one of the six finding me would have meant my end, and I began to regress in nearly every way. The emotions that had begun to come back to me months ago were ignored or suppressed as I fought my own war for survival and any thoughts of self discovery were abandoned.
Five years I spent in that forest as the Lord of Crimson fighting a war that grew bloodier by the year as entire human armies entered and battled against me and my knights. In the process history was changed, the forest was cut tree by tree to make way for forts and castles meant to stop me from even thinking of pushing them out.
I don't know how many knights I had by the end fighting a desperate battle to win against the Human armies, I think it was somewhere around five thousand but I can't remember for certain. It wasn't nearly enough, not by a long shot.
The Empire of the Six was young, powerful, in its proverbial golden age even if Humanity had not hit the height of its territorial growth. Armies tens of thousands strong marched into the forests and broke my iron handed reign of terror. Among them was a young champion who had made a name for himself in combat against the demi-humans in the west.
I recognized him instantly as he led his soldiers deep into my territory seeking out the heart of my power. Unfortunately for them I never did settle down anywhere and so they were disappointed to find no grand castle behind my Knights desperate defensive lines. Only me and the few knights I had kept around me as my personal guard.
We said nothing to one another when we saw one another, nothing needed to be said. Our contract still held and I knew he would not kill me, or even attempt to try. My knowledge had grown in those years and I knew for certain that our oath had real power, given form and substance by my blood and shaped by his words.
His presence didn't signal the end, but instead a new beginning. I was tired of being hunted, tired of the fear and constant drain on my very soul as I desperately fought against the forces of humanity at their height. So we battled, him and his men Vs me and my Knights. It was close, far closer than I would have liked but in the end when the last of my knights was chopped down by the remaining three soldiers he had brought with him I knew the legend of the Lord of Crimson had come to an end.
I had learned well the limits of my regeneration over those long early years and those limits only seemed to grow less stringent with every passing week. He took my arm first, and as I roared in pain his sword pierced my heart.
I stumbled and grasped at the blade gingerly. I swayed and blood poured from my wounds in a river as I fell to the ground convulsing. Roars escaped me as I pretended to die and blood flowed around me like a river. Eventually though when my body had been completely encased in blood it hardened around me with only the hilt of his blade sticking out.
Silently he approached me and signaled for his remaining companions to his side. I had no way at the time to tell him what to do with my slowly healing body, but thankfully he was smart enough to not take me back to the wider Empire. Instead he ordered my body buried in a grave of pure stone, sealed with powerful magic, and covered by a large boulder over top.
I stayed like that, sealed away for what felt like weeks but was probably only days before I had healed and was able to destroy the coffin they had sealed me in. I was smart enough not to destroy the area around my gravesite, instead I slowly dug through hundreds of yards of dirt with my blood, using what little power I had left and surfaced nearly half a mile away.
Blood starved, still wounded, and with an only partially regrown arm I began the long trek north away from the Six and their Empire. It was during this long journey that I slowly began to step away from the path that I had been walking up to that point. I fed off animals alone, and when I was done I buried their bodies so that no one could follow my trail through a string of bodies like they had before.
I had a lot of time during that first year after my defeat and self-imposed exile. Time to reflect, time to process, time to look deep into my soul and really acknowledge everything that had happened since my arrival in this world. I didn't like what I saw.
Death, destruction, murder, cannibalism, cruelty, and a near complete loss of the self. I was no longer the man that I had been, that much was clear. Never in my previous life would I have done half of what I had in a singular month in this world. I had been a soldier in my previous life, a father and a husband, maybe not the best in the world but I had tried my best.
I was a nerd and a writer, a man with a dream of one day creating my own series of books to entertain and inspire. I had killed yes, as was the duty of a soldier, but never to such a savage, evil extent. Needless to say I had much thinking to do in those long days.
I thought about my family, I thought about the war that had taken my life, the early days of my new life, and the actions which I had taken while I was at my lowest. I explored my powers in more ways than just destruction and the taking of life. In a repeat of how I was before I had experienced that first ambush years before I listened to the song of the wind.
Soon enough I was gliding through the forest, an apparition in the night. The moon and stars became my muse, the forests and plains that I crossed my canvas, and as I tried to not spiral into a full on mental break I focused solely upon reforming into something better than I was. Three years I spent wandering from place to place, never sinking my teeth into human flesh, desperate to avoid becoming the monster that I knew I was.
At some point I ran across a small village, surprisingly not one of humans but Elves. I thought I had reformed myself, that I was no longer controlled by the thirst, that I had mastered it and myself after three years of isolation and intense self reflection. So I approached the village and announced myself. I called myself Imril and told them that I was a traveler that wished to spend but a night of rest inside their village.
Despite my expectations they didn't turn me away, despite my inhuman nature being on display for all to see. Those three years in the forest had not stopped my growth, and the closeness to nature had finally revealed to me my third power, the ability to morph and change parts of myself into animals that I had devoured. In an attempt to more fully accept and overcome my monstrous nature I had taken to walking with batlike wings, horns, and long claws.
I was at peace with my appearance, and so to it seemed were these elves. Likely because I was not human, and as such not a herald of yet another invasion by the Empire of the Six. Like I had promised I spent just a single night in this village, resting and helping where I could.
It was simple chance that led to the revelation that I was superhumanly strong, even beyond the elves themselves. One of the local farm hands had seen me talking to an elven maiden interested in stories of my travels and challenged me to a contest of strength. Of course I easily overpower the man when he suggested wrestling, and over the course of the next three hours I wrestled with nearly twelve strong elven men hell bent on beating me.
Some of them even went so far as to try and use my wings against me, which hurt. I will not lie. Having your wings nearly yanked off hurts like hell but I was fine in the end and won said matches either way. Before I knew it I had been invited to stay until harvest season was over and work as one of the farm hands.
It was simple labor which I usually did alone due to my Vampiric condition. Thankfully my aversion to sunlight was the least weird thing they had seen from a visiting heteromorph. It was nice, a peaceful existence where I was tempted on occasion to drink from them, but one where I was more than happy to live. I was happy, I was content.
For three months I worked through the harvest season, and for three months I was happy. Then fall began and winter began to set in and I was no longer needed or even particularly wanted. It was a small village, one where every bit of food mattered during the winter months and they couldn't afford to feed extra hungry mouths.
It was obvious that they wanted me to leave even if they appreciated my help. I understood of course, well along my path to being a better person. One intent on living by Paarthurnax's values. Unfortunately with winter came a shortage of animals to readily feed upon, and during those many days with the elves I had forced myself to drink less in an ill-fated attempt to push myself away from the instincts that governed my mind and body.
It was hypocritical of me in truth. Even as I thought to try and embrace my nature in one way I pushed it away in another, and it came back to haunt me.
Before I could leave one of the children whom I had gotten to know during my time in the village ran to catch up with me, crying and begging that I not leave.
She tripped, Oraleios was her name. She was a beautiful young girl, no more than ten years old. She tripped and scraped her knee something fierce and instead of running to her parents she ran to me, crying, begging that I not leave. Her blood was like a sweet symphony to my blood starved brain that had spent years living off nothing but base beast blood.
There was magic in her blood. Power and strength that grabbed my attention the moment it began to spill out when she tripped. It grew to a fever pitch the closer she approached and as she hugged me the only thing I could think about was the smell of her blood. It was intoxicating.
Human blood couldn't begin to compare to it. The scent alone was like comparing a heaping trash heap to the most gourmet steak dinner ever created. When I turned around and picked her up her face lit up.
I.. I still remember her smile. It haunts my dreams even now the way her eyes widened in horror when my jaw unhinged and my fangs extended in full for the first time in years.
There is silence as the man who had once been so calm and sure about his narration stops and looks at his feet. No tears come, but time passes in cold melancholic silence until he eventually steadies himself and continues.
She screamed into the night sky as I drank from her tiny body. She cried and begged me to stop even as her body withered. She… she told me that she loved me and she would forgive me, that I was hurting her, that she was scared. I remember vividly the rest of the night as I slaughtered the village, hunting down every single villager. I was determined none would survive, that their blood would not escape me in all its sweetness.
Two hundred elves lived in that village. By day break none had survived, of that I was dead certain.
When I woke the next night I was once again a hollow man who had degenerated into a monster once more at the slightest smell of blood. I was broken, my mind had regressed once more, and once more I was alone.
I buried the bodies of the villagers that night. My eidetic memory ensures that I would never forget their screams, their names, or the lives they had lived. It was all I could do to try and honor their lives and legacy.
That night I abandoned my naive philosophy molded by a want to be good, I had proven to myself that I would never be that man. I would never be the hero that triumphed over my nature as a monster to become something more, but I made a new promise to myself and those people who had been nothing but kind to me.
Never again would I kill without complete control and knowledge of what I was doing. If I was going to be a monster I would never again hurt an innocent soul.
I still hear their screams to this day when I try to sleep.
