The Ascendancy of the Vampire

4. Some Of Us Have Special Diets

Outside the ruins of the cathedral, the sun was starting to set. The party walked clustered together as Night answered their questions as best as she could.

“So you were a Chosen of Mystra but then you made a mistake and she fired you?” Kal said incredulously. “What did you do?”

“An artifact I happened upon ended up destabilizing the Weave,” Night explained. “Mystra felt I was a liability. It was all very unfair.”

“Somehow, I feel like that is not the full story,” Astor muttered.

“Have you been to her divine realm?” Shadowheart asked. She knew a little bit about what being a Chosen to a god meant.

Night nodded. “For many years, I lived in Dweomerheart, Mystra’s realm in Elysium.” She side-eyed Astor and cleared her throat. “The Blessed Fields of Elysium, a plane that is the embodiment of the concept of goodness. It’s one of the Outer Planes.”

“Thank you for the addendum, my dear, but I know what Elysium is,” Astor shot back.

“I was just trying to be helpful,” Night murmured.

Astor ignored her. He fell into thought as he tried to remember what he knew about the Outer Planes.

These planes of existence were shaped by belief and thought and the cosmic forces of alignment. It was also the place where gods, divine beings, and powerful immortals dwell. But he never considered that people would normally live in the Outer Planes. Wasn’t it considered the afterlife?

Now, he had met the God of Death’s avatar, the being that managed the very concept of death for his reality. And he had experienced that god peering directly into his very soul.

And just that morning, he had flown through Avernus on the nautiloid, the first layer of the Nine Hells of Baator, an Outer Plane that embodied the concept of lawful evil.

He felt like anything sounded plausible.

The party walked through a narrow road between half collapsed buildings that bordered the edges of the temple ruins. Without warning, arrows flew through the air, threatening to pierce them from above.

From one side, Night immediately held up a hand, already muttering an incantation. A golden translucent shield materialized over her. The arrows struck the shield and splintered.

On the other side, Kal’s eyes flashed and he leapt upward, throwing his arm in a wide arc around him, swiping the arrows out of the sky. He landed roughly and held the bundle of arrows in one hand, crushing them as he looked for the perpetrators.

“Ah. Were you only pretending to be exposed?”, a taunting voice announced above them. A dozen figures appeared along the roofs of the ruins, shadowed against the light from the setting sun. Covered in dark cloth, leather armor, and various headwear, each pointed a heavy crossbow at the party. “You’re on our turf. Hand over your gold and weapons, and we’ll let you leave safely.”

“Bandits,” Shadowheart murmured.

Astor cursed under his breath. He should have been more careful. They were greatly outnumbered.

He subtly leaned closer to Kal and whispered into his ear. “Do you want some exercise? They wouldn’t expect a dragon to appear right here. Think of the fun.”

Kalsarin grinned, and then he licked his lips. “Alright, watch carefully.”

The next moment, a blur of red shot up towards the rooftops. A red dragon materialized in front of their eyes, and a torrent of flames cascaded across the sky. The quiet atmosphere was broken by screams as the bandits tried to escape Kal’s path by climbing down the buildings. Almost a dozen of the group were able to escape Kal unharmed.

“He was a dragon?!” one of the enemies shouted.

“It doesn’t matter, he can’t fit between the buildings. We should be safe down here,” another yelled back.

Astor took advantage of their distraction, and his dagger was already in his hand. He darted towards the closest bandit. One precise swing of his dagger across the enemy’s neck, and the man collapsed into a pool of blood. Astor took a step back from the corpse, the smell of blood hitting him, making his hungry sharpen painfully.

Shadowheart gave a small yelp. “You didn’t have to kill them.”

“Ok, sure. Let’s maim them until they can’t come after us anymore,” Astor bit back. “With any luck, they’ll bleed out on their own, or lose a limb to infection. Is that any better, Shadowheart?”

“We—“ Shadowheart began to retort.

“Now is not the time, guys,” Night interjected helpfully.

Enraged at their fallen ally, the enemies took battle positions. It was clear this group of bandits were used to working together. Half of them stayed in the back, using their crossbows, while the other half formed a cohesive front that covered each other’s weak spots, daggers and short swords in hand.

Astor’s side struggled with coordination. He stood with Shadowheart in front of Nightingale, trying to keep the enemies back. But the bandits were wary of Astor’s speed, and they kept their distance, only stepping in to jab when they saw an opening and immediately stepping back.

Wielding a long spear, Shadowheart was much slower in her actions, and the enemy took advantage of that. But thankfully, because of her heavy armor, most of their attacks did not do much damage.

Meanwhile, Night tried her best to stop the arrows from hitting any of them by materializing a shield at the right moment.

The bandits were smart, coordinating their arrows when Night couldn’t react in time. They targeted Astor, who now had to split his attention both to dodge the ranged arrows and the melee attacks of the enemies surrounding him.

This isn’t working, Astor thought as an arrow glanced his leg. He knew they needed a new plan. Taking a deep breath, his eyes swept the battlefield. With mind magic lacing his voice, he loudly announced one word. “Grovel.”

The mass command swept the enemies’ minds, causing half of them to stop in their attacks, their bodies falling to the ground against their will.

“Stop defending, Night. Attack offensively!” Astor yelled over his shoulder. “Let me see your magic!”

Night’s expression brightened and she excitedly nodded. Turning around, she ran a few steps behind him, seemingly trying to position herself. Her hands dug into the material components pouch strapped to her waist.

Astor had a bad feeling about this. He was distracted, and a sword swiped past his cheek, almost cutting him. He barely dodged in time, swinging his dagger back to knock the bandit away.

Then, he felt a pressure build from behind him, the hair on his head moving by some unseen force. He heard Night finish reciting an incantation, and then there was a deafening CRACK. His vision went white. He tried to scream but he couldn’t get air.

Night’s lightning bolt streaked down the narrow road between the building ruins, traversing straight through Astor and hitting the bandits in its path.

The bodies of most of the bandits were smoking and charred as they hit the ground. The air smelled like burnt metal, the ground and buildings charred and crumbling where the bolt struck.

The last lone bandit watched this in horror, and then turned and immediately tried to flee. One radiant bolt flew through the air, catching him straight in the back of his head. He fell prone, and Shadowheart was already on top of him, her spear going clean through his back. His scream died in a gurgle as blood filled his lungs.

Shadowheart grimaced as she pulled her spear out of the body. “We killed them all. Happy now, Astor?”

Astor couldn’t hear her over the ringing in his ears. He could still feel the lightning running through him, the energy engulfing him completely. His knees collapsed and his hand went to his temples, trying to soothe the massive headache he now had.

Once his hearing returned, he looked up at Night, seething. “What the fuck, Nightingale? I was right there!”

Night looked confused. “What’s the problem? I can sculpt spells, so they don’t hurt you even if they hit you.”

“I still want to avoid having lightning travel through me!”, Astor yelled, getting shakily to his feet. “Hells below, that was a new experience…”

“I-I’ll keep that in mind,” Night replied. She rubbed her arm sheepishly. “But that was the best angle. I was able to position my bolt well because the ones your Command magic hit were in a straight line! It’s so satisfying when I hit multiple targets.”

Shadowheart watched Night’s smug pose, and then looked towards the pile of corpses bleeding out or smoking. “I guess we’re that type of party.”

“What are you muttering about?” Astor asked Shadowheart, still slightly disoriented.

She swept an arm in front of the scene. “Taking lives like they mean nothing.”

“They asked for it,” Astor said angrily. “I didn’t see you having any problem killing all those skeletons in the temple.”

“That’s because those are undead. They’re not actually alive,” Shadowheart explained, arching an eyebrow. “How are some undead comparable to people’s lives?”

Astor looked her in the eye. “… And what about the fiends and mind flayers on the ship?”

“Monsters,” Shadowheart replied. “Uncivilized. Aggressive. Dangerous.”

“Oh, get off your high horse,” Astor grunted. “Mind flayers are much more intelligent than you think. You’re trying to justify your killing.” He looked down and flicked debris off his shirt. “If you’re going to kill, then kill with conviction. Otherwise, you won’t survive long.”

“You seem…awfully used to this, Astor. Did you say you’re from Baldur’s Gate? What… exactly do you do in the city?” Shadowheart asked suspiciously.

“That’s irrelevant here,” Astor replied. “Unless…you tell me what a Sharran like you does in your servitude to Shar?”

She stayed silent. She just glared at Astor, who held her stare.

“I’m surprised,” Night chimed in cheerfully. “Shar’s faithfuls don’t usually hold your opinions.”

Shadowheart flushed, and she looked appalled. “I— Well. What about Mystra? What are her opinions on mortal lives?”

Night shrugged. “Anything for the stability of the Weave is a justifiable sacrifice. Though she is known to hold some mortals dear.” Night grew excited by her own thought and launched into a passionate speech. “Imagine what it would be like to be a mortal protected and elevated by a god!” She rambled on about the special treatment some of the other Chosens of Mystra received, and even how some of Mystra’s Weave Anchors were protected by her unknowingly.

Astor, meanwhile, eyed Nightingale warily.* She’s dangerous if she can’t be controlled.*

Astor, Shadowheart and Night climbed to the rooftops to see if Kal needed help. They found several of the bandits heavily mutilated, many with missing limbs. In the distance huddled a red dragon, completely focused on its meal. They heard the crunch of bone and the spurt of blood. Some of the enemies were still alive, and they could hear moaning and desperate wails.

Shadowheart and Night both gasped at the sight.

“He’s… eating them,” Shadowheart said softly. She gripped her spear tighter.

“I guess…dragons do eat people,” Night reasoned, though she held a defensive pose.

“But we’re people,” Shadowheart replied in a hushed whisper. “He’ll eat us!”

Astor, however, was distracted. In the air lingered a fine mist of fresh, human blood, and he was doing all he could to rein in his urges. His fangs had extended past his lips, and he folded his collar up in an attempt to hide them, turning against the setting sun. But his most urgent problem was the instinct to feed. His body shook as he tried to remain in control.

His master Velith had never allowed him to drink the blood of thinking creatures. By vampiric compulsion, he couldn’t have bitten a person and drank their blood if he tried. He had subsisted on a diet of mostly vermin, though even those meals were infrequent. His master enjoyed starving her spawn to keep them weak and desperate, a twisted game of power and control.

But now, away from his master’s control, perhaps her compulsion was no longer in effect. He looked at the bloodied bandits lying near his feet, their blood warm and flowing freely. He swallowed heavily, his lips dry.

“Astor. Astor. Hello?” Night was suddenly in front of him, waving her hand in his face. “Are you ok? You’re…sweating. Does Kal’s diet bother you that much?”

Astor paused a moment. “You two go wait for me on the road,” he said coolly, his face still turned into his collar. “I’ll talk to him.” Then he quickly walked away.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Night and Shadowheart climb down the building. He glanced across the rooftops. Kal was still engrossed in his meal.

At Astor’s feet lay a man, a bandit who was missing an arm. He nudged the body with one foot, and the man groaned slightly. Still alive, Astor thought.

Will Velith’s magic still compel him? He must find out.

He slowly sat down beside the injured bandit, his hands trembling with anticipation. He pulled the man into his lap, hastily pulling his shirt loose, and firmly bit down on the neck. His long fangs smoothly pierced the delicate skin, and immediately warm, intoxicating blood flooded his senses.

The bandit thrashed weakly, and Astor easily subdued him, gripping him wrists to restrain him.

The blood was leagues sweeter and thicker than the vermin’s blood he was used to, comforting in a way that felt almost nostalgic. He was lost in the sensation, feeling the warmth growing from within him. He drank with a desperation, his grip on the body tightening. Soon, the bandit’s body cooled, no more blood flowed, and Astor let the corpse roll off him.

He sat in a daze, swaying slightly, looking over the rooftops, watching the sun set and feeling its final rays on his skin. There was a quiet buzzing in his ears, and the hunger that usually gnawed his ribs felt distant.

“It looks like we have similar tastes,” a voice sounded behind him.

Astor startled. He hadn’t realized Kal had approached him. He turned around slowly.

Behind him, Kal was back in his humanoid disguise, but blood and gore covered his entire body. A wide grin was firmly planted on his face, showing his sharp, jagged teeth, and his pale yellow eyes were glowing brightly. He tapped his chin. “You got a little bit right here, though.”

“Not as much as….you have all over you,” Astor replied with a huff. He wiped his chin with his collar. “Do you always eat people?”

“Sometimes,” Kal said thoughtfully. He looked at the corpses around them, all charred or brutalized in one way or another. “I was very hungry today. I couldn’t remember the last time I ate.”

“Well, I’m glad you held it in instead of looking at us,” Astor said dryly.

“I would never,” Kal said quickly, holding up two blood-soaked hands. “I need you to get rid of this tadpole.”

Astor laughed in exasperation, and then he got to his feet. “I’m…not as comfortable as you are about my diet. Let’s keep what I eat between us, alright? Those two, they don’t understand. They’re still panicking seeing what you were doing.”

“They were?” Kal replied, confused. “Why? Do they not eat food?”

“They think you might eat us,” Astor said plainly.

Kal laughed loudly, tossing his head back. “But I’m so well behaved!”