Title: Vampires of the Iliac Bay, Part II
Author: Anonymous
IsNaughty: False
Price: 429
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Content:


[/font=2]

[/center]Vampires

[/center]of the

[/center]Iliac Bay,

[/center]Part II



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[/center]

[/center]     I told in the first chapter of my story how I became a
vampire and of my first kill. While it might (and, indeed,
should) horrify the reader that my first victim was a friend
of the mortal I used to be, it is my understanding that they
are not uncommon first kills.

     I left the snow white corpse in the alley and ran to the
only place I felt perversely safe, the masoleum. For the
first couple days of my undeath, I starved myself while I
considered my fate. I relearned what I was capable of
doing, and found that I was stronger, faster, tougher, and
more agile than before. I had powers that as a knight I had
only seen powerful mages wield. Later, I discovered
additional abilities, such as a total immunity to disease.
Helpful when descending on a plague-stricken city like a
jackal.

     I also found my weaknesses. I could no longer stand the
light of the sun -- exposure to it for longer than a few
seconds burned me terribly. It also pained me to enter
temples and other places of worship. The worst effect, of
course, had to be my blood lust. If I did not kill a warm
blooded creature once a night and drink its blood, my hunger
would gnaw at me, and any wounds I suffered would not heal
no matter how much I rested.

     Is this the moment for me to admit that there was a time I
loved being a bloodsucking creature of the night? It is not
impossible to live only at night, merely occasionally
inconvenient. And I wouldn't have to kill humans every
night, merely warm-blooded creatures. Orcs have a
delicious, rich brothy blood; rats are a little sweet for the
only meal of the night; werewolves are a real treat, almost
decadent the tincture between human and beast. A real
gourmet's delight.

     About a month after I died, I was having the best time of
my life. One night, I received a letter from someone who
said he was "family." Curious, I went to visit him at his
tavern, and was told about the tribe of vampires to which I
belonged -- the Montalion. In return for me performing
certain duties for the "family," the man at the inn would
train my in my vampiric abilities and skills.

     Though I never got very much detail, I surmised that the
two main differences between the different vampire clans is
geography and powers. Montalion alone have the gift for
teleportation, but the other eight have powers of their own. 

     My mentor (that is the title he used) would congratulate
me after each mission I performed, and came to trust me more
and more. If asked, he would tell me about the Montalion's
newest alliances, who they were manipulating, who they were
stalking. It was then I started to become frightened at
last. They, and all of their rival clans, were draining the
blood of Tamriel itself.

     I panicked. I had to find a cure. But nowhere could I find
any book or rumor suggesting that vampirism is anything but
permanent. So I resolved to kill myself, but I wanted to
bring the Montalion down with me. I joined guilds they
opposed, and failed any mission given to me
spectacularly. I thought my mentor would turn against me,
but he only became quieter, less forthcoming with
information, never violent. He was not concerned. He had
probably seen vampires like me before.

     Here's why he never attacked me: immortals can afford to be
eternally patient.

     At last, he refused to give me any further missions. He
wouldn't even talk with me, but he never left his tavern. I
could come and go, and he'd watch but never talk. That's
when I got another letter.

     There are several of us, you see, former vampires who know
what to look for. We're patient too: we learned it in our
unlife. We watch and listen, and anonymously contact the
vampires we know wish to end the curse.

     Ending the curse is possible, but only just. It is very
dangerous, but when you are cursed, the only real danger is
no escape.

 
