An Old Tome in an Unusual Cave [M]

[Vhargul]

[Neatly placed atop a fur rug, near the entrance to an icy cave deep in the tundra lies a large triangular journal bound in oiled leather. The tooling on the front cover seems to be inlaid with the dust of various precious gems, adhered with a primitive- yet sturdy- glue. The tooling is a diagram of a Vampire's teeth. On the first, yellowed page is a forward addressing the reader, penned in a contrasting violet ink that seemingly glows in low light. It reads:]

      !! Shataar-Haxan to all fellow Chyldren !!

    Within these pages lies the culminations of my findings and my works. These teachings are as volatile as they are beneficial. Should you lust for flesh, know that you will have it. Should you lust for coin, know that you will have it. Should you lust for power, know that you will have it.

These, however, are not the end goal- certain aspects have been excluded to prevent excessive abuse of the material contained herein. Know that the consequences of your lust will always be at your heels, no matter how long you may live.

That in mind, proceed at your leisure.

[The page appears signed with two drops of dried blood, blackened with age. The distancing and indention suggests it was achieved through pressing bloodied fangs to paper.]

[Vhargul]

[The three pages between the forward and next easily visible pages are blank. Perhaps their contents could be uncovered with a certain kind of sight or treatment. The 'first' three visible pages following the blanks are graphically in-depth diagrams of various humanoid genitalia, all labeling various tactile centers and functions through various stages of reproduction. The following page reads as follows:]

     For many species and peoples, this is the brain. For many species and peoples, this is their vulnerability- that which they tend to guard fiercely even in the midst of flirting and flaunting. Knowing the anatomy is important to coercion and persuasion. Naturally, most sentients are guarded, but a seemingly intimate approach might throw them off guard or even disarm them completely. Preference and consent are key, here. One cannot expect to seduce everyone, but it is a valuable tool to have in one's arsenal.

On the subject of compliance, one must always seek cooperative compliance. Should a threat level regress, one must regress accordingly, should they wish to be perceived favorably with their prey or their kin. Attachment is difficult to shake, but a more clinical outlook may assist some with that process.

[Vhargul]

[The following page is dated, but it seems to have been smudged into near nothingness as if the date embarrassed the writer. It reads:]

    I am shamed to my very core, today. I have lost an arm. My right arm. Centuries on the Ice without so much as a scratch only to carelessly lose a limb within moments. A creature from beneath the ice while I was gathering fish in the night for trade. I ripped it to [illegible] PIECES but the damage had been done. I was able to cauterize it before I lost all of my fluids... I have no clue if it would have killed me but I'd rather not find out. I heard some Shaman speaking of Necromancy about a decade ago. Hopefully they haven't passed yet.

[The next page, another entry, not dated:]

  It took years of apprenticing, though luckily I have time in spades. Kula'wek taught me what she could before she died. She even let me be the one to ferry her into the next life... a payment for my assistance, maybe? The blood was aged well. She was content.

                But I wasn't. Raising thrall did nothing to bring me back my arm. I'll scrape this entire tundra clean if I have to. Someone has to know something.

[Next entry, next page. The handwriting was poor and scribbled:]

A VISION. YES. CHOSEN. SPECIAL. LOVED. COMPLETE. I AM WHOLE. I CAN BE WHOLE. WHOLE AGAIN. WHOLE AGAIN WHOLE AGAINWHOLEAGAIN [Illegible]

[The next page has an explanation:]

I experimented with the possibility of communications with the First Vampire. I'd read about them in ruins to the far south, but never really put in any stock to the fables of the so-called Chyld until now. I had fasted... fasted and toyed with the sunlight, urging near-death clarity, playing with it like a game. Eventually, it came to me. It was a dream- or maybe I was awake- I hadn't fed in what felt like years, but I heard it. I heard it. A voice. A real voice not in my head but hovering just behind the nape of my neck. Directions repeated over and over again. The bit of necromancy I had learned came to my benefit, as the ritual was impossible without it. It also incorporated alchemy; I had only ever studied metallurgic transmutation so there was a large learning curve but I managed to grasp the required concepts. It isn't as simple as stitching a dead arm of similar size to your stump, saying a few words, and having your arm back, though the ritual did begin similarly. It required sacrifice. Luckily, an arm was easily bought.

Later on, the voice returned, but it sounded different. It felt different. The instructions were clear: it bore gifts but my ears were not enough as they were to hear them. Using the sunlight as my catalyst, I all but removed my sight. At first it was horrifying, but soon after I developed other senses to compensate. I wager it was Donne, herself, worming her way into my ears, but I've not the slightest clue as to why she would choose to lower herself to my level.

I have begun psychic manipulation, even biological manipulation. I'm not as physically strong as I was, but it seems like a fair trade off.

[The next few pages detail how to make a foreign limb their own through necromancy and alchemy with accompanying diagrams, but much of the information has been smudged out, save for the drawings themselves.]

[Vhargul]

[A complex chart of the sky lies on this page. On the next is another entry:]

I have been granted a new name. Ao is long dead. No one has called me that in centuries. I am now Vhargul. It means Star Eater. I quite like it, actually. Much more fitting to my current status than Ao ever was.

[The next page is a very rough sketch of an island, its features shaded in entirely from memory. Below it is another small entry:]

Sometimes I dwell on Thanatos- the lean fish, the sculpted bodies, the light, the heat. However, I know that here is where I have found my true purpose. I wonder if I will ever see it again through these new eyes.

[Below the entry is a rather lewd sketch of what appears to be a Thanati woman interlocked with a Thanati man and another Thanati woman, but none seem to be the author since they are labelled with different names.]