TIMESTAMP: 8th Solace, 120
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In the early morning while the sky was still dark, Hector summoned his aidolon and slunk out of his room to go search for some fool to feed upon. It was the morning after he'd bound himself to the spirit and he wanted to see how much it would help him hunt. After all, the point of their contract was that they would help one another grow strong. For that to happen, they must be well fed– a process that was a tad more complicated as they both must feed off of the life essence of the living.
Hector was often accompanied by a more senior vampyre, but not always, and he didn't feel like going off to fetch him right now. In part, this was because he didn't want to come across as too codependent on the older man. Especially so because he had no doubt that the spirit would mock him for not being able to take care of himself…but also, would it really be a test of the spirit's usefulness should they have a third party involved? Vergil made everything way too easy since he'd been doing this for years.
As he stepped through the shadows of his home and out onto the street, one thing he immediately noticed was that the spirit's body, composed entirely of deep, black fog, appeared to absorb all light. Any light, both artificial from lamps or organic such as the moon was snuffed out when shined on the thing's gaseous form. Right away, this would be useful. The spirit surrounded Hector, and while he struggled to see through the fog, the spirit itself could serve as his eyes and tell him where to go. It spoke through subtle chimes and sibilant whispers; therefore, it would be very unlikely anyone would track or notice the duo by something so ambiguous.
Additionally, the young vampyre wasn't entirely dependent on using his sight to navigate in the first place. Ever since he turned, he'd taken advantage of his newly heightened senses. The base advantage Vitalitasi gained isn't even the extent of it, either. Early on in their journey, a fledgling will be taught a skill called Veracity– one can then cast this spell on themselves to heighten one of their senses beyond what advantage they already have.
For the purpose of hunting, Hector preferred to magnify his hearing. Sound alone was useful, but doing so also made him more sensitive to the vibrations caused by distant things that yet remained inaudible. To him, better hearing provided far more tangible benefit when out at night than anything else. The only risk was that loud sounds became far more painful.
All of this together didn't mean he was completely blinded, though. Tirspi, realizing that surrounding the young mage completely would blind him, did make a point to thin its body around his face, though not disperse entirely. He was a pale man, after all, and neither of them wanted to be spotted in this endeavor. Hector's concerns were quite obvious and the spirit didn't want to be bound to a creature only for him to die, or worse, to rot in a jail cell.
The unconventional pair made their way through the city mostly through alleyways or already darkened streets in order to remain borderline impossible to see by anyone who didn't possess magical sight of some sort. The sound of his own footsteps reverberating off of walls or other structures helped guide him along with anything else that went bump in the night. He had no target in mind and found himself wandering in the direction of somebody that had a particularly pleasant scent. The individual in question was also very likely bleeding, or at the very least wearing the blood of another. Hector hoped it was the former– the scent he'd caught onto really was enticing.
Weaving through the night, it didn't take long for him to catch up to his prey. From where he lurked in the shadows, he saw her. She didn't appear to have blood on her, at least not that he could see. Weird– she definitely carried the tell-tale metallic scent. Ah well, what difference did it make? Whatever it was did the job of drawing him to her, and beyond that he didn't care.
She was a fairly pretty elf with a youthful complexion, likely Hytori. He couldn't quite tell. It would be…unfortunate to end the life of kin, but to be fair, they do taste notably better to him than the standard human. But wait…in this case, did he really have to kill her? Through the use of his spirit's shadows, he could pretty much guarantee she'd fail to make out any identifying features. Funny. The aidolon made it easier to secure prey but also to administer mercy, should he decide to do so.
That, and he only needed about two litres of blood to sustain himself. He could just take one from her and then pick another target, though extending such grace would, ultimately, be up to his self control…which was…oftentimes, very questionable. Perhaps, then, this could be a decent lesson in control for the young Vitalitasi.
Once he crept close enough, he whispered a single command to the spirit:
"Haunt her,"
And so it went. Keeping himself hidden for the time being, he watched as the fog surrounded the lone woman traveling in the night. She froze and stopped moving, appearing confused for the brief few seconds Hector was still able to see her face before darkness engulfed her. To gauge her reaction, he waited a few seconds more. Bewildered, she took a few steps forward, and then back, and then froze again; this was likely because her sense of direction had been entirely obscured in black. Then, finally, he struck.
He was right– the poor woman didn't see him coming at all. Maybe she heard his footsteps, but with no sense of direction she didn't really get much of an opportunity to react. Taking away her opportunity to scream, he clapped one hand over her mouth and strung the other arm around her waist to keep her still. Once secured, he sank sharp fangs into tender flesh. She tasted just as the scent he followed, only far more vibrant.
Thus began the game of self control. He was well aware of what amount he could take before ending a life…but being aware of such a thing doesn't mean much when your focus is so blurred simply by how good something tasted. Though the metallic tang a mortal would expect still lingered, to Hector, the woman tasted what one would expect from a fine wine with sweeter notes, something fruity and floral. He was quite a fan of anything botanical, too.
Fortunately for her, he was able to pull away. He wasn't exactly gentle when he dropped her to the ground, but at least she would live, right? She would likely be very dizzy but still conscious, able to stumble to whatever her destination was. The spirit waited to disperse from her until Hector had skittered adequately out of sight, all but completely guaranteeing that he would remain unseen by this poor soul.
When the fog once more surrounded him, "we're not done– worry not," he whispered.
The Summoner didn't want his dear spirit to think that he'd end the night without allowing it to feast on somebody.
Ignoring the scent of the woman he'd just fed from, he managed to catch that of another poor soul wandering at night. From what he could gather, they, too, were alone. Now on a new trail, Hector moved onwards through alongside his personal darkness.
The spirit chimed a short warning before he wandered too close. This time, it would appear that his potential victim was a lone male, features difficult to make out aside from the fact that he was very likely human. At this point, he didn't really care about quality. He'd already found somebody more than pleasant, so this individual was just to round him off. That, and he'd allow his new friend to take whatever he left. Unfortunately, that would mean that this man's fate was death.
As before, he gave the command to haunt the poor thing. The spirit drifted off to surround him, resulting in a befuddled reaction much the same as the woman…at first. After about fifteen seconds, it became very clear that the man was panicking, losing his wits. Starting to make noise. It was clear, then, that he was sufficiently distracted such that he would not be able to defend himself…and that Hector needed to shut him up.
So he did. In a fashion very similar to the woman, the vampyre ambushed him. When fangs broke skin, this victim wasn't nearly as delicious– far more metal than wine in this one. Food was still food, was it now? And realistically, feeding was nearly always enjoyable. This one he drained until he fell unconscious.
"The rest is yours," he spoke softly then unceremoniously dropped the body.
Hector stepped back into the night's darkness while the spirit took its turn to feed upon all that the man had left. Within the thick shadows of the fog, the man would rapidly begin to age and then start to decay. If he were conscious, he would feel all of this as his life was not snuffed out until the very end where he resembled not much more than a desiccated corpse. The process by which the spirit fed was more of a literal siphoning of one's vitality rather than drinking of the blood itself, but to a vampyre, one of these things fueled the other. In theory, it could feed off Hector and then the fledgling could restore himself by feeding off another, though he would be weakened substantially.
As the spirit was, this process wasn't exactly quick. It probably took close to twenty minutes to drain the man away to nothing. This must be why the spirit needed assistance. For one thing, it struggled to siphon from anything that wasn't already in the process of dying, and for another, it was incredibly slow. What would it become down the line…?
As he pondered this, the inky black cloud slowly returned to him, swirling around his feet. With both monsters fed, it was time to return home.
Hector was often accompanied by a more senior vampyre, but not always, and he didn't feel like going off to fetch him right now. In part, this was because he didn't want to come across as too codependent on the older man. Especially so because he had no doubt that the spirit would mock him for not being able to take care of himself…but also, would it really be a test of the spirit's usefulness should they have a third party involved? Vergil made everything way too easy since he'd been doing this for years.
As he stepped through the shadows of his home and out onto the street, one thing he immediately noticed was that the spirit's body, composed entirely of deep, black fog, appeared to absorb all light. Any light, both artificial from lamps or organic such as the moon was snuffed out when shined on the thing's gaseous form. Right away, this would be useful. The spirit surrounded Hector, and while he struggled to see through the fog, the spirit itself could serve as his eyes and tell him where to go. It spoke through subtle chimes and sibilant whispers; therefore, it would be very unlikely anyone would track or notice the duo by something so ambiguous.
Additionally, the young vampyre wasn't entirely dependent on using his sight to navigate in the first place. Ever since he turned, he'd taken advantage of his newly heightened senses. The base advantage Vitalitasi gained isn't even the extent of it, either. Early on in their journey, a fledgling will be taught a skill called Veracity– one can then cast this spell on themselves to heighten one of their senses beyond what advantage they already have.
For the purpose of hunting, Hector preferred to magnify his hearing. Sound alone was useful, but doing so also made him more sensitive to the vibrations caused by distant things that yet remained inaudible. To him, better hearing provided far more tangible benefit when out at night than anything else. The only risk was that loud sounds became far more painful.
All of this together didn't mean he was completely blinded, though. Tirspi, realizing that surrounding the young mage completely would blind him, did make a point to thin its body around his face, though not disperse entirely. He was a pale man, after all, and neither of them wanted to be spotted in this endeavor. Hector's concerns were quite obvious and the spirit didn't want to be bound to a creature only for him to die, or worse, to rot in a jail cell.
The unconventional pair made their way through the city mostly through alleyways or already darkened streets in order to remain borderline impossible to see by anyone who didn't possess magical sight of some sort. The sound of his own footsteps reverberating off of walls or other structures helped guide him along with anything else that went bump in the night. He had no target in mind and found himself wandering in the direction of somebody that had a particularly pleasant scent. The individual in question was also very likely bleeding, or at the very least wearing the blood of another. Hector hoped it was the former– the scent he'd caught onto really was enticing.
Weaving through the night, it didn't take long for him to catch up to his prey. From where he lurked in the shadows, he saw her. She didn't appear to have blood on her, at least not that he could see. Weird– she definitely carried the tell-tale metallic scent. Ah well, what difference did it make? Whatever it was did the job of drawing him to her, and beyond that he didn't care.
She was a fairly pretty elf with a youthful complexion, likely Hytori. He couldn't quite tell. It would be…unfortunate to end the life of kin, but to be fair, they do taste notably better to him than the standard human. But wait…in this case, did he really have to kill her? Through the use of his spirit's shadows, he could pretty much guarantee she'd fail to make out any identifying features. Funny. The aidolon made it easier to secure prey but also to administer mercy, should he decide to do so.
That, and he only needed about two litres of blood to sustain himself. He could just take one from her and then pick another target, though extending such grace would, ultimately, be up to his self control…which was…oftentimes, very questionable. Perhaps, then, this could be a decent lesson in control for the young Vitalitasi.
Once he crept close enough, he whispered a single command to the spirit:
"Haunt her,"
And so it went. Keeping himself hidden for the time being, he watched as the fog surrounded the lone woman traveling in the night. She froze and stopped moving, appearing confused for the brief few seconds Hector was still able to see her face before darkness engulfed her. To gauge her reaction, he waited a few seconds more. Bewildered, she took a few steps forward, and then back, and then froze again; this was likely because her sense of direction had been entirely obscured in black. Then, finally, he struck.
He was right– the poor woman didn't see him coming at all. Maybe she heard his footsteps, but with no sense of direction she didn't really get much of an opportunity to react. Taking away her opportunity to scream, he clapped one hand over her mouth and strung the other arm around her waist to keep her still. Once secured, he sank sharp fangs into tender flesh. She tasted just as the scent he followed, only far more vibrant.
Thus began the game of self control. He was well aware of what amount he could take before ending a life…but being aware of such a thing doesn't mean much when your focus is so blurred simply by how good something tasted. Though the metallic tang a mortal would expect still lingered, to Hector, the woman tasted what one would expect from a fine wine with sweeter notes, something fruity and floral. He was quite a fan of anything botanical, too.
Fortunately for her, he was able to pull away. He wasn't exactly gentle when he dropped her to the ground, but at least she would live, right? She would likely be very dizzy but still conscious, able to stumble to whatever her destination was. The spirit waited to disperse from her until Hector had skittered adequately out of sight, all but completely guaranteeing that he would remain unseen by this poor soul.
When the fog once more surrounded him, "we're not done– worry not," he whispered.
The Summoner didn't want his dear spirit to think that he'd end the night without allowing it to feast on somebody.
Ignoring the scent of the woman he'd just fed from, he managed to catch that of another poor soul wandering at night. From what he could gather, they, too, were alone. Now on a new trail, Hector moved onwards through alongside his personal darkness.
The spirit chimed a short warning before he wandered too close. This time, it would appear that his potential victim was a lone male, features difficult to make out aside from the fact that he was very likely human. At this point, he didn't really care about quality. He'd already found somebody more than pleasant, so this individual was just to round him off. That, and he'd allow his new friend to take whatever he left. Unfortunately, that would mean that this man's fate was death.
As before, he gave the command to haunt the poor thing. The spirit drifted off to surround him, resulting in a befuddled reaction much the same as the woman…at first. After about fifteen seconds, it became very clear that the man was panicking, losing his wits. Starting to make noise. It was clear, then, that he was sufficiently distracted such that he would not be able to defend himself…and that Hector needed to shut him up.
So he did. In a fashion very similar to the woman, the vampyre ambushed him. When fangs broke skin, this victim wasn't nearly as delicious– far more metal than wine in this one. Food was still food, was it now? And realistically, feeding was nearly always enjoyable. This one he drained until he fell unconscious.
"The rest is yours," he spoke softly then unceremoniously dropped the body.
Hector stepped back into the night's darkness while the spirit took its turn to feed upon all that the man had left. Within the thick shadows of the fog, the man would rapidly begin to age and then start to decay. If he were conscious, he would feel all of this as his life was not snuffed out until the very end where he resembled not much more than a desiccated corpse. The process by which the spirit fed was more of a literal siphoning of one's vitality rather than drinking of the blood itself, but to a vampyre, one of these things fueled the other. In theory, it could feed off Hector and then the fledgling could restore himself by feeding off another, though he would be weakened substantially.
As the spirit was, this process wasn't exactly quick. It probably took close to twenty minutes to drain the man away to nothing. This must be why the spirit needed assistance. For one thing, it struggled to siphon from anything that wasn't already in the process of dying, and for another, it was incredibly slow. What would it become down the line…?
As he pondered this, the inky black cloud slowly returned to him, swirling around his feet. With both monsters fed, it was time to return home.
____
'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"
"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"
Aidolon Speech
'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"
"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"
Aidolon Speech
