Sartorous, Tiefling Assassin, ran across the rooftop, and his tail slithered along behind him like some massive black snake and his cloak billowed out behind him like a pair of black wings. A bolt from a crossbow hit the roof just behind him. A sneer stretched across his leathery face, revealing rows of sharp teeth..
Too slow, gents… Sartorous thought to himself as he kept running. When he reached the edge of the roof, Sartorous picked up speed and jumped across the gap between two rooftops and hit the other roof running. He could hear yelling from the ground beneath him.
"He's going around that way! That way!"
By jumping over the alleyway, Sartorous had lost the pursuing guards for a brief second, but he didn't notice the others that had gone around to head him off. When a well place shot from one of the guard's crossbows hit right under his foot, he lost his footing. He slipped and tumbled down the roof and landed on a market stall beneath, quickly becoming tangled up in the canvas top. He began slashing with his clawed gauntlets, cutting the canvas off of him, as he heard the guards closing in. He came up from the wreckage swinging.
He landed a blow on the closest guard before he knew what hit him, and the others launched into combat. They surrounded Sartorous, but he was ready. He unsheathed his short sword and dagger.
One of them came in high. Sartorous brought his dagger up above his head in a reverse grip, catching the guard's sword then sank his sword into the guard's gut. Blood flowed from the wound in the young man's stomach. Instead of letting him drop to the ground, Sartorous ran forward with the man still on his sword, using him as a shield against the other guards' bolts. When he was close to the others, Sartorous shoved the dead guard into them, turning around long enough to block another bolt with his dagger before sheathing his weapons and taking off again.
He heard the heavy foot falls of the still standing guards chasing him as he ran down a side alley. It was a dead end, but that didn't matter. When he reached the wall, Sartorous launched himself into the air and dug the claws of his gauntlets and the conveniently hidden daggers in his boots into the wall and began scaling it.
The guards rounded the corner of the alley as Sartorous was halfway up the wall. Again, they shot bolts at him, and gain they missed, except for two. One hit him in the right thigh and the other in the left shoulder. Sartorous ignored the pain and the nagging urge in the back of his mind to fall to the ground from the pain. Upon reaching the top of the wall, Sartorous realized he was at the city's limit.
He turned back to the guards, sneering at their failure to capture him, and then dove from the city's wall and landed in the moat beneath. He hit the water with a resounding CRASH! He went under and stayed there for longer than he wanted to. Blood floated from his wounds freely, and he was losing consciousness. He fought his way up though. Up out of the dark tunnel he was slipping down and up out of the water. He made it to the shore on the other side of the moat, coughing and spitting up blood. He cursed himself for being so weak, and got to his feet.
He heard creaking behind him as he began limping towards the edge of the forest. He glanced behind him towards the city and saw the drawbridge lowering. He quickened his pace as much as he could, disappearing into the shadows of the trees just as the city guards came across the drawbridge and found the spot he had crawled to shore at.
The captain of the guards strode over and inspected the spot. He followed the little path of blood towards the forest nearby with his eyes.
"Should we pursue him, Captain," one of the guards asked, looking towards the forest as well.
"No. He's injured badly. Those bolts took a toll on him and his little leap of ill placed faith didn't help him whatsoever. He'll either bleed out or a Dire Wolf will get him."
"Or something worse," another of the guards added with a nod.
Sartorous stumbled through some underbrush and stopped to catch his breath, leaning up against a tree. He glanced around, and focused his hearing behind him. Nothing. He wasn't being followed. Sartorous coughed again, and more blood issued forth from his mouth, turning his teeth and lips red with it. He cursed himself again for being weak.
He wanted - no - needed to become more powerful, so wounds to his fleshy form would not hinder him. A bitter smile broke his face, and he pushed off from the tree and began walking again. It was another hour before he stopped walking again. He looked around, barely able to see in front of him due to the son rod he clutched in his right hand.
"This spot will be good enough to stop for the night. I don't think the guards followed me in or will any time soon," Sartorous spoke to himself, as gingerly sat down in a small clearing of the forest. He shrugged off the small knapsack he carried necessary supplies in and pulled out his sleeping roll, a few road rations, and some bandages. He spread out his bed roll then set to the task of plucking the bolts from his flesh.
He took the sheath to his dagger and stuck it in his mouth and then gripped the bolt in his left shoulder tightly. After three deep breaths though his nose, Sartorous pulled the bolt free of his skin, sending blood down his arm. With a low snarl, he bit down on the sheath as the bolt tore skin on its way out. He dropped the sheath and the bolt on the ground in order to wrap bandages around the wound after taking his armor off of the now bleeding wound.
After more deep breaths, another low snarl, and wrapping of bandages, Sartorous was sitting on his bed roll with his armor lying on the ground beside of him, examining his wounds. There were already small red spots forming on the bandages. With a glare, Sartorous threw the bolts on to the fire he had started to keep himself warm. He kept it low, however, so he would not be spotted too easily. His eyes moved to look at his dagger's sheath. There teeth marks from where he bit down so hard.
Sartorous was suddenly on his feet with his dagger drawn. This was a mistake. He went slightly light headed and felt dizzy. He pointed his dagger into the shadows of the nearby trees.
"Come out slowly with your weapons sheathed and your hands where I can see them… Now!"
Blood pounded in his pointed ears as his rage built. He didn't like being watched. A tall, lanky man with skin as pale as moonlight emerged from the shadows. His eyes glinted red in the firelight. He held his hands out in front of him as he walked forward to stand a foot from the fire.
"Who are you," Sartorous bit out in demanding tone.
"My name is irrelevant. What is relevant is that you seek power, and I can grant you power."
Sartorous eyed the man for a long moment, considering what he had just said before speaking.
"How?"
"It's a very simple ritual really."
"Explain, before I gut you," Sartorous said, indicating his dagger with a small twitch of its blade. The man chuckled at the Tiefling. Again, Sartorous felt blood pounding in his ears as his rage once again built up.
"You cannot kill me with a simple knife. It takes much more than that to kill me, and you if you choose to accept my offer. Now, put the knife down and listen," as he said it, the pale man pointed his palm at Sartorous. Suddenly, his thoughts were clouded and he couldn't feel his own body.
He saw his hand quiver and then drop his dagger to the ground, but could not do anything to stop it. It was as if the man was controlling him.
"What are you doing!"
"I am merely using the power that was given to me long ago. Power that you too can possess."
Sartorous stared at him, still unable to move any of his limbs, even his tail. Finally he spoke up.
"How?"
"Simple. You allow me to drink of your blood and then I allow you to drink of mine, and then you shall have all the powers I posses. You will no longer be weakened by such petty wounds as these. Your only true weaknesses shall be the ones of the Holy Radiance and The Crucifix. These are only dangerous weapons in the hands of a man with strong faith in his Deity, however. You also will not able to cross running water without assistance. Because of your Tiefling blood, though, you will have a strength most among my kind do not have. The power to withstand contact with the flame, which means you will able to walk amongst the sunlight and not be harmed or hindered. You shall become Vampire."
Sartorous nodded in approval, and the man waved his hand again. Sartorous was released of whatever power the man had used to bind him. He walked over to the vampire and leaned his head to one side, exposing his neck. A second later, the vampire bit down with razor sharp canines, causing Sartorous to give a low snarl of pain, and began to drink his blood.
After what felt like an hour, the vampire finally surfaced and took up Sartorous's fallen dagger and placed it to his own hand and dragged the blade across, causing a line of red beads to appear. He offered his hand to Sartorous, who lowered his face and began to drink from the wound. He drank for a few minutes until the vampire pulled his hand away with a slight jerk.
"The ritual is complete. Now sleep," as he spoke he waved his hand again. Immediately, Sartorous collapsed on to his bed roll and darkness engulfed him. He woke up the next morning, thinking it was just a dream, until he ran his hands over his neck and felt the tiny pin pricks from where he was drained of his blood.
He felt at his wounds from the crossbow bolts, but felt nothing there. The wounds had healed overnight. He was shocked, but excited at the same time. Getting to his feet, Sartorous walked over to a nearby tree and curled his bare hand into a fist and swung at it. His hand left a good sized hole in the trunk of the tree.
"It worked. It worked!"
Sartorous began laughing, knowing he was now immortal and powerful.
