After a drunken night spent partying at a medieval fantasy cosplay event, Mark didn't expect to be woken up by the shrill scream of a woman.
Mark flinched awake. Ice cold adrenaline flooded his veins. The scream sounded desperate, and was far to close for comfort.
Mark closed his eyes, and tilted his head to the side. He focused on listening in for any gunshots, or a vehicle gone rogue.
Suddenly, as if a tidal wave of sound was barraging his ears, he picked up all sorts of conflicting information.
"Sir Neil is dead!"
"Hold the walls, Sigmar damnit!"
"Hrah! Your flesh is ours, manling!"
The shouts were followed by wet squelches, and sounds of pain. The unmistakable crack of a gun soon followed. Several gunshots rang out in succession, each different sounding enough for Mark to distinguish them as bullets from a musket.
Mark slumped his shoulders, his tension bleeding out into the night. He was worried for nothing! Some goofballs were just putting on a play!
Snapping his eyes open, Mark found himself in a damp ditch surrounded by trees. It was night time and he was in a thick forest, but his visibility was good. He could clearly see everything around himself rather well. He figured it must be due to a combination of good lighting from the event, and the full moon.
Mark patted himself down, searching for his belongings. His searching hand clanged off his plate armor several times before it came across a small pouch that jingled, full of coins and doo-dads, he groped further, finding both his wineskin and sheathed dirk where he had left them.
He didn't have his axe on hand, but he sure hoped it was in the ditch alongside him. For now, he could use a drink to steady his nerves. This was the first time he had woken up in a ditch, and it was kind of unsettling to him.
Mark took a big gulp of his wine, only to spit it out immediately.
"Bleh!" Mark spat three times into the dirt, and even licked his armored arm to get the foul taste out of his mouth. The wine tasted like someone had mixed ash and dirt into the drink!
He almost tossed the blasted sack into the bushes, but refrained from littering at the last second. Grumbling to himself, Mark fastened the wineskin to his side. If he could find the bastard who spiked his drink at the party, he'd make sure to give'em a taste of his own medicine.
In a foul mood, Mark scanned the ditch, hoping he hadn't lost his axe. The blasted thing was made of some of the toughest materials out there, and had cost him a mint.
Eventually he spotted his axe lying by his foot.
He shook his head with a smile on his face, and chided himself. Sometimes, something so obvious could be right in front of him, and he wouldn't even notice it.
He was about to stand up and grasp it when the sound of several nearby footsteps distracted him.
Mark tensed his shoulders at the stranger's approach. A meeting in a ditch in the dark of night wasn't necessarily a big deal considering a party was going on nearby.
However, after the case with his drink, and him having no memory of walking to this ditch, Mark was naturally suspicious that he had been set up or maliciously pranked.
At their approach, he heard extremely loud, and multiple snouts sniffing at the air.
The unusual noise made Mark adopt an air of caution.
The area where they had held their party was in the wilderness. Mark redoubled his vigilance. Could this be a family of bears, or a pack of wolves?!
Mark decided to remain motionless. If it was a group of people walking their dogs, he would look very suspicious holding an axe in the dark. And if it was a wild animal, he felt safe as long as it was a wolf. As for a bear…Mark's cheek twitched. He had seen footage of those things ripping off car doors!
Mark's brief freeze led to him being witness to a bizarre scene.
Five guys in extremely realistic fur suits came out of the woods. Their teeth were yellowed, their breath foul enough to make Mark grimace, and the curled, ram-like horns on their heads had to be made of styrofoam, they were so huge.
Mark stayed in a sitting position, still in the ditch, stupefied by these guys' attention to detail. Heck, they were even walking on hooves! Who did that?!
One of them came closer to Mark, and took extremely deep wafts before backing away in a recoil. His tail closed tight, tucked between his legs as he pulled back.
The group of five all stared at Mark, and Mark stared back in confusion. He wanted to say something, but the entire situation felt fake.
He was getting extreme uncanny valley vibes looking at these guys and their outfits, and it was weirding him out.
Frankly, he just wanted them to continue on their way, and ignore the strange, fully armored man sitting in the ditch.
This only lasted a moment before a screaming woman ran into the woods near them. Her dress wear and apparel vaguely reminded Mark of a pilgrim. Her screaming voice seemed familiar. It was a lot like the scream that had initially woken him up.
Perhaps this was part of the act, and she was departing the stage?
Mark's musings came to a sudden halt when one of the guys in a fursuit slowed down with a curved blade. He caught the woman in the shoulder blade, and caused her to clump to the ground, dead.
"Hawooo!" The group of five creeps pounced onto the lady's corpse, and began to tear into her flesh with their disgusting teeth.
Mark stayed still, stunned and horrified by what was taking place in front of him. More so, he was horrified by a growing urge taking place within himself.
The more he looked at the blood pouring out of the woman's corpse, the hungrier he became! He blinked his eyes rapidly, and breathed in so fast, he should have hyperventilated.
Shaking his head, Mark barely overcame this hallucinogenic sensation, and fully absorbed what was going on in front of him.
These monsters clearly weren't furries. And they clearly had an aversion to him. With their backs turned and distracted, Mark considered fleeing into the forest.
However, fear of the unknown dissuaded him from that. What if there were more beasts inside?
No, he had heard the cries from earlier, there was a wall involved!
Mark turned to the feasting beasts. They were all but done with their meal. Their grunts and squeals of satisfaction caused Mark to go into a rage. How dare these things eat a human?!
If he was going to make his way to the wall, he might as well start by thinning the herd.
Reaching down and gripping his axe, Mark gripped it with two hands.
He approached the closest beastman as silent as he could. Every clank of his armor sounded like a church bell ringing in his ears.
Yet, miraculously, the beasts seemed too preoccupied with their meal to bother with Mark's advance.
Taking a deep breath, Mark steadied himself.
He had spent untold hours chopping wood in the past, so he was very comfortable with the axe. He couldn't afford to miss, and his experience helped steady his nerves.
Aiming at the back of the beast's neck, Mark swung down with all his might. The axe felt light in his hands, and gleamed dangerously in the night as it swooshed down.
The sound the axe made as it moved ever closer to its target was similar to a loud whoosh of displaced air.
As Mark tensed up, the axe swing seemed to fall down in slow motion. It was as if he could see the very life essence of the beast pulsing, and bursting full of vitality in that moment of extreme stress.
Then, his axe glided through the beast's neck like a knife passing through butter. That beautiful brief light disappeared. In its place, a head flopped into the air, and jets of black-red blood sprayed into the air.
Mark took a step to the side on instinct. The blackish blood revolted him on some primal level.
Mark wanted to marvel at the ease of which his axe blade had passed through the monster, yet he didn't dare hesitate in the face of their barbarity. He could already see the other four flinching, and slowly turning around to face him.
Mark didn't leave anything to chance, and swung his axe once more. This time, he hacked into the back of another beast, dropping it to the ground, dead.
By the time he had retracted his weapon, a beast was swinging an axe of its own at Mark's face.
The attack seemed slow, and uncoordinated to Mark's eye. It was as if the monster was severely debilitated, and on an extreme amount of drugs.
Mark didn't underestimate the power of this swing though. He had seen what had happened to the lady.
Stepping into the blow, Mark barely evaded its attack, and thrust his axe up, jolting the creature in the chin.
He felt a loud, and unexpected crunch, leading to his enemy falling to the ground.
Mark didn't have time to celebrate his unexpected success as the beast with the scimitar came swinging from the side.
Its movements were similarly slow, and predictable. Mark took the initiative, and determined he had the advantage of reach. Cleaving downward, he claimed the beast's hand, cutting into the wrist.
"Eeee!" The thing squealed in pain.
Mark's ears hurt from the extreme shouting. In a burst of anger, he chopped his axe down on top of its skull, ending the annoying noise.
It was then Mark had a spine tingling sensation of doom work its way down his back.
Without time to think, Mark lunged forward in a roll. The wet thunk of a club colliding with the fallen beastman cued Mark in that he had just barely escaped with his life.
Mark got up just in time to block the beast's axe with his weapons shaft.
Mark raised his eyebrows in surprise at how easy this was. The creature was snorting and snarling, pushing hooked feet into the wet soil in an attempt to gore Mark. However, Mark wasn't going anywhere despite its best efforts.
Frustrated, the beast pulled back for another swipe. However, Mark wouldn't allow such an action, and attacked first. He forcefully battered its club to the side, then repeatedly smashed the head of the axe into its ribs.
He felt several crunches indicating he had broken something. Then, when the beast was doubling over in pain, he lifted his axe high, and claimed its head.
Mark wanted to take several deep breaths, and felt like he should be exhausted by this point. Yet, he felt fresh and ready to go.
He seriously wondered if he had been slipped a hallucinogenic, or if someone had spiked his drink.
He hoped that was the case. Because if he was being honest with himself, the pool of leftover blood from that lady should not be looking so tantalizing.
The more he looked at the pool, the hungrier, and more desperate he felt. Looking left and right, Mark confirmed he was alone, and licked his lips in desire.
He lifted the visor on his helm, and saw a reflection of bestial hunger in the crimson pool.
A little taste wouldn't hurt, would it?!
More than 500 of the town's women, children and elderly had fled, cramming themselves behind the walls.
Sister Lilliana gazed down dispassionately from the walls of Castle Marrick. As a priestess of Morr, the God of Death, she was accepting of all types of death, the beastmen and mutants laying siege to the town of Esk were hardly a concern to her.
However, that didn't mean she wished a death most foul to befall upon the hardy people of Esk. Most of these Hochlander's worshiped Taal and Rhya, the gods of nature, harvest and love. Their actions tonight strongly reflected their dedication to their patron Gods.
Liliana turned to the calm women comforting their children beside them. Their strong confidence, and care brought succor to those weak of heart. Meanwhile, many men who were experienced hunters and trappers had fled to the forest, intent on harassing the herd from behind.
Lilianna sighed. As a half-elf and the only follower of the God of Death in this Village, she wasn't particularly popular. But that didn't mean she was against her community.
Placing a lock of long white hair behind her slightly pointy ears, Lilliana took stock of the battlefield. The town wall, which was made of wood, had broken, and the town was set aflame, brightening the sky. She could hear the occasional scream, and excited snorting whenever someone was discovered hiding.
Over 300 beastmen, ranging from Gors, hounds, and lesser creatures prowled outside the gate.
She had a cold look on her face. These foul beasts were to unclean to grace her Lord's rose filled garden.
Lifting up a bow, Lilliana picked her target. It was a particularly intelligent Gor that spoke the human tongue, was giving commands, and pointing to and fro.
Inhaling a sharp breath of air, Lilliana soon exhaled, and the soft twang of her bow string soon followed.
The Gor fell to the ground, grasping its neck as lifeblood seeped to the ground.
Lilliana allowed a small smile to adorn her unnaturally pale face.
Lilliana then lowered her lips. As a priestess of Morr, she shouldn't allow herself to revel in death. Taking a deep breath, Lilliana took aim once more.
Within five minutes, she had spent all her ammunition. All twelve of her shots had hit their mark. Likewise, those wielding bows or the occasional musket on the wall all took pride in their marksmanship, and landed almost all of their shots.
The herd of 500 had been cut down to barely more than a hundred. The men on the wall blew their horns, signaling to those awaiting in the forest to come out and attack.
Lilliana was confident that the hunters outside would be able to rally, and harass the beastmen to death.
She rested on the edge of the wall, content to watch the dumb animals repeatedly ram a giant log into their gate. The walls were more than twice as tall as a man, and made of strong stone. The beasts were to idiotic to constrict ladders much to Lilliana's amusement. Additionally, there was a steel gate behind that, and furthermore, another gate to fall back to in the unlikely event that this one fell.
Their defense was solid. It had to be. As the most prominent mining and lumber town in Hochland, Esk was in no short supply of iron or lumber. She could only shake her head in pity towards those villages and hamlets that lacked such strong gates.
In her moment of content, Lilliana heard something that made her skin crawl, and instantly had her stand up straight.
She heard a strange, rhythmic, alien chanting down below. Lilianna searched everywhere, and then she saw him. A small, pale furred mutant with half a humans face was surrounded by a slowly building, swirling green glow.
Oh no! The reinforcements wouldn't make it in time!
Lilliana searched left and right, desperate to find an arrow to kill the beast. Only, all was for naught. The defenders had all loosed their arrows, and spent their bullets.
The chanting reached a crescendo, and the swirling of green magnified to a degree that the other defenders took notice.
Cries of alarm and concern spewed from their mouths, but Lilliana knew it was pointless. Perhaps she would meet her Lord sooner than she thought.
The green energy transformed into a wave, and blasted the gate down. A few unfortunates on the other side were caught in the explosion, and perished.
"OOOOOO!" The beastmen screeched, and blared horns into the sky.
They charged into the gap, and began slaughtering the unprepared defenders.
Lilliana looked out into the blazing village one last time. 'So this is it.' She smiled.
However, her smile turned into a frown. Had her Lord come to meet her before her death?
Out in the fire, a black armored knight wearing a white tabard embossed with a black rose was making his way toward Castle Marrick.
Every step closer, he would lash out with his axe into the backs of the beastmen. They were so intent on rushing into the castle, they paid no heed to their flank.
The shaman however, did. It raised its staff, and launched a green bolt the size of a drum at the knight. Yet, he dodged it with supernatural grace.
If it wasn't for her elven blood, Liliana was sure she would've missed the knight's next action. He jumped forward so fast, it was on par with an arrow leaving the bow, or a bullet shot from a musket.
The shaman had time only to squeal before he was smashed into putty by the knight's axe. His weapon gleamed in the firelight, black blood drenched the axe blade and dripped down the shaft. And yet, his tabard was spotlessly white, untainted by the beast's blood.
Lilliana, who had been cold to others her entire life, and distant from her community felt her heart quicken at the sight. His acts of casual slaughter, sending these creatures to the netherworld in one swing. A strange feeling had begun to take hold of her.
As a priestess of Morr, and devout believer, she had been surrounded by death all her life. And now, a seeming fellow believer had come to deliver her in her hour of need. Was this not providence?
It didn't take long for the man to slaughter his way to the gate, many had fallen to his swift and brutal attacks.
However, a dozen Gor's had noticed him, and howled at him in challenge.
Turning about face, they rushed at him as one.
Lilliana held her breath.
It was then that a horn sounded out. It was followed by a barrage of arrows entering the fray. Five of the dozen beastmen instantly fell down, dead. The remaining seven roared in pain from their wounds, and came screaming forward.
The knight expertly dodged their attacks. Despite his heavy armor, he was fluid like water.
Every swing of the axe, and a Gor would lose its life or limb. They tried to surround him on all sides, but he would back up or move to the side. Another barrage of arrows sealed their fate. The knight finished off the wounded, and made his way into the castle.
Before he entered the broken gate, their eyes met.
Lilliana was paralyzed. She recognized what this man was. She recognized the deep seated, ravenous hunger.
Lilliana took a deep breath. If it meant saving the people of Esk from a horrible fate, she would be willing to give herself up as sacrifice.
Mark regained his sanity inside a small room with a beautiful woman in his grasp. A sweet taste upon his tongue made his heart flutter in ecstasy.
The night before felt like a fever dream. Had he really done that?
Shaking his head, Mark decided he needed some sunshine. He walked to the curtains, and spread them wide.
Mark flinched when the morning sun made contact with his hand. The barest touch of light felt like an extreme sunburn. However, his arm, which was covered by a long sleeve hurt, but wasn't as extreme as the direct sunlight.
Did he get a new skin condition, or disease last night? What was going on?!
While he was staring out into the distance dazedly, he saw the reflection of the beautiful woman behind him in the window. But something was strange, it was as if he wasn't there, he had no reflection.
Mark bit his lip in concern, only to notice his teeth had extended far further than he had intended.
The events of last night were all coming together. The madness, the craving. It was clear as day what had happened.
He plopped down onto the bed next to the beautiful woman, and cupped his head in his hands.
He was a vampire in Warhammer.
AN: MC doesn't know it, but he has all the powers and abilities that a Skyrim Vampire Lord has. And, just like Serena, he can walk in the daylight. It's just extremely uncomfortable, his magicka doesn't regen (unless he feeds) during the day, and isn't quite as super human.
Time period is Karl Franz.
Crossposting from QQ.