Shank's Logs - The Cyclops Files
Year 260
I can't believe I did it.
When I first heard what was going on here, I couldn't believe a word of it. The chief medical dwarf was turning everyone into vampires? Fucking absurd. But that's exactly what was happening. And the woman was smart about it too. She didn't extend the offer to me at first, oh no. She let me watch as everyone around me - even my fellow guards - succumbed to the curse. It was only when I was running out of options that she gave me the choice. A vial of wine, mixed with cursed blood. 'Drink this and join us', Asmoth said, 'or join the food chain'.
So I drank.
I have never felt anything quite like it. It tasted horrible at first, like rancid moonshine brewed in a tub of iron. But by the end, I was gulping it down like a dying dwarf in the desert who had been given the finest whiskey. The unholy concoction gave me electric shivers as it slithered down my gullet, made me weak in the knees. When I finished, I looked down and noticed the ordeal had actually given me an erection.
And just like that, everything changed. Later, when I had calmed down, I felt like a rotten coward. I tried to grab a drink to calm my nerves, but threw it right back up. The mere thought of food sickens me. I just sat in the dining room, staring at my mug, giving my fangs an occasional poke with my thumbnail. I couldn't believe I actually had those now.
If only the chief were still alive. He would have known what to do. And even if he didn't, he would have done something. Lock us away, flee the fortress, kill Asmoth, hell, kill everyone while he was at it. I hear he had become quite the fighter in his old age.
But what did I do? Nothing. I just went with it. I always go with it. I've been a sleeper for so long that I just refuse to make waves. Even though the queen was convicted for every death that occurred after the Turning and sentenced to some forty-something years of prison. I'm sure nobody gives a rat's ass who I really work for, or what I do with my time. But I drank anyway.
The cravings just make it worse. Whenever another dwarf passes by, I can smell the blood coarsing in their veins, hear it calling to me like a siren. I want to drink it. I want to sink my fangs into their necks and drain them dry. Maybe that would sate my thirst. But I can't. I musn't give in. I am better than that. Stronger than that. If I give in to my baser urges, I am no better than any of these rabid animals in dwarf's clothing. I must persevere. I must continue my investigations. First, to find the ancient monster who caused all this.
When I arrived, only one dwarf vampire remained in the world, and he lived right here in Steelhold. Now, there were over a hundred. And I was one of them.
So thirsty...