2 comments/  4033 views/  9 favorites

Debts Ch. 01

By: DieterSchaumer



Of all the creatures of the realm, vampires have it the worst.

Yeah yeah yeah, Gnomes are short, waah waah waah. Dwarven men have small dicks, and dwarven women need to shave every day. Boo hoo. Orc girls can never get dates and human girls steal all the good orc men. Whoop de doo. Elves have the least cool parents, oh no. Humans live about as long as a gnat's fart. Cry me a river.

See, the thing about all those downsides, is that they're only downsides if you let them be downsides. Being short is only a hit on your self esteem if you let it be a hit on your self esteem. And think of all the money you save on... everything? Economies of scale are all in favor of gnomes... probably why they're always so well off.

What, you've got a small ding dong Beardy? Its how you use it honey, and believe it or not my dwarven ladies out there, some men like something to grab onto during the ride. You just gots to be confident.

That goes out to you too, Orc ladies out there. I've never seen an orc girl without a gloriously built body, yet they stumble on the approach when they get all self conscious about the tusks.

Don't get me started about family- at least you elves HAVE family. I don't care what your mother says Arelwen, you got to learn to stick up for yourself and tell your family that you're your own elf and that you are going to marry that ravishing orc lass, traditions be damned.

And as for lifespan, honestly, 60+ years is enough time on this dreary realm. If you humans plan your lives out right you never have to see anything twice. Its your own damn fault if you die alone in some village because you were too scared to see the world.

But being a vampire? How do you be proactive and look on the bright side when doing so will literally kill you? How do you put a positive spin on being hunted down by religious zealots wherever you go, watching your family disown you? Going through unlife with no one ever speaking to you, much less bothering to get to know you or appreciate your love of Heroic Era Lute composition or Valerian Marriage Poetry?

Oh sure, you might think that there are perks that make up for all that hatred and loneliness and skulking about at night perpetually being on the run- eternal youth, great strength and speed, enhanced magical affinity and unique magical abilities, perfect muscle tone... But like gambling at the great counting Dwarven counting houses of Arkamght, the odds are stacked against you from the start.

See, the power comes from blood. Not just any blood, but blood from sentient, thinking life. So you have to feed on civilization. As you might imagine, civilization isn't so happy about that. So you're not going to be welcome in any inns anytime soon.

What? What's that you say? That we vampires are murderers by choice, that we choose to kill when all we need is a little sip? Well you're right. Vampires actually don't need to drink that much blood to survive. A half pint, generally about enough to make a farmhand woozy, will settle your average stalker of the night for a couple days at least. But here's where the odds are stacked-

Its really hard to stop at just a half pint. Using any of your powers, even just lifting a particularly heavy object, severely runs out the clock to your next feeding time. And due to the whole being on the run all the time thing, you often don't feed for longer than you've planned. And when you're really hungry, the blood of you guys, its really really tasty. Its hard to stop.

It gets worse. As you might imagine there's a hard stopping point where if a vampire doesn't immediately cease feeding, the victim isn't going to survive the encounter. And the closer we get to that point, the tastier and more potent your blood is. We're no longer just drinking your vital fluid- we're consuming your life force. All the most powerful vampires of ages past sucked their victims dry. Its how they got so powerful, and why you guys don't generally sing ballads about their worthy deeds.

Take it from me. My name is Tallia, and I've been a vampire for the last 10 years. Its awful and I hate all of you. Its why I'm in this whole mess to begin with. I still remember the day of my siring...

People will tell you that female vampires are the brides of Alak-Kral, the defiler, the aspect of all corruption and evil. That we're practically succubi, creatures of the lustful night, and we are born by letting our bodies literally be raped by demons.

Hardly. I grew up as a human farm girl in a one parent household, living with my mother on the outskirts of Styrwood. My father had died before I was born in the War of Intercession, and as a result I was bored, stupid, and probably had daddy issues. Amidst the boredom and drudgery of farm life and the constant nagging of my mother, I dreamed of romance and escape. And one day, it came. Sorta.

A "traveling merchant" by the name of Casavir stopped by our home one rainy night, asking if he could take shelter with us. Mother was deeply suspicious until he turned out his pockets and offered her a shining gold brooch as payment. In hindsight, he probably readily gave the thing up because, being a vampire, he didn't really have much use for money, long term. But once that brooch was on my mother's dress, she remembered the days when she was with my father, when he called her pretty and blah blah blah. You know I said I was dumb- that dumb had to come from somewhere.

So he stayed with us and we set out a table for him. In hindsight I probably should have noticed that despite his thin frame and the coldness of the night, he ate nothing. But my mom didn't care, as she went on and on about Styrwood and asked about where he was from and he just nodded politely and nursed his wine. For my part I just stared lovingly into his eyes the whole night. After mom had went off to bed, I followed him to his chambers.

I didn't exactly have much of a plan. I came to his room, and dropped my rough homespun dress right there, in front of him. Daring him to take me. And yet, he just stared, and gave me a small smile.

"You don't like being here, do you?"

"Fuck no. Its boring as hell! My mom's super lame and I have to do chores all the time."

"Would you like an escape? I can give you a way out?"

"How?"

"Closer..."

Now, once again, since this is partly meant to be educational, a note about how siring works. Its not just if you get fucked by a vampire, boom, you become a vampire. My dead flesh down there will do nothing to your junk, in the unlikely event that you and I hit it off one dark, very dark, night. Siring is sort of like anti-feeding; its the one time a vampire gives up life force. And... to be honest I don't really know how he did it. But I remember he cut his palm before he went down on me.

I just thought he had some kinky blood fetish. Remember, I was an idiot. Anyway, the rest of the night was a blur, and all I remember is that the next morning, I woke up feeling... cold. I felt nothing, not even a heart beat. Until I noticed I didn't have a heart beat. My skin was ambient temperature and my eyes looked vacant no matter what my expression (side note: the whole vampires have no reflection thing? Bull-shit. Same deal with garlic and running water.)

I left the room to find Casavir gone and the house empty. Putting on a cloak, I walked outside into the cloudy morning, only to find my dear mother, the only family I ever had, blubbering to a guard about how some fiend had tainted me and ran off into the night. I didn't really know what she meant then, but I did know what the guard meant when he saw me. And subsequently reached for his sword.

I ran away, feeling like my flesh was going to melt off as the sun rose up with the day and the clouds broke. Luckily the town guards at Styrwood are like town guards everywhere. Failed soldiers, they couldn't keep up with a fit, terrified farm girl such as I. I eventually got to a cave past Dunman's Bridge where I hid out until nightfall. While waiting there even stupid 17 year old me figured out I was now a vampire.

What happened after that? What do you think? I survived. I got by on petty larceny, feeding on waylaid travellers charmed by the smile of some lost farm girl. I made only a few "interpersonal relationships" during that time, mostly with fences who didn't ask too many questions. Still, I had my standards. I never killed anybody. Not even those I fed on. As soon as I felt the rush of the blood really start, I just dropped them, right there, and ran. I wasn't going to be a monster, no matter what everybody thought.

And as the years went on, I got smart. Or smarter. I had to, to survive. I gained mastery over my vampire powers, especially Auspex, whereupon my blood fueled a perception of another's deepest fears and desires. This was handy when you're wondering whether or not the locals have gotten wind of you're presence. On top of that, I learned whatever skills I could whenever I could. I picked up a lot of illusion magic from a traveling circus, paid for archery lessons from a blind bowman, even slept with a greasy alchemist to learn potion making.

See, while your run of the mill town guards are basically jobworths best suited for hooting at women, rounding up foreigners, or beating up workers and farmers protesting tax hikes, every now and again you get that Dirty Harlan type- a guard on the edge, who doesn't follow the rules, just cold steel justice one week from retirement. I'd almost admire their integrity if they didn't universally regard my kind as monsters. You had to be on your toes when dealing with a guard who actually did his job.

But even then they had jurisdictions, and if things went sour you just had to run far away enough and let the attention die down. Its not like I owned any property they could confiscate, or family they could go after. So, while life still sucked (har har), I was at least getting by.

Until I ran into the Order of Eternal Vigilance. Oh where to start with these fanatical virgins. These deluded human bigots would set themselves on fire if it gave themselves an edge fighting a vampire. In fact, I think there was a separate offshoot of the main group that trained to fight that way, though I don't think their vigilance lasted very long after setting themselves on fire. They also didn't just go after vampires, but also any orcs, elves, dwarves, or anybody who wasn't human and going steady with a human. Did I mention that they could never get laid? I'm pretty sure I did but I'll mention it again. In my opinion they were just sexually frustrated men who needed to justify the fact they couldn't get any by taking a vow and pretending they were protecting the purity of the race.

Anyway, I ran into a group of them one night. Simple as that. Walking through the countryside, minding my own business, rounded a corner, boom. Bunch of Order Twits. They shouted: "Hurr durr! A vampieuhrr!" or something to that nature and I turned and fled.

Now like I said, as a vampire, I've got speed. Also I knew the area. So during the night, I left them in the dust. The problem was they're persistent, and there were only so many caves in the region. So during the day, they caught up with me, and I'd have to leave as early as evening as I saw them coming. This continued for three days. Three. Days.

As you can imagine I was really really out of juice by then. Sleeping doesn't help a vampire much, and I was starving from the exertion of running. I was feeling woozy, not thinking clearly. In the end, as I could hear their boots restlessly march towards my position, on the third night, I just figured the game was up.

What kind of life did I live? Was this better than being bored Tallia the farm girl? How could I have been so stupid? Shit. If it has to end it might as well end here. I crouched behind a rock, not knowing how far I had ran or how close they were, and marshalled my remaining energy for a shadow bolt, the only offensive spell I knew. I readied it for when the first order twit peeked from around from the left.

Suddenly I saw movement from my unguarded right. Startled, I let fly the shadow bolt, and soon enough, a figure fell out of the bushes, slain with a magical arrow through the heart. But it wasn't an order twit.

It was a human woman. She had lightly tanned skin and soft, auburn hair. It fell over a beautiful countenance somewhat marred by her staring, terrified eyes. Her body lay stiffly on the ground, her blue dress still against the night air, a bucket not too far from where she fell. Oh. fuck me. I just killed an innocent woman. Probably just getting water from the well.

The worst thing is, after I hid away with her body, I fed on her. I felt I had to- I had already taken her life, and it seemed pointless to let that go to waste. But believe me, I felt terrible. Well, no, I felt wonderful, physically, but as myself, me, who I felt myself to be, I could almost feel my unbeating heart sink to the floor. I was now the monster everyone thought I was.

Too ashamed to thank her for her unwitting gift of life, I walked dejectedly down the path leading to the well I hadn't seen when I took cover. I just went in the last 5 minutes from being terrified I would be killed, accepting that I would be killed, and then wishing I had been killed. In the distance, I saw a light. Knowing not what else to do, I covered myself with my cloak and stealthily approached, cursing the squeaking of my leather getup (side note: don't believe the hype. Serious thieves don't wear tight, shiny full leather outfits. I recently bought it from Sam the Fence because I thought it made my ass look good in the moonlight)

As it turns out, it was the light from a lantern, held by a small figure. I reached for my Gnomish See-farther-device-thing-made-of-glass and saw that it was a young boy. What was he doing out here? I had a dark suspicion, and morbidly, I couldn't help but approach him.

"Heya kid- what's your name? what are you doing out here at night?"

"I'm Tristram. I'm waiting for my momma. Who are you?"

"shit... What does... um.. your momma look like?"

"Oh she's really pretty. She's got auburn hair and the biggest blue eyes you've ever seen! If you saw her you'd know."

Ohfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. ijustkilledhismomma i'm a monster. Gahhhhh. I didn't mean to! I thought she was one of the order fucks oh god whyyyyy

"Are you okay lady? Don't worry about me, I know my momma will come back. She made me a promise and she never breaks promises. You should worry about yourself."

He walked behind me and patted me on the back in a 10 year old's best concillatory gesture. Great. On top of all this, he's an adorable little shit too. On closer inspection he also only looked half human. He had very olive skin, unlike his mother, and I could see small tusks developing. His father was an orc- oh double fuck.

"Say, where's your dad, kiddo? Is he going to be back soon?"

"Nah, my dad never came back from the Second War of Intercession... momma said maybe he'd been captured and ransomed and maybe I'd get to meet him someday... but I think he's dead."

gahhhhh. So he's an orphan. And he doesn't even know it yet.

"Look, its not safe out here kid. I'm sure your momma would rather you stay indoors. Its really cold an-"

"No! My momma will be back soon, and I'm going to wait until she does. And you still haven't told me your name yet, lady."

I told him I was Tallia, and that I was... a bard. He seemed satisfied at this answer, but my mind was racing. The Order would arrive here soon, and they didn't take kindly to me or mixed race children. I had to get him inside the house. I plied him with candy, gnomish trinkets, even gold-

"Listen lady, you seem like a nice lady and all, but what would I do with gold? I'm 10 years old! Vail never lets me buy anything anyway, said I don't know the value of things yet. So I'm just going to sit here and wait til she comes back. It was nice meeting you Tallia."

I was growing desperate. I could see lights in the distance. I had to get him to safety. I wasn't going to let him die tonight as well. But what could I do? Knock him out? I couldn't bear to hit children, and I heard their skulls are soft at a young age- my blackjack wasn't weighted for children- what kind of monster would make a blackjack for children anyway?

Finally I had an idea. In my herbalism sack, strapped to my backside of my ample right hip, I had a small amount of Wervoll Sap Putty. Poured over a surface, it had the ability take the form, color, even texture of whatever you moulded it onto, solidifying into a floppy, elastic mass after a few seconds of letting it set. This didn't initially seem to be of much use in convincing a 10 year old boy to get back into his house, but then I had an idea that was brilliant in its sheer awfulness.

I would make a mask. Of the woman I just murdered. And wear it to trick her orphaned son into safety.

I dashed to where I stashed the body, and looking away myself, I shut her staring eyes. I took out the bottle of putty, and patting the bottle as it poured out, spread it all over the dead woman's face. I made sure that all of her pores were evenly coated with the stuff, even a bit surrounding the inside of her nostrils and the fullness of her lifeless lips. I would only get one shot at this.

Satisfied with my work, I patted off the remainder coating my hands and waited the minute or so for it to set. Eventually I glanced back at her face, and peeled it off. The results were incredible. I had in my hands a perfect copy of her face. I only had enough putty for a half mask, to cover the front of my face, but with a hood it would probably work. A hood would also cover the fact that my straight dark hair did not match up to her short auburn hair. I took out a small knife and cut out eyeholes.

That reminded me, the indiginity I was going to put this woman through was not over. I needed her clothes. Lacking the time to strip myself, I simply took her blue dress and put it over my leathers. To my surprise she wasn't wearing anything underneath, which of course only made the sight stranger.

Taking the mask in hand, I pressed it firmly against my face, allowing it to envelop my features. The natural adhesive quality of the sap allowed it to stick fast to my face, and after an exploratory pull, my disguise was ready. I lacked a looking glass to check fully my appearance, but everything seemed in the right place. I pulled over the hood of my cloak, grabbed the bucket, filled it, and walked guiltily towards the boy.

"Momma! Wait why are you wearing that cloak?"

"Shh! Its time to go bed... uh, son."

"Awwh, but I want to tell you something! I met this weird lady named Tallia, who said she was a bard but I didn't believe her, cuz she cussed a lot and..."

"Just get inside, there's not much time!"

"Your voice momma- are you sick, momma?"

"Um, yeah, -cough- yeah its really cold out nowgetinside before you get sick too!"

I shooed him inside. It was quite dark inside the cottage, as the hearth was smoldering. Quickly I found what had to have been the boy's bed, and I opened up the covers for him. By Jesamine, it had been a long time since I had been in a normal home. He reluctantly climbed inside and looked at me expectantly.

"What?"

"Um, aren't you going to give me a kiss, momma?"

Rolling my eyes, I leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. Satisfied with his nightcap of motherly love, he smiled and turned over and went to sleep. adorable little shit. Sighing in relief, I sat there, wondering what I would do next until I saw a light pour through a crack in the door.

Shit. The order. Just in the nick of time too. I double checked my appearance in a cracked looking glass I found next to the kid's bed, by the light of the dying hearth. By Jesamine indeed, I looked exactly like her- but the pale undead skin of my neck revealed where her face ended. I raced over to the other side of the room, where there were some drawers. To my relief I found a green scarf, and quickly tied it around my neck, pulling over the hood afterwards.


Debts Ch. 01



I sat back down next to sleeping Tristram and tried to look nonchalant. I was suddenly glad to be dead; I didn't have to hide a racing heartbeat, because I didn't have a heartbeat.

Moments later the door was kicked in. Tristram began to stir but I quickly shushed him and kept him sleeping with his back faced to the door; they couldn't see his tusks that way.

"We've found you, vamp- Oh hello, miss-"

"Oh! You could have knocked!"

"A ha, sorry to have disturbed you, my good lady. We're on the hunt for an evil denizen of the night."

"Oh? How terrifying! I wish you brave men the best in subduing such a horrifying creature!"

He blushed, the swine. It was probably the only time in his life a young woman complimented him for anything. With a theatrical bow, he closed the door and left.

"Vampires? Did that scary man say there vampires?"

"Don't worry dear. That scary man was just an idiot. Please go to bed."

"If there were vampires, would you protect me momma?"

"Err, I'd never let a vampire hurt you, dear. Now go to sleep."

Tristram gave me a smile, and I couldn't help but smile back, in the dim light. And then it came back. Oh the guilt... I tried to tell myself that even if I hadn't killed his mother by accident, the order might have killed her and Tristram for "polluting the race"... if somehow that was a better outcome- But then on again, I had lead the order there. So whoopdedoo, still your fault, Tallia.

I stood up and gave a more detailed look at the cottage. Now that I had fed, my strength was coming back, and I could see easily in the dark the entirety of the cottage. It was of modest size, but well apportioned. Tristram's mother was not an illiterate peasant woman, as I could spotted a desk and a small bookshelf in what passed for the main bedroom.

I walked over and glanced through the texts. A lot of books on herbalism- I suspected that whoever this woman was, she worked as a healer or town witch. Yep, lots of books on plants and potion making. And then I found a set of tomes marked I through IV.

They were diaries. The woman (named Vail, as I quickly learned) had kept a detailed account of her life, and the feelings she felt. As you can imagine the voyeurism of reading about the life, hopes, and dreams of a woman I just killed and was now impersonating was very painful, but I felt like I had to read this... because comprehension was dawning on me that I couldn't just leave Tristram now.

She was born a silly farmgirl like me, except unlike me she had sensible (if strict) parents who actually cared what happened to their daughter. I could understand why she resented them at the time for it, but never really having anyone in my life who looked out for my future, I kind of envied the fact that she was sent off with the Priestesses of Valic to learn herbalism. That she did, and was bored out of her mind, there being no boys or other such diversions there.

Her life changed when she met Grobuk, whose image I could see on the Sketchograph hung over the hearth. He was a well built orc with dreams of seeing the world- I could see why some bright eyed and cloistered girl like Vail fell for him. Still, I couldn't really be critical, as from her writings he had a lot more going for him than my Casavir. He was a perfect gentlemen, and in the time she could steal away he romanced her like one. And indeed, despite her pleading for him not to go through with it, he went with courage to request her hand from her father.

To Vail's surprise, Grobuk's forthrightness in doing so impressed her old man, and they were wed. Yadda yadda yadda, they lived an enviously idyllic life afterwards. She left the monastary early, but knew enough to set up a trade as an herbalist, and he dilligently put off his dreams of adventure when little Tristram was born, choosing instead to work the lumber yards.

And then of course came war. Of course. What is it with men and war? Vail writes about how they argued night after night. Grobuk wanted to join up with Lannier in the Second War of Intercession, as Lord Lannier had made himself known as a great friend to the non-human races and was well regarded as not so bad (as tyrants go). But his forces were severely outnumbered and he'd need all the help he could get against the upstart Baron Sannvier and his half-sister Valerie, who were kinda cunts (as tyrants go). As Vail sensed, Grobuk also wanted to see the world, as he had told her when they were first courting. Lannier was also paying well, he argued.

Vail eventually gave in, hoping that Grobuk would return safely, his wanderlust sated and their finances a bit improved. The war seemed like it wouldn't last that long- most of the fighting was at Tarrymore Pass, and once one side gave in there, the outcome of the war would be quickly decided.

As one might expect, that didn't fucking happen. The war ground to an ugly stalemate for two years, and after 8 months, she stopped hearing from Grobuk. She held hope he had been captured and maybe ransomed back, but after a certain point she stopped writing about him, choosing instead to focus on young Tristram's development. I can only imagine how she felt when Lannier inevitably caved and signed a non-aggression pact with Sannvier, ceding some of the contested Orc lands in the deal.

It was a heavy read, but to my joy there were a lot of details, and Vail took friendly, slightly gossipy notes about the people she kept in touch with, as well as Tristram's habits and needs. She dreamed big for her son, and wanted him to study at the Academy- so she also wrote in lesson plans in the margins, to teach him how to read and all sorts of philosophy guff.

With this, I could... I could... gahh. I could be... Vail. For Tristram. So he wouldn't have to be an orphan. I wouldn't be the mother Tristram deserved, but maybe i might kinda sorta maybe be the mother he needed? Please? Oh Jesamine...

I shut the diary. I still had a couple hours of night, and I was strengthened by Vail's lifeblood- especially as I had taken all of it. I would have to be strong now, for Tristram, if I was ever going to even slightly repay the debt I owed to Vail for murdering her.

So that night I set to work. I thanked Lady Jesamine that Vail was an herbalist, for there was more of the sap putty stuff- in fact she was growing it on trees outside. Apparently its pretty good against constipation. Wouldn't know, hadn't eaten anything in a decade. I quickly ran up to the well, found her stiffening body and carefully carried her to the cottage cellar. Her workbench would now be my workbench.

I was really sorry to be desecrating her body again, but if I did this now, and perhaps could get a mould made, possibly fill the results with some sort of plaster, I could bury her with some dignity, before she started to rot. Pushing the unpleasant thoughts out of my head, I carefully prepared the putty. Reading in Vail's notes, I learned that apparently the translucency, as well as durability, of the putty could be reduced and improved respectively if I added Gwhrrmellow to the mix. The latter's usefulness was obvious; I didn't want to have to do this every night, even if I made the mould. But the former is of particular use to a vampire. I could guess that Vail often was outdoors in the sun from her complexion- Tristram and the townsfolk would surely expect that of me.

I applied the putty to Vail's stiff corpse. After evenly spreading it and once again ensuring that... all orifices... were covered, including her mouth, I let it set while I pondered what I would do with the body. I wasn't just about to dig a ditch and throw her in. I'd need to make a coffin first, and at least try to find a nice place to bury her. I remember she mentioned a waterfall near Rann's Retreat where she first kissed Grobuk. I'd try to bury her there as soon as possible.

Eventually the putty set, and in preparation, I, with some effort, pulled off my previous, flawed disguise. With trepidation I peeled off Vail's "skin", which would be now my skin. I just stood there for a while in the damp cellar, looking at her beautiful face. I mean I liked mine, I guess- it hadn't changed at all since I was human. I mean it got more sallow and lifeless, cause it was dead, but...

What I held in my hands didn't seem so lifeless. I could see in this tanned pseudoflesh what Grobuk saw in Vail. How much she was full of hope and life and... gahhh. And now I was going to become her. I stripped off my leathers and immediately realized that I was built... differently than Vail. I really hoped the Gwhrrmellow would help this skin to hold my ample...ness. Putting a hesitant foot inside Vail's, I wiggled my toes and watched Vail start to come back to life. I couldn't help but giggle at this- and giggling does not come naturally to a vampire.

I then remembered that the putty was naturally adhesive, and I had to put this on quickly. So next came the other foot, and with care I stretched Vail's cute butt over my considerably larger ass. To my relief, it held, and with renewed confidence I shoved the inner mouldings of her orifices deep inside mine. I was starting to get excited now, but pushing aside naughty thoughts, I stuck my arms in, making sure to even out any wrinkles, and then proceeded to pull Vail's face tightly over mine. Her nose fit suprisingly well over mine, and so did her lips, but I encountered a problem- I forgot to cut eyeholes or modify the mouth.

Stupid stupid stupid. I quickly pulled her face off mine and thinly sliced off enough material to make eyelids, but nothing more. The mouth was more... problematic. I had to carefully cut a large mouth hole past the lips so I could talk and such, but keep the teeth moldings in place- my fangs were the most obvious sign of my vampirism.

Kinkily, I was aware that if I redid the moulding, I could make a version with smaller pinholes for the eyes, and maybe instead fit in glass ones, and perhaps keep the entire mouth moulding place- it would serve as a gag then, with my tongue trapped inside a fake one, preventing any speech beyond muffled groans, but that was for later. I had to be appear as Vail, not a busty woman bondaged into some stretchy artifice of Vail.

Modifications done, I roughly pulled my new face on, aligning everything into place and making some exploratory gestures. After this was done I reached for the back flap and sealed myself in, letting the adhesive bond to my dead flesh underneath. It felt really really tight in a... quite exciting way really. In a similar manner to the tight leather, her skin seemed to amplify my curves, except now, I guess, it was my skin, and Vail's curves. I felt a pleasing pressure on every point on my body as the strengthened putty of my Vail suit stretched to accomodate my considerably more pronounced curves. Another quality was that with the Gwhrrmellow extract, there was a certain shiny sheen to my new skin- so that Vail's tanned body looked almost perpetually oiled in direct light.

I had to squeeze every ounce of my willpower to keep from fucking myself right then and there. I mean Vail's corpse was right in front of me, and I didn't want to sully myself even more in front of... her. I spent the remainder of the night trying to reproduce Vail's auburn pixie cut out of dried Salmar fiber. The results weren't that bad actually, and with a bit more putty I made some stick on eyebrows. As for eyes I actually already had false blue irises; they were originally a novelty from the east but were avaliable on the black market for creatures such as myself.

Vail was reborn that night, and the next day, to my glee, I could stand in the sunlight as long as I was encased in this putty based psuedoflesh bodysuit. I couldn't believe that up until now I just used the putty to make quickmolds of locks- it had so much... more exciting uses...

But I had responsibilities in the short term and long term. By Mudrak, I had a long term? I gradually got more into my role- as the days went by Tristram stopped commenting on how my voice sounded weird, or why I cussed so much, and with effort I made sure that to his mother's wishes, Tristram learned how... ugh.. people are basically good and all conflict can be resolved with compromise and understanding. I disagreed with this asessment, as the Order seemed to prove, but I had to remind myself that, as much as I was starting to love Tristram (possibly the brightest and best behaved boy I ever knew of), he wasn't my son. So I kept at it and ensured he'd grow up to love people in way I never did.

As for the local townspeople, they refilled their embarrassing potion requirements (so...many...virility treatments) rarely enough that they didn't notice any significant change when they stopped by. Eventually I even developed the confidence to go into town to buy things, having memorized Vail's acquaintences. I hadn't done such for so long, but Tristram needed things, parchment for his homework and you know, food. Having no need for food or other sundries for myself, I spend that portion of the profits on herbalism tools, rare ingredients, books, and... clothes.

As you may have guessed from my vanity purchase of the tight leathers before, I... like feeling sexy. Even as an undead girl whom men flee from in terror, I liked my curves and tight clothing that accentuated it. What, I'm needy like that. But I wasn't Tallia in the shops, I was Vail- so out of deference to her original reputation I tried to keep it reasonably chaste, opting for more colorful, flowing garments. But I still left a few buttons unbuttoned, if you know what I mean. And no one had to know if I was wearing leather underneath.

Concerning the body, soon as I knew the Order was no longer nearby, I buried Vail in a discreet plot within full view of the waterfall where she first kissed her beloved. Every week afterwards I visited her makeshift grave and, deferentially pulling off my Vail disguise, I talked at length about how her life's work was kinda at least going forward. How Tristram was doing with his studies and reiterating verbatim the conversations I had with people she knew, almost for judgment and appraisal. I also said I was sorry. A lot. This finished, I pulled back on my Vail suit and discretely came back to the hearth, remembering to kiss her sweet Tristram before morning began anew.

Of course, during my impersonation of Vail I still was a vampire underneath the disguise. But what if all those stories about redemption were true, and that now that my life was filled with borrowed warmth and I cared for Tristram and had finally found a way to be a mother- my undeath would be cured and I would wake one day, whole again and be the human mother Tristram deserved?

Like the gods would ever sympathise with me. I was still a creature of the night under my crafted skin, something to be feared and dreaded. And if I was going to continue to keep little Tristram safe, I needed to live, in my limited sense, and that needed blood.

Now don't get me wrong- I didn't suddenly think that because I was caring for a child I was justified in sucking random strangers dry. I still had a no kill rule. But mothering was actually quite a strain. The truth was that over the last 10 years of my unlife, being a thief mostly meant a lot of sitting around and waiting. For the guards to change or night to fall or for the mark to get distracted. And the actual action was a few minutes of effort really. Sneak in, pick a pocket, pick a lock, get out. I didn't have much expenses either, being dead and all, so I didn't have to steal as much as other thieves. In the off hours I read or slept.

But being a mom? Whole different story. From taking care of the animals (who all instinctively mistrusted me at the start), managing the herb garden, maintaining my own stock of materials necessary to keep up the deception and educating little Tristram in a manner Vail would have found acceptable- my blood strength was exhausted after two days. So I needed to make maximum use of the night. Further complicating my feeding habits was that I was now living in a house. A home. With a person I cared about. So I couldn't just leave the area if things went bad. That meant that if people started asking about the attacks and doing even a rudimentary investigation, I couldn't just flee and wait for the heat to die off.

So, at first I pursued my own kind- you know, thieves, scoundrels, bandits, people who wouldn't run to the town guards for help. Many of them were also killers so I had some justification for bleeding them dry, but aware of my responsibilities as a mother (the thought never stopped being strange to me) I still let them live. But to my dismay, the scum of Ailtrel Valley caught wind that someone, something, was stalking them, and crime plummeted in the region.

Now speaking as a mother and the head of a single parent household, its absolutely wonderful that I can raise my child in a wholesome, fear free environment. Speaking as a vampire, this was fucking terrible. So I now had to feed, gahhh... on innocents. Again.

I pondered how I would go about this for a while. I couldn't hurt them- that went against who I was now, and certainly went against what Vail would have wanted. But if they lived to tell the tale of how a gorgeous daemon of the night, dressed in sleek leather ambushed them and rendered them unconscious- well inquiries would be made. Maybe even the order would come back. All bad things for a vampire single mother and her charge.

I then came upon a familiar idea. I couldn't stop them from knowing, obviously, that something ambushed them. No matter how inconspicuous my bite marks were, they invariably would wake up several hours later with a headache, wondering what had just happened. Eventually someone would come up with the idea that a vampire was on the loose, and even with my disguise, magic could reveal my undeath. I mean, I didn't even have a heartbeat. It wasn't gnomish science to reveal me if the townspeople really put in the effort.

So I came with a plan. I couldn't stop them from knowing they had been attacked- but I could keep them from either reporting the encounter at all, or reporting the encounter accurately, or both. To preface, all of this required a significant amount of planning that luckily, my previous occupation as a thief prepared me for.

See, I realized that there were a number of factors that could keep a victim quiet about his nighttime encounter. One of which was sheer embarrassment. This worked better on men. Proud men who were not quick to admit that they were overpowered in the night and completely unable to defend themselves. The thing was, they weren't bashful about their defenselessness if they were overpowered by a fetching, well built vampiress. Because then that was a different story. "Oi! Jodan, Horomir! Yer wouldn't believe what happened to me last night, this huge titted succubi knocked me unconscious with 'er bum!"

Pfft. Men. So I needed to disguise myself as something more... conventionally monstrous. A troll. How to describe the trolls of our land? Well, they've big, covered in sickly grey muscle, with short doglike faces and snouts. Three eyes and sharply angled ears finish off the look of brutish power. The males have short fur whereas the females are completely hairless and honestly more terrifying. The whole fearsome body is kept stable on large feet, and the trunklike arms end in wicked claws.

But how could I get a troll mold? I didn't. Another property of the Gwhrrmellow extract was that in addition to being opaque from sunlight, it also changed the properties of the gum putty somewhat. When mixed in, it took considerably longer for the putty to set, and did so progressively. As such after an intermediate amount of time it was sort of like clay, and could be cut, and after more time, texture could be applied and hairs, moles, claws, and other additional elements (if applicable) could be stuck in to finish the creature. If the resulting finished mixture was laid thick, the "skin" was not too flexible and sort of like hide- if it was thin, it was more like skin or flesh. I could also use this expanded knowledge to improve my Vail disguse, finally giving her hair down there, so to speak. You know. For realism.




Debts Ch. 01



Heading back to the cave I hid in on the second day of running from the Order, I built a workshop, complete with a secret entrance, tool wall, full length looking glass, and a workbench cut out of solid granite. I hung up everlight moss for ambiance and decorated with pots growing pretty, glowing cave ingredients... as well as drawings made by Tristram. It also featured living quarters, of a sort, which basically amounted to a bed, desk and wardrobe. What can I say? Lairs come naturally to vampires- though this wasn't your typical lair. I never did get into the whole blood red carpets and skull motif the rest of my kind tend to be into. Really, I put extra effort into it because I needed at least some place where I could be Tallia the vampire, for as preferable as it was to be Vail, the respected herbalist and well loved mother of Tristram, the undead girl beneath needed to get out sometime.

But I digress- in the work area of my lair, I fashioned wooden mannequins based on my ample form to hold the putty in place as I put together my monsters of the night. It was great fun- probably the only hobby I've ever really had. My first suit was a well built troll male. I made his yellow eyes out of glass, colored with agate irises. His fur was made out of dried then oiled Seiferbrush, and all sorts of skin callouses and keratinous bumps on his ugly flesh were made out of rolled and dyed Karrenwood fiber. Everything else was made out of the stretchy, soft Gwhrrmellow infused putty. I made sure to lay it on thick for his hide, and soft for features glued to my own, for expression. I wanted to be able to roar and growl, bare my fearsome glistening fangs.

Down below, I uhh, built them... realistically. Trolls don't just grow out of the ground. A male troll meets a female troll and they fuck and then eventually there are little trolls. To do this he needs.. ah.. equipment. And I seriously took the time to fashion a troll penis, complete with troll balls, surrounded by fake, oiled troll pubic hair.

The reason? Well uh, realism of course! At least, that's what I told myself at first. As if, without a dangling 12 inch troll cock, my victims would shake their heads in disbelief and laugh at Tallia's feeble deception. No, there's no point in deceiving you- I did it because it made me... horny. Because I wasn't just making a formidably sized, suckable, stretchy penis- I was making what would soon be my formidably sized, suckable stretchy penis. And it was double ended; it fit deep inside my womanhood, and everytime this stretchy mass of putty bounced around as I walked, it fucked me a little.

Hey, if society was so ready to label me a freak- well I wasn't afraid to get freaky. When I stretched that troll suit over my flesh (which despite its size, was made to hug every inch of my body tightly, like Vail did), letting the natural adhesive seal me inside for the entirety of the night, I finally looked like the monster everbody made me out to be- and that made me wet underneath. Through the thickness of the suit I found it difficult to speak, but I growled and posed, hunch backed and fearsome. I was an animal, and I had animal desires- While it was already possible, via the double ended penis, to pleasure myself while sealed inside the troll skin, I felt like it was lacking something- so I refashioned and attached a new set of troll genitals featuring a resevoir for Vail's sticky, gloopy virility potion.

I have a private admission. The night after I finished it I was supposed to take it out for a test run; you know, scare some sheep or something, maybe circulate rumours about a sighting, so that the troll attacks were more believable. Did I? Nope! Before I could leave I glanced at myself in the looking glass and had other ideas. I took hold of my thick, fake cock and fucked myself all night in the cave. Stroking it slowly at first, I tried to mask my groans of pleasure as fearsome growls, but I eventually gave up and just fucked myself senseless, filling the cave with the high pitched pleasure squeals of Tallia the vulnerable farm girl as she furiously masturbated her thick fake troll cock she spent all yesterday night building. Like the beast I now was, I walked with shaking loins over to my work bench, and grabbed my now detached penis prototype and shoved it deep inside my ass.

Utterly shamelessly, it didn't stop there. In addition to speed and strength, vampires are pretty flexible. I mean what did you expect? Our bodies are dead and inherently unprotesting. So, with the troll cock prototype rammed in my tight ass there was only one last hole to be filled. I climbed up on my granite work slab, and sitting up against the cave wall, sucked my own cock dry. Moaning all the while, my lips could only slurp so much goop and eventually I lost control, my cock spraying the sticky stuff all over my fake troll body as it detached from my fanged mouth. It leaked goop all over my fur as I slid down on my back, before flipping myself over and, like some shameless troll slut, licked the marble bench clean of the sweet and sticky stuff. Filled like a Lanbas Day pastry, I laid there until morning, cushioned in my tight but stretchy troll suit, utterly in bliss.

Now you may be thinking, okay Tallia, so you're into fucking yourself as a troll male, you're a complete freak, get away from me. But wasn't there originally a legitimate purpose to the suit? Surely after cleaning your filthy troll body you'd remove the genitalia when out hunting right? Surely it would be too distracting?

Nope! It added to the thrill and honestly helped me stay in character more than anything. I wasn't just a furious male troll- I was a horny furious male troll. What's more, my sexual lust supplanted the blood lust, and I felt more in control of my feeding, which came after the... uh... Oh dear, I have another admission to make-

Before you continue to judge me or think I'm even more of a freak, there's another thing. In addition to having cravings for blood, we of the night have... other needs from our victims. Look, you're constantly on the run, you don't got many friends, much less anything more. You're terribly lonely inside and there's no tenderness in your unlife. Your dead body means that you don't feel much of the regular mundane sensations the living races feel by default so you tend to feel cold and empty all the time. Nothing stimulates you. except...

Yeah yeah, you see where this is going. I mean I could masturbate in a dizzying variety of ways, but I needed a partner to really get off. So I took more than blood from my victims on many occaisons. Oh don't give me that look! I looked in their eyes before taking them, and with auspex, I could actually tell whether they were up for it or not. To be honest I wasn't even all that picky really. In the past, I had fucked a spotty farmhand or lonely farm girl on more than one occaison simply out of pity.

That's the one of the great ironies of being a vampire. If we didn't already be solidly stereotyped as murderers, we'd be the sluts and whores of the realm. So during the course of my feeding sessions, I made... love to them. As the troll. Men and women. But only if they wanted it! And believe me some did. I looked in their eyes and, summoning my blood fueled auspex to peek inside their minds, I inquired whether or not they'd... do me. Some didn't want any for sure, and I just went ooga booga, subdued them and sipped their blood and was on my way. But those that, inbetween the terror and fear... came a small inkling of why not...

I stretched my tight ass on any man whose shaft could reach that deep into my troll suit, and sucked off those that could not. As for the women, I tenderly took them in my big arms and spread their lips wide. One time, after pleasuring a rather busty milk maid who'd spent a little too much time gathering firewood, as I stood up to bid her goodbye she took hold of my fake member and wrapped her supple young lips around it. While she pleasured me, I double checked that we were alone and, making sure her eyes were closed in bliss, I reached inside my troll mask, exposed my real lips, and sank my fangs in. She fell asleep, lips still coiled around my shaft. I cleaned her up and carried her back to her cottage. I could see why she was so eager- poor girl, she lived all alone.

I liked having a troll cock, but I realized that maybe, in only offering my somewhat hard to reach anus avaliable to the men, I was short changing some of my willing victims, including the females who swung the other way. So from the male suit mouldings I fashioned a female version, nakedly hairless and even more muscular, she featured absurdly large breasts filled with milk. To ensure that the men would have a good time, I moulded the pussy tight enough for all sizes, and rubbed the suit with a strong, feminine musk. Despite her even more fearsome appearance, Ms. Troll was popular indeed. Mr. Troll found a willing partner every other feeding night- with Ms Troll, every time. I noticed both men and women liked to grab her tits and spray themselves with fresh cow juice. The only downside was after either fucking or sucking their cocks or eating their pussies out, sometimes they'd try to return the favor by licking my fake molded labia. I didn't feel this underneath the suit, but I politely acted like I did, moaning monstrously as they did so. I considered this professional courtesy.

As you can imagine, people are not quick to admit they spent last night fucking a troll, and for that matter, enjoyed it. So my secret was kept pretty safe- I liked walking through town and seeing my former lovers and, dare I say, admirers, with their wives and husbands. By Jesamine, I am sick...



© 2014 Dieter Schaumer All Rights Reserved