Bloodgorged

The Bloodgorged no longer knows his true name, nor where he came from. Perhaps he was a paladin of the Eternal Citadel, strong and swift and bold in the defense of all that is righteous, or maybe he was a hero of one of the old Free Cities of Kaerok, or even a lauded gladiator in the Great Arena of Velyzar. Those truths have long been lost. The Bloodgorged does, however, seem to at least know his current purpose – to feast. It can be assumed that, like all vampiric creatures, at some point in history the Bloodgorged made a pact with Siroth, sire of that particular breed of nocturns. Quite what the particular agreement was, the Bloodgorged can no longer remember, and nor does it seem to matter to him. Now, the Bloodgorged knows no master, and accepts no alliance unless it will provide him with that which he craves most of all, the blood of mortals. All vampires must struggle with the Crimson Hunger, the addiction to life-essence that comes as a part of their unnatural transformation into deadly creatures of the night. Without regular feasting, a vampire quickly loses both their mind and much of their body, as they devolve into feral night-hunters. Some, however, become utterly lost to the craving, to the need to consume. It was into this trap that the Bloodgorged fell when he was first turned by Siroth. Despite this, whoever the Bloodgorged had been before his infection, he clearly possessed a will of iron. Driven by some unyielding desire not to submit to his fate, he battled back from the brink and recovered some precious sliver of self-control and, in doing so, a part of his very being. Drinking blood should only be a necessity, part of the process by which vampires maintain their grip on themselves - it should not, in the Bloodgorged’s view, become the very purpose for continued existence. But the Crimson Hunger can only ever be temporarily quenched, never conquered. The Bloodgorged found that the mental effort of keeping his desires in check quickly became too draining to permanently maintain, and that resisting the Hunger caused his body to deform before his very eyes. Inevitably, and to his own disgust, he would slip into moments of hyper-violence, his rage at his failure to hold on only increasing the slaughter. It was not long before he had acquired a dark reputation even among the Undead, becoming an outcast and a wandering sell-sword. Over time, the Bloodgorged was able to slowly learn methods to use his addictions to best serve his goals and enhance his reputation, reminding himself that, whoever he had been before, he could still have an existence beyond merely satisfying the urge for fresh blood. Through the assistance of a sorcerous ally, he has managed to contain the worst of his berserk episodes via the daubing of an arcane sigil on his ashen brow. Known by the enemies of the necromantic ways as the Mark of Unholy Purpose, when applied, it helps maintain his focus, but it quickly fades, and must be painted anew with fresh blood following the next bout of killing. Between this and his own will, the Bloodgorged is yet able to maintain a tenuous grip on sanity. Despite this, to most other vampires and necromancers, the Bloodgorged is still at best an unpredictable, mercenary figure and, at worst, a deranged monster that can prove as dangerous to his allies as he can to the enemy. Only the arrogant or the desperate seek out his assistance. When lost in a frenzy, the Bloodgorged becomes a nigh-unstoppable killer, a blur of constant, frenzied motion that can shatter the stoutest defense and wreak havoc among his victims. Only when he has feasted well does he become himself once again, a cold, distant light entering his wild eyes. With the Mark of Unholy Purpose freshly daubed in red upon his brow, motion gives way to brief, disconcerting stillness. To those who beg, he has even been known to show mercy in such moments, sometimes turning survivors into his thralls, though few survive the next bout of insanity. In exchange for his assistance, the Bloodgorged requires only that he be allowed to feed, regularly and well, on the enemies he is sent against. The blood of slain warriors in particular are his favorites, for he has found that they taste the richest. This, at its core, is his greatest weakness, for while it may seem at times that he has conquered the Crimson Hunger, in reality he is as much its slave as the most debased vampiric beast. Even during rare bouts of lucidity, his only thoughts are to how he can secure his next slaughter-pact with another Undead lord and, in doing so, acquire fresh victims. Be they Elves, Humans, Dwarves or Demonspawn, mighty warriors or helpless innocents, saints or sinners or anything in between, the Bloodgorged cares not. All that matters is that he feasts.