The Docklands of Altdorf might rightly be considered the heart of the Empire of Man. It is a teeming
waterfront, and though it might be oft associated with the raucous poor, in truth it is a mingling
ground and point of embarkation where citizens of every quarter and every birthright gather beneath
the gloriously colored sails of mighty ships. In neighboring Bretonnia, the Fortress Capital of
Couronne boasts the enormous Lion Ring; the finest jousting and tourney ground in the known world.
1000 Knights of the Realm might ride abreast at its center, their thundering charge lost in the
roar of the surrounding crowd. In the far north, the city of Kislev boasts the Winter Gardens,
where the sorceress powers of the Tzarina have crafted fields of flowers that shine
like diamonds and entire forests of frosted glass. Great sculptures of exotic birds and legendary
beasts shine beneath a perpetually midnight sky that glitters and glows with frozen stars.
To stand in these places, or any of the other countless works of
human greatness that span the Great Ocean to the World’s Edge Mountains,
is to be presented the boldest evidence of mankind’s primacy over the Old World.
Goblins and Beastmen might linger in the deepest woods, orcs and trolls might wander
mountain passes, but it is the nations of man alone that guide the destiny of the continent.
And yet, an ancestral memory dwells in the soul of every man and woman; of a time before their great
nations bestrode the Old World. In this ancient era, humanity was nothing more than prey for
the wild and hungry predators that stalked the lands. Primitive and hardly better than beasts
themselves, mankind cowered behind the timber walls of feeble villages, powerless, and alone.
It has been over two millennia since these times, but the memory remains.
And when the sun dips below the horizon and the world is cast in darkness, it stirs.
Even in Altdorf, Couronne or Kislev, it can be felt in the quickening of the heart when walking
through a twisted alley. Or the sweats and chills that form when one strays too far from a crowd.
Or the trembling muscles and tingling of the spine that comes in the absence of the light. For no
matter how far mankind has come. No matter how high their walls are raised or how bright their
torches burn, the world that exists from dusk till dawn is not theirs to control. A great many
predators stalk the lands of the Old World, but the night is forever the domain of the Vampire.
First and foremost creatures of dark sorcery, Vampires can not be classified
or categorized as natural beings might. No two are identical, and the variations amongst their
kind range from the mild to the obscene. Yet they do share certain commonalities.
All Vampires were once mortal men or women, with hopes, dreams and families of their own.
But through a largely inexplicable and magical process, they are transformed into something
neither living nor dead. All those who study the Vampire struggle to make sense of this. Priests
will claim that their souls are forbidden entry into the Garden of Morr and the Afterlife, having
been judged an abomination by the Gods. Some wizards suggest they have moved between realms,
forever trapped between the mortal realm and the next. Whatever the truth, once the transformation
has been completed, the Vampire awakens as something new from the mortal that came before.
The Vampire possesses enormous power, swiftness and vitality.
Their strength vastly exceeds the strongest man, elf, dwarf or greenskin, all of which
might be tossed aside as easily as a newborn babe. Even Champions of the Dark Gods, clad in ruinous
armor imbued with the favors of Chaos, might be torn apart by the Vampire with little effort.
Their undead flesh meanwhile, hardens into something resembling leather,
yet far more resilient. Common blades and arrows shatter against them, gunfire,
cannonballs and rockets often ineffective. Their blood refuses to yield to any poison or disease,
while the ravages and infirmities of time will never touch them. Their senses are likewise
heightened. In the dark they can see more clearly than any owl, and further than any hawk. Their
sense of smell, and in particular their ability to detect fresh blood, is simply unparalleled.
And at will, they can move too quickly for the eye to follow, outrunning most natural creatures.
Other, more exotic powers can be found amongst the Vampire, though they manifest irregularly.
Many have been known to control the will of bats, wolves or other wild creatures,
some can even metamorphosize into them. A few can transform into an unnatural mist,
swarms of flies, or become entirely ethereal. They can call forth darkened clouds and stormy weather,
disperse the winds of magic or even gaze into the future. Some are malformed and grotesque,
writhing hosts to colonies of worms and insects, while others can transfix mortals with their
transcendent beauty and alluring stare. The abilities of the Vampire are seemingly
without end, and there is no sure method of predetermining which dark gifts they possess.
The transformation of the body is matched by a twisting of the mind. Though they retain
the thoughts and memories of the mortal they once were, their thoughts become focused and cleansed.
Doubt is replaced with certainty, weakness with resolution. Above any other creature,
the Vampire is the master of its own soul. This manifests itself as a great ambition.
Mortals might dream of having the freedom to pursue their desires, Vampires possess
this freedom, so their dreams become far greater than mortals could ever conceive.
In one form or another, all have the desire to control and to rule.
Vampirism however, is ultimately a curse and all vampires suffer from equally unusual
vulnerabilities. The most common are an inability to cross running water, a weakness to certain
herbs and metals, often garlic and silver. They might lack any reflection, or be burned by even
the most timid rays of sunlight. Holy symbols, tomes, and blessings can likewise be an anathema
to the Vampire, along with certain Dwarven Runes, and Elven alloys. Madness too runs in their veins,
especially in older vampires whose life spans have become too long for their minds to comprehend.
Yet the ultimate mark of the Vampire, and their greatest weakness, is their unquenchable need
for blood. It replaces the demands for sleep, food, drink, warmth, or even air,
but is unlike any mortal need. The Red Thirst is entirely overwhelming, a constant awareness
and desire that might wax and wane but is always present. A Vampire will always be aware of blood
around them. In a crowded room, heartbeats become deafening, while even the smallest wound billows
an aroma that tests and challenges the will. A recently turned vampire will have the greatest
difficulty in managing this addiction, but with time will arise the willpower to control it.
Some vampires need only feed a few times a year, while the oldest of their race can
go centuries without blood. But the thirst will always arise, and must always be sated.
Those who try to resist often go mad, devolving into a frenzy of killing and devouring.
In such an unnatural species however, there are always exceptions.
Some have found a way to placate their need for blood with warpstone or dark magic, or attempt
to feed solely on animals, vermin or the recently dead. These latter measures can not always satisfy
a vampire however, for nothing can replicate the intoxicating qualities of fresh blood.
Only a few have overcome the Thirst entirely. Most famously, and first amongst his kind to do so,
was Abhorash, who was freed from his torment with the blood of a vanquished dragon.
While a great diversity exists across Vampires,
all have been created in the same way; through a ritual known as the Blood Kiss.
Though its name appeals to romantics, both mortal and immortal, it is ultimately a predatory act.
Yet it is also considered an intimate gift, representing great affection and respect on
the part of the benefactor. During the Blood Kiss, both parties drink deeply of one another,
with throats torn open and gushes of blood flowing down welcome throats.
It is said that every vampire that has spoken of it describes it differently, and the feeling
of the transformation must ultimately remain unknown outside those who have experienced it.
As the Blood Kiss was passed down throughout the generations of Vampires, bloodlines developed
that separated and defined the species. Five such families are believed to exist across the
Vampires, though others may remain undiscovered. The first and most infamous are the Von Carsteins,
for none have contributed so boldly and so bloodily to the history of their race.
Each Bloodline and every Vampire is consumed by a desire for power, and for the Von Carsteins this
has expressed itself as a great appetite for land, subjects, and the trappings of nobility.
Sylvania, a former province of the Empire, is most associated with the Von Carsteins,
as successive vampiric rulers presided over the territory for centuries,
before wars with the other Elector Counts brought them to ruin.
The Necrarch bloodline by contrast is largely isolationist;
obsessive in their introspection and pursuit of knowledge. Many have
come to regard living beings as a flawed creation, and see the undead as a fitting replacement.
They work endlessly in lone towers and fortresses, experimenting with the powers of magic and
necromancy, but also delving deep into the natural philosophies and forces of the material world.
Their studies have given them an unparalleled understanding of their own kind but it has come
at a price. Necrach’s have abandoned their humanity entirely and their
sustained exposure to unnatural elements has twisted their appearance beyond recognition.
Compared to the Necrarchs, the Order of the Blood Dragons represents an antithetical
approach to immorality. Vampires of this bloodline dedicate themselves to mastering
every form of close quarters, martial combat, and in doing so have become the
most fearsome warriors in the known world. They care little for the study of magic or
for conquest and power, and seek only to test their blades against worthy foes.
Many have adopted a dark parody of the codes of honor and chivalry displayed by mortal
Knightly Orders, though the manifestation of this varies from individual to individual.
It is in the Strigoi Bloodline that the curse of vampirism is most apparent.
While the other bloodlines can, when necessary, blend seamlessly into mortal society, the Strigoi
have become something closer to beast than man. They have lost themselves to the predator that
lies within and embraced it fully. Many have lost their sanity and become solitary parasites,
stalking the hidden places of the world and lamenting their lost glories. Every manner of
scavenger is drawn to their presence, and they are known throughout the world as Ghoul Kings.
The last of the known Bloodlines are the Lahmians. While they are said to lack the raw,
brute strength of other bloodlines, none have achieved greater power. They possess, even amongst
their kind, extraordinary cunning, deviousness and political acumen. Invisibly, they manipulate the
strings of mortal affairs, secretly exerting unspeakable control over entire realms. Their
plans are often beyond the ability of short lived mortals to understand or recognize, and might take
many human lifetimes to come to fruition. But they are always at work, and often hide in plain sight.
Perhaps the Lahmian Bloodline’s greatest triumph however, was in obfuscating the nature of the
Vampires themselves across mortal nations. Many myths and fables purport to explain
the origins of these creatures, from improper burials to loving those beneath one’s station,
but these more than anything, merely illustrate the common folk’s misunderstanding of vampirism.
The true origin of the Vampires can instead be found to the far south,
a region of the world once known as Nehekhara, and now feared as the Land of the Dead.
Infamous is the story of Nagash, the first and greatest of the necromancers who achieved
immortality and came perilously close to ascending to godhood.
Lesser known however, are the histories of those who attempted to replicate his work.
In the city of Lahmia, Nagash’s plundered texts and repositories of forbidden lore were closely
studied by Queen Neferata and a small cabal of her followers. Though they failed to reproduce
the triumphs of Nagash exactly, they did achieve immortality, albeit in a more twisted and accursed
form. Through an unholy elixir of sorcerous power, Neferata bestowed this gift upon 12 of her closest
confidants and retainers. Each of those who drank of it exhibited distinctive powers and abilities;
they became the first of the Vampires, and the progenitors of the bloodlines that would follow.
The myriad of wars between the living and the dead that engulfed Nehekara would see the Kingdom
of Lahmia destroyed and the forbidden knowledge used to create the vampires lost alongside it.
The first vampires and those to whom they had given the Blood Kiss were forced to flee
their homeland, becoming scattered across the world in the millenia that followed.
Yet wherever they took root, vampirism and necromancy flourished.
Ultimately however, the Vampires would always be undone by their own relentless ambitions,
defeated by the same selfish motivations of mortals to which they deemed themselves superior.
Officially, the Vampires are a race of creatures on the verge of extinction.
It has been centuries since the last of the Von Carsteins led the armies of Sylvania against the
Empire while the Blood Keep has long since been demolished and its Vampiric Knights destroyed.
The Lahmians have been lost to history and the Strigoi and Necrarchs have been reduced to but
a scattered few, pathetic individuals. The rulers of mankind assure themselves and their subjects
that this dwindling race, if it still exists, will never replicate the triumphs of their forebears.
And yet, every now and then when the dread moon Morrslieb is full, a Witch Hunter patrolling
the winding roads of Sylvania will disappear without a trace, and local peasants will describe
the sighting a black coach bearing a courtly noble who grinned at them with a fanged smile.
Travelers taking the mountain passes between the Empire and Bretonnia speak of mysterious
Knights guarding bridges and fjords, their armor decorated with scenes of carnage,
seemingly awaiting a worthy challenger. In forgotten cemeteries and unguarded tombs,
shadows move in the darkness, and by morning, each grave bears the telltale signs of excavation.
In the borderlands between kingdoms, lonely towers and fortresses are said to glow with
eerie green fire while the skies above shine with the manifestations of sorcery. And in the
highest courts of every human kingdom, rumors will sometimes swirl of noblewomen who are rarely seen
in the light of day, only for those who speak such things to suddenly vanish from their stations.
And each night, when the last sliver of the blazing sun lowers itself beneath the horizon.
Every man, woman and child can feel an ancient terror stirring in the back of their minds.
A memory of a time when they were nothing but cattle, and a terrible fear that such
an era might yet come again, an endless night upon which the sun will never rise.