Ceth looked out over the decimation that had been wrought on the world by a single mad ambition. The funeral pyres had been raging for days and shrouded bodies still lined certain thoroughfares. Ravnica had been made to suffer devastation unlike anything he had seen before in the centuries he’d lived, and in his own way, he’d played a small, if unwilling, part in it. The rampant destruction didn’t please him, but neither did he feel ill at ease with it. He’d seen a slower more insidious death come to his own world, and though Ravnica was gravely wounded, it would recover. He held no such hope for his own long departed home.
The other occupant of the room cleared his throat and Ceth turned from the window and the toil below to take in the man he had come to see. He wore dark, nondescript clothes with a hood currently bunched about his shoulders. He was of indeterminate years and was possessed of a somewhat ashen tan, and the only thing striking about him was the furtive and piercing eyes that somehow appeared blank, as if to conceal the line of his gaze. The almost cultivated look of looking like nobody in particular spoke volumes to anybody that could read it. It was practically a uniform unto itself for the Dimir.
Ceth, on the other hand, could very likely never be as unassuming as his host. Tall and statuesque, to describe him if he were given to vanity, Ceth seemed carved from marble, pale flesh almost luminescent in the dim room. Beyond that, his features were outlandish, even among the many planeswalkers that had been dragged to Ravnica in the preceding days. His ears were sharply pointed like an elf’s own, but he had the broad, chiseled features of a human as opposed to the angular features of the sylvan. Large spurs of dark bone jutted from his elbows and shoulders, the latter of which were wrapped with a flowing cloak anchored upon the protusions. Chitinous claws, shiny and ebon, caught the dim light in the room, outshining the blackened iron of the chest plate and fauld he wore. The only color that stood out on his figure was the bright auburn of his hair and the eerie crystalline gold of his eyes, made all the more prominent by the shadowy blackness where there should have been white.
Ceth was clearly not human, but only the elongated fangs in his grin would have betrayed what he was.
“I’m given to understand that you wish to chronicle your life?” the dimir operative asked. Ceth nodded and the other smiled, though it scarcely reached his eyes. “So, why ask for our assistance to do it?”
“As I’m told, the Dimir can never turn down a secret, and my life has been profoundly different than what I expect you may find on Ravnica. That is why it I chose you to record it. As to the unspoken question of why I wish it recorded, the recent days have given me cause to reflect. Nobody wishes to be forgotten and I’m so far removed from where I began that I worry I may be a wraith consigned to time’s cruel embrace.”
“How poetic.” The other said, though the insincerity was palpable in his statement.
“My speech is likely an artefact of my age, I suppose. I was never given to eloquence in my younger years, though that’s likely because my education was woefully lacking to start.”
“Hold, please.” The man opposite Ceth gathered his writing implements and shifted comfortably. “If we’re going to start, then we should start formally.”
“At your leisure then.” Ceth nodded, clearly amused as the agent prepared to write.
“Proceed.”
Quote:
Dimir Report 1:55:61:0.1
“I was born to world called Ulgrotha, a place that had known the ravages of a war not unlike the one witnessed so shortly ago, but that all happened well before I was born. My birth is not one of any real note, born a serf and raised as such. There is scarcely a more mundane existence that I could name than to be a peasant. Nothing of any excitement could have been said to have happened until just after my seventh autumn when my parents were murdered, preyed upon by some distant and monstrous offspring of the creature known as Baron Sengir. My father died swiftly, my mother less so.
“A crusader had been tracking the vampire and only managed to intervene after my mother had been savaged. Ultimately, he killed her as a mercy, but it left me both traumatized and alone. The crusader escorted me to Aysen Abbey, so that I may be raised in a safe place, but that moment placed my life on the path I would follow. After two years, I became a squire to an aging crusader, too old to go abroad anymore, but still hale enough to pass on his knowledge. It was thanks to that man, Baris, that I would learn the skills to make my way in the world. It is in his presence, as well, that I met the woman I fell in love with, though it is perhaps not entirely accurate.
“She was no mere woman, she was a goddess. It was a bright night, the moon full in the sky when Serra came to the Abbey, and in that fleeting moment, I saw a beauty I had not known, like coming across a watercolor painting having only known scratches in the dirt. She was ephemeral and captured my young heart forever, a woman to love from afar and a goddess to dedicate myself to, utterly. I had already resolved to work my way up through the church, but in her presence, I truly gave my life to her cause.
“My career as a squire was short lived after that, earning my way to knight-errant at a fairly young age. I redoubled my efforts in her name, content to serve the church, but time wore on and I did not see her again. Her image was burnt into my very soul, but such a light can still wane as darkness looms. It seemed as though our goddess had abandoned us and every year, Ulgrotha grew a darker place without her. We felt surely she would appear again to appoint the new abbot after Hazduhr died, but we waited in vain. All the while, the Baron grew bolder and his reach longer still. Many in our numbers fell, and yet others followed the fallen knight Ihsan, having not learned from the tragedy of his fate. I never gave up hope, even as my old wounds began to ache as much as my joints. My sight began to fail, but I held one precious vision in my heart and I refused to give up hope that Serra would come to us again one day.
“That is, until the day I learned why she had abandoned her people.
“I had been passing through a hamlet, An-Havva, I think it was and had stopped at the inn for the night when I heard a traveler talking. He was a stranger in the land, and in those days strangers were no longer to be trusted, but he spoke loudly and at length of a distant land he had visited where the tomb of Serra was said to be. I couldn’t stand to hear such heresy and challenged him.
“He laughed and performed some wizardry, robbing me of my strength and I lay on the floor, a heap of armor and aging knight. Towering over me, he gloated and told me of how Serra had died, her heart shattered that her love Feroz had perished and she fled the world they’d made together, only to find life unbearable without her husband.
“I didn’t dare believe him, I didn’t want to. It had been decades since she’d been seen, but she was my goddess. She couldn’t have left us, could she? I denied it as much as I could, but in my heart, I felt the truth of it. There was a grief that could not be spoken and my world shattered.
“And I do not speak figuratively.
“I awoke in a place that I did not know, a garden courtyard with flowers I had never seen and a day brighter than I could last remember. However, looking up at the stain glass windows before me, I saw all I needed, that this place knew the peace that Serra brought. My arrival was met with shock, but I was welcomed with open arms all the same. I was in a land known as Sursi, in a cathedral dedicated to my goddess, but though my heart swelled, it was short lived.
“I had come to the tomb the traveler had spoken of. They showed me to the altar where Serra had breathed her last and for the briefest moment it seemed I felt her presence once more. I had many questions, but they insist I first rest, that I must be weary. It was in the moment that I realized that, though my spirit felt broken, I was not tired. I did not ache nor did my old wounds bother me. I was led to a wash room and I was shocked at my own reflection. The silver had fled my hair, the lines from my face. I was as hearty as I had been in the prime of my youth and I felt strength surging through me like I had never known. I felt indestructible.
“It was a heady sensation, but my heart soon sank once again as I considered the fate of my beloved goddess. They offered me a room and with no other idea for what to do, I accepted. I stayed many months, hoping to feel Serra’s presence again, wishing that being near her resting place might stir something within me again, but I never felt the same fire light in my heart as I had held so dear in my many years. They taught me of the Serra they knew and I found it a different story than the ones they had shared at the Abbey, a goddess that could transcend worlds and for a time, it was enough to keep me occupied, but there came a time when the scriptures ended and I was left adrift again. I am not entirely sure how long I stayed there, becoming reacquainted with myself and the new power I felt, but I had no drive to do anything, only finding a purpose when I learned that Serra was not the only being to stride the many worlds.
“My ancient foe, Baron Sengir, had once visited his foul presence upon that land, Dominaria, as well. I learned that he had been a servant in tow of another mighty being and that he’d spread his curse across that world as well. I began to wonder how many other places he had been and how many more lands suffered even the briefest of his touches. I took up my sword once again and swore that I would somehow rid the worlds of his spawn. It gave me a new purpose to fill the place of my goddess, for I could not bear to live in a world where Baron Sengir still drew breath and she did not. I would find a way to eliminate all his monstrous spawn.
“For the next three centuries, I roved out into the world, scouring Dominaria of the Sengir line and in that time, I learned why I did not age and where the might I felt came from. I had become as my goddess, a planeswalker, and in that time abroad I encountered others that taught me the ways of my new existence.
“From world to world, I traveled, hunting the Sengir line, intent on wiping out their brood and one day disposing of the Baron himself on Ulgrotha. But I never made it back to the world of my birth. In my crusade, I heard rumors of another planeswalker, a vampire that was not the servant, but instead a master. I was filled with the horrors such a being could commit and I chose to suspend my hunt for the Sengir and track down the planeswalker I’d heard of: Sorin Markov.
“I was led to world faintly reminiscent of Ulgrotha, a place called Innistrad, said to be the home to Markov and his ilk. There was a church that specialized hunted the vampires, but it reminded me too much of my lost goddess, so I chose to continue on my solitary ways. Which turned out to be a rather foolhardy mistake. You see, I learned a terrible lesson on Innistrad: What may be fatal to one vampire, means nothing to one of a different kind.
“It had never occurred to me that there were any differences to be had.
“I had found an estate supposedly overrun by vampires, but as I stalked the grounds, I encountered a youth by herself. I rushed to her aid, feeling all too familiar my own history, but I was so used to seeing vampires in an inhuman guise, I did not even have time for shock before I was set upon by the child I’d sought to protect.
“In those days, planeswalkers were greater beings, but we could still be surprised, and particularly those of us who had little magic were more used to our humanity than not. I slew the child, but was overwhelmed, weakened by her bite and I succumbed to the rest of her clan. I fought as best I could, and perhaps that was foolish, because they decided to turn me instead of simply killing me.
“The next few months are, even to this day, nothing more than a hazy blur. I was slave to the bloodlust that had gripped my soul, transformed into a creature I had sworn to fight. I slowly came back to my sense, to abject horror at what I knew I must have done. It was hard to fight, the despair in me at war with the desire that burned there. I knew I would have my vengeance, but it would come at the hour of my choosing.
“In the time that I bided, I learned much of my new self and those that had made me what I had become. One of the greatest ironies, as it turned out was that the vampire I’d sought to hunt, Sorin Markov, was reviled and hated upon Innistrad, a traitor to his own blood. I felt foolish, but in that moment, there was a small kindling of hope as well. If he truly hated his kin so much, then perhaps he may know of a cure that would free me.
“With that knowledge in mind, I slaughtered every vampire in the estate and burnt it to the ground, swearing to finish the job of cleansing Innistrad once I’d found Sorin and, with any luck, a cure for my affliction.
“As it turned out, Sorin was not so easy to find. I scarcely found traces over the next years. I tried to resist the bloodthirst as much as I could, but I was weak, and each victim I took was another vampire I swore to kill when I was cured. Finally, I found a lead to a world known as Zendikar. I did not find Sorin there, but what I found was a new horror I’d yet to see.
“They called it Malakir, an entire civilization of vampires, twisted creatures that spawned mindless, sightless thralls. To see the bloodsuckers thrive scorched my very soul with rage, and I decided that if I must feed while searching for clues to Sorin, I would feed on them. As it turns out, I was once again, making a ridiculous mistake.
“Though Sorin was not to be found, I did find records that stirred my interest, fascinating myths and ancient carvings found deep in ruins that told of a figure the vampires called the Mortifier. That figure seemed the key to my quarry. All the while, I preyed upon the vampires of Zendikar, and slowly, without knowing it, I wore away my resistance. Over a handful of decades, their curse, which was different from my own, tried to take hold until my preternatural vitality betrayed me and I was felled.
“I cannot say how long I slept, I suspect months, but when I awoke, I was changed, twice the monster that I had been. I screamed until my throat was raw and bloody on that day, cursing fate and every other thing that I could think of. I was hysterical and desperation drove me to take what I could of my findings on Zendikar and gamble that if I could not find Sorin, I could find someone that could. In the myths that I had unraveled in my time on Zendikar, it spoke of two others that Sorin had known. One known as the Lithomancer, and the other Ugin.
“Considering Ugin was the only name I had, I chose that, and with a great deal of luck and investigation, I found two possible worlds that may hold some indication of his fate. There was one, I think… Trakar? Tarka? Tarkir. Yes… unfortunately, that is not the one I chose.
“I traced Ugin, instead, to machinations he had planned on a world known as Ixalan. That would be the third largest mistake I have made in my life…
“Arriving on Ixalan, I discovered a land known as Torrezon. Another civilization ruled by vampires, but in some bizarre joke, they were venerated and held as holy. A church of vampires! I couldn’t stand it, intent to flee the horrible place and find my answers elsewhere. The only thing to find was that wasn’t to be an option. Something held me fast on Ixalan, an inexorable power that pushed me back onto the world. I will admit, the idea of being stuck on a world where vampires were worshipped, as well as my own previously delicate mental state, wel,.. I lost my mind.
“There is something mildly liberating about going insane, I will say, but I simply did not have it in me to fight anymore. The despair was too overwhelming, and I tried to starve myself. Time became a blur then, and the next lucid moment I had was being fed. By the church.
"That irony has never been lost on me.
“They had found me and tried to nurse me back to health. Their intended kindness drove me insane all over again, and I again tried to starve, but they were persistent, mistaking my efforts as some show of devotion and eventually I succumbed, too weary to bother resisting them. I drifted about their monastery for some time as I recovered, at a loss for what to do. I tried again and again to leave Ixalan entirely, and found I was as trapped then as the moment I set foot there.
“Malaise is as dreadful a disease as any and just to fill the time, I began going through their libraries. It reminded me of my time in the ruins of Zendikar, and with nothing else to do but think, I began to wonder why I was possessed of such a curiosity. It was never something that I had known in my mortal years, so perhaps it was simply the nature of my new being, but the only thirst I had that exceeded that for blood was a newfound thirst for knowledge. I began to educate myself in earnest, exploring new paths I’d never considered previously, and for a time, the scholarly life suited me.
“In that time though, I believe what I truly was searching for, was still the cure to my condition. The vampires of Ixalan were created by a rite, known as the Rite of Redemption, which always seemed ridiculous to me, but as I studied it, I thought I could perhaps use some aspect of it to change myself back. I had no luck, as unsurprising as that was, but I found the rite itself fascinating, realizing that it could be improved if done correctly.
“As I began to work on that, I came to the conclusion that I was unlikely ever to find a cure, but in some way I think it was that realization that made me question if I even wanted to be cured any longer. I had spent centuries as a vampire, longer then than I had been human. In that monastery, I questioned that, perhaps, what I wanted wasn’t to be human, but simply to be free of the negative aspects of my gifts. That was the reason why I continued to study the Rite that Elenda had crafted.
“So, I made a choice. I proceeded with the Rite, not knowing what effect it would truly have. I achieved another transformation, this one more subtle, but considerably less violent than the others, and my awareness expanded once more. I had reached another step in apotheosis.
"In the following years, I mostly kept to myself, travelling across Torrezon for study, but avoiding most lest there be too many questions asked. Then, there came a moment, years after my studies that I felt a shift in the aether, something I had not been aware of for decades at least, possibly even centuries. Despite my acceptance of my place in Torrezon, I still longed to be elsewhere, and that moment I realized, I was no longer trapped. I took one step out of that world and simply kept going.
“I cannot tell you how indescribable that kind of freedom is, no amount of incarceration could even be as soul wearying to one that has stepped beyond worlds, and the man I had arrived as was not the man I left as. My time on Ixalan, and Zendikar as well, had awakened in me a curiosity that I felt must be sated as surely as my other thirst.”
“I spent scant weeks free, and then I got pulled here. Trapped again by that DAMNED device the dragon had found and it shook me. That is one reason I felt I should share my tale.” Ceth finished, taking a long look at the Dimir scribe as he finished.
“There are fascinating secrets you could share with us, if this is true, of course.
“I assure you, most all of it is.” Ceth nodded, standing to flex the lean muscles that had been motionless during his recount.
“That’s- what do you mean most of it?” the Dimir agent looked up, perplexed before he found himself thrown backwards, an iron claw wrapped indolently about his throat as Ceth held him off the ground.
“I’m afraid I haven’t been quite truthful, not even from the beginning. While I did enjoy telling my tale, the reason why I wanted to meet you wasn’t so you could record my life story or so I could divulge the mysteries beyond your world. It’s because the Dimir are known to employ vampires, rather unique ones.”
The Dimir agent kicked, trying to free himself as Ceth simply watched, claws slicing through flesh with little effort.
“I suppose I do enjoy monologues, it can grow tiresomely boring spending all your time researching, so I admit a bit of vanity to hear myself speak in front of company. After the battle, I didn't depart as so many others did, I began digging into the lore of your kind. During my time, I’ve found each kind of vampirism carries with it, their own special traits.” Ceth’s lips curled up into a mirthful, somewhat cruel smile. “I wonder what I’ll get from you?....”
I know this hews very close to canon in a multitude of spots, but I feel justifiably so, and I do not feel I ever step over the line that it would be two way in how this would also effect canon.
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Not he wouldn't kill a hunting vampire if he found one in his way, though, completely missing the hypocrisy of looking down on people who kill people for sustenance and power...