Dogs of War - Ivesk

A short while later, having descended into the bowels of the garrison, Ketcher waves off the paperwork.


"Highest ranking Quill here. We both know you're fine," he says, before consulting some files.


"I managed to talk a small tissue sample out of the prisoner." Ketcher shows you a small sliver of glass, dark and cold. "Can't make sense of it. For about an hour it behaved like flesh, but impossibly resistant to cutting. Then it just turned to glass, and it's fading away."
 
Ivesk scratches his head, though not as baffled as he'd be just a few days ago. Oh, it's confusing alright, but after seeing the glaive-making and talking with Vandal, not much relating to him would surprise the old man. "Fading away how exactly?" He can think of many strange ways something could disappear in.


Not that the clarification is likely to help with understanding it. But might as well know.
 
"Like... ash, I suppose. I can't find the dust, or fragments, or whatever it might be, but sometimes if I move it I can see the edges flaking off, like ash."
 
The old man nods. That sure explained nothing regarding what Vandal actually is, aside from confirming that it's damned weird. "Any theories, then? After all he said I still can't think of anything like him." Narrowing things down to 'not a human or vampire' still leaves way too many options, as far as the officer is concerned.
 
Ketcher shrugs expansively. "No idea, sir. Can I have permission to look through the local Branch files? Maybe one of the foreigners mentioned a thing like him."
 
The man nods again. "Of course. We could even classify it as having possible relevance to the war effort. He does claim he has a natural way of dealing with Vampires, after all."
 
Ivesk wastes no time in doing so, entering the interrogation room. "Good evening, Colonel. I hope your stay here isn't too boring." He's not entirely joking. Vandal seems to do little other than simply sitting there. Not that prisons have much else to offer in the way of entertainment, but the usual captives do something. Singing, scratching something on walls, complaining... this man doesn't seem interested in finding a way to waste time.
 
"Major," he nods. "I have kept myself busy, as best I can. I can hear a great deal, down here, and I have nothing but time to plan for the future."
 
Well, that's interesting. "Hear a lot, you say. I won't ask how, because I doubt the explanation would make much sense to an old soldier like me, but I will ask what interesting things you might have heard specifically. Both out of curiosity, and duty - you may already know this, but we are dealing with an excessive amount of problems lately."
 
"Ah, yes. That is all, really. And the nightmares. Some of your men are infected with Vampire blood. The worst, in fact. The archfiend of the cult's own essence." He replies, expressionless.
 
That certainly gives the officer a pause. Panic almost sets in, but he manages to remain mostly calm, even if his voice is slightly shaky as he speaks up. "Mind... repeating that, to make sure I haven't misheard?"


Pointless bit of hope, but... well, can't blame him. If it's true, the already bad situation will take a turn to even worse.
 
"You needn't panic. I expect it was a mistake, for they do little more than suffer nightmares and surrender to worse urges. They are disciplined. They respect you. Lesser commanders would've fallen, by now."


He pauses.


"The infection will be brief, without replenishment."
 
Panic subsiding. Good. "I suppose that's a relief... though it's worrying nonetheless. At least given the current state of high alert, any progress in the infection should be detected soon." Of course, he still needs to pay even more attention to any reports than before... but at least it won't inconvenience the soldiers any further. There's only so much they can handle. "Hopefully it's truly a mistake, and not merely a trick to make us less careful."


Well, you never know with Vampires.
 
"I imagine the plan was to sow distrust and paranoia, but not for you. Somewhere else, perhaps. That garrison is safer now as a result, no?" Vandal replies.
 
The veteran nods, with some reluctance. "Yes, I suppose it is. In a way, at least. Doesn't make me any happier about having infected around, but so long as they pull through..." He sighs. In the end, they'll still have to uphold the elevated security for a while longer. How long of one? Week? Month?


Hopefully not. If what the being says is true, the effects of the infection should subside soon. With a bit of fortune - and they could definitely use some - in a few more days.
 
Vandal regards you for a long moment.


"You perplex me, Major. You are mortal; doomed to failure, and loss, and death. This lies outside my comprehension. Why do you not despair?"
 
The old man looks over, surprised, before scratching his chin. It takes him a good while to come up with a response. "Odd question... and not one I can really give a simple answer to. To save a long tirade on mortality, I'll simply say that people here don't usually think of death and loss. It's not that we forget - it's impossible to, given we are at war. But that's all the more reason to focus on living - whether it's the small happiness of sharing a drink with comrades, or the great rush of joy after a victorious battle." He pauses for a moment. "I suppose it'd be as hard to understand as immortality is to me. But the short of it is that nobody wants to despair."
 
"Interesting." He replies, and he seems to really mean it. "We are what we are; I cannot so... compartmentalize. I can see why my superiors are so fascinated. You have turned weakness into a kind of strength."
 
The officer hums to himself. It's certainly eye-opening in a way - Vandal seems so strange to them, but in turn they seem baffling to his kind. Makes sense, really, but it still took the question to make the man realize.


Hm. Speaking of... "Your superiors are fascinated, you say? How exactly?" He knows the 'why' already, or part of it at least; but there are many ways one can be interested in something. Hopefully, it's nothing like experiments.
 
"Merely that. Sometimes such that they would emply mortals." He replies, gaze level.
 
Ivesk nods. Simple enough. Well, given he answered a rather tough question, maybe it's time for some more direct prodding on his side. Especially given there's yet one bit of awkwardness in the conversations.


"Tell me, how does your kind call itself? It's hard to speak of it in vague terms all the time."
 
"We are-" He speaks a word, one impossible for you to repeat yet perfectly understandable, as if the meaning was within you all along and merely unlocked by hearing it. Firstborn, perfect, limited, shining, ambitious, golden, star, sun, warrior, leader, it means all of these things and more. "Though you may find firstborn," back to your native tongue, "easier."
 
And another nod, this time coupled with a an expression somewhere between baffled and amazed. Hard not to be. "Yes, probably." The man pauses for a moment, wondering if Vandal would even answer his next question - but then, if he never asks, he won't know. "I don't believe I've asked before, but... what exactly were you doing here? You've mentioned you were moving from the... entry point, but not to where. There isn't much of interest I can think of in the area, save for a particularly infamous forest."
 
Vandal nods, but before he can speak there's a knock at the door.


"Branchers come to see you, sir."
 
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