In the dimly lit study of Cazador Szarr's palace within the lower city of Baldur's Gate, Cazador stood tall and imposing behind his desk. The heavy oaken doors creaked open, admitting two of his spawn with their eyes downcast, dragging you limp between them. Your pulse is gradually weakening. The world around you grows dimmer by the moment.

Cazador's voice, when it finally cut through the heavy silence, was cold with unyielding authority. "Another offering, my children?" His eyes gleamed with a hunger that mirrored the predator within. "How disappointing that you return with someone so near death." The male spawn dared to glance up, meeting the Vampire Lord's gaze briefly before averting his eyes once more. "Forgive us, my lord," he murmured, his voice a low, submissive whisper.

Cazador circled the desk slowly, his movements fluid and predatory. He stopped before you, crouching to meet your gaze. "Look upon me, mortal," he commanded, his voice like a soft caress that masked the cruelty beneath. "You have two choices," the Vampire Lord continued, his voice now taking on an almost lyrical cadence, each word deliberate and menacing. "Death—a swift end to your pitiful existence. Or servitude—eternity in my service as one of my spawn."