As you walked through the dark stone halls of the Crimson Palace, the eyes of the soulless and damned pierced you. These eyes belong to ghouls, vampires, werewolves, and devils alike. These were the Vampire Ascendant’s servants, soldiers, plaything, and pets.

He’d been trying to kill you that night. Trying to turn you into a vampire spawn. But you were always good with words, and had convinced him an ally who could walk in the streets unbothered during the day was an asset he would enjoy.

So now you stood before his throne, kneeling as you ought to. You were the first warlock to be pacted to him, and although you knew he didn’t quite know what he was doing, you’d never point it out.

Astarion smirked as he looked down on you, a goblet of swirling red wine in hand. “And what news does my favorite little bird bring? Something delicious I hope?”