Pursuit of the Sun 1.2

A fair market price. Only novels about powerful empresses cost more.

– No, that's something for our academics. They love that kind of thing, – Ottar reassured his companion. – I just need a couple of vials of blood for medicinal purposes. That's all. I need something to work with.

The Bloodsucker hands over twenty silver coins and three small vials, similar to the one he used to collect blood from the sick townsman last time. Three portions, three days of peace. Well deserved.

– The book will go to one of the gentlemen from the Citadel. My master has excellent connections! – Ottar added casually.

That's how we live. Not everyone is born a commoner with a blood addiction.

-- Wow! Usually, you have to pay for bloodletting, but here, they pay you instead, – the man readily bares his forearm.

Added 14 minutes later

A pitiful entity picks up a sword. For there is nothing in the remnants of its consciousness that is more complete, just as there was nothing in this empty man's life except for battle.

Possession brings with it sensations, and those – suffering, for the noise and brilliance of the world no longer blind the entity, and any feeling penetrates the transparent shell, wounding from within. Blood. Pain. Dented armor and notches on the blade. The whistling of punctured lungs, the lascivious gurgle of a neck severed in half. Warm, cozy slime from the intestines that have left their Asylum. This is wonderful – but it shouldn't be in the Void, and it will suffer for its desire, for its indifference.
Hargen(?)
HP: 7
Sanity: 6
Damage: 5
Images gather around him again, like moths around a single lamp. Next, from this monstrous vortex, appears armor – not chainmail and not plate armor, bearing neither the owner's coat of arms nor the master's mark. Armor as it should be in the entity's perception.