A Comprehensive Guide to Thralldom from a Former Thrall
A golden rimmed book. The author's name is denoted down the bottom, with a raven's head stamp. "Safira Athol."
Author's Note, and an Introduction to Thralldom
Despite all the fiction based around it, little has been recorded of Vampires and Thralldom, from what I've learned. A look into the subject, years ago now, proved to me just how terribly undocumented it often is, and for an obvious reason. Most thralls would never document the truth of their relationship, brainwashed and addicted to their masters.
I know I may not have, were I to write something like this when I was under a Vampire (or Blodsu'g, for our trade-tongue.) My name is Safira Athol. For two years, roughly, I was under the control of a vampire, addicted to it's blood, and only a year ago was I able to regain my freedom from it's control, and now I've decided to write this book to document the truth of thralldom. The dangers, and the misery, from my own experiences.
While attempting to keep this as objective as possible, I'll also be noting some of the very little positives I did experience under the sway of a Vampire. As well as keeping the one I was enslaved to, "A", nameless. But ultimately, all those positives do come with some of the biggest asterixes I can possibly draw, and I'll put my personal warning up front and foremost; do not let a vampire feed on you, and never give into the idea your life will be better under one's "protection."
I can only hope my experiences and knowledge serve as a warning to those romanticising the ideas of Vampirism.
Day 18, Month 2 (Alturiak), 177 AR
Safira Athol
Chapter One: What is Thralldom?
Contrary to what it may seem, Thralldom is not the simple act of being enslaved to a Vampire: a variety of creatures hold the same sway, though in different ways. The Illithids of the Lowerdark, for example, suppress your mind and enslave you for their own purposes.
A Thrall is simply someone who's mind has been altered to obey the whim and command of whatever may be altering it, which is not to be confused with submission from slaves or the like. No, while slaves may still have their own thoughts, opinions, a Thrall is made to *think* they do, when in truth their opinions are an extension of their Master's own. Their actions are an extension of their master's own.
A Thrall is little more than a tool for a Vampire to use, as was my experience. A pretty mouth to speak from, a strong sword to swing, a personable face to taunt around. A Vampire may even convince you that you are your own person, but you are not. You don't exist anymore, and in its place, is their pet.
Novels I have read, often-times sordid and romanticising/sexualising Vampires, will describe it as a give and take; where both sides have equal power. You are giving it it's food, after all, right? But when a Vampire can snap it's fingers, and you offer out your neck for it's appetite, there is no power on your end.
I often-times found myself infatuated with my Master, when I was influenced by "A", doing as it bid and thinking to myself how any given situation may affect it, thinking it did the same because it "protected" me. Though it's since become clear a Vampire would only protect you since you are it's most reliable source of survival.
My own former Master often expressed carelessness towards others it did not have "territory" over, I watched it throw away thought on someone that it had told me was a friend once upon a time simply because he got up and left the city due to illness.After my own escape, it even expressed this towards me, a friend saying that it had told them I was "most likely dead."
Unlike the novels, real-life Vampires do not care for their Thralls in any other way than property. There is no love, no adoration, no appreciation, as much as some bland words of validation often made me proud and greedy for it's attention.
Day 18, Month 2 (Alturiak), 177 AR
Safira Athol
Chapter Two: How Does One Get Enthralled?
A highly contested question, in truth. Some will claim a Vampire's gaze alone can hypnotise you, staring into it's eyes for too long forcing you under it's will. Some say there's an aphrodisiac in it's fangs, that will keep you coming back for the "thrill" of offering your blood for it's next meal. However, from my own experience, I believe there are two points of Thralldom; the standard Mind Control, and the Emotional Manipulation. Stage Two, and Stage One Thrallment respectfully.
Stage One Enthrallment comes when meeting the Vampire, should it not be immediately hostile towards you. Often-times, and I do express this truthfully, Vampire's are unfortunate souls dealt an especially bad hand, as my master was. Farmers, or city-goers, who met the wrong "person" and ended with eternal unlife.
However, that is where the sympathies should end, and you should never think a Vampire is still a person because of this. A Vampire may use such sympathies to convince you of it's "Humanity," to put it into a human term, explaining the tragedy of it's situation, and that it's not it's fault it's there. But this is all in an attempt to goad you into offering, rather than anything to do with friendship or love.
You feel sorry for it, so... why not give it some to get by?
And as you become sympathetic to it, you've already entered into a lighter form of Enthrallment, trusting and believing in it. I gave myself to my Master, before being mind-washed, in an attempt to help them with their Disease. I attempted to convince my family, my friends, to offer themselves in an attempt to keep a creature I sympathised with "alive." As obvious as it may seem on the outside to not offer your very life-essence to a corpse reanimated, the sympathy was already there in my mind.
Which leads me to Stage Two. Mind Control. How a proper Enthrallment comes along is by, in my experience, drinking a Vampire's blood itself, which I'll refer here to as "Bliss". Simply because that's what I called it back then, what I'd experience when drinking it. By this point, I believe you'd be too far gone, but it's objectively the final point of no return for your mind to be wiped, and yourself born as a slave to their whim.
What does it taste like?
At first, tar. Disgusting, and wretched, but after a couple of seconds that melts away. I believe it tastes like your favourite drink, or the best food you've had in your life. A personal taste of chocolate milk from my time with it.
And the feeling you get from it?
Imagine the best lay you've ever had, or the funnest day out with companions, and multiply that by a hundred. It is simple, elegant "Bliss", and an experience that you can't get anywhere else.
And that's the problem. You *can't* get it anywhere else, and all other thrill just seem pointless after it. Food doesn't taste the same, time seems to go slower, you stop having fun with most stuff you do, all over a small span of time. So, you crave more, not just because of your mind being warped by your Master's will to believe it is all you need in life, but because it's just the only thing in life that seems to bring you that same level of joy.
It is an addiction, in it's simplest form, and you are *not* strong enough to resist it.
No matter what you say, or think, *you are not strong enough to resist it's temptation.*
The only case I think you could come unscathed, is if you're already Enthralled, or your mind is naturally resistant to such things by birth. People pacted, for example, I theorise may be able to resist such an addiction, though I've yet to see that proven.
Day 18, Month 2 (Alturiak), 177 AR
Safira Athol
My Experience Under Thralldom, Part One
I remember in the early days of it, where my mother would liken the treatment of 'A' with me as a form of abuse, something I only understand so much later now was true. As I've stated, Thralldom is not an equal relationship. During my time, I was emotionally, physically, and mentally abused, and told it was all my fault by the time it'd all ended.
This will be the longest chapter, and by far, the most personal.
I'd met 'A' when I was just starting out in the city; a Kobold who's name eludes me at the time of writing had recommended it as a very competent essence creator, so I'd saught it out for that very purpose. The first couple of encounters were mild, nicities and transactions where I'd made it a variety of furniture, without getting too close with it. But, a mutual friend of ours that went by the name 'Killer', had introduced me to it's book while we were discussing our hobbies.
I fell in love with the book, for whatever reason. Something describing it's experiences, how it felt, I may even go so far as to remark that it still holds up as a good primary source for those wishing to know the tragedy of Vampirism. But, it may just simply be a piece of sympathy to sucker someone in, as it did myself. Believing it was still a person, rather than a lifeless creature without a hint of remorse to talk of. I became *infatuated* with it.
Over weeks, perhaps months, I slowly began to trust it. Believe it's sob story. One it'd tell me in a monotone voice, without flair or care. It told me of it's family, it's life, it's goals beforehand. All wittling me down, piece by piece. It even offered to work for my family. To protect me. And being the fool I was, I trusted that it only wanted to do this "because it was my friend."
And, inevitably, I offered myself to it.
It took my blood the very next cycle. I don't know how much I lost, but there was a thrill to it. It was nothing like how the books described, how could it ever be? It took from my wrist, in an attempt to retain an essence of it's "Humanity."
My mother was furious when she found out. Vowed to murder it, before Killer had talked her out of it. I wish he'd not. But after that, things began to slowly trail downhill. It said I was intoxicating. That my blood had left it wanting, and asked me to offer it again. Which I did, time and time again, constantly telling my family that it's fine to have a leech draining my very life-essence. I used makeup to cover the marks it left, the blemishes, the handprint it'd indented into my throat as it held me down, to stop me from squirming. To cover the paleness of my skin. And yelling at my mother, Nemerarie, whenever she made the rightful claim that it was using me.
Then. My family left. And all I had was the creature.
Day 18, Month 2 (Alturiak), 177 AR
Safira Athol
Chapter Three: My Experience Under Thralldom, Part Two
It promised to protect me, told me my family was abadoning me, in spite of me making that very decision to stay in Andunor myself. Despite the fact that my friends would point it out, that one of them broke down sobbing in my room because I was so blinded. And because I thought it could protect me, because it was slowly ingraining itself that it was all I needed, I made the worst decision of my life. I supped on it's blood.
From the first moment, without delay, I was addicted. I needed more. I needed more, much more frequently. It grew from the occassional feast every few cycles, to finding myself sick and depraved were I not able to get a fix daily. I couldn't eat, I couldn't rest. I couldn't enjoy myself unless I had some of *it.* I began to live in it's bedroom, in love with the very thing, cuddled up to an uncaring, uncradling corpse, like it was the most comfortable lover one could imagine.
I began doing it's bidding. It would tell me to stock the shops, I would. Talk to someone? I would. Stretch out my neck, drop to my knees before it, apologise for messing up one of it's sordid deals? I would. I vividly remember when it asked me to 'dress up in something nice' for it's first filling feast, where it brought me to the point of drained and then unlatched itself. I wore a dress, thinking that it'd love me if I did. I wore a different dress, too, when it told me to offer to one of it's kin, like I were a cheap tavern wench in a room full of sailors, and I obediently complied. Because I thought it'd love me. And that specific instance, was in order to drink it's kin's blood, as a sign of dominance over it.
I made it millions of gold, because I thought it'd adore me. Each time it said something simple. "Good work, Safira." And I'd feel like the happiest person in the world, like they'd gifted me the finest crown in a kingdom.
But by far, the thing I'm most ashamed of? Was finding it more food. It tasked me with something, very often: "Convince so-and-so to offer to me, and I will reward you." These were anyone ranging from strangers it had met, to very close and dear friends of mine. I'd brag of the creature, saying it 'wasn't that bad.' That it had a lot to offer, that you could trust it. I'd offer them smiles and petty pleasantries, sometimes even going to bed with potential victims, all in an effort to keep it well-fed. A fact that would utterly haunt me, to this very cycle.
I don't even remember the number of people I made good with, in order to feed it. Two dozen? Three? Often-times offering pretty baubles in return, standing in the room as a comfort for them to look at, a set-piece. And I'd smile, I'd tell them I'm proud of them. Matrons, mercenaries, wizards, I stood there and watched as it'd drain them of a little piece of themselves. In hopes that it'd love me, and gift me another source of my addiction.
For two years I served it like this. I'd even given an ask that it drain me, and turn me into one of it, which thankfully never went through. But two years, I was a victim. And it wasn't until I'd met a young Priestess, that I'd finally snap from it.
My reverie is plagued by these memories, occassionally. I see the people I victimised. I may be a survivor, but I will never forgive myself for the horrid actions I committed for it.
Day 18, Month 2 (Alturiak), 177 AR
Safira Athol
Chapter Four: Why I Broke My Addiction, and How You Can Too
Of course, if you've a want to break the addiction-- that's the very first step. Realising you'd want to, or like to. Mine came to me when I'd met a young Priestess named Rowan, selling her wares in Saltspar. Of course, she'd been one of the people I lured in, convincing them it wasn't all that bad. Swearing by it. But, soon enough, I found myself growing fond of her. Spending more time with her, wanting to be with her. And that, for lack of a better term, began to clash with my allegiance to my former Master.
I found myself growing uncomfortable with her being fed on. I found myself trying to push her away from eternal servitude. I remember she told me of the monster, looming over her as she did work on some clothing, taking a *whiff* of her from behind. And telling her it "found it hard to compose itself within her presence." A fact that deeply, incredibly discomforted me, but I still went on. I still fed on it, let it feed on me, worked for it.
Until, of course, one time it had decided to feed on this young Priestess. Where it latched, and took. And took. And took. For moments, for seconds. Losing itself to it's lust for blood.
I saw her dying. I could tell. The way she slowly went limp in the Vampire's grasp, the squeaks and whimpers stopping. And something in me snapped. I'd launched forward, and threw a punch directly across the thing's face, in spite of my instinct to stand subservient. It reacted by clawing me-- one of them cutting so deep, as to leave a scar that plagues my lip to this cycle. A rabid monster, and I'd interrupted it's feast.
But, it eventually composed itself. Told me I was good for stopping it, believing it'd stopped the whole thing based on it's will. I can firmly say, I did not.
Of course, to give some more context on how horrid this thing was, it seemed to believe that Priestess had some power over me. Some power that compelled me to her, and believed that it's "territory" was being infringed upon. From the start, it always called me it's "territory." And it wasn't until I saw it attempting to choke out the woman it'd recently nearly drained dry, in hope of an answer to some matter it'd blown up in it's head, that I realised that's all I was.
It released me from it's service after that. I'm unsure why. But it was an out I more than gladly took, even if it was more subconcious than vocalised. And it wasn't until a friend of mine, Senrae, walked with me to it's lair would I finally be well and truly freed. It saw that I was no longer under the mindset it wanted me to be, so as easily as one would dump the left-over scraps from a dinner, it cast me aside completely. And I only wish I could thank Senrae for it.
I suppose I can't really answer how to achieve the first step. I was incredibly lucky, to have friends who cared for me so much that they never stopped trying to help me from my addiction, and subsequent abuse. Perhaps this book may be your first step, if you're too far sunken into by the claws of your very own Vampire. Perhaps you too have people close to you, vying for your safety. I believe, once there's a crack in the indoctrination, that it's an inevitable slide down to freedom.
In hindsight, it's rather obvious how miserable I was. Friends have remarked how happy I am with my freedom, how much more lively I am. I was broody, depressed, under 'A.'
All you have to do, is take that first step. As scary as it may seem.
Day 18, Month 2 (Alturiak), 177 AR
Safira Athol
Chapter Five: Withdrawl Symptoms, and the Slow Ascent to Freedom
The truth is, the path to rehabilitation from your abuse, your addiction, will be one of the hardest you ever make. Like any drug, the lack of Vampire blood will bring out horrible side-affects. A list of my own included:
*Sweating
*Shivering
*Inability to Eat or Drink
*Tiredness, and the need to Sleep for long periods of time (I would often be in bed for upwards of fourteen hours a cycle, sleeping in a patch of my own sweat. Sleep is usually an Ilithiiri response to injury or sickness, for reference.)
*Cold/Hot Streaks
*Vomiting
*Jittery/Agitated Behaviour
*Mood Swings
As morbid as it may seem, I can not stress this enough: You will die without proper support in your rehabilitation. You often can not eat, or drink, and vomit what little your stomach had to begin with: my longest streak without eating was a week and a half, where I'd immediately vomit up anything I'd been given by friends to keep down.
A healer is needed by your side at *all times.* I will reiterate when I say, the path to recovery is paved with a constant stream of healing and sustaining magics, to stop your very body from failing you until you've sweat out your addiction and can finally eat again. The Priestess I'd mentioned earlier was by my side, the whole time. I'd even made the trip home where the worst of it happened; where my Aunt wouldn't leave my side, soothing my mind with words as she kept me from crossing the brink of death again and again.
The road to freedom is a rough, harsh one. But, it's very possible, should you find the right healer. It may take days, weeks, months as it did for me-- but eventually, you will sweat out the addiction, and your mind will be free once more. Your thoughts, your wants, all your own.
And it was only during my recovery, was I welcomed into my family again. Where my mother would stroke my hair, where my father would teach me breathing excercises while holding my hand. I remember seeing all of them huddled around me, while I was stuck to my bed in sweat, on the verge of dying. The people I'd pushed away for a something leeching off my blood.
That's the true reward, of recovery. For mine, at the very least.
Day 18, Month 2 (Alturiak), 177 AR
Safira Athol
Final Thoughts
I suppose if anything, I'd like to make this a warning to would-be romanticisers of Vampire's. A source for them to look up, and see the truth of the matter. They will feed you pretty words, they will try to make themselves sympathetic. But in the end, it's all for the singular purpose of their next feast. Of survival. A Vampire will throw you away, as the one I followed did. I remember coming home, expressing a desire to be friends.
Only, instead of friendliness, I was met with the words 'the only reason I don't kill you is because you were so useful,' while it chose to blame me for the horrendous actions it had committed.And when I asked whether the last two years were worth it-- "If I had my way, you would still be within my grasp."
But I write this text as a free woman, a proud Ilithiiri. As Safira Athol. With the only hope that I might be able to write a comprehensive text on the dangers of Thralldom, so someone has a better resource of it than I did.
My wings were clipped, but now I soar higher than ever.
Day 18, Month 2 (Alturiak), 177 AR
Safira Athol