Vampires don't need to sleep or breathe. Their diet is different too mainly consisting of blood and occasional sex. They are bane creatures to the core.
Usually, it is their unstable psychological abnormalities that reason why the empire labels them as defective experimentations. They are just one step away from being called aberrations.
Every vampire has to suffer from one, two, or more mental sicknesses which their special constitution brings to them. Like how vegetarians are often lacking aggressiveness whereas meat eaters are the opposite, it is evident that 'diet' plays a big role in influencing an individual's psyche.
Immortality after all doesn't come free and also has a cost.
The Seven Vampire Lords, Juren including, have to mentally condition themselves to put great attachment to a certain obsession. For Juren, it is greed.
So imagine the annoyance and impulsive dissonance in his spirit after the elves make a fool of himself.
"AS I SAID! EXTEND THE PATROLS! IF YOU DON'T DO YOUR JOB, I WILL HAVE YOU KILLED AND FED TO THE PIGS!" Juren screams at the human.
The human shudders at his warning.
"It really is fortunate." He chides himself in sarcasm.
It has been a month since the elves' raid. In the beginning, the elves only attack once every seven days. Every time they do, they execute their objectives perfectly. On the last 21st day of the month, Juren manages to snag a couple of elves.
He wishes to interrogate them at that time to learn where their base is, but the elves are ruthless to the core.
The 'elf' the other elves call general basically offs the two elves Juren has captured with great effort.
"Tsk," Juren clenches his fist so hard, blood starts to seep from his palm. "I will kill them! I will kill them! How dare they harm my possession? Those slippery elves! I will have them die!"
For others to violate his greed is tantamount to the highest crime in Dark City. Anything that Juren owns is sacred— the slaves, gold, land, and everything within his territory. The elves are truly brash as they keep attacking during the night again and again.
In the beginning, Juren's forces are still able to react while sparing a few forces to investigate the Dark Lands to find where the elves are camping.
The night is when a vampire is its strongest, so it is idiotic that the elves keep on attacking him at that time. Aware that the elves do not know of the vampire's more obvious weakness, Juren takes it upon himself to directly confront the general.
However, the elves are a slippery bunch. Despite preparing all of his resources, they still manage to escape. The only consolation is that Juren manages to kill one.
But…
Killing a single elf doesn't really seem to be a great feat, but more of a disappointment.
After a series of clashes, the elves finally learn of the vampires' weakness in the sunlight. Juren's schedule becomes easier as the elves attack the Dark City on a daily basis during the height of the noon sun.
The 'war' continues for months in a stalemate. Every day, the Dark City grows weaker. It reaches the point where Juren has to turn a human into a vampire just to avoid starving his human citizens. It increases his soldiers too as a bonus.
Juren will rather starve his weaker vampire spawns than starve his human citizens. Human blood is a necessary resource for him to maintain the morale and strength of his stronger subordinates. The newly turned vampires are just cannon fodder, but at least, they will have better use.
He glances at the map lying on the floor. A lot of furniture is destroyed from the most recent raid, and Juren has no choice but to use the floor. Thankfully, the map which he uses to mark and study where the elves might be making their camp remains undamaged.
Juren tilts his head with a snap.
Passing by his head is an arrow. Juren glances at the wall where a tiny hole presents itself
The harassment tactics of the elves are getting more and more dangerous as time passes by.
"THEY ARE HERE! THE ELVES ARE ATTACKING!" Shouts a human sentry from his throne room's large doors.
Following the human sentry's shouting is his death. The sentry plops on the ground dead with an arrow sticking to his neck. More arrows come flying, piercing his throne room's solid stone walls and blanket firing the area.
Juren scurries and rolls the map in his tunic. He grits his teeth as he endures the shame of crawling on the ground. He lets the arrows come, while he takes cover from his throne. He studies the arrows, and they seem to be thicker and harder than usual.
"This fucking steel bolts…" He comments, but after plucking one, and examining it, he realizes this is something different. "This is heavier than usual…"
"My slaves! Come get me!" He shouts to the hiding and panicking vampire slaves. Some of them fall flat dead from the indiscriminate firing, but a few manage to luckily survive and reach Juren at his throne.
"Help me apply this potion to my skin…" He reveals a potion to his slaves, an anti-sun potion exclusive to vampires.
Juren stands up from his throne and showers himself with a unique solution. He applies the potion carefully on his skin with the assistance of his slaves. In no time at all, he finishes covering himself with sunscreen.
When the firing of the steel bolts comes to a halt, Juren rushes out from his throne. He explodes with feral speed as he attacks the walls, and jumps to the other side.
"I will skin you alive, elf! This assassination attempt of yours has failed!" Juren runs to the single-braided elf operating what seems to be ballistae.
The empire has a similar technology, but the firing speed of the ballistae that the elf is using is several-fold faster than the empire's version.
Juren can feel the touch of the sun, irritating his skin, but he perseveres. And because of his anti-sun potion, the damage that the sun is inflicting on him has become negligible.
Interfering on Juren's path is an invisible wave all too familiar to him. His contact with this mysterious force is so often, he is slowly understanding its limitations— the aura is not omnipotent— and proving this is the next series of maneuvers of the vampire.
Juren acrobatically flips in the air as he retreats from the Aura Swords creating a crescent shape from under him. The roof's tiles shatter at the touch of Aura.
With a single leap, Trudviar presents himself to Juren.
Juren smiles. "You know that our bouts most often result as tied. What use is there for you to challenge me?"
"No, I am not here to fight you like the usual raids…" Trudviar shakes his head. "I am just here as a bodyguard."
At the end of his words, the braided elf disposes of the ballistae by tossing the staple blazing 'bottle' the elves call a Molotov. "What a waste… According to the blacksmiths, springs are quite difficult to make…" The braided elf complains.
Juren tries to bypass Trudviar's defense to get to the other elf, but Trudviar won't let him.
Swinging his sword as if he is dancing, Trudviar's sword dangerously flows from a single stroke to the second and third. Juren warily evades the attacks while he tries to sink in an attack of his own or two.
Suddenly, an arrow comes flying for his head. Juren senses this and evades it just right on time. Juren jumps off from Trudviar creating the necessary space for him to take a breather.
Trudviar calmly stands in his place, as he gives an apathetic gaze to his foe.
"According to human books in tactics, it is easier to defend than to attack. I thought the same. But now, I don't think so. Attacking the Dark City seems to be more of an easier task than I thought."
Juren laughs at the Elven General's arrogance.
"You must be stretching your logistics. War is all about numbers. In no time, at all, I will overwhelm you with my forces…"
"Do not delude yourself, vampire…" Trudviar coldly provokes the vampire. "Numbers? Then you are losing. Really… I have been underestimating my, the elves', forces from the beginning which is just sad."
Juren doesn't like what he is hearing.
Trudviar's confidence is genuine, and there is no reason for him to lose.
"It has been eight months since the elves started their march. We should not prolong the war any longer. Tomorrow, the elves shall end this war. Clean your neck, vampire, I shall personally come for you."
Juren shudders at Trudviar's words. Juren like other races doesn't understand the month-calendar system, so she has no idea what is the eight months Trudviar has been talking about.
But… she understands what 'tomorrow' means.
Just like the Sword of Damocles hovering above his head, Juren realizes the cruel truth— his days are numbered.