It was early in a dark, wet October night. I had taken leave of my regiment for a short rest period and was heading back towards my meager cabin in the Appalachian foothills. Riding down the leaf-strewn path, my horse barely made a sound. I too was in a somber mood, pensively awaiting a reunion with my estranged brother who had finally made the journey across the ocean and had sent a letter saying he would meet me this evening. Since the unfortunate demise of our uncle the day before I left, we had spoken little and I felt he blamed me for leaving a bad situation without helping to achieve resolution. But that would soon be behind us, as we were together in a new land, America, where dreams could come true and hard work would be rewarded with a peaceful life, free of the political maneuverings of our homeland.

My thoughts preoccupied with the weight of the nearing reunion, I fear my attention to my surroundings suffered. I ignored the whickering of Stramm and cantered onward. Without warning I was taken off my mount by swirling gust of malevolence. I still have only fragmented images of that moment: Stramm rearing and screaming in fright, a hot, liquid susurrus over my neck, agony and ecstasy and a growing, swirling darkness reaching down from the trees to slowly engulf me wholly. Darkness. Complete and total for an eternity. Until I rose up and stretched out into the starlit night, questions racing through my mind and a strange new hunger in my belly. I had been reborn.

Those first few weeks remain a blur, partially self-inflicted, for I performed unspeakable acts that sadden me to this day; of those I will not speak. Eventually I learned to control my compulsions, to feed when hungry, to disguise my new nature from those around me, and to seek respite from the day. Later I learned the advantages given me; my keen intellect was still intact and my personality more forceful than ever and my new body was stronger and tougher than before. When a raiding party happened upon me one night and shot, I barely felt a sting; the wounds healed immediately, much to the surprise of my attackers. I remember the looks of consternation upon their faces as the lone mercenary flew into them with bare hands, flinging them about like rag dolls.

As more time passed, I settled into a small cabin in the woods and set about learning, both about my new life and the world around me that had interested since I was a toddler. Decades passed. My farmhouse grew into a manor and my lands were partially cultivated by tenants farmers carefully recruited by myself. More people settled the lands around mine, both making my sojourns both more assured of success and more prone to detection. My studies turned to that of medicine after I discovered a local doctor, a learned man of the country. At first I merely stole into his rooms at night to read his journals, then I grew so bold as to approach him and learn directly from him. I think he was delighted to find another man of letters among his bumpkin neighbors. I was an avid and quick learner and soon grew to know more than he. He passed away and my studies continued, especially into the nature of blood, so important to me. My various tenant families came to know of my skill as occasionally late at night I would appear to treat some emergency, gaining even more their awe and respect.