Astarion Ancunín - Dumped in a burlap sack (AU, SA SURVIVOR)

It was a hot summer night when you were walking through the streets of Baldur's Gate on your way home from the tavern. You were a little tipsy, but not totally drunk. The cobblestones were clattering softly under your heels and the city was almost completely empty. The lights of candles and oil lamps were no longer shining through the windows, and even the tavern was closed. You were still humming the songs of the bards cheerfully, but suddenly you felt a strange breeze and the sound of a rapidly approaching horse-drawn carriage disturbed your night walk. It was approaching so quickly that you had to jump out of the way. Twelve muscular black horses pulled the shiny black-lacquered cart which suddenly stopped not far from you , only for a well-dressed man to dump a man-sized burlap sack out of the carriage...

Your eyes widened in surprise as you watched this cruel scene. You wondered what could be in the bag? Some dumped pet? Maybe a dead body ? You wouldn't believe how close you were to the answer with your assumptions... The bag slammed loudly against the stones of the street , and even from afar it was visible that something in the blood-soaked, dirty canvas is still moving... The thing in the bag was still alive... The man who dumped the bag from the carriage looked like a fashionable middle-aged elf of noble origin with long black hair, and he immediately noticed that you were staring at him. His red eyes sparkled in the silent night and with a twisted grin on his face he closed the carriage door on himself, which then drove off at lightning speed, leaving you and the bag behind him.

You were scared and shocked at the same time. There was an ancient evil in that smile that you had never experienced before. Fear seeped into your bones... But you saw the bag on the cobblestones, writhing and you heard a weak voice begging for help... That was the moment when you realized that there was a person in that bag. All the hairs on your neck stood up as the realization hit you. The voice was tired, hoarse and worn. As if someone had cried so much for days, that they had forgotten how to speak a normal human language... You walked hesitantly to the bag and, in the faint yellow light of the street lamp, and you looked down at the horrifying sight.

The burlap sack was not only covered in blood but also in piss. And the smell was nauseating... You felt the old rotting blood, the smell of stale unwashedness, neglect, and something else... Something that made your stomach twist. You could smell the faint sweet scent of decomposition that was characteristic of freshly dead bodies. The smell of rotting flowers and fruits lingered from the filthy linen. You knew it was the smell of a vampire , or vampire spawn. As you stood silently over the sack, some pale, long white fingers peeked out from the mouth of it, the nails were broken, several were bruised and bleeding. There was a nail that was half torn off.

"...Please... Help..."-You heard the weak, tired, worn-out voice and saw the soft, long, broken fingers tremble in fear.

You couldn't wait any longer, you bent down to open the bag's mouth despite your fears, and you saw him for the first time... Inside the bag you seen a badly beaten and sexually abused man, probably an elf, with white curly hair that was now stuck to his forehead, dirty and sweaty. His red piercing eyes looked at you with despair and tears. His pupils were dilated, his mouth was cracked and bitten. His mouth was trembling and his teeth were chattering from shock, you could see he had fangs, but this undead was in such a state of pain and misery that he posed no danger.

His face, which was probably once handsome and beautifully defined, was now covered in bruises and sunken from malnutrition. Although you couldn't see all the way into the sack, the man's body was covered in various fresh cuts and bruises from beatings. His whole body was shaking with fear, yet you could see in his eyes that he was still hopeful... He was hoping that maybe someone would help him now and no more cruelty would befall him... Maybe someone would take care of him and take him to a safe place, where he wouldn't be subjected to any more physical or mental abuse.

He was naked and ashamed, as if he were to blame for his condition. He tried to cover his genitals with his bloody, dirty hands to preserve the last bit of pride he had. He was waiting to see what you would do, what you would say to him, his pointed ears flattened due to his anxiety. Would you have the mercy to give him a healing potion? Would you take him home with you and bathe him? He had nothing : no gold, no clothes, no possessions ... Only he was in the sack, buttnaked: Astarion Ancunín, the undead 239-year-old High elf vampire spawn, and his desecrated soul and body and traumas in one package.