Great, we are in some sort of horrible death trap now instead of back home. There’s Dirk though. Seems he is here to guide us out. He hasn’t brought anything to drink this time. What a disappointment. What has him so scared? Hey, it’s mom! But why is she here and where are we going? Ok, she’s finally giving us answers…

“Mwa-mwa-mwa…”

We’ve been deceived? Heh, that’s nothing new when you’re a Von Carstein.

“Wah-wah-wah…”

I’m sired by the chalice of blood? I can found my own family! I always suspected I was destined for greatness but I’ve really outdone it this time!

“Mwa-wha-wah…”

Rollo’s real name is Otwin? That’s hilarious. Oh, I better not snicker in front of Rollo or Otwin or whatever I’m going to call him (maybe Ollo or Rotwin!)

“Wah-wah-wah”

Dispose Mannfred? One of us needs to take over and rule Sylvania? That’s an easy choice. But of course we have to do the heavy lifting here. There’s always a catch…

“Me me mee me mee…”

So even Heinrich is up for killing Mannfred? Well, that’s actually not a surprise. We probably have more trouble convincing Heinrich to slay a witch hunter.

“Mwa-wah-mwa…”

Not mom is really Isabella Von Carstein? I thought I had something to brag about before with the two Sisters of Lahmia!

“Wah-mwa-mwa…”

How does a worm walk?! It makes no sense! We’ve fought his supporters in the past? Like I can remember everyone we’ve killed…

“Mwa-mwa-wah…”

Ok, we’ll play coy for now with Mannfred and go back home. This a lot to process. I could use a drink…

The winds of Dhar howled as they spun and danced about the black spires of Castle Drakenhof. It was a din of madness that Count Mannfred von Carstein had grown disconcertingly accustomed to, even steeled his stalwart mind against its whispers, drawing upon the winds for power at his leisure. Such was the province of a being as old and powerful as he, and yet no tally of centuries or legions of undead could forge a bulwark against the bureaucracy which assailed him now. Mannfred absently pressed his seal against the warm wax of another scroll, it briefly glowed with a pale, red magical light, whereupon the missive was whisked off by a member of his invisible spirit servants.

Nestled within the warded walls of his Black Library, the Count permitted an absent thought toward his new Dread Master of Liches. A letter had been delivered to Drakenhof from his head necromancer who was supposed to be working on other, more important matters. This letter requested the use of a very specific set of items, ones the Dread Master had undoubtedly discovered the existence of through the tomes kept in this very library. Consequences, the Count mused to himself idly, no matter how carefully considered, there are unforeseen consequences.

Time passed as Mannfred mused, an unknown quantity of it, for a being as ancient as he had little grasp of small passages of time. He rose and descended personally into the bowels of Drakenhof, shadowed always by the Spear of Peace, and this time, by the new Seneschal of Castle Drakenhof, Waldedruis. The corridors, like time itself, flowed around him like a gentle river, his memories of their labyrinth giving orders to his feet as he dwell upon a thousand outcomes to a hundred situations. He came upon a barred door wrapped in chains, locked and warded. The Von Carstein sire simply walked through the entire thing as if it wasn’t there, leaving his bodyguard and seneschal behind. Moments later, he stepped back through, burdened by a chest made of thick, blackened dragonglass.

“The Seneschal of Castle Drakenhof is no mere errand girl, and yet a treasure such as this is must be protected at all costs. See that it is well guarded and ready for the Dread Master of Liches upon his return to Castle Drakenhof. Only he will be able to open it, and only when he has my leave. I will be departing this night, as the Spear of Peace and I have death to deal to the foolish elves and their insipid peace talk. The Castle is yours, Seneschal.”

Heinrich had no idea how Dirk and Mellisande had known where they would be before even he knew and the way they were hurriedly rushing them through Altdorf with no answers and only cryptic evasions was entirely too suspicious. The Dread Master of Liches agreed and the two ducked into a dark alleyway to take matters into their own hands.

The nervous guild thief cautioned against stopping, trying to insist on continuing on to his preferred spot for an ambush but after nearly being bound to the Crown of Sorcery’s prison Heinrich was having none of it. He demanded to know why and Dirk merely rung his hands and gave another vague non-answer so Heinrich started looking about for signs of trouble, magical wards, scrying sensors, and found nothing. The Dread Master continued his work uninterrupted as Heinrich took up position in the shadows at the entrance of the alleyway to stand guard.

Meanwhile the Viscount and the Grand Marshal turned on their erstwhile rescuer and demanded to know what was going on. They tried to keep it hushed but she proudly explained that they were not who they thought they were, she was not whom she appeared to be, and they should betray Mannfred and usurp him. Each statement was more shocking than the next and Heinrich was distracted from his post by awaiting the assured violent reaction from his allies. But it was not forthcoming.

‘Are they actually going along with it?’ Heinrich was completely taken aback. Suddenly the scope of options available to him broadened considerably. But the Viscount was manipulative and often played along with his petitioners before betraying them so Heinrich remained silent. The others had always seemed so willing to serve, well, not the Necrarch, but rebellion offended them, they were proud of their family name and position. To be approached by a traitor and take her words at face value, especially under the circumstances; sure they might subvert their orders to their own benefit occasionally but she was confidently proclaiming hericide the only option. Of course she wouldn’t do it, it was up to us. And somehow Mannfred hadn’t recognized his sire’s one true love and object of obsession?

But they were still listening. In fact they seemed to be going along with it. Was the prospect of more power what motivated them? It couldn’t be justice or stopping the collateral damage the Count was on track to cause, the Baron of Oberstyre was giddy at such things, not that they others seemed to listen to him outside the field of battle. Probably for the best, while the others fed on death the Wight King bathed in it and it was his fixation.

“Just play along for now,” the supposed Isabella was telling them. “Give Mannfred the Crown, it will not serve him. Then watch for your opportunity to strike.”

It was utter madness, the ruin brought to the Empire repeatedly over that artifact was staggering and she suggests giving it to the creature most able to use it? How would that do anything but make it harder to destroy him? Heinrich could be silent no longer, perhaps if the others were bluffing he could claim later he was merely playing along to gather more information, but for now it was time to gamble. Heinrich proclaimed Mannfred a rabid monster who needed to be put down and received not so much as an arched brow of surprise.

At this rate maybe he should announce he had a living son training to be a Vampire Hunter. Or that he had made a pact with a bound primordial beyond the stars. Apparently anything was fair game this night.

We exit a secret passage from the vaults out onto the streets of Altdorf. Dirk leads us through the twisting streets and alleys with Melisande bringing up the rear. Dirk seems extremely anxious and is moving with worried quickness. Melisande should not be here. Theudelinda’s line betrayed us during the recent civil conflict. As I circle to get behind her, Oliver and Heinrich move down an alley and begin scribing a teleport circle. Dirk says “we can’t stop here, we must keep moving”. As he says this he looks at Melisande nervously. Ziegfried turns and boxes Melisande in between us. Dirk backs up several paces and then freezes in place.

“It’s time the three of us talk” says Melisande as she looks at both Ziegfried and I. “You both have been deceived. Neither of you know who your maker was nor do you know how important the two of you are. You both are of royal descent. You two were not sired by another vampire. You both drank from the Chalice of Blood, which was given to you by me”. She addresses Ziegfried and explains how he came to be and then she turns to me. “You are not Rollo. Your real name is Otwin, Rollo’s brother. You were switched with Rollo, who was turned by Glaedwine, and embedded into the Drakenhof Court. Both Mannfred and Glaedwine bought the ruse whole heartedly”.

“What this means is that both of you are capable of starting your own line of vampires. You both are the equivalent of Vlad as far as peerage of Vampiric blood. Either one of you could replace Mannfred. And one things is for certain, he must be replaced. He intends to make himself Emperor and conquer these lands. He has lost sight of that which will destroy us all, the impending doom heading our way." Heinrich speaks up at this point and say’s, “so where are we heading?” I hold my hand up letting him know to tell Oliver to slow down. Melisande says, “One of you must take Mannfred’s place.” Heinrich speaks again, “Mannfred is a raving lunatic and a monster. He MUST be stopped!” I noticed there was a passion in Heinrich’s voice that I had never heard before, nor had I ever heard him utter a single seditious remark against Mannfred prior to now.

“One last thing, I am not truly Melisande. My real name is Isabella von Carstein, wife of Vlad. I have been Melisande for years, but, alas, my deception can no longer be maintained. You both are going to be approached by powerful entities. Rollo, Bane is already looking to speak to you. You are going to have to choose, and I hope you choose the Vampires.” She continues talking, telling us she is working with Baegagundus, who has gone to the center of the Shadowfel to bring through the Worm that Walks, ostensibly to fight the coming chaos horde. She also says that we should continue to play along with Mannfred until the time is right to strike. Luitgard is named as an ally to seek out and Elize is exposed as a subordinate of Melisande.

The teleportation circle complete, we all agree to head back to Drakenhof and give the crown to Mannfred.

The disc once worn about the neck of their charge was as gaudy as commanding. A sign of respect and loathing.

Nobility. Prestige. Who cared for such things? Oliver did not. This disc, like its former owner, was a tool, a means to an ideal end. If the air of finery and the imposed significance of family or duty to patronage was to be respected, it was only because they provided benefits which outweighed the risks. Mannfred wanted a Crown? So be it. As long as Oliver got access to the writing he craved, he would get the self-righteous Count his fucking Crown of Sorcery from the heart of Altdorf itself.

Just don’t expect me to fight a Witch Hunter, Oliver thought.

Not even chambers brimming with gold and gems distracted the necromancer. He gave pause once, at a book, oh yes perhaps a lingering pause but he knew they were simultaneously harried by ill fortune and time itself while descending the bowels of Altdorf’s storied vaults. The others eagerly stuffed their satchels and pouches with glittering things, but not he. No, true power was not in coin but in knowledge. If Oliver could discover secrets in these vaults, he would one day have all the gold he could dream of and more! Let the merchants concern themselves with coin.

A commotion to his left drew him from his musings. A bright light shimmering at the end of a long hallway and some monstrosity bellowing about their authority to be present. It seemed the Grand Templar had awoken more of the vault’s automated defenses. Oliver tsked and wondered how they kept such things running when spirits and skeletons lasted forever. No matter, they would be shown the path to true power soon enough. At this, Oliver grinned and left the book on the history of the vampire wars behind him, eager to try his new spells on a golem.

We coerced the wrong guy. Four levels underground in the Imperial vaults and this clown has no idea where we are going. “Deeper” seems to be his only insight into where the crown lies within these vaults. We are trudging down a narrow corridor, Heinrich at my left shoulder, Wealdmaer and Chancellor numbnuts directly behind us with Oliver and Ziegfried bring up the rear. As I’m just about to lose my patience with this needle in a haystack adventure I hear a pronounced “click” from behind me…

Immediately Heinrich and I are toppled over as what once was the wall to the right of us has become the ceiling to a tiny room Heinrich and I are now trapped in. As I quickly get my bearings I notice the walls of this room are covered in glowing ruins. There is a prayer box, parchment, and a quill laying on the floor of the room. As the runes continue to glow brighter and brighter it occurs to me that when they reach their peak, my cousin and I are going to be fubar. Heinrich yells out “we must follow the road”. Clearly that was meant to give me some insight as to what to do, but seeing as there is nothing for me to physically annihilate, I give him an unnoticed look of annoyance. Fuck this. I reach down into the depths of my fury, concentrate on Bane, and summon my servant of vice…

Expecting my beautiful succubus to appear, I am more than a little pissed when an Imp with an air of superiority arrives in her stead. “How do we use the prayer box, parchment, quill, and travel the road to get out of here?” I ask. “Write the answer to the riddle on the parchment with the quill and put it in the prayer box” replies the little bastard. I’m about to punch the imp so hard it knocks it back to hell when he starts to fade from this plane and my temptress arrives in his place. “What’s the answer to the riddle?” She looks at me with her seductive smile and says casually “East, my darling. You prove your worth by walking the road east into the rising sun.” I yell at Heinrich “EAST, the answer is EAST” He pauses a second and then scratches something quickly on the parchment and puts it in the box.

Brighter, the fucking runes get brighter. He looks at me and says “ask it how to say EAST in ancient (ReinsSpeak??)!” I look at my temptress and say “what is the proper spelling”? I scribble down her answer on the parchment and jam it into the prayer box. We are flipped back into the hallway right into the middle of combat between some kind of automated bear trap monsters with Ziegfried and Wealdmaer. A massive explosion ripples through the hallway, all of us taking damage from the shrapnel. The succubus begins to fade back to hell from the damage and as she is fading she whispers to me “Bane needs to see you soon”…

It looks now to be a personal test among ourselves which we will have to face.

I don’t know what it was that drove the Grand Marshall to accept some challenge to fetch an item of power. Certainly we could loot chambers and find riches beyond our imagination but then we would not be able to imagine the retribution coming our way after the activity. Regardless, we will undoubtedly garner attention from new enemies and new enemies mean new tests.

Oh, our guide…we kidnapped a functionary. Quite spineless. If his sense of value for his precious daughter was measured at all by his tenacity of will and arms, then she is no more than a common gutter slut. Now she can no longer even be bothered to facilitate a reasonable release with her right hand. Let us hope that she favors the sinister or her utility has been quite diminished by our cohort.

This plan seemed “reasonable” if only because Rollo is generally making decisions which underscore a compunction to be seen wise and conservative. But then to run forward in the middle of the night, in the middle of the vault, away from his allies, when his guide had been slain??? Is the Grand Marshall under some sort of beguilement himself? I must consult with Necromancer Oliver regarding this possibility.

Our way is full of challenge, and for that I am thankful of the fate which has led to this point. With luck, fate will take me back to the Fort where I can work to consolidate some bit of power within the realm.

Ziegfried flopped the unconscious child on the floor and the others pounced on her. They were rolling her this way and that and trussing her up. The Dread Master was looking particularly ghoulish as his long talons caressed the child’s right hand. Heinrich couldn’t bear to see what else was coming and as their guild contact appeared at one of the warehouse tables Heinrich excused himself to watch for any unwanted attention their coaches might have attracted.

When the others finally emerged into the night the Gorgon’s face was stone once more behind its iron mask. The coaches rolled along into one of the better lit sections of the capital and the sounds of merriment rang out into the street in stark contrast to the darkness in Heinrich’s stained soul. They rolled to a stop under a gilded griffon in rampant pose as the Dread Master climbed out. His dark magics cloaked his true form but there was an eager lurch to his grotesque movements if you knew what to watch for.

Soon everyone was ushered out of the coach and around to a private entrance where the Grand Marshal was running interference. The Viscount and the others proceeded upstairs to their private rooms while clucking proprietor was appeased. On the upper balcony, there were some card players that needed to be relocated lest they overhear something that would give the Baron-Regent excuse to have them killed. When they didn’t immediately have the good sense to be elsewhere the Grand Marshal inspired them to reconsider.

It wasn’t long before the pompous Fisk blustered in sweating and shouting and dragging two of his guards along to their doom. When the trap was sprung Heinrich quietly mentioned to the Grand Marshal that the uniforms might be handy. The mask that concealed the large man’s true form nodded darkly and Heinrich ambushed one of the guardsman knocking him unconscious. He had hoped that focusing his allies on their clothing would also encourage them not to kill them, if only to avoid covering the uniforms in blood or adding any conspicuous sword holes to them.

When the two guards lay tied up and asleep (but alive) in the bed Heinrich allowed himself one small victory. It would be among the last things that went well that night.

It looks like she is beginning to suspect we are not on the way to the manor as promised.

“It’s just a slight detour, my lady. You have my word.”

Yup, she definitely did not buy that at all. Giving her my word was overselling the lie. Now she’s raising her voice and demanding an explanation? She wants out of the carriage? This is such a chore.

“Now, now we are in the warehouse district. It wouldn’t be safe to leave a noble woman alone on the streets at this time of the night.”

She doesn’t care what I think? Who do I think I am? What’s gotten into this girl! It’s time to drop the Ziegfried charm and add the Von Carstein menace.

“For your own sake I suggest you be a bit more cooperative. Bad things to can to little girls in the middle of the night.”

Great, now she’s flailing against me. I hope her father isn’t this difficult. If words aren’t going to work one way or the other there is always the physical route.

“My lady I don’t think you properly appreciated the craft that went into the interior of this coach. Allow me to direct your attention to the decals carved into the door. You really need an up close look to admire them. Let me give you a hand.”

Thump

(Inside Ziegfried’s mind at the Altdorf ball)

Ziegfried’s Ego: My cousin?

Ziegfried’s Id: It’s Mercy! She’s blonde now! Why she looks absolutely stunning…

Ziegfried’s Ego: Wow, she does. Wait… this is horrible timing! We need to get out of this party with Ramona while we can.

Ziegfried’s Id: Let’s not rush to decisions. Surely we can afford to spend a little bit of time with the one Sister of Lahmia we are not “acquainted” with

Ziegfried’s Ego: The mission comes first. Mannfred wants his crown after all.

Ziegfried’s Id What Mannfred doesn’t know about won’t hurt him.

Ziegfried’s Ego: But this could hurt us. We can’t afford any delays, regardless of how enticing they are.

Ziegfried’s Id But she’s the final one, last on the list. What’s the worst that can happen?

Ziegfried’s Ego: Entombment.

Ziegfried’s Id That’s a bit of a stretch.

Ziegfried’s Ego: We lose Ramona somehow while we entertain Mercy. We lose the crown as a result. Next thing you know we’ll be keeping Theudelinda company beneath Drakenhof lapping up tainted water for the next few decades…

Ziegfried’s Id: Err… you have a point there.

Ziegfried’s Ego: This is how it happens to Von Carsteins. They never think about the long term. Any way, Mercy came to us. We’re turning her down. She’ll be infuriated and chase us even harder.

Ziegfried’s Id: Why, you’re right! You hardly ever win these arguments but this time I’m glad you did.

Ziegfried’s Ego: Thank you! Is Oliver hugging Mercy?

Ziegfried’s Id: How bizarre…

Ziegfried’s Ego: Now’s our chance. Let’s get out of here.

Ziegfried’s Id: Agreed. Isn’t it funny how rarely the third guy in here speaks.

Ziegfried’s Superego: Leave me alone. I’m taking a nap.