Somewhere within the north of the sodality of rain there was a deep valley pressed against a great and beautiful lake. From the lake, sharp vertical cliffs that could hardly be considered mountains circled the valley like a protective wall against the dangerous outer world. The only means of entry or exit for this valley was one thin passageway. The winds were always soft and warm, they were never forceful and chaotic, nor were they ever completely absent. The temperature was always refreshingly cool; a welcoming temperature that invited outdoor activity but was not too humid nor hot enough to cause some to run for the shade. The grass was a vibrant green over the rolling hills of the valley leading into majestic forests full of colorful life. The rolling hills also lead to a wide yellow beach that gave way to the huge sparkling blue lake. The water was clear and cool, amazingly, one could see through the water all the way to the lakebed even at its deepest points. It was that the valley would eternally remain in this state of perfect climate that it was once often compared to the country of smiling skies.

A large umbrella was firmly planted on the open beach just by the hills. Standing quite tall, it was able to shade at least five laying men, and would be taller than all five of those men combined. The umbrella tarp was speckled with many little yellow dots on its white canvas. Beneath the umbrella sat a long yellow sunbathing chair, with a flowery parasol leaning on it. Laying on the sunbathing chair was a very tall man with a deathly pale complexion, he was sporting blue swim trunks that reached down to his mid thighs with small little rubber ducks quacking all over the right pant leg. The man’s face was entirely covered in a strange white cream and his eyes were covered by thin green slices of a succulent vegetable.

Far behind the man sunbathing in the shade at the point where the green rolling hills met the sandy beach, there was a massive legion of very diverse but equally appalling mokoi of many limbs and teeth. The mokoi were as varied in appearance as they were feared; some mokoi were large green leathery ape like behemoths while others were tangled masses of long writhing tentacles. Still others appeared like skeletal replicas of more tame creatures. This collection of mokoi seemed to have been randomly amassed from all the different species of mokoi. There were even a few of the rare avian-like mokoi. There was quite a dissonance in seeing them traverse the peaceful valley in which humans, the mokois’ greatest enemies, once lived. The legion of mokoi were heavily armored and just as heavily battered. They had returned from a battle, one in which, by looking at the group, it would be difficult to know who won or lost.

Thought appearing worn and fatigued the army still carried their banner with pride. Adorned upon their banners was the infamous emblem of their fief, a flower grandly smiling to reveal its two sharp fangs protruding. The battalion was covered in grime and blood and in the center of this group was the cause of their pain. It was a massive behemoth with a large bulbous limb containing fifty eyes and an uncountable number of bat-like wings scattered around the rest of its segmented thorax. Tied to the thorax by a few straining tendons were two thin legs which contorted in clearly disfigured horror. The behemoth was chained down to a large carriage being pulled by a collection of those green ape-like mokoi. The legion and their captured prey were guided by a short and stout mokoi towards the man sunbathing in the shade. The guide was covered in thick metallic fur that covered his shimmering purple scales, a single eye at the end of a four jointed stock stared firm to its destination. The mokoi’s two stocky arms that protruded from its back casually swayed with the steps of its gait. The creature was wearing a very clean and smooth tuxedo with a small rainbow bowtie.

The battalion, with their well-dressed guide finally arrived at the man sunbathing in the shade. With a raise of the guide’s hand the horde of Mokoi stopped. The guide then walked under the shade of the umbrella and positioned himself next to the man sunbathing in the shade. The guide stood tall; a perfect replication of the posture taught to him by the noble human slaves. He moved his eye stock to directly over the man and looked down to his vegetable covered face.

“Uaagh! Master what happened to you?” The short guide exclaimed as his eye stock shrunk away closer to the protection of its sturdy body.

The master, as if just stirred awake, slowly peeled the vegetables off his eyes and shot an annoyed glare at the guide. “It’z a human ritual. It cast a zpell of relaxation on the uzer. It iz not meant to be interrupted.” The master said with mild irritation in his voice. As he spoke, he revealed a pair of extremely long and sharp pair of fangs present where a human would usually bare canines. The master placed the small round vegetable slices back on his closed eyelids and let out a deep calming breath.

“Oh, I see. Well Master, we have finally returned from our excursion, and I think you’ll like what we found.” The short guide quickly sputtered proudly.

“Back zo zoon?”

“It has been five years sir,” The guide replied surprised at the master’s response.

“Vell I vould be impressed if you got anyving vorth vhile zo quickly.”

“Well prepare to be impressed!” The stocky guide exclaimed. “Bring the beast over!” With a grandiose motion of his arm, the green ape-like mokoi pulled the carriage containing the trapped beast next to the umbrella. The beast was still breathing, although it was sporadic breaths softly released with great difficulty. The beast was far too weak to even try to escape. Even if the creature had the strength, it seemed to be aware that it would not be able to escape from the man sunbathing in the shade. This great beast that, throughout the entire course of its captured journey, was lashing and attacking in violent retaliation and attempts to break free, was now unmoving save for the slight quivering of its body as it stared at the man sunbathing in the shade.

“UGH! Vhat iz that horrible zmell?!” The master exclaimed retching forwards, the momentum of which flung his vegetable glasses into the sand. The guide quickly motioned to the green mokoi to take the carriage away. The master hurriedly covered his nose with his left hand in an attempt to barricade from the nasal assault. “You zpent five years hunting that!? I had no idea I vaz zuch a failure of a leader.” The master hung his head and shook it sadly.

“Sir don’t say that! You are a great leader. There is no single army that can match your Pleurothallidinae— well, except for possibly the mokoi surrogate revolutionary army. But even then, you’re comparing yourself to a god-killer.”

“If I vaz zuch a great leader then why iz it that you are ZO VEAK! That the best you can hunt iz that?” The master arose from his chair in his passionate exclamation. “Do you zmell it?” The master, standing at over three times the guide’s size, approached him awaiting a response. “Vell do you? Do you zmell it? That iz not the zmell of quality blood. Did you really vink I vould be villing to have that vile creature’z blood touch my lips?”

“No sir.”

“No zir iz correct!” his energy drained as he collapsed back into his chair. “Zobriquet” The master tiredly sighed. “Your name iz Zobriquet correct?”

Sobriquet was stunned that this great master had bothered to remember the name of this humble servant. Sobriquet was very prideful of his job, and also of his skill at said job, so he quickly recollected himself. “Yes sir.”

“I apologize for raizing my voize to you. It iz juzt hard you know?” The master, formerly sitting on the sunbathing chair allowed gravity to take him letting himself inelegantly plop down into a laying position.

“I VANT TO ZUCK ZOME BLOOD!” The master threw his arms and feet into the air as he shouted his dreams to the sky. “Do you know how long it haz been zince I had nourishment Zobriquet?”

“two hun-“

“TWO HUNDRED YEARZ ZOBRIQUET! It haz been two hundred yearz zince I have had that delizious succulent red liquid.” The master was beginning to salivate, a little discomforting grin stretched across his cream covered face. “There must ztill be creaturez powerful enough to have good quality blood…right? How about that Hero of New Heireron zomething guy? He killed Ardor, zo he must be pretty ztrong. Ahh I vish Ardor vould have at leazt let me have hiz blood before dying, the greedy jerk.”

Sobriquet while listening to his mad master’s meanderings was desperately trying to keep in his panic and fear, but the worry was visibly seeping through his eye. “Sir do not say such things! I know I said that your army is the single most powerful, but the humans have never been more unified then they are now. To kill the Hero of New Heirisson conquest would be to declare war on the entirety of the Pangean entente!”

“Yez, yez you are right. It vould be too much trouble. How about a dragon?”

Sobriquet was realizing that today was just going to be one of those days where he was frozen in shock relentlessly. “I—I I appreciate your sudden confidence in your troops sir. But I don’t think even our entire army combined could slay a dragon, let alone make the journey.”

“You don’t have to kill the three-armed dragon. Just any dragon vould do.”

“Unless you went with us sir, we would never be able to kill any dragon. Strange limb count or not.”

The master had picked up his green vegetable slices and was desperately trying to wipe the clinging sand off of it.

“Would you like me to get you another cucumber sir?”

“No, no, I got it. And I am not going to that zwamp. Vhy do all the powerful beingz live in zwamps! No, I don’t think I can leave this valley again.” The master placed the two cucumber slices back on his eyes and rested as comfortably as he could on the sunbathing chair. “You know, vhen I firzt invaded this valley it waz just because I though it vould be funny to kick the humanz out of the sodality of rain’z mozt beautiful view. But now that I am uzed to it, I understand vhere those humanz vere coming from, no more going back. No more zwamps, dank forezt, or ztormy ocean-zide cliffs. AND NO MORE DEPREZZING GOTHIC MANSIONZ!”

The master stood back up removing the cucumbers from his eyes. He tilted the giant umbrella slightly so that there was a clearer view of the rolling hills behind the beach. “Do you zee that?” he pointed to a white mansion far out in the distance. The white Mansion was very flat and filled with massive windows covering entire walls everywhere. The mansion had a blocky design, as if many cubes were childishly stacked atop another. A large pole extended from the already extremely tall building leading up to an enormous metallic circle tilted towards the star and blocking any direct starlight from touching the mansion. So long as one was standing anywhere remotely near the mansion, they would have the star entirely blotted out by this large metal circle.

“That iz an Auguzt Chichi right there. He perzonally came up to me one day, and zaid that he vould create the grandest creation I had ever zeen.”

“It is beautiful sir.”

The master looked longingly at his beautiful mansion in the distance. “Much more zo then that awful cathedral in the Mokoi badlandz I once had. This vaz hiz last vork you know. Everyone zaid it vaz his magnum opus. They zaid that he had an inspiration and motivation vhen dezigning it that no one had ever zeen him have before. I vander vhat happened to him.”

“He killed himself sir… after the loss of his family.”

“Ah yez, I remember. I thought hiz genius architect vould enrich the tazte of hiz zon’z blood.”

The master clapped his hands together as he jumped up in excitement. With a snap of his fingers he pointed to Sobriquet.

“Izn’t there a rogue Devadoot hiding zomevhere? Ve von’t be causing a var because the divine counzil vants to kill her azwell, she can’t have too many alliez becauze then she vould have been vound already. And mozt importantly, she haz devadoot blood running through thoze lovely, lovely veinz of herz. Dragon blood quality vithout the hazzle!”

Sobriquet furrowed his brows calculating the cost and effects of his task. “Alright sir, I will form a scouting party to locate the rogue devadoot.”

Suddenly a loud bell chimed in between the master and Sobriquet. In between them there was what seemed to be a small pink rhombus that grew out of thin air, or it was a rhombus, but its body would reject any stable state. It would shift and transform, shrink and grow, continuously morphing into other shapes. The pink shape finally locked into a form resembling that of a featureless human with only one limb. The arm was outstretched towards the master holding a glowing parchment: It read.

You have been invited to The Tournament You are The Vampire