--- (A Ruined Tower in the Western Forest 8th Day of Fate Month)

His pale skeletal hands straightened the desiccated corpse upon the blood-stained stone slab before him. Female hips, so female then he amused himself with the irreverent thought. Most of her teeth present, her dried lips cemented to them, slain young, assured her death due to drowning. He reached for his bucket and proceeded to dripple paint the fluid within onto the crisp papyrus like canvass beneath him. As he expected the blood concoction passed through, pooling beneath the dried skin. His formula finally perfected, providing precious moments to begin his chant, before the dried corpse turned to sludge.

One last check to ensure each body portion, each limb received the required dose. He climbed up upon the stone slab joining his blood formula filled, thin skinned corpse, his hands placed on either side of her loose hair encrusted head, crossing his legs and chanting. His prized possession, a small ruby clutched tight in his left fist. He imagined, as he did every time the possibilities with two such Items.

After many bells of time, although the Dark Priest unaware of the exact number, the skin began to glisten gaining a light green tint; a sign of undeath, on the brink of success his blood formula pulsating and moments away from gifting un-life to this former corpse. His excitement welled, bubbling up, success imminent. An annoyance penetrated his mind, he cast the feeble call aside. A bee buzzing irritation next, followed by an echo of a familiar shout. Quickly and finally a domineering scream, his head ringing, his concentration destroyed.

Despite his determined resistance his chant broke, wasting days of preparation on the cusp of success. The corpse before him slid into a wet smear as the dried skin, no longer under the influence of his chant, soaked up the fluid like a sponge, instead of assimilating the fluid into its being, to kick start its new existence. The Dark Priest shut his eyes and released an anguished scream. Complaining a futile gesture, for the one who destroyed his creation owned him, gifting him with dark knowledge in the beginning in a blood pact exchange, which couldn’t be broken while both existed.

Resigned to his situation he formed another chant, concentrating until focused and receptive, allowing his Master to assault and sink into his mind. Theirs being a symbiotic relationship, which his Master dominated.

“I command you to raise an army of walking dead and march upon the Cavern of Hillperch. Defeat and capture, don’t slay those dwelling within.”

The Dark Priest silently mouthed the word ‘how’. He possessed the one small Item, hence his experimentation with animating a single powerful follower instead of many.

“When you reach the ancient battlefield, another will meet you with gifts for your mission and if you succeed, yours to keep. Now go, I will tolerate no delay!”

His Master’s presence faded from his mind as quickly as he imposed himself. The order quick and sharp, the reward, well surprising. His Master never shared power, every morsel to date hard earnt, begrudgingly dole out. Caution he schooled himself.

His lab squatted underneath the remains of an ancient tower, if not so ruined, his lab would be named storeroom and dungeon. The tower now buried deeply in the wild forest, in years gone by standing as an ancient border marker between two dukedoms. Working so far below ground, the determination of day or night always a difficult challenge, although he could assume night if his Master contacted him, so he shuffled into action immediately.

The promise of more Items when he questioned how, the unexpected gift without berating, gnawed at him as he prepared. This caused him to pause more than once; previously his Master never this blasé in granting power, therefore his Master hid some truth from him, this secret needed to be discovered and exploited, before the most likely result, the sacrifice of his existence in service to his Master. At the very least he presumed some future cost, a balancing of the ledger, given his stingy Master.

He decided to bind his two most powerful servants to his lab, a visitor would be rare and if they restricted their exploration to the ruins above, they could go on their way. If they delved deeper, his servants would make them pay with their lives. For personal protection he took his two lessor servants; revolting in smell but useful if he needed to escape a hopeless situation. He loaded up his personal walking dead man servant with his essentials and led his three servants up the cracked and dilapidated winding stairs ensuring their footfalls found the firm pathway.

Dark night greeted and welcomed him and his entourage when they surfaced, although another feature he appreciated about the surrounding ancient forest, even in the day the sunlight found it difficult to penetrate the leafy canopy and afflict his pasty white skin. They stepped down and around a tumble of stone blocks following a haphazard path to a rickety dock, doggedly sticking out into a convenient nearby wide stream, verging on becoming a river. The other water side docks mostly rundown or destroyed by time.

His man servant marched into the tied off boat, knowingly placing his footfalls to maintain his balance and the boat’s stability. The skill requiring much dunking and taking over a year to perfect, the accomplishment more important than the time taken. While improbable his walking dead man servant sat in the back of the boat with a satisfied decaying skin, broken teeth grin. With a grip on the dock the man servant held the boat fast to allow the Dark Priest and each of his lessor followers to take their place within the boat without accident.

Each of his lessor followers grabbed a paddle without instruction, held ready for his order. Again, endless training, although he considered their greatest achievement, after many fruitless days of practice and attempts, a rudimentary capability to row his boat for him. He would curse the loss of them if they did not return with him. When settled at the front of the boat, he waved his hand and they lowered their paddles into the water and started to stroke.

The boat wiggled and then waggled a little to start, destroying the Dark Priest’s dignified poise as he scrambled to grip the gunwales of the boat. After suitable chastisement they improved their synchronisation, and the boat made excellent progress down the sluggish river which doubled as his personal road through the ancient forest. His boat would travel night and day without him needing to guide his followers, the river being the usual exit from the tower and surrounding forest.

Docks and river amused him, one Duchy willing to conscript slaves and criminals to risk their souls and another tolerating the questionable act to benefit from the trade, the practice allowed, while maintaining the moral high ground. The impact of Judge’s curse on good and evil alike, always an objective view of course. The river fed by many others, originating in the mountains and curving in a wide sweep, collecting water flow from tributaries forming the defining boundary of the last Duchy of humans as the flow emptied into the sea at Water Watch, the southernmost tower of the Duchy. A watery wall of protection or watery wall of imprisonment? To him and his ilk of course, neither.

--- (Underground Ruins West of Bircharbor 8th Day of Fate Month)

Her pale eye lids flew open the instant after she felt his call pierce her mind. Her conditioned reaction, her purpose for existence entered her mind, which she shared with Him.

“No slut, your body holds no interest for me.”

Shifting the lid of her stone coffin slightly, she inspected the crypt. Alone?

“Wouldn’t I drag you from your slumber if beside you, stupid wench? Now listen, you have work to do.” His frustration and anger unleashed and vented, his urgency needing her immediate attention not her pathetic rote response. Could he entrust her with change?

Well he didn’t want to use her body; he wasn’t even in the crypt. She steeled her thoughts after the initial shock and listened to his orders; stunned and surprised; she only hoped her true thoughts didn’t leak to betray her. Hibernating until required, they would fly to feast on a human and he would then use her body in the human’s house or cottage, and when done she would be ordered back to the crypt to hibernate until next required. His orders now changed her purpose, a nervous energy vibrated through her in anticipation of the nights to come.

She slipped the rest of the lid off her stone coffin effortlessly and stepped out, cautiously scanning every dark corner of the crypt. Checking he didn’t trick her, confirm the amazing truth, he wasn’t there. She now acted on her own; when he spoke, she couldn’t digest the change in routine after three hundred years. Now, without his overbearing presence clouding her mind she could finally process the granted liberation. She didn’t know what this meant, excited as well as scared at the same time, new boundaries to explore and push against and with his permission. Wonderful! She almost felt, what, what word described her present situation; purposeful freedom! She permitted herself two words because she could.

The clothes before her she deemed ordinary, he never cared about her dress or appearance, her ready presence, available for use when the urge set upon him her reason for being. Therefore, to draw humans close enough, seduce them, she would need to fix her attraction first, pretty up the lure. She discarded all the dresses, including the dress she currently wore, dresses he ordered her to take as mementoes of their visits and his conquests, which she could recreate for him when he wished by her wearing the required dress. Fortunately, or unfortunately he never asked often. She would now determine the clothing required, this being her mission to complete.

With an effortless thought she transformed into her rat form and ran the collapsed tangle of stone pillars and supports along a familiar path until she reached the surface, a leather bag containing three Items pinched between her large front rat incisors. She quickly transformed into bat form rising into the night sky in one fluid manoeuvre. Her jet-black creature form invisible against the backdrop of a cloudless night sky and in quick time following their well-known flight path ensuring she reached her destination with plenty of night to indulge in her freedom and prepare to enact his orders.

Impervious to the cold night air she nevertheless forced goose bumps upon her soft leathery bat skin, her single source of frivolous entertainment. The night sky clear of cloud and hence clear of snow. Flying over smaller one cottage and one barn farms she settled upon the roof of a large country manor house. The estate surrounded by multiple buildings, indicating substantial wealth. The sort of wealth which could afford to indulge in high fashion and clothes suitable for her new role.

She reached out with her bat’s sonar trying to identify the livestock kept on the estate. Dogs. Accompanied by their human masters, circling the manor house, the beasts without a great deal of provocation would turn to barking and howling if she approached the human blood bags too closely. While certain she could kill them all, her Master ordered her to subtly, the humans wouldn’t ignore wholesale slaughter. Perhaps an estate such as this, on a night such as this would invite guests?

Following the country dirt roadway back towards the town, her reward for effort appeared in the form of a highly polished and superbly crafted carriage pulled by four horses, a teamster driving, and a footman perched above the baggage at the rear.

She decided the footman turned guard, his fine thin sword now defining his role, on the back of the carriage needed to be dealt with first. The teamster at front occupied; shouting and whipping, driving his horses. Perhaps the passengers now late and the carriage in need of haste. She felt powerful so how could this go wrong? Softly landing in bat form beside him she quickly changed to her naked human form. He noticed her presence immediately, the flickering light of the carriage lantern illuminating and shadowing her body as the carriage jostled along. His eyes drank in the fine smooth skin, the shapely curves and her long black hair whipping around her face. Eyes wide, his mind undecided, forgetting even to raise an alarm. He failed to notice her pale white arms snake around to each side of his head. In anticipation of her first kill, her mask slipped, her evil presence excreted from her. His mouth grew wide preparing to scream.

With a swift twist a satisfying snap sounded in her ears, the carriage rattle and horse hooves clumping drowning out the distinct tell. She drew her evil presence within her, while pouting, remonstrating herself for such a lapse. Determined to regain control she lifted his body and launched it from the carriage with all her strength, the body landing with a satisfying crunch a handy distance from the edge of the road and well behind the carriage to be out of human earshot. Spying his crumpled body in the wild grass in the fading distance she adjudged her strength, more powerful than even she thought!

She then drew in a sharp breath through her nostrils and sort to filter the extraneous carriage noises from her ears like her Master taught her. Two in the carriage, chattering, one blaming the other for their tardiness, sniping at each other now, the main tirade clearly in the past, both voices distinctly high pitched. Both scented, one in sweet flower-based perfume, female most likely while the other, fragrant soap clean. Lightly clapping her hands and wiggling her body, at least one female she thought, delicious! Inspecting both sides of the carriage, the doors appeared secured with thick black leather curtains drawn down over the small window like openings in them. Perfect, the occupants sensitive to the cold perhaps.

The teamster would be next then. The carriage roof, solid lacquered wood, polished deep black provided her with the perfect pathway to her victim. Her bosoms perky, her hips and buttocks swaying and sauntering extravagantly, she crawled silently towards the front of the carriage on her hands and knees, her long black hair now streaming behind her.

She swung her legs around, swivelling on her buttocks smoothly on the polished carriage roof and when in position, lowered them around his neck. She entwined her long legs to lock them in place, her thighs slowly crushing. As she hoped he lifted his hands to break her grip and as he did, she casually leant forward and grabbed the reins of the horses and pulled back on them to halt the carriage while continuing to squeeze her legs around his neck, to deny him breath until he expired. She held his body in place until the carriage stopped and then changed form to a bat once again and fluttered to the back of the carriage amongst the luggage.

Much yelling, cursing and indignation vented from the carriage went unanswered. Eventually one of the occupants stepped out of the carriage and stomped to the front to interrogate the driver. In his anger tugging at the ignorant servant’s uniform and pulling the fresh corpse from its perch. He retreated a step, his eyes aghast at the sight and trying to make sense of the situation. In that moment she landed behind him and changed to human form, wrapped an arm around his neck and squeezed until his eyes bulged. Satisfied with his demise, she gently lowered him to the roadside, proud of herself for containing her evil presence yet again.

She politely knocked on the carriage door.

Silence.

She knocked again.

A polite thin willowing voice responded. “Enter?”

Don’t mind if I do, she thought. She opened the carriage door, flicked down the carriage steps and lightly pranced up the convenience until inside. The light cast by the carriage’s lanterns allowed the occupant to clearly discern a naked female, long black hair dancing about the stranger’s shoulders smiling happily before her. Confused, not understanding her change of circumstances or situation she lost control of herself to the deep black eyes fixated upon her; she sunk into the stranger’s hypnotic dark pools, deep and lost, her will floating and free waiting to be instructed. Moments after, she realised she needed to remove her clothes and began to do so. She then lounged back into the plush carriage seats content, oblivious to the stranger who struggled before her. A snapping frustrated voice called to her, to attend to the stranger and assist. With well practice hands she laboured with each layer of dress until finished.

She wondered if her sire, her Master would be pleased as she surveyed her fashionable and sophisticated dress and regardless of his opinion, she decided she deserved a reward. She dragged the now naked human along the carriage’s passenger seat into a prone position, a feast upon a table of soft leather and sunk her teeth into one of the many veins which flushed the womanhood with blood when sexually aroused. She didn’t drain her entirely in case she discovered a use for her pet sometime in the future. As a reward, she also acquired her pet’s earrings, which she only noticed as she slouched back to tidy up, pushing a few stray droplets of blood into her mouth with her long sensual fingers.

Her body slammed back into the plush leather-bound carriage seats, the crafted wood frame cracking in protest. Her pet’s eyes vacant and unconcerned in response. The pleasure and power from the fresh pulsating blood drained from the living intoxicating, her blood bag pet relaxed and willing during the drinking and the warmth all culminating in a delightful first. Her Master always claiming the first taste and she only permitted to partake of his discards, tainted by his saliva and scent.

Her body drew the life and energy from the fresh blood which then empowered her body, her smooth fine skin drawing taunt where optimal to promote a healthy look and undeniable attraction, her breasts firm proud pillows, her control over her evil presence refined. She tested her strength, gripping her pet around the throat using one hand, laughing as she fought for breath, while easily lifting her to bump her head into the roof of the carriage until satisfied and allowing her to drop to the carriage floor. She craved more!

She hurried to the corpse of the teamster drawing down his pants and sinking her teeth into the underneath of his member in anticipation. The freshness lost, the warmth barely present, she would take more care to better preserve her food in future, although satisfying enough, a poor comparison to drinking from her pet. She then easily lifted her pet’s companion back into the carriage and similarly drank from him. When finished, she returned his pants to around his waist where they should be like the other man. She realised both enjoyable, simply because she drank from them first, her Master’s tell-tale markers absent.

The placement of their wounds important, if found, they would be disregarded as no one would want to face a harsh truth. The most obvious wounds easier to fit into the current world view. Her Master, her Sire assured her of this truth many times so she took this as an absolute and would not allow her new freedom to despoil it. Taking a dagger, she stabbed both of the men through their hearts for those who would later investigate. As for her pet, she would be instructed to hide within a passenger bench seat after retrieving another dress from her baggage and dressing herself. When discovered she would act distraught and beside herself with fear, her well-bred sensitives frayed.

Once her pet became situated, she changed into bat form, the road clear ahead as well as behind. She soared high and fast, so effortless, then she realised, indulging herself needed to end, her power and strength amazing, although nothing compared to her Sire. Not far along, the road joined another, with two more carriages being driven towards the carriage of her pet. Perhaps two more parties late for their appointment? Satisfied her pet would be rescued in quick time she flew onwards to her next destination.

Light cast across the flat plainlands and cultivated fields guided her easily to the closest town. Her Master never escorted her to a town, too complicated and too high risk and yet He now ordered her there to complete her mission. Her target from above, an Inn conveniently near a town gate. Almost circumnavigating the town, she discovered an ideal Inn, positioned close beyond the gate on the road to the City. She wondered about the City, although quickly dismissed the thought as a pain lanced her mind, He forbid her even thinking about the City!

She flew high, descending over the heart of the town and then skewing her flight to land feather light upon the roof of her chosen Inn. Many moved about within the building, too many for her to discern individuals. Spying an empty alley adjacent to the Inn she landed transforming into her human form almost instantly, although slightly above the cobble stone causing her to stumble slightly. Her newly invigorated body easily compensating and recovering. She observed her Master transforming when pouncing to claim a victim, forbidden by Him, she therefore never needed to change from flight to attack herself. Now though, she needed practice to improve, determined to be more, her recent fresh blood letting greatly assisting, the sole reason she avoided a possible mishap this time.

She patted down her dress and checked her stolen jewellery, a mystery of their transformation, returning to their clothed state prior to any shape change. Finally, her ambition achieved, she stepped out of the alley as a fine lady out on the town with a heavy bag of coins pocketed in the folds of her dress. She sauntered and swayed seductively passed the Inn.

“Hello pretty one come on in and I am sure we can entertain you!” Raucous laughing and back slapping sounded after the leering comment. She knew though the invitation wasn’t from one who permanently stayed there, although being an Inn, guests were invited. Nevertheless, she remained uncertain if she could enter or not and continue her teasing stroll-by.

Why didn’t she know? She didn’t know because her Master used her but didn’t teach her, everything. Her hands clenched into fists. Her lack of knowledge reminded her she needed to be careful, she didn’t know half of what she should. Power and strength couldn’t make up for ignorance.

She bowed accompanied by a welcoming, winning smile, her firm plump breasts filling out and holding the strained fabric of the dress obediently in place. Straitening from her bow, she admired how the healthy white flesh of her breasts bubbled over the frilly lace trying to contain her luscious twin mounds. In fact, in the light cast off by the Inn she savoured every part of her exposed flesh, alluring and youthful after her feeding, she especially savoured the lustful want of her by these human cattle. Until this moment, she realised the feeding permitted by her Master allowed her to maintain her existence, no more and no less. A plant watered to maintain green foliage, never to fruit abundantly though. Her mood sunk, even a final chorus of jeers as she completed her walk by couldn’t turn her from the disappointment she felt, from his treatment of her; as Master, as her Sire, what could she do?

She stumbled back towards the alley when she felt Him tug at her mind. She attempted to close her mind as concern crossed her face, her current thoughts traitorous. She hurried to the deserted alley unable to detect any human scents lying in wait and then concentrated to join her mind to his. Yes, she confirmed she is beginning her recruitment, no she hasn’t been discovered, still confident she would deliver humans to the Cavern and soon. She sighed with relief when his contact broke off, a certain impatience evident, his sole concern her mission and remaining undetected.

A sleight of hand caught her attention.

Her hand shot out snake quick and with vice like strength wrapped around the wrist of the human blood bag. Looking down at the surprised male face she looked into his eyes and he fell so easily under her influence she came close to breaking the thrall herself given her surprise. The fresh blood she thought! Not only beauty but also enhancement of other abilities, she then released her grip which threaten to crush and break her new friend’s wrist.

She asked, “Do you work alone? Do you have a place to hide?”

He absently answered, his attention firmly fixed upon the attempted escape of her twin mounds from her dress. “Yes Mistress, at my hide are another two?”

“Please show me where your hide is and invite me in.” She cursed herself silently, she asked, she held the power, she commanded now!

“Yes Mistress, follow me.” His eyes never left her cleavage.

With her fly over, she remembered this quarter of the town, the exceptional characteristic being no nearby Temples. Multiple twists and turns later ended in an abandoned double story workshop. Living quarters hanging over a workshop.

Her thrall entered first to minimise the shock of her presence and then she stepped out from behind him. The other two occupants greeted her without a great deal of enthusiasm, substituting the deficit with venom.

“Who is the rich bitch with you, you cheating bastard?” asked a rather outraged female sitting at a small table in the main room. Another turned towards them alerted by her barking and as she and her new friend approached the outraged female, the other male moved to stand beside her. She could smell their recent lust, her amusement escaping.

“What are you smiling at bitch?”

Too easy for her, she thought. She would need to learn to hold her emotions from her face.

Her left and right hands shot out, one grabbing the male around the neck, the other grabbing the female. No amount of struggling freed them, weapons out of reach and their faces reflecting the horror and fear they now felt as she released her evil essence to coil around their hearts.

A momentary concentrated look charmed each in turn. Both offering themselves willingly for feeding and servitude. With the gentlest of hints, the female hurried to locate and offer up their modest hoard of coins and valuables. She then located the cellar under the workshop and stepped down into the dark place asking her servants to close the trapdoor behind her and disguise the location after being commanded to guard their Mistress during the day. In the dark she called several rats to her and then transformed into a rat herself so she could blend in, even finding a tunnel to hide in, in case a deliberate or accidental opening of the cellar occurred during the day exposing her to sunlight, the least inconvenience requiring her to return to her coffin, the fatal inconvenience her destruction.

--- (Near the City 9th Day of Fate Month)

The dregs of a snowstorm from the North blanketed the City and surrounds in snow, ignoring the fact Death Season was supposed to be on the wane. The resulting chill and cold allowed him the excuse to rug himself up in an expected mountain of clothing, conveniently disguising himself and his mission. He shuffled through the arches of the Main Gate leaving the huddled guards to gawk in disbelief, content not to question or apprehend, the lure of the well stoked brazier, with a large supply of wood nearby too great. The heated glow highlighted their ruddy faces while reflecting off the metal of their armour. His heavily wrapped face in contrast stayed within any available shadow. They therefore silently agreed to leave each other in peace, not expecting him to return, assuming Death Season would claim him.

Many bells passed until he finally arrived at a certain secluded cottage hidden amongst a light forest resting nearby a convenient, although presently iced water stream, North East of the city. The stream an unofficial northern boundary of the city proper, although the fact would only matter to some.

He waited in view as instructed, unwrapping the scarf from his face; allowing the cold and snow to attack, impervious to the assault. Eventually the front door of the cottage cracked opened. He wrapped his face, more for consistency instead of need, to restore his disguise.

Striding forward he pulled the door fully open and stepped through the doorway, closing the door behind him, poised ready to react, scanning the hallway urgently.

A voice called out to him.

“Your Master has an offer?”

He couldn’t locate the source of the voice; the cottage seemingly spoke to him.

“You are needed to travel to Hillperch and break into a house without raising an alarm. Once I and those with me have entered undetected you will be rewarded with two Items and can go your own way.”

“Your offer of more magic tempting. Such an offer due to urgency or risk, possibly both I shouldn’t wonder. I agree if I don’t have to enter,” he counter offered.

“Once you have breached any defences you can leave. I will soon gather my allies and lead them to Hillperch, we will wait for you at the Broken Plough Inn in the village of Nearstay. Do you accept?”

“Yes, I accept.” Open the way and then leave, surely low risk he concluded.

“You will need to leave now as my allies have already begun their journey and I am on my way to meet them. We cannot afford to wait.” The need for haste paramount, he sensed his Master’s urgent will upon him when contacted for this mission.

“I will leave as soon as my preparations are made,” called back the voice of the mage. The cottage door opened and closed while he spoke, the stranger hurriedly departing, his snow crunching footfalls fading rapidly.

He backtracked through the snow trail he pushed aside to reach the cottage. Easily followed if anyone chose to and of no concern to him. The Mage would soon leave his cottage to assist them and if he happened to return to a ransacked cottage, such is fate. For now, his return to the outskirts of the City timely, aided by his forethought. Each of his allies if they resided in the City instructed to make their separate way to the stone bridge, those residing outside the City to organise a covered wagon and horses.

The snorting of the horses, breath misting in the cold air, stomped their hooves at his approach. When horses displayed unease in his presence, he knew he needed to acquire more Items to suppress his dark heart and accumulated power. A clear indication of his growth and also an inconvenience, in no time the human blood bags would whisper and whimper behind his back, eventually refusing to deal with him, not really knowing why. The prey finally detecting the predator amongst them.

He could attempt to suppress his presence, although the Items within him a two-edged sword and hence one of the many talents extinguished by them. His evil disguised at the cost of many of his supernatural talents, his unnatural strength, heightened senses, immunity to cold remained in exchange for a near immunity to sunlight, Judge’s High Holy Day in Light Month being an exception. The sacrifice allowing him to loyally and faithfully serve his Master amongst the human blood bags, although he held to a high hope, he would join his Master as a reward after this mission and cast off this pathetic faked existence.

He didn’t recognise any of his allies, making this appointment and their number, three female and two males confirming their allegiance as no sane human would wait with strangers beside a trail in this weather. Waiting for them though meant cautiously close, typically hidden; one, he smelt her bleeding, even now crept up behind him.

“Enough girl,” he growled. He caught her sharp intake of breath, followed by a curse.

The other followers made their presence known and on the Northern side of the last stone bridge before the City, well out of sight of the city walls they all climbed into the waiting wagon. The two horses pulling the wagon expendable, the villages ahead destined to provide replacements; payment, bribery or threat, whichever worked. He grabbed the reins and whipped the beasts into a gallop, pushing through the snow, the road only known due to banks of snow lining the fences on either side if present. The horses in pain from the whip and in fear from the evil driving them.

His passengers learnt quickly to settle and stay, huddling under the provided furs and blankets as the wagon careered and bounced along the trail. Thankful for the wagon’s stretched leather bonnet over lowish bows enabling the retention of their combined body heat as the chill wind whistled by. The journey providing each more than a single moment of reflection to reconsider their blood pact oath. Their duty being the quiet, secretive plotters not a force to break into an unknown building in a pitiful town far from the City.

--- (The Cavern under Hillperch 9th Day of Fate Month)

The Master Vampire continued to pace the perimeter permitted him. His fists randomly striking the cavern walls, testing them, his supernatural strength versus the compressed integrity of solid stone. His ancient flesh ripped from his fists forcing him to stop the pounding occasionally so his flesh could knit and restore. The stone waited in silence between assaults.

He considered his situation and realised to his dread his freedom depended upon three loyal, although weak followers and a mercenary mage lusting for more power. For him to share power an anathema, the Elders kept their power for themselves and the Great Master created them long before him. Could he question their eons of ancient wisdom? His present situation, unlucky and yet still trapped. With powerful followers though he would surely saviour victory sooner or would he constantly have to face down potential usurpers?

His followers contacted and suitably motivated he now turned his thoughts to the rising morning sun. He would need to ensure he did not glimpse it, to do so would invoke another of Judge’s edicts, one not easily satisfied when trapped. He remembered his insubordinate servant and where she hid. Instantly he transformed to giant bat and flew to the roof of the Cavern, searching. There he found her hollow, not huge, large enough for his human form though, to shield his body from any errant sunlight entering the cavern, so there he rested.

Before he could settle, he cursed Judge and his edicts. Flowing water the worst of banes, no flight could be completed in a straight line unless rivers and streams froze over during Death Season. None of his ilk could directly act against the barrier, regardless of width or depth, the pay off the souls of those who drowned. These souls lingered, attached to their corpse able to be tortured and repurposed into servants of evil by those followers with the required skill.

He finally slept easy when recalling his Elders and how they tempted their human servants with rewards if they drowned their fellow man, reaping thousands of souls, perverting the intent of Judge’s curse. Infinite satisfaction on offer, turning man upon man and taking no direct action to stay within the bounds and limitations of one of Judge’s self-righteous edicts.