The zombies pressed further in. As Rompington fought, she saw her guards dragged screaming from the room. Anger flashed through her as she turned, levelled her crossbow at Bercilak's back and fired.
A thud echoed through the room, Bercilak sinking to his knees. The zombies groaned and ceased moving as he sank slowly to the floor, blood oozing from the wound.
"A necromancer. No wonder."
She turned to Arden and Bombasto.
"We must dispatch these remaining corpses and head for the walls. There are armies attacking."
As she said that, the zombies suddenly burst into life. One of them grabbed Arden by the ankle, dragging her out of the room screaming. Rompington turned, furious, only to see Bombasto still fighting for his own life. It took her mind a moment to realise that Bercilak had also disappeared.
As she prepared to take her final shot, the windows burst in a shattering crash as a griffon descended into the fray. On its back sat a grizzled guard captain and, of all things, a female high elf mage. With precision the griffon swept a wing across the room, crumpling zombies into piles of inanimate flesh.
"Where's Arden?"
Rompington paused, relieved and shocked.
"I'm sorry, but Arden has been taken by the zombies of this foul vampire."
The high elf snorted as she leapt from the griffon's back.
"No, she is a vampire."
***
Bercilak stumbled in his haste to his chamber, coughing up gobbets of blood. Rompington’s words still rang in his head as he tightly wrapped a torn rag around where the bolt stuck from his body;
”A necromancer.”
The zombies collapsing at the same time had sealed his fate, and even if the true vampire were found, Rompington was fanatic enough to ensure that he would perish as well.
He finally reached his chamber, echoes of the battle still roaring from the outside. He swiftly collected a few personal artefacts, and acutely aware that his time was nearly up, he went to an alcove opposite the fireplace in his chambers and proceeded to create a shrine to the Lady.
He pulled a green silk hankie from his tunic and placed it over a little stand made of Holly, upon which he placed a small silver chalice. Into it he poured a small amount of Bretonnian mead and crumbled into it, a little honeycomb with some dust from a little pouch. In front he placed a small ceremonial dagger. It was engraved with a floral design, and, braided around it in an ornate plait, was a blonde lock of hair.
Complete, he struggled to kneel in front of the makeshift shrine. He finally achieved the seemingly simple task, before taking out his pipe with trembling hands. As the battle continued he sat quietly, meditating, smoking, praying.
It seemed like only seconds later that he heard footsteps approaching. Now was the time. Coughing harshly Bercilak anointed his dagger and his forehead with the mixture in the chalice, before supping what was left in the bottom.
“You still live I see,” Rompington’s voice spoke coldly from behind him.
“Not for much longer,” Bercilak replied, his voice not betraying the weakness that was spreading through his limbs, eyes still closed,
“Too many innocent people have found themselves caught up in this foul charade. I may have made light of the situation at times, but that I can assure you was an old Knight coping with stress and loss. I refuse to play any further part in this game. Indeed, even if I did, I would not be successful in stopping what is already a terrible turn of events. It would appear that you, Rompington, are truly mad and one, if not both of you are vampires. The Empire is marching to assault the castle and they are far more equipped to take on the beastly remains within these walls than a lone Knight. I have meditated and prayed to my dearest Lady. I will not fall to a tainted, old evil. My death is with honour, my death is with dignity, but most of all, with the Lady's utmost blessing. May Shallya have mercy or your wretched souls."
With that Bercilak summoned his last reserves of strength to stand and turn. He looked every bit the noble knight he was before he bowed to remaining two and plunged the dagger deep into his chest. Noiselessly he slumped to floor, in front of his little altar.
***
Rompington and Bombasto strode through the halls, minds still struggling with the rapid turn of events. Finally Rompington spoke,
"Captain Mann and Mage Elvii are here to finish off that vampire their child has become. Let's head for the safety of the..."
Rompington's words died away as they turned a corner to find themselves staring at a large open balcony. Sitting on the edge was Arden, his countenance turned towards them.
He paused and looked melodramatically up at the night sky.
"I already had the curse my parents consented to have laid upon me, so I sought out someone who might do something about it. I have become immortal, and will live longer than even my mother will.
Coming here was a risky gambit. I aimed to simply murder the Doctor, the slimy bastard, but instead I ran across that nitwit of a vampire Nicolleto, whose gory message could be spotted by a blind bat without ears. I warned him not to drink to excess afterwards, but then you-" he pointed at Rompington "-decided to lock us all in.
I was in a pretty pickle, I thought. I mean, the fact that my curse, triggered by extreme emotion, would go off every time I felt bloodlust meant that I couldn't even look at the grisly spectacles, and no matter how hard I tried to fool you, I couldn't convince you to let me go.
"o I made my get as a sacrifice, only for that fool to give away my position as he died. Luckily I was able to sneak a spell weave into his ashes to raise my servants, as I had sent for my liege when the idiot vampire died.
And then I find out my parents, who never cared about the curse they let that sorcerer lay upon me to make me both the human son and elvish daughter they both craved, were descending with the Altdorf garrison to fight against my liege? I think I've finally snapped."
Arden gave an insane giggle.
"Actually, I have had an amazing idea. Let's drain your blood and mangle your flesh together in some necromantic fusion, see how your spirits like it."
He finished her long, overdrawn and looked down.
"Oh for-"
---
"How long do you think he'll keep talking?"
"Shut up and keep running for the gates..."
---
A week later, back in Sylvania, Arden laughed with her liege as she regaled him with the tale of how she had fooled them all and slaughtered them like the cattle they were.
In Altdorf, the garrison rested, having beaten back the
horde. Rompington had barely survived, the captain and mage pulling her and Bombasto from the fray half torn to pieces. Bombasto had quickly died of complications. She gave an accurate account of her own to the captain of all that had gone on in her manor.
What she didn't mention, however, was the gentle tug she still felt on her mind towards the chaos wastes...
[mod]The game has ended, and the winner is the vampires!
A very well played game to the Archivist, who was a vampire. For those curious, the full set of statuses were:
The Archivist - Arden - Vampire
bigbadbat - Emil Liskorov - Initially human, turned Vampire by The Archivist
Get of W'soran - Nicoletto Viggiani de Remas - Vampire
Count Darvaleth - Dr. Yana Bumbleton - Guardian Angel
Johnny-Crass - Rufus the Torched - Witch Hunter
Christophe von Carstein - Christophe von Wolfkin - The Host's Ear (not used)
untitled_musketeer - Bercilak Bredbeddle - Lover
Malochai - Esteban Buenco - Lover
Credit goes to the Archivist - he wrote up his deaths, and also the last two posts by me with the armies attacking etc. u_m also wrote up his own death.
A great VAU, and one from which I have got some great ideas for the next time. If you do have any suggestions or feedback please post in the OOC thread.
Until next time........
[/mod]
