What do you know about vampires? Me, very little, or at least, until yesterday morning, nothing at all. Today, just a little bit more. OK, we had dealt with the vampire in the basement of the temple in Barovia, but other than that, vampires existed in stories and children’s tales as they tried to scare each other before bedtime.
Until yesterday I was even beginning to doubt that the priest’s son had been a vampire at all. I mean, it was a bit of a stretch to think of people who were dead and then alive but needed to drink blood to stay not-quite-dead-but-not-quite-alive-either.
Gorek and Bastion were convinced though, and I do trust them. Even if one of them has an unnatural predilection for pies baked by evil witches.
The holy men returned to the inn with Lunae as night fell. I had been talking with two of the regulars in the bar and sharing stories with them about my travels in return for information on the local area. They pointed out two large gruff fellas on the other side of the inn who might be able to help us a little more, so once Gorek and Bastion had caught their breath we quizzed the locals on what lay outside the town. It didn’t make for a pleasant story, tales of villages being overrun by Strahd and ghosts in a nearby mansion, (which I am convinced is the House of Dragon that Madam Ava told us about.) All told this is a grim place and no doubt.
Bastion and Gorek told us of a run in with a local youngster that the temple priest thought might have been responsible for the theft of a holy artifact from within the crypts of the sanctuary. When the paladin had accosted the young man outside in the grounds, he was fed a story of poverty from which the sale of these relics had provided some relief. As Bastion described it, the holy knight raged against the teenager with a fury only seen from the devout when their faith is disrespected in such a way. Fearful for his life, the teenager had apparently turned tail and fled, chased by the knight in full plate. Belying this physical restraint, Gorek soon caught up with the youth and clipped him around the head until sobbing, he gave up the silver pieces he had obtained from a coffin maker in return for these stolen goods. Sending him on his way, Gorek and Bastion committed to Father Petrovich, the temple priest, that they would search for this artisan and recover that which had been lost.
The following morning as one, we set out into town to see what we could find out about the coffin maker. We were soon directed to the town square where the boarded-up funeral parlour stood. It was down a side street and away from the crowds, so after a cursory search to make sure we weren’t going to be overheard or disturbed in any way, Lunae shivered into the form of the great brown bear and with the poise and grace that only an 8-foot bear can, reduced the door to splinters as she tore it from its hinges.
A cursory search of the ground floor revealed very little as we snooped around a fairly standard carpentry shop. Nothing of interest grabbed my attention, so a little bored I climbed up the wooden staircase to the second floor. A small bedroom yielded a pouch of some 30 silver pieces, carelessly tossed into a hidden compartment in the bottom of a locked wardrobe.
“Someone’s going to be missing those.” I thought to myself. “I bet they don’t even realise they’ve lost them. I’d better keep them in a safe place so I can return them to the coffin maker when we find him.” Slipping them into one of my pouches, I patted it gently, smiling to myself that I was doing a ‘good thing’. Across the hall was a storeroom, again it didn’t look like there would be much inside, so I walked in.
“Stop!” Barked Karak, his taloned hand on my shoulder. “There is something amiss in this room.”
“What is it?” I asked, but was silenced by his eyes, flickering in concentration. He raised his arm to point at an empty section of the dusty wooden floor.
“There is…” he said haltingly, “a portal, some form of conjuration magic.” And with that his eyes opened, his arm dropped, and he smiled at me. “I do not know what would happen if you were to step onto it my short friend.”
Grateful that he was looking out for me, I side stepped the area that he had pointed out and saw five or six crates that were spread around the room. They had the word ‘Junk’ stamped on them, probably full of wooden offcuts I thought. As I was lifting the lid to one of them, the others were entering the room. I turned my head to see Karak telling the others about the portal, or whatever it was, when I heard a thin hiss coming from the crate. Worried that a snake might have been trapped inside I quickly turned back to see the dishevelled, gaunt visage of a dead man, curled up inside the box. Who’s eyes suddenly flickered open.
“Ugh!” I cried out, stumbling away as quickly as I could. Probably right through the circle that the Dragonkin had pointed out I shouldn’t, but I found myself not wanting to be anywhere close to something that was obviously not-quite-dead-but-not-quite-alive-either. The others, reacting to my cry looked over to see me running back towards the door. Within the time it takes to breath, the creature, (alright the vampire,) had risen from its makeshift coffin and now stood in front of us, it’s eyes blazing red and snarling with elongated fangs piercing blackened gums.
Gorek was the first to act; swinging his mighty hammer into the creature, who twisted unnaturally, causing the blessed weapon to pass harmlessly to one side. I could see Karak in the now familiar stance of imploring his patron for aid. He was standing next to a shuttered window and smoky tendrils of dark energy instantly erupted from his fingers to smite the window from its casing. For whatever reason, (I don’t know much about magic,) the ancient, alien energy smashed against the wooden panels, but did not seem to affect them at all.
“Well, that’s odd.” I thought, as I knew what he was trying to do. Legend has it that sunlight will hurt vampires quite badly, so, being little I reached around his imposing figure and unhooked the latch on the blinds, flinging the windows wide open. Smiling sheepishly at his enraged look, I ducked back behind one of the piles of planks. I had only been trying to help.
Weak, thin light lightened the room only a little. “You fool.” Hissed the vampire and then turned slightly to the other crates in the room. “Rise my Brothers.” He snarled, as the tops of the five other creates exploded outward. Five evil forms rose like smoke from the shattered remains of their resting places.
“Begone, Foul denizens of the darkness.” Bastion whispered, stepping forward with a grim look on his face and his prayer wheel in his hand. “With all humility and in the name of the Morning Lord I pray that all infernal spirits, undead and vassals of lies, deceit and deception in this place turn from the Night Mother to receive my Lords blessing.”
The effect was incredible. The wooden prayer wheel seemed to glow with its own light and four of the creatures started to cry out in pain as if the cleric had struck them directly. As one they flung themselves out of the window nearest them and into the cold, misty light of the street below.
Fighting the two that were left, Lunae Bear, Karak, Bastion and Gorek worked as one, trading blows with the undead monster and inflicting such dreadful wounds. Having watched how the creature reacted and fought I saw an opportunity, with its attention focused on the warrior, warlock, druid, and cleric, (and ignoring me completely) I dashed in and plunged my sliver sword right into its side. This was about all it could take apparently as it collapsed to the floor, quite-dead-and-quite-not-alive-either.
The last vampire seeing what had just occurred, leapt to the window to follow its brethren in the street. “To the temple” it roared. “Kill the priest.” Gorek shouted that we must make haste to protect the cleric and leapt to the street in pursuit. Karak had noticed something on the floor by the crate that I had first opened. As he moved past me to retrieve it, he muttered something about stealing the kill, which was outrageous. I never steal anything.
The battle raged on in the street as we caught up with three of the vampires quickly. Lunae, now back in elven form managed to ensnare them with vines that shot out of the ground and we were able to kill one of them outright. One of the night creatures managed to free himself of the entangled vegetation that seemed to respond to Lunae’s commands and set off after its kin. One of the town guards, Stefan I think his name was, fought valiantly with the remaining creature, and we rushed to his aid, but for naught. Just as we arrived, we saw the night spawn tear out the innocents throat with its fangs, blood washing down its face and neck. This seemed to have a curative effect as, in front of our eyes, wounds that we had inflicted only seconds earlier closed and the vampire stood straighter. With renewed energy we set about this abomination and after an eternity that lasted less than a minute, we delivered the fatal blow.
All thoughts immediately turned to the safety of Father Petrovich. We arrived to see the vampires entering the consecrated halls. “What evil was this?” I thought to myself. But we surged into the chapel to confront whatever witchcraft was taking place there.
The scene was horrific, backed against the altar was the priest, being stalked by three of the undead, Bastion, his faith now emboldened by his place in the temple reached out once more with his Lords cry. Two of the vampires seemed to be swept away from the holy man as if a giant hand had brushed them casually to one side. The looked around and screamed as if noticing that they were on holy ground for the first time and fled. We converged on the remaining beast, which was the one I had accidentally woken in the Coffin Shop. It had been stalking Father Petrovich but was now confronted with the five of us. It turned to lock eyes with Gorek and then spat blood onto the ground at the giant’s feet. Karak stepped to one side and presented the soft velvet pouch he had found by the crate to the priest, who promptly disappeared through a trapdoor behind the altar. Again, as one, we surrounded the creature and traded blows until at last the vampire threat was no more in this church to the Morning Lord.
Whether it was the demise of the last of these dark brothers or because the cleric of St. Andrels had returned the sacred relic to its home I don’t know, but a feeling of peace and tranquillity washed over all of us. Blood stained and battle weary we looked around at the devastation. In one’s and two’s acolytes and townsfolk started to come into the sanctuary. Fearful of what tomorrow might bring them, but relieved at the destruction of at least some of the evil in their town. Father Petrovich reappeared from behind the altar with an enormous grin on his face.
“Rejoice my children.” He said heartily. “The sacred relics are back where they should be, and this is once more a place of peace and safety.” People around him started to smile and tend to the now steady stream of wounded and scared folk coming in from the town. To us he said. “Stay a while, rest, eat, sleep safely under the protection of the Morning Lord.”
And that night I slept on the cold hard floor better than I have in many a princely palace.
