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On her sixteenth birthday, Gul was called to see the Magistrate, Lontash. Her mind raced as she waited in his office. She fidgeted, not sure whether to sit or not. The Magistrate, she was told, was running late.
The side door opens and the Magistrate enters. "Gulirk Ketodur." He says stressing every syllable. I am so happy you dropped by. He motions for her to sit and moves to the front of the desk to sit close to her.
I'm curious, do you remember me? Because I Remember You. It's been a long time, about sixteen years. He places his finger to silence her lips. Oh, you were such a surprise. He watches her eyes. The first time I saw you, You were a two hundred and sixty pound bruiser of a man. I had assumed a mercenary. Your blood was rich. But you were something special. You glowed and gave off some kind of energy. You reconstituted in an orcan baby.
Gul looked at him like he was insane. Lontash rips open his shirt and places her hand on his chest. She could feel his heart beating. This is the reason for the war, and you and I are the only ones who know it.
Kyrillosr qualifies his opinions. "While some being with a fiery affinity who may or may not be Kreza is clearly responsible for the destruction of the village, I'll grant that such beings can sometimes come in handy," he says to Muirkhom upon Kreza's decimation of the hostile dhampirs.
"But that's only if you happen to be on his good side." He watches cautiously as he sees from afar that Gulirk is trying to strike up a bargain with the elemental.
Kreza looks over his shoulder at the three dhampir Gulirk and Ginger killed. "Yeah, let's say that was me." He decapitates the struggling dhampir in the center of the room. Then, Guirk approaches with her request for assurances. "Is that the second 'one I owe you'? I'll let you know before we get back to town. Forgive me if I'm not gagging to forgive your... family."
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Filaurel, I see you've recovered Imazael says, her mind filing away the prophecy. As I see it, we have a few points of interest. Firstly, we need to regroup and consolidate our power. This location is not condusive to that goal. We may well need to return to the town..
The Merfolk can change his shape, this could be of value to us in our travel Zelloris notes
And Gul Myxis says, smirking I know you wanna bring Gul too.
Miss Ketodur? Flaurel says, red eyes staring daggers at Myxis The woman has a known association with Lontash, and a history of violence against our kind. I hardly think she is a suitable companion for the heir apparent of the house of the despoiler. Imazael looks toward the ground at this last remark.
Yes, Lady Emaline-
I believe She has told you that she prefers Imazael Filaurel interrupts
If Felicia is done interupting, I will continue. The House of The despoiler was led by one Lord Borak for quite some time. He did not transform many individuals, and the house of the despoiler, counting his children, and their spawn, and the thralls held, numbered less than thirty. She gestures to Filaurel, indicating that The Dhampir should continue.
And Lontash's brood, and their thralls, outnumbered us three to one. there was no open warfare, but skirmishes broke out following lord Borak's departure, and abdication. our numbers dwindled, as of now, there are 6 members of The house of the despoiler. Myself and 3 other members of the second or third generation, measured from Lord Borak, and two of the first, Lady Imazael and Lord Phraanz
Lord Phraanz would, in fact, have a better claim to the lordship, he is older, but his mother was bitten, not he himself. He is next in line, however, so I advise you give him deference. Zeloris finishes. Myxis and Pimrin are both lost, staring out into space, but Neither Zelloris nor Filaurel notice.
Secondly, we need to decide who we ally ourselves with, though it would seem we have already transitioned into that somewhat Imazael continues, taking a glass of wine herself I would like to give the floor to Pimrin She says, gesturing toward the Half-Halfling
Well, we've already thrown around the Merman and the Orc, and given his title, I suspect we are already allied with Lord Phraanz. I think the only remaining question is the dwarf. He seems a strong leader, Could be useful. Pimrin says.
But a natural follower. you've seen him when faced with a choice. he turns slightly, vacillates. He is used to a voice in his ear... Zelloris says, she leaves the rest unspoken, everyone knows where she is going.
I agree. Imazael says We should gve him a guide. Unfortunately, he dislikes Vampires, and gnomes. and Zelloris is my chatelaine, so I think that job falls to you, Pimrin[.b] She says, filling him in on the details of his assignment. [b]While he begins, I think we should send out some invitations. Myxis, If you would invite Kyrillosar to join us, and Filaurel, Inform Lord Phraanz that his prescence would be apreciated. She says
The sage approaches Phraanz, back straight and stare cold. Lord Phraanz, Your lady bids you join her in the bell-tower She says, gesturing toward the stairway.
The young gnomette tugs on the merman's shirt. Fishy dude she says Lady Imazael wants you, up there. she points toward the stairwell to the bell tower Follow me please, it'll be fun she finishes, offering her hand
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The halfling sits beside Muirkhom, signing deeply. Muirkhom, It looks like you've become something of a leader. he says, offering Muirkhom a cup of wine. And because of that, I need to talk to you.
This place is a deathtrap, and who knows what else is here. and this isn't all of the village. there's more people who are unaccounted for. and if someone got into your gold-store back at the village... well, you've said how gold effects non-dwarves. We need to go back to the village.
Kyrillosr turns to see a young gnomette at his side. Enticed by the promise of fun as well as by duty, he allows her to grasp his paw and lead him to Imazael.
"Hello," he greets her. "Is my impression correct that you wanted to go to the village?"
"Alright! Glad ta see ya've got some sense! Let's-" Muirkhom turns around and sees the devastation. "-not bother after all. Man, Kreza, yer somethin' else." He just takes things in until Gul and her damned father start talking.
He turns back around to glare at Lemongrass again. "Ya know, when a guy saves yer ass from 'avin' ta go fight a bunch'a fangers, ya should probably be a bit more grateful to 'em. Then again, I can't expect decency from ya, can I?" He ponders beating the living daylights out of him for a moment before deciding against it. As much as the world would be better with one less gnome, let alone him, Gul would probably get a bit murderous, which wouldn't help right now.
Speaking of which - Muirkhom turns about to face Gulirk. He's no less angry with her, but it's adjusted into something longer lasting. Slow burning, but still hot. "As for yerself, I'm surprised ya want a 'betrayer' lookin' after yer family. Or that ya'd call 'im a friend. But I guess that's jus' cos' ya want somethin' from 'im." His gaze shifts to Kreza as he points to Gulirk. "I wouldn't trust anythin' that comes outta 'er mouth. Ya've seen what she's actually like already, 'aven't ya? Everyone's selfish, but she's bloody self-centred an' out ta exploit folks for everythin' she wants on top - though given' who she calls Pappy, I'm not surprised. She's goin' ta pretend otherwise as long as it suits 'er, an' she's probably tryin' ta fool 'erself too, but if ya don't watch 'er she'll be 'appy ta rip out all the worth she can outta ya whether it's good for ya or not."
It's folks like that who end up causin' stuff like the casino. Should've left 'er to 'er fate - she's enough like that lot that she'dve been fine an' they'dve been plottin' together later.
Even the fangers are better than that, mostly cos' they care about lookin' "respectable" an' all that. Their definition'a the word is terrible, but it's still better than 'ers an' the gnomes'.
Muirkhom takes the wine from Pimrin, downs it in one, and looks back to Gul. "I pity anyone ya've shown any interest in. They're goin' ta suffer later." He looks to Pimrin. "Thanks for remindin' me. I forgot wi' everythin' 'appenin' 'ere. If yer goin' ta take the gold seriously, grab some'a the shackles back there for yerself - they're made'a pyrite. That should protect ya from the gold."
Muirkhom leaves, headed for the village, too wrapped up in his own thoughts on bastards being in all shapes, sizes and guises to actually notice anything short of being physically stopped.
Gul smiles a small smile, like an adult watching a child's tantrum. It was you I referred to not Kreza. Papa warned me that you were Lassiter's lap dog. It was you who led us into a trap. It was you who roused the villager's into a suicidal run at the undead. Kreza and I save them. And finally it is you who sows discontent when it it will be more important than ever to work as a group. I'm not the one they should fear, it is you.
There are 7 available shackles . Many others have melted. Four are still occupied. Although, Kreza is making his way toward the last of the Despoiler's Six Sons. The words have been echoing in the murmur of the villagers.
Kreza. leave the last one for interrogation. Gul makes her way to the prisoner and says in a threatening manner. You are going to answer all my questions, or me... Ginger growls and Kreza looms heavy. ...and my associates will make sure your ending won't be as swift as your friends.
The dhampir will need to feed before he is sensible enough to speak.
Kreza watches Gulirk cross the floor, waiting for her to reach the door in thin, acid-pitted rags before pointing out: "The safe tiles have the same design as the doors."
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To Muirkohm, Lemongrass raises his hands. "He's useful when you need someone dead, sure. Wait until you need the fields plowed, your children cared for, or a piece of paper handed to you, eh? Look, buddy, I took in an orc child. I'm not exactly heartless or stubbornly prejud- Ho there, friend, I'd not leave on yer own. I'm not a fan, but we need all types if we're gonna get dat dere wall up. Not... Not that I think you're better at masonry on account of being a dwarf-"
Umlur rests a hand on the gnome's head. "Worry not, podling. The master works in his own ways. He will not be fettered by your coddling." She continues past, following Muirkohm upstairs.
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Pimrin takes one of the shackles from Muirkhom, following him out of the chamber. Listen, Brother, You're pissed, but storming out will probably get you killed. He stops, grabbing onto the dwarf I heard the fanger chick... Emazine or whatever, is planning to head out soon, with her little posse. Might be an idea to go with them. he finishes
If only to see how The Lady ascendant of the Cursewood does trudging through the woods. he says, hamming up the title as much as halflingly possible.
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Muirkhom doesn't bother with responding to Gulirk. Even he knows you need to keep your story consistent because come on, you change your story 5 times in the space of a few minutes you're going to look dodgy. And then they yell at you and walk off with the gold rather than handing it over like planned and your mentor tells you everything you...maybe this analogy got out of hand.
As for Lemongrass...well, he's faring better than Gul. Had Muirkhom not been so sick of people trying to cover up, his fumbling at the end might have been funny, even. Still. "Ya don't hear me callin' ya a walkin' crime and tryin' ta prove it by sayin' yer too short ta reach a doorknob, do ya?...huh?" He looks about, and realises he's been mumbling by the cathedral doors.
He pulls his arm out of Pimrin's grasp and turns to face him. "...yer right. I mean, fangers aren't great. They act like they've got some voice in their 'eads tellin' 'em ta act like they're better than ev'ryone else, even if ya know they jus' sell fish or somethin'."
"Speakin'a which, Lady Ascendant? There's no way that ain't jus' somethin' she made up an' told everyone. I'd bet ya 10 silver that she wasn't the sole 'eir'a some huge kingdom like she probably told ya, if I 'ad 10 silver."
"But it's better than that damn orc. I mean, come on! She's jus' makin' it up as she goes alon' ta try an' look better, an' everyone knows it! It's obvious! Everyone wi' half a brain can see she jus' likes ta change 'er story ta fit 'er needs, an' that she thinks they're too dumb ta notice!"
"An'...dammit, ya know where Em is? I need ta get away from Gul before I go mad as the folks who eat gold." He looks about for any signs of her. "An' actually, ya know any decent games or somethin'? I've never met an 'alfling that doesn't know a good way ta pass the time. Apparently, yer folk 'ave somethin' of a reputation for knowin' a good way ta distract folks, an' I 'ave a schemin' orc that thinks she's smart ta forget about for a bit."
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Kyrill, So glad you joined me! Imazael says, embracing the merman. he feels her slip something into his pocket as she does. Yes, we will be departig shortly. I though your assistance would be apreciated. especially with that shapeshifting thing you do. she says Make any preparations you need to quickly, we are leaving very soon. she finishes.
I'm sorry to do this, but the situation is complicated right now. My Allies don't trust everyone, and I don't have time to deal with that right now. I need you to get this message to Gul
My deepest thanks
Imazael
I'm sorry for what the next few days will bring. I want to make sure you know it has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with politics. I no doubt will seem cold, perhaps even cruel, especially to you. I very much doubt it will hurt me as much as it hurts those around me, but please know that it isn't done lightly, or easily.
I cannot explain the full extent of my reasons here, but I will try to, briefly, explain. I have, due to a decade of conflict between the great vampire houses, become the high-lady of the House of the despoiler, and my advisers do not trust you, due to your history with the House of Lontash. i recognize that this is neither your chouice, nor an extant connection anymore, but I cannot explain this to them in the time we have. I'm sorry
I will try my hardest to to keep in contact. Kyrill would likely agree to be a go-between. My group will be leaving soon. if you went ahead, with Kyrill, we would be close enough to keep eachother safe.
Yours always
Emma
Could it be that you have something to hide from us? the catfolk accuses, ears flat to her head.
Imazael strides over, patting the catfolk, and scrtting her head No, of course not... but it is to our advantage forthem to think I do. she laughs slighly as she looks out at the ash-plains After all, this deception my well put one of our rivals between us, and danger. and if Pimrin plays his part, then another will join her.
Kyrillosr reads the message scrawled on the back of the note, upon which he lodges the piece of paper between his two barbs. "I'll be back soon; I can catch up if necessary" he assures Imazael, and sprints at hippocampus speed to deliver the note.
He reaches Gulirk and hands her the note. "Do you have any message you would like me to relay back? Whether oral or written is up to you, though I suspect Lady Imazael might prefer the latter."
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Gul reads the note and sighs. She's a piece of work.
Gul pats Kyrillosr on what she assumes is his shoulder. Don't let her turn you into her errand boy. She says hoping it sinks in.
Gul looks at the remaining villagers and says, I guess I'm responsible for your safety by default. We'll let the other group go first. First let's get you organized. Any of you have combat experience?
Partway through his tear, Muirkohm developes a migraine.
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Pimrin takes a pair of dice, and some parchment he knicked earlier. he gestures for Umlur, Shennenna, and Karudurk to join them Okay, I can help us kill a while. the game is pretty fun. you guys will take on the roles of legendary heroes on a quest. There are 5 types of heroes, Fated, who are heroes because of their destiny. Defenders, who are heroes because they have something worth fighting for. devoted, who believe in something so strongly, they can draw on it for power. Glory Hounds, who fight for fame and recognition, and tricksters, who are along for fun. He hands out the parchments, and sticks of charcoal, placing the dice in the centre of their little circle, and absentmindedly trying to decide which of the stones looks most like an ogre. choose a hero type, and tell me about your heroes, and then i'll guide you through character creation. he says.
Kyrillosr nods to Gulirk's advice about not being an errand boy, though the advice travels in one ear and out the other .
He returns to Imazael after having delivered the message to Gulirk, only to find her associates occupied in some sort of game.
With a smile, though imperceptible in his current form, he says, "Unless you're all too busy already, I'm prepared to go."
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Muirkhom grins as he takes a seat on the ground. "Now yer talkin'." What to play...? Well, a devoted definitely. That seemed like it'd be good. Goblin too. Has a strong faith in...actually, after the casino incident, he wasn't comfortable associating Midas with games at the moment. What was that one his dad had a passing belief in...?
"Blits, devoted goblin'a Iranel the forge god. Started off a blacksmith, an' became somethin' far greater."
The villagers are milling about the cathedral, peering fearfully out the door and rifling through the offerings in the veneration room. None touch the closed door to the monkery.
When Gul asks about combat experience, Karudurk the orcish watchman and Hivroth the dragonkin gunsmith both raise their hands. Karudurk carries his spear like he’s most used to doing just that: carrying it. Hivroth has some kind of metal tube device and seems, perhaps, too eager to find a use for it.
Vishti shrugs. “I saw dice and crib sheets. Is there money in this?”
Desmorlin has spent the better part of a minute scribing the name “Hobbs” in Old English calligraphy on his sheet. He leans back to admire his work, but doesn’t look up when he says “I’ll take a Dragonkin Glory Hound if that’s alright.”
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No money, I'm afraid, but you should join us anyway, Vishti. It's not like we have anything better to do, and I'd love to have your company he says, trying to keep his eyes forward, and flashing her his chamingest halfling grin
Now, back to the game. I am loving these character concepts. now that we have the basics, there are 5 stats, you'll rate how good your character is with them. one will be marked terrible, one will be marked average, two will be marked good, and one will be extrodinary. then we get specific items, and a special power, based on our hero types.
Warlike-detirmines how good you are in a straight fight
Valour-determines how good you are at saving people
Glamour-Detirmines how charming, suave, likeable, and good with people you are
Otherworldly-detirmines how well you can use and understand magic.
Savvy-detirmines how attentive, clever, and fast you are.
Fate on my side: Whenever you face somethig related to your destiny alone, you always inflict +1 harm, and take -1 harm.
You go through me: When someone or something is in danger, you may always elect to take the blow for them or inflict harm upon the attacker before they can attack.
Paragon When you make a show of standing up for your principals, roll + Valour. On a 10+, choose two. On a 7-9, choose one.
• listeners can’t keep doing what they’re doing
• listeners can’t flee without addressing you
• listeners can’t attack you without
losing status or position
Consummate showman: When you are in front of an audience, ou never fail. any 6- becomes a 7-9, but you'll pay for it later
Devious: When you mislead, distract, or trick someone, roll +Savvy. On a hit, they are fooled, at least for a moment. On a 10+, choose three. On a 7-9, choose two.
- you get an opportunity
- you expose a weakness or flaw
- you confuse them for some time
- you avoid further entanglement
On a miss, you’re hopelessly embroiled in it. Remember, crime doesn't pay, kiddos.
he finishes going over the heroe types, and takes out a bit of parchment from his own pocket. Here's a character I used to play. When you're done, your sheet should look something like this
Fated Elven Hero
Warlike: Terrible
valor: Average
Glamour: Good
Otherworldly: Extraordinary
Savvy: Good
Inventory
Tiarshus: the sword of the faerie queen
Angel's shield
Chain Shirt
The ring from her broken engagement
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OK You two. We are breaking the villagers into squads. You, Hivroth take four. You lead them and you protect them. Same for you Karudurk. Anything that gets past me or Kreza, you are the last defense. We can't have everyone run and scatter while outside. She pauses and looks at the rest of the villagers. Listen, We are going to survive this. Now I don't expect you to fight unless you have to. It can't hurt for you to look around for some weapons.
She hands her Clapper to Karudurk. Now, give your spear to someone with no weapon. She looks at the villagers again. This is how we survive. We share everything.
Gul walks to Alcinoos. She realizes the satyr was driving boar through the woods. They don't farm themselves. They constantly purchase from nearby farms and then herd them to their onclave for fresh food. No one seems to know where they get their gold from.
We'll need it to eat, but maybe it can really help us now. Gul says while tying the bell rope around the two hundred pound boar's mid-section.
Now, knowing the trick. She avoids the trapped tiles. She leads the boar to the undead prisoner. She throws the rope over a rafter and hauls the squealing pig into the air. She ties it off, and swings the pig into the vampire's teeth. Upon a satisfactory ending of the blood letting, Gul dresses the pig. Ginger greedily eats the entrails.
Go help search She says to Ginger. Cut and store the meat. She tells the villagers.
So you. Are you ready to talk? she says to the vampire.
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Phraanz clamps a meaty hand around the throat of the insane dhampir, the muscles of his thick forearm standing out in rigid relief as he subtly jockeys for position. The blood-lusting creature defies his most valiant attempts and slowly draws closer. Closer still.
A thought goes through Phraanz's head, but then he slyly steals a glance to the side. "You never did know who not to bite, Siculus." Then the monster is side-swiped by the blazing Kreza and at last finds peace as his head is separated from his body.
Phraanz stands up and brushes some dirt from his armor. He starts maneuvering one of the newly formed prisoner-corpses over to the place whence they came. When the thing is in place he stops, drops the last of his spare shoes on the ground, and affixes an errant manacle on his left wrist, where a shield might otherwise go.
Some voice in the back of his head believes this would be called an "arm brace".
Turning to Gul, he winks at her. "Ya, you see here dis is a ting dat is made of stuff, just like all da udder tings dat are dere and dey are tings that are tings dat could be a ting an dey like da weight und da masses and dat is all dat all da tings are made of an some tings dey care about dat more dan others.
You understand nao, ya?"
Then tosses the corpse at the trap-strewn corridor, setting a number of them off. The body is half-eaten by the resultant torrent of flesh-eating acid, but the path to the remaining prisoner is made safer than it was.
"Dere. Now you need to be more safe you just use dat ting dere, ya?"
That done, he pauses to receive the invitation from the fetching Filaurel. "Ya, okay, I can go wit you, ya. But while we are doing dat, tink about DIS!" Phraanz goes through a six-step flexing routine, starting with bics an' trics, then finishing with lats and quads. Not the most crowd pleasing routine, but a serious one for a serious situation.
He follows to the aforementioned bell tower.
*****************
<inaudible>
"No, I never wanted this."
<inaudible>
"Some could say that. By Propoket I'm sure I've said that. On occasion."
<inaudible>
"No, he has nothing to do with this. Dargor and the Emerald sword haven't been seen in some time."
<inaudible>
"No, I'm sorry. I don't know where he is. And that worries me the most. I've sired several planets worth of kinder. So it means something when I say that of them all, Borak is the one that causes me the deepest concern. He has an endless hunger and a cunning to rival my own."
<inaudible>
"No. I didn't know that. *pause* Tell me more...."
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Quit flirting with me. You know I like your sister. I can't believe he's walking away from a Despoiler. And one important enough to be imprisoned here..
Turning to Gul, he winks at her. "Ya, you see here dis is a ting dat is made of stuff, just like all da udder tings dat are dere and dey are tings that are tings dat could be a ting an dey like da weight und da masses and dat is all dat all da tings are made of an some tings dey care about dat more dan others.
You understand nao, ya?"
Lord Phraanz Imazael says, lowering her head slightly as Phraanz enters Leave us She says, indicating for Filaurel and Zelloris to leave.
Phraanz, old friend... It would seem we have become somewhat... advanced, in our social standing. She toys with the scroll, resolving to have Filaurel examine it when she is done with Phraanz. I have been, a I am sure you are aware, named the High Lady of the house of the despoiler. You are, naturally, next in line, and therefore, I would like it if you would keep close court with me. I would like to have someone I trust near me. She says
We are leaving for the village, quite soon. I need to return tot he halls of the Despoiler, and consolidate what is left of our power. she gestures with her knife Muirkhom is joining us, My associate is ensuring that, and Kyrillosar is a loyal ally. I worry about Gulirk's loyalty, she does not trust me, I don't think... but I think she would be willing to join us, if you asked. With her, we will have the Gnomes with us. Strength in numbers, after all she says You would do that for me, right? Be my go-between, a diplomat?
Time reaches it’s limit of elasticity and reality crashes back together.
In the basement, Kreza gives an appreciative wink at Phraanz’s display, hefting his axe with a ripple of flexing muscles. He, Lemongrass, and Gulirk’s squad captains gather around the remaining Dhampir, passing the slaughtered pork to the more industrious villagers. They don’t look too confident about making the most out of the carcass, but you’ll eat plenty of meat tonight.
“Literally? Yes. -but spill my guts to Lontash’s freak? Our jihad isn’t settled until you’ve breathed your last. Your blood is a stain.” The Dhampir spits pig blood in Gulirk’s face.
Outside, Krenin’s following have settled in for the kind of hedonism only cults can enjoy. Ferdinand has brought another Nameless into the fold. Alcinoos foreswears her name and brings her remaining three pigs into LASaROS’ following.
Upstairs, Umlur has been watching Muirkohm play a game of stories for hours. They say time flies when you are having fun, and the first session of Pimrin’s game is coming to a close.
Outside the belltower, Imazael’s inner circle bicker in taut whispers about the loyalty and suitability of their master.
Inside the Lady’s cloister, Filaurel lays hands on the scroll. “Vestigia Nulla Retrorsum. For those in hiding, a spell to lift the traces of travel. Fortuitous.”
Gul wipes the blood with hand and flicks the gore to the floor. She smiles, Catching up to my last breath is harder than you think. Gul stares at him for a long time. She digs her vision into the pit of endless death. I understand you think you are irredeemable. You are not. I know a way to give you life again. This madness can end. And you can live again..
She offers her throat to him.
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Unlike the fully undead kin who spawn them, dhampirs, as a race, are much more diverse about the world at large, in acceptance both of and in it.
Just as a vampire might create another vampire out of any race that uses blood, so too dhampirs might be spawned from any likewise race. But, since pregnant mothers that are bitten during birth make up a large part of dhampir population, the races that have other methods of reproduction are negatively impacted. (i.e. the egg-laying lizard-folk such as kobolds do not have access to this route of dhampir contribution, so they are under-represented. While goblins and orcs, which have a shorter and more productive gestation cycle, are over-represented. Currently the only known case of a female giving birth to dhampir quintuplets is from a goblin.)
While the number of cases of vampires that were brought back to life are only a handful, dhampirs that are "Reborn" or, simply, Raised from the Dead, are slightly greater in number, due to their more tenuous hold on unlife.
(Dhampir's that were brought back to life used to be simply called "Reborn", however ever since well-known certain events of The Gentleman re-purposed that name, the term "Adze" has come back into usage.)
Little data exists on the Adze population, since the biology of an Adze greatly depends on not only the race of the creature, but also how it had became a dhampir, and then how it was brought back to life.
No real statement can be definitively said of any particular Adze...
save one.
An Adze, since they are now alive, is more vulnerable to the mental link of their sire. Whereas a dhampir or vampire might eventually gain some degree of autonomy by mastering their dark powers, as a living biological, the newly minted Adze has no such defense, and must take care lest they again come under the influence of their old master and become like any other blood-fed servant.
See also: Thrall.
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Phraantz listens with wrapt attention as Imazael describes a change in events that he has absolutely no awareness of.
"Ya, dat is a ting dat is gud und not bad, ya! Dese peoepls over dere, dey see in you a strengthz und a POWAH dat dey tink is a ting dat is gud und not bad, ya. Ya, I will definitely find a way to do dis ting here. Every morning I will wake you to do some calisthenics und some lifting of MASSive quantities so you can build up dah definition und da maximum PAHPitude dat a goood leader needs, ya.
Ya, I will go talk to youah leetle girlfriend and make sure dat she wants in all da ways dat are good and only sum of da ways dat are bad, ya. Ya, I will go dere right und do dis ting, ya!"
That said Phraantz pumps his guns, then, BAM, reverses, and shows off the horseshoe-U of his defined triceps, and walks back down to Gul, seeing how she is doing with her interrogation of Ephorus.
'Huh. It looks like our dear sister is moving to the head of the class. High Lady of Der Kastle von Despoiler. Hmm. Some others, of a more cautious lean, might point to rule 37: Do not take someone's crown until you've seen their body. But let's not rain on that parade. Who knows, maybe nothing bad will happen!
Oh by Propoket's bulging coinsack is Gul -really- offering her neck to Ephorus? That...is the third most interesting thing I've seen today.
And considering the day I've had, that is saying something.'
Phraantz stops a bit away and observes the presentation of the neck, intrigued.
Ephorus is surprised, but eager to complete his family's oath of destruction. He bites, and drinks deep as Gulirk reinforces the threads that bind her to the fabric of reality. Some, small... perhaps less important details are lost, but Experience persists.
Ephorus was a gnoll.
Pimrin stands, arms raised and stomping, as he plays the ogre-king, the foe that his party faces The king rises to his full, 5 meter height, and hefts his hammer, the head of which is easily as big at Hobbs. he looks over the edge of the wall, down upon you, and shouts and with that, you hear the gate opening, and is army draw their weapons.
Zelloris interrupts as he begins to place the dozens of rocks that would represent the forces of the ogre king, whispering in the quarterlings ear.
It would seem this is where we need to leave off. pimrin says, gathering up the dice. We can pick this up after our journey, but it seems it is about time to go
As the savage teeth drain her blood. Gul stays silent. Her personality was at it's end. But the sacrifice was noble. The part of her that will never touch death wells up. She can feel it. She only wishes that she could see the look of the Despoiler's face as he thinks, 'Oh crap, I completely screwed up' She screams one last orcan war cry.
A blinding flash then living tentacles of raw supernatural energy grow around the screaming orc. The vampire drops Gul to the ground. He inhales sharply as the darkness rescinds in him, revealing his soul once more.
The scream is replaced by laughter by Gul the Halfing and is pointing at the gnoll. He stops suddenly and says Whoa dude, my voice is trippy.
The halfling gets to his feet. The cloths no longer fit. He looks up at the gnoll. No more incessant voice. No more destructive hunger. You are free to choose once more. I'm freeing you of your shackles. You can stay with us or go. The Halfling Turns to Kreza. Things are changing, I want to free everyone. And I need your help.
Ephorus is speechless, but wary. He had always been tall for a dhampir, but kindling his life has brought out his more canine features... to a point. Furless, his freshly pumping blood brings his skin to a healthy black. When the shackles are removed, he buttons his cuffs and adjusts his cravat, ears at attention. “Let’s do call this an even trade then. I’ll wager neither of us is quite sure what we’ve done here, and you haven’t exactly made my life--such as it is--any easier.”
Kreza leans in. “Don’t worry, they’ll still act like you owe them. Just make sure you’re carrying a big stick.” Turning back to the Eternal, Kreza smiles facetiously. "Doesn't sound like I'm free just yet, dove, but what did you have in mind?"
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My lady Zelloris says, scrawling calculations on her clipboard We are in need of provisions for the journey ahead
Imazael nods, and ponders for a moment Kyrill and Phraanz are more than capable of feeding themselves, though if we have spare food, They receive it first. She becons the little gnomette over Myxis, sweetheart, could you scrounge together something for yourself and Zell. Kyrill and Phraanz too if you're able she tousles the girl's gree, mossy hair, before patting her on the back, sending her on her way. Filaurel and I will... sate ourselves.
Come with me, Filaurel she says leading the woman out of the room I've never actually... fed on someone before. I understand the basics, but is there anything I should know? she asks
After Filaurel finishes, the two exit the stairwell, scanning the Spare rations townsfolk, looking for individuals who were intoxicated, vulnerable, or easily tricked.
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And you have the biggest stick around Fire miester. You might not know this, but this all used to be a Midas Cathedral. An ancient race of human's built it here because of it's nexus of spiritual energy. He fidgets with the leather tunic, as it fights his movement.
It's complicated. Think of this as place point that intersects all realities. A well of creation. The ancient's worshiped a god of creation. The One. Midas. They built this church on this fountain head of creation. The ancients abused this power. Nightmares of every variety haunt this area. Creations of death and war. They were too clever by half when they finally gave life to unlife. He looks at her with a little apprehension.
You made an enemy of the villagers. I'll figure out a way to fix it when we get there. Right now I need to borrow some of you immortal essence. You could say no, but we would be even.