Post by kingfaraday on Aug 25, 2017 11:17:17 GMT -6
"... And I still say - this is very unfair," one of the drivers of the coach told his mate. "Who does he think we are, running all across the domains, hunting a bloody dragon of all things?"
"He's count Srahd von Zarovich, that's who," the other man spoke calmly, "the lord of Barovia and its' inhabitants."
"Then maybe we should move; he's no Azalin, wherever that lich may be, he has no Kargatane of his own."
"Maybe you are right, but something tells me that you are just bitter about this whole thing."
"Now, Galast, look. I admit that Barovia is better, than, say, Kartakass or Arak, but still-"
"It is funny that you should mention Arak, Zulifein."
There was a pause, as the man and the drow just stared at each other. Neither of them felt particular-ly happy about the assignment - find a dragon that had robbed the vampire lord, but the drow was lately even more morose than usual, even to the werewolf, who usually tolerated the drow wizard's retorts relatively well.
"Guess I took the whole thing too far, now?" Zulifein finally re-started speaking after a pause. "Still, explain to me, why are we doing this errand for the baron Voldane rather than our assignment?"
"We need money, Zulifein, for supplies and what-not. Plus, even I got tired of hunting - and we can't count on Fang alone."
"How is Fang, then?" Zulifein asked with mock concern in his voice.
"Good," Galast said curtly, glancing back into the coach, where Fang the wolf was sleeping cheer-fully. "As good as he can be."
He and Zulifein exchanged another pair of glances. The duo-trio of agents has been making good progress through Ravenloft in the search of a dragon Grezanletyr, who had robbed one of Strahd's caravans. Admittedly, if they were to be pressed - which would not be easy, since they were a werewolf ex-druid and a drow wizard with a really big wolf with them as well - they would admit that they didn't really make any progress, since, hey - confronting a twelve-foot flying lizard with magical powers and a killing breath is nobody's idea of a good time, but still, they searched for the wyrm.
In Nova Vaasa, without contributing any sufficient effort. In the last few days, however, the situa-tion had changed. In one of their hunting trips, Galast and Fang had discovered yet another Ravenloft critter - a werewolverine, and the latter had taken them through quite a grinder. Galast, being a lycanthrope, had recovered easily enough, Fang, being just a wolf, didn't. And so, Galast and Zulifein had to stop at a local healer's - and that brought them to an audition of one baron Voldane.
Well, at least Zulifein had to conclude that the audience with the baron went better than expected, considering that he, Galast and Fang have been in the near lying areas for quite some time now, and had caused quite a bit of damage as well - Galast and Fang never were subtle, and Zulifein saw no need in being too subtle either.
"Anyways," he finally spoke-up, "I think that this is a pleasant diversion - after all, anything is better than to chase after Grezanletyr, right?"
Galast quietly looked at him. "I don't know. There are about fifteen petty noble families often under-taking attempts to reach duchess-heir Amanta - and none without any serious success."
"Hah?" Zulifein replied. "Please don't quote me to me - it's bad taste."
Galast exhaled. His own thoughts about this were confused. The currently enchanted princess Amanta, daughter of a duke Tulein and some hedge-witch was rumored - before she'd been put un-der a sleeping spell - to be quite the little bitch, fooling around with dark magic and her bedding tastes were more than a little peculiar, as many a handmaiden had found-out during Tulein's reign.
(Admittedly, what bothered Galast the most was that Amanta was a witch, not her bedding tastes - neither he nor Zulifein were to wed her, baron Voldane was, and besides, neither he nor the drow were the most orthodox - or pleasant - bed-mates themselves.)
"Hey, we're here," Zulifein spoke-up suddenly. "At Caer Tulein. The donjon, six lesser towers, a hang-bridge, the barbican. A most average castle."
"Too bad that the approach is anything but ordinary," Galast muttered sarcastically, and he was right. The forest that surrounding Caer Tulein was most unnatural. It contained naked, liana-covered trees, pieces of webbing, woven by apparently giant spiders, mosses and lichens everywhere, the occasional bat. A giant raven nonchalantly flew overhead.
"Well, it could be worse," Zulifein said calmly. "It could've been haunted, you know? Sylvan wraiths just love such glades."
"Zulifein, you see wraiths everywhere. Let's go."
* * *
"...Well, that was tolerable, I guess," Zulifein spoke a while later.
Galast just glared at the drow mage. During their trek though the forest, they encountered a nest of giant wasps and an even bigger scorpion - and both of these encounters ended quite poorly for all parties concerned. After all, not only they had to high-tail it from giant version of ordinary vermin, they also had to deal with the results of Zulifein's made-on-the-spot spells - and they included sever-al exploded trees and a small magical forest fire that fortunately didn't last very long. Now, however, they were inside the castle, and if one would discount a mummified monster and a girl's head hanging like a trophy on the wall, all was dead quiet.
"Halt! Who goes there!" bellowed a powerful young voice.
Zulifein and Galast (they had left Fang in one of the rooms to recover further) froze, as out stepped a knight in a full suit of plate armor and a sword.
"Who dares deter me from my quest?" he yelled.
"And who you are sir?" Zulifein said politely, before Galast did.
"I am Alionel Chervinjano-dell-Fruilli of Salsomajore of Aldano!" the knight replied, looking un-kindly at the duo.
"Competition, then," Galast said. "And Voldane claimed that there would not be any! The old goat..."
"So are you two will dare to fight me for the hand of my bride?" Alionel thundered.
"No," Zulifein said, after looking with an eye of a professional at some sort of a scribble on the wall. "Just as long as you and your bride, sirrah, will explain everything to the good baron Valdane."
"Don't worry," the knight said calmly, yet with an ominous tone. "I will."
* * *
They found, eventually, Amanta's "coffin" in the lower reaches of the castle. It too was deserted, although they did find various bits and pieces of discarded clothing of different size and type lying around. Galast was especially interested in a rather big sword, embedded in a wall. He tried to pull it out - but after the sword tried to zap him with some blue sparks he dropped the matter.
Meanwhile, Alionel walked to the sleeping princess and kissed her.
Amanta's pale blue eyes fluttered open. "No!" she yelled. "Anything but that!"
"What?" Alionel asked, confused.
And then Amanta began to age. Her golden-grey, ashy hair became completely grey and tangled, her nose started to look like a cleaver but for the warts, her eyes sank, her nails became a hag's thick and yellowish claws, her skin became decisively brown... Only her get-up remained the same.
Zulifein sighed and looked away. "This is what happens when you mess with father Time," he said.
"What, what?" Alionel could only say. And while he stuttered thusly, Galast grabbed his shortspear and swung it at his head like a club. It connected with the knight's head with a solid thump, and Alionel slumped forwards, towards the aged and helpless princess.
Or maybe - not so helpless. The princess-turned-hag suddenly lunged forward and bit the knight in the neck with her few teeth and lips that now resembled a turtle's beak. Alionel sudden cry died with a gurgle, before it could be actually heard.
And then they began to change: Alionel slowly withered away into a mummy, and a fully dead one, as well, while Amanta began to swell from the youth and health, as well as muscle, stolen from the knight.
When it was finished, before the unshaken Galast and rather more surprised Zulifein stood some-thing resembling a valkyre, dressed in rags of a too-small gown wearing a too-small diadem in her shortly-cut hair.
"Well, that was unexpectedly quick," she said, as she walked over to a corner and pulled-out the sword in one swift move from the wall. "Now, you two have two choices-"
"We've got a better idea," Galast said calmly. "Tell, us, princess, how are your dragon-hunting skills?'
"There are dragons?"
"Just one. Grezanletyr. He's been making an absolute nuisance of himself, and so we were wonder-ing if you'd be interested in hunting him. We'll split his treasure evenly, too."
Amanta looked at Galast, Zulifein, and finally at her sword. "Fair enough," she said, smiling nastily. "I am in."
"He's count Srahd von Zarovich, that's who," the other man spoke calmly, "the lord of Barovia and its' inhabitants."
"Then maybe we should move; he's no Azalin, wherever that lich may be, he has no Kargatane of his own."
"Maybe you are right, but something tells me that you are just bitter about this whole thing."
"Now, Galast, look. I admit that Barovia is better, than, say, Kartakass or Arak, but still-"
"It is funny that you should mention Arak, Zulifein."
There was a pause, as the man and the drow just stared at each other. Neither of them felt particular-ly happy about the assignment - find a dragon that had robbed the vampire lord, but the drow was lately even more morose than usual, even to the werewolf, who usually tolerated the drow wizard's retorts relatively well.
"Guess I took the whole thing too far, now?" Zulifein finally re-started speaking after a pause. "Still, explain to me, why are we doing this errand for the baron Voldane rather than our assignment?"
"We need money, Zulifein, for supplies and what-not. Plus, even I got tired of hunting - and we can't count on Fang alone."
"How is Fang, then?" Zulifein asked with mock concern in his voice.
"Good," Galast said curtly, glancing back into the coach, where Fang the wolf was sleeping cheer-fully. "As good as he can be."
He and Zulifein exchanged another pair of glances. The duo-trio of agents has been making good progress through Ravenloft in the search of a dragon Grezanletyr, who had robbed one of Strahd's caravans. Admittedly, if they were to be pressed - which would not be easy, since they were a werewolf ex-druid and a drow wizard with a really big wolf with them as well - they would admit that they didn't really make any progress, since, hey - confronting a twelve-foot flying lizard with magical powers and a killing breath is nobody's idea of a good time, but still, they searched for the wyrm.
In Nova Vaasa, without contributing any sufficient effort. In the last few days, however, the situa-tion had changed. In one of their hunting trips, Galast and Fang had discovered yet another Ravenloft critter - a werewolverine, and the latter had taken them through quite a grinder. Galast, being a lycanthrope, had recovered easily enough, Fang, being just a wolf, didn't. And so, Galast and Zulifein had to stop at a local healer's - and that brought them to an audition of one baron Voldane.
Well, at least Zulifein had to conclude that the audience with the baron went better than expected, considering that he, Galast and Fang have been in the near lying areas for quite some time now, and had caused quite a bit of damage as well - Galast and Fang never were subtle, and Zulifein saw no need in being too subtle either.
"Anyways," he finally spoke-up, "I think that this is a pleasant diversion - after all, anything is better than to chase after Grezanletyr, right?"
Galast quietly looked at him. "I don't know. There are about fifteen petty noble families often under-taking attempts to reach duchess-heir Amanta - and none without any serious success."
"Hah?" Zulifein replied. "Please don't quote me to me - it's bad taste."
Galast exhaled. His own thoughts about this were confused. The currently enchanted princess Amanta, daughter of a duke Tulein and some hedge-witch was rumored - before she'd been put un-der a sleeping spell - to be quite the little bitch, fooling around with dark magic and her bedding tastes were more than a little peculiar, as many a handmaiden had found-out during Tulein's reign.
(Admittedly, what bothered Galast the most was that Amanta was a witch, not her bedding tastes - neither he nor Zulifein were to wed her, baron Voldane was, and besides, neither he nor the drow were the most orthodox - or pleasant - bed-mates themselves.)
"Hey, we're here," Zulifein spoke-up suddenly. "At Caer Tulein. The donjon, six lesser towers, a hang-bridge, the barbican. A most average castle."
"Too bad that the approach is anything but ordinary," Galast muttered sarcastically, and he was right. The forest that surrounding Caer Tulein was most unnatural. It contained naked, liana-covered trees, pieces of webbing, woven by apparently giant spiders, mosses and lichens everywhere, the occasional bat. A giant raven nonchalantly flew overhead.
"Well, it could be worse," Zulifein said calmly. "It could've been haunted, you know? Sylvan wraiths just love such glades."
"Zulifein, you see wraiths everywhere. Let's go."
* * *
"...Well, that was tolerable, I guess," Zulifein spoke a while later.
Galast just glared at the drow mage. During their trek though the forest, they encountered a nest of giant wasps and an even bigger scorpion - and both of these encounters ended quite poorly for all parties concerned. After all, not only they had to high-tail it from giant version of ordinary vermin, they also had to deal with the results of Zulifein's made-on-the-spot spells - and they included sever-al exploded trees and a small magical forest fire that fortunately didn't last very long. Now, however, they were inside the castle, and if one would discount a mummified monster and a girl's head hanging like a trophy on the wall, all was dead quiet.
"Halt! Who goes there!" bellowed a powerful young voice.
Zulifein and Galast (they had left Fang in one of the rooms to recover further) froze, as out stepped a knight in a full suit of plate armor and a sword.
"Who dares deter me from my quest?" he yelled.
"And who you are sir?" Zulifein said politely, before Galast did.
"I am Alionel Chervinjano-dell-Fruilli of Salsomajore of Aldano!" the knight replied, looking un-kindly at the duo.
"Competition, then," Galast said. "And Voldane claimed that there would not be any! The old goat..."
"So are you two will dare to fight me for the hand of my bride?" Alionel thundered.
"No," Zulifein said, after looking with an eye of a professional at some sort of a scribble on the wall. "Just as long as you and your bride, sirrah, will explain everything to the good baron Valdane."
"Don't worry," the knight said calmly, yet with an ominous tone. "I will."
* * *
They found, eventually, Amanta's "coffin" in the lower reaches of the castle. It too was deserted, although they did find various bits and pieces of discarded clothing of different size and type lying around. Galast was especially interested in a rather big sword, embedded in a wall. He tried to pull it out - but after the sword tried to zap him with some blue sparks he dropped the matter.
Meanwhile, Alionel walked to the sleeping princess and kissed her.
Amanta's pale blue eyes fluttered open. "No!" she yelled. "Anything but that!"
"What?" Alionel asked, confused.
And then Amanta began to age. Her golden-grey, ashy hair became completely grey and tangled, her nose started to look like a cleaver but for the warts, her eyes sank, her nails became a hag's thick and yellowish claws, her skin became decisively brown... Only her get-up remained the same.
Zulifein sighed and looked away. "This is what happens when you mess with father Time," he said.
"What, what?" Alionel could only say. And while he stuttered thusly, Galast grabbed his shortspear and swung it at his head like a club. It connected with the knight's head with a solid thump, and Alionel slumped forwards, towards the aged and helpless princess.
Or maybe - not so helpless. The princess-turned-hag suddenly lunged forward and bit the knight in the neck with her few teeth and lips that now resembled a turtle's beak. Alionel sudden cry died with a gurgle, before it could be actually heard.
And then they began to change: Alionel slowly withered away into a mummy, and a fully dead one, as well, while Amanta began to swell from the youth and health, as well as muscle, stolen from the knight.
When it was finished, before the unshaken Galast and rather more surprised Zulifein stood some-thing resembling a valkyre, dressed in rags of a too-small gown wearing a too-small diadem in her shortly-cut hair.
"Well, that was unexpectedly quick," she said, as she walked over to a corner and pulled-out the sword in one swift move from the wall. "Now, you two have two choices-"
"We've got a better idea," Galast said calmly. "Tell, us, princess, how are your dragon-hunting skills?'
"There are dragons?"
"Just one. Grezanletyr. He's been making an absolute nuisance of himself, and so we were wonder-ing if you'd be interested in hunting him. We'll split his treasure evenly, too."
Amanta looked at Galast, Zulifein, and finally at her sword. "Fair enough," she said, smiling nastily. "I am in."