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JollyDoc's Curse of the Crimson Throne: Updated 1/29/10
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<blockquote data-quote="JollyDoc" data-source="post: 4711877" data-attributes="member: 9546"><p>OUTBREAK</p><p></p><p>Ishani was true to his word, and by the next morning, Brienna was cured, though still very weak. Nevertheless, she gave her saviors a tired smile, and Tayce cooked a wonderful meal for them. Ishani did not stay, however, saying that his duties required him back at the Grand Vault. By early afternoon, the members of the K.I.A. were making their way back to North Point, secure that a minor tragedy had been averted, and putting the matter behind them. When they reached the Three Rings Tavern, however, a new issue required their attention. The proprietor handed them a sealed envelope, saying that a messenger had delivered it earlier that morning. When Katarina opened it, she found a short, cryptic note inside from Vencarlo Orisini. It was a request for her and her friends to come by his academy in Old Korvosa that evening.</p><p></p><p>Vencarlo’s school was located at 16 Hillcrest Street in Old Korvosa. When they arrived, a sign hanging from the front door declared that classes had been cancelled for the day. The door opened abruptly, revealing a serious-looking Vencarlo. He glanced both ways on the street, and then beckoned them inside. </p><p>“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” he said, and then lead them down a hall and into a study, the windows of which were tightly shuttered and curtained. </p><p>“I asked you here because I have a favor to request,” he said in hushed tones as he indicated that they should be seated. “You can come in now,” he called over his shoulder.</p><p>A door opened behind him and a slight figure entered wearing simple travelling clothes and a wide-brimmed rider’s hat. Long red curls hid her face, but when she lifted her chin, it was obvious to all that it was Trinia Sabor who stood before them. She smiled weakly.</p><p>“I’m sorry I about all the trouble I gave you in the Shingles a few weeks ago,” she said sheepishly.</p><p>“You were all at the Queen’s debacle, so I don’t doubt you recognize this charming young woman,” Vencarlo interrupted before any questions could be asked. “I had only just reached my home the night of Her Majesty’s morbid gala when that rogue Blackjack and this startled woman arrived at my doorstep. The people’s hero and I have had some dealings in the past, but still, it’s been some years since I’ve seen the scoundrel. He was quick with his words, and soon swooped off, doubtlessly to right some other festering wrong, but not before entrusting Miss Sabor into my protection and care. Although I don’t know Blackjack’s motives or politics, I trust his judgment and have seen much right done by his blade. He says the girl is innocent of the crime she’s been accused of, and I’m more disposed to trust a hero of the city than the tantrums of some bloody-minded harlot playing at queen. The matter is simple: Korvosa is no longer safe for Miss Sabor. I’ve arranged for friends in Harse, a couple of well-respected ranchers, to take in our beautiful renegade until this whole ‘assassination’ foolishness blows over. It’s the first leg of the journey where we find our problem, though. Both the Korvosan Guard and the Sable Company have been searching for the young lady tirelessly…they’ve stopped by here three times so far, and each time I’ve only just barely been able to turn them away without inviting a search. My most reliable contacts have gone to ground in light of the recent uprisings, and Her Highness’s considerable bounty for Trinia’s capture makes the use of new agents inadvisable. Thus, after some time to let her trail cool, I turned to you resourceful lot. Care to escort a lady home?”</p><p>Ratbone cleared his throat. “I must say I’m…relieved to see that you’re safe, Miss Sabor. I would be honored to see you to safety.”</p><p>Valeris and O’Reginald both rolled their eyes.</p><p>“That’s all well and good,” the duskblade said, “but I’m sure you’ve seen the posters around town. The reward for her is up to 5,000 gold! Everyone will be looking for her. How do you propose we just slip her past the City Guard?”</p><p>“I would suggest a slow walk through the city,” Vencarlo shrugged. “Go down to High Bridge and then up to Dwarfwalk Road. Then you can just mingle with the afternoon’s merchants leaving the city.”</p><p>“Excuse me, Trinia is it?” O’Reginald asked, turning towards the young girl. “I couldn’t help but notice during our pursuit of you, that you were attempting spell-casting. Are you a mage?”</p><p>“Not at all,” Trinia said, shaking her head. “I’ve had some bardic training, and I know a few minor cantrips.”</p><p>“Ah,” the wizard said, “then you should be adept at altering your appearance, yes?”</p><p>Trinia thought for a moment, and then her eyes widened in understanding. “Yes, yes! I know of such a spell!”</p><p>“Not to belittle your ‘disguise’ skill, Master Orisini,” O’Reginald said, turning back to Vencarlo,” but if we are actually going to try this ridiculous trick, then we need to make very sure that nobody will recognize her.”</p><p>_____________________________________________________</p><p></p><p>A short time later saw the six companions, Ratbone, as usual, in his canine form, making their way up the Dwarfwalk in the company of a gruff-looking dwarven merchant. Vencarlo had approved of their ingenuity and thanked them again for volunteering to assist Trinia. He refused to accompany them, however, explaining that he was too well known about town, and that his history with the monarch might have drawn unwanted suspicion. As such, he planned to attend to some private business and disappear into the anonymity of Old Korvosa for a time. He asked that they not try to find him. He’d call upon them when the time was right.</p><p></p><p>As they mingled with the rest of the foot-traffic, Trinia tried to make small talk, but Michael, to the surprise of his companions, cut her short.</p><p>“Forgive me,” the priest said, not unkindly, “but perhaps the less we know about each other, the better. If, by some misfortune, you should be recaptured, or we should be implicated in your escape, then under magical duress, none of us shall be able to incriminate the others. Wouldn’t you agree?”</p><p>Trinia averted her eyes and nodded solemnly. The group walked on in silence. As they moved through Old Korvosa, however, an overly aggressive beggar stumbled up to them, hacking and wheezing, a splotchy red rash and blisters the size of ripe grapes covering his face and arms.</p><p>“Please, kind masters,” he pleaded, “could you spare a few coins so that I might have some food and medicine for my ailments?”</p><p>O’Reginald recoiled, and Valeris dropped his hand to his blade, but Michael stepped between them and the old man.</p><p>“Take this,” he said, pressing a small bag of coins into the man’s hand. “Go to the Grand Vault and ask for Vaultkeeper Dhatri. Tell him the K.I.A. sent you.”</p><p>“Bless you, sir! Bless you!” the beggar said as he stumbled away into the crowd. </p><p>“It wasn’t an isolated case,” Michael said after the man had disappeared. Abruptly, Ratbone whined at his feet. When the priest looked down, the dog nudged him, and then took a few steps into the crowd. It was then that Michael saw them…at least five other individuals…beggars, common folk, and even a merchant…all displaying the same, familiar, fiery rashes.</p><p>“What’s wrong with them?” Trinia asked, concern in her voice.</p><p>“Just be glad you’re leaving,” Valeris growled.</p><p></p><p>The company passed through the gates without so much as a glance from the guards, much to their surprise and relief. Once they were a safe distance beyond the walls and across the bridge, Trinia mounted the horse Vencarlo had provided for her.</p><p>“Thank you all for your help,” she said, turning back to her escorts. “I’m so sorry for any trouble I’ve caused you, but I promise, I will repay you someday.”</p><p>She then reined her mount around and galloped off into the sunset. Ratbone lifted his muzzle and howled after her in farewell.</p><p>_______________________________________________________</p><p></p><p>The following morning, the innkeeper informed Katarina that another message awaited her and her companions. Curious, she followed him downstairs and found a young boy dressed in the robes of an acolyte of the Church of Abadar standing nervously in the common room. </p><p>“Begging your pardon, ma’am,” he stammered, “but I’ve been sent by Vaultkeeper Dhatri. He seeks a meeting with you at the Grand Vault at your earliest pleasure.”</p><p>Kat nodded, and tipped the boy a gold coin. “Tell your master that we shall be along shortly,” she replied.</p><p></p><p>The others weren’t surprised at the request though, as usual, Valeris grumbled. The walk to the Grand Vault was long, but the streets seemed strangely subdued, with much less traffic than they were accustomed to seeing. When they finally reached the temple, however, things were not at all as they expected. Towering over the surrounding buildings, the Grand Vault of Abadar offered a vision of divine luxuriance amid a sea of mortal troubles. Radiant, as its grey-veined white marble reflected the midday sun, there was little question that the place was a house of a god. Yet, for a deity of law, the steep stairs and ramps leading up to the temple’s great bronze doors offered a strangely discordant scene. Dozens of citizens, mostly of the working class, although the silks of a few merchants showed through the crowed, thronged the entry, scarcely held back by a group of gold-armored Abadarian clerics. All seemed intent on gaining entry to the temple, but the clerics turned away nearly all comers. The clerics’ reasoning became clear as one desperate believer was turned away, his pitiful countenance mottled with violent red sores. The six companions looked at each with shocked expressions. There appeared to be no way to get to the doors without going through the crowd. Herc took the lead, and began shouldering his way through. Single-file, the others began following. They were no more than halfway through, however, when Michael was suddenly seized by his tunic.</p><p>“Look!” shouted one of the mob, pointing at Michael’s holy symbol. “He’s a priest!”</p><p>“Father, help us!” they began shouting. “Heal us! Save us!”</p><p>Before Michael knew what was happening, dozens of hands clutched at him, pulling him this way and that. </p><p>“Please!” Michael shouted placatingly. “I am no healer! I am a petitioner, just like yourselves!”</p><p>The mob showed no sign that they had heard. Instead they pushed and pulled even more aggressively, until Michael felt himself going down. Suddenly, a strong hand seized him by the arm and hauled him forward. He turned to look at his rescuer and saw Herc surging forward, shield held before him. Within a matter of moments, they had reached the doors.</p><p>“Halt!” one of the guards said, stepping forward. “State your business!”</p><p>“Mandrake?” Kat asked. “Is that you?”</p><p>The Abadarian blinked, recognition dawning on him. </p><p>“Katarina? What are all of you doing here?”</p><p>“We’re here to see Vaultkeeper Dhatri,” Kat explained. “He asked us to come.”</p><p>“Of course!” the paladin nodded. “Follow me!”</p><p></p><p>Mandrake led them inside. Within the airy halls, priests and patrons eyed each other and every newcomer with suspicion, and every footfall upon the marble floor echoed through a frightened silence. Ishani Dhatri waited for them inside one of the western meeting rooms. </p><p>“Thank you for coming,” he said. “I assume you already suspect my reasons for calling, having seen the crowd outside, poor lot. You recognize the symptoms, I’m sure. I had hoped that the Soldado case was isolated, but apparently we have a bigger problem on our hands than I’d feared. I’m concerned for the city, but also for my brethren here. The morning after my visit to the Soldado home I came to the temple to hear that three of my brothers awoke with similar symptoms, although they had already been healed. I spoke to each, and aside from their usual duties in the temple, none have had any dealings with the sick. Later in the day, more of my brothers…vaultkeepers, guards, and acolytes…developed symptoms, and folk from throughout the city began arriving in search of healing. It’s been more than a little bit frightening. They’re calling the sickness ‘blood veil.’ An apt enough name, I suppose. This affliction has spread fast, yet I’m not yet sure how. Most of the patients we’re treating have come from North Point and Old Korvosa. The disease seems to spread fastest through the lower classes. Although we here at the temple can heal some of the ill, I fear that the spread of the disease will soon outpace our resources. The only way to stem the growing infection is to involve all the city’s resources. We need to organize. We need to call upon the faiths of Sarenrae, Pharasma, and even Asmodeus to face this attack. Archbanker Tuttle and several of his assistants are out pursuing alliances with these other faiths, but even that won’t be enough. We need to involve the Korvosan Guard, at the very least. And that’s where you come in…with the number of desperate souls growing, it’s not particularly safe for a priest to walk the streets of Korvosa. I hear that you have a good relationship with Field Marshal Cressida Kroft…perhaps you would be willing to escort me to Citadel Volshyenek to introduce me to her?”</p><p>“This is troubling indeed,” Michael said pensively. “Do you have any theories on the origin of the outbreak?”</p><p>“Not yet,” Ishani said, shaking his head. “I hope the Archbanker and the other church leaders will be able to deduce it.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, I think I’m already on to it,” O’Reginald said absently.</p><p>“Truly?” Ishani asked, raising one eyebrow.</p><p>“Not this again!” Valeris rolled his eyes.</p><p>“If you have a better idea, let’s hear it!” the mage snapped. He then turned calmly back to Ishani. “The Soldado’s home is near the river. Tayce said the little girl played near the water every day. The quarantined ship that was sunk…,”</p><p>“ ‘Alleged’ quarantined ship,” Valeris interrupted.</p><p>“…went down in the river near Trail’s End,” O’Reginald continued, ignoring the duskblade. “Therefore, I think the river water is the source of the infection. I took several samples of it when we were there. I’ve already given one of the samples to an alchemist at the Acadamae, and another to an old friend I know who has some expertise in chemistry.”</p><p>“I’m sure he does,” Valeris snorted.</p><p>“Do you have any more of the water?” Ishani asked, a hint of excitement in his voice.</p><p>“I have one more vial,” O’Reginald replied. “Why?”</p><p>“We have alchemists here in the temple,” the priest said. “I can have them do an analysis for you as well. That way you’ll have three independent reports, and no one can gainsay your results.”</p><p>O’Reginald nodded. “Good idea.”</p><p>He passed over his last vial. Ishani took it and said he would meet them at the front doors once he’d delivered the sample and gathered his belongings.</p><p>____________________________________________________</p><p></p><p>The trek back to Citadel Volshyenek posed little problem, despite Ishani’s fear to the contrary. When they arrived at the gates, the guards greeted them warmly.</p><p>“If you’re here to meet the Queen’s Physicians,” the sergeant said, “you’ll need to hurry. They’ve already gone ahead to the courtyard.”</p><p>The companions exchanged suspicious glances, but only thanked the guardsman and headed inside the citadel to the courtyard. As they approached, the echoes of forcefully spoken but still just-missed words resounded off the imposing granite and iron walls of the outer curtain. Dozens of red-and-silver-armored guards stood in assembly upon the pitted stone mustering ground, mumbling in hushed, somber tones. Before them, atop a weathered wooden platform, paced Field Marshal Kroft, her eyebrows arched sternly as she momentarily tolerated the crowd’s murmurs. Behind her upon the scaffold stood three grizzled veteran guardsmen at attention, as well as an ominous-looking group. Those men wore cowled robes of oily-looking leather, supple gloves, and wide black hats. Some gripped heavy canes, others dark satchels. Each of them, though, wore a dark-goggled mask that tapered to a pointed beak. Among them stood two others. The first was a middle-aged gentleman in a simple black overcoat with streaks of white gracing the sides of his short dark hair. He watched the gathered guards with a soft, concerned expression, his hands tightly clasped around a heavy-looking doctor’s case. The second figure was an imposing one indeed…a woman dressed in full-plate armor, a longsword and shield at her side, and her blank-faced full helm sporting a bright red plume. The Field Marshal’s fierce tone cut through the rumble of whispers.</p><p>“You will escort Doctor Davaulus and his men in their royal duties wherever those might take them. Furthermore, you are to consider orders from any of the queen’s new order of Gray Maidens to be as binding as any superior officer in the Korvosan Guard or Sable Company. You are guardsman of Korvosa. You will not balk. These are dire times and your city needs these healers. Your city needs you. Your patrol leaders have your assignments. Dismissed!”</p><p></p><p>As the assembly ended, the guardsmen gathered in the courtyard broke up into groups, many reporting for various duties while others loitered for a few moments to quietly gripe about their new orders. The armored woman quickly organized the guards, silencing bickering words with harsh commands and assigning orders for the day. Kroft and her veteran attendants began to head into the citadel with Dr. Davaulus and his Queen’s Physicians. As she reached the door, however, she caught sight of the K.I.A. members out of the corner of her eye. She turned and whispered to one of her guardsmen, who then hurried over to them.</p><p>“The Field Marshal requests that you accompany her and her guests,” the man growled, then turned back, assuming they would follow, which of course, they did. Once inside, Cressida turned to the companions, who were being carefully scrutinized by the good doctor.</p><p>“Doctor Davaulus,” she began, “allow me to introduce a group of operatives that I have enlisted for...special…assignments.” </p><p>“A pleasure,” the doctor replied, though he did not extend his hand in greeting.</p><p>“I’m afraid, though, I haven’t had the honor…,” Cressida said, turning to Ishani.</p><p>“This is Vaultkeeper Ishani Dhatri,” Michael said in way of introduction. “He assisted us in what we believe was the first case of this so-called blood veil.”</p><p>“Really?” Dr. Davaulus asked, interest in his eyes. “Do tell.”</p><p>Ishani proceeded to relate Brienna’s story, concluding with the recent events at the Grand Vault.</p><p>“I am here to inquire if I might be of service in coordinating the efforts of the Grand Vault of Abadar with those of the city,” he concluded. </p><p>“Of course,” Davaulus nodded. “We welcome any assistance, especially that of the churches.”</p><p>“Might I ask, Doctor,” Michael interjected, “what are your plans to address this crisis?”</p><p>“Well,” the doctor shrugged, “I must still confer with the Field Marshall to form a sensible plan, but allow me to share with you an official proclamation being distributed by the Crimson Throne.”</p><p>He opened his bag and pulled out a roll of parchment. Michael took it, unfurled it and read aloud,</p><p>“ ‘By Decree of Her Royal Majesty, the Radiant Queen Ileosa I, all citizens and members of the Korvosan Guard are to aid and admit the newly established Queen’s Physicians in this time of urgency. These royal agents will extend healing to the sick and organize defense against the spreading affliction known as ‘blood veil.’ They are to be allowed access to any home or building they deem necessary in the course of their duties. All those suffering from disease or disorder are to submit themselves to the Physicians for treatment. To aid in the duties of the Queen’s Physicians, know that the order of the Gray Maidens has been established to provide military support as needed. The Maidens answer directly to the Crimson Throne, and will be called upon as necessary to augment and strengthen the peace where simple city guards will not suffice. Impeding or distracting the duties of the Queen’s Physicians or the Gray Maidens is punishable by imprisonment. Impersonating one of the Queen’s Physicians is punishable by death. Knowingly harboring or hiding the infected is punishable by death. Purposefully spreading blood veil is punishable by torture, then death. The Queen’s Physicians will be making rounds of every city district henceforth until Her Majesty deems this misfortune abated.’”</p><p>“Wow,” Valeris said, pursing his lips. “That’s a whole lot of imprisoning, torturing and killing there. I’m impressed!”</p><p>“I believe you miss the point,” Dr. Davaulus said patiently. “This is a desperate situation, and calls for dramatic measures. Not everyone may be receptive to our methods, but if we are to insure maximum survivability, then certain sacrifices may have to be made.”</p><p>“I have a theory, if anyone’s interested,” O’Reginald interrupted.</p><p>“Oh, for the love of the gods!” Valeris shouted, throwing up his hands.</p><p>“No, no,” Ishani chimed in, “I think this is valid. You should hear this.”</p><p>“Thank you,” O’Reginald said, and then proceeded to explain his river water theory again. When he was finished, the doctor nodded approvingly.</p><p>“That is indeed a very interesting theory,” he said. “In fact, I’d like you to give me the names and addresses of these alchemists so that my physicians can contact them, and perhaps help to expedite their progress.”</p><p>“Umm…ok…,” O’Reginald said carefully.</p><p>“Excellent,” Davaulus said. “Now, we should get down to our planning. Vaultkeeper, would you join us?”</p><p>“Certainly,” Ishani said.</p><p>Davaulus then entered a conference room, followed by his attendants and Ishani. Cressida was the last to go, but before she went in, she turned back to her agents.</p><p>“Make yourselves available,” she said, and then followed her guests.</p><p>____________________________________________________</p><p></p><p>In the days that followed, word of blood veil’s rapid spread was on the lips of every citizen of Korvosa, as was the news of the Crimson’s Throne’s new decrees. As for the K.I.A., there was not much that they could do. Although Michael and Ratbone spent their days in Old Korvosa, lending aid where possible, it became increasingly obvious that their efforts were but a drop in the bucket. During this period, O’Reginald became more and more convinced that his theory was correct, and he waited impatiently for the results of his analyses. However, when he went to check on their progress, he found that all three alchemists had mysteriously left the city on other business. </p><p></p><p>It was shortly after this discovery that Field Marshall Croft finally sent for the agents, requesting that they report to the Citadel as soon as possible. </p><p>“Thank you for coming,” she said. “I’m sorry that I haven’t been in contact sooner, but I haven’t been able to seem to find a free moment. Now, it seems, I have a new problem to add to the hundreds of others. This one, fortunately, you may be able to help me with. As you’re no doubt aware, the death toll from blood veil has been rising every day. We’ve enlisted carters to gather the dead and carry them to the Gray District. It seems that some of the lazier ones to the north aren’t making their deliveries. Instead, they’re dumping bodies in a secluded backstreet called Racker’s Alley. I’d like you to go and check out the situation for me.”</p><p>“And what should we do if we find the rumors are true?” Valeris asked.</p><p>“Report back to me, and keep it quiet,” Cressida said. “I’ll handle it from there.”</p><p>_______________________________________________________</p><p></p><p>The high walls of the surrounding buildings threw the awkwardly bent Racker’s alley into constant shadow. Although littered with garbage and filth, the refuse wasn’t the most stomach-turning trait of the rundown sideway. Heaped against a bent wooden wall, rose a pile of more than three-dozen plague victims, their faces blistered and flushed, eyes open and staring. The scent of death was overpowered by the reek of rot, suggesting that some of the corpses had lain there for days. Cautiously, the six companions proceeded down the shadowy passageway, Ratbone in the lead, his nose to the ground. He found several sets of booted tracks, as well as hoof prints and the wheel marks of carts. Oddly, however, he also found the prints of bare feet, but when he followed them, he found that they ended inexplicably at the walls of the alleyway.</p><p>“Look at this,” Herc called from where he crouched near the corpses. </p><p>Ratbone padded over and immediately saw what the big merc had noticed…twin puncture wounds on the necks and arms of several of the bodies. </p><p>“Vampires,” Michael said softly from behind the pair. “I’ve seen their work before. If they’ve been feeding here, then their lair cannot be far.”</p><p>Ratbone turned back to the pile of bodies and began nosing further in, pawing aside a few. When he reached the wall, he growled low in his throat, then backed away, revealing a small hole, just big enough to crawl through. </p><p></p><p>Ratbone was the first through, but the room in which he found himself was anything but what he had expected. Dozens of crooked glass eyes…hollow and crazed…glared from the heads of malformed and half-carved dolls lining skewed workroom shelves. Rat-gnawed stuffed aurochs, disembodied doll limbs, miniature rolling elephants, unseaworthy ships, and crooked blocks illustrated with deformed or poorly painted animals filled bins and racks about the room. A cracked wooden door lead to the north, while a rickety trap door broke the sawdust-covered floor to the east. In one corner lay the drying corpse of an old, bald man amid the wood chips, rusty tools, and oily rags of a scored workbench. Michael was next in and walked up behind the dog.</p><p>“I guess he was the first victim,” the priest said, nodding to the six pairs of puncture marks along the man’s arms. “It’s still daylight outside. With any luck, we’ll catch them sleeping. I doubt they’re resting in the storefront, so that looks like our only obvious choice.” He nodded to the trap door.</p><p></p><p>Herc heaved against the trapdoor, but it opened surprisingly easily, revealing a mere three-foot drop to a crawlspace below. Ratbone leaped down, followed closely by Valeris and Herc. Valeris held up his hand and spoke a word, bathing it in blue light. The area was of the same dimensions as the room above, the floor made of dirt. Amid numerous blocks of various types of mundane wood lay six simple wooden coffins. </p><p>“Wait!” Herc shouted to the others still above, but no sooner had the words left his mouth, than the lids of all six coffins burst open. The creatures that emerged resembled humans on only a basic level. Their hair was filthy and lank, their skin the pallor of the dead. Their eyes glowed red and feral, and when they opened their too-long jaws, fangs like needles were revealed. As they climbed free, Ratbone’s shape flickered momentarily and he resumed his natural form and spoke the words to a spell. When he once again took his canine shape, his teeth gleamed silver in the azure light. </p><p></p><p>In the workshop above, O’Reginald dropped to his belly and leaned down through the trap door. When he saw the vampires, his face paled, but he didn’t lose his nerve. Chanting his spell, he hurled a barrage of arcane missiles at the nearest of the undead. The creature recoiled, hissing in pain, but then its eyes locked with those of the mage. Instantly, O’Reginald felt his will and his thoughts subverted. An alien voice whispered in his mind, and to his horror, he found that he could not ignore it. </p><p></p><p>Valeris found himself hemmed in on all sides by bloodsuckers. Suddenly, he felt a stinging pain in his back as one of the creatures raked its claws across it. At the same time, he felt his blood run cold and his knees went weak.</p><p>“Help…me…,” he cried in a strangled voice.</p><p>Herc turned towards his friend, and took a step towards him, but as he did so, he too met the unholy gaze of one of the vampires. His will proved no stronger than O’Reginald’s, and when the sibilant hiss inside his head told him to kill Valeris, he raised his sword obediently. Instead of wielding it against his partner, however, he paused, his mind rebelling violently against the domination. Then, with a sensation like glass shattering, he felt the vampire’s hold break. Reaching into his belt pouch, he drew out a vial of silvery liquid, which he poured quickly across the blade of his sword.</p><p></p><p>Michael, still standing in the workshop, stepped to the opening in the floor, his holy symbol gripped tightly in his hand. His voice booming, he called upon Iomedae, and his fist flared with brilliant white fire. He hurled the energy into the crawlspace, simultaneously delivering healing power to his friends, and searing the flesh of the vampires with holy fire. Next to him, however, still laying on the floor, O’Reginald tensed as the voice in his head commanded him to flay the flesh from Ratbone, who was steadily advancing on the undead, his silver teeth bared. For an instant, the mage’s hand began to burn, but just as he prepared to loose it against his partner, his own will reasserted itself, and instead he threw the burst into the face of the vampire who’d seized him.</p><p></p><p>Back in the crawlspace, Ratbone attacked. He leaped full force upon one of the vampires, his flashing fangs tearing the throat from the creature. As he did so, the undead dissolved into a haze of mist, vanishing back into its coffin where it reformed as a hazy, insubstantial figment of its former self. It was at that point that the tide of the battle changed. Herc laid about him with his silvery sword, allowing Valeris time to recover his strength. The duskblade then channeled his magic into his own sword, transforming it into a truly formidable weapon against the vampires. Michael continued to bombard the undead with holy power, while O’Reginald conjured hails of stone from thin air. One-by-one the vampires fell, each returning to its nearby coffin, until finally all lay in torpor. </p><p>“Now!” Michael said, leaping down to join his comrades and quickly staving in one of the crates with his mace. He picked up a jagged piece of wood and drove it through the heart of the nearest vampire. The creature screamed in mortal agony as its body disintegrated. Herc and Valeris grabbed their own stakes and began following the priest’s lead, destroying each of the blood-sucking fiends in turn.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="JollyDoc, post: 4711877, member: 9546"] OUTBREAK Ishani was true to his word, and by the next morning, Brienna was cured, though still very weak. Nevertheless, she gave her saviors a tired smile, and Tayce cooked a wonderful meal for them. Ishani did not stay, however, saying that his duties required him back at the Grand Vault. By early afternoon, the members of the K.I.A. were making their way back to North Point, secure that a minor tragedy had been averted, and putting the matter behind them. When they reached the Three Rings Tavern, however, a new issue required their attention. The proprietor handed them a sealed envelope, saying that a messenger had delivered it earlier that morning. When Katarina opened it, she found a short, cryptic note inside from Vencarlo Orisini. It was a request for her and her friends to come by his academy in Old Korvosa that evening. Vencarlo’s school was located at 16 Hillcrest Street in Old Korvosa. When they arrived, a sign hanging from the front door declared that classes had been cancelled for the day. The door opened abruptly, revealing a serious-looking Vencarlo. He glanced both ways on the street, and then beckoned them inside. “Thank you for coming on such short notice,” he said, and then lead them down a hall and into a study, the windows of which were tightly shuttered and curtained. “I asked you here because I have a favor to request,” he said in hushed tones as he indicated that they should be seated. “You can come in now,” he called over his shoulder. A door opened behind him and a slight figure entered wearing simple travelling clothes and a wide-brimmed rider’s hat. Long red curls hid her face, but when she lifted her chin, it was obvious to all that it was Trinia Sabor who stood before them. She smiled weakly. “I’m sorry I about all the trouble I gave you in the Shingles a few weeks ago,” she said sheepishly. “You were all at the Queen’s debacle, so I don’t doubt you recognize this charming young woman,” Vencarlo interrupted before any questions could be asked. “I had only just reached my home the night of Her Majesty’s morbid gala when that rogue Blackjack and this startled woman arrived at my doorstep. The people’s hero and I have had some dealings in the past, but still, it’s been some years since I’ve seen the scoundrel. He was quick with his words, and soon swooped off, doubtlessly to right some other festering wrong, but not before entrusting Miss Sabor into my protection and care. Although I don’t know Blackjack’s motives or politics, I trust his judgment and have seen much right done by his blade. He says the girl is innocent of the crime she’s been accused of, and I’m more disposed to trust a hero of the city than the tantrums of some bloody-minded harlot playing at queen. The matter is simple: Korvosa is no longer safe for Miss Sabor. I’ve arranged for friends in Harse, a couple of well-respected ranchers, to take in our beautiful renegade until this whole ‘assassination’ foolishness blows over. It’s the first leg of the journey where we find our problem, though. Both the Korvosan Guard and the Sable Company have been searching for the young lady tirelessly…they’ve stopped by here three times so far, and each time I’ve only just barely been able to turn them away without inviting a search. My most reliable contacts have gone to ground in light of the recent uprisings, and Her Highness’s considerable bounty for Trinia’s capture makes the use of new agents inadvisable. Thus, after some time to let her trail cool, I turned to you resourceful lot. Care to escort a lady home?” Ratbone cleared his throat. “I must say I’m…relieved to see that you’re safe, Miss Sabor. I would be honored to see you to safety.” Valeris and O’Reginald both rolled their eyes. “That’s all well and good,” the duskblade said, “but I’m sure you’ve seen the posters around town. The reward for her is up to 5,000 gold! Everyone will be looking for her. How do you propose we just slip her past the City Guard?” “I would suggest a slow walk through the city,” Vencarlo shrugged. “Go down to High Bridge and then up to Dwarfwalk Road. Then you can just mingle with the afternoon’s merchants leaving the city.” “Excuse me, Trinia is it?” O’Reginald asked, turning towards the young girl. “I couldn’t help but notice during our pursuit of you, that you were attempting spell-casting. Are you a mage?” “Not at all,” Trinia said, shaking her head. “I’ve had some bardic training, and I know a few minor cantrips.” “Ah,” the wizard said, “then you should be adept at altering your appearance, yes?” Trinia thought for a moment, and then her eyes widened in understanding. “Yes, yes! I know of such a spell!” “Not to belittle your ‘disguise’ skill, Master Orisini,” O’Reginald said, turning back to Vencarlo,” but if we are actually going to try this ridiculous trick, then we need to make very sure that nobody will recognize her.” _____________________________________________________ A short time later saw the six companions, Ratbone, as usual, in his canine form, making their way up the Dwarfwalk in the company of a gruff-looking dwarven merchant. Vencarlo had approved of their ingenuity and thanked them again for volunteering to assist Trinia. He refused to accompany them, however, explaining that he was too well known about town, and that his history with the monarch might have drawn unwanted suspicion. As such, he planned to attend to some private business and disappear into the anonymity of Old Korvosa for a time. He asked that they not try to find him. He’d call upon them when the time was right. As they mingled with the rest of the foot-traffic, Trinia tried to make small talk, but Michael, to the surprise of his companions, cut her short. “Forgive me,” the priest said, not unkindly, “but perhaps the less we know about each other, the better. If, by some misfortune, you should be recaptured, or we should be implicated in your escape, then under magical duress, none of us shall be able to incriminate the others. Wouldn’t you agree?” Trinia averted her eyes and nodded solemnly. The group walked on in silence. As they moved through Old Korvosa, however, an overly aggressive beggar stumbled up to them, hacking and wheezing, a splotchy red rash and blisters the size of ripe grapes covering his face and arms. “Please, kind masters,” he pleaded, “could you spare a few coins so that I might have some food and medicine for my ailments?” O’Reginald recoiled, and Valeris dropped his hand to his blade, but Michael stepped between them and the old man. “Take this,” he said, pressing a small bag of coins into the man’s hand. “Go to the Grand Vault and ask for Vaultkeeper Dhatri. Tell him the K.I.A. sent you.” “Bless you, sir! Bless you!” the beggar said as he stumbled away into the crowd. “It wasn’t an isolated case,” Michael said after the man had disappeared. Abruptly, Ratbone whined at his feet. When the priest looked down, the dog nudged him, and then took a few steps into the crowd. It was then that Michael saw them…at least five other individuals…beggars, common folk, and even a merchant…all displaying the same, familiar, fiery rashes. “What’s wrong with them?” Trinia asked, concern in her voice. “Just be glad you’re leaving,” Valeris growled. The company passed through the gates without so much as a glance from the guards, much to their surprise and relief. Once they were a safe distance beyond the walls and across the bridge, Trinia mounted the horse Vencarlo had provided for her. “Thank you all for your help,” she said, turning back to her escorts. “I’m so sorry for any trouble I’ve caused you, but I promise, I will repay you someday.” She then reined her mount around and galloped off into the sunset. Ratbone lifted his muzzle and howled after her in farewell. _______________________________________________________ The following morning, the innkeeper informed Katarina that another message awaited her and her companions. Curious, she followed him downstairs and found a young boy dressed in the robes of an acolyte of the Church of Abadar standing nervously in the common room. “Begging your pardon, ma’am,” he stammered, “but I’ve been sent by Vaultkeeper Dhatri. He seeks a meeting with you at the Grand Vault at your earliest pleasure.” Kat nodded, and tipped the boy a gold coin. “Tell your master that we shall be along shortly,” she replied. The others weren’t surprised at the request though, as usual, Valeris grumbled. The walk to the Grand Vault was long, but the streets seemed strangely subdued, with much less traffic than they were accustomed to seeing. When they finally reached the temple, however, things were not at all as they expected. Towering over the surrounding buildings, the Grand Vault of Abadar offered a vision of divine luxuriance amid a sea of mortal troubles. Radiant, as its grey-veined white marble reflected the midday sun, there was little question that the place was a house of a god. Yet, for a deity of law, the steep stairs and ramps leading up to the temple’s great bronze doors offered a strangely discordant scene. Dozens of citizens, mostly of the working class, although the silks of a few merchants showed through the crowed, thronged the entry, scarcely held back by a group of gold-armored Abadarian clerics. All seemed intent on gaining entry to the temple, but the clerics turned away nearly all comers. The clerics’ reasoning became clear as one desperate believer was turned away, his pitiful countenance mottled with violent red sores. The six companions looked at each with shocked expressions. There appeared to be no way to get to the doors without going through the crowd. Herc took the lead, and began shouldering his way through. Single-file, the others began following. They were no more than halfway through, however, when Michael was suddenly seized by his tunic. “Look!” shouted one of the mob, pointing at Michael’s holy symbol. “He’s a priest!” “Father, help us!” they began shouting. “Heal us! Save us!” Before Michael knew what was happening, dozens of hands clutched at him, pulling him this way and that. “Please!” Michael shouted placatingly. “I am no healer! I am a petitioner, just like yourselves!” The mob showed no sign that they had heard. Instead they pushed and pulled even more aggressively, until Michael felt himself going down. Suddenly, a strong hand seized him by the arm and hauled him forward. He turned to look at his rescuer and saw Herc surging forward, shield held before him. Within a matter of moments, they had reached the doors. “Halt!” one of the guards said, stepping forward. “State your business!” “Mandrake?” Kat asked. “Is that you?” The Abadarian blinked, recognition dawning on him. “Katarina? What are all of you doing here?” “We’re here to see Vaultkeeper Dhatri,” Kat explained. “He asked us to come.” “Of course!” the paladin nodded. “Follow me!” Mandrake led them inside. Within the airy halls, priests and patrons eyed each other and every newcomer with suspicion, and every footfall upon the marble floor echoed through a frightened silence. Ishani Dhatri waited for them inside one of the western meeting rooms. “Thank you for coming,” he said. “I assume you already suspect my reasons for calling, having seen the crowd outside, poor lot. You recognize the symptoms, I’m sure. I had hoped that the Soldado case was isolated, but apparently we have a bigger problem on our hands than I’d feared. I’m concerned for the city, but also for my brethren here. The morning after my visit to the Soldado home I came to the temple to hear that three of my brothers awoke with similar symptoms, although they had already been healed. I spoke to each, and aside from their usual duties in the temple, none have had any dealings with the sick. Later in the day, more of my brothers…vaultkeepers, guards, and acolytes…developed symptoms, and folk from throughout the city began arriving in search of healing. It’s been more than a little bit frightening. They’re calling the sickness ‘blood veil.’ An apt enough name, I suppose. This affliction has spread fast, yet I’m not yet sure how. Most of the patients we’re treating have come from North Point and Old Korvosa. The disease seems to spread fastest through the lower classes. Although we here at the temple can heal some of the ill, I fear that the spread of the disease will soon outpace our resources. The only way to stem the growing infection is to involve all the city’s resources. We need to organize. We need to call upon the faiths of Sarenrae, Pharasma, and even Asmodeus to face this attack. Archbanker Tuttle and several of his assistants are out pursuing alliances with these other faiths, but even that won’t be enough. We need to involve the Korvosan Guard, at the very least. And that’s where you come in…with the number of desperate souls growing, it’s not particularly safe for a priest to walk the streets of Korvosa. I hear that you have a good relationship with Field Marshal Cressida Kroft…perhaps you would be willing to escort me to Citadel Volshyenek to introduce me to her?” “This is troubling indeed,” Michael said pensively. “Do you have any theories on the origin of the outbreak?” “Not yet,” Ishani said, shaking his head. “I hope the Archbanker and the other church leaders will be able to deduce it.” “Yeah, well, I think I’m already on to it,” O’Reginald said absently. “Truly?” Ishani asked, raising one eyebrow. “Not this again!” Valeris rolled his eyes. “If you have a better idea, let’s hear it!” the mage snapped. He then turned calmly back to Ishani. “The Soldado’s home is near the river. Tayce said the little girl played near the water every day. The quarantined ship that was sunk…,” “ ‘Alleged’ quarantined ship,” Valeris interrupted. “…went down in the river near Trail’s End,” O’Reginald continued, ignoring the duskblade. “Therefore, I think the river water is the source of the infection. I took several samples of it when we were there. I’ve already given one of the samples to an alchemist at the Acadamae, and another to an old friend I know who has some expertise in chemistry.” “I’m sure he does,” Valeris snorted. “Do you have any more of the water?” Ishani asked, a hint of excitement in his voice. “I have one more vial,” O’Reginald replied. “Why?” “We have alchemists here in the temple,” the priest said. “I can have them do an analysis for you as well. That way you’ll have three independent reports, and no one can gainsay your results.” O’Reginald nodded. “Good idea.” He passed over his last vial. Ishani took it and said he would meet them at the front doors once he’d delivered the sample and gathered his belongings. ____________________________________________________ The trek back to Citadel Volshyenek posed little problem, despite Ishani’s fear to the contrary. When they arrived at the gates, the guards greeted them warmly. “If you’re here to meet the Queen’s Physicians,” the sergeant said, “you’ll need to hurry. They’ve already gone ahead to the courtyard.” The companions exchanged suspicious glances, but only thanked the guardsman and headed inside the citadel to the courtyard. As they approached, the echoes of forcefully spoken but still just-missed words resounded off the imposing granite and iron walls of the outer curtain. Dozens of red-and-silver-armored guards stood in assembly upon the pitted stone mustering ground, mumbling in hushed, somber tones. Before them, atop a weathered wooden platform, paced Field Marshal Kroft, her eyebrows arched sternly as she momentarily tolerated the crowd’s murmurs. Behind her upon the scaffold stood three grizzled veteran guardsmen at attention, as well as an ominous-looking group. Those men wore cowled robes of oily-looking leather, supple gloves, and wide black hats. Some gripped heavy canes, others dark satchels. Each of them, though, wore a dark-goggled mask that tapered to a pointed beak. Among them stood two others. The first was a middle-aged gentleman in a simple black overcoat with streaks of white gracing the sides of his short dark hair. He watched the gathered guards with a soft, concerned expression, his hands tightly clasped around a heavy-looking doctor’s case. The second figure was an imposing one indeed…a woman dressed in full-plate armor, a longsword and shield at her side, and her blank-faced full helm sporting a bright red plume. The Field Marshal’s fierce tone cut through the rumble of whispers. “You will escort Doctor Davaulus and his men in their royal duties wherever those might take them. Furthermore, you are to consider orders from any of the queen’s new order of Gray Maidens to be as binding as any superior officer in the Korvosan Guard or Sable Company. You are guardsman of Korvosa. You will not balk. These are dire times and your city needs these healers. Your city needs you. Your patrol leaders have your assignments. Dismissed!” As the assembly ended, the guardsmen gathered in the courtyard broke up into groups, many reporting for various duties while others loitered for a few moments to quietly gripe about their new orders. The armored woman quickly organized the guards, silencing bickering words with harsh commands and assigning orders for the day. Kroft and her veteran attendants began to head into the citadel with Dr. Davaulus and his Queen’s Physicians. As she reached the door, however, she caught sight of the K.I.A. members out of the corner of her eye. She turned and whispered to one of her guardsmen, who then hurried over to them. “The Field Marshal requests that you accompany her and her guests,” the man growled, then turned back, assuming they would follow, which of course, they did. Once inside, Cressida turned to the companions, who were being carefully scrutinized by the good doctor. “Doctor Davaulus,” she began, “allow me to introduce a group of operatives that I have enlisted for...special…assignments.” “A pleasure,” the doctor replied, though he did not extend his hand in greeting. “I’m afraid, though, I haven’t had the honor…,” Cressida said, turning to Ishani. “This is Vaultkeeper Ishani Dhatri,” Michael said in way of introduction. “He assisted us in what we believe was the first case of this so-called blood veil.” “Really?” Dr. Davaulus asked, interest in his eyes. “Do tell.” Ishani proceeded to relate Brienna’s story, concluding with the recent events at the Grand Vault. “I am here to inquire if I might be of service in coordinating the efforts of the Grand Vault of Abadar with those of the city,” he concluded. “Of course,” Davaulus nodded. “We welcome any assistance, especially that of the churches.” “Might I ask, Doctor,” Michael interjected, “what are your plans to address this crisis?” “Well,” the doctor shrugged, “I must still confer with the Field Marshall to form a sensible plan, but allow me to share with you an official proclamation being distributed by the Crimson Throne.” He opened his bag and pulled out a roll of parchment. Michael took it, unfurled it and read aloud, “ ‘By Decree of Her Royal Majesty, the Radiant Queen Ileosa I, all citizens and members of the Korvosan Guard are to aid and admit the newly established Queen’s Physicians in this time of urgency. These royal agents will extend healing to the sick and organize defense against the spreading affliction known as ‘blood veil.’ They are to be allowed access to any home or building they deem necessary in the course of their duties. All those suffering from disease or disorder are to submit themselves to the Physicians for treatment. To aid in the duties of the Queen’s Physicians, know that the order of the Gray Maidens has been established to provide military support as needed. The Maidens answer directly to the Crimson Throne, and will be called upon as necessary to augment and strengthen the peace where simple city guards will not suffice. Impeding or distracting the duties of the Queen’s Physicians or the Gray Maidens is punishable by imprisonment. Impersonating one of the Queen’s Physicians is punishable by death. Knowingly harboring or hiding the infected is punishable by death. Purposefully spreading blood veil is punishable by torture, then death. The Queen’s Physicians will be making rounds of every city district henceforth until Her Majesty deems this misfortune abated.’” “Wow,” Valeris said, pursing his lips. “That’s a whole lot of imprisoning, torturing and killing there. I’m impressed!” “I believe you miss the point,” Dr. Davaulus said patiently. “This is a desperate situation, and calls for dramatic measures. Not everyone may be receptive to our methods, but if we are to insure maximum survivability, then certain sacrifices may have to be made.” “I have a theory, if anyone’s interested,” O’Reginald interrupted. “Oh, for the love of the gods!” Valeris shouted, throwing up his hands. “No, no,” Ishani chimed in, “I think this is valid. You should hear this.” “Thank you,” O’Reginald said, and then proceeded to explain his river water theory again. When he was finished, the doctor nodded approvingly. “That is indeed a very interesting theory,” he said. “In fact, I’d like you to give me the names and addresses of these alchemists so that my physicians can contact them, and perhaps help to expedite their progress.” “Umm…ok…,” O’Reginald said carefully. “Excellent,” Davaulus said. “Now, we should get down to our planning. Vaultkeeper, would you join us?” “Certainly,” Ishani said. Davaulus then entered a conference room, followed by his attendants and Ishani. Cressida was the last to go, but before she went in, she turned back to her agents. “Make yourselves available,” she said, and then followed her guests. ____________________________________________________ In the days that followed, word of blood veil’s rapid spread was on the lips of every citizen of Korvosa, as was the news of the Crimson’s Throne’s new decrees. As for the K.I.A., there was not much that they could do. Although Michael and Ratbone spent their days in Old Korvosa, lending aid where possible, it became increasingly obvious that their efforts were but a drop in the bucket. During this period, O’Reginald became more and more convinced that his theory was correct, and he waited impatiently for the results of his analyses. However, when he went to check on their progress, he found that all three alchemists had mysteriously left the city on other business. It was shortly after this discovery that Field Marshall Croft finally sent for the agents, requesting that they report to the Citadel as soon as possible. “Thank you for coming,” she said. “I’m sorry that I haven’t been in contact sooner, but I haven’t been able to seem to find a free moment. Now, it seems, I have a new problem to add to the hundreds of others. This one, fortunately, you may be able to help me with. As you’re no doubt aware, the death toll from blood veil has been rising every day. We’ve enlisted carters to gather the dead and carry them to the Gray District. It seems that some of the lazier ones to the north aren’t making their deliveries. Instead, they’re dumping bodies in a secluded backstreet called Racker’s Alley. I’d like you to go and check out the situation for me.” “And what should we do if we find the rumors are true?” Valeris asked. “Report back to me, and keep it quiet,” Cressida said. “I’ll handle it from there.” _______________________________________________________ The high walls of the surrounding buildings threw the awkwardly bent Racker’s alley into constant shadow. Although littered with garbage and filth, the refuse wasn’t the most stomach-turning trait of the rundown sideway. Heaped against a bent wooden wall, rose a pile of more than three-dozen plague victims, their faces blistered and flushed, eyes open and staring. The scent of death was overpowered by the reek of rot, suggesting that some of the corpses had lain there for days. Cautiously, the six companions proceeded down the shadowy passageway, Ratbone in the lead, his nose to the ground. He found several sets of booted tracks, as well as hoof prints and the wheel marks of carts. Oddly, however, he also found the prints of bare feet, but when he followed them, he found that they ended inexplicably at the walls of the alleyway. “Look at this,” Herc called from where he crouched near the corpses. Ratbone padded over and immediately saw what the big merc had noticed…twin puncture wounds on the necks and arms of several of the bodies. “Vampires,” Michael said softly from behind the pair. “I’ve seen their work before. If they’ve been feeding here, then their lair cannot be far.” Ratbone turned back to the pile of bodies and began nosing further in, pawing aside a few. When he reached the wall, he growled low in his throat, then backed away, revealing a small hole, just big enough to crawl through. Ratbone was the first through, but the room in which he found himself was anything but what he had expected. Dozens of crooked glass eyes…hollow and crazed…glared from the heads of malformed and half-carved dolls lining skewed workroom shelves. Rat-gnawed stuffed aurochs, disembodied doll limbs, miniature rolling elephants, unseaworthy ships, and crooked blocks illustrated with deformed or poorly painted animals filled bins and racks about the room. A cracked wooden door lead to the north, while a rickety trap door broke the sawdust-covered floor to the east. In one corner lay the drying corpse of an old, bald man amid the wood chips, rusty tools, and oily rags of a scored workbench. Michael was next in and walked up behind the dog. “I guess he was the first victim,” the priest said, nodding to the six pairs of puncture marks along the man’s arms. “It’s still daylight outside. With any luck, we’ll catch them sleeping. I doubt they’re resting in the storefront, so that looks like our only obvious choice.” He nodded to the trap door. Herc heaved against the trapdoor, but it opened surprisingly easily, revealing a mere three-foot drop to a crawlspace below. Ratbone leaped down, followed closely by Valeris and Herc. Valeris held up his hand and spoke a word, bathing it in blue light. The area was of the same dimensions as the room above, the floor made of dirt. Amid numerous blocks of various types of mundane wood lay six simple wooden coffins. “Wait!” Herc shouted to the others still above, but no sooner had the words left his mouth, than the lids of all six coffins burst open. The creatures that emerged resembled humans on only a basic level. Their hair was filthy and lank, their skin the pallor of the dead. Their eyes glowed red and feral, and when they opened their too-long jaws, fangs like needles were revealed. As they climbed free, Ratbone’s shape flickered momentarily and he resumed his natural form and spoke the words to a spell. When he once again took his canine shape, his teeth gleamed silver in the azure light. In the workshop above, O’Reginald dropped to his belly and leaned down through the trap door. When he saw the vampires, his face paled, but he didn’t lose his nerve. Chanting his spell, he hurled a barrage of arcane missiles at the nearest of the undead. The creature recoiled, hissing in pain, but then its eyes locked with those of the mage. Instantly, O’Reginald felt his will and his thoughts subverted. An alien voice whispered in his mind, and to his horror, he found that he could not ignore it. Valeris found himself hemmed in on all sides by bloodsuckers. Suddenly, he felt a stinging pain in his back as one of the creatures raked its claws across it. At the same time, he felt his blood run cold and his knees went weak. “Help…me…,” he cried in a strangled voice. Herc turned towards his friend, and took a step towards him, but as he did so, he too met the unholy gaze of one of the vampires. His will proved no stronger than O’Reginald’s, and when the sibilant hiss inside his head told him to kill Valeris, he raised his sword obediently. Instead of wielding it against his partner, however, he paused, his mind rebelling violently against the domination. Then, with a sensation like glass shattering, he felt the vampire’s hold break. Reaching into his belt pouch, he drew out a vial of silvery liquid, which he poured quickly across the blade of his sword. Michael, still standing in the workshop, stepped to the opening in the floor, his holy symbol gripped tightly in his hand. His voice booming, he called upon Iomedae, and his fist flared with brilliant white fire. He hurled the energy into the crawlspace, simultaneously delivering healing power to his friends, and searing the flesh of the vampires with holy fire. Next to him, however, still laying on the floor, O’Reginald tensed as the voice in his head commanded him to flay the flesh from Ratbone, who was steadily advancing on the undead, his silver teeth bared. For an instant, the mage’s hand began to burn, but just as he prepared to loose it against his partner, his own will reasserted itself, and instead he threw the burst into the face of the vampire who’d seized him. Back in the crawlspace, Ratbone attacked. He leaped full force upon one of the vampires, his flashing fangs tearing the throat from the creature. As he did so, the undead dissolved into a haze of mist, vanishing back into its coffin where it reformed as a hazy, insubstantial figment of its former self. It was at that point that the tide of the battle changed. Herc laid about him with his silvery sword, allowing Valeris time to recover his strength. The duskblade then channeled his magic into his own sword, transforming it into a truly formidable weapon against the vampires. Michael continued to bombard the undead with holy power, while O’Reginald conjured hails of stone from thin air. One-by-one the vampires fell, each returning to its nearby coffin, until finally all lay in torpor. “Now!” Michael said, leaping down to join his comrades and quickly staving in one of the crates with his mace. He picked up a jagged piece of wood and drove it through the heart of the nearest vampire. The creature screamed in mortal agony as its body disintegrated. Herc and Valeris grabbed their own stakes and began following the priest’s lead, destroying each of the blood-sucking fiends in turn. [/QUOTE]
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JollyDoc's Curse of the Crimson Throne: Updated 1/29/10
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