Lizard at Arms, And More- "Peace Treaty"

Richard Tiverski sauntered out into the side yard of his woodland cottage, a steel bucket in his right hand, a long knife in his left hand. Elegantly garbed in black cotton gentleman’s vestments, with a high collared white blouse, ruffled at both collar and sleeve cuffs, he appeared the perfect vision of a visiting statesman or ambassador. The pale skin, slicked back hair tied in a ponytail, and gorgeous, expensive rings on his fingers helped add to the overall image of the eldest of the Tiverski brothers.

Appearing to be a cultured man, however, was not all that went into Richard Tiverski’s overall aura. He was well-spoken, thoughtful, and highly educated. Of course, he’d had years and years to acquire his wealth of knowledge and speechcraft. He was, after all, a Vampire.

Richard stood at the gate leading into the pen where he and his brothers, Trent and Simon, kept and raised pigs, chickens and every now and then, cattle. The animal blood was not as delicious or nutritionally bolstering for them as the blood of sentient mortals, but they had, all three, taken a vow to never again attack such people to sustain themselves. They were not related by any means, but they all took the name Tiverski to show their bond as a trio, and their commitment to the cause of not shedding innocent blood.

Portenda the Quiet, one of their once-in-a-while contacts, had been by only a few months ago, and had offered them a rather large donation of his own blood, bled out from a wound he’d made in his own wrist. The blood had been absolutely delicious, invigorating, and more importantly, powerful. The three Vampires had managed to sustain themselves for an entire week and a half just on what he’d given them, so potent was the man’s essence.

“A pity he does not come to us more often,” Richard mused aloud, selecting a nice sow for the bucket he had with him.

Richard opened the gate, walked into the pen, and marveled at the effectiveness of the spells that his brother Simon, the smallest and frailest of the three Tiverski brothers, had on the animals. They did not panic at the sight or presence of any of the three brothers, and would act exactly as the brothers wished. They didn’t even panic when being bled, which was a ritual performed every couple of days to provide the Tiverski brothers with their necessary nourishment.

Richard crouched down next to his selected pig, cut a small gash along its side, and held the bucket under the flow of blood. He would only fill the one bucket tonight, in the hopes of using a spell from his own small arsenal to keep the swine alive after he’d collected their fill for the next couple of days. Whenever possible, they preserved the animal they fed from, so that they could sustain it and use it again. No sense in killing off your food supply, after all.

With the bucket only three-quarters full, Richard cast the sealing spell on the sow, and was pleased to see that it was very tired, but nothing more. It would sleep especially long tonight, but in a few days’ time, it would perfectly healthy again.

“Thank you for your sacrifice.” Richard patted the pig on the head before standing up and carrying the bucket back into the cottage proper, leaving the darkened forest behind him, on the other side of the door.

Upon entering the main den, Richard found his brothers engaged in their usual before mealtime activity. Simon, a short, gaunt figure, who wore a forest green robe with blue runes stitched into the fabric, was engaged in his newest novel. His head was completely bald, and his eyes were set deep in his face, the red irises barely visible amid the darkness of his hood. He sat on one of the two couches in the living room, completely absorbed in his story.

Trent, always a rather morbid-looking fellow in his black leather armor and cloak, stood in the open kitchen area, practicing unarmed self-defense techniques, his pointed, once Elven ears pricking up at the sound of the eldest Tiverski brother clearing his throat. Pale and tallow-skinned, like his brothers, Trent defied the stereotype of both Elves and Vampires with his physical presence and prowess. He was lean and muscular, well-toned for a man of his respective Race, and carried nearly as many weapons on him at one time as Portenda the Quiet. A combative and argumentative man in the best of circumstances, he was, nonetheless, as committed to the Tiverski cause as either Richard or Simon.

His eyes shifted down Richard’s side to the mostly full bucket, and they then gleamed with a hungry darkness as he resumed a neutral stance.

“I belief it ist time for us to dine, ja?” Richard asked with a smug grin of satisfaction. “I efen managed to keep der sow alife dis time. Unlike your efforts, brother,” he said to Trent, who merely grunted and took the necessary wineglasses out of one of the overhead cupboards over the sink.

Richard poured up an even amount into each glass, and took the bucket over to the Gnome-engineered icebox, setting the bucket inside to keep for another day’s use. He turned around, and saw Trent carry Simon his glass, which the mage Vampire took without looking away from his book.

“Richard.” Trent moved into the kitchen to join his elder brother, his thick leather boots creaking noisily as he moved to a drawer and withdrew a sealed envelope. “This was delivered to us today, about an hour after sunset, brother. It is addressed to you,” Trent handed over the sealed envelope.

“Who brought it?” Richard turned the envelope over in his hands, trying to feel for latent traces of magic that might have been sealed on the envelope. He passed it to Simon, who closed his book for a moment, concentrated, and handed it back over his shoulder, not moving from his seat even a little.

“Allanso Itrivic,” Trent spat.

Richard’s guts squirmed at the sound of that name, knowing full well what this business would be about.

The Itrivic Clan, a long standing Vampire family, had its seat of power in the foothills north and east of these woods where the Tiverski brothers resided. They had harassed and harangued the brothers whenever they had the chance. However, with Trent as their bruiser, Simon as their magic user, and Richard as the diplomat and a nice average of his brothers’ abilities, the Tiverski brothers had made their stand against the raiding parties routinely sent against them.

They also defended the nearby city of Desanadron from infiltration and attack by the Itrivic Clan, denying them access to the city’s residents by warning the constables via anonymous letter whenever they learned that an attack was in the works. They had an informant in the Clan, but they hadn’t heard from her in some time. Had she been found out, Richard wondered? Was that what this official business was about?

He walked into his bedroom, off of the kitchen, and went to his small writing desk, taking up a letter opener. He slit the wax seal on the envelope, and opened the flap, pulling out the folded letter therein.

The letter, which Richard Tiverski perused while sitting on the edge of his bed, read as follows:

Dear Richard Tiverski,

We of the Clan Itrivic understand your personal choice to ignore your noble heritage, and your superiority to the other mortals who inhabit this world. We acknowledge your free will to choose the sort of life you lead. We cannot understand, however, your repeated attempts to thwart our efforts to feed on the residents of the city of Desanadron. However, recent developments make Desanadron a secondary feeding ground for us.

We would like to extend an invitation to you to enjoy a hospitable evening at our primary stronghold, that we may discuss a peace accord between our Clan and your trio. We promise to visit no harm upon you at this meeting, as it shall establish peace between our two peoples. Also, at this meeting, we shall explain why we no longer view Desanadron as a primary target for our feedings, as long as you agree to the peace treaty. Thank you for your time and consideration. Upon your reply to this letter, for which we expect you shall use your messenger bird, we shall arrange and set a date for this meeting.

Signed,

Lord Vladimir Itrivic, Head of Clan Itrivic

“Damnation,” Richard whispered to himself. They had his interest, something they seldom managed without also infuriating him. If Desanadron was no longer their primary target for feedings, then what was? Had the vampires discovered some other village closer to them and more vulnerable? And could he really expect them to visit no harm upon he and his brothers?

No, of course not, but if he wanted any kind of peace, the brothers would have to attend the meeting. It would be only three of them, the Tiverski brothers, surrounded by an entire family clan that numbered around thirty strong. They needed outside help if they were going to go, and Richard knew that Portenda’s attendance was out of the question for the time being. He had other business matters to attend to.

Richard stood from his bed and entered the kitchen again, where Trent had resumed his unarmed exercises. “Trent, do ve have any friends in Desanadron?”

“Not many, Richard. Why?”

Richard explained the contents of the letter to Trent and Simon, and both of them mulled over Richard’s suggestion that they bring some outside help. After a few minutes’ thought, Trent snapped his fingers. “I think I may know someone who can help us. I’ll send him a letter with Dirge.” Trent referred to his own personal messenger bird, a raven he kept in his room.

“Vat sort of payment vill your friend expect from us,” Richard asked as Trent stalked to his own room to form a letter for delivery.

“A few gold pieces, little more. The potential for violence will attract him more than anything, Richard.” Trent bent over his writing desk and starting his letter.

“You’re not thinking of Portenda, are you?”

“No, I believe he’s off in Ja-Wen or something,” Trent replied rather testily. “No, the fellow I have in mind is rather, unique. Like us.” Trent waved his elder brother off.

Richard returned to his room, where he would read until almost dawn. At that time he would bring down the steel shutter over his window and sleep in total darkness.

A few minutes later, he heard Dirge’s wings flapping away from the cottage, and he let himself relax. They would have a reply soon enough, he thought. I wonder, however, who this man is that Trent trusts so much.

* * * *

When the bird tapped on his window, the man Trent sent the letter to was frankly surprised. He had only seen this particular messenger bird once, and thus far, he had not informed his Headmaster that he’d taken work once from the client who owned the raven.

Clad in white Ninja’s garments, the contact stood up from his kneeling position and headed to the window, opening it to allow Dirge into his room.

Akimaru pulled the envelope out of the bird’s mouth, and checked the timepiece hanging on the wall across from the window. Four-thirty in the morning.

Akimaru seldom slept more than a couple of hours at any given time, but if this was important, he might not sleep at all until the request was either accepted or declined. If he accepted, he would inform Thaddeus Fly that he was going out on a scouting mission or something, for the Midnight Suns presumably. Depending on the severity of the situation, he might wind up taking Rage with him.

Ah, Rage-san, Akimaru thought. After the hunt for the Glove of Shadows, the lumbering Orc Berserker had been left blind in one eye, but with a strange new capacity for learning. He had become partially civilized, as intelligent as any Orc bruiser could be expected to be. Accepting the risks involved with entering a Vampire enclave, Akimaru formed a well thought-out response, and tied it to the raven’s leg, sending it back to Trent Tiverski.

The white clad Ninja waited for two more hours, and then headed downstairs, to the weight room in the basement, where Rage had already begun his training regimen for the day. The broad-chested Orc presently worked on his bench presses, and had already accumulated a heavy layer of sweat on his gray sweatshirt. His left eye was sewn shut, and his right eye gleamed to match his smile as he looked up at Akimaru’s masked face, upside down in his perspective. “Hey, Aki! Wanna’ spot me?”

“Sure thing,” the Ninja replied, spotting Rage until he finished his set. They set the bar with its attached weights onto the bracket, and Rage sat up, toweling off his forehead.

“Rage-san, I would like you to accompany me on a requested mission to the northeast. There may be much fighting, and your presence would be most useful.”

“Oh, okay Aki,” Rage said, getting up and heading over to the leg press machine. He settled himself in and started pushing the weights up and down. One thousand pounds, Akimaru observed. Goodness, that’s an awful lot of weight.

“When we goin’ then?”

“Today, Rage,” Akimaru said. “Not until late this afternoon, so do not rush yourself with your program. I would not want you to hurt yourself, my friend.”

“Hey, t’anks,” Rage said, looking up between his bare feet as he pressed on the weights again and again, counting down from fifty. Akimaru left the Orc to his business, and prepared to make his request to Headmaster Fly.

* * * *

When the knock came at their cottage door, Richard looked up from the letter in his hands, informing him that the meeting would be tonight, at midnight. That meant that they would have to leave as soon as the guide showed up to take them to the enclave. Could this be the guide now, he wondered?

Trent came out of his room and stalked heavily to the door, one hand on the hilt of his long sword, as he grasped the doorknob. He pulled the door open, and there stood not a Vampire, but a slender man dressed in a white Ninja suit, and a lumbering Orc who easily matched Portenda the Quiet in terms of physical dimensions.

“Ah, Akimaru.” Trent smiled, sheathing his sword and extending his hand to the white clad Ninja, who accepted it and shook.

Trent turned his fanged smile back to his elder brother. “This is the man who I contacted.”

“Clearly.” Richard stood and approached the Ninja with the graceful walk of a highly ranked diplomat. He gave Akimaru a half bow, and looked up at Rage, who flashed him a big, dumb smile. “Who then is this?”

“This is Rage-san,” Akimaru said. “He is an associate of mine, and well suited for physical altercation. When are we needed?”

“Right now, Mr. Akimaru,” Richard said. “Ve are expecting a guide from ze Clan Itrivic to escort us to zeir enclave in ze foothills northeast of zese voods. Please, vould you like to come in?”

“No,” Akimaru said quickly. “We shall await the arrival of the guide, so that there are no surprises. Rage-san, sweep the area.”

The Orc nodded and moved off heavily, surveying the surrounding woods. Every step the heavyset Orc took through the soft soil left enormous footprints, but Akimaru didn’t figure that would make much difference. Anyone approaching, in fact, might be a tad more wary with such large feet tromping through the woodland, marking the passage of an engine of pure violence.

Akimaru decided, however, that he wanted to know something more about the Itrivic people. He would wait until Rage-san returned from his brief scan of the area, and would then ask Trent or Richard, since the latter seemed to be the leader of the Vampire trio, for the letter they had received in the first place. By holding the parchment, he might be able to ascertain something about the author of the letter’s background or mindset.

Rage, meanwhile, was enjoying the deep, loamy scent of the woodland. Since the mission to obtain the Glove of Shadows, he had found the odors predominant in a large city like Desanadron (the largest in the world) to be overpowering and putrid. What was once the comforting smell of many people pressed into a tightly packed marketplace now assaulted him like a foreign chemical invasion of his nostrils’ privacy. Out here, in the wilderness, he could smell the fresh pine scent of evergreens, the faint odor of a stream or creek that ran past just north of the Tiverski brothers’ property, and the soil itself.

Additionally, his sense of hearing had been adjusted to the hustle and bustle of both the interior of the Guild hall, and the exterior, meaning the streets of Desanadron themselves. Out here, having developed a sort of fine tuning in the city, so he could pick out one particular strand of conversation, he could make out the passage of animals and other creatures that resided in these woods. His hearing wasn’t on par with some individuals, but for the most part, Rage now operated with a heightened awareness outside of the sprawling metropolitan environment.

Rage made a full circuit around the Tiverski property, and returned to Akimaru’s side. “Nadda,” he rumbled.

“Very good, Rage-san. Now, Richard, was it?” Akimaru stood straight with one hand slightly extended out, and removed the white cloth glove with his other hand, revealing an extremely pale hand that seemed to plume with mist.

Richard cocked his head to one side, curious at this visual phenomenon.

“You have the letter that these Itrivic people sent you?” the Ninja asked.

“Ah, ja, ve haf it. One moment, friend.” Richard gave a fanged smile before heading back toward his room. As he passed, he shot his little brother Simon a curious glance, indicating Akimaru with a flicker of his eyes.

As Richard headed toward his writing desk, Simon stood from the couch and positively dragged himself out into the walkway that went straight between the living room and kitchen, and all the way back to Trent’s room at the end, with Simon’s room off to the left side midway down.

Standing in his robes, with his hood up to cover his bald pate, Simon cycled through his encyclopedic knowledge of all things magical. However, upon seeing Akimaru’s hand, he knew instantly what the white clad Ninja was, at least partially. For him, it was a no brainer, though he fully understood how his brothers might be confused.

“You’re part elemental,” Simon said very softly, his voice little louder than the wind that gently brushed past Akimaru and Rage.

“Hoi,” Akimaru said, acknowledging Simon Tiverski’s observation. “I am surprised by your statement, however. How did you know?”

Simon Tiverski’s face took on no emotional reaction, but he did give a little half-hearted chuckle.

“The steam off of the hand, the sudden drop in air temperature, and a constantly running Inner Sight spell.” Simon shrugged his shoulders before returning to the couch and picking up his novel.

Akimaru took an instant liking to Simon Tiverski, and to Richard as well, neither man having been known to him previously. Trent Tiverski, however, Akimaru had met once at a fighting tournament in Desanadron several years before, and the two men had hit it off splendidly. Trent had proven not only an efficient fighter, but clever as well. He had used a localized Dark of Night spell centered on his body in order to compete during the daytime hours, one of the few magical tricks he had in his arsenal. Sure, it made him clearly visible to an opponent, but it also allowed the largest of the Tiverski brothers to move about freely during the day, if he so chose.

So, Akimaru thought as Richard started to come back toward him through the kitchen, and then to the entryway of the cottage, they have a good mix between the three of them. Simon the mage, Trent the brute, and Richard, an even blend of both, with a bonus of being very diplomatic and politically savvy. Had they not been Vampires, Akimaru would have sponsored them for enlistment into the Midnight Suns. The Guild didn’t have nearly what they needed in the way of magic users.

“This is the first letter, Mr. Akimaru.” Richard graced the white-clad Ninja and the bull-like Rage with a little half bow again.

Akimaru snatched the parchment away and his eyes rolled back into his head as he used his Psychic-like powers to look into the mind of the author of the document. He had to sweep his mind first past a minor bit of information that Richard Tiverski had left on the parchment by handling it, but that took little effort.

Brief images and bits and pieces of partially audible conversations played inside of the mental theater house inside of Akimaru’s head. At the moment they made little or no sense, but that would change with just a minor adjustment of his powers.

His body twitched here and there, back and forth, and Rage placed his heavy hands on Akimaru’s shoulders to try to steady him.

The white clad Ninja moved out from under the hands, as their touch on even his clothed and covered shoulders was enough of a distraction to jumble what information he’d found, and this time Rage did nothing, merely standing aside and letting the mysterious Ninja work his gifts.

After a few minutes, the sights and sounds starting shuffling together again, making a great deal more sense than they had before. This Lord Itrivic was an interesting person indeed, and as a schemer, he was top-notch. Akimaru watched through the man’s point of view, and listened with his ears as he carried on a conversation with one of his Clan members, informing him that when the Tiverski brothers arrived, they were to be offered blood and food, if they wanted any. Well, Akimaru thought, that clears up one myth. Apparently normal food is not as essential to the diet of a Vampire, but they still used some to sustain themselves, unless they absolutely gorge on blood.

Once blood and food were offered, Lord Itrivic informed this man of his, a ‘strike team’ was to place itself on the balcony surrounding and overlooking the main dining hall of their enclave. After a certain amount of talk, Itrivic would reveal to the Tiverski brothers the Clan’s new source of blood for consumption. If the trio from the woods objected in any way to the Clan’s plans, whether with subtle threats or outright promises to expose them, the strike team was to descend upon them and destroy the Tiverski brothers. Perhaps most interesting of all, Akimaru thought, was the fact that the blood offered was to be from their stock of diseased blood, weakening the three visiting Vampires. Also, there would be a Silence spell locked on the chair that would be assigned to Simon Tiverski, whom Lord Itrivic believed would not speak unless he tried to use a spell.

Akimaru slowly sifted back to the present, the here and now, and found himself staring into the concerned eyes of Richard Tiverski. Akimaru knew immediately that he could trust these Tiverski brothers, just from the look in the eldest brother’s eyes. They spoke not to him of bloodlust, or dark desires; he was genuinely concerned for the white clad Ninja’s well being. Any other Vampire would have lunged on the opportunity that Akimaru had left himself open to. Even a roadblock like Rage wouldn’t have been able to stop all three of the Vampires from getting at Akimaru, because Simon could easily have scared the lumbering Orc Berserker off with magic while the other two assaulted the helpless Akimaru.

The white clad Ninja placed the parchment in his gloved hand, and handed it back to Richard, who took it gently, noticing how cold the document had become. Frost edged the paper, but the frost quickly melted into a dripping spot of water on the doorstep.

“Vell, vat can you tell us, Mr. Akimaru,” Richard asked. His brothers came up behind him then, and all three listened to Akimaru’s recounting of the trap set for them.

“He did not say precisely what their new source of fresh blood is, however,” Akimaru said. “I apologize, but I could not delve deeper than that. The parchment was not handled long enough by any one man to get a good imprint.”

Richard guffawed and clapped Akimaru amiably on the shoulder.

“No need to apologize, Mr. Akimaru,” he said. “Vat you haf learned ist good enough. They are not expecting you and your large friend here to be comink along for ze visit. Vat did you say your name is, my good young Orc?”

Rage smiled broadly, and extended his huge, gnarled green hand to Richard, who took it and pumped twice, removing his hand so as not to lose it in that killer grip.

“Rage,” the big Berserker said, offering his hand then to Trent, who returned the ferocity of the grip—much to the Orc’s delight.

Simon, however, merely bowed, waving his own hand in deference. Rage raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to one side, confused. “I ain’t got no germs or nuttin’ mister,” he said to Simon.

“Oh, please excuse our little brother,” Richard said to Rage. “He ist physically frail, Mr. Rage, and I belief you rather intimidate him.”

Rage took his hand back, grinned, and gave Simon a head nod of acceptance.

“Fair enough,” Rage said. “So, when’s dis jamoke s’possed ta come ta collect you guys?”

“He or she should have been here by now,” Trevor grumbled… a little too soon. As Akimaru turned around, the five of them, three Vampires, one Orc, and one half-breed of sorts, saw a voluptuous woman smiling at them from some twenty yards away. She appeared Human, pale, with long, lank black hair all the way to her waist.

“Man, curved in all the right places,” Trevor whispered after whistling at the sight of her. The woman was dressed rather provocatively, an affectation of the Clan Itrivic’s women. Long, slender legs, bare despite the autumn chill of the region, stretched for what almost seemed eternity to Trent and Richard Tiverski.

“Brothers, if you’d pick your jaws up from the floor, I believe that’s our guide,” Simon uttered, his voice once more barely audible.

Richard and Trent cleared their throats, collected their wits, and tried to remember that this woman was most likely the enemy. “Am I to assume my brother is correct?” he asked of the woman, who smiled charmingly in reply.

“I am Nadia Itrivic,” the woman said. Her voice had a pleasant reed to it, with an audible quality that reminded Richard of the middle-aged women he sometimes saw flitting here and there at the night markets in Desanadron. “I am indeed your guide to our Clan’s enclave. We only expected there would be the three Tiverski brothers coming. Were we incorrect in that expectation,” she asked, planting her hands on her hips.

“Ah, yes, allow me to explain,” Richard said amiably, gracing the lady Nadia Itrivic with a sweeping gentleman’s bow. “You see, my brothers and I are qvite interested in arranging a peace between ourselves and your Clan. However, your Clan numbers somevhere in ze tventies in number, ja?” Nadia Itrivic’s smile turned slightly frosty, but she nodded to confirm his estimate. “Ve vould simply feel more comfortable having these capable gentlemen along vith us. You understand, yes?”

“Indeed I do, Richard Tiverski,” she said. She turned and was ready to take flight into the night sky, when Akimaru cleared his throat rather loudly. When the white clad Ninja fellow spoke, Nadia seemed to hear the words spoken directly into her ear, as though he stood not twenty feet away, but only a few inches.

“Myself and my associate, Rage-san, cannot fly,” he said.

Damn, Nadia thought, having hoped that by taking flight she could goad the three Tiverski brothers into either leaving their little hired helpers behind, or letting her range far ahead.

“Foot travel together would be best, Ms. Nadia,” he added.

“Very well,” she replied. “Gentlemen, if you would follow me this way, please.” She headed into the darkening forest.

She did in fact wind up ranging ahead a little at first, but she passed it off as the five men falling behind because of the large green guloot. As she was passing it off, Richard Tiverski leaned in close to Akimaru, the two of them taking the forward position in the group. Trent and Simon took the middle, leaving Rage as a marching bulwark of a rearguard.

“Vell, vat do you think?” Richard whispered to the enigmatic Ninja.

“I do not trust her further than I could throw Rage-san,” came the response.

Richard got a light chuckle out of that, which he kept mainly to himself. He didn’t want to spook their guide, after all, or give her any indication that the Tiverski brothers were formulating their own plan on how to approach this evening’s meeting.

“By the way, Richard, were you aware that there is a new village not far from here, set near the foothills north and east of us?”

“Nien, I did not know zat,” the eldest Tiverski admitted. “Makeup?”

“Mostly Humans and Elves,” Akimaru said. “Some Minotaur tribal families as well. I suspect that village is going to be the new source of blood they will reveal to you. I will tell you more when I have the chance.” Akimaru clipped off his words as Richard looked up to see that Nadia Itrivic was waiting for the five men to catch up to her.

“Come along, gentlemen,” she said, seemingly coquettish. “I won’t bite.” No, Richard thought, no you von’t, not ever again if you aren’t careful, my lady.

* * * *

North and east the company marched, first tromping over the slightly damp, moss-covered woodland floor, and then passing into the open flatlands between the Tiverski brothers’ woods and the foothills fronting the northern mountains. Roiling clouds of gray and black floated overhead, often obscuring the moon in the sky above. “Hope it don’t rain,” Rage muttered mostly to himself. “I hate da rain,” he added.

“Vhy vould zat be, my large green friend,” Richard asked as he sauntered slightly ahead of the Orc and his brothers Simon and Trent.

“Da rain reminds me of my mudder,” Rage said, looking up at the storm clouds, squinting his one good eye slightly. "Not sure why, but it does it every time. What about you? You like it at all?”

“Goodness no,” Richard replied with a smile over his shoulder to the Greenskin warrior. “It ist terrible for my clothes, Mr. Rage! I cannot abide the odor of damp silk.” The Vampire said picked a piece of lint from his flared shirt cuff.

The group continued behind the Itrivic woman in relative silence then, each member of the company quietly grateful that the swelling rain clouds seemed to be withholding their business until the band was inside the Itrivic Clan’s home of operations.

The entire trip only took about three hours. After taking an easy, wide dirt road through the foothills, the company finally came upon a mountain range fronted by a large, stone structure in the style of a cathedral.

Nadia Itrivic stopped about five hundred yards away from the enormous double doors at the front of the building, and smiled at her guests. “Gentlemen, I present to you the Itrivic Clan home of this region, Jordesvein. This stronghold has been the central seat of power for the Itrivic family for generations.” She looked north to the cathedral-like compound. “Recently, however, the primary core of the family moved to another location.”

“So, Great Lord Itrivic is not within?” Trent looked his brother Richard in the eyes, trying to communicate his disappointment.

“No, he is not,” Nadia said without looking back at her charges. She started to walk forward once more, leading them on their way. “The ancestral bloodline in command of the family Clan has secreted themselves away to another compound. Our resident Lord is the youngest brother of Great Lord Itrivic. Though younger, however,” she said meaningfully, “he is no less capable a leader.”

Nadia led them straight down the path two hundred yards or so, and then came to a sudden stop. “Wait here for a few minutes. I must go ahead and ask that the perimeter guards deactivate their locked defensive spells. Those who do not possess the blood of the Itrivic Clan or their servants will unleash magical traps that would likely destroy the lot of you,” she said softly.

“Very well. We shall await your return or all-clear,” Richard said without hesitation.

Nadia Itrivic sprinted ahead gracefully, leaving the three Tiverski brothers and the two Midnight Suns standing on the wide path leading to the compound. Richard spun on his heel to face the group, noting the way his brother Simon was staring past him, through him, at the flat fields before them. “Simon, your thoughts if you vould.”

“The game has already begun,” the smallest, palest of the Vampire brothers reported in his whispery voice. His eyes roamed over the pathway and the fields on either side, noting each point of magical concentration. “The defensive spells were only set a short while ago, for our benefit. This is their first move in the diplomatic game, brother. It is a move designed to gain our trust.”

“Fat chance.” Trent folded his arms over his chest. “Did they really expect this sort of ruse to escape our notice?”

Truth to be told, Richard thought, I vouldn’t have noticed. Only Simon could have seen this trick for vhat it is.

“The magical traps are not their only deception here,” Akimaru said suddenly, catching the three Vampires’ attention. His eyes, barely visible in the slit in his facemask, seemed locked on something atop the cathedral’s front wall. “There are snipers atop their stronghold, each one holding a mecha weapon of some sort.” He pointed boldly right up at the rifle-toting guards.

As soon as his finger was pointed at each of them, Richard could just make out the silhouetted forms of the Itrivic snipers. However, as soon as Richard smiled upon sighting them, the snipers disappeared, most likely reacting to the fact that they had been spotted.

“Surely there ist a vay to ensure ve escape their weapons’ range vhen ve leave,” Richard said.

“Yeah, we crush them along with everyone else when we’re done listening to their nonsense,” Trent growled, cracking his knuckles.

Rage gave the brute of the Tiverski brothers a broad grin and nod of agreement, cracking his own huge, gnarled knuckles. “How long do you think they’ll prattle on before we have to make our move, brother?”

“I’m not entirely certain, Trent,” Richard said. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, playing over several scenarios in his mind while waiting for Nadia Itrivic’s return from within the compound. The first question to run through his mind was, how greatly are we outnumbered? How many men and vomen inside? Vill they vait for some sort of signal from Lord Itrivic, and if so, how vill we know vhat sort of attack to expect?

Similar inquiries played over Akimaru’s mind at the same time.

While the Itrivic Clan had the advantage of numbers and home turf, however, the five visitors had the advantage of surprise. They already knew that the meeting would devolve into violent confrontation; Lord Itrivic only suspected that it might happen. The resident head of the Clan did not fully expect it to come to that, though. From what he had gleaned from holding and reading the letter written to Richard Tiverski, Akimaru had discovered that Lord Itrivic expected Richard to be reasonable and see that his position was not favorable in the conference. Lord Itrivic almost fully expected the Tiverski brothers to fold; he apparently didn’t know them very well, Akimaru thought.

The giant double doors at the front of the compound swung slowly open and Nadia Itrivic stalked out into the dimly lit night just as the first drops of rain started to fall. Within minutes, she led the company to the open compound, making no further conversation with the group.

Akimaru, highly trained as a Ninja and sensitive to people’s emotional state of mind through his strange lineage, saw that Nadia was not only tense, she was slightly embarrassed. Most likely, the white clad Ninja thought, she has been chastised for bringing myself and Rage-san along as well. Her problem, not ours, he thought.

The closer the group got to the open double doors, the higher up they appeared to loom over the company.

“I must say, I am impressed vith your family’s taste in architecture,” Richard Tiverski commented, walking along peaceably, hands clasped behind his back. “Third Age?”

“Actually, late Second Age,” Nadia said with a wolfish smile. She was clearly proud to belong to one of the more noble Vampire family Clans, or if not noble precisely, then certainly one of the longest lasting.

“We have discovered the original floor plans in one of the basement chambers. It was dated 1224 2.A. Of course, it could have been a forgery.” She stepped into the primary antechamber of the compound, her high heels clacking against the stone floor and echoing throughout the high-ceilinged chamber. “But we commissioned a Gnome Scholar to come and verify its authenticity. He was sufficiently impressed with his findings to confirm the date on the floor plans.”

“So, how old vould zat make ze structure?” Richard asked, looking worriedly up and around the large, oblong chamber they had entered. The entire room was barren of furniture of any sort, and he could tell that the compound had been carved from the very mountain rock in which it was set. The interior of the antechamber was domed, with a ceiling that curved overhead and had an apex that stood about thirty yards up. He could just barely make out tiny cracks in the walls and ceiling, and he wondered for the first time, if zey don’t try to kill us, vill ze entire building just collapse on top of us? Zat vould be just my luck.

“Well,” Nadia said, guiding the group toward another set of double doors directly across from the main entrance. Doors also stood to their left and right, but these portals she gave nary a glance. “The Second Age lasted until the year 1300, if the historians are all in agreement. The Third Age lasted only until a little longer than that before being declared done and finished. The Fourth Age, the Age of Mecha, lasted much less, ending with the Fall of Mecha in 514, I believe it was. I’m certainly no Professor Swellskin, so I couldn’t say with authority. And we are now in the year 876 A.F., or the Fifth Age, year 876. So, add that all up, my friend.”

“Over twenty-four hundred years old,” Simon replied without hesitation.

Nadia turned from them and waved a hand at the armored Vampire guard blocking their passage through the doors before them.

“Madam, his Lordship is not prepared yet for his visitors,” the Vampire in the black steel armor informed her. In his right hand he held a spear, with the blunt end resting on the stone floor. His long, silver hair flowed back over his head in waves, and he had a regal, handsome appearance, despite his air of servitude. He gestured toward the left-hand door of the antechamber with the head of his weapon. “He has instructed me to direct you to the primary library until the guests are sent for. You shall take them to the library and return to his Lordship at once, Lady Nadia,” the guard said flatly.

“Very well. Thank you, Mensus.” She turned to face the Tiverski brothers and their hired help. “Gentlemen, the library is right through that door over there. Please, make yourselves comfortable, and someone shall be by shortly to collect you. I apologize for the delay.”

Without complaint, Richard turned and stalked toward the door leading to the Itrivic Clan’s library, opening the door and rushing inside before he burst out laughing. As soon as Rage lumbered inside of the two-story library and shut the door behind himself, Richard loosed a volley of harsh laughter.

“I don’t see what’s so funny.” Rage looked around at the rows and rows of books in the walls around him and in tall, stone shelving units placed around the interior of the in-house library.

Richard continued to guffaw for almost a full minute before he was able to sufficiently calm himself and regain his composure.

He didn’t have to answer for himself, however—Akimaru explained.

“Rage-san, Mr. Tiverski finds it amusing that the Itrivic Clan is taking such heavy precautions with us. They are most likely plotting further to make up for the fact that you and I have been brought along for this meeting. Richard is merely amused by the apparent ease with which we have disrupted their plans.” The Ninja cocked an eyebrow at Richard, and the Vampire nodded his acknowledgement. “Mr. Tiverski, what is our plan of action at this point in time?”

“For now, my friend,” Richard said, moving toward one of the shelving units and selecting a fiction novel he had not as yet read. “Ve vait like the patient, polite guests ve are pretending to be.”

* * * *

Nadia Itrivic’s thoughts spanned the range between furious and intrigued as she followed Mensus Allahandro toward the stronghold’s main dining room. Her uncle, Lord Itrivic of the Northern Itrivic Clan, had clearly been sent word of the Tiverski brothers’ hired help as she had requested upon entry to the cathedral. He had deployed Mensus, one of his personal bodyguards and servants, to retrieve his niece so that they could discuss how to best deal with the Vampire brothers now that they had assistance.

She followed the rangy, stoic Vampire bodyguard through the gilded, richly decorated halls until he held open one of the side doors leading into the main dining hall.

Lord Itrivic was seated in a high-backed iron chair at the head of the twenty yard long oak dining table, his hands folded under his angular chin, deep in thought. His black silk tunics hung loosely on his gaunt frame, and for the first time in close to a century, Nadia truly worried about her uncle’s health. Though her people could not die of age naturally, too much time between feedings could rob them of their eternal youthfulness. How long, she wondered, since Lord Itrivic had taken a feeding? Three weeks, maybe four? However long it had been, it wasn’t healthy for him, and soon he would have to send someone from the family or the collection of bodyguards and grunts to go kidnap a Human for him to feast upon.

“Uncle, I am here,” she announced as she approached the seat to Lord Itrivic’s right.

He didn’t look up from his musings, but indicated the seat with one hand.

She pulled out the elegant pine wood chair and seated herself, pulling it in close and bowing her head slightly to her uncle and local lordship. “You sent for me?”

“Indeed I did, Nadia,” he said slowly, his voice like rough sandpaper scraping on her ears. “What is your impression of these hired men the Tiverskis brought with them? I am told that one is a Ninja in a white uniform, and the other is a one-eyed giant of an Orc. Have you any thoughts on dealing with them?”

“Well, your lordship, we may not have to deal with them if Richard Tiverski carries himself with any sort of reason. They will not be in any position to refuse our proposal,” she said with a grin.

Lord Itrivic finally turned his eyes toward his niece, and the appearance of fatigue or weakness she saw in the rest of his body could not be seen at all in his yellow, gimlet eyes.

“They will refuse us, my lovely Nadia,” he said quietly, his hands still propping his head up. “Regardless of our numbers and advantage, they will refuse us. Richard Tiverski is intelligent, and usually reasonable, but when it comes to such matters as these, he is immovable. When he refuses…” Lord Itrivic plucked a steak knife from the table and jammed it all the way to the hilt in the hard wooden table. As soon as he let it go, his hand returned under his chin. “We will be forced to destroy the lot of them. Now, tell me what you think of these strangers.”

“Well,” Nadia said, easing back in her chair and nodding to a servant as she poured her a wineglass full of fresh Elven blood. She took a light sip from the glass and smacked her lips. “Excellent, thank you. The Ninja worries me far more than the Orc, uncle Adrian. Something is very strange about him. I sense energy far beyond that of a normal mortal being in him.”

“Is he one of our kind, do you think?” the elderly Vampire asked, accepting a glass of the same blood from the servant woman.

“Definitely not.” Nadia crossed her left leg over her right. “But he isn’t a normal mortal, that much is for sure. Also, just from observing the way he moves, I can say with utmost confidence that in the event of physical altercation, we shall need to focus most of our efforts on him and Trevor Tiverski. Which will need more attention, I am not sure.”

“The Ninja,” Lord Adrian Itrivic said bluntly, sipping his blood like wine. Some of the old flush of his cheeks returned as he imbibed the blood, and he actually managed a stern smile for a moment. “We have seen Trevor Tiverski in combat. Our soldiers know full well how to deal with his forthright style of fighting. He is a classical swordsman, Nadia. It really is a shame he will have to be destroyed. Now, the Orc?”

“A simple brute I’m sure, uncle,” Nadia replied, swishing her drink around in its fine glass before draining it. “He seems more intelligent than most of his kind, though. He may actually have the ability to keep up with the negotiation process, though I doubt he will offer much input before the attack. Uncle, what if they do agree to our proposal,” she asked suddenly, surprised that she would even consider it a possibility.

He raised one thin eyebrow at her, and finished his own drink.

“Then we will allow them to leave, and thank whatever Gods might listen to us for the opportunity to remain unscathed.”

The servant woman poured them each another glass, and they enjoyed a leisurely drink before sending for their guests.

* * * *

Simon, Trevor, and Richard Tiverski all sat on one of the comfortably padded couches in the library, Simon and Richard both engaged in books, and Trevor sitting with his arms crossed over his chest, thinking through possible battle strategies for the incident to come. Surely nothing the Itrivic Vampires offered them in the way of a deal would be worthwhile, he assumed. Of all of the older remaining Vampire Clans, the Itrivics were known the realm over as the most brutal and sadistic. They would be merciless with their dealings tonight, and combat was inevitable. But how would he and his brothers deal with the overwhelming numbers that Lord Itrivic could summon to engage them?

He trusted that Akimaru would be more than capable of helping them deal with the grunts and bodyguards of the Clan. And although he had never met with or seen Rage in combat, he felt confident that the Orc could take out a few Vampires on his own. The enormous axe he wielded wasn’t silver or magical in nature, but that wouldn’t matter so long as he hit his foes in the head or the chest. The Orc Berserker could probably rip their heads right off of their shoulders in any event, weapon or no.

The problem was that, as skilled a swordsman as he was himself, the Itrivic Clan of Vampires knew precisely how he would fight. They were, after all, his original family Clan. Trevor had left the Itrivic family after disagreements over their brutal method of securing their food sources—abducting defenseless men and women off of the streets of towns and cities. Since he had been trained in their fighting style, their opponents here would almost certainly know how to combat him.

Simon had magic at his disposal that would render melee combat unnecessary for him, and hopefully put the Itrivics at a disadvantage. The most diminutive of the three Tiverski brothers could hurl vastly destructive spells at large numbers of opponents. So long as someone stayed close to defend him, the small band of rebel Vampires and their hired helpers might make it out of this cathedral compound intact.

Akimaru, seated across from the Vampire brothers in a shell-shaped yellow recliner, also thought over his battle strategy. Leaned back in the chair, his hands behind his masked head, the white-clad Ninja wondered if any of the Vampires, either in the trio or the larger Clan, had detected his true nature. If they hadn’t, he would bring that immediately to bear in a combat situation, thus buying his group time from the initial shock. As soon as he revealed himself, Rage-san would fall into the ranks of their foes like a force of nature, his axe or bare fists working to deal out death.

Rage himself was the only member of the group unseated, doing one-armed pushups to pump himself up for the coming fight. Though not the sharpest tool in the shed, the Orc Berserker knew full well that no diplomatic solution would be found here this night. Only battle, pure and bloody, would solve anything in the cathedral home of the northern branch of the Itrivic Vampire Clan. When it came, he would be ready.

Each member of the company remained locked in his own ruminations, until at last the door to the library opened with a creak, and the Vampire bodyguard who had led them to the library earlier, Mensus Allahandro, stood in the doorway. “The conference will now be held,” he announced to the rising Vampire trio and their companions. “Please, follow me.”

Without waiting to see if they would comply, the armored guard turned on his heel and started to stalk slowly down the decorative hallway.

The group moved in single-file behind the bodyguard, Richard in the front, Trevor next, then Simon, Akimaru next, with Rage bringing up the rear. The massive Greenskin warrior almost had to duck his head in the hallway, and more than once had to move sideways to keep from knocking over priceless pieces of artwork.

Before they had made half of the trek through the halls to the dining hall, Mensus Allahandro turned his head slightly to speak over his shoulder. “How long has it been, Trevor? Two hundred, three hundred years?”

For a moment, Trevor Tiverski was too taken off guard to realize that he had recognized the bodyguard from the very beginning. Mensus had served as the vice chief of bodyguards to High Lord Iosef Itrivic in the days when Trevor had been among the Clan’s elite branch of warriors. The two had crossed paths several times, and apparently Trevor had left quite an impression with the local chief of bodyguards. Trevor cleared his throat and replied, “Two hundred and thirty years, Mensus,” he said. “Time has treated you well, I see.”

“Likewise,” was the only response before the bodyguard opened a wide oak door to permit the group entry into the dining hall. “You are expected within. Please, seat yourselves accordingly across from the master.”

Richard Tiverski headed inside at the head of the group, with his brothers directly behind and Akimaru and Rage following close after.

The meeting hall they had entered held an air of ancestry and greatness, with ornate tapestries and other works of art hung here and there around the walls. A long, smoothly varnished oak table dominated the center of the chamber, most likely a holdover from whomever had owned the structure before the Itrivic Vampire Clan. Multiple candelabras sat on pedestals and circular end tables around the chamber, combining with a candle-laden chandelier to offer ambient illumination to the room.

Seated at one end of the table in a high-backed, black wood throne, Lord Itrivic exuded an aura of commanding presence that brooked no argument. Clad mostly in black, he appeared to be the sort of patrician fellow who would speak partly through his nose, which would be aimed slightly skyward. While most preferred not to jump to such quick conclusions, Richard Tiverski felt comfortable enough making a few assumptions about this Vampire Lord, since he was notoriously ‘old world’ in his dealings.

As all five travelers approached the table, Lord Itrivic and his niece, the delightful Nadia, rose to greet them, each bowing gracefully but cautiously, keeping their heads up with their eyes locked on their targets.

“Ah, it is a fine thing to finally meet face to face, Richard Tiverski,” Lord Adrian Itrivic said with a broad, fang-filled smile. He extended one clammy white hand, which Richard took only momentarily, enough for one shake.

“Would you like to take a seat, gentlemen? And to the Tiverskis, may I offer you a glass of fine Human spirit?”

“No, thank you,” Richard said with a fake smile plastered to his face. “Ve prefer to get to know ze people who are villing to donate zere life blood to us. I assume zat your stocks vere not attained through volunteer donations of blood.”

Richard took a seat on Lord Itrivic’s immediate right. Akimaru walked around the table to sit next to Nadia Itrivic, with Rage next to him, so that there were three people occupying the closest seats on each side of the table to Lord Itrivic. As he seated himself next to his brother, Trevor could only think, ah, and so the politics begin.

“Your assumption is accurate, Richard Tiverski,” Lord Itrivic said. “We take what we are due, when we wish, from the foolish mortal masses. It is natural that it be that way—we are Vampires, after all. We are superior to the fools whose blood we feast upon.”

Itrivic took a slow gulp of his wine, thoroughly enjoying the taste and feel of it as all three of the Tiverski brothers seemed to bore their gazes into his skull. “What, you disagree?”

“In part, yes,” said Simon Tiverski, much to everyone’s general surprise. Neither side of the negotiations had expected him to speak much, but here he was, already interjecting something into the flow of conversation. Certainly Lord Itrivic hadn’t expected any such talk from him, but he remembered quickly that the seal of silence would only take hold of Simon Tiverski if hostilities arose.

The lithe, pale, bald Tiverski brother straightened his back slightly, and proceeded to explain. “There are several prominent scientists throughout the lands of Tamalaria who have hypothesized that vampirism is actually a disease, a product of a sentient bacteria or virus that flows in the afflicted individual’s bloodstream. But,” he said, his voice becoming soft and demure once more, hunching his shoulders up as he usually did when trying to be unobtrusive. “It is only theory. If the theory holds true, then we are not superior, but merely diseased.”

Stunned silence met this overall statement, with an occasional cleared throat from the other two Tiverski brothers and several as yet unseen individuals.

Akimaru, his senses trained to pick out would-be sneak attacks, might not have known the locations of several of those hidden assailants in the chamber and up on the upper walkways of the room had Simon not created such silence. Beneath his mask, the white clad Ninja smiled.

Lord Adrian Itrivic seemed to regain his senses first, and smiled politely at Simon Tiverski. “I trust that the theory you speak of is mere conjecture, and has no actual proof behind it. Besides, what do scientists know of destiny and the true order of things?” Lord Itrivic swished his blood around in its wineglass. “After all, they cannot even explain the arts and forces of magic, let alone the wonder that is the Vampire Race! Now, enough of this idle chit-chat.” He leaned forward and planting his elbows on the long conference table, a subtle grin slithering across his lips. “Let us discuss the terms of our future arrangement and peace.”

“Ve are villing to listen to vhatever offer or gesture you are villing to make,” Richard Tiverski said politely.

“But that does not mean we will necessarily accept the offer or gesture.” Trevor Tiverski crossed his arms over his chest in a defiant position.

“Nor does it mean that we won’t have an idea or plan of our own design,” Simon Tiverski finished a routine that the trio of Vampire brothers cycled through whenever these sort of diplomatic situations arose. They had done this exact routine approximately six times, but this time, they themselves were taken aback by the next speaker, who actually added to their own overall message.

“And rest assured, if you do not remove the snipers with the wrist crossbows from the chamber’s upper walkways, the talking will end very abruptly, and the bloodshed shall begin,” Akimaru’s stressed neck was just visible under the mask and above the tunic top.

Lord Adrian Itrivic’s only response to the accusation in Akimaru’s statement was to bring his right hand up slightly in a fist, which he then opened and drew across his forehead. Shuffling footsteps could be heard faintly on the upper walkways surrounding the walls of the chamber high above them, the snipers with their wrist crossbows exiting the room.

“How very perceptive of you to have noticed them, my fine guest,” Lord Adrian Itrivic schmoozed, pursing his lips out just slightly. “Is there anything else that any of the five of you would like to add before I proceed?”

Rage, who had remained completely silent the entire time thus far, cleared his throat with one fist to his mouth.

“You have something to add, mister, ah,” he said, fumbling for the Greenskin’s name. With one hand over his mouth, Lord Itrivic asked his niece ‘what the hell is the foul green thing’s name’, and then proceeded. “Mr. Rage, something to add?”

“Um, just one question,” said the Orc Berserker.

“And that is?”

“Um, where’s da can in dis joint?” Rage’s abrupt question shattered the tension that had been noticeably building up in the room.

Richard and Trevor Tiverski, Lord Adrian and Nadia Itrivic, and even the two guards who remained near the door where the company had entered from shared a good light chuckle at Rage’s expense. Only Simon and Akimaru remained totally unaffected, both for good cause. Simon Tiverski was too busy trying to read all of the magic that Nadia Itrivic and a few unseen guards had. Akimaru knew that this was a social tactic that Rage had learned to use over the last few months in order to help such delicate negotiations proceed without getting too nasty too quick. The Orc probably didn’t really need the bathroom; it was just a convenient show of Greenskin stupidity that folks like these would find amusing, light-hearted.

As a guard led Rage out of the chamber, the Orc Berserker couldn’t help but smile a little at himself. Well, he thought, dat worked pretty well ta ease t’ings.

As the guard opened a restroom door, the Orc barely contained his mirth long enough to slip inside and muffle his laughter with his thick, meaty, callused hands. In the Orc language, a ‘joynte’ is a bed shared by a brother and sister. In essence, he’d gotten away with calling the Itrivic Vampire Clan a lot of incestuous whores!

Back in the meeting hall, Lord Itrivic, not wanting to proceed without all of his guests present (because that would just be poor etiquette, and if nothing else, the elder Vampire Clans prided themselves on being proper noblemen and women), offered each of his other guests something to drink or something to perhaps dine on. While Richard declined, as did Simon, Trevor and Akimaru both asked for some water and perhaps something small to eat. As Rage returned to the room, Lord Itrivic contained his previous mirth long enough to ask if he wanted something to eat as well, regretting his question the moment it was out of his mouth.

It should be noted now that sometimes, when someone is plotting something foul or wicked, it isn’t always the noble, the good, or the square-jawed hero who mucks up their plans. Sometimes, the whole works are brought down by a simpleton, or by a badly timed question. Rage smiled like an idiot, and rubbed his belly. “You know, now dat yous ask, I am kinda famished. Akimaru, sir?”

The white clad Ninja didn’t take his eyes off of the Vampire Lord of the house as he gave a small, brief nod.

“Okay, first I’ll need da biggest samitch yous can make fer a fella. Ham, turkey, the works.” He put one finger up to indicate that he had only just begun to order.

It would be almost two hours later, at three-thirty in the morning, when deliberations continued.

* * * *

As Rage-san proceeded onto his second course, Akimaru excused himself to use the restroom. A guard led the way out of the meeting hall, and escorted him toward the northern corridor from the chamber. When they had walked approximately seventy yards away from the meeting hall, the guard took up post by one side of the inward-swinging door wordlessly, gesturing curtly with his head to the bathroom.

Akimaru slipped inside quickly, stopping just on the other side of the door to survey his surroundings.

Turning around, Akimaru engaged the deadbolt on the small water closet and removed his left glove, touching one steaming hand to the knob. Slivers of ice jammed into the keyhole for the deadbolt, giving him some more time. As a half-breed ice elemental, the white clad Ninja had access to powers that would be useful in combat. As the son of a mother whose inborn talents had been those of a Psychic, he had powers that would be useful in non-combat situations like this.

Though he had little in the way of actual Psychic powers, one he used routinely was his ability to shift and transfer noises and sounds. Akimaru pressed his palms against the cloth around his forehead, and concentrated, pulling in the sounds of far away tavern restroom stalls to fill the air. When he heard the strains of a fellow in Desanadron in the bathroom, he ceased his pull, and started looking around for a way to secret himself out of the room for just a few minutes’ time.

Looking up at the wall above the cylindrical porcelain commode, Akimaru spotted a ventilation grate. The duct behind the grate would be a little bit of a squeeze, even for him, but Akimaru didn’t need to go very far.

Putting his left glove back on, the white clad Ninja pulled the grate down, setting it next to the toilet, and clambered up inside the duct. Wriggling along inside like a snake on its belly, Akimaru took three minutes to find the uppermost porthole where the ventilation ducts exited.

There appeared to be a central duct shaft with a high amount of Aeromancy locked into the stone floor, blowing all of the collected odors and air up out of a stack situated in the center of the building.

Dozens of other ducts emptied into this central shaft, and as Akimaru turned himself around just inside of the central duct, his face bore a smile beneath the mask. By using the proper amount of his elemental powers in that bathroom he was presently returning to, he could launch spear shards of ice to almost any chamber in the entire compound.

Had the Itrivic Vampire clan known about the ventilation system in the building that they used as their local quarters, they might have taken the time to disrupt the Aeromancy spell in the central ventilation chute, making Akimaru’s gamble impossible.

But that, Akimaru mused, is the problem with nigh-immortal creatures. They don’t take the time to look for the subtle little details that might be responsible for the removal of their immortal status.

* * * *

When Akimaru returned a few minutes later, Rage had only reached the one hour and ten minute mark of the two hours of his feasting. Lord Adrian Itrivic had excused his niece Nadia when she had asked to be summoned after their ‘big guest’s meal’ was over, and now he was regretting that he hadn’t passed the buck on to her to stay behind. The Tiverski brothers appeared to be infinitely patient, none of them offering conversation with him or the guards, or even much talk amongst themselves.

What sort of Vampires am I dealing with, Lord Itrivic wondered, sipping his glass of blood as he tried to discern the Tiverskis’ thoughts.

Trevor Tiverski alone was well known to him. Born into the Vampire Race as Trevor Allishev, he had served as Commander of the Itrivic clan’s Elite Guard. Having been won over by Richard Tiverski’s promises of a victimless existence, he had gone to ground and joined the strange, semi-aristocratic Vampire at his home in those woods to the southwest.

Ah, yes, Adrian Itrivic thought, Richard Tiverski. Of the three Tiverski brothers, he was both the best known and the least known about. As undeclared leader of the Tiverski brother trio, all peoples involved in Vampire society and many involved in the various religious outfits across the lands of Tamalaria knew of Richard Tiverski. They knew he was a Vampire who took only offered mortal blood, and that only in containers, never from the source. But few knew of his origins, his clan, his heritage. Not even the Itrivic family, arguably one of the eldest of all of the existing Vampire clans, knew where Richard had come from.

And now, Lord Adrian Itrivic thought, here he sits in my home, speaking nary a word to me, smiling like an idiot. I am superior to him in every way, and yet something about him seems to say otherwise. What am I missing? The Vampire Lord cast these thoughts aside after a while, pleased to see that the enormous Orc had finally finished eating.

Lord Itrivic looked at the great black walnut grandfather clock on his left side of the table, and twitched a little when he was how late the hour had become. Three-thirty in the morning meant, in the northwestern climbs of Tamalaria, that he had only about two hours to deal with the Tiverski brothers in either a diplomatic or openly hostile fashion. After that, the sun would rise, and they would all be trapped inside of the compound. At least, his family would. The brother known as Simon had apparently taught himself and his two brothers a spell that would cast protective shadows over them even in direct sunlight, but the Itrivic Vampire family had no such talents. The sun would rise, and they would be left to do some considerable damage.

As a guard cleared away the last of Rage’s plates with a grunt of disgust, Lord Itrivic sent for his niece Nadia to return to the meeting.

“Is there something about the ceiling that fascinates you, master Akimaru,” the Vampire Lord asked as he observed the white clad Ninja staring almost straight up.

“Not particularly,” was the Ninja’s only reply. He had already pulled Richard close to tell him about the ventilation system and how he intended to use it, should things get ugly. One of the grated panels sat in the ceiling of the meeting hall almost directly above him. He wouldn’t even have to leave the room to execute his fatal plan.

“Very well,” said Lord Itrivic as his niece entered the room and reclaimed her seat at his right side. “Now my friends, let us discuss why I have summoned you here. As you may be aware, there is a newly founded village a little way to the south and east of our home here. Over the last four years, the village has been constructed, and these last few months have been spent populating the homes and business buildings. The populace is largely Human and Minotaur.” Lord Itrivic made a small hand motion to one of his guards, who rushed to the table with several maps, giving one to each person seated at the long table. “We have circled the exact location of the village in reference to our home, and we have even labeled this location and your home. As you can see, the village is at a distance slightly closer to here than is your beloved Desanadron.” Lord Itrivic eased back into his seat a little.

“Then may ve assume zat your intention is to make this new village your new feeding ground?” Richard looked at the map he’d been handed.

“That is our intention exactly,” Lord Itrivic said. “You may be aware as well that my branch of the Itrivic family is getting low on guards and servants. We wish to secure some from the village, as well as some lambs. The guards will be made into those of our Race, but the servants will be made over into Ghouls.”

“That is very cruel,” Trevor said gruffly. “Ghouls have no more rights in the eyes of Vampires like you than would the chair I’m sitting in. They’re no better than furniture to you.”

“You would want us to turn every person we take into Vampires, Trevor Tiverski?” Nadia asked with a fox’s grin. “That would be foolish, especially considering the types of servants we require.”

“These lambs you wish to procure,” Akimaru said. “I assume that you do not mean livestock animals.”

“No, he doesn’t.” Simon looked up from his map and glared blankly up the table at Nadia and Adrian Itrivic. “In Vampire society, lambs are mortals who willingly offer their blood to a Vampire, straight from the source. All they ask in return is either favors from the Vampire who feeds on them, or the protection of the lamb’s family. Sometimes they offer their services as lambs in exchange for the promise of being turned into a Vampire themselves.”

“Who’d want to be a Vampire on purpose,” asked Rage before he could think better of the question. As all three of the Tiverski brothers turned their heads slowly to look down the table at him, the Orc flushed a deep red-green, and muttered an apology.

“Anyvay,” said Richard, turning his eyes on Lord Itrivic once more, trying to read his true intentions. “You vish for us to simply allow zis? Zat village is still fairly close to our voods, and thus, ve vould be obligated to protect its citizenry from outside threats such as you. Vhat makes you think ve’ll just allow you to take vhat you vant from them?”

At this question, Lord Itrivic’s eyebrows raised slightly, and he leaned forward, planting his elbows on the hardwood table and propping his chin on his hands.

“In exchange for your non-interference in this matter, we are prepared to invoke the Rite of Sworn Blood and swear never to attack Desanadron again,” Lord Itrivic said, his eyes steel and inscrutable. The Rite of Sworn Blood would bind every member of Lord Adrian Itrivic’s branch of the clan to the oath he offered, and that would mean an awful lot fewer Vampire attacks on the metropolis of Desanadron. The offer was initially tempting, but Richard had decided before ever having arrived at the Itrivic home that he would not agree to any sort of deal. He had to keep his composure for the moment however, and simply appear to be thinking the idea over.

Rage, never the quickest wit in the room, had nonetheless followed the conversation effortlessly. Everything seemed to be in order, though he didn’t care much for the deal at all. If the populace of this new target village consisted predominantly of Humans, then the townsfolk would be almost defenseless against this Vampire Clan. Rage didn’t understand the undead quite as well as his friend and Guild ally Lain McNealy, but he had a pretty good idea that Vampires, being of strong will and with many strange powers, would pose an enormous threat to a small burb. He hoped that Richard Tiverski would spit in Adrian Itrivic’s face.

Trevor, meanwhile, analyzed the benefits and negatives of accepting such a deal. The Tiverskis were mostly sworn to the protection of mortals against such threats as the Itrivic, Bonava, and Tepes Vampire Clans. However, they being Vampires themselves, and only a trio, Richard could be pressed to accept the proposal out of sheer threat of total annihilation of the three of them. Sure, Trevor was a skilled warrior, Simon an incredibly talented mage, and Richard a nice, diplomatic mix of the two. All three together, however, could not stand against all of the old Vampire Clans. The only Clan that would publicly acknowledge that they wished to ally themselves with the Vampire trio from the woods north of Desanadron was the Norem Clan, one of the younger branches of the old Tepes Vampire family.

But Trevor then came to the same conclusion that Rage had come to a minute before him. If we leave them unguarded, Trevor thought, then within a year the entire village will swear allegiance to the Itrivic Clan. That can’t be allowed to happen! And why not? If the village swore allegiance to the Itrivic Clan, then the city of Desanadron would be declared the next available feeding source for the Clan again. This entire ‘treaty’ would then be for naught, for Lord Adrian Itrivic would simply use the additional forces to overrun we Tiverski brothers and do away with the one major roadblock stopping him from feeding his family on Desanadron every night!

“You say you vould use the Rite of Svorn Blood?” Richard raised an eyebrow, his mouth twitching into a cynical grin. His black cloak ruffled slightly as he shifted position in his chair, the better to look into Lord Itrivic’s face flatly. His royal purple vest, made of pure leather, creaked slightly as he stretched his arms behind his head, the ruffled cuffs of his white dress shirt peeking out. His feet he propped up on the table, a complete show of disrespect toward someone like Adrian Itrivic and his Vampire Clan.

Richard twirled his snow-white goatee between his right thumb and forefinger for a moment before returning his hand to its spot behind his head, webbing the fingers together and smiling discourteously. “I say you vould do anythink in your powers to deceive us und take vhat you vant.”

Ever the player of whatever part was needed, Nadia Itrivic feigned shock and alarm at this, her hand flying to her ample bosom as she gasped rather loudly. “Why, Richard Tiverski! I cannot believe that you would insinuate such a thing, much less say it aloud!”

“I’m usually villing to play der game of politics,” said Richard, bringing his feet down slowly from the table’s surface, drawing himself up to a straight-backed posture of serious deliberation. “But ve have dealt vith you and yours for far too long to not see vhere this is heading. You vish us to stand aside and give vay to the Clans of old, the bloodmongers, the varlords. Ve vill not, und you know zis.”

Lord Adrian Itrivic took the last sip of his blood from his goblet, letting it hang on the rim of the ceramic dish for just a moment before slurping it up himself. He brought the goblet down on the table hard enough to send a minor shock wave throughout the room, his patience clearly already at an end. “You won’t even parlay with us about this, Richard Tiverski?” Adrian Itrivic’s eyes narrowed as he tried to size up the average-looking Vampire before him. Richard Tiverski didn’t appear much different from the older Vampire Clans, which was to say he was pale, elegantly dressed, aristocratic and well-read and spoken. But he broke with the old ways for unknown reasons, and had recruited two other Vampires into his cause. They called themselves brothers now, which Adrian supposed was fine, because he knew that Trevor and Simon had both come from other Clans and adopted the name Tiverski upon Richard’s suggestion.

This left only one question for Adrian, which he would ask now, before giving the order to attack. The air in the room had already become so filled with tension that Akimaru and Simon were both silently preparing their powers, Simon muttering into his cloak, unraveling the seal of silence he’d detected under his seat, the white clad Ninja taking off his white silk gloves. “Richard Tiverski, I must know something about you.”

Lord Adrian Itrivic rose to his feet and pushed in his chair, motioning Richard to follow closely behind him.

Richard shrugged, stood, and followed Adrian Itrivic toward the north end of the room, about thirty yards away from the table.

Adrian leaned against a section of the wall that, when tapped twice in rapid succession, would flip over, providing him an exit from harm when he ordered the slaughter of his ‘guests’.

Richard, arms folded over his chest, gave Itrivic a sly grin, already expecting the coming question.

“I believe I know vhat you qvestion is, Adrian Itrivic,” Richard said in a low whisper. “But it vould be rude of me to try to answer before it is asked, so go ahead.”

Adrian Itrivic cleared his throat, looked toward the table, where his eyes met those of his lovely niece, and he gave her the slightest nod before turning his eyes back to those of Richard Tiverski.

“What is your real last name,” said the local Vampire Lord of the Clan Itrivic. “From what family are you descended? I must know!”

Richard chuckled low in his stomach a moment before shuffling next to Adrian, putting one arm amiably over the Vampire Lord’s shoulder.

“My family name is Tepes.” Richard Tiverski watched with delight as he revealed this to Adrian Itrivic, whose family lineage was linked to the Tepes family only by four generation gaps and marriage.

Richard clutched tighter with his arm, bringing his mouth right next to Adrian’s ear as he rasped, “Mine grandpater vas Vlad Tepes Dracula.”

His words sent instant waves of fear and dread down into the Vampire Lord’s blackened heart. “And now that you know this, your family must perish,” Richard said as Adrian tapped the wall and disappeared, the panel shifting him onto the other side of the thick stone wall.

Nadia Itrivic rose and made a single sweep of her left arm, calling forth magical force, and summoning guards and mages to the meeting hall before Rage crushed her skull with a heavy cross punch to the face.

“Man, I’ve wanted to do that all night,” Trevor Tiverski bellowed as the first wave of guards burst into the lower chamber, weapons raised and shields at the ready.

Trevor drew his long sword, Simon hurled a wall of magical spikes into the first wave of attackers, and Akimaru started streaming his ice power into the ventilation duct above.

Seeing what the white clad Ninja intended to do, Richard and Rage both moved to cover either side of him and defend him against attack.

Dozens of guards launched small arrows and crossbow bolts from the upper balcony level of the chamber, and more than a couple found their marks in Richard, Trevor and Rage.

Simon levitated to the center of the balcony level, his body suspended in air as he thrust his head back and his hands out to his sides, releasing forks of lightning into the assembled sharpshooters.

As the second wave of archers came into the room from the west entrance, Simon spun in mid-air and released a Holy Cannon spell upon them, bringing his hands together wrist-to-wrist and spreading his hands wide.

A single beam of white light, a foot and a half in diameter, erupted toward the new archers, barreling into them without sound.

The chamber trembled, however, from the sudden release of holy magic in such high concentration, and for a moment, Akimaru’s concentration wavered.

“I do say, good brother, perhaps you could, oh I don’t know, tone it down a bit,” Richard Tiverski called up to the youngest Tiverski brother as he parried and dodged several swipes of a short sword by a guard. His rapier flashed and danced in his hand, carving the flesh of his kinsmen, some of whom could very well be his descendents. He had, after all, told Adrian Itrivic the undiminished truth about his lineage. Dracula, the lauded Vampire said to have been the progenitor of their proud and deadly Race, was indeed his grandfather. What few knew, however, was how common that claim had once been. Dracula had after all gone through several wives, many of whom he had turned into Vampires himself. Two of his wives had been Humans as well, leading to the birth of the Vampries, or half-breeds, and Vempores, those of three-quarters Vampire blood. Being a grandson wasn’t much of a boast, once upon a time.

Now, of course, Richard stood as one of the last, a fact of which he was very secretly and immensely proud. If his brother Simon didn’t control his magic more closely, however, or if Akimaru’s ploy backfired, he might not be alive any longer to enjoy his private pride. Also he noted, as a spear stabbed shallowly into the left side of his abdomen, he needed to fight well to stay alive.

Richard backed away toward the white clad Ninja, and felt the air around him turn deathly cold. Even for a Vampire, he didn’t enjoy the sudden chill in the environment.

Still, he thought, at least nobody’s taken a grave wound. Richard Tiverski felt the shallow wound in his belly seal itself shut already, and the guard who had stabbed him turned away, wild-eyed, and ran screaming that he was not a Vampire, he was a monster.

* * * *

“Impossible,” was the only word that Adrian Itrivic could say as he fled through the hidden hallways and corridors within the compound, seeking the secret exit he’d had installed in the event of just such an emergency. “It’s just not possible! He cannot be so directly related to our great progenitor! For the Gods’ sakes, he doesn’t even hunt down mortal blood.”

Twisting and turning, running headlong down the tunnels in a state of mental and physical panic, Lord Itrivic was suddenly very grateful for the blood he had imbibed in the meeting hall. Without its vitality, he wouldn’t have been able to make such a swift escape. If only I could turn into a bat, he thought bitterly as he descended a set of stone steps toward his secret exit.

His escape route terminated in a narrow tunnel that lead up into the foothills slightly north and east of the compound. Approximately a mile long, he would be able to cover the distance in less than four minutes at a full-out sprint, which at this point he felt more than capable of. Charging down the corridor, Adrian Itrivic sped toward his safe escape.

* * * *

Vampires both of the Clan Itrivic and the various lesser families that provided guards for the Clan stood throughout the compound, encased in magical blocks of ice that robbed them of warmth, oxygen, and eventually, of life. As soon as they fell victim to Akimaru’s encasing ice mist, needles of ice ruptured their vital organs from the casing itself, slaying them and turning most of the victims into crimson ice sculptures.

In the meeting hall, Trevor, Simon and Rage compared numbers mockingly as more guards clambered into the chamber, many of them hesitating since they could plainly see their dead and dying comrades. Above the din of their exhalations and destructive efforts, Richard could be heard giving them directions. “Finish them qvickly, then get out of the compound! Akimaru, you have done well, but the frost has most likely damaged ze strength of ze building! Everybody get out vhile you can!”

Though his brothers heard and began to obey immediately, cutting and blasting a swath of guards as they made their escape, Rage and Akimaru both noticed a strange phenomenon. Though they could clearly hear Richard Tiverski, when they looked around the meeting hall and the hallway they exited into, they could not find him anywhere.

* * * *

Just another hundred yards, Adrian Itrivic thought, and I’m free! He had remained untouched by Akimaru’s frost powers, as the escape tunnel had its own system of vents and ducts through which fresh air could come from the outside. However, as he saw the end of the tunnel during the last fifty or so yards, he also saw a dark silhouette fill a large portion of the end of the tunnel. “Vhere exactly do you think you’re going,” the silhouette asked, the voice seemingly directed straight into his panicked mind.

Adrian Itrivic skidded to a halt perhaps ten yards away from Richard Tiverski, though the creature before him looked much larger and more powerful than the aristocratic and well-spoken individual he’d left behind in the meeting hall. His shoulder-length white hair appeared to have grown in the few minutes since their last exchange of words, flowing and flapping about his waist. In his right hand he held an estoc, a sword normally wielded with two hands by Knights or Paladins of enormous strength. Around his left hand, white smoke plumed up out of the cuff of his white undershirt, and he smiled so wickedly that for a moment Adrian Itrivic’s blackened heart skipped a beat.

“I, uh, I’m getting the hells out of here,” Adrian offered weakly. As he watched, dumbfounded, the white smoke roiling out of Richard Tiverski’s cuff turned a slight blue color, and its course seemed to direct itself down to the floor of the tunnel. As it hit the floor, the smoke started to solidify into a vaguely recognizable shape; a large, blue metal boot of armor. “What, what are you doing?”

“It is a power passed down from generation to generation by my branch of the family Tepes.” Richard Tiverski still smiled angelically.

Armored legs and an armored lower torso had formed in a few moments, along with what appeared to be a white sash around the creature’s waist. “It is most useful vhen I don’t vish to get my hands dirty. I believe you vill appreciate it.” His smile vanished as he concentrated on forming his servant.

A minute passed, a minute during which Adrian Itrivic struggled to get himself moving, yet he found he could not. Every time he tried to surge forward, his eyes fell on those of Richard Tiverski, and his entire body lost its will to resist. One last time he made to lunge forward, to clear the danger before him, but could not. Now, as he looked to the left side of the tunnel, he saw standing in his path a large blue suit of armor, spikes on its elbows and shoulders, darkness in the helmet’s visor, and its right hand clamped around a savage stone axe.

“What is it,” Adrian whispered in awe as the suit of armor reared its weapon back behind its head.

“It is the end of you, Adrian Itrivic.” Richard turned and stalked away as the axe-wielding armor let its weapon fly, cleaving the other Vampire's head cleanly in half.

Adrian Itrivic fell dead to the floor of the tunnel, and shortly after turned into a pile of dust.

As Richard withdrew his powers and aura, he cracked his neck and his fingers. “Remain here, in case somevone else tries to escape zis vay,” Richard said over his shoulder to the armor, which had drawn another axe out of thin air.

It said nothing in reply, merely turning slightly toward its creator and giving a brief nod of its helmet.

In a whirl of smoke, the eldest Tiverski brother had disappeared.

* * * *

Hours later, walking back toward the cottage belonging to the Tiverski trio, Akimaru and Rage remained at the rear of the procession, while Trevor and Simon walked side by side in the middle, with Richard ranging ahead a good two hundred yards. Sunrise would be coming soon. Simon’s magical abilities to block the sun’s effects on himself and his brothers was most useful after high noon, when the sun was on it’s way out of the waking world. The protection provided in the mornings was not adequate to shield them entirely until they got home if they didn’t maintain their current pace, and the three Vampire brothers would suffer permanent sun damage despite the shielding.

As they followed behind, Akimaru asked Rage a couple of questions regarding the Tiverskis. The Orc Berserker agreed that they seemed an okay lot, for Vampires, and he indicated to the white clad Ninja that yes, he would work with them again if the event arose.

Trevor and Simon compared kills from the Itrivic compound, Trevor bragging and boasting about his masterful use of his long sword, Simon taunting him with his effortless use of magic against their own kinsmen. Neither of them could guess what was going through their elder brother’s mind, and neither hazarded a guess.

So long it has been, Richard thought. So long since I have been forced to take up arms against our own kind. And yet, it will not be the last time. And it won’t be the worst situation we come across in the years to come, either.

The two members of the Midnight Suns bid them farewell at their cottage door, and the three Tiverski brothers headed indoors. All three headed to their respective rooms, and two of them were swiftly asleep.

Richard Tiverski lay awake for a while, staring up at the ceiling of his room, and wondered if he would ever see his grandfather again.

* * * *

“Hmm,” said a tall, regal fellow with powder white hair and an exquisite black cloak. As he rubbed his chin in appreciation, the soulless armor creature in the Itrivic compound’s escape tunnel looked him over. It noted the crimson shade of the cloak’s lining, the strong facial features of the man in the cloak itself, as well as the expensive-looking gentleman’s clothes briefly revealed while the man rubbed his chin. “Not bad, if I must say,” the man commented.

The armor creature only had a short while left to exist, and it was well aware that nothing moved inside of the compound it had been set to guard by its creator, Richard Tiverski Tepes. Normally, after twenty-four hours of guarding a place or person, this animated, conjured suit of armor would simply disappear. However, as the appointed hour approached, it felt itself becoming more and more self-aware, and with self-awareness came a realization; it was going to outlive its expected time.

The armor creature wondered if perhaps the man before it had anything to do with that. When the man had appeared, the armor had hefted up one of its axes, and prepared to do battle with him. However, the stranger had made a single low noise, and the armor had somehow known to stop.

“You are wondering how I was able to stop you from attacking me?”

The armor nodded its helmet of a head.

“Don’t worry about it. Come with me.” The stranger walked next to the armor and draped an arm around its shoulders. “I’ll not waste a fine specimen such as yourself. My grandson might not appreciate it, but I need a few extra guards around my home.....”