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dapper-dom · 5 years

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Spires of Night, Part 1

A deep cold settled throughout the party. Towering before them was Castle Ventris. Two stone guard towers loomed, framing an open portcullis and a lowered drawbridge. Behind the 50-foot wall, three spires asymmetrically dominated the overlook. Two rose from the West, the last and tallest seeming to lean away from the setting sun in the East. The plan had been to arrive well before dusk, a “quiet infiltration op,” the rogue had called it. That had been before the party was accosted by the grindylow. And the furies. The most embarrassing diversion had been, of all things, when the Paladin had attempted to mount the carriage from the rear and fell in his attempt. Ethan has been driving and didn’t notice until minutes later when the Tabaxi rogue had obliquely mentioned it. Ethan shook his head ruefully. At least the rogue hadn’t fallen off.

Despite the harrowing carriage ride up the windy mountain pass, the castle before them seemed imposing at first glance, but upon listening carefully, Ethan thought he heard music. Taking a more thorough look, he saw beyond the open portcullis that the front doors of the castle were open and warm torchlight flickered from inside. Unnerved by the inviting sight, Ethan gestured to Ku and motioned to the guard towers. Ku gave a terse nod and ran toward the drawbridge. Ethan wasn’t sure what he expected, he only knew that he surely didn’t expect the cat to run up the chain of the drawbridge. In less time than it took to say the words, the cat had scaled the chain and clawed silently up to the window of the tower. A few seconds of silence was followed by a dull whump sound. Another moment of tense anticipation and then Ku was leaning out the window, waving them forward with a clawed hand.

Ethan started forward immediately, taking care to move quietly. A lifetime of dancing had left him light on his feet. Sir Galahad was another matter entirely. Wearing nearly half his weight in Plate armor, he walked slowly and carefully, he still sounded like a damned parade all on his own. Galahad let Ethan gain about 30 feet of a lead before following after. Muttering a prayer to Mystra under his breath, Ethan continued forward, reuniting with Ku who had exited the rear stairs to the guard tower. Together they had only begun to slink along the inner wall of the compound before the heard a cry from Galahad. Galahad hadn’t even finished crossing the drawbridge when he had apparently been attacked by some sort of gelatinous ooze creature that had been hiding under the withdrawn portcullis. True to form, Galahad had rang out with his battlecry, battering the ooze monster back. Ethan just smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand as the sounds of combat rang across the still air of the courtyard. Another crash resounded from the bridge and the ground shuddered with the impact. Ethan repeated the gesture, his knuckles rubbing into his forehead as the battle concluded with a snarl from Sir Galahad.

Sir Galahad approached, his armor clinking with every step. Ethan turned to face him and grabbed him by the Breastplate, pulling him down so Galahad’s ear was level with Ethan’s mouth. Ethan whispered furiously, “if you weren’t so handy in a fight with undead, I would murder you myself, you miserable excuse for a martial combatant.” With a stiff push, he stalked away from Sir Galahad and headed straight for the front door, making no attempt to disguise his approach.

Sir Galahad called back, “Are we nah goin’ around the back?”

“That was before you alerted the entire region of our presence, genius,” Ethan replied without turning.

Sure enough, as Ethan approaches the open doors of the Castle, a man in fastidious dress stood at the door expectantly. The bard gave a shallow bow to the man at the door and swept his arm to his side, gesturing to himself and his party. “Salutations, steward. My name is Ethan of the Harpers, and these are my companions, Sir Galahad of Order of the Unicorn, and Ku Khajiit, the Penniless Rogue. Do mind your silverware around the Cat. We come to call upon the Lady of the castle, the most esteemed Lady Ventris.”

“Mistress Ventris extends her fondest felicitations and a warm welcome to the Swords of the Boneforge. Please don your masks and join the party. Our mistress expects you presently.” With a flourish, the steward revealed a silver platter with three elegant masks. Each appeared uniquely suited for the members of the party. The first was a sleek silver with fangs hanging down from the feline looking snout. As Ku donned the mask, it framed his slotted feline eyes. The second was a golden number, with a long protruding beak-like nose. On Sir Galahad, it made him look like an angelic plague doctor.

The last mask was a feminine looking black mask with lace and black feathers. Ethan took it up and examined it for a moment. With a quirk of his lips, he took in the tanned brown leather of his armor and his blue cloak. With an effort of will, the leather darkened to a shiny black. The cloak swirled with color, pink, purple, and, finally, wine red swept across the garment until it was scarlet throughout. The bronze of his buckles turned silver, as did his previously-golden Harper’s pin. Finally, his hat darkened from olive green to scarlet, with a black feather that matched the mask perfectly. Newly accoutered, Ethan donned his mask and strode purposefully into the foyer.

The Swords of the Boneforge were conducted through the halls of Castle Ventris, through a parade of rich tapestries, suits of armor (some vibrantly animated), and beautiful rugs and carpets. The steward strode silently before them, a pale, almost ghoulish specter. At first, Ethan thought Sir Galahad’s thundering footsteps must have been smothering the sound of his passing, but somewhere along the long walk to the ballroom, Ethan realized that the Stewards footsteps left no trace in the shag of the carpet and he shuddered. A few more twists and turns and Ethan was greeted with a beautiful pair of double doors and a pair of silver clad servants who promptly opened the doors to an enormous ballroom.

The most noticeable thing was the strident clarion of organ music as it piped throughout the ballroom. Ethan found himself standing on a balcony of white marble. Below the balcony, Figures in regal gowns and majestic capes swirled in pairs of myriads of colors over black and white checkered marble tiles. Bystanders were sitting at tables ringing the ballroom. Oddly, each had an empty chair beside them. An off feeling of unease settled through the Bard as he surveyed the scene. Something was off but he couldn’t tell what.

He heard Ku speak beside him. “Where is the food?” Ethan turned to him, eyebrows raised. “The food,” Ku repeated. “There is none on the tables.”

“It’s there,” the Paladin said grimly. “You just don’t recognize them as such.”

Ethan’s eyebrows reversed their trajectory, this time knitting together. After a moment, he realized with a sinking sensation in his gut. “The crowd. They’re not bystanders. They’re... the food.”

As if on cue, the organ music swelled in a rich crescendo and all of Ethan’s attention was drawn into the figure across the ballroom, sitting at the organs 5 keyboards. Long, perfectly-curled red hair seemed to be piled up in a stunning updo before being allowed to cascade in waves to one side over smooth porcelain skin to a high black velvet collar. Ethan was enraptured. The chords and melody and countermelody piping through the hall could scarcely have been the work of a single pair of hands, but it must have been so. The virtuosity of the musician was unparalleled by anything the Bard had ever heard. After a moment, the Bard came back to himself, shivering with frisson and eyes blurring with tears.

Surreptitiously drying his eyes, Ethan gestured to the steward to introduce them. The organ’s song concluded just as the stewards voice filled the hall. “Sir Galahad, Mister Khajiit, and Harper Ethan of the Swords of the Boneforge.” At the sound, every mask in the room turned to face them. Ethan felt the eyes on him like a weight settling against his awareness. One set seemed to stand out against the rest and an instinct drove Ethan’s eyes up to lock with the organist. Her mask was a curious mix of leather cigs and gears, as if she were the inside of a large clock with exposed innards. Her eyes were black orbs, pupil, iris, and sclera. The mask faded from a dark brown leather to nearly white as it ended at her cheekbones. Her porcelain white skin and high cheek bones framed a pair of blood red Cupid’s bow lips. Tension grew in the air between them until it felt like a physical pressure.

Breaking eye contact, Ethan took stock of his party. Galahad was shifting his weight from foot to foot. Ku was stock-still, his eyes narrowed to vertical slits. Recognizing the fear in his companions, the Bard reached out a hand to each of his companions shoulders, and cast Heroism. It took considerable effort to bolster all three of them, but Ethan felt he couldn’t afford to do nothing for his boon companions. His friends steadied under his touch, his will gently enfolding them.

Drawing strength from the power wrapped around him, Ethan lifted his chin to vampires and Strode deliberately down the marble staircase. As he did so, Heber held the vampires and alien stillness. Humans cannot be still the way vampires are still. Vampires are still in a way living things never could be. All motion ceases.Their eyelids do not twitch, nor do their chests move with faint or shallow breath. Their limbs are like stone. The vampires stood staring up at Ethan with masks unnervingly still. For a moment, the only sound in the entire hall was the sound the Bard’s shoes on the marble steps and Ethan could hear his heartbeat in his ears. Then, the clanking trudge of Sir Galahad’s approach broke the stillness and Ethan and his companions made their way down the stair to ground level. As one, the vampires swept into bows and curtsies. With perfect bearing, Ethan returned the bow deeply. Sir Galahad inclined his head while Ku just purred softly beside him, bending at the waist. They straightened and the vampires did the same, resuming that eerie stillness.

An interminable moment passed. Fifteen seconds. A minute. 5 minutes. Growing frustrated, Ethan eventually called out, his voice echoing around the hall. “Who would do me the honor of a dance?” As the echo of his voice faded, Ethan heard a musical sound.

At first, he thought it was the tinkling of silver bells. But as his ears located the source of the noise, he realized it was laughter. Musical laughter. Coming from the organist. He looked up, and took her in, her blood red lips parted in a seductive smile. He heard her voice as if she was standing not more than arms length away, saying, “what exquisite company we have with us today!” She turned, twirled once, her dress flowing up around her and suddenly, she was before him. She extended her hand to him, a black glove up to her elbow and a ruby sparkling in a gold setting on her hand.

He didn’t notice the compulsion until it attempted to slam him to his knees in front of her. He managed to keep his feet, as did Sir Galahad, but he heard Ku hit the ground with a yowl. With a bolt of insight, Ethan remarked, “my lady, it would be easier to dance with you if you relieved me of the overwhelming desire to kneel before you.”

She giggled again in response. “Oh my boy, careful of the thoughts you put in my head, I may make you act on them.”

Ethan inclined his head graciously, “if it pleases my host, I would be most glad to act in any manner she desired.”

Sir Galahad turned toward Ethan, A look of grim consternation on his face. “What are you doing? Ku is hurt. I thought you warded us!“

Ethan took stock of Ku. His eyes pupils were round and wide, like he’d gotten into some Skooma. “He’s fine,” Ethan replied. “My spell protects us against fear. He’s just charmed, he’ll probably snap out of it in a minute.” Turning his attention back to their host, Ethan inclined his head to Sir Galahad. “Forgive my companion, he can sometimes act as an ungrateful guest.” Ethan straightened toward his hostess. “Now. About that dance?”

All at once, music began playing, every couple in the ballroom stepped forward to spin with the beat, and Lady Camille Ventris took a single impossibly long step forward and suddenly, Ethan was spinning along with the Waltz, his right hand cupping her shoulder blade and his left hand in hers. And his gaze was locked with the Queen of Vampires. It was wholly (or unholy) surreal as his feat moved by rote. Camille’s slender frame was strong but soft, her figure sensual as she swayed and moved with his lead. She seemed to veritably flow across the dance floor. Ethan’s long practiced dance skills served him admirably as he spun through the Waltz. After a complete circuit of the ballroom, he saw Ku was pulling on Galahad, trying to get him to dance.

Ethan brought his awareness back to his dance partner. He could feel her hand pressing against the muscles of his arm. With a flourish of his hand, he brought her body closer to his, their hips pressing together as he tipped her backwards in a dip. Her breath was cool against his cheek and he heard her inhale sharply. “My, my, you smell delicious, little Bard.”

“Thank you, my lady. Your approval warms me nearly as much as your ravishing beauty and enrapturing eyes.”

“What a delightful silver tongue you have in that pretty head. Clearly, however, it is forked. That is easy enough to see with these old eyes.”

“I would have described them as beautiful. Or perhaps alluring. But you are not incorrect about my tongue, my lady. It has a mind of its own and, like me, it is insatiable in its quest for new sensations.”

After a pause, she replied, “it seems you have found common ground with a monster, Harper. I wonder what your music masters back at the college would think of that.”

“I am far more concerned with what you think, my lady.”

“You flatter me.”

“Me? Nay, madam. I am merely a skilled observer of fine truths.”

“Thus far, I am convinced that you may be of some value as entertainment. Whatever else you may be to me remains to be seen.”

As another song came to an end, Ethan asked, “My lady, could you be persuaded to do me the honor of enjoying a private audience with you?”

“Mmm, a private audience? Whatever could you want with little old me?” Camille asked, one delicate eyebrow arched.

Taking a gamble, Ethan ventured, “why, to entertain you. Perhaps I’d like to taste your lips until you quiver at my touch.”

She smiled, her brilliant white teeth subtly belying the human facade she wore. Her canines were a little too pointed to be naturally human. Her voice cooed as she said, “you must think quite highly of your skills, Bard. Besides, these lips hide teeth fit to devour you, mortal man.”

Ethan let a small chuckle escape his lips, his spell reinforcing his morale. “My dear Lady Ventris, when I said I wanted to taste your lips, I wasn’t referring to your mouth.”

Her hazel eyes bored into his forest greens and, after a long moment, she seemed to look past him as they flowed across the dance floor. Ethan wondered if he had miscalculated as the silence deepened between them before he felt her shudder slightly and say, “I might be able to find a use for you. But first, I must tie up the honor of your companion.”

Her hands dropped from his arms and the music stopped as the vampire queen straightened. As did every other vampire in the hall, all at once, as if the motion had been rehearsed. The humans at the tables stood closely behind and the only sound that could be heard was Ku’s muttering as he batted at Sir Galahad. The rogue was attempting to wrest control of a silver goblet from the knight.

In a jarringly loud voice, Lady Ventris called out, her face contorted into a feral snarl, “how dare you! I demand satisfaction!” In a single motion, her elbow length glove was off her hand and she threw it fluttering to the ground before Ethan. Her narrowed eyes were as hard as crystal as she said, “I challenge you to a duel, on my honor.”

Sir Galahad was instantly at Ethan’s side, his hand on the hilt of Answerer, his fabled blade. His basso voice rang out, “You speak of honor, Witch? What honor have you, Spawn of Darkness?”

“No!” Ethan shot Galahad a look as hissed through clenched teeth. Ethan put his hand over Galahad’s pressing the sword back into it’s sheathe. He whispered through clenched teeth, “look around you!” At Sir Galahad’s implied threat, the ballroom floor had immediately cleared. Every vampire on the floor had appeared at the side of every single human in the room. The vampire’s cold bloodless hands held the humans by their hair and waist, teeth bared and saliva dripping over the bare necks of their human counterparts.

The Queen of Vampires laughed again, but this time it sounded more like the clangor of battle than the tinkling of bells. “What shameful words, honorable Knight. You are in my home and I have extended you my hospitality as a guest. Surely you do not mean to sully your own honor by attacking me baselessly in my own home.” She gestured a hand around the ballroom as she spoke this last before pointing her extended finger at Ethan. “I am well within my rights to demand my satisfaction from any who enter my home and give me just cause, Sir Knight.”

Her eyes passed over each of them in turn. Sir Galahad stood rigid, his hand still closed over the pommel of his sword. Ku was noisily drinking wine from the silver goblet, having apparently caught it as Galahad had dropped it. Her eyes passed over Ethan and he felt her stare penetrating him to his core. He shuddered slightly as her gaze returned to Sir Galahad expectantly.

“What sort of challenge?” Sir Galahad spoke, with iron in voice and posture.

The vampire’s eyes glittered with amusement as her lips curled into a coy smile. “A battle of wits and skill. The terms are simple. There shall be a series of contests. To the victor go the cattle,” she waved an arm elegantly to the crowd of vampire-held humans, “and the loser shall suffer death.”

Sir Galahad opened his mouth to protest, but Ethan quickly spoke over him, “I accept your terms.” He turned his head to Galahad and whispered, “you need to stay with Ku.” The poor Khajiit was lying in the floor, drunkenly pawing at a tablecloth hanging beside him. The formerly wine-laden silver goblet was sticking out of his vest as if he’d wanted to keep it close to his heart.

Sir Galahad deflated at the sight, his hand finally relaxing from his sword’s grip. He turned to Ethan, his face close to Ethan’s ear. “I cannae protect you if you go with her, lad.”

Ethan turned and faced him, bringing his hands up and removing the the holy warrior’s mask. He rested his own mask covered forehead against Galahad’s. “You silly man. Can you really not see? I am doing this to protect you.”

Lady Ventris continued as if she had never stopped. “Furthermore, the challenge shall take place in private chambers. Unless,” she purred, “you perform better with an audience.”

The Paladin’s eyebrows knitted in confusion before his eyes closed and he shook his head. “You cannae let her take you out of here. Yeh’ll never return.”

Ethan shook his head. “No. If we remain here after she has expressed a desire to do otherwise, it could compromise your protection as guests. Ku won’t be of any use. Even you can’t fight a score Vampires at once, and there’s at least three times that.” Ethan turned back to Lady Ventris and nodded grimly, a steely expression on his face. “I will beat you regardless.”

With a twinkle in her eyes, Camille said, “we shall see, little Bard.”