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The Vampire princes

The vampire hunters and beastslayers had arrived. Even before the chamberlains had announced their arrival, Baron Ulrek had sensed their presence as they entered his keep; already he had begun attempting to probe their minds. It was apparent that many among them were skilled vampire slayers, for the thoughts that Ulrek perceived were unbelievably inane or crude. Ulrek probed one of the beastslayers' minds only to be subjected to the memory of the teenaged vampire slayer pleasuring himself with a large, overripe turnip with a hole poked through it. Revolted by being subjected to such a thought, Ulrek immediately untethered his consciousness from the hunter's mind. No doubt that these vampire slayers were well aware of vampires' capacity to read minds, and had therefore forced themselves to think of some drivel to distract or disgust any who would attempt to read their minds; a simple yet effective tactic in the presence of a powerful vampire. These were precisely the sort of seasoned hunters Ulrek needed.

The Keep's head chamberlain ushered nearly a dozen men into the great hall. They were a barbaric gaggle of dangerous looking men; their mere entry had stirred the guards to the utmost attention and the Baron's servants exchanged anxious glances with one another as a hushed murmur came up from the peripheries of the great hall. Even to the courtiers that had not expected them, it was clear that these men were vampire hunters from the crosses hanging openly from their necks and the reek of garlic emanating from their pores. What had compelled the Baron to invite such men to his court?

The Baron of the Great Weald sat rigidly upon his throne, eying his curious guests. Ulrek seemed attentive but unperturbed, even as the miserable garlic stench clinging to the clothing and skin of some of the vampire slayers reached his nose. Once they had settled into the great hall, Ulrek stood to address them.

"Gentlemen," Baron Ulrek began as he rose out of his throne, "I bid you welcome. You have traveled distant leagues and endured many inconveniences to join me at my court today. The matter that has forced me to summon you today is urgent indeed, and I thank you for arriving quickly in keeping with the urgency of this situation."

"Enough jabberin', Baron," a broad-shouldered beast of a vampire slayer interrupted. "Wot d'ya wont wif us?"

"You wish me to be concise? Fair enough," said Ulrek. "Guards, servants, leave me and these gentlemen for a brief while." The guards hesitated for a moment. Leave his majesty alone with a dozen vampire slayers without a single guard in the room? Had Ulrek gone completely mad?

"Guards, I insist," Ulrek repeated, sensing their unease.

Mad or not, the Baron's orders could not be denied. The guards slowly filed out of the great hall and the head chamberlain shut the doors behind them, leaving the vampire lord and the vampire hunters alone together.

"Now, as you wish, I shall speak candidly and concisely. King Zachaeus Bathory, my father and master of this imperium, has elected to forgo the legal order of succession of these lands and pass the inheritance of rule over the Xelwyth Imperium to whichever of his sons can first find a loving bride. I am a revolting monster that naturally repulses female beings, and so I am naturally handicapped in this absurd game against the likes of my handsome younger brothers Edward, Matteas, Rory, and others. I see this contest for what it truly is: a desperate attempt for my father to deny me my rightful inheritance. I will not abide this flagrant perversion of inheritance law."

"So, where do we lot come in?" Asked the giant of a vampire slayer.

"I will pay 1,000 golden vespers for each of my brother's heads delivered to me." Ulrek declared. The vampire slayers exchanged toothy grins and excited nudges to one another. A single golden vesper was more than many commoners saved up in an entire year; 1,000 was a considerable fortune. It was by far the largest bounty any of them had ever been offered.

"Which of your brothers do you think will be wed soonest?" Asked the tallest of the vampire slayers, handsomely dressed and better spoken than his cruder compatriots.

"A wise question," said Ulrek. "I believe Matteas, Baron of Solleck, is nearest to being betrothed. He has courted a noblewoman of that city for some time before my father issued his challenge and is therefore in an advantageous position." Ulrek, impressed with this taller vampire hunter, casually attempted to probe his mind.

Nothing.

Ulrek's eyes widened slightly, for this had never happened before. Never before had Ulrek encountered a mortal impervious to being mind-probed. He continued on with this briefing, wishing to distract the vampire slayers from his shock.

"Matteas is a problem, but Edward is the greatest threat. 1,500 vespers for his head."

"A bloo'y fo'tune!" Exclaimed one of the vampire slayers who could not contain his enthusiasm for the promise of such riches. "I'll be rich 'nuf to buy my own bloo'y castle when this is all said 'n done."

"A word of caution," Ulrek added, tempering the enthusiasm. "These are not the wild, feral beasts you gentlemen are accustomed to dispatching. These are powerful vampires, learned and protected by guard contingents and the laws of this land. If you should be captured attempting to kill my brothers, then there will be nothing I can do to save you. Die in the last ditch, for if you are captured my brothers will mete out the most excruciating of executions against you. Great risk warrants great reward." Truthfully, Baron Ulrek did not know if a captured vampire slayer would be immediately executed if found by his brothers, but he hoped that they would believe it and choose to fight to the death rather than be interrogated and reveal his plot.

"I dismiss you now to seek out whichever of my brothers you see fit," Ulrek said at last. "Now go and do your bloody work. But work quickly. Time is of the essence in this matter."

As the vampire slayers made their way for the doors, Ulrek focused on the tallest of the vampire hunters, confirming once again that he could not read his mind. As Ulrek's attempts to hone in on this man's mind proved fruitless, the immortal monster felt for perhaps the first time in his long life a very mortal feeling: fear. For the first time in nearly three centuries, Ulrek Bathory had encountered in this tall mortal man something that frightened him.

Truly a Man of Culture

Anime is a scourge

The Vampire princes

The past fortnight had seen more visitors to Keep Felboge than the previous century. All manner of visitors were coming and going from the Baron's great hall in a flurry of activity that left the servants and chamberlains utterly exhausted. Baron Ulrek Bathory's malign intentions were becoming increasingly apparent. The chief chamberlain of the Keep had done all that he could to notify his liege, Lord Edward Bathory, of the Baron's actions. He hoped that Edward's hawk had made it back to the capital with his brief message intact, and that his master did something to check Ulrek's maneuverings - and fast.

The head chamberlain had opted now to ensure that he could bear witness to as much of Ulrek's treasonous behavior as possible. To this end, he insisted on attending each audience the Baron held with visitors to the keep. If Edward was able to act quickly and mobilize a force to arrest his older brother, the chamberlain hoped that his testimonial of these meetings might one day be used to mete out justice. But he feared now that the time to stop the rogue Baron of Felboge Keep without bloodshed was fast coming to a close.

He stood now in attendance in Baron Ulrek's court, standing vigil over yet another audience with a party summoned to the great hall. A gaggle of foreign alchemists and apothecaries stood before the throne behind a wooden table brought in specifically for this audience. Under the gaze of the Baron, they unpacked an assortment of dried herbs and vegetables from satchels and placed them on the table for display. The chamberlain's interest was piqued when he saw an apothecary produce a braid of garlic cloves from a satchel and lay it upon the table beside a bundle of some dried purple herb that bore similarity to lavender. The sight of garlic elicited visible unease among the dozen guards in attendance; their grip on their crossbows tightened. Garlic, a potent poison to vampires, had been strictly outlawed in the Empire for the entirety of the Empire's existence - excluding the Great Weald as of very recently. Anxious glances at the Baron gave proof that he was not at all perturbed by the garlic cloves, and so the guards allowed the alchemists to continue.

"Baron Ulrek Bathory," one of the alchemists began once the table had been set, "we are honored to attend your court today. As you have requested in your letter, we have procured all readily-available herbs, vegetables, and materials that are known to us to be noxious to your kind. To be absolutely clear, we have brought these materials at your request, and have no intention of causing any harm-"

"Understood," Ulrek cut the alchemist of with a wave of his bony hand. "Show me your goods."

"As you wish, your majesty." The alchemist began at the right side of the table, holding up one a large, dried shelf mushroom.

"Peacock's Tail, a polypore mushroom whose ashes have been reported as effective against vampires when burned. It is rare in these lands and grows only on giant trees in the frost jungles of Faresh, far to the northeast." He continued down the table to a few heaping bundles of dried plants.

"Vervain, this is highly sought after by vampire hunters, and reported to be highly lethal to your kind. And here: Warrior's Balm, a common weed in these lands. Legend purports that vampires are repulsed by this herb, but vampire hunters seldom request it which suggests that it is, in truth, not particularly noxious to your kind. Here we have Wolfsbane another herb purported to be deadly to vampires. It, like Warrior's Balm, has conflicting reports as to its efficacy in repelling vampires."

Baron Ulrek stood from his throne and descended from its dais, making his way over to the sampling of herbs on the table before him. To the surprise of the alchemists, Ulrek simply grabbed a handful of dried Wolfsbane and held it to his nostrils, deeply sniffing the crinkling leaves before laying it back upon the table.

"A slightly unpleasant aroma," Ulrek decided, "but I am hardly repulsed. Perhaps you may wish to inform the vampire slayers that patronize you that this particular plant is useless to them, lest you lose their business to some feral vampire."

"Of course, your majesty. Lastly, we have garlic. The most effective known vampire repellent," the alchemist grabbed a fresh white bulb of garlic and tore it apart, plucking one of the largest cloves from the papery husk. "Its juices are said to be highly toxic; its mere aroma rumored to drive vampires mad."

"Show me," Ulrek demanded.

"As you wish, your majesty," the alchemist acknowledged with eyes wide with anxiety. He laid the garlic clove down upon the table and with a small knife produced from his pocket, made a clean cut across the width of the clove. He held one of the halves up, presenting it to the vampire baron. The clove's sour zest slowly began to permeate the air. The aroma, after some moments, entered Ulrek's nostrils, eliciting an extreme and immediate revulsion. The vampire's normally stoic face coiled into a disgusted grimace as a smell deemed pleasant by most men was perceived by his own nostrils as a putrid odor far worse than that of a festering corpse marinating in pig shit.

"An effective repellent," Ulrek admitted, stepping back some paces to relieve himself of the garlicky aroma. "Very effective, very good."

((Suggested listening))

"One more item to show you, your majesty," the alchemist said as he produced a glass ampule containing a minuscule object only slightly larger than a grain of sand. His fingers trembled as he presented the small vial to the vampire baron. Ulrek took the ampule in his bony fingers and twirled it about before his eyes, watching the infinitesimal object within clink against the glass with a soft, metallic ring.

"Silver," Baron Ulrek recognized.

"Indeed, majesty. Nothing is more lethal to a vampire than silver. Per your request, we have brought to you the smallest nugget we could procure, but I must confess that I am perplexed as to why you wanted it. Surely, over your long lifetime, you have been acquainted with this metal at-"

Stunned silence overtook the great hall as Baron Ulrek uncorked the glass vial. He held one of his pale and bony palms up to the open ampule. He paused for a moment to contemplate and then, to the dismay of all in attendance, emptied the silver nugget into his palm.

For several moments, the Baron was perfectly still as the grain of silver rested in his palm. Without warning, the empty vial fell from the Baron's left hand and shattered upon the floor. A wispy trail of white smoke rose up from the vampire's palm, but still Ulrek was unwavering. The pallid flesh of Ulrek's palm began to smolder with the initial sparks of a yellow flame. Ulrek was wincing now and his face trembling, but even now he did not yield to the agonizing pain induced by this tiny drop of silver.

"Your majesty, release it!" A guard pleaded.

As if in defiance, Ulrek clenched his fist around the silver nugget. Yellow flames leaked out from between his fingers, licking his fingers and knuckles. Even as his hand burned with unholy yellow fire, Ulrek did not release the silver and instead braced his burning, quivering hand with the other, holding it tightly in his palm in spite the innate compulsion to release it. Through bared, gritted fangs, Ulrek watched as the flames built to an agonizing crescendo and then slowly began to subside. Smoke wafted from his clenched fist once more as the yellow flames extinguished. At last, Ulrek opened his fist and allowed the silver nugget to fall to the floor. His hands had been horrifically burned, but the vampire was still alive.

"Take your herbs and plants," Ulrek ordered to the alchemists and apothecaries between heaved pants, "and distill their toxic essences into one single potion. Make as many bottles as you can with the supplies at hand. And when you leave for your homes, go and tell any vampire hunters that might patronize your enterprises that there lives one vampire their poisons and silver will not kill."

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Would you poop on my chest for $50/€43.9/£39.2

The Vampire princes

The late morning sun was already high in the sky above the Great Weald, though one would never know it in the great hall of Baron Ulrek Bathory's keep. The inner quarters of Felboge keep were kept perpetually gloomy, illuminated only by braziers filled only with glowing coals that provided only enough light for the keep's servants and courtiers from stumbling about in darkness. Occasionally, the coals in a brazier would ignite back into healthy and vibrant flames, only for servants to smother the fire back down to dim coals in accordance with Ulrek's wishes. Vampires, being nocturnal beings, were inherently adjusted for dark conditions and typically preferred the gloom. Baron Ulrek strictly maintained low light conditions in his keep not only for his comfort, but to afford him an advantage over any human that might attempt to cross him. The Baron's enemies were numerous, and not all of them were outside the walls of the keep. Should there ever be an attempt on his life, Ulrek wanted to reserve every possible advantage over an assailant.

The Baron sat in solitude upon his throne in the great hall, listening for a long time. Not with his ears, but with his mind. Some vampires could not only hear sounds, but the thoughts of lesser beings. It was a power most vampires had in some capacity, but Ulrek had studied and practiced the technique extensively to the point of being able to eavesdrop on the inner monologues of most of the guards and servants throughout the keep. Most of the thoughts were extremely dull or insipid; precisely the sort of thoughts one might expect of such lowly stock. But of late, Ulrek had read a number of disquieting thoughts from somewhere within his keep. Traitorous thoughts. A spy or foreign agent lurked somewhere within his keep, but he had so far not been able to determine who it was. Baron Ulrek listened intently once again, his mind listening through the miasma of idiotic thoughts produced by keep's numerous guards and servants with the hope of hearing a snippet of disloyal thought.

What does this miserable cretin want with us? Ulrek sensed the hateful thought at once, and focused in on it.

The vampire lords haven't spoken to our kind in damn near seven hundred of years, and now we are summoned to their court. By Sturin's Beard, what is going on with them? What's changed now to end centuries of silence?

Why does it have to be so damned dark in here? Idiots have let all the braziers burn down to coals.

Dwarves, Ulrek recognized. The delegation from the Felmurg Dwarves had arrived at the keep at last.

Within minutes, a contingent of guards had escorted the dwarves into the great hall before Ulrek Bathory. Five dwarves with bushy beards and manes carefully braided into tight braided locks. Exquisite lamellar cuirasses sat upon their thick shoulders. Though their weapons had been confiscated upon entry into the keep, it would require a brutal fight to take these dwarves down; impressive specimens of their race.

"I'm Bronnig Blacktooth, Emissary of Sturin's Folk of the Felmurg Mountains. We've accepted your invitation to hear the proposition mentioned in your message." Typical dwarven curtness, Ulrek thought to himself.

"And how glad I am that you have," replied Ulrek. "I know your kind does care for idle talk, and so I will be as brief as I can. But I would first like to refresh your memory as to the history of this land."

"No need for that, Baron," Blacktooth growled. "We haven't yet forgotten that these was dwarven lands once upon a time."

"Dwarven lands, taken from you by humans, and then liberated some eight centuries ago by my kind,"

"Seems vampires have a queer definition of the word 'liberated'. Nary a dwarf that's lived in these lands for a thousand years. The old mines in this land are still closed to us. That's hardly a liberation a dwarf would recognize."

"And what a pity that is," said Ulrek. "A pity, also, that some of the most productive mines in all the land are located in this realm, rich in gold, rubies, mithril... and unfortunately silver. It was only natural that our kind would outlaw the mining of silver throughout the Imperium. But, considering the substantial quantities of wealth purported to remain in some of those ancient dwarven mines, it seems a terrible waste to allow it to sit underground for all eternity."

"What is your proposal, Baron?" Ulrek could see the eyes of the dwarves widen with the very mention of gold and mithril. Dwarven greed was legendary; Ulrek knew they would not be able to resist his offer."

"I wish to offer the dwarves of the Felmurg Mountains access to their ancestral mines in this land. Harvest as much gold, mithril... whatever else you like. But for each pound of gold or mithril mined, you must also mine one pound of silver, and every pound of silver mined belongs to me." Immediately, the dwarves huddled together.

"A pound of silver for a pound of mithril?" One of the dwarves murmured to the others, his voice giddy with excitement. "A pound of mithril is worth 40 of silver!"

"That's a fool's trade!"

"Sturin's Beard, what does a vampire want with silver?"

Bronnig stepped out of the huddle to face Ulrek once again.

"What do you want in return? Besides the silver?"

"I seek an alliance with your people. I want assurances that, if needed, your dwarves will fight alongside my fighting men."

"That's all you want, is it," Asked a suspicious Bronnig, "an alliance with the Imperium?"

"No. With me."

The dwarves huddled once again, briefly. Their minds were made up remarkably quickly. Ulrek knew no dwarf could resist the promise of such treasures.

"Ulrek Bathory, we Dwarves of Sturin's Folk accept your proposal!"

---

The master chamberlain of Felboge Keep stood on the ramparts, watching the arrival of the the Felmurg Dwarves. It was a historic occasion, for no dwarf had ever been invited to a Bathory court as far as he was aware. But the dwarves were only the most recent in a great number of strange visitors the Baron had been requesting since the return from the Capital. But no request was quite as unusual as the letter he had read addressed to one Solomon Kane.

A flicker of movement in the skies above drew the chamberlain's attention from the dwarves making their way over the drawbridge. A large bird circled in the sky just above the keep. A hawk? Could it be? The chamberlain squinted his eyes and picked out the white wingtips on the bird's silhouette. It was Edward Bathory's hawk!

The chamberlain scrambled and went immediately to a nearby refuse pile collected from the sweepings of the servants. A few moments of frantically sifting through the old coals and dust yielded exactly what he was looking for: a dead rat. The chamberlain went back over to the battlements, patted the excess soot of the recently-deceased vermin, and laid it upon a battlement where he hoped the hawk would see. Several moments passed before the hawk finally swooped down over the chamberlain's head and perched itself upon the battlement. As the bird began to pick at the limbs of the dead rat, the chamberlain realized he would not have much time to act and immediately set about looking for anything to make a brief note out of. Looking around his immediate surroundings, he took a piece of charcoal from the debris pile, but could not think of something to write on. He briefly considered running inside the keep to fetch some vellum from his study, but Edward's hawk would certainly have flown off by then. It was at that moment that a breeze off of the moor set the flayed skins hanging off the ramparts fluttering and crinkling again, giving the chamberlain another idea.

He reached over the battlements of the ramparts and seized the tattered remains of some unfortunate prisoner's arm. The chamberlain tore off a leathery piece of thumb skin from the flayed hide and with the charcoal scrawled the most detailed message to Edward as was possible given the limitations of time and the medium he had to work with.

KANE COMING, BEWARE ULREK

The chamberlain tore a length of loose thread from his robe, tightly rolled his crude message, and managed to tie it to the right leg of the hawk - already tame and too busy peeling the rat's innards from its open belly to be bothered by the message being affixed to its body. Satisfied that the message was secure, the chamberlain discarded the rat carcass into the debris pile and shooed the hawk back into the sky. It would take only a rain or a heavy mist to moisten the charcoal and render the message illegible, but the chamberlain remained hopeful that the hawk would return to its master shortly so that Lord Edward could know his brother's malign intentions.

Ask Me a Question!

<Snipped quote by gorgenmast>

No, I haven't, and no, I wouldn't.

@KimHanuel

Can I poop on your chest?

It Had to Happen

<Snipped quote by StormOfShadows>

Plssss do not swear on spam b/c we aim for high lvl of discurse here

@gorgenmast

Nobody got my clever wordplay with swear and curse. Time to kill myself on Vimeo

Ask Me a Question!

Ya ever poop on another man's chest before? Second question, would you like to poop on my chest?