Open Chronicles Hellsfeld

[Heike Eisen]

The immediate warmth of his hand was striking, but the tide of it against her when she was pulled in close was engulfing. Eminently pleasurable. Her awareness of the lack of her own body heat always stark in her mind. It was perhaps one of the more cruel twists of her condition, that she should still be made to feel temperature. To ceaselessly be reminded of that small facet of life, of humanity, she once had. The cold was a constant, it brought neither numbness nor pain and in its strange way had a muted and vague comfort of home. But such burned away--a joyous burning, for it revealed the falseness of the cold's comfort--when her skin and and her body felt in small, fleeting moments the warmth of a fire or the warmth of another. It was much like the embrace of beloved old friend before an inevitable parting.

Heike allowed herself to be gripped by Szesh, her body relaxed and free of tension save for her hand. It couldn't be understated how massive the Draconian was. Yes, such was evident the moment he'd stepped into the firelight of the thieves' camp, but now it was in a way even more so, as if intensely close proximity had magnified the truth.

And an incredibly strange thought struck Heike. That it would have been likely for Heike during her time as a knight to be enemies with Szesh, brought into conflict with Draconians in general if not with him in particular. The Golden Blade would have seen them as threats to be sharply wary of at best, creatures to be slain without question at worst. Had the shape of events in the world been altered just so, Heike may well have been facing off against Szesh in some charred and desolate battlefield. But the world was this way, this one way. And here, by virtue of her affliction and her path in hunting the thieves, Heike had in Szesh a true rarity in these times. A friend.

Flying. Heike had grown used to sudden and rapid acceleration, the strain it put on the body, but she could only perform great leaps before the pull of Arethil claimed her and she returned to the ground. To Szesh, she supposed, flight may well be as remarkable as running, but to Heike--staying aloft and watching the ground and the trees and everything below roll by from a bird's eye view--yes, to Heike it was exhilarating.

A genuine smile, slowly becoming a grin. This, born of simple joy and nothing else. Yet another rarity.

Szesh flew. For a time it was peaceful, just the dark and the wind and the drifting of Arethil beneath them. But color crept up from the horizon; what once was beautiful now deadly. It seemed Szesh was racing against the rising sun, and for her sake he very much was.

The smoke. The mill. The waterwheel turning in the current of the river. Perfect.

Szesh kept Heike shielded during the descent and the landing, even as the sun peeked ever so slightly over the rounded edges of the horizon. Heike wasted no time. She darted for the door to the mill and rammed it open with her shoulder, though it was with far more force than necessary; the door had no lock.

Quiet, save the sound of the waterwheel turning and the milling stones grinding against one another. Sacks and barrels full of milled grains in the main room. No one that she noticed. But there were other rooms.

"It's clear," Heike said, her voice level and quiet. She added, "And...thank you. You have my gratitude, Szesh."

 

[Szesh]

Szesh ducked into the doorway quickly and closed it behind them. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust and for the room to come into full view. A standard mill, it seemed; storage, basic supplies. He could not hear anyone in the adjacent rooms, and given their rather noisy entrance, he thought it unlikely that others were here. The mill was active, however, and working away at a fresh task. Someone would come to collect that eventually.

He nodded, and gave a soft grunt of recognition at Heike’s thanks. He was not accustomed to gratitude, and did not know quite how to respond.

He decided to check the side rooms, figuring them to be better hiding places. If someone did return before the pair left, they would be able to hear them entering the main room. He wasn’t entirely sure what they would do after that, but first things first.

Keeping his head and wings low so as not to scratch the ceiling with his horns or claws he stepped gingerly across the room. The floorboards moaned loudly under his weight, try as he might to move slowly. For a creature of his size Szesh was actually lighter than would be expected, due to hollow bones and various adaptations necessary for flight. Nevertheless he was still far heavier than most humans, and obviously larger than what this building was meant to accommodate.

Behind the first door was what appeared to be a small supply room. Various tools lay against the walls and a few sacks of food other than grains were stored here. Enough for a couple weeks at least. Perhaps the millers lived here at certain times.

The next room confirmed this theory, as two sets of bunk beds lined its walls. A team of four could rest comfortably in here. A vampire and a draconian less so. The curtain was drawn across the room’s one window, and minimal daylight leaked from around it.

He motioned to Heike to check the final room. If they were truly alone, perhaps they could get some semblance of rest.

 

[Heike Eisen]

Luck. A funny word. It meant different things to different people. The whims of some mischievous god or goddess, a soulless and constant force like the downward pull of Arethil, or, in Heike's case, a confluence of fated events considered good.

But lucky they were, her and Szesh, to not encounter anyone in the mill. Thus far. It needed only be seen if this 'luck' would hold out, if indeed the whole mill was clear.

Heike stalked along behind Szesh, moving with a practiced silence to her steps, though her efforts didn't amount to much. The floorboards, Szesh's size, it couldn't be helped. Simple noise wouldn't conjure the occupants of the mills; if they were here, then they were here, noise or no noise.

Szesh opened one door: a supply room. There was a second door close by. So Heike moved like a ghost across the span of the mill to the third and last door. Szesh checked that second door; nothing. He motioned to her.

She nodded. Placed her hand upon the knob of the door and pressed her back to the jamb where the hinges lay. Pushed in the door quietly, but more importantly, slowly. She made the mistake of carelessly opening a door during daylight hours once before. Never again. The door functioned as a shield with the way she opened it and moved in with it; there was no telling how many windows a room might have and in which direction they faced, so at the slightest hint of direct sunlight she could yank the door back and close it if need be.

No window facing the east in here. Good. Heike opened the door fully, in a single and smooth motion. Took a quick look around.

A kitchen. Fireplace with metal racks and rods for cooking meat. A bit of a mess, the counter. Some buckets with water, some more full than others. A table, on which lay a deck of cards loosely put back together. While the kitchen looked recently used, hence the smoke seen from outside, there was no one here now.

Heike relaxed. She walked into the kitchen and grabbed the cleanest looking cloth rag and wrapped it about her injured left hand and left the room.

She approached Szesh casually. Pointed a clawed thumb back at the kitchen and said, "Someone has been here, and not long ago. Small fire in the kitchen fireplace, going cold. It might have been the owners of the mill, or maybe other vagrants. I can't say for sure."

Heike stopped before him. Placed her right hand on her hip. A slight tug of the corner of her mouth into a tiny smirk as she thought of that deck of cards. "Are you a gambler, Szesh? What do you reckon our chance is at getting rest undisturbed?"

It was fun, in its own special way. To pretend as if such was not already decided by the transpirings of the world. These small, fanciful indulgences into notions of chance, choice, luck--things undetermined, free--faint reminders of the woman she had been, the bright worldview she once held.

 

[denheim]

It was an interesting scheme, he thought. Highwaymen by night, millers by day - he would've commended them for their well-thought out plans if he weren't busy dining on their flesh and drinking their blood through the buckets he'd lined underneath their bodies - where their precious vitae may drip and collect as he tore and ate their succulent flesh. Arathos turned his attention to the remains of the highwaymen - there were five of them, but that could hardly be noticed given their current state of being....mostly bones and unsavory parts of the human body he preferred not to sink his teeth into.

With a sigh, Arathos tossed away the femur bone he'd had in his hands and stood up his seat. Stretching his arms and legs, the ancient Vampire then turned towards the mouth of the cave he'd hid in and tentatively reached out towards the rays of sunlight that'd peered through.

It didn't burn, but he didn't become 400 years old by being careless. By his estimation, he'd probably eaten more than 800 pounds of flesh...meaning, an additional 800 minutes he could spend under the sunlight. 'Good...' he thought. 'Just enough time to take a bath...'

As he stalked out of the cave and welcomed the sun's rays over his pale skin, however, Arathos detected a foreign - and yet all too familiar - scent in the air. The ancient vampire grinned, revealing the blood-stained teeth he'd kept hidden behind his lips.

There was another vampire, and it was quite near.

 

[Szesh]

Szesh did not gamble, at least, not recreationally. It had not been a concept in his small mountain home. His people had lived a communal life, and personal possessions were few and far between, and no one would dare risk losing such personal items. As a soldier, Szesh had owned his spear, a short sword, and little else. His food and housing was provided, and there was little down time between drills, patrols, and expeditions.

But had he understood the meaning of the word better, Szesh would have realized that he was, in fact, a gambler. He gambled daily. Every bounty he took was a gamble, weighing the possible risks and rewards. And while he never took a job he did not think he could finish, there would always be unforeseen circumstances. Perhaps Heike was right, and all the events of the world were predetermined. But Szesh could not see this design, and so as far as he was concerned, nothing was set in stone.

For example, he could be stuck in a small mill with a vampire, covered in blood, with the inhabitants very well on their way back this very moment.

He grumbled lowly at the question, concern evident and, unfortunately, the humor lost on him. The millers may well have left for the day, or even longer, or they may knock on the door in minutes. Hiding was not a true option, at least not for him. Heike may be able to blend with the shadows, but he could scarcely fit through the door much less sleep concealed behind the sacks of flour.

There was nothing for it. The sun was out in full force, and they would need to make do with the building they were in. And he was tired.

”No choice,” he said plainly. ”We can bar doors, hear them return.” So long as the kitchen did not have another entrance, they would only need to guard one front.

He moved to the kitchen to check and approached the buckets of water. He was terribly thirsty, and while the river was more appealing than stagnant buckets he dared not venture outside. Should the millers indeed be on their way back they would not likely react well to his presence.

He poured the contents of one of the fuller buckets into his mouth. It would do for now. He then moved back to the main room. There was no lock on the door, but there must be something they could use to barricade it.

The sacks of grain and flour would do, and he set about moving them one after another. ”You rest,” he said to Heike. It was not an order, nor aggressive. Simply an indication that she need not assist with this task. He had seen her great strength firsthand, but he carried the parcels easily, and soon the door had been blocked ten of them. No one was getting through.

Satisfied that the mill was as secure as possible, he felt a deep wave of fatigue overtake him. He was too large for the side rooms, so he sat against the wall, spear in hand, next to the room with the beds. A mere few hours ago he would not have dared to let his guard down but Heike had proven herself trustworthy enough, and didn’t seem like the type to kill a man in his sleep.

Or perhaps he was simply too tired to care.

 

[Heike Eisen]

No choice. Fair enough. Either the mill's occupants would return, or they would not. Such things were outside of their control, and with the dawn's rising sun, this was the best they could do. Travelling out in the daylight was dangerous enough for Heike; sleeping outside was out of the question.

She watched Szesh enter the kitchen and after he disappeared through the portal her gaze drifted down to the rag in which she'd wrapped her hand. She would need to burn it; bury it at least. Her blood was contaminated with her affliction, and she'd not have it spread to some other unfortunate soul on account of carelessness. Her fingerless glove would need patching up--again--but the wraps over top could be easily replaced. Durable, cheap, she preferred them to the sleeves of her coat or shirt, both of which had been torn away long ago and ended above her elbow. Fighting with her claws often took its toll on her apparel.

Szesh came back. Started moving some heavy sacks of grain to barricade the door. Good thinking. Heike made a motion to help out, but with two words he made it clear that he didn't need it.

Heike nodded. Said, "Sleep well, Szesh," and entered the dimness of the bedroom. A welcoming darkness.

If it was one thing she hated about her affliction, it was the constant vigil she by necessity had to maintain. The stifling and stressful alertness of her surroundings, the wariness of careful observation and listening, the constant gauging of people's suspicion of her even if she was merely passing through some locale. The idea of sleep, the sheer vulnerability involved with it, pulled all of the strings of anxiety, where once rest had been a blissful reprieve from a hard day. But Szesh she had judged to be honorable, and she felt no such apprehension to falling asleep in his presence.

Heike touched one of the bottom bunk beds. Gently ran the back of her right hand across it.

How long had it been? Years, certainly. Years since she had slept in an actual bed.

She sat down on the edge of it. Slowly took off her shawl and her bloodied coat and her shoes and her potion belts. She lay back gingerly on the bed, resting her hands on her chest, staring up at the wooden framework above.

When her blood was warm, she would have thought poorly of the bed's quality.

Now, her blood cold, she had for the bed's craftsman nothing but gratitude.

Heike closed her eyes, and soon, sleep found her.

 

[denheim]

Moving through the daylight was not a fun experience.

True, he could survive the sunlight and even fight in it if he really had to, but Arathos could feel his own blood beginning to boil just beneath the pale flesh. Unpleasant, but not entirely unbearable as he moved through the dense foliage of the forest in these parts. At the very least, he wasn't vulnerable to the power of the sun like so many of his 'kin'. Most other strains of Vampirism would have its host burst into flames upon contact with sunlight; he was quite lucky in that regard. Still, one of the best parts about the daylight was the bathing; there was just something about the waters of the nearby river that made it oh so soothing in the day, as opposed to the night. He couldn't outright state just what exactly had made it different, but perhaps that was just the remainder of his human wants.

Arathos moved out of the forest and into an open stretch of road that led further inland, towards the lone mill operated by the highwaymen - whom he'd just eaten over an hour ago - where the scent of that other vampire seemed to be coming from.

'Curious....' He thought. Was it resting in the highwaymen's home? If so, then that would be utterly hilarious. briefly, he wondered how those wretches would react if they'd found a vamp-

He sniffed the air again.

It wasn't just a vampire in there. But whatever was sharing the mill with the vampire was definitely not human. It held a familiar scent; not dissimilar to the lizard people that dwelt in The Spine, but he couldn't be sure. It'd been a long time since he went home, after all.

'How incredibly interesting....'

With that in mind, Arathos unleashed a pulse - a signal among the 'higher' vampires, meant to convey peace. If the vampire, however, was a youngling....then it's an entirely different story. Youngsters could interpret the pulse in so many ways. He hoped - at the very least - that this vampire wasn't a newborn...

 

[Szesh]

He nodded at Heike’s goodnight, as if to bid her the same. She had explained to him that she could sleep… but did not need it? He did not understand how that worked. Then again, he didn’t understand how many things worked. He did not know how one became a vampire in the first place. Yes, he had heard the tales, but how did a body like Heike’s keep moving if it was, for all other purposes, dead?

He pushed these thoughts away. Best not to dwell on things he would never understand. The millers could return at any moment so he had best make use of this time. He closed his eyes, and sleep overtook him quickly.

His dreams were tumultuous. Misshapen creatures stalked him in darkness. A woods that morphed into a field that grew a great tower. His allies next to him, replaced by wolves that leapt and attacked. Heike fighting alongside him… no… against him? Terrible claws. Another change, the field melting away into a room with a single glowing chest. He approached it, pushing back the lid. The light was blinding.

His eyes snapped open. It was much brighter outside, and his pupils shrunk invisibly to slits. Difficult to say how much time had passed, but it was at least midday. He had woken up with a sudden sense of dread, and he felt the same coldness pass through him that he had felt seeing Heike for the first time.

He shivered, shaking his wings lightly and stretching his cramped limbs. The floors groaned their complaints at his movement. It was probably just his dreams. He had not been awoken by noise, and the sacks of grain still barred the door. No one had returned yet, it seemed.

Laying his head back again, he tried to return to slumber.

 

[Heike Eisen]

Heike woke up. Narrowed her eyes. Placed the heels of her hands on the bed and sat up some. Glanced around the bedroom.

The light leaking in from the bottom the drawn curtains had shifted.

She listened. Nothing. Stillness pervaded the mill aside from the expected turning of the waterwheel and the milling stones they powered.

Then what had been that strange feeling? That phantom of perception that had bobbed up from the darkness of mind for just a moment and disappeared back beneath those murky waters? Akin, that phantom, to the feeling of knowing that one was being watched and not knowing by whom or from where. Only it had been quick. Ephemeral. There and gone, its unsettling touch enough to rouse her from sleep but fated to vanish soon after.

Heike swung her legs over the side of the bed. Listened again. Still nothing. Szesh she surely would have heard if it was in fact him, his size trumping any best intentions to not disturb Heike's sleep.

Bewilderment overtook her. Her eyes fixated on some point in the dim bedroom, snapped to fixate on some other point, this a few times more as she tried to puzzle out that strange feeling and what it truly was. No answer came to her.

No good answer. Worry, she concluded, that she had allowed herself to be too comfortable in the bed. Too vulnerable. A critical lack of readiness and the worry thereof, that she would not be able to react fast enough should the millers come back and find her unprepared. It made some sense, but this answer seemed somehow insufficient.

Heike looked to her left hand. Unwrapped the rag she had acquired from the kitchen. Flexed her fingers. Each worked. Good. She still felt a dull pain; her hand had not healed in its entirety yet, but it was perhaps good enough. No more oozing blood.

She sighed, expelling the small bit of useless air from her lungs, and put her shoes back on. Stood up from the bed and started on her belts.

She wasn't going to get any more sleep, even if she wanted it. So Heike resolved to just get fully dressed and ready to go--just in case--and to listen for Szesh to wake. There probably wouldn't be much time to wash her coat of the dire wolf's blood. Not if her assumed worry turned out to be well founded. So be it.

 

[Kara Orin]

The catalyst attracted more pursuers.

On horseback, Kara approached a tree with a rope hanging from a sturdy branch. Two other riders accompanied her. Kara wore the symbols of the College of Elbion on her cloak. Her partners, one female orc and one human male, bore no signs of their allegiance. They all dismounted and began to investigate the area.

Two bodies laid near the tree. They showed signs of being eviscerated by some clawed beast. The embers of the thieves’ campfire still remained.

“Looks like the thief told the truth in the end,” the bulky man commented.

Kara spotted one corpse missing a leg. A small detail omitted by the man they found earlier.

“Little Miss,” the orc began, “Do vampires actually eat people?”

The orc pointed at remains of the leg Szesh ate. The man and Kara looked at it. Kara gave a grimace at the sight.

“Some variants do,” Kara replied.

The three of them looked around as thoroughly as they could. They found the tracks Szesh and Heike left – though the presence of Szesh’s gave them more questions.

Eventually, Kara found grooves in the dirt and grass as if something was dragged along it. She followed the trail that it made. It led her to a tree with scratch marks and a patch of disturbed soil next to it.

Kara then slowly drew her runic longsword…

 

[denheim]

There was blood in the wind.

But then, he supposed, it shouldn't have been a surprise given the the fact that there was a vampire nearby.

The mill lay still in the distance, just beyond a small green hill, where the grasses were low and short. Arathos slowly stalked the road leading to the - just very recently - ownerless mill, contemplating his next course of action. The ancient vampire had arrived in this place for one reason, and one reason only - his contract, which was to find and eliminate a band of highwaymen, who'd been unlucky enough to rob a member of the local nobility. Five hundred gold coins for all their heads - the appendages he'd kept tucked in the rugged sack hidden at the foot of a nearby mountain, far from prying eyes. With his side of the contract fulfilled - and rather easily at that - the vampire thought to simply return to his employer as soon as physically possible. But he'd been given an entire month to perform this task, and it only took him a week to finish it. Arathos grinned; he had plenty of time to waste. After all, where was the fun in immortality if he was uptight?

The ancient vampire stopped a mere thirty meters from the mill and sighed. The vampire in there was night-walker, after all - probably yougling too since he'd not sensed it giving its own pulse. 'Probably less than a hundred years old...' He thought.

No matter; he'd met only very few of his kind his unnaturally long life and most of them were naught but savage beasts. He hoped this one was different, at least. With that in mind, Arathos sped down the road and stopped just a step away from the Mill's front door.

He took another sniff - the vampire was definitely inside, and accompanying it was some reptilian creature. Arathos shrugged, then knocked three times.

 

[Szesh]

The knocks woke Szesh abruptly. He clutched his spear tightly but did his best not to start. His movement was impossible to hide due to the creaking floorboards. Three knocks, and a foreboding aura. He sat silently for a time. Would they knock again?

It couldn’t be the millers, they wouldn’t knock at their own door, and Szesh would have heard them struggling against the sacks of grain that were piled against it. A visitor, then. Out here? He had not taken a good look around as he and Heike had homed in on the shelter but it didn’t look like there was any real settlement nearby. Then again, a mill had to serve something, and there was far more flour here than one person needed.

His nostrils flared and he drew in a long, quiet inhale. Whoever it was didn’t have a strong scent, Szesh could only smell the flour in the air, the wood of the mill, and the faint aura of river water.

He slowly pulled his feet under his body, rising to a squatting stance. It was still light outside, they could not leave yet. Well... Heike couldn’t leave, but Szesh did not intend to leave her if he could help it. Only she truly knew what lay ahead, and despite his better judgment, he felt something of a bond with the fellow undesirable. He had no intention of dying for her, but that was not personal.

He had no intention of dying for anyone.

He would revisit that thought when they reached the tower. In the mean time, though he hoped it would not come to it, he was confident they could fight off whoever had knocked on their door. A confidence that may have been misplaced, for he had no way to know that the chilling sensation he felt had followed their visitor, and that it was a warning.

He did not move to answer the door. Perhaps they would leave. He glanced sideways at the door to Heike’s room, still closed.

 

[Heike Eisen]

Heike had just about finished folding her shawl and wrapping it about her neck like a scarf when she heard the knocking. She glanced in the general direction of the sound, eyes open and alert. She finished wrapping her shawl and stood there in the bedroom for a moment.

Family. Friends. Acquaintances. Business associates, maybe, buyers of some sort. People looking for the millers, polite enough--ostensibly--to knock. People very likely to be innocent. And people who would find it quite shocking to see Szesh and herself taking residence here.

Heike pocketed the bloody rag she'd wrapped her left hand with and carefully walked to the door of the bedroom and opened it and stepped out. Eyed Szesh--the Draconian already awake. She had her mask down, her frown evident.

They...well, they didn't have a convenient means of escape if the knocking persisted. Windows. Heike could manage that, but Szesh? No. To be fair, it hardly seemed a challenge for him, escaping from here if he had to. He was a mass of draconic muscle, and Heike, if pressed, would say it would not have been the first time Szesh burst through the wooden walls of a building. It sure as hell wouldn't be subtle. Unavoidable, if such an escape became necessary.

Heike crept up close to Szesh. Looked at the door and looked up at him. Said in a quiet voice, a touch rueful, "I just had to mention gambling."

An inane comment, she knew that. Her knight-superiors had often disapproved of her humor, but even now she carried it with her. It had gotten her through moments much worse than this.

And she took no steps to be any closer to the barricaded front door than Szesh.

* * * * *​

The catalyst inside the chest, underneath the dirt and underneath Kara's runic longsword. Ominous was its persistent glow.

 

[denheim]

'Hmm...it would appear the little youngling's not eager for guests...' Judging from the fact that this door was definitely barricaded - it sure as heck didn't budge forward when he applied even the slightest bit of pressure to it. Strange, he thought, most vampires would have their own lairs whenever they'd go out to feed - at least, some place to hide from the mortals while they rested - this mill was the worst place for a vampire to rest in. Why, anyone could just walk in and discover them. Arathos preferred caves when out in the wilds or the frontier lands, and decent rooms in the cities, but hiding out in some random mill didn't seem like the brightest of ideas. Still, at least the youngling bothered to barricade the door.

He wanted to knock again, but refrained from doing so as the vampire inside would've had ample time to open the door should they have wished for guests. Still, he was far too curious now to simply walk back all the way to the roots of the mountain - oh no, he'd love to meet another of his kind. It's been....40 years since he'd seen another vampire after all. With that in mind, Arathos turned and walked around the mill - encircling it until he found another door just at the back of the building. 'Did they barricade this one as well?'

He walked forth and- stopped, sniffing the air. 'Draconian....'

No wonder something smelled vaguely reptilian. 'What's it doing so far away from the Spine?'

Didn't they make their home there? High up in the mountains; he'd traded with them once, a long time ago. They were quite an isolationist bunch, so why was there a draconian here, of all places? Furthermore, why did the both of them smell like blood? Mostly animal vitae - wolves, he reckoned - but also traces of human vitae interlaced in there somewhere.

'Okay, this is getting weird...'

Arathos reached out towards the door. 'I could just rip out the whole thing, but it's daylight and the youngling might get burned...not an ideal first greeting with an elder..'

His eyes darted upwards and saw the large opened window at the top of the mill - probably the highwaymen's storage place, no doubt used for their ill-begotten goods. Grinning, the ancient vampire struck his clawed hands out and buried them into the outer walls of the mill as he began climbing upwards - digging his claws into the earthen wall each time, pulling himself up. Truth be told, he was also quite curious as to what those highwaymen had been hiding up there. One of them did mention something about possessing an item of value as he ripped them to shreds, drank their blood, and ate their flesh - it was one of the few things he could hear though all the screaming and the crying.

Still, the smell of blood upon the two 'inhabitants' was a little curious. Were they mercenaries? Assassins? Oh, the possibilities! To think a youngling would be so interesting! As he climbed up, Arathos could not resist his urge to grin.

 

[Szesh]

The knocking ceased, and for a time it seemed that the visitor had gone away. Perhaps it was simply a traveller, or someone without the time to wait until the millers returned. Just as he had begun to relax, however, he heard something climbing the up the back of the building. He glanced up, and felt a tightness in his chest.

The attic. They had not checked the attic. He had been so concerned with clearing the first floor, and so desperate for rest, that he had not even noticed the floorboards above his head. The mill was certainly taller than this room, and there must be a storage area of sorts above them. Scanning the ceiling he located a trap door. A ladder lay flat on the floor beneath it. It must have been obscured by the bags of grain earlier.

He considered unblocking the front door, but realized that escape was still not an option. The sun was still out. Besides, the noise of moving the bags may give them away. Was this just a thief who had come to steal from an unoccupied home? Szesh hoped they would be satisfied with what they found up above.

It only appeared to be one person, and he was confident that Heike and himself could handle themselves if it came to it. Perhaps he should just kill the intruder and be done with it... but discretion seemed a better option. No sense in wasting the energy if it wasn't necessary.

However, if violence did break out, it may not stay contained to the room. He turned and whispered to Heike, "What happens in the sun?" Would she be killed instantly? Simply weakened? In other words, how careful did they need to be in the coming moments?

 

[Heike Eisen]

What happens in the sun?

Only one reason to ask that, and it was a damn good one. The knocking may have stopped but the knocker very well might still be around. Neither she nor Szesh knew who or how many people were out there, much less their intentions. It was perhaps worse for Heike if they were good people, innocent people, caught in a mire of coincidence and ill-timing. Under no circumstances would she hurt them (her throat, even satiated as recently as the night prior, seemed to itch faintly at the thought, as if in protest), but she was certain her presence and Szesh's would startle them to rash action.

What the case happened to be, a hasty escape was still on the table of options.

Heike took off her folded shawl and lifted the small hood on the back of her coat and wrapped the shawl around her neck again. Pulled the hood forward and snug. The only exposed part of her hands were the bony ends of her claws, the flesh hidden under fingerless gloves and cloth wraps.

"If direct sunlight touches my skin," she whispered, "then I will be fully paralyzed and dumbstruck within seconds. Even if I am returned to shade or darkness, it takes time to recuperate my strength and wits. A half-hour, hour. It varies."

The sound of the milling stones, grinding, turning in their ceaseless cycle. Heike glanced up, prompted by Szesh's own glancing, her eyes slowly tracing the layout of the ceiling over their heads.

"It is incredibly unpleasant, that."

And Heike waited. Listened. Escaping in the daylight was very feasible. Fighting in the daylight, if such spilled outside or light were made to leak in, was inadvisable.

 

[Szesh]

Szesh hummed quietly at Heike’s response. So the sunlight would not kill her outright, but it would render her completely defenseless. It may as well be a death sentence for someone with so many enemies due simply to her race. Leaving, then, was not an option.

They waited for what felt like a lifetime, Szesh not daring to move for fear of revealing themselves. Why couldn’t the mill have been built of stone? Stone did not creak and groan beneath his weight, and it did not burn. He could see the subtle change in the light outside, the afternoon was waning into evening.

Finally, he sat back down against the wall. There was only one way down from the attic, and they would see the intruder easily if they came down. He couldn’t hear anyone up there, but if they were indeed burglars they would know how to be quiet. Or perhaps they had already taken what they wanted and left, or had failed to enter the attic at all? No matter. It was impossible to tell from inside, and Szesh did not like to dwell on problems he could not solve.

After a grueling wait, the light outside finally faded. Convinced that whomever had approached the mill was now gone, Szesh got up and strode to the door. Making sure that Heike was not in line with it, he cracked it open.

It was not completely dark outside, but the sun had dipped below the hills. The sky was an amber glow, and the stream’s waters were dark. The dried blood on his body was itched and would only attract more unwanted attention, it would be good to wash it off.

More importantly, no one was outside. He carefully walked the perimeter of the building and saw nothing. They were either alone or their guest was hiding. It mattered little, they would be leaving soon.

”I see no one,” he said to Heike after returning to the door. Perhaps if her undead senses detected anything she would let him know. If the coast was truly clear they could clean up in peace.

 

[Heike Eisen]

They waited.

And waited.

And Heike maintained a level of comfort with it. Not with the potential of a hostile actor lurking around the mill, or some well-intentioned but ill-timed innocent people investigating, no, but with the banal act of waiting. She'd gotten used to it ever since becoming afflicted. Much like before, it was not always so easy to find sleep, and as she waited for whatever reason necessitated such waiting, sometimes it came to merely sitting in contemplative and still silence. Being alone with one's own mind and being comfortable with that.

Such as it was now. Szesh sat down against the wall, and Heike ended up sitting down next to him. There seemed to be no further cause for concern as time moved on, but still, better to wait than get caught in a clash outside that might well result in Heike falling prey to the sun's unrelenting gaze. It did mean lost time in pursuing the wizard in his tower, but it stood to reason that the wizard may well wait--for a short time at least--on the third catalyst to arrive. The very catalyst Szesh had buried. So a concern, yes, the lost time, but not quite so large of one.

Now, with the only remaining trace of the sun the brilliant ambers and purples and pinks of a beautiful sunset streaked across the sky, Szesh took a look outside.

Heike stood when he left. Waited for any sound of conflict. It would be to her advantage if someone was waiting for them to think that there was only a single occupant in the mill. But no such ambush would be needed: Szesh came back and reported seeing no one. She didn't hear anything, smell anything; there were always a few smells which seemed peculiar wherever she went, faint traces of things long since gone and that led nowhere. Only those here, nothing else which stood out.

Heike shrugged her shoulders a little, started taking off her coat, and said, "One of my knight-superiors always used to say: 'Vigilance always rewards you in time.'" A smile recalled from years ago as she continued, "One of my old flaws, that. Lack of vigilance. Was for a long time. Squire Heike, always attacking a problem head-on, rarely considering detail or surroundings. Know what helped me with that?"

She had her coat off and folded over her right arm, and she pointed a finger up and moved it slowly in an arc. "Keeping track of the sun."

A rueful shake of her head. Then she said, "I'm going to wash the blood from my coat before we set out. Oh, and I have something for you to burn, if you'd grant me a kindness."

Heike reached into her pants pocket and withdrew the bloody rag. Gripped it with the thumb and index claw of her left hand on a non-stained portion of the cloth. Held it out to Szesh. Looked to him. "I won't have anyone becoming infected because of carelessness on my part."

 

[denheim]

Arathos vaulted over the window frame and immediately scanned his surroundings; around him were dozens and dozens of wooden crates - some smelling of exotic spices, and others of familiar metals. This was definitely the treasure trove of those bandits; his hunch had been right after all. Oh he'd happily scrounge up everything of value here, but he'd have to do that later. Right now, there were two 'beings' downstairs that required his immediate attention - a vampire and a draconian. 'What an odd pair they are...'

Indeed, the last thing he'd expect for a vampire to do was travel with a Draconian - their blood was basically liquid fire, foul to the taste and the senses. Then again, it wasn't his place to judge others of their choice of companions. Arathos moved over the creates - masking the sound of his footsteps as he'd done so for centuries, minimizing the sounds he was making, not that he was trying to me quiet, but years upon years of experience merely acted upon him. The wooden floor creaked and groaned, but only so slightly that only the most trained of senses could've possibly heard that. To the right was a descent of stairs that would've obviously led directly to those taking refuge within this mill. Thinking quickly, Arathos melded into the shadows and became one with the dark - disappearing completely, but for the faint wisps of blood about his person.

Deciding he'd avoid the floor altogether, Arathos began crawling on the walls - an eerie sight, to be sure, if anyone could actually see him. The ancient vampire had lost count how many passing villagers literally died of a heart attack whenever they'd catch a glimpse of him scaling up cave or cliff walls like some quadrupedal beast from their blackest nightmares. Oh those were very amusing sights, but - despite himself - Arathos had no stomach for the deaths of innocent beings, be they peasant or warrior. The ancient vampire continued his downwards crawl until he arrived at the ground floor and came upon a most peculiar sight.

The vampire youngling was most definitely injured, though not too heavily if he was being honest, and most definitely female. And her draconian friend - ironically - absolutely reeked of blood and grime. Their scents seemed reversed, oddly enough. Their faces seemed gaunt and shaken - like those of weary travelers still at the crux of their long journey. Their clothes appeared beaten and worn, and even torn in places - evidently after a fight with....beasts?

'How incredibly interesting...'

Unbeknownst to the vampire, his all too silent movement had disturbed the sleeping dust and cobwebs where he'd moved...

 

[Szesh]

The word “infected” rang through Szesh’s head. It repeated itself in his subconcious, like a flock of raucous crows. Infected. Infected. Infected. He had grown comfortable with Heike, but even over the past half day he had not been able to completely put aside his reservations.

Yet, he appreciated her consideration for others. Contrary to what the folklore would have him believe, she did not seek to grow the ranks of her own kind. It occurred to him how terribly sad it was that she felt this way. To be afflicted with a condition so horrible that she would deny her own nature to prevent others from acquiring it.

”Yes,” he agreed, and took the damp cloth with the head of his spear. He did not know if he was immune, and he did not intend to test it. He turned just as Arathos descended the wall, and he did not see the creature. He carried the cloth to the riverbank, and incinerated it in the mud along the shore. He sustained the fire for a couple of seconds, overkill perhaps, but he wanted to be sure. He burned the tip of his spear afterwards, giving the blade a dull glow for just an instant, before dipping it into the river to wash away any trace of blood.

He looked back to see if Heike had followed.

 

[Heike Eisen]

No hesitation. No slant of the eyes in condemning judgment. Szesh simply agreed to the favor she'd asked of him. A favor she would never even be able to ask of many of her once-fellow humans. Once-fellow. Painful to acknowledge, but it was the truth. And it was this very reason, this lost kinship, stolen by the abhorrent creatures who turned her into one of their own, that so often precluded her from the kindness--and even the bare minimum capacity for empathy and valuation of her 'life'--that Szesh showed her. Some precious few exceptions, like Captain Bronmarch, but the rule was so proven by examples like him.

"Thank you, Szesh," she said. The tiniest gracing of a pleasant smile.

Szesh went outside to burn the rag, and Heike glanced back toward the kitchen. Turned. She vaguely remembered seeing a washboard in the room, as strange a place as it was to keep one. But with it she could give her coat a decent scrubbing, get most if not all of the caked-on blood of the dire wolf cleaned off. It wouldn't take too long, and her coat could dry during the journey to the wizard's tower. Such drying would be even faster if Szesh was up for more--

Heike stopped after a few steps. A little something, in the far periphery of her eyes, beckoning quietly for her attention. The ambient light of the sunset through the front door and the kitchen window caught onto a very faint cascade of dust from the ceiling. An ephemeral gleam as the dust was visible at just the right angle and disappearing as it descended and became indiscernible from the wood of the walls and floor.

She listened. Sniffed the air.

Neither gave her cause for alarm. Only the steady grinding of the mill stones, and the same palette of smells from before. Smells known, smells unknown. Of the things that changed with her affliction, becoming accustomed to her enhanced sense of smell involved the most trial and error, the longest learning curve. It was a quality simply far outside the normal bounds of human experience. And thus, while a formidable tool, using it effectively proved a challenge.

Vigilance always rewards you in time, came the voice of Dieter Roth, her knight-superior who preached the very same, and whom she had quoted.

Yes, Herr Dieter, she thought with much the same cavalier attitude she had harbored far too much of back then. But sometimes dust is just dust.

She didn't see anything, hear anything, or smell anything of concern. And she left it at that.

Into the kitchen she went. She glanced around, trying to remember the exact spot she'd seen the washboard among the other miscellaneous items strewn about. Her eyes falling upon the deck of cards on the center table then, and an impulse of curiosity. What card on top of the deck had come all this way to be right here, right now, just for her?

Heike, with a practiced precision, used the clawed fingers of her left hand to flip it over and reveal the top card: the two of Suns. Hmm. An Allirian Deck. Also, why wouldn't the suit be Suns? Well, she supposed, sometimes the coincidences of the world seemed greater than they actually were.

Heike looked around for a moment more, saw the washboard she was searching for, and went over to it beside the counter and crouched down and picked it up and inspected it. A little worn and old, but certainly usable.

Her back was to the kitchen doorway.

 

[denheim]

'She must be an infant...' He thought - gliding through the shadows and watching intently as the only other vampire in the room stood alone, facing the kitchen table and inspecting the deck of cards left there by the former owners of this place. Any other vampire - at least older than fifty years - should've been able to detect him from his current range; they would've been able to smell him, at the very least, given his shadow meld. But this youngling merely held a brief look of confusion and suspicion before turning her back, completely oblivious to his presence. She was lucky he wasn't a cannibal, lest he would've already lept at her neck and drank her blood before she could even register his presence. 'Poor thing...'

Arathos turned over his shoulder and eyed the view outside the window-frame, where the Draconian made off with some sort of cloth, before burning it at the edge of his spear. 'Strange...'

Deciding to maintain his hold over the shadows for now, Arathos strode back into the kitchen and eyed the young vampire there. He could certainly reveal himself - but then younglings had a tendency to attack other vampires especially when they were turned against their will. He should know; he'd killed so many vampires in his first decade that it came to a point where the smell of vampire blood came to sicken him. That was several hundred years ago, and he'd had plenty of time to simmer away his burning hatred. After all, killing others indiscriminately was a good step down the road to barbarism and bestial tendencies - both of which he'd sworn to never indulge. And so, with his entire being still obscured by his own powers, Arathos spoke.

"You should've been more careful, youngling." He said in the sickeningly friendly tone he'd often adapt when speaking to mortals. "I saw over a hundred ways with which to kill you already had I desired it."

 

[Szesh]

It seemed she was not coming just yet. Turning back to the river, Szesh waded in.

It was cold, but not unpleasant, and his sizeable clawed toes sank deep into the silty bed. He kept his wings elevated as he walked in to his waist, standing almost in the very center. The thin, delicate webbing was more sensitive to the cold, and he did not wish to submerge them. He splashed the cool water over his body, washing away the dried wolf’s blood over time. It made his scales shimmer in the dying light of the sunset.

He could see fish swimming nearby, well out of arm’s reach. His stomach growled, and he wished he had brought his spear in with him. He had never been very good at fishing, but it would have been worth a try. He satisfied himself with a drink, dipping his head low to take in the refreshing stream. It was much nicer than the stagnant bucket in the kitchen.

Lifting his head, he gazed at the pink and orange clouds. The sky looked like it was on fire, and for a moment, Szesh allowed his thoughts to drift to dragons. He saw the fires of creation in that sky, the ones that his people spoke of in their myths. Draco, dragon God of flame. The one who ruled over the world and all within it. Dron, his evil brother, who tempted souls to malice and claimed them for his own.

Szesh knew where his soul would rest after he passed, the mark on his back all but assured it. It was what he deserved, after all, and while he distracted himself with earthly tasks it kept gnawing at the dark corners of his mind.

The Blood Stars were hidden at the moment, and for that he was grateful. Those were Draco’s eyes, or so it was said, and his scar always burned particularly fiercely when their gaze was upon it.

He glanced back towards the mill again. Heike had still not emerged...

 

[Heike Eisen]

Heike flinched. Hard. Something she had not done in a long time, but here the reflex came roaring back, fiercely and abruptly awakened from whatever slumber her condition had set it in. The washboard slipped from her grasp, bounced on its thinner side once and then tumbled and fell flat on the floor. Heike whirled around, eyes wide and lips a thin line. Her coat whipped up some from the quick motion.

But there was no one present. There was a voice, but no one she could see to go along with it. Youngling. What the hell was a youngling?

No matter. Stay alert. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, the image of Herr Dieter's disappointed face was looking at her, giving her a lashing with eyes alone. Of course.

"Who are you? Show yourself," she said, loudly. Hopefully loud enough that Szesh, outside, might hear and know that they had not been mistaken in what they had earlier heard after all. That they'd merely lost the waiting game.

Heike kept her right arm tensed but down at her side. Her left arm up, elbow bent, claws flexed in front of herself.

And she scanned the kitchen. Eyes moving with intent to find the owner of the enigmatic--though oddly cordial--voice. Falling back onto the sense she was far more accustomed to, relying on it as heavily as she did before her affliction, she disregarded any scent that graced her nose as she focused.

 

[denheim]

"Show myself?" Arathos repeated, weaving through the shadows - never staying in once place for too long. In one moment, he stood by the kitchen counter, and in the next, he was by the door frame. Younglings were - by his own experience - brash in their actions and it always better to remain light on one's feet when dealing with them. "How about a little game, youngling; if you can figure out what I am, then I shall reveal myself to you. Otherwise, you'll just have to listen to my dreary old voice."

The ancient vampire drifted through the corners and the shadows and the dim lights, unseen to all but the gods of sight and illumination. Arathos figured it would be a good 'un-life' lesson for this youngling to learn early; to sense one's own kind was a very important skill among vampires - one that could save a kindred's life, even if they had a knack for killing their own kind. Oh he was far more interested in why she was travelling around with a Draconian, but that could wait - he had eternity, after all. "Your Draconian friend can help you guess too, but I doubt it."

He then smiled and settled over a shadowed corner at the far end of the kitchen, where large bags of grain and wheat were stored in dry and dark conditions. He sat and waited, and eyed the young vampiress, waiting for an answer.