Private Tales The Tower of Terror in a Zone of Twilight

[VREILAR THE NECROMANCER]

Vreilar sat atop his tower of basalt bricks.

Okay, perhaps he didn’t literally sit atop it, and perhaps the tower wasn’t exactly “his”, and maybe the bricks weren’t basalt, either. He did, however, sit in one of the upper rooms of the tower he’d been squatting in for a number of weeks, whose bricks were as dark as basalt if not directly made of the aforementioned volcanic stone.

The necromancer sat half-bathed in the light of a setting sun, twilight filtering through the partially collapsed roof of his decaying tower. He was nearing the end of a ritual, needing only a drop of blood to seal the ancient contract. His knife slid deftly over the end of his thumb, dripping one, two drops of sanguinary liquid onto the skeleton laid out before him. Slowly, gradually, the skeletal rat shivered into undeath, small lights like green embers flickering and swelling in its empty eye sockets. The newly raised rodent looked up to its master, leveling its rodential gaze against the dark glass eyes of Vreilar’s mask.

“GREETINGS, SMALL FIEND! ‘TIS I, VREILAR, THE NECROMANCER! AS YOU ARE LIKELY WELL AWARE, YOU ARE NO LONGER DECEASED!” The necromancer rose to his feet, scooping the tiny skeletal being up into his hand along the way. Dark dust clung to his pants and jacket where either had been pressed to the ground, but Vreilar didn’t seem to mind. “YOU ARE VERY WELCOME!” The rat, admittedly confused about its new existence, decided it was best to just go with it and play along with the loud man’s rambling. It clawed its way up Vreilar’s arms, tiny paws clinging to his jacket as it wrenched its way onto his shoulder.

“COME, MY SMALL GNAWER OF A MINION! WE MUST FIND YOU CALCIUM, SO YOU MAY GROW LARGE AND FAT WITH STRENGTH!” Without another word, the necromancer turned and left all manner of ritual components scattered about the room. Instead of cleaning up after himself as any responsible arcanist would do, Vreilar instead descended the hazardous stairs of his tower, dead-set on acquiring dairy to strengthen his undead thrall.

 

[Rose]

Rose was oblivious to the spectacle on the rooftop. All that mattered to her was the tower seemed clear of life an smelt distinctly of death. Which meant the goods inside wouldn’t be protected. Particularly the milk.

A small ruckus could be heard as one approached the kitchen, Rose ass-end out of cupboard as she dug into the depths in desperation.

“Gods-fudgicals from above, why don’t dead people leave milk behind?”

 

[VREILAR THE NECROMANCER]

A voice echoed from somewhere higher in the tower, resounding through the kitchen thanks more to the speaker's volume than the quality of his voice. The rasp of a voice grew closer as it went on, lending the would-be thief some idea of how far the stranger was from arriving.

"AH, YES, THAT IS A GOOD QUESTION, MY SMALL MINION!" The rat, however, had not asked any questions, but it was thoroughly confused by Vreilar's assumption that it had. "THE SOURCE OF CALCIUM YOU SO PROFOUNDLY REQUIRE GROWS EVER NEARER!"

Given the volume of the voice as it bounced around the kitchen, the necromancer must surely be right around the corner. But, no, he's just incredibly loud-mouthed, and his words only grow louder. "IN THE UPPER CABINETS, THIRD FROM THE RIGHT! IF YOU SHOULD EVER NEED TO FIND IT AND I AM INCAPACITATED, THAT IS WHERE YOU COULD DO SO! LUCKILY NO THIEVES ARE HERE TO HEAR ME SAY THAT!"

His voice was almost painful in its volume by this point, filling the rooms of the tower with the falsetto rasp of a truly devious villain. Without any more warning, Vreilar rounded the corner into his most devilish kitchen. Luckily, there was absolutely NO WAY any thief could have HEARD HIM COMING!

 

[Rose]

Rose squeaked, slamming her head on the top of the cupboard and collapsing back down inside of it to nurse her head. She rubbed at a lump for a moment, fear consuming her as she did the most peculiar thing.

She dissolved into the shadows. Literally. Her form broke away, becoming nothing but the ever so slightest black shimmer inside the darkness.


A moment passed. A hand materialized, hastily closing the door of the cabinet shut with a smash. And then it was just Rose and the confines of the cabinetry.

Stuck.

Because she could only move where the shadows touched.

Oh! The milk!

 

[VREILAR THE NECROMANCER]

Vreilar entered the kitchen, scooping his newly forged minion off of his shoulder and into his mighty, frail hand. "YOU, SMALL ONE!" His voice was sharp and commanding, confusing the rat as to who else he could have been referring to. "STAY UPON THE COUNTER TOP! I WILL RETURN UPON ACQUIRING THE CALCIUM!" Without giving the rat time to protest, he placed it upon the half crumbled counter and went towards the cabinets lining the opposite wall. He first opened the third cabinet from the left along the uppermost row, humming out his discontentment upon finding nothing more than spoiled produce.

He placed his hands before him, making the well-known gesture of Arcane Direction Differentiation by making an "L" with each thumb and forefinger. Realizing his mistake, he took a wide step to his right, instead opening the third cabinet from the right in a continued search for that most precious of dairy-based necromantic ingredients. "COME HITHER, MILK! I DO SUMMON THEE!" He threw the cabinet door open, shedding the tower's dim, ambient light upon its deep interior.

 

[Rose]

Oooooh how Rose wished she could materialize through solid objects and get up to that top counter, but that was not how this trick of hers worked.

Too bad though. It would be so handy if she could just- she gasped, realizing she could see countless pinpricks of light poking through the degrading counter top.

Mwaha!

She couldn’t materialize places, but she could become as small as could be if a shadow was nearby. She searched along the back seam of the wall, finding holes that weren’t tainted by light (because that would just be a disaster. And instant death now that she thought on it...). With a bit of sharp thinking and quick movement, she broke free and traveled up the shadowed wall to the next counter.

She waited there, watching from the pocket of darkness casted underneath the upper cabinet.

Was that a dead rat?

Oh! The milk! She strived to find a way through the shadows to see what he was doing, not unlike a hungry puppy nudging at your hands as your pour food into it’s bowl.

 

[VREILAR THE NECROMANCER]

Vreilar produced a clay jug from the upper cabinets, turning back to his small rodent friend with the bare-toothed grin of his mask. "SMALL ONE, I HAVE ACQUIRED THE CALCIUM!" The rat, meanwhile, sniffed the air behind it where a pocket of darkness sat in the shadow of the higher shelves. It could almost feel something there, a presence of some sort, as though someone were lurking just out of sight. Before it could come to any profound realization about this situation, it was scooped up once more.

Vreilar held the rat at arm's length and began to pour out a substantial amount of milk from his clay jug. Before long, it might all be gone, spilled across the floor and the necromancer's splayed hand. Unsurprisingly to everyone but Vreilar, the milk did little but wet the resurrected rat. It was not fortifying, but rather upsetting to the small creature.

"Why does this always happen to me?" The rat thought rather petulantly. It didn't know why it thought this, but if it did, it may just be one step closer to figuring out who or what it had been in its past life.

 

[Rose]

Noooooooo. Don’t waste the milk!

Her words echoed out from the shadow, surprising even her. She wasn’t aware she had spoken them. Perhaps they should be given proper quotation marks next time. Or maybe she should watch her words.

At any rate, the kitchen appeared haunted and the precious milk dripped off the rat. A pale hand materialized at the shadow’s edge, Rose’s face flashing into sight as she grabbed at the tankard and tried to pull it all back in with her.

There was quite the crazed look about her as she did so, eyes wide and lips-a-parted.

 

[VREILAR THE NECROMANCER]

Vreilar's mask went even more ashen-white as an un-quotation-marked voice echoed through the room. He glanced around quickly, though he didn't spot anything through his efforts. "SPECTER! LOST SOUL! I DEMAND YOU REVEAL THINE-SELF AT ONCE!"

Luckily, the necromancer tilted back the jug amidst his hoarse shouting, though precious dairy still dripped off the rat's skeletal figure. Vreilar turned back to the counter just in time to see a hand materialize from nowhere to grasp and yank away his most necessary reagent. A young woman's face accompanied the spectral image of the hand, startling the necromancer into relinquishing the jug.

"FIEND! BANSHEE! SIREN! I COMMAND YOU GIVE ME BACK THAT MILK AT ONCE!" His foot stomped petulantly against the stonework of the floor to punctuate his demand, knocking loose dust from the upper cabinets which tumbled inelegantly to the ground.

 

[Rose]

“No!” Rose declared back, her voice every bit as petulant as a young child could manage. Except she wasn’t a child. There was barely any baby fat left to her cheeks. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t act like one.

She tried to drink the milk, only to come to most inconvenient realization that neither her mouth nor the milk was in any proper form that would allow an action such as ‘drinking’. She let out a frustrated noise, trying to envelope the milk’s shadow with her own. That was also not how digestion worked in shadow form.

Her attempts at reconfiguring and moving could be glimpsed through the light reflecting off the falling dust— a wispy form that was both there and not, catching dust on itself before churning and dropping it through itself, only to catch another mote and do the same.

 

[VREILAR THE NECROMANCER]

Vreilar watched, mouth agape behind his mask, as the apparent specter struggled to pull the stolen jug into itself. Dust and the mist of crumbling stone caught occasional glints of light, hinting at Rose's presence only by a vacuous expanse of darkness, free from all light.

"OKAY!" Vreilar finally spoke up yet again after watching the utterly bizarre spectacle unfolding before him. "I, VREILAR, THE NECROMANCER, HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IS GOING ON HERE! BUT I DON'T LIKE IT!" Suddenly, the lanky man leapt forwards, reaching out and grasping tightly to the jug's handle. In terms of brain, VREILAR, THE NECROMANCER! was entirely UNMATCHED! As far as brawn goes, though, he is often found wanting. So he stood, one hand clutching to the jug while the other gripped onto the counter top with enough force to white his already pale knuckles, and tried fruitlessly to wrench the jug from Rose's shadowy grasp.

"GIVEITBACK GIVEITBACK GIVEITBACK!" His senseless chant practically rang throughout the storeroom, reverberating through the rusted cookware hanging along the far wall and causing them to chime against one another.

 

[Rose]

“No!” As it happened, Rose was no ordinary human. Or-... rather ... shadow... but not because she was a shadow that could move and think and speak! No!

Because she also happened to be a vampire.

Which was all just another technicality, really. But it was one that gave her one itsy bitsy handy dandy thing...

She yanked back the jug with the strength of a full grown man. A very full grown man. Like, one that could lift swords and stuff.

And she caught the mug with her shadow. Which is another way of saying the mug went whooshing right through her form and smashed into the wall behind her. Pottery went flying. Milk went splashing and dripping down surfaces. Rose fell out of the shadow with a squeak of utter shock.

She fell over counter’s edge and onto the floor, landing amidst all the chaos.

“Ouch!”

 

[VREILAR THE NECROMANCER]

Vreilar could only let loose an over-the-top cry of terror as his most precious reagent went poltergeist-ing into the wall, shattering into countless shards of ceramic and spilled milk. He practically fell to his knees, starting a long, drawn out scream of damnation before a young girl rather suddenly clattered to the ground only a few feet in front of him.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-- !! WAIT!"

The empty, dark sockets of his cartoonish mask stared at Rose in an expression of utter shock. The rat, meanwhile, simply sat on the vacated counter top, completely unperturbed. VREILAR, THE NECROMANCER! raised a single too-long finger in Rose's direction, wrenching his neck backwards.

Across his tongue rode one sharp syllable, like the pale horse and its grim rider reaping across the landscape.
"WAT?!"

 

[Rose]

Rose pulled a face at the man, sticking her tounge out at the pointed finger and gaping expression.

“Didn’t your mom ever tell you it’s not polite to stare!” She chastised indignantly, using that exact moment to get up... and beeline towards the exit.

Never good to linger in a moment like this. Never good.

 

[VREILAR THE NECROMANCER]

"DID YOUR MOTHER NEVER TELL YOU--" was all the great and powerful necromancer could get out before the young intruder broke into a sprint towards the door. VREILAR, THE NECROMANCER! stared after her for a moment before turning to his skeletal minion.

"YOU! MAKE CHASE! CATCH THE FIEND!"

Met with a blank stare from his rodential friend, the lanky necromancer charged out of the kitchen to chase Rose down the crumbling staircase of his tower. "NOW YOU JUST GET BACK HERE, SMALL-ONE! I WAS SQUATTING HERE FIRST, AND THAT MEANS I HAVE RIGHTS TO WHAT'S HERE, NYAH!"

 

[Rose]

See, there was a misconception about vampires that bothered Rose. Well, besides that they were all evil and needed to be shanked on spot.— No. That wasn’t it. You see, everyone had it in their head that they were some supremely advanced creatures with preditorial skills and grace. And sure Rose could bite someone’s throat out, but that grace part?

Her heel caught on a crumbling part of the staircase and she went tumbling down.

She gave a shrill screech of pain and tumbled and slide all the way down to the next landing, where she landed in a heaving heap of hoarse cries.

Ouch.

She was dimly aware of his encroaching approach, but even as she slid a shaking hand into a shadow, she could not will the substance to swallow her whole again as blood leaked out from a gash in her temple.

“I’m leaking milk,” she declared in shock.

 

[VREILAR THE NECROMANCER]

VREILAR, THE NECROMANCER! ceased his chasing as he heard Rose begin tumbling ass-over-teakettle down the stairs, bringing his pace to a hurried walk rather than his previous sprint. Rounding a corner, the hollow eyes of his mask fell level upon the dripping gash that was previously her temple.

"THAT IS NOT MILK, YOU FOOL! IT IS A WOUND THAT NEEDS TREATMENT, LEST YOU WILL FALL UNCONSCIOUS AND LINGER IN MY TOWER!" As the lanky necromancer reached Rose's side, he took a knee and dabbed the blood from her face with his sleeve. Her wound was met with an uncharacteristic care, not suitable for any truly fiendish necromancer to conjure. "IT SEEMS YOU HAVE SUFFERED SEVERE CRANIAL TRAUMA! CAN YOU WALK, OR WILL I NEED TO DEFENESTRATE YOU BY THE POWER OF MY OWN BODY?!"

Dark eyes lingered on the wounded girl's face, though behind the mask, care crinkled the edges of Vreilar's eyes into a much softer expression than his mask may wish to suggest.