After what I have seen tonight, I know that I should have remained there and taken over the flocks. We went to arrest a wealthy infidel merchant whose wife was found to be a witch, his complicity in her actions confirmed by his household full of nonhuman meat. The meat people fought well for such inferiors, but we pushed through into the house.
Then the master of the manor came out, and without arms or armor he TORE APART many of my men! Despite several fatal sword strikes, he DRANK a man like he was a flagon of cool water on a hot day, and then shrouded the area in the fog of death.
I would be dead as assuredly as all my men are, except that I was near the door and could feel my way to flee. I am now in hiding in a tavern, writing this with all haste, to send to you fast as I can. Please forgive my stupidity father, forgive my harsh words and disrespect, and know that even after all these years I remember your words. And now I respect them, even though it is too late.
I have SEEN a Devil in the flesh, and they are NOT the welcoming beings that protect us in death, which the Ingram claim them to be. And soon, one will come to tear out MY soul as well.
– Your Son, Jaffa
For the first night since winter began, the streets are quiet when I reach Targovi?te itself, from my house on the hillside overlooking it. I can see people moving, or stumbling rather, through the shadows in their attempts to avoid me. Maybe it is the scent of danger and thundering rage rolling off me, or the appearance of my obviously Ottoman armor after seeing Anatoli’s soldiers running through the place in fear. Probably some animal-like sense, like the one that sees the forest grow quiet long before the storm hits.
Despite this in many places, through wooden shutters, I see the occasional eye staring at me where its owner thinks it would not be seen due to darkness. I am too angry to do more than note it in passing, as I climb up onto the chopping block in the town square. This used to be where musicians would play, before the Ingram-worshipping Ottomans outlawed music on pain of death…
No more hiding, my love. I am coming to retrieve you, and let EVERYBODY know WHO comes!
It takes some pulling and stretching inside myself, and I feel resistance that suddenly breaks with a headache-causing snap, but I manage to alter the wind-blasting spell within my curse to blow my voice to the city as a whole…including Poenari castle, “I am Vlad Tepes III, son of Vlad Dracul, called the Dragon. You in Poenari have taken my wife today, invaded our home, killed my servants, all after decades of raping my lands and its people. That ends TONIGHT with your LIFE, Saddam Anatoli! You called me beast and monster when I lived, but NOW this monster comes FOR YOU! And if any of your soldiers live, release Analisa, and I will give you your lives so long as you take them far and fast from the lands of Wallachia.”
While pinching my pained eyes I hear doors start to open around the square, and shuffling footsteps strike the ground nearby. First one set, then two more, then too many to count by the time I can open my squinting eyes as the pain fades, finding myself surrounded by peasants with varying tools held as weapons.
Before I can do more than grip my fist tighter around the cloth-wrapped pokers, the bravest of them in the front calls out in his shaking old man’s voice, “Is…are you REALLY my lord the Impaler?”
I sense something but cannot place what it is, some strange quality in the air, “Yes old grandfather, I am. Who else do you know could have impaled all the Ottomans these past months?”
I hear some people, particularly in the back, muttering to themselves as the old man thinks then replies, “I was a young child when you died, too young to join the fight against the Ottomans in your service, Lord Tepes.
“Let me die knowing I have made up for that mistake,” he says before going to one knee before me, holding himself up by the walking stick he carried himself out with.
A ragged cheer rises from the back of the crowd, along with everything from woodcutting axes and pitchforks, as first those closest to the bloodstained platform kneel followed by those behind them. Then the square falls silent, and I realize that there are FAR more people around me than those who dwelled in the surrounding buildings…a crowd having filtered in from the surrounding streets.
I look back over my improvised army, and raise my voice to be heard, not wanting to risk the headache or failure of my magical attempt again, “My people! They called me a monster, the church struck my name from the gates of the celestial realms when I died, and do not think that I did NOT die! Even NOW I am not alive, but the hells themselves feared me too much to keep me trapped there! Now, follow me to Poenari, and let us ALL remind these invaders WHY THEY FEAR THE IMPALER!”
I don’t know what was louder, the thumping of the weapons on the ground, or the furious voices of the people, as they get picked up and pass from throat to throat around the city. By all the gods of that forsaken Church, I think I have just started a peasant’s rebellion!
***
I set about quickly ordering my force, not wanting to waste more night than minimally possible. The old man who first spoke to me I put in charge of the rest of those too old or infirm to follow me to Poenari immediately, with orders to collect food and drink to volunteered send up to the forces around the castles. The women are to go to each home to pass the word, see if any can come to our aid, and gather yet more weapons. Those too young to fight are to burn off the vigor of youth running these things to the fighters who follow me.
And with that we head off to Poenari, but must first stop at the Castle Arges just below it. A pile of rocks I am now regretting having rebuilt to defend Poenari by splitting its attacker, since I am that very attacker! But if we could all see the future as clearly as the past, we would die from fear…or embarrassment.
By the time we reach Arges I have thought of a plan, and have all the torches collected by half my forces. They are to light two each and stand there shouting ad making as much noise as possible outside of Arges, but far enough away to stay out of sight. Meanwhile the rest are to take their weapons and hide in the dark and scrub next to the path between them and Arges, under the command of a simpleton with a loud voice. He has but one order, to yell “charge” when he sees horses hallway between the castle and the torches, and is too dull-witted to mess it up or betray.
Since this is all going on in sight of Poenari, their forces will be distracted awaiting the outcome, hoping that the larger garrison at Arges will defeat me. Let Anatoli feel comforted thinking I am sieging Arges, and he can sally forth to slay me come dawn. He shall not live to see middle night!
Meanwhile I send a priest from the local Church temple, the only one that had not been burned or befouled by the Ingram, go ahead to Poenari before I initiated my plan. No point giving him the chance to betray it by intent or torture. He is to secure Analisa’s release by middle night, but I know she will not be, it is just another distraction. No, Anatoli will want to keep her in his hands, as a hostage on my good behavior…just like I was with my brother, for FATHER’S forced fealty.
So it is that I move fast as the night will carry me to the creek that runs between the two castles, to the same place that I once jumped across it so many months ago. With a mighty throw of my arm, keeping ahold of the end of the rope I spent the walk into Targovi?te knotting, even my newly-sharp ears barely hear the
Pulling myself and the rope in, that way I can get Analisa out of Poenari after I retrieve her, I climb inside. It is a short work to wrap the rope’s end around a chest’s handle, and then I replace my Ottoman sword with Dragon’s Fang, feeling like a warrior of the Dracul once again with it on my hip. Now to do something I haven’t done in decades.
The door into the treasure opens inwards, so it can be barricaded during my escape should Poenaris fall, but the other side of the thick iron-bound door has a lock whose key I left in trust with my seneschal when I went to fight the Ottomans for the last of my breathing days. A lock that is fixed into the side of the door in the wall, where it prevents a heavy wooden bar from being lifted out of slots that keep it in the cradle on its front side, to prevent any from sneaking off with my land’s wealth. Also, as it works now, serving as a very effective bar to prevent ME from getting IN to the rest of my old home even WITH my newfound strength.
But that is not what kept me out so many months ago. No, THAT was the room full of guards at the top of the stairs on its other side, who would hear and SEE a flaming Dragon’s Fang hack through the door near the hinges and the bar on their side of it. Guards that will be too busy either guarding against that pathetic excuse for a holy man, watching the torches over in front of Arges, or preparing for the sally come dawn. Father always said I was too clever at times.
It is short order for me to burn and hack my way through the door after I soak it in the oil from the room’s lamps, knowing that the entirely-stone room will serve as an oven to increase the burn and I do not need to fear the smoke, while hacking into the increasingly-fragile wood. A task that would have taken an hour at the least takes not even a fifth of that time, and I am through and running up the steps, securing Dragon’s Fang back on my hip. The servants attracted by the smell of the smoke ignore me since I am still dressed like an Ottoman, while I fake running to alert the threat of fire as I make my way across the grand hall to the passages which lead to the dungeons. I can disguise Analisa as a servant I am “escorting” to help put out the “fire”, then swing us both to safety and return to kill Anatoli after she is safely secured back at our home…home…
My thoughts echo, and my heart beats once painfully before resting quite again, as I see something in the courtyard through the hall’s main doors. I wander over, as my helm hits the flagstones, so that I may better confirm the scent in the air. I only notice the priest’s headless body long enough to step over it, the rope falling from my numbed fingers, as I wander out. Out to the freshly-charred shriveled body in the courtyard, slumped loose from the chains against the still-burning wooden post. From the smell of it the body had been there since before sunset, and under that I can smell something faint, so faint that I would not have noticed, had I not been smelling it for months now.
The smell of Analisa’s blood, only spoiled lifeless and charred.
***
I don’t know how long I am standing there, locked in place by equal measures of soul-shattering sorrow and blood-boiling not rage, but something as far BEYOND rage as a banged toe is to a broken leg. Then a man grabs my arm to spin me around, breaking my eyes off of Analisa’s corpse, and before the Ottoman sergeant can give me the order that he obviously was upset I ignored, my fist is grips his face…and I SQUEEZE.
I only know I am screaming when his wails stop in a sick crunch, but my own voice continues tearing out of me. Several nearby soldiers drop what they are carrying and come over to aid the man, but arrive only in time to avenge them. I just notice them when one of their blades pierces my armor under the side plate, the other glancing a blow off the same side’s shoulder pauldron.
Old skills take over and Dragon’s Fang is suddenly in my hand, its blade alight and travelling through the neck of the soldier whose blade is trapped by my own flesh. I feel it with some fragment of my shattered sanity as the suddenly-loosed blade is pushed from my side while it heals, and my mind clears somewhat. Not enough to halt my rage, if anything the NEED within me for the death of everybody in this place only grows, but I am able to start doing more than acting on that basic beast-like drive.
His partner sweeps his blade across at chest-height, and I desire to dodge back, but I know that that will not win me this fight just delay long enough for others to reach his side. So instead I step INTO it and use Dragon’s Fang to push the enemy’s blade up and over my own helmet-free head, while I grasp the back of HIS and bury my fanged maw in his cheek. As he drops to the ground screaming from the pain of such a violation, I catch him from behind with my sword-arm around his shoulders, and drink from him as my mouth severs his spine.
My ears hear shouts and the sounds of thundering feet behind me, and I spin with my victim’s vitality still filling my hunger, to see several Ottomans in breastplates rushing towards me with their polearms held ready. Wall guards, is all my broken mind can recall as I drop him and run TOWARDS the guards at full speed, swinging my blazing sword before my head.
While they form up quickly, a testament to the whip-fueled discipline of the Ottomans, and set their weapons so as to impale my face and chest upon them just like I was trained to do in their Janissaries. But I know that, and long ago thought of a trick to get around it…and unfortunately for them I can now think well enough to use it, if barely.
Throwing both feet before me and dropping onto my back just before I would hit their blades, I slide across the courtyard’s stones into their feet on my sparking armor’s back, Dragon’s Fang lashing out to take the legs out from beneath the guard to the side of the two I already knocked over. And my mind clears a little more.
I scramble to me widespread feet and unarmed hand behind their line as I roll over my involuntary wrestling partners, snarling, looking more creature than man even to myself. But with enough wits regained for my battle sense to reemerge, and I realize something strange is going on. That is twice now that I felt refreshed after delivering a blow with Dragon’s Fang…but it has never had such an enchantment.
I sweep the blades falling at me to the side, but some strike hard enough to find or make flaws in my armor and reach my skin. The dulled pain registers as I lunge forward, standing atop one as my blade severs the haft of a pole and ends in the blood-spurting forearm of the man beside him. But no flash of vitality comes with his wound. Maybe it is not deep enough?
As I kick the man below me in the face while he tries to push me off, the rest move back and draw their swords, forming a ragged ring around me. Snarling at them over the unconscious man below me, I reverse Dragon Fang’s grip, and drop to one knee as I drive it into his neck just above his breast plate nearly decapitating him. Ahhh, THERE it is, the blow must me more than a glancing strike for it to come.
My wits restored, with only my red-tinged fury left to me but calmed into the white-hot coals of a furnace rather than the previous house-threatening inferno, I stand up and stare at those surrounding me, “I gave you a chance to live, but you had already killed it.”
***
My boots
Once through the inner hall doors, past the wide area between the two gates where invaders were to be trapped while boiling oil was poured onto them, I turn around and close them. Then I guide the bar to fall into its holding arms, from where it stands tied to the side, and sever the rope that would allow it to be lifted off once more. Once I have it coiled I toss it into the brazier besides the court’s throne to burn, Now it is just me and Anatoli in here, and unless he can fly he is NOT escaping me.
At first I go through the hallway to the vault, insuring that the secret exit is still closed, before collecting the door’s ashes in a bread sack from the guard room atop its stairs. Once I leave the passage, having checked the supply rooms off of it, I scatter the ashes on the ground where it meets the main hall. In this way I am able to check and secure he kitchens and all other areas on the ground floor around the hall, able to see before I head up the stairs that there was none who passed through an area while I was checking the others. By the time I am finished I can feel the sun creeping slowly towards the horizon, not enough to be visible yet but enough that I can FEEL it, I must finish this while my strength remains.
“You cannot be here Ghoul, this is MY home and you have no invitation!,” I hear somebody say as I reach the top of the stairs, dropping the remaining ashes down behind me as I draw my blade and look around. “You cannot be here Ghoul, this is MY home and you have no invitation!”
I hear the voice coming from the floor below me, and looking down at the straw-covered wood I see what appears to be a man’s bearded mouth painted below the dried grasses my foot kicked onto it.
“You cannot be here Ghoul, this is MY home-!,” it starts again as the image of the mouth moves, just before I score it out with the tip of Dragon’s Fang. “No, invader, this is and has ALWAYS been MY HOME! And soon you are to learn what I do to thieves in MY lands,” I shout down the hallway.
Thankfully the room besides the stairs is still used to store chairs, the tables for grand dinners in a room downstairs beside the kitchens, and I haul them out to fill the stairs down. Now he will be unable to escape, I think before turning face-first into a blast of lighting that throws me into the chairs I just stacked, my skin stinging and smelling burnt chest hair.
“HA! To the conqueror goes all the conquered possess, THIS CASTLE AS WELL, Vlad the Monster…now STAY in your grave!,” I hear him rant as I regain use of my stunned limbs.
Standing up to charge him at the end of the hall I see the man, as old as I was when I breathed, standing there in his leather armor with a satchel at his side, “Impossible…you should be DEAD, or at least unable to move!”
“I cannot die while I see a cockroach needing my boot,” I get out as I start the run down the hall. Only to come face-first into the spray of liquid cast by the beaker he breaks before me, forcing me back in agony as I flee through a nearby open doorway to escape the burning.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Your whore told me of you, before begging for her death, Vlad. Whatever twisted joke lets a Ghoul like you walk these halls, a Ghoul you REMAIN, and I have plenty of other enchantments to kill you rom THIS side of the holy water!”
Now that my eyes can see reliably, the bloody tears having stopped, I see I am in the seneschal’s bedchamber. My face feels off, and my fingers show part of my nose missing as well as several holes in the flesh of my forehead from where the droplets struck. Looking down I can see the holes in my chest, some large enough for a finger, and realize there is a REASON why I suddenly feel no stronger than when I was alive…I am too damaged to retain my curse-driven might. Another couple strikes like that, and I will be too weak to lift my blade. I have to be…tactical.
My broken face breaks into an even wider grin, as I grab up the rumpled and stained bedding, suddenly grateful my nose is no longer working correctly, “Come out dead man, and I will correct the gods’ mistake.”
Ignoring his taunting I hold the wadded cloth to the flames of Dragon’s Fang, and then toss the lit rags into the hallway. The fire quickly spreads across the straw, and I hear coughing and feet fleeing, letting me leave to follow them before the hallway’s wooden floor burns through. But instead of running after the noises, now knowing Anatoli has some stockpile of magical tricks, I pause to listen at the intersection of the halls and stairs at the back of the castle’s keep.
I hear his feet stomping quickly down the mirror hallway on the other side, the one that ends in the master’s rooms, but it is a dead end so I have time to prepare and sure. Then over the approaching crackle of burning timbers I hear it, the sniff of a nose filled with smoke coming from the tower stairs, and I run up them fast as possible.
Only to be suddenly stopped halfway up the stone stairs, by an invisible wall above a pair of wet stones. While poking at it in astonishment I hear Anatoli curse and flee further upwards, evidently having been waiting on the armory’s landing for me to pass below. He must have used more of that holy water on the stairs, in case I ran here instead of following his faked footsteps, and now I cannot pass it.
But I could before, AFTER the flames reached it…is it THAT simple?, my mind wanders as I manage to put my blade through the wall as if it was not there, evidently forming a barrier only against my body. Lighting it aflame I scrape it gently over the surface of the stones, carving into the wall as the water dries out in the sudden heat. Yes, it IS that simple…
After a brief time the stones are clear, and I run up the stones to the landing, but stop. Not letting him get that trick to work the second time, I think as I open the armory door. Looking around at the racks and stacks of bundled arrows from the doorway, with no place to hide, I shut the door. Evidently he only had ONE false footsteps in his quiver.
The next floor up is the archer’s floor, a wide open circle surrounded by arrow slits with a balcony to my right that looks over the courtyard…and no Anatoli in evidence. Yet the balcony door swings open in the pre-dawn’s wind, and I realize he is trying to ESCAPE!
Running to the balcony I look over the edge of the balustrade towards the castle’s peaked roof to one side, and the courtyard to the other. Yet in my night’s vision I see nothing but a blade sliding slowly down the inner side of the peaked roof, as if somebody threw it town to slide into the courtyard. Ah, I realize in a flash, somebody DID throw that blade into the dark, to LURE me down there to the sound of somebody slipping away…
I reach up to grab the lip of the roof, and pull myself up, seeing Anatoli with a length of rope near the peak of the roof. “Clever trick with the blade, I will give you that,” I say as I pull myself up onto the roof while he is securing the rope to the poles which form the roof’s peak.
Only to be stopped suddenly as I try to walk up to him, and looking down I see that the roof all around me looks darker in my colorless night vision under the faint moonlight coming through the clouds. Then he laughs and speaks, “Did you think I would not keep a few flasks of holy water in reserve, should it come to this?”
Slapping his satchel as he gloats while my mind races, “The sun is rises any time now Ghoul, and I have enough wealth and tricks here in my magical bag to get to safety while you are trapped away from its rays. Then I will return, and insure that you join your wife, serving me in the afterlife in HELL!”
While he is sneering at me I smile, my ghastly holy-water-defiled face making it look ghastly, unfortunately for which he is unable to see in the poor light. “No Anatoli, you won’t be going ANYWHERE but my stomach,” I say raising a pointing finger to the sky, pushing out my curse towards the clouds, and calling down a bolt of lightning once the connection is made.
It strikes him on the peak of the roof, burning through the rope as his body jerks and he collapses, his spasming hand grasping the smoking poles of the roof. “Whaa-at we-e-e-esh,” he manages to get out as his body shakes, then the second bolt strikes and he goes rigid, his body sliding down the peak TOWARDS me by his own thrashing limbs.
I catch him as he flops into my legs, sweeping us both off the roof onto the balcony, my back striking the balustrade with a
Once I am done feasting on him my legs work once more, my flesh whole and hearty, and strength returned. But the light stings me as the sun rests just below the horizon, so I hurl him to the courtyard and stagger inside to escape it. The floor below the tower is afire, and I am without the soil I need to rest. But at least I can get out of the sun.
As quick as I can I move inside and down the stairs, the smoke flowing from the staircase of no consequence to me since I need to inhale only to speak. Finding the door to the armory, a windowless room to prevent flaming oil sabotaging the stored arms, I stumble inside as the sun crests and I am overwhelmed with exhaustion. Curiling up in a corner furthest from the door as darkness takes me, I spend the day in near-sleep, aware of my motionless corpse while flooded with nightmares.
Nightmares of all the happiness Analisa gave me, of her warm touch and tender care, kind smile and politeness to all that made her loved by the servants. All of these memories flood me in no notable sequence, seeming to only be bound by themes. It is the most savage and terrifying of nightmares that I have ever had alive OR dead, my time in the Sultan’s court included.
Because I am aware enough the entire time to know that all I have of her is these memories…and eventually even they too shall fade.
***
The nightmares come to an end, and I can move once more, as soon as the sun falls below the peaks of the mountains to the far west. Standing I stumble to the floor above, the roof part-burned thanks to the lightning strikes but the thick stonework of the tower served to separate it enough from the rest to protect it from being engulfed. Attracted to the balcony I look over the edge, seeing that the courtyard is filled with people cleaning up the parts of the soldiers I left behind. I am there for a few minutes before somebody notices me and cries out to the rest, pointing up at me, “The Prince has returned! He SURVIVED!”
A cheer of adulation rises up from the people below, starting ragged but as more people enter from the wide open wall gates and the inside of the court’s gates below me, it rises in savage pitch with the growing size. Eventually a single unified cheer rises up, becoming understandable as those who held other sentiments join the largest sentiment.
“Prince Vlad! Prince Vlad! Prince Vlad!,” it goes on as I raise my hands for silence. After a few breaths the cries die down, everybody waiting to hear from me.
“My people, I lost much tonight, but I stand before you as the victor against Anatoli. That fatherless fetid shit in the form of a man,” before I get further the cheers rise up once more, but this time shouting insults against the former ruler of Targovi?te.
My raised hands once again quiet them so that I can continue, “But the dead CANNOT rule the living, for you live in the day while I may only walk in the night. Choose among you one wise enough to rule you, and I shall guide him and avenge you, the best that I can. My life and rule are in the past, and that is where it MUST remain.”
The crowd grumbles to itself, eventually somebody below shouting up, “My lord, we don’t WANT another ruler! Your plan at Arges worked, and now the Ingram have fled Targovi?te because of YOU!”
The cheers of “Prince Vlad!” resume, and this time it takes much longer to stop them so that I can be heard, likely because of the fading dusk’s light, “Very well my friends, I will lead you for NOW, until I can find and train my successor.”
It is full dark by the time the cheering stops, torches having been pulled out to light the courtyard, and eventually I can speak once more. “Now, can one of you PLEASE throw a rope up to your prince, so that he might get DOWN from this damn balcony?”
***
Only a hundred or so mercenaries could be found by my butler, but they protected my home from the Ottomans’ forces as they fled the city. More by their presence than by arms, but a fight you need not face is a fight you have won. Especially since it keeps Little Vlad safe, him being the last thing I have to love in this world. The casket that my rescuers from the Arges siege provided for Analisa’s remains is not ornate, being hastily assembled when they discovered her in the morning, but it serves well enough to bring her home.
Which is why a groggy part-dragon child is sniffling and clutching to me in my borrowed overcoat after I woke him near midnight, crying his heart out as the best mother he has ever known is buried in the hastily-dug grave below the apple tree she so loved. No priest is there to say words of blessing to whisk her to eternal peace in the Celestial realm, but her father Varovich is, and I make sure that her collection of small grave stones is buried with her. Hopefully her spirits can guide her, since without her nobody can call them back to this world. They were her only friends for so much of her life, it is only fitting that they be her friends even in death.
With the wealth of gold and platinum packed into satchel Anatoli kept on him, a magical bag able to hold three times what it appears without growing in weight, I contract the more disciplined mercenary companies to serve me as my household guard. My own having been nearly wiped out when the Ottomans attacked my home, and the need for one being so much greater now that all in Targovi?te know that this is where the new ruler resides…including the Ingram spies that are no doubt still there. After a few aborted attempts to attack the home by small forces of Ottoman soldiers looking for loot and revenge, I put Varovich in charge of collecting architects and masons to rebuild the burned out floors of Poenari…I cannot keep Little Vlad safe in the frontier home for sure.
Thanks to my own ability to hunt down and slay invaders under the cover of darkness, even as the daylight grows with the spring and summer, I am able to keep the area around Targovi?te safe from Ingram terror mostly with my own might. Andon the nights when I cannot find even an enemy scout to feed my bloodlust, the veins of the horses in my stables keep hunger at bay.
As Poenari is being rebuilt, eventually travelling priests from the Church come to press for my destruction, only to be beaten and thrown from the area by the people themselves. I do not know of this until one battered group seeks shelter in the frontier home later that night, after being driven from the inn rooms they tried to proselytize my destruction from. It is while sitting with them for dinner, my body now able to ingest small amounts of food and drink in relative comfort, despite their ashen flavor, that I discover what has been happening out of my sight.
They are shocked to hear that their kind host is the very monster they came to destroy, but it is thanks to the suddenly half-drawn blades of my guards that none dare raise a hand against me. In return for their self-restraint, I make a proposal, “The people of Targovi?te have not had any spiritual guidance for quite a while, since the Ingram faith is anything BUT a path towards a moral and just life. If you can find in your members one who would not risk his life by speaking against mine, I will insure that he has a temple from which to serve.”
And with that, Targovi?te itself gains stability and peace it has not known since my death. Not to imply that it was a paradise, thieves and other criminals appear like weeds in the garden. Only my pulling them places them on display for all to see their pained and terrified face, so after the first few incidents the frequency of such malbehavior drops to near nothing.
And then it is that in Poenari, with Varovich serving as my daytime voice, Little Vlad grows to manhood. His tutelage under my care, and education with the best minds I can lure to Targovi?te, shape him into a very capable ruler. It is during this time that I realize my greatest frustration, that despite my best efforts I CANNOT free the rest of Wallachia from Ottoman oppression. While a nigh-unstoppable monster in the night can terrify and force entire divisions of soldiers to retreat, through sabotage and slaughter if nothing else, I can only be at ONE place. Rather than subject the surrounding towns to repeated raids by the Ottomans as they reclaim them when I am off freeing another, I am forced back to protecting only Targovi?te itself.
My only hope is that Little Vlad can lead the forces needed to protect Wallachia. It is odd, my father was of the Order of the Dragon, CALLED “the Dragon”, where I was the “Son of the Dragon”…but it is Little Vlad who IS dragon-blooded!, I think while watching the confident young man getting ready to march in the morning.
“Fret not father, you are not some mother hen to complain her eggs being stolen!,” he tells me with a grin while checking over the buckles of his breastplate once more.
I sigh from a long-forgotten reflex I thought to no longer have before replying, “I would have no NEED to be so worrisome if you would carry Dragon’s Fang with you, my boy!”
“
I embrace him back before pulling us apart, “Enough of that soft womanly stuff, lest you grow tits!
After sharing a laugh with me he goes to change into his night clothes, and I move to leave. But he interrupts me from behind his screen, “Father can you…help me sleep again? I am nervous about the morning.”
I smile, A man he may be, but he is unblooded, and nervous of his performance in his first battle. Ah, I remember that, “Yes son, climb into bed and I will sooth you to sleep.”
After he is curled under the covers, for comfort instead of the warmth his dragon heritage means he doesn’t need, I sit on the stool beside the bed to grip his shoulder. Humming softly to him while doing so, I push out the faintest touch of my curse, covering his mind in a blanket of darkness that slowly takes him into the realm of dreams.
***
He should not have been worried. When the campaign is over, our territory having grown in greatly with the forces now defending all the nearby towns and hamlets, he returns the to a triumph of cheering crowds and even old women coming out to kiss his feet as he rides by. The news of his victories and deeds having travelled to us as he moved on to each following battle, reuniting many families who have been suffering under the Ottoman yoke for a decade while the locals enjoy prosperity. Now, all these people can enjoy our protection, no wonder they are so enthusiastic.
And it has earned him a new name, “Valorous Vlad” of all things. To think, the same children who once ridiculed him are now CHEERING him as adults, I could be no prouder of him if he WAS my own blood! I think I shall call him “Val” from now on, so he need never forget this joy OR how he EARNED it.
His victories giving him a newfound confidence, one that the women of Targovi?te find particularly attractive, “Val” as he come to be known by all soon takes over my duties as ruler of the burgeoning kingdom. Then he takes a wife and they have beautiful children, two sons and a daughter he names Analisa. His children do not inherit his dragon’s blood, which is often known to skip generations or even vanish entirely from a bloodline, but the same legacy leaves him hale enough to train his eldest to replace him as the new Viovode of our ever-growing Wallachian kingdom.
Without a need for me to defend the town anymore, or even to rule it, I find myself going to Ottoman strongholds and resources to cause trouble. Not just those near our borders, that would be predictable, but also those further into the enemy’s territories. In this way I can distract their armies from the border to come defend their “secure” places, or even kill important leaders and priests to break their warfighting ability. It is while on such a task that I hear word in the town’s taverns of Val’s death. At the hands of the Hashishim, when one of them managed to infiltrate the kitchens of Poenari and stabbed him with a poisoned blade while he was at his wife’s deathbed.
The soldiers in the tavern were laughing about it, telling tales and making jokes of his face when he was slain. By the time I was done, nobody in the tavern was left alive, although they were all erect on their new homes in the field outside.
It takes me over a month to make my way back to Targovi?te, to my son, but I am not idle on the trip. Every Ottoman soldier I see I slay, every priest I tear apart with conjured wolves and leave their chewed remains to be discovered. Every temple to their fetid deities I burn, after barricading the doors with worshippers inside if possible…and I care not at all if the town burns along with it. I carve a wound of bloody-drenched fear behind me on my way back to Wallachia, my anger never abating for a single step.
In a mere month I think I killed as many people as I did while I was still alive.
***
NAME: Vlad Tepes III
RACE: Vampire (Human)
AGE: 45.2 years alive, Dead 55 years
ALIGNMENT: Lawful Neutral
HIT DIE: 9
ECL: 9
XP TO NEXT LEVEL: 40,877 / 45,000
SIZE: Medium
SPEED: 30 ft. [20 ft. in armor]
ERA: Renaissance-Era
ABILITY SCORES: Cha 16[17], Wis 10[11], Int 12, Dex 10, Con 13, Str 16[19]
FAST ACTION: 15%
DAMAGE REDUCTION: 3/magical silver
ENERGY RESISTANCES: Acid 0*, Cold 5*, Electric 0*, Fire 0* [* +4 Brigandine]
DURABILITY: 7 TEMPORARY HIT POINTS: 24
SAVING THROWS: Fort +15 (11), Ref +2 (1), Will +11* (9) [* Booster +1] [+1 vs. being disabled]
[Immunity (ability drain, age, Compulsion, disease, poison, Transformation from others, Fortitude save effects that don’t apply to objects as well] [Fast Healing 1]
ARMOR CLASS: 17 (+6* MW Brigandine, +1 natural), flat-footed 17, touch 10 [* Masterwork Brigandine has Undervest ×2]
ATTACK: Base Attack Bonus +7, Melee +10, Ranged +7; +4 to Stunts.
* Bite +10 [+10/+5 or +5] melee (1d4+1 Piercing, counts as Feeding)
* Dragon’s Fang +11 [+11/+6] melee (1d8+6 Slashing, 19-20/×3, plus 1d6 Fire) [flaming longsword +2, Serrated, Lever Grip ×3; lesser artifact: casts lesser restoration on the wielder if he strikes a living creature with a critical threat using it, and is of the blood of the Tepes family]
* Slam +10 [+10/+5] melee (1d6+4 Blunt)
SKILLS (+3 to Social skills and NPC Attitude checks, –3 instead in enemy territory):
* Charisma-Linked (+3)
* * Bluff +7 (0) [+4 from Sense Motive]
* * (P) Concentration {Undead} +4 (1)
* * Diplomacy +7 (0) [+4 from Sense Motive]
* * Gather Information +7 (0) [+4 from Sense Motive]
* * Handle Animal +4 (4) [+2 from Animal Affinity, –5 from being a Vampire]
* * (P) Intimidate +15 (12)
* Wisdom-Linked (+0)
* * Listen +11 (4) [+2 from Stalker, +2 from Alertness, +3 from Aged Master]
* * (P) Profession (manager) +9 (8)
* * (P) Sense Motive +13* (10) [* +1 for verbal uses] [+3 from Aged Maser]
* * (P) Spot +11 (4) [+2 from Stalker, +2 from Alertness, +3 from Aged Master]
* * Survival +6 (4) [+2 from Wildman]
* Intelligence-Linked (+1)
* * Knowledge (geography) +2 (1)
* * (P) Knowledge (military & tactics) +13 (12)
* * Knowledge (nature) +7 (1) [+2 from Wildman, +3 from Aged Master]
* * Knowledge (nobility & royalty) +5* (4) [* Booster +1]
* * (Aged Master) Spellcraft +9 (8)
* Dexterity-Linked (+0)
* * Balance +1 (0)
* * Hide +5* (2) [* +2 in wilderness] [+3 from Aged Master]
* * Move Silently +5* (2) [* +2 in wilderness] [+3 from Aged Master]
* * (P) Ride +7 (7)
* Constitution-Linked (NA)
* * (P) Concentration +NA (0)
* * (P) Strong Heart +NA (10) [ranks converted to Temporary Hit Points]
* Strength-Linked (+4)
* * (P) Climb +5 (1)
* Linguistics +2 (2)
* Wild Empathy +8 (<3>) [+2 from Animal Affinity]
FEATS (Simple Weapon Proficiency, Martial Weapon Proficiency, Light Armor Proficiency, Medium Armor Proficiency, Heavy Armor Proficiency, Shield Proficiency):
* HD 1: Animal Affinity
* HD 3: Leadership
* HD 6: Iron Will
* HD 9: Lord of the Night
* Human: Royal Blood
* Vampire: Alertness
* Vampire: Improved Grapple
* Undead Con 12+: Toughness
* Birth: Born Under a Dark Star
* Wildman 1: Track
TRAITS (Tough Hero):
* Favored: Wildman ×1
* HD 1: Combat Bonuses ×1
* HD 1: Stalker ×1
* HD 1: Weapon Training ×1
* HD 2: Combat Bonuses ×2
* HD 2: Enduring ×1
* HD 3: Combat Bonuses ×3
* HD 3: Enduring ×2
* HD 3: Wildman ×2
* HD 4: Combat Bonuses ×4
* HD 4: Enduring ×3
* HD 5: Combat Bonuses ×5
* HD 5: Enduring ×4
* HD 5: Wildman ×3
* HD 6: Combat Bonuses ×6
* HD 6: Enduring ×5
* HD 7: Aged Master ×1
* HD 7: Mastered Power (Weather Mastery) ×1
* HD 7: Stalker ×2
* HD 8: Aged Master ×2
* HD 8: Mastered Power (Mind Games) ×2
* HD 9: Aged Master ×3
* HD 9: Mastered Power (Children of the Night) ×3
* HD 9: Combat Bonuses ×7
SPECIAL ABILITIES
Vampire Special Abilities
* Blood Bite [Con damage from Bite attack counts as Feeding, can Bite in Grapple as a touch attack]
* Darkvision 60 ft.
* Inflict spells instead heal Strength, cure spells instead cause Strength damage
* Feeding [Blood drank restores equal ability score damage, further from Human is less effective]
* Human Blood [counts as Human for spell effects based on race]
* Insanity Recovery [Feeding heals Insanity as if it was ability score damage]
Vampire Weaknesses
* Allergies [1d8–1 damage from contact with daylight or holy symbols and holy ground, unless consecrated to a deity of darkness, death, or evil]
* Blood is Life [bleeding effects still apply to you]
* Cursed Blood (Soil Bound) [Can only sleep if in your homeland, or near at least 1 Lb. of its earth]
* Daytime Sleep [fatigued during daytime hours, Sinker –1 to skill checks during the day, cannot sleep at night]
* Hospitality [needs invitation into homes, cannot harm those they invite into theirs if they behave]
* Hunger [stacking –1 Intelligence penalty at dusk, which only goes away a point at a time from Feeding]
* Taint of Evil [alignment counts as Evil for spells and special effects, even if you are not]
* Vulnerable Dismemberment [Slashing weapons can still deal critical damage]
* Vulnerable Heart [Piercing wooden weapons can still deal critical damage]
* Ward Away [cannot come within 10 ft. of a holy symbol or mirror strongly presented to them by a living being]
* Water Allergy [1d6–1 damage from contact with naturally-running water, and cannot pass it under your own power]
Leadership 8 [4 base from HD, +3 from Charisma, +1 from Intimidate]
Fear-descriptor effects +2 DC
SPELLCASTING
* Mastered Power (Charisma-based, CL 9, Maximum SL 4th, Spells Per Day 6*) [+1 save DCs, +3 DCs vs. Animals and Vermin] [* +1 daily use for summon nature’s ally I only]
* * 0th – daze (free action).
* * 1st – obscuring mist, summon nature’s ally I (only 1d3+2 Swarm:Bats, 1d3+2 Swarm:Rats, or 2d3+2 Wolves; can command as if using summon monster)
* * 2nd – daze (no HD limit), detect thoughts (free action), gust of wind.
* * 3rd – call lightning, daze monster.
* * 4th – control winds, daze monster (free action).