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“So, one of the Tempestnight’s ancestors supposedly accomplished a divine task given to them by Aeolus, God of the Winds. As a reward for their service he gifted them an acorn made of lightning and clouds. Wherever they planted the seed it would bless the land with fertile rains and the protection of storms.”

Fizz recounted as they rested for lunch. Cire had inquired regarding the origins of the Scorched Oak of Storms, still taken by the enchanting place. Both knowledgeable of and happy to share the information, the gnome was curiously well informed given he was from a different territory.

“So, it’s a divine site? It effects the entire territory?”

Taking a long slow draw from his pipe, Fizz nodded, forgoing the need to speak as he held in his inhale. Honeydrop flew a series of back and front flips, occupying her relentless energy. Her words came out clipped and oddly patterned as spoke once per flip.

“Such-a-gift! To-bless-any-territory-with-a-place-touched-by-Aeolus!!”

Cire’s eyes followed Honey’s loops and nodded with her assessment. Then he cupped his chin in thought. Maybe he was thinking about divine sites backwards. There were probably plenty of sites linked to permanent geography. However, it was obvious that building one, or planting one in this case, was a viable option to increase the strength of your domain as well.

“Any of you know what the quest entailed? The one that was given to the Tempestnight family. That’s a pretty incredible reward.”

“Nope!”

Honey said as she twisted in a tight barrel roll before landing on Dimitra’s head.

Fizz shrugged and Dimitra shook her head, making Honeydrop buzz her wings to maintain balance.

The group finished their apples and walnuts while readying to leave. Fruit and nuts had been prevalent in the supplies they had restocked with at Wreath. They were convenient for the trail and allowed the group to go without a fire if needed, but Cire hoped they ran across game soon.

By early afternoon the training patrol had made it far south enough that the fetid stench of the neighboring swamp lingered faintly in the air. Dripping with lichen and moss, the tree branches were heavily laden with extraneous growth. Thick tangled vines hung down like curtains across their path.

Without warning, when half the group was ahead of a sheet of vines and the other behind it, the twisting leafed rope groped out at them like a mass of thorned tentacles. Caught towards the rear, Cire was the only melee fighter between the whipping living weapons and the casters. Eliana was already engaged with a pair of vines striking at them from behind.

Even traveling with weapons at the ready, the vampire didn’t have time to react offensively. He barely managed to deflect a tendril reaching for his face. Looping around his ankle, another vine jerked him forwards. Twisting his other foot, he flooded his next step with mana and flung himself into the mass of vegetation.

Piercing thorns tore through the fabric of his pants and shredded his tunic. Warm floods of oozing red soaked through his clothing. Cire desperately blocked rapid strikes aimed for his head. He couldn’t do much to halt the attacks, hemmed in by close quarters. However, he could keep himself between the deadly ivy and those who could.

Green bolts of crackling energy whizzed past his head and struck the plants. Several of the vines wilted and drooped, others slowed. Cire wasted no time, hacking at the immobilized vines with his longsword. Blood dripped into his eyes and clouded his vision. He could hear more incantations from his rear. Desperately he struck out at any vines trying to snake past him that still showed life.

Red, green, and pain suffused Cire’s existence as he persevered in a blender of thorns and leaves. He endured through the countless minutes. No break to retrieve a potion. No rest between the thrashing. Only all out effort and constant movement kept him alive.

The mages rallied after the sudden ambush. Obelius casting a spell stored in his staff as a reaction and immediately launching into a complex incantation. He wove a complex series of symbols in the air as he spoke low rapid syllables under his breath. The moon elf caster was holding himself in reserve, beating back errant vines with a quarter staff.

Ripping through the matted curtain of vegetation and spraying Cire with wet sap, Dimitra’s axe gouged a massive hole into their enemy. Cire jumped to the side, colliding with a tree trunk as he dodged away from his ally’s assault. Another sizzling blast of emerald green energy burst from Obelius’s staff and struck the remaining vines causing them to wither and die.

In short order the patrol reunited with twitching segments of vines littering the forest floor. Lander, Philip, the glade elf Erinna, and Calix followed Dimitra through the hole to regroup. Fizz and the other wood elves rejoined them from various places along the sides of the party. Looking a bit ashamed, Honey drop toed the air as she hovered silently next to Cire.

The moon elf caster, Iaso, knelt down and pulled Cire to sit next to him. Laying his hands on Cire’s chest, he closed his eyes and offered a short prayer to Artemis to illicit her aid. A gentle cold glowing silver light infused his hands and spread around Cire’s body.

Cire was less wary about receiving magical healing now that he knew more about his nature, but he still would have protested. That was, until he had his first chance to see the tatters that remained of his garments. His regenerative powers were doing their due diligence to seal the multitude of wounds, but he was still leaking thick trickles of blood from several places.

Cool, like the press of chilled metal, the silvery glow around Cire settled into his skin and dissipated. Relief settled in place of pain almost immediately. Minor itching around small unhealed scratches on his arms and legs still remained, but he felt worlds better. He nodded his thanks, not wanting to step on the instructors words as they issueddirectives.

“Ambrose, Chloe, Lysander, Fizzilius setup a four point perimeter. Iaso, save your mana. Cire can recover the rest of the way on his own,” Eliana barked.

Obelius beckoned Honeydrop with his hand, “Fly ahead, see if anything heard us.” A reassuring smile spread across his face. “No one expected you to spot the vine elementals. They are nearly impossible to differentiate from natural brush. Now go, keep us safe.”

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Waiting for Honey to return, Cire leaned heavily against the tree he was sitting under. If they were in no immediate danger, he really needed to change his clothes. Ragged pieces of cloth adhered to his skin where the blood had seeped through. He was a gruesome sight.

Cire fished around in his backpack and took several potions out before putting them into his belt pouch for easier access. During the commotion he wouldn’t have had the opportunity to take one, but they were practically worthless buried in his pack. Besides, they weren’t in glass containers, and mushroom leather vials were hard to break.

After resting a few moments, Cire stood and waited for Honey to return. He didn’t want to be caught changing clothes if their fight drew monsters in. The group milled about, wary and on edge. Eventually, Honeydrop came back, flying an easy pace in full view. Shoulders and grips relaxed as they all let out a collective sigh.

Stripping with haste, accustomed to changing before the others, Cire threw on his spare set of clothing. His garb had minor reinforcement here and there, in the elbows and knees primarily. But it was nothing like armor and couldn’t stand up to the wear and tear of being hit too often. Thankfully, Dimitra had been carrying an additional spare set for him. Now that he had space in his pack, she passed it over and he left the remnants of his destroyed pair littering the ground.

Eliana placed her fingers to her lips and blew out three birdlike whistles, summoning the perimeter guard back to them. Twisting their ears, a distant response echoed the mimicked birdsong. The alert sounded again, carried on the wind from the south, closer this time.

Eliana pointed to Fizz and Lysander, their archer, and gestured to the trees. The rest of the group circled up around Obelius and Iaso, Lander and Philip positioning themselves to the front. Echoing through the hefty boughs, another repetitive call bounded to their ears. It heralded allies, but they had been taken unaware moments before.

Honeydrop buzzed close to Obelius and Eliana. Her normal voice a whisper,

“They must be closing fast! There was no one ahead of us for two to three miles. I swear!”

Their preparations proved to be in vain as an elven scout approached them running along the tree branches. Dropping down from a nearby tree, a familiar guard dressed in green and brown armor looked over the group. Lucas gave a quick salute to the two teachers and turned his head to issue a series of whistles to the forest.

“Don’t we have Tyche’s own luck to run into the academy patrol. Instructors, we have a host of gnolls headed this way. We’ve been tracking them since they left the swamp and breached the forest boundaries. We’re maybe three to four miles ahead of them.”

“How many? Headed north this whole time?” Eliana’s clipped words came out rapidly.

Catching his breath, Lucas ran a hand through his chestnut hair before responding.

“An advanced group of six to ten is pushing ahead. The dogs have a perimeter guard so we couldn’t get an exact count, but at least fifty,” He took a quick drink of water and continued. “Straight north, they haven’t gotten any closer to the mountains.”

“Tsch, that means they will have a blessing. How many in your group scout? What was your plan before running into us?” Obelius asked.

“Standard eighteen man compliment. We’re going to set an ambush. There is a good clearing ahead and we’ve been downwind this whole time. We wait until the mutts are halfway across and hit them from the trees.”

Walking up to the group, several members of the guard gave gestures of greeting. Others hung back and watched the forest. One, a tawny colored elf, laughed openly with a huge grin. Dimitri, the elf Cire had shared the chipmunkin candy with, moved to Dimitra and wrapped an arm around her in a sidelong hug.

“Hey sis! I knew you were due to be out here. But it’s crazy running into you like this. Been giving the teachers a hard time?”

Dimitra rolled her eyes and stepped out of the embrace. Lucas punched Dimitri on the shoulder and then gave Eliana and Obelius an apologetic shrug.

“Sorry about that. We’ve been in the field for a while, some of my subordinates are a bit too casual this long out.”

Eliana tapped her chin with a finger as she thought over the situation. After an appraising look over the gathered students, she gave swift orders.

“We will assist. I am taking command. Everyone head to the clearing. We will not let these savages violate our lands.”

“Have you sent for help? Do you have any idea of the levels or skills of this pack?” Obelius questioned while the guards turned and led them to the clearing.

“Yeah, our mage sent his familiar back to the garrison. We’re too far away for reinforcements before we engage, but they’re a good safety net.” Lucas pulled up at a treeline composed mainly of oak, fir, and pine before a long scar of grassland cut into the forest.

“No one has an identify ability, but we took one of their scouts and disguised it as an animal kill. The dog was level sixteen. So, the majority are probably lower level on average. They tend to put their best in their vanguard.”

Eliana signaled for the class to gather around her with a quick clap of her hands.

“I will leave organizing the guard to you,” The old instructor balked, realizing that she hadn’t gotten any of the guard members names, and gave a wave towards Lucas.

“As for the students, I will assign them to various positions. Obelius, Honey, and Iaso will keep to the back, anyone with ranged skills will take to the trees, and all melee combatants to the edge of the trees. Stay out of the tall grass. If you get injured, pull back to this point to heal.”

A deep seated anger thrashed through Cire as he struggled to keep himself in control. Bitterness flooded his mouth as he chewed over the word “gnolls.” He dropped his pack, took out all the remaining potions and left them against a tree. Finally, he took out his crown, covered in a cloth, and followed the other fighters to the treeline.

Running through the knee high grass of the wide open clearing, a single galloping centaur bolted towards them. Breaking his momentum by rearing up onto his hind legs, Kepheus brought himself to a halt in front of Lucas and Eliana. They exchanged a few hurried words. Lucas’s ruddy complexion paled and Eliana’s tightened.

Peering out over the waving grass, Cire could barely make out movement behind the opposite treeline. Off to Cire’s side, Dimitra hefted her large two handed axe from her shoulder as she caught sight of what the sun elf had. Fizz called down from a tree above them as he picked his way down to Cire.

“From what I can see, there are a whole lot more than fifty of them. Better give me those exploding potions you’ve got fangy. I’ll be able to put them to better use than you can.”

Right after the nimble gnome snagged the two concoctions of fiery death, and climbed back up to his perch, Honey flew by to confirm their observations.

“Kepheus says there are more than a hundred! We wait for as many to get in range as possible before attacking. Obelius’s spell will be the signal!”

The fairy zipped off heading down the line and informing students and guard alike. Cire logically knew that they were too close to make any sort of organized retreat. The open meadow was little over a mile of separation, but no obstacle. Even if fleeing had been an option, and might end up being their course of action if routed, Cire wouldn’t be part of that group. He hadn’t encountered a living gnoll since that last dreadful night in the hamlet, and if he had his say, none of these would be alive once he wrought his long awaited vengeance.

I’m going to tear these gods forsaken pieces of shit apart. So help me, this will be nothing like last time. I’m not the same man, I’m not the same sun elf, and I’m certainly not the same vampire.

Cire let the cloth fall from the crown of moonlight, he put the mithril circlet onto his head. He adjusted it so the metal fit snug, even if it was biting into his scalp, he couldn’t afford to lose it. Closing his eyes, he sought to block out the intrusions penetrating his equilibrium.

There were no villagers to protect. No matter how many of these gnolls he killed, Eugene and Stacy wouldn’t be brought back to life. That didn’t mean there was nothing to defend. That didn’t mean there was nothing to hunt.

Growling in the darkness of his mindscape the terrible predator lurking within his blood bayed on its leash. The crown gave him control, kept his fury caged, but it still howled. His hate begged him to set it free upon the gnoll scouts making their way across the clearing. Cire could hear their huffing breaths and smell the acrid sweat on their fur.

Saliva dripped from pointed tips and dribbled down Cire’s chin. Opening his eyes, the vampire had found a calm akin to the eye of a hurricane. He was ready to embrace every flavor of death he delivered upon these unsuspecting victims.