The return journey to the coven was marked by a sense of familiarity, the landscape unfolding before them with a comforting rhythm. During the daylight hours, when Victoria was confined to the carriage, she sought solace in the company of her books. With each turn of the page, she immersed herself in worlds far removed from the confines of her traveling companions.
However, the solitude within the carriage was occasionally interrupted by the restless nature of the vampire spawn. The three silent creatures, bound by their primal instincts, found it challenging to remain still for long periods. Their grunts and growls filled the air, mingling with the occasional snapping as they clashed with one another, testing their boundaries in an ongoing display of dominance. Victoria's attempts to command them to sit still were met with limited success, and their skirmishes became a source of distraction and frustration.
She couldn't help but feel a certain solitude within her own existence. The absence of meaningful conversation within the carriage due to the inability of her vampire spawn to articulate anything beyond primitive expressions, left her with a sense of isolation. Yet, she found solace in the bond they shared, even if it manifested in primal instincts rather than words. Lum, Jared, and Brig were her spawn, descended from her bloodline. In their transformation, each became like a child to her.
As dusk settled and the daylight retreated, a new energy permeated the air. Victoria, ever attuned to the shifting tides of the night, mounted her horse and rode alongside her thralls. Their forms melded seamlessly with the shadows, becoming one with the darkness that enveloped them. The moon, a watchful companion, cast its ethereal glow upon their journey, guiding their path through the night.
With a solemn nod, Victoria granted her vampire spawn permission to hunt along their route. Like phantoms, they slipped away into the surrounding darkness, their predatory instincts honed to perfection. The rustle of leaves and the distant sounds of their pursuit echoed through the night, a symphony of predation that accompanied their journey.
As Victoria rode on, her senses heightened in the night, she casually chatted with Carl as he drove the carriage or discussed magical theory and how it intersected with psionics with Tori.
Together, they continued their nocturnal pilgrimage, threading through the darkness as a cohesive unit. Victoria's presence commanded respect and loyalty, and the vampire spawn followed her lead, their feral instincts tempered by her guidance. In this shared journey under the moonlit sky, they moved as one, bound by their collective pursuit of survival and dominance in the ever-present night.
She was granted another spell for reaching level 6. This time Victoria chose missing person. As before, the spell description read, “Your image is erased from the minds around you. Range and effectiveness increases with spell level.”
As they approached the treacherous mountains where the vampire manor was nestled, they encountered an unexpected obstacle. Igor and Glav alerted Victoria to a large force amassed along the main mountain path. Their report was dire—almost a hundred soldiers stood in their way, with the majority being human, but a distinct group of twenty drow adorned in familiar black armor took the forefront. And leading them all was none other than Avery Johansen, a name that carried a weight of past conflict.
The enemy forces had established an encampment at a high point along the mountain road, employing wagons to create a barrier that blocked anyone from crossing their path from both directions.
As Igor and Glav cautiously surveyed the scene from a hidden vantage point, their eyes widened at the sight before them. The encampment sprawled across the landscape, occupying a significant stretch of the road. A sense of foreboding hung in the air, the tension palpable as almost a hundred soldiers stood resolute, forming a formidable blockade.
The majority of the soldiers were human, their armor gleaming in the flickering torches, displaying the insignias of their respective factions. They stood in disciplined formations, armed with an array of weapons that glinted menacingly in the light. They held a strong position, ready to assault any who approached.
However, what truly caught Igor and Glav's attention were the distinct group of twenty drow warriors positioned at the forefront of the enemy forces. Clad in their customary black armor, the drow stood apart from the humans, their skin contrasting sharply against the dark hues of their attire. Their eyes, reflecting an unsettling crimson glow, hinted at their dangerous and elusive nature.
But it was the figure leading this formidable assembly that stirred a mixture of emotions within Victoria. Avery Johansen, a name whispered in the echoes of past conflicts, now stood at the helm of this formidable force. His presence alone was enough to send chills down their spines, a reminder of the enmity that existed between them.
The encampment itself was meticulously organized, strategically positioned to create an impenetrable barrier. Wagons were employed as makeshift fortifications, forming a solid line that blocked anyone from crossing their path. Each wagon seemed meticulously placed, forming a formidable wall of obstacles that would require considerable effort to overcome.
The atmosphere was charged with anticipation and a sense of danger, as if the very air crackled with the impending clash. The enemy forces appeared ready, unified in their purpose, their collective strength emanating like an invisible shield.
Seeking to gain intelligence, Victoria ordered Igor to land nearby. With the grace of a raven, Igor soared through the night sky, alighting upon the branches near the drow contingent. Victoria, utilizing their connection, borrowed Igor's keen senses, listening intently to any snippets of conversation or plans being discussed by the enemy forces.
She strained her bond with the vargouille, focusing on every word that reached her through Igor's senses. The drow soldiers, clad in their ominous black armor, stood as a formidable presence. Their voices carried an air of confidence and authority, their tones laced with the unmistakable mark of trained warriors. And amidst their ranks, leading the force, was Avery Johansen, a figure whose past encounters with Victoria were seared into her memory.
The drow soldiers huddled together, their voices filled with frustration and discontent. Murmurs of their vexation rippled through the group, intertwining with the low hum of their whispers. Avery Johansen, his face contorted with anger, approached them, his footsteps echoing with authority.
"What news do you bring?" Avery's voice dripped with impatience as he glared at the drow soldiers, his eyes ablaze with fury.
One of the drow soldiers stepped forward, his tone tinged with annoyance. "We have scoured the mountains tirelessly, searching for any trace of the vampire sanctuary or our advanced scouting group. But they have eluded us thus far. The terrain is treacherous, and the vampires are cunning in their ability to conceal themselves."
Avery's frustration surged within him, his voice rising in anger. "I care not for their tricks or the treacherous landscape! I demand results! Valentina must be found. She will pay for what she did to my brother."
Victoria smiled as she watched the interchange. Avery still hadn’t even discovered her real name. He still be believed he hunted a vampire named Valentina.
Another drow soldier, his voice laced with a mixture of weariness and defiance, spoke up. "My Lord, that our numbers are limited. The mercenaries are far from ideal allies, but their assistance was necessary. Without them, we simply lack the manpower to fulfill your demands."
Avery's face reddened with a mixture of rage and disappointment. "Do not remind me of our insufficient numbers. I am well aware of our predicament." He paced back and forth, his frustration seeping into every word. "Each passing day of their labor adds to the mounting cost, draining my resources. We must make progress, no matter the expense."
A puzzled expression crossed the face of the drow officer as he regarded Avery. "But sir, we don't even know if this champion still lives," he interjected, his voice laced with a hint of skepticism. "Champions are killed every day. Shouldn't our focus be on increasing your own power rather than tirelessly chasing down a lone champion?"
Avery's eyes narrowed, a flicker of determination burning within them. He clenched his fist, his voice resolute. "She lives," he declared firmly. "I can feel it in my bones. Trust my instincts on this matter and do not question me again."
The drow officer immediately straightened, his respect for Avery overriding any further objections. "Yes, sir," he acknowledged, bowing his head in submission.
Avery's attention turned to the task at hand, his mind already formulating a plan. "Send more teams to scour the mountains," he commanded. "Keep a contingent of at least forty men here to maintain control of the pass." With a purposeful stride, he retrieved a cat's paw from a storage device, his fingers gently caressing its smooth surface. "There are matters of urgency that require my attention back at the tent."
The drow officer nodded, his gaze briefly falling upon Avery's departing form before muttering under his breath, his frustration evident in the grumble that escaped him.
Meanwhile, Victoria severed her connection with Igor, her mind shifting focus to the organization and management of their group. With a determined air, she stepped forward, taking charge of the situation at hand. Her instincts as a leader kicked into gear as she swiftly orchestrated the next steps, ensuring everyone was prepared and ready to move forward with purpose.
Victoria's piercing gaze locked onto the unsuspecting mercenaries, her mind synchronized with her wraith companions. With a subtle hand gesture, she initiated the attack, and her wraiths descended upon the three targets in a swift and silent assault. The ethereal beings, infused with her power, moved with uncanny grace, their wispy forms embracing the mercenaries with an otherworldly touch.
Four wraiths now stood at her command, due to the increased summoning limit that came with her heightened wisdom. Her latest acquisition was a female whom she called Nora. The cover of night provided the perfect backdrop for their operations, allowing them to strike multiple scouting groups throughout the treacherous mountains.
She sent two wraiths along with her three vampire spawns and Leroy to hunt the north side while she took Grant and Nora to the south side with her remaining oni thralls. The wraiths swooped in, their semi-transparent forms, moving quickly to the mercenary scouts. As the mercenaries were stunned by the wraiths, Victoria's oni sprang into action, swiftly moving in to restrain them. Their imposing presence and formidable strength allowed them to overpower the mercenaries once the stun wore off, effectively immobilizing them and preventing any resistance. This provided Victoria with the ideal opportunity to feed, her vampiric instincts guiding her to satiate her hunger.
They swiftly stripped the bodies of valuable items, weapons, and armor, ensuring that no useful resources were left behind. Once the items were stored in Victoria’s belt, they moved on. Time was of the essence, for they knew that the enemy teams would heighten their vigilance come morning. Their goal was to maximize their strikes during this first evening, exploiting the element of surprise while it still favored them.
The moon cast its silvery glow over the landscape and Victoria's team operated like a well-oiled machine, their actions synchronized and precise. The oni moved swiftly and silently, targeting multiple scouting groups dispersed throughout the area.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
Their approach was methodical and calculated. Each strike was executed with ruthless efficiency, taking advantage of the element of surprise that still favored them under the cover of darkness. Their ultimate objective was to maximize the impact of their attacks during this crucial first evening, knowing that as morning approached, the enemy teams would heighten their vigilance.
The team moved with practiced ease, swiftly incapacitating their targets and efficiently disarming them. Valuable items, weapons, and armor were systematically stripped from the bodies, ensuring that no useful resources were left behind. Every action was carried out with meticulous attention to detail, leaving no trace of their presence behind.
Their movements were like shadows, blending seamlessly with the night. They navigated the treacherous terrain with agility and grace, their steps soundless as they weaved through the mountainous landscape. Their presence was ephemeral, fleeting, and by the time the enemy realized what had befallen them, it was too late.
The night air carried the whispers of their operations, a symphony of stealth and efficiency that reverberated through the darkened valleys. The echoes of their strikes mingled with the distant sounds of the wilderness, creating an eerie backdrop to their deadly dance.
Victoria's group remained untiring in their pursuit, driven by a shared purpose and a thrall’s unwavering compulsion. They struck multiple enemy teams, their attacks precise and devastating. Each encounter served to further erode the enemy's morale, leaving behind only stunned and stripped bodies as evidence of their deadly efficiency.
As the night wore on, Victoria's team continued their merciless assault, exploiting the confusion and chaos that reigned within the enemy ranks. With every successful hit, they grew bolder and more confident, emboldened by their ability to strike swiftly and fade into the shadows once more.
With the first light of dawn approaching, Victoria checked in with the vampire spawn and sent them to retreat to the carriage. Then, she seized the opportunity to execute her most audacious move of the night.
“Avery is in his command tent with his officers and the mercenary commanders,” Glav reported. “I am perched on the tent pole above.”
As Avery Johansen received the grim report of their losses inside the command tent, emotions ran high among the disgruntled mercenaries. Anger and frustration filled the air, and the blame game ensued.
Voices rose in a crescendo of accusation, soldiers venting their anger towards Avery, holding him responsible for the poor decisions that had led to their significant losses. Demands for death pay, compensation for fallen comrades, reverberated through the tense atmosphere.
However, Avery refused to shoulder the blame alone. He retorted with sharp words, casting the blame back on the mercenaries, accusing them of incompetence and insubordination. The confrontation escalated, tempers flaring as the heated exchange threatened to turn violent.
"This is unacceptable, Avery! Your decisions have led to the deaths of our comrades! We demand death pay, compensation for their sacrifices!" the mercenary commander bellowed, his face contorted with anger.
Avery, his voice laced with defiance, met the commander's gaze with steely determination. "I will not take all the blame for this! I told you to scour the mountain. You were the ones who failed to execute orders properly, losing your men in the process! It is your responsibility to determine how many men should be assigned to a squad to defend against attacks."
The tent crackled with tension as the mercenaries rallied behind their commander, their voices joining in a chorus of discontent. The accusations and counter-accusations flew back and forth, the air thick with resentment and disappointment.
"Don't you dare shift the blame onto us! You demanded more scouting squads and that meant each would be equipped with fewer men. Your lack of leadership and flawed tactics put us in this dire situation," the mercenary commander retorted, his voice seething with fury.
Avery, his tone dripping with sarcasm, shot back, "There were no objections or concerns raised with my orders. You were happy to follow them until problems came up. Now, suddenly, I’m to blame for factors you never even mentioned. No, this is all on you. I’m tired to hearing your wining tone. You are here to do a job. If you’re to call yourselves a company, act like one!"
The atmosphere inside the tent grew increasingly volatile, as tempers flared and patience wore thin. The mercenaries, fueled by their belief that Avery had betrayed them, stood on the precipice of violence.
Victoria, reaching the outside of Avery’s camp, borrowed Glav’s senses to observe the escalating conflict. She listened to the argument with satisfaction. In the midst of this chaotic scene, she disconnected from Glav and moved with the grace of a predator, her every step calculated and precise.
“Be sure to tell me all that transpires here when I finish with my task,” Victoria ordered the vargouille. A wicked smile curled upon her lips as she embraced the opportunity to strike, to seize the moment and secure a victory within the very heart of their enemies' camp.
As the mercenaries engaged in their heated exchange, their attention consumed by their quarrel, Victoria's navigated the camp. Her every movement was precise, her footsteps soundless as she navigated the camp with the finesse of a predator stalking its prey.
Silently, she snuck through the camp, to Avery’s tent. His tent stood tall and proud, a sanctuary amidst the chaos of the camp. Its sturdy canvas walls were dyed a deep shade of burgundy. Two drow guards stood at attention on either side of the entrance. Torches surrounded the tent and no other tents abutted it, giving Avery some privacy and providing for easy sight of anyone approaching.
Fortunately for Victoria, the drow guards were focused on the command tent, their heads cocked, straining to hear the angry discussion within. Her dark step allowed her to move unseen. She enabled her new missing person spell as a failsafe, even though it wasn’t really needed. Slicing a cut through the rear, she entered Avery’s tent. The drow guards noticed nothing as she moved about.
The tent's interior exuded an air of comfort and functionality, designed to accommodate the needs of a leader. At the center, a luxurious feather bed adorned with richly embroidered linens and plush pillows took prominence. It offered a haven of rest and respite for the weary commander, a place to gather his thoughts and find solace in the midst of the storm.
A map table occupied a prominent position adjacent to the bed. The table was strewn with maps and tactical documents, meticulously marked with strategic annotations. It served as the command center, a focal point for planning and strategizing the next moves of the expedition. Inkwells, quills, and various writing materials were neatly arranged on the table's surface, ready to capture the commander's thoughts and orders.
Surrounding the table were a cluster of trunks. They were made of sturdy oak and bound with iron clasps.
Amidst the trunks, an imposing iron chest stood, its weathered surface hinting at the valuable contents it safeguarded. Victoria surmised that this chest served as the repository for important documents, battle plans, and perhaps even a few personal items that Avery held dear. Most of all, it likely contained the war funds to pay the mercenaries and his drow guards. Its sturdy construction and secure lock were a testament to the commander's commitment to protecting vital information and maintaining a sense of order within the chaotic surroundings.
The tent exuded an aura of purposeful organization, reflecting Avery's meticulous nature and dedication to his role as a leader. It also contained clear signs of his other passion. There were chains attached to the bed posts and blood stains on the rug.
Avery’s cats’ paw, a torture tool akin to brass knuckles with three, six-inch blades attached to it, lay next to the bed. She analyzed it and read,
The Cat's Paw is a torture tool or weapon resembling a gauntlet. It is crafted from iron and plated with silver. Embedded within its structure are three long and curved metallic claws, reminiscent of a feline's deadly talons. Each claw is meticulously sharpened, ready to inflict pain and suffering. The instrument is enchanted to inflict far more pain that one would expect from its touch. Those viewing the bearer have a five percent chance of being overcome with fear. When used as a weapon, it does double damage to lycanthropes.
With her skilled touch, Victoria seized the war chest. The weight of it in her hands and the clink of much gold inside was a satisfying confirmation of her success, a tangible victory snatched from the jaws of her enemy. With a flick of her wrist, the war chest vanished into the hidden compartment of her storage bracelet.
Knowing that an opportunity like this was rare and fleeting, Victoria acted swiftly to gather the other trunks, and items of value. Her nimble fingers worked swiftly and silently to strip the room of its grand accoutrements.
But Victoria was not finished. She desired not only to acquire Avery’s wealth but also to sow discord among their ranks. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she wrote a message on the map. One sure to get Avery’s attention and keep him firmly focused on his mission.
Lastly, she slipped her fingers through the cat’s paw and slowly tore large rips in the feather mattress, being careful not to make noise and alert the guards outside. The feel of the instrument felt good on her wrist so she took it too. Not only was it a dangerous instrument, but also a reminder of her triumph over Avery.
With the stolen loot secured and her message sent, Victoria gracefully vanished into the shadows, utilizing her unrivaled stealth and dark step abilities to blend seamlessly into the darkness.
Before the first rays of dawn kissed the mountaintops, Victoria retreated to the safety of her carriage, a sanctuary amidst the turmoil. The group swiftly made their escape, the wheels of the carriage rolling silently along the rugged terrain as they distanced themselves from the mountains. There would be no returning to the vampire sanctuary for now. Victoria had other plans.
Avery's voice boomed through the command tent, his words carrying the weight of authority. "Enough! I understand your grievances, and I acknowledge the losses we have suffered. But let it be known that I am not solely responsible for the outcome of our battles. Each one of you bears a share of that burden."
The mercenaries bristled, their anger palpable as they retorted with loud protests and accusations. One of the commanders stepped forward, his voice laced with frustration. "You led us into this mess, Avery! We followed your orders, and look at what it has cost us!"
Avery held his ground, his voice firm and commanding. "I never asked for blind obedience. I expected each and every one of you to think on your feet, to adapt to the changing circumstances. But it seems that some of you failed in that regard."
Another soldier, his face twisted with anger, shouted, "We lost good men out there! They deserve more than empty promises and excuses!"
Avery's gaze softened. He needed to offer them something or the entire mission would end in failure. "I agree. They deserve more. And they will receive it. Once our mission is complete, I will ensure that the fallen are honored and their families compensated. But know this, we cannot afford to lose sight of our ultimate goal. We must press forward, united."
The murmurs of dissent persisted, but Avery's tone grew more resolute. "To satisfy your immediate greed, I will grant each of you a bonus. Consider it an advance on your future rewards. But understand that this is not a permanent solution. The true rewards will come when I have Valentina’s head."
The mercenary officers exchanged glances, the allure of immediate gain tempering their discontent. Reluctantly, they began to disperse, the tension in the tent gradually easing. Avery watched them go, his expression a mix of weariness and determination.
Avery's heart sank as he stepped into his tent, his sanctuary amidst the chaos of the world. The sight that greeted him was one of utter disarray and violation. Gasping in disbelief, he took in the scene before him.
The magic lanterns that once illuminated his abode with a warm and enchanting glow were conspicuously absent, leaving the tent engulfed in dimness. The absence of their comforting radiance cast an eerie shadow over the room, intensifying the unsettling feeling that washed over Avery.
His silk sheets, carefully chosen for their luxurious texture and vibrant colors, were gone, leaving only a disheveled mattress with its fabric torn and feathers strewn about. The once inviting and opulent bed now resembled a battlefield of fluff and ruin, mirroring the chaos that had befallen his possessions.
Avery's eyes fell upon his cherished chest of clothes. It too had been snatched away, leaving behind an empty void where his personal possessions once resided. He had many outfits back at the mansion, but he would be forced to wear the same clothing throughout the rest of the campaign now. The hollowness in his chest matched the emptiness of the space that housed his vanished treasures.
Yet, amidst the wreckage, it was the message scrawled on his map that seized Avery's attention. The map, the most detailed one he could find of the mountainous area, was now tainted by the malicious act that had taken place within his tent. The note, pinned to the map table with deliberate audacity, bore words that both bewildered and angered him.
"Looks like you just missed me. Better luck next time. With love, Valentina. XOXO."
A shiver ran down Avery's spine as he read the mocking words etched onto the parchment. Valentina, the very person he sought to capture, had been here in his tent. That murdering temptress. That deceitful whore had the audacity to taunt him. The brashness of the note's tone and the intimate sign-off only deepened his sense of violation and brought back memories of their last exchange.
“If only I’d killed her at the mansion,” he chastised himself. Anger surged within him and he screamed in rage. “Valentina, your suffering will be endless. This I vow. I will torture you until you breathe your last, then I’ll take your head and preserve it as a trophy.”
New Quest: Spurned Lover
You have taken an oath to destroy a rival champion, Victoria Vanbelden, after she led you, killed your brother, and stole from you. You have thirty days to make good on this threat. As a reward, you will receive nine skill points to be allocated freely instead of the typical three. However, beware, for your rival will receive the same benefit if she takes your life before the quest expires.
Avery was stupefied. “Her name wasn’t even Valentina?” he muttered. With hatred burning in his eyes, Avery called for his guards. Victoria was close. He wouldn’t let her escape.