- [Vampire Lord Inkume] -
The air in the dark throne room hangs thick and heavy, carrying the metallic scent of blood that clings to the stone walls. Shadows weave through the dim light cast by flickering torches, their orange glow a feeble attempt to dispel the gloom. Cold drafts slither across the floor, coiling around the Vampire Lord Inkume's throne, where he sits with an empty glass bottle slipping from his grasp to join the others that litter the obsidian tiles. Inkume, eyes glazed with a mix of hunger and dissatisfaction, raises another bottle to his dark lips. The magic-infused blood slides down his throat, igniting a fiery sensation that spreads through his veins. A shudder runs through him as the leveling surge takes hold.
Ugh.
Race: Dwarf
Gender: Male
Age: Forty-Eight
Class: Berserker
Adrenaline: High
[Experience Points Gained] You have drunk a large amount of the blood of a reckless berserker! Its magical properties are weak, and it tastes oddly like onions.
This is his sixth bottle tonight now. He’s trying to force himself to level up quickly because being more powerful can never be a bad thing — he really wants that dragon — but even the Vampire Lord has his limits.
His hand trembles, though he forces it steady; he needs this strength.
Distracting himself from something like nausea, he looks around the gloomy space. The throneroom has really come together ever since it got a ceiling and stopped being a destroyed ruin. The walls, towering and oppressive, loom with an ancient malevolence, adorned with carvings depicting battles of old, their stories captured in stone. A chill permeates the room — the old castle is always freezing cold. The temperature is frigid, the air almost biting against exposed skin.
Chugging the blood down, he sets the bottle aside, its contents now a memory. "Fucking hell," he mutters, a hint of weariness in his voice as he looks around himself at the mess of empty bottles. It’s not very dignified. The words echo in the stillness, met with no response from the night.
He sits there in silence and then sighs.
Another bottle is in his hand before he even realizes it; the cork is removed with a swift twist.
In every book he read, the hero’s inevitable power-leveling montage was a lot more fun and quirky. Whereas he’s just sitting here in the dark like a deadbeat dad on Sunday night.
Inkume downs the fresh bottle with grim determination, ignoring the queasy churn in his stomach. The room seems to spin for a moment, the shadows playing tricks on his vision. He grits his teeth, willing the sensation away.
“Lucky number seven,” sighs the Vampire Lord, wincing with one eye.
Race: Orc
Gender: Male
Age: Thirty
Class: Shaman
Adrenaline: Medium
[Experience Points Gained] You have drunk a large amount of the blood of a wise shaman! Its magical properties are strong, but the blood is unusually thick.
The skeletal maid Fi-Fi enters, her footsteps light and purposeful. She approaches Inkume with a bow, her eyes meeting his as she picks up the old glass off of the floor. "More bottles, Mas- tah - tah - tah - taaah~?" she sings, her voice fluctuating. “You know, Fi-Fi used to drink quite a lot too.”
“Blood?” he asks.
“Baka,” snaps the maid sharply, coming over with a rag and wiping a red spot off of his cheek. She lifts a finger, tilting her head. “Water!” Fi-Fi strikes a variety of poses, meant for a camera that isn’t there. “Four liters a day instead of food!”
“That sounds healthy,” he jokes, as she stands on one leg, holding a peace sign over her eye.
“The producers were real bloodsuckers,” she explains without irony, standing back normally again. “If I even looked at a sweet potato, they would have cut my contract in half.” She leans in toward him. “But you know, the fans were actually the worst ones.” The former idol shakes her head. “Life is much easier if you are a horrible person and alone with nobody watching your every move, because then you can get away with living like a normal person.”
The Vampire Lord looks at the bottle in his hand and then back at her. “…I don’t know if this is good life advice or not,” replies Inkume dryly.
Fi-Fi shrugs, collecting her sack over her shoulder as she walks away. “Fi-Fi never promised to give good adviiiice~” she sings, sauntering from side to side as she strolls back out through the throne room.
The maid departs, leaving the ruler to his solitude once more. He takes another swig from the bottle, getting noticeably slower in finishing each proceeding one.
The atmosphere in the throne room shifts, a palpable tension curling through the air as the wolf goddess Bark saunters in next. “Sitting by yourself in the dark like some kind of recluse?” she asks, her strong voice booming across the chamber. “That’s pretty sad.” Out of the corner of his eyes, Inkume looks out of the window. It’s a moonless night tonight.
Her hair — soft and dark — catches the flickering torchlight, illuminating her presence. She approaches Inkume, her eyes gleaming. Without hesitation, she just immediately sits down on the ground next to him, resting her head on the side of his leg.
Scratching his cheek with an idle finger, Inkume looks down at her. “All good monsters need some time to brood in the darkness,” he explains. “It makes them seem more mysterious and powerful.”
The scent of wildflowers and damp skin wafts around her, mingling with the acrid tang of blood lingering in the air as she rubs the side of her face against his leg. Inkume stiffens momentarily, surprised by her sudden affection. The warmth of her body against him stirs a flicker of something — although he isn’t sure what just yet. He glances down, confusion flashing briefly across his features. “What’s up, Bark?” he asks, his voice low and edged.
“Nothing. Just wanted to hang out,” snarls the wolf-goddess. “Is that a crime, oh great and powerful Master?” she asks, deeply sarcastically.
“I suppose not yet,” he replies, his hand landing on her head. “I’ll let you know when I update the laws that govern the night.”
She’s not trying to fight him, so that’s an improvement. Ever since that night in the mirror, she’s changed her tone a lot. Inkume smiles, but then looks at his half-full bottle, and the smile leaves again.
Ugh. He’s really about done for tonight.
Before Bark can respond, the atmosphere ripples again, and the ghost Snatch materializes amidst a swirl of ethereal mist. Her translucent form shimmers in the dim light, and her eyes narrow at the sight of Bark. “Master! Master!” calls Snatch as jealousy clearly flares within her, a tempestuous emotion erupting in an otherwise calm setting. She glides closer to Inkume, clinging to his arm with a possessive grip, her cold touch contrasting sharply against Bark’s warmth. The ghost’s leg slides down, pushing against Bark’s back to shove her away.
“Fi-Fi said she’s going to get you more blood, but I can do it better!” Snatch’s voice is a blend of indignation and hurt. She pouts, her spectral form flickering with agitation. “Can I get it for you? Huh? Huh?” she asks.
“Get your foot off me!” snarls Bark, shoving Snatch’s leg away. The ghost lets out a surprised yelp, half of her swinging out like a pendulum as she grabs onto Inkume to not get thrown against the walls.
Inkume’s brow furrows, caught between the two. “Now now. Let’s all calm down,” he says. “It’s a beautiful night tonight,” says Inkume, leaning back on his throne as he settles in. “Do me a kindness and get along. I have time enough for both of you.”
Bark and Snatch glare coldly at each other but say nothing else as Snatch wraps herself around his arm and Bark holds his leg.
It appears that tonight is going to be one of those nights where he’s going to need to keep the peace. Inkume wonders if the old Vampire Lord had to deal with infighting. Maybe not. He was kind of intense. He takes a drink from his bottle.
The heavy wooden doors swing open yet again with a creak, drawing everyone’s attention. Azalea, the elven priestess, strides in, dragging her younger brother Cvet behind her. The contrast between their bright presence and the dark surroundings is striking — Azalea’s flowing robes shimmer, and Cvet fidgets nervously, his eyes darting around the room. There certainly is an oddity to the presence of ‘normal’ people and the castle’s general moody vibe.
“Let go of me, Azalea,” whines Cvet, trying to pull free. “I don’t want to be here.” His voice is barely above a whisper, laden with reluctance.
Azalea pays him no mind, her eyes fixed on Inkume. “Lord Inkume,” she announces, her voice steady, though a hint of urgency laces her words. “Can you and my brother have an emotional heart-to-heart moment about your innocent soul and how this is all a big misunderstanding like I said?” she asks, as if that were something he could just speak to. She grabs her brother by the shoulders, holding him out before herself. “He’s stupid and doesn’t get it.”
“Azalea!” snaps Cvet, looking up at his sister. “I… shut up!”
Azalea tilts her head, smiling. “Also, I was wondering if we could hold hands and you bite us both at the same time somehow.”
“Azalea!” yells her younger brother. The two of them start bickering with each other and, as if lost in the moment, Snatch nudges Bark again, and the two of them start up once more.
The air grows thicker, each character's presence amplifying the tension. Inkume, already weary from the mass of blood, leans back on his throne.
Bark lifts her head, ears perked, sensing the change in mood. She lets out a soft whine. Snatch, feeling overlooked, clings tighter to Inkume. Azalea stands firm, eyes blazing with resolve. Everyone vies for Inkume’s focus, the echoes of their desires reverberating off the cold stone walls as they bicker.
What a unique problem. The old Vampire Lord certainly didn’t have to deal with this.
The throne room buzzes with escalating tension, voices rising and intertwining in a chaotic jumble of emotions that, quite frankly, he doesn’t know what to do with. Inkume watches as Bark and Snatch continue their silent war for his attention, the air thickening with jealousy. Azalea stands firm, unwavering as she goes on about the benefits of family connection, while Cvet shifts uneasily beside her, glancing around as if seeking an escape route.
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He takes a long swig from his bottle, wondering for a second about something in the periphery of his mind now that everyone is collected together like this again. The last time was during that failed dinner.
Whatever happened to that one weird fairy? The one who bit and then later fell into his drink during that dinner. She vanished into thin air.
Doing his best to focus in the middle of everyone’s bickering, he closes his eyes. His senses, attuned to the castle’s dark magic, whisper to him that she is somewhere below, hidden in the depths of the basement. How in the world she got there and what she’s doing there is beyond him. Should he do something about this? It feels like he should do something about this. Maybe he should just help her get out? She seems like she’s had a bad time. He can’t help but wonder if she doesn’t know she’ll just respawn outside by the guild if she dies. She’s probably been scrambling around, surviving like a feral for the last few weeks.
This sounds like a great problem that he just invented that needs solving, and as such, is an excellent reason to not be right here right now, where he is in this exact moment, with the most horrifying thing he can think of.
That is people — multiple — wanting to be around him at the same time.
Utterly terrifying. Just because he’s the Vampire Lord now doesn’t mean he was also crowned king of the extroverts too.
The atmosphere shifts subtly, the clamoring voices fading into the background as he stands up. “I’ll be right back,” says Inkume, weaving his way past everyone trying to grab at him like a parade of hungry zombies. “You guys stay here and settle your differences, okay?” he asks. “Give me five minutes.” The four of them exchange icy glares amongst themselves, cold enough to drop the temperature in the room.
He strides toward the exit. Just as he steps into the threshold, a figure enters — the now very tired rabbit knight, Agnis, with floppy ears that twitch at every sound. He pauses, uncertainty flickering in his eyes as he surveys the room. Despite looking like life has beat her down quite well, Agnis is still clad in her battered armor, smears of green across it. Inkume glances back, catching the rabbit knight’s eye. “Feeling better?” he asks, resting a hand on her shoulder.
She must be tough as nails. After fighting for a week at least in the castle and two days straight in the mirror and then also being bit by him at the end of it all, she’s up and about after only a fistful of rest. Azalea and the others were out for days just from his venom’s potency.
Agnis fidgets, her long rabbit ears drooping slightly. “Um, I just — ” Before she can finish, the knight catches sight of the tension in the room — the competing gazes — and she slinks back. “Never mind,” she mutters, retreating into the shadows as if sensing the storm brewing.
Inkume nods his head. “Don’t mind them. They’re all great; just a little emotional tonight. Take a seat. I’ll be back in a moment,” he promises. “We’ll talk,” he promises, knowing that she came here looking for answers to probably a lot of questions.
Inkume calls back to the throne. “Everyone. Be nice to our new guest,” he instructs the others, who shoot their frigid looks her way now. Bark and Snatch are fighting over who gets to sit on the throne while he’s gone. God only knows what Azalea and Cvet are arguing about.
Agnis slowly puts on her helmet again.
Inkume turns away, patting her on the back, before he strides toward the basement, the cool air wrapping around him like a shroud. The castle corridors shift and change, the hallways turning like organic matter as he moves through them as it makes a route for him to take free of adventurers.
The stone walls grow damp and cold, the scent of mildew mingling with the faintest hint of miasma as he enters the basement.
----------------------------------------
Inkume prowls through its depths, his form reduced to that of a sleek black cat. His eyes, gleaming with an unnatural light, cut through the darkness as he skulks along the edges of the corridor.
Ahead, a skeleton moves with a jittery gait, its bones clinking softly — a sound that echoes eerily through the subterranean gloom. It glances around nervously, as if expecting any moment to be caught in some unseen trap. Intrigued by its unusual behavior, Inkume follows it in secret, curiosity piqued by the skeleton's clandestine manner. Snatch did mention about the skeletons being off kilter.
Thinking that it’s alone, the skeleton pauses at a section of wall, bony fingers tracing an intricate pattern into the stone. With a creak, a hidden door swings open, revealing a passage beyond that it goes into.
Inkume slips through after it as it closes, the shadows embracing him as he follows the rogue skeleton into the secret chamber. Thoughts of the fairy momentarily slip away, replaced by the allure of a new enigma.
Inside, the scene is unexpected — a mass of skeletons caught mid-celebration, their bony forms frozen in a tableau of revelry. A heavy electrical sparking comes from the center, followed by an immediate roll of thunder through the underground chamber. A makeshift party unfurls before him, the skeletons clutching bottles and instruments, their grins wide and awkward. The room is dimly lit, candles flickering atop ancient crates, casting elongated shadows that dance along the walls. Hundreds of skeletons run around amock, screaming and going crazy as they engage in some form of revelry. In the center of what he can only describe as a secret underground party, an exchange of sorts is taking place around a makeshift altar where the undead seem to be trading bones with one another. He watches as one of them exchanges a blackened femur for several fingers, outfitting itself with the new, dark-tinged bone. “…The fuck?” mutters the Vampire Lord, not in the least sure about what he just walked into here. Inkume halts, his feline eyes widening at the spectacle.
The skeletons, aware of their intruder, cease their frolic, the raucous energy draining from the room as a thousand hollow-eyed heads slowly turn his way, having heard him.
An awkward silence descends, punctuated only by the faint rustle of bones. For a moment, Inkume and the skeletons lock eyes. The skeletons remain still, their party unraveling in the quiet.
In the center of the room on the altar is a terrified fairy, covered in grime, sludge, and weeks worth of the marks of animal survival. Magical smoke still wafts from her hands, where she had been casting chain lightning spells not at the skeletons, but for the skeletons.
Inkume looks at one of them, standing next to him. It’s bones are completely blackened, all of them having been made darker by the singe of fairy magic.
~ [Blackbone Skeleton] ~
A blackbone skeleton.
Blasted through by a survived burst of powerful magic, the bones of this skeleton have hardened and sealed like scorched wood. This process has left it noticeably stronger than before, as it is now more resistant against both physical and magical attacks.
While skeletons have always been regarded as rudimentary, simple-minded undead given their often silly natures and ambilations, the existence of Blackbone Skeletons flies in the face of our modern understanding of monsters.
Found often near potent magical sites such as dragon’s lairs, ancient ruins, and deep-world mines and dungeons, these undead can be observed willingly harming themselves in a process of self-improvement. Where they get this instinct or knowledge from is unknown to us. Explanation theories for this behaviour range from a following of their insatiable drive for killing the living to a misfired animal mating presentation that somehow remains lingering in the brains of the undead post mortem — the latter theory seeming more sensicle in undead animals than people.
Further study is required.
Type: Undead {Returned} Rank: D- → C+ Common Drop: Bone Ash Rare Drop: Ever-Screaming Flaming Skull
Inkume changes into a man, striding awkwardly through the collection of skeletons who step aside to make a path for him as he goes to the altar and picks up the nearly cataonic, mumbling fairy with a hand.
“I’ll be taking this,” he says to the room. “Don’t play with our guests,” instructs the Vampire Lord, walking back out of the room as a thousand eyes follow him. “We’re professionals.”
Standing back by the entrance, he looks back at the skeletons, who are still all just quietly standing there.
“Please don’t mind me. Return to your fun,” instructs the Vampire Lord.
He nudges the door closed with a soft click, the barrier sealing away the strange celebration from prying eyes. The basement returns to its cold, dark stillness.
“...What the hell was that?” mutters Inkume to himself, shaking his head as he returns back to the throne room. “Hey, are you good?” he asks, looking at the fairy. “Do you want me to bring you back outside? You’re free to go, you know.”
Wide, unlinking eyes stare back at him from the body that dangles from his fingers. “Outside?” she mutters, frantic. “Outside… Outside… it’ll kill me if I leave,” says the fairy. Her wide eyes look around the room. “Inside. But inside is where the voices are… the rats… the rats… in the walls, where I was… They didn’t like that. It’s in the walls.” She looks at him, screaming and flailing around. “DON’T LET THE RATS GET ME!” abruptly screams the fairy, manic. “— I WON’T RUN ANYMORE!” she cries, grabbing the side of his hand and her tiny nails dig into his skin. “Just keep me safe from the walls! I don’t want to go back!”
Oh boy. She’s cooked.
Inkume sets her onto his open palm, patting her head with his free hand as she clings to his thumb, her terrified eyes watching the castle around them as he walks back up the stairs. This one might need a few days to recover. “I got you,” says the Vampire Lord, making a mental note to keep better track of the fairy. Maybe she’ll feel like leaving later. He supposes for now he just has to keep her in his collection.
…His 'collection'? There’s that word again. They’re uh… what’s the term? He talked about this with Snatch a while back.
Well, his people.
Every other way he tries to phrase it sounds much more ominous and evil.
----------------------------------------
Inkume returns back to the throneroom. “I’m back,” he starts, stepping in through the open doors. “I hope everyone is…”
Insanity has taken the throneroom as well, apparently. Inkume ducks down as Fi-Fi’s legs fly overhead, the skeleton crying in fear as she hangs onto the flying witch’s broom with her hands. Hwa-Young is circling around the throneroom and cackling. Snatch and Azalea are literally fighting each other, rolling in a heap and biting like ferals. Somehow Bark and Cvet have gotten into it now as well, arguing about the ethicality of her wolves eating humans from the village — one of whom was almost his sister. He keeps running at her, and she keeps shoving him back. The newcomer knight, Agnis of all people — who seems to be a peacekeeper type — is running between the lot of them, trying to stop whatever she can, but can’t keep up with the mess and is herself getting drawn into it all because of her efforts. Snarling and screaming fills the throneroom.
How did this happen? He was gone for a handful of minutes. It’s going to be a real problem if his own people can’t get along. With the world coming after them, the last thing he needs is for infighting amongst his own minions.
…Minions? No, that’s the wrong word again.
Slaves!
No… no, that one’s worse. Inkume shakes his head, his thoughts foggy.
— Friends!
Yeah. That’s a good word. He should use that one. It sounds more socially appropriate and less sketchy. Man, what’s up with his thoughts these days? If he didn’t know better, he’d say he was really starting to get into the mindset of an evil overlord.
A loud, strong crack fills the air as the skin of his hands claps together. “Enough,” commands the Vampire Lord in a simple, dominant tone, raising his voice only the slightest, and immediately everyone freezes, as if washed over with ice. The word echoes around the throneroom, the walls rippling in and out ever so slightly as if the magic within it affects them too.
Everyone in the room turns their heads, looking his way as he enters and walks down the long pathway to the throne.
"Sorry, Master,” apologizes Snatch, pulling her teeth out of Azalea’s long elf ear. The priestess spits out a mouthful of ectoplasm, some of it still stuck beneath her nails that she seems to have bitten into sharp angles.
A cascade of quiet, muffled apologies comes from the others as he makes his way past them and sits back down on the throne.
Quietly, one after the other, they exchange their irate glances but then all return to him and sit down and cling wherever there’s a spot — his shoulder being reserved by the fairy, rocking back and forth and clutching her legs.
He lets out a heartfelt sigh and then sits back, falling slump in his seat.
There’s an awkward silence in the room. He looks between them and picks up the fresh bottle of blood Fi-Fi had gotten for him, its contents sloshing inside of the glass container.
“I’m ready to give blood again,” says Azalea, seeing his misjudging look as he stares at the next bottle of the night. “Cvet can too!”
“If anyone should be bitten, it is me, as I have not yet had my turn,” throws in Hwa-Young, raising her hand. Nobody understands her.
“What?!” shouts Azalea's younger brother at her.
“The Master doesn’t need your dirty elf and human blood!” barks Snatch, pointing at them. “I’m his favorite person to drink from!” argues the ghost.
Inkume blinks.
Oh, dang. He never realised. Cvet isn’t an elf, is he? He looks human. The Vampire Lord’s eyes dart between the boy and the elf holding him. Somehow that has escaped him. Must be some family stuff.
“You don’t even have blood. You’re useless to the Master,” says Bark. “But I have the blood of a goddess.”
“You call me useless again, and I’ll bite your tail off!” yells Snatch.
“If anyone should be bitten, it is me, as I have not yet had my turn,” throws in Hwa-Young, raising her hand again exactly like before. Nobody looks at her, since nobody can understand her except him.
Fi-Fi blocks a hand over the witch’s face. “Master hasn’t nibbled on Kawaii Fi-Fi before. She is ready!”
“You’re a skeleton!” snaps Snatch.
All of them start up bickering again. Inkume clears his throat. Everyone stops. “You guys aren’t going to give it a rest tonight, are you?” he asks, looking between them.
The Vampire Lord sighs and uncorks his bottle. God above, give him strength.
Inkume makes them a deal, trying to buy peace if he can’t just have it outright. “Okay, if you can’t do it for me, then how about everyone who stays nice tonight gets a bite tomorrow?” he offers.
That seems to work better than he was expecting. Everyone sits down quietly again and, to his surprise, stays that way the rest of the night. The castle is full of screaming, mayhem, and anarchy as adventurers and monsters go wild until the daybreak comes. But he at least enjoys the rest of his evening, flipping through a book, drinking his blood, and enjoying the company of people who like to be around him at least — if not each other.
Sometimes in life, even as the evil Vampire Lord, you gotta take what you can get.
He takes a swig from his bottle.
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Age: Eighty Seven
Class: Retired
Adrenaline: Low
[Experience Points Gained] You have drunk a minute amount of the blood of a retired, bored widow! It’s magical properties are weak, and it is very watery. It smells old.
*★✧+- [LEVEL UP!] -+✧★* You are now level 158!
NEW ABILITY [The Perfect Predator] Passive Ability • In order to properly hunt your victims without any detriment from weather or environment, your socks will never get wet!