7th Day of the 3rd Quarter of the Moon of
Songs, Season of Wines, Year 766.
Days in Barovia: 3. A half-moon rises.
Not
The Lady You Were Expecting
“Another victory for the Bullingdons!” Paris
wheezed, still winded, as Clarence started to gag and bind the ‘book club’,
tearing long strips from their black cowled robes. Dicky produced a long length
of rope with which to tie them all together. Lady Wachter was bound and gagged
as well, and a cursory search of her person revealed a wand.
“Clarence, give that to Pairs, he knows how
to use them,” Cornelius commanded. Paris stumbled over, wincing
excessively. “Wands are indeed my
speciality.”
Cornelius
asked if it contained any dark magics; Paris applied a quizzical eye to the
item, and couldn’t really tell. “There is
certainly great power in this artefact. I will need longer to decipher whether
or not it is… ‘evil’, per se, but it could certainly be useful to one with
magical talent. I’d better take this for now.”
Lady
Wachter’s gag was removed. “You don’t
know what you are doing!” she said, “You
fools!”
“We’re not fools!” Cornelius retorted, “We are the Bullingdon Boys! Bully Bully
Bully!”
“Oi! Oi! Oi!” came the cry of his
companions. Dickie took a moment to consider that actually, maybe they were fools, as Lady Wachter watched
incredulously. “No wonder you are working
for that fool of a baron.”
“We work for no men but ourselves!” Cornelius
replied.
“And justice!” Clarence added. He was
still glazed with a thin sheen of frost as the warding spell he had cast
earlier persisted.
“Yes, and justice! And those in need! And
you, Lady Wachter, are in need of a good beating if you don’t tell us what’s
going on here.”
“When the lord of this land is done with
you, you will be dust on the wind, like all the fools who’ve come before you.”
Cornelius
declared they had no fear of the villain Strahd, having fought him off numerous
times already, but Lady Wachter wasn’t listening; she was clutching at her
wound, face twisted in pain. Clarence replaced her gag.
“Where’s Ernst Larnak?” Dickie asked,
remembering the last they’d seen the manservant had been in the parlour, unbound
and looking thoroughly displeased at the beating he’d received from the Bully
Boys.
Clarence
addressed the manservant. “I shall go
upstairs and distract Slarnak, you sneak up behind him once I have his
attention.” The younger Bullingdon then shifted his appearance to that of
Lady Wachter, who’s eyes widened and she cried against the gag. In her guise,
Clarence smiled and waved, then he and Dickie headed back through the scattered
bones in the cellar and up the stairs into the house.
Ernst Larnak
was sat looking bruised and beaten, holding a damp cloth to his face and
nursing a glass of wine. “My Lady,”
he drawled, as Clarence entered the room looking like Lady Wachter, “Did all go as planned with those fools?”
Lady
Wachter’s voice came from Clarence’s lips. “The
interlopers have all been dealt with, and forced to bow before the power of our
gracious lord!”
Larnak
didn’t bat an eye. “Good. I’m glad. That
Cornelius was a brute! Not to mention the disrespect they showed to you, my
lady.”
“Can you imagine them sneaking around my
home like that?”
“It is disgusting.”
“Anyway. Slarnak, is everything in place for
the ritual?”
“Yes my lady, come, I was just preparing the
final piece when they interrupted me.” Larnak stood and led Clarence
through to the den, making no mention of the fact that his long term employer
and confident had just addressed him by the wrong name. Clarence used his
telepathy to instruct Dickie to follow into the parlour.
“Come my lady, look!” Larnak pointed
Clarence to a book open on the table in front of the fireplace in the den.
Clarence told Ernst to tell him of his work to measure his understanding, while
Dicky, seeing Larnak’s back to the door, slipped into the room with sword in
hand.
Larnak
pointed to the book – “Well, if you look
here-“ then in a swift motion drew the long knife at his belt and lunged at
the false-Wachter. Dickie’s blade was faster, but only nicked Larnak, failing
to stop his strike at Clarence. The long dagger sliced into Clarence’s side,
slicing through the long robe; but Clarence’s protective enchantment was still
active, and his blade struck Larnak went rigid, frost spreading up his arm from
the blade, his mouth opened for a scream that never came as he froze solidly
then shattered, falling to the ground in icy chunks.
“Argh! By the outer darkness!” Clarence
whined, dropping the glamour and tentatively prodding at the cut on his side. “That’s a nasty little wound. Did you see
that? He managed to stab me.”
“Well, it doesn’t seem to have gone to well
for him.” Dickie replied, feeling queezy at the sight of frozen meat chunks
starting to defrost on the carpet. “He’s
in… a lot of pieces.”
“Yes,” Clarence said, dressing his wound
with great care, “It is a powerful spell.
A most useful spell. And quite effective at reducing one’s foes into tiny
pieces.”
“It’s a lot more traumatic than when it
happens to skeletons.”
“It is all the same to the magic.”
“Well, it’s not all the same to my stomach.
If you’ll excuse me...” Dickie almost ran to be away from the gruesome
remains.
Captive
Audience
Meanwhile,
in the secret room in the cellar, Cornelius clapped Paris on the shoulder. “I feel I maybe lost my temper with you
earlier. This is understandable as there aren’t many times in my life when I’ve
been attacked by the living undead.”
“Forgiven already my old chap.”
“Good. In the future, perhaps display a bit
more vigilance when dealing with people who are potentially our enemies.”
Paris
admitted his fault, blaming it on Lady Wachter’s ‘womanly wiles’. This settled,
the pair decided to go and see what Clarence and Dickie were about, as they
should’ve come back by now. Cornelius got the prisoners to their feet, and tied
in a line, marched them up out of the cellar and into the parlour, where Dickie
waited looking paler than usual.
“Now everybody take a seat!” Cornelius
commanded, gesturing to one of the elegant couches, which Lady Wachter and her
four allies managed to awkwardly squeeze onto. “Now, none of you move. Dickie, You look ill. Did you manage to capture
that dastardly villain Larnak?”
Dickie
brought his master into the den to discuss the matter, where Clarence was
investigating the bookshelves for any interesting material. The manservant
gestured to the now defrosted chunks of Ernst Larnak on the carpet and
explained what had transpired.
“The idiot failed to realise my defensive
abjurations were still at full power!” Clarence gloated. While a shocked
Paris chastised his pupil for this excessive use of force, Dickie took the
shovel and poker from the fire and started to move pieces of Larnak into the
flames. The flesh started to sizzle and pop.
“The Bullingdons have blood on their hands, Clarence!”
“Well, not on anyone’s hands, per se,” Dickie
contributed.
Clarence was
had no remorse. “I suppose it has ruined
the carpet.”
“And to do it in such a brutal fashion!
Where is the magical elegance I’ve come to expect from you?”
Some
concerned noises leaked into the den from the parlour, with which the
double-sided hearth was shared, as the stink of burning flesh began to infuse
the rooms. Dickie quickly stopped his activity.
Cornelius
and Paris were concerned that there may be legal repercussions for freezing a man to death and shattering him
into chunks, even if the man was a suspected villain. Clarence was
unrepentant – Larnak shouldn’t have attacked him! And he was injured – he
showed his fellows the small nick on his side. “It is quite painful!”
Cornelius
finally threw his hands up in frustration. “Look,
I know how to deal with this.” He stepped into the parlour, where four of
the prisoners stared at him wide-eyed. Lady Wachter’s eyes were unfocussed, and
her dress was soaked in blood from the untreated wound dealt by Dickie.
“You may have noted an unusual smell coming
from the fireplace. Ernst Larnak stepped in accidently while we were asking him
some questions. He’s absolutely fine, but just this moment he bolted through
the window and I’m afraid we’ll never be able to catch him, and I wouldn’t be
surprised if you never see or hear from him ever again.” The conscious
prisoners looked absolutely terrified. “But
you, you’re all going to the baron! Lady Wachter, why are you lolling around over
there?”
Dickie, ever
trailing Cornelius, moved over to Lady Wachter and attempted to staunch her
bleeding. Medicine is not his forte, and Cornelius shouting “Dickie, that’s not how you do it!” then
trying to get involved as well did not help matters for Lady Wachter. While
they fumbled at the best way to tie improvised bandages, the lady slipped into
unconsciousness. Finally, Clarence wandered over and placed his hand on her
head. There was a soft glow of magic and her bleeding stopped; her shallow breathing
becoming more regular.
Dickie was
sent ahead of the party to inform the Baron. As he left, the Wachter’s dour
servant came into the parlour, announcing “My
lady, your dinner will be ready shortly – ah.” He seemed unfazed by the
sight of his mistress unconscious, bound and gagged with half of her guests.
Cornelius leapt over to him, throwing him to the floor and clamping a hand over
his mouth. “Who is he?”
“Just a servant,” Paris reminded him.
“Well, he could still be involved. Is he
involved?”
Given the
man’s unemotional responses through the evening, Clarence suspected the servant
may be undead. “I suspect, brother, hat
he has no will of his own.”
“Yes, I can see he’s a peasant, Clarence.”
“Insofar as I mean I believe him to be a
necromantic construct created by the Lady Wachter.”
“Are you a necromantic construct?” Cornelius
shouted at the servant, lifting his hand so he could respond.
“No, my lord,” he replied calmly, “What is a necromantic construct?”
“Clarence, what IS a necromantic construct?”
Clarence
explained the concept – using the example of the skeletons Lady Wachter had
summoned forth earlier. Cornelius continued his interrogation:
“Are you like one of Lady Wachter’s skeletal
minions?”
“I am a servant of Lady Wachter, and I have
a skeleton?”
“But were you summoned from the ground?”
“I was summoned from the kitchen.”
“How many times have you died before?”
“I don’t think any?”
“Paris, we need that Zone of Truth.”
Paris did
not have the capacity to cast that spell currently, and was dubious of any
guilt on the servant’s part. Cornelius and Clarence decided he should be bound
and gagged with the others. Clarence went back into the den and dumped the
chunks of Larnak out of the window, and magically removed the stains on the carpet.
…
Dickie
swiftly found his way back to the Vallakovich mansion, and found the baron in
his study. Upon being informed that Lady Wachter was planning a coup, the baron
was very concerned. He was not thrilled that the Bullingdon’s had answered her
dinner invitation, but Dickie convinced him that it had all worked out for the
best as they had foiled her plans and found evidence of her guilt.
Vallakovich
summoned his monstrous henchman, Izek, and sent him with Dickie and the guard
to put Lady Wachter and her allies under house arrest.
While Dickie
was away, Clarence began to study the treatise that they had found among the
treasure in the hidden room in Lady Wachter’s library – the Grimoire of Four Quarters. Shortly those
in the parlour – Paris, Cornelius and their prisoners – heard mutterings of “Yes, of course! Yes, well, most
interesting!” and the occasional cackle.
“My lord!” Dickie cried as he arrived
back at the house, “I’ve come with the
guard!” Izek swept brusquely past him into the room, snarled at the
unconscious Lady Wachter, then looked at the rest of the prisoners, the huge
hand on his monstrous arm thumbing the axe on a loop at his belt. “I’m going to chop all of your heads off,” he
growled.
Paris
pointed out the manservant was potentially innocent, but Izek did not care. “If he works for the traitor, he’s probably
a traitor.”
“Clarence reckons he’s a necrophilic
constant!” Cornelius contributed.
“I don’t know what those words mean.”
“Well, nor do I,” Cornelius admitted,
and Paris again explained the concept of a necromantic construct. Izek lifted
the manservant by the throat to inspect him, and after a moment said “He is clearly alive.”
“Of course, of course. Shall we, ah, show
you some of the evidence we’ve found?”
Izek looked
at Cornelius flatly. “I don’t need to be
convinced.” Dickie reminded the henchman that the baron was pleased that
there was evidence, and that wanted to see it. Izek said it could wait until
the morning, and made it clear that now he was in control of the situation the
Bullingdon Boys weren’t needed.
“Well then, we should get the bones back to
the-” Paris blustered, realizing Izek and the baron didn’t know about the
stolen bones of Saint Andral. “I mean, we
should rest our weary bones. TAKE our BONES BACK, to, ah, bed. Yes.”
“And we can go and see our good friend
Ireena!” Cornelius added. This drew Izek’s attention. “How is my sister?”
Cornelius
recalled the distressed state in which he had left Ireena when last he saw her.
“She’s perfectly fine!”
Law and
Order
“Oh, shit!” Paris said a short while
later, as the approached the church, “We
need to free Lady Wachter’s daughter!”
“We’ll do it in the morning!” Cornelius
said.
After
hammering on the door of the squat church for a few minutes, the thick wooden
door finally creaked open to reveal Father Lucien Petrovich illuminated by the
dim light of a single candle.
“We have found the bones!” Cornelius
bellowed. Clarence propelled the chest forward on his floating disc. “Behold, your relics! For what worth they
are in this uncaring universe.”
Petrovich
was clearly overwhelmed with relief, and struggled to find the words to thank
the Bullingdons. He ushered them into the church, to get the bones back where
they belong. Once they were interred the old man turned to Cornelius.
“Thank you! How can I ever repay you?”
“Financially, of course.” Cornelius
didn’t skip a beat; the Bullingdon’s had demanded an undetermined payment upon
accepting the task from the priest.
“My good man,” Paris interjected, “We don’t need any monetary recompense –
just remember to tell everyone you meet how brilliant the Bullingdon Boys are.”
“That is very kind of you. I was worried – I
do not have much money to give… But maybe there is something I can give you.” The
priest of the Morninglord lifted the heavy chain from his neck, on which there
hung a large sun medallion. He softly brushed his fingers across the sun and murmured
“Mané”, and the sun began to glow
with a soft yellow light. He passed it to Cornelius. “With this, the Morninglord will guide you in dark places.”
Cornelius
turned to Dickie and said under his breath, “This
is worth… bloody loads!” He fell to his knees. “No thanks is enough for a prize this great! I shall wear it proudly,
this medallion of… the…”
“The Morninglord,” Petrovich reminded
him.
“Yes, the Morninglord! Praise be to him!”
…
As they
returned to baron’s mansion to sleep, Clarence informed his fellows “If at any time I inscribe a circle of blood
on the floor… try to stay within it.” They did not sleep well.
…
As Clarence
awoke he turned to Paris, with whom he shared a room. “I heard the most beautiful song last night.”
“Yep?” replied Paris, mostly ignoring
his tutee while he precisely arranged his hair.
“A song of piercing beauty. One that echoed
from the highest heaven to the lowest sea. It would have broken your heart to
hear it, Paris.”
“I’m sure it would’ve old chap, I’ve always
had a delicate sensitivity towards music. I think if I’d have learnt I would
have been an aficionado.”
“I can feel myself throbbing with arcane
power!
Paris gave
Clarence a stern look. “We need to have a
talk about keeping your throbbing power to yourself.”
Upstairs,
the baron knocked on the door to Cornelius’ Room. He was greeted by Cornelius –“Baron!” – wearing only a pair of
trousers, medallion of the Morninglord glowing proudly upon the sculpted
musculature of his chest.
“Goodness me! Cornelius. I was just heading
to Wachterhaus to see about this business with Lady Wachter. Do you wish to
join me?”
The baron
was wearing a thick raincoat and his two dogs, as ever, trailed on his heels.
Cornelius and Dickie put on their coats as well; Cornelius refusing to put on a
shirt, and Dickie donning the armour found in Wachterhaus. They joined Paris
and Clarence downstairs. Vallakovich was in a jovial mood as they trod through
the rain, chattering to the Bully Boys eagerly.
“I’m very excited about the festival today!
I think it will do the town a great deal of good, especially when we can tell
them that these nefarious malcontents have been brought to justice.”
“And what exactly does this festival consist
of, sir?” Paris asked.
“Ah, you’ll see, you’ll see! It will be very
impressive, even for a magician, such as yourself.”
…
Two
guardsmen stood at the front of Wachterhause, and graced the baron with an
inexpert salute as he arrived. The not-undead servant, the four members of the
‘book club’ and Lady Wachter were all still tied together on a couch in the
parlour, with Izek straddling one of the chairs from the dinner table
backwards. One arm rested on the back of the chair, the other on the head of
his axe.
“Good morning Izek!” chirped the baron.
He turned to Cornelius. “Now, your
manservant said you had evidence of a plot?”
“I have this letter,” Paris said,
offering the baron the note that they had found on the desk in Lady Wachter’s
library. The baron’s lips moved as he read it. “What is this, a nursery rhyme? Oh. Oh I see. Where did you find this?”
“In her library,” Clarence told him. “I think it is some sort of spell to
overthrow you. We can also show you the pit from whence she summoned skeletons
to attack us.”
“Skeletons and spells! Is this true, Lady
Wachter?” the baron waved the note in her face. The woman stared and cursed
something through her gag.
“It’s true,” Cornelius said, “skeletons savaged me and my men!”
“Well, that’s all I needed to hear.” The
baron waved a hand at the prisoners. “Izek,
kill them.”
“Just one moment here baron, there’s one
more thing I should mention,” Cornelius went on. “Lady Wachter had a servant – someone called Ernest LaMarc. He too was
involved in this scheme. He lunged for my dear brother Clarence-”
“He attempted to murder me most foul-”
“And in the resulting scuffle, he escaped from
this property-”
“And from this mortal coil.”
“The house, Clarence means, he escaped from
the house. Now if you ask me, you’ll probably never see or hear from Ernest
LaMarc ever again, but I’d have your men be on the lookout as this dangerous
criminal may well be loose.”
The baron
nodded his understanding. “You hear that,
Izek? Make sure to keep an eye out for that Larnak fellow. I never trusted him!
If you see him, arrest him immediately.”
Clarence, to
Paris’ dismay, suggested the baron hold the executions in public at the
festival. Vallakovich thought it was an excellent idea, and instructed Izek to
make the arrangements. Cornelius managed to wrangle some gold out of Lady
Wachter’s stash, found by the guards, as payment for uncovering the conspiracy
and saving the baron’s life.
Finally, the
Bullingdons wanted to look in on the Lady’s daughter. The baron advised against
it, telling them the girl was insane and thought she was a cat. Cornelius was
interested at the prospect of a rich heiress in need of a ward, so they went to
the girl’s room; however, she appeared to be beyond their help and they
abandoned her as a lost cause.
The festival
did not begin until noon. Clarence left his companions to visit Victor; the
rest of the party were somewhat concerned about their blooming relationship.
Dickie snuck away to fence some of the items he had picked up in Wachterhaus,
while Cornelius did some promotion of the Festival, wandering the streets of Vallaki
with his medallion blazing on his chest.
