The Mephisto Valley
Nestled in the heart of Draco County is a lush valley with just the right environment for growing grapes. But since this is perpetually overcast Sylvania, the sorts of grapes that grow here are unlike any others. Mephisto Valley grapes only grow in cemeteries, and are able to capture memories from the lingering traces of spirit therein. The valley is dotted with both cemetery-vineyards and manor houses, testifying to its origins as a summer retreat for the gentry in sunnier days of yore.
Since the making of Mephisto wines requires cemeteries (and not just any, but those of nobles) the Valley can also play host to creatures and spirits that compete with the vines for resources. Word has gone out of something haunting one of the vineyards, and that word's final destination lay in the skull of one Mortimer, Reaper in Residence at Castle Draco.
As luck would have it, Alptraum paid the Korv a visit just as the Reaper was about to take flight, and so the Eeee and unofficial Reaper-In-Training had to come along if he hoped to speak to Mort about the reason for his visit. It was a flight of a few hours, so that the pair reached their blighted destination just around dinner time.
Tinian Manor
The Tinian Vineyards have been the traditional source of Mephisto wines for the county capitol. The manor itself is large and sprawling; with Olympian style ivy-covered columns and lintels. The entry yard boasts a carriage house and several carriages, all with the iconic Tinian crest of a phoenix perched atop a gravestone. Many of the servants and worker visible are Rhians, but the majority seems to be human. The huge entry doors are fitted with polished bronze, including a pair of traditional gargoyle-head door knockers.
Mortimer alights on top of a piece of ruined statuary, a once-proud angel that now misses a head, replaced by Mortimer's feathery hide. "Ahh, Mephisto Valley! Home to spirits and spirits, if you get my drift, m'boy. Awrk, they even have an avian crest, which shows their great taste in all things." The Reaper swings his scythe in an arc beneath him until it wedges in the ground, then steps on to it, riding the falling arc of the hilt to the ground.
"Are there any details on what is haunting this place? Couldn't it just be wind through the stonework?" the Eeee shouts as he simply lands on the ground and folds his wings about himself. Apparently Alptraum has taken for granted how easy it is for Eeee to talk to each other in flight, for it has been difficult to try and approach the reason for his visit during the flight. Or it might be Mortimer was just trying to frustrate the bat by pretending not to hear. Who knows. And with a sidelong glance to the Korv, he adds, "And you know you might get foot splinters doing that… "
Some of the workers pause a moment to look at the newcomers, but it's clear they're more concerned with getting things secured for the night.
"My feathers told me we should inspect the wi- … winding paths of mystery further," Mortimer replies. He hefts up his scythe to his shoulder, wandering off towards the manor. "And don't worry about my talons, I've stepped in worse!" The bird gives a raucous laugh, then shakes his head. "We'll start at the manor, and maybe if you're lucky I'll teach you the history of why Reapers use scythes!"
The huge double doors are closed, and the bronze knockers hang from rings held in the mouths of gargoyles. They're placed higher up on the door than is usual, but since the only people they've seen are Rhians and humans it would be at the proper height for them.
"Because some can't control their pitch and get chased by men with forks," Alptraum mutters to himself as he follows the Reader towards the manor house. "No eyeballing the wine until business is done. I can't carry you if we have to run," the bat adds in a louder tone.
Alptraum also can't help but comment upon seeing the door knockers, "Nice knockers. I always have appreciated well positioned, pert, knockers… "
"I see you've got a good eye for knockers lad, good, good!" Mortimer takes his scythe and lifts it, hooking the knocker ring with the head and then rapping scythe and ring against the door. "Reaper! Open up!"
"You know, with a declaration like that, they're likely to open the door wielding torches and clubs," Alptraum remarks as he flips over one of his gloved hands in an explanatory gesture. "And I've had a lot of knocker experience recently; a true education on them, you might say."
The door is answered by a tall Rhian butler dressed in a fancy tuxedo, complete with ruffled shirt and cummerbund. The man's face and hair are black, save for the pink of his nose and a white splash on his left cheek. "Yes?" he asks, peering down his long snout at the pair, with a look that suggests he doesn't expect them to wipe their feet before entering.
"Graveyard scout cookies," Alptraum chirps cheerily. "By ten boxes and you get a free tombstone!"
The horse quirks one eyebrow, and asks, "Do you have Mummified Mints?"
"Heard you have spirit troubles, open up and let me and the apprentice in! … Unless you'd rather we just started digging around?" Mortimer glances back at Alptraum, then shakes his head slowly. "The boy is a little touched," he whispers loudly back to the butler. Louder, he adds, "And I don't want to hear about your 'special' adventures!"
"Please step inside, while I inform the master of your arrival," the butler says, standing aside to gesture the men to enter the atrium.
Alptraum flashes a huge, fangy, grin as he passes by the butler. "A little touched? Really," he huffs at his avian companion now, "I'm just experienced." Even though he's joking with the Korv, the Eee's ears are already flicking about, trying to track the sounds of the manor, showing his real attention is more on their surroundings.
The atrium seems out of place in Sylvania. Instead of wood carved into intricate fretwork, the walls and columns are white marble, giving the place the feel of a mausoleum. The walls are covered in the portraits of nobles – although the portraits are done as wine labels, including the dates of birth, death and vintage. There are sounds in the distance, distorted a bit by the marble and draperies; chamber music, from the sound of it. Not played very well though.
Mortimer waddles on inside, shouldering his scythe and turning the blade down. "What excellent decor," he remarks. "I need to decorate this way."
"Ow, that's off key. Someone is tone deaf," the bat complains to himself as he pauses to rub at one of his ears. At the Korv's comment, his brow arches slightly. "Really? Then you would have liked the temple of Sunala in Babel. Er, anyway, it's a bit stark for my taste. It needs more color."
"If you will take your ease here, I will return shortly," the butler promises, gesturing to a more modern looking velvet-upholstered loveseat, and then takes his leave.
"Color is for the living," Mortimer replies. He then glances at the love seat, before walking over and plopping his feathery butt down, legs sticking out. "And the 'foppish.'"
The sounds of chamber music come to an abrupt and twangy halt, coincided with a man bellowing, "What? A genuine Reaper? What luck! Bring him to my smoking room, Jerome!" There is a hint of a softer voice speaking, followed by, "Not now, Lucretia! I'm sure you can play some funeral music for the man later on."
Alptraum seems to prefer to stand, lest they be mistaken for a 'couple'. Love seats are just not shared by two men … it violates one of the rules of manliness. "You are living," the Eeee point out. The Eeee then winces, adding, "Great, a shouter… "
The butler, Jerome, appears soon after. "If you will please follow me, I shall take you to Master Augustus Tinian," the man says. "Also, is there anything you require for your comfort? The household has just finished their evening meal, but I'm sure the kitchen could still prepare something."
"Well … do you have vampiric Eeee as guests at times? If so and you have some blood on hand, I wouldn't mind some, it was a long flight," Alptraum admits, "But if not, that is fine. I've gone longer without food before." He flicks his wings back and pulls them tight so that they don't catch on things in corridors.
"Food is always appreciated, as is wine," the Reaper answers without missing a beat. He hops to his feet before shaking out his feathers to give himself that full feathered, not just out of bed, look. "Oh, and like the boy says, some blood – and none of that 'conveniently found murdered out back' blood they try and pawn off in the capital!"
"Blood? I'm afraid we don't stock any, and tonight's meal was fish," the butler says apologetically. "I can ask for donations from the staff, however, if you have a preferred type?"
"Er, no need to ask for donations. I'll be fine," Alptraum says. He only drinks from people he knows, after all. Who knows where these people have been! "Just a glass of wine would be fine then. Or even just water. I'm not particular."
The smoking room is more like a traditional Sylvanian parlour. The walls are paneled in dark, stained wood and covered with hunting trophies (with the requisite abomination or two). There is a weapons rack filled with fishing poles, a billiards table, several overstuffed chairs and a serious wet bar. A desk sits before the room's large single window, and behind that is Augustus Tinian.
As a general rule, the races of Sylvania are built slightly more 'robust' than their kin in the larger world. This goes for the humans as well – or at least for Augustus. He tops six feet by a good few inches, has steel-gray hair and matching eyes, and skin that's just shy of becoming leather. His hands are large, calloused and stained from his work as he holds his right out to his guests. "Welcome to Tinian, good sirs!"
"Why, I once heart of a vampire who was handed mystery blood, and wouldn't you know it, it was from a werecreature of some sort, and wasn't he just surprised! Then angry. Then covered in new blood, which as it happens, was quite ironic. Then he was dead! Which also didn't help, because feeding on his own blood was uselessly recursive and- ahh, here we are!" The Reaper raises his free hand in greeting. "Hello, m'lord! I figure your mountain told you why we're here, so maybe you can tell us why we're here as well?"
"Glad to be here," Alptraum replies as he shakes the offered hand with his gloved right. "Alptraum Bar Reisender, at your service. My obtuse friend here is the Reaper Mortimer," he greets the human. "And as he implies, we're not quite sure why we're here, other than there is some sort of odd haunting at hand?"
"Don't just stand there Jerome, go fetch our visitors something from the kitchen," Augustus says, and this time at least he isn't bellowing. "Ah, you've come about our mysterious grape vampire!" he says to Mort as he shakes Alptraum's hand. His grip is strong enough to be felt in Alptraum's bones, even through the chitin.
"Bet he squeezes all the grapes himself," Alptraum thinks as maintains his smile even though his hand feels rather squashed. Extracting his right hand politely, he has to ask, "Grape vampire? Vampires don't normally stalk produce. In fact, I'm pretty sure they never have… "
Mortimer extends his hand as well, though he looks a little awkward about it, as if he wasn't used it it. Considering what might be on his hands at any particular time, this may not surprise anyone. "Grape vampire, is it? Well that's a new one. Anyone die in a manner they might want vengeance about? Disturb any graves? Seen any monsters?"
Augustus gives Mort a much gentler (and briefer) handshake. "Well, don't know what else to call the damned thing," the man says, and heads for the bar. "Brandy? Made it myself when I was a boy. Whatever is stalking our vineyard at night causes a single vine to just shrivel up like all the life was sucked out of it. Only one vine though, and each night on a different grave."
"Is there any pattern? such as the decay is following a family line? Do you have a list of the names on the graves and the nights it happened?" Alptraum asks, curious.
"Pattern? Well, don't know! Let's find out," Augustus says, placing two shot glasses full of amber booze on the desk before Mort and Alptraum before turning to a cabinet and rummages through it a bit.
"If you have any vampire'd grapes about, let's see those too – oh and don't get any grape-ravaging ideas apprentice," the bird says, before taking a sip.
Never one to pass up a free drink, thanks to Arkold's tutelage, the Eeee takes up the glass, sniffs it, then downs the shot in one gulp. "I don't ravage plants," the Eeee then states just before coughing.
It takes some searching, but eventually a map of the affected vineyard is laid out on the desk (the edges held down with decanters) and a heavy tome set next to it. "Here's the grave registry. We didn't keep the vines – burned them. Can't be too careful if it's some sort of blight, or risk them coming back as zombie fruit."
The brandy is really good, and isn't likely to leave any scars at least.
"Have to be careful with zombie fruit," Mortimer agrees as he inspects the map.
"Never heard of zombie fruit, either," Alptraum notes as he leans over to peer at the map. He first looks for any visual pattern in the decaying plants before he tackles the tome.
Another search procures various pointy things to be uses as markers, showing the affected graves. The pattern seems random, but then only about a dozen graves are marked.
Random, figures. So, Alptraum starts trying to cross-reference the graves to names.
As Augustus goes through the registry to match grave numbers to names, Jerome silently returns with a platter covered with fish fillets, potatoes, breads and cheeses should anyone desire snacks. There's even a little pot of caviar.
"What, no drumsticks left?" Augustus asks Jerome. "Sorry, sir, it was just the one fish that had them."
The names don't seem to lead anywhere either, at first glance. Hiram Frozby was the first, who passed away some 400 years past. Elizabeth Potsreby was next, followed by Johan Gambulputty. No direct family relations, and all separated by many decades or centuries.
Mortimer shakes his head. "Zombie fruit varies! Some of it is vegetative – if you get my meaning – not at all possessed of motor skills, which limits the terror to the specific area of 'terrifyingly boring.' The mobile kind can be quite a hassle," says the bird. He then reaches over and spears a cheese cube with a hand talon. The Korv then beaks the cheese as he studies the map.
Augustus references another book, this one more recent looking. "Ah, I might have found something… hmmm… possibly."
"Patterns in initials, then? Patterns in dates? Patterns in reason for death? All their last names end in 'y'?" Alptraum goes through as he thinks of things that may define possible connections. "What did you find?"
The man turns the book around, showing it to be a vintner's log. It lists the wines and vintages by 'donor' name, followed by lots of a apparent gibberish; some sort of code. "All of the ones I've looked up so far have a high L.R. count for their wines."
"L.R. count?" Alptraum asks. "What is that?"
"Donor eh? Hmm, and all those birth and death lists on the paintings – mayhaps these vines are spawned from the living or the dead? I've heard you require nobles for growth, corpses that is, so there may be something to that. Life rating? Eh? Eh? Arwk?" Mortimer glances at Alptraum.
"Oh, it means 'Libidinous Remembrance' you see," Augustus explains. "If you've had Mephisto Wine before, you know how it can let you relive moments from the donor's life. Well, these folks spent a lot of their time… ah… engaged in carnal pursuits, as it were. There wines have a higher chance of producing a memory of such an event… "
"I seeeee," Mortimer says, rubbing his beak thoughtfully.
"Ah, so it's effectively a aphrodisiac wine or a sort," Alptraum remarks as his ears flick. "Popular with the brothels, I imagine … and the older gents who can no longer experience the actual thing." He huffs, then adds, "So, we're seeking a dead pervert."
"Well that might narrow it a bit; there are certain types that like to prey on such memories, and I'm not talking gold digging youngsters and night-walkers," Mortimer says after a moment of thought. "Some people call these succubi – or incubi for the male ones – and they feed off that sort of thing faster than discount hour at the red light district. They're usually seductive, as well. Or rape-y."
"Dead pervert," Alptraum summarizes.
"Oh dear," Augustus says, his hand going to his mouth. "Sister Toadstool is heading to the graveyard tonight to try and subdue the creature. She thought it must just be a monster of some sort, not a dangerous spirit!" He looks through the journal at hand, saying, "Let me plot a few more likely targets. That poor girl, all alone out there with a fiend!"
Mortimer nods his head. "Monsters and the perverted dead seems to have a taste for young women, it's true. We'd best see to her defence. Alp!" The Reaper glances at the bat. "You look like a woman! You'll make excellent bait."
"Why not call her back inside? We can deal with a monster," Alptraum claims. "No need for her to risk herself. Not when we have Mortimer to risk! Why … no, I do not look like a woman!"
"Oh, I don't know about that," Augustus says. "Sister Toadstool is said to be the best monster-baiting Shrine Maiden in the whole of Draco!"
"Wait, wait, you already hired the shrine maidens to deal with this? Why do you need a Reaper, then?" Alptraum has to ask.
"Well, it's already sundown, so she's probably at the cemetery by now," the man then adds, rubbing his chin.
"A Shrine Maiden eh? I've heard they're … ," the bird coughs, " … well! We'll just have to see what's what. And if we die, we're already home."
"I didn't hire her, she just showed up, like you gents," Augustus notes. "But if this thing isn't just a simple monster, she may not be able to handle it."
"Virgins," Alptraum adds to Mortimer's statement. "C'mon Featherduster, we'd best go find her and convince her to stay inside."
Leaning towards Alptraum, Mortimer explains, "We altruistic hunter-types rarely get hired, but in return we get to show up whenever we like – same goes for adventurers, heroes, and the like."
"Oh, I quite understand," Augustus claims. "Must seek out adventure, after all! It hardly ever comes to you in the post, you know."
"So … there's no hope for getting paid, then," Alptraum laments.
The gates of Tinian cemetery are tall and made of ironwood. They are also unlocked, as one has been pushed open slightly. Alptraum can even hear someone moving not far ahead of them.
Alptraum whistles to the person ahead, then calls out, "Hold! You walk into almost certain peril and threat to your honor!" To the point, he is.
"What the bat said, but less dramatic," Mortimer calls out after Alptraum. As it happens, before he left Mortimer managed to spear a cheese cube on each of his four taloned hands, giving him two hands worth of portable munches he nibbles on as he pushes the gate open with a foot.
"Who goes there?" demands an authoritative (if young) sounding voice from ahead. A hooded lantern spins to shine on Mort and Alptraum, held by a cloaked figure up ahead.
"Alptraum Bar Reisender and my unplucked Reaper companion, Mortimer," Alptraum declares then emits a few sort sonic bursts to 'sound out' the shrine maiden and make a guess at species. "We're here to deal with the lust-monster that's devouring the vines."
"I've been doing this for six years, since I was thirteen," Sister Toadstool replies. "What, exactly, are your qualifications?"
With his talons extended in a array of variously nibbled cheeses, Mortimer asks Alptraum, "Aren't you my companion?" he sighs, and shakes his head. "Upstaged. At least I have my hand cheeses." After a bit more gloomy nibbiling, he seems to realize he's been inquired of, and suddenly blinks, squawking. "Wha- caw? Qualifications? I've been a Reaper longer than you've been alive, and my mentor is older than most of these dead wines! And I have eight cheeses."
"I defeated the great dragon Vorgulremik and imprisoned his immortal soul," Alptraum retorts, "With help from some allies, of course. Plus I have natural ability in dealing with the undead and spirits. And … I'm older than you, too."
"Fine," the girl says, "You can assist me by holding my jar." With that, the beam of her light swings back into the cemetery and she marches on ahead.
"Stubborn child," Alptraum mutters and follows after the hooded girl. Again he tries to probe her with sound, trying to determine what she is.
"You seem to have fine jar-holding skills boy. I'm becheesed at the moment, and these cheeses are important," Mortimer insists before following after the girl.
What she is… is someone wearing a very heavy, hooded cloak that doesn't reveal much. In the waning light, Alptraum can make out what might be white gloves on her hands.
Alptraum's pace quickens so that he can walk along side her. "You're likely dealing with an incubus or succubus," he explains, "The vines targeted produce the vintage that elicits strong sexual memories. Are you sure you want to try and deal with it? Mortimer and I can handle it."
Mortimer, meanwhile, appears to be sucking cheese cube remnants off his taloned fingers.
The hood doesn't turn, but the girl asks, "And how do you propose to lure it to you, hmmm? Let me do my job, and you can kill it when it shows up, dragon-slayer." She then thrusts out a large jar towards Alptraum. It's got a small cloth wadded up in it, and what looks like a wedge made of soft wax or rubber. "And hold this for me. Might need it." Close up now, he can see that the hand is smooth-skinned and un-gloved. It's just naturally white.
"I don't need to lure it, I can find it," Alptraum comments as he takes the jar from the strange woman. "We know its pattern of attack on the vines, and I can see spirits as they move with some concentration."
"I've come a long way, and I don't have wings," Toadstool says, suddenly coming to a stop. They're near an above-ground tomb – a sarcophagus, really – with vines growing around the base. "This is the spot," she says, and climbs atop the stone coffin. Setting her lantern down, she removes her hood. She's human, with bone-white hair and skin so pale that it's practically translucent, and she has the same pink eyes as Mortimer. A human albino.
Now having clean, or at least free, finger-talons, Mortimer shifts his scythe so he can lean on it. "Well you two have fun there; I'm going to prepare a bit." And then, he begins mutterings, eyes half lidded.
"So, why did you decide to become a shrine maiden?" Alptraum asks conversationally as he looks around the darkening landscape. His own brow furrows as he tries to at least shift his vision to that of a more 'spiritual' view of landscape.
The landscape is… alive. The Mephisto grapes concentrate spirit, so each one gives off a silvery glow that fails to illuminate anything around it, but does make for a cluttered environment. It's like having a solid, low-lying fog shrouding things.
"Not a lot of career choices for someone like me," Toadstool explains as she removes her cloak – revealing everything and nothing, skin and clothing wise. "Especially when you can really only work comfortably at night."
Also visible to Alptraum is the gathering of spiritual energy around Mortimer, undoubtedly replying to his arcane mumblings. Most of the silvery streaked wafts of spirit energy are gathering around the blade of his scythe, causing it to glow with an inner light only the bat can see.
"The stars dance upon the soil, reflections of memory that once were, and perhaps will be again," Alptraum mutters to himself as he looks across the landscape in almost awe. "I see nothing wrong with you," he comments to the shrine maiden once his attention returns.
"You're the first men to see me like this, but it's how I work," Toadstool explains, and stretches her cloak out across the top of the sarcophagus before arranging herself into a very inviting pose – and freezing that way, like a statue. She gives off an aura of helplessness, purity and invitation. A 'come and get me' aura that practically makes her glow, and Alptraum can't help but notice her bared neck, with the Carotid artery throbbing. It makes his teeth itch, and his belly rumble. And probably stirs other things as well.
Even Mortimer, who had been staring off into space as he works his magic, can be seen to have shifted his eyes to watch the Maiden. It doesn't break his chanting, but it does seem to get his attention. Meanwhile, he unearthly glow of his scythe begins to creep into the normal vision range as a faint, silvery shimmer along the blade.
"Ahem," Alptraum says as he pulls his eyes away from the naked woman with considerable effort. "I know a Yodhinala who would love to learn that trick," he remarks as he shifts his stance around a bit to put certain things into more comfortable positions. "And great, you've made me hungry."
"I'm hoping to catch something other than the 'cubi tonight," Toadstool says. "It is not dangerous, so I ask that you do not attack it should it show up. My mentor at the Hidden Temple was a Yodhinala."
"And just what are you wanting to catch? I'm less likely to simply obliterate the spirit if I know exactly what it is I'm dealing with," Alptraum notes, "And I wonder if your mentor knew Yodhinala Mave at all." Alptraum, for his part, starts to draw back and pull his wings about himself in the shadows. And it's also then he decides to use a trick he learned from the Countess … hiding in the shadow cloak.
At last, Mortimer stops his chanting, and the scythe's shimmer slowly ebbs away. To Alptraum though, the blade continues to gleam to his spiritual senses, cutting through the spirit-mist as it moves like a razor. "Well, we'd best get ready then. If it sees the two of us here, it may think two monsters beat it to the party – haw haw!"
"A Greater Cemetery Worm," Toadstool notes. "Just let it come and go, and don't interfere." Then she falls back to silence, as does the rest of the graveyard. The sky continues to darken, with no Procession breaking through the clouds tonight. The only light is spirit light, until something else moves through the area. It glows too: a great, pink… worm. It bumps into Alptraum, and then slides past on its way to the tomb, and Toadstool.
Alptraum has a few really wrong mental images flash through his mind about why a woman would be seeing a great, pink, worm. Most of them lean towards the dirty side, too. It's about then he also realizes he's been around Mave far too much. He keeps an eye on that worm, but doesn't move to harm it … yet.
"It's her choice to remain; I don't save people from themselves, just ghosts and monsters. I'm going to hide now, you best decide your move, boy." The bird steps back, then waddles off towards the cover of a tomb doorway.
The worm is nearly a foot thick, and lifts its head up to arc over the motionless girl. The tip splits open into three parts, like a Gooshurm, and a dozen long sticky tentacles or tongues lash and proceed to lick the shrine maiden all over until she's nearly as pink as the worm. After several minutes, the tongues reel back and the jaws close. The worm drops back to the ground and goes on as if nothing had happened.
Once it's passed, Toadstool says, "Okay, dragon-slayer. Bring the jar. Take that wedge out and scoop the goo off of me into the jar as much as possible, then use the cloth to clean up the rest. I don't want to break my lure."
"Oh wow, that was nasty," Alptraum thinks to himself, "And close to what I expected. That … scares me." He sighs to himself as he now heads towards the statuesque woman. Once there he opens the jar to fetch the wedge. He's also suddenly thankful his right hand doesn't feel too much on the back. Sso he uses that along with the wedge in slow, scraping motions along the human's skin to collect up the goo. He's also careful to keep as much contact with the girl along the number parts of his hand. He doesn't need anything further exciting him…
"Be careful, Worm Oil is very hard to get, because it only mistakes albino humans for another worm," Toadstool explains. "It's my primary means of financial support. Try not to get any on you, either, just in case."
"Why? What happens if I get it on myself?" the bat just has to ask as he's even more careful about not getting any on himself. He's really glad that left the gloves on now.
"If another worm comes along, it will think you're a rival, and attack," the girl notes.
"I'm hearing wet and sticky sounds out there! You'd better be paying attention and not fooling around," A stern Mortimer-sounding voice echoes from the gloom of the graveyard.
"I can beat a worm" Alptraum thinks to himself. Still, he's careful and collects the nastiness. He makes a mental note to ask her what the goo is for later. Like … when he is not fighting the urge to pounce and ravish her. "No, no fooling around!", the Eeee claims. Of course he can't stop the thought that follows … yet!.
Stopping said thoughts proves all but impossible for the Eeee, especially since Sister Toadstool doesn't keep perfectly still. She keeps changing position so Alptraum can get at all of the goo with the jar and scraper, but each pose is still suggestive and inviting. It's soon to the point where the bat is aware of every beat of the human's heart, every pulsing of the vein in her neck, ever breath she takes. Even though she silent, she's certainly putting out a vibe of arousal. Alptraum is torn between fantasizing about biting her or ravishing her… and has to settle for thinking about doing both at once. And despite Mort's call to pay attention to his surroundings, the Eeee finds it hard to focus on anything other than Toadstool and her powerful glamour.
"Is this lure of yours supposed to work on everyone?" Alptraum struggles to get out as he carefully collects the goo into the jar at hand. Even with concentration and focus, it comes out a bit hissy and a trailing hint of a growl. His toe claws flex, stretch, then tap along the ground beneath them. Part of him wishes the goo would stink, just to provide a distraction from the effect she's having. Gods, he thinks, he can practically feel his skin under the fur crawl and tingle.
"Monsters mostly, but I suppose it could affect men too," Toadstool says. "Is it making you uncomfortable?" she asks, just before rolling onto her back and spreading out completely so the last bits of goo can be collected – the worm was very thorough. Unfortunately, that position also causes Alptraum to flash to the memory of the dark elf priestess that was sacrificed to Vorgulremik – and that causes his right hand to throb. So now the Shadow is starting to be affected.
Alptraum lifts his right hand and looks at the palm once the throbbing sensation starts out of both fear and hope that it will distract him some. "Yes, it's making me a bit uncomfortable," the bat forces out before he licks over his lips. "It would be so easy to just take her, right now," the thought creeps through his mind, "She's prepared and smooth… "
"Are you drooling? Your chin looks wet," the girl notes. "Would it be easier for me to wipe off the residue myself then, while we take a break?"
The thought of being denied touching her causes the bat to blurt, "No! No, I'll take care of it. I'll be … fine." He does shift the jar to his gloved right hand, though, so that it's not the part of him touching her. Even with the glove, he doesn't want to risk touching her. So, he resumes collecting the goo … and he feels compelled to comment, "You have no body hair, at all. Is that … normal?"
"I'm an albino," Toadstool notes, "I'm lucky to have skin. I think that's the last big glop, so you can use the rag to wipe off what's left." And in Alptraum's mind, he almost hears, "or use your tongue." It's hard to tell if that whisper was his own voice or belonged to Toadstool. It might even have been Mave or Kaira's.
"Is Toadstool your full name?" Alptraum asks as picks up the rag. The thought makes his ears twitch and hand shake for a brief moment. "And if I told you I had a huge urge to lick you right now, would you kill me?"
"Worm goo is kind of salty," Toadstool says. "It's not my real name, just the one I was given in the temple. My given name is Snow. Can you tell me why you have an urge to lick me though? Are you hungry?"
"I didn't eat today, at all, and I'm of the vampire line," Alptraum admits in a rumble, "And your spell is making that very noticeable." And so he really tries to use the rag to clean Snow off, but being so close, his brain foggy, his stomach rumbling, and his hand throbbing … the bat can't stop himself. He takes a single, long, lick along her white skin, gooey or not.
Toadstool shivers under the lick! Then she whispers, "I think we're being watched. And not just by Reaper Mort. Our quarry is out there, probably trying to influence us. It can draw strength from our passions without exposing itself, if we aren't careful."
And of course the male reaction is … 'hey she didn't stop me!', so … the bat licks her again. "The flavor is … somewhat like blood," the Eeee admits at the lingering saltiness. And it's about then that her comment sinks in. He pushes himself away from the woman, though he really, really, really doesn't want to. "How do we lure it close, then?" he whispers back.
The Shrine Maiden takes a deep breath, and then lets it out slowly. As she does, the 'glow' of her lure fades. "It won't come closer if we're together," she says, sounding exhausted. "I can't keep up my lure indefinitely – I need to recover a bit."
Alptraum feels suddenly relieved and slumps down against the stonework at the feet of the Shrine maiden. Hunching forward a bit and using his wings to shadow himself more, he undoes part of the glove on his right hand so he can inspect its actual condition. "So, you want me to move away?" he asks, partially to distract her from being too curious about what he's checking.
"I need to go … pee," Toadstool notes. "The creature will be attracted to arousal, so I'll be okay for now."
There's nothing different about the armored hand. The orb is glowing enough to show that it has a decent charge, and now that the lust-prey glamor is gone, it seems to have calmed down.
Alptraum nods and struggles to his feet, then sets the jar down at the woman's feet. So … he starts to walk a ways away. He uses this as a chance to unglove his right hand completely to check it without prying eyes. Feeling a bit relieved his hand hasn't shifted shape or worse, he straps the glove firmly back in place.
As Toadstool dons her cloak and slips away between a pair of tombs, Alptraum is able to focus on his surroundings again. The vineyard isn't quiet: the vines themselves seem to make sounds, even though there isn't a breeze to stir them.
Alptraum's ears perk up. "Hello," he whispers to the surroundings, "Who is there? I can hear you. I can feel you."
It takes a bit of focusing, but soon enough Alptraum realizes the sounds are coming from the grapes themselves. Little whispers, snatches of conversation and the like. Alptraum crouches down by the nearest vine and carefully lifts one of the grapes with the tips of his fingers. He tries to make out what it's saying. He also wipes at his chin with his free hand, checking to see if he was drooling.
Okay, so maybe he was drooling a little. The grape is dark, nearly black… but still contains a faint shimmer and a sense of interior movement. If he devotes his full concentration to it, Alptraum can almost see a field of flowers in the depths.
Finished with his chin, Alptraum does just that, he focuses his complete attention on the grape. "Beautiful," he murmurs to the grape before he lets it slip from his fingers. "I wish I could eat you, I'm hungry."
"I can help with that," whispers Toadstool from behind Alptraum.
Alptraum blinks. "You can?" the bat asks as his head turns to look behind himself.
A cloaked figure is there, leaning against a vine-covered marble wall. "I need your help," the girl whispers, letting the cloak drop to the ground at her feet. "My lure requires arousal, but I'm… tired. I need to be warmed back up. I hear vampires can do that while feeding. Is it true?"
Alptraum's ears twitch a bit, something about this seems … strange. So, one ear cants in the direction he saw Snow go. "Feeding can be … enjoyable for both involved, yes," the bat admits cautiously as he takes a step back from the pale, naked, woman.
The albino flushes pink with embarrassment as Alptraum steps back, as if suddenly self conscious. She covers herself with her arms, and says, "Ah… without my glamor I'm just… an unnatural thing to you then."
"No, no, you're completely natural," Alptraum says and waves his hands. "It's just, well, you're a Shrine Maiden. You're not supposed to, well. I shouldn't be encouraging certain things," he says, and sounds rather disappointed about it, too.
"I serve the shrine of Inala," the human points out. "So… chastity is more of a guideline really. But it's just a bite, not… more, right?"
"It could lead to more," the bat points out, "But yes, it would just be a bite." Knowing he'll somehow regret this away, Alptraum sits down. "Come, sit in my lap, back to my chest and facing away," he says.
The maiden hesitates a moment, and then comes and sits in Alptraum's lap. She even brushes her long white hair to one side to bare the left side of her neck.
Alptraum draws his arms around her, then even his wings slightly to conceal her from the night air. He brings his left hand up to cup her chin gently and tilt her head ever so slightly to the side to further expose her neck. Again he thinks he can't believe he's doing this right as he draws a slow lick along her exposed neck as he prepares.
The neck is warm, and even through his tongue the bat can feel Toadstool's pulse. The sense of wrongness is just enough to let Alptraum notice something: even though he generally can't feel more than pressure with his right hand, the position of it suggests that it is somehow inside the girl's torso instead of resting against where her skin should be.
Alptraum has a strong feeling he's holding the succubus; no Shrine Maiden would have offered to let him do that. And of course he feels a bit disappointed about that, really. Again he licks that neck, then lets his fangs lightly drag along as he doesn't bite quite yet. Instead, he's mainly feeling with his right hand, trying to uncover just what he's actually holding.
It's difficult, given the limited sense of touch his right hand possesses, but he's touched enough things with it to know that the 'skin' of whatever he's holding is a bit like leather.
"You don't have to wear a fake skin, you know," Alptraum murmurs to the 'girl' he's holding. "Why don't you show me your true self and I'll show you a time you'll never forget… "
The figure in Alptraum's lap suddenly launches itself straight up, nearly hitting him on the chin with its shoulder. The Eeee finds himself clutching air.
Alptraum growls and his wins wrap around tight, trying too catch the creature he was holding if he has time! His vision fades to deeper silver as well, knowing he may have to fight his thing as wraith to spirit.
It's slipped past, of if made of oil – although he was sure his right hand had the best grip on it, and would have held it if it hadn't have fled so fast. In the silvery-light of Wraith Vision, however, the graveyard is alight with the glow of the grapes. His ears, however, pick up a short, startled squeak back in the direction of the original ambush spot.
Alptraum immediately lets the silvery vision fade and his focus shifts to that squeak! He hopes the darkness shielded any prying eyes seeing him as he was almost capturing the spirit … even if it involved taking on darker aspects. "Snow?" he hisses towards the source of the squeak.
There's only a muffled grunt in reply, and the sound of commotion at the sarcophagus.
Alptraum leaps to his feet and using his wings to propel himself faster, launches towards the sarcophagus. Again he lets go of a bit of restraint on the 'Barsunala' hoping its power will help drive back whatever might be attacking the human.
Coming upon the scene, Alptraum sees Snow pinned down atop the sarcophagus, her mouth covered and one hand restrained as a dark figure heaves atop her – a figure that looks exactly like Alptraum!
"Hah, trying for both, are you?" Alptraum growls as he reaches out and tries to grab onto the wings of his doppelganger and yank him off Snow! "I don't think so."
This time, the Eeee's hands pass right through the illusion, which scatters into smoke… leaving the sarcophagus bare. Apparently even Toadstool was part of the illusion…
"Grrr," Alptraum growls as chitinous claws scrape along the stonework, leaving thin lines in their wake. "Snow!" Alptraum shouts as his ears flick about, trying to find the woman. And having a sinking feeling, he even looks for that gross jaw of goo, in case she was always an illusion.
The jar is still there, with the gunk congealing inside of it. "What are you shouting about?" comes a feminine voice, as a cloaked figure appears from between two tombs. "I thought Reapers were stealthy."
Alptraum lets out a sigh, then draws himself back upright. "I thought you were in danger. The target first tried to seduce me by pretending to be you … then when I didn't take the bait, pretended to be you being attacked by an illusionary me," he explains. "And before you say it, yes, I know you are as shrine maiden and can look after yourself. It doesn't mean I'll stop worrying."
"Of course I can look after myself," Toadstool says… from between another set of tombs. The two cloaked figures pause to stare at one another.
"Heh, of course," Alptraum says as he pauses to rub at his forehead. "And now each of you will claim to be the real Snow, right?" he says.
The two figures pull back the hoods of their cloaks, revealing identical faces. They even mimic one another's movements. "Hmmm," they say in unison. "Very good mimicry."
Alptraum crooks a finger and makes a 'come here' gesture to the two women. "Both of you come here and I can settle this pretty quickly," the Eeee remarks.
"Not just yet," the women say. Shedding their cloaks, they step up to one another, then turn and circle as they examine each other. "It's not often you get to see what you look like in this sort of detail."
"You look sexy, even without the glamor," Alptraum remarks. "Beautiful skin and eyes."
"Thank you," the twins say, and test that out by running their hands over each other. "How are you going to tell which of us is real?"
"By touch," Alptraum answers and flexes his gloved right hand, "Part of me is immune to spirit shrouding effects."
"Just a moment," the girls say, eying Alptraum from where they are all but hugging one another. "You're claiming you can tell who is real by groping us? I've heard that line before, believe it or not!"
"I don't need to grope you, just touch your shoulder or stomach," Alptraum notes with a fangy grin, "So this time it's not a cheesy pickup line." He even starts unbuckling the glove on his right hand. "I have an alternate way, but I don't think you'll like it."
"I don't like the first suggestion… for some reason," the Toadstools recite, then give each other a confused look. Maybe being in contact with the succubus is clouding the real Toadstool's mind.
"You'll like the second one less," Alptraum repeats, only this time his voice takes on a hissing, hollow, sound. "I don't want to harm you, simply protect the vineyards. Surely we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement."
After shuffling out from his tombly hiding spot, Mortimer stops, leaning heavily on his scythe. "What's this?" He rubs an eye with a free hand, "Double? Too much wine or something else? And all your talking interrupted my na- … Meditations. But, I see you have found sexytime!"
"Who are you?!" blurts one of the Toadstools, who then do a strange little spin-around dance to try to hide which one of them it was.
"He's a lazy Korv, is what he is. Sleeping on the job," Alptraum comments. He also takes the confusion as a chance to move closer to the two women.
"I'm the Reaper," Mortimer answers, making a big, obvious pointing motion at his giant scythe. "I've heard you shouldn't fear me, but maybe one of you should? Also, good taste on choosing a albino form. Many don't appreciate them." The Korv picks up his scythe and begins hobbling forward, as well.
"Hey now, come any closer and I'll just run away," the girls say in unison. "What's this compromise the bat talked about, and what where you gonna do to me otherwise?"
Alptraum stops approaching. "I can offer you a chance to live in a place where you can enjoy the company of creatures who delight in all forms of depravity and lust actually," the Eeee offers. "I'm its guardian, you see. And you might be helpful to its jailer in keeping some groups in line… I can't speak for what Mortimer would have done to you."
"He's not talking about his bedroom either," Mortimer adds as he hobbles forward. "And, I don't like the idea of this running around business, because then I would have to fly, there would be an exciting chase, possibly a dramatic combat and … No. No, none of that. I believe I know what the boy means, so go ahead boy, regale them with temptations. I'll stand here and look official."
"How can you prove any of this?" the girls ask.
"Ehhhh," answers Mortimer with a lazy shrug. He then tilts his head and rubs at his ear-hole, as if he suddenly had an itch.
Alptraum finishes pulling off the glove from his right hand and flexes his fingers. "Ah, better," he decides, "Now watch and see." His left hand goes to his belt, where he produces a rather nasty-looking dark, curve-bladed dagger. He twirls it, then slides it into the slot in the back of his right hand. His fingertip then taps the orb on the back as he says, "Karia, I have someone for you to interview for a job."
"First, explain why you are in an overgrown graveyard with two naked Goth chicks," comes the voice of Kaira. The two apparent Shrine Maidens point at Alptraum's hand, and ask, "What is that!? You wanted to touch me with that?"
"Dealing with some sort of lust demon that keeps eating the vines," Alptraum offers, "One of those women is said lust demon. Instead of just destroying it, I thought it might be more beneficial if she could help you keep certain elf factions in line. She would have plenty to feed from and they would be too busy to bother you." To the women he says, "What? It's my hand."
"It is pretty weird," agrees Mortimer idly. He rolls his head to squint at the two pale women, and adds, "I know of some light-deficient places we could visit after the boy is done; not you ghosty, that represents a conflict of interest. Also, a draining of life energy."
"She's a shrine maiden, Mortimer, she can't do the horizontal dance," Alptraum comments.
Mortimer forms slightly. "Well, then, I'm sure we can share light deficient experiences, and compare notes on albinism!" He raises his 'brows' hopefully. "I meet so few people like myself."
"A talking hand? That is… do you… with yourself… with that? Never mind!" the girls babble. Now Kaira's head appears over the glowing orb on Alptraum's wrist. "What? Another succubus? Oh wait… " The dragon actually squints now. "Not a real succubus, just one of your spirit thingies. Sure, I can probably find something for it to do. Could be a lamp in some of the dark elf seraglios and get plenty of passive nutrition."
"My hand doesn't talk, the caretaker of the domain does. I'm just acting as the conduit," Alptraum remarks, "So, interested? Want to talk more. Want to make out with Snow first, then decide?" That last question is followed by an impish grin.
"Yes yes, don't be hasty," agrees Mortimer, nodding.
"Make out with myself?" the girls ask, looking shocked and a bit disappointed. Instead they huddle and begin to whisper.
"Are you going to explain that to get it in here, you have to stab it?" Kaira asks Alptraum.
"Or make out with us?" Alptraum offers and waves toward Mortimer. His ears do flick forward as he tries to listen to the whispering. "Oh, with you slotted in the gauntlet, I can use it as an extension of the dagger and just use the claws, right?" he remarks to Kaira.
Mortimer scoots over and leans in, as if he were hard of hearing. "Good idea, get the succubus excited – it distracted them. They think they can get something out of you, then WHACK! or STAB! Sometimes SLICE. But, I think you understand," he whispers.
"Well, what I want to stab her with won't exactly contain it," Alptraum replies in whisper.
"Stabbing is most effective," Kaira agrees. Meanwhile, something happens with the girls – as they start coming forward now. "Can you take us both, then release the real one after wards?"
"Er, that I'm not so sure about," Alptraum admits, "Kaira, can we draw in both girls safely?"
"You brought in the feather duster and others before," Kaira notes. "Just takes a drop of blood."
"Well, can you, boy? My way is more straightforward, and I don't know about pulling in the spirit of a living human. You might kill her, or cause he to be a soulless automaton for the rest of eternity!" The Korv makes a slicing motion across his neck, tilting his head and letting his tongue loll out.
"What about flappy? I expect he'll want to come too," Alptraum comments and nods towards the Korv. "Maybe he could be a pet for the dark elves… "
"Okay, this is getting complicated," Kaira says. "The Reaper here can probably grab you both with shadow-tentacle-whatsits. If you weren't interested in changing your situation, you wouldn't have hung around this long either. You're a conjured spirit, so… what, you need a master I bet, right?"
Reluctantly, the two girls nod in unison.
"What sort of master?" Alptraum asks, though he looks a bit confused.
"That is really creepy when you do that," the dragon mutters. "Anyway… what was I getting at? Oh, just the bat poke you. You can try to possess him or whatever it is you do, and we won't interfere if you go at it like minks on the graves. Otherwise you get sucked into here and I'll introduce you to hedonistic beings beyond your nonexistent imagination."
"My master was very lonely," the girls answer Alptraum, and just gape at Kaira's offer.
"Whatits, got it. Couldn't be my special magical spirits powers have an actual name, no, they have to be called whatsits! Bot that they do have a name, but that's beside the point," the Reaper complains. At the mention of master being lonely, the Korv gives a knowing, "I'll bet."
"Who was your master?" Alptraum asks curiously. "And were you trying to possess me when you tried to get me to bite you? Tell you what, I can bite and stab you, so if one fails, you get me."
"He died a long time ago, and I was buried with him here," the girls explain. "The vines broke through the wall of the tomb, and I was able to squeeze out. I was just trying to make you feel better, Alptraum, because you seemed hungry and lustful."
"That sounds like him. He has issues," the Reaper confides to the two women. "I mean, look how much he talks to his own hand."
"I'm sorry, Reaper, but I can't change myself to look like the one you lust after," the girls note. "I'm restricted to a humanoid form… "
"Well, I am hungry," the bat complains. Tired of standing, he sits on a headstone nearby instead. "So … what you really want is a master? Hm. What does this master need to provide you?"
Mortimer nods. "No worries," he assures the spirit. "I make due with what I have about."
"Oh, he or she has to have needs that only I can fulfill," the girls state.
"Oh, be good with a needle and thread," they then add.
"Er, what kind of needs can only you fulfill?" Alptraum asks. "And why good with needle and thread?"
"Alptraum, you've got enough needy females to deal with," Kaira points out.
"I wasn't offering! I need to know to find someone," Alptraum points out.
"You want to saddle someone with a needy lust-spirit?" the dragon asks.
"Well, someone might like it," Alptraum points out, joking, "I like you and you're a bit needy sometimes… "
"This is why I usually work alone," Mortimer tells no one in particular, rubbing his brow with a hand.
"You want to give it to Mave, don't you?" Kaira asks.
"That was a thought, but then she wouldn't spend any time with me," Alptraum considers.
"Wait," the two Snows say. "Maybe I should keep her?"
"Wait, what, go with Snow the Shrine Maiden?" Alptraum asks, "Er, you should offer that to her when you aren't controlling her, perhaps. Maybe she would like companionship."
"I can teach her to be bait," one of the Snows says, while the other remains silent.
"But does that fulfill the needs requirement? And, well, she doesn't wear much in the way of clothes – can she sew," ask Mortimer, leaning forward on his scythe.
"Hm. Show your real self to her and step away. Then ask her and let her decide," Alptraum suggests. "Mortimer and I will back up so that you will be safe doing so," he adds and casts a loot to the Korv. The Eeee then slides off the headstone and backs up about ten feet.
The two girls step apart, and the one on the left darkens and shrinks a bit – to become a stuffed leather doll.
Mortimer takes one big step backwards, and after the transformation, raises an 'eyebrow.' Then, he sighs. "Necromancy has really gone downhill these days."
"Well, I imagine on lonely nights it was still something," Alptraum offers to the Korv. "I'm sure we look strange to others, so I'm not making any judgments."
The doll shimmers, and turns into a human woman again, albeit one they've never seen before, and wearing a blue dress. She's still pale, but has dark hair and blue eyes. "This is my original makeup," it explains.
"I'm a Reaper," insists Mortimer, "I make judgments."
Before saying anything, Toadstool retrieves her cloak now that she's the only naked girl standing around. "Well… if you can make do with the memories of passion, like you have with the grapes… then you should do okay with just a bottle of Mephisto wine."
"And I'm a soft hearted sort," Alptraum comments, "Snow, do you want this spirit as your companion?"
"I prefer hearts soft, myself," the Reaper remarks, mysteriously.
"And eyeballs too I wager," Kaira comments to the Korv.
"I'll take her under my wing," Toadstool says. "If she gets out of hand, I can deal with her, now that I know what she feels like when she's getting into my head. And I can't be a Shrine Maiden forever, so if I can still be a monster hunter with her as bait, I'll be doing okay."
"Fair enough, then. Kaira, sorry for dragging you out for nothing," Alptraum says as he places his hand on the hilt of his dagger. "Since we seem to have a solution, I'll let you go. Well, unless you have more you want to say?"
"You really wanted to bag her?" Kaira asks. "Or the original? I guess I was worried about that elf-form being too pale for nothing… " The dragon head pops out of existence without actually waiting for an answer though.
Alptraum just shakes his head and draws the dagger back out of the gauntlet. Back on goes the glove. Well, the process of putting the glove on, anyway. The spikey bits do tend to snag. "Well, I guess that is that, then. It was certainly … interesting working with you, Maiden Toadstool. Your bottle of, er, goo is still by the grave."
"Ah!" goes Sister Toadstool, as she grabs up the jar of goo and practically hugs it. "This should keep me fed for a year!"
"Another happy ending," Mortimer says cheerily. "Well, I know I'm tired after all this, we'll definitely deserve food, housing, and favors for our hard work."
"Well, if you eat it, you'll also be quite salty," Alptraum jokes. To Mortimer, Alptraum remarks, "Food is all well and good for you. I have to go hunt for mine since this place doesn't cater to my kind. I also still need to talk to you about your mentor, by the by, so no drinking until you pass out."
"And a bath," Toadstool says. "And… a bottle of wine?" the succubus asks.
"Eat it?" Toadstool says, looking at Alptraum. "This stuff is used to make anti-wrinkle skin cream for humans."
"You did say it would keep you fed," the bat jokes.
"Right, I won't drink until I pass out," Mortimer agrees. He turns on the spot, then begins waddling back towards the manor, the unearthly gleam of his scythe slowly dying away. "We can talk later, I'm sure!"
"By paying for my food!" the girl notes. "And here I was going to loan you my succubus for the night too. Well, I'll see you back at the manor, or not, I suppose."
"I'll be back at the manor, certainly. I just really want to eat something soon," Alptraum explains to Sister Toadstool. "Unless, of course, you're willing to donate to a vampire in need?"
"Look me up after I've eaten," Toadstool says, then gestures to her new companion. "Come along… Sister… uh… Dusk!"
"So … is that a yes on donating some blood?" Alptraum asks as his ears actually perk up.
As Mortimer walks away, he pauses to pick up a bouquet of roses left at a grave. The Reaper takes a moment to sniff them, smiles, then puts them back down on the grave and keeps going.
"Yeah, sure, after I've eaten!" the girl says, with her dark-haired demon following her.
"Oh, good, then I can just walk back to the manor and relax a bit," Alptraum says and breathes a sigh of relief. "And Mister Feather and I can have a little talk about his mentor, too! Haha! You can't get rid of me!"
