Luck is for those too weak to make their mark.Reaching deep into your cut stomach, you find what you were looking for, and pull the items from the fleshy sockets in your gut: Three small clear glass balls, filled with swirling colours. Carefully, you set aside the one seemingly filled with smoke, tiny tendrils of pearl-white and night-black streaking through it. Instead, you focus on an angry orange ball that pulses with strands of brown. The strands' shade reminds you of the fur of Great Northern Bears from your youth; do any of those magnificent beasts still live, you wonder?.. Focusing your will on the tiny ball in your palm, you crush it in your hand, and immediately shape the released contents into a spell:
"Come, predator, come, there is a weak and lonesome prey here! Tasty prey, lovely prey, rich in soul-fat and magic! Enough to ease your woundless pains, enough to sate your empty heart and stomach!.." You chant the spell in a guttural language for a little while more, until you are sure that the spell has been cast, and settle to wait. Shadow magic has always been your forte, even earning you your present nickname of the Night Wytch - a title and fame that you carefully cultivated in your followers and enemies both - but you have picked up a few other tricks in the centuries of your un-life. Like this spell: few vampires would consider learning magic that strictly affected living animals.
You could have consumed the glass sphere's magic, of course. You can still drink the essence in two other marbles. However, they are rather small, the magic within worth about a large mouthful of pure mortal blood each, a gill; and unlike blood of the living, the magic within is pure and specialised, much better suited to spell-casting, and far more difficult to obtain. Instead, you bargained one good mouthful of magic for a chance at a full banquet of impure and magically poor bestial blood. You hope whatever comes for you has hunted well lately.
. . .
Night's Dark Masters, ultimate predators... Isn't it ironic that vampires would be completely oblivious and deaf to this magical call? Even mortals might weakly feel the tug of this lure, in some savage, animal part of their subconscious mind. That is the second reason for this spell: when you miss the rendezvous, Gurnen should start looking for you, the most loyal and dependable half-soul servant that he is. And even if he doesn't notice the pull, his hulking beast of a hunting dog, Pavl, should be straining at the leash at the magically-carried scent of prey. You swear it has an almost prescient sense of soulful prey at times, that Pavl; A trait as that was probably a result of a random mutation, common in predator animals after the Severing. Almost all living species had to adapt in some way...
. . .
Your idle, lethargic mind wanders to those who caused your current predicament. The Red Baroness will pay the price for messing with Malakar the Night Wytch, Lord of the Cursed Bell. Your sweet bookworm Alexis... It is almost endearing that she has finally schemed to betray you. Does she plan to take your place now, to be the new Lady of the Cursed Bell? Or will she present it to the Red Baroness, who has long coveted its economic powers? They seemed almost intimate at the meeting, right after she stabbed you with the silver dagger you presented to her for her birthday, four centuries ago. Yes, in fact, it should be four hundred and thirty-seven years that she owned it, a weapon against her own kin in this dark age, as you intended it. Is she now aiming to become the Red Baroness's next consort, to court the shadow puppetess, playing at her own game? You wonder.
You are roused from your thoughts by the sound of massive wings in the air. How long have you been waiting? Has it been days since you cast the spell? With your eyes closed and senses dulled, you can't even tell if the outside temperature has changed. It seems you have attracted a much stronger predator than you had hoped.
You are in luck.
What winged predator beast have you attracted, and how will you kill it?...What is the colour of essence in the third glass ball, by the way?Status: Withering, Progressing Torpor, Regeneration suspended
Magic reserve - Internal: Exsanguinated
Magic reserve - External: 1 gill of Grey essence, 1 gill <Unknown>
Health: Stab wounds in the back, Multiple small puncture wounds, Large gaping wound (upper abdomen)
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Topic: (SG) Mad Max with Vampire Wizards (Read 1749 times)