The Legacy of Kain series and all related characters belong to Eidos Interactive and Crystal Dynamics.
Most of the dialogue spoken aloud by Vorador and his brides in this story is taken from unused audio files that still exist on the Blood Omen game disk. The chess match is a famous 'cut' part of that game. This is a slightly AU interpretation of how the missing scenes might have progressed, influenced a little by Stoker's 'Dracula'.

Playing with Pawns: Of Brides and Chess
- by Ardeth Silvereni

Their charms were almost visible through the gauze of their clothing. Yet beauty such as theirs delivered only death. For these were Vorador's pets, nothing more than beasts, slave to his will and the easy prey he provided. Vampires, all of them, held in thrall by one stronger still...

The woman turned slightly as I entered the room, although the thick carpets of the mansion had silenced my approach. I assumed she had caught my scent, or perhaps the heavy aroma of the dried human blood that stained my armour. Her head tilted back as she sniffed delicately at the air - a cruel, hungry smile forming on her girlish face as she confirmed my presence. I readied my blade as she prepared to strike in the familiar, curious manner - throwing herself forward, claws extended, whilst seemingly rooted to the floor.

Like the others I had encountered thus far, outside in the Flame keep, she fell quickly. Not quite a fledgling, but she lacked in strength, and the experience of the hunt. I bent to examine the russet-haired corpse, but felt no desire to drain it, despite my growing need. I did not even know if such a thing were possible, if the tainted blood would sustain or harm my own cursed body.

"Answers indeed..." The Oracle had said. "I have them all if you have the questions."

How could I not have questions? Yet I doubted the old soothsayer would have troubled himself with trivial matters concerning my nature. No, his 'advice' was far more pointed. Or pointless. What did I care about Willendorf now? My allegiance to the Lion's throne had faded over the years as Ottmar turned slowly from a warrior into a weary old man. It is hard for one weakened by age to inspire those in their prime. Had I been born in Willendorf, my feelings may have been different, but Coorhagen's nobility was somewhat distanced from Ottmar's adoring court.

The Oracle had directed me here, however. And in this house of the undead, maybe I could gain some of the education I had been denied by my unusual rebirth. In life, my knowledge of vampires was limited, but I believed my case was unique in that I had no sire save Mortanius - a powerful sorcerer, but a human nonetheless. These vampires had a lineage, something I could appreciate.

I continued moving through the mansion. My original assessments of Vorador's apparent wealth were reinforced at every turn. Gold, fine hardwoods and rich textiles covered every surface. I marvelled at the splendour of it. I pondered briefly on how the ancient vampire could have amassed his fortune - but there was another, more important concern. These vampires I was leaving slain in my wake were kin to Vorador. Driven by hunger, I had near-emptied his pantry. I had no indication as to what Vorador's reaction would be when we finally met. I was seeking to make an ally, not another enemy. With this in mind, I started to avoid confrontations where I could.

In one room, I discovered a suit of armour, superior to that I already wore. It was even better than the Bone Armour I carried, but had not yet tested. Its unusual design hinted at its age and potential. I recognized it immediately as Chaos Armour, formed of a rare alloy, and strengthened by magical lore. While wearing this, any injuries I received would manifest on my attacker, cut for cut, bruise for bruise. Surely Vorador would not miss this relic, I reasoned, and I was tempting his wrath already. Why not risk one further transgression?

I lifted the breastplate from its stand, taking most of its light weight on my right arm, and steadying it with my left hand. The piece was was impeccable. I lowered it slowly to the ground. It would take time to change into the armour, and I did not have the benefit of a squire to assist me. I looked around. The room was empty, and it would have been foolish to pass up the opportunity.

I took off my gauntlets, then with some difficulty, I unfastened the shoulder plates of my iron armour and set them aside. This allowed me better access to the ribbed frontispiece and backplate. I felt some resistance as I pulled them away too. Old blood, now congealed and solid, had seeped through the chain mail I wore on both sides of my body. It had firmly bonded the plate interiors to the material of my thin doublet and linen shirt. I grimaced at the sight of it. This was my blood, that which had flowed profusely from the wound that ended my mortal life. The disgust passed quickly however, and within moments I realized I was amused. How much had my family paid for the services of the undertaker, only to have him bury me exactly as I had been found? I was surprised he had not claimed my armour for profit. My assassin's heirloom-quality sword was also left untouched, even though Serioli weapons were highly sought after, and fetched a good price. Perhaps the Necromancer had exerted some influence in the matter?

I was engrossed in my task, and I confess I was not being as vigilant as I should have been. After a few minutes of work, I mistook a faint breath of air for a cool draft, and my muscles tightened in a reflexive shudder. I ignored it, relaxing my shoulders again so I could remove my fine, dark red mail. As I pulled it over my head, tiny blackened flecks fell away from it. Freeing my arms, I examined it more closely. The assassin's sword had penetrated the mail fairly cleanly, splitting the thin metal rings and leaving a long vertical gash. I brushed my fingers over the area to clear away the remaining dry blood before rolling it into an untidy bundle, and placing it on the floor.

As I stood, I felt the draft again across my cheek, but it was more noticeable this time. Deliberate and discriminate, meaning only one thing - I was no longer alone. I turned sharply to see a young woman standing behind me to my right, her lips pursed, softly blowing. The attractive brunette smiled broadly seeing she had my attention at last. Suddenly, her expression darkened into the familiar look of desire, and she reached toward me. Unarmed, I instinctively recoiled, but she continued to move with me.

"Do I not please you, my lord?" She asked unexpectedly. Her voice was sultry and smooth. "Come, taste of my flesh."

I was slightly off-balance, piqued that this girl had ambushed me, but also mildly thrilled by the situation. So, these lesser vampires did have the intelligence to form words, and were less bestial than I had judged. Maybe she, like the one I had dispatched earlier, mistakenly thought I was some lost mortal, and easy prey. I knew her enticements were meant to snare me like a moth to a flame; she meant to draw me into her arms by exploiting the common weakness of men for alluring women. She longed only for my blood - but not even the whores of Steinchencröe were so blatant in their advances. Only rarely were they this beautiful and scantily clad. I was not deceived for a moment, but I chose to hold my tongue, allowing her to push forward, and grip lightly on the fastenings of my ruined doublet.

"I can sense your lust, warrior. Take of me what you will."

She looked up at me, her dark curls falling back from her pretty features, her golden amber eyes half closed. I made no move to resist as she carefully removed the garment. I was not threatened by this vampire, so why not permit myself the brief indulgence of her attentions? She ran her long white fingers over my stained shirt, her blackish claws hardly pricking the fabric, tentatively discerning the musculature underneath with an expert touch.

"Oh, such a beautiful body." She almost moaned the words. She brought her hands up to rest them on my shoulders, drawing her face closer to mine. "Oh, the pleasures the undead can bring..."

She did know what I was, after all. Why then was she aligning herself to strike? Clearly vampires could benefit from the blood of their own. I noted the interesting revelation, then I grabbed hold of her wrists, and forcefully shoved her away. She lost her footing, and fell backwards to the floor. When she fixed her gaze on me again, her anger was evident, all pretence at passion had evaporated.

"You fool!" She hissed, incredulous. "Hell hath no fury..."

I chuckled softly at her impotent rage, still believing I had nothing to be wary of. So confident was I that I would have turned my back, had I not noticed the presence of two more females hanging back in the corners of the room. Curvaceous lovelies, both of them - one black-haired, the other with a mane of brilliant red. I was astounded that I had overlooked them until now, and that they could mask themselves so completely from my senses. The girl on the floor laughed at my obvious unease, and rose to her feet. She motioned to the others.

"Be quick, before Prince Vorador finds him. He is ours for the feasting!"

The brunette lunged at me, knocking me back into a wall. Swiftly, the other two closed in as well. I was unprepared for their combined strength, and they giggled at my vain attempts to throw them off. "Oh come, love." The redhead whispered in my ear. "Give us a little taste."

"The blood of our own..." The brunette sighed, and kissed me daintily. "Oh, 'tis there anything sweeter?" She continued to gently touch her cool lips to my skin, moving to my jugular, teasing me with the promise of a bite. For the first time since abandoning Malek's Bastion, I acknowledged that I was perhaps in a weaker position than I had anticipated, although I was far from helpless, of course. I managed to gain some leverage against the wall with my left arm, enough to break free from their grasp. I executed the move well, quickly getting behind them with a sweeping motion that allowed me to retrieve my iron sword from amongst my discarded armour.

"You don't need that, my lord." The redhead chided me with a laugh.

I wasn't so sure.

Can you hear him?

Bastard child of the Necromancer - what can he bring us but ruin?

I like him.

But why would the Necromancer decide to birth a vampire, of all things?

What does he desire?

The Necromancer is like none other in the Circle of Nine. He remembers what was...

Ah, the Time Streamer remembers too, but would you trust him? Never!

The Master always likes that

I heard their thoughts as clearly as if they had been spoken aloud. They rang with an unnatural resonance in my mind. I expected these were Vorador's favourites, a small but delightful harem who could minister to most of his needs. With so many other women in the mansion, it was unlikely they were his only lovers, but I understood how he would value the variety and contrast between them.

They doubted the Necromancer's motivations, and by association, my intentions in invading their home. I could not fault them for that. The Oracle had sent me here because of the conflict between Vorador and the Circle. I wanted Vorador's assistance against Malek, but they didn't know that. They knew only that the Circle had created the Sarafan to hunt them.

And what do you know of the Sarafan, bastard child? Have you heard the screams of your brothers and sisters, seen them impaled and hoisted up into the light of dawn? You understand nothing!

Peace, sister. We can always teach him... Afterwards.

The black-haired woman glared at me. Her thoughts were laced with venom. The other two were more friendly. Slaves to sensuality and their hunger for blood. Vorador's slaves, as he was the one who could offer them both. In his absence, they would accept any substitute to sate their appetites. I could not suppress a smile. They could do far worse than me. Ah, such an ego.

He's too nice to waste.

I am the eldest. Mine is the right to begin.

Leave some for us.

Perhaps...

The black-haired woman stepped forward, and her expression softened. Now I looked at her more carefully, I noticed the few differences that betrayed her age. Unlike the others and myself, her hands had only three clawed 'fingers'. Would my hands change with time? The Oracle's cauldron had shown me Vorador's visage. It was difficult to acknowledge he had once been human. I tilted my sword in a half-hearted attempt to deter her approach. She batted it away, uncaring, with the barest trace of annoyance.

Are you not tempted, fledgling?

"Call yourself a vampire, do you?" A thoroughly male voice interrupted her advance far more successfully than I did. It was unclear who the scathing comment was directed at; her or myself.

Master!

One would think they were on a leash, how sharply all three turned towards the sound of his voice. The vampire Vorador was casually leaning against the door frame, his arms folded across his chest. The Oracle's vision had not exaggerated his inhumanity, but he somehow seemed less impressive in person, now he was surrounded by finery and women, rather than engaged in battle with Malek.

And so you seek the attentions of another over me...

Forgive us!

He is nothing compared to you.

But you left us alone... We were so lonely!

They swarmed around him, sycophants seeking approval, and he welcomed them into his arms. I suspected he was less interested in encouraging them, than he was in flaunting his control of them in front of me. "I've dined on rats more dangerous than you!" He said to me, laughing at his insult as if it was of the highest wit. What an inflated opinion of himself, this Vorador had.

Come my dears, I wish to play a game.

A game?

We want to play.

And so you shall, ladies, but we must accommodate our guest first.

Vorador ushered the eager trio out of the room.

Join us when you are ready Kain... and do try to be dressed. You may well need that armour.

I admit, I was intrigued, wondering what the old vampire had in mind.

I threaded my fingers together to ensure the Chaos Armour gauntlets fitted properly and allowed my hands to move freely. When I was satisfied that I was as ready as I could be, I armed myself with Havoc and Malice and followed Vorador's route. It was less taxing than I had expected; the vampire had helpfully left only the relevant doors unlocked.

After passing through a dozen rooms or so, I emerged into a large hall. Part of the floor was decorated with black and yellow tiles, laid out in a checked pattern. The surrounding floor was polished dark wood. On the checked area, a number humans stood, strangely motionless, although their expressions betrayed their true fear. They were a mixed lot - soldiers, sellswords, and even one dressed in armour mimicking King Ottmar himself. I could not see the logic behind this curious display.

You do play chess, don't you?

Vorador played chess, with humans as pawns? What a novel idea. I could now see the checked area for what it was; a giant chessboard, approximately sixteen feet in width and length. It appeared that a game was already in progress, and at an advanced stage. Black was obviously winning.

My previous opponent found his nerve failed him when he started to lose pieces. Vorador smiled, and gestured towards a short man now frozen in the role of a black Rook. Ah, there he is. It was unfortunate for him that he was playing for his life. The man was trying desperately to keep his face calm and his bowels controlled, a task made harder when Vorador's red-haired bride sidled up to him and made a point of licking her lips.

"Why pretend, child?" Vorador asked him. "Face your fate... As a mortal."

"Go to hell, fiend..." the man muttered, with what scant defiance he could muster.

"Ah, you are a great pretender, little one." Vorador replied, condescendingly patting the man on the head. He looked at me, possibly to gauge my reaction. But he's rather dull, isn't he? I expect far more entertainment from you. Shall we play, Kain? See if you can finish his game. I'll even let you take black.

Vorador sat down lazily in a grand chair, with his brides at his feet. As white, the Ottmar-King became his, and I didn't recognize mine. How ironic that my task was to make the Ottmar-King fall. I put down the axes, so I could use magic. Clearly I was expected to use Control Mind to manipulate these humans around the board, and I decided to move my Bishop first. Seizing control of the mortal's weak psyche, I displaced his soul and replaced it with my own. I moved his body forward diagonally, placing the Ottmar-King in check, then relinquished my hold on him. I realized my mistake as the human shrivelled and died before my eyes. Of course, using the potent Control Mind spell, I could only move each piece once, or hold onto a single piece for multiple turns.

I don't think you can afford to lose any more pieces like that, Kain. Try another move.

Frustrated by my own folly, I controlled and nudged my short, tormented Rook up the board. Again, the Ottmar-King was in check, but this time I did not let go of the possessed flesh.

And how are you going to checkmate me while you cannot release that Rook, Kain? Try again. It can be done. Still anchored inside the Rook's brain, I felt a flash of pain in the human's abdomen. The other pieces had come alive to attack him! Vorador's women giggled irritatingly in the background as the Rook was hacked apart, and I was knocked back into my own body.

Whether or not it could be done, I no longer cared. I'd had enough of this game. I grabbed my recently acquired Flame Sword, strode over to the Ottmar-King, and incinerated him in three powerful strokes. As his burning, headless corpse tumbled to the ground and sprayed ash and blood over the board, I turned to address my host.

I had succeeded in amusing him, at least.

"So there is fight in you, after all!" Vorador laughed. "Hmm... Perhaps there is more to you. You have much to learn, vampire - but you have earned my hospitality." He rose from his seat and beckoned to me. "Come! You shall sup at my table this eve."

Vorador enjoyed his game. I was but a fledgling vampire to him - a child to be coaxed and baited. Vorador bore no ill towards his own kind, so long as I knew my place, he said, I would be safe. I followed him to the dining room. We had much to discuss about Malek, he and I.