SurChapter XXIX: Crazy Bloodsuckers

Vrayon, Smynoc, and the two elites appeared with a flash in the vampire General's quarters is Dol Sereg, capitol of the vampire country, moments after they had left Baradu.

The two elites moved to the door and stood at attention, swords drawn and at the ready. Vrayon turned slowly to Smynoc, fiddling with his crimson cloak as he did so.

"Vat is happening?" the General hissed.

"Ve found ze dwarvesss, sssir," Smynoc said incredulously. "Vat do you mean?"

"You and I both know zat you could have obliterated zem vithout my asssissstanssse."

The Captain sighed, "It eez ze Tvhesta, sssir."

Vrayon slammed his fist into a nearby pillar, cracking the wood and causing Smynoc to jump slightly.

The Tvhesta, or True-Bloods, as it would translate to Common Speech, was a militia force of vampires who felt tat the alliance with the Drow and lychens was unforgivable treason. They continuously ambushed visitors from the Remnant and sabotaged infantry barracks inside Ramgost, Remnant vampire territory, as well as performing acts of terror in Lycha.

Vrayon looked almost curiously at the splinters embedded in his fist, then, moved his gaze back to Smynoc. "Vat about zem?"

"Lynza hasss delivered a demand."

Lynza, the official leader of the Tvhesta, had once been Captain of the vampire forces, and her skill and prowess were renown throughout Ramgost.

"Show it to me," Vrayon hissed softly.

Smynoc drew a long, black arrow with a note wrapped around the shaft from his cloak.

"Ve found zisss in vone of our lieutenantsss," the Captain muttered.

Vrayon jerked it from the captain's hand, ripping the note off with the violence he wished he could employ on Lynza.

He read the note aloud.

"This is your final warning, scum. You will bring me every piece of information taken in Remnant meetings, access to your armories, and a vow never to attack our forces again, or I will go public and openly attack the Drow. Meet me in the southernmost barracks in Lvrast tonight, alone, or face the wrath of the Tvhesta."

"Empty threatsss!" Smynoc snarled.

Vrayon, however, slowly lowered the note. "Ve vill go and meet her zere, ze four of usss."

"She vill kill you!"

"I fear her not," the General spat.

"Eez zat vize?"

Vrayon's piercing black eyes bored holes through his captain.

"Sss...sssorry sssir," Smynoc stammered. "You are right. My apologiesss."

The General scoffed, then, changed the subject. "Ze dwarvesss, you did find zem, no?"

"Yesss, sssir."

"Exsssellent. Ve ssstrike tomorrow night. Ve vill not ssstop ze offensssive until zey are all dead, and ze ring isss oursss. In ze meantime," Vrayon pointed to his tactical map, "Ten leaguesss from Mount Gundabad. Tell ze troopsss to get a lot of ressst, ve vill be fighting a long time."

"Yesss, sssir. Ze dwarvesss lie about twenty leaguesss eassst of zere."

"Not for long," Vrayon quipped with a fanged smile.

Smynoc smiled, revealing his own dagger-like teeth, then straightened. "Permission to depart, sssir?"

The General nodded, and with a flutter of red, the Captain and elites marched purposely from the room.

Vrayon spun on his heel and dragged himself through the balcony overlooking everything from the giant fang-shaped tower. He stared out over the barren wasteland that constituted most of Ramgost for a long while.

"Lynza, vat are you up to now?"

The two Noldor made their way back to the gate, albeit slowly, due to their newly recovered injuries. Upon their arrival at the pile of rocks that comprised the entrance, Mordae and Celebdraug replaced one another's bandages with fresh ones.

"Thank Illúvatar for quick healing," Mordae commented as he and his cousin donned their mail and white cloaks.

"Amen," Celebdraug agreed. Slinging her sword over her shoulder, she scrambled over the rubble and stepped into daylight for the fist time in two days.

"Gah!" she shrieked, diving back into the mine, "No light!"

Mordae, who was immune to bright lights, thanks to his mage powers, drew a deep breath of fresh air, then doubled over, gagging.

"What in Udun?" he coughed.

Celebdraug squinted her eyes open slightly. "Ugh. Look," she groaned, pointing toward the pond.

"Lovely."

On the shore of the lake sprawled the rotting carcass of the many-armed creature Celebdraug had slain earlier.

"What are we going to do about that?" she asked.

"We have to do something?"

"If we don't want to attract every orc in Middle Earth!" Celebdraug cried.

Mordae shrugged, raised his hand, and fired a bolt of light into the corpse, partially destroying a hefty piece of it. Before he could fire again, a jet of flame rocketed from Celebdraug's hand, creating a smelly, raging inferno.

"Nice," Mordae sighed, his eyes following the billowing, rancid smoke that rose into the air. "That won't attract anything."

"Shut up. So, where to now?"

"You know what?" Mordae said, fingering the hilt of his dagger, "I feel like a drink. What do you say we see if the vampires haven't already razed Bree?"

"And if they haven't?" Celebdraug asked, her eyes beginning to swirl.

"We drink. Restock. Get some rest. Then, do it for them."

Sharbolg, orc captain of the Remnant, marched his two hundred soldiers southeast, toward the city of Bree, where he planned to camp before moving onto the final leg of his journey to Moria. The Remnant brass had ordered him to locate two elves and either capture or kill them. Sharbolg knew that his one hundred-to-one ratio was a bit of an overkill, but the orcs were never ones for subtlety.

The Captain glanced up at the moon as he ran through the forest, recalling the many orc legends of the entity's conception. The fable most prominent in his mind at the moment was that the moon was the eye of the greatest orc general in history, always keeping watch over his successors and ensuring them victory.

Sharbolg smiled grimly at the thought. The Remnant needed no ancient general guardian; Mornië brought them strength beyond measure.

His smile faded suddenly as the moon began to darken, changing its tone to a ruddy hue. The color deepened, becoming red as blood, as all the stars vanished behind a cloud of darkness so thick that even the orc's eyes could not penetrate. A black mist began to swirl up from the ground, reducing the creatures' line of sight to almost nil.

Sharbolg began to panic, as did his men.

"Hold your ground!" he bellowed. "Form ranks! Hold the perimeter!"

His orders were drowned out by an ear-piercing shriek that swept through his men like a tidal wave, causing them to break their lines and scatter in terror. There was a deafening crack, then the clash of blades on armor and the screams of the orcs.

Sharbolg let out a roar of rage and spun, sword raised, but he could not make out any attackers in the smothering blackness. Suddenly, there were two more cracks behind him, and the sound of metal clearing leather.

The orc Captain whirled about, just in time to see the head of the elite soldier before him explode in a spray of black blood as several long blades drove through it.

The body fell, revealing a tall, black-cloaked creature wearing a pair of gloves from which three blades protruded. The blades on his right hand glistened with the dead orc's blood, and the being's eyes shone black as the night around them.

The creature hissed, saluted, and executed a graceful back-flip over the orcs behind him, disappearing in the darkness.

Sharbolg began to advance, but stopped as his eyes fell on the second attacker, who stood defiantly before him.

She was small in comparison to the orc, less than two meters tall, with black hair halfway down her back, pointed ears, and glistening black eyes that promised death to all she set her gaze upon. She wore black chain mail, with a matching black blouse, cape, and pants, all with crimson coloring sewn sporadically into it, as if spattered blood covered her. In her hand, the girl held a two-meter long silver staff with long, curved blades on both ends.

Sharbolg growled a challenge, and the girl hissed in response, revealing gleaming white fangs. A vampire. Sharbolg paused for a moment, confused; the vampires were the allies of the Remnant, or so he had gathered. The orc pushed the doubt from his mind and swung hard at her, using all of his strength, intending to shatter her wiry frame with a single blow.

The vampire responded by plunging one end of her bladed staff into the ground and using it to vault over the Captain's head. Before he could turn, Sharbolg felt cold mìthril slash across the back of his leg, dropping him to one knee.

The orc defiantly continued his spin, swinging his own weapon, but the second blade ripped through his upper arm, causing him to completely lose his grip on the sword, which spun off into the darkness.

The vampire hissed, spun her staff, then stepped closer and lacerated Sharbolg's chest, neck, and finally face, in rapid succession. She let his body fall, and with a slight smile, leaped over him to land in a circle of orcs. With two twirls of her staff, she sent eight of the snarling beasts collapsing to the ground, black blood spraying into the air around them.

The girl, Lynza, former Captain of the vampires and current leader of the Tvhesta, let her gaze travel in a slow circle. All around her, vampires felled orcs like trees, sending the vile creatures into utter chaos.

She knew she shouldn't, but she had to; Lynza threw back her head to the darkened heavens and let out an evil, almost psychotic, cackle.

"Do you sssee me? Do you sssee your troopsss, Mornië? You ssscum! Ve vill never bow to you! You shall bow to usss! You shall bow to ze true qveen, ze Qveen of Darknesss!"