It was another bleak night out in the Carpathian Mountains. But then, they were all rather bleak around the domain of Vladislaus Dracula, now known only as Dracula. The ancient nobleman however was no where to be found in the castle on this predictably eerie night. Inside, the castle was a place of hurried movement and near anarchy. In time three of the finest coffins ever to be built emerged from this spinning mass of chaos. The coffin's bearers were many in number and great in strength, for the coffins had been built to resist deliberate attacks as well as the natural elements. Their grim procession was a silent one, but their presence caused any who they came across to fall into silence as well. Fear of the coffins' owners turned the frenzied activity of the castle into an almost mechanical routine. The three coffins were carefully removed from the castle, and put into three carriages waiting outside the fortress. Following the procession of empty coffins and directing the entire endeavor, was Marishka. Her mood was as foul as it ever was when her master wasn't present, although the fear she struck into the hearts of her servants could hardly be faulted as ineffective. Indeed, had she not been watching, the weight of the caskets may well have overwhelmed the dozen strong men it took to carry them.
In spite of the screaming winds and rolling thunder that were racing across the midnight skies above, the stronghold's parapet was graced with the presence of Verona and Aleera. Both of the dead noble's wives watched the coffins being loaded on to the carriages. Their expressions were as grim as the castle they called home and haven.
"I can't believe the Master wishes to go to the lands of the heathens," Aleera said with the slightest of hisses.
"He's Count Dracula," Verona replied, her voice thick with sarcasm, "he'll do whatever he damn well pleases. No matter how mad a scheme it is."
"This is surely the maddest plot he's yet to concoct. What exactly does he plan to find in that hellish desert land anyway?"
"I haven't the slightest idea. All he told me was that there was something out there that concerned him greatly. If I didn't know any better I'd say he was frightened by whatever phantasm he'll be chasing down," Verona said, in an almost conspiratorial tone.
"Surely you jest," Aleera replied with a sneer, "Count Dracula, conqueror of the Turks, the most feared fiend in Transylvania, is afraid of some Moor living out in a wasteland?"
"Why would I jest about such things?"
That silenced Aleera for a moment. She sighed, and turned her gaze back towards the ground below, where Marishka had just left the carriages.
"I suppose she's coming to fetch us so that we may join the Master in his inane little expedition," Aleera said.
"What else would she be doing other than lording whatever power she can claim while the Master is away? I'd think it better we simply get to the Master as soon as possible so that she can no longer order us around like servants."
Aleera nodded to her fellow bride and began descending down the stairs of the parapet to meet the carriages. Verona remained, staring at the sky. She hadn't seen the sun rise above these mountains in ages, the memories of the sight blurred by age and her undead nature. The idea of sunlight piercing the unending shadows of the Carpathians seemed almost fantasy to her. And now she was preparing to leave this darkened land to one scorched by the light of day. She shook her head weakly as she followed Aleera down the cold, eroded stone steps, wondering if indeed the Son of the Dragon had gone mad.
In spite of the screaming winds and rolling thunder that were racing across the midnight skies above, the stronghold's parapet was graced with the presence of Verona and Aleera. Both of the dead noble's wives watched the coffins being loaded on to the carriages. Their expressions were as grim as the castle they called home and haven.
"I can't believe the Master wishes to go to the lands of the heathens," Aleera said with the slightest of hisses.
"He's Count Dracula," Verona replied, her voice thick with sarcasm, "he'll do whatever he damn well pleases. No matter how mad a scheme it is."
"This is surely the maddest plot he's yet to concoct. What exactly does he plan to find in that hellish desert land anyway?"
"I haven't the slightest idea. All he told me was that there was something out there that concerned him greatly. If I didn't know any better I'd say he was frightened by whatever phantasm he'll be chasing down," Verona said, in an almost conspiratorial tone.
"Surely you jest," Aleera replied with a sneer, "Count Dracula, conqueror of the Turks, the most feared fiend in Transylvania, is afraid of some Moor living out in a wasteland?"
"Why would I jest about such things?"
That silenced Aleera for a moment. She sighed, and turned her gaze back towards the ground below, where Marishka had just left the carriages.
"I suppose she's coming to fetch us so that we may join the Master in his inane little expedition," Aleera said.
"What else would she be doing other than lording whatever power she can claim while the Master is away? I'd think it better we simply get to the Master as soon as possible so that she can no longer order us around like servants."
Aleera nodded to her fellow bride and began descending down the stairs of the parapet to meet the carriages. Verona remained, staring at the sky. She hadn't seen the sun rise above these mountains in ages, the memories of the sight blurred by age and her undead nature. The idea of sunlight piercing the unending shadows of the Carpathians seemed almost fantasy to her. And now she was preparing to leave this darkened land to one scorched by the light of day. She shook her head weakly as she followed Aleera down the cold, eroded stone steps, wondering if indeed the Son of the Dragon had gone mad.