"W-where am I?" A man clad in blue trousers asks aloud.
He looks up and sees the orange sky, the blue clouds signifying that he is at his home-world. This realization relieves him slightly, but he notices the oncoming of footsteps.
"Who's in my field? Damn vagrants trying to steal from my fie-" a gruff voice quickly cuts itself off, the man stands in shock for a moment before rushing to fallen man's side, "oh my, Lord Dracul? What are you doing here?"
"Returning home from some external affairs, messed up a teleport, now I'm here," Dracul replies.
"You're hurt, here, let me take you back to my house, our village medicine man will be able to patch you up; I'm sure you wouldn't want to upset Malinda, especially in her current state," The farmer states.
Dracul visualizes his wife, her forest green eyes, her silky skin, her enlarged belly… he cringes as he looks down at his burnt body.
"Thank you sir, might I ask your name?" Dracul requests.
"Jason… my king, can you walk? Or may I carry you?" Jason questions.
"Please, you can stop with the titles, you know I do not like to think of myself as better than you, but I am unable to walk, so I ask that you carry me," Dracul replies.
Jason carefully picks up Dracul, placing him on his back.
"Alright, Dracul, does this hurt? I think I can find another couple ways to carry you, I imagine the burns hurt," Jason says.
"It's fine, I can handle the burning sensation for now, is your medicine man a cleric or a doctor?" Dracul inquires.
Jason begins walking toward his village.
"He is good with herbs, and knows a bit of healing magic; I doubt his magic will be able to heal you though, so he will have to make a burn salve," Jason answers.
A few minutes of walking and Jason is able to see his village. The Oak buildings stand in a square, with a few outlying buildings left to their own devices.
The passing of Jason and his cargo draws awed staring, making Jason uncomfortable. Midway into town, Jason heads into a rectangular building with a thatched roof; an image of a potion is inscribed above the door.
"Ah, what have we here?" A gnarled old man asks as Jason walks in. He walks in closer as Jason turns to place Dracul on the man's examination table, and sits in a chair beside it.
The man begins examining Dracul from head to toe, and back again, stopping right at his face. He stares at Dracul for an awkwardly long time before he jumps back in shock.
"Lord Dracul, please forgive me," the old man begins while bowing his head, "I hadn't realized it was you; you see my eyesight isn't what it used to be."
"That's quite alright, sir," Dracul responds.
"Now, let me see here; your burns appear to be a mix between first and second degree; may I ask how you obtained these burns?" the medicine man questions.
"My," he lowers his voice in shame, "my own flames."
"What was that? My hearing isn't that great either," the old man complains.
"These burns were caused by own flames!" Dracul angrily shouts out.
"Alright, alright, you don't have to yell, let me see here," the old man opens up a door leading to a back room and disappears inside.
While waiting, Dracul begins to notice the interior of the old man's house. The walls are lined with shelves full of jars, which can contain an assortment of liquids and living creatures. Along the back wall, he sees a small book shelf containing what appears to be a small collection of medical books, ranging from the magical to the scientific. Despite the thatched roof from outside, the inside of the house is lit by the dull glow of candles, instead of sunlight as he had anticipated.
"He's been gone a while, is he ok in there?" Dracul asks politely.
"Oh yeah, magical burns are much harder to treat, so he has to make a stronger medicine," Jason explains.
"Alright Dracul; I have made the salve," the old man reappears, holding a large flask containing an ocean blue substance with a jelly-like texture.
"Oi, I don't have to drink that do I?" Dracul questions, gulping.
"What good would drinking anything do for burns on your skin?" The old man responds, making Dracul feel stupid.
The old man twists the cap of the flask, attempting to open it, but it refuses to budge.
"Gosh darn flask; I just had it open a moment ago, maybe I shouldn't have reclosed it," the old man complains, "boy, would you be able to open this flask?"
He hands the flask over to Jason, who effortlessly unscrews the cap.
"I loosened it up for ya," the old man grumbles as he snatches the flask back.
He turns the flask and begins pouring the globules out of the flask and onto his hand. He rubs the jelly together and begins rubbing Dracul's burns with it. The process takes at least an hour, and since the burns were all over his body; the rubbing is very thorough.
After rubbing the last bit of the substance on Dracul's chest, the old man returns the emptied flask back to its place.
"Now, the active ingredients take a full twenty four hours to fully achieve their effect," the old man begins as he returns from the back room, "so, you'll have to rest here until tomorrow."
"Alright sir, do you need me to move? Or do you need this examination table?" Dracul asks.
"Nope, I have a few more in the back room…" he trails off, putting his hand to his chin, contemplating his decision, "actually, Jason, would you mind moving another table in here?"
"Sure, elder," Jason complies.
He stands up from his chair and moves to the backroom.
The old man moves to the side of Dracul's table, looking down at him.
"Dracul, may I ask you something?" The old man talks, breaking the silence.
"No problem," he replies.
"Were those burns really from your own flames?" The old man requests.
"Sir, may I ask for your name? I wish to address you formally."
"Isingoma, lord."
"No hesitation at all? I thought a man such as you would have been apprehensive toward giving out your name."
"Heh, my age certainly does show, doesn't it? Then I assume you must know a bit of my history."
A large crash comes from the back room, followed by a groan of pain. Isingoma jerks his head toward the doorway.
"Hey! Be careful in there; I don't want to pay the carpenter for another!" Isingoma angrily yells.
"Anyways, back to the conversation," Isingoma states, as he turns back to Dracul.
"I assume you must have been a medic for Vincentius during the Unification War, very few people actually know how to treat magical burns, even with magic."
"Close, I'll give you one more guess."
"Oh my, you must have been one of Vincentius's dreaded witch doctors then."
"Yup."
"Does that mean you were on one of the death squads, which would explain the lack of hesitation?"
"Mhhm."
"Surprised you survived the final assault on Stanislas; I thought all of his forces had been completely annihilated."
"A few of us escaped; I wasn't going to die for that insane bastard, so I used my magic to disappear and move here, don't know about the others."
"So, you were Voodoo practitioner that also picked up salves?"
"Strange, I know, and honestly Voodoo always had a certain spark I enjoyed; I tried starting a village with the remaining members, but it completely fell apart."
"You know I outlawed Voodoo almost immediately right?"
"Don't patronize me, that was my past."
"I see, don't worry, you are pardoned."
"Thank you milord."
Jason finally pops back in, dragging the slightly dented table behind him.
"What took you so long? Dracul could have healed 10 times over already!" Isingoma shouts.
"Sorry sir,"
Jason drags the table next to Dracul's, lining up relatively evenly.
"Thank you Jason; I'm sure Dracul will want to rest while he is healing, so you may leave if you wish," Isingoma states, much calmer than moments ago.
"Yes, sir, lord, I hope you get better soon!" Jason cheerfully comments as he exits the building.
"A kind boy, one that would never survive the Unification War though," Isingoma woefully remarks as he inspects the examination table.
"Those were some terrible times, indeed," Dracul answers.
"Also, you never answered my question, and don't worry I'm fully aware of the other worlds out there."
"Oh my, I apologize, and the answer is a mix; I was burnt by some hellfire spell as well as my own."
"I see, may I ask something a little more personal Dracul?"
"Shoot."
"Vincentius was the overlord that was a member of the Overlords' Resistance, and he told his top minions that you were a lapdog to the One. There has been rumors mentioning that you too have joined the resistance, why?"
Dracul's face turns slightly pale as he remembers the day he renounced his allegiance, and begins recanting the details.
(Flashback)
Dracul is sitting in the command center of his army. Maps with troop movements and sizes are scattered about; the dull glow of a lamp lights the room. In the middle of this mess is Dracul, sitting at a table contemplating the final push on Stanislas.
A soldier bursts through Dracul's tent; his face is contorted with anxiety and fear.
"Sir, Vincentius's witch doctors appear to be performing a strange ritual, our elite archers are in position to hinder it; they are just waiting on the order."
"Yes, they have permission to fi-" Dracul starts, but gets interrupted.
"Hey! What are you doing?" A voice from within Dracul's head shouts.
"Finishing this war? Putting an end to the bloodshed?" Dracul replies in disbelief.
"You mustn't!"
"Why? Doesn't the One want my world to be at peace so I can assist him more? I thought he was all about order and peace."
"The natural order of your world IS civil war."
"WHAT? That doesn't make any sense!"
"Deal with it, so now call off the attack."
"I refuse! I will not halt my orders just so I can uphold your "order"."
"Dracul you must listen to the One, these are his orders."
"I refuse to believe any just ruler would request me to avoid ending further bloodshed!"
"Dracul, I am giving you one last warning."
"Or what? I'll just beat you to it; I renounce my allegiance to the One!"
"Fine… but this decision is final," the assistant's voice slowly fades out.
Dracul gives the order, and thus, the last resort of Vincentius is thwarted, allowing Dracul to invade the city and duel Vincentius, killing him, thereby dealing the killing blow to the opposing army.
The victory festivities last several days, many a night is spent dancing and feasting.
On the final night, Dracul and Malinda have returned to their chamber, preparing to retire for the night. Malinda is in the bathroom, brushing her teeth; meanwhile Dracul puts on his sleeping pajamas.
Malinda faints, creating a large thud. Dracul rushes in to find her on the floor, sweat coating her entire body. Dracul calls for help as he lifts her up, her dress sticking to her body from the sweat.
Two guards rush in, "What's the matter lord?" the first of the two asks.
"It's Malinda, she just collapsed! Go fetch our best doctor!" Dracul shouts back.
Both quickly leave, leaving Dracul with his wife. He places her in the center of the bed and begins pacing; as he waits he quickly becomes aware of an ominous presence. He ignores it for the time being.
"WHERE IS THAT DOCTOR!" Dracul roars, his dragon form slightly manifesting.
After a few more paces, the doctor finally arrives.
"Hurry! She is in the bed," Dracul states, pointing to the bed.
The doctor hurries over to the bedside and begins to check Malinda's vitals. Once he finishes Dracul rushes over to his side.
"So, what's wrong?" Dracul earnestly questions.
"Lord, I don't know how to say this, but I have no idea; she has a fever, that's all I can say, and I doubt clerics nor other doctors will be able to help." the doctor answers.
"Useless! Get out of my sight! I will figure it out by myself, even if I have to leave this world!" Dracul shouts.
The doctor quickly flees at Dracul's request, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
"What am I going to do? I don't know any healing magic."
"I don- I don't think I can live without her."
"I would do anything to save her."
"I can save her," a deep, scratchy voice utters, sending shivers down Dracul's spine.
"You-you can?" Dracul weakly replies, spinning around to meet the owner of the voice.
It is a black mist, providing no face to meet.
"Yesssss, just give me your oath that you will join the Overlord's Resistance, and I will ssssave her," the mist retorts.
"I can't join the resistance, Vincentius was a member, and he did terrible things, and any organization that would allow him to do such things is not one I want to be a part of," Dracul thinks to himself.
"Oh I assure you, Vincentius did those things under the radar, I was not aware of them," The mist mentions.
Dracul contemplates for a second, not sure whether or not to believe it.
"Fine… I'll join, but only if you save Malinda,"
"Gooood, then it is done," the mist replies.
The mist closes in on Dracul quickly enveloping him.
"Wh-what are you doing?"
"Ssssilence, I'm just making sure you uphold your end of the bargain,"
The mist begins to insert itself into Dracul's body, forcing his body erect. After going completely into Dracul; it bursts forth from Dracul's chest, leaving a large purple mark.
"There we go, just a brand so you know where you belong, and now your wife," the mist explains.
The mist envelopes Malinda, turning a bright green shortly before it begins to glow. It lifts her body up into the air for a few seconds before returning to its dark purple hue and dropping Malinda back onto the bed.
"I will leave you for now, but I will soon need you for missions," the mist rasps as it slowly dissipates.
"Yes, I understand."
Just as the mist completely dissipates Malinda wakes up in a confused state.
"What happened honey?" Malinda asks.
Seeing Malinda wake up makes Dracul ecstatic; he quickly runs over to her wrapping his arms around her.
"Thank the heavens you're better!"
(End Flashblack)