"I do not hate the undead. The mindless ones are just monsters. In a way, I pity the intelligent ones; their fear of death, their desperation. My mistress, however, does hate them, and that was all the reason I needed to destroy them." - from the memoirs of Artyov Vilitch, Inquisitor of Pharasma
--=--
30th Sarenith, 4721 AR
Kintargo, Ravounel
Lightning flashed over Kintargo, bringing an instant of illumination to the darkened skyline. Rain poured down in sheets, sluicing dust and filth from the cobbled avenues. Theoretically, it would all go into the sewers or the river. In practice, as much would end up pooling in the city's slums as would drain away to someplace less problematic.
It was through those slums that Hobbe Durn ran for all he was worth, for a demon was on his trail.
Hobbe's feet slapped through puddles. A dog barked at him from within someone's hovel as he hurried past. Hobbe's breath heaved. He was not a physically active man most days. Hobbe had others to do that for him. There was deep regret coursing through him at that moment as only pure terror kept him going. If not for that, Hobbe would have collapsed to the dirty street a long time ago.
The lanes Hobbe ran through were cramped, some might say claustrophobic. He knew them like the back of his hand, however, which was the only thing keeping the demon from gaining ground too quickly on him. Hobbe knew the blind corners, the unexpected gaps, the maze-like alleys. There was no small number of people slumped or lying down in the alleys in spite of the rain. Many mumbled to themselves, spoke to people who weren't there, or just sat and laughed happily. Hobbe knew precisely why. It was why he'd become a rich man, after all, yet all his wealth was doing nothing to save him now.
This wouldn't last. Eventually, Hobbe would not be able to go on any longer. Without knowing what abilities the demon had, without knowing if it could follow his scent or detect his presence, Hobbe had only one option, only one place to flee to that might offer some modicum of safety.
The entrance was an old guardhouse. Once, it had been surrounded by a stone wall, but that had been torn down when the post was abandoned by the departing Chelaxian garrison. Hobbe ran out of the rain, through cobweb draped rooms, to a set of stairs that led to a basement, then a sub-basement. The sub-basement had another, shorter stairwell that led to a door of warped wood and rusting iron. Hobbe stopped before the door for a few moments, catching what precious breaths he could. Sweat and rainwater had soaked through his striped trousers and fine leather jerkin.
"King of Thieves preserve me…", Hobbe wheezed a desperate prayer to Norgorber, the most common patron of criminals of all stripes. Norgorber was much more inclined to reward his successful worshippers than protect those who failed, unfortunately, but what did Hobbe have to lose?
For a moment, Hobbe thought he might be safe. Then he heard the distant sound of boots stomping echoing down the stairs.
"Run as far as you want, Hobbe, I will find you!" The demon's voice was rather quiet as it filtered down from above.
Hobbe was still chilled to the bone and decided he'd caught his breath enough. He threw open the door.
The smell of the sewers beyond no longer bothered him as it once had. Hobbe was so close. So close to safety now. He hurried down a walkway beside a channel currently bloated with rainwater and other, fetid materials. The air was warm and humid, the stone he tread upon slick.
And there it was. An iron door set into the wall of the sewer tunnel. Hobbe stopped before it, drawing a key from a pocket of his jerkin. He calmed himself as he inserted it into the lock. Turning the key in one direction, then another, it was more like Hobbe was opening a safe than a door. Hobbe finished, pulling the handle.
It didn't budge.
Uttering a quiet stream of curses that would make a daemon feel uncomfortable, Hobbe tried the combination again, forcing himself to steady. He couldn't hear the demon's footsteps. Perhaps he had lost the fiend in the sewers?
Clack
Both the physical lock opened and the locking enchantment holding the door closed was dispelled. Hobbe felt a surge of relief as he pulled the door open, the creak on its hinges sweet music to his ears. Now all he had to do was step inside and close the door to reset the defenses…
Something struck Hobbe in the head. He fell, tumbling off the walkway and into the fetid sewer water. It was, luckily, not deep enough to sweep him away. He gagged and vomited as he pushed himself up.
"Best for you to stay down there where you belong." A voice said.
Hobbe looked up, his beady-eyed, heavy jowled face twisting into confusion and displeasure. A bronze-skinned man with golden hair was standing over him, clad in studded leather armor, holding a truncheon of silvery wood that was dripping with Hobbe's blood. The rotund man felt the back of his head, feeling the knot growing there, and the pain really started throbbing through his head.
"Who…?" Hobbe started to ask. On his knees, he was up to his chest in muck. His hand darted under the surface to grab for his dagger when he saw the inert forms of the two clockwork guards that normally waited just inside the door, both of them charred and smoking.
"Hup-up", Gold Hair stopped him, wagging a finger. "Nothing out of you."
The demon arrived shortly thereafter. It turned out to be no demon, but a tiefling with a broken horn. What had been the source of the flames he had seen around the tiefling, then?
"He got the door?" The demon asked Gold Hair.
"Indeed he did. And thank Desna for it. I have the worst headache from hanging upside down in this wretched place. Certainly hope I won't need that spider climb scroll later." Gold Hair rattled on.
"For what? Climbing into a married woman's window?" The demon asked dryly.
"I resent that, you know! I enjoy intimate company but would never be accessory to adultery, I should thank you to remember." Gold Hair retorted. "...well, not intentionally, anyhow. But I assure you it wasn't my fault…"
"Who the fuck are you people?!" Hobbe finally asked in a hoarse voice.
The demon and Gold Hair looked down at him.
"Oh. Yes. Mister Hobbe. I had forgotten about you." Gold Hair said. His truncheon disappeared. A moment later, a silver spear formed in Gold Hair's hand. "Come on, then. Up and out. Drop that dagger at your hip, if you please."
Hobbe stood up from the sewage, discarding his short blade into the muck as commanded. Neither of his assailants helped him climb out.
"Look", Hobbe said as he laboriously levered himself up onto the walkway, "if you tell me who sent you, and how much they're paying, maybe we can work out a deal, yeah? May not look it right now but I've got coin. A lot of it."
The demon and Gold Hair looked at each other.
"What say you, Sir Temperance? Shall we take the man up on his offer?" Gold Hair asked.
"Dunno if he's got enough coin for your tastes, Halo." The demon replied. He turned his attention to Hobbe. "I've got a better idea", he drew a sword from his back and leveled it with Hobbe's generous belly.
"H-Hey, now!" Hobbe stammered, almost falling back into the sewage.
"Shut up." The demon, Temperance, snarled. "The stuff you're pushing out of this place is killing people."
"I don't know what you're…", Hobbe started to say by sheer force of habit.
The tiefling reversed his grip on the sword and slammed the pommel into Hobbe's breadbasket. The human man gasped and dropped to his knees as the air left his lungs.
"Call off your fucking dog…", Hobbe rasped.
"Sir Temperance is no dog of mine. He serves a god, but that doesn't mean he is under an obligation to be nice. Now how could you, who knows how to unlock the admittedly impressive enchanted door, have no idea about the illicit substance being produced beyond it? I find that rather hard to believe." Halo mused. "You could have at least come up with a more creative name. 'Euphor?' Really?"
Hobbe scowled, but remained silent.
"Do you have any idea how many people your Euphor has killed? How many lives its ruined?" Temperance demanded to know, holding his sword to Hobbe's throat.
"Look, buddy, I never made people buy it. I just make the stuff. If they want to gak themselves to the gills and die, that's their problem." Hobbe argued, fear tinging his voice as he looked at the razor sharp edge of the blade.
"I don't make people stab each other, I just sell them the daggers." Halo said with an unimpressed sigh. "Tell me, Mister Hobbe, who else knows the formula to Euphor?"
Hobbe managed an arrogant chortle. "You think I'd give up the monopoly? It's all up here", he tapped his temple. "If that's what you're after, I'll tell you. A monopoly isn't worth my fucking life."
Halo grinned, but it did not reach his eyes. "We have the only source of the Euphor's formula, and no doubt in possession of enough coin to pay off the guards to get him out of prison."
"Aye. Which makes this easy." Tem said, drawing back his sword. "May Ragathiel have mercy on you, Hobbe. You won't have any from me."
"W-Wait, wait! You serve a god! He called you 'Sir'! You're a paladin, right?! You can't kill me! You'll lose your powers! Your god will abandon you!" Hobbe cried, grasping at straws.
Temperance hesitated, his sword raised.
"You're right. I do serve a god." The tiefling said.
Hobbe sighed with relief.
"Unfortunately for you, I'm no paladin." Temperance concluded.
Hobbe's scream was cut short as the sword fell.
Temperance watched as Hobbe's head rolled into the sluggishly flowing sewer channel. He left the headless body to spurt blood onto the burned remains of one of the clockwork guards. Igniting Forbearance to burn the blood from it, Temperance stared down at Hobbe's corpse.
"I don't think he's going to be getting back up." Asaf said.
"Man had skill in alchemy. Enough skill to produce one of the most addictive things in Avistan." Tem muttered. "Just…imagine all the people he could have helped, if he'd had a mind to."
"I believe we have both seen enough examples of people needing very little motivation to choose the selfish option over the compassionate one, Sir Temperance." Asaf noted, his usual glibness gone for a moment. "Herein lies the curse of hoping for something different."
"Aye." Tem sighed, turning for the now open door. It had been a long week, first discovering the existence of Euphor in Kintargo. After seeing how badly it was affecting the people of the city, especially the lower classes, Tem had intended to go on a warpath to finding the source of the drug. Asaf had guided their efforts to a more subtle approach. With investigation, a few bribes, and a few knocked heads, they had traced Hobbe as the brains of the operation.
The two of them entered the open door. A pungent, cloying sweetness filled the air.
They didn't have to go very far in. Glass tubes and containers covered a large table in the center of the room. There were smaller desks and tables around the edges strewn with books, notes, and smaller phials. An inert, two-foot tall homunculus in the shape of a headless humanoid sat in the middle of the table. Above their heads, a white-green torch of ghostflame lit the room.
Temperance didn't have any idea what most of the stuff did. He didn't care. Asaf made a quiet "hm" before flicking a firebolt from his hand to strike the homunculus and burst it apart.
"I admit some curiosity as to how he was able to create this substance." Asaf said as he blew a curl of smoke away from his hand. "But not enough to actually look through these notes."
"Agreed." Tem said. There were two open chests against the far wall, beyond a fat-bellied cauldron. They were full of packets, sacks, and bags, all of them filled with marble-sized spheres wrapped in wax paper. The Euphor; no doubt the next batch meant to go out to Hobbe's many dealers.
Asaf approached a tall shelving unit full of jars and beakers. He picked up a clay bottle, pulled the cork from it, and sniffed. "Ah. Perfect. Turpentine." He hurled the bottle across the room, causing it to smash against the wall and splash across a desk. "Take a few bottles and spread it around. I'll toss some fire in here from the hallway and we'll call this done."
Tem did as Asaf suggested. They almost used up the drug lab's entire supply, soaking every surface in the clear, pungent distillation. When that was done, Asaf used the final bottle to pour a trail leading to the door. When the two adventurers went out into the sewer again, Asaf counted down, then sped forth a firebolt to ignite the trail of accelerant. Blue fire, becoming orange at the tips of the flames, rose up as the trail burned. The two Pathfinders covered on either side of the door.
There was a great whoosh, a rush of heat and light, as the Euphor lab was immolated in cleansing fire. Once the initial blast died away, the pair looked inside. The lab was utterly consumed. Glass was shattering as it was heated, secondary detonations of other flammable substances within cracking and popping.
"It's not going to help the ones that have died already." Asaf said, the fire flickering against his eyes. "But at least we've spared anyone in the future."
Tem didn't reply at first. He believed they had done the right thing. He could still feel Ragathiel's power, so clearly the General of Vengeance thought the same. Kintargo was the capital of a young nation still trying to cement its place in the world, in constant risk of falling apart or being subsumed by its old masters in Cheliax. It was tragic that the allures of Euphor had managed to claim several hundred victims, but Asaf was right. They had tracked this danger to Kintargo its source and cut it out at the root. The perpetrator had paid for the lives he'd taken with his own.
"I'll call it a victory." Tem said softly, turning away from the fire. Asaf followed after him.
They left the slums and were making their way through a commercial district, heading for the upper class inn Asaf had chosen for them, which was in the shadow of the Domina's Palace. The rain was still coming down, but Tem was glad for it. It was washing away the stink of the sewer. The only problem was that, even though he had a cloak on, his horns kept him from putting his hood up all the way.
"Gods, I need a bath. With all the scented soap in Ravounel, I should think. Then a brandy. I hope they still have that cask of Sullen Sweet from Andoran. Now that, by Cayden, is a fine spirit. You should try some." Asaf was saying.
"Brandy tastes like lamp oil smells." Tem replied.
"Sir Temperance, if we are going to be traveling together, you are really going to have to learn some culture. That does not include the fungus growing between your toes." The aasimar complained.
Tem frowned. "I don't have anything growing between my toes."
"It's a metaphor." Asaf said with a shrug.
As their feet splashed against the cobblestones, Tem became aware of another set of footsteps behind them. He felt his pointed ears twitch as they picked up the sound. He was about to warn Asaf when the one following them raised their voice.
"Didn't think I'd run into you again, Templar." A woman stated.
Tem stopped, as did Asaf. The aasimar turned around. Tem did not just yet.
"Wasn't on purpose." Temperance replied. Then he wheeled around to see a humanoid figure in a cloak and hood that encompassed most of her form. She was somewhat tall for a human woman. A rounded jawline, thin lips, and the bottom of a snowy white braid were all that showed from beneath her hood. "Tell me, then, why are you here?"
The two of them approached each other. Asaf appeared tense and unsure what to do.
"What brings me anywhere, Templar? Pharasma's work is never done." The woman said.
The two of them were within a swordstroke of each other by then. They stopped. Around them, the rush of rain falling on streets and rooftops filled the short silence. The few other pedestrians gave what appeared to be a brewing confrontation a wide berth
"Guess that leaves one question." Temperance said.
"Sir Temperance…?" Asaf prompted.
Tem ignored him, staring down at the cloaked figure.
He held out a hand, "which name did you go with?"
The woman in the cloak flashed a smile, showing canines that were undeniably pronounced.
"Violetta", she answered proudly, taking Tem's hand.
Tem closed her hand in both of his, giving it a firm squeeze. "Violetta. That was Dergir's suggestion, if I remember right."
"It was." Violetta confirmed. "Welcomer's smiles, it's good to see you." She looked past Tem. "Who's your friend?"
"Lord Asaf Yasin, Miss Violetta." The aasimar answered for himself, gliding up beside them.
"Lady Violetta Irinushka of Noviste." Violetta said as she looked between them. "Never expected Tem to be traveling with the Worldwalker."
Asaf's already bright eyes lit up. "Ah, finally, someone of culture…"
"My father wanted to knock you out when he read your chronicle about your time in Ustalav." Violetta cut him off.
Asaf went from beaming to a displeased harumph. "And I suppose he's an expert on the subject?"
"He's a count of Ustalav. So…", Violetta trailed off.
"Why don't we continue this out of the rain?" Tem suggested, gesturing down the street with his head.
Asaf nodded, as did Violetta a moment later. The latter said, "c'mon. There's a tavern nearby. We'll talk there."
The Fumbler's Tumbler, the sign over the tavern had said. It had elicited a snort from Tem and a sigh from Asaf.
The Tumbler was rather dim, but street-facing windows let cool air from the rain outside, giving the venue an overall soothing atmosphere. A bard was performing an instrumental number on an Ulfen tagelharpa, the low, droning notes adding to the overall feeling of slow, calm relaxation.
The trio made their way through the somewhat crowded tavern. Everyone removed their cloaks. Violetta had once had a slender build, back when Tem first met her. That was mostly still true, except her hips were a fair bit wider now. She wore a frilled shirt beneath a leather doublet over form-fitting breeches and tall boots. A dark, uneven birthmark spanned from under her right ear to somewhere beneath the collar of her shirt.
"Alseta's two faces, feels like it's never going to stop raining." Violetta complained as she sat. She looked up at Temperance with eyes that were a vivid amethyst.
"Nice change from the heat, at least." Tem mused. He, too, took a seat.
As Asaf planted himself down, he asked, "so, I am guessing you two are old friends from the Crusade?"
"Aye. Violetta, me, Dergir, and Arashi. Four of us met during the Battle of Kenabres and stuck together all the way through to Threshold." Tem said. "You heard from them?"
"Last I knew, Dergir was taking Arashi to meet his clan in Highhelm." Violetta answered with a smile.
Tem nodded. So, nothing new.
"I went to the Worldwound because, with any war, a lot of corpses get made, and not all of them get buried." Violetta explained to Asaf. "Necromancers love them. Little did I know that a full blown cult to Kabriri had established itself outside of Drezen. Tem, Gir, and Shi helped me purge it."
"A Cult to He Who Gnaws. Merciful Sarenrae, the more I hear about this Crusade, the worse it sounds." Asaf muttered.
"However bad you think it was, trust me…it was worse." Tem assured him.
Though Deskari and Baphomet were the primary demon lords active in the Worldwound, as well as the former demon lord Nocticula, to a lesser extent, others had made their own tentative pushes. Kabriri was the patron of cannibals, Father of Ghouls, said to himself be made from the spirit of the first humanoid to eat its own kind. No one really knew where ghouls came from originally, though a person could become one through cannibalism, even involuntarily.
Asaf saw the distant looks in the faces of Temperance and Violetta. He cleared his throat and said, "so. You're here doing Pharasma's work, you said?"
Violetta blinked, then nodded. "Yes. I am."
"Anything you need help with?" Tem asked.
"Probably not." Violetta said, waving it off. "Just minor rumors for now. I just happened to be in the area. That said, if you have the time, help never hurts."
"I'd be more than willing." Tem said, gauging Asaf for his reaction.
There was little need. "Indeed, after the past few days, following up on minor rumors sounds positively relaxing." The aasimar said. "What manner of rumors?"
Violetta shrugged. "Well, there is word on the street that there is a vampire active in the city. Probably just suspicious common folk already paranoid thanks to the Euphor epidemic in the poorer areas."
Tem and Asaf both grinned.
"What?" Violetta asked.
"Euphor shall not be troubling Kintargo much longer, once the supply that's out there is used up." Asaf said proudly.
"We just saw to that before we met you." Tem concurred.
"Truly? Well. That's good." Violetta said, surprised. "Though why it took a couple of Pathfinders instead of the city guards to get it done is anyone's guess."
"They're city guards. You answered your own question." Tem suggested.
"True enough. Anyway, the vampire. There's been a few deaths in the slums. Brutal ones. Some people think it's gang violence. I haven't gotten a chance to investigate any of the bodies but the common theme for all three of the most likely candidates was they lived alone and had few acquaintances." Violetta explained. She leaned on the table with her elbow, looking thoughtful.
"I'm guessing you have at least one witness?" Asaf asked, he glanced around the room, apparently looking for a server.
"Exactly one that actually has a credible claim at seeing the killer. His name is Huark, a half-orc working at the Glimmering Trestle, a brothel. Anyhow, Huark was coming home later than usual to the house he shares with a few others and swears he saw a figure emerge from the house of his neighbor, Casswaine Finch. Huark claims he saw the figure turn into a shadow or a cloud of mist and fly away. But, it was dark and Huark admitted he was tired and on edge. The figure could have just…slipped out of sight." Violetta gave a tired smile, putting her cheek on her fist. "Like I said. Rumors. You hear this sort of thing a lot in my line of work."
"Sounds like taking a look at the bodies is the next best move, then." Tem suggested.
A nod from Violetta. "Yes. I was going to do that tomorrow morning. I've told the Temple of Pharasma to hold the bodies under a gentle repose spell until then to keep them from decaying."
"We'll meet you there, then." Temperance put forth.
"You won't hear a complaint from me." Violetta said with a smile, once again showing her fanged canines. She was a dhampir; a so called "half-vampire", though the term wasn't entirely accurate. The methods of their creation were not uniform. Violetta's parents were both dhampirs. Violetta's mother, a devout worshipper of Sarenrae, gave birth to her daughter in a Temple to the Dawnflower amid a special ritual of sun-blessing. Violetta lacked many of the weaknesses of a dhampir, but so, too, had she been deprived of the special abilities most other half-vampires are born with.
"You will hear a complaint from me, but not about that." Asaf said, looking impatient. "We're being completely ignored over here."
It was rather odd no one had come for their drink orders. Tem looked over at the bar. The face of the balding, dumpy fellow manning it twisted with disgust and he looked away.
Temperance sighed. "It's because of me."
"Because of you? That's preposterous. What have you done to cause such discourtesy?" Asaf asked, looking incredulously at Tem.
Temperance looked back at Asaf with a stoic expression. "Take a look at me and ask that question again."
Asaf blinked a couple of times. "Unacceptable." The aasimar said, standing up with authority.
"Halo, wait…", Tem tried to say.
But Asaf was already marching towards the bar.
"What's he doing?" Violetta wondered aloud, watching him go.
"Something that's probably going to cause us trouble." Tem said quietly.
Asaf approached the bar, shouldering in between two patrons. He put on his best cordial smile.
"My friend. Excuse me. It appears we have been overlooked over there. At that table against the wall, you see. Such things happen, of course, no harm, no foul." The aasimar began. Courtesy to the people serving your food and drinks was always a wise idea on a normal day. In this case, Asaf was hoping a bit of charisma would smooth over any issues this barkeep might have.
"That table, eh?" The bartender grunted, looking over there. "Get the damn dealspawn outta my bar if you want a drink. I don't serve 'is kind and if you're with 'im, I don't serve you neither."
Dealspawn. That was a new one. Asaf twitched like someone had just flicked a pebble at his head.
"Sir. There is no need for such unworthy language." Asaf chided him. "Now, we are, all three of us, paying customers hoping to patronize your establishment. I do not see why you must create this issue."
The barkeep's brow furrowed. He leaned forward, his palms on the bar. Out of the corner of his eye, Asaf noticed a bouncer breaking away from a conversation with a serving girl. "Because I don't let no fucking hellhorns in here, Goldy. Spies for the Chellies and devil fuckers, the lot of 'em. And iffin' you don't like it, you can show yourself to the fucking door."
"You ungrateful lout!" Asaf decried, causing the Fumbler's Tumbler to go silent. "You would speak in such a vulgar way about a man who helped end Euphor's blight upon this city?! Who fought and bled in the Worldwound to safeguard your ungrateful hide from the demonic hordes of the Abyss?! For shame; shame, and no doubt about it!"
"Get the fuck out of my tavern before I call the guards." The barkeep growled at Asaf.
Asaf was about to continue browbeating this man when he felt a gauntleted hand on his shoulder. He looked to see Temperance standing there.
"Let's get out of here, Halo." Tem said. He looked desperate to do so. Violetta was right behind him, a hand resting on a long-bladed knife she was carrying.
"You can't just let this stand…", Asaf started to protest.
"Out. Let's go." Temperance commanded him.
Asaf was not used to being commanded, but as he looked around the room and felt everyone's gazes on him, he realized that perhaps he little tirade was not leading to a good place.
"More than happy not to give my coin to an odious stain of a man like you." Asaf quipped before heading to the door.
"Whatever, Goldy. And stay out." The barkeep drawled. "And you. Hellhorn. You can keep walking until you're over the border. I'm sure the Chellies holding your leash will be glad to see you."
Asaf was about to turn and retort, but Temperance actually grabbed him and hauled him back out into the rain, shoving Asaf's cloak into his hands. Violetta was focusing on the other people in the tavern, making sure no one tried to escalate things beyond words.
"What is wrong with you, Sir Temperance? Where is your honor? In the short time I've known you, you've clearly proven you're a man of courage…", Asaf was starting to say as he pulled on his cloak.
Temperance got into Asaf's face so quickly the aasimar actually involuntarily cursed.
"Never question my honor or my courage. Ever. You understand?!" Temperance snapped, uncaring of the rain matting his hair and beading down his face. His tail lashed behind him.
"I'm merely saying…", Asaf tried to go on.
"Where do you think I'd be if I acted like you just did every time someone called me a 'hellhorn' or some other wyvernshit? Or every time a tavern refused to serve me?" Tem rebuked him, leaning back. "I'll tell you; a shallow fucking grave. Or maybe lying in an alley with a knife in my back. Or mysteriously dead in a castle dungeon after getting arrested, if the guards didn't just kill me in the street right there."
Asaf opened his mouth, but words failed him for a moment. He had no idea what to even say to that.
"I can't do what you just did, Asaf. Not unless I'm willing to risk things getting violent, if not deadly." Temperance said. His shoulders slumped and the fire seemed to go out of him. "Tieflings don't get to do that."
"I was…just trying to help. You are my partner, after all. It's simply the right thing to do." Asaf defended himself quietly.
A breath huffed from Tem's nose. Rain pinged off his armor.
"I'm grateful that you were ready to stick up for me, Halo. I am. Thank you." Temperance said, sounding very tired. "I'm going back to the inn. Violetta, we'll meet you at the Temple tomorrow?"
The dhampir nodded. She looked both incredibly awkward and profoundly sad. "I'm sorry. I never would have brought you in there had I known…"
"But you didn't know. It's not your fault, Fangs." Tem said, mustering a smile as he started pulling his cloak on. "I'm glad I got to see you again. Hopefully we'll have a chance to catch up once we put this vampire thing to rest."
"Of course. I was hoping for that." Violetta said. "Alright. Temple of Pharasma, tomorrow morning. I'll see you both then. Until then, be well."
She pulled her hood up and left.
Temperance walked in the opposite direction.
Asaf was left standing in the street outside the Fumbler's Tumbler. An odd sensation had settled into his gut. He couldn't take his mind off of what Temperance had said and for some reason it was eating at him. Gods, he'd faced down wights, outwitted an ancient sphinx, and found the lost tomb of King Ptolucus. Why was one lowly bartender's hatred so…?
And there it was. Indeed, Asaf had defeated mighty creatures, accomplished great deeds, published chronicles of his exploits. He had fame, riches, skill in combat, and arcane power. Yet, when it came to the bigotry of a dumpy bartender in the city of Kintargo, Asaf was essentially powerless. It was not a feeling Asaf had very often, and he didn't like it very much at all.
And Sir Temperance has likely been living almost every single day with this feeling. Asaf thought. Being an aasimar, he had been born into expectations of greatness. His fathers were told that it heralded a great omen for the Yasin family. Being born into nobility sure hadn't hurt anything either. Suddenly, Asaf's meteoric rise to fame and riches didn't feel so meteoric.
Asaf wasn't sure how long he stood in the street, lost in his thoughts. Eventually, a shiver broke him from his stupor. The last thing he needed was to get himself sick standing out in the rain. Asaf hurried on his way.
1st Eras, 4721 AR
Kintargo, Ravounel
The Temple of Pharasma was a dour place. The Lady of Graves was not one for ostentation or fanciful displays. Her temple was constructed of dark granite, lacking windows. Four minarets were placed at each corner of the temple.
Tem and Asaf strode up the wide steps of the temple. Above them, sullen clouds threatened yet more rain. Neither tiefling nor aasimar was in a good mood. Neither had slept particularly well and the previous night's unfortunate conclusion had not faded yet. Personally, Tem was grateful for the task ahead, welcoming a distraction.
Violetta sat on a stone bench under the temple's high eaves. She sat beside one of two doors, above which was carved two symbols. One was the clouded spiral of Pharasma, large and prominent. Beneath the spiral, much smaller that Pharasma's symbol, were two gently smiling faces in profile, one facing left, the other looking right, encompassed by a circle.
The faces were the symbol of Alseta the Welcomer, a minor goddess of doorways, portals, and transitions of all kinds. Though no god would be foolish enough to dispute Phrasma's claim to the domain of death, many believed Alseta governed the transition from life to death, and thus was an ally of Pharasma. It was said that Pharasma's divine servants, the psychopomps, were signaled by Alstea's to come usher the recently deceased. As someone who served Pharasma and had transitioned both in sex and gender, it was not hard to see why Violetta held Alseta in high regard.
"Tem. Worldwalker. Good morning." Violetta said, standing from the bench.
"Morning, Fangs", Tem said, managing to upgrade his external attitude from "gloomy" to "neutral" for his old friend's benefit.
"Good morning, Lady Violetta." Asaf was much more gracious.
"They're waiting for us inside. Let's go." Violetta said, leading them through one of the temple doors.
Inside the temple was cool and would have been pitch black if not for Tem's darkvision. Immediately within was a sanctuary, painted black and draped with charcoal grey banners depicting the psychopomp Ushers. These particularly powerful servants of Pharasma had a measure of their own divine power, much like Ragathiel did as an Empyreal Lord. Among pews crafted from ebony wood, a few priests in dark, nondescript robes sat with lay people in mourning.
Violetta led her companions through the sanctuary, past the altar. Behind the altar, set against the wall, was a ten foot tall icon of Pharasma carved from dark basalt. The Lady of Graves sat upon her throne, stoic and unbiased, in judgement over the souls of all the dead that would pass before her.
Violetta was given the utmost respect from the priests as she passed them by, more than once being referred to as "Usher." When they were past the great icon, entering into a back chamber that led down below the temple, Tem spoke up.
"'Usher?' What's that about?" Tem asked her curiously.
Violetta glanced back, pride written in her features. "For my actions in the Worldwound, I was visited by one of My Lady's psychopomps and given the title, and power, of a Mortal Usher. It's not a common rank. But, what we did in the Wound weren't common deeds, were they?"
"No. They weren't." Temperance agreed. "I can't think of anyone who deserves the honor more." Service in the Crusade had brought a lot of people closer to their gods, made them stronger through sheer trial and error. Tem never would have earned a place among the Crimson Templars without that singular conflict.
"I'm not so sure about that." Violetta said modestly. "But, it gives me the ability to serve My Lady with even greater strength. That is all I can ask."
"Fascinating." Asaf enthused. "I've only ever heard of the Mortal Ushers. Would you be willing to answer some questions about them? It would make for a fascinating section in the next volume of my chronicle…"
"You'll have to forgive me for saying this, Lord Asaf, but after the treatment you gave to my homeland, I wouldn't dare help you speak of anything close to my faith." Violetta said with a token apologetic expression.
Asaf frowned, but did not press the issue.
Tem found himself increasingly curious as to what exactly Asaf had written about Ustalav, but before he could ask, they reached the bottom of the stairs. Flanking a heavy door were two figures clad in black brigandine armor, each carrying a large hammer.
"Good evening, brothers. These gentleman are in my charge. Is Father Oberius in?" Violetta addressed the guard.
The guard on the right nodded, saying, "indeed he is, Sister Usher. He awaits you inside."
"Thank you." Violetta said as the guard on the left used a key to unlock the door.
A harsh alchemical smell assaulted Tem's nose as the three of them entered the room beyond. It was one long room lit by silver ghostlight torches, lined on either side by stone slabs. More priests of Pharasma were tending to corpses; cleaning them, stitching wounds closed, or going about the embalming process. Tem had seen more corpses than he could hope to count, but it unnerved him to see the dead laid out like this. It was so…ordered, like coming into the temple to prepare cadavers was just a job like going to a daily shift at a bakery or flower shop. Which, Temperance supposed, it was. Someone had to do it, right?
Violetta led them past the carefully working Pharasmans about three-quarters of the way through the room. There another robed priest was standing in front of three slabs. Almost all the others were full There was a light haze over the three in question, like viewing them through extreme heat.
"Usher Violetta. You honor us with your presence." The priest said, bowing slightly. He had Chelish features; a patrician nose, large eyes, and high cheekbones. Though clearly getting on in his years, there was strength and vitality about the man, unexpected in this place dedicated to death.
"The honor goes to Pharasma, Father. I am just one of her many hands on Golarion." Violetta said, gesturing to her companions. "This is Sir Temperance and Lord Asaf of the Pathfinder Society. Tem, Lord Asaf, this is Father Oberius Hlaidd."
Tem and Asaf both greeted the Pharasman priest with due respect.
Oberius indicated the bodies. Two were human, a man and a woman, and the third was a male half-elf. The bodies were uncovered, still bloody and mauled from their deaths, in stark contrast to the others being tended to by the Pharasmans.
"Three murdered in less than a week, untouched to ensure no evidence is harmed." Oberius said. "We've been almost overflowing with Euphor overdoses, so it was rather surprising to find an obvious murder victim. It was him", he pointed to the human man, "one Calav Oorn, a fisherman by trade. The woman was found four days ago. Her name is Kiridia Lyrius, a lady of the night. Finally, the half-elf is…"
"Casswaine Finch." Violetta completed. "I spoke to his neighbor."
"Ah. Indeed." Oberius said. "All three lived alone, with no obvious kin in the city. Beyond this, we have not had a chance to investigate, and the guards have not exactly been helpful."
"Nothing new there." Tem mumbled.
"We'll get to the bottom of this, Father. Thank you." Violetta said.
Oberius excused himself and shuffled away.
Violetta approached the bodies and started looking them over. Asaf did the same. Temperance remained back a little ways. He wasn't sure what exactly they'd be able to figure out from these corpses beyond the fact that someone had slashed them up pretty badly, though the victims were still, for the most part, intact.
"Well. It had claws, whatever it was." Violetta said as she stood between the slabs holding Calav and Kiridia. "The organs are all in place. Hm…" She leaned over to check Calav's neck, then checked his limbs. Upon lifting Calav's left arm, she drew a dagger from her belt and inserted it into a wound there. "Here. There's two divots in the bone, close together. Perfect distance for vampire fangs. The thing drained him from here and tried to cover it up. Did a sloppy job. Very sloppy, in fact."
"That strange?" Tem asked.
"Depends on the vampire. Most of them who are smart enough to hunt in cities and not get caught know better than this. Bite somewhere that won't cause noticeable, unique damage. Most of these slashes? They were inflicted post-mortem. The vampire killed him with this blow to the head." Violetta pointed to a grisly spot on Calav's scalp. "Really is a vampire…Lady of Graves, Huark was right." She didn't sound afraid, merely surprised.
"And look here, on Kiridia. It is on her calf of all places." Asaf said, pointing to the woman's left leg. "No attempt to cover it up."
Violetta came over, looking at the vampiric bite wound. The two of them inspected Casswaine and found another bite on the wrist, even more poorly disguised than the first two.
"It doesn't make any sense." Violetta said, standing beside Tem to look at all the bodies at once. "It's almost as if this vampire wants to get caught."
"We must figure out where the monster will strike next." Asaf said. "I can't imagine there's much of a connection between the victims, but surely there must be something."
"All the names start with the same sound." Tem pointed out.
Asaf and Violetta blinked at him.
"N-Nevermind." Tem said with a cough.
The three of them stared at the bodies. Tem thought hard, wanting to contribute, but he had nothing. Asaf had done most of the work during the investigation into the Euphor. That had been a much larger threat to Kintargo, it felt like, especially considering how much civil unrest there was likely going to be within a few days once the supplies that were out there ran out.
…wait a second.
"Check their eyes." Tem said.
Violetta tilted her head. "Their eyes?"
Tem nodded, going to Calav's head and peeling open his left eye. The light brown iris of the glassy eye was jagged and uneven.
"By Desna's wings. He was a Euphor addict." Asaf said. He turned and inspected the other two bodies, yielding the same results. "Of course. It makes sense now. A once careful hunter gets dosed with Euphor through the blood of their victims, making them careless, making them seek out others who use the stuff."
"And in a few days, when the Euphor's all gone…", Tem started to say.
"We're going to have a bloodbath on our hands." Violetta finished. "An enraged vampire rampaging through Kintargo could kill dozens, if not more."
Tem sighed, shaking his head, wishing he could bring Hobbe back just so he could kill the man again. That's where his ire was focused. The tiefling understood how the crushing weight of life drove people to seek escapes; he'd seen more than one Crusader throw themselves to drink, to drugs, to the camp followers, just for a moment's distraction in a heartless world. Gods knew he'd felt the temptation himself, but his friends and his faith in Ragathiel had sustained him through the dark days. Tem was in no place to judge these victims, but it did make him sad to see it, all the same.
As all three of them pondered what to do next, another priest entered the undercroft. They hurried along and spoke to Father Oberius, who had been waiting a short distance away. That done, Oberius approached Violetta.
"Sister Usher. You are needed in the palace district." He said.
"What is it?" Violetta asked.
Oberius frowned. "There has been another murder."
The upper-middle class of Kintargo mostly dwelt in a series of townhouses in the outer reaches of the hill where the Domina's Palace stood tall. These dwellings stood in long rows, made of brick and mortar, shingled with wood, usually two stories in height.
Guards clad in Ravoun blue and white stood around the open front door of one townhouse in the middle of one such row. They wore kettle helms, carrying spears and shields or crossbows. A few neighbors were outside, their umbrellas up in a drizzle that had begun not long ago. A dwarven man in servant's clothes sat on the front steps of the house, his hands manacled, a sullen look on his face.
Violetta led the way through the street, Tem and Asaf close behind her. She walked as if she was going to go right past the guards, but one of them held out the butt end of his spear to bar her way.
"Crime scene, love. Best get going." The guard said, his smile disingenuous.
"I am an Usher of the Church of Pharasma. I suggest you let me and my companions through. Unless, of course, you want me to tell my psychopomp friends to ignore your soul as it passes through the River. I'm sure nothing bad will happen to it, of course…" Violetta said slowly.
The spear butt dropped.
"R-Right this way, Sister." The guard stammered, making a warding symbol across his chest as the trio went by him.
They approached the dwarven man, who was being watched by another guard. The dwarf looked defeated. He had a broad face, a bald head, and an impressive auburn beard.
"Lord Asaf, will you speak to him while Tem and I check inside?" Violetta asked.
"Naturally, Lady Violetta." Asaf said.
Dhampir and tiefling passed by the dwarf. Asaf crouched before him.
"You're innocent, I take it." Asaf asked plainly.
"Aye. Not that this lot cares." The dwarf grunted. He looked up. "Who're you?"
"Lord Asaf Yasin. A Pathfinder. My companions and I are looking into a series of murders and believe your employer is the most recent victim of the same killer. Could you tell me about yourself and about her? Your employer, I mean." Asaf said, producing a small notepad and an expensive looking pen from his bag.
The dwarf nodded. "Well, uh, my name's Haimar. Worked for Missus Cuesa for twenty years now. Cooking, cleaning, laundry, the like", he shrugged. "Found her…dead…when I came in to work this morning. Damned shame. Paid well, she did. Generous with holidays. Always remembered when my bairns' birthdays were and got them presents, my wife, too. Not too stuffy like a lot of the snooty sods 'round here thinking themselves nobles."
Asaf, not shocked this man found refinement to be "snooty", ignored that. "And had she been acting differently lately? Mood swings? Big differences in energy level? Hypersensitivity to sounds or smells?"
"I know what you're asking and I tell you sure as stone, Missus Cuesa weren't a damn Euphorhead." Haimar grumped. However, he was holding back. Not lying outright, but by omission.
Asaf smiled warmly. "Mister Haimar. What you say right now could be what keeps you out of prison. Those children of yours need their father. I know you want to protect the reputation of a woman you hold in high esteem, but she is gone. You are still here. Anything you tell me could help prevent another body from being found. And, more to the point." Asaf produced a platinum coin. "I assume you'll need a bit of help bridging the gap until you find new employment."
More flies with honey than vinegar. The guard standing over Haimar didn't seem to give a kobold's claw about the money as Asaf handed it over.
"Well…mean what I said, I do. Missus Cuesa weren't a Euphorhead herself." Haimar reiterated.
"Herself." Asaf repeated.
"Aye. She…", Haimar breathed in through his mouth, huffed out of his nose. "...were only four years past Ravounel broke from the Chellies. Missus Cuesa, she was all tied up in investments and such. Secession hurt her bad, it did. Tried to recover but it seemed Desna's luck were with someone else. So she got…desperate."
"And started selling Euphor. To friends and neighbors, I presume? That's the real reason so many of them are taking such a keen interest?" Asaf guessed. He noticed a few oddities in the onlookers. An odd twitch here, a brow furrowed as if with a headache there. Voices a little too loud or too quiet. The secession from Cheliax, the uncertain position of Ravounel in the world now, it was a great source of stress for the people of Kintargo. No wonder Euphor use had found such fertile ground to grow across socioeconomic class boundaries.
Haimar nodded, then said, "dunno who she were buying from or where. That's all I know. Never touched the garbage myself, sure as stone."
"I believe you, Mister Haimar." Asaf said, rising to his feet and looking to the guard. "You. This man is a witness, not a suspect. Unshackle him at once."
"Only lead we got right now." The guard said.
"Indeed, so you should treat him with some respect, shouldn't you? I shall be more than happy to report your misbehavior to your superiors. And before you say they will not care, you should know I carry documentation of my peerage within the Satrapy of Qadira at all times. How secure will your employment be when a noble decides you've done a poor job of it?" Asaf put on his most imperious and unyielding face.
Looking equal parts annoyed and afraid, the guard produced a set of keys and removed Haimar's shackles. The dwarf rubbed his wrists and tilted his head in gratitude to Asaf.
"Thank you, m'lord." Haimar said.
"Best of luck to you." The aasimar replied, going up the rest of the stairs and entering the townhouse.
After taking several minutes to make a cursory inspection of the ground floor, Temperance and Violetta went upstairs. It was there they found the victim.
Cuesa was a human woman, Chelish, as most humans in Ravounel were. She appeared to be in her fifties, with dark grey hair. Aside from the twin trails of crusted blood, the body lacked the savage treatment the other victims had been given.
Cuesa was laid out upon her four-poster bed in a second floor bedroom of her townhouse. Her bedsheets were thrown off of her, laying in a pile on the floor. There were clearly two marks in her neck, the telltale sign of a vampire's bite. Her white nightgown was untouched, and for some reason that was more stark and unnerving than if it had been savaged and bloodied. Around them, the bedroom had been torn apart. Shelves and dressers smashed, floorboards pried up, walls torn open.
The first thing Violetta did was check Cuesa's eyes. "Either she wasn't using Euphor or had just recently started. I'm banking on the former."
Tem nodded. "Then why would they kill her? The vamp's fed recently, and if Cuesa didn't use Euphor…?" The tiefling trailed off, his point made.
Violetta closed Cuesa's eyes, casting a spell of gentle repose over the woman with a few muttered words and a wave of her hand. She turned to look at Tem.
"The vampire was clearly looking for something. It simply needed Cuesa dead. Draining her may not have given a Euphor hit, but a Euphor addict with no Euphor still wants to eat." Violetta reasoned. "The question is, what were they looking for?"
"If I had to guess", Asaf said as he entered the room, "I would say a ledger of customers."
Both Tem and Violetta watched him enter and waited for Asaf to elaborate. The aasimar did, conveying all the information that Haimar had given him.
Once Asaf was done, Tem asked, "and you think she'd just have a list like that lying around?"
"She is a business woman, Sir Temperance." Asaf said with an upturned hand. "And, this may be hard to countenance, but she would be far from the first person conducting illicit activities to keep records. After all, even crime bosses need to keep track of who is paid up and who requires a, ah, 'kneecapping', as they say. The vampire likely got Cuesa's name from one of the previous victims. This theory does require some deductive reasoning without hard evidence, I admit, but it would also be further reasoning behind the attention of Cuesa's neighbors. Many are likely waiting for a chance to come in and find Cuesa's stash, as well as anything that might incriminate them as users of the drug."
Temperance and Violetta listened to Asaf's explanation. The tiefling had no idea if any of that made any sense. This was Violetta's investigation, anyway. It was up to her.
"There's a lot of sense in what you're saying." Violetta decided, holding her chin in her hand. "And we can be fairly certain the vampire didn't get any Euphor last night. Which means they will likely emerge again tonight. If most of Cuesa's customers are in this area, then we can prepare for the vampire's return. It's a good of a plan as we can hope to have."
"Then we can destroy this monster before it can kill again." Asaf said, smacking a fist into his other palm.
"That is the hope, Lord Asaf. That is the hope." Violetta agreed. "I must go collect some things from the temple. Don't tell the guards. They'll merely be blundering about the neighborhood and scare off our target."
"Halo and I will search the house again." Tem said. "If Cuesa did leave a stash behind we need to make sure it's destroyed."
"Alright. I'll see you, then." Violetta said as she left.
Temperance and Asaf got to searching the bedroom, which wasn't terribly difficult, given all the hiding places had been exposed by the vampire already. They found plenty of nooks and crannies where a ledger and a stash of Euphor could be stored, but the search ended with a large wooden chest. It had been emptied of business ledgers and account books to reveal a false bottom. The false bottom had also been removed. Most of the secret compartment was taken up by a burlap sack, with a rectangle of space open on one side.
Tem lifted the sack, peering inside. There were small wraps of wax paper, like one might find around a piece of saltwater taffy or some other sweet. A pungently sweet, oddly alchemical stench wafted up from them. The bag was about the size of Tem's head, each piece barely bigger than his thumbnail.
"Ragathiel's missing wing, how the Hell did one man make all this?" Temperance wondered.
"I assume he brewed it in large batches in a cauldron and had that homunculus of his do all the rolling and wrapping." Asaf said, peering into the sack. "Hobbe certainly had the equipment for it in that fetid little laboratory of his."
"Not the smartest place to keep it." Tem said, looking back down into the chest. The space beside the sack was likely where the ledger was kept.
"The lifelong businesswoman turns to crime for the first time and keeps her illegal business ledgers with her legal ones? Smart or not, I follow the logic of it." Asaf said with a shrug. "Come. We should dispose of this poison." As he started to make for the door, he paused, looking at Cuesa's body again. "I admit, though, one thing still perplexes me."
"What?" Tem asked.
"Missus Cuesa. The vampire didn't touch her like they did the other victims. Not a stray mark or even a defensive wound. Likely just used charm magic and bit, as is standard for such creatures." Asaf mused.
"Not following." Temperance said.
"Why would the victims that gave the vampire a dose of the drug be savaged, but one that yielded nothing that would soothe the additional craving be spared the mutilation?"
"Dunno. Didn't want to cause a fuss?" Tem suggested.
"Then they would not have torn the house up in this fashion." Asaf countered. The aasimar shrugged. "Well, no matter. We shall keep this in mind moving forward. Come. We've a battle to prepare for and I shall not be found wanting."
The two Pathfinders left the house. With little ceremony, Temperance dropped the sack of Euphor doses in the middle of the street and ignited it with Forbearance. He heard a few gasps from the gawking neighbors, a muttered curse or two. So, it was confirmed. It brought Tem no joy, but the sooner they were all through withdrawal from the stuff, the sooner they'd be able to hopefully recover and get on with their lives. It was far from perfect, but what was?
The plan was fairly simple. Asaf was stationed in a more or less central location in the are where the vampire was expected to strike. Meanwhile, Temperance and Violetta would patrol the area, the Usher herself equipped with several scrolls of detect undead that she had obtained from the Temple of Pharasma. It certainly wasn't foolproof, but without more specific information, it was the best they could hope for.
The sun had been down for about half an hour. Tem and Violetta were walking along a row of townhouses much like the one they had found Cuesa in. Violetta, ominously, was using a scythe as a walking stick. The scythe actually had two blades mounted side by side with about six inches between them. The haft of the weapon was clearly bone of some kind, inscribed with characters Tem didn't recognize. The Usher herself had traded her somewhat aristocratic garb from earlier for a suit of dark brigandine armor and a black half-cape with Pharasma's symbol upon it.
Even though they were walking into danger, it felt good to be patrolling beside Violetta again.
"So." Tem said as they walked. "The scythe."
"'Requiem?' What about it?" Violetta asked, sounding mildly surprised, like her mind had been elsewhere.
"Not to put too fine a point on it, but isn't the scythe the weapon of Urgathoa?" Temperance asked.
Rather than look offended as Tem had feared, Violetta smiled. "Yes. It is. You know, in all the time we spent in the Worldwound, I'd never actually faced anyone serving My Lady's greatest foe. This scythe belonged to the first cleric of Urgathoa I ever encountered. I killed her and took it, mostly as proof of the deed, to the Grand Temple of Pharasma in Caliphas, Ustalav's capital. The high priest sanctified it, removed Urgathoa's power from it, and had it blessed in a Pharasman ritual to cause great harm to the undead. It was a gift for my ascension to the rank of Mortal Usher."
Temperance smiled with vicarious pride. Urgathoa, the Pallid Princess, was the goddess of undeath and physical excess. Pharasma, who despised the undead in all their forms for their violation of the natural cycle, had ever been a bitter enemy of Urgathoa's.
"I'm sure she never stood a chance." Tem said certainly.
Violetta's pale cheeks gained a bit of color. "It was hard fought. Felt like it went on for hours, but it was just a couple minutes. It's…gods, no one else knows this, but this cleric, she had a few zombies with her. Well, I had slashed the belly of one, its guts came out, and this Urgathoan, she actually tripped over them. That let me land the killing blow." Violetta giggled at what must have been a grotesque sight when it happened.
"That's battle. You know it as well as I do. Silly or not, little things like that make all the difference." Temperance said.
The two of them reached a crossroad and turned left. Some shops were closing up for the night here, a tavern filling up with the very people closing them down. Tem and Violetta were given a wide berth. Violetta didn't react. Their quarry wasn't among the crowd.
"You know, Tem. That circlet. The electrum one set with the emeralds? You found it in that chest in Iz." Violetta said out of the blue.
Tem kept a straight face. "Aye. I remember it."
"I never put it with my things. Yet, it ended up in my bag." Violetta said, not needing to clarify what she was getting at.
"Oh, you know. Figured it would go well with your eyes, you know, purple and green." The tiefling said, a poor deflection.
"Don't give me that, Tem." Violetta chastised him, though with little heat to her words. "I told you I could afford the potion just fine. I wasn't lying. Did you not believe me?"
"I believed you. I'll always believe you, Fangs." Tem assured her without hesitation. He scratched the back of his head. "I dunno, I just…wanted to help. Wanted to make sure, you know? I didn't need the damn circlet. After sitting with you at camp every night, throwing names around with Der and Shi, hearing you get so excited and plan how exactly you'd change your body around after you drank it…", he trailed off, offered a helpless shrug, and said again, "just wanted to help."
Violetta stopped in the street, turning to face Temperance. There were no stars in the sky, but the streetlamps were more than enough to cause light to twinkle in the tears forming in the corners of the dhampir's eyes.
"Tem, that's…", her voice caught in her throat.
The tiefling smiled, putting a hand on her shoulder. "You're my friend, Violetta. One of the few I have left. I'd do anything for my friends. Now. I'm sorry to cut this short, but we've got a job to do tonight."
Sniffing and wiping her eyes on her cape, Violetta breathed, "you're right, you're right. We need to foc-..."
The Usher's head snapped up. She looked away from the tavern, at the wall of a cobbler's shop directly across from it. Her eyes weren't focused there, though. She was sensing something else.
"They're here." Violetta hissed.
"Alright. I'll signal Asaf." Tem said, reaching for a scroll case on his belt given to him by Violetta. It contained a scroll of sending, useful for contact over long distances. "No vampire's going to be able to stand up to all three of us."
"No, Tem. They are here." Violetta said, her eyes going wide with grim realization even as she spoke the words. "There's two of them."
(To Be Continued in "Love Dagger, pt.2"…)
Dramatis Personae
Name: Violetta Irinushka
Race: Dhampir
Class: Ranger (Corpse Hunter)
Prestige Class: Mortal Usher