Interview With A Vampire
"Drinks sound good," Aleina said in answer to the invitation of the mysterious dark skinned, silk clad man who had approached them.
Jhelnae gave her a sidelong glance. Why had she so readily agreed to that? And why confirm they reported to the Open Lord?
Her friend no longer wore the illusion of the seeming spell, so appeared as herself, pale hair and skin gathering any and all scraps of moonlight to suffuse her features with a soft luminescence. The aasimar started towards the man, but the half-drow caught her arm and held her back.
"Hold on a moment," she said, narrowing her eyes at the stranger. "You haven't said where you'd like to get these drinks or given a hint at the information you have to share."
"Also didn't catch your name," Kuhl prompted.
"I didn't give it," the man said with a slight shrug. "Very rude of me. Delinth Oberlin."
He gave a bow of introduction. Oberlin was handsome, especially in his garb of bright yellow and green silk, which contrasted well with his brown skin and long plaited black hair. But something was off about his complexion. A slightly sallow pallor to his otherwise rich skin tone, as if he didn't get enough sunlight. Jhelnae couldn't shake the feeling his pallor hinted at something important. Something she'd seen before. Like he'd come from the Underdark? Or Skullport? She couldn't remember where and when she'd seen skin like that before, which bothered her.
"As for where to get the drinks," the man said. "How about the Singing Sword just up Bazaar Street?"
"The one with a sword that sings?" Sky asked, giving a sharp toothed smile when the man nodded. "Volo told us about it! I've been wanting to go there!"
Volo had told them about the Singing Sword. He used it as an example of why they should follow his advice and mount Dawnbringer in the middle of a crystalline chandelier in the Trollskull taproom and change the name of the place to the Bright Blade. Kuhl's magic sword, naturally, had not been too keen on the idea. Jhelnae glanced at Aleina, anticipating a shared eyeroll, but her friend stared at Oberlin with rapt attention.
"I'm Aleina," she said. "These are my companions Jhelnae, Kuhl, and Sky. I've also always wanted to see the Singing Sword."
She'd always wanted to see the Singing Sword? The aasimar had never said that until now. Not once. Even times the two of them walked right by the tavern.
She was acting very strangely tonight. First with her bizarre story about turning the black robed wizard into a melting pile of snow with a kick and next by being so agreeable to every suggestion made by a stranger they knew nothing about.
Had she been hit in the head during the rooftop fight? Concerned, Jhelnae searched for a telltale bruise or abrasion, but saw nothing obvious.
"And the information you have to share?" Kuhl asked the man.
"I can tell you more about that thing," Oberlin said, with a nod in the direction of the melting pile of snow. "Or rather more about the wizard who created it."
"What is it?" Jhelnae asked.
"That," the silk clad man intoned. "Is the remains of a simulacrum - a conjured duplicate made of ice and snow. When your friend lured it to the dead magic zone of the Cynosure, she broke the enchantment holding it together, returning it to its original components."
"I also kicked it off the roof," Aleina said with a shrug.
"Which probably hastened its demise as well," Oberlin said with a smile of bemusement.
Well, that explained how a kick could turn someone into a pile of snow, but there was still something off about the way Aleina acted.
"He seems fairly knowledgeable about our attackers," Kuhl said, a question in his tone.
"Which is suspicious in itself," Jhelnae said.
"Elves," the man said with a chuckling sigh. "Always difficult to gain their trust."
What did he mean by that?
"Cat Lord's grace," Sky said, tail lashing in irritation. "If Jhelnae and Kuhl want to be a couple of scaredy kittens and not learn what he has to tell us and not see a magic singing sword, we can go without them, right Aleina?"
"We should probably all stay together," Aleina said reluctantly. "But I'll go with Sky if you two don't want to and we can report back."
By all that dances! Control of this situation rapidly slipped away from them due to one typically impulsive tabaxi and a very untypically compliant aasimar. The half-drow and half-elf shared a concerned look.
"We're all staying together," Kuhl said.
Jhelnae supported his statement with a firm nod.
"And so you should," Oberlin said, voice agreeable. "If you'd like, we can talk right here. There is no need to go to the Singing Sword. But the information I will give will take time to convey and the chairs there are more comfortable than standing or squatting on the cobbles here."
"I'd rather sit in chairs," Aleina said.
"I'd rather see a singing sword," Sky said.
"What is a lone unarmed man," the silk-clad stranger continued. "Going to do against the four of you? Especially with the weapons and powers I saw you bring to bear in the market square?"
He gave what he probably thought of as a disarming smile, but it felt menacing and mocking to the half-drow. For one thing he was not unarmed, possessing an ornate curved dagger thrust through the wide sash around at his waist, and his size itself was threatening. He might even have an inch on Kuhl. And Oberlin's loose silk clothes didn't hide the corded muscles of his neck and wrists. Also, he'd obviously seen what they could do, having watched them fight in the market square, whereas his abilities remained a potentially dangerous mystery.
"We accept your invitation," the half-elf said, gesturing for the man to lead them toward the tavern.
But he also moved his other hand to rest casually on Dawnbringer's hilt.
"Excellent," Oberlin said, not seeming bothered in the least by the implied threat. "The Singing Sword will not disappoint."
Jhelnae gave Kuhl a questioning look of surprise as they fell into step behind the others to head towards the tavern.
"We're more exposed out here than a place like the Sword," Kuhl whispered in explanation.
"I hope you're right, Kuhl" the half-drow said in a hushed reply.
"Me too," he sighed.
The Singing Sword was not far. They left the pile of snow to melt in the warm, spring night air and skirted the southern end of the Market along Bazaar Street, following the clattering progress of a mostly empty, two-story dray carriage. Passing the Street of Silver, Warrior's Way, where they'd entered the Market just a short time ago, and the Street of the Sword, they came to the Street of Bells. There, across from a public plaza of a city well pump, stood the three-story Singing Sword.
The smell of cooking, baked goods, mulled wine and even the sourness of ale made Jhelnae's stomach clench in hunger. Her day had started with meeting a nimblewright in the House of Inspired Hands followed by griffon riding, then stopping a massacre at a noble's house. After that came hoofing it through the city in widening concentric circles to end up at a theater where she'd watched part of a play, only to be then chased out of the theater so that she could get into a fight at the Market.
In short, it had been a day.
A day where she'd had little to eat, and now that she smelled food, she realized she was famished! A thin black chain hung in front of the spiraling, open well stairway in the middle of the taproom, closing off the upper floors to patron seating, but at this late hour, well after the dinner time for most Waterdhavians, plenty of empty tables on the ground floor remained. Oberlin chose one in a quiet corner where none of the other tables around were occupied. It appeared he really wanted to just sit and chat, but the half-drow still didn't trust him.
As they made their way to their seats, she saw the namesake sword of the tavern. The black-bladed longsword stood on a platform at the center of the spiraling stairs, partially sheathed in a stone block. The thin wrought iron of the stair railing made it visible from all parts of the ground floor. Mounted oil lamps lit the room, but a brighter light source illuminated the sword from above, calling attention to it, and the arrangement of the tables of chairs made it the focal point of the common room, as if its small platform were the center stage.
A young barmaid with curly brown hair approached after they took their seats.
"Almost ten bells," she said. "Last performance of the Singing Sword, which is also last call."
Despite her tired smile, or maybe because of it, her tone conveyed the immovable finality of both. It was clear her workday was about to end and she wanted it known no amount of begging for later service would stop it. Given her own day, Jhelnae didn't blame her.
"Can we still get food?" Aleina asked, apparently also hungry given the desperation in her voice.
"Cooks have gone home for the night," the barmaid said. "The kitchen is closed."
Shoulders slumped in disappointment all around the table.
"But we still have stew," the brown-haired girl announced.
"Thank the gods," the aasimar sighed. "Five bowls of that."
"Nothing for me, thank you," Oberlin said. "I was in the company of others when we saw the events at the Market. I plan on rejoining them and they'll be upset if I've had a bite without them."
"You are very late diners," the barmaid observed with a raised eyebrow.
"Very late," the silk-clad man said with the sniff of a laugh.
"Tankards of our house beer with those?" the brown-haired girl asked.
She was obviously rushing them along, nearly making the decisions for them. Kuhl glanced around the table for input before answering.
"That would be fine," he said.
"Again," Oberlin said. "None for me. But I'm buying."
He held out five of the distinctly shaped Waterdhavian gold dragon coins and these were taken after he answered the barmaid's wide-eyed unspoken question with a nod. She bustled off to get their drinks and food.
"Expensive place," Aleina said. "Or are you just generous?"
"A little of both," Oberlin said. "But hearing the Sword sing is worth the price alone and the food and drink are good, or so I've been told. Not much of a connoisseur in those myself."
Whether it was the extra coin or the desire for the staff to turn and empty the remaining tables quickly before closing time, the service was fast. With the help of another barmaid to their original server, four bowls of stew soon arrived at their table as well as tankards. It might have been hunger, but Jhelnae thought the savory stew delicious, and the beer was cool and welcome to her throat. She even started feeling less suspicious of Oberlin, but only slightly.
"So, what did you want to tell us," Sky asked, bright eyes inquisitive as she set down her tankard.
"Not to you, specifically," the silk-clad man said, reclining in his chair as he watched them eat and drink. "It's information I want relayed to the Open Lord. But I think that will have to wait a bit longer. The Sword's performance is about to start."
A hush fell over the taproom, the clink of utensils ceasing and the murmur of conversations dying, as another barmaid dressed in lacquered gold and black costume armor unhooked the chain blocking the stairs and climbed to the platform holding the sword. She freed the black blade with a two-handed tug and held it aloft. Moments passed with nothing happening before the sword started to speak.
It was called the Singing Sword and perhaps at other times it did sing, but at the moment it recited a mournful lament in a high, ethereal, masculine voice that carried to the entire taproom.
Tears of radiant sorrow my half mother weeps.
Did she divine the fate of her rainbow haired daughter?
I, the betrayed goddess, the dead power, also weep.
For the bygone days of old.
Before my blent power of mothers darkness and light was stolen.
In that time before, I watched.
I watched the learning from the Golden Skin of the World Serpent.
I watched the crafting of the mythallars.
I watched the rising of the earth-mote enclaves.
Those bastions of enlightenment and arcane ingenuity.
And I rejoiced.
But all things pass.
You see heaps of earth.
You see slab stone shattered to sand.
You see crumbling ruins.
I see mountains which soared.
Clouds as companions.
Now become death-stone mausoleums.
From Beyond, I languish, missing that time before.
From Beyond, I mourn, the hubris of my gifted.
All things pass.
Even mighty mountains are worn to grist by the eons.
Grain by grain, the winds of fate take them.
Till they are gone.
But fate took me suddenly and my passing came swiftly.
Lonely, I float the Astral Sea.
My rainbow tresses have gone gray.
My blent body of night and day no longer dances.
I rent myself asunder to threads.
To weave anew the unraveling tapestry.
And restore its ever-changing wholeness.
To make wild magic once more malleable.
And make the feats of that age before possible.
My gift.
To you.
And my born again self-daughter.
The sword went silent, a silence which continued to infect the taproom while the costumed barmaid held it aloft. Then she sheathed the ebony blade in its slab of stone once more and the clink of utensils and murmur of conversation again resumed. The staff scurried about, preparing for their coming closing.
"That was sad," Aleina said. "Yet also somehow hopeful."
"It's an ancient lament to the fall of Netheril," Sky said. "Written from the perspective of the goddess Mystryl by an unknown poet."
"You know your history, cat girl," Oberlin said with a nod of acknowledgement.
"Tabaxi," the tabaxi said. "And a little rock told me."
Obscure knowledge followed by a random, strange statement was just too Sky for Jhelnae to be surprised, and she let it pass with a huff and a shake of the head.
"Was that sword forged in the age of Netheril?" Kuhl asked.
He himself possessed a sword forged in ancient Netheril and the half-drow suspected the question came from his sentient weapon.
"It might be," Oberlin said. "But it knows other songs and poetry, from love laments to bawdy ballads that are not about Netheril and learns new ones. From my understanding, it sings or recites as the mood strikes it."
"Seems like a valuable thing to have just standing in the middle of a tavern" Aleina said. "Where anyone just using the stairs can get at it."
"Rumor has it," the silk-clad man said. "It only permits the owners of the tavern or the barmaids to touch it. Since it's been here for over a hundred years, I'd guess that rumor is true."
"We came here for a reason," Jhelnae prompted. "We'd better get at it before the place closes."
She took a spoonful of stew, which had cooled a bit during the sword's performance, but was still delicious and filling.
"Very well," Oberlin said. "The wizard who created the simulacrum you fought, who used himself as a template for it, is a clone of Manshoon."
He cocked his head in confusion as his red-hazel eyed gaze traveled the table, clearly not getting the reaction he expected.
"Well," the half-drow said with a sigh. "This has been a waste of time."
"You knew this already?" the silk-clad man asked.
Some part of Jhelnae, perhaps the part related to the succubus inheritance passed down by her grandmother, reveled in the disappointment that replaced his normal self-satisfied demeanor. Then, of course, Aleina had to ruin it.
"The Open Lord suspected," the aasimar said. "But she'd welcome confirmation."
"I can do better than confirm," Oberlin said, the hint of arrogance returning to his bearing. "I can tell her where to find him. Kolat Towers."
Kolat Towers? It sounded familiar, but the half-drow couldn't remember where she'd heard the name before.
"The towers of the missing wizard brothers?" Kuhl asked, unknowingly answering her question. "The ones surrounded by a wall of force?"
Now Jhelnae remembered. Kolat Towers were the supposedly haunted towers and abandoned towers they'd seen near Phaukonmere on the way to their first meeting with Lady Jeryth Phaulkon. Not so abandoned it seemed.
"The very ones," the silk-clad man said. "It's actually quite a clever place for a wizard to hide. So obvious that one just doesn't think about it."
"And how did you learn this?" Jhelnae asked, suspicion rising. "And why not just go directly to the Open Lord and tell her yourself?"
"Believe it or not," the man laughed. "It is not so easy to get a private audience with the Open Lord. Also, for reasons of my own, I'd rather someone else tell her. As to how I learned this…"
He drummed his fingers in thought on the table with a clicking of manicured nails, seemingly deciding how much to tell them.
"You know of the Manshoon Wars?" he finally asked.
"I only know what I learned from chapbooks," Aleina said, with a cringe of apology. "Where he was the villain of choice. He had created a bunch of clones, back up bodies for his spirit to go in case of his death, but somehow, they all woke up at once, all thinking they were the original and the others needed to be destroyed."
"Essentially correct," Oberlin said. "The one hiding in Kolat Towers decided taking refuge in Undermountain represented the best chance for survival. Perhaps he was right, because he is still alive where the other clones are not. But while down there, predictably, he ran into the Mad Mage, Halaster Blackcloak. The Manshoon clone was defeated in a spell battle that cost him his left hand, captured, and put into stasis. There he remained, a feature of the vast dungeon, until adventurers stumbled across him and freed him, not knowing who he was. He joined them in their dungeon delve and, not surprisingly, they continued to have success by having another powerful spellcaster to the mercenary Red Wizard of Thay in their group."
"The woman with the simulacrum in the market square," the half-drow said, thinking of the wizard with the indigo tattoos at her hairline with the rest of the arcane markings presumably hidden by her raven dark hair.
"I see why the Open Lord has you in her employ," the silk-clad man said with a nod. "You pick up on clues quickly. And so they descended, deeper and deeper, until they had made it all the way to level eighteen and the former abode of Lord Vanrak Moonstar. You are familiar with his story, I am sure."
One of his eyebrows rose in surprise with the collective shake of their heads.
"Not native to Waterdeep any of you then?" he questioned. "There is no way you could be and not know the story of the Moonstars."
He pursed his lips and gave a small sigh when they indicated none of them were from Waterdeep.
"How to be brief," he said. "Since the founding of the Moonstar line, they were ardent adherents to Selune, the Moonmaiden, until Vanrak, who secretly then publicly embraced Selune's sister - Shar, the Lady of Loss."
Aleina sat a little straighter and her attention became even more intent as the name of her patron goddess was mentioned.
"Actually, the Singing Sword's performance relates to this," Oberlin said. "As the goddess Mystryl is a product of the eternal struggle of the sisters, her mothers 'darkness and light'. What is important to our tale, however, is that Lord Vanrak was driven into hiding in Undermountain, where he became a death knight, conquering a level of the dungeon where he then organized strikes against the city above. At one point he destroyed Selune's temple of the High House of Stars. But eventually he repented and destroyed himself in atonement. One of his lieutenants, a powerful vampire cleric of the Lady of Loss named Keresta Delvingstone has ruled his level ever since."
The presence of a powerful Thayan spellcaster in this tale was enough to dredge up Jhelnae's memories as a battle-captive of the Red Wizards, but the mention of a vampire brought phantom pain from long healed puncture points at her neck from where her captor had fed on her as if she were livestock. She'd always promised herself she'd go back and destroy him for that, but the secret truth she didn't want to admit to herself was that she still feared him. And feared the part of her that used to crave those feedings, even take pleasure in them, more.
"This part is supposition," the silk-clad man continued, unaware of the half-drow's private musings. "But I believe fear grew in Manshoon the deeper they went in the dungeon. He'd already fought the Mad Mage once and was a hand and the loss of more than a century in captivity poorer for it. He knew he wasn't yet ready to spell duel Halaster again, and when his group faced Keresta he saw his chance. They formed an alliance. She promised to help rid Undermountain of the Mad Mage when the time was right and he would give her a foothold in Waterdeep. They would divide the secrets and treasures of Undermountain between them, and he would help her wage a secret war against the temples and followers of Selune in Waterdeep in the name of her goddess. The Red Wizard joined the alliance, and the rest of their adventuring group became vampire spawn."
He paused and his hazel-red eyes hardened.
"You want to know how I came by this information?" he asked, an edge to his voice to accompany the steel in his gaze. "I extracted it from one of those spawn before I destroyed it."
"You're a vampire hunter?" Sky asked, with a curious cock of her head. "That's really interesting!"
"Something like that," he said with a wolfish smile.
"If this Keresta gets a foothold in Waterdeep she might destroy the Temple of the Moon," Aleina said, thumping a fist on the table. "We can get you an audience with the Open Lord. You can tell her what you know."
"No," Oberlin said, shaking his head. "I conveyed it to you for you to convey it to her."
"You don't want to tell her yourself?" Kuhl asked, voice confused.
"No, the silk-clad man repeated.
"Why not?" the half-elf asked, eyes narrowing.
"As I said before," Oberlin said. "For reasons of my own."
Jhelnae stiffened and her blood seemed to both chill in her veins and pulse harder in her heart. The pieces of the puzzle snapped into place, and she knew the reason. All the signs were there but she had been too slow to understand them - the sallow skin, the aasimar's strange behavior, and the refusal to meet the Open Lord directly. Who would want to keep a vampire from rising out of Undermountain with her brood as much as potential victims, maybe even more?
Another vampire.
One who already staked his claim and viewed the city as his territory.
"Deliver my message," the silk-clad man said, pushing his chair back to leave.
"Hold one moment," the half-drow said.
She snaked reaching fingers across Kuhl's lap until she found what she sought. He gave her a surprised glance, then clamped a strong grip around her wrist, preventing her from taking Dawnbringer from the sheath at his belt. Jhelnae gave him a pleading look and he released her with a nod.
"We didn't introduce one member of our group," the half-drow said, holding up the hilt of the dormant radiant blade. "This is Dawnbringer."
Oberlin's chair slid back further and Jhelnae didn't miss the fear in his eyes.
"The sun sword," he said. "Yes, I saw it in the market square."
"Most people find her very beautiful," the half-drow said. "Would you like a closer look?"
"That won't be necessary," the silk-clad man said, shaking his head enough to stir his plaited locks.
Jhelnae was sure now and saw no reason not to ignite the radiant blade, but she held off.
"I know what you are," she said. "Give me a reason why I shouldn't light her up and run you through with her."
"Jhelnae," Aleina said. "What are you saying? What are you doing? He gave us helpful information."
The half-drow waved her off with her free hand knowing the aasimar could not be blamed for what she said, or what she perceived, charmed as she was. Sky was probably charmed as well, though it had been less noticeable in her. A calculating expression entered Oberlin's features, then the wolfish smile returned.
"You see," he said. "I was right. You pick up on clues quickly. You want a reason? It's the same reason Ahghairon instinctively knew over four hundred years ago when I chose to reside in this city. I'm the lesser evil. The one you tolerate. Who do you think has been keeping ones like Keresta out or destroying them when they enter over the centuries?"
"You've lived here over four hundred years?" Aleina asked. "I don't understand."
Beside the half-drow, Kuhl moved his hand to the holy symbol of Sehanine Moonbow, maybe not understanding fully, but trusting her and preparing to aid her.
"I'm a follower of Eilistraee," Jhelnae said. "We don't believe in lesser evils."
The long-healed bite points in her neck burned and she lifted Dawnbringer higher in preparation to ask her to ignite. She didn't have the mental connection the half-elf possessed but knew the sword would listen to her verbal command. Perhaps she would be able to destroy the vampire before it got some distance, went gaseous, and escaped, perhaps not. But she was more than willing to try.
"I have another reason," Oberlin said. "Several reasons in fact."
The calmness in his voice made Jhelnae hesitate.
"I have my own spawn," he continued. "A trio of wives who delighted in watching the children enjoy the dragon and knight puppet show in the market square. Young innocence fascinates them, and I let it be known that if I did not return by deepnight, they should indulge themselves and take in their fill of said innocence."
He let his words sink in, smile growing as he noticed Dawnbringer falter in the half-drow's hand.
"Otherwise, we partake as we always have," he said. "Preying on the predators. Cleaning out the filth of the city. Your choice."
"Did you just threaten children?" Aleina growled, her pale aasimar eyes blazing with fury.
Potential harm to the youthful innocent apparently was enough for her to throw off the vampire's charm.
"I did," Oberlin said with a shrug of broad shoulders. "But their fate is yours to decide."
Their original barmaid chose this tense moment to return to their table.
"I hate to rush you," she said. "But we'll be closing soon."
She gave Jhelnae an odd look before departing, probably wondering why she held a sword hilt partway aloft. Dawnbringer thunked against the tabletop as the half-drow lowered her.
"I thought as much," the silk-clad vampire said, fully sliding back his chair and standing. "Deliver my message."
"We will," Kuhl said. "And after that, know we'll be finding you. We'll meet again."
"Do that," Oberlin said with a sniff of a laugh, and this time his fangs were revealed in his smile. "But if you truly have the interests of Waterdeep at heart, non-natives as you are, take care of the threat posed by this Manshoon clone and Keresta before you deal with lesser evils."
With that, he strode to the tavern's door, exiting in a swirl of yellow and green silk.
"Bastard," Aleina hissed through clenched teeth.
Jhelnae glared at the now closed tavern door for a moment, then lowered her gaze to the table. She angrily pushed her half-full bowl away, finding herself no longer hungry.
Okay, I don't have time to really give this a once over. Have to head out. I just wanted it out of my head.
1) Yes, I know I am not a poet. The Singing Sword is canon and Ed Greenwood gave it a song in Volo's Guide to Waterdeep. The issue was it is a bawdy, light-hearted thing, which didn't fit the mood I wanted so I tried my hand at writing something different. I used an old Akaadian poem about a goddess mourning the ruin of her city and another written by a pre-islamic poet about ruins as a template and tried to write a lament to the fall of Netheril from the perspective of Mystryl who died due to Karsus's Folly.
2) This chapter is not even needed. They have the stone. But the writers of the module actually created a cool back story for Manshoon, but how would the players ever know it? So I put in the link to the vampire in Undermountain and how the vampire of Waterdeep (Artor Morlin when not using his alias name) would oppose them. Yes, its an info dump, but I hope it is somewhat engaging.
Thanks for reading!