#130 - The Fate of One Vampire

The Journal of Wynn Dennavar 

Zarantyr 25th, 999 YK

The frightening thing about being charmed wasn’t the unnatural loyalty I held toward Trazzen, it was how inexplicably suicidal my behavior became. Convinced that none of my allies would strike me—though they fought each other with deadly ferocity—I waded in and out of flying weapons and spells without concern for my well being. After Trazzen struck Irakas down, I crouched beside her in the midst of the melee and patched up her wounds.

My clumsy attempt at battlefield medicine completed, I wrested the Scepter of Glyphstone from the hobgoblin's grip. For safekeeping, my addled mind reasoned. If someone healed Irakas into consciousness, she would immediately reactivate the golem and turn the battle back in our favor, and therefore out of Trazzen’s.

The vampire’s new orders for me were to stop “the warforged,” clearly meaning Clarion, who stood before him blazing with radiance. He swung again at Irakas’s still-prone form with his byeshk scimitar, impossible to miss. I flinched as her blood sprayed across me at point-blank range. I couldn’t muster so much as annoyance at Trazzen, only general frustration and confusion at the whole situation.

For the second time Bale appeared out of seeming nowhere and stabilized her with a spell, drawing Trazzen’s ire. As I dragged Irakas back, Trazzen rounded on his former ally.

I was obligated to prevent Clarion from continuing his assault on Trazzen and his allies. Rather than try to convince the paladin that the vampire was an ally—even charmed I knew that was ridiculous—I asked him to aid me in securing Irakas’s safety instead of fighting.

Before Clarion could respond, the frenzied vrock he battled spewed toxic spores and lunged at me with its beak. The jolt of pain, combined with Clarion’s rallying divine aura, broke through the charm.

On the far side the Cauldron, Trazzen snarled something in Goblin at Bale that was incomprehensible to me, though it carried an unnatural force of will. I hoped the drow hadn’t been turned in my place; he was threat enough when he wasn’t enthusiastic about the vampire’s cause.

Farther off lightning crackled as Aleae engaged with something unknown, dangerous enough to frighten her into using the single spell scroll the Cyran wizard had given her.

While I reoriented my thoughts to the correct side of this conflict, Clarion healed Irakas just enough for her to awake. She scrambled upright and snatched the scepter out of my hands. At a Goblin command, the golem resumed striking the Cauldron. I warned the grievously injured hobgoblin to stay close to me. After Trazzen’s repeated insistence that I deal with her and remove the golem, I was now determined to keep her alive and the golem fighting.

I moved to stand beside Magnus and batter down the last pair of ghouls. In the corner where Clarion fought, a hollow sound preceded a final spray of brains and gore from the vulture-headed demon. On the edge of the dais, the golem topped the cauldron onto its side, spilling dark red smoke.

Trazzen skirted the fallen Cauldron but couldn’t clear the dais, blocked by me and Magnus. More fresh blood coated his mouth. He kept glancing at Irakas between sizing us up, deciding who looked weaker. I thought it would be me, and mustered whatever mental defense I could against more magic, but he lunged for Magnus and attempted to add more holes to his already ruined throat. It actually looked personal—these two combatants have some history.

A massive stone arm reached from behind and above us—Izzeth still occupying an earth elemental form—and grabbed Trazzen. Magnus pulled free of his grip and the vampire turned his attacks against Izzeth directly, attempting to cut him free of his elemental form.

My counterattack was interrupted when we were plunged into darkness that seemed to make the rhythmic clanging of the golem striking the Cauldron even louder. Steps away from a dangling, enraged vampire and a wildly swinging barbarian, if I struck blindly I could easily hit Magnus or Izzeth. Instead it was the perfect opportunity to remove Irakas from the fray and let those who could navigate the darkness handle the undead.

When we reached light I told Irakas to order the golem off the Cauldron and focus on our active opposition. She was obviously angered at having her decisions questioned—and I had been less than tactful—but didn’t argue or hesitate, and spoke more commands in the Goblin tongue.

We were pressed into the far corner of the room and the sounds emerging from the darkness were horrific. Irakas led the way down from the knot of fighting on the dais and we finally sighted Aleae’s opposition. An oni, near twin to the one we had met on the lower stairwell, who had warned us that the next time we saw “him” it would be his evil brother. We had been warned to not kill this one and it seemed that wasn’t likely at the moment, as he wielded an impressive glaive nearly as tall as the golem and simultaneously hounded Aleae with a glowing, grasping spectral hand. He repeatedly she return to him his "jug"—so this was another bit of history as well.

I asked Irakas if she knew anything about him, and was told that for all intents and purposes it was an enemy. She ran at him, cast a spell, and got cut down for the third time that minute. I decided that I might have set myself an impossible task by trying to keep her alive.

Perhaps it was lingering confusion from the charm, or that I had spent the better part of this conflict avoiding hostilities, but I couldn’t muster Irakas’s quick aggression against the oni. It wasn’t an ally of Trazzen’s, and his brother had assisted us earlier. I decided to press my luck.

Approaching slowly, I told him that I wouldn’t attack if he didn’t kill Irakas. I didn’t receive a reply, but was able to set aside my weapon to patch her up once more. The oni remained intent on Aleae, at least.

Along the opposite wall a cloud of mist fled out of the darkness, pursued and surrounded by Magnus, Izzeth, and Bale. Trazzen couldn’t outrun them as mist, yet abandoning the chamber would concede our victory over the Cauldron. He had no allies remaining.

With Irakas revived once more by the healing power of Bale—or was it someone else?—Irakas ordered the golem to attack Trazzan directly. When it did, the bronze statue's own massive glaive sheared through the vampire's armor and into his body. Blood—much of it very likely Magnus's—showered the floor, and my allies continued to harrass him with their weapons.

Someone struck a blow, and at first it seemed that Trazzen dissolved into his retreating mist once again. But instead of remaining vapor, a small horde of rats boiled out of his transformation. They weren't healthy rats, either—they were withered, mangy, skeletal, perhaps even undead. Was this Trazzen's end or a new manifestation?