Chapter V: The Youth Cometh
It was a cold, mid-winter's night, and all the torches in Demongate had been extinguished. The snow fell heavily upon the surface stained with the blood of dwarf, goblin, and animal alike; buildings -- finished or otherwise -- were cloaked in a white expanse. All who had property huddled into their beds, whilst those who did not slept in the dormitory. Only a select few were still awake, some working quietly in their candle-lighted offices, others training alone in the barracks. In this quiet time, the intruder managed to slip inside the fortress with ease.
Cloaked in black spider-silk, the dwarf moved stealthily through the halls. He passed the farms, the forges, and the workshops. He passed the offices, the dormitory, and the hospital. He passed the bedrooms, the graves, and the mines, until he finally came to his destination. It was a small chamber, sealed only with a silver door. His prize lay on a suspended platform over a small pit; the sterling silver sarcophagus was as good-looking as when he had sold it almost two months heretofore.
Blackmore removed his hood; he was sure that no one had followed him here. The callow peasant-girl was so easily convinced, and now he was about to have his prized possession back, plus the sum of silver he obtained for it. He took the object in his arms and began to carry it slowly out of the chamber. It was incredibly heavy, and he did not have his cart with him. The first few steps went smoothly, but with five more his legs began to quiver intensely. After fifteen steps total he could no longer hold onto it and the sarcophagus went plummeting into the pit with a loud crash. Blackmore knew that
someone must have heard such a crash, so he ran quickly into the pit and -- with the strength granted by fear and adrenaline -- carried the object back to its original position.
Blackmore began to leave, but stopped when he noticed that the lock -- to which he had never truly paid any mind -- had broken. He knew, by basic logic, that little more than a corpse could be inside, however curiosity got the better of the conman and he opened the lid. Inside was a small dwarf's corpse, looking to be about two hundred years dead. It was shriveled, gray, and the skin had begun to rot and peel in certain area. Blackmore was slightly disgusted by the sight, but he was nearly given a heart-attack when the corpse suddenly began to move.
The corpse gripped Blackmore's shoulders with its weak grasp and began to bite at his neck. Blackmore could feel that it was drinking his blood, and just barely managed to break himself out of shock for long enough to force the creature off of him. To his horror, the vampire appeared to be growing younger, for now it appeared to be an incredibly aged dwarf; it was now incredibly wrinkled and feeble, though it was no longer in a state of rot. Blackmore was determined to fight this creature off, and drew his sword from his belt. He lunged at the monster, though the blood loss made it much heavier in his hand and the vampire pushed it aside with ease. The vampire then took its chance to lunge
itself at Blackmore, and began to feed with a voracious appetite.
After almost all the blood in his system was gone and Blackmore was almost dead, the vampire assumed a new appearance. He was now a young, strong dwarf with incredible carriage. His red beard was well-groomed; his eyes looked at his meal with prideful amusement. Corley reached down and tore the cloak and sword from the decrepit dwarf's weak body. He no longer held any desire to feed off of this particular dwarf, so he decided to dispose of him in a manner deemed amusing by him. Taking Blackmore in his grasp, Corley deposited him in the very sarcophagus in which he himself was sealed and placed the lid atop it. Any dwarf could lift it, though the lack of blood -- combined with the lack of oxygen inside -- made it impossible for Blackmore.
Corley glanced down at himself; he was nearly naked, and had only an iron sword with him. He began to wonder where exactly he was when he heard the sound of stirring and footsteps coming from the levels above.
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Topic: Demongate: Wrapping up the Loose Ends. (Read 697990 times)