Crypt Envy


(The following is the role-played adventure of my character as played on Whispering Pines UO. Though there is no scripted vampire race, it is my fancy to role-play one.)

“You will never remove me from Blood Dungeon,” the balron chuckled, opening his leathery wings.

“I will at least kill you if I cannot have this crypt as my own,” Ilyana swore, swinging her two-hander up and down in front of her, sending out a fell swoosh-swoosh to unnerve her foe.

“No more talk then, blood-drinker. I hope your study of necromancy was as adept as your study of the samurai arts.” And with a bellow, the balron crashed his wings together, shielding his head from the arc of enchanted iron raining in upon him.

Ilyana had chosen to specialize in the White Crane sword art from a master in Tokuno. The art taught her to use the entire area of any fight, not just the narrow lane into the foe’s head, throat, stomach. Instead, she side-stepped now to the balron’s left, brought in her inertia, and send it into a death whirl from above even as she spun toward the foe to let loose the attack.

She heard the bastard grunt. It sounded like shock, af if the demon at not expected the strength of the sword, nor the strength of the vampire who wielded it.

“Izobel curse you,” Ilyana shouted, extending her right hand, imagining an invisible hand gripping her demon foe. Squeezing her hand, she forced the invisible hand to strangle the demon… necromantic curse style.

“Not so fast, bitch,” the demon chuckled, shaking his head, regaining his focus. Forcing his feet together, he too created inertia, sending it out by stepping into his target with his right foot, following through with a double-fisted mallet-style pounding. It was unarmed combat straight from the demon-shadows.

Ilyana countered with her sword, but the wave of bone and muscle that rained in was far too powerful for her to parry. To her horror, she was pounded to her knees, her vision blurred by stars.

“Come, you dumb child,” Izobel appread from the shadows of the dungeon, taking Ilyana’s hand. Looking back at the demon, she pointed at him, sending out a cloud of necromantic poison, which poofed into a noxious cloud upon impact. The demon would have something to do now, giving the pair time to flee Blood Dungeon.

“I didn’t need your help,” Ilyana fumed, her feet not yet steady.

“That’s why you were kneeling, I suppose? Giving the demon a fair chance?”

“This fight isn’t over,” Ilyana cursed.

“It’s over with for today at least,” Izobel said, helping her fledgling upon her horse.

“I will only come back.”

“I know you will. You are my childe. My daughter of Night. But you aren’t ready yet.”

They rode into the shadows of the evening, finding a fair road, a road that wound back toward the dimensional gate to Malas. It would be a quiet ride, a ride that would allow Ilyana to put together why she failed, and how she really did require help from Izobel, her vampire mistress.



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