[WHFRP 2nd Ed] Reign in Blood (IC I)

[BananaPhone]

Regine von Carstein

Spoiler: With Wulf

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Swords clattered and rang in the courtyard of the restored castle, the inner stone walls absorbing the sounds of metal-against-metal and bearing witness to the teacher and student. In one corner, Wulf, towering and imposing, his size belied the speed and skill with which he moved, like some dark serpent that coiled its body out of harms way with graceful ease before striking with his sword-carrying hand.

In the other, was Regine. Though a thief by trade, she knew the rudiments of swordplay, as evidence by her parries and footwork. Though clearly the inferior combatant, the breadth between them was not so great that she were a helpless child.

“Your style is eclectic,” Wulf commented, circling slowly to the side, eyes on his opponent, sword at his side and pointing to the ground as if daring Regine to try her luck.

“Who taught you?”

“Lots of different people…” Regine replied, stepping forward and making her first thrust at his shoulder – sidestepped. Having predicted that, her dagger-wielding hand was waiting with a stab, but this too was evaded with comical ease by the towering vampiric fighter before her.

“I can tell…” he smiled, moving backwards, his sword still pointing down.

“This makes you unpredictable and dangerous to most. But to one trained and schooled for years? A proper knight? Or veteran footman?” that smile again, “there are reasons, my niece, why none of the greatest fighters known have mastered the way of the random!”

Regine stalked forward again, her blade coming out in a swipe towards Wulf’s legs. Since her transformation, the vampires felt lighter on her feet, the world seemed to carry less weight as she could move with a quickness not even she could have matched in her best living days. But again, she was frustrated, her swipe and feint was seen through by her vampiric ‘uncle’, whose centuries of experience had honed him into something she never wanted to face for real. He simply stepped backwards, turned himself half about and grabbed Regine by the arm. Using her momentum against her before she could react, he had spun around and brought his blade about in an arc and the vampiress suddenly stumbled forward with the cold kiss of steel in her.

Drawing in breath out of reflex, Regine looked down at her chest to see a foot of bladed steel protruding through her stomach, its sheen only marginally polished red from her own humours.

Stunned, staring, eyes open, the vampires felt a slight panic gnawing at her nerves, and were she still alive she would have screamed out and collapsed. But instead…she stood there, astonished, her mouth in a rictus of horror and gaze locked on the weapon.

Wulf approached from behind, hand around the hilt and unceremoniously yanked it free. The pain was hot and harsh, but Regine kept it in as she merely gasped and staggered forward another step. Once more, still-present muscle memory made her breathe and inhale, swallowing and gulping nearly useless air as she watched that red slit across her flat belly begin to stich itself back together and close over in only a matter of seconds.

“Ah, wunderbar…” Wulf’s words drifted to her as he circled around to her front, using the tip of his sword to hold aside her clothing and witness the rapid rehabilitation of her wound.

“We are not all the same in our…capabilities. We can all heal almost any injury, but you are far more expedient in doing so. Do you know what that means?”

Her ‘breathing’ under control, her panic subsiding, Regine felt her animal panic rescinding and returning back into the seat of her soul where it belonged.

“I’m lucky?”

Wulf snickered, “Very, meine nichte…it means I don’t have to go easy on you!”

His dark laughter filled Regine’s ears, the morose humor pulling at her own mirth until she smirked in bashful acceptance and laughed along.

Retaining that amused smirk as he strode over to the weapons rack in the courtyard, the vampire knight ran his gloved hand along a variety of shelved weapons.

“You are tall for a girl, meine nichte. Well, you’re tall in general. What are you? One eighty?”

“One seventy eight centimeters, last I checked.”

“You’re taller than most men, this gives you reach. Camile informed me of her observations: you are quite the gymnast, ja? Jumping and tumbling about. Your physique too, quick, strong, lower centre of gravity from a womans hips. I can educate you on a variety of weapons, meine nichte,” he continued, walking along the rack of available implements, “but I fear the man who has practiced a sword stab ten thousand times more than I do the man who practices a stab once with ten thousand different weapons; practice and perfection. Know your weapon, make it an extension of yourself. You could be an excellent swordswoman, mein nichte, but I think this would suit you well under optimal circumstances…” he stopped at a long, oaken-looking pole, approximately a foot of sharp, bladed steel affixed to the stop. Wrapping his hand around it, he turned and tossed it to the vampires, who caught it with ease.

“A spear?”

“Ja, meine nichte, a spear!”

“Aren’t these used in formation? I’m not an infantryman.”

“Pay attention, young one; optimal circumstances. When you were plying your trade through thievery, would you use a sword when a dagger would do?”

Regine pursed her lips as she felt the weight of the weapon in her hands, spinning it around a few times, watching the dark circle created by its beam and the silvery outlier of its steel. Conceding the point, the vampires shrugged.

“Of course not. There are times when the sword will be better. Other times, the dagger. Other times…” he gestured to the weapon in her hand, before drawing himself back up into the beginning of another spar.

Gripping the spear with both hands, Regine pointed the bladed end towards her uncle, and immediately noticed why he was smiling – the reach.

“Hullo over there!” Wulf snickered, the distance between them now almost nine or so feet apart.

Then he moved forward, sword coming up to strike – but Regine moved back, steel-tip still pointing at her uncle. The extra distance bought her the precious milliseconds to recognize and react. Had she been armed wither sword, he would have had her.

Wulf smiled.

He did it again, the opposite side this time, but once more, Regine was able to dart backwards, the steel-blade of her spear menacing Wulf’s neck and face region.

“See the options now available to you, meine nichte, by simply holding a pointy stick?”

High above, peering through one of the windows of the castle, Camile watched, smirking.

Spoiler: With Camile

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“How does it taste, my little rabbit?” Camile asked, watching Regine with a keen interest.

The former thief drank deep and low, the warm, sweet, red nectar of blood running down her throat from the wine glass she held to her lips. Gasping gently as she lowered the goblet, Regine breathed deeply, her mouth stained with the crimson of her new food, her reddened eyes open and dilating from the sensation, as all she could do to answer was moan softly as if touched by a lover.

“Hehehe, magnifique, isn’t it, mon lapin? This vintage is derived from particularly good cattle. He was a minor noble, exiled or some such, taken to banditry in our mountains…”

Camile’s smile took on a more sinister arc, as she clucked her lips in a soft tsk, tsk tsk!

“His gaggle of followers got away, but Wulf brought him back last night to help replenish our herd in the jail. We will be ensuring to feed him well; we simply must retain the flavour! Luck has smiled on us twice in a week – once to deliver you, and again to deliver this delicious supply!”

“Do we…I mean, they,” Regine asked, quickly correcting her mistake, “all taste like this...nice?”

Her dark mother shook her head, “Non, childe. What they themselves consume, their environment, their stress, their health. These and more all contribute to the flavour. For our cuisine we can add spices or gelatin; but when taken straight from the source? Mmmm, my childe, you will learn in time,” before she leaned forward to whisper, “few things are as satisfying.”

Mother and daughter were in Regine’s room, the rich reds, crimson silks, the dark mahogany and gold ornaments still present. She had not awoken in some holding house – no, quite the opposite. She was a Van Carstein; her name demanded suitable accommodations, as Camile had informed her. Sleeping on hay and rough linen? For peasants! This beautiful room and all its black and red splendor was hers, and it was where they sat: Camile on the bed, and Regine by her small bed-side desk.

Suddenly, Camile clapped once, twice. On command, the door to Regine’s room opened and in entered one of the servant girls; likely around Regine’s age, though lacking the former thief’s athleticism and height. Instead, her pleasing features were more traditionally feminine, with her soft and gentle curves and attractive face garbed in fine clothing befitting a supplicant for such a family. They couldn’t have their representatives looking plebian, after all.

However, Regine’s attention snapped towards the serving girl almost immediately for a different reason: she could feel her mortal warmth, she could smell the enticement of her humours. A force like nothing Regine had ever known compelled her, urged her almost, to launch across the room and sink her fangs into the beautiful neck of the pretty girl and drink deep the warm contents within. But the vampiress resisted, barely, she held herself at bay, but she could not stop herself from staring at the girl with hungry, red eyes. Camile had predicted such a response from her childe, knowing that bringing the human girl in so soon after Regine had awakened was like dangling raw meat before a starving dog. But, this all had a purpose.

“This is Claire,” Camile introduced with her chipper attitude, standing up and moving over to the serving girl, the bell of her court dress marked with black and beautiful golden yellow silk.

“And Claire, is one of our servants; aren’t you Claire?”

Camile had drawn herself close to the mortal girl, putting both of her gloved hands upon her shoulders and looking sideways at her face with a reassuring smile; the pale vampire next to the warm pallor of her employee.

Claire nodded, “Yes. I am honored to be of service to Count Heinrich Von Carstein and his family. One day, I hope to have children to carry on my duties – just as my father did with me, and his mother before him, and her mother before her.”

This pleased Camile, who smiled as if she had just heard something funny.

“Yes; and we do not hesitate to reward such loyal devotion. Soon, we will find you a very handsome husband. Just the way we found your mother for your father - and from that happy union, you arrived!”

The girl was terrified. Regine could smell it. She could hear it, her heartbeat accelerating to a rapid impact against her ribcage. But it wasn’t Camile the girl was frightened of – it was her. Once more, Camile sensed this, her eyes moving from Claire to Regine.

“Claire, this is Regine von Carstein; my daughter.”

“It’s a p-pleasure to meet and serve, my Lady…” the girl curtsied.

“Oh don’t be humble, you have met her before!” Camile grinned, and now Regine understood the girls terror: she had seen her during her transformation, when she had been let loose in the jail cells to feed. It is likely Claire had to clean up the mess.

“But I understand your trepidation, my sweet Claire…” Camile’s sweet smile lingered as she stepped to the other side of the serving girl, her eyes on her neck as if even she was tempted to take just a little sample.

“You have not witnessed an expansion of our family. I imagine it was quite a new spectacle for you, my dear, sweet Claire. Do not worry, Regine is learning. Isn’t that right, my childe?”

Regine had to snap herself back to reality, as she realized she had been staring at the girl; her blood-red eyes almost boring holes into her as her senses drunk in every hint of the sweet, red nectar encased within that pretty bag of flesh.

Camile came around to stand a bit ahead of Claire, her body angled to take both her and Regine into her sight.

“Ahem, yes, sorry; yes, I am learning, still. You have nothing to fear from me…” Regine answered, less-than-convincingly.

Camile glared, her voice becoming firm and stern as she brought her hand up to almost stab the words at her childe, “these are our servants. They are not. For. Eating. Say it.”

Regine swallowed, eyes still locked on Claire. She went to speak, but her mouth was dry, and licking her lips…

“They are…our…”

Delicious pets, she thought.

“Say it!” Camile barked.

“T-t-they are our servants. They are not for eating.”

“Again.”

“Th…they are our servants. They are not for eating.”

“Once more, mon lapin.”

“They are our servants. We value their service and reward it dutifully. They are not for eating.”

Camile smiled, “There, you see Claire? Nothing to worry about!” she reassured her as best she could, while reaching for her purse upon her hip and withdrawing a single, golden ecu.

“Thank you for your time, my dear, sweet Claire. Go to the kitchen and have a sweet of your choice,” Camile said, while placing the ecu in the serving girls hand and closing her fingers over it.

“Oh – t-t-thank, you, mi’lady, I graciously thank you for your kindess!” Claire curtsied as best she could, backing up towards the door, before, once out of sight, audibly dashing off down the hall.

“Reginald!” Camile barked out the door, the sudden shuffling sound of feed on stone flooring coming closer.

“Really, my childe, control is of the utmost importance. You will be expected to be among the cattle in their cities for years at a time; you cannot afford to lose control. And please, no dining on the servants, my child, I will be very cross if you do so, mon lapin – ah!”

Camile’s attention was drawn to two figures entering Regine’s room: one was a man in mail armor that hung neatly from his tall and broad form, upon which was a black and red tabard displaying a grey wolfs head. Before him he held one of the prisoners from the jail, a young looking man of only mid twenty or so, his arms behind his back, his image cleaned up and bathed, fear in his eyes turning into terror when he spotted Regine.

“N – no no, not her! Please! I saw what she did! I-I-I won’t make any more ruckus, I accept my role, please I beg you not h – “

“Ssssh ssh sh sh…” Camile quietened the man, a finger over his lips, that smile still on hers.

“You are not going to die, my handsome young man. Probably. Regine?”

Camile didn’t have to ask twice – the new vampiress was on her feet and shadowing her mother in an instant, staring at the held and struggling man in Reginalds clinching grasp.

“Now, my childe, remember what we discussed: take only what you need. Self-control. Do not over-indulge. Do not attract attention by leaving a trail of corpses. Here, drink, from the source, and count down from five, then release. Ready?”

“Yes!” Regine stepped forward, her eyes alive and happy, her hands before her and clawed fingers splayed as if to grip her prey.

What she had not been expecting, was the heavy, decorated rod that Camile swiftly produced from the bulb of her court dress. The implement came down sharply with a loud Whack! across the vampiress’s knuckles, as Regine hissed and stepped back, mewling as if she were a cat that had just been whacked on the nose.

“I said: self, con-trol! Mon lapin. My beautiful little rabbit, I know you’re hungry and it’s hard, but you must learn this. Now, are you ready?”

Regine swallowed, inhaled, exhaled, her hands lowering, her blood-red eyes moving between her mother and her discipline, and to that delicious, warm mortal; no, the man, the human, the self-aware, young fellow in a spot of bother, who was going to go back to the jail cells after this, because she was going to control herself.

Regine nodded, “yes mother.”

Camile smiled.

“Good! Let’s begin…”

Spoiler: With Heinrich

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The hefty, iron-lock bouned leather tome was deposited heavily before the young vampiress, the man who had delivered it looming over her with his aged eyes peering down with expectation.

"The Vampire Wars..." Regine read the title, drawing her pale finger across its scripture, "Three Centuries of Humanity's War against the Vampirus nocturii of Sylvannia...by Theogonist Karl Hubreck."

"Three centuries," Heinrichs commanding voice repeated, the tall, well-dressed vampire drawing himself away from his seated grand-daughter and crossing towards the hearth of the war-room and its crackling flame within painting his tall, broad-shouldered figure in a dark silhouette.

"Three centuries our family utilised the resources of our homeland, Sylvannia, and almost conquered the entirety of the Empire. Vlad. Konrad. Mannfred. Three of our relatives, and one of them almost became the Emperor."

Regine couldn't even begin to think of such a conflict. Over three centuries of war?!

"How did they lose?"

Heinrich snorted lightly in amusement. "They didn't lose. The Empire won. Although, in the case of Konrad your statement would be accurate. A lunatic who dedicated his eternity to being a mad butcher, hewing apart foe and friend, until the latter abandoned him and the former to defeated him."

There was something in his composure that Regine noted, something in his words. She watched as Heinrich peered into the fire disapprovingly with a subtle shake of his head and flick of his lips.

"How would you have done it?" he asked suddenly, the depth of his voice and stature carrying its ancient authority.

Regine blinked, slightly startled at even considering such an option. Her? Run a war?

"I...don't even know what the Empire's capabilities are. I have never been. I don't know the people, the land, how they fight."

It might not have been the answer Heinrich wanted to hear, but he seemed to appreciate it the honesty, the admission of ones limits. He wore the smallest of smirks as he half-peered over his shoulder. "Caution. Reconnaissance. Learning their strengths and vulnerabilities," he seemingly explained Regine's own approach to her.

He nodded.

"It's a good start. Do you know anything about mustering soldiers or peasants? Planning how to feed twenty thousand men on the move? Logistics? Allies and diplomacy?"

Regine wanted to nod. A burning desire within her demanded that she not appear ignorant, but she could tell that he could see through any lie she might use in a weak attempt to sound smarter than she actually was.

"No..."

Again, her grandfather seemed pleased with her honesty.

"Of course not. You have doubtless needed to maneuver through the underworld of that snake pit, L'Anguille, but those aren't recruitment efforts, training schedules or weighing reconnaissance from scouts and predicting enemy movements."


A few moments of pause lingered as Heinrich peered into that fire, before drawing his tall figure away and back towards the large table at which Regine sat.

"Here," he gestured to another large book, the size of a horses head, "The Great Field Victories of Bretonnia, by Sir Giles Le Bon, famed historian from Castle Lyonesse. The wisest know what they know, and what they don't know, and they learn from the mistakes of others," Heinrich tapped the front of the book, looking down at Regine with the hint of approval.

"And the very wisest, continue to learn long after."

Regine couldn't help but smile.

Spoiler: With Ulrich

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A resounding string of cracks echoed across the valley and off the castle walls as the organ gun detonated its front rank, spewing a hail of lead cannon balls across a wide area that gashed the ground and splintered thick trees.

"Haha!" Regine laughed uproariously, hands over her sensitive ears as she had watched, her lovely cape blowing back a little from the gust of the detonation.

Cannon fuse still in hand, Ulrich turned himself at the waist to peer over at his little vampiric niece, a half-wild smile across his boyishly handsome face.

"I don't think it's quite loud enough - what do you think?" he laughed, Regine's grin remaining as she hurried over and ran her hand against the hot metal and inspected the machine.

"I had heard of gunpowder's use as a directed weapon, like guns - but never seen this, uncle!" she beamed, blood-red eyes fixed on the weapon. To this her uncle shrugged and twirled the lighting fuse about in his gloved hand before precisely tossing it to land among the others.

"Cannons, guns. It's all an alchemical reaction to produce work - the work of shoving these cannon balls into orcs and ogres!"

"I'm glad to see you're helping us to remain conspicuous," a voice came across the pair, as Regine turned to spot Wulf approaching, flanked by two horses, reins in each of his hands.

"Only if you let the bandits go, brother!" Ulrich teasingly jabbed, wearing that devilish smirk upon his face. "The mighty Wulf, feller of ogres, minotaurs, the minions of chaos and a giant - out-ran by a group of thugs in the woods! Haha!"

Wulf retained his composure with just a knowing, arched eyebrow, but Regine gasped gently, turning to look at the larger man. "You've fought and killed a giant?! Tell me about it please!" she beamed.

"No need, I will," Ulrich interjected, "you see, divorce is illegal in the Empire, so he had to get rid of his wife somehow!"

To think Wulf took a telegraphed swing, one the trimmer Ulrich darted out of the way of just in time, showing dexterous foot-work as Wulf threw a few more punches his way that ate only air, and left Regine giggling as she watched.

"Mind yourself, Ulrich. You can play with your toys later, but I'm taking Regine for a ride, she needs to learn how."

"You must learn how," Ulrich mimicked his brothers deeper voice, wagging his finger at Regine as the vampiress smiled cheekily.

Wulf lead Regine over to the two horses he had brought over, assisting her with mounting the dark one with soft, white spots across its neck. When both were mounted, Wulf directed her how to signal to the horse to go at just a gentle cantor.

"We'll be back in a few hours Ulrich, make sure you've brought your toys back into the castle, and do remember mein brudder: we are trying to keep a low profile."

Ulrich slunk one foot forward and gave a flamboyant little bow, offering Regine a small wave as she smiled and returned the curtsey, as both she and Wulf departed on their ride.