'Vampires,' he said.
Backing up, he turned to see that the coffin on the dais lay open, and a female human-or what had once been a female human, now skeletal and decayed-stood beside the hooded man and looked down at Tammsel with great interest. Arrayed around the steps, several dozen slavering thralls clawed at the air, hissing and exposing their fangs.
Lord Tammsel let out a low growl. Dropping his axe, he pulled his arms out of his long sleeves, revealing two sets of powerful dragon claws. With a quick slash, the half-elf, half-dragon tore away his robes, exposing the elven chain beneath.
'I know not what treachery this is,' growled the baron, 'but I assure you, I will not go down without a fight.'
The woman on the dais laughed, a sound like teeth chattering together. 'You were right, Montauk,' she said, placing her hand on the hooded man's shoulder. 'He is full of fight.'
The man pulled back his cowl. His pale skin seemed even paler so deep in the mausoleum. And his hair, tied back in a ponytail, looked like a slithering snake, writhing over his back in the flickering torchlight. He smiled. 'You are too kind, my mistress.'
Lord Tammsel growled again, a deep rolling sound from within his chest. His eyes narrowed. Then he charged the door and the stairs leading out of the tomb.
The entire room seemed to lose air as the vampires and their spawn let out a collective hiss. They gathered in a tight group in front of the door and closed in behind him from the dais. The half-dragon, half-elf baron leaped into the air and came down in the middle of the vampires' blockade.
The tips of his outstretched hands ripped into the first spawn in his path. The creature let out a wail as it was torn in half, shredded by Lord Tammsel's powerful claws. He turned on another, ripping its head from its shoulders with a single swat.
His enemies attacked back. A fist slammed into his shoulder, spinning Tammsel to one side. The blow temporarily dazed him, but he managed to shake it off, bringing his hand up in time to block another fist meant for his jaw. A pair of teeth bit down on his arm. Jerking away, the baron lifted the vampire off its feet, its fangs still clenched against his elven chain.
With a mighty roar, Tammsel hurled the undead from his arm, sending it flying into half a dozen of its brethren. They fell to the floor in a hissing pile of fangs and claws. He'd managed to make a small opening, and he took advantage of it, stepping toward the fallen foes and into the gap.
One step closer to the door, Lord Tammsel fought on. Grabbing hold of a vampire spawn with both hands, he pulled the creature toward him and sank his teeth into its face. Shaking his head, the Baron of Impresk bit the spawn's face right off its head and the spawn fell away, unable to see.
With a satisfied purr, Tammsel spat the rotting flesh from his mouth and came on guard again. He took another step, closing in on the door. His life was nearly saved. The prize of freedom he sought was near, and it filled him with new strength.
There were only a handful of undead between him and the doorway. Taking in a deep breath, the half-silver dragon shook his head back and forth, blowing out all of the air in his lungs. A gust of super cold spread out, catching a half-dozen vampire spawn in a maelstrom of freezing breath. The bile and mellifluent fluids that held them together turned to ice. Their slumping skin turned hard and fell from their bones. Collectively the quickly freezing beasts let out a wail, then they went silent, either stopping in their tracks or falling frozen to the ground.
Without hesitation, Tammsel dived into the new gap, moving within just a few steps of the way out. He reached for the next in his way, but something caught him from behind and spun him around. Looking back at the dais, the baron could see the circle of undead closing in. The vampires he had knocked down were already back on their feet.
They seized him, clasping his arms, legs, shoulders, and head. Though he struggled, the undead piled on. Their hands scratched at his skin. Their fangs clanked against his armor. Slowly the tomb disappeared from his view, replaced with dead gray flesh and shadow.
The onslaught was more than the baron could take, and he sank to his knees. Twisting under the pile, he gritted his teeth and growled, struggling for one more look at the door. He reached, his claws grasping around in the stale crypt air. His fist shook as his body was pummeled, over and over again, until he finally stopped moving. His hand fell limp to the floor.
The pile of spawn climbed off his corpse, leaving the older, more deserving vampires to lap up the fresh blood.
Montauk looked down on the former Baron of Impresk, a smile on his face. 'Goodbye, Tammsel.'
The woman standing next to him placed her hand on his shoulder. 'I trust his replacement has been put into place.'
Montauk turned toward the woman, bowing. 'Yes, Mistress Shyressa. Our man has assumed his identity and taken control of Impresk. He's been ruling the barony for more than a tenday now, and everything goes according to plan.'
Shyressa nodded her approval. 'Well done.' She lifted a sack of gold from inside one of her sleeves and handed it to the ponytailed man. 'For your good work.'
Montauk took the sack and bowed once again. 'Thank you, my lady.'
The vampires on the floor were tearing large chunks of the dead baron's flesh from his bones and throwing them to their spawn. The half-elf, half-dragon's blood covered the flagstones and the faces of the undead surrounding his corpse.
Shyressa smiled as she looked upon the carnage. 'How many of the other barons of Erlkazar do we need to replace before we have them all?'
At this, Montauk balked. Casting his eyes to the ground, he cleared his throat. 'There is only one, my lady.'
Shyressa's smile faded. 'And who would that be?'
Montauk steeled himself to deliver the news. 'The baron Lord Purdun, my lady.'
Shyressa touched her shoulder, remembering the wound she had suffered when last she had encountered Baron Purdun of Ahlarkham. 'And?'
'And everything is on schedule.'
The vampire mistress glared at the human standing beside her coffin. 'That is what your predecessor said five years ago.'
'Yes, my lady,' replied Montauk.
'Perhaps it is time I took a personal interest in finalizing our plans.'
'Mistress, please,' begged Montauk, 'allow me the time to complete the plan I have already set in motion.'
'Where are you now, Montauk? How close are you?'
It was Montauk's turn to smile. 'It won't be long,' he said. 'Already I have arranged to personally take control of the Crimson Awl. A well-timed tip to the elite guard has effectively beheaded the organization, leaving the climate right for me to move in and take power.' Montauk rubbed his hands together. 'If we cannot replace Baron Purdun with one of our own agents, we will discredit and overthrow him by organizing the peasants against him. I will become the new hero of the people, giving them back the land and cutting their taxes.
'Once Purdun's been removed from his position, the farmers will want me to be their new leader. To keep the peace, we will have the other barons of Erlkazar, who are all under our control, petition the king to appoint me as the new baron of Ahlarkham.' He took a deep breath, his smile widening.
'And once we have control,' Montauk continued, 'we can begin our plans of secession. Each of the five baronies in turn will remove itself from Erlkazar, forming independent countries. After that, it's only a small matter of starting a war over territory, and the entire region will be in turmoil.'
Shyressa nodded. 'I do not want to deprive you of your fun. Still-' the ancient vampire waved her hands over her body, conjuring a blood-red cloak that covered her lithe frame- 'I think I'll come along to see for myself just how well this plan is coming together.'
Montauk bowed again. 'As you wish, my lady.'
She stepped down off the dais, coming up behind one of the spawn feasting on the remains of Lord Tammsel.
