Gary Gugax - Night Arrant

Plincourt was facing his attackers. "Welcome! I am feeling hungry and regretting the spilling of blood. . uselessly." he sneered, glaring at the two young adventurers with his burning red eyes and licking his fangs all the while.

"Vampire!" Gord hissed.

"No shit." Chert, said, hefting his axe and swinging it a little so that it emitted a reassuring hum.

Plincourt chuckled softly at the reaction he had evoked in the pair. "Let us chat a while, friends, rather than use ugly aggression. I am willing to forgive and forget, so let us be comrades," he said softly, gazing at first Gord, then Chert.

"Beware his eyes!" Chert called to his friend.

Gord had already acted, however, even as the barbarian spoke. He took out the symbol of Fharlanghn given to him by his druid friend, Curley Greenleaf, and held it before his eyes.

"Put that filthy thing away!" Plincourt demanded as his gaze swept from the bigger man back to Gord once again.

"This?" Gord asked ingenuoiisly, thrusting the symbol toward the vampire as he spoke.

Plincourt recoiled, clawing at the holy disc that Gord held in both hands. Thus distracted, the vampire failed to notice the steely blur of Chert's great axe as it sang toward him. Brool bit deep into the undead monster's chest, causing the vampire to stagger and throwing him back against the wall.

"And this!" Gord shouted as he thrust his own weapon full into Pllncourt's skinny body.

Plincourt shrieked, a piercing scream much resembling the cry of a monstrous bat. He tore the axe from the hands of the dumbfounded barbarian, reversed it, and hurled it toward Chert's face. "Now you, small man!" the vampire said with a growl, darting forward to grapple with Gord.

The long, thin frame rushed at him, but Gord had already withdrawn his blade and was dancing back, point before him on guard. The sign of Fharlanghn hung free around his throat, and the supple thief’s free hand now held his long poinard as main gauche. He spat at the horrible visage of the vampire as it rushed toward him. "No easy foe here!" and then struck again twice at the exposed form, thrusting sword into Plincourt's abdomen, dagger into throat. "These fangs drink blood too!"

The force of his own furious lunge carried the vampire into the darting blades. Plincourt groaned and jerked back from the pain which the dweomered steel conveyed to his unnatural body. Eyes blazing, mouth set in a horrific snarl, he screamed. "For that I will make your death slow and painful, your afterlife one of degrading service to me!"

Gord laughed and taunted him, buying time for his friend. Chert had moved so as to avoid the full force of his own weapon, but the heavy axe had torn a gash in his forehead and stunned him. Gord saw the barbarian out of the corner of his eye, risen to one knee now, and holding Brool once again. At that moment, Plincourt launched himself at Gord in another furious assault.

"Penwolf!" Chert boomed, shouting his clan war-cry as he stood erect and swung his axe from his hip in one, smooth motion. Brool sang like an angry hornet as it arced from the floor to strike the lunging vampire in the upper torso. The edge nearly severed Pllncourt's extended arm. and the force of the blow skewed the vampire's lanky form toward the left where Gord's shortsword waited.

"Die. undead thing!" Gord said from between clenched teeth as he thrust the blade forward to pierce the vampire's body in a blow that sank past collarbone through chest and protruded from Plincourt's back.

Plincourt jerked backward, alive somehow despite the terrible wounds inflicted upon his unnatural form. Right arm hanging limp and useless, the vampire held up his left hand, saying, "Wait! Before you slay me consider the wealth I could bestow upon you!"

Chert hesitated, his great axe poised at shoulder height. Still recovering from the vampire's last lunge. Gord, too, slowed his attack at the creature's words. As Gord watched, however, the vampire's form seemed to grow translucent and hazy. What was happening?

"Quickly. Strike!" The young thief shouted to his friend, for he suspected some trick on Plincourt's part.

Too late. Brool flashed through the air and swept through the insubstantial form of the vampire — uselessly. The smoky shape wavered, coalesced upon its core, and swirled, shrinking and pouring downward through a space beneath the floorboards.

"He escaped!" Chert cried.

Gord sheathed his dagger and loosed the holy disc from around his neck, placing it over the crack through which Plincourt had vaporized. "The monster is somewhere below — let him stay there!" He looked around the disheveled room. "So, what have we got here?"

Both adventurers rapidly searched the small office, but found nothing there save a small box filled with coins of little value, notes, some bills, and the scroll that Plincourt had been studying when they had attempted to take him by surprise. Chert scooped the coins into his purse while Gord rolled up the scroll, tied it fast, and thrust it into his pouch for perusal at a more convenient time. Then they departed the small room hurriedly, Gord grabbing his necklace from the floor as he went.

"It is nearly dawn," the barbarian muttered as they came to the foyer. "Let's hasten upstairs, get our gold, and leave this place forever!"

"Wait a moment," Gord said, and proceeded to search behind the rosewood counter. A few minutes later he had found what he sought. The thick book that they had registered in laid open on the counter's polished wooden top. "There!" he said, with satisfaction as he ripped out the page that contained his signature and Chert's mark. "That will make things more difficult for any who seek our identity."

Both men bounded upstairs then, and upon entering their chambers went to work. The gold and platinum coins were bagged in lots of one hundred, each group housed within a small, leather sack. Using the blankets off the bed they made two bundles. Gord carried one. Chert the other, as they departed the Hostel of Ineffable Comfort.

"What of Yagbo and his crony?" Chert asked.

"I have a feeling they're going to turn up missing — tsk, tsk." Gord clucked his tongue and shrugged, then burst into laughter. The huge hillman grinned and with a jaunty step followed his friend.

The pale light of the milky dawn revealed a number of establishments surrounding the plaza. The lights of the previous night had been insufficient to show these places when the two had peered into Falre Market from the street below.

"No ways leading out," Chert nodded grimly.

"A teahouse there, the Fragrant Blossom, should serve to get us out of sight," Gord replied. "See, a scullion is removing the shutters, and the house will be open for business in a minute. We'll be safe enough there until Sogll the Gemner is ready to show his wares!"

"Safe? What of Pllncourt and the rest? Surely there will be a hue and cry raised soon!"

"Bah! Plincourt won't be out and about Weird Way until night falls — he's a vampire, remember — and who else is to accuse us of misdoing? Yagbo? His scabrous associate Lou? Whoever comes in to run that hostel when Plincourt must retire is probably as guilty as the others."

"But you told me that thug said only Plincourt was in the murderous scheme along with Yagbo and Lou," Chert contended.

"Nonsense. I knew it for a lie the moment I heard it but considered it immaterial to our needs. Let's continue our discussion over a mug of alder-root tea — and some breakfast too, perhaps. This running about and fighting has given me a superb appetite!"

Chert nodded and pulled his hood up so as to conceal the wound on his forehead. Although Gord had wiped it clean, and the smears and splatters as well, the gash was obviously a recent one. It might draw unwanted attention if not concealed. A bit of hair and the hood's shadow did the trick.