Running a town is difficult when you’re a vampire. Not only will people automatically assume that you’ve come into power because of your… power, but it also attracts a whole heap of weirdoes with a hero complex who wish to ‘save the townsfolks from your vile magic influence!’, despite the fact that you’re actually innocent.
Well, innocent is a big word. But at least Silma hasn’t actually used her vampiric powers to enthrall the locals, she came into power fair and square – through hard work and being actually useful for the society – rather than enforcing a constant state of mind control over an entire town. After all, such a powerful spell is harder than people might make think, so instead focusing your attention on zonking the occasional “hero” with your magic is easier. At least, that’s what Silma decided.
The bat-possum roams through her manor, carrying around various ingredients and resources of alchemical value. She’s constantly repeating the order in which the ingredients should be tossed into the alembic to herself in order not to forget it.
“Gods, I could totally use a carrying mule right now,” she finds herself thinking, as she throws a longing gaze through the window of her manor, down at the town. She hungrily licks her lips, but quickly tosses the idea aside. She can’t just break the trust she’s built up, the trust that she’s worked so hard to establish, for the sake of convenience. Instead she’ll just have to walk through the halls of her manor more often.
With a sigh, she continues down the halls of her manor until she arrives inside of the main room of her alchemical practices. The room is decorated with various shelves carrying a bunch of potions and carefully created baubles. On a desk, next to a crucible, stands a row of glass flasks of various sizes and shapes. She approaches the row, dumping the ingredients she was carrying onto the desk in front of one of the flasks, repeating the ingredients once more as a mantra.
She tosses the ingredients into the alembic one by one, bringing the liquid to a boil and catching the vapors into a loose flask. Making potions like this is tedious, crucibles are much more efficient – but efficiency comes at the cost of purity. And pure potions are not only more potent, but also more valuable. Significantly more valuable, in fact. And Silma prides herself in her honest work.
Droplets of the distilled potion vapor start to drip down the loose flask, a nearly colorless fluid starting to create ripples at the puddle in the bottom. She smiles, proud of her new work, despite not even knowing if it works yet. Though she’s fairly certain that it will. Her potions always work. While the new elixir is filling up, she dusts off a few of the filled unsold potions and loads them into a crate to sell in the town market.
With the crate filled up, she leaves the alchemy room and wanders down the stairs of her manor, putting the crate down at her front door and opening it, before picking up the crate again and wandering outside, closing the door behind her using her tail. As the door closes, she’s suddenly face to face with a stranger, sword drawn, dressed in a neat green outfit and decorated with plentiful jewelery.
“Not a single step closer, Silma Aroras”, the Draconic goat says. He’s quite large – at least half a full head bigger then she is, and also significantly more muscular. His expression shows conviction, and his sword is sharpened and shiny. Silma raises an eyebrow, puts the crate down again – with an annoyed sigh – and stands back upright with her paws raised.
“Alright, big guy. Who are you and why are you pointing that thing at me?” Silma asks calmly. Her desires for a carrying mule had finally arrived, it would seem. Though, then again, a big guy like him would probably also be able to fulfill her… other wishes…
“Who I am doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’re a vampire, and your reign over this town has come to an end!” he says vigilantly, prodding Silma with the tip of his sword. Silma takes a small step backward to get away from the prick of the sword, looking at the paladin with a look of mild discomfort.
“What reign?” she replies. “I am merely an innocent alchemist. All of the townsfolk value me for my hard work, which is more than can be said for whatever act this is.” The paladin’s expression changes from serious and determined, a speck of doubt appearing in his eyes. He lowers his sword slightly, but still remains on edge.
“I’m still not convinced you don’t have the townsfolk under some hypnotic spell. Prove to me you’re not a vampire and I might let you go.” The paladin says.
Silma scoffs. “If I had that sort of power, would I not simply use that same magic on you?” She’s bluffing, of course she could. But it’s too risky with a sword right up to her throat. Besides, the paladin seems unimpressed at her retort.
“Ha. Such nonsensical magic wouldn’t do anything to me. I am the great paladin Kezohr, and such simple mind tricks are useless against a paladin of my stature!” the draconic goat says confidently, raising the sword again.
Silma moves her paw to the sharpened sword at her throat and very gently pushes it downwards, smiling seductively at the paladin. “Psh, you’ve gotta choose one, big guy! Either I do have hypnotic powers, or I don’t. And if you don’t feel threatened by these hypothetical powers, surely you don’t actually believe I have such power? Otherwise you wouldn’t have approached me up front. Would you?”
“Uh…” the paladin says, caught of guard by Silma’s confident rebuttal.
“If you just lower your weapon and follow me to town, you’ll be able to check on them yourself, isn’t that right?” Silma says. In her head, she’s already concocted her plan. Bring the paladin to town, sell her potions if possible while the paladin interrogates the townsfolk about how they think about her and whether they’re under some mind control spell, and then invite him back to her manor and use her new potion on him.
“If you want, you can let me go in front and keep your sword on me so that I don’t backstab you or whatever you might fear.” Silma suggests, leading Kezohr to sigh. He fails to see any flaw in her logic, so he lowers her sword and allows the vampire to pick up her crate, keeping a careful eye on her as the two venture down to the town.
It doesn’t take long for the odd party of two to arrive in the town center, and Silma sets up shop as usual, scoffing at the paladin. “Well? I’ll be here, you go chat with the locals. I’m sure you’ll learn that I’m not some sort of lich… or warlock, or whatever.”
The paladin sighs, unwilling to let the vampire out of his sight for a while. He can’t deny that she seems calm and logical, and still hasn’t tried any weird tricks, which works in the favor of her argument. So he nods, and turns towards the busy marketplace in search of people to interrogate. As he leaves, Silma grins. All is going to plan… and once he follows her back towards his manor, and she gets to use her new elixir on the paladin, then she’ll have a new thrall all for herself.
