A Vampire, with a Soul

I took a moment to observe the eternal prison I had made for myself. If I cast the ritual correctly, I may have already been here for a thousand years and would never know. Suddenly the ceiling of my prison shimmered and I found myself joined by four strange creatures.

An elf, eyes darting around and gripping a giant bow. A half-man, ridiculously dressed and visibly smeared in grease. An animalistic man wielding a comically oversized sword, and looking eager to use it on me. Lastly, a spiritual apparition, which seemed to be a projection of a small fey.

“Greetings”, I said, “give me a moment to look on the world, to see what has passed”. Looking up, I could sense that many years had indeed passed, and much had changed in the planes I could observe. Thankfully, I felt the blessing of the Gods on these creatures, and allowed them to live.
“Welcome, watchers of the valley. It grieves me to see you, for you were only to be anointed should the need arise.” I saw recognition in their faces, they knew my voice. Likely they had heard my message in the tablet’s resting place. “I can’t tell them what it is that you are protecting the world from. The Gods and primordials, and their servants, are bound to never speak of it again. I can tell you that it is a prison, and that which is contained in it will do unthinkable things to every plane it can find should it become free again”

“Even a creature who stood at the very door to the prison in the World has no method of divining how to open it. The prison is a masterpiece, subtly repelling any and all creations that would tamper with it should they find it. This however, doesn’t extend to the lock. Nearby, strands of power meet and form the lock of the prison. Long ago, there were Fey mages here who practiced their craft. The power of those strands was beyond their comprehension, they knew not why but found that magic would be more powerful when nearby. Rather than push them away, I placed in their minds, and the minds of their descendants, the need to protect the lock’s location. The compulsion took the form of honoring the location, and they began to bury their dead there. They placed great protective spells over their tombs, making it deadly to those who sought entry. This work had only just begun when I passed into the table. It appears that they cast so many protective spells that I can not even see into this graveyard. It also appears that their civilization is gone and that the spirits of nature have reclaimed their dominion.”

“Something is warping or weakening the wards, and this can only be happening at the lock’s location in the Graveyard. I’m sorry to say that you must venture into the very heart of the mage’s graveyard, past their protective spells, and find what is warping the lock.”

I stared into their eyes, one at a time, passing to them the location of the Graveyard. I then sent them back to the Feywild, and hoped my prison would never open again.



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