367 267 – Welcome to the Hellespont

Although colorful, nothing dangerous happened over the next nine days. Once the most severe of the injuries were healed (enough that I could heal my full twelve points a day), the addition of healing potions to my diet sped the process up. And then, scales still growing, we were off.

I had chosen a number of evolutions, mostly concerned with the digesting of blood, just in case it came up as a social concern. (I already had all kinds of things for dealing with Anemia and Bleeding, so I didn’t consider those as things I was lacking.)

What I wasn’t able to get was anything that resembled armor or new equipment, although there was a gruff woman called Matty Kelly Barstone who was able to repair the edge of Heart’s Protector. This was a laborious process of withdrawing the Protection mana, having the blade heated, hammered, and sharpened, and then replacing the magic.

The Fisherwoman’s Catch was on the smaller side of ships, more resembling a narrow barge with a sail than a proper sailing vessel. Whatever her speed limitations, she was the right choice for uneasy seas. I certainly have no complaints against Captain Munfred; he ran his ship like a military dictator, but his crew was tight, and barely lost anyone when Fishmen stole our trailing nets.

It was four days of travel and one waiting anchored for the worst of a storm to pass to get to Hellespont Isle; the caldera itself was inside a half collapsed volcano, from which rose a plume of white smoke.

The people who greeted us on the shore called themselves the Benapongo, or north of Pongo.

“Because that’s not going to become confusing.” Madonna said.

“Rhishi?” Kismet asked. “What are we doing for protection now that Gamilla isn’t with us?”

“I hadn’t even had time to think about it. How many warriors would we need, about four or so?”

.....

“Maybe just two good ones?” Kismet asked.

“Where would you find those?” Madonna asked. “Champions don’t grow from trees.”

“Were any of us champions when we arrived here? So long as we can train them, they will eventually become champions.”

“Oh, you will need no guardians here.” our guide Intsa insisted. “The great lord in the mountain protects us all, even guests. He will be watching, having seen your vessel. He is most diligent in keeping us safe from all manner of harm.”

“All manner?” Madonna asked.

“Oh, people can still get sick, or sometimes injured, and die.” She winked. “And, of course, nothing entirely stops the ravages of old age.”

“Husband,” Madonna said, “Look at the volcano.”

“It is hard to miss.” I said.

“No, I mean really LOOK at it.”

she added.

“Oh my.” I said. “Kismet, you need to see this. It’s some of the most patchwork ward-work I’ve ever seen.”

“I can smell it.” she said. “Look again at the Taint.”

And I did, and it filled me with hope. Taint ran like black support beams through the demonic part of the wards, but the newer work, which I presume was done by the vampire, had no visible...

Crap.

It was well hidden, and it wasn’t BLACK. It was woven into every colored part. It was mingled, hidden, but unmistakably there.

“It’s like artwork, isn’t it?” Madonna said. “THIS is what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

“I think you delve too deeply into the Taint of Madness.” Kismet told her.

“Every Mouse Deserves Cheese.” Madonna replied. “Seven Sins, Four Taints, Four Elements, Four Primary Forces. Why sample only one, when life itself is composed of all? Why limit yourself?”

“Because EVIL.” Kismet said, in a tone that indicated she would not be swayed.

“Well, it’s obvious that of the three of us, only Madonna can actually go in. That level of Taint... the place is like a fortress for it.”

“Oh, that is not an issue.” Intsa said. “The lord in the mountain is used to people coming to kill him. We can put up a signal, and he will come out to fight you.”

“Well, no.” I said. “We’d honestly rather just talk to him.”

“We just want the Mask Anonymous.” Madonna said. “Assuming he hasn’t dismantled it to build such an impressive series of wards.”

Intsa tilted her head. “There is a signal for that as well. However...”

Kismet was on her like an attack dog, fingers lowering her choker. “Intsa,” Kismet asked, “Has the lord... fed upon you?”

“Oh, yes.” Intsa said, without shame or fear. “Each adult, in turn, gives up a portion of their blood, and in exchange, the lord keeps us safe. Even from his own hungers.”

“That’s horrible!” Kismet said.

“That is practical.” Madonna countered.

Intsa bobbed her head left and right. “Such is the way we the Benapongo have chosen to live. Why fear the supernatural, when we can instead embrace it? She waved an arm around her large village (which yes, they called a town). “Look at our numbers, at our prosperity. We fear not the beasts of the island, nor the foreigners who arrive inside the corpses of trees. How much blood is spilled, how many lives, in normal living?”

“And should one choose to leave?”

Intsa would not meet my eyes. “The young do not always understand. They often go toward Pongo, or some to the setting sun. It is a sadness when our children leave us, but such is the nature of life. The Benapongo are not slavers, but each who remains contributes their fair share.”

“And your master,” Madonna asked, “He never overeats? Kills one by accident?”

“Not in five generations now.” Intsa said. “He was said to be distraught, and would not feed at all for two weeks.”

Kismet crossed her arms before her, obviously not convinced. “He sounds like a true humanitarian.” she said, dryly.

“Oh no.” Intsa said. “Although legend says he was once one like us, the devil of the mountain made something else entirely from him.”

Madonna blinked. “I was told he killed the devil.”

“Oh yes.” Intsa said. “The devil was so very bored, you see, and so very trapped. So it first made the lord immortal, just to talk to him, and later gave him even more power, so that they might spar. And then, when the devil decided to return to Hell, a final infusion of power gave the lord enough strength to end his life.”

“But that’s not what... tell me more.” Madonna said. “If he was like you once, does he have a name?”

“Oh yes,” Intsa said, “although he does not use it any longer. His name is...”

Kismet pulled me away. “Rhishi, I’m getting a bad feeling. Like all my hairs are standing on end so much that some of them are falling out.”

I sniffed the air. “I don’t smell more of your hairs than normal.”

“It’s winter.” she said. “I shouldn’t be losing hair at normal rates.”

“Oh, then yes, you are clearly stressed.”

“Rhishi, isn’t the ability to charm their victims a standard vampire power?”

“If one accepts such a thing as a standard vampire, I suppose.”

“Rhishi!” she batted at my eye, but I was swift enough that she only hit the side of my snout. “Quit with the each of us is unique crap for a moment. Vampires EAT PEOPLE.”

“Not in the same sense that ghouls do, but okay. Blood is part of people, I accept that.”

“Blood is not just people.” one of the villagers said to us. “Blood is the life of people.”

[You have resisted an emotional effect: Enthrall: 4]

historical

I moved to position myself between the newcomer and Kismet.

“Rhishi?” she asked. “Why would you be jealous? Let the charming man speak.”

“Are you capable of speaking,” I asked, “in a manner which doesn’t overwhelm the emotions?”

“Can you breathe in a way that doesn’t alter the air?” he asked. “Perhaps eat in a manner where you don’t need to poop later? It isn’t some ability that I can turn on or off; it is simply the way things are.”

“Oh.” said Kismet, trying to approach him, “and such a wonderful way for things to...”

She shook her head. “What are you, some manner of mind thrall to the vampire?”

“I am,” he said, removing a mask I hadn’t been able to see while he was wearing it, “the lord of the mountain. Welcome, guests, to Hellespont Caldera, largest nexus of fire magic that is not a volcano that could erupt at any minute.”

He was unnaturally pale, but did not look obviously dead.

“How are you out in the sunlight?” Kismet asked. “I thought the sunlight burned all undead.”

“Undead. Such an unkind word for an immortal being.” he replied.

“An un-natural being.” Kismet said.

“Truly? Look to your own legends, furry one. The First Men MADE your entire species.” He extended a finger in my direction. “That thing is more natural and normal to this world than either of us are. And certainly more natural than you.”

“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced.” Madonna said, extending the back of her wrist. “Blacksoul Madonna, resident of the Hells. I’m here to, hm, borrow that mask of yours.”

“I am disinclined to part with such a powerful artifact.” he replied.

She waved a hand. “Give me until nightfall to speak with you on the subject.”

The process went much quicker the second time around. It seemed the sword had gotten used to containing Protection mana, and drank in its fill.