Chapter 12: Elzevir the Dollmaker
I flew back to the south gate of Avernus and returned to my vampiric form. The southern gates were still intact, and much of the southern city remained untouched. The demons, it seemed, had not reached this place before their beloved herder was slain. I simply pushed the gates open and continued down the road to Willendorf.
As the stench of death left, I felt that something was amiss. Willendorf was the mightiest city in all of Nosgoth, a wealthy kingdom protected by the Armies of Hope. The roads were always filled with travellers and merchants, magicians and tricksters, brigands and cutthroats. And yet, they were all empty. Something must have happened in Willendorf to cause such a fall, and I could not wait to learn what.
After a full day of walking, I reached a small encampment of soldiers. Their silver armor, finely-crafted weapons, and noble faces quickly revealed them to be soldiers in Willendorf’s army. My suspicions were confirmed as I saw their shields and banners; they all displayed the mighty Lion of Willendorf. Their encampment blocked the road, however, and the army could stand to lose a few soldiers. I drew my sword and jumped into the fray. They grabbed their weapons and shields, but were too late; half were dead before they could react, and the other half fell before they could lay a hand upon me.
As I began to feed, however, a strange flash of light appeared on the ground. When it dissapeared, a single scroll was lying on the blood-stained grass, displaying the seal of the necromancer. I then heard his damn voice in my head yet again. “Strange, isn’t it Kain, that one cannot quite accept that which sustains them: you in your death, and me in mine. But death cannot reign in a world that is without life, and soon you will find that the quest before you is yours and yours alone. I can assist you no longer.” I opened the scroll, and found a simple spell for controlling the souls of beings, simply called the “Spirit Wrack” spell. I cursed the necromancer for his riddles; I had no time for games. I finished my feeding, and continued down the road.
It took two more days to reach Willendorf’s might gates. Naturally, they were sealed and guarded. I quickly entered my loathsome human form, and approached the guards. Their weapons quickly blocked my passage.
“Leave, peasant!” shouted one of the guards. “Only those of noble blood may enter the city of Willendorf!” I was shoved to the ground and thrown away from the gates. I made my way back into hiding and reverted to my true form. As tempting as it was to simply kill them, I needed them to open the gate; if I tried to fly in, I would most likely be destroyed before I touched the ground. Still, I had to find a way inside.
“Did you hear about that fountain in the mines?” said one of the guards. “The one that they say is filled with blood?” I listened intently.
“Of course I have! Now nobody will go NEAR the mines! They say the whole place is haunted.”
“After the vampire sightings we’ve had, who could blame them?”
For the first time in so long, I grinned with black humor. It seemed my reign of terror was now known in the farthest reaches of Nosgoth. The fountain sounded like the ones I had encountered previously, so I left the city walls and entered the mines a short distance away.
As the guards had said, the mines were completely deserted, save for a few brave souls, furiosly digging at the walls for a tiny handful of gold. They were quickly subdued, and their blood was tainted with months of sweat. Still, at the end of the mines were, indeed, a fountain of blood. I took a small drink from the fountain, and felt my power increase.
“You may now cast the most noble of illusions,” said the voice. “Instead of transforming completely, you may simply cast off the stench of death, and appear as a living nobleman.” With the means to enter Willendorf, I returned to the city.
I quickly used the spell, and felt new life seemingly flowing in my veins. I approached the guards, my hand never straying two far from my sword. The two fools simply nodded, and opened the gate. I quickly stepped inside, and walked down the stone streets, past the lavish shops and inns, past the egotistical noblitiy that occupied this city, until I stumbled upon Willendorf’s ancient library. I had no need to for old tomes, but I still found two useful books.
The first spoke of the history of the Circle. They were brought into existance simply to serve the Pillars, the protectorates to the strange power that gave life to this land. In return, each member was given vast amounts of power in certain areas, as well as prolonged life. If a member should perish, the balance would be broken until a new guardain coulf be found. Apparantly, nothing like Ariel’s demise had occured before, or this land would have been destroyed centuries ago.
The second spoke of a strange cult that resided in Nosgoth many centuries ago. They made blood sacrifices to their mysterious diety, and wherever they went, tales of human possession followed. Nothing is known about their strange god, and I cared not for such details. I had seen their markings in the cathedral; they were indeed real. I replaced the books and returned to the city, finally making my way to the Great Hall of King Ottmar, ruler of Willendorf.
As I entered the great hall, I saw shades of my former self: arrogant and self-absorbed, surrounded by all the finery of the realm. Although Vorador’s mansion was filled with more treasures, this hall was enough to humble even Coorhagen. As I walked past the rows of guards, I smirked. I thought of the carnage they would befall them at the hands of the Nemesis, of the inevitable rape and pillage. Even my cold heart was warmed by these thoughts.
I approached the throne room, only to be stopped by a small, thin man in a ridiculous outfit. “Out of my way, peasant!” I shouted. “The stench of the fields hangs over you like a pall!”
“The king sees no one!” shouted the man. “He is in mourning for the princess!”
I grabbed the wirey man’s throat. His eyes filled with feat as I leveled my sword to his throat. “He will be in mourning for his kingdom soon, and he’ll mourn for you even sooner if you don’t get out of my way!” I threw the pathetic man aside and entered the throne room.
On the throne sat Willendorf, his grey beard filled with his tears, his eyes caught in endless worry. On a table in front of him lay a young woman, her skin pale and cold, her eyes open sightlessly. She still breathed, but her ailment reduced her to nothing more than a corpse. “What happened!” I shouted.
Ottmar looked at me, his eyes revealing his pathetic will. “A…birthday present,” he gasped. “To celebrate her birthday I declared a contest. Whoever created the finest doll in the realm would be granted a royal favor. Hundreds of dolls were brought, but the winner was obvious. Elzevir, the Dollmaker, created a toy of such beauty that all were captivated by it, and all he would take in payment was a lock of her hair. Soon she was like this, a lifeless puppet. Whoever restores her to life will be granted my kingdom!” He then withdrew in his self-pity.
I had no sympathy for the weak, and Ottmar was the weakest man of all. In my court, he would have been upsurped by someone stronger, but in Willendorf, they worshipped him even in his weakness. I wondered how they would react when the king’s long overdue death finally came.
I returned to the great hall, and quickly heard another small conversation between two noblemen. Mostly, it was nothing but pure nonesense, but they spoke of a secret passage leading to the north, where the Dollmaker was rumored to be. Also, the Armies of Hope were spread out searching for the Dollmaker, leaving Willendorf vulnerable to attack. I had to slay the Dollmaker in order to raise the army and hold back the Nemesis.
I searched the castle, and found the passage to the sewers in one of the guard rooms. A few hours later, I emerged in another land, far from Willendorf. I was quickly surrounded by strange soldiers, wearing black armor with red, demon-like masks. Their appearance was supposed to strike fear into my heart, but it did nothing; they still fell easily, and their blood was still just as filling. However, I now knew where I was. I was in the very lands of the Nemesis, the tyrant I was trying to stop.
I continued to the north, and found the ruins of Stahlberg before me. Once, it had been the most academic of cities, and housed many of Nosgoth’s finest universities. Now, it had fallen to the Nemesis, its splendor buried under the rotting bodies of its citizens. While I did not weep for lost tomes, I was shocked by the Nemesis’ waste of good blood.
The city was still filled with the Legions of the Nemesis, but it took a simple Inspire Hate to destroy them. I continued past the city, and reached an enormous statue of the Nemesis himself, dressed in full armor and wielding a serpent-like sword. It seemed similar somehow, but I did not bother to think on the subject. I simply pressed north, and reached the Lake of Lost Souls. A large gate sat in front of me, guarded on the other side by the strangest creature I had ever seen: a livng, moving, wooden doll. I now realized the Dollmaker’s power; his magic forced souls into his creations, giving them life.
The creature had no mind to control, so I cast my Spirit Wrack spell. I instantly felt myself inside the creature, controlling its every move. I quickly threw the gate switch, giving me access to the lake, then exited the puppet. Its soul was torn out when I entered, and now without even my own soul, it collapsed. I walked through the gate, but barely dodged several daggers thrown from a nearby wall. I spun on my heels, and faced another army of dolls, these ones made from straw. My flame sword made short work of their bodies, leaving only ashes in their wake.
I walked across a narrow parcel of land, desperate to avoid the deadly water, until I finally reached a small workshop in the center. I kicked open the door, and found the Dollmaker himself standing behind a workbench, holding a hideously deformed doll.
“Elzevir!” I shouted. “I have come for the girl’s soul!”
“So, Ottmar sent you to kill me, eh?” The Dollmaker’s voice matched his pathetic appearance; he looked more like a court jester than a sorcerer. “I can smell him on you. Or is that the stench of the grave?” He then fled into the back room, doll still in hand. I gave chase.
We now stood in a large room. Dolls of all shapes and sizes lined the walls, no doubt over victims of the Dollmaker’s twisted designs. The pathetic weakling stood at the other end, holding the monstrosity close to him like a cherished pet. “I have no time for your games, Dollmaker!” I shouted.
“The soul is mine!” cackled the Dollmaker. He was most certainly insane. “I earned it! Ottmar gave it to me!”
“Then you shall earn it with blood!”
“You shall not have it! MINE! MINE! MINE!” The Dollmaker was acting like nothing more than a spoiled child now. I had no time for his foolishness; I drew my sword and approached.
Suddenly, the dolls on the walls came to life, springing attacks on my from every direction. Elzevir began to laugh, until I easily shrugged off their attacks. He forgot that a vampire’s strength cannot be outmatched by mere toys. He fell to his knees, begging for mercy. I drew the Soul Reaver, and simply impaled him. The doll fell to my feet.
“Farewell, my love,” he gasped. “I was lucky to have made you…” I threw his lifeless corpse off the blade and examined the doll. On its side was a lock of hair, an exact match for Willendorf’s daughter. The Dollmaker had trapped her soul into the doll, using her hair as a means to complete the spell. I would never know the Dollmaker’s intentions, but he was indeed an odd, little man. I removed the Dollmaker’s head, and left his disgusting workshop.
I flew back to Willendorf, and entered Ottmar’s throne room. I one hand, I carried Elzevir’s head; in the other, the doll. Ottmar’s eyes caught fire as I presented the doll to him; he knew what it contained. The court sorcerers quickly grabbed the misshapen object, and started to extract the girl’s soul.
“I cannot thank you enough, warrior,” said Ottmar. “My kingdom is but a small price to pay for my daughter’s life. Willendorf is yours if you wish it!”
“It is not your kingdom I desire, but your army, Ottmar,” I responded. “I require your troops to vanquish the horde that descends upon us from the north.”
“Very Well.” Ottmar rose to his feet, his lost strength once again filling his body. “Courtiers, fetch me my armor and mace. There is war to be waged!”
(to be continued)
