Ghislain Lorah - In truth I thought I had breathed my last. I had heard stories of vampires. I believed they once existed, but in theses modern times they were a memory relegated to history. I had narrowly evaded the notice of the male vampire. I had taken cover in the nightmarish laboratory dedicated to reanimating the victims of their insatiable thirst for blood. Swarms of bats seemed to block all ways out of the lab. Then she walked strait through the cloud of wings and teeth. My heart caught in my throat as she lifted me off the ground as if I were no more substantial than a infant. She was like an animated marble statue; pale, beautiful, and cold. Her touch was robbing me of my consciousness. My life seemed to abandon me in favor of a more hospitable host.
I awoke over the shoulder of the Half-Orc Hakaar. They had managed to vanquish the pair of vampires, but not without cost. We moved urgently toward Dowry. The little bits of conversation that floated between them as we moved told the tale of what I had missed after the vampiress accosted me. The female was turned to her gaseous form, the last state a vampire enters before coming vulnerable.
It seems they pursued the male into the area east of the lab. A dumping ground for ore slag left over from the days when this complex was a mine. The female vampire, in gas form, was leading them on a wild goose chase, buying time for her counterpart to regain strength.
Her plan almost worked according to the conversation I was hearing. The male vampire had managed to climb much of the way up the slag pile before he was discovered. Using a wand of magic missiles, he managed to wreak havoc on the group before Hakaar and Bromm brought him down.
It was some time before we emerged from the tunnel after retracing our footsteps. Stopping briefly to destroy the heads of the vampires in the light of day. We continued into Dowry under the ashy rain-laden skies. My employers criss-crossed the town. First stopping at the Temple of Derum Ebbar then making a stop at the Yollari outpost. It seems that money was going to be an issue in brining back the southern warrior Tagaern. That and the fact that the only cleric with the ability to bring him back is the high priestess of the temple of Dulari.
Master Richter composed a letter to the princess in an attempt to gain an audience with the priestess. The courier returned with an answer within a few hours. We had been granted an audience. Now all that was left was the negotiations.