Boolprop Round Robin Legacy Generation IX: A Prologue

A few generations from now, in the not so distant future…

A crash of thunder and a radiant spark of lightning appeared over the skyline of The House of Fallen Trees, illuminating the sky with a vibrant blue.

The Count and Contessa shivered in the rain. It was not a necessity for them to do so, as vampires have no body temperature. It was merely a byproduct of their former humanity creeping to the surface. They knocked on the front door timidly as a rush of rain pummeled their backs.

No answer.

They knocked again.

Nothing.

Once more. The door creaked open upon its own accord, seemingly beckoning the two into the house.

“Is she a witch, as well?” The Count asked his partner as he entered the threshold.

“Do you know nothing?” The Countess sneered. “This place is haunted and has been for generations.”

“One of us living among the non-corporeal dead? That is preposterous. Spirits will not stay in a vampires den. They would have left-“

“It’s true!” She protested. “The spirits are too afraid to leave this place. They fear she will feed upon their very souls if she tries to leave.”

“It is rumored she never leaves, you know,” commented the Count

“She doesn’t have to.”

“But how does she feed-“

A voice suddenly appeared in the room beside them, “She doesn’t.“

“She made a pact with a warlock years ago. Now she only feeds upon the undead. That’s how the story goes now, yes?”

The Contessa began to cower, “Emissary, we meant no-“

“Answer my question.”

The vampire bit her lip, drawing blood, “Yes, that is what they say.”

“And you believe it. Do not lie.”

“Yes, I believe it.”

The Contessa cleared her throat, “His Excellency, the grand magistrate of Arbordale River Plain, heretofore known as Sim City, sends his most humble greeting. It is with great honor he presents through his servants humble tribute.” The vampire moved to bite her own wrist.

“NO!” She said, spinning around, “For god sakes, no. I am not one for the pomp and circumstance. Put your wrist away.”

She did so, a look of relief crossing her face.

The old vampire gestured for her guests to take a seat. As they sat, they noticed the corner chair moved of its own accord to a much more prominent position.

“Well, that’s just unsettling.”

“The counsel has not paid me a visit in ages.”

“Yes, then. I was sent to tell you that a Doran has been spotted in our region.”

Her eyebrows lifted, “After all this time? Are they sure?”

“They are certain of it, Madam. He would not have sent us otherwise.”

“Boy or girl?”

He shook his head, “I do not know, Madam. His Excellency sent us to tell you that there was a Doran threat-”

“Threat? “ She said, her hands clenching, “He said threat? Were those his exact words?”

“I do not remember. He simply asked we relay the arrival and ask your guidance in the matter.”

“He wants my guidance. Now, he wants my guidance.”

“Yes, Madam. Because of your involvement the first time a Dora-“

“My involvement? “ Her volume increased, “My InVOLVEment?! You have no idea what happened or who the Dorans were, do you?”

The Count swallowed, “No, Madam.”

“-only that they were elves, Madam.” Finished the other. “And that many died.”

The old vampire called warmly towards nothingness, “Dear One, would you fetch our guests something fresh to drink. The Beaujolais will mix well with the athlete heme-not the baseball player, the other one. Steroids make me jittery.”

The two young vampires watched uncomfortably as the ingredients seeming mixed themselves at the bar and sauntered over on a tray. They each took one sip out of the glass and hastily put it back down on the tray, causing their elder to smile.

“I will tell you what happened-“

“Madam, we do not need to know the details, only your answer.”

She looked at the Count fiercely, “Why do you not want to hear the story of the family whose fate rests in your hands?”

“With all due respect, Madam, why are you so engrossed by this Doran family?”

“Because, my dear contessa…”

“I am Roxanna Doran…”