The Power of Seven - Stories from Transylvania

Mettermrck: Thanks

Judas Maccabeus: He's just killed himself so probably not... And, yes, this is inspired heavily by Dracula.

sleepyirv: I couldn't possibly comment

Dead William: It will become apparent in the fullness of time.

Whitby, England
15th June, 2005

“Hey, give that back!” There was a giggle, and then a thump. I bet he’s fallen over the box, she thought, not bothering to turn and look. Idiot. Belladonna sighed and turned, as her brother burst into tears. She walked up to him, and nudged him with her foot.

“Oh come on, don’t be such a crybaby! You only tripped over a box!” A tear-soaked face glared up at her, and scowled.

“It hurts,” he muttered, and wiped the streams from his face with his hand. She saw that the thing he had stolen had fallen a few metres away, and scooped it up. She paused for thought, and then smiled menacingly.

“You know, I think you should pay for stealing my stuff. Stealing is wrong!” Seeing the evil expression upon her face, Craig’s face changed from tearful to apprehensive.

“Wh- what do you mean?” he said, suspicion welling up. She grinned, waving the item at him. Then, moving like a cheetah she pinned him down. Still smiling madly, she waved the item threateningly in his face.

“No, no, please don’t!” the boy cried, now panicking.

“Come on, it will be fun! He he, I think you would look good with lipstick, especially black.” She opened the tube, and edged the thick black wax nearer to his face, as he all the while continued to struggle, trying to break away from her powerful grasp. It was only a few millimetres from his face when a stern voice came from the doorway.

“Hey, stop mucking about!” Startled, Belladonna let her guard down, allowing Craig to escape. She turned, to see her father, John. Craig was standing beside him, pointing accusingly.

“She tried to put lipstick on my face!”

“Did not!” Still kneeling, she looked down at the tube in her hands and realised the patent absurdity of the lie, and changed her tack.

“Well, he shouldn’t have stolen my lipstick, should he! You know I don’t like him touching my stuff!” Their father sighed in exasperation.

“Come on kids, no time to mess about! This move has been stressful enough already!”

Up to this point Belladonna had spent most of her 17 years living in the East End of London, living in a cramped two bedroom apartment. Her father had always talked of moving, but never seemed to get the lucky break needed to take the first step. Then, in a run of fluctuating fortunes everything changed. First, her father had landed a job in insurance, after seemingly infinite years of unemployment. This allowed for the family to move to a slightly more spacious house in the North of London, in the suburban town of Barnet. Affairs had run smoothly, until in 2003 their luck seemed to run out when John was made redundant. Due to the nature of his dismissal he received a hefty severance pay, which was used to put food on the table at the very least.

Within a couple of years the bank balance slunk below five figures, and things looked more and more bleak for the family. However, just as the money seemed to be running out a mysterious letter came through the post:

Dear Sir/Madam,

I am delighted to inform you that you are the sole heir of your great uncle Stanley’s estate, consisting of the following,

6 Cressfield Road, Whitby, North Yorkshire

For more information contact Malcolm Owen Solicitors at ***********

Yours sincerely,
Malcolm Owen

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John could not quite bring to mind who his great-uncle Stanley was, but he convinced himself that it was one of those faces he remembered from his youth, when the family used to come together for regular reunions and social events. So many of those kindly faces had since floated away to obscurity, as the family suffered misfortune after misfortune. A particularly nasty incident involving a Jack Russell had resulted in the loss of contact with an entire branch of the family, and John assured himself that Stanley was one of them.

Belladonna had been particularly excited at this development. Whitby! The supposed final resting place of Count Dracula! Belladonna knew everything there was to know about vampire mythology and folklore, and this was reflected in her appearance. Her hair was jet black, her eyes darkened by eyeshadow and her clothing was reminiscent of the darkest imaginable midnight. One might have got away with calling her a Goth, although in truth her style was less to do with being a part of any subculture and more a result of her identifying with the darkness. And, of course, she felt a natural affinity with all other creatures of the night…

However, she knew vampires did not exist, deep in her heart. She would never admit it to anyone, but in reality it was a fascination with the fear of the dark. The darkness should not be scary, she thought, but embraced. Unfortunately, not many seemed to share her views.

The move had been stressful, but it was good that they were finally here. When they had pulled up at the house for the first time they had just stood transfixed outside the house, drawing some funny looks from the natives. As she stood gawping, a thought skated across her mind. This is not a house. This is a mansion. The place had eight bedrooms on three floors, multiple bathrooms, multiple kitchens. It had a servants quarters! It even had bloody turrets! However, the family had been rather surprised when they entered, finding the place stripped of all possessions. Room after room, empty as a vacuum. Of course, they had just laughed. Uncle Stanley must have led a very simple lifestyle!

A couple of weeks later they had moved, and it is that day that Belladonna first saw the boy. Under the gleaming streetlights, as box after box was piled into the house, she had caught a glimpse of him. His eyes seemed to glow, and his pale features were offset by his slicked black hair. She had been distracted by a sofa, and when she looked back he was gone. Despite the excitement of the move she could not stop thinking about him. She was confident that in time their paths would cross once again.

The first night in the new house was sleepless for Belladonna, as that boy dominated her thoughts. Eventually she slipped in a disturbed sleep…

She was in the house. Before her was a mirror, and she saw that she was dressed in a magnificent black dress, showing far more than she thought she even had. At the top of the stairs stood the boy. His hair slick and black, as dark as a moonless night. He seemed to cast a spell over her, his eyes so deep and fascinating, looking into the very depths of her soul. She went forward, almost floating. No wait, she was floating. She was at the top of the stairs standing before him. He stroked her black hair, pushing it aside to reveal her soft white neck, the blue blood of the jugular vein prominent. He smiled an enchanting smile, and bared his fangs. She submitted, and he sank his teeth into her white neck-

Her eyes shot open, her chest tight in panic. Checking her bedside clock, it was only 2:00 AM. Belladonna sighed. It was going to be a long night.

Loeffle said:

Your Siebenbürgen AAR is just around the corner?

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Uh, this IS my Siebenburgen AAR :wacko:

As I said before, how the game fits in with the story will become apparent as it progresses.

Thanks for comments all.

Remember this is an alternative universe where my Siebenburgen game is historical, so things may be different (though for the most part things turned out to be remarkably similar to our reality. Makes things a lot more simple for my poor tired mind ).

All the next day was spent emptying out box after box, along with some exploration of some of the more distant areas of the house. There seemed to be infinite rooms, each one as empty as the next. However, in one, somewhere in the servants quarters, was a wardrobe, tall, mysterious, and rather disappointingly lacking in passages to alternative worlds. The wood was dull, with varnish coming off in big chunks. On the outside was an elaborate design of flowers, fruit and birds, strangely alluring to Belladonna’s eye.

The lights in the room did not work, and there were no windows, so Belladonna had to inspect using candle light alone. In her wanderings earlier in the day she had found that many rooms and indeed some corridors had no light, and had got rather badly lost. This time, she had thought, I will come prepared, and in this room her candle was a godsend. The flicker of the candle gave the room an eerie glow, suggesting all sorts of weird and wonderful things hiding in the shadows. Her heartbeat pulsed ever so slightly faster as she examined the wardrobe, running her hands over the intricate decorations. As she did bits of varnish crumbled away, until her hand came to a handle. Upon the front of the great wooden beast there was a huge lock, golden and with similar decorations to the main body of the wardrobe. Belladonna tried the handle, expecting it to be locked, and to her surprise it swung open with ease.

The candlelight flowed into the dark space like golden syrup, illuminating a large cool area. Sadly, for Belladonna, it was empty. She sighed with disappointment, as she knew that big old wardrobes were supposed to contain some dark secret that leads the young heroine on a great quest with dragons, elves and vampires. They were not supposed to be as bare as a baby’s bottom. Glumly, she reached for the door to shut it, only to notice what looked like a box tucked carefully into the corner. Curious, she bent down and picked it up, noticing it was the same colour as the inside of the wardrobe. On the top there was a majestic scene, a highly stylised dragon swooping upon a terrified damsel. The more she looked at it, the more unsettled she became. There was something discomforting about it, that made the hairs on her neck stand on their ends.

The bottom of the box was plain, although the sides were odd. Belladonna ran her hands along one of the sides, which was further inset on three sides by about a centimetre.. The surface was strange, like… pages. Belladonna laughed at her stupidity as it became obvious that this item was no box, but in fact a book, bound in hard leather. It could not, however, be opened, due to a large, obnoxious padlock. She thought it was unnecessarily large, as if to symbolise that the padlock was there for a reason. A cursory search of the wardrobe found no key, and frustration and disappointment welled up in the girl. What on earth could be in there, she thought, as all sorts of possible contents started to appear in her imagination. Maybe it is a book of spells, or a secret diary, she thought excitedly. Maybe a gripping tale of forbidden love, so heart rendering that they deemed it should never be opened lest the reader get overwhelmed by emotions!

She inspected the book once again, getting increasingly irritated by the fact it could not be opened. Maybe I can pick the lock or prise it open? With this thought in her mind she headed back to the main area of the house where the kitchen and living room were located, mercifully not getting hopelessly lost this time around. Her father was out buying groceries and such what, and Craig was in his room playing computer games, so the coast was clear. Belladonna sighed in relief, not wanting to share her discovery with her other family members, especially her brother. He would doubtlessly pinch and hide it, causing her an unnecessary amount of grief. She quietly entered the kitchen. Compared to her last house it was overpowering, a huge room with a dining table situated square in the middle and surfaces on three sides. Belladonna was convinced that all the possessions they owned would fit into the numerous cupboards and draws in the mighty kitchen, let alone fill out the entire house. Who needs so many damn draws? She thought as she gingerly approached the particular draw where the screwdrivers and such had been dumped for the time being. She grinned at her luck, as it was she who had put them there earlier in the day. Fortune must have been on her side, as she had no idea where most things were in the post-moving-in chaos that reigned so ruthlessly.

She chuckled softly as, indeed, in one particular draw lay the toolbox, and in that lay an immense array of different screwdrivers of all different shapes and sized. There must have been hundreds of them, all subtly different, and indeed all entirely useless to Belladonna. No matter how hard she tried she just could not get the blasted book to open. She tried both delicate and forceful, but nothing could remove that stupid lock. After about an hour she sobbed in despair, slamming the screwdriver she was holding down on the surface with force.

“Damn thing!” she cried, looking longingly at the book. There was a voice behind her that made her jump out of her skin.

“What’s wrong?” Belladonna swung herself round, to be presented with the face of her brother. She shifted subtly in front of her book and raised her eyebrows.

“Wrong? Nothing! Not a jot! Ha ha.” Craig looked suspicious.

“What are you hiding? I know you’re hiding something!” Belladonna faked amazement.

“Hiding something? I don’t think I quite understand how you could think-” As she was speaking her brother moved like a viper and grabbed the book. She groaned.

“What’s this? It looks cool!” Belladonna paused, thinking best how to lie to her brother to make him go away. She spoke slowly, in a voice she considered her most ominous and creepy.

“I don’t know, but it is cursed. Cursed, I tell you!” Her brother rolled his eyes and laughed, an annoying high-pitched whine.

“I’m young, but I’m not stupid.” He looked at the book’s lock. “Wow, this thing has been battered!”

“Yes, I have been trying to get it open. But I couldn’t, so I got annoyed.” She motioned for Craig to give her back the book. “You turning up has not helped. Now give it here, or I will make you regret the day that you were born.” He held his hands up in mock surrender.

“Okay, okay. Here you go!” Belladonna snatched the book back, suspicious of her brothers amazingly civil behaviour. “Actually, I would quite like to know what’s in there myself.” Belladonna scowled.

“I’m sure it has nothing to do with Europe Universal, or whatever the hell that thing you constantly play is called, so I’d be surprised if it interests you in the least!”

The searing sarcasm had no effect as he shrugged, and wondered to get a packet of crisps. Belladonna sat, for seemed like hours, just staring at that book. I must get it open. I just must.

Eventually she sauntered to her room and placed it in her draw, which she then promptly locked. That night, all thoughts of that boy were gone, replaced by endless romantic ideas about the book. In her dreams she opened the book and was fascinated by the words that flowed from the page into her mind, but when she woke up in the morning there was just a book, locked and forever refusing to open.

Dead William said:

Promising indeed. Though I would have liked to see a Narnia EUII AAR. Can anyone twist Prufrock's arm and force him to write one?

Event: The Ice Queen
Event: Aslan Dies
Event: Aslan revives
Event: He's not a tame lion
Event: Dracula rules on high

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You mean something like this:

etc...