Polyphemus — Roleplayer Guild

Council Members,

You are to convene immediately at Castle Dracula to discuss a matter of the utmost importance. You must arrive without delay- I have taken the liberty of arranging personal transport for each of you to Cluj-Napoca and thence overland through the Borgo Pass to Castle Dracula. Please accompany this messenger.

Again, I stress that this face-to-face meeting, extraordinary though it may be, is absolutely vital to the continued survival or our besieged community. 

At the bottom of the old-fashioned parchment, a splash of red wax bore the seal of Dracula. A handwritten letter sealed with wax and hand-delivered by one of Dracula's agents. Erik idly wondered if the Count would ever invest in a telephone or email. 

It had been a long trip for the Phantom, Dracula's human servant putting him on a chartered airplane to Cluj-Napoca, where he found a fully fueled off-road vehicle able to take him deep into the mountains, the very mouth of the treacherous Borgo Pass where the last few miles to the castle that could only be traversed on foot. His suit, hat, and cloak were intolerably dusty, and if his face was able to produce sweat the mask would have been dripping as well. It had been annoying to finally arrive and find their host absent.

He looked over the group assembled in the library of Castle Dracula, eyes impassively glinting through the holes of his mask. It was a comfortable enough room, lined wall-to-wall with books old and new, beautifully made chairs and tables scattered around atop priceless rugs, a wide window with a jaw-dropping view of the Carpathian Mountains. But the absence of the castle's owner put all of them on edge. A few members of the Council were also conspicuously lacking- Erik supposed they may have been engaged elsewhere or simply not wanted to come but given the subject matter of the urgent summons he could not help but feel there was some cause for concern.

“Every last one of us received one of these,” he said without preamble, holding up his letter. He spoke bluntly, directly, a man unaccustomed to socializing. “There can be no doubt of its authorship,” Erik said as he tapped the wax seal depicting the Dracula coat of arms. “But it is so unusual for us to meet in person, much less for anything so vague. After a difficult journey up into the mountains, we arrive to find no sign of our host. No servants, no instructions, no fires lit, no refreshments waiting. Not even so much as a note on the door- 'gone to market, back in ten minutes'. We did what any sensible people would do- we searched the entire castle, top to bottom, trying to find our host. Nothing was out of place, nothing out of the ordinary, except this.”

Erik indicated the empty envelope sitting atop the library table where they had found it. It had been slit open (doubtless with a flick of one of the Count's razor-sharp nails) and the contents removed. Privately, Erik suspected the letter inside was now the clump of cold ashes in the library fireplace.

While there was nothing inside the envelope, the writing on the outside might potentially be considered a clue. The postmarks showed it had been received one week earlier at a PO box in Bucharest, one of the Count's few connections to the outside world. The return address revealed it to have been sent from Loxton, a tiny town in a truly remote desert province of South Africa. The sender was listed as one Doctor Septimus Pretorius.  

“This, I believe, was the Count's last piece of correspondence. It might suggest that whatever was in this letter was the cause for our summons here today. It might suggest that this Doctor Pretorius was responsible for the Count's disappearance. Perhaps some of the people in this room are. I do not know.”

Erik, with a perhaps overdramatic flick of his cape, turned around and settled into a chair. “I do not like to leave Paris, and then not for any extended period of time. I intend to return at once. Anyone who wants to come with me is welcome.”

He lounged in the chair, lifting his leg and resting the pit of his knee on the armrest while flinging an arm over the back. “I have made no secret of my opinions. If Dracula was right and there is some mysterious force threatening us all, we must band together and defend ourselves. Anything that overcame him can surely overcome us if we are not united. Now, more than ever, we must make a public statement to the world. While the Count would have objected, he is no longer here to stop me from acting in our best interests.”

Erik reached into the pocket of his suit, produced a small silver-plated flask. Delicately, he unscrewed the lid as he spoke. “When I return to Paris, I will make a public ultimatum to the French government and the world at large. It will be simple: abandon Paris and leave it to the children of the night, or face a disaster beyond your wildest imagination. Rest assured, I have recently discovered the means to enforce this edict hidden beneath the city, and it will be so much the easier with your help.”

His speech completed, Erik Garnier, the Phantom, held aloft his flask in salute to the other members of the Council of the Night. “To a new world of gods and monsters,” he toasted, and took a deep swig of cognac.
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