Escher Von Preshlow

Ismark Kolaynovich

The black, ebony carriage finally drew to a halt, just on the outskirts of the Village of Barovia, precisely as the horse's master had commanded. Escher rolled his eyes. The journey would have been much faster, had he been allowed to fly instead.

Sighing, he pulled himself up lazily from the velvet cushioned benches and peered past the curtain obscuring the view from the window.

He'd been given a job to do. Well... two jobs, by Strahd's own design.

The vampire dragged himself resentfully to his feet and ducked, so as not to hit his head upon the frame as he opened, and exited through the small carriage door.

Escher rolled his shoulders back and twisted his neck till he heard it click- the ride over had been rough and bumpy. After thirty-five years into the same routine, not even this amount of velvet or silk can make some lifestyles comfortable. He looked about him, at the damp, leaning black and dirty grey houses that lined the streets of the humble village. Despite being the middle of the day, there was not a soul in sight.

This would make the first of Escher's tasks a tad more difficult.

"Find a man, above six feet tall, with a healthy muscle build and a fair mop of hair." Those were his instructions. Strahd would add the finer details and finish up back at the castle, but he needed someone by those specific descriptors for some mysterious purpose. Presumably entertainment for this dinner he was hosting for the latest wanderers into his land.

Escher had to admit to himself, in some horrifically twisted way... he may actually be looking forward to whatever Strahd had up his sleeve this time. At least he could introspectively recognise how sick that was, but... it would be something to break up the monotony. He had little in the form of expectations for these people, and these dinners were always such dreary occasions. At least this time, it seemed, Escher wouldn't find himself being the entertainment of the night, and someone else could take that burden instead.

Maybe he'd just been in Barovia too long. He was losing himself.

He pondered this, as he made his way through town, striding confidently in the direction of the destination required for his second task.

The Burgomaster's mansion was in a sorry state. Fallen into a dismal state of depressing disrepair since the last time Escher had been here, so long ago. The village had never been joyful, lying in the shadow of the castle- Escher had a view, one that may even pass as beautiful, from the top of his tower over the village. He knew it well. He'd watch the werewolf hordes circle and ravage this house as Strahd had commanded them, until the previous burgomaster had died some days ago.

Their huge paw prints still remained in a few spots of mud that used to be a flower bed in front of the old mansion. Escher placed a boot down upon a print, pressing his own into the dirt. As a vampire, it was too easy to never leave a trace. Not a reflection, not a shadow... sometimes a silly action such as that would be what he required to remind himself that he was still corporeal.

*Knock. Knock. Knock*

Escher waited, keeping a careful eye out for any movement or sign of life behind the yellowed lace curtains and between wooden planks that barricaded the windows of the house. He was not in any disguise, and he was sure a quick glance at his relaxed purple attire would quickly give away the fact he was not a local- or at least, not one of them anymore. Not human.

Sure enough- when a masculine voice on the other side of the door did approach, it did so with caution.

"What do you want?"

"I bring word from your sister." Escher kicked the dirt and absentmindedly bit the inside of his cheek during his pause. "She is settling in now, at her new residence."