𝙳𝚊𝚜 𝙷𝚎𝚛𝚣: 𝙱𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝙴𝚒𝚗𝚜

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟔

Vourdalak – Of Muscovian origin. Not much is known about this being except for the fact that she is an evil yet beautiful woman. Her deceptive ways are death for handsome young men whom she deems worthy of being her prey.

Pushing open the heavy wooden door to the old tavern, young Lorelei's small hand slips off the handle as she comes in from outside. The door clicks loudly in its latch as she pulls her shawl more up around her, shaking her shoulders free of the bit of snow.

The sounds of people talking draw her eyes around the room. Farmers, blacksmiths, shop owners all talking with the women the little tavern has to offer. What captures her eye most, are the few soldiers making themselves at home. Black cloth uniforms with sections of smooth leather, the styles more telling of rank than fashion among the Der Vorfahr army. It is strange to see King Berin's soldiers in a village like this. Der Vorfahr soldiers wear their uniforms when in Loviturä, in war, or on special missions. Having heard no warring and knowing this rotten village is far from the fabled glory of Loviturä, it all leads Lorelei to think the men have a more specialized reason for being here.

She moves past the men and women for the bar of the tavern. The tender of the tavern and owner of it is wiping at the counter when he halts, seeing her approach. She instantly turns up a smile to hide anything her face might have been saying beforehand. "Hello, Arron."

"Lorelei." He says her name in pain.

"It is going to be a cold night. I shall have a bottle of your finest." The girl pats her hands on the counter, smiling innocently.

"The finest, is expensive."

"I do not have any money."

He replies coldly, "I know that." Her smile fades and the tender clears his throat. "But... I cannot afford another rat infestation." Grabbing a bottle, he sets it to the bar in front of her. "Take this, and your curses elsewhere, Gypsy." Her smile returns and she snatches the bottle. Turning on her heels, she is met with a couple soldiers in her path.

"Hello." One leans forward.

The other does the same. "You look much younger than the other women here." He glances over them. "And you are pretty."

Shifting her expression from poor tolerance, Lorelei grows a smile and tilts her head into her wavy hair, playing at her youth. "Would you like to have a drink with us?"

"I...I suppose." She touches a finger to her lip like a child thinking on what they are and are not allowed to do. The young men motion for her to aim for their table.

Taking a seat between them, Lorelei scoots closer to the table. Setting the bottle on the surface, one of the men takes hold of it. "Let's have our drink."

Her eyes widen and she grabs it from him, in a quick moment, showing her true contempt for the soldiers with a glare. At once, she shifts again to her play of innocent youth. "I have to take this back to my mommy. She is sick and she says booze makes it all better." The men glance at each other, having an idea of how sick the woman is.

"Your mother is sick?" One of the men chuckles. "Is it catching?"

Lorelei sits with the bottle between her legs, staring at it. "No... That is what the doctor with the strange wax mask said anyway." The men jump from their seats by her, her lips curling to a more honest smile.

Of a sudden, the tavern door opens, a soldier slamming it to the wall as he enters. Soon, the man steps to the side and another soldier comes in the door frame. The falling snow blows in with him, the specks of white covering his black uniform of cloth and leather. Leather, Lorelei notes is a different pattern than the others. The man with black wavy hair and scraggle on his jawline begins to look around the room that has grown dead silent. The simple motion from this young man brings the soldiers in the tavern to their feet, their faces losing all levity on them moments ago from drinks and women in their hands.