Three von Malhavens

Three von Malhavens is an encounter in Muri Mortuorum.
==Enemies==
* Skeleton Summoner (1235 Gold, 152 XP, 95 Energy, 7 HP)
* Cursed Mummy (1235 Gold, 152 XP, 95 Energy, 7 HP)
* Ancient Wraith (1235 Gold, 152 XP, 95 Energy, 7 HP)
* Oswald von Malhaven (2275 Gold, 280 XP, 175 Energy, 1 HP)
==Transcript==
===Introduction===
Rina wasn't soft like the weak, pampered women of the towns and cities -- the simpering bitches who'd be found dead in a ditch with their purses missing, their fine petticoats torn, and their throats cut if they strayed so much as a hundred yards from the sight of the men they relied upon for protection. Gypsy girls were raised to look after themselves with quick hands, quick minds, and quick blades. Otherwise they'd be useless to the Balval Churi or any other clan worthy of its name.
No... Rina wasn't soft. But even so, her body ached as though she'd endured arduous labor for the first time in her life. Her muscles burned with the strain of hard fighting, the cumulative anguish of battle after battle. Her nerves were taut and painful. Even the strongest mind couldn't have withstood the constant desperate wariness, the horrid carcasses of the undead, and the ever0present threat from the osseous walls without suffering. The others had fared no better. They plodded along like weary ploughmen, the soldier's stride gone from their shanks. And they twitched at every shadow, each creaking bone.
As for the grime and gore... They were all smothered in filth. Blood and other fluids, sprayed from body after body -- living and undead alike -- were slathered over each suit of armor, had seeped deep into the gypsy's clothes. Any man who came along would have been able to trace the slain foes from the stains and dirt they'd left in their wake as petty vengeance upon their destroyers. Even the mummies had made their mark. Their dusty innards had attached themselves to the macabre juices of their zombie cohorts and fastened there as part of the same putrid, stinking mess.
Rina vowed that the next time she saw a river, whether it was back with her clan, in the von Malhavens' domain, or in the underworld itself, she would tear her clothes off and plunge into its depths. Perhaps after an hour in the rushing water she'd feel clean...
Commander Ludwig, splattered in stench and bodily fluids from helm to sabaton, was too weary -- and perhaps even disheartened -- to raise his faceplate and express his vexation at whatever slight Rina had committed last. Several of his men lay dead, their bodies abandoned in the sinister labyrinth's passages. And for all they knew, the grouops who'd taken the other routes might have fared even worse. Perhaps such things weighed on his mind.
So amid such pain, discontent, and weariness of body, mind, and soul, their discovery of an exit bought a ragged cheer from every throat.
At the end of the passages, the walls of skeletons -- those barricades of heaped fleshless corpses -- yielded at long last. They gave way and opened out onto the opposite side of the Gypsy's Ribbon from whence they had entered the dread edifice, revealing the other half of the bisected forest only a few hundred paces ahead.
"Hurra! Hoch der freiherr!" Ludwig bellowed. "Soon the von Mal-"
The distant sounds of clashing steel and roaring men stole the rest of his words.
They hurried out beyond the final wall, now urged on by more than mere eagerness to be rid of the place, and the scene was laid bare. Further along the macabre barrier's length, near one of the other exists, men in plate clashed with more of the undead. Rotting zombies, clicking skeletons, shambling mummies, and flitting wraiths all took part in the slaughter of the living and the dead. 
And yet another contingent of the creatures was waiting at a distance from the fighting. Dozens of dead eyes fastened themselves on Commander Ludwig, Rina, and the others. More of the zombies and the other terrible things... And something perhaps more terrible than them all.
A tall, elegant figure stood at their forefront, outlined against the billowing length of his cloak and his long black hair. A vampire... One of the von Malhavens themselves.
The vampiric aristocrat cried out, and led the charge Rina knew would slay her.
***
"Ha! The way out! You bones can piss off! We're getting out of here in one piece!"
The flabby Titaran gurgles saliva into his mouth, and launches a ball of spit at the nearest wall. Either by accuracy or good fortune, it lands in a skull's grinning mouth.
A skeletal hand shoots out of the wall, rotates, bends, and sticks two fingers up at him. It slides back inside before he can blast it.
"Don't tempt fate, Hugh," Tessa says.
"Quite right, my dear. Fate's a fickle harlot, and delights in turning her face to new lovers."
You and your companions whirl round as one, to see the figure who now stands in the middle of the bone wall's opening. Cold, handsome, aristocratic features colored by a rich red smile... Elaborate clothing that looks freshly tailored but in a style from a prior generation... A voluminous cape with a high collar... You recognize him for what he is even before his lips widen to reveal fangs.
"I am Oswald von Malhaven. And I've come to kill you all."
"Oh yeah?" Hugh grunts. "You and what bloody army?"
"Tempting fate..." Tessa murmurs.
"This one...."
The vampire slips away and vanishes behind the wall. Other, far less elegant forms pour in through the vacated space.
===Conclusion===
[New Brawl boss unlocked!]
It's a sea of the dead, a horrific tide surging up from the underworld that threatens to wash the world of the living away and drown you all in its necromantic eddies. Zombies, skeletons, mummies, and wraiths press towards you in massed ranks of undeath, filling the passage from side to side -- brushing against the bone walls in their haste to assault you and your companions.
"Blood and crystal!" Rakshara cries.
The orange oroc is a bastion and bulwark, her towering frame and impenetrable shield like a cliff face enduring the crashing waves that break against it. Her sword is reaping the undead, sending whatever souls they may possess screaming from their bodies.
Hugh is beside her, mass and magic allowing him to play his part in holding the battle line. His body blazes with infernal flame, pitting demonic sorcery against necromantic, burning away the dead hands that try to grasp him. And his cleaver... You've never seen it wreak so much carnage. Both demon and host know that they're struggling for their lives, on the precipice of death or perhaps worse. You don't know what'd happen to Brachus if Hugh was '[conscripted]' into the ranks of the undead. But you doubt either of them wants to find out.
Tessa and the other ranged fighters knew that their talents would be less valuable in the packed melee, So they're standing atop a wall, two of the mages laying a blanket of arcane energy beneath their feet to keep snatching skeletal hands at bay. It's near suicidal... If their concentration breaks, your friends are doomed. But death is only a whisper away for all of you, so perhaps it makes little difference. And at least for now their missiles and magic are raining down on the undead horde.
You see all these things as you run to and fro, lending your sword arm and magic wherever they're most needed. When a brutish zombie threatens to break through in one place, you're there to trust a blade into its brain. When a wraith tries to flit past your battle line, it's your magic that shreds its intangible form. You're everywhere, doing the work of a dozen. And it still isn't enough.
The dead keep pouring through the gap. In these tight confines they can't use their weight of numbers to its full advantage. But their master doesn't care. These minions are expendable, and can die in droves as long as they smother you with their carcasses.
And there that master is...
"How can the living fight death itself? Its touch is inevitable!"
Oswald von Malhaven has shown himself at last, absent from the beginning of the battle until now. He offers that philosophical observation from his perch on one of the far walls. There's a slender sword in his hand, but he seems content to wave it as though conducting and orchestra rather than joining the fray and putting it to martial use. An arrow shoots past his face, perhaps launched by Tessa's bow. The vampire's fast. And powerful... When an arcane projectile follows, he sweeps his cloak round and envelops it in the garment's shadowy folds. No more missiles fly at him. He's too elusive, and those at the forefront of the melee need those arrows and spells to support them against the undead flood.
"How long can you survive, [username] Kasan?" Oswald asks. "I'll enjoy finding out. Perhaps I'll even finish you with my own blade."
"Come and try!" you shout. Replying to his taunt offers no satisfaction. But you punctuate it by splitting a skeleton's spine, and that helps -- at least for an instant.
"No... I don't think so, Kasan. Your swordsmanship is something I prefer to appreciate from a distance. At least for now. When you tire, however..."
He finishes with a cackle.
You try to silence him with a blast of cyan energy, but he slips aside and only laughs all the harder. A mummy almost seizes your throat as punishment for the vain attempt.
"Careless, Kasan! Careless! You shouldn't give in to distrac-"
His voice ends with such a suddenness that you can't resist risking another glance at him -- leaving the mummy fumbling around without its arms.
Oswald is staring down, his eyes flashing, his mouth forming a gaping circle. There's something in his chest. For a moment you wonder if Tessa or one of the other archers hit him while he was busy taunting you. But it's not an arrow. It's the tip of a wooden stake.
A woman's visage appears beside his. He turns to her and gawps, their faces only a few inches apart.
"But... The markgraf!" he hisses. Somehow his voice reaches you, a piercing stage whisper.
"Vat of him?" she asks.
Black dust crumbles into the breeze from around his wound. The hole widens, growing larger and larger until you can see the woman's torso through it, garbed in black and scarlet. His limbs and head crumble in turn. The sword falls from his disintegrating hand, bounces off the wall, and is lost in the host below. Dust pours down the skeletal edifice, blows away in little billowing wisps. Soon there's only the woman, the stake in her hand, traces of Oswald's remains sprinkled across her silk tunic -- a vision of murderous beauty.
"Destroy them, Kasan," she cries. "Let none of them carry vord back to the markgraf!"
Even as she issues the instruction, there's commotion at the exit to the macabre maze. More undead... These ones fighting for Katrina von Malhaven. Your enemies are trapped now, caught between two forces.
"Kill the buggers!" Hugh yells. He splits a zombie's skull in two with his cleaver.
***
The gypsy's dagger took a zombie through the eye, piercing his dead brain. The creature moaned and fell beside the other two. Her blades were slimy with the chronicle of their demise, as well as that of several other creatures. But the battle wouldn't be won. Rina knew that. The soldiers were selling their lives dear, but yielding them nonetheless. A dozen little pockets of combat raged around her. None would last much longer.
"You fight well, gypsy."
She span round. The vampire stood a few paces behind her, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
"But you're no soldier. Commander Ludwig doesn't allow women into his ranks. No more than he allows them into his bed." Something sparkled in the dark depths of his eyes. "You're of the Balval Churi, aren't you?"
Rina nodded. Her tongue seems frozen in her mouth. The daggers' handles were almost... unreal... in her hands.
"A guide then? Betraying the land of your birth for coin?"
That returned the gypsy's tongue to her command. She spat on the ground.
"My people vere loyal to Markgrafin Gretchen! Ve owe nothing to the man who killed her and drove us from her territory!"
"Perhaps not..." He sighed. "But Markgraf Otto now rules over the von Malhavens in my mother's stead, and his will must be done. He has ordained death for the freiherr's forces and all those who ride with them."
The vampire uncrossed his arms and stepped towards her.
"Koro!" Rina spoke and spat.
He wiped the spittle from his left eye. His gaze was still on her, as sharp and focused as before.
"Vulgar gypsy magic... No use against one such as I."
He took another step. Rina lunged, her dagger trained on his heart. He slipped aside too quickly for her to understand the move and countermove. All she knew was that she was in his embrace.
"The markgraf ordained death," he whispered. "But death can mean many things..."
She knew she should struggle. Should break free, stab with the daggers still in her grasp. But the vampire's soft, strong eyes filled her vision.
"What's your name, daughter of the Balval Churi?"
"Katrina," she said. No one ever used her full name. And yet somehow 'Rina' wouldn't have done. Not before this one...
"I am Heinrich von Malhaven. Tomorrow you may despise me. But I swear that in time you'll understand the gift I shall give you."
He lowered his mouth to her neck.
Category: Muri Mortuorum