Trouble is brewing 3

Draven pushed open the creaky gate and stepped into the ancient dungeon. The air was thick with the musty scent of decay, and cobwebs laced every corner of the dark, damp space. The stone walls were blackened with age and etched with strange symbols that seemed to pulse with a life of their own.

Skeletons littered the floor, their bones picked clean by rats and insects. Dried patches of blood stained the walls and floor, evidence of the many lives that had been taken in this place.

As he walked deeper into the dungeon, he spotted Vlad, Alastair, and Soren gathered around a group of noblemen and woman who knelt before them, fear evident in their eyes. Draven approached them with a sly grin on his face.

"My, my..." he spoke, drawing their attention to himself. "Wouldn't princess Rhiannon be mad if she was to know that her future husband is about to steal the kingdom from her?" His eyes twinkled with mischief as he surveyed the group before him.

The nobles looked up at Draven in shock, their faces pale with terror. They had been asleep in their homes with their families, and they couldn't comprehend how they had ended up in this dark, foreboding place.

Alastair couldn't resist making a sarcastic comment. "Well, you're just in time, Draven. We were getting bored down here."

Draven smirked, his eyes gleaming. "Oh, I'm sure you were, such a pity...". He clicked his tongue in distaste. "...While I was there, having my fun time with the princess".

Draven could see the annoyed expression on Vlad's face. With a chuckle, he raised his hands in surrender.

"Let's begin, Draven". Came the order from Vlad and Draven complied.

The two men and the woman who knelt before Draven, had their faces pale and their bodies trembling with fear. Vlad stood nearby, arms crossed and a cold expression on his face.

Draven crouched down to their level, his eyes closed. When he opened them, they were pure black, with no sign of life. He let out a low hum of satisfaction as he relished in the fear that oozed out from the noblemen and the woman.

As he extended his claws, they began to grow and sharpen, glinting menacingly in the dim light. He ran his tongue over his sharp claws, relishing in the terror that he was causing.

"Look at me," he ordered, his voice low and dangerous. The noblemen and woman complied, their eyes wide with shock and terror. The woman let out a series of high-pitched screams, while the men cowered backward.

Draven's eyes glinted with pleasure as he watched them tremble before him. "You know why I'm here," he said, his voice dripping with malice. "I need answers, only the truth."

The noblemen and woman exchanged nervous glances, their fear palpable in the air. "Please," one of the men stuttered, "we will agree to any terms you ask of us. Just spare our lives."

Draven let out a low chuckle. "Your lives are in my hands," he said, his claws clicking together menacingly. "But perhaps we can agree".

Draven turned to Vlad, addressing him with the honorific "your majesty". He took a deep breath before asking, "What are your orders, my liege?"

Vlad produced a scroll from his robes and tossed it to Draven, who caught it with a sense of gravity. Vlad then motioned to the prisoners, commanding them to read aloud what they had written on the paper. The group of men and women looked at each other with unease before hesitantly attempting to read the script but to no avail. They looked up at Vlad and Draven, their faces twisted with fear and confusion.

Vlad's expression soured at their inability to decipher the writing. He rose from his seat, towering over the group with a menacing glare. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, his voice laced with anger.

The prisoners stammered and fidgeted, unable to form a coherent response. Another man managed to muster the courage to speak up, his voice quivering with fear. "We were given these orders by King Roderick himself," he said, his eyes darting between Vlad and Draven.

Draven's eyes narrowed, and he took a step forward, his face contorted with frustration. "And what orders were those?" he asked, his voice low and threatening.

The prisoners exchanged uneasy glances before shaking their heads. "We cannot read the writing," The first man said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Alastair's expression hardened, and he turned to Draven with a scowl. "These are Roderick's loyalists," he spat, his tone filled with contempt. "They will not talk. They are willing to die for their cause."

Draven turned to Vlad with a grim expression on his face. "Permit me to use my abilities".

Vlad nodded his head in agreement. "Do what you must."

They jumped as he approached them, and one of the men tried to back away. Draven barked, "Look at me!"

The group turned to face him, their expressions are wary and distrustful. Draven's eyes flickered briefly, and then they turned completely black. It was a soul-sucking black, and it unnerved the group. They stared at him in shock, frozen in place.

Draven's eyes shimmered and swirled as he spoke to them, his voice low and commanding. "Who is behind the king's dirty deals in the palace and throughout the kingdom?"

The group responded in unison, "The special advisor."

Draven narrowed his eyes, his voice growing more intense. "And where is the tunnel located, and why is the king going to such lengths to hide it?"

One of the men spoke up, his voice monotone and devoid of emotion. "The tunnel is located beneath the palace and leads to a secret chamber where the king and his advisor conduct their most private meetings. I do not know what their plans are, but I fear they are not for the good of the kingdom."

Soren who had been silent then spoke. "Very well, it seems we need to get the special advisor here instead of these people".

Vlad didn't speak instead, he tipped his chin to the woman. "I want information on her, Draven.

The woman wore a flowing gown made of a rich, deep blue fabric, with long, billowing sleeves that reached down to her wrists. The neckline was modest, with a simple scoop cut that exposed her collarbone and the tops of her shoulders. The gown hugged her curves, accentuating her figure while still leaving plenty to the imagination. At the back of her neck, a delicate golden clasp held the gown in place, drawing attention to the graceful curve of her neck. Overall, the gown had an air of sophistication and elegance, with just a hint of sensuality.

Draven then moved over to the woman, the noble gown she wore exposed her breasts and her neck. Draven saw this and felt his throat itch as he stared hard at the woman's neck, then he growled in hunger. He huddled the woman forcefully to him, as he stood up. Although the woman was under a control, she couldn't help but shiver at Draven's monstrous appearance.

He then took up her fair hand, look into her eyes and his fangs began to emerge. Draven's fangs were noticeably longer than average, protruding from his gums like sharpened ivory. Without warning, he sank his fangs into her.

As he sank them into the woman's palms, the veins in his neck bulged with the effort. His eyes, once a dull grey, had turned a deep, almost black shade that seemed to drink in the light. It was as if he had become something other than human, something dark and primal that fed on the life force of others.

When the blood began to flow into his mouth, Draven's senses were suddenly heightened. He could taste the metallic tang of the woman's blood, feel the warmth of it spreading through his body, and smell the faintest traces of her perfume. But more than that, he could see images flashing before his eyes like a film reel. He saw the woman laughing with her noble friends, her disdainful treatment of the servants, and the bed scenes with the king. As he continued to drink some of the blood dribbled from the corners of his mouth, staining his chin and clothes. His breathing became ragged, and his eyes rolled back into his head as he savored the last drops. Finally, with a violent shudder, he withdrew his fangs from the woman's palms and turned to Vlad, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

The sight of the blood on Draven's face sent a thrill through Vlad, who was already feeling the effects of the woman's blood on his senses. He could see the hunger in Draven's eyes and smell the sweet scent of the woman's blood on his breath. It was a potent mix that made him feel more alive than ever before.

"What do you see?". Vlad asked, with a slight smile.

Draven smiled. "Seems we have a treasure in our hands. The King seems to be warming her bed, my Lord and she would be a powerful pawn in our hands".

Vlad smiled. "Great, we are done for the day. Time for our precious sleep". Vlad then turned away to pack up the papers littered across the room with Soren and Alastair helping out while Draven's attention went back to the woman.

Draven's face had transformed into something monstrous, something that no longer resembled a human. His eyes, once a dull grey, was now black, burning with a fierce intensity that seemed to penetrate the woman's soul. His pupils had dilated, becoming almost slit like a snake's, and his nostrils flared as he drank in the scent of her fear and arousal.

His mouth, now free of the woman's blood, was twisted into a snarl, revealing his razor-sharp fangs. The veins in his neck bulged with the effort of holding the woman tightly, and his muscles rippled beneath his skin like coiled springs. His skin had taken on a sickly pallor as if drained of all life, and his hair stood on end as if charged with electricity.

As he examined the woman, Draven seemed to be both fascinated and repulsed by her. His gaze roamed over her body like a predator assessing its prey, and he seemed to relish the power he held over her. It was as if he was reveling in the fear and pain he could inflict upon her, yet also drawn to her vulnerability and the pleasure he could give her.

The woman, meanwhile, was helpless in his grasp, her body quivering with a mixture of fear and desire. She could feel the heat emanating from his body, and it seemed to set her flesh on fire. She moaned in response, unsure if it was in pleasure or pain, as she felt a strange urge to surrender herself completely to him.

Draven murmured softly in the woman's ear, causing her to moan louder. "What's your name, woman?" he asked, his voice low and seductive.

The woman shuddered and then spoke softly. "It is Helen, master," she said, her voice trembling.

Draven chuckled darkly. "Helen... A beautiful name for a beautiful woman," he said, his eyes gleaming with hunger.

He leaned in closer, his face just inches from hers. Helen could feel the heat radiating from his body, and she felt a strange mix of fear and desire. Draven's eyes met hers, and for a moment, she was lost in their fiery depths.

"Show me your neck, Helen," he whispered, his voice sending shivers down her spine.

Helen shuddered as she felt Draven's magic and sensual power wash over her like a wave. She knew that she was in the presence of a predator, and she felt both fear and a strange, irresistible attraction to him. As he leaned in closer, his lips just brushing against her skin, Helen felt her knees go weak. She could hear the faint sound of his breathing, and she could feel the heat radiating from his body.