[Bloodstalker]

For years the stately king of Carylon had held court in these very halls. Sitting dejectedly upon his throne, he considered for a moment. In this throne room he had forged alliances, seen kingdoms fall away as enemy diplomats had kneeled before his feet, pledging the fealty of their lords to his realm. Countless times had he sat in judgment as hardened criminals and even madmen had awaited the swift hand of justice. Always before had he been careful, meticulous in his dealings. His verdicts had always been fair, at times harsh, but those had been hard times. He had never used his power to subjigate the innocent, only to deliver the guilty to the swift retribution demanded by the laws he had taken an oath to uphold on the day of his coronation. All in all, he had been a good king to his way of thinking. Yes, a fair and good king, as was evidenced by the love that his people bore for him. Carylon was upheld as a light among the kingdoms, a place where the population was free to go about it's own daily workings without being regulated and taxed into despair. He had done his best, and in that, he had cemented the the adoration of the masses, the love of the army, the favor of the Gods themselves.

So, why had he been cursed with such a mental midget as a son and heir to his throne?

His gaze looked out across the now hushed gathering, his attendents and counsel stunned into awed silence to look upon his son. Outwardly, the boy was all a father could hope for. Standing well over six feet, a body full of the power and agility of youth. His clear blues eyes burned with a fire of a spirit not yet bound by the passage of time, eager for new experience as he stood before his father in a suit of shining armor, his blonde hair hanging loosly upon his shoulders. Yes, the boy was the picture of what a prince should be, save for the idiotic grin on his face that seemed to advertise to all who looked upon his regal countenance that something was sorely amiss between his ears.

Gathering all the patience he could muster, King Everend Corathalin addressed his son Marcius with all the fatherly love and understanding he could.


" Have you you lost your damn mind boy?" He roared, his voice echoing through the halls and causing many in attendance to jerk back to the awareness of rational thought.

Marcius only smiled that irritatingly tolerant smile of his. He had expected this. His father was a good enough sort, but old, and he hadn't really expected him to understand. He gently reminded himself that he would have to be patient here, it took time for new ideas to get through to some people.

"At ease father," he spoke in a soothing tone, "I have merely come to inform you of my decision. I have thought long and hard about this.."

"Gods that must have hurt" Everend grumbled under his breath, barely even denting the momentum Marcius had built as the boy merely grinned that fool grin and nodded sympathetically before continuing.

"It has come to me that I am not in a position that I am able to follow you in line to the throne. It would be immoral of me to accept the crown on the mere basis of bloodline. It is imperitive that I prove my worth both to you and to the people of Carylon in order to secure my place as ruler"

"You do know I am not dead as of yet, don't you?" the king asked, not at all sure that his son could indeed grasp that fact on his own.

"Oh, of course father," Marcius replied. " Thus it behooves me to seek my fame now, wilst there are yet years of good health before you. "

Everend looked with a sincere disgust on his son before putting the pieces together somewhat."So, you want to go on a quest of some sort to prove your ability?"

"Exactly my Father"

Everend considered for a moment. He couldn't really fault the boys intentions here, he could even see how Marcius's hold on the throne would be weak at best, taking into account the entire kingdom knew he was a raving lunatic. Maybe it would help the boy grow up, maybe, just maybe, his son could at least become an adult thinking madman.

"Very well," he sighed. "I suppose I can't stop you short of putting you in chains. Would you mind at least honoring the court with the nature of your quest?"

"Why, to rescue the Damsel of course" the boy grinned back with that infuriating look of sheer and blissful ignorance.

"what damsel?" His mother, Queen Ereasa asked blankly, filling the gap of her sputtering husbands speech quite nicely.

"why, the Damsel held captive by the Dragon of course" Marcius replied, as if that fact should have been self evident.

"Dammit boy, what dragon?" his father managed to interject, having at last found his voice again.

"My Father," the idiot bgan with a condescending tone, " it is common knowledge that the Hero alway rescues the damsel from the firey Dragon just before the fair maiden meets her death in it's lair"

Coming off his throne, Everend let loose a stream of obsenities, bringing a deep blush to several of his counselours and even to one or two of the court concubines. Ereasa tried to calm him in hushed tones, but he only shot her a glare that was almost accusing. Many times he had speculated whether or not Marcius was his child. It just didn't seem possible that one of such meager mind could have sprung from his loins. Of course, he had never made the accusation in light of the fact that there was no one in the kingdom he knew of that had an intellect that even approached his sons. No, the boy was his curse, surely punnishment for some gross negligence in his rule. He thought for a moment, a shrewd light coming to his eyes as he laid hold on what he felt would be the hole in Marcius' reasoning that would show him the err of his judgement.

"Where, exactly, is this dragon you seek?" He proclaimed his a smile of pure joy, thinking his son trapped.

Marcius merely shrugged noncommitedly. "The wizard will know"

Everend choked on his next words,his face going pale as death as he fought the urge to reach out and strangle his only son. Instead,collapsing back into his throne, he tried to think of something, anything to snap the boy out of it, but found no words in the face of such pure and unadultered nonsense.

"My Father, you look ill. It is good I have come to this decision now in light of this most unfortunate turn of events.I pray you now, get some rest before you fall into the sickness fully. I shall return to bid you goodbye before I leave in the morning."

Watching his son turn on his heel and exit the throne room, Everend wondered why he had been chosen for this burden. He searched his mind for some reason for this episode. marcius was unstable, but to construct such an elaborate design required some kind of inspiration. There was no way he could have put all this together on his.....

His eyes narrowed as he considered. yes, there was the answer. Surely Marcius had been influenced here, and he believed he now knew the source. And to think, he had hired the man of his own accord to keep his son out of mishief and entertained.

leaning forward, he growled to his guard. "Bring me that damn bard"