With the swish and crack of heavy leather cloaks the Black Council, as one, turned to their respective exits and left the ancient crypt.
....
The Dwarfs had been easy to entrap with rumours of vast untapped resources of precious metals in the Sylvannian foot hills.
The Count was pleased with the tidings. His fell bats whispered through wicked yellow fangs, that the Dwarfs were some twelve days into their expedition. This put the Dwarfs well within his reach and well beyond any hope of rescue or reinforcements when the Count executed his plan.
Now, to unleash the beast. The Count floated down through the numerous castle chambers and crypts until he stood looking down into the pit. Through the darkness, huge malevolent red eyes glared upwards.
"I know you can already scent their blood my dearest child. Now, do your father's bidding"
With the merest click of his taloned fingers, the portculis rose and the Varghulf leapt into the caverns and raced upwards towards the night of the sufrace dweller's world.
