The Truth of Bastogne

Date: December 19, 1944
Target: Doctor Ulrich Wolfram of the SS-Ahnenerbe
Mission: Terminate Doctor Ulrich Wolfram, suspected member of the Faust Clan, obtain the Mirror of Isis and return it to Command.
Mission Priority: 1
Danger Level: 8
Mission Location: Bastogne, Brussels

Find the fortress and its underground. Enemy concentration very high. Received report of American forces present. Get artifact before it falls into wrong hands. Take any action necessary.

Keliah, second Scourge of Prince Mystro Angelis, and Commanding leader of the Hand of Ilyes, stood deep in the freezing, wintry bluster of Brussels’ thick forest to receive the mission from one of her footman, Aldier. With him stood a company of men (and women, counting the vampires). Some human, some not. However, they were fighters all.

Quite a sight she was. Nightfall could not diminish the gleam of her skin nor the brightness of her stare. Scarlet hair scraped into a knot and dressed from neck to toes in black, she was a formidable thing despite her stature.

“I trust you were not trailed?” She asked of Aldier, the tone of her voice cross between a hiss and a challenge.

“Of course not, Madame.”

The answer seemed to satisfy her, for Keliah deftly turned and began to move, soundless in her footfalls.

“I am not sure, but I saw feral wolfs. Could be ‘ostile, or zey could be just wolves. Zere is also a resistance camp some twenty miles West of ‘ere. I do not know what zere mission is, but we should keep out of zere business. So! We’re ‘eading North zen. Zee message is true,” Said as she ripped the bit of parchment and cast it to the winds, “America is ‘ere already, in case you could not tell. Mindful of zee planes. Move out!”

There were certainly plenty of planes roaring overhead, though none would notice the retinue of black-clad Hand of Ilyes as they jogged through the dense forest, trailing after their shield maiden. In the distance the plumes of smoke and fire rose, which were the product of the constant explosions. Gun shots echoed eternally, rarely ceasing. Sometimes the cry of the dying accompanied.

Keliah suddenly stopped. In the distance came the sounds and scents of life. Buildings hidden away by trees. There was little light and smartly so, for the they did not wish to be targets of the air raid. It was a bustle of activity – a frantic scurry of soilders assuming rank and position, taking posts of guards rather than the offensive. Nazis. Surely, if Aldier’s sources were correct, than this was nothing but a façade.

“Aldier, take 10. ‘ead to zee South face. On my signal, we advance.” Keliah drew her knives from their sheathes. Long, wickedly curved silver things. Their hilts felt sure and right in her naked palms, "We fight like warriors and not like men." There was a collective hiss. Fangs extended. Eyes darkened. Faces twisted. There was blood lust to be slaked. Keliah turned, just in time to see the descent of mist. Shining plumes of death materialized and manifest in their midst. Vampires…

“Zee Faust! It’s a trap!”