The Other Witch; In Transylvania

"So let me get this straight.  We're going to walk up the hill to the scary castle with the constant lightning strikes, which the villagers have warned us 'don't go there' and make the sign of the cross in the general direction of every time they mention it, so we can learn more about the threat you've assembled the three of us to face."
Hack didn't even bother to dignify Salvia's comment with a response.  In fact, there was no evidence he'd even heard her, and the amount of progress he'd made towards the fore-mentioned spooky castle indicated that he likely hadn't even tried.  She looked at Braga, who, ever the stoic, simply shouldered his axe and followed.  A glance over at James at least merited a response.
"Hey, I'm with you.  Man wants to go up to the scary-%^& castle with only one entrance and a bad reputation, that sounds like a personal problem to me.  But I'm certainly not staying in this pile of #$@! town on my own either.  Soon enough they're going to start trying to sell me on some watered down...whatever they call booze here, and then try to seduce me or something.  And much as I like that idea, I'd also like to wake up alive, sane, and in possession of my wallet.  That doesn't seem likely here."
Salvia looked around for a moment.  Admittedly, Transylvania wasn't exactly the way books had always shown it.  The streets were cleaner and less made of dirt.  The villagers were more snappily dressed.  The churches were...more or less equally old, but somewhat less used.  And she'd already spotted three werewolves and a vampire wandering around, but none of them were locals, the werewolves were history students from the Arcane Academy and the vampire seemed like a tourist, complete with Hawaiian print shirt and sandals worn over socks.  It seemed odd that a resident of the Svelheim Nebula would choose to wear what was officially deemed 'the most garish look in all fashion', but it did make the excessive sunblock and pasty complexion seem less suspicious, by nature of already being blatantly out of place.
In fact, the most suspicious looking thing in the town was probably her.  Braga, likely through use of magic, had been more or less ignored by the locals, despite his small stature, large axe, and the fact that he was essentially a bipedal canine.  Hack seemed to have a mystic ability to be ignored by anyone he didn't want to draw the attention of.  And James was perfectly normal, and would have been no less normal in nearly eighty percent of the known universe.  Humanity was a natural camouflage.  Salvia, with her black dress and Nieldic height, stood out in a crowd.  It was mostly the height.  She hoped it was the height.  If it was the dress then she'd have to burn it, or something within sight of it certainly.  
"Miss?"
"What!"
"I just wanted to tell you that you have an excellent...I mean to say, your dress is most..."
"Just say it."
"Will you go out with me?"
"No.  What was that about my dress?"  But he just sort of muttered an apology and walked off.  Salvia turned and saw that James had started to follow the other two up the castle.  She quickly followed suit.  




The castle was every bit as spooky as it had seemed from the town.  For starters, it had a permanent thunderstorm hanging overhead.  Lightning occurred frequently enough to prove to her that it was magical in nature, and the rain came down at a steady pace at all times.  This lead to it being perpetually dark around the castle, and was likely responsible for the level of erosion the surrounding mountain had undergone.  The bridge leading to the castle from the road was old, probably older than any of the local towns, and far older than any of the planet's scientists would be able to accurately tell.  If they tried though, they'd probably say it was about four, maybe five hundred years old.  They'd also say it was a miracle it was still there, and also how was there still a thunderstorm over only the castle, and had it ever not been there?  
It was rumored to have been the castle of Vlad Teppes, which was why the vampire tourist was in town.  This wasn't true, and most Nielda knew this.  Vlad was actually from a remote part of Armenia, and only lived in Transylvania later, when he was visiting some female friends of his.  Vlad's real castle was on Tara, where people didn't ask questions, the weather didn't require magic to always be like this, and nobody thought of vampire as a reason not to attend your neighbor's masquerade.  The Lycan nobility of Tara considered terror to be a natural part of life, and the Taran peasantry had learned not to have windows, not to talking to strangers, and not to cheat on their taxes.  Vlad liked those qualities in peasants, but like most Taran nobles he'd preferred Gascan women.  It seemed the locals here would have agreed.  
"It's Friday.  I'm here for dinner."  Even Braga was confused by the coarse greeting.  
"Is that how you say hello in your land?"
"No, that's rude in any culture."
"We bare our throats and request a place at the host's table for the night, but even by our standards stating the day and our desire to be fed is considered impolite."  Braga shared freely.  Salvia wondered to herself if there was a more polite way of saying it even by Ga-Vok standards.  
"So is it the fact that he stated the day or that he stated he was hungry the part that was more rude?"
"The day, it implies that the occupant is a fool and cannot manage his own sense of time."
"I think its just the general attitude that's rude."
The door creaked open ominously, accompanied by a crack of what was probably thunder.  An unrelated flash of lightning revealed a figure coming towards the door at breakneck speed, and before the next flash of lightning a tremendous force struck them all.  Salvia had never witnessed so much power at once, and went for her weapon on base instinct.  But she couldn't reach it fast enough to react to the newcomer.  A tan-gold flash struck Hack full in the chest and bore him to the middle of the bridge before coming to a halt.  Braga planted his axe in front of the ground Hack had stood upon but a moment before, and then glanced back to where he lay now.  Salvia spun and assumed a defensive stance, fan spread wide and a hand at the ornate pistol on her hip.  
"So you guys must be his new party?  Come in, I've been expecting you guys."  The voice was calm, troublesomely so for the occupant of so obviously evil and terrifying a castle.  Salvia spun to deflect any potential attacks from this new entity and was met by a tall, rather handsome man.  He wore a white labcoat and had a streak of white running through his otherwise black hair.  Both were oily, bloody, and yet in no particular state of damage or decay, although he seemed to have inadvertently sewn two of his fingers together, with several other pieces of flesh attached to them which were decidedly not his.  
"Hi Dad!  I made food, built a auto-cradle, and Igor lost his flesh golem again, want to see the scars?"  The voice from behind them was every bit as troublesome, yet every bit as strangely nonthreatening.  She seemed sweet, innocent, and endowed with an overabundance of enthusiasm.  There was only one possible conclusion, and she wasn't sure what it was.  James on the other hand, seemed pretty certain of it.  
"Tell me more about this 'coming inside', and also of 'food'?  This idea of 'food' intrigues me.  Is it perhaps accompanied by sitting, and not being rained on?"