You are Fredrik, a farmer from the nearby village. What time you don't spend in the fields or sleeping, you pass in the local alehouse, making sport of visiting women and a fool of yourself. You've a reputation among your neighbors as having a talent for talking female adventuers out of their armor and into your bed - and it's precisely that talent that's landed you here.

The roads around town have become more dangerous of late, preyed upon by highwaymen, monsters, and a small orcish horde that's raiding to the north. Caravans have been attacked, and the town's supplies are dwindling. There is but one safe road, but it passes directly through the territory of Lady Cleodora, a vampire countess.

For centuries your people have held an unspoken truce with Cleodora. So long as the inhabitants of the village respect her borders and cause her no trouble, she extends them the same courtesy. Now, you've been sent as an envoy to beg her permission for caravans to take the road that passes through her land.

Steeling yourself, you grasp the heavy brass ring that hangs from the door and thump it hard against the wood, three times.

The door creaks open, and you're greeted by the sight of a man in victorian garb. You tell him why you're here, and he beckons you to follow him. He leads you through an ornately decorated victorian mansion, until you emerge into a small throne room of sorts.

Various figures in noble garb mill about the room, and on a wooden throne in the center of the room sits Cleodora herself. She wears a strange, revealing outfit that shows off her figure, barely more than a few pieces of red and black silks held together by a frame of golden metal that cups her flawless pale body tightly, covering as little as it leaves to the imagination.

The doorman anounces you, and the Lady cocks her head, smiling curiously.

"If you wish an audience with me, human." she intones, fixing you with a predatory gaze, "First, you must show your deference, in front of my court."