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I Don't Drink Wine [IC]


Ecalsneerg

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"Yeah," Nick said. "There may be more types of vampire than there are species of bird, but the ones that bother to show their plumage before attacking don't typically go for the blatant. They may try trapping you in some sort of archaic code of honor, or putting a glamour on you, or pulling an Anne Rice-style pity act on you. But if they just plain wanted us dead... well, they knew where to send the invitations. They pretty much knew where to strike."

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After they'd left, Siobhan didn't bother going back to sleep. Instead, she pulled down a couple of books on vampires, especially in regards to their ability to dominate and manipulate with their minds. Urgh. Some of these stories are nasty. She grimaced after reading over a couple of case reports, then went into a cupboard and pulled out a simple wooden box.


Daylight was pouring in through the window as Siobhan finished the ritual, empowering the three wooden rings with magical energy. If her calculations were correct, they'd just redirect and absorb vampire mentalism, and dissipate it harmlessly through the small lumps of black agate stone which adorned each ring.

Now all she had to do was to get ready for the dinner, and hope that their preparations would be enough...

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Nick had spent the last two days working on this ritual. He'd had to beggar off from work -- again. It was a good thing he had such a solid record; otherwise, he would've been out on his ass by now. He was pretty sure he had the proportions right now for the paste -- a few ground sticks of white chalk, a handful of graveyard dirt, and one quarter of a bottle of rum for taste and appeal. Taking a brush, he lightly coated the paste on the piece of granite, tracing the shape of the veve of Papa Ghede.

"Watcher of the roads," Nick intoned, "shepherd of the dead, hear my offering, I am known to thy brothers, both in favor and out. Those in know me as ally, those out as a rascal. It is not my time, but I ask permission to walk your roads. We deal with dead men who linger tonight, and while we hold out hope, we fear they may strike. In return, my friends and I shall make offerings in your favor once we step off. Hear me, Papa, and grant me your favor."

As Nick completed the veve, he felt... something... click into place. Like the flow of ley lines under him, or just hearing the hum of power lines. He placed the piece of granite in his pocket. "Thank you, Ghede."

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Kid Cthulhu spent a little over a day working on it. He started by finding a stone about the size of his fist, with a flat surface to carve upon. Then, after several hours of poring through the Necronomicon and the book Equinox lent him, he learned the procedures for empowering such a runestone. With extreme care and the steady hand of an artist, KC chiseled out the Elder Sign in the runestone. As the sun blinded his vision, he looked down at it. The magic was sealed in: good for one hell of a distraction. Now to get ready for the dinner. KC walked into his closet and pulled out a lime green tuxedo. He had it custom made and fit from him, just for the event. He was ready to kick some vampire ass in style (if need be).

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  • 2 weeks later...

Friday night

Siobhan sighed, knocking Nick and KC would be arriving soon in order to go to this vampire dinner with her. Crud, better get changed. Walking into her bedroom, she stood in front of the floor-length mirror.

"Alright," she hmmed, clicking her fingers. In a flash, she was in a long, floor-length dress, red as crimson and with sleeves all the way down to the wrists. She didn't like feeling like she was exposed to vampire fangs. Her hair was pulled up and curly. Hmmm... don't like that. She clicked her fingers one more time. Her hair suddenly extended, flowing halfway down her back like a long, black waterfall.

Adding a few extra touches of make-up with magic, she lit her eyes up to a faint white glow, then sat in the lounge, taping her wand to the underside of one arm while waiting for her guests to arrive.

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Nick knocked on the door, waiting for Equinox to answer. He hadn't thought much to dress formal -- the vampires wanted to talk to the necromancer, they'd get the necromancer. He carried a cloth in his pocket, though, if he needed to rub off the makeup... then again, given some of the manipulators among the regal undead, he wouldn't be surprised if someone had a camera ready for such an occurrence...

When the door opened, Nick stepped through. He took a look at Equinox... then a second look, for posterity's sake. "Now I feel really underdressed," he said. "Ritual went off, by the way. We need to get out of there fast, we have a fire exit."

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Siobhan had the decency to blush. "If it makes you feel better, I don't like dresses much. I've just never been able to pull off the pant suit." She nodded as he affirmed his ritual's success. "At least you've got an escape route, I'm not sure I'm up to running in these heels."

Reaching onto a table by the door, she produced a small wooden ring. "This is what I've been working on. It'll take vampiric mental influences, divert them, and just dissipate them in the agate. Problem is, to make the spell easy enough to use on three rings in quick succession, it's only vampires. Any human flunkies, we'll need to watch out for supernatural powers."

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KC walked into the open door, standing behind Nick. "Cool! Decoder rings! I haven't seen those for ages." KC strode into the room, his lime green tuxedo evident on his form. He had an Elder Sign stitched onto the jacket's front pocket. "Umm...is it too much? I thought it was pretty cool." KC said as he adjusted the lapels. He might have overdressed a little, but he was bound to be noticable enough with his...condition. Might as well play it up. "Naw, I'm kidding. These rings should be extremely helpful." He took one of them and put it on his right hand. "Oh, I made that rune I was telling you guys about." He reached inside of the tuxedo, and produced a flat stone about the size of his palm. It had an Elder Sign on it, and it glowed with a faint eldritch power. "Ought to make a fine distraction."

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"OK," said Equinox slowly, careful not to look too closely at the Elder Sign. "Let's get moving, shall we?" She smiled briefly. "Wouldn't want to be too late for our hosts, now, would we?" Fingering her ring absent-mindedly, she waited for her two allies to leave the apartment, before locking the door and pressing her pentacle up against it to redouble the wards.


The house they'd been invited to was tall and forboding. In a long terrace of old, fancy houses made of gray stone, it nonetheless stood out. The house looked a little darker, smelt a little off, and its windows looked darker. The problem was, what exactly was making it look like that was unclear. What was clear, was that it stank to high heavens of necromancy.

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Nick watched the house cautiously. Yeah, that's not a good sign, he said. They're definitely practitioners of their own. But you'd think they'd turn the lights off to save on the power bill every once in a while...

Approaching the house, Nick opened his senses, trying to get a better sense of the necromantic working that was going on inside.

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KC adjusted his green bow tie. He felt a twinge as they approached the door. "Who designed this house, Stephen King? I'm getting some serious foreboding. Not just because there are freaking vampires in there. Jesus. I can't believe we're having dinner with vampires. Better than an interview, though." KC said with a wink. He adjusted his squamous tentacles, arranging them in the most visually pleasing fashion. As far as that goes.

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  • 3 weeks later...

"I kind of think vampires like living up to sterotypes sometimes," commented Siobhan, making sure her wand was still taped fast to her arm. "Probably not the best time to tell a story, but I once met a vampire out in Kansas who dressed in the whole cheesy movie monster get-up. Even got himself white face paint and a collection of plastic fangs."

She made sure her pentacle was securely tucked away under her dress. It wouldn't do to have the vampires get repelled by a holy symbol before they'd even attacked. "Shall we proceed, gents?"

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"Not surprised," Nick said. "Down in New Orleans, you've got a few vamps still trying to pull off the 'refined plantation' look. One of 'em didn't know crap about the Civil War, though. Could be the Anne Rice influence... could've just been New Orleans." He paused. "Though if we get in there and more than one of 'em's wearing body glitter, I am turning right around."

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But as they got to the door, neither a sparkly vampire or one with ridiculously tall hair appeared. Instead, with an audible creeeeeeeeeak, the doors swung open of their own accord, revealing deeply cast shadows.

And there, standing a good few feet back in the hallway was a shadowy figure. He slowly lurched forwards towards the three, arms raised... and the suited figure with slicked back hair came out, smiling and moving to shake hands. "Oh, I didn't think you would come!" boomed a deep, cheerful voice. "I am Mark Lancea, my brothers are just upstairs preparing themselves. How are you this fine evening?"

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Get the stake! Get the stake! KC's survival instinct screamed at him as he shook the man's hand. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Lancea." KC smiled readily at the vampire, knowing full well at any moment, he could drain the green Cthonian blood right out of his neck. He took a moment to ask himself what his blood would taste like. Kiwi-lime, perhaps. "So who else was invited to this party?"

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"Ah! 'Tis a small gathering!" exclaimed the vampire, shaking Kid Cthulhu's hand with much enthusiasm. "There is... well,you three, and my dear, beloved brothers! A handful of servants, obviously, we wouldn't want to exert ourselves!" He laughed heartily at his own joke.

"And a couple of other guests! We'll introduce you to them inside!" Mark Lancea leaned back to hold the door open, and gestured inwards with his arm, teeth spread in a wide grin, showing polished white fangs. "I invite you all within!"

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Congregated in a small sitting room just off the lobby, seated in various armchairs and leaning on sideboards were a small number of guests of various ages, genders and outfits.

One older gent seemed to be holding court in the far corner of the room, dressed in an old-fashioned tweed suit. His grey-black hair was slicked into a widow's peak, and his skin seemed pale and clammy. When he opened his mouth to talk, fangs were visible, and like Mark Lancea, he reeked of death and blood. His armchair was old, beaten, and the rough colour of gore.

A woman sat on one of the arms of the chair, one arm around the old man. She looked young, maybe in her twenties, with flowing red hair. Like most of the other guests, she looked pale, and unlike the other guests, was wearing a strapless black dress so short and tight it left little to the imagination. Eyes red as brimstone flared from above her toothy (but not fanged) smile, and every so often she'd lean over and nibble the old man's ear.

Two distinguished looking men in their forties were listening attentively to the old man. They wore traditional wizarding robes of a deep, rich brown. Even to non-fashionistas, it was very obvious that they were expensive, quality robes. A third man, in cheaper red robes sat near them, not even hiding the fact he was ogling the woman.

In the opposite corner, two women sat in the shadows, talking in low, hushed voices, hard to make out. A dog sat beside one of them, large and menacingly looking, but curled up and wagging its tail contentedly.

Mark led the three mages over to the large group in the corner, gesturing to the old man in the armchair. "This is my older brother, Garfield. He's heard the jokes," winked Mark. "Brother, these are the mages we invited!" The old man blinked, and then forced a toothy grin as he spoke in a harsh, strained wheeze.

"Ah, glad you could come. Welcome to our humble abode." He ran a hand down his companion's back. "Is there anything we can get you before we introduce you to our other guests?" The woman giggled and leaned further into him.

The whole room stank of magic of various flavours and hues.

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KC smiled at the older man. In his mind, he contemplated them leaping at his throat. "A pleasure to meet you, Garfield. I will withhold any jokes that I think of. The movie was terrible." KC said with a sly wink. "Thank you for inviting us to your home, sir. You have quite exquisite tastes. And I'm alright for now, but thank you for offering." KC almost had to hold his nose against the oppressive smell of death and decay that the house held.

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Siobhan's fingers were white on the strap of her bag, and she had to stop herself from pulling out the pentacle and driving the creepy undead things away. But, summoning up some self-control, she forced a smile. "No, I'm fine." She was painfully aware of the man in the red robe ogling her.

"Will there be a discussion on theory in the lounge? Or do you prefer to talk matters out over dinner?"

"Ah, discuss what you will!" laughed Mark Lancea, strolling over to a small cabinet beside the wall, pouring a glass of deep brown liquid into a glass and raising it to his lips. "Dinner is not for a half hour or so, have a drink and a chat while you wait?"

His brother gestured to the creepy guy in the red robes. "For example, have you met Mr Collins? He's a renowned scholar of the Greco-Roman deities." Mr Collins inclined his head in greeting. "These two men," Garfield inclined his head to the two men in matching brown robes. "

Are friends of his, members of a... study group."

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Greco-Roman deities, huh? Nick thought. Could indicate vrykolakas... or could just be a healthy interest in Hades. Or Hecate. Kinda doubt it'd be Apollo...

"That'd be interesting," he said. He took a seat across from Collins and the men in the robes. "Pleased to make your acquaintance," he said to Collins. "This a standard gathering for your circle, or a special event?"

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