[Leonardo]
"Sorry, sir. No undead allowed in the club." Leonardo stepped in front of the three gentlemen just entering the Pan-Demonica. The first was a short, chubby slug of a man that just oozed pomposity. He was bedecked in enough expensive clothes and jewelry to make him a target of just about every thug and hoodlum in the club. His 7' tall bodyguard, however, would probably discourage most of them. Muscles bulged in places that most *normal* people didn't even know existed. Leonardo, however was not impressed. The Pan-Demonica's greeter and chief of security was more concerned with the third man in the group... the undead lackey looked as if he had spent one too many nights in a wet grave. A clump of flesh oozed off of the stick-figure right before Leonardo's eyes.
"He can't come in," he repeated.
"Nonsense!" said the short man. "Of course he can!"
"No. He can't. We have rules..." Leonardo pointed to the huge stone tablets that had hung above the bar for as long as the club had been in existence. Each tablet bore five, blazing-red inscriptions. Together, they were the ten commandments of the Pan-Demonica:
1. No Fighting - Take it outside.
2. No Telepathy
3. Pub closes at Dawn. No Exceptions
4. Stay Away from the Golems
5. No Spitting
6. Curiosity Kills - Mind Your Own Business.
7. Living Only - Undead, Stay Away!
8. Don't Stare At the IMP!
9. You Steal...You Die.
10. Mages Welcome, But Keep Your Spells to Yourself.
Leonardo wiggled his finger at rule number seven. For some reason, that particular inscription seemed to glow a little brighter than the others.
"Most impressive... but I'm sure you can make an exception for a man of MY stature..." the man placed his the palm of his hand against his gold medallion, as if to draw it to Leonardo's attention.
Leonardo sighed and rolled his eyes...
"No exceptions. "
"But I am Dren Theorigon! I insist that you let me in."
"I said no exception. Not for you. Nor for anybody. Go and drop that zombie off at a graveyard somewhere and then come back. I'll be happy to let you and your guard in then. Perhaps."
"Well!" The man gave an exaggerated spin and walked out. The guard quickly followed, and the zombie lumbered after them. Leonardo shook his head.
"Every week..." said Leonardo. A few feet off to one side, the Imp stopped licking its armpits long enough to listen. "Every week somebody just HAS to try and sneak a zombie in here. I'll bet money that he'll be back... WITH the zombie. I can tell already that this is going to be a loooong night."
The Imp shrugged and returned its attention to its armpits.
[Elsewhere in the club...]
"...No, no, no. I'm tellin' you DECEMBER owns the Pan-Demonica!"
"Oh shut yer yap, Patch! I ast Leonardo hisself just the odder nite, and he said it was...uhhh...."
"Said it was WHO, Pine? Who was it? You don't know, do ya!"
"I caint remmemer... But it WEREN'T no December, that's fer sure!"
"Pine, if'n you don't know who it WAS, then how can you tell me who it WASN'T! Everybody in the club knows that December owns the place. Isn't that right, Hars?"
Patch reached over and poked their red-haired table-mate who had remained out of the discussion so far.
"I heard Leonardo owns the club." said Hars. The barrel-chested rogue was still mostly sober after having downed a remarkable amount of spiced ale.
"BAH!" said Patch. "It AIN'T Leonardo. Why would he be answerin' the door to his own bloomin' club?"
"Don't know. But I know for a fact that it isn't December."
"Yeah," said Patch. "Just like the Night's Bloom don't exist, right?"
"Right."
"Bloody liar. Hey, who's that comin' through the door?"
Patch pointed to a short youth that was just descending the stairs into the Club. He waved the young man over to the table.
"Sit down, Borrin!" Patch yelled. "Welcome to da club! See... I tole you they'd let ya in!"
The youth sat, and then shot a nervous eye back up towards the balcony.
"Leave somethin' up there?" said Pine.
"Uhhh... no. Just lookin."
"If'n you didn't leave nothin up there, then there ain't no reason to be starin' in that direction."
"I was just.... what was that thing by the door?"
"Leonardo?"
The table burst out laughing, except for Borrin, who smiled weakly.
"What? The Imp? Ohhhhh... Boys, the lad's lookin at the Imp!"
"You'd better not do that, lad." warned Hars. "Didn't you see the rules when you came in?"
"Yeah."
"Then you'd better wise up, boy!"
"Oh... okay." Borrin stole another glance at the Imp, hoping that his friends wouldn't notice.
"Now CUT THAT OUT afore you get us ALL in trouble!" yelled Pine.
"Sorry. It's just that... it was looking at me."
"It looks at everybody... now order you a beer and start drinkin!"
"But what happens if I look back?"
Hars, Patch, and Pine stared at Borrin with worried expressions on their faces. Then they picked up their beers and continued drinking as if the question had never been asked.
...
[Leonardo]
"Now what!" Leonardo looked over the balcony and peered down at the crowd. Everything seemed calm... or at least as calm as things got in the Pan-Demonica. But there was one table over in the far corner that drew his attention. Several gentlemen were involved in a rather heated debate over who should pay the tab. Ordinarily this was not a concern of Leonardo's, but these particular patrons all seemed to have forgotten their coinpurses. Not an occurrence that was apt to happen naturally.
"Pickpocket." mumbled Leonardo. His frown deepened. He played back the last few minutes of the scene in his mind.... his eyes unfocused slightly as the perfectly reproduced memory flashed across them, as if he were seeing it again in reality... he looked for anything out of the ordinary...there... a clumsy waitress had spilled ale on the table and had managed to bump into each man as she cleaned up the mess. The 'waitress' was not an employee of the Pan-Demonica.
Snapping back the to the present, Leonardo scanned the club for the thief. He found 'her' instantly, although 'she' had taken off 'her' wig and removed the balled-up rags that had filled out 'her' dress rather nicely. 'She' was now a long-haired, clean-shaven young man sitting by himself and enjoying a drink with his stolen money.
Leonardo nodded and winked his eye at the thief, who immediately stiffened as if someone had attempted to shove a hot poker into his arse. He stood, clutching both his throat and his stomach... then he began coughing and convulsing violently, spilling his 'hard-earned' drinks and knocking over his chair. Suddenly, a single gold coin popped out of his mouth and landed on the table. It was followed by another. And another. Then two more.
Patrons, near and far, all turned to look at this strange site... a man who was coughing up gold! Several people glanced upwards at Leonardo, who simply shrugged and smiled.
"Thief!!" cried someone.
"Get Him!!" yelled another.
In a flash, patrons were leaping out of their chairs, scrambling over themselves trying to grab a few fistfuls of treasure. Three men grabbed the thief and began to shake him, trying to speed up the flow of gold. The results were more than satisfactory... one or two violent knocks on the back turned the thief into a human fountain of gold! Coins spewed out of his mouth like a river; the thief was bent over at the waist vomiting up a continuous flow of gold. The coins didn't stay on the floor for very long... they rapidly disappeared into the pockets of the large crowd of men surrounding the thief. Then, just as quickly as the flow had begun, it suddenly stopped. The thief's face turned red, and then a sickly shade of blue. Finally he collapsed.
Patrons wasted no time in prying open his mouth and retrieving the last few coins... including the one lodged in his throat that had caused him to choke and die. Then they quickly returned to their seats and ordered rounds of drinks with their new-found wealth. Almost every table raised a toast to Leonardo, who was smiling down on them from the balcony.
[Elsewhere in the club]
"Zounds! Did you SEE THAT!" shouted Borrin.
"Yeah, yeah." grumbled his table-mates.
"See it all the time," added Hars.
"What? That happens a lot?"
"Oh, yeah. Couple times a week somebody thinks he can steal somethin and ends up coughin' up gold all over the floor. Happens all da time."
"You would know," said Patch. "You're here every bloomin night."
"YOU'RE one to talk, Patch."
"Well, I didn't say I WASN'T here every night... just that you WAS."
"So... finish tellin' me about the Imp." said Borrin.
"Either shut your yap or put some more beer in it. We aren't tellin ye nottin' about dat Imp," said Hars. "You're the one what keeps lookin at it, why don't you go and introduce yourself."
"Yeah," said Patch. "Tell him your name is 'Hars.'"
Hars gave Patch a friendly punch on the shoulder, nearly knocking him out of his seat.
"Hey, who's that up there." Borrin pointed to a large party that was just entering the club.
"Is that...." started Patch. "Oh, gods. There's gonna be trouble, now."
"Who?" said Borrin. "Who is it?"
"Belladrox."
[Leonardo]
"Welcome to the Club, Mr. Drox." Leonardo bowed gracefully before the party of seven men. Behind him, the Imp scanned each of them for weapons. Some of the me squirmed uncomfortably as their various implements began to vibrate. "I see you brought more friends with you."
"That's Belladrox. No 'Mister.'" The battle-scarred mage stood almost 7" tall. Nostrils flaring and huge muscles bulging, the big man stared down at Leonardo with nothing but contempt. "You gonna let us in or what?"
"Of course I am. I have a long memory... but I typically do not use it to carry grudges. If you can obey the rules this time, we can avoid the unpleasantness that happened before." Leonardo stepped to the side and allowed the troop of warriors and mages to enter the club.
They descended the stairs to the main floor and began causing trouble immediately.
They claimed the first table that they came to, ignoring the fact that it was already occupied. Rather than making an issue out of it, the table's occupants decided that the lighting was much better on the opposite side of the club and that they would enjoy the evening more if they relocated there. Belladrox and his crew ushered them along with a few words and a slight shove in the right direction.
While the men seated themselves, Leonardo stared down at them with his hands firmly planted on his hips. He growled deep down in his throat.
"Just what I need." he said. "I wish they'd hurry up and break a rule so that I can-"
The Imp made a clucking sound and pointed to one of the club's far corners. Leonardo had been so busy watching Belladrox that he hadn't noticed a rather strange scene on the other side of the club. Two men were seated at a table and appeared to be arranging some kind of business transaction. They spoke in low whispers, and occasionally one would lean over and speak directly into the other's ear. This in itself was not unusual...but the small brown dog laying *under* the table was another matter entirely. The Pan-Demonica had no rules against dogs, but this particular animal seemed to be paying a bit *too much* attention to the conversation that was going on above him. Then there was the fact that Leonardo remembered admitting both of the men, and neither of them had entered with a dog.
"Eavesdropper." mumbled Leonardo. "Imp, take care of that while I watch Belladrox and his... whatever they are."
Leonardo returned his attention to Belladrox, but out of the corner of he saw the Imp make a twisting motion with its claw. Down on the floor, the small brown dog jerked and suddenly transformed back into human form. A second gesture by the Imp summoned a glowing net that quickly wrapped itself around the mage. The net was concentrated anti-magic, which nullified the mage's ability to cast spells or teleport to safety. As the man struggled to free himself, the table was knocked over, and the two business-men leapt to their feet. One grabbed the offending mage by the collar, while the other reached for his weapon. All three men paused and looked up at Leonardo.
"Outside." Leonardo mumbled.
The Imp made another twisting motion, and all three patrons disappeared. The two businessmen had satisfied looks on their faces, but the poor mage's expression was something else entirely.
[Elsewhere in the club...]
"What was that over there?" Borrin pointed to where the three men had disappeared.
"Nothin'" answered Patch. "Mind your own business."
"Oh. Okay. So who is this Belladrox character?" The men all glanced towards the mage's table, where they were laughing, making obscene noises, and generally making everyone around them miserable. No one was making any move to quiet them down.
"Bully." said Pine.
"Some fighter that learned himself a few spells and calls himself a battle-mage, now," added Hars. "Or was it a wizard that took a few fighting lessons? I can't remember which. Always comes in here causing trouble and always gets kicked out. Gonna get himself killed one o' these days."
"Why don't YOU fight him, Hars? Show us some of those Night's Bloom fighting skills."
"Because, Patch, the Night's Bloom doesn't exist. I'm just a guy with a couple o' swords strapped to his back."
"Yeah," said Patch. "Right."
"Is the Imp a male or a female?"
"Now lad," started Hars, "Durin' the course of the conversation, did you hear any of us say de word 'Imp'?"
"No..."
"Then why in the Seven Hells are you jumpin in with all these stupid questions?"
"I don't-"
Shut up and drink, Borrin."
[Leonardo]
"OUCH!" Leonardo winced as a sharp pain shot through his head, just above his right ear. "Dammit! That was feedback... don't tell me somebody's trying to use telepathy in the club... damn these fools, where do they COME from!"
Leonardo found the offender without much of a search. A thin man of medium height was sitting alone at a table, and was glaring at Belladrox. The veins in the man's forehead were pulsing fiercely as he tried to stop the mage's brain-waves with the force of his own thoughts. Apparently he had had quite enough of Belladrox's unruly noise.
Leonardo folded his arms across his chest and waited.
Belladrox jumped to his feet and pointed up at Leonardo. "Hey! GET OUTTA MY HEAD!!!"
Leonardo ignored him for the moment and shifted his eyes upwards, towards the large, gleaming
jewel that was hanging by a chain above the main floor. The jewel was already glowing, building up power. Without warning, a single beam of white light shot forth and struck the telepath on the forehead. After a few seconds, the man's head exploded unceremoniously.
"Oh." said Belladrox. The mage looked from Leonardo to the headless corpse and then back up to Leonardo. He scowled and sat back down.
"What a shame," said Leonardo. "In any other place that telepath would have killed that brute by now. Oh well... rules are rules..."
[Elsewhere in the club...]
"That man's head exploded!" gasped Borrin.
"Uh-huh."
"Wait. I guess that happens all the time, right?"
"Not really. Most people know better."
"Yeah, lad. Just like most people know better than to stare at that Imp up there." injected Hars.
"But it stared at me first! I'll bet it's still doing it..." Borrin turned and looked up at the slimy, red creature sitting on its pedestal next to Leonardo. The Imp looked back at him and winked.
"Oh, now ye've gone and DONE IT!"
"Maybe we should change tables, Hars." suggested Pine. "So the Imp don't get confused and come after me... I mean 'us'."
"Oh, it knows who's lookin' and who ain't!" said Patch. Hars nodded. The men looked at the worried expression on Borrin's face and all burst out laughing.
[Leonardo]
"This night is rapidly turning into-"
There was a knock at the door. Leonardo opened it and sighed. It was the same rich slug from earlier. He still had his huge bodyguard... and the zombie was still bringing up the rear.
"I told you, " said Leonardo. "No zombies."
"Ahh, but sir. I notice you have a zombie right down there working the bar. What about THAT, hmmm?"
"That is an employee. Club rules don't apply to employees... just scum- I mean patrons- like you."
"Yes, but whatever the reason that you HAVE such a rule against the 'heartbeat-impaired' must be insignificant, since you have a zombie working here in your club."
"Wrong. We have a VERY good reason. Come back without the zombie and I'll explain it to you. Now, get out."
"Oh, come now... hold on..." The man looked at the club's undead bartender and then back at Leonardo. "That zombie at the bar looks an awful lot like YOU!"
Leonardo slammed the door in the man's face, and turned back towards the crowd.
"Told you he'd be back." he said to the Imp. The Imp, however was currently directing his full attention to a young man down on the floor.
"Stop that." said Leonardo.
The Imp sniffed and shuffled uncomfortably on its pedestal.
"Oh, great... what is THIS now?" Leonardo pointed to the far wall of the club, were the stone tablets hung above the bar. The rules were still glowing wickedly, just as they always did. However, rule number 4 - Stay Away from the Golems - was blazing about twice as bright as the others.
"Someone's screwing with my golems!" hissed Leonardo. "Are all the people in this town DAFT!"
Leonardo scanned the crowd with his usual efficiency.
"There." He pointed to the entrance to the 'burlesque room.' Two huge iron golems stood guard by the door, their unmoving faces staring blankly out into the crowd. One golem was presently being urinated on by a drunken patron.
"Idiot." Leonardo snapped his fingers. The offended golem sprung to life.
The iron behemoth swung both of its arms out in front of it and slammed its huge fists together. The patron was a bit too slow in getting out of the way, and as a result his head ended up looking almost, but not exactly, like a smashed container of strawberry preserves.
Leonardo sighed and continued watching the crowd, especially Belladrox. Beside him, the Imp was giggling uncontrollably.
[Elsewhere in the club...]
"...and I say it's his FATHER!" said Patch.
"What kind of sense does THAT make?" replied Pine.
"makes more sense than your ghost idea!"
"Look... it's obvious that Leonardo is a ghost. I mean, LOOK at 'im! Dat bartender over there looks just like him... only dead!"
"Don't mean that IS him, though. Could be anybody's dead body....like his father's maybe."
"Now why would Leonardo have his father's corpse tending the bar at the Pan-Demonica?"
"Who knows." Patch shrugged "Whadda you think, Hars?"
"I think I'll have me another drink. And who says that guy behind the bar even IS a zombie..."
Patch and Pine looked at each other, then back at Hars.
"Well what ELSE could it be, then?"
"Yeah, what?"
"Hey guys!" interrupted Borrin. "I- I think it's doing it again."
"What's doin' what, boy?"
"The Imp's lookin' at me."
The boy's three tablemates sighed simultaneously.
"And how do you know it's lookin at ye, boy?" said Hars.
"Because..."
"Cause what?"
"Because I saw it!"
"And how did you see it?"
"What do you mean how? With my eyes!"
"So you were starin' at it again, aye?
"No... I wasn't staring. Not exactly. I mean-"
"You don't stop lookin at that Imp then somethin nasty's gonna happen to ye."
"Ya... he don't like beein' stared at."
"You keep saying that... but nobody says WHAT will happen!"
"Nobody says what happens when people break any of the OTHER rules... but you already seen that whatever happens... AIN'T GOOD."
"Well..." Borrin cast a sideways glance up at the balcony and was rewarded with a light knock on the head from Hars. "Hey!"
"Stop that, I say! Here... Have another drink."
[Leonardo]
"Okay... here we go." Leonardo nodded at the table occupied by Belladrox and his men. So far, they had ordered enough food and drink to feed a large army and had not paid for any of it. Even worse, their loud, boisterous antics were disturbing the other patrons. Finally, someone decided to do something about it. Two tables away, a small group of men got up and strapped on their weapons. All the while, they were shooting evil glances at Belladrox. The men approached, and one of them leaned over and *politely* asked them keep things a little quiet.
Without getting up, Belladrox back-handed the man, breaking his nose and leaving him sprawled on the floor. Suddenly, everyone was on their feet. Weapons were drawn. Belladrox interlaced his fingers and cracked his knuckles. His eyes were glowing green as he prepared to incinerate the whelp that dared ask him to silence himself.
Belladrox's men rushed at the others with a fierce battle cry... and promptly vanished.
"That's quite enough of THAT." said Leonardo. He stepped in between Belladrox and the others. His face was twisted into a evil scowl... he had obviously had enough for one night.
"Where are my MEN!" howled Belladrox. His eyes still pulsed with fire.
"The sewers," answered Leonardo. "You're familiar with the sewers, aren't you? Of course you are."
"WHAT! Bring them back NOW, little man!"
"I think not. You've all caused enough of a disturbance for one night. Frankly, the only reason you're not with them is because I'd like the pleasure of taking care of you personally."
"HA! What are YOU going to do to ME!"
"Care to find out?"
"This is a trick! No fighting in the club, remember?"
"Doesn't apply to employees... and you're already on your way out. So why don't we make an example out of you and prevent some more trouble down the road?"
"An example? ME? YOU"RE the one who's gonna get hurt."
Leonardo dropped into a fighting stance. Belladrox simply stared at him. All around them, the various conversations and arguments in the club halted. All eyes were on the two combatants. Here and there, men started making bets as to exactly how Leonardo would kill Belladrox.
"All right, then," said Belladrox. "But leave that Imp out of this! I don't wanna have to kill BOTH of you in the same night."
"Not likely, but done. Just you and I. Hand to hand."
Belladrox stood slightly turned to one side, and looked down at the little man before him. He raised his hands into a loose fighting position.
"You know I'm a trained assassin," he said.
"So you say," replied Leonardo. "But I'd retired from he killing trade years before you were even born. And I didn't forget one move. I never forget.."
"HA!" Belladrox laughed, and then lunged at Leonardo. It was a feint, and Leonardo knew it. He reached behind his back and pulled out a dagger. In the same motion, he swung his arm in a downward arc and flung the dagger straight towards Belladrox's throat.
The mage spun and caught the dagger in his right hand.
"AHA! I'll bet you've never seen anyone do THAT before!" Belladrox held up the dagger and shook it at Leonardo.
"Actually, yes. All the time. But I'll bet YOU'VE never seen an exploding dagger before."
"Eh?"
The dagger exploded without the slightest warning, vaporizing Belladrox's right hand entirely.
"AIIIIIGH!!!!" the large man stumbled backwards, clutching the bloody stump against his chest. "You- you said hand to hand... you lied!!"
"No I didn't. The dagger went from my hand to yours."
"You Bastard!" Belladrox extended his left hand, fingers splayed. Green bolts of energy arced between the trembling digits. The mage's eyes burned with a wicked green light.
"You know the rules... no offensive magic in the club. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Again."
"ARRGH!!!!" Emerald fire shot forth from his fingertips....
...
...and incinerated every last one of his friends who had been standing in the sewer waiting for him. In the blink of an eye, Belladrox had been teleported away; the blast that he had intended for Leonardo had taken his comrades instead. Now he found himself hip-deep in semi-liquid human and animal waste, watching his buddies smolder and sizzle as they sunk into the muck.
"DAMN YOU LEONARDOOOO!!!!!!!!"
[meanwhile... back at the Pan-Demonica...]
"Now THAT was exciting!" Patch thumped the table, causing everyone's drinks to jump. "Pay up, Pine... I told you he'd used the ole' exploding dagger trick!"
Pine grumbled and tossed Patch one gold coin. Patch caught the coin, kissed it, and then ordered himself a few more drinks.
"Wait a minnit, now..." Borrin's speech was severely slurred. Hars had been pumping the youth full of drinks the entire night, attempting to draw his attention away from the Imp. It hadn't worked. "... so what happns if I shtare at the mimp again?"
"The mimp? Never seen no mimps around here!"
"Nothing, Borrin." said Hars. "Nothing at all."
"Thash wha I thawt."
Borrin turned completely around in his chair, and not only did he look at the hideous Imp, but he waved and stuck his tongue out at it as well.
"See what ya did, Hars!" said Pine.
"Not my fault the boy is stupid."
"Hey!!" shouted Borrin.
"Oh shut up. And have another drink..."
Borrin obliged... downing the rest of his drink and ordering another just before he passed out. His head thudded onto the table, and actually overturned Har's drink.
"Dammit, boy!"
[Leonardo]
"Now what else could POSSIBLY go wrong?" mused Leonardo as he resumed his position on the balcony.
The words had hardly left his mouth when there was a loud, persistent knock at the main door. Leonardo opened it, and stood face to face with Dren Theorigon. The rich idiot was still dressed in his ridiculously expensive gold and jewelry, and his huge bodyguard was still...well...huge. The zombie, however, was now adorned in fresh clothing and smelled as if it had been recently doused with incense. Some of the looser slabs of flesh had been removed so that they wouldn't slide off while it was inside the club.
"Didn't I tell you before?" said Leonardo.
"Quite right, my good man. That is why I took the zombie home and brought this fellow instead." Dren indicated the dressed-up zombie.
"What... do you think I'm stupid?"
Dren thought for a moment about whether to answer that question. He decided against it.
"Get that thing out of here."
"But sir, I INSIST that you make an exception!"
"Look. You seem to be a reasonably well-cultured fellow, why are you dragging a zombie around with you anyway?"
"Why? Well, he's my servant of course! He's been in the family for years, although he was alive most of the time. When the old chap died we had this necromancer- oh, what was his name...Thoki something-or-other. Anyway we had this Thoki fellow reanimate him so he could continue his loyal service. And quite useful he is, too! Never leaves my side."
"Yes. But what does the zombie think about all this? Most people want to stay dead when they finally kick off. Did you get his permission?"
"The zombie? Permission? Zombies don't need permission... they're dead."
"Really? I'm willing to bet that zombie is just itching to kick you down these steps for having the audacity to bring it back just to serve your rich arse."
"You're trying to distract me. I want into this club, and I'm not leaving my favorite servant out in the street!"
"No."
"No, I insist! Bog!"
The bodyguard stepped forward and looked at Leonardo with an exasperated expression. Clearly he had had enough of his pompous employer as well. The guard tried to mumble something, but Leonardo noticed that the man didn't have a tongue. Apparently Dren liked his servants to remain silent.
"Don't worry about it, chap." said Leonardo to the guard. "Imp..."
There was a fluttering sound from off to one side, and then a pained yelp from behind the guard. The man turned around and stepped to the side just in time to avoid the falling zombie. Propelled by a swift kick from Dren, the decayed creature tumbled down the steps, loosing one arm and both legs along the way. The thing finally landed in a heap on the floor.
Dren Theorigon, wild-eyed and frantic, simply stood and stared. He shrugged, and began flexing his arms and legs with odd, tentative movements. Finally, he looked at Leonardo and extended his hand...
"Thank you," he said. The voice was Dren's but the tone lacked the usual arrogance. "Th-thank you so much. I've been waiting to do that for ages!! Ever since that bastard raised me from the dead..."
"No problem, sir. Would you like a drink on the house? Not that you can't afford it now."
"eh?" Dren reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavy coinpurse. "Oh, yeah. I guess I'm rich now! Hey... what about Mr. Theorigon?" he pointed to the still-twitching, leg-less lump at the bottom of the stairs. "Need any help cleaning that up?"
"No, we can handle the mess ourselves. No doubt you've done enough cleaning for one lifetime."
"Well, not any more. I think I'll take you up on that drink. And thanks again! Come on, Bog!"
'Dren' and his bodyguard descended the steps, being careful not to slip on any of the putrescence left behind by the zombie. They stepped over the struggling corpse at the bottom and began to push their way toward an empty table. Just before they lost themselves in the crowd, 'Dren' turned back to wave at Leonardo. The mute bodyguard also turned and smiled.
"I guess we could put that lad's tongue back..." said Leonardo.
The Imp looked at him and shook his head.
"You've got a point... too many good deeds are bad for the soul."
[elsewhere in the club]
"I think the lad's had enough." said Hars. Borrin was snoring loudly with his head resting on the table.
"And I have some business to attend to."
"Yeah, so do I." added Patch.
"Me too." said Pine.
The three men looked at each other and smiled, knowing full well that they where each about to set off and do something unpleasant to some unsuspecting Montfort citizens.
They all stood and settled their tabs with a passing waitress. Then they turned to leave.
"What about the boy?" asked Pine.
"ee'll be all right." said Patch. "s'long as he wakes up by sunrise."
"What happens if'n he don't?"
"Not our problem." said Hars. The trio pushed through the crowd, stepped over a decomposing corpse, and headed up the stairs.
[Leonardo]
"Good night, gentlemen." said Leonardo as three of his best patrons left.
"Have a good night yourself, Leonardo."
"I'm afraid it's too late for that, Hars. By the way... give Mr. December my regards."
"Who?"
"Oh. Quite right. Never mind, then."
The door slammed behind the men.
Leonardo sighed, and began wondering what it was like outside. It had been ages since he'd set foot outside the club, and he actually had very little idea of what the city of Montfort even looked like.
A grunt from the Imp interrupted his reverie.
"What now?"
Just at the bottom of the steps, a man was teasing the zombie that contained the soul of Dren Theorigon. He kicked and prodded the thing with a meanness that spoke volumes about his childhood.
"So?" said Leonardo. "What's the-"
The man then leaned over and spat on the zombie.
"No. He. Didn't. Sir! There will be NO SPITTING in MY CLUB!"
The man looked up at Leonardo and, figuring that he was on his way outside anyway, leaned over and spat again... this time on the floor.
"Imp."
With a wave of his claws, the Imp cast its standard 'no-spitting' spell. At the bottom of the stairs, the zombie was now joined by a steaming heap of worm-infested minotaur-dung. The smell was horrendous, causing a few patrons to re-locate to the rear of the club.
"Clean that up, will you?"
The entire mess... zombie and dung-heap... suddenly burst into flames. The fire was quick, and extinguished itself as soon as the unpleasant refuse was consumed. The ashes were swept away by a stiff breeze that simply should not have existed inside a closed room.
"Now..." sighed Leonardo. "I WOULD ask what else could possibly go wrong... but now I know better. I guess I'll just wait and see."
[Later...]
Borrin woke slowly. He opened the one eye that was not sealed shut with mucous and looked out at the empty room. He could see nothing clearly, least of all the man that was standing over him.
"It's dawn, chap." said the figure. "The Club is closing."
"uhhh.....eh? wha?"
"Sorry... rules are rules. This should wake you up..."
Suddenly chair was yanked out from under him. He fell and hit the ground with a... splash?
The filthy sewer-water snapped Borrin back to semi-sobriety. He jumped to his feet, and found that he was waist-deep in sludge. Nearby, several lumps that looked like bodies bobbed up and down in the sewer-stream. They all looked severely burned.
"uuugh! Hars? Pine? They LEFT ME! Bashdards! an now ish almosh dawn!"
Borrin waded through the filth until he found a grating with a ladder. He climbed up and out sewer and slowly made his way home. It was dawn. Thieves, bandits, and women of the night were on their way back to whatever hole they crawled out of the previous night. At the same time, shopkeepers and other upstanding citizens began venturing out and performing their chores for the day.
The man Borrin rented his room from was one of those shopkeepers. Unfortunately he ran into him as he tried to sneak in.
"Gods, lad!" said the landlord. "Ye been swimmin in the sewers!"
"I- uhhh.... I-"
"Oh forget it! Hurry along and wash yourself up. And don't be drippin on my floor! I got rules against dirtyin' my rooms with filth!"
"I- uhhh...."
"Hurry, lad! She didn't seem like the patient type."
"uhhhh... she?"
"The lass that came in a few minutes ago... had your key, said she'd be waitin for you in yer room. She didn't say you'd be such a MESS when ye got in, though. Better clean up... you go in lookin' like that and she might start screamin'! Just might charge ye extra!"
The landlord winked at Borrin and hurried off.
Borrin, his mind still soggy with alcohol, stumbled up the stairs and around the corner to his room. The door was closed and locked, as he expected. Borrin fumbled around in his pocket and was relieved to discover that his key was still in it. He unlocked the door and walked into the small bedroom... and stopped.
There was indeed a naked woman in his bed. Her back was to him, but her exquisite shape was clearly visible through the sheet. Borrin's eyes wandered lustily up and down the fine frame... his mouth hung open and a steady stream of drool glistened on his bottom lip.
"ahhhh.... Jush lemme wash up a bit..."
"I can't wait," replied a sultry voice. "Come here!"
The door slammed shut behind Borrin. He heard it lock.
"eh?"
"I said COME HERE!"
The woman on the bed threw the covers back, revealing a short, red-skinned, bat-winged, black-fanged Imp. The thing jumped up flew into Borrin's chest, knocking the youth down. It then began ripping at his clothes.
"AAAAIIIIIIIIIIGGGGGGGHHHHH-----!!!!!!"
Screaming was all Borrin could do, and he couldn't even do that for very long before the Imp clamped it's oily lips over his and thrust it's spiked tongue into his mouth.
Not too far down the street, the landlord paused in his morning duties and listened to the screaming and howling.
"There goes another one," he said. "People these days... you'd think they could follow a few simple rules..."
Copyright 1998 by Marc Washington