Author's Notes: I wish I could claim to have written this brilliance, but I fear only Susan's dialog, Lord Drakhen, Phoenix, and her family belong to me. This is a Roleplaying Game started by Fanless and taken part in by many others that I briefly edited because, quite simply, I think it's wonderful. It is a combined effort - a grand one. Now enter our crazy wildness and ENJOY. Review, because I am sure you will please us all if you do. Here is a link to the original forum, with profiles of our characters as well as our random (often humorous) chatter if you wish to visit it (remove the parenthesis): (http:)(fan)(fiction).net/forum/Discworld_RP_The_MadeUp_Characters_Edition/71228/
CHAPTER ONE
A Very Crowded Deserted Alley
Phoenix glared at her forefinger and thumb. She snapped. Fire spurted upwards from between them – red, hot, and dancing. She glared some more.
It was cold, she was leaning up against the Thieves' Guild in the middle of Ankh Morpork after midnight, and chocolate chips, flour, and other various cooking implements were nowhere nearby. Not to mention that she was probably a perfect target for whatever crooks would be wandering around. She stood out like a sore thumb with her thick fiery red hair – almost to her waist. Not to mention how young and vulnerable she looked.
"I should have stayed in Lancre," she grumbled.
The fire was bright between her fingers, but she was used to the light. She was not everyone.
"Do you mind?" pleaded a hoarse voice. A shadow near the corner of the Guild building stepped forward and became an unhealthily pale young man in Assassin's black. "I have this thing about fire..."
Phoenix glanced up in surprise. She had been certain that she was alone.
"I have this thing about cold," she replied sharply, but dowsed the flame. She waited a few seconds for her eyes to adjust. "Who are you, anyway?" her voice was softer, much less malice. It didn't shake, but that's how she sounded when she was afraid. "Are you a thief?"
But if the worst came to worst, the man before her could always fall victim to 'spontaneous combustion'.
"A thief? No!" Although his face was partly shadowed and therefore hard to read, the boy sounded affronted. "I'm plenty of things, miss, but I'm no thief. You ought to know better than that. What do I look like?" He gestured at his uniform with his right hand—the one holding a small crossbow.
Phoenix squinted, trying to get a good look at him in the dim moonlight.
"Sorry," she replied with a shrug. "I can't see very well without fire." She tilted her head, "Hmm. You look very stylish. And I suppose you must be wearing black. I think I've heard of that combination before somewhere, but I'm new to Ankh-Morpork."
Phoenix gave the most dazzling, 'I'm just an innocent little girl' smile she could possibly muster, stood from the wall and extended a hand.
"I'm Phoenix, and it's a pleasure to meet you this dark, not-quite-stormy night."
She had kept her eyes trained on the crossbow as much as his face, so didn't notice the other figure in the shadows. Mysterious had been watching for a bit and was trying not to say anything, but the girl had hit one of her pet peeves. Finally, she could bear it no longer and tapped on her shoulder.
"Ahem." She tried again, "Ahem, I believe you have taken my spot."
Phoenix was caught off guard and took a large step back so she could watch both the strange cloaked figure and the man-dressed-in-stylish black. That pressed her up against the wall of the Thieves' Guild once more (a dangerous thing), but at least she could keep an eye on that suspiciously deadly looking crossbow as well as the newcomer. Cloaked Figures weren't supposed to be friendly.
She glanced back and forth between them for half a second, before skewing up her face and calling -
"What?"
"Thank you," Mysterious said as she took her spot - now empty. "I've searched throughout this alley, and this spot is the most mysterious. No other spot comes to compare."
Miss Figure then noticed that the redhead was looking at the man's crossbow like he was going to shoot her with it. Then she noticed his Assassins' attire and decided she should figure out what's going on.
"Who are you two anyway?" hm, that didn't sound very mysterious. Oh well, at least her new stilts made her look tall and imposing.
"I," said Julian, drawing himself up proudly and speaking in a much more formal tone, "am an Assassin, madam. I am busy training." The effect of grand demeanor was spoiled somewhat by the hand holding the crossbow, which fell off. "Bugger!" he muttered, and fell to looking for it. "Why does this always happen? I should have joined the Fools' Guild instead."
Phoenix blinked before turning to Mysterious.
"Phoenix Shifter, at your service," she said with a quick smile before blowing at the flames now dancing on her palm (which immediately flared a bit brighter) and kneeling down beside the Assassin, simultaneously glancing around for his hand. "Alright, three questions: One, what is an apprentice Assassin doing by the Thieves' Guild, B, I don't think I caught your name, and Thirdly, what exactly are you?" She glanced back at the cloaked figure, "Do you think you could give us a hand looking for his... er... hand?"
Instinctively Julian flinched away from the flame. "You must be new here," he muttered. " 'What are you'. Huh. Well... One: I'm staking out that carriage across the street." He pointed with his remaining hand. "B: It's Julian Halfway. No Hon.'s, no 'the Third', no 'Esq.', just Julian Halfway. And thirdly—Aha!" He snatched up the missing hand. "I am, exactly, a zombie." He wagged it at her sternly. "Haven't you ever seen one before, Miss Shifter?"
"No, Julian Halfway. Vampires I've dealt with but you're my first zombie." Phoenix cocked her head. "You don't look too grotesque for someone whose flesh is rotting. I guess that threw me off."
"Charming," Mysterious said, still gaping at the detached hand. "So you're a zombie and you're some kind of fire demon I take it?" - she didn't wait for an answer - "Well, it's not every day you see two people like that in a dark creepy alley."
Of course, it's not every day you go into a dark creepy alley.
"It's not every day I run into a mysterious hooded figure lurking about in the shadows," Julian grunted, tucking his severed hand under his chin to rummage in his pocket. "Or should that be 'larking'? You're not a Thief, are you?"
"I am not a fire demon!" Phoenix called angrily, finally getting over the shock as her hair burst with flames as she stood to her feet. She looked like a fire demon. "And for your information I wouldn't be in a dark creepy alley if I knew where an inn was!" The fire went out and she glanced down sheepishly. "Um, sorry... I get that a lot. It's kind of frustrating."
Not a fire demon eh? Mysterious thought, shaking her head.
"The only thing I steal is interestingness," she explained. "I do not come from the thieves guild," - she had tried that once, but she didn't think that was a good thing to say with an assassin around - "No, I come from the Guild of Mysterious Cloaked Ones."
Mysterious twisted her arm majestically, but it came more out like a ruffle and a small bulge under the enormous cloak.
"Well, this is amusing," Phoenix observed. "We've got a human who can't figure out why she spouts fire, a zombie assassin who can't keep his hand attached, and a mysterious cloaked figure who - no offense - has a sweet voice, all bumping into one another in some dark alley for their own, unknown reasons." She laughed dryly. "Do any of know of an inn anywhere near here? As good as alleys are for Mysterious Cloaked Figures, I doubt that they're very comfortable to sleep in. Oh, and that stage coach you're staking out," Phoenix added, "with all the fire going on here, it's probably seen us by now." She smiled apologetically. "I'm really sorry. I wasn't quite thinking."
At least, she thought, if he was trailing it to 'inhume' someone, whoever he was going to 'inhume' has a sporting chance, now. She hoped the thought didn't show in her expression, which was genuinely apologetic.
"Well, I know plenty of inns," Mysterious replied - what good Mysterious Cloaked Figure doesn't? "Around here..." she began muttering to herself trying to remember which one was best, but to the onlooker, it just looked like she was standing still as a statue.
"So do I," a new voice called.
Cassandra had been watching the three of them. She could do with a few friends after that incident in the Alchemist's Guild. Now she strolled out of the shadows and up to the small group. After all everyone was used to vampires around the place now, even the girl with the Lancre accent and the affinity for flames. Cassandra liked flames.
"How about Don'tgonearthe Inn on Short Street?"
"I see no problem with that," Mysterious smiled - but nobody could tell. The Cloaked Figure walked up to the vampire to get a closer look.
"WHO ARE YOU?" she asked, somehow managing to keep some power in her voice.
Good, she thought, Very Mysterious.
"I am Cassandra Larimar," Cassandra said it in an imperial tone more suited to statements such as 'I'm the king of Lancre'. She continued in a slightly more relaxed tone, "vampire, former alchemist and all-round chemical lover. Ex-guild member, as of this afternoon. Before you ask, I'm not from Uberwald, so don't expect a cape or a stupid accent. And you are?"
Her eyes were drawn to the girl with the red hair. However the cloaked figure was more mysterious.
Julian looked up from his task: fairly unsuccessfully attempting to stitch his hand back on. " 'lo," he mumbled, mouth full of thread.
A pale hand landed on Julian's shoulder. It belonged to a similarly pale young man about Phoenix's age, who couldn't have been more than nineteen. He too wore black and blended in with the shadows so that his white-haired head and hands seemed to float.
"Nice stealth, Halfway," he said dryly. The door of the coach was open and it was empty inside, showing clearly that this man had been the occupant. "Practicing on your competition?"
Phoenix nearly jumped. She laughed instead, but it came out sounding nervous and halfhearted. She wriggled the fingers of her right hand by her side idly, letting ghosts of flame - hardly noticeable - flick between them in hopes of comforting herself.
"Well, we've got ourselves quite a little soiree going on. I never knew deserted alleys could get so crowded. For all you new folks, though I'm assuming you've already heard, I'm Phoenix Shifter. It's a pleasure to meet you, Cassandra Larimar, and you as well..." she trailed off, realizing she didn't know who the newcomer was (beyond the fact that his posture and appearance screamed 'VAMPIRE!', and by the way he talked to Julian she assumed he was an Assassin, too) and 'whoever you are' just didn't sound polite.
Phoenix glanced at the sewing job the zombie was attempting apprehensively, and wondered why it bothered her so much. Bloodsucking vampires she could have tea with, but a detachable wrist left her more than a little unnerved. It didn't quite make sense, so she shrugged it off.
"Thanks for the suggestion on the inn. How far off is it? Which way?" Phoenix asked, hoping to distract herself.
Mysterious had been to probably every inn in Ankh Morpork, so she knew the direction as well as Cassandra did (at least, if she wasn't getting it confused with any of the other inns...so many of them). She decided to test her slipping skills, and slipped out of the alley. Not sure whether or not she was seen, she popped her head back in.
"You coming?" she asked, "I do really think we should move, this place is getting crowded. If we stay here too long, we might pick up a rhinoceros and a serial killer."
They might even fit in, too.
"The serial killer might be showing up sooner than you think," Julian remarked, giving his hand a shake to test the stitching. "I hear Jonathan Teatime's back in town. Remember him, Allie? That weirdo who went missing a while ago? He gave Assassins a bad name, he did."
"Yes, Teatime." Allie looked thoughtful. "Interesting fellow. Not the sort you'd want to meet in a dark alley, of course. And returning to the subject, ladies, allow us to accompany you. I'd hate to see such an interesting group of lovelies come to harm." He nodded to Cassandra, recognizing her vampire blood.
"Since apparently he's too high and mighty to introduce himself, this is a classmate of mine." Julian stood up, satisfied with his stitching. "He goes by Albus Weiss. You don't want to hear his full name, believe me."
Mysterious made an irritated face (which, of course, like any other of her expressions remained unseen - which made her wonder if she liked the cloak so much). Lovely. She'd much rather be called Mysterious other than lovely. How would he know she was lovely anyway? She was completely covered in her cloak, after all.
"Alright, if there is a serial killer coming," Mysterious began, trying not to sound too irritated, "Let's get going."
The Cloaked Figure left, without waiting for anyone to follow her.
Lovely.
Phoenix raised her eyebrows. Life in Ankh Morpork seemed to be quite interesting - so far at least.
"Teatime..." she mumbled thoughtfully, "odd name. I thought Assassins were supposed to kill, though. What do you mean by a 'bad name'?" Phoenix asked curiously as she bent down and picked up her satchel, throwing the hoop over her shoulders before she followed the others. "Excuse me," Phoenix corrected herself. She'd already stupidly asked if Julian was a thief. She really had to be more careful what she said, or these 'lovelies' might start to seem like more trouble than they were worth. At least the one with red hair, anyway. "- I mean 'inhume'."
"Oh, you must know about him. The undead were scared that he might end up a zombie." Cassandra glanced at Julian. "If anyone had the strength of will Teatime did. Attempted to inhume the Hogfather. And Death."
Cassandra looked around. "We seem to have lost our mysterious cloaked figure. Perhaps we should leave this alley. It's not very classy. People might start to talk."
She switched her attention to the flames dancing on Phoenix's fingers, who (Phoenix, not the fingers) started after Mysterious, wrinkling her nose as she glanced back at everyone else.
"Did you say he tried to kill Death? Is he crazy or something?"
"Yes, I said Death. I didn't say he was sane."
Cassandra wondered vaguely if Albus was b-total. It was quite hard to tell. All she knew was that it was cruel that one addiction had to replace another.
Whoever's heard of a vampire alchemist, she thought bitterly.
Standing in the middle of an alley, at night, in Ankh-Morpork was, by common knowledge, suicide. Especially in areas like these, really, but that didn't seem to have stopped the small congregation ahead of her. Or, technically, if you went by the dress sense, him. Maladict hadn't tried to get back into wearing women's clothes again. Especially not women vampires' clothes. She hadn't even bothered with the uniform. Tried kicking someone in the nuts while wearing a skirt? Na, it was much easier to just look like a man.
So he (not she) walked closer, pleased to see that the vampire ability to 'I don't want to be seen' was still working, before leaning against the wall with his arms folded as he caught the name 'Teatime'. And grinned. Even he'd heard of the assassin, and he'd spent ages fighting in Boregrovia.
"Sane isn't the same as mad though. Teatime's mind is actually a wonderful thing."
"Oh, sure," Julian grumbled, thinking it was Allie who had spoken. He was still somewhat preoccupied with his own decay. "If you think Morbius strips(1) are wonderful. Yeah, all right, he had vision, he was terrifically original, but he never knew when to stop. And look where it got him. What good is being some kind of genius if you're not alive—or undead—to enjoy it? Oh..." he added as he finally caught sight of the newcomer.
Maladict considers the words, watching with interest as the zombie stitched his hand. So obviously a zombie. You didn't grow up in a vampire castle, then join the sodding army without being able to tell species apart. Usually it was the smell(2).
"Guess you could say that. Or, some say Teatime's far too alive, which is why he went after death," he says silkily, silently remarking how much like an Igor the zombie looked. Then he smiles, showing the tips of his pointed teeth. "Who are you all then?"
oOo
(1)Invented by the famous vampire mathematician, Morbius.
(2)A sort of rotten cabbage smell, when it came to zombies – but not exactly unpleasant. In fact, compared to other species, it was almost nice.
oOo
Phoenix was getting a little tired of introducing herself. She felt if she had to do it one more time she would explode – not burst into flames, full out explode. She quickly considered saying she was Arabella Aramana Cassandrana Edwardina Katerina Adtroi, Goddess of the Swamps, and that she liked to eat frogs' legs, but thought better of it.
"I'm Phoenix Shifter. I'm not a fire demon. It's a pleasure to meet you," she managed, playing with fire on the tips of her fingers. "Really, we should be heading out, shouldn't we? The little I know about Ankh Morpork says that deserted alleys are dangerous. As earlier I was quite lost I didn't have much of a choice, but if we're going to go to Don'tgonearthe Inn, we should probably go. Besides, it looks like we've lost Mysterious."
Mysterious was, actually, just turning on Short Street and coming up to Don'tgonearthe Inn.
"Slow pokes," she mumbled, "And I'm the one with the stilts."
She popped through the door and went to find herself a Mysterious seat. It wasn't long before the others caught up, as Don'tgonearthe Inn was none too far from the alley and they all were slightly doubtful when it came to the safety of their previous position.
Who is that? she wondered, looking at the newcomer. But she wanted to wait until they found her to give introductions. Instead, she quietly sat and spied on them Mysteriously.
"Sorry for not introducing earlier," Julian said to Maladict once they were all seated. "I'm Julian Halfway. That there is Allie, and she's Cassandra. You?" with an offer of his hand. "Oh, hallo," Julian said, noticing Mysterious. "Want to come join us?"
"No thank you," Mysterious replied, "This chair is very tall and I prefer the view. Besides, it's much more imposing."
"You can call me Maladict," Maladict says smoothly, crossing his legs and attempting to look totally relaxed. He doubted that worked though. A vampire in military clothing with a shocking great sword can't really do that. No matter how scruffy they wear them. "I'm a gender confused vampire," he says to the not a fire demon woman, smirking slightly.
Cassandra wondered whether they were going to carry on collecting people now they had left the alley before she realized that she had to interrupt.
"Try being a vampire that blows herself up every other day. And who just got thrown out of the Alchemists Guild. All because that idiot Silverfish cut himself."
Cassandra realized that she was acting like an embittered obsessive. Then she realized that she was one.
I mean who cuts themselves on a broken crucible anyway? Someone who does that doesn't deserve to be Head Alchemist, she thought.
"Well, why would a vampire become an alchemist?" Maladict drawls, turning his head slowly to look at Cassandra. After all, blowing up was never a pleasant experience. And part of the job description of being an alchemist was to be blown up. How else could they get through so many members?
"'Gender confused'?" Phoenix asked, her voice somewhere between curious and confused now that she had finally found it. She'd never heard of such a thing before and it had taken her off guard.
Funnily enough, the 'vampire' part didn't shock her in the slightest. Phoenix noted that and began to wonder if maybe she should shuffle through her priorities. Once again, she used her trademark 'I'm just an innocent little girl' smile. "It's nice to meet you, Maladict. What brings you to Ankh Morpork – or do you live here?"
Maladict looks back at the Not-A-Fire-Demon girl, one of his perfectly plucked eyebrows raised in his pale face. He looks as cool as only a vampire could. Part of the inheritance, he had gathered.
"Yes..." Although, he didn't want to think about the being a 'gender confused' vampire. The vampire bit was ok. It kept him alive quite often, when fighting. That and coffee. He...or she...no, here, as he had already decided, here he was a he. Not a she. Thinking about it gave him a headache. So he didn't bother explain it to her.
"I'm on leave, and fancied checking out the sights." Again, sort of true. He had always wanted to see what was so scary about the Shades. "And I've never been here before." Generally, the army didn't come to Ankh-Morpork. Especially seeing as it was often considered to be 'the enemy'.
"I'm new here as well," Phoenix replied, smiling charmingly. "I came hoping someone could tell me why I can spout fire at will." She glanced at the alchemist. "Would you have any idea?" She sniffed; "And is that... coffee I smell?"
Maladict shrugs, "You can spout fire because Fire will let you? I would mention some gods, but we generally don't hassle one another much." After all, the only prayer he had ever said was Dear gods, let me kill this bastard before he kills me. That wasn't much of a religion. "And yes. Most likely. I like coffee. League of Temperance."
"Ah, I see. Instead of blood," Phoenix deduced. "My Aunt likes coffee. But she's not a vampire. My Grandfather is. Sorry. I'm babbling."
"Coffee most likely wasn't the best choice," Maladict concedes, not seeming to notice her burbling. It was the closest the vampire ever got to admitting he was wrong. Distinctly, someone in the bar yelled:
"Hey! That's that god-forsaken journalist!"
"Oh, bollucks..." she cursed, slamming her head into her hands.
At the cry, Maladict looks around the bar, looking slightly interested. "Journalist?"
Phoenix thought he was asking if she was one, but didn't have a chance to comment before Albus did.
"Perhaps you're under a curse," suggested Allie casually to Phoenix. He had been sitting between Julian and Maladict with a book in his hand, listening but saying nothing.
"I don't see why anyone would really want curse me." Phoenix paused thoughtfully, "Unless they thought I was my aunt. Then there's a good chance of that. But really, I'm not complaining. I don't want it to go away; it's very useful, in fact. I'm just terribly curious. If it is a curse, it's a pretty darn good one, all things considered. And no, I'm not a journalist. I just look like my aunt with longer hair. And she, unfortunately, is one."
Phoenix glanced apprehensively at the man who had yelled and was now glaring at her, then looked back at the three vampires, zombie, and cloaked figure watching her and sighed in relief. Someone would have to be a real idiot to come after her now.
"Oh, right. I thought you meant there was an actual journalist here. Like de Worde. Now that was fun." Maladict cracks a smile at the memory of the lies they had fed the writer. The hazy memories, seeing as he had been lacking coffee at that time, but yeah. He didn't bother commenting on the rest of her words. It was none of his business.
"As far as I know, thank goodness, there isn't. Though it might be fun to make up a whole bunch of things, wouldn't it? Like maybe that that Teatime/Teh-ah-tim-eh you guys were talking about was up and running," she chuckled.
"If by 'up and running' you mean alive, well yeah. He is." Maladict says absently, looking around with an unconcerned expression.
"'Alive'? Not even undead? Alive?" Phoenix sounded confused.
Abruptly Allie put down his book. "What?"
Mysterious started laughing, which was a little uncalled for, but then again, different people have different reactions. As for the not-a-fire-demon, it was all sinking in and she felt she should share her enlightenment with the worried-sounding vampire.
"It's not really that odd, all things considered I suppose. I mean, weird things happen on the disc all the time," Phoenix pointed out, gesturing around the table. "Even here things aren't exactly 'normal'. It shouldn't be trouble for us if some crazed Assassin came back to life… unless I'm missing something. He's no reason to be irked at you all, right?" she added nervously.
"Where did you hear this?" Allie demanded of Maladict, ignoring Phoenix. This slightly irked her, but she managed to keep her mouth shut. "Have you seen him?"
Cassandra finally managed to stop thinking about magnesium.
"If Teatime's back in Ankh-Morpork maybe we should head to Genua," she suggested.
Maladict sighs, glancing around him. He rather fancied a coffee now. Was doubting whether this was the right place to even ask for one, but it didn't matter. He could last a bit longer at least. He blinks, before looking back at the others, momentarily losing track of the conversation and all the cool atmosphere he'd built up. "Huh?"
Then he realizes, and then he feels like hitting himself. So much for being mysterious. Although, he gathered that was Mysterious' job. Not his.
"Oh, yeah...One of my...friends, was talking about him. I haven't seen him, but others have. And I don't think he's undead. In all honestly, I think the gods just got fed up with having him around, so they sent him back to us."
He shrugs, considering the assassin. He doubted he could do anything like Te-ah-tim-eh did. Soldiers and assassins were completely different. After all, assassins were paid to kill. Soldiers were paid to stay alive.
"What else did your friend say?" demanded Allie intensely. His usual cool-as-a-cucumber demeanor had vanished.
"That he couldn't find his eye." Maladict says, stretching a hand out in front of him. Perhaps he should paint his nails again. Oh, no, wait, that had been when he was a she. Still...they had looked good. "He kept stealing marbles off one of the stalls. Well, not stealing really. Seeing as the stall holders vanished before he took them. Apparently it was rather interesting to watch. Shame I was fighting then, really."
Phoenix coughed.
"I'm sorry. Did you just say something about missing an eye?" she blinked, and then it dawned on her. "Oh, wait, he has a glass one, then?"
"Had a glass eye," Maladict corrects the Not-A-Fire-Demon girl, holding up one finger, "That's the one he's lost. Death said it was a family affair, or something." He was more likely going to go for the 'or something' part of that.
The Assassin trainee looked rather nervous. Or rather, as nervous as a vampire could. Nervousness was a hard thing for a vampire to pull off. Phoenix pursed her lips, examining Allie speculatively.
"Albus, you look rather... shaken. Do you have some personal experience with this particular Assassin?"
She always did have a curiosity to rival that of Jonathan Teatime himself. Maladict glances sideways at Albus, wondering as well whether there was anything between him and Teatime. There could be. He didn't know.
Julian scowled. He remembered all too well what had happened the last time. Allie wasn't particularly nice to him—he wasn't particularly nice to anyone—but Julian considered him a friend, since he didn't actively disapprove of his zombiehood. He wanted to change the subject, for his friend's sake.
"I'm sure it's just rumors. Or the wizards mucking about. Does anyone want something? I'll treat."
Maladict looks up at Julian, watching him quietly for a moment, before deciding to agree with him. For sake of nothing better to do. "Yes. Rumours. That must be it," he drawls, once more in an expressionless tone.
Phoenix raised brow.
"Well, I'll be keeping my eyes open. As for food, I'm not used to ordering at inns, but I'll take the sweetest drink that doesn't have alcohol. And maybe some soup." She flashed a charming smile; "Thanks."
"I'll have a coffee," Maladict adds after Phoenix speaks, only seeming to register the offer then. He would act as if he cared about it as he was looking forward to a coffee, but breaking into the necklace of coffee beans wasn't a good idea. He didn't want to be caught short. Again.
"Alright. Waiter? Excuse me? Waiter?" Julian waved gingerly. A youngish, gingerish man who looked rather like an anorexic hamster hurried over, seeing the Assassin's black. When he got close enough to notice the stitches, grayish skin and clouded eyes he did a magnificent job of recovering his here-to-serve smile. After a moment.
"A coffee for the gentleman here," said Julian, obviously ill at ease with ordering, "and... uh, let's see... a Saccharine Mary for the red-headed lady. Anyone want anything else?"
"A gin and tonic." Cassandra didn't usually drink but after spending the night in such odd company she felt the need for alcohol. At least she wasn't drinking blood, although the waiter wouldn't have even been a snack.
Maladict turns his head slowly to look at the waiter, watching him with the smile only a vampire can do. The sort of smile which automatically makes you check your trousers to see if your flies are done up. Simply for fun, of course. But Maladict felt he should be able to have fun now. And it made a change freaking out ordinary people rather than eltees.
The waiter paled, instinctively looked down. Thinking it was because of him, Julian fidgeted, annoyed. He was sick of getting this reaction from everyone he met. What the hell was so shocking about an Assassin zombie, anyway? You'd think they'd be the best people for the job, having... well... a sort of intuitive experience with inhumation, if you could call it that.
"Forget it. We'll call if we need anything else."
The waiter scarpered, his sigh of relief audible. Maladict waits until the waiter is out of sight before laughing, reclining back in his seat. He grins at the zombie, unable to help himself. "Well, you sure get along well with people, don't you?"
"I do," replied Julian sourly. "They just don't get along well with me. I suppose he thinks I'll ooze on him or something. Zombies are quite clean, you know. Cleaner than most of the living clientele here," he added with a resentful glare toward the rest of the room.
"Undead, yes, unperson, no!" Phoenix jested with a grin, raising an imaginary drink. She grew serious; "Really, even for a zombie you're barely decaying. And it's not like all zombies - or any, for that matter - are brain eating, slow moving, dummies, is it? You're soul just wanted to stay a bit longer than your body allowed."
"Yeah, I mean, I wouldn't have known you to be a zombie if I wasn't a vampire, didn't work with your kind every day, and if you hadn't been sewing your hand back on when we first met," Mal says, trying to lighten the mood, before glancing over at the waiter. He pauses for a moment, before deciding against telling them that it had most likely been him to cause that. He'd leave it to them to figure out.
"Yeah, it was only the hand-falling-off that alerted me. But I'm guessing you don't really care if people know or not. You care if people care or not… But right now we've got three vampires and someone who looks like a journalist sitting here at the table. It's probably not you that's unnerving anyone; it's the combination," she tried.
"Yeah, that. The combination. Now...Are we getting drinks or not? I do need a coffee now." Maladict says, mumbling slightly on the last few words, before smiling once more at Julian, "Don't worry what people think. They're idiots if they treat you any different, really." He shrugs, considering that matter of fact.
"Well, maybe not idiots, but probably people not worth your time," Phoenix piped in. "You know, I'll go and check on our orders. I'd hate for Maladict to get... thirsty," she added with a wink as she stood to her feet and made her way towards the bar. It was funny how laissez-faire she was about getting her blood sucked out.
"Oh, don't we all love each other. Now we're going to give out hugs and teddy bears," Mysterious said sarcastically. "How did you all get so friendly and protective? You do remember we just met, right? Since when do people become best friends with every thug/assassin/zombie/rhinoceros they just met in a dark alley?"
Then Mysterious began to wonder if she offended anyone. What people would think is so hard to predict sometimes.
"There's no point in getting nasty. We look like the biggest bunch of misfits ever to grace the city – at least since the Watch sorted itself out – so we may as well stick together." Cassandra looked at Julian and mentally added 'or fall apart in a synchronized manner'. "Otherwise we will all have committed "suicide" before the end of tonight."
"Nasty? I'm not getting nasty; I'm just wondering why you are all the sudden like a great big family?" Mysterious decided she should work on her social skills. Of course, she had had to refine those for some of her jobs, but she was out of practice since to be Mysterious you didn't have to be nice.
"Sorry." Cassandra knew she tended to over-react, especially in the presence of cloaked figures. The last mysterious stranger she had met had turned her into a vampire. Her hand went to her neck automatically.
"Coffee!" Phoenix's perky voice chimed. She wore a happy smile as she returned to the table, sat, and passed Maladict the ahhhh smelling drink over the round, wood surface. "And vampire slayers!" she added in the same tone.
Maladict grabs the coffee off the table even before it's finished moving, before raising it to his lips, breathing in the smell with a contented sigh. But then he looks back at the Not-A-Fire-Demon girl (who he still didn't know the name of. Unless he had just forgotten it, that is), and tuts slightly. "I am reformed, you know. I have the badge, if you really want to see it."
"I don't doubt that, Maladict," she replied seriously. "The way you're practically worshiping that cup of coffee shows it well enough. But I mean literally. Vampire slayers. In the back. Rather pathetically disguised as cooks."
"Vampire slayers?" Mysterious said, a little too loudly. Shrinking back, she spoke more quietly. "Where? Dressed as cooks you say?"
The Cloaked Figure looked around trying to look casual, but when you wear a Cloak completely submerging you, there is no 'casual'.
"They're in the kitchen. Cooking," Phoenix shrugged. "Or at least attempting to. They're burning everything something terrible. It hurt to watch them…" she shuddered.
Maladict takes a sip of his coffee thinking about what she had said. "Ah. Well, I have a horse bow...and a sword. I really hope they don't try anything though. That really would put a damper on the evening..."
"Yes, dampener indeed, but I'm afraid that they probably are going to try something unpleasant. Ever since that Lord Draken from Uberwald - jerk " Phoenix mumbled under her breath before continuing in a normal voice " - started up that whole 'Vampires Bite Back' cult slayers have been slaying practically any vampires they lay eyes on, b-total or not. And what is taking that waiter, anyhow?" she added impatiently.
Cassandra knew she was no good in a fight, and while Maladict was a professional soldier (and had survived so it could be safely assumed he was good at it) she doubted the others would be any good either, not in a traditional Morpork brawl. Zombies tended to go to pieces, flames would only raise the issue of fire in-sewer-ants, and cloaks got in the way. It was while she was thinking this that a few cooks entered the room.
Armed with stakes.
oOo
And now for this chapter's cast (in order of appearance):
Phoenix Shifter, created and played by SheWhoShines
Julian Halfway, created and played by Fanless
Mysterious Cloaked Figure, created and played by Purple Peanutbutter
Cassandra Larimar, created and played by E. J. M. Adams
Albus Weiss, created and played by KeT
Maladict (Canan Character), played by CriticalAngel
Waiter, played by CriticalAngel/Fanless