Dedication
It is with honor and respect I dedicate this work to the men, women and children who labor under the condition of vampirism as well as to many men and women who have held profitable discussions with me upon the subject and enlarged my own knowledge of the range of the affliction. To all of you, know there has been one who has lived your pain, but can offer hope.
Chapter 1
In which our hero Despairs of the life of vampyrism. slaughters several would-be rescuers, and Does not Even get a meal From it
It was never my intent to become a vampyre, and I have borne no ill will against the gentleman who made me such. He labored without knowledge of a cure, in a time dark of such knowledge as I have been able to bring to bear on this subject. In some ways, I would want to cure him most of all but this was rendered moot when I drove a stake through his heart during an argument over cards.
In fact, the life of a vampyre is not without its pleasures, as you might expect from week after week of entrancing young women with your thrall, slipping off their bedding though of course always respecting their evening garments, and drinking of their life. But I decided to leave the life one day in India. Let me tell you that story of that fateful night in India..
I was consuming the neck of a 19-year-old brunette, her rounded limbs thrashing under her sheer negligee, when her brother entered the room and proceeded to shoot me. I lept up and crashed his skull with a musicbox made of Greecian marble. I proceeded to the lovely lady’s neck again, when her father entered the room and shot me. I rose and tore out his heart with a Turkish dagger I kept in my boot for such purposes.
I returned to the young lady’s neck as her ripe, rounded glowing womanhood revealed itself from under her garments when what should I see but the amply shaped gem’s mother poised over me with a frying pan! I lashed out with a claw and slashed her throat, admiring the rush of blood, but deciding instead of devour the succulent morsel who had been the original object of my desires.
I began another mouthful when what should be standing over me but the pastor of the small community, no doubt aroused by the loud cries from the building, holding a cross. I pulled out my small pistol and fired, shooting him between the eyes. Alas, I ponder now how evil this was, and how had I not been cured of vampyrism, that I would surely go to Hell. The pastor slumped atop the mother.
I resumed devouring tender flesh when once again I heard commotion, and saw three women from the Temperance League, waving Bibles at me! Oh, if only I had stopped to savor the Holy Word of God, but its’ tender tones and messages of mercy are lost uponthe undead. I lept off the bed and began slashing, cutting off one’s head, slicing the neck of another, and, because at this point I was getting a bit of a foul temper, tearing off the arms and legs of the third.
They all lay quivering atop the pastor and mother when I lept onto the bed, watching the young lady’s pale limbs part before my unholy majesty, when as I swooped to lay atop her I heard a noise and looked up and saw five holy Indian men chanting to save my soul. I rose again and began slashing, killing all five.
At this point, I was thinking of moving the voluptuous young lady somewhere else when i heard further commotion, and looked up to see several stout men removing the door frame, apparently to allow the admission of half the town, bearing pitchforks, stakes, barrels of fiery tar, and three crucixes. Those who were too weak to carry a weapon were carrying small to large pieces of kindling.
They were shrieking imprecations, insults and more, shouts of “Kill the beast,” “Avenge the dead,” “Cut his John Thomas off,” and more.
All of this was making enough noise to raise the dead. And in fact, it did. There they were, coming up from beyond the horizon, zombehs summoned by Indian fakirs chants in a futile effort to corner me.
At this point, large amount of the siren’s blood had escaped into the bedding, and my lovely target was no longer as nourishing. When I heard someone shriek “No, if you shoot more than 15 cannons at once, we’ll all be deaf,” I decided to leave.
As I lept away, watching the voluptuous young woman’s body quiver, flesh moving in succulent waves of tempting mounds, i ran and escaped them all by disappearing behind a wall and then quickly producing a disguise as a crippled begger named Mr Bumpkins, but pondered that this was no way to live, or rather, to continue to die. And so, as I limped away past the crazed villagers, the brace of cannon, the undead army and and an odd assortment of tigers, lions and bears that I had completely missed before, I determined to seek a cure.
Chapter 2
In which there is conversation with a member of a mysterious brotherhood and a visit to a garden.
The cure for vampyrism is long and arduous, and those who bear its secret, the Brothers of the Rosy Cross, are loath to tell the tale. There is a vicious cycle, for those who know the secret to vampyrism are not vampyres themselves, and thus have no interest in sharing the secret or propogating the cure. It was to a brother of the Rosy Cross that I sought, who I knew, and explained to him that “a friend” was in need of a cure.
“Dear man,” he said, for we were good and hearty friends tested in battle with Indian heathen, “who do you fancy in the cricket match between the King’s 8th and the Queen’s 9th?”
“Dear bosom companion,” I replied. “That has nothing to do with my inquiry as to the potential salvation of my friend who suffers from vampyrism.”
He continued to ignore my pleas. “I rather fancy Priggins with his gumshot on the cricket 9,” he insisted.
“Look you fairweather friend,” I replied with vigor and rising energy “That’s not even cricket! What in the fiery depths of Satan’s chimney is a gumshot? Who in the name of the rising sun upon the ice-frosted horizon is Priggins? Why cannot you answer my plea?”
The man quickly realized I had outwitted him, and lowered his voice, bringing his pint closer to his lips, and his lips closer to me.
“No even even knows I am of the Brotherhood. Do you think I am unsound of mind and unwilling to live such that I will state a cure for vampyrism?”
“But surely,” I remonstrated with authority,”your brotherhood bears the secrets of Hermes Thrice Blessed, the Trismegustus, such that you can orate to my ears and eagerly listening attention a cure for vampyrism that my friend may be cured.”
“there is such a cure,” he whispers. “You will find it buried under the garden of a Mrs P_______ of Burton-Upon-Trent”
((Here is an OOC note. The book goes on for another 88 chapters, in which Art details his encounters with a variety of people throughout Britain, France, Italy, a few other assorted countries, and the United States. Some of these encounters will be detailed in the roleply. I hope you will forgive this typist if I don’t write all that out here in this text :) Let’s just say that in the 88 chapters, Art namedrops a lot of people and refers to a number of things he tries to cure himself of vampyrism, including teas, mushrooms, drugs, ceremonies, rituals, and pretty much anything you can imagine someone presenting as a potential cure for vampyrism. Along the way, he describes how he is acting less and less like a vampire, as if he was gradually cured. Then the book picks up … ))
Chapter 89
In which our hero Meets a Scientifical who seems to bear much wisdom, and his Comely daughter, who are both dedicated to the Cure as well as Perpetual Life
At this point, after six months among the natives of the India, I was introduced to Sir Cavendish, and I went to visit him in his villa. His scientific holdings were extensive, and I met his assistant Lily, a woman of great scholarship and an impressive mind for one of the gentle species. I discovered in her a confidante, in that Sir Cavendish was fond of practicing with men, and she was frustrated that he was not open to her as a scientist.
I found Lord Cavendish during his morning visit to the sauna, in which he and the five boys attending him listened with great interest as I detailed the events of my life. Lord Cavendish listened with great interest. I soon learned of him that you could tell how well you had captured his interest by the pace of twitching in his right eye. When you intrigued him, his eye pulsed like tidal waves upon an ocean beach. When he was bored, his eye was relaxed and easily grabbed the monocle he wore in the eye.
A consequence of his right eye twitching with great interest is that he would drop his monocle from his eye with regularity and would have to catch it, a task of great amusement as the monocle would pop from his eye, he would catch it with his right hand, he would clean it upon the robe he always wore, replace it in his eye, and then it would pop out again when his right eye suffered another tic.
After all these years of travels, I thought I had seen every kind of structure, and every kind of building. I was wrong. Lord Cavendish lived atop a large crag of rock upon which an 11th century warlord had perched a structure of unlikely height, and subsequent additions had left it looking like a improbably castle of a monarch perched over sheer cliffs looking out upon his domain.
Inside this castle Lord Cavendish had packed the keepings of his own travels as well as the treasures brought to him by others. There was every kind of thing, from rare minerals to suits of armor and taxidermied creatures including a stuffed Wild Man of Borneo. In his laboratory were enough flasks to hold the wine production of all Italy, and a crew of young dark-haired men working busily at various experiments.
((more information to come here about what Lord Cavendish told him about a cure. I hope to get this going before roleplay starts)))
I was also indebted to Lord Cavendish for he taught me an important secret to defeating vampyrism: frequent exercise of Rigorous Athleticism with another person. Exercise is vital to the life force! The stirring of life energy is important to restoring life to the vampire, and several times a day is advised. Lord Cavendish himself offered to assist me personally, but I sound found in Miss Lily a great and able assistance more to my nature, and to be candid, the nature of most men.
I became committed to this purpose one morning while engaged in a constitutional around the grounds, when I came upon Miss Lily exercising toward the base of the cliff. She was wearing the sheer white garb of the native women, and the mist of the ocean crashing on the rocks had wettened her to the point where the garb clung to her body and displayed the fine features of a healthy woman standing in a chill. I was mesmerized by the sight of one so lovely and my head moved up and down as I followed her movements bouncing up and down.
“They call this exercise the jumping Jacques,” she said innocently, completely unaware of how her motions might affect a man of normal health, which were noticeably absent in the Cavendish compound. “I see you are admiring my garb. This is woven by the women of the Handishi village, and I could obtain you a shirt of similar color and heft. Is there a reason you are so interested in the cut of my shirt? Do you have trouble being fitted properly?”
“Oh I see a fine fit in front of me,” I replied cheerily. “No I am merely enjoying watching a fine specimen of British womanhood out here in a heathen land, engaged in constructive physical activities for the betterment of God and Queen and empire.”
“What sugared words you speak,” the young lady blushed. God save the queen. I hope you may also be saved. Do you feel recovered of vampyrism?”
“I do not know. I only know that your father has given me many clues and treatments which I will enjoy as I continue my travels. I can only pray that someday I may be healed.”
“I hope that science will also help. Science will save us all as we apply our knowledge to the world’s problems,” she said.
I smiled. It was wonderful to meet someone with such faith, and I enjoyed many profitable discussions with her and exercises of scientific inquiry for a proper British man. It was with great regret that I left the Cavendish compound.
As this book goes to press, it is understood a fire occurred at the Cavendish home. I do not know the outcome of this event. My prayers, which I can now offer as a holy man free of vampyrism and enabled to me by the Salvation of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, extend to the good man and his family.
Chapter 90
In which our humble hero recovers and dedicates his Life to Curing others
In such despair i returned to India and at this point, dear reader, surely you know the story as well as I. You will have read in the papers how I was found among the three men, drinking their blood, and about to be killed by the authorities when I announced my vampyrism and agreed to be subject for study. Imagine the surprise of all when in fact Cavendish’s cure worked its charms, and I was returned to the bloom of life. As the authorities worked out my fate, I agree to write a book that I hoped would help my former brethern who were not able to find the cure, with a goal of giving them a more constructive life “The 6 Habits of Polite and Effective Vampyres.”
There was naturally considerable skepticism of my tale, and not a few people told the terrible lie that I had used influence and blackmail to escape India with my life. I can only answer such balderdash with an honorable life and the exercise of what wisdom God has seen fit to restore in me, and live my life as He would wish.
Here now, cured of vampyrism I continue to seek the truth so that a cure can be more frequently propogated. Clearly, there was something in the ingestion of various substances, the wisdom that reached my gradually clearing brain, and the frequent treatments at the hands of Miss Lilly, who has since become my scientific assistant.
Afterword
I began this sad tale recounting only some of the deaths caused by my befoulled hands, and that will accompany me to the Final Judgment where I will plead for God’s mercy. To the Father I will claim that in spreading the word of salvation, I shall only hope to atone and prevent many more deaths than would have occurred had I not lived and had I not spread the word thusly.
This is why you will see my name throughout Britain as I travel with my “Vampyre No More” workshops, which at modest charge only enough to cover my modest expenses and frugal travel habits for it is important to me that men and women attend and be Saved. If you know someone who is afflicted with vampyrism and related curses, I hope that they may benefit from the cure or find the treatment minimizes their pain and suffering.
It is with honor and respect I dedicate this work to the men, women and children who labor under the condition of vampirism as well as to many men and women who have held profitable discussions with me upon the subject and enlarged my own knowledge of the range of the affliction. To all of you, know there has been one who has lived your pain, but can offer hope.
Chapter 1
In which our hero Despairs of the life of vampyrism. slaughters several would-be rescuers, and Does not Even get a meal From it
It was never my intent to become a vampyre, and I have borne no ill will against the gentleman who made me such. He labored without knowledge of a cure, in a time dark of such knowledge as I have been able to bring to bear on this subject. In some ways, I would want to cure him most of all but this was rendered moot when I drove a stake through his heart during an argument over cards.
In fact, the life of a vampyre is not without its pleasures, as you might expect from week after week of entrancing young women with your thrall, slipping off their bedding though of course always respecting their evening garments, and drinking of their life. But I decided to leave the life one day in India. Let me tell you that story of that fateful night in India..
I was consuming the neck of a 19-year-old brunette, her rounded limbs thrashing under her sheer negligee, when her brother entered the room and proceeded to shoot me. I lept up and crashed his skull with a musicbox made of Greecian marble. I proceeded to the lovely lady’s neck again, when her father entered the room and shot me. I rose and tore out his heart with a Turkish dagger I kept in my boot for such purposes.
I returned to the young lady’s neck as her ripe, rounded glowing womanhood revealed itself from under her garments when what should I see but the amply shaped gem’s mother poised over me with a frying pan! I lashed out with a claw and slashed her throat, admiring the rush of blood, but deciding instead of devour the succulent morsel who had been the original object of my desires.
I began another mouthful when what should be standing over me but the pastor of the small community, no doubt aroused by the loud cries from the building, holding a cross. I pulled out my small pistol and fired, shooting him between the eyes. Alas, I ponder now how evil this was, and how had I not been cured of vampyrism, that I would surely go to Hell. The pastor slumped atop the mother.
I resumed devouring tender flesh when once again I heard commotion, and saw three women from the Temperance League, waving Bibles at me! Oh, if only I had stopped to savor the Holy Word of God, but its’ tender tones and messages of mercy are lost uponthe undead. I lept off the bed and began slashing, cutting off one’s head, slicing the neck of another, and, because at this point I was getting a bit of a foul temper, tearing off the arms and legs of the third.
They all lay quivering atop the pastor and mother when I lept onto the bed, watching the young lady’s pale limbs part before my unholy majesty, when as I swooped to lay atop her I heard a noise and looked up and saw five holy Indian men chanting to save my soul. I rose again and began slashing, killing all five.
At this point, I was thinking of moving the voluptuous young lady somewhere else when i heard further commotion, and looked up to see several stout men removing the door frame, apparently to allow the admission of half the town, bearing pitchforks, stakes, barrels of fiery tar, and three crucixes. Those who were too weak to carry a weapon were carrying small to large pieces of kindling.
They were shrieking imprecations, insults and more, shouts of “Kill the beast,” “Avenge the dead,” “Cut his John Thomas off,” and more.
All of this was making enough noise to raise the dead. And in fact, it did. There they were, coming up from beyond the horizon, zombehs summoned by Indian fakirs chants in a futile effort to corner me.
At this point, large amount of the siren’s blood had escaped into the bedding, and my lovely target was no longer as nourishing. When I heard someone shriek “No, if you shoot more than 15 cannons at once, we’ll all be deaf,” I decided to leave.
As I lept away, watching the voluptuous young woman’s body quiver, flesh moving in succulent waves of tempting mounds, i ran and escaped them all by disappearing behind a wall and then quickly producing a disguise as a crippled begger named Mr Bumpkins, but pondered that this was no way to live, or rather, to continue to die. And so, as I limped away past the crazed villagers, the brace of cannon, the undead army and and an odd assortment of tigers, lions and bears that I had completely missed before, I determined to seek a cure.
Chapter 2
In which there is conversation with a member of a mysterious brotherhood and a visit to a garden.
The cure for vampyrism is long and arduous, and those who bear its secret, the Brothers of the Rosy Cross, are loath to tell the tale. There is a vicious cycle, for those who know the secret to vampyrism are not vampyres themselves, and thus have no interest in sharing the secret or propogating the cure. It was to a brother of the Rosy Cross that I sought, who I knew, and explained to him that “a friend” was in need of a cure.
“Dear man,” he said, for we were good and hearty friends tested in battle with Indian heathen, “who do you fancy in the cricket match between the King’s 8th and the Queen’s 9th?”
“Dear bosom companion,” I replied. “That has nothing to do with my inquiry as to the potential salvation of my friend who suffers from vampyrism.”
He continued to ignore my pleas. “I rather fancy Priggins with his gumshot on the cricket 9,” he insisted.
“Look you fairweather friend,” I replied with vigor and rising energy “That’s not even cricket! What in the fiery depths of Satan’s chimney is a gumshot? Who in the name of the rising sun upon the ice-frosted horizon is Priggins? Why cannot you answer my plea?”
The man quickly realized I had outwitted him, and lowered his voice, bringing his pint closer to his lips, and his lips closer to me.
“No even even knows I am of the Brotherhood. Do you think I am unsound of mind and unwilling to live such that I will state a cure for vampyrism?”
“But surely,” I remonstrated with authority,”your brotherhood bears the secrets of Hermes Thrice Blessed, the Trismegustus, such that you can orate to my ears and eagerly listening attention a cure for vampyrism that my friend may be cured.”
“there is such a cure,” he whispers. “You will find it buried under the garden of a Mrs P_______ of Burton-Upon-Trent”
((Here is an OOC note. The book goes on for another 88 chapters, in which Art details his encounters with a variety of people throughout Britain, France, Italy, a few other assorted countries, and the United States. Some of these encounters will be detailed in the roleply. I hope you will forgive this typist if I don’t write all that out here in this text :) Let’s just say that in the 88 chapters, Art namedrops a lot of people and refers to a number of things he tries to cure himself of vampyrism, including teas, mushrooms, drugs, ceremonies, rituals, and pretty much anything you can imagine someone presenting as a potential cure for vampyrism. Along the way, he describes how he is acting less and less like a vampire, as if he was gradually cured. Then the book picks up … ))
Chapter 89
In which our hero Meets a Scientifical who seems to bear much wisdom, and his Comely daughter, who are both dedicated to the Cure as well as Perpetual Life
At this point, after six months among the natives of the India, I was introduced to Sir Cavendish, and I went to visit him in his villa. His scientific holdings were extensive, and I met his assistant Lily, a woman of great scholarship and an impressive mind for one of the gentle species. I discovered in her a confidante, in that Sir Cavendish was fond of practicing with men, and she was frustrated that he was not open to her as a scientist.
I found Lord Cavendish during his morning visit to the sauna, in which he and the five boys attending him listened with great interest as I detailed the events of my life. Lord Cavendish listened with great interest. I soon learned of him that you could tell how well you had captured his interest by the pace of twitching in his right eye. When you intrigued him, his eye pulsed like tidal waves upon an ocean beach. When he was bored, his eye was relaxed and easily grabbed the monocle he wore in the eye.
A consequence of his right eye twitching with great interest is that he would drop his monocle from his eye with regularity and would have to catch it, a task of great amusement as the monocle would pop from his eye, he would catch it with his right hand, he would clean it upon the robe he always wore, replace it in his eye, and then it would pop out again when his right eye suffered another tic.
After all these years of travels, I thought I had seen every kind of structure, and every kind of building. I was wrong. Lord Cavendish lived atop a large crag of rock upon which an 11th century warlord had perched a structure of unlikely height, and subsequent additions had left it looking like a improbably castle of a monarch perched over sheer cliffs looking out upon his domain.
Inside this castle Lord Cavendish had packed the keepings of his own travels as well as the treasures brought to him by others. There was every kind of thing, from rare minerals to suits of armor and taxidermied creatures including a stuffed Wild Man of Borneo. In his laboratory were enough flasks to hold the wine production of all Italy, and a crew of young dark-haired men working busily at various experiments.
((more information to come here about what Lord Cavendish told him about a cure. I hope to get this going before roleplay starts)))
I was also indebted to Lord Cavendish for he taught me an important secret to defeating vampyrism: frequent exercise of Rigorous Athleticism with another person. Exercise is vital to the life force! The stirring of life energy is important to restoring life to the vampire, and several times a day is advised. Lord Cavendish himself offered to assist me personally, but I sound found in Miss Lily a great and able assistance more to my nature, and to be candid, the nature of most men.
I became committed to this purpose one morning while engaged in a constitutional around the grounds, when I came upon Miss Lily exercising toward the base of the cliff. She was wearing the sheer white garb of the native women, and the mist of the ocean crashing on the rocks had wettened her to the point where the garb clung to her body and displayed the fine features of a healthy woman standing in a chill. I was mesmerized by the sight of one so lovely and my head moved up and down as I followed her movements bouncing up and down.
“They call this exercise the jumping Jacques,” she said innocently, completely unaware of how her motions might affect a man of normal health, which were noticeably absent in the Cavendish compound. “I see you are admiring my garb. This is woven by the women of the Handishi village, and I could obtain you a shirt of similar color and heft. Is there a reason you are so interested in the cut of my shirt? Do you have trouble being fitted properly?”
“Oh I see a fine fit in front of me,” I replied cheerily. “No I am merely enjoying watching a fine specimen of British womanhood out here in a heathen land, engaged in constructive physical activities for the betterment of God and Queen and empire.”
“What sugared words you speak,” the young lady blushed. God save the queen. I hope you may also be saved. Do you feel recovered of vampyrism?”
“I do not know. I only know that your father has given me many clues and treatments which I will enjoy as I continue my travels. I can only pray that someday I may be healed.”
“I hope that science will also help. Science will save us all as we apply our knowledge to the world’s problems,” she said.
I smiled. It was wonderful to meet someone with such faith, and I enjoyed many profitable discussions with her and exercises of scientific inquiry for a proper British man. It was with great regret that I left the Cavendish compound.
As this book goes to press, it is understood a fire occurred at the Cavendish home. I do not know the outcome of this event. My prayers, which I can now offer as a holy man free of vampyrism and enabled to me by the Salvation of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, extend to the good man and his family.
Chapter 90
In which our humble hero recovers and dedicates his Life to Curing others
In such despair i returned to India and at this point, dear reader, surely you know the story as well as I. You will have read in the papers how I was found among the three men, drinking their blood, and about to be killed by the authorities when I announced my vampyrism and agreed to be subject for study. Imagine the surprise of all when in fact Cavendish’s cure worked its charms, and I was returned to the bloom of life. As the authorities worked out my fate, I agree to write a book that I hoped would help my former brethern who were not able to find the cure, with a goal of giving them a more constructive life “The 6 Habits of Polite and Effective Vampyres.”
There was naturally considerable skepticism of my tale, and not a few people told the terrible lie that I had used influence and blackmail to escape India with my life. I can only answer such balderdash with an honorable life and the exercise of what wisdom God has seen fit to restore in me, and live my life as He would wish.
Here now, cured of vampyrism I continue to seek the truth so that a cure can be more frequently propogated. Clearly, there was something in the ingestion of various substances, the wisdom that reached my gradually clearing brain, and the frequent treatments at the hands of Miss Lilly, who has since become my scientific assistant.
Afterword
I began this sad tale recounting only some of the deaths caused by my befoulled hands, and that will accompany me to the Final Judgment where I will plead for God’s mercy. To the Father I will claim that in spreading the word of salvation, I shall only hope to atone and prevent many more deaths than would have occurred had I not lived and had I not spread the word thusly.
This is why you will see my name throughout Britain as I travel with my “Vampyre No More” workshops, which at modest charge only enough to cover my modest expenses and frugal travel habits for it is important to me that men and women attend and be Saved. If you know someone who is afflicted with vampyrism and related curses, I hope that they may benefit from the cure or find the treatment minimizes their pain and suffering.
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