The Lamentations of Renny, Part Five: Comments from the Trashbag on the Left
Wednesday,10 Aug 2011
Contractor Trash bag in the back of a green 1973 Town and Country Station wagon
Westbound on Madison Street near Union
Natchez MS
1123hrs, local time, approximate
Gah, I hate Mages.
And I don’t mean in some generic – “scared by creepy magic act when I was a kid” sorta dislike or a “Wah, I wanted to be Mandrake the Magician and ended up a two bit Jewcula” dislike. I mean a bone deep dislike for serious and factual reasons.
Wanna know why? For an explanation, I will start with a description of Magic buoyed by quotes from the comedian Lilly Tomlin and oneof the most confusing magician /philosopher/con men of the last century, Aleister Crowley. I apologize up front for the long explanation, but my hatred is complicated. If you’re easily bored, skip down a page or so and I’ll rant some more. It’ll be laughs.
Let’s start with a description of a particular variety of Magic. Did you ever walk under a streetlight at night and it goes out? Poof! Just like that? And for a second – maybe just for a second – you think to yerself ‘did I do that?’ Was it something in my mood? Did I want to be in the dark? Did I will it to happen? Could I do it again?’
The answers vary with the person and training, but some folks can, and do, exactly that.
“Love shall be the whole of the Law. Love under Will.” Crowley said that. He also said, “Do what thou Wilt shall be the whole of the law.” Despite the fact that one statement seems to contradict the other, he meant both of ‘em in his shyster sort of fashion. The trick here is that what he was really talking about was subtler and more primal than the surface definitions. To illustrate my point we need to pull in two terms Uncle Al half borrowed, half defined: Agape[1] and Thelema[2]. Agape means ‘Love’, but not in the sense of ‘Johnny loves Susie’ or ‘I’d love not puking every time I drink a cup of tea’, but Love as a Universal Force of Creation. Likewise “Will” and “Wilt” (Thelema) don’t refer to what you want or how much stick-to-it-iveness you’ve got, but rather “True Will” which is really closer in concept to karmic destiny than to that inner drive that allows you to win staring contests with the cat.
Using this description, Magic is all about understanding your karmic path and using the Universe’s Love of its own wholeness to bend the World to the outcome that was needed. Like surfing or sailing, you’re using a large and unalterable force but controlling some piece, some aspect around the edges, to get done what you want to do.
This brings me to my second quote, “What is reality anyway? Just a collective hunch.” Lilly Tomlin wasn’t talking about magic when she said it, but that don’t stop it from being relevant. The Universe loves itself and prefers when everything makes sense to the things in it. When they don’t there’s a reaction as the Universe tries to correct itself. Karmic backlash might be a good way to describe it. Basically, a mage does something that really violates local understanding of causality and weird things happen, bad weird things. Like the bad weird things that happen to me.
An associate of mine (a real smart-ass wannabe magus from the Bronx named Saint Marcus) once referred to my peculiar condition as ‘Paradox Sink’ as in “Renny, you’re the biggest Paradox Sink I ever ran into.” What it means is that weird crap happens around me all the time and mages who specialize in having weird crap happen have an easier time of it when I’m around. As a bonus any weird crap backlash that does happen tends to hit me instead of its intended target. Magitypes refer to it as Paradox, with a capital ‘P’. I refer to it as Tuesday.
So would-be Merlins love having me around and I hate it.
Reason enough,I suppose, but there’s more to why I am duct taped into a trashbag, than my general dislike of mages so screw what I just said. Weird crap’s been happening to me since I was in diapers. I’m used to it and it really don’t bug as much as it oughta.
No, what really bugs me is that I ain’t ever run into a mage, I mean a real mage here, not a Chris Angel douchebag illusionist, but someone capable of real honest-to-goodness capital ‘M’ Mojo, who didn’t eventually end up getting elbow deep into some pretty repugnant crap in the name of their “Art” but was willing to laugh it all off because ‘the muse was upon them.’
I know what you’re thinking, “Pot, Kettle much Renny?” but hear me out. I’ll admit to being a monster. I’ve killed folks who didn’t deserve it; not many, but it’s happened. There’s gallons of blood on my hands, literally and figuratively, and it ain’tlike I’m gonna turn over a new leaf and suddenly become a vegetarian. For all that though, I will hold out that I was never cruel about what I’ve done. Fer instance, I’ve never betrayed a confidence just so I could gather a friend’s heartbroken tears, started a collection of pineal glands just to see into another dimension or forced open a bunch of folks’ third eye just to boost my own ego. Don’t get me started on the Tremere and their Gargoyle parts business.
So then why am I currently hiding in a trash bag in the back of a hearse-sized station wagon, ostensibly to report on my failure to stake Miss Witchypants but really to ensure that Eliza don’t destroy her? Mostly because I’m a softhearted idiot, but I guess a recap of recent events is in order.
Last night was supposed to be all about Eliza’s latest little job for me; getting out to Cotton’s plantation and figuring out what the hell to do with his herd. Apparently slaves were his particular peccadillo so he kept 60 or so on his plantation all descendants of his original ones. From what I’ve been led to understand none ofthem has ever been off the farm, so I can’t just open the gate and play Lincoln.
Analyzing the situation I figure Eliza’s yanking my chain to see how tight the leash is; how far I’ll go to stay. It’s the Ventrue thing to do, but having been given the task I can’t really just palm it off on someone else. I shudder to think about what most of the local vamps would do in the same sitch. At best they’d take over the herd and keep ’em in bondage for perpetuity. At worst, they’d end up as one of Evil Santa’s ‘medical’ experiments.
Here’s where I made my first mistake of the evening. I called up Miss Witchypants thinking she might have some information of use about the area. I know it seemed like a bad idea on the face of it, but the only other locals I know are Cord and Queen Bee. Cord’s still pissed at being made head of the local Pack and Queen Bee just don’t seem like the right sort for something potentially this schemey and nefarious.
Unfortunately Miss Witchypants decided to bring along Madame Witchypants, her grandmamma and sire Wille Mae. Madame didn’t get turned until recently so she looks to be 60 or so, but she carries herself like she flirted her way through a cotillion or two once upon a time, not that she’d admit it to anything so crass nowadays. No, these days she’s a combination of Granny from the Beverly Hillbillies and Lucrezia Borgia. No way I’m gonna mention anything about 60 or so innocent and, more to the point undocumented, folks in front of that biddy.
So the night’s plan had to change on a dime. The other thing on my plate was Assassimite. It was a more obvious fit for Missy and Madame being as they were locals and Magitypes and the trouble was local and magical.
The pisser of the situation was that not only does Madame Witchypants show up, insult my place and my girls, she also won’t admit to knowing squat about the Assassimite or her Honeycomb-hideout though she was insistent that we resolve it that night. To top off all that she wanted one of my girls to help her “make cookies” because we were taking her darling granddaughter from her.
By this point I want Madame gone and might have been willing to do the whole thing without magic backup, but 38 was convinced that we needed her and I was willing to listen.
This led to abit of a Sophie’s Choice moment for me. “The Shiny Amazing Corporation” where Assassimite was hanging out was no doubt chock-full of magic and vampire weirdness, but I also had absolutely no doubt that Madame had something up her sleeve other than her arm.
I took a brief look at the girls and their auras. Stasi was mostly bored. Alona was confused, frightened a bit, and blushed when I looked at her. Taking from a purely practical standpoint, I would’ve preferred to take Stasi with me. She’s a lot less likely to freak out when weird stuff happens. Alona’s better in a fight ifshe can keep her head straight, but that’s a big ‘if’.
But the decision really lay on the other side of the equation. Who would better hand lean evening at Witchypants Manor with the Lady of the house in such fine fettle?
I saw Lonya’s aura flush with pleasure and gratitude. It didn’t hurt her schoolgirl crush one bit that I picked her over her sister. It’s junkie behavior and I should put a quick stop to it, but her crush is one of the only things that’s kept her from killing herself the last few days. Given how things turned out, that’s one addiction that may have to stop to it sooner than later, but I am getting ahead of myself. Anyway, she brought along that fancy scimitar that Assassimite gave us a few days ago.
We picked up Cord along with Queen Bee and her boy toy, Drone, on the way. Cord had actually heard of the place, but the only advice he had for us was “stay the fuck away from it.” Unfortunately, that ship had already sailed. We had a meet up with Assassimite in the works andMadame was putting the spurs to our behinds to get it done tonight so we movedforward.
Once the Scoobygang was together we kvetched a bit. At one point we had one of those “MissionImpossible” plans worked up, but frankly we didn’t have time to case the placemuch less get the stuff to implement a plan. In the end we showed up and walked in. The doorman was an animated skeleton that demanded blood for entry. It was almost quaint.
We got inside the factory proper and I swear to God (one of ‘em anyway) it was like we walked into a lost Prince /Cameo video starring that Urkel kid from “Family Matters” and Assassimite. The factory floor was packed with scantily dressed frolickers bumping and grinding like it was the only thing in the world. All the while Urkel and Assassimite gazed down on them from an upper level walkway like the King and Queen of Mardi Gras.
A quick scan of auras told me what was really going on. Urkel had a blinding white Aura. He was the mage behind the flying machine, more Murkel than Urkel, and Assassimite was as diablerist as ever. The crowd was interesting viewing though; Humans mostly with a couple of vamps, but all the auras showed guilt, tons of it, solidly permeating the entirety of aura. Nobody has an aura like that, not unlesss omething’s forcing it, and I ain’t talking stern looks from Baba Anya here.
Assassimite signals us to come up, but it was a trap, sorta. The way up led to a room that made us split into 2 groups, Vamps and Non Vamps, and run through separate ‘gauntlets’. I swear Murkel must have had the whole “2nd Edition Player’s Handbook” memorized before he hit puberty, if he ever hit puberty.
The Vamp path was designed to make you real thirsty and then tempt you with tainted blood from one of the controlled humans. Cord and I made it through without touching any but of course Miss Witchypants decides to go buck-wild and tank up to the point where she’s puking the stuff. Turns out the blood was tainted by magical ‘guilt’ that put you under control of Assassimite.
The non-Vampside was a series of tests that was all about one of two outcomes. Either you ended up so soul-drained you joined the Solid Guilt dancers or you absorbed enough mojo that you became “enlightened,” third eye opened, if you will, because you solved all the puzzles. There were no other possible outcomes, you ended up either an acolyte of Murkel or a slave to Assassimite and from what I could see most of the folks who came in weren’t great at puzzles.
On the plus side, I don’t think either Murkel or Assassimite considered that a group of folks might try to crash the party or that the group would come loaded for bear. The vamps were able to help eachother, more or less. For the non-Vamps solving the puzzles seemed the way out and the puzzles were the same in each room so once anyone solved one them they were all able to.
Both groups made it through about the same time and at that point none of us were in a mood to discuss situations with Murkel or Assassimite. I was stupid and made the mistake of looking at Murkel’s aura and got soul blinded just before the big fight, so I didn’t see most of it, but apparently Lonya went crazy Medieval on Assassimite and Cord turned Murkel into lunch without difficulty. We had to track down Assassimite’s heart and destroy it before Miss Witchypants got a chance to eat it (she really, really wanted to eat it or at least get her hands on it), but other than that things were done.
We never foundout how a Technogeek Life Mage ended up with an Ancient Vampire Assassin Bitch, but to be honest I’m not sure I care.
There were acouple of disturbing things about the outcome though.
Thing one was that Lonya solved several of the puzzles using that sword she brought. After the big fight she kept muttering “Усекновение всегда работает” Roughly translated it means “Beheading always works.” Given her somewhat fragile mentality, deciding to solve all of life’s problems by chopping off heads with a sword could lead to some unfortunate situations.
Thing two was why I got soul blinded. All the non-Vamps passed through the tests and in the process picked up enough Mojo (Arete, if you wanna use the fancy term) to havetheir 3rd eye opened. Realize, that the third eye is more metaphoricthan real, unless you are a Salubri and they’re pretty rare, so I suppose thereare worse things that could’a happened. It doesn’t really affect the individualmuch if they haven’t had training and don’t pick at it too much. Mostly justweird dreams and magic halos.
What it does do that’s relevant is screw up the aura and the blood. The aura goes blinding white and the blood gets a magical resistance to Vamps drinking it, which is gonna seriously fuck with Lonya’s current addiction to being bitten by Yours Truly and my ability to scan auras when the non-vamp members of the Scooby Gang is around.
None of which explains why I am in a trashbag next to Miss Witchypants, beyond revealing my generally sour mood toward magitypes and tendency to be a sap.
For explanations I gotta backtrack a bit. During the kvetching segment of the evening Miss Witchypants dropped a bombshell on Queen Bee. Seems Balto and Evil Ed weren’t entirely dead and stripped for parts. Instead, they were apparently regenerating in vats of blood; Balto at Witchypants Manor with Madame and Evil Ed, back at (don’t) Miss U with Evil Santa.
I forwarded the Intel off to Eliza. Her response was to tell me to stake Miss Witchypants and send her over to Gloomy Gables. Part of it was more chain yanking, but I could tell she was pissed. I was too. The world was better with Evil Ed gone and frankly the Gangrel were too organized with Balto around. The fact that they were doing this in secret, except between BFFs, was just icing on the cake.
Miss Witchypants conked out before we got her home. She’s one of those vamps that goes to bed early, gets up late, and is a log in between. However, she had cast that spell that prevents staking, so the first attempt didn’t go well. I know enough about the spell to know how to get around it, but it gives me an idea. All it takes is a car, some extra large trashbags and a new set of wheels. 38’s rocketredrentalhonda is too small to lay bodies out in the trunk and they’re too obvious if left in the passenger seats.
Stasi found a huge station wagon, not sure where, but she claims it’s legit and I don’t have time to be picky. We are using it to take all of us (Lonya, Stasi, Miss Witchypants and Me) over to Gloomy Gables and drop us off.
Now, I figure the balance of things being what it is, Miss Witchypants’ll likely get a stern talking-to followed by Eliza making some sort of deal, like holding Miss Witchypants hostage or some such, unless Eliza’s feelin’ like she needs to lay down the law as Prince and just kills Witchypants outa hand.
What I really think needs to happen is Eliza and Madame Witchypants need to sit down and hash out their differences over some nice Type-O and get to the point where they address the real threats, like Evil Ed and Injun’ Joe, but that won’t happen until they get to an understanding.
So my plan right now is to stay up all day and talk to Eliza before Witchypants wakes up. Call me a Softy or Stupid, but for all that she’s pissed me off, I don’t want Witchypants to get beheaded, I just want her to be less of a self-indulgent idiot. She’s gonna get everyone in trouble if she’s not careful.
Also, Eliza keeps a well stocked larder and I really need to tank up.
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