Dedrom Flairdrim

Overview
Name: Dedrom Flairdrim

Birth Name: "Dead Rum!" (read his back story below)

Age: 28 (if I remember correctly)

 # of Children: 27 (soon to be 28 if not already)

Origin: Farringston, Southern Isles

Race: Sure, but I'll beat you... oh, wait, Human.

Fighting Style: Stab someone in the face before they can react.

Profession: Swashbuckler, Pirate, Captain, Silver-Tongued Rogue, Womanizer and Professional Ale Quaffer.

Appearance: Medium to tall in height, built lithe yet sinewy and solid, with brown hair and eyes (I think... I don't have the sheet with me) and skin tanned and seasoned by bright sun and salty waves. A real handsome looker, decked out in captain's attire with a pirate flair.

Weapon: Flash, the Uber Cool Short Sword (shocking throwing returning short sword +4), and until something better comes along to dual-wield, a flaming shortsword +3.

Demeanor: An extrovert in the extreme most of the time. Charismatic and outgoing, charming and witty, and yet... a brooding darkness that clings around the corners of his day, that crouches in his past, that ominously waits on the near horizon of the future.

Goal: Get laid by as many women as possible, find a true purpose and meaning in life and existence, plunder a lot, get a flying, planeshifting ship, come to terms with responsibility (eventually) and still have fun, maybe someday find a true love that won't die on him, and try, above all else, not to die or sink any more ships.

Blonde, Brunette or Red-Head?: It's all about the red-heads.

Campaign: Sea Faring Campaign

Theme Song: Salty Dog by Flogging Molly.

Aliases

 * 1) Gregory Lipton
 * 2) Parthas Neveril
 * 3) Theodore Belmont
 * 4) Benjamin Dramson
 * 5) Jack Greenwood
 * 6) Ash
 * 7) Artem Larson
 * 8) Nathaniel Darrinson

Back story
Dedrom's tale is not so much a biography as it is a story. Let me rephrase that: its not so much a road as it is a cataclysmic adjoining of every road in a city leading screaming away in every direction imaginable, only to find you're still right in the middle of everything.

Such a tale would sound dark. Such a perception would be correct.

However, not all of Dedrom's life has been dark; only the beginnings and the current. The beginning is my task here.

Dedrom Flairdrim was born to the whore Nilessa "Honey" Flairdrim on the wharf of Farringston, a small town near a prosperous bay. His first name was an honest mistake; his mother was calling for "Dead Rum", a popular drink in the area, but the midwife mistook the call for his name. His mother died soon afterward.

He had nothing, he was nothing, and he despised it. He was nimble and tough, though, and witty and charming. What he couldn't battle his way out of, he talked his way through. He became a gang leader at the age of 7, although his primary concerns at that point were simple survival. It would be years later, at the age of 11, when he would first come to know a woman (the whore "Daisy"), and not until he was 12 did his first child come along, abandoned. That child was named Amarrissa, the girl who would come to blame her father for everything wrong in her life and vow vengeance.

The sea always had a calling for Dedrom; it ebbed and flowed, favored the lucky, the spirited, the risk-takers, and Dedrom was such a man if ever one lived. In order to escape fatherhood, he took his first apprenticeship on the merchant vessel Red Schooner, the first ship he ever rode, and later, the first one to sink.

He might have straightened out and lived a respectable life with the good captain of that ship as his disciplinarian; but, Fate decreed him to be a scoundrel. The ship was waylaid by pirates not long after it left the bay, and the only member of the crew whose wits were about him enough to survive was Dedrom. Consequently, his apprenticeship moved from the Red Schooner to the Tawdry Damsel.

There began his career of piracy, under the unlucky Captain Braggart. The Tawdry Damsel, no matter how aptly named, wouldn't get him far, though. After only two weeks of raiding, the pirate ship was sunk by a rival group called the Legacy of Gold. Their ship, The Swarthy Raider, took up young Dedrom and showed him what true pirating was all about: pillaging, stealing, plundering, raping (although he was so persuasive he seldom resorted to that) and all manner of hedonism through drink, song, dance and murder. With his grace, endurance, and witty quips, he charismatically took over control of the ship. Supposedly, the aging Captain Dungfoot was tricked into signing a contract stating Dedrom would have full ownership of The Swarthy Raider and the Legacy of Gold entirely by means of a convincing argument and several kegs of whiskey.

His good fortune lasted him almost a full three weeks until a great storm blew up upon the southern seas, destroying the ship and making him a castaway on a forgotten isle. The isle wasn't uninhabited, however...

Living on this isle was a strong goblin tribe, and they spotted him almost immediately after he washed ashore. Seldom do goblins stop to ask questions, but once again Dedrom prevailed by playing to the goblins' weaknesses: stupidity and desire for power. He was a slave for a couple of months, doing all manner of odious tasks, and during that time he learned the Goblin language. Once he could communicate properly with them, he could use his wily skills in rhetoric to bullshit his way into their favor.

Soon, he was a prized member of their society, strong, nimble, enduring and charming. They had no ships to allow leaving, so Dedrom had to make do. Eventually, the most comely of the goblin maidens (still not saying a lot) fell to his persuasions, and oddly enough he entered into the most long-term relationship of his life. The goblin maiden, Rijjika, had persuasive powers herself, and after three months they were married.

It wasn't anywhere close to the life he'd expected to lead, but Dedrom began to fall into the patterns of goblin society: friendly belches hello, the weaving of unrelated items like hair, straw and fish scales into a strange form of fabric the goblins called "grijallak", the careful planning of when to launch a snot rocket over the camp fire and when to simply piss. One day, Dedrom finally realized he didn't want to keep trying to escape. Life was interesting enough, and what Rijjika might have lacked in appearance, she more than made up for in energy and courage. He began to raise a family when his half-goblin daughter Tiritakki was born.

After he had lived as one of the goblin tribe almost 2 years, Dedrom was "rescued" one day when a group of adventurers came and destroyed the goblin tribe in the name of justice. Dedrom managed to get his daughter to safety, and then rushed to meet the adventurers, dressed in his old slave clothes. Too late, he saw his Rijjika impaled on one of the adventurer's spears. At any other point in his life, Dedrom would've slain them all on the spot, but he suddenly found himself overcome with an unbearable grief, and he fell weeping. The adventurers spotted him and carried him off, telling him his life of enslaved misery among the goblins was finally over.

The adventurers sailed in a small craft back to the mainland, and Dedrom had to bite his tongue of the truth, outnumbered and playing the role of a freed slave. When they finally arrived back at port, he invited them all to go a tavern and celebrate. Once they were all very drunk and mostly asleep, he slew them all. As the rogue Talsi was about to fall under Dedrom's blade, she screamed "WHY?"

"In the name of Justice," Dedrom spat bitterly as his blade lunged for her heart.

He wandered, purposeless and full of fury for years afterwards. Women, plunder, getting in your pleasure before the coming of death: these things became his eventual purpose. He wandered, more chaotic than a slaad, more wild than a satyr, more desperate than a forgotten child, until finally his wanderings began to lead him in circles. Patterns of ports he could never return to, patterns of faces of his mistresses, the curiosity, the seduction, the parting, whether on good terms or ill. Dedrom left a trail of children in his wake, but he did not care about anyone again until his 24th birthday.

As it happens, Dedrom's 24th birthday was one of the strangest nights of his life, and he remembered it none too well, in blurry sections and mixed jumbles. One might suppose it went a little something like this:

In a haze, he staggered forward. Dedrom couldn't recall how many ales he had thrown back; he only remembered that he'd won the drinking contest. The yaguba smoke in the room certainly hadn't helped to clear his head either, although it made him giddy. He wove a dance through the street, a familiar, wheeling, crashing, haphazard ballet past the seediest buildings in town.

"Ahoy there, sailor!" a gruff voice called. Dedrom turned, then turned some more to finally see where the voice came from. A curiously stereotypical pirate stood in the alley, smiling roguishly and beckoning with his hooked hand. "Ahoy there sailor, ahoy there sailor," the parrot on the man's shoulder called in mockery.

"Whazzshuwaan?" Dedrom slurred, staggering closer.

"Ho there, matey, I gots a deal for ya. If you'll marry my daughter, I'll show you how to invoke the power of a god!" the comically absurd pirate said. "Power of god, power of god," the parrot echoed.

"Sooo..... I caaan... marryyer daughter, andyuul maekmii a gawd?" Dedrom asked, trying to make some sense of the haze in his brain and the strangeness of the situation.

"Hahah, I won't make you a god, me bucko, I'll simply give ya... his blessin', see. His name is Zerm, and he's an all-powerful god of vengeance and sand, perhaps the very creator of the universe! Now, ye might say, why would I give ye all o' this? Well, it's a simple answer, matey: I made a bad pact with an efreet, and if I don't give away everything valuable before midnight, he'll slit me throat." "Slit his throat, slit his throat," the parrot echoed.

Dedrom's head cleared slightly. "Shounds fisshhy to me."

"Are ye goin' to turn down me free offer? Come, see me daughter before ye make up yer mind," the pirate said.

"OK, letsshee the girl," Dedrom said, and began following the strange old pirate.

"I'll tell ye now how to invoke him, but ye got to make sure ye keep a connection with him every mornin' or you'll lose the power. Ye gots to greet him, see, by calling the name ZERM up towards the sky, and follow with yer praises. Ye don't have to be too specific, just tell him something nice. If ye do, Zerm will grant ye mystic powers when ye most need them, although someday he may ask a favor in return," the old pirate said.

"What kinda favor?" Dedrom asked.

"Look! The Barnacled Unicorn, just the right tavern. Me daughter is a real rough-and-tumble, sitting right up at the bar, surrounded by all manner o' lads strivin' for her attention. Ye can't let her know I put you up to this, but ye gots to woo her, talk to her. The marriage will come soon enough," the old pirate said.

"Ehhh.... ok, she's really hot, why not?" Dedrom said, then pushed into the bar.

Although drunk, Dedrom managed to crack a smile out of the tough blond seated at the bar. He'd always had a knack for it.

Story led to tale, tale led to curiosity, curiosity led to bragging, and bragging led to proving. Before the night was over, Dedrom had scored a victory.

Morning came harshly, as it usually did for him, with a nasty hangover. Unlike most such encounters, however, the tough blond named Belinda was hanging in his mind like a distant, glistening dream coming closer. She was tough, quick, beautiful, charming, witty, funny... all the qualities he admired in himself. As often as he tried to push her from his mind, he thought again of Rijjika and his happy marriage. He also thought of the strange old pirate from the night before.

Turning to look at Belinda as she styled her hair in a plain steel mirror, he wondered if he might have found his retirement. The god Zerm, perhaps, was smiling upon him. No better time than the present.

"Belinda, will you marry me?" Dedrom asked. It was a question he had only asked 34 other times during his life.

"Marry? You're kidding, right? You're a scoundrel, a rogue pirate... you don't want to settle. Quit leading me on," Belinda scowled.

"I'm a scoundrel, it's true, but I'm tired of flying like a leaf in a hurricane, flitting from one thing to the next. I need an anchor, someone I can depend on. Someone who's a charmer, who's funny, someone I can go out raiding with and not have to worry they'll stab me in the back and rob me blind."

"How do you know I won't do that?" Belinda asked, starting to half-believe him.

"Call it... a gut instinct. Intuition. Something in my bones," Dedrom said.

"Well, your bones are seldom wrong," Belinda grinned with a wink.

"Is that a yes?" Dedrom asked excitedly.

"I'll consider. We'll raid together, you and I, and I'll see how trustworthy you are. In the meantime, you'll just have to settle for a cautious heart and nights of great sex," Belinda said, grinning again.

"Deal!"

Starting that day, and every day from then on, Dedrom always began his morning with some sort of greeting to Zerm. After a month, he married Belinda, and for a time they led a happy, roguish life of piracy. After the marriage, he eventually confided in her about the old pirate, to which she replied:

"You tell such tall tales, Dedrom. But there was no such man, and you know it. My father died 20 years ago, and I've never heard of any deity called Zerm. Make up a better one next time." Dedrom, no matter how he looked, never found the old pirate again, and couldn't find an efreet that knew of such a deal as the old pirate had spoke of.

Dedrom was fascinated by the notion that some figment of his imagination led him to his new bride and his new "religion". Perhaps it was a messenger of Zerm, or perhaps it was the courier of Fate; then again, maybe it was sheer coincidence and a touch of insanity. Whatever the case, Dedrom was happy, and life couldn't be better. His morning greetings to Zerm were full of short, happy bursts, such as "ZERM... you're a pretty swell guy. Keep up the good work."

After the pass of only two seasons and four ships, though, a great storm blew up unexpectedly. The ship they were on at the time, Pearled Maiden, foundered and began to sink under the waves. Dedrom and Belinda pulled some floating debris together, trying to ride out the storm. After eternal hours of storm, Dedrom passed out.

When he awoke, he was washed up on a shoreline. Sputtering and coughing, he called for Belinda time and again, but no answer was received. He searched all day and all the night and the next day, until he collapsed next to a small stream, weary and needing nourishment.

He continued his greetings to Zerm, asking, then pleading, then roaring for help to get off the island and find Belinda. No answer came. Disgusted, he explored the entirety of the isle, finding it to be small and uninhabited. He called it Dedrom's Bane, even going so far as to scratch the name into a rock on the highest point of the island.

After a week had passed and he had begun to despair, an equally desperate idea came to him: build a raft and escape! For two weeks, he toiled and labored, gathering driftwood, fallen trees and anything that would float and tying it together with his clothing and hair. When the time finally came to launch the craft, he discovered, to his distress, that the driftwood was a bit waterlogged, and the craft wouldn't successfully support his weight.

His morning calls to Zerm were either brown-nosing ("You're so great, Zerm. It would be great, too, if you could get me off of this island.") depressed ("ZERM, things suck down here! I miss Belinda, and I cut off my hair for nothing! I'm lonely, help me out here.") or angry ("ZERM, if you've got any real power, you'd get this loyal follower off this god-forsaken island and into the arms of his wife!"). No reply. Months came and went, and Dedrom fell into a deep funk of depression and boredom.

One fateful day, though, a small ship came directly to his island, and Dedrom was elated. The lone sailor on that ship was almost as glad to see Dedrom, but for a far different reason.

He had come for Dedrom's soul.

Zaraxius smiled as he viewed the half-naked man with a terrible haircut waving frantically from the beach ahead. His profession wasn't particularly uncommon, but it was uncommon for a man of his status. Most mercenaries, assassins, "guns-for-hire" have a background of poverty, are less educated, and lean towards some form of combat as the method of removal. Zaraxius held a particular niche in the business, though: he would remove not only the target, but he would capture their soul and prevent them from ever returning to life, possibly even imbuing them into an item for the hirer. He was difficult to contact, and unbelievably expensive, so it was even more unusual that he had come on the mission with a far smaller starting pay than usual.

There was a reason, of course. Not only did the young girl Amarrissa front a little money for incentive, but she made a point of collecting every wanted poster, every record of Dedrom's misdoings that she could find, and tallied up the sum of the reward, which was more than enough to give Zaraxius his reason to accept. He wondered why the girl, hardly into her adolescence, would strive so much to convince the best in the business to accept; and why making Dedrom dead wasn't enough. She declined to give any explanation further than "He ruined my life."

Dedrom was elated on the shoreline. His ship had finally come in, and he could redouble his search for Belinda. "ZERM... you're a bit late, but thanks!"

When the vessel was finally near enough, Zaraxius led into his false spiel to reassure the target of safety. "Ho there, fellow, need a lift?"

"By the Nine Hells, yes! Thank you, stranger, what's your name?" Dedrom yelled.

"The name is Julian Benefus, and yours?" Zaraxius already knew. He had cast scrying several times to pinpoint and identify Dedrom.

"Gregory Lipton, a pleasure. I've been stuck here for weeks!" Dedrom replied.

Zaraxius' brow furrowed, but Amarrissa had said that he would use a false name and that he was an accomplished liar. "Weeks, eh? You must have a knack for survival." Too bad it won't save you from me, Zaraxius thought. He began sifting through his spell repertiore to choose the method of annihilation.

"You're not kidding, Julian. I-" Dedrom hesitated as Zaraxius began casting a spell, "-can't wait to get back to the clerics of Pelor," Dedrom finished in a rush.

Zaraxius' spell hung in the air for a moment, hesitating, then dissipated. "Clerics of Pelor? You don't look like their kind," Zaraxius said, unsure.

Dedrom had to choose his next words carefully. It had been a wild guess, but in the sorts of circles he travelled sometimes other notorious names would reach him. The guess was correct, apparently: Zaraxius, the Soul Stealer had come for him. He knew it was true because Zaraxius feared clerics and was loath to cross religious organizations. Something from Zaraxius' youth had caused it, but beyond that it was all speculation.

"Yes, my brothers in the temple will no doubt be pleased to have me back. I'm sure they can compensate you for your troubles," Dedrom said, trying to assume a kind, benevolent manner.

"Ahh. And from which temple do you hail?" Zaraxius asked, probing to find a mistake.

"St. Wilhelm's Cathedral in Rifton originally, but I was promoted to lead the Ascendent Sun Cathedral over in Lurdenston. No doubt the elders there have begun scrying for me to see if I've gone astray at sea... perhaps you were sent by them?" Dedrom asked, smiling. Traveling far abroad had its advantages.

"Why yes, I'd done some scrying myself to make certain I had my man. Gregory Lipton... well, come aboard then!" Zaraxius said, beginning to formulate a plan to make sure he had the right target.

"So, you have powers through your faith?" Zaraxius asked, helping Dedrom on board.

"Faith is an amazing thing, Julian," Dedrom replied.

"I have a more arcane approach to magic, personally, and I've always had an interest in how divine magic works. Could you provide me with a demonstration, by any chance?" Zaraxius asked.

"Oh, we men of the cloth don't like to brag or boast of our powers, or waste them on everyday tricks. Besides, my powers are but humble compared to many others... I was mainly chosen to lead the Ascendant Sun Cathedral for my talents with speech and converting others to follow Pelor," Dedrom said, long since having fallen into the role of a wise, benevolent priest.

"Ahh, fair enough Gregory, I won't pressure you. Care for some more tea?" Zaraxius asked, a furrow of annoyance slowly forming on his brow. If he was dealing with Dedrom, it was clear Dedrom knew his weakness, and that he was playing a very dangerous game. On the other hand, Zaraxius didn't want to kill a priest, no matter how shabby the story seemed. His phobia was still winning out over his common sense.

"Yes, thank you. You know Julian, this is a fine ship you have here. How did you manage to run it with only yourself for crew?" Dedrom asked, looking around.

"The ship has been enchanted to help me sail alone... I usually don't prefer much company, but you're an exception."

"Remarkable! Well, I look forward to getting back to Pelor's work as soon as I can," Dedrom smiled.

'I hate you so much,' Zaraxius thought. Zaraxius wasn't a fool, however. He had done far too much research in finding Dedrom, and he was still fairly sure he had his match. Something from earlier in the conversation stuck out in his mind.

"Say, Gregory, didn't you say 'By the Nine Hells' when I first saw you?" Zaraxius asked, suddenly growing confident and impatient.

"I apologize for my language... I don't know what came over me. Admittedly, I was a bit starved for company and rescue, but it was out of line. I should go and pray for forgiveness," Dedrom said, suddenly standing and moving towards the hatch to go below deck.

"Certainly... no doubt you'll need a lot of forgiveness for all the men you've killed, the women you've robbed of money and virginity, but unfortunately for you-" Zaraxius had started on his speech for Dedrom's death, but Dedrom wasn't the sort to wait around and hear what came at the end. Zaraxius was cut short when Dedrom picked up the tea pitcher and threw it at Zaraxius' head.

Before the spell could hit the air, Dedrom swiftly upended the table and sent it tumbling towards Zaraxius as well. Zaraxius wasn't as quick at avoiding the table as he had been for the tea pitcher, and was bowled over. As Zaraxius was unentangling himself from the table and quickly trying to call up finger of death, he found the end of a short sword pressed against his throat.

"Odd, I thought you would have been more difficult," Dedrom said quizzically.

Zaraxius then cast his quickened planeshift.

"Shit," Dedrom cursed. Not knowing when Zaraxius would return, Dedrom set about learning how the ship worked and trying to formulate a plan.

Dedrom drifted through the currents aimlessly, eating Zaraxius's supplies and looking for Belinda. He began to get his bearings using Zaraxius's equipment, and he realized he had blown into some unknown chain of islands. Always on the lookout for new places to see and raid, Dedrom relentlessly explored, and began to plot a map of the area, looking for Belinda. Every waking moment, he feared the return of Zaraxius. He planted traps, tricks, warnings and performed superstitious rituals all over the ship. His prayers to Zerm even included specifics about helping him defeat Zaraxius.

Dedrom's search eventually brought him to a strange place... a globe of darkness that stood on the ocean's surface, masking everything beneath it. The moment he saw it he knew it would be trouble, but if there was any chance Belinda could be there Dedrom would go. Beneath the darkness, Dedrom found an island shrouded in shadows... and an abandoned dock. Hitching Zaraxius's ship to the rotting pier, Dedrom crept deeper into the isle, barely able to see in the gloom.

On the Plane of Negative Energy, Zaraxius had been preparing. Realizing his underestimation of the target, he had quietly researched more about Dedrom, and gathered servants. A few fearsome undead servants waited nearby for the moment Zaraxius would planeshift - and then teleport - back to Dedrom's exact location.

"Now is the time, miserable mortal. You shall rue the day you crossed the Soul Stea- what the?!?" Zaraxius exclaimed as Dedrom disappeared from his scrying spell, crossing into a magically shielded area. "Blast it all, now what's going on?!? What a troublesome soul to catch..." Zaraxius muttered, though he silently admitted he enjoyed a challenge for once. "Enough with preparations. Time to close with the target... but carefully.  Minions, assemble!" The undead moved into a circle around him, joining hands as he cast the plane shift spell.

Dedrom found the shore rich in fungus, but completely devoid of plants and most animal life. The pall on the island was dark, despite being midday, almost so dark he couldn't see. Creeping forward carefully, he found a path among the disturbing mushroom growth, leading inland, but to where he couldn't see. Alarm bells were already going off in his head, but Dedrom pushed forward, determined to find Belinda and curious as to the nature of the island. The darkness both frightened and intrigued him, and he wondered what sort of magic it took to hold it in place.

Before long, the overgrown trail led to a grand mansion, the dimensions of which were practically unheard of in most cities Dedrom had visited. Awestruck and fearful, he crept around the edge of the building, until he saw the entryway. Visitors in splendid apparel seemed to be arriving, he guessed to a ball. Realizing his disheveled appearance, he quickly crept back to his small vessel and looked for Zaraxius' excess clothing, of which there was very little. A pair of black shoes, black velvet gloves... everything was black. Donning a high-quality but fairly unadorned black robe and fastening a silver-clasped belt around it, Dedrom cleaned himself up in the mirror until he looked at least somewhat presentable for a formal occasion. "Parthas Neveril, I presume?" Dedrom smiled to his reflection.

Not bothering to sneak now, Dedrom strolled down the trail towards the mansion, unaware of the doom approaching him from behind, or the doom he swiftly approached. Dedrom stepped out through the gloom, taking his time and figuring out his story as he went. Though he walked with confidence, he felt as though his stomach had been left behind on the ship. Approaching the great mansion once more, Dedrom stepped around the corner and began his approach of the front doors. A few other guests were making their way inside, so the footman didn't take much notice of him until Dedrom drew closer.

"Ah, hello sir, welcome to Amastriel's annual ball. Your name, please?" the footman asked politely. Dedrom noticed the man seemed rather pale in the gloom.

"Parthas Neveril. I hope I'm not late?" Dedrom asked.

"No sir, the festivities are not yet in full swing. Let me check you off the guest list," the footman said, then pulled out a checklist and began scrolling down through it. Dedrom waited patiently as his heart sank. "Sir, I can't seem to find your name on the guest list. Are you sure you were invited?"

"Excuse me??" Dedrom asked, clearly outraged. "Would I be here if I hadn't been invited? Take a look around you!"

"Calm down sir, I'm sure it's just a simple mistake. Umm..." the footman shifted nervously, obviously not wishing to displease a guest, "I'm sure it won't be any problem sir, go on in."

"Thank you. For your trouble," Dedrom said, flipping the footman a gold coin.

Inside, the mansion seemed to have a slight clashing of styles; while Dedrom was no expert, even he could tell a major job of remodeling. It appeared that the mansion was once in the style of the most ancient buildings Dedrom had seen, but was now newly furnished and redone in a dark, gothic motif. The building was dimly lit by candles, which was a marked improvement over the outdoors. Prominent in the room was a picture of some sort of crimson sea with strands flowing all over the picture, and a naked man and woman embraced in the midst of the scene. It seemed both erotic and morally appalling for some reason, and Dedrom was not normally one to be overly concerned with morals. Disturbed without knowing why, Dedrom made his way down the hall to mingle with the guests and find his way to the heart of the action.

As it turned out, the "heart" of the action was far too appropriate.

Dedrom found his way into a grand ball room, where the guests were dancing to some odd, macabre music that felt more befitting of a funeral than a party. Everyone seemed well-groomed in mostly black or red clothing, and pale skin (even those who typically were swarthier had a decidedly faded gray tone), and everywhere he looked he saw glasses of red wine. Not wanting to be left out, he made his way over to the punch and snack table and had to stifle a scream upon getting a clear view of it.

"Ahh, I see you are impressed by our display. Truly magnificent, don't you think?" a sibilant female voice said next to him.

"Ahh, yes... most decidedly a... forward-thinking piece, representative of the social irony in our culture," Dedrom said, doing remarkably well at not vomiting or cringing or running full-tilt the other direction. Displayed before him was an elven man strapped to the wall, with pipes running from his wrists to the punch bowl in front of him, clearly full of blood. The man looked tortured, but not in such a way as to create bloodloss (bludgeoning instruments and perhaps mental torture), and was staying alive far longer than Dedrom would have thought possible.

"You are an appreciator of fine art, I see. Not only looking at the inherent beauty, but underlying meanings as well.  I don't believe I've seen you at our ball before, sir... what is your name?" When Dedom looked over, he saw an amazing gothic beauty before him, a woman with raven black hair, red eyes, and marble-pale skin. She wore a dress made of black velvet and some sort of white furs, and was adorned in ostentatious jewelry.

"Parthas Neveril, milady. I apologize for not introducing myself sooner, but I heard about the party at the last minute and thought almost certainly I must have been invited this year.  If I was in error, I can certainly leave..."

"Oh, nothing of the sort, my dear Mr. Neveril. Call me Amastriel Var'daelin, or just Amas if you like," she smiled at him, revealing pointed canines. Dedrom finally got over his shock enough to put it all together in that instant: he'd bumbled into an annual vampire ball. He was going to have a word with Zerm about this if he managed to live through it.

Dedrom bowed, beginning to sweat. "Amas, a pretty name for an unbelievably beautiful woman. And please, call me Parthas.  So, this is your estate then?"

"Well, I share it with my mate Edgar, but you could call it half-mine, certainly. And I thank you for your compliment.  You seem remarkably healthy as well," Amas said, with a note of both seduction and danger in her voice.

"Oh, I'm recently, eh, turned you know. Never knew my, er, sire, but I've begun slipping into the community nonetheless."

"My poor Parthas, you've no claim to rank by sire? It must be dreadful.  Normally, of course, you would be killed for crashing my party with no authority of blood, but something intrigues me about you.  If anyone asks, you are here under my authority.  Now come, have a glass of some of the finest blood within a thousand leagues," Amas smiled, pouring Dedrom a glass of blood.

Dedrom sipped at the glass, doing his level best to keep from spitting or wretching as he continued to hear the tortured moans of the elf strapped to the wall. "Still warm, and the taste of iron is not nearly so overpowering as usual. Quality stuff, I must admit."

"Indeed, this is vintage noble's blood, from a distant heir of the kings of old. He will not be missed, more's the pity," Amas sighed, drinking deeply from her cup.

"This might be terribly forward of me, but Amas... would you care to dance?" Dedrom had already gotten far enough off-track from his horror and common sense to begin relating to the monster in front of him as a beautiful woman instead.

"That is extremely forward of you, Parthas, I have killed greater kindred for lesser suggestions. And yes, I'd love to," Amas smiled wickedly, daringly, taking up dancing form with Dedrom. He gulped down the last of his blood and sanity and began to dance.

Dedrom had always had a knack for dancing, but he could see he was clearly overmatched with Amas. He kept up well enough though, as she moved with unearthly grace and coordination, both erotic and predatory in her fluid movements. That Dedrom didn't make a fool of himself was all he could hope for, and luckily he succeeded in being a solid partner to her incredible talent. By the dance's end, he discovered the crowd was applauding them, except for one figure he assumed to be Edgar, her mate.

While she had the crowd's attention, Amas picked up a glass and rapped the side with one of her long claws, signalling for a toast. "My dear assembled guests, it is with great honor and intrigue that I introduce a special guest tonight, Mr. Parthas Neveril. He is here under my authority and a recent addition to the kindred.  I therefore propose a toast to Parthas, that he may eternally dine among the damned and live beyond death," Amas declared, catching Dedrom's eye in the process. She almost seemed to share an amused moment with him, but Dedrom thought he perhaps imagined it. The crowd toasted him, and Dedrom was handed another glass of blood which he unfortunately had to choke down. A crazed part of his brain wondered if he could get used to the stuff.

"Come along Parthas, let me give you a tour of the mansion," Amas said, taking Dedrom's hand with surprising strength and leading him down a corridor.

"Well, if you insist, milady," Dedrom said, a bit alarmed and turned on at the same instant.

After going down a few corridors and entering a poorly-kept study full of dust and cobwebs, Amas said, "Parthas, I must ask as to your sweating. Is it uncomfortably warm in my estate?"

"Oh, no, it's just the way I am I suppose. Besides, my present company is a bit exhilarating," Dedrom said, desperately wondering if vampires sweat.

"Ahh, am I so 'exhilarating?' I have such trouble rousing my partner since his turning, it seems he has lost interest in the more... carnal pleasures, even perhaps in the emotions of lust and love.  Most vampires end up that way, I'm afraid... but then, you and I are not like the others, are we?" Amas smiled and opened her eyes widely at him, looking incredibly predatory.

"Why, n-no, I s-s-suppose we aren't," Dedrom stammered, completely flustered. In any other situation, he would have fled from the room, or been on his toes for danger at least. The fact she was such a skilled seductress was putting him terribly close to losing all semblance of either wit or skill.

"In fact... you're not a vampire at all, 'Parthas Neveril.' I smelled your blood during the dance, felt your heat, felt more than that still quite alive and beating," Amas laughed. Dedrom turned almost as pale as Amas; the gig was up. "No, no, I have no intent to kill you, 'Parthas,' if that's even your real name. It's true, I'm really not like other vampires... I still carry some desires from my mortal time that few vampires can sate.  The more blood we drink, the more lifelike we become, the paradox of becoming less monstrous by embracing the monster inside, the curse for blood.  So surrender to me, and I will see that you leave this property alive.  You've really no other choice."

At that point, Dedom didn't really care about other choices. He was trapped in the truth and the desires of Amas, and he didn't rebel. It was incredible beyond words.

"Here we are," Zaraxius said triumphantly, finding his empty boat along the shore. "Now I can track that miserable wretch down again. Scour the isle for any sign of activity... though I must wonder if this could be..." Zaraxius mused as his minions quickly flew over the isle, searching for anything interesting.

Before too long, some wraiths came back to report of a great mansion they had found. "Interesting... this may be of great use to me long after all have forgotten the name of Dedrom Flairdrim. We shall proceed... with caution." Zaraxius and his undead promptly turned invisible, approaching the mansion through the air.

Despite his caution, the footman eyed Zaraxius in alarm. "Sir, are you on the list?"

Zaraxius replied by destroying the servant in a torrent of energy. Necromancers can annihilate the undead as easily as the living, if not moreso. Flying over the twice-dead corpse, he began to channel down spells that halted most partygoers in their steps, holding, controlling and destroying the undead beings around him. Zaraxius had had a terrible month and was in no mood to play games.

"Shit," Amas said, as distant sounds of chaos filtered through the mansion. She rose from Dedrom's side on the tapestry she'd laid across the floor.

"What is it?" Dedrom asked, leaping up and putting his clothes back on.

"Some sort of intrusion of a less pleasurable variety," Amas said with a grin, which turned to a scowl. She uttered some odd string of words, and the entire mansion began to glow.

"What the hell is that?" Dedrom asked, completely out of his element now that the fun was over.

"My defense system. Anyway, you'd better get out of here... I was going to keep you as a pet, but I've had a change of heart.  I might find you again someday, but for now go, and try not to die," Amas said, kissing him and biting his lip just enough to draw a taste of the blood she craved.

"I, um, alright," Dedrom replied, glancing around to make sure he hadn't left anything. He noticed his reflection in a large mirror at the end of the room, and noted with a chill (or thrill?) that he couldn't see Amas'.

Amas sighed, then swept from the room with terrifying fury down the hall. Dedrom quietly slipped out the opposite direction until he found a ground-floor window, which he quickly slid out of and ran back towards the boat.

Zaraxius had left guardians at the ship though, which Dedrom fortunately spied some distance away and began running back towards the crowded pier near the mansion. Leaping aboard a small vessel, he quickly put out to sea, confused and fearful. Not only had he not found Belinda, he had drank elven blood and been seduced by... a monster? Somehow he couldn't think of Amas that way, but his head was a swarm of mixed emotions. He could only assume that Zaraxius was the disturbance at the mansion, and he could only hope that the vampires might destroy his current nemesis. As he broke through the darkness surrounding the isle into waning sunlight, he rowed desperately towards the mainlands hoping only for peaceful inns and quiet sailing. Just this once, Zerm apparently saw fit to shelter him, as he finally found himself among human lands again two days later.

Dedrom sold the small craft to fund his wild lifestyle, taking passage between harbors and deciding not to become a long-term member of any crew. He has yet to hear word from his children, wives, goblins, vampires or Zaraxius, and he eventually decided it must be for the best. Dedrom became a great risk-taker, as he had nothing left to live for, even cursing the name of Zerm every morning due to his ill fate. Either because Zerm still favored him, or to torture him even more, Dedrom survived the huge gambles and risks he took, but never quite prospering until he met a particular crew outbound with iron ore.

But that tale is for another time.