Dead Good (IC)

[Supercape]

"Oui, oui. I would like very much to meet the perpetrator of this madness..." he gestured at the chaos around them which was gradually returning to normal.

"By road trip, I presume you mean using un automobile? or do you 'ave a magic carpet or broomstick or something like that. I am not so fond of such travel you know... there was this time in Tunisia with a Magic Carpet..." he fought down the nausea from the memory. His memory wasn't so good these days, but some things you never forget.

[trollthumper]

"No, nothing so exotic," Nick said. "Besides, Charon's still a little angry at me for the last time I took his boat. I've got a car waiting down the road." He goes outside and calls out, his voice taking on the sound of an engine made of iron and bone. In the distance, an engine roars, and a car approaches -- a black Impala, covered in white veves and other sigils.

"Mind you, it's not quite subtle, but..."

[Supercape]

At the "Dead Good" Bar

Rene appreciated the car. The automobile, as he informed Nick, was one of the finer points of the twentieth century. He even liked the smell of petroleum. And, he conceded, Nick's ride had class. Not to his personal taste of course - but he appreciated the thing had artistic merit.

The bar itself was as run down as a bar could get. The sign was hanging off, and only half the letters were illuminated in cheap Neon. It was all dust, rot, and cheap electrics. A bar for the down and outs. It was probably well named, as its resident drunkards wern't far away from being dead themselves.

"Merde! what a hovel! I love it!" smiled Rene "I wish I had my easel. It would make a fine painting!"

[trollthumper]

"Not bad," Nick said. "I've been in worse places. Some of them were technically still in operation." He turned to Rene. "You've got a plan here? I'd go in scouting, but I'm betting Kalfu has some sort of defense against astral projection. And then there's the matter of what to do if he's got customers..."

[Supercape]

Rene was already taking a look inside the bar with his Mind's eye.

"Several drinkers, some ne'er to do wells. The barman and maids look little better. It looks a little rough, but they are going to be too drunk to do much. I cant see our nemesis, but as you say, he may well have shielded himself against scrying. "

He hopped out of the car. "Perhaps we should buy everyone a drink? hmmm.... what is the poison of choice at these establishments?" he brought out his wallet - which was fortunately full (Rene was a wealthy man) - and started to walk into the Bar.

[trollthumper]

"Whiskey, probably," Nick said. "The filthier, the better." He extended his death sense into the bar, trying to see if he could detect the presence of Kalfu's necromantic works; if he knew where the wicked loa was, it would make things much easier once they got inside. "Mind you, if you've got the cash, we might try to spring for the good stuff... assuming this place has 'good stuff.'"

[Supercape]

Rene entered the Bar with Nick, and true to his word, it was full of slumped drunkards of all ages, and a barely less drunk bartender. The place smelt, as Nick had guessed, of whisky, and not the expensive stuff. And not just whisky, but sweat and odours that spoke of all the dressings that come with the down and out drunk.

Rene and Nick hardly fitted in, but the customers could hardly be bothered, and neither could the barman. If people paid up, they were fine by him.

"Two whisky's, garcon, siv vou plait. " asked Rene politely, with a Smile, slapping down far more money than was necessary. "And the pleasure of your conversation".

[trollthumper]

Nick dropped the make-up -- just in case -- and headed in after Rene. "Yes," he said, considering the whiskey. "Looks good to me. You've got a... quality establishment here. Can't believe I've missed it. Tell me, how long have you been in business?" As he held the glass close, he whispered to Rene, "There's a graveyard out back. Lots more corpses than there should be -- could be Civil War dead, but who knows. We may want to cause a distraction before Kalfu realizes we're here and goes all Night of the Living Dead."

[Supercape]

"Distraction eh?" pondered Rene, gazing around the slouched Barflies. "I'm sure these drunkards could rustle up something of that order if we gave them the right motivation. Tell me, Nick, how is your singing voice?"

It only took a little wink to let an electric spark fly behind the Juke box and let it fizzle out, to the annoyance of a few of the crowd there. Meanwhile, Rene pressed a few keys on the battered but still functional upright piano...

[trollthumper]

"Not bad," Eric said. Joining with Rene, he took the stage, pausing slightly before the microphone. Pianos, pianos... c'mon, which songs do you know that have good piano bits... ah... He gave a nod to Rene, then started along.

"I've got you... under my skin... I've got you... deep in the heart of me..."

[Supercape]

Damn it been years... no, I tell a lie, decades... how does it go now...

Rene sat by the Piano, then in a flash remembered the autumn of 1820 which he had spent partying with Beethoven. Yes, he had picked up a few tips... it was coming back to him now. And then his neighbour was a Jazz musician - he quite liked Jazz. America's greatest contribution to art, he always thought.

He opened up with a few diminished ninth chords before moving into an uptempo Jazz version following Nicks voice. He surprised even himself, bashing away at the keyboards and putting on an outstanding version.

Before long, the whole Bar was singing along - badly in general - cheering, whoopin' and hollerin, and in a few cases even dancing! the noise was fierce, and for a few minutes, and probably a few hours more, the drunks had more than alcohol to drown their sorrows in. All were joined in gay abandon as they sang along unashamedly to whatever song popped into the crowd's head.

[trollthumper]

Nick had just finished up a rousing rendition of "Under My Thumb" -- the Social Distortion take, which had Rene working the piano like Jerry Lee Lewis -- when he leaned over to the wise Frenchman. "So where's this plan going?" he said. "Not that I mind the limelight or anything, but we need to get to Kalfu. We planning on luring him out with a song?"

[Supercape]

"Heh, perhaps we could... at that..." laughed Rene, who was thoroughly enjoying himself. It was like a Parisian brothel.

"But non, I think the what we have achieved here is but a distraction. And the goodwill of the patrons. Happy customers drink more..." he nodded to the barman, who was grinning ear to ear, as he served out whisky after whisky to the audience who were now singing away to themselves.

Rene spent a few moments talking in hushed but friendly tones to the Barman before returning to Nick, with two cheap whiskies in his hand. He handed one to his partner.

"Drink up!" he said with a smile, gulping one down. He was in a sufficiently good mood he could tolerate the stuff today. "Our necromantic friend has hired all the four rooms out back, with strict instructions not to be disturbed. Has some friends with him, underlings, or apprentices maybe. The bar is normally quiet and undisturbed. Even the police don't frequent much except for the occasional brawl. And he seemed most interested in the story of the place - apparently some mass grave from the civil war, or so the rumour goes... but I guess you picked up on that..."

[trollthumper]

"Yeah, which means Kalfu's gonna have a hell of a lot of backup if we disturb it," Nick said. "Like I said, rooms are most likely warded, so spying's gonna be tricky on my part. Options are we charge in, guns blazing... or try to infiltrate. Maybe if we get some more info about the function, pass ourselves off as some 'late arrivals'..."

[Supercape]

Rene spoke to the Barman again, in friendly tones, buying him a whiskey and laughing with him. After a minute, he returned with another two whiskeys in hand and spoke to Nick again.

"The barman is rather ignorant about our friends intentions, monsieur Nick. They arrived separately, but within a day of each other, travelled light, and dressed oddly, in hoods and cowls. He thought zey were, er, how you say, 'Goths'? or something - he is the kind of man who asks few questions as long as ze money is good. "

He scratched his chin. "Perhaps we could inflitrate, I do not know. There is little to be lost if we can do it right now. If you have the right garb in ze car, he he. It has been a while since I have gone undercover!"

[trollthumper]

"Hmm... yeah, I've got something like that in the car, I think." Nick went to the car and routed around in the backseat, finally finding the robes. Good thing I haven't had a chance to clean the backseat out lately... He tossed one to Rene. "I think this'll fit. What do you say we crash a cult meeting?"

[Supercape]

"Heh, it sounds most good to me, Monsieur Nick!" said Rene, a broad grin on his face. Perhaps the two shots of whisky, perhaps the twinkling of the ivories with Nick's singing - he was having a devilishly good time.

And now - dressing up and putting the drop on a necromancer!

He put on the robes and gave a twirl "how do I look" he laughed, making sure his beret was stuffed neatly away.

[trollthumper]

"You look like a mad fool interested in communing with the darker entities of death and the realms beyond," Nick said. "In other words, you blend right in." He threw up his hood and cast his gaze back at the bar. "Now let's see if we can get back in there."

[Supercape]

Rene nodded excitedly. "And so, let us enter la gueule du loup*!" he said theatrically.

In the Back rooms of "Dead Good"

Rene and Nick entered the dingy, poorly lit, and in places, downright filthy rooms of Dead Good. It was a wonder the bar kept any rooms to rent at all, and it looked like it only did so to house the odd drunk who had lost his car keys (as opposed to the drunks who drove back home) or the even rarer drunks who fancied a passionate night in fuelled by alcohol. Certainly it would take a swig or two of booze to choose to rent a back room here.

A cowled man passed them and looked them up and down. "Come quickly" he said, in what sounded like a deliberately low voice attempting to be more full of resonance and power than it probably was. "The master has chosen to proceed more quickly with the ceremony, given the fools party below. They shall be the first to suffer his wrath muahahaha!"

He beckoned the two heroes outside, where a group of seven other cowled men stood around a central figure - a dark skinned man dressed in orange toga who clutched an ivory statuette and chanted words of obvious arcane power...

[trollthumper]

Yup, that's a working all right, Nick thought. Whatever it was seemed rather elusive, however; he couldn't figure out exactly the make, though he had a strong inclination it was linked to the other statue. He leaned his head forward, trying to get a better look at the structure of the ritual. Just what are you trying to do? And how can I make it go horribly wrong?

[Supercape]

Rene shuffled up to Nick as they joined the circle.

"Psst" he whispered catching his eye.

"Its a nercomantic ritual, right? something about putting souls into bodies? I guess he is trying to ressurecte ze dead bodies here, from ze war?"

A nearby cultist gave Rene a quizzical look and Rene was forced to pull his hood down fast and mumble some incantations.

"We must try to sabotage the ritual!"

Rene knew less than Nick on these matters, and knew it. He took Nick's lead, as he started to put in the odd discordant and erroneous word and tone. Effectively, he was throwing a mystical spanner in the mystical works.

[trollthumper]

"Just trying to find out the best way to do it," Nick whispered back. "Each working's different. Your standard zombie rise is different from a warding is different from an attempt to reenact the Tenth Plague." He cast his eyes on the big statue. "Mind you, a lot of them do tend to break the same way..."

He pictured the statue in his mind, pulsing with an unnatural heartbeat. Slowly, the beat died as the metal began to pit and erode under time. Soon, the beautiful sculpture was falling to pieces... and that seemed the perfect time to send his will outwards, cutting at the working.

[Supercape]

Carrefour, for it was he, stopped chanting and gazed with hatred as the statuette started to wobble, vibrate, and some cracks appeared. He clutched at the ivory artwork with both hands and his eyes roamed around the circle. His ears seemed to follow.

"Who dares! Who dares foul my moment of triumph! I felt the other one go, but there are enough souls stored to raise an army still! But someone is here and they dare try to wrest away my victory. With this, I will be greater than Samedi!"

Rene looked at Nick

"Well, monsieur, it seems the game is up!" he said, pulling back his hood. "And those souls are not yours for the taking, or the commanding. Souls belong only to themselves, not to some corrupted sorcerer who would put them in chains!"

He gave Carrefour a feirce glare, equal to the Voodoo priests own.

[trollthumper]

"Samedi?" Nick chuckled. "That's one hell of a goal to aspire to. A bit like saying you wanna be better than grave dirt. Sorry to throw a wrench in the works, my good man, but I ain't a big fan of keeping souls fettered for power." He drew on the necromantic spillover, shaping it and calling it. Hands erupted out of the floor, reaching for the sorcerer and his followers.

"Now, keeping prideful mad men like you in fetters... that I'm good with."

[Supercape]

GM

The hands did their work, reaching out and grasping on to the long robes of Carreforre and his acolytes. Despite their own experience of the arcane, many of his cronies screamed with terror at the sight of the horrors that Nick had manifested before them. Most of them succumbed to the countless wiry limbs, which held them helpless and immobile.

A few managed to fire of streams of black mystic darkness, one of which struck Rene on the shoulder.

"Ouch!" he retorted with indignation, as his eyes momentarily folded in pain.

Carrefour struggled against the poltergeist's rage that Nick had unleashed and gave Nick and evil glare. "Very good, very good. But let me go one better, muahahaha!"

Raising his arms, he uttered some devilish words in a language neither Rene nor Nick could recognise, let alone understand. At his bidding, the earth erupted, and from the dust, the remains of two dozen or so corpses rose, dressed in the tattered remains of civil war uniforms and rotting equipment.