Wednesday, July 17, 2013

OTHER ANCIENT ROMAN LAMIA SANGUINE (vampires) in the environs of NEAPOLIS (Naples) .. 7/18/13

I saw other life-eaters gliding through the shadows as I made my way about the city. We never spoke and rarely acknowledged each other's presence. They existed to serve their 'clan.' Free vampires were extremely rare in my world. I'm told they exist in the capital and certain other cities. Returning legionnaires report feral pockets out beyond the River Hister (Danube). They travel in packs and are known to decimate remote country hamlets, before travelling on to kill again someplace else. I am glad I am not one of them. 

But occasionally I trade glances with the Lady Eudora. She is a Greek vampire, ostensibly created and trained in the esteemed vampiric academy on the island of Thera. They say it goes back to Minoan times. Imagine, a culture quite as old as Egypt. Her mistress is a wealthy dowager, the surviving wife of a general laid low in the wild, out beyond the walls of Colonia (Cologne) and one of the few female devotees of Mithra. They say she plans to use her vampirina bodyguard to escape death. They have a pact, upon her thirtyfifth birthday, the night-girl brings her over. Conventional men-at-arms, veterans of the late general will witness the event... each one armed with a specially prepared, lead tipped spear. Should Eudora renege, or intentionally kill the mistress outright, those in attendance will dispatch her as well.

The whole thing is very hush-hush and highly illegal. Ruling families are not to dabble in necromancy. That's why certain Jewish sects, such as Christianity are still outlawed. Only Caesar is a god, though the Imperial Cult withers every day. And from what I hear, our great Marcus Aurelius believes in his own divinity about as much as he believes the Cybilline Prophesies. Money makes the world go 'round in ninth century Rome (reckoned from its founding by Romulus and Remus) and only the Jews (plus their variants) harangue us with 'morality.'

I am off to the bear pits, a secret nocturnal pass-time known only to the wealthy. We meet in a cave, hidden deep withing the confines of a large, old edifice, ostensibly a warehouse dating back to the days of Magna Graecia (Greek colonies in the south of Italy concurrent with the birth of Rome farther north). The master knows I go. He does too. And although unorthodox, allows me to revive certain grievously mauled dwarfs with small draughts of my miraculous blood. You know how expensive they are and they who keep 'stables' hate losing favorites. 

The heavy bronze doors to our private sanctum silently swing open, powered by an ingenious hydraulic set-up designed by  a certain engineer out of Syracusa. I cannot tell you his name, for he also creates weapons for the military and they don't want it to get around. Parthian spies are everywhere you know. 

The doorman knows our faces. He nods. We nod. Money changes hands. We go in. I can smell the ursine stench down below. Apparently mortals are not so lucky. Besides dwarfs, they also have children, the vilest of urchins scraped from the sewers and fit for nothing else. I'm looking forward to it. Some of them put up quite a fight.

After the slaughter... a fine wine tasting. And even a vampire like me can appreciate that... 

Ego vobis valedico (Farewell to you all)...
Til next time...
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