“It just so happens,' said the Nosferatu, 'that the lich was carrying his phylactery on him, and drooped it.” He tells a tale of a being that can separate its soul from its body, how his kind stumbled upon it, and the rather dramatic territory dispute that followed. The Nosferatu speaks in a surprisingly clear baritone, perhaps taking pity on my frustration. 'He's stuck here until we can get the thing out of him.' 'Why is there a Nosferatu in the library, NeoNate?' I'd have already taken it.' Then I paused. If it were a daemon and you were consorting with it, you wouldn't be playing it for your life. 'NeoNate,' I said while pinching the bridge of my nose, 'that is not a daemon.

What do I look up and see? An Nos with a beer belly, a wife beater, and jean shorts (jorts) sitting in a lawn chair using its tentacles to switch bent cards around at amazing speeds as the stupidest acolyte never to be sent to Vienna says placidly, “I’m playing 3-card Monte with a demon… for my life.” I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and prepared myself for what could surely be the shenanigans of only one acolyte. Unwashed body, mold, and long forgotten cold cuts - all tucked away in a superstitious fisherman's tackle box.Ī drop of something ectoplasmic besmudged my shoulder in a great slimy glomp. There is a faint smell that accompanies the sound. I advance through the abandoned weave of implements to my goal. They scatter, the door thunking shut behind them. Is it my smile? That Cheshire grin of delighted agony? Or is it the pin, telling all the world in code who I really am? What I can, and will, do?Įven newly acquired power is respected by the most long lived Tremere. The few older, braver souls were studying, apathetic to the shenanigans, until we lock gazes. There's a room to practice these things in, but you can't tell the young to stop being foolish. Floating books, exploding card files, well hidden speakers, or ceiling-bound chairs. Swiping my key card and entering the stacks, I looked around, senses alert for the signs of typical acolyte pranks. I gathered the prod-rod, a set of hand cuffs, and the cold hard glare of eternal torment for my arsenal. Inane hissing, giggling and malaise in the library, section S through T.

Vtmb night at the library switch