Of Dracula and other Revelations
<You wake up. Your fine wrists are bound by two resolute iron chains. So are your ankles. You look downwards to find yourself naked, save for a timid loincloth, of an earthly brown, that covers your naughty bits. The untamed hair that hits your cheeks as you look from side to side seems to imply you’ve been out for quite some time. Your prickly
beard – wait, are you a woman? Ehm, substitute that with prickly leg hair… well never mind, let’s start over – Your prickly follicules (of an unspecified area of the body) concur with this feeling. The cold air makes you feel somewhat uncomfortable. A door opens, and some more light sheds on the small room and its white walls. A large man in what appears to be a cape enters. As he turns and the light shines on him, he reveals his manner of dressing. A long, black and red but still imposing coat contrasts with his rather pale skin. You question the sanity of his hairstyle, and silently plot to eliminate his gaudy hairdresser for bringing to life such a monster of a haircut>
Why hello there!
<He repeats his salutation while raising his hands. The cape, which follows his movements slavishly, obscures most of the light coming through the door. You are stunned and speechless. He looks on you, draws a wide smile. You remain shocked. This continues for a few seconds. Realizing the failure to elicit a response, his grin fades away quickly and he lowers his arms. He tilts his head silently to the side and nods disapprovingly. He turns around swiftly. His cape makes a rumble due to his sudden movement and he nearly falls to the ground when he steps on the damn piece of velvet. He mutters a few archaic curse words to himself as he tries to regain his former upright position, while pushing the cape out of his way. He then exits the room with a graceful walk, trying to regain his dignity. In this he is somewhat successful>
“Well, that was odd”.
<You say so to yourself, mostly because you believe snarky characters have longer lifespans. You then reason you’ve been playing too much ‘Uncharted’ or ‘Dubstep’ or whatever it is you kids waste your time in these days, because frankly, I don’t feel like wasting my time scouring the internet for the latest fad you minimum attention span youngins are obsessed about>
<You hear the rummaging of a few crates and metal pots. What appears to be an old cassette clicks into place in a stereo. A piece of particularly terrible 1970s disco begins playing on maximum volume. The distinctive sound of said stereo smashing through a glass window and plummeting to the asphalt street below soon follows. By counting the time between the window breaking and the device’s inevitable crash into the earth, you calculate you must be in a 4th or 5th floor of a building. Just kidding. You have no idea where you are. You wrongly used that moment to worry about your pet turtle, which probably hadn’t been fed for some time>
Ai, ai ai!
<He mutters so in despair once he realized his mistake. He locks your room’s door and turns off all the lights, including the faint lighbulb in your humble abode. It remains dark for a full half hour. He returns, places his new CD player (though you don’t see or hear this, snoozing as you are) and inserts in it a CD labeled ‘Captive’. He turns the dial to full volume. Verdi’s ‘Dies Irae’ begins to play>
<As you wake, alarmed once more, he enters the room and, in line with the notes, works a series of movements, either a mix of old dance moves or random muscle spasms. He also deals you a number of slaps (also concomitant with the monumental drum’s banging) and throws the water contained in a bucket nearby at your head. You stare at him, bemused amid the epic music. He races back into the other chamber as quickly as he came and changes the song once it begins to settle into a calmer tempo. What plays then is Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch’s ‘Good Vibrations’, a song so good that most of those that took part in its creation publicly deny the fact. Mark Wahlberg's rapping inspires a deep fear into your soul>
<Your ears cry out in pain, still ringing from the rampant musical assault. The caped figure then retreats once more, and, to your relief, turns off the CD player by once again throwing it through the window. It seems you have some points in common with this stranger, at least when it comes to basic standards of decency and musical taste>
<Your mysterious captor then appears one more time. The music that was just moments ago reverberating through the flat has made him much more intimidating. He lets out a smirk as he realizes his success. He speaks>
We got on a bad start didn’t we? Allow me to introduce myself: My name is Vlad 'Teppes' Draculesti. My friends just call me Teppes. You probably know me simply as… Dracula!
I hope you chuckled.
So, I was working on an update of my other AAR, and for some reason decided to play Wallachia in D&T. Ehm, and this was the end result. It's also 3 in the morning here, so that explains some things. I'm seeing this as an escape valve whenever I don't feel like writing for Baghdad in the Sky with Diamonds (check it out! /shameless plug). I also promise not to turn this into a historybook AAR halfway through. Scout's word (even though I'm not a scout)!
In case you're wondering, my fixation with that last song is due to prolonged emotional trauma, namely hearing it to the point of overdose.