Night of the Whinging Dead

by Mr Badger

Erican threw open the French windows of his mountain top fortress and looked with scorn on the village below. It had taken years of painful research to find just the right mountain top Chateau, with an attendant village below, in an area prone to lightning storms, in a country with harsh sounding names. Appearance is everything as well know. After the search had been completed it had taken Erican just moments to run over the then owner of the Chateau with his car. After the funeral it had been a piece of cake to purchase the building from the grieving family.

After the Chateau had been outfitted with the very latest in security systems and luxuries the real work had begun. Erican was not in the Inner Circle of his Clan. As the Giovanni family went he was but a minor cousin without renowned. It had been easy to convince the Elders that this research was of paramount importance. The funding had arrived and was still coming in. More than anything else Erican believed they were not paying for the research but for the chance to get a minor member of the Family out of the way, away from anything he could upset or disturb. The plots of the Family Giovanni ran deep, nothing could be left to chance.

Erican briefly snorted at that thought. Quickly he stopped and turned the snort into an exhalation of scorn with a sweep of his cloak. One may never know when they are in the Public Eye, one must maintain a suitable appearance at all times. Leaning over the hand rails Erican laughed long and maniacally. Down below the hard working locals stopped what they were doing and looked up at the castle. The insanity tinged laughter echoed off the walls of the valley. Some made warding gestures while others hurried along with their preparations for locking themselves away before too long in the darkness. The sun had set an hour before and already they were running dangerously late. Most of the people looked up at the castle and rolled their eyes at the sound. "Looks like Git Features is upto something again," muttered one man to another before they both sat down and laughed.

Erican swept his way down the stairs to his underground laboratory. From the unwritten Rules the laboratory had to be underground. What the Rules hadn't mentioned was how to deal with bad drainage, poor lighting and all the wiring required to channel the energy of a lightning bolt down to where it could do some good, or bad as the general intention goes. That was immaterial as following the Rules Erican has built his underground laboratory and now his greatest work was about to unfold. At an early Undead age Erican had gotten sick of the way his Family obsessed over money and power. The power part wasn't all that bad and in fact Erican was still fairly leaning towards that way himself but the money thing was just getting out of hand. Rather than continually worry, scheme and plot in the process of acquiring more and more of it Erican just settled down and worried about spending it. As much as possible. No point just having it sitting there taking up space in a bank somewhere.

On one of Erican's many travels to parts strange and frighteningly expensive he came across a small shop selling Oriental antiques. Inside this shop was a little wrinkled prune like man who kept trying to sell Erican a strange metallic golden puzzle box. After failing in this the little old man tried to sell Erican a small little fluffy rodent with little hands. The creature looked far to cute to be any good so Erican purchased a number of brightly coloured vile t-shirts and was about to leave. The little old man moved faster than Erican's eyes could follow and suddenly the man stood in front of the door with arcane energies crackling between his hands.

"My name is Egg-Foo-Young and I can smell the longing in your breathless body. The longing for revenge and to dress up in big robes with a large collar. I can feel the longing you possess in your throat to laugh like a madman and throw flashy but inoffensive lightning bolts from your hands towards people in a way that looks good on camera but isn't all that tactically sound. Come and be my pupil, with my teaching I can make you the greatest Villain to walk the Earth." Whispered the little old man as he put the 'Closed' sign onto the shop door. Erican could feel the mastery of the ways of Villainy in this man and nodded. Thus, did Erican leave the teachings of his Family and join the hallowed ranks of the Dastardly Villains.

That had been many years ago and now Erican was his own master. The Path of Dastardly Villainy was a hard one and not swift. The correct choice of costume had taken decades of research and the long years of laughter training had nearly been fatal. Now all was right, the preparations had been made. Erican was about to get the world's attention with one fool proof scheme. The idea wasn't a new one, it had been muttered on the lips of many before now. It was simple in its brutality but complex in its genesis. The correct ingredients were necessary, as well as a long and arduous Ritual. There could be no mistakes and there would be none. Before sunrise Erican would have his Army of the Undead to march across the lands with his banner held high. The name Erican, formally from the Family Giovanni, would be on the mouths of millions. He'd show them, show them that a tidy ledger with all the figures balancing was nothing compared to a thousand million feet all hitting the ground as one! Unbidden the laughter rolled off his tongue again and Erican filled the Chateau with the cackle of someone who's quite happy about something and not afraid to show it. Nothing could go wrong now.

Down in the village the exact thing Erican didn't want to happen happened. Mr Badger got out of the car and stretched his legs. The journey had been a long one and they were still no-where near their destination. Being all Blokes they were satisfyingly lost. This was a good thing as that's how you find the best fast food restaurants. Handel nimbly climbed out of the drivers seat and opened the boot of the car. Taking out something that could have been a tire jack but was longer and slightly curved at the ends Handel and Mr Badger used the instrument to lever BigJobbs out of the back seat. With a fleshy 'pop' BigJobbs was expelled by the car and there was a slight sigh of relief as the car's metal could shrink back slightly to the size it felt more comfortable being.

"Cheers lads." Said BigJobbs as he rubbed his back.

Looking around the threesome found the village to be nothing in particular. Taking a deep breath of the naturally clean air Handel felt the immenseness of nature stroking his soul. The unblemished beauty, the sweeping curves of the landscape. As Handel was admiring the landscape he felt a large hand grab him by the shoulder and push him into the nearest Tavern.

"Got that faggy look on your face again, you'd better watch that in future," muttered BigJobbs as he escorted Handel into the Tavern.

Erican looked over the faded parchments and nodded slowly to himself. He had read them many times before but it never hurts to have one final check. The Ritual was a complex one that had taken many nights of preparation. It was nearly complete except for the one final ingredient, the Blood from a murderer. The Blood was necessary as with its emotion laden soul remains it could be used to instil the newly arisen troops of the Undead Army with direction and rage. They were to strike down those still living with fire in their eyes. Any Blood can be used but the effects would be far diminished. Erican had broken into a hospital in Germany for this Blood. The German Police had cornered one of Europe's must infamous Serial Killers, Maurice "I hate Lurkers" Ouellette. Maurice had slaughtered violently at last count over 150 people he judged to be unworthy of the right to live. The Police took a dim view of these actions and after a long hunt across the continent Maurice had been run over by an overzealous woman trying to parallel park. A lucky move for the Police who had been looking for Maurice in entirely the wrong countries. Maurice had died in the hospital so Erican took the chance to steal some of Maurice's Blood. Such a 'donor' would mean the Army of the Undead Erican was raising would be unstoppable. Erican rubbed his little goatee as he considered the obvious draw backs using this Blood would mean. An obvious blind spot towards moving vehicles for one and a not every scary name like 'Maurice' for another. Dismissing these flaws as just being something to be gotten over at a later date Erican began the Ritual proper.

Erican began by chanting long passages of Latin, not for any real reason except the Spirits seemed to find Latin soothing and it was easier to pull a con job on them after a bit of Latin in the evening. Erican didn't understand it himself, it was all Greek to him. After the chanting Erican drew his Circle of Power, being trained in the Art' of Necromancy by the Giovanni the wards of protection along the outer boundary of the circle also contained the runes for Mastercard, American Express and Visa. With this well practiced move completed the Ritual continued. For hours upon hours the Ritual was flawlessly performed. Then came the final moment, the moment of consecrating the Blood.

In the middle of the Laboratory a body lay on a marble slab. This person was to be the General for the Army of the Undead. At precisely the right moment a lightning storm erupted from over the mountains. The forecasted storm was one of the reasons Erican had chosen tonight for the Ritual to be completed. As the first titanic bolt of lightning struck the Chateau and was channelled down to the laboratory Erican poured the Blood of a Murderer onto the body of his General. The lightning flowed into the body and provided the energy necessary for the Soul reflections in the blood to enter the still corpse and reanimate it. Erican stepped back and laughed like he'd been trained to. If Egg-Foo-Young could see his pupil now he would be impressed. Erican gave off the maniacal laugh of his career as a Dastardly Villain. Even the Russian judge would have to give the laugh at least a 9. The laugh was as chilling as it was filled with scorn towards an uncaring universe. The laugh was all a laugh could be without being something else entirely different. It's a pity things started to go really wrong from here on through.

Erican had made one seemingly small but in the end disastrous mistake, he'd grabbed the wrong vial of Blood. Sure Maurice the Lurker Killer had been in the hospital at that time but in the room next door. Erican had creep into the room in the middle of the night, had plunged a needle into the vein of the bed's occupant and had crept out again. What Erican should have done was check the name on the bottom of the bed. Inside this room was the unfortunate victim of a catastrophic acne accident. The 14 year old had been inflicted with a particularly gross pimple. Ashamed at his unsightliness the teenage had tried to pop the offending blemish. Unfortunately the pimple had by then grown to be nearly half the size of the boy's head. The skin ruptured easily enough when put under pressure but the rapid decompression caused the boy's head to implode, still alive at that point the boy then drowned from pus covering his head. Real yucky. As horrible as that sounds a person who's died by acne is not quite the Undead General of someone whose career path included being a Serial Murderer. The Undead General rose from the marble slab, bright red eyes flaming from the pale skull. Looking towards its creator the General opened it's mouth and sighed. Erican blinked a few times and went deadly pale as instead of leading the Undead Army across Europe the General sucked its thumb and blubbered a bit.

From out of the mountain top Chateau the waves of Necromantic energy spread. The Ritual contained a mass summoning. The Dead Risen were to have formed orderly ranks and gathered at the Chateau for orders. The powers of the General were supposed to guarantee this. Even with the slight screw up with the Blood the Summoning worked flawlessly, graves were ripped open as the occupants looked for something with a better view. The Dead had Risen. The Blood was to have tied the Army together as one unit, the will of the General spread across all of the troops. This was what still happened. The disturbed mind of a teenager was focused through thousands of Risen Dead. They looked at the glowing lights of life in the village and slowly they staggered towards it, to be close to comfort and to the light. As they walked the Zombies sniffed imaginary snot into their noses and sobbed now and again at imagined crimes. This was the Night of the Whinging Dead.

The farm wife was filling her bucket of water from the well when the Zombie attacked. It staggered around the well moaning in a pitiful tone, the sort of voice that reminds you of a little yappy dog that just needs to be kicked a few more times.

"Cook me dinner! I'm hungry! I want dinner!" Moaned the Zombie.

The woman screamed and ran away from the Whinging Dead. The scene was repeated all across the village as the Zombies attacked. It was worse when they gathered in groups, the close point harmony of many people whinging at once was too much and people were forced to flee rather than deal with it. The Zombies staggered after their targets, toward the centre of the village.

Mr Badger looked up from his pizza and frowned. Something was in the air, something that was causing his hackles to rise. Suddenly, just then the door of the Pizza joint was thrown open and a man with badly torn clothing entered. The man shouted something in the local dialect that sounded suspiciously absent of the usual vowels. Mr Badger turned toward Handel for a translation, the bearded one being the one most familiar with European tongues.

Handel thought about it a minute before answering. "Either he said 'Zombies, Soulless Zombies everywhere' or it was 'Accountants, accountants everywhere!'"

Mr Badger nodded. "Can't see the difference myself so you must be right." Mr Badger turned as he finished as the back door was ripped off its hinges. In the doorway stood an elderly Zombie, when the person originally died they must have had a pretty full life from the age of the clothing.

"Foreign muck, not like the food we had back when I was a lad. It was real food, none of that fluffy crust Italian slops. Back in the War we shot Italians, not asked them for garlic bread. Why, I remember back when you never saw an Italian....." the Zombie was interrupted in mid-sentence as BigJobbs tore its body is half with a snarl. BigJobbs had been off at the toilet when the Zombie had broken in and was just then on his way back to the table with a fresh bottle of wine.

"Good work BigJobbs, you got the Zombie before it could start talking about soccer teams." Congratulated Handel as he paid the cheque to the frightened Pizza joint owner.

"Zombie? That was lucky, I thought it was just a dribbly old fart." Muttered BigJobbs as he opened the door to the street. The village was being overrun with Zombies of all natures and ages. One factor bound them all together, all the Zombies were complaining about something or other. Fires were burning everywhere as the rioting Undead demolished the village out of rage and not being able to find a working Nintendo machine.

"This Coke's warm!" Screamed a Zombie as it attacked Mr Badger. Mr Badger as usual didn't try to dodge and grabbed the Zombie in a bear hug. Seeing the Zombie was male Mr Badger threw it down the street with a snarl. Being that close to any man was a bad thing, being that close to an Undead man who was whining only aggravated the issue. Mr Badger grabbed a rubbish tin lid and threw it like a discus at the recovering zombie. With a muttered 'fore!' the rubbish tin lid easily decapitated the Zombie. Instead of falling to the ground like a generally dead thing should do the Zombie clambered back to its feet and waved its hands along the ground looking for its head.

"I've lost a contact!" Screamed the Zombie. Mr Badger shrugged and turned to the others.

"Any ideas?" Asked Mr Badger to the others. "We could just beat them to a bloody mess but since they don't feel pain and all the bits seem to still be alive the idea just isn't all that appealing. If we could sucker them into jumping into a big bonfire one by one we may be onto something. It worked for that Sabbat Brujah Pack last year, damn were they stupid or what?" BigJobbs frowned as he thought about matters. Being the one who collected historic facts like an Art dealer collects paintings he was most likely the one to come up with an idea. Handel could also be helpful but instead of collecting history Handel just /was/ history. Mr Badger scratched his groin as he tried to remember the times his Sire had completed the odd bit of Necromancy.

"OK, from the odd off the cuff Zombie there seems to be a focal thingy that carried their Soul remains. If we destroy that they'll fall down dead like all good people should after we hit them. Since all these people are running around at once this must be one of those mass summoning things where there'll be a master focus somewhere nearby. Get that and they'll all fall down. Since these Zombies aren't doing much this is either an attempt at terrorism or whom ever summoned them 'screwed the pooch' and just buggered the Ritual. Either way if we find this person we can smack them on the head till they stop it. We're not all that big on the public service thing I know, but we're not going to get a good drink around this place till all the Zombies go away so we might as well lend a hand."

Handel and BigJobbs looked faintly impressed. That was the longest coherent sentence they'd heard from Badger in quite a while. Not only did it seem to make sense it appeared Badger has actually done some thinking to work it out. Together they grinned and had a celebratory drink to mark the occasion. Zombies ran past chasing towns people. The only pair that tried to attack the Vampires, under the pretence they were wearing clothing out of fashion, were destroyed by a massive glare from Mr Badger and BigJobbs. Under such close scorn filled scrutiny the Zombies crumbled into dust in seconds.

"So where are we going to find this focus?" Asked BigJobbs as he ordered a take-a-way order from the Pizza place.

Mr Badger looked around slowly, his keen senses missing nothing as they never saw much to begin with. "I'd say that big place on the mountain. For one thing it just looks like the place to find an Evil Doer and for the second reason it's the only thing large enough for me to actually see. We can't go wrong with logic like that." Handel and BigJobbs nodded as it seemed like a fair idea at the time, lame for sure but fair in i's own little way.

Erican watched the fires consume the village from the comfort of his front veranda. Wind streamed through the French Windows in a draft pattern that was perfect for leaning over a balcony. Erican's robes billowed out in counterpoint to the curtains in a way you just can't orchestrate. Erican had screwed up, there was no denying that. The Blood had been wrong and that had been his fault. This entire affair wouldn't have been such a disaster if he'd just done what Egg-Foo-Young had taught him to do. Get a really deformed servant to do the important bits, like collecting the Blood. That way when things go wrong you can just scream your tits off at the servant like you'd had nothing to do with it. Such was the Way of the Path. Even though this scheme had fallen through Erican could feel his resolve strengthen. He'd learnt from his mistakes so the hold the Path of Dastardly Villainy held on his Soul grew tighter. Erican smiled as he knew what was Fated to happen next. If things followed the order of the universe some meddling heroes would arrive to end his evil ways. There would be some ranting and maybe a fight. Escape was the next bit, to fight another day with another evil scheme that would top this one like Mount Everest tops a mole hill. Just then there was a knocking on the front door.

"Avon calling!" Shouted Mr Badger as he kicked in the door. The shattered remains of the door exploded inwards and the three Vampires made their entrance. "I'd say this is the right place, bloody big lightening rod on the roof either means a serious satellite TV connection or a Mad Scientist in the making." The receiving chambers were empty so the Vampires made their way down to the cellar to confront the person responsible for the actions below in the village. The cellar was equipped just as the Vampires had expected, lots of electric stuff and bubbling things. A gentleman dressed in far too many robes sat on a large oak chair in the middle of the room.

"Ah, welcome to my home Adventurers and well met. I'm afraid I must apologise for the surroundings. I have been rushed and didn't have time to welcome you properly." Said Erican with a smile. Leaning over the side of the chair Erican produced a remote control from his robes and flicked a switch. The air was filled with the soft notes of a pipe organ as the concealed Stereo system was activated. With the atmosphere enhanced for the moment Erican turned toward his 'guests.' "That's better. Now, how can I help you?"

"Greetings foul Sorcerer, there's the small matter of lots of Zombies running around the place down below ruining good drinking time. We could just beat you up till you recall them but that takes time. By the way, do you have a wine cellar?" Asked Handel.

Erican shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, it was lost in the move. You know how these things can be at times. I must say you all are being very reasonable about this. I must say the popular press says you'd just kick your way in and burn me at the stake. Most appreciated I'd like to say. I'd like to help you by declaring my defiance while leading you towards the vital component of the plan but in actuality, and I shouldn't tell you this but you have been so reasonable, I've lost it. Last I saw of my General it was poking through the fridge looking for nachos. It's eating me out of house and home so when you do find it, feel free to do something terribly horrible to it. I'm sick up to here with its complaints of there being nothing to do around here."

Mr Badger rubbed his chin. "Fill us in on the details and we'll see what we can do." Erican presented his dastardly plan as his Path required. After filling all the gaps which the other Vampires hadn't worked out yet they all grinned at once. "So, where do you have your television?" Asked Mr Badger.

The Undead General was sprawled over a couch, bowl of popcorn in one hand and a TV remote in the other. The General was channel surfing, over 200 Channels a minute flickered across the screen. BigJobbs had a bit of a think as they blocked exit from the room. "Back in the Dark Ages they mentioned using Holy Water to destroy the Zombie. Maybe we should give that a try?"

Mr Badger nodded and slipped off to the kitchen. Half an hour later he returned with a steaming pot of coffee. With a slight hesitation over the waste Mr Badger walked up to the General and emptied the pot over the Zombie Overlord. With a scream of "Oh hot, hot!" the Zombie was destroyed into a puddle of oil.

In the village below all the Zombies looked to the sky as one. A tear jerking scream left their throats as the land of the Dead called them back once more. "We're not ready to go! This curfew is unfair!" Screamed the Zombies as they returned back to the earth.

Back at the Chateau Erican stood looking over the balcony with the other three Vampires. "I suppose I should make a dramatic exit now so I can reap a terrible revenge against you later on. I couldn't ask you for some help could I?" Asked Erican. Mr Badger grinned and grabbed an oil can from one of the Chateau workshops. Erican thanked Mr Badger and poured the oil over his robes till they were good and soaked. BigJobbs picked up a candle and waited for Erican to finish the scene. Erican cleared his throat and stood near the balcony. "Pah! So you think you've won! Well I'll show you three! This is nothing, you'll never take me alive! Watch your backs in future, I will return!" Erican bowed to the applause. "Thank you, I've been saving that for just such an occasion. Oh well, nice to have met you. Maybe we can do brunch sometime?" Erican smiled with a wave as BigJobbs threw the lit candle. The candle ignited the oil and in seconds Erican was a blazing torch in the night. With a mutter of "It didn't hurt this much in practice" Erican threw himself off the balcony to the valley below.

Mr Badger was the first to look over the balcony. Below there was no sign of the immolated Giovanni Necromancer. "Last one down to the pub is a girl's blouse!" shouted Mr Badger as he ran down the stairs with BigJobbs and Handel close behind.

______________________________________________________________________________________