~Chapter 2: Vlanderlynn von Heimlech~

Our tale of delight must begin atop the highest hill of Transylvania itself.  Perhaps a metaphor for arrogance?  Atop the hill resides the great Alucardian von Mansion, or to those lacking witty tongue, "The Vamp's house."  As the moon reached its highest peak in the sky, the current acting master, Vlanderlynn, did begin to have his personal account set into motion.  For you see, a letter had just arrived from the zombified postman who lived down the hill.  Well, that is to say, the post office was conveniently located beneath the behemoth mountain of which the Vampire's Mansion sat atop of.  As per the usual, the vampires themselves would not get their hands dirty with such tedious activities, so a servant was to be called to fetch this mail.  A long trek down the spiraling path to the mailbox, then another long trip up.  If a package came it'd be shocking to hear of the servant making the trip in less than 2 hours time.  Luckily, for the current employed Vampire servant, Igor, there were no packages today.  So he trudged down the hill with his limp and his bouncy hump, to the mail to deliver to the counts.  

As he came out into the moonlight, his form was finally shown: A short man, no more than four or so feet, a bulging eye with crooked and plaque-infested teeth.  His hump was always switching back, to and fro, from where its location must be.  Perhaps an entity of its own?  His arms were shriveled and retracted, while his legs were of altering lengths, creating his limp.  For his nose, it was bright red, almost as though he was meant to be the Rudolph Reindeer reject, and for his hair, a messy muss of black, blue and red, for effect.  The clothes he wore were always varying, but for the time being he was wearing a robe that had material easily found on a brown sack.  His pants were a slight gray, a blend with the scenery, for his boots were a pitch-black, for his desire to be eerie.  For final touches, he wore a rope-belt, tight around his waist and sometimes his head, depending on mood.  

Igor walked down, or rather limped, to the main charcoal coated gates, removed the hatch and tugged on a half to drag it in.  He limped out onto the main Transylvanian streets, saw the mailbox and began to reap, of the spoils inside.  "Junk, junk, junk," he said, there was never anything of interest in the mail for him, or for his employers.  
"My master of current must be of dismay," he said to himself, examining the letters whilst creaking shut the gate.  "For these letters, junk and more junk, each and every day!  Perhaps if, I were to give him good news?  Of a letter of rejoice, of a package of booze?  Ay, but what a fantasy I think!  I best knoweth, my masters here, do not drink.  Not of alcohol, none of that for any way.  But only that of blood, from bodies of disgust and occasional decay."
He continued his ascend, up the hill of of terror.  Continuing to throw out every single letter of which his hands touched.  However, there was then one, almost at the bottom of the pile.  He reached for this blood-colored envelope, and read the sender of such a craft.
"Hah hah hah!" he laughed, hump swinging to the side.  "For this letter must be of one current master Vlynn will have of pride!  For I knoweth that he be runt of the clan, perhaps this letter, shall set loose the master plan.  Addressed from dear uncle Louie the Card.  Surely, for such a letter, the urgency must be hard.  At least, hard-pressed, that must be to say.  For now, of the rest of Transylvania, we could perchance end this dismay.  For Master Vlynn be only a child, easily manipulatable, with thoughts so mild.  I see that this letter be delivered for certain, or else I could say I'd be curtains.  Ah yes, Dr. Victor, let it be so.  For finally, we can be rid of this pestering woe.  Wait till Pumpkin King doth hear my speech.  They'll ought to be proud, with much things to preach!  For, if I am to guess of what I hold between my fingers as such.  It will be helpful to us, to the citizens of Transylvania, yes indeed, very much."
With that he piled through other letters as well, no matter what they be, junk or important.  A free offered vacation?  Indeed of great use, if Vlynn was to leave, then there'd be no excuse.  Alas, dear reader, I ask you forgive me of this rhyming.  For the character of Igor, rhymes are how he speaks, with timing.  It does often intrude on my narration, but I assure you, it be only for Igor and not many others.  

So Igor, with all of his glee, continued his trudge back up the hill, the mountain, to enter the mansion and find the weak Vampire clan member Vlynn.  The letters in grasp, he approached the mansion pillars, such a gigantic wonder, it oft was true a wonder how a mansion came to be atop such a hill.  The colors were of white, a clash with the ground, a pinch of red, yellow and orange, as well.  These colors mixed into a a color that only a sunset could truly reflect, of the whole town, it was one of the most beautiful pieces of art.  For the actual structure, a walkway of gargoyle statues lay in wait.  Three to one side, four to the other.  A final one on the same side as the three, laid smashed in pieces, or you could also say, smithereens.  These gargoyles also carried the same hue and color, to the mansion they led to, in grandiose of stature.  The mansion itself pointed at the very top, creating a crooked triangular roof, till the main box, if one could call it such, of the mansion began.  Windows were everywhere, enormous and tiny, scattered about with not a care for opinion of view.  The rooftop itself extended a bit, to reveal an overhang which guarded the frontal doorway, plaster-concrete patio and the stairs that would lead to it.  Five pillars each held up sturdy one side of this overhang. Four lined up, on either side, with the fifth just behind.  For the rest of the mansion?  Not much was known.  Other than cobwebs and other such Transylvanian delights that was rumored to be inside.  Besides Igor himself, and other servants past, not a soul in Transylvania had even gotten past the gate that laid at the bottom of the hill.  

Igor rushed towards the the huge blood-red doors, each larger than any normal person could possibly care to have.  For Igor, in order to reach the nose-ring-bull handle, he had to stand just a tad beyond what he could reach with his tippy-toes.  He swung the ring back and forth, knocking but only twice.  With that, a sound of shriek and terror emitted, reminding Igor that he was now permitted.  He pulled up the handle, turned it clockwise ninety degrees, then pushed the door open with a heave and a ho.  After a minute or so, he had pushed hard enough for him to squeeze through the entryway he had created for himself, and thus proceeded to squeeze through.  Afterwards, he pushed back on the door, turning the ring-handle to lock it once more.  The innards of the manor were quite large and splendorous, mixes of white, black and a hint of an orange-like hue echoed throughout the designs.  Directly front of his own eyes, there was a grandiose staircase, which split off into three smaller ones.  The staircase up on the left led to the right wing of the Vampire clans' quarters, while the right upper staircase led to the left wing of the manor.  For how this reasoning worked was only told to Igor as, "magic", and nothing more.  To make matters more confusing, the middle upper staircase led to nothing.  It was there for artistic design with no other intended purpose.  Rumor was, or so Igor was told, that former servants walked up that staircase to their doom.  As for the rest of the Foyer room, a large chandelier lay hanging above, with but only few lit candles and many a cobweb attached.  To the left of the staircase led more sets of doors to other parts of the mansion, three or four sets, if Igor remembered correctly.  He rarely would ever bother trekking to that side of the mansion.  To the right of the staircase had two large doors: One to the Dining Room, which in turn led to the kitchen, and the other leading to the "meeting" room, or gathering room, which in turn led to the secret Vampire basement laboratory.  Well, if it was so secret, how did Igor know of it?  In fact, how do I?  Well, we know of it, for whatever reasoning, so we'll go with that.  

With the letters all in one hand, the blood red hued envelope in his other, Igor proceeded to the room of meetings.  He approached the finely crated wooden doors, painted in a pale orange slate, then began to push the doors open with a heave.  As for the usual, Igor forgot the most fundamental thing about these specific doors: They only opened when pulled.  So try as he continued to slip, trip and fall, the doors would never budge for him.  "Tis nuisance, utter dread," to this he said.  "If only master would be kind enough to stand up,  help the servant but just once, instead."  He continued to push at the doors, watching his hump almost go a full one-hundred and eighty degrees around his body, which in turn would look like--- "Good heavens burnt of hell, nay!" he yelled pushing his hump back to above his right shoulder.  "Tis that look would indeed be to my dismay.  Indeed, for people of this town, to imagine, myself a lady?  Well, if they did, I guess they'd be just the more crazy.  Though, these doors are always of my befuddlement.  Perhaps I should try differently, a new experiment?"
He then saw the handle, which was gold engraved.  It was the form of a snake, coiled up with blood red eyes, as though snakes were to look into the souls of people.  He placed his hand on the handle, very carefully and gentle.  Then gave a slight tug.
"Aha, but of course!  I'm always of the idiocy," he said in relief, as though the snake were to chomp his arm off.  "I'll just pull this door open, yes, 'pull!'  One, two, threeeee!!"  He grasped the handle, both hands now, letters in his mouth.  He continued to struggle as the large door gave but a small budge.  "As always, tedious of things," he muffled and thought, as he continued his strife.  "I pray tell this be easier, if I were to pull the handle with nothing but a string."  Finally, mustering all strength he could, he was able to make but a small opening, and pass through now was his plan.  He let go of the door and proceeded to walk through the opening he so masterfully hath crafted.  But of course, he forgot that such a door had such a weight and SLAM, went the door, faster than he could realize.  A face of sorrow and frustration, however that may look, came across his own.  Then he set down the letters, made off for another wing of the mansion, with haste.  He came back with what he had said would be of aid mere moments ago, this time for sure, this door would be opened.  With the string he had obtained, he tied a knot to the door.  He yanked on the thin piece, only to hear it snap, much to his discord.  He messed his hair, and threw down the string, anger and frustration of his voice throughout the air.  He grabbed the string again, once more, determined now for sure.  He this time made five knots, five strings of course, with more leverage would indeed mean more force!  So he began to pull again at the door of his anger, but unfortunately, twang, twang, twang, twang, twang, the strings snapped off with no concern for his masterful plan.  Igor walked towards the door and stared, which in turn became that of a glare.  He raised his right hand and made a fist, shook it with all his might.  Then began to proceed back to another part of the mansion, to get something perchance more useful.  He came back this time, an axe between both his hands.  Indeed, this surely would do the job!  He gave a menacing smile, which evolved into a cackle.  He held the axe up high above his head, and ran at the door like a jackal.  "OLILOLILILOLILOLILOLILOLILILOLOOOOO!!!!" he chanted, moving his tongue out of his mouth with some weird fashion.  He reached the door, the target of his hated passion, only two strike it, but not with a slice, a 'boing.'  Indeed, the axe bounced backwards off the door, slamming it and Igor into the fine crafted floors, landing next two other divots of the past.  Igor apparently had forgotten how many times he had attempted this same routine.  Yet he got up, not noticing his other cuts in the floor, of similar landing, and continued his anguish.  He ran up to the door and jumped onto it, feet sticking to it like a spider.  His arms went down and he grabbed the handle, pulling as hard as he could against it, which then led him to launch himself off into the wall nearby.  Again, more impact-marks were left from previous times, but Igor ignored them and continued with his rage.  ";Indeed, what a frustrating annoyance of distraught," he said, shaking his fist once more.  Quickly though, he placed his other hand to his chin, changing face to that of a thinking manner.  He snapped his fingers, eyes growing wide and hump sliding down his back, giving the appearance of his head going up.  "That's it, that's the thought!" he declared.  He did his running limp back to another part of the manor, and this time came with a weapon of most delight.  Upon his face, a welding mask, and in his hands a blood-spattered chainsaw.  But dear reader, I do incline, something odd happened here.  For he lifted up the mask, and looked directly at you (for how I am unsure), and declared, "Safety first."  For once, he did not end a phrase in verse.  He put the mask back down upon his face, cranked the chainsaw up to maximum and lunged at the door, successfully hitting it, beginning a cut.  "Eureka!  I've done it!" he yelled with glee.  But he looked back, the chainsaw began to stop, "What what what?!"  The chainsaw came to a complete and total stop, upon that, the momentum of spin it once had needed transfer, and to Igor of course.  Igor began then to comically spin round and round, till finally his body launched off to hit the ceiling, and then impact the ground.  He got up, dazed and befuzzled.   Finally he tripped over the letters, and beneath the crevasse of the doorway and floor they went.  Igor panicked then tried to reach under and fetch them, then stood up and realized: The letters were of course now delivered, never having to lift a single finger on the door.  He caught his breath and cleared his throat, standing upright (save  for his hump, now laying on his left), left arm behind back and called, "Master Vlynn, your mail hath here!  Though, my eyes believe to see of a mess just beyond your door, but don't fear!  I shall clean it up, with a heave and a ho, so please continue with your business.  For I shall, yes yes, attend to this atrocious mess."  He took his left arm and raised it to his forehead, then wiping that particular area, of any sweat.  With a sigh he got a broom, now he must sweep up his trouble-making "booms".


A coal-colored boot stepped up to the letters slid under the door.  The lightning of this room was dark and wide, so what was there for a figure was nothing more than a mere silhouette.  The shadow bent over, extending a limb to the pieces of parchment that lay by his foot's heel.  A pale, almost gray, arm was extended into the little light that showed those letters, to which the hand at the end did grasp.  It retracted back into the darkness slowly and smoothly, nails were given a brief glimpse-they were also pale with maroon centers-and the arm returned to its darkness.  The figure walked back from where he came and found itself a couch to sit upon.    

"Damn thy poor servant," the figure did emit as a voice.  "Perchance he sell his stupidity, there could be quite of good fortune to reap of?  I cannot yet ponder a great wonder.  But times of these are indeed those of desperation, so I may only ever guess such a situation."
The figure laid onto the couch, then reached for a remote-like device, though it looked as though the device nearly levitated on its own.  A button was pressed and an old model of TV, which lay parallel to the couch, began to make many a sound, finally settling on intelligible ones.  
"In today's news," the box did sputter.  "We report that our coastal guard is---fzzzzzzzz."
"Tis nuisance," the figure said, staring at the out of commission old box.  "But no matter, for what shall I care of affairs of places I hath never been?"
He pressed a small button on his magical wand-like device, or rather to say, it looked as though a pale wind pressed the same button all on its very own.
"Ehhhhh, what's up doc?" the box did now sputter.  "You wascally wabbit!  It's wabbit season so I'm gonna get you!"
"Such a bore," the figure did declare.  "For what of human stupidity pray tell be this?  Perchance I am informed for lack of entertainment?  These bizarre and silly pictures that project across this glass-coated screen, how pointless."
He then looked to the letters placed by his side and did indeed begin to check through them.  Ah yes, dear reader, I am most certain that he is a male for how of his speech and voice sounded, that is for sure!  As for browsing through the letters....
"Junk, junk, junk," he did indeed declare.  "For what reason pray tell I am delivered 'junk'?  Have I not informed of thy servant to indeed be sure all junk be rid of by time thine eyes make label of it?  For what be the game of yonder lunatic?  No matter, for there may indeed be of letter that thine eyes must indeed make read of...."
Then the envelope of blood read did indeed reach his red-iris beady eyes-they oft glowed in the dark.  At it, he gave that of a scowl, revealing his silver teeth, with two being of extreme sharpness on either side of mouth.
"For what now, uncle!?" he hissed throughout the shadowy room's air.  "For now you need my assistance?  For now your lazy self must be attended to?  For what matter is this?!"
He hissed again, and by the time his hiss was over the letter made way to the entry of his mouth.  Of the two sharp teeth he picked left, which-with great force-he opened the letter hastily.  Out fell blood-spattered parchment, a trademark of his uncle indeed, along with a map and a key.  The figure grasped the falling letter angrily and did indeed prop the parchment upright so that his eyes may make meet with the print:
Dear Vlynny, it read--a nickname for Vlanderlynn, the figure we've been transfixed on for so long--making Vlynn cringe by the sight of it.

How ya doing my boy?  Ahem, that is that I mean to say, "how doth are-est you?"  For such language is nothing of my liking, you do know.  Well, I got some good news and bad news.  So maybe you should gander at what good uncle Lou is gunna say fer the first news, right right?--such matter of speech did indeed make Vlynn be of discontent--Well, I'll tell ya then!  Ya never were too good at guessin', that's fer sure, hahaha.  I'll give ya the bad news first, always good to speak of that firsthand, pray tell and all that?  Well, the bad news: Uhm, I'm kind of dying.  Hahahaha!!  Me?  A vampire?  Dying?  Hahahahahah!!  Surely I jest!  ...but I don't, oh well.  Can't win all battles, right?--Vlynn's face finally came into show, a pale dark face with bags under the eyes, a nose that sparkled and midnight-pitch black hair, long as it was, that did dangle from his head.  His jaw lay open, his red iris' glowing in hatred, and nose giving off the appearance of that of a warthog's snout.  How could his uncle so casually speak of something such as this!?  Though, indeed, it was not timed any better: right at the beginning of our story.  Indeed, a cliché.  Vlynn read on to see the root of this jest--So I'll need you to come visit fer a bit cause I have some last minute things to take care of.  So if you're not moving yet, I'd uhm... "pray tell", yeah that, to get your arse moving!  Hohohohoho!!  I've included tickets for you to travel with a very friendly pirate captain, and you'll need to get through the United Kingdom first, as he won't be porting anywhere on Wales.  Toodles to you then!---No way, he was being serious?  This was nothing but fishy, nothing but fishy.  Why in the world would his uncle plan this whole charade just as he's dying?  "Tis a false writing," Vlynn said to himself.  "Pray tell Uncle hath been of many a jest of late.  ....perchance I forfeit this saying, 'pray tell', for a time.  It seems to be nothing but the source of his jests against thy."  He then looked too see there was a little more writing at the end of the letter--Oh!  And P.S., while you're in London, maybe you can pick up some groceries for mysel- er...  my servants!  I would not want them hungry as I wither away.  I look forward to your visit!
~Uncle Louie (the Card)

Vlanderlynn gripped the blood-red envelope and using his free hand, searched for the ticket.  With it in his grasp he began to walk away from the television area and to the door that Igor had had so much trouble with beforehand.  He hit the light switch which in turn made the room very bright, to which he quickly curled up into his long navy trench coat.  Yes, he had indeed been wearing it the whole time.  His pale hand slowly removed the cloak-like material away from his body until he was shown in the full light.  For a vampire, he was indeed scrawny.  Skinny without much muscle bulk, and his hair extended to just behind his neck.  His nose was now normal now, at least, as normal as a human-like nose could be.  The trench coat that he wore had a collar at the top which went around his neck completely, creating a barrier of sorts for his neck and the lower portion of his head.  The coat was buttoned twice near his chest, the rest dangled down to his feet, but not touching the floor.  On his feet, he wore plain black boots.  They were nothing more than common work boots, no fancy fur, no nothing.  Unless the shine they emitted was a mark of fancy-ness.  On his legs, he currently wore a worn pair of Khaki pants.  Though, the color had indeed faded and a few tomato stains (with Vlynn, they were indeed tomatoes) were painted on them for a sense of fear, if any.  He wore a black shirt, nothing written on it at all, though it would be perfectly accented by a spike-collar on his neck, but alas, he was not THAT cliché.  Some of his shirt hung out, while the rest was neatly tucked in, two belts went across his waist, both intersecting at two points on the pants.  

"Oft I do indeed forget," he said, placing his hand on the switch yet again.  "I do indeed take observation of that device whilst in the calm of the dark.  How foolish of myself to even try to turn off what had yet to be turned on.  Hah."
He hit the switch again and proceeded to open the door.  Out into the Foyer area he went, only to be greeted by the holes and crevasses made by Igor.  
"Do inform thy," Vlynn addressed Igor, who was somewhere within the area.  "For what reasoning there be these marks?  Though I have little concern of the condition, I do remind you, hump, that the rest of thou's masters will be most unpleased.  I suggest you get hard at work on these, I haft not the idea of whenst they shall return." 
Did he just make up a word?  No matter.  Vlynn walked casually over the holes and to the front entryway, of where he placed his hand on the wall, revealing a secret closet.  Igor jumped down from the chandelier of which he was hiding atop of to address his master.
"Ah, but master I do declare," he begun, swaying his arms back and forth.  "As only master here of current, are you allowed to go anywhere?"
"Do I not show of the utmost kindness to thou?" Vlynn addressed as he pulled an item from the closet.  "Perchance you'd like of the others to come back and see thou's mess?  Perchance not?"
"Indeedily so, Master Vlynn," Igor did declare, changing expression to that of a false self-concern.  "But may I ask, where art you oft in?  A hurry, master, I see it now.  Perhaps you must be after a mode of transport with a bow?"
"That is correct as the day is night," Vlynn said.  "Thou's deduction skills are of the most clever, I do indeed give you credit for your thoughts.  But as of now, I must be off." 
Igor jumped for joy, but to Vlynn the meaning was not quite known.  Vlynn turned around, sunglasses held by both hands, and looked back at his servant.
"I shall first meet with that of Pumpkin-head Jacques," Vlynn stated.  "If he comes hither, do give him stay.  I grant such a request.  Though, if other masters cometh, then you are to be rid of him as fast as you possibly are able.  Are thy words understood?"
"Indeedily so!"  Igor did declare, beginning to make a shoving motion towards his master.  "So if that is what it must be, then please go!  I shall attend to what be hither, do not fret, I shall not let it whither.  I shall take of glorious care of master's mansion.  In doing so, I shall be of great passion!"
Vlynn gave an odd look-one eyebrow up, the other down-to his servant, but shrugged it off with a sigh.  Putting the sunglasses up to his face, and then on his head, releasing his arms to dangle by his sides, he did indeed bid his servant farewell.  

Vlynn heaved the entryway to an open state, and then calmly walked out the door.  He closed it, locked it, and looked to the moonlit sky.  Never had it been a great night for him to look at the full moon, which shined down upon his hill.  Smoke began to fade into a visible showing, beginning at the bottom of Vlynn's feet and proceeding till it reached his head.  Though the smoke eventually made his legs and hands impossible to see, his head and chest remained as he looked up to the light.  As the final bits of the smoke climbed towards the top of his body, it quickly vanished right after.  As the smoke cleared, there was no figure left to where Vlynn once stood, no clothes either.  Vlynn had disappeared, or teleported, if you will, into the town square.


~~*~~*~~*~~*~~


"But of course!" the skeletal arm slammed onto the table.  But of course--that was unintentional, I swear--the skeletal arm broke off and flew across the room.  Oh, where are we?  I believe it was a dim-lit room in a beaten-up shack somewhere within Transylvania.  The lamp was hung on a string that came to hover slightly over the round wooden table.  Around the table were but only four figures: A human with an over-bulging brain, creating an abnormal head-shape, wearing a white lab-coat and showing glowing yellow eyes with pale green skin.  The next figure was one who.... had the most unusual shape.  It was very long and slender...ish(?), thing that wore an over-sized jacket.  Itself walked into the light to--HOLY SHIT THAT'S AN ANTHROMORHPIC HOT DOG, WHAT THE HELL?--pick up the bony arm that was thrown across the room.  He walked over to a skeleton-like figure.  The skeletal-like figure was tall (That is the most boring descriptive word ever).  That's all there was describe him, he was a skeleton, man!  He wore a cloak made of a brown sack, as well as charcoal-coated boots on his feet.  Maybe he had some kind of sword holster on his waist, I didn't know.  His head was also currently missing, but somehow he had a remedy for that.  In front of him sat five pumpkins, each of a different carving.  He picked up the left-most pumpkin and placed it upon his shoulders.  The face the pumpkin had was currently of a neutral expression (my god describing characters is annoying), soon the facial features began to move around, the head lighting up with a bright yellow glow.  
"Now then gents," the pumpkin-headed skeletal figure said.  "I'd appreciate if we would finally call this meeting to order."

He took the arm that the hot dog--seriously, WHAT THE HELL?--had placed on the table and re-attached it to his body.  He then pointed across the table in a dramatic fashion, which was unfortunately contrasted with his dull face, then retracted his arm.
"That vwas done vor almost no reason," the green-skinned man said.  "Vor vwhat reason haf you called us vor, Jacques?"
"I have received news from our old friend Igor!" Jacques, the pumpkin-headed person stated, just as his head fell off.  He quickly picked up another pumpkin and placed it on his shoulders, a more joyous of expressions.
"For you see, dear friends," Jacques stated, pointing his finger into the air with dramatics.  "We have heard news that the only reigning vampire of current may be of leave here very soon!  So our plan of action will be carried out soon enough!"
"Oi, but Jacques," the hot dog's voice boomed.  "What sort of plan do we have in mind for our take-over?  My weird meaty arms and legs just wanna laaaaaay and relaaax.  Got any condiments?  I haven't showered today."
"Shut up, Frankfurt, you sickenin' creation o' my ancestry." the green-skinned man said.  "Though, indeed, Jacques, of vwhat plans you have mind?"
"Dr. Frank!" Jacques did declare as he jumped onto the table and pointed at Dr. Frank's face.  "Of current, we have no specific plan.  But I would say, sabotage would be of the best variety!"  He stood up triumphantly and laughed a good jest, placing his hands on his waist.
"I have a better plan," the fourth guy said, walking into the light.  He wore a plaster white mask that only had slits for his eyes.  Over his head was a fedora, which he enjoyed wearing with the way his claw-like hands would grip to it in a 'cool-pose'.  He wore a vest, made of suede and some fur, and then some plain jeans which totally ruined his bad-ass appearance.  He put a bunch of knives attached to the vest-jacket-whatever-the-heck-it-was.  Homicidal freak.  He had colored purple marker on his jeans for no apparent reason, it looked stupid.  
"Oh, Meyer," Jacques said, throwing off his current head and replacing it with a more annoyed one.  "I totally forgot you were here.  What DO you have in mind?"
Jacques walked back to the edge of the table and made an acrobatic jump off and into one of the chairs placed around the table.  
"State your claim," Jacques said, making a motion to get this over with.  
"It's simple," he said, sitting down till the table, tilting his head back and forth.  He had painted a thin line of red from where the mouth would be on the mask to the high edges near the hair.
"Kill the bat--"
"Shut up," Frankfurt the hot dog said.  "You need to stop watching T.V., freak.  Did you put lipstick on your face?  Seriously, you're just a normal human with mental issues, the hell are you doing in this town?"
Meyer just rocked his head back and forth like a weirdo, then fell to the ground and passed out.
"Vwell that vwas pointless," Dr. Frank said.  "Vwhat now, Jacques?"
"So then, o brethren, what art all be plotting?" another voice sounded from the shadows.
Jacques walked forward, taking his head off completely to see who was hiding behind the dark.  Vlynn walked into the light partially, and gave a smirk that showed off his left vampiric tooth.  Jacques ran back over to the table and placed a worried face on.  
"V-Vlynn?" Jacques stated, panicking hand by his mouth.  "Wh-what brings you here?"
"Tis an answer of ease," Vlynn stated, walking towards Jacques.  "I care not of what you may plot of, but I never caught ear.  Consider this my favour."
"Eh?  But vwhat vwould you haf in mind vor return?" Dr. Frank stated, pointing his arm across the table.
"He's right Vlynn," Jacques said, scurrying around to place his elbow on Vlynn's shoulder.  "What's with the random act of kindness?  What do you want from us?  It must be something eager for you to---"
"If one word be uttered 'bout my lazy habits," Vlynn said, turning his head to Jacques' with a psychotic smile.  "I shall grind all bones for the finest of dust."
"...well then, old chum," Jacques said, looking around.  "Perhaps....  you shouldn't have said that right now."
To this, Vlynn gave a face of most disgust, and crushed the current head that Jacques had atop his shoulders.  Vlynn then jumped onto the table and kicked Meyer's sleeping head off of it.
"I have no doubt," he addressed the group.  "You all hath heard of something of Igor.  It would be only of his ways to be deceitful, 'specially after competition years ago against you, Doctor.  For that, I do apologize for my clan's idiotic power-craze.  So you all hath indeed made a spy of one who reports to the manor of current.  Good show, but I hath been always aware."
Jacques was busy contemplating which head to currently put on.
"So I am to assume," Vlynn said, arrogantly closing his eyes.  "All of ye hath been here for purposes of making a rebellion?  Good show, good show.  I do not disapprove, hear me say it.  I do not disapprove.  Such as, I hath give you all, or at least for the current, Jacques, permission to be within the estate till I doth return.  However, if for unknown reasons my clan shall return, escape immediately or heads shall be splattered."
"For why...?" Jacques asked.
"I'm leaving now," Vlynn said, not answering any questions.  He gave his friend (yeah, I forgot to mention he and Jacques are good friends, that's important later!) a wink, and vanished.


Jacques placed a triumphant expression on his face and pointed to his men.  
"ALRIGHT!" he said.  "TO THE MANSION!"