The time I made out with a vampire

While my adventuring companions may say otherwise, I do have some taste when it comes to members of the opposite-enough sex; sure I’ve gotten down with a goblin or two, “dated” an annis, sucked face with both ettin heads; for that matter, Hamor and I once double teamed a drunken water naga when we vacationed in Relmor Bay, but I take it as a badge of honor that I have never knowingly made out with the undead. I use knowingly because, well, because I failed a saving throw and got charmed. There, I said it; I rolled a two right then and there and the charming began.

Don’t get me wrong; it is not like I don’t think the undead are attractive. Show me a pasty, shapely vampire or a pale, skinny ghoul, and I can certainly find the beauty in it. If that same shape was filled with actual life, no matter how disgusting, stupid, or evil it may be, I would be all over them, using the old “Do you know I’m a name level fighter?” or “I know a guy who can cast dimension door; ever made it between the angles?” lines. But in order to be undead, this cutie first had to be dead, and that pretty much ends the party. The undead are useful for guarding troves, doing bidding, and acting as temporary sword sheaths, not for playing pelvic pinochle with. It is not like it is hard to find a willing living companion, especially if one can flash a little yellow around.

The Caverns were no joke: even some fairly jaded individuals like ourselves were impressed with the dracolich, the imaginary treasure, the stone golem, and the giant doors. Cilcilre, who claims to have seen it all in her 200 years as a elf, mentioned that she felt “stressed” at points. When we broke into the final room and saw the sleeping maiden, we were all a little suspicious. I mean, we had just slaughtered a dracolich; if that doesn’t get the old blood pumping, then nothing will. Of course, it is all easy to say this in retrospect; at the time, it must not have mattered because I still got charmed. I went into that room knowing something was up and still fell for the “Hello, rescuers, thanks for saving me from this evil place. How can I reward you?”

Next thing I know I am walking towards the unknown superbabe, completely oblivious to two obvious clues: her teeth. To make matters worse, I dropped my trusty longsword +2 that I looted from the tomb of the lizard king; I can think of no other time I treated Stabby show poorly, dropping it there on the floor like some kind of goblin mace. In my defense, she was an attractive vampire, with all the standard vampire looks: pale face, red lips, raven tresses. Also in my defense, I was charmed. I walk up next to her and go right for the breastplate; she gives me that vampire smile and moves in for a kiss. At the time, I thought this was a sign that she was easy; I mean, she is coming on to me. Again, in my defense, I was charmed.

It was certainly not the best kiss I ever had; it doesn’t even make the top ten, but that stupid kiss cost me 18 months of adventuring. That is roughly how many experience points I lost when little miss vampire drained a couple energy levels out of me. A guy goes into the Caverns as a ninth-level Lord and comes out a measly 7th-level Champion, all because he cops a feel. Thankfully, the whole time this little seduction was going on, Hamor and Faragon were fishing out the holy water and arrows of vampire slaying that they had stolen from a couple clerics on the way here. I have little recollection of what happened next: Hamor tells me that my groping actually helped in the melee’ but I suspect he is trying to spare my feelings.

On the plus side, she did have some incredible treasure: a couple Manuals, three or four Tomes, and one Demonomicon. And boobs, firm, chain-mailed boobs. But I stand by my original statement, I only make out with the undead when charmed or when I’ve had too much to drink.

They want to suck our blood

They want to suck our blood

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