Felicitous salutations, everyone.
I am Symmachus, Magus of the Nine Magicks, Conjurer of Cheap Tricks, Effervescence Extraordinaire, and Post Man on Tuesdays.
For those who prefer to know me on more cordial terms than the wrong end of a Staff of Summoning, I am Faustino the Great, Plumber of the Unknowable Depths, Keeper of the Seven Seals, although they do make quite a racket if I haven't given them a fish in a while, you know.
Actually, I am not a vampire, nor am I a friend of them. I'd sooner keep snakes in the house. They smell terrible. I ask you, why do they have to have that long greasy hair down their foreheads and be up and about at all odd hours of the night?
Or when they start their turning. It's as bad as puberty. They knock on my door at the unholy hour of two in the evening asking to be changed back out of some odd form or another. Powerful vampires, my arse! Those sods are rather pasty, skinny little fellows. Couldn't hurt a fly.
Hmm-hmm-hmm, yes, yes. A rather shoddy business, I must admit. And then werewolves. All that running around in nature isn't good for you. They track mud over the carpets and bring fleas into the house. Next thing you know, they'll be licking their arse in public.
No, no. Keep nice with the townsfolk, treat em real nice, and they'll treat you all nice. Of course they come after you with all that pitchforks and rot, you were sucking blood and breaking necks and stuff. It's not done nowadays. Now back when I was a young'un, you got proper vampires then, mind you. Not this bleedin' angst stuff. They were proper gentlemen, they were. 'Course, they'd rip your throat out without a second thought, but they did it courteously.
Well, listen to me prattle on. I'll be leaving you to your other introductions, though I may pipe in from time to time.
Whassat? Lunchtime already? Oh, I am quite partial to crumpets.
No, really, who am I?
A rather silly artist who enjoys writing, guitar, art, fine women, fine wines, and fine marijuana. What more do I need to cover? Except maybe that marijuana gives you cancer faster than eating charcoal. Don't touch it, kiddies.
Yes, this is me. No, you may not know my age.
Okay, yeah, that's not me. This is.