OOC
Another Otto rp'er on LJ was kind enough to type up a few key passages from The Truth where Otto appears. I've...well, I can't very well say stolen, as lawl neither of our invention, but I've borrowed them to save myself the trouble.
A...thing occupied the doorway. There was a tripod. There were a pair of skinny, black-clad legs behind it and a large black box on top of it. One black-clad arm extended out from behind the box and was holding a sort of small hod, which was smoking.
"Nice vun," said a voice from behind the box. "The light vas shinink so good off the dvarf's helmet, I could not resist it. You vanted an iconographer? My name is Otto Chriek."
"Oh. Yes?" said Sacharissa. "Are you any good?
"I am a vizard in zer darkroom. I am experimenting all the time," said Otto Chriek. "And I have all my own equipment and also a keen and positive attitude!"
"Sacharissa!" hissed William urgently.
"We could probably start you at a dollar a day--"
"Sacharissa!"
"Yes? What?"
"He's a vampire!"
"I object most stronkly," said the hidden Otto. "It iss such an easy assumption to believe that everyvun with an Uberwald accent is a vampire, is it not? There are many thousands of people from Uberwald who are not vampires!"
William waved his hand aimlessly, trying to shrug off the embarrassment.
"All right, I'm sorry, but--"
"I am a vampire, as it happens," Otto went on. "But if I had said, 'Hello, my cheeky cock sparrow mate old boy by crikey', what vould you have said zen, eh?"
"We'd have been completely taken in," said William.
"Anyway, your notice did say 'vanted', so I thought it vas, you know, affirmative action," said Otto. "Alzo, I have zis..." A thin, blue-veined hand was held up, gripping a small twist of shiny black ribbon.
"Oh? You've signed the pledge?" said Sacharissa.
"At the Meeting Rooms in Abattoirs Lane," said Otto triumphantly. "where I attend every veek for our big singsong and tea and a bun and wholesome conversation on themes of positive reinforcement keeping off the whole subject of bodily fluids by stvict instruction. I am not any longer any stupid sucker!"
~~~~~~~~~~~
"Right here and now is ven you vant the picture?" said Otto, anxiety hanging off every syllable.
"Right now, yes!"
"As a matter of fact, that is a rutabaga coming along that I've got great hopes of--" Mr. Wintler began
"Oh, vell...if you vill look zis vay, Mr. Vintler," said Otto. He got behind the iconograph and uncovered the lens. William got a glimpse of the imp peering out, brush poised. In his spare hand Otto slowly held up, on a stick, a cage containing a fat and drowsing salamander, and positioned his finger on the trigger that would bring a small hammer down on its head just hard enough to annoy it.
"Be smiling, please!"
"Hold on," said Sacharissa, "should a vampire really--"
Click
The salamander flared, etching the room with searing white light and dark shadows.
Otto screamed. He fell to the floor, clutching at his throat. He sprang to his feet, goggle-eyed and gasping, and staggered, knock-kneed and wobbly legged, the length of the room and back again. He sank down behind a table, scattering paperwork with a wildly flailing hand.
"Aarghaarghaaargh..."
And then there was a shocked silence.
Otto stood up, adjusted his cravat, and dusted himself off. Only then did he look up at the row of shocked faces.
"Vell?" he said sternly. "Vot you all looking at? It is just a normal reaction, zat is all. I am vorking on it. Light in all itz forms is mine passion. Light is my canvas, shadows are my brush."
"But strong light hurts you!" said Sacharissa. "It hurts vampires!"
"Yes, it iss a bit of a bugger, but zere you go."
"And, er, that happens every time you take a picture, does it?" said William.
"No, sometimes it iss a lot vorse."
"Worse?"
"I sometimes crumble to dust. But zat which does not kill us makes us stronk!"
"Stronk?"
"Indeed!"
William caught Sacharissa's gaze. Her look said it all: We've hired him. Have we got the heart to fire him now? And don't make fun of his accent unless your Uberwaldean is really good, okay?
Otto adjusted the iconograph and inserted a fresh sheet.
"And now, shall ve try vun more?" he said brightly. "And zis time--everybody zmile!"
~~~~~~~~~~~
Otto Chriek dropped to the floor, hands raised like talons.
"Good evening!" he said to a shocked bailiff. He looked at his hand. "Oh, vot am I thinking of!" He bunched his fists, and danced from foot to foot. "Put zem up in the traditional Ankh-Morpork pugilism!"
"Put them up?" said the man, raising a cudgel. "Blow that!"
A jab from Otto lifted him off his feet. He landed on his back, spinning, and slid away across the polished floor. Otto spun around so fast that he went blurred, and there was a smack as another man went down.
"Vot's this? Vot's this? I'm using your civilized fisticuffs, and you don't vant to fight?" he said, springing back and forth like an amateur boxer. "Ah, you, sir, you show fight--" The fists blurred into invisibility and pummeled a man like a punchbag. Otto straightened up as the man fell, and absentmindedly punched sideway to catch the charging fourth man on the chin. The man actually spun in the air.
This happened in a few seconds. And then William got enough of a grip to shout a warning. He was too late.
Otto looked down at the length of sword blade sticking too far into his chest.
"Oh, vill you look at zis," he said. "You know, in zis job I just cannot make a shirt last two days?"
He turned to Lorde De Worde, who was backing away and cracked his knuckles.
"Keep it away from me!" barked His Lordship
William shook his head.
"Oh, yes?" said Otto, still advancing. "You think I am an it? Vell, let me act like an it."
He grabbed Lord de Worde's jacket and held him up in the air, with one hand, at arm's length.
"Ve have people like you back home," he said. "Zey are the ones that tell the mob vot to do. I come here to Ankh-Morpork, zey tell me things are different, but really is is alvays the same. Always zere are damn people like you! And now, vot shall I do with you?"
He wrenched at his own jacket, and tossed the black ribbon aside.
"I never liked zer damn cocoa anyvay," he said.
"Otto!"
The vampire turned.
"Yes, Villiam? Vot is it you vish?"
"That's going too far." Lord de Worde had gone pale. William had never seen him so obviously frightened before.
"Oh? You say? You think I bite him? Shall I bite you, Mister Lordship? Vell, maybe not, because Villiam here thinks I am a good person." He pulled Lord de Worde close, so their faces were a few inches apart. "Now, maybe I have to ask myself, how good am I? Or maybe I just have to ask myself...am I better zen you?" He hesitated for a second or two, and then in a sudden movement jerked the man towards him.
With great delicacy, he planted a kiss on Lord de Worde's forehead. Then he put the trembling man back down on the floor and patted him on the head.
"Actually, maybe zer cocoa is not too bad and zer young lady who plays zer harmonium, sometimes she vinks at me," he said, stepping aside.
A...thing occupied the doorway. There was a tripod. There were a pair of skinny, black-clad legs behind it and a large black box on top of it. One black-clad arm extended out from behind the box and was holding a sort of small hod, which was smoking.
"Nice vun," said a voice from behind the box. "The light vas shinink so good off the dvarf's helmet, I could not resist it. You vanted an iconographer? My name is Otto Chriek."
"Oh. Yes?" said Sacharissa. "Are you any good?
"I am a vizard in zer darkroom. I am experimenting all the time," said Otto Chriek. "And I have all my own equipment and also a keen and positive attitude!"
"Sacharissa!" hissed William urgently.
"We could probably start you at a dollar a day--"
"Sacharissa!"
"Yes? What?"
"He's a vampire!"
"I object most stronkly," said the hidden Otto. "It iss such an easy assumption to believe that everyvun with an Uberwald accent is a vampire, is it not? There are many thousands of people from Uberwald who are not vampires!"
William waved his hand aimlessly, trying to shrug off the embarrassment.
"All right, I'm sorry, but--"
"I am a vampire, as it happens," Otto went on. "But if I had said, 'Hello, my cheeky cock sparrow mate old boy by crikey', what vould you have said zen, eh?"
"We'd have been completely taken in," said William.
"Anyway, your notice did say 'vanted', so I thought it vas, you know, affirmative action," said Otto. "Alzo, I have zis..." A thin, blue-veined hand was held up, gripping a small twist of shiny black ribbon.
"Oh? You've signed the pledge?" said Sacharissa.
"At the Meeting Rooms in Abattoirs Lane," said Otto triumphantly. "where I attend every veek for our big singsong and tea and a bun and wholesome conversation on themes of positive reinforcement keeping off the whole subject of bodily fluids by stvict instruction. I am not any longer any stupid sucker!"
~~~~~~~~~~~
"Right here and now is ven you vant the picture?" said Otto, anxiety hanging off every syllable.
"Right now, yes!"
"As a matter of fact, that is a rutabaga coming along that I've got great hopes of--" Mr. Wintler began
"Oh, vell...if you vill look zis vay, Mr. Vintler," said Otto. He got behind the iconograph and uncovered the lens. William got a glimpse of the imp peering out, brush poised. In his spare hand Otto slowly held up, on a stick, a cage containing a fat and drowsing salamander, and positioned his finger on the trigger that would bring a small hammer down on its head just hard enough to annoy it.
"Be smiling, please!"
"Hold on," said Sacharissa, "should a vampire really--"
Click
The salamander flared, etching the room with searing white light and dark shadows.
Otto screamed. He fell to the floor, clutching at his throat. He sprang to his feet, goggle-eyed and gasping, and staggered, knock-kneed and wobbly legged, the length of the room and back again. He sank down behind a table, scattering paperwork with a wildly flailing hand.
"Aarghaarghaaargh..."
And then there was a shocked silence.
Otto stood up, adjusted his cravat, and dusted himself off. Only then did he look up at the row of shocked faces.
"Vell?" he said sternly. "Vot you all looking at? It is just a normal reaction, zat is all. I am vorking on it. Light in all itz forms is mine passion. Light is my canvas, shadows are my brush."
"But strong light hurts you!" said Sacharissa. "It hurts vampires!"
"Yes, it iss a bit of a bugger, but zere you go."
"And, er, that happens every time you take a picture, does it?" said William.
"No, sometimes it iss a lot vorse."
"Worse?"
"I sometimes crumble to dust. But zat which does not kill us makes us stronk!"
"Stronk?"
"Indeed!"
William caught Sacharissa's gaze. Her look said it all: We've hired him. Have we got the heart to fire him now? And don't make fun of his accent unless your Uberwaldean is really good, okay?
Otto adjusted the iconograph and inserted a fresh sheet.
"And now, shall ve try vun more?" he said brightly. "And zis time--everybody zmile!"
~~~~~~~~~~~
Otto Chriek dropped to the floor, hands raised like talons.
"Good evening!" he said to a shocked bailiff. He looked at his hand. "Oh, vot am I thinking of!" He bunched his fists, and danced from foot to foot. "Put zem up in the traditional Ankh-Morpork pugilism!"
"Put them up?" said the man, raising a cudgel. "Blow that!"
A jab from Otto lifted him off his feet. He landed on his back, spinning, and slid away across the polished floor. Otto spun around so fast that he went blurred, and there was a smack as another man went down.
"Vot's this? Vot's this? I'm using your civilized fisticuffs, and you don't vant to fight?" he said, springing back and forth like an amateur boxer. "Ah, you, sir, you show fight--" The fists blurred into invisibility and pummeled a man like a punchbag. Otto straightened up as the man fell, and absentmindedly punched sideway to catch the charging fourth man on the chin. The man actually spun in the air.
This happened in a few seconds. And then William got enough of a grip to shout a warning. He was too late.
Otto looked down at the length of sword blade sticking too far into his chest.
"Oh, vill you look at zis," he said. "You know, in zis job I just cannot make a shirt last two days?"
He turned to Lorde De Worde, who was backing away and cracked his knuckles.
"Keep it away from me!" barked His Lordship
William shook his head.
"Oh, yes?" said Otto, still advancing. "You think I am an it? Vell, let me act like an it."
He grabbed Lord de Worde's jacket and held him up in the air, with one hand, at arm's length.
"Ve have people like you back home," he said. "Zey are the ones that tell the mob vot to do. I come here to Ankh-Morpork, zey tell me things are different, but really is is alvays the same. Always zere are damn people like you! And now, vot shall I do with you?"
He wrenched at his own jacket, and tossed the black ribbon aside.
"I never liked zer damn cocoa anyvay," he said.
"Otto!"
The vampire turned.
"Yes, Villiam? Vot is it you vish?"
"That's going too far." Lord de Worde had gone pale. William had never seen him so obviously frightened before.
"Oh? You say? You think I bite him? Shall I bite you, Mister Lordship? Vell, maybe not, because Villiam here thinks I am a good person." He pulled Lord de Worde close, so their faces were a few inches apart. "Now, maybe I have to ask myself, how good am I? Or maybe I just have to ask myself...am I better zen you?" He hesitated for a second or two, and then in a sudden movement jerked the man towards him.
With great delicacy, he planted a kiss on Lord de Worde's forehead. Then he put the trembling man back down on the floor and patted him on the head.
"Actually, maybe zer cocoa is not too bad and zer young lady who plays zer harmonium, sometimes she vinks at me," he said, stepping aside.