Aug. 16th, 2009
Door Demon
Aug. 16th, 2009 11:45 pmPicked up a few nights working as a door demon at Club Duat. Weekends mostly, though that's an arbitrary distinction on this side of the Gates. My primary responsibility is checking ID's, verifying talismans for authenticity and making sure no one tries sneaking in on a fake Ren (Secret Name). Once past me they have to deal with the Hyena headed woman at the counter, my partner, the Guardian of the Guest List. If they fail to name the correct goddess that corresponds to the current hour, the soul will not only be denied entry... but will be immediately taken out back and summarily fed piecemeal to the crocs. If you don't believe me go ask my boss... the big ugly mother fucker other there with the jackal head. Management caters to an exclusive clientelle and as such can't just have any Joe Asshole soul come meandering off the street.
The price of admission is a cherished memory, one once spent you can never own again. But in exchange you will be given a new memory - a night in the Garden of the Assassins, the fabled paradise of Hassan i Sabbah, providing splendors both sordid and sublime as to exhaust the imagination of all possibilities. Little surprise then there has been no complaint amongst the souls for the loss of a childhood's summer afternoon or the first time they ever kissed someone. Of course that could be because they've forgotten exactly what it is they've sacrificed... but it's not my place to judge. They have people for that down here after all and the duties of a simple door demon are constant enough to keep the mind from idle curiosity.
We get a pretty diverse crowd here. Magickians out playing astral tourist, the shadow meat of the privelged dead, stray dreamers lost on the wrong side of the Gates and even the occasional mystic looking for new temptations to overcome. You'd be surprised the numbers this place pulls on the Ghost of Saturday Night. Lines out the door and everyone hustling to get in quick. Works for me so long as it keeps me working. Come one, come all - "Welcome to Club Duat, your talisman please".
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The price of admission is a cherished memory, one once spent you can never own again. But in exchange you will be given a new memory - a night in the Garden of the Assassins, the fabled paradise of Hassan i Sabbah, providing splendors both sordid and sublime as to exhaust the imagination of all possibilities. Little surprise then there has been no complaint amongst the souls for the loss of a childhood's summer afternoon or the first time they ever kissed someone. Of course that could be because they've forgotten exactly what it is they've sacrificed... but it's not my place to judge. They have people for that down here after all and the duties of a simple door demon are constant enough to keep the mind from idle curiosity.
We get a pretty diverse crowd here. Magickians out playing astral tourist, the shadow meat of the privelged dead, stray dreamers lost on the wrong side of the Gates and even the occasional mystic looking for new temptations to overcome. You'd be surprised the numbers this place pulls on the Ghost of Saturday Night. Lines out the door and everyone hustling to get in quick. Works for me so long as it keeps me working. Come one, come all - "Welcome to Club Duat, your talisman please".