Helpful Hints for Staging Your First Grave Deception

A Treatise by the Maybe-Late Dr. Iolanthe Osmandius(Purloined & Provided by the Author Known as "ShadowMaven")

The first time I died was an accident. Well, faked my death, to put a finer point on it. First attempts at anything are awkward, but mine, hastily planned and frantically executed, was almost my last. Fending off a torchlit throng of superstitious, pitchfork-wielding hicks in the middle of the night is enough to rattle anyone's cage. Fortunately, I've learned some valuable lessons in my many deaths since—information you will find very useful, should you ever find yourself in a similar situation.

Believe me, you just might. The numbers speak for themselves.

Somber Statistics

At some point in their careers, many practitioners of the numinous arts will find themselves the objects of derision and investigation, if not outright public insurrection. Too often, what begins as calumny quickly turns to calamity: last year, 750 sorcerers, necromancers, and alchemists were the victims of violent attacks. Despite the best security precautions—impenetrable wards, concealment charms, and in one instance, a pack of were-zombies—over half of those attacks proved fatal.

Think you're immune to rural prejudice? Believe your body won't become another log on the bonfire of insanity? You know your day will come. You've acknowledged the possibility ever since you invoked your first spirit, cast your first Chaos Star, or pulled that first phial of what you thought was a much-vaunted, viscous elixir from the mystical ether (and discovered immortality tasted a lot like vinegar). Call it an occupational hazard, but it is the burden shared by all practicing Occultists.

Why play the odds? Readiness in the face of the inevitable beats a last ditch improvisation in a faulty dirigible by any phase of the moon.

In other words, a prudent practitioner is always prepared.

Trust me. I've been doing this for centuries.

A Death for All Reasons

Having a murderous mob on your doorstep isn't the only reason for staging a plausible demise (although it's incredibly motivating). Perhaps you find yourself with a botched hex and a body count too staggering for expeditious disposal; maybe betrayal by a colleague, friend, or lover is just too base to endure; alternatively—and this is an extreme case—after having inadvertently infuriated an Absolute Entity (Death, for example), you must now live an assumed afterlife on the run.

Not that I would know anything about that last one, of course.

Whatever the circumstances, when you need to shed the constricting scales of an old life quickly, letting the world think that you've taken the "Pallid Passage" to the "Final Kingdom" is the best way away from whatever's bedeviling you. Presumed fatality, unlike invisibility, which we will discuss later, frees one from a number of bothersome social expectations: morality, ethicality, and fiscal responsibility, just to name a few.

Anyone who'd try to tell you different isn't auguring with a full Tarot.

Faking your own death is not for the squeamish, the fainthearted, or dilettantes, however. Once you've purportedly parted the Veil of Shadows, there's no reneging—it's just like making a deal with the Devil or taking a blood oath. You cannot return to your former self without serious karmic repercussions, not to mention actual concussions from irate former friends and loved ones. In fact, this is perhaps the only time in life where being a recalcitrant misanthrope or irascible blackguard is advantageous: the fewer who'll actually miss you once you're gone, the better.

Ready to crown yourself in a shiny, new tria prima?

Death: Getting It Right the First Time

First, you will need a foolproof plan.

This is true, whether you are a wizened sage or novice mage. Then—and I cannot stress this point enough—approach your death soberly, furtively, and above all, meticulously. Your modus mortalitas is the deadliest and most valuable weapon in your infernal arsenal: choose it wisely. Leaving takes forever; going does not.

Contrary to popular opinion, accidents other than explosions, suicide, and abduction scenarios are modes you should avoid. Rationales for these will appear later. Three of the most successful methods I have used to date include explosions, interspecies mutation, and reverse alchemy.

Of course, your results may vary.

Explosions

Nothing says "Final Exit" better than being blown to smithereens. Whether yours will be the result of an unfortunate accident or act of terrorism, an explosion is a fabulous way to destroy all evidence of your former self.

Make yours an epic combustion, a sweeping conflagration that makes the infernal pyres of Gehenna look like a Sunday barbeque. Chances are, your enemies want you to burn, so give them Sheol. Ask yourself, "What Would Paracelsus Do?" Triple that response (he didn't have access to brisant explosives, after all). This is one time where bigger is definitely better. All that smoke and commotion will draw a crowd and divert attention, allowing you to escape unscathed and above all, unnoticed.

With that in mind, do try to draw as many witnesses to your untimely demise as possible. Having food, supplies, or a mysterious package delivered moments before the big bang ensures not only that you were there, but is also an excellent way to throw suspicion on someone else, particularly, if you had been a recent target of verbal or written threats.

Implicating demonic forces in your demise is also highly desirable in this scenario. Lesser demons love taking credit for destruction on the earthly plane and since most of them are compulsive liars, even if they do reveal your trickery, no one will believe a word they say.

Do not, under any circumstances, leave identifiable body parts behind (yours or anyone else's). As tempting as conjuring counterfeit fingers and toes might be, a rookie psychic can detect your soulless fakes with his Third Eye closed. Likewise, your intended victim's ghost, be it grayling or eidolon, will blab to the first necromancer, medium, or Ouija board it can find. Murder also tends to wreak havoc with your karma and the last thing you want is to have the Threefold Law (among other things) dogging you like twilight into your next life.

A prudent practitioner does not leave trace evidence.

2. Interspecies Mutation

I enjoyed one of my longest and most enjoyable incarnations after a vampire bit me at the Midsummer Mayhem Festival of 1872; one I'd still be enjoying, if not for the cantankerous execrations of one, particularly vitriolic witch.

Finding a Sire for Hire is a relatively safe and simple process and one for which you can contract in advance, provided you pay in Dead Man's Gold (a simple conjuration). If the thought of preying upon your fellow mage leaves you colder than a crypt in February, relax. Vampires relish all types (no pun intended). Raccoons and rats, for example, are plentiful and easy to catch; their blood is filling, nutritious, and quite tangy, especially when one adds a dash of vervain or a few drops of wormwood. Moreover, by feeding on these frequently disease-ridden pests, you'll be providing a valuable, albeit anonymous, community service. There's nothing monstrous about that!

While exsanguinating the occasional stray cur is fine, avoid slaking your thirst on cats, unless you are dead certain that said feline is a feral loner and not the beloved member of some crazy conjure woman's clowder. Your action, however well intentioned, still constitutes murder, and nothing speeds retribution's plough faster than a grief-stricken witch intent on hexing your undead hide from here to Hades.

Whether by accidentally draining one or more of your neighbor's cats or overusing your newfound hypnotic abilities on said neighbor to score some extra cash, any abuse of enchantment tends to attract unwanted public attention and piques Death's to boot. While the former may be a bit of a nuisance, the latter is something you should strive against at all costs.

When you need to reclaim a fully human form fast, make a werewolf bite you. Most of them are ill-tempered, humorless brutes who take offense at the slightest provocation, so this should be a simple task. Just stand outside any pub during a full moon; one's bound to bump into you.

Right now, many of you are probably wondering, 'Why a werewolf?'

Vampires have safeguarded this secret for centuries (they've had to; recurrent were-transformation has a crippling effect on long-term memory). As a result, werewolves, like most people, are unaware that the viral strains responsible for vampirism and lupinism, when concurrent in a single being, completely nullify one another. Reanimation, while immediate, becomes quite painful when attempted on more than one occasion; if being a sireling's your fondest desire, do try to remain among the Undead indefinitely.

Unfortunately, this act of revivification will also render the werewolf human, so be prepared to make a hasty retreat. Take care to ensure that your intended werewolf is a slow (versus rapid) lunar cycler or you could lose a great deal of your preternatural powers in the transformation process.

They will be skills and abilities that you will miss, trust me.

3. Reverse Alchemy

Often confused with Invisibility and Epoch Hopping, Reverse Alchemy is simple, effective, and exactly the opposite of what many of you probably already do on a daily basis. Only now, instead of wrestling form from formlessness, you will be consciously casting your form into Nothingness, blissful and absolute.

Invisibility is an elementary glamour: great when you're in a pinch, but easily detectable over long-term disappearances. Remember, your aim is to vanish without a trace.

Epoch Hopping, traveling to either the past or future, requires you peel back one of Time's many pleats and slip through. The problem with this, beyond getting squished or falling into an alternate dimension, is controlling exactly when and where you will end up. Time, as we all know, is a large lump of cosmic origami that is constantly folding, refolding, and randomly reshaping itself. Yes, it's all very amusing, but when running for their lives, who has time for whimsy? To explore it, you must have an anchor in this world, a lifeline back to this reality.

Evidence that would figure prominently in your capture, in other words.

Also, please remember that Nothing can contain Time but Time contains everything, only briefly and in limited quantities. This is yet another reason why Reverse Alchemy is a highly desirable evasive mode: absolute control is the key to survival.

And a prudent practitioner is always in control.

Avoidable Approaches

Your "rigorous ruse" need not become a lugubrious mess. As mentioned earlier, when you need to disappear posthaste and with the appearance of utmost finality, accidental deaths, suicides, and abductions are among your most imprudent choices. Repeat: Worst. Choices. Ever. Nearly all require an accomplice: a witness who will either betray you or blackmail you, or both. Accidents also frequently rely upon last-minute escapes and complex mechanical props. The latter have a tendency to malfunction at the most inopportune times imaginable.

While all of these methods leave astral and physical trace evidence of your supposed passing, suicide is quite possibly the worst. It requires not only a body to substantiate its claim (your body, if I may belabor the point), but also a soul for reclamation by Death. The entity Itself is far more frightening than its many anthropomorphic manifestations would suggest and while Death loves a good firestorm, nothing enrages It more than a false suicide.

Unless of course, it's a reanimate vampire or someone who uses the Void's mysterious ether like a revolving door—not naming names, just saying... If you think conjuring a new visage for your new identity will be difficult (but is something you should do, by the way), try perpetuating multiple versions of said illusion for a century or four with Death and an army of Advancing Shades at your heels.

Seriously, some entities have no sense of humor whatsoever.

Last Words

The extraordinarily gifted among us have always paid a high price for possessing our innate abilities and developing them through our vocations as practitioners of the Infernal Arts. When confronted with creating your illusory death, be imaginative in your approach, meticulous in your execution, and wise (but not too wily) in your single choice of denouement.

Single: apparently, on this plane, you're only allowed one sleight-of-death per life.

Honestly, who knew? It's not like the ancients inscribed that juicy little tidbit on the Rosetta Stone!

Night is closing fast upon me. Shadows lengthen in the room and lurk in every corridor—menacing shades should be seen and not heard, by the way!

If any vampires are reading, please drop by my laboratory for a bite.

Now would be great.

~~~The End?~~~