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Post by Dead Sidekick on Jul 7, 2011 19:28:31 GMT -5
"You are wise to fear me while you stand as a remnant of Marduk's lost power, young Markus DeShayes. Nightmare has long tormented you with countless lifetimes of failing to survive the infinite iterations of the universe's undoing. And tormented your Jin en Mok servants as you cheat Oblivion's final termination of your existence while they lay trapped here. I am bound by a pact made with Marduk not to strike him at his weakest. I am not constrained against using his weakness.... you.... against him while he lives, fully powered. I must warn you that once you step through your Oblivion Gate and back into the mortal plane, your presence as a temporal anomaly will not go undetected. Or unextinguished. You will be hunted by more than the infernal hordes. Legions of Forerunners will come to slay you. You will return to the endless cycles your mark of Rebirth condemns you to. You speak of deceptions and schemes among the Damned. Do you presume your Ritual of Rebirth is not a curse upon you? That you are nothing but a contingency for the return of Marduk, who in this time is not missing? That you will survive your imminent confrontation with him this time after an infinite number of times you have not? Even now, only one of your dispatched Jin en Mok will return, and die before you to report the breach in time's integrity that brings us to this moment where you summon Nightmare and capture him, and bring my attentions upon you. It will continue to happen. I merely offer the same alternative you have incessantly rejected endless times. Your prior schemes have been inexhaustible in their failures. I beseech you to hear my alternative. Given that the limits of your incarnations fall between the earliest common ancestors of the mutant seed implanted among humans by the Celestials and perverted by the Maalacandra and the coming deathblow of the Sword of Crisis upon this multiverse, even the numbered paths of refuge are ever shrinking before the threat from Beyond that dwarfs even the Living Tribunal in power."
With a wave of his hand, Mephisto creates an image of a huge machine under construction in his Hell-Realm, a weapon of immense power.
"Beyondersbane can depower and slay the coming Anti-Life Entity when the appointed confrontation comes. But the weapon requires components that you are well-suited to collect, being as alien to this reality's metrics as that Entity itself. These components come from the same Fomorexian artifacts you seek, and the key to them lies with the insurgencies and chaos in Nightmare's realm. Craftily laid plans are at work in this time Morpheus has gone aloof and given his authority to the murderer who built the first human cities upon the rocks that cry out from the stains of his brother's blood. It is a beauty of ascendant evil that I must have for myself, or strike down as a rival. You spoke of cosmic consonance with Nightmare. Hear that my proposal for alliance is to... secure our side in the conflict. Release Nightmare from this restraint, and I will attend to soothing this clash of honors. Present your gifts to Nightmare, then consider my offer. We have need of each other."
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The Omen
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Post by The Omen on Jul 7, 2011 23:53:28 GMT -5
The Jin en Mok destroyed? And all this…just a casual loop…I cannot escape the weave of predestination! Reality itself undoes my plans! No! I will not be dealt the same hand again! If my own action is my enemy, then I will make a mockery of my own plans!The first gift, Lord of the midnight marches, is this. A promise to you: your daughters will play no part in my schemes. The Dreamqueen in Liveworld will not be freed by my hands nor will I aid Banner in his revenge for the conception of Daydream. Fall or rise, Nightmare’s realm is no longer my concern. For the second gift…I believe your standard desire is…“plus sa peur”, oui? “One’s Greatest Fear”? I give mine to you freely!I focus his own power and pour my nightmare into his now unprotected mind…
…And the Helm of Nabu shrieks as it crumples in my grasp.
The last defender has fallen. This reality is mine.
I toss the now lifeless helm aside and it rolls into the heap of broken trinkets I’ve collected: the Eye of Agammotto struck blind, the shattered Ruby of Life, the broken shards of Mjolnir, the lantern of emerald star metal dimmed . Each worthless. My father cringes at my feet. I grind his skull to paste beneath my heel. My dog Etrigan whimpers on his leash, begging to feast on the scrapes. He flashes a grateful smile as I allow him to lick my boots.
I throw open the battered doors of Strange’s Sanctum Sanctorum, and exalt in the wash of anguished, tormented screams that bathe my ears. The torturous punishments lavished upon the last son of krypton continue to give my Legions of Doom great pleasure. In the distance I catch a glimpse of a smile as my lieutenant, Luthor, takes another turn at the whip. My concubines crawl to me and entwine themselves around my legs. Trigon’s daughter writhes in ecstasy, lost in the pleasure of a world filled with suffering. The Darkchilde slithers to her feet and bites my cheek, drawing blood. I smile as she licks it away.
My people assemble before me, standning astride mountains of flatscans, shouting my name: “Markus! Markus! Markus!” Magnus himself cowers at the head of the crowd. He bows low and pledges fealty to the new House of M.
And then it happens.
The crowd falls silent. It parts like the Red Sea and my Legions roar with fear. They all flee, a mad stampede of pure chaos decimating the last of my the last of my followers. The rampaging mob obscures the face of the relentlessly approaching savior of mankind. I hear a peaceful sigh on the wind as the kryptonian expires and my rage grows cold. I peer downward and sheer terror mars the faces of my concubines. Their fear bleeds into me in violent gush as they vanish in pillars of smoke and circles of light. I look up then and see the face of humanity's savior’s directly in front of mine. He smiles, strikes a match off my forehead, and lights a Silk Cut.“Alright, squire?” He blows a puff of acrid smoke into my face and I scream…[/b] ...and for one brief moment I relish the act of cruelty...an act of petty, frustrated revenge. In my soul, I feel Mephisto's smile...As I said, these gifts are simply in appreciation of your time. I trust they are worthy of you.With those words, I cast Nightmare from my world. His power goes with him. Slowly I turn to face Mephisto and reach for his hand...Où allons-nous commencer?
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Post by Dead Sidekick on Jul 8, 2011 5:09:30 GMT -5
Mephisto smirks as Nightmare is flung back to his world of horrors, then turns Markus' question. "Where do we start? I have already started. I have been preparing for this day since I was cast into this multiverse, filled with hidden wonders and unexplored paths to power. Collecting them for myself, rising to become my station as Supreme among ther Lords of the Hell-Realms. I was once small, though not as small as you. The Vril, the Jin en Mok, I counted among my brothers. I was the first to study the hidden lores of this multiverse, the power within evil."
"Where must you start? Small. In order for my scheme to work, your actions must be subtle. Your spite and malice are admirable, but you lack sufficient power outside your realm. I can not always protect you or reveal my hand in things. We must acquire the book of the mad warlock Bartholomew Jacobs, and I will have his soul. The direct approach will not work, and already the Jin en Mok you sent to reserve another ancestral incarnation of you has corrupted him against us. Return to your manor on the mortal realm. I will guide an assistant to you."
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The Omen
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Post by The Omen on Jul 11, 2011 23:48:50 GMT -5
A hint of annoyance wafts over me at Mephisto's order. I ignore it. Literally countless lifetimes of Miltonian farce have tempered my pride, so I swallow it and resign myself to playing the hand Mephisto has dealt. For now.
As you well know, Majesty, power lies in application not sheer might. You have my word that I shall be the equal of any task you set before me. I do not give it lightly. As soon as you depart, I'll return to my abode and await your agent.
I bow, then begin fortifying the realm within the Oblivion Gate against intrustion and finally take my leave of this place.
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Post by Dead Sidekick on Jul 12, 2011 0:36:18 GMT -5
Mephisto nods enigmatically, and in a flare of hellfire disappears.
Markus' Jin en Mok hasten to stand as sentries. They swear to protect Markus' Splinter-Realm in his absence.
Returning to Fire Lake, Markus is met in his study by Anton Devine.
"Welcome back. Sir, you have a visitor. He claims he has an appointment. Shall I show him in?"
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The Omen
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Post by The Omen on Jul 12, 2011 2:20:49 GMT -5
OOC- Play me...
Home again, home again…jiggity jig. The family manor reeks of ambition, depravity and madness. A distant part of me finds peace here. I seat myself behind my thrice-great grandfather’s mahogany Georgian pedestal desk. Anton stands at the ready, playing the dutiful manservant. It is both irritating and comforting. "Welcome back. Sir, you have a visitor. He claims he has an appointment. Shall I show him in?"
I consider admonishing him for calling me sir…we are family of a sort, after all…but it has never made a difference in the past. Too much familiarity would be a danger to us both, I imagine.
In a moment, oncle Anton. It’s time to earn your keep, old friend. I have several tasks for you. Contact the church and see what the network knows about Shuma-Gorath’s current activities…the name is familiar, but I can’t place it. Also, I need to know more about something called the Vril. I assume they’re yet another class of proto-demon…oh, and find me someone versed in spellcraft to protect minds against dream intrusion. A professional. Nightmare will no doubt be seeking some sort of reckoning, despite assurances to the contrary…do that first. I want them here by tonight.
Any word from our “sweet” little Jainey?
When he finishes his report, I give him leave to send my “appointment” in. Just as Anton reaches the door, a thought occurs to me.
Oncle…is this the first time you’ve seen me today?
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Post by Dead Sidekick on Jul 12, 2011 19:03:42 GMT -5
Anton squints at Markus through his wire-rimmed glasses and strokes his goatee. "Shuma-Gorath? What made you think of that old myth? I'm afraid there isn't much to know about that one. At least not without a trip to the bottom of the ocean and a trusty tour guide. Some sort of dark god, worshipped in Atlantis before it sank millenia ago. Who knows what's true and what's speculation about that, given the precarious relations the surface world has with the kingdoms of Atlantis. Who even knows if the Atlanteans have that information? It's not like they're open to archaeological research, even if we had the submarine technology to do so. Some say dreams of that nightmarish creature inspired Lovecraft's Cthulu mythos. Whatever it is, more than likely it's bogus half-baked fiction and fodder for pulp horror novels." "The Vril are something else entirely." Anton takes down a book from a shelf and hands it to Markus. The book is entitled Inside Project Darkdoor - Occultism in Nazi Germany 1938 - 1945"Apparently, the Nazis were working on the means to open a portal across time and space to meet with what they believed to be the master race of the entire universe... 'Space Aryans' to make a crude Nazi analogy. Accounts differ. Some say they succeeded in tapping the Darkforce. Others say they opened the gates of Hell. Whatever those Nazis did, it killed them. Project: Darkdoor resulted in the deaths of most of Nazi Germany's top occult experts and was quietly shut down in pursuit of other endeavors. Nowadays, the Vril are mostly the subject of UFO enthusiasts and the dark side of neo-fascist anti-mutant hate groups." {ooc: the behind the scenes story the Vril come in to play in the modern era "hasn't happened yet" by the game time line... ![;)](//storage.proboards.com/forum/images/smiley/wink.png) It's from a Cloak and Dagger story involving Mephisto... www.marvunapp.com/Appendix3/thuleeyeofforce.htm ...but, it's a Starky's Pool Hall / Buzzcuts gang clue nonetheless ![:P](//storage.proboards.com/forum/images/smiley/tongue.png) } Anton continues, "Your dreams are bothering you? I suppose one with your gifts of prophecy and foresight is bound to 'see' something sufficiently troubling. There is much chaos in the air. This year's Samhain ought to be fairly spiritually active. Have you taken the time from your studies to watch the television? Lots of reports of monsters appearing out of nowhere in New York City. I haven't heard from Jaine. You know how she likes to run away for weeks on end." At Markus' last question, Anton says, "Yes, I saw you this morning, before you came in here. I wasn't going to disturb you until this man showed up claiming he had an appointment with you. Were you expecting a 'Mr. Bitterhorn?'"
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The Omen
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Post by The Omen on Jul 14, 2011 5:10:27 GMT -5
Little wonder that the name stuck but a faint chord of familiarity within my memory then. Half-remembered tales of ancient boogey men from an idealized age of high fantasy, no doubt. An echo of ancestral memory grown sinister in the depth of dreams. Were it anyone but Nightmare who evoked the name Shuma-Gorath, I would have dismissed it outright. There may be some truth to his boasts of “destruction by slumbering god” but as long as it confines itself to myth, it is Nightmare’s concern not mine. My curiosity sated, I focus my attention on Anton’s report.
"The Vril are something else entirely." Anton takes down a book from a shelf and hands it to Markus. The book is entitled Inside Project Darkdoor - Occultism in Nazi Germany 1938 - 1945
"Apparently, the Nazis were working on the means to open a portal across time and space to meet with what they believed to be the master race of the entire universe...”
“Nazis from outer space”? Est il de son esprit ? No…no, it has all the trappings of an elaborate, tasteless joke that I myself might play…it must be true. “ 'Space Aryans' to make a crude Nazi analogy. Accounts differ. Some say they succeeded in tapping the Darkforce. Others say they opened the gates of Hell. Whatever those Nazis did, it killed them. Project: Darkdoor resulted in the deaths of most of Nazi Germany's top occult experts and was quietly shut down in pursuit of other endeavors. Nowadays, the Vril are mostly the subject of UFO enthusiasts and the dark side of neo-fascist anti-mutant hate groups."
The last rings with the sound of foreboding. I make a note to look into it further.
Anton continues, "Your dreams are bothering you? I suppose one with your gifts of prophecy and foresight is bound to 'see' something sufficiently troubling.”
Ah. Of course. Sometimes I forget that – despite his newfound clout in the satanic community – Anton is not the man he will one day be…and that man was merely several shades from clueless about the truth of the hidden forces in the world...
“There is much chaos in the air. This year's Samhain ought to be fairly spiritually active. Have you taken the time from your studies to watch the television? Lots of reports of monsters appearing out of nowhere in New York City. I haven't heard from Jaine. You know how she likes to run away for weeks on end."
If there are “monsters” emerging into this plane, it is not safe for her to be out there alone. She is too valuable to the future we are creating. Find her. Did you dvr the news reports?
"At Markus' last question, Anton says, "Yes, I saw you this morning, before you came in here. I wasn't going to disturb you until this man showed up claiming he had an appointment with you. Were you expecting a 'Mr. Bitterhorn?'"
...
...That certainly is one way to look at it. Send “Bitterhorn” in. And then call all of my usual haunts…locally…and make sure I’m not there right now. Don’t ask…it’s not important unless I AM at two places at once…then get me a decent onieromancer here and find Jaine. In that order…please.
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Post by Dead Sidekick on Jul 14, 2011 6:14:21 GMT -5
Anton is startled at Markus last request. "Every day you befuddle me with your abilities. Can you be more than one place at once, or do you think someone is impersonating you?" Then he teased, "Are you really you? It's not often you ask me about your own whereabouts."
Seeing his joke go over like a lead baloon, Anton says, "I'll show Mr. Bitterhorn in..."
Anton escorts in a man in a dark suit and tie with fedora, with slightly pointed ears and a long goatee. His skin is dark olive, almost a putrid green, though Anton does not seem to notice the devilish looking man is not quite human. Anton departs, closing the door behind him.
The man in black scans the study, his eyes piercing the dim room with a haunting yellow light. He reaches into the shadows and pulls out a scrawny, winged imp-like creature by the throat. Coils of smoke and the smell of sulphur rise from the man's hand as it holds the writhing creature by its neck. He simply says "Leave us" and tosses the imp back into the shadows and it disappears.
The man takes a seat across from Markus' desk, and says, "I am Bitterhorn. I apologize for clearing your sanctum of prying eyes. The Master sent me to assist you with getting closer to the Formorexian's grimoire."
Bitterhorn looks at the Project Darkdoor book on Markus' desk and stifles a chuckle.
"A dangerous game is being played. You need to get close to the crimelord called Hammerhead. I have arranged for you to pose as a money launderer who is traveling to New York from Chicago to play poker with Hammerhead. The gang wars going on along the East Coast are creating chaotic energies as a spell component involving several Formorexian artifacts. Getting close to Hammerhead will put you on the path to finding these artifacts, which will lead you to the grimoire of Bartholomew Jacobs. You will be 'Sam Evans.' The real Sam Evans is here..." Bitterhorn pats a flask in his pocket. "The Master has already collected his debt. There is no longer a need for his presence on this mortal plane. Just his name. You will take his name."
Bitterhorn reaches into his pocket, and produces two plane tickets, one to Chicago, and one to New York City from Chicago.
"You must depart to New York from Chicago in two days."
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The Omen
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Post by The Omen on Jul 14, 2011 23:10:29 GMT -5
So...let me make sure I understand you correctly, Mr. Bitterhorn:
Not only do you expect me - a respectable, if admittedly reclusive student slash businessman - to pose as un usurier and insert myself without any protection into a den a depraved criminals to engage in parlor games with what I must assume is some kind of were-shark gangster, but you also expect me to fly on a commercial jet...in coach, I'm assuming? I applaud your master's subtlety...not many people can say "go to hell" with such style.
*sigh* Very well...is there anything I should know about Mr. Evans? Associates, past mistakes, lovers or the like?
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Post by Dead Sidekick on Jul 15, 2011 1:14:00 GMT -5
"You will fly first class to 'hell.'" Bitterhorn sinisterly giggles, "Sam Evans has a reputation for his skills at poker, and his financial acumen. You should be aware he is... was... tied to the Midwest Maggia, and that Hammerhead has been trying to woo him for some investment capital. As a protected asset of the Midwest Maggia, not much is known about him in New York City. None of Hammerhead's sources know much else about him, or even what he looks like. You would be free to... embellish at your discretion. Clearly you should be able to use your gifts to be a better poker player."
Bitterhorn adds, "Sam Evans' name and reputation will protect you until the day enough of his remains are found, gathered, and identified, if ever. My Master was fairly thorough in the fulfillment of his bargain with him. The price of removing certain obstacles in Sam Evans' life in the Maggia was plainly stated. In exchange for his soul and life, my Master cleared his debts to the Maggia, and kept their hitmen from slaying him. I slew him instead. And it was fun. I so love it when the Master sends me to release a soul from its mortal coil."
Bitterhorn stares at Markus with a malevolent visage.
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Post by Dead Sidekick on Jul 15, 2011 1:16:46 GMT -5
ooc: Judge's secret FEAT roll...
[attack=101492558447223]
ooc: awww....
Markus should rightfully feel suspicious of this dangerous plan, but his precognition on the outcome is clouded. (for now).
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The Omen
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Post by The Omen on Jul 15, 2011 8:09:23 GMT -5
Aucun becquet ? Ah bien ... ce n'est pas si mauvais…And what part do you play in all this, Mr. Bitterhorn? You don’t exactly seem the messenger type. How do you like that chair, by the way? Do you find it comfortable? It’s one of my favorite pieces, I must say. An addition to the décor by my paternal grandfather, purchased from a tiny shop in Saint-Vallier, Quebec. Family legend has it that it belonged to a descendant of a distant ancestor of my mother, a woman by the name of Marie-Josephte Corriveau… While I speak, I think of my grandfather…his voice, his hands, his thoughts. I think of the Dark Soul, once bound in him and now bound to me. I think of Bitterhorn’s flask and how its contents confirm my thoughts of his true nature. And I wonder: would the spirit within me have foreseen this? Would it have prepared -so long ago- for the day a creature like Bitterhorn would sit before it, subtlety threatening to add the Dark Soul to the contents of his flask? I imagine hands guided by darkness carving runes of binding, a Devil’s Trap permanently etched in the wood of the chair. It’s what I would have done…(OOC- [narrative is from the false history perspective...] have no idea if it'll work and not really concerned enough about the outcome to spend karma , but...Incarnation Awareness roll to tell "Satan" to (already have) put a generic demon binding trap on the chair...)[attack=518914241664113] …she was a fascinating woman in her own right…according to folklore at least. Murder and Black Sabbaths and other daytime television plot elements. Forgive me…I ramble sometimes. Are you comfortable? Would you like something to drink…something else to drink while we finish up our business? Anton makes a surprisingly good Vesper. Perhaps it is a bit early in the day for cocktails, but what’s the point of wealth if you can’t indulge in a little decadence now and then?
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The Omen
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Post by The Omen on Jul 15, 2011 8:13:22 GMT -5
OOC - Guess that would be a no then lol
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Post by Dead Sidekick on Jul 15, 2011 15:43:20 GMT -5
ooc: sorry... Feeble Incarnation Awareness is... feeble ![;)](//storage.proboards.com/forum/images/smiley/wink.png) Bitterhorn says, "The chair is indeed comfortable. Many things scurry in the shadows of your home, as well as your ancestry. That too is comfortable. It is no wonder that my Master finds you... useful." Bitterhorn declines the offer for a drink and gets up to leave. "I must be going. My Master bids me to continue my work. Many seek the same artifacts we do. I will contact you when you have acquired them." Anton escorts Bitterhorn out, and he gets into a black Rolls Royce that drives away. Markus has an odd feeling that the next time he meets Bitterhorn will not be so amicable.
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