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Post by Danny Whizz-BANG! on Jan 13, 2021 17:51:30 GMT -5
((Reserved for The Cedar Witch))
He stifled a groan as the knife bit into the meat of his thumb. Blood filled the slit immediately before bubbling out onto the surface of his hand with an eagerness that he was unfamiliar with. Nevertheless, he put the knife back down onto the rickety aluminum cart next to him and made a fist to urge the blood out faster, collecting it in the shallow ceramic bowl as he had been told to. The same frown remained written deeply in his face, his eyebrows furrowed as he watched the blood - his blood - trickle and fill the bowl to the designated line. The flow of blood began to slow as that tell-tale cold sweat broke out on his forearms and face. It was only once the line was reached and the throbbing in his hand was too much to bear that he unclenched his fist and seized the grey hand towel next to the bowl. He wrapped the towel around his wound as tightly as he could, staunching the flow and hopefully the nagging pain which accompanied it. When he was convinced that he could gingerly remove the cloth without tearing the flesh apart again, resulting in another round of bleeding, he did so and opened a bandage to place over the wound as it closed.
The shop had once belonged to a mechanic who specialized in Japanese engines and the proof lay all over the counters, cabinets and leftover equipment. The floor was blackened by both the lack of light within the empty space and He had been assured that this building would work well for the ritual and that no one would disturb them. Except for the flickering sound of the candles around him, the warehouse was eerily quiet. Still his ear strained in its vigilance, the faint sounds he knew threatening to be monsters he didn't. For many long moments, he ignored the strong rhythm of his heart in his ears and focused on uncorking the bottle of liquor on the table. He poured two glasses of the best whiskey he could find and turned back to face the ritual space. In the middle of the concrete floor, Edgar had placed a rusted iron roller chair covered in greasy handprints from the warehouse's former occupants. A generous trail of liquid paraffin oil encircled the chair with a narrow berth. He placed one of the glasses of whiskey he had poured onto the seat of the chair. He then brought a small wooden table within the circle of oil, retrieving also the bag given to him from his benefactors. Carefully, he took each of the items out and laid them ceremoniously on the wooden table - a necklace with a sapphire pendant no bigger than his thumb's nail, a gaudy black ring with a vibrant, polished piece of amethyst set in the center, and a glass decanter of Louis XIII Cognac. Careful not to smudge the oil on the ground, Edgar Figueroa stepped away from the chair and picked up the bowl of his own blood. With the diligence which was taught to him, he crouched and began to drip a steady bead of blood around the outside of the oil, making sure not to break the line. With the excess blood he drew four sigils on his skin beneath his clothing, and the last one on his left temple with shaking fingers.
He took a minute and put the bowl back down on the cart, picking up a set of matches and stretching his neck. His hand went to the amethyst pendant beneath his shirt one last time as he struck the match. His heart hammered in his chest and he clamped his teeth shut together like a vice to keep his stoic expression in place.
"Chtahzus'aak," Edgar said clearly to the room, dropping the match onto the oil as soon as the demon's name was fully off of his lips.
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Post by The Cedar Witch on Jan 13, 2021 19:13:50 GMT -5
This demon was nowhere on the Earthly realm.
He was in Ghatti’s war room in the Demonic Kingdom of Vobet. A band of the last of Ghatti’s most loyal had just returned from a very long search. There had been a development -- a demon in the far reaches of the Thedeba region claimed to have seen the missing King go into the endless Kirsor Caverns, where it was rumored that the bandit Kirsor kept his cache of dragon souls. Ghatti was a fool, that much Zeus was certain of. Everyone knew the Kirsor Cache was nothing more than baseless rumor -- but his most loyal insisted on an expedition into the perilous cave system. With only half their numbers reporting back to him, he knew that they had failed.
“Tell me what you found,” he implored patiently, palms placed flat on the table before him.
“Gorgons--”
“For the last time, Thetch, it wasn’t Gorgons--”
“Then explain the statues!”
“There’s no such thing as Gorgons, Thetch.”
“I know what I saw--”
Zeus allowed the six to argue for a moment, bringing a single huge hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. Outside the castle the demonic winds began to howl.
“What I am saying is a Gorgon must have taken him, we have to go back and--”
“The Gorgons are a myth!”
“Enough,” Zeus held out his hand for silence. The band complied, gazes respectfully averted. “The caves are a fool’s errand,” Zeus sighed, “but we will continue to search--” a whispering picked up in his ear “for Ghatti. We must be sure--” whispers again, more clearly
Chtazus’aak
The demonic gale outside whipped into a frenzy, drawing the gaze of everyone in the room.
Who had his name?
“Fuck--” Zeus spoke through clenched teeth as his form crumpled into shadow and he was pulled rapidly toward the source of his summons.
The last time he had been summoned, it took years to orchestrate a way out of the contract -- and humans were not as clever then. It took years still to find and obliterate all who knew of his name from the face of that planet. So confident he had been that none alive (or dead, for that matter) could utter so much as a syllable of his name…
Simultaneously the candles extinguished themselves, spindly tendrils of smoke filling the room with the scent of char and wax. It would have plunged the room into darkness if not for the ring of fire. When the demon rematerialized in the seat of an iron stool, surrounded by blood, fire, and magic, it was only the shot of whiskey in his hand preventing him from losing his composure entirely. At least the ceilings here were high enough to accommodate the size of his demon form, even if he was forced to fold his limbs uncomfortably in order to sit.
Zeus scowled, setting his narrow, weighted gaze on the insignificant man before him. Shadows clung tight to his horns, folded wings quivering with the rage he had boiling beneath the surface of his skin. He didn’t look over the offerings -- this was insult: more trap than summoning.
This man had no idea who he was dealing with.
“How did you come by my name?” the demon growled low, setting the glass down on the table before him.
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Post by Danny Whizz-BANG! on Jan 29, 2021 21:27:57 GMT -5
The sight of the creature's enormous bulk squeezed onto the small iron chair would have ordinarily brought a grin to his stubbled face - especially had all the light in the room remained. This, on the other hand, was almost too much.
His body stiffened noticeably as shadows grouped together and the image of the demon formed within the circle. Fig bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to temporarily draw both blood and his attention away from the terror that gripped his throat and innards. As the flames settled around the circle and the demon on the seat glowered down at him, Fig did his best not to gape at the beast. He had never seen a demon before - at least that he knew of, anyway. He had heard tales, whispers of the beasts, and of course he had been briefed on them before he agreed to the assignment. But seeing the devil was much worse than he imagined and he hoped to Christ he wouldn't shit himself with fear.
"Oh, there are a great many things you can find out about someone," he said quietly, hoping his voice held more confidence than he felt, "if you know where to look." He turned his back on the demon, but kept his good ear facing its way, figuring that if the beast could have gotten out of the trap, it probably already would have. So except for the slight quiver in his voice, everything was going according to plan.
Edgar cleared his throat, chasing away the knot as much as he could before continuing. "I was wondering if you and I might have a conversation," he said with the hope that his voice sounded more casual than it felt. He hadn't left much opportunity for Chtahzus'aak to refuse, of course, but the precedence needed to be set after all. Fig picked up the glass of whiskey that he had poured for himself and took a swig before turning back to the devil in the trap and leaned against the table.
"Do you know who I am?" There was no sign of boast in his words, but rather the expectation that his name was at least known among the vermin that walked at night.
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Post by The Cedar Witch on Jan 29, 2021 22:25:35 GMT -5
The prick's answer pushed Zeus' face deeper into a scowl -- much to the demon's distain. Emotional reaction was easy to exploit - best to quell it all, especially in the beginning. Not that he expected this human to be smart, but there was no harm in caution. Black eyes bored into the back of the human's head as Zeus made effort to swallow his rage. After a soft, slow exhale he allowed his shoulders to drop and back to straighten. The iron at his backside filled him with ridged discomfort - though it was far from being a restraint in its current configuration.
"You are someone with ambition and resources," Zeus spoke slowly, keeping his eyes locked on the human's face. This human struck him as either a businessman or politician. "And you've brought me here - " in this half-assed summoning, no, this trap - "for a conversation?" His otherwise measured tone edged on incredulity.
"Do you know who I am?" His wings flexed involuntarily, as if testing the boundary of the circle. This trapping attempt was not one he had seen before, and it seemed to be composed of at least two different rituals. The fire smelled natural and of this world - it would burn out soon. The blood on the human's temple drew Zeus' attention for a moment before he returned his gaze back to his eyes. Eye contact triggered a pulse of rage through the demon's gut, resulting in a contemptuous squint.
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Post by Danny Whizz-BANG! on Jan 30, 2021 17:09:26 GMT -5
Fig chose his words carefully, well aware that any misstep around a demon could be his end, magical protections be damned. And while those protections may be protecting him from the demon's wrath, he was keenly aware of how demons were sticklers for verbal contracts. No, this is why Edgar had been chosen - for his tact in negotiating. Best not to lose that edge now due to something so primal as fear.
"From what I've gathered," Fig started, locking eyes with the beast, "you're one of the more... influential demons of Hell." Fig did his best to offer a smirk and remain casual despite his locked jaw and pounding heart. At least the whiskey helped. "I'm hoping that we can come to... an agreement during your time here in the city." He took another small taste of the drink, just enough to warm his mouth and throat before continuing.
"My name is Ed Figueroa and I'm the Mayor of Dusk. I'm told by my predecessor that this city has a ..." he paused, thinking on how best to describe what he needed to communicate, "...bit of a blight on it. One that, until I took office, I knew absolutely nothing about."
On the table in front of the demon, the sapphire necklace suddenly shook, vibrating against the wooden table as if it were mechanized and angry. Edgar's eyes, fully anticipating the event, fell briefly onto the item before lifting back to examine the other's reaction.
"You see," he continued, allowing only the briefest of moments to pass for the demon to consider what had just happened, "it's come to my attention that there is an entire population of supernatural beings living in my city and preying upon the human population. And that the size of that population is considerably larger than anyone running a city should have to deal with, let alone expect taxpayers to support."
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Post by The Cedar Witch on Jan 30, 2021 17:43:04 GMT -5
This was the fucking mayor? Zeus had been away from this little corner of the country long enough that the shift in human power structure escaped his notice. He had only minor dealings with the previous human mayor -- none of them directly -- and that was at least two years ago.
At the vibration against the table, Zeus' gaze also moved to the necklace before returning to Figueroa. If these were the offerings for summoning before him, they were likely magical objects. As for their function, there were no obvious clues. In his experience, most objects intended to be worn were either for protection, restraint, concealment, or attraction (be it love or luck) -- so this sudden movement was puzzling. Zeus expected the objects would eventually be explained - though he doubted the accuracy of whatever information Figueroa possessed, considering how this summoning-trap had been constructed. It mattered little, in any case, since Zeus had his own network of appraisers in both the Demonic Realms and this one. These details would be explored one way or another.
Zeus' expression otherwise remained stony, lips drawn to a taut line.
"Go on," He responded evenly, waiting for Figueroa to get to his point. He personally couldn't give a shit about human taxes and doubted that Figueroa's true motivation was to save taxpayer money. The type of people that summoned demons sought personal gain - or they were foolishly desperate. Figueroa spoke as though he had a rat problem in his house and was looking for an exterminator. But why summon a demon to have a conversation about this? Were demons not considered part of the supernatural populace?
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Post by Danny Whizz-BANG! on Feb 7, 2021 19:14:26 GMT -5
The demon's comment, while not exactly encouraging, was an indication that at least the beast was listening, if not willing to accept any proposal that came across. Not that Chtahzus'aak could have denied any proposal at this point, especially not while bound to Edgar. Still, that willingness would go a long way to help Fig in achieving the goals he had.
But instead of continuing, Fig took another calming taste of the liquor before putting the glass down on the cart and crossing his arms over his chest. "I brought those with me as a peace offering," he nodded in the direction of the table in front of the demon. "I also hear you're a big fan of unique magical artifacts.
"That necklace is the Sapphire of Saint Germain." It was a gaudy thing, the size of a palm and heavy, something that he imagined the crowned heads of Europe wore daily along with their powdered wigs and whale bone lined clothing. The gold chain was wide and matched the gem in gaudiness. "Apparently St. Germain was a notorious philosopher and liar in the 1700's. He claimed to be able to perform alchemy and purify even the cloudiest of gems. Until some witch caught him switching clouded, cheaper gems with better ones. Rumor says that the witch switched Germain's actual pendent with this one, exposing him every time he conned the court of Louis XV.
"Someone who needs to know whether he can trust those around him might find it's talents useful." Fig smirked, searching to see the demon's reaction to the necklace that had been handed to him as bait. He had been reassured that the demon would want it, even if it had never heard of the gem before.
"That ring is the Earthly Guardian." He spoke as if these words had some true meaning to him. Fig had no doubt that these items were magical - he had been given their history, an overview of their powers, and just enough talking points to be able to feign interest - but whatever they could do was of no real relevance to him. The objects had been handed to him in a most secure way and then he had been dismissed with his assignment. "It protects the wearer from any and all Earthly magic for a limited time. Even killing magic."
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Post by The Cedar Witch on Feb 11, 2021 18:20:50 GMT -5
I also hear you're a big fan of unique magical artifacts.
Zeus restrained a glare, the intensity of his distaste for the man before him growing by the second. Who gave Figueroa his name? Who told Figueroa anything about what he liked to do? He bit the inside of his cheek gently, focusing his attention on the vile human's explanation. Ordinary circumstances would have left the demon with better patience, but this summoning was a ridiculous detour from his evening's schedule.
So the vibrating necklace had an interesting purpose after all. The story of Saint Germain was known to him, and now the demon recalled that this particular necklace had been on his list of Objects of Interest. It certainly was not an object he prioritized acquiring at this time, with his attentions firmly elsewhere. However, with the artifact before him now... No -- now was not the time to lose focus. How did some hot-shot new mayor come to acquire such lucrative goods? Was he a collector?
And what lie had Figueroa spoken to trigger the effects of the necklace? It was when the human had introduced himself, revealed his status, and how he learned of the city's underbelly. Which fact was the lie? The demon silently sucked his teeth behind firmly closed lips. With each moment Figueroa continued to talk, Zeus' unblinking eyes continued to darken. When the human finally finished speaking, Zeus' head tilted to the side inquisitively.
"A peace offering," He echoed softly, the illusion of patience scarcely obscuring the anger that churned in his gut. These objects, then, were not for summoning? Figueroa was playing a dangerous game, or he was the city's resident fool. "Why?"
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Post by Danny Whizz-BANG! on Feb 26, 2021 21:13:01 GMT -5
He could feel the suspicion and the debate grow between them. Ordinarily he loved the chase of persuasion, the thrill of shifting the opinions of others to follow him. Tonight, however, was different. Every bit of confidence that puffed his chest was accompanied by a heart-racing fear of the sight - the true visage - of this demon. He took another sip of whiskey to steel his nerves and slow the spiral of concerns he had about his own wellbeing. He was as safe as he could be, after all. Brother Enders had assured him of that.
"You want a safe place to collect souls, right?"
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Post by The Cedar Witch on Feb 27, 2021 10:48:46 GMT -5
It was difficult to suppress the twitch of a smile that flashed across his features. As if he needed a human's promise of safety to take what he needed. As if he, of all the demons with access to this city, were so desperately wanting for souls.
"Peace offering..." the demon murmured, shaking his head.
Ed Figueroa - city fool.
"This-" Zeus gestured at the collection of objects, "is not about what I want." He paused, locking eyes with Figueroa as the silence hung long enough to allow for the hint of uncertainty to creep in.
"So far, you've ripped me from my day's agenda for a conversation -- that we might come to some sort of agreement -- and this necessitates a peace offering because I need a safe space to collect souls?" His gaze narrowed, voice deepening with newly revealed impatience. "I am busy. Get to your point, human."
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Post by Danny Whizz-BANG! on Feb 27, 2021 19:41:03 GMT -5
It took a moment after the demon had spoken for his fright that threatened to release his bladder to dissipate. The anger thick in the demon's tone turned his blood to ice, a feeling unlike anything he had ever felt in all his years of war. Despite the minor tremble that shook his knees, Edgar still attempted a sly smirk at the demon.
"You're right, Chtazus'aak," he lead, the condescension of his position thinner than he would have preferred. A dangerous, risky feeling ran hot through his veins as he spoke. "This is about what I want. And now that we're being frank with each other, I couldn't care less about what you want, or how busy you were. I summoned you, so now you work for me." He beamed at the demon, gesturing with the glass of whiskey at the spell ingredients on the floor that kept the demon bound - and bound him to Edgar. "So that agreement that I want us to come to? That is the only way you are going to be able to go back to your own world. Back to your plans, your battles, your torturing." Edgar waved his hand nonchalantly as if he were listing off laundry items. "So I suggest you get comfortable and hear me out."
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Post by The Cedar Witch on Feb 27, 2021 21:19:56 GMT -5
One of Zeus' large hands curled into a fist at the sound of his name on the human's tongue, nails biting into his palm to quiet the stirring rage. He wondered how far Figueroa's tongue would stretch with steady, patient pulling before it ripped from his throat. A witch - Chtahzus'aak needed to find a witch.
While Figueroa continued to speak, Zeus straightened. It seemed for a moment that the human was finally done dancing around the topic of what he wanted. Instead there was more posturing and insults. Humans were so quick to forget the nature of summoning - the strength of a contract wrought with clarity and respect. For the duration of their conversation thus far, Zeus had never so viciously wanted to demonstrate the fallibility of this summoning more than in this moment. Of course, there was nothing gained by sharing this insight with him. At the end of the night, Figueroa -- and others -- still had his name.
"Go on," he repeated as he had before, injecting a tone of impatience. "I am listening."
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Post by Danny Whizz-BANG! on Mar 5, 2021 17:57:04 GMT -5
Good, Edgar thought to himself, relaxing his shoulders and allowing himself a moment of excitement before he continued.
"I want to enter into a contract with you." The words almost caught in his throat. Brother Enders had spent some extra time telling him how to open the contract, reminding him of the devious nature of demons. Any slip up, any loophole and this fucker would wiggle its way in and tear him apart. Fig took the last sip of whiskey, sucked his teeth and swallowed it before making his demands.
"You will help me purge this city of all supernaturals," Fig said plainly. "Start with vampires and hunt them all down - eat them, kill them, toss them out of the city; I don't care, so long as they stay out of Dusk. I'll give you one year to complete this task." He watched the demon for his reaction and continued despite it. "In exchange, you can have my soul the day my people determine the city is monster-free and exclusive collection rights in the city - with a couple restrictions in place of course. And if in your purge you want to extract the souls from any of those being hunted, I won't complain, so long as the humans of Dusk are kept safe."
His throat dried up again. Good thing he had this bitch by the balls.
"Refuse me or stall me, and your name will be sent using the city's emergency broadcasting network to every June Cleaver housewife and every teenage witch-wannabe with information on how to summon and trap you for good on this plane." Fig took a moment to smirk. "Should I or any of my staff or family be mysteriously killed or maimed, just know that witches in this city are not fond of your name or reputation. And considering how easy it was to come by and summon you... Well, I imagine that a highly skilled witch wouldn't have much trouble finding you. And rest assured, I am the only one standing between you and banishment entirely." Fig then threw a purposeful glance at the necklace of St. Germain which, of course, lay perfectly still.
"So. What do you say?" To rub salt in the wound, Figueroa took out his cell phone and navigated to his drafted messages, where the exact message waited.
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Post by The Cedar Witch on Dec 10, 2021 15:29:58 GMT -5
There it was -- the contract. The demon could feel that telltale vibration of magic hanging on the words - undetectable to the ordinary and something that any demon knew heralded the beginning of a binding. From the shadows of the offerings before him emerged a single charcoal-hued page. This stoked the rage simmering beneath his skin. A mask of ice shifted over Zeus' expression, drawing the corners of his mouth downward. While Edgar took his shot of liquid courage a crimson-feathered Quill appeared, poised over the page.
Zeus waited while the vile human laid out his terms, watching as the Quill translated the request in blood red onto the dark page.
Chtahzus'aak will help Edgar Figueroa purge Dusk of all Supernaturals - starting with vampires - in one year. Payment upfront is the Earthly Guardian, the Necklace of Saint Germain, one decanter of Louis XIII Cognac, and minimum of one year's life energy. Payment upon completion is Edgar Figueroa's soul-- Here the Quill paused, quivering. Of course, the only soul the vile human could offer as payment was his own. Unless he had brought along someone to sacrifice on the spot -- this may have been enough to lubricate the deal. A couple dozen sheep or goats would have helped -- but their souls were hardly worth the sum total of those lives existing within the city. It was a tall request to fill with such paltry payment -- Zeus would have to be creative to fulfill the terms of the contract.
When Figueroa again turned to threats, Zeus' gaze darkened. Was this a binding or a blackmailing? The demon allowed silence fall over them while he maintained steady eye-contact. Slowly, as if straining under a weight, Zeus stood. Now off the iron stool, his wings stretched to the edges of the flame and quivered. At a deliberate pace, his eyes moved across the offerings laid on the table before returning to the vile human before him.
"Are you certain you've done this correctly?" He asked, tone neutral if not patient. The Quill hovered above the page, waiting to complete the contract.
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Post by Danny Whizz-BANG! on Dec 11, 2021 21:04:07 GMT -5
The demon before him, stretched to full height with opened wings made the muscles around his bladder feel weak. He composed himself with a roll of his shoulders like a fluff of feathers. There was a drive, a compulsion to show this monster who was actually in charge of this situation. But also the need for safety, to run the fuck out of there before he made himself into something that he would direly regret.
He never really cared about this idea of souls, but being face to face with the magical reality that something below the surface of his understanding sure rocked that boat. Perspiration slid down the side of his face as he watched the ink run red on the page. Something... something was wrong with the language of the document, he knew, but couldn't quite put his finger on it. Again and again he re-read the words, moving them around silently to find any kind of loophole in the phrasing. He was used to this kind of nonsense from policy work. Never had something so big felt so... personal. His eyes kept getting stuck on his name and the quivering quill that had popped up out of nowhere.
His signature was out of his hand before he knew what he was doing and the rushing fear of life clashed with the powerful urge to pat himself on the back for a job well done. "I'm sure." He said tight lipped, dotting the last letter in Edgar J. Figueroa.
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