The Mephistopheles Chronicles Full Novel

The Mephistopheles Chronicles:

Dance, Mephisto: 

Shadows fell upon the City Of Angels. No, not the modern city in its' sunlit glory, articulating to the corporate hierarchy and attending to the unintelligent masses, preaching the word of conformity and splendor, a garden of earthly delights for the few, mostly a decrepid ruinous cavern only fit for decay and lament. No, the other City Of Angels, the City where literal Angels glided silently in the gloomy twilight in a near black Armageddon. Not the silent, soft Angels of Poet's praise, but the Lovecraftian Abominations that populated the space between worlds. Among death wind they glided, among yellow light, among horrid forests, through a maze of Ancient Gothic spires that reflected a simpler and more civilized time, although still brutal and shadowy dread. Churches gave the sign of the cross, and squinty eyed priests huddled in terror and made the sign for warding Demons, but their hands were hard worked, for there were Demons everywhere. Where Angels dwell, Demons soon followed, for they are two sides of the same Theme. The stain glass windows reflected the dying sun. It was a perpetual evening in the City Of Dis, and most of it was dark. It was through this faint and strange world that I dwelled, reader. It was my home. I am Mephistopheles Of Los Angeles. Technically the decrepid city too, which is why mayors give me free soda and treats. Yet the City Of Dis is where I call my home. I had a Victorian manor, quite underground, like the darkened cave home of Batman. But I was Bat Woman. Or Dragon Lady, to be accurate. Demon Lord I am. Hell, a million other things too, but it would be too complex to go into all of them. Merely know I can shapeshift, reader. The blackened streets outside my abode resembled Gotham. Crime was a way of life, and an unchangable constant, and I liked that best. In the world of Daphne and even outlaw John Westley there was too much law, an uninspired system that stifled the working class and led to more violence than it solved. With the unrestrained rule of human emotions, the city started turning as efficiently as a wheel. Paradoxically, chaos created order. While order collapsed in on itself. I rule over a good deal of the Demon World. Not all, for my sister Ragna had always been a bitch, but enough to get by. I even had dear bought luxury. Unlike Ragna, who does not eat, I enjoy the physical practicalities of life even though my Elemental body cannot take them in. In their unconverted form, at least. Paracelsus would have a field day with this, but you did not come here to read about Science, reader. You came for horror. I glided across the rooftops like a bird. Although there were no birds in Dis, only shadowy bats. And predatory cats below that grew to be the size of small buildings. I had love for them as my namesake. And I glided on the wind on wings du noir, although I scarcely needed them, they were more aesthetic than anything. Why? Dragonmaids. The Gangsta cards. I had returned to my old home in Nippon to get a set. Every Blue Eyes player was taken back by such rare cards, but I merely knocked them over with my feet and stole their decks. In Yugioh it was every man, woman, and Demon Lord for themselves. This was not my only aesthetic change. I also had horns on my head to complete the theme, and my blue eyes were red. The horns I was a little perfectionist with, and since I could not get them to be maintained always and sleek I eventually discarded them. Jumping off a roof and into the garden below, I came to Tupac's palace. Yes, that Tupac. My Necronomicon had been busy. I was welcomed by the usual hired black thugs with shotguns and pistols, and as usual they recognized me and grimly sighed, for I was a bane to them. They knew they could not kill me with bullets, even Elementium bullets, so they did not try. Instead they escorted me through the pine trees and rose bushes past marble columns and a gold trimmed door into Tupac's hall, where I was greeted by a red carpet. Always did well for himself, Tupac did. I swiped a lime soda from a butler and sipped it. "Yo, Sogton, got the dope?" A bodyguard asked me. A man in a diamond checkered white and red suit with red sunglasses frowned. "You aren't suppose to talk to the prisoners, Gabel." I smiled. "You must be new here. I'm Queen of this turf. Mephistopheles, to be exact. Your boss and I are old friends." I showed him a sigil as proof. It was a silver wolf with rubies for eyes. The man bowed. "My apologies." I approached Gabel and handed him a Dragonmaid Lufte. He inspected it with wonder, bringing it close to the light, watching as the colors dappled. His friends marveled along with him. "This shit won't be released another five months.' Gabel marveled. "Indeed." We moved on. Candelabras gleamed. Within the shimmering expanse, I saw several bars open which contained alchemic like concoctions that I had no doubt would create chaotic events, and not even the bartenders knew the full effects of the potions. Someone played the following song: "Tupac: Stressed out something major Mamma raised a hellraiser Dear Lord as my savior mamma raised a hellraiser". I was brought through a maze like chamber into Tupac's room, where he was sitting shirtless on a red throne. His eyes gleamed maliciously, and he had recently finished a chicken and rice dinner, which the butlers removed for him. They brought him a glass of wine, and he sipped it methodically, before banishing it and turning to me. "Sogton, if I ain't mistake. What a bitch like you be doing in my crib? Don cha know that I am a sole rider, a true fire spitting G who don't give a fuck about anyone? How do I know it is really you and not that punk ass sista you have? Give me a line!" I had prepared this. And besides, I was glad to see Tupac again. Despite his harsh and hate filled greeting to me, I knew the Nigga cared. I took rapping posture. "Yo shed like a snake skin dropped from a fake pin Curtailing the hate within, give me a stand Guide me through the thirsty night in this abandoned land Like a frightful day gone astray Like we played when we were children Once, a dunce, gone in old times, to renounce Askance like a door, but the fitful whore does not pounce She waits, and poisons the floor with dripping venom of dourness" I posed dramatically. Tupac nodded his head. He slowly came to a still. "That's Sogton. As fire as evah. A little anachronistic and some weird adjectives, like you really don't give a shit about this rap game or any game other than your twisted side show, but that's you. It was heavy dope. I commend you." I smiled. Then I went and shook Tupac's hand in the Gangsta Salute which would take nearly six pages if I wrote it all down. Suffice to say it took nearly half an hour, with both of us taking wine breaks and sitting on the thrones [Tupac's butler had moved in a spare throne, mine was slightly smaller] listening to rap in the between. "So what can I do for ya?" Tupac asked. "It's Ragna, again. I need an army" "Not surprised. I'm afraid we're low on elementium, have to get a new shipment from the mountains. Fuckin' punks of the rival gang got our location and started sprayin steam when they last found us. Made a fucking explosion from a grenade and brought the whole boulders down. Six of my posse managed to get out alive, the rest lay buried in crystal and dirt." "May the Lord keep them well." "Anything else you need?" "Well, I could use a ride to my spare mansion. I got a visitor expecting me, and you know I hate to keep pretty girls waiting." At this several bodyguards narrowed their eyes and did the stereotypical "dude, we're gonna see two hoes kiss, get the fuckin' camera and put some jazz on the recorder" male gaze they usually did when even the slightest possibility of lesbians was present. I lightly threw some wind at them and they fell to the ground stopped. Tupac got his semi automatic. "Count me in. I'll get the limo." We were going to ride. 




Daphne wandered through the dismal streets of the cobblestoned pathway she reluctantly went on, a mixture of loyalty to Sogton and a slightly unsure dread of where she wanted to be. And who she wanted to be, like the Marina And The Diamonds Song. This worried her. More worrisome, however was the fact she was rapidly vomiting at least six times a day, her stomach felt like it had one of Mihael's pins in it, and she was bleeding at random. Sogton had warned her she would become a Demon, but she refused to believe the kind Elemental would curse her and abandon her. Didn't Sogton's sister do the same? Perhaps evil ran in the clan. Daphne shook her head. She refused to believe that. She had gone to this city by following the Necronomicon's instructions to the house of Aurelio Voltaire in original California. Aurelio was a musician, and absolutely fucking insane in a way that made most Goth singers pale in comparison [Pale, get it, because Goths have pasty white skin?: Sogton's Note] and his country villa was decorated with a variety of black streamers and black and purple furniture. Even the paint was black, and white in spots, thankfully Daphne thought, although the whole gave it a creepy Psych ward vibe. Aurelio had invited Daphne to tea and biscuit, which Daphne politely declined, although she was hungry she had no desire to ingest whatever it was Aurelio usually ingested, for his eyes were emotionless and drifted, and he seemed high on drugs or a zombi like the ones he sang about in his songs. Voltaire had asked her to go to the bathroom, which gave off a creepy stalkerish vibe, but thankfully it had been an enchanted bathroom that was a portal into another world instead of an event where Daphne had her clothes ripped off her while Reggae Mortis played. So Daphne had come to Dis. Where Sogton was she had no idea, and found it surprising that the Demon Lord could spend twenty pages going on about poetry and Celtic architecture but couldn't spare one moment to write down directions for a lost and scared and confused Daphne to follow. She was a bitch, Daphne realized. Daphne only hoped there was some dark danger big enough to impact Sogton into harming her friends. Daphne suddenly leaned against a pillar and almost fainted. She rallied her senses and walked on, pausing to inspect a dilapidated factory. Inside she found a bathroom much higher quality than Aurelio Voltaire's, and inside she vomited into the sink. With no paper, she ripped a portion of her white shirt [the tan overcoat was thrown into the shelf, for it was too dirty to be of further use] and used it as a cloth to clean her mouth. This done, she wandered further through the rubble. At length Sogton found her in a limo, and as Daphne fell inside the back seat she could afford no surprise that an undead Tupac was at the wheel, smoking a blunt. She fell into Sogton's lap, and the Sorceress Noir caressed Daphne's hair with a wicked smile on her face. Sogton: I found Daphne with my tracking system, reader. Humans are such noisy things, and rude, and easily found. I barely had to telepathically focus at all. Usually it was a burden but now I was kind of relieved. I kind of liked Daphne. And she was never in any massive danger at all, although she was wrong that there had to be an exterior force for me to be evil. I may look and act nice, but I am as cruel as the storm. There was no benevolent emotion in my heart. After I had warmed up Daphne in the fire of my spare mansion I gave her some tea and sat on my identical to my throne in Tupac's throne room throne. I must have not been what Daphne was expecting, for after she finished the tea she screeched at me. "Why did you bring me here? I almost died! You said I wanted this, and maybe I did, but I would have never agreed to it if I knew what was going to happen." Humans seldom did. There was only one man who rose above the dross to become a hero, and that man's name was Dante, and he is long dead. I regarded Daphne with an impassionate look in my red eyes. "Suck it up, Princess. You're part of my crew, and I don't accept stragglers. You're free to go home if you like, but I suspect the Demon powers inside you will not accept your feebility and rebel, to master them you will have to have my guidance and become my apprentice." Daphne flared. "Fuck you." "That's what I expected." Daphne shifted angrily. I rose from my throne and almost like a flash of lightning knocked Daphne to the ground with a slap, then put my Garnidelia boot on her neck roughly, taking care to remove pressure from the stabbity bits. Do not mistake my caring for Daphne's life for affection, reader, for my boot was still large enough to cut off Daphne's breathing and make her talk in hoarse mode with her eyes bulging. I smirked above my prey. I continued. "I really don't want to have to deal with your whining. You expected a savior, you got a Demon. I am not your fairy tale mentor." I released her. Daphne staggered to the wall and raised herself up. I was mildly impressed by her fortitude. Perhaps she would become a good Mephistopheles after all. "I was infatuated with you." I smiled. "You should have known danger would come with Jewball. He's like a drug dealer, the substance might seem sweet but it leads to problems later on. I am Sogton Kottr." Daphne was close to crying. "Was there ever a time you loved me?" "I do not love." I sat down on my throne. I could, at least, show a mild amount of compassion. "Yet there is something I need to say to you. You are my friend. I may not have kind feelings, but I can value the worth of humanity and be an ally if you wish. Do not spurn my boon so lightly. This is an evil world, and I am the least of greater evils. And I do have a certain affection with you. It is mostly an appreciation of physical beauty, for I am quite in spirit with my fellow Renaissance artists, but I do value your psyche. It is a frail and strange thing, like a dove trapped in a snare and bleeding, but it is beautiful. And has a ferocity I appreciate." Daphne sat down on the table. "I need time to make a decision. But I will stay with you, for now." "That's what I hoped." Her damnation was already complete. 




Interlude: Ancient Magus' Gangster: Meanwhile in Dis, great events were unfolding at a bar somewhere in the prostitute district where neon lights blared and the domesticated cats screeched at passersby like the howling of wolves. The bar was called the Three Pistols, after a D list Gangsta flick that although terribly acted and bland as all hell, was entertaining enough to gain a cult following among the washed out and drunk inhabitants of Lower Dis, Fifth Malebolge on the edge of the forest where lurked the forbidden mountains that no one had crossed and the Harpies that perched on the bloody trees "in the Wasteland on the way to the Red Queen". No one knew what lurked beyond that sheer white precipice. Not even me, and that was saying something. I had a feeling the drop was a portal directly to the Outer Darkness. A gang fight was brewing. Gang fights usually did, but this one was different in that it involved an enormous amount of money. Gold, in never a short supply, was sought after, and brimming with red rubies. And had Elias Ainsworth involved in it. He was the main character of a manga in the human world called The Ancient Magus Bride, and presided over the company that had published it. He still had his wolf skull face and purple hands. And his trademark black robe, which was stylish. The Ancient Magus had retired smoothly after marrying red haired Chise. Yet work still called him, more for pleasure than business, for the love of adventure and lust was still in the Mage's cold dead heart, and he had a dark eye for profit whereever it could be made. Now he was rubbing a gold ring across the table to a Gangster, who eyed it nervously, and unbeknownst to everyone with Elias the Magus has another ring, the real one, underneath his hand. The gold ring was a forgery. But you already knew that, reader, from watching Elias' character. He was the type to maintain a facade of pumpkins and cakes and spiced tea, but when darkness came down, was as horror filled and dreadful as any Eldritch Demon from the Pillars of My Home Country. He was quite like me in that way, and I quite liked that. Chise found that out the hard way, but she was cruel herself, and they made an excellent pair. Quite a romance that actually brought a tear to my eye while watching it, although I was quite disgruntled at the treatment of Cartiphilus, the villain of the manga. Cartiphilus was as cruel as Ragna, dear readers. Thou already knew that. Anyway, back to this bizarre tale. The neon lights flickered as the Succubi danced. A moment before the thug accepted the treasure that was really cheap illusion, the bartender put a red lamp on the bar and it's red light illuminated the shadowy cavern brighter. Unfortunately the beam also shined on the ring, dispelling it's illusion and revealing that Elias was actually holding nothing at all. Elias spoke into the Radio. "Silky, we might have a problem." It was a direct link to the Banshee Maid lurking in the upper balcony of the second floor of the bar. Silky, white haired, had spent years in Russia and developed a Russian accent, among other things, but she was as efficient as ever and methodical. And had a black suit and gun instead of her usual cleaning robes. Her suit was lined with seemingly thousands of small daggers, too. The thug brought out a horse tranquilizer. At least that was the name of the gun, it was a black shotgun like apparatus that fired like a shotgun but was usable with one hand. You can thank Ragna's demented Scientist Frankenstein for designing that. She also had a Necronomicon that could bring back mythical figures, fuck all that. Elias dove under the table as the other black gangstas brought out machine guns they started spraying. He used the table as a makeshift shield while he brought out his glock and unloaded nine rounds into the posse. Silky soon joined him, gliding down the staircase on a shield like a teenager going surfing. In the other room, Chise lightly drank her soda which she was drinking with another girl who held a separate bottle of wine. The girl asked "What was that noise?" Chise smiled happily. "Oh, nothing. It's merely that everyone we met in this bar is going to die." Elias brought out his tobacc wand and lit it with a silver lighter. He applied the end to a rocket launcher. Then the entire bar went up in flames. Except the Radio, that is. The Radio was playing "Last Ones Left", because Elias changed the frequency. 




"Tupac: Nigga Westside Westside on this Motherfucker Westside on this Motherfucker right here Westside on this Motherfucker Can't nobody stop us when we blunted up and swerving screaming Outlaw Running up the curb They never try Niggas right behind me a killin team I get the word cut the head off a Nigga like a guilotine This Hennessy will keep me calm though Sitting in the back of the club, trading convo Looking like I'm a Don in my own mind Signal Kadafi Nigga watch me with the chrome nine All the time drinking Champagne, Niggas walk through crowds Let the tramps say Niggas play hatin but do a damn thing Picture me doing eighty down the one way Stuck in a gunfight watching guns play So I gotta keep my eyes open getting high Wonder why we gotta die smoking My alibi Victory Victim of a rhyme and I'm marked for death Living my life like it's the last one left I'm an Outlaw Am I wrong? I wanna get it goin on Last to leave, til I see everybody's gone I'm at the bar, you can catch me, hands full of liquor Or puffin on a sweet Swisher I'm the last one left Tell me, am I wrong? I wanna get it goin on Last to leave, til I see everybody's gone I'm at the bar, you can catch me, hands full of liquor Or puffin' on a sweet Swisher Guess I'm the last one left"




By the time Napoleon's verse came on Elias and Silky had already left the safety of the table and were standing back to back and shooting at Gangsters who came in both directions through the doors. Elias was calmly smoking his tobacc pipe while dual wielding glocks, and tossed them, suspended them in midair to light his tobacc pipe with a grenade. He tossed it to the Gangsters and the already decrepid bar erupted into more fire, this time green and purple from the magic in the machine weapon, then Elias caught his artillery. Silky ran out of ammo and started stabbing assassins with daggers, and in time even Elias ran out of ammo and started hitting the Gangsters with his cane and fistfighting them. Thankfully the machine guns were rendered useless by the grenade, so they avoided a trip down to Hades. He levitated an ornamental sword and grabbed it, then chopped one. But even the great Mage was limited, and they had to escape quick. Chise came out after the door collapsed in a seal of fire. Elias motioned to the side to indicate that it was safe. They entered the garage and took the nearest limo, where I was waiting in the back. Elias took the wheel. I needed all the allies I could muster, even if they were fucking insane. Thankfully Chise was a little rational, and I could have an intelligent conversation with her. Elias was exactly like me in temperment and I found that a drag, apparently being with one's self for too long can become a conflict. I was never the type for gazing long into the mirror anyway, although I did maintain some of an appearance and gave a lot to aesthetic. What Chise said next I disagreed with, though. Elias had brought the Radio with him. It was still playing Tupac. Napoleon's verse started. 




"Napoleon only knows that we Outlaws, fuck fear Better strap down to the fullest, cause we outreach"




"Could you turn that infernal verse down?" Elias gave her a look like "Why did I ever marry you?". "No. I cannot." The gold ring was necessary for dispelling my sister's seals, and I intended to house Chise and Elias until I defeated Ragna. We drove into the city.

Sogton's Note: I have to mention that upon visiting Los Angeles it is not an uncommon sight me waking up in a violet satin pillow, with frilled white covers and a fairy tale aroma drifting from the kitchen as light dapples through the violet curtains, only to find Marilyn Manson staring at me. 

He shudders nervously, and placing his black gloved gloves in his coal like face as his black outfit convulses like the frill of a lizard dinosaur, he dreadfully asks me if I know where Johnny Depp hid the drugs. I reply that I have no clue and ask where we are. 

"I haven't absolutely any idea." he morosely replies.

Reflections On Evil: I spent the rest of the week nursing Daphne back to health. Mostly standing on the balcony, for Dis' views were some of the most breathtaking in the world. And I am speaking of the Multiworld, not the pathetic world of humans, which is really only good in Rome and some secluded places in the wild. Dis does not obey the usual laws of physics. Time moves slower here, for one. It is how I am able to pass through centuries and even millenium and not age a day, in addition to my usual immortality, but to the friends and folk and brigands I meet I resemble not an hour in time's difference, but to myself I have lonely brooded in the shadowy places between life and death, walking a thin line tightrope above a sea of dread and despair. My life is the life of supreme solitude and solipsism. I recalled H.P. Lovecraft's Nemesis: 




"I was old when the Pharaohs first mounted The jewel-deckd throne by the Nile; I was old in those epochs uncounted When I, and I only, was vile; And Man, yet untainted and happy, dwelt in bliss on the far Arctic isle. Oh, great was the sin of my spirit, And great is the reach of its doom; Not the pity of Heaven can cheer it, Nor can respite be found in the tomb: Down the infinite aeons come beating the wings of unmerciful gloom." 




Thankfully, I did have amusements. And Daphne was proving to be one of them. She was recovering fast, demonstrating that natural Greek temperment which was hostile to everyone around them and thankless, and that quick fight and recovery ability which was unique to her character. I wondered if she perhaps also had Demon blood before my bite du kiss, but decided against it. I was the only lesbian Demon Lord in this plane, and the bloodstream virus strangely only favored specific conditions. I fed her cake laced with herbs that would speed up the regeneration process. She ate it greedily and fearfully, but I stood aloof and really didn't care. Tupac would take the place of a loyal friend in rearing her with proper morals and virtues that weren't necessary to Demon Lords but necessary to humans, weird as they were. I stood outside in the storm gazing lonely at my old home by the sea. The sea wasn't visible here, but it was present, and it's salty brine aura could be felt even at this cold distance. The sea! Ah, the sea. Even Tolkien felt it's magnetic pull, although the seas of mortal lands around the Jormungand Serpent in Midgard are pathetic and paltry seas compared to the seas of our home world. I can even now feel the warm embrace of the only entity capable of loving Demons with hearts as decayed and cold as I, and I loved it in turn. I said I do not love, and that is true. For humans. For Immortals and Forces of Nature, I had nothing but adoration. An adoration bordering on fanatical. The seas of Avendora contained many the quaint building, which love filled reminded H.P. Lovecraft of his home in Providence. You probably already guessed at this, reader but H.P. Lovecraft was not human. He was a member of my race, a dearly beloved friend, and I would give all my treasures to have merely seventeen minutes with him. Even John was a plaything compared to that well of wisdom and saturated shadow. I still see it as if in a vision and far off. Beyond, in the twilit sky, red and blue and green wheels flickered, Angel craft from an Alien time when God was young and the world not thrown in disarray like it is in the modern epoch. I wrote a poem, the only time I had seldom been inspired to pick up a pen and line craft. It goes as following: "Shadow light half life dapples on the lee Wind swept grey moors rattle on the pier Where houses black rise to the night With cold, onyx spires in Devil light A red light inspires fright And above! But first within Candalabra's burn and the fire wheels turn by the beautiful twilight sea" It's a favorite of mine. I call it Avendora. It is the only thing left I have of my home. The clothes I wear are of Avendora's Master rulers. A race of Angels. Ragna, whom I love still, and constantly turn to despite the fact that our souls are incompatible, or because of it, brought me a record to listen. It was the band Garnidelia, whom she rules over as ringleader and they are her wraiths flying in spectral glory throughout the cold chapels and abandoned ruins. Thankfully, I had it with me. The song was called Mirai. "I'm fine."You carry the burden of everything All by yourself- it's your bad habit No matter how much time passed, it'll never get better, So I held your hand silently again today" From a distance I could see the white's white skyscraper reflecting amid the only sunny spot in Dis. From it I sadly reflected on the sister I had lost, and actually shed a tear. We Elementals usually do not cry, but I had to offer this bare offering to the love I had strove against with all these years. She was my greatest friend, my only companion, and my most bitter enemy. I now retire to my chamber for the day, at least what is called day in cosmological terms even if it resembled early night. Let Daphne's story continue in the morning. I do not care for her. AFTER A BRIEF AND FITFUL SLEEP Daphne awoke to see Tupac lounging on the table. The rapper was still shirtless, and was eating a fish, although he seemed brutal and uncivilized, he held the fork and knife with a remarkable poise, like some kind of Prince long exiled from his clan and sent to the shadowy moors where he could not find peace. Daphne pitied him. And was also excited happily, as if looking for a friend. Tupac regarded her coldly and went back to eating his meal. As she was about to leave, however, he spoke. "Sogton ain't that bad. She done act evil to satisfy that high nobility that is such a part of her being that she can't let go without strife. It might not seem like it, but her cruelty is a form of morality." "And how do you know this?" "Simple. I'm like that too. Not too much, for I was born human and saw the harms and ills of this world that take its toll on a Nigga's psyche, but I do have a cruel streak. But I still long for peace. I long for the day I can view my brothers that passed and hug them through tears in my eyes and settle down for a good woman and country. But that day ain't now." Daphne felt overcome by emotion. "I want that too." "Believe this. You said your name was Daphne? Well, that's a good name. The Nymph who ran from Apollo and was turned in to a tree for her devotion to God. You might be her reincarnated. I didn't believe in all that magic shit until I met Sogton, and she set me on the good path that appreciates both the light of Heaven and the lingering shadow which serves it. Now I'm a believer in more than mere chance. Fate, if you call that nonsense reality. And Sogton is working on God's Path. She's the only one who can accomplish it." SOME TIME LATER In my private chambers, I held a goblet of wine and sipped it. When I was finished I pondered, torn between love for my sister and the eternal conflict that drove us on. We were immortals of immortals, John, Ragna, and I, and the driving force pushing us on seemed to be as eternal as the waves and lasting longer than any other force when the bones of heroes crumbled to dirt and dust. Gradually rebellion filled my heart. This was exactly what Ragna wanted, of course. I muttered. "Shadowy spirits, attend to me. Now I have to go on a dark path and put the past behind me, quaint imaginings and childhood things needs be discarded to a dark and lost corner of my psyche, drenched in mist and obscured with the cobwebs of years and weight as numberless as the wings of trees. I turn my eyes to the West, to vengeful death and the cold harpies that watch over the branches of blood and strife, and implore them to grant me the boon of solidarity in the coming struggle. Yes, the time to act is now: [upon saying this I shattered the goblet into pieces that fell on the ground] My thoughts be bloody or nothing worth!" 




LATER In Tupac's limo, now I felt like going to war. I put my boots on Tupac's stand. The war song played.




"Demun Jones: I'm feeling good, catch me in the south like Rolling in a blacked out, outrunning the sunrise I'm feeling good, devil on my hip Angel by my side, man everything is alright I'm feeling good Man I'm feeling good Demun Jones, county in the end Zoned out because I've been gone with the wind I've blown a lot of money on these headphones and micro Nomad, running the roads, rocking shows, vocal recital Just keep making sure they hear you rattle the rear view Breaking speakers, flipping fuses, taking no else I refuse I don't do it for the money just to look Then my hustle turned a little to a lot, that's enough to buy them things We always wanted for yourself and I just daydreamed of but, Bring it in the living room and set it right there It's like we living in a dream and you wouldn't know if you seen it Look in the window, wait just let me clean it I'm feeling good, catch me in the south like Rolling in a blacked out, outrunning the sunrise I'm feeling good, devil on my hip Angel by my side, man everything is alright I'm feeling good Man I'm feeling good Living out here you can keep the pace if you just slow it down To a crawl we creeping when we drive and we speeding That don't mean we in a rush, we racing so button your buckle And flow through these fields, coyotes and honey suckles Trouble seems so far when you stay living in the present tense Ain't watching no news or reading nothing bout no president We obey the laws long as everybody's watching Then we stop it, drop it, load it up, dress it and chop it I ain't gotta do it to keep putting food up on my table It's feeling good to be willing and able, I'm able To stay on my grizzly, busy and grateful And I stock a lot of lead for animals and hatefuls I'm feeling good, catch me in the south like Rolling in a blacked out, outrunning the sunrise I'm feeling good, devil on my hip Angel by my side, man everything is alright I'm feeling good Man I'm feeling good Man I'm feeling good Man I'm feeling good"




We arrived at Ragna's factory for the rival clan. Thirteen black Tamakashis trailed us, Tupac's gang members he could spare and were going to join us in the fighting. I readied my laser pistols. Tupac got his glock and opened fire.




Cursed: Now Ragna was expecting us, so the blast did nothing more than knock out her windows. We rushed in guns blazing, although we were met with such an assemblage of rocket launchers and flare throwers that I scarcely could see from the fire smoke and debris. I set my laser pistol on some brigands, sending them down to Hades. Their souls would be recycled quickly and put into new bodies by the Lord Of The Dead, and they would quickly revive upon the manors of Dis to fight and slay and fight again like some dreadful version of Valhalla only much more dark and Gangster. Of course Loki would enjoy it. Loki had orchestrated the whole thing. Eventually I came to an open marble square which reflected the light of a sunny bridge carved in pearl and silver in strange arches and arabesques. Wherever Ragna went there was sun. It was hard hitting and frightening, and one of the only things that as a Demon Lord could get me unnerved. I was fine in the sun of above world without too many ill effects except the traditional physical pains against a creature of my composition, but Ragna's sun resembled something of a terrorizing fairy tale, with sweets and cakes meant to draw in innocent slaves and subject them to a life of brutality in the hot desert that knew no mercy and was as cruel as the sunless dark. Underneath the bridge, a river flowed and crashed and bubbled, clouds rising at ground level. Several churches were present around the wide open square. This was Ragna's turf, and it might seem strange to you, reader, if you have not read John Milton, to ponder why the dread lord incarnate Lucifer herself [soon to change genders, though, I surmised.] would have a strange obsession with living near churches even though the antithesis of her philosophy and a grim reminder of her fall. On the side of a Mary statue, across a gruesome cross, Jesus in statue form watched shirtless and angry. His eyes seemed to penetrate Ragna's core and lay bare her sins. Not that she cared for long. The reason why she inhabited church haunts was a love for what hurt her, a kind of morbid appreciation of death which at its heart was a tenant of the Christian fate before it became possessed by weaklings. Ragna still maintained the old ways, the ways of Odin hanging on Yggdrasil, Gungnir jutting out like a plank of some cosmic ship in an empty expanse. Ragna was Jesus' greatest servant, though not always in tandem with him, having only part of the mind of God and unable to see his wishes. She was Gullveig, Odin's greatest servant and greatest traitor whom he had stabbed three times with her own spear and three times she had refused to stay dead. I could relate, although I always followed orders. Ragna didn't. She was cruel. And yet she benefited from it. Osiris and Loki were like forces of nature, unchanging and steady. By contrast I constantly never knew who I was. Who can measure the direction of the wind? Speaking of Ragna, the Sorceress was pitched against a pillar on the bridge, clinging onto it like some sort of paradiver and soldier waiting to pounce. I was presuming I was her prey. Without motion of mine, my hand moved of its own accord, and grew into the talon that was a symbol of utter evil and Ragna's preferred weapon. I was taken aback. Never before had I lost control of my powers. Ragna leaped backwards from the bridge, arms outstretched like the Christ and struck the waters below like a typhoon. The waters churned and waved, then were still. I still could not control my hand, and nearly slashed Tupac before he dove and bound it with arcane cloth. My alchemists quickly fulfilled their servitude and brought out the medicine kit. I doused my arm in venom and burned it, then applied herbs as it rapidly regenerated, burned, and healed again, fuming out blue smoke as it did so. Then I pulled out one of my sealing white gloves in an ash box which I kept by my side at all times in case of occasion like this. I shoved it on my hand and gripped it tight until the binding could stay. Thankfully my hand settled back into the usual shape and I could move it again. Ragna had no doubt done something. 




Ragna's Tower: Now when I got home I realized that I had to visit my sister. Once and for all, to settle this. I knew it was dangerous, because Ragna's White Tower didn't really have a fixed point even in this fixless space, so I prepared for a long drawn out journey for which I might not return for aeons. Or it could be over in sixteen minutes. One never knew with Ragna. To be started, I packed ointment and spare gloves for my injured hand. Strange, and exactly what had happened I have no idea, for Ragna contained magic powers that were hidden and obscure even to me. Ragna was in terms of power my senior, and she could easily defeat me in a direct conflict. So I had to use guile and treachery whenever possible. I had no doubt that most of it wouldn't work. But it would be good to finally have a conversation again. Part of the reason John and I had parted [the other part was that we had different modes of adventure, and a brief separation away from one another would do both of us well it seemed] was that I needed to see my sister again. The years had brought both of us apart, and I didn't want to live without her. If it was a question of choosing John, my friend, or Ragna, it would be Ragna easily. Our relationship was such that no bond could break it. So I packed up my belongings and departed for the Eastern lakeshore. It was quite a long journey, even for Mephistopheles, and I could not take Tupac's limo for it would be lost in the ensorcelled mazes and shadowy alleys that made up the City Of Dis' outer sector. Ragna would be waiting for me. Even apart we shared a telepathic communication, and I could tell she was happy and longed for me in a way similar to the way I longed for her. Much of it was self serving interest while I had a more benevolent outlook, but nothing of Ragna was ever seldom more than self interest. I was flattered she took an interest. I had discarded my wings in favor of putting more faith in my traveling boots. Got from Garnidelia's website, half off, though if you [mortal as thou art] go to the same form as I do and submit the data check you likely will be taken to the page of some secret society, and dark amalgamation of anagram and hidden code and cross referenced links, that will either drive you to a hyper intelligent state of Tranquility or drive you half insane with wondering. I wouldn't go there if I were you. My wings were nice, quite stylish and utterly alluring given the circumstance, but I was going to parlay with Ragna, and some sort of civil formality had to be maintained, so I removed them. The streets of Outer Dis were white instead of the black of my home. Only otherwise identical, except slightly bigger. Ragna always did have an obsession with height, she did. She was ever so slightly taller than me. And always contained that smug look on her eyes, as if the fact that she was more beautiful than me made her a better Elemental. Of course it did. I was an afterthought of God, only made to keep her weaker emotions in check, and I fulfilled my purpose well. All things strive towards the light, even though raised in the shadow. Coming to Ragna's white tower I saw Ragna standing in front of me. Of course, this wasn't the end of my quest. It would seldom be that simple. Ragna smiled and evaded as I swung two great trees at her, brought to life from a single heat source from underwater springs that bubbled and boiled and erupted to the surface when the roots burst from the ground in the tree attack. I learned it from JoJo's Bizarre Adventure, more specifically Golden Wind, where Giorno uses Golden Experience to create a miniature forest to fight his enemies. My spell was less impressive, though I was not King of Kings, so this should be expected. I was King, though, and the array was impressive, and in a small way I was proud of that. Ragna retreated inside, and I followed her. I climbed past several staircases into her bedroom, the blue bed and white furniture. Ragna sat at the table. I joined her. "So, did you like my song." "I cried." "You always were a soft one, Sogton dear." Ragna smiled. "Please. You bawled at John's betrayal." "It was merely an affectation. A whim. I was sad that my plaything was gone, that was all." "For me it was more than that. That song contained my very soul." "Let us talk. We have much to discuss." 




Parlay: Now Ragna had made me feel as comfortable as possible, and I rejoiced at the meeting, but there was still a pall like a curtain over our discussion, and I felt certain that darkness was going to assail us at any time. Not from Ragna, but she did live on the edge constantly, and I believed her magical arts had opened a portal to the Otherworld. One more problem to deal with. I seemed to never catch a break. Also my hand was acting up. My nails grew far longer than their original form, although my arm still did not transform into a claw. Ragna looked quizzically. "It seems your arm is malfunctioning." She looked surprised, and I was an expert at reading her. "Then you weren't responsible for this?" "If I was it would be far more controlled. No, there are darker forces at work. I blame Lilith." Ah, another Abomination. Astarte's sister, with red hair. We always seemed to be running into these Greater Angels, and I mostly blamed Ragna for it, although she was the weakest of them and not considered valued among their number even though she allied with them occasionally. They were too crazy even for her. So I gathered my assessment. It looked like this war, this pathetic gang feud brought on by little more than a game would have to be put on hold, and in its place would be a cosmic conflict. Rather strange. How often the situation changed, not the events that took place. I had been involved in several Universe Wars throughout the years, but they all seemed to undertake a pattern. Predictable fall after symptoms of corruption and decadence. It seemed the Universe was really headed towards a collapse, and there was nothing I could do about it. I only hoped the Je man knew what he was doing. I haven't had an audience with him for ten thousand years, and most of his Angels are furious with me by now. I would say it was because of my sister, but that would be a lie. I am quite volatile and untameable even at my best. Yet you already knew this, reader. So I asked Ragna to continue. Astarte was on the run, weakened but not entirely banished. She outlined the events since our last meeting, when we had flew from Astarte and I had abandoned John in the latest Alien civilization to attend to my City. Ragna had been doing deals with Horrors, as well to be expected from someone of her temperment, yet this time she had gone a little in over her head and destroyed half a Demon City. Mammon, brown skinned, bare chested, with horrible Horns on his head, and a beard gold and brazen, his eyes red, who was her loyal soldier and a key player in Paradise Lost even if Milton had neglected to mention him in favor of bare naked women and fruit, had led a rebellion, disgruntled over her abuses of power. Lilith had come from the Outer Dark to these shores. She was eternally naked, and completely so, and quite beautiful, but she caused so much chaos that I couldn't look forward to that. The seas turned to venom and the Jormungand Serpent, reanimated as I had wanted to do but my Necronomicon could not manage a creature of such power, rose from the depths and breathed fire on the land dwellers. Apparently she took up residence on a haunted mansion on the far side of the lake to the West. I sighed. Ragna had really gotten herself into trouble. We took a walk in the courtyard. The dying sun painted the sky red, a sight I could not see from my dark castle but a sight I had seen before, although seldom. I found it beautiful, and for the first time I could see why Ragna lived here and why her cruelty made sense to me. She was merely following the impulses of her function, which was Divine. I was also Divine but meant for a different purpose, one of servitude and charity and kindness which I despised but paradoxically loved at the same time. There was nothing paradoxical about my love for Ragna, however. She smiled at me, looking remarkably innocent in the half full yellow light. I watched in surprise and barely concealed glee as she brought out a white sealing glove and bound her hand with it, entirely voluntarily and despite the burden it posed to her. She hated to be without her evil powers, and to make a sacrifice such as this showed me that she cared about me indeed. I knew it, but she rarely showed it. We were sisters in the end, and compatriots above all else. Ragna shook my hand white gloved with her white gloved hand. I embraced it, and we stood like Yin Yang symbols above a marble paradise that still held a bit of sin and vice in it.




City Of Light And Shadows: So Ragna came to live with me as a guest, although she was really the master, and quite intolerable. Thankfully I had grown accustomed to not having a place of my own, and I didn't mind her that much. She rearranged the furniture at random, kept the curtains open letting in light that disturbed me and disrupted my reading schedule, and kept a constant watch over Tupac that was getting him flustered while trying to write his latest rap. Quoth she. "Let me guess. Your latest rap starts with "Westside", doesn't it?" The rapper had it up to here with her annoyance and shot at her with his pistol, although of course the bullets couldn't do anything even if they hit her. Another barrage of holes in my wall that I had to repair, and I gazed at Ragna evily. She had a large smile on her face though. Her intrusion didn't stop at the ornamental level, however. I lost half of my work, for she apparently started combing through it and throwing out what she didn't like, and editing half the rest with her quill. I was looking forward to finishing a novel, one Journeys In The Dark Of The Forest, but the ending was roughly scratched out and several claw marks could be visible throughout the text. On the final page was a mediocre explanation: "The book was rather dull. Choose better texts next time. Ragna." I closed it in anger and put it back on the shelf. Music was a constant solace. Thankfully our tastes overlapped, although she concentrated on high technological city trance, and I preferred the rough vulgarity of city nobility lament. My tastes diverged towards rap and rock, while Ragna of course preferred metal. Still, I enjoyed Ragna's presence. Daphne was convulsing on the bed in a Demonic growth which I marvelled at, for it was much more than I expected from the average Demon recruit. Perhaps she would end up a novelty, a one in a million exception which could bring peace to the Demon world. But probably not. Daphne was too dull for major exploratory conquest. Spikes sprouted from her skin, and her nails lengthened and turned a peculiar blood color. Her irises were now bright green, and her once blonde hair was brighter and brown at the edges and two massive horns curved around her head and spiraled like a mountain goat. We replaced her shirt with a heavy robe of orange, perfect for her color scheme, although it did make her look like some herbally infused monk in a trance or a goer of a My Chemical Romance concert, for which the expression of which was no different. Still, I liked her theme. I told her I was leaving. I felt I owed her that, at least. Tupac merely nodded and went back to composting a rhyme with his pen and notebook. Daphne was furious. "So you finally saved me after I waited months for you and now you're leaving again?" "Yes." "I suppose I won't get an understandable answer if I ask why." "Demun Jones." I replied, as if it meant something cosmically significant, as if all of Heaven could be wrapped up in such a simple idea and those words. To me it could, reader. I eventually went out for relaxation and rest. I patrolled the dark streets which were my usual haunt with the single mindedness of a predatory cat, and I could already feel the clouds shift away from my mind and my vision and deduction amplify with the clarity of an eternal era of poise, that clairvoyance which the wise among the bards know as the Thunder Perfect Mind. The dark streets were always a boon for me, a place I felt at home and comfortable. Yet there was a slight doubt on my mind. The war loomed. These pleasant streets were about to become the center of a battlefield. Demon combat was a little different than human combat, most of it doing with Psychological manipulation, but it still would have its impact. Perhaps more, for the very fabric of reality was thin here and Demonic magic would have a field day wrecking the bondage that sewn the fabric of the universe together, like a pair of knives through thread. I hoped not. The words of Tupac in Little Homies came to me: "Is there Heaven for a G? And if there is, will I finally be at peace?" I didn't know. When I asked the Je man, he replied "Occasionally.". Small comfort, but the possibility of redemption was always there. I found solace in the idea, reader. Remember it in times of conflict. It is important. Returning home, Ragna led me to her side of the city in the morning. There was thankfully less of a walk to go, since Ragna's tower constantly changed positions, and I almost ran into it as the walls and spires of the lower quarter morphed into some bizarre amalgamation of brick and metal like a beast or a Golem in the middle of being molded by some mad alchemist. The Golem was pretty angry, it seemed. We weren't here for the tower, though. The river surged below. We were here to visit the army in the marble square, to attend to them as Demon Lords and give some sort of rousing array that would send them in an impassioned and highly noble frenzy, to mold their fibres into mesh and their psyche into star substance, but I had no doubt that Ragna would do most of the inspiring. I wasn't very good at talking, especially in large crowds. The army gathered in numerous fold like some sort of archaic book with the pages all glossy and different colored. The theme was white and blue though. At the front were the grey skinned Orcs, the horned Demons, the imps fluttering on small wings and breathing fire, red imps annoyed with the normal white skinned imps, blue fairies annoyed at both the imps and swiping at any that came close with microscopic blades, gadgets fluttering through the air that were the tools of Goblin inventors, Balrogs, titanic and tall, leaking lava and back ablaze in fire and the yellow thongs and red blade gleaming in the half full sun. Fire Elementals, shifted into the form of flaming naked women, and actual naked women who were witches and rode on broomsticks. Cobras, salamanders, land kraken, bird of prey and white Simurghs fluttering around stole the attention of lesser beasts. Eternals in white spiced linen, with mummy robes to bind their fragmented essence together. Some of them even had no bodies left, their energy dissolving the bonds that kept them together and merely constructed out of energy and force of will. Amorphous white mannequins, creepily staring at me in a way that was partly aware and all wicked. Alchemists in black robes, huddling about concoctions and potions in vials, muttering grimly with brazen eyes and squinty foreheads. The half alive dragons that were not fire nor ice but something in between, black and light red, terrifying. And above all this the blue Djinn flew, dispensing out incantations and making the wind flutter amid it's tornado like lower body. This was Ragna's army. A massive force, a titanic repertoire of death, a half sunk treasure, a assemblage which had taken her millions of years and a number of disguises to amass. To the Elves she was Loki, half laughing and half cruel, to the Fairies Maev, witch queen and designator of chaos, to the Djinn Jadis, ruler of Narnia, even if she occasionally requiesed to Aslan. To the animals she was Skold, Norn of prediction and ruling over the menial slaves tenderly if roughly. The flaming eye that whips weird into shape. Speaking of flaming eyes, to the Balrogs she was Sauron, but if you have read this far without making that comparison, reader, you should probably take some cold tea and alert thy senses, for you are on drugs. And to the Arabians she was Innana, kind Goddess whose breast could bring the senseless back to life and imbue the very clay with sentience, but one glance from her blue eyes could cause lightning to flare and crackle rocks. I was quite nervous. It was my first Demon meeting, and I didn't know what to say. "Erm." I said, making my way to the microphone which was not necessary for my voice could be heard by everything miles away but it helped me concentrate and have some semblance of civilization in these wild isles. "Hello." There was roaring. Mostly from the Orcs. "Good to see you looking so fierce. And fiercy." More roaring, this time the dragons joined in. I felt emboldened. I was always good with footsoldiers and dragons, and even these undead dragons seemed to resonate with me, probably a remnant of my days as Dragon nurturer. "So, to business. You probably know me as Scheherazade. That seems reasonable. I don't have as much disguises as Ragna, I'm not too good at coming up with new names. But I recognize some of you. Mostly friends, although some enemies that I like. It's good to be able to be Queen. And thanks to my sister, we can make this a legend to be rivalled in Aenead. Dante would be proud." Gazing into the crowd, I saw Dante, who had no doubt chosen this moment to reveal himself and no doubt would have remained hidden had I not mentioned his name. I had some inkling of this, so I said it, no doubt believing that even Dante's love and admiration of me was not enough to conquer his vanity. He was riding on a goat. He waved as he saw me, nearly capsizing him from the goat, which he was able to avoid by hanging onto the goat's neck. Always a jester, poet Dante. I paused. The light filtered through the rooftop cover and illuminated the Jesus and Virgin Mary statues that hung like decorated protectors above the marble square and river. Ragna's tower absorbed the setting sun and burned red like a brand. I felt suddenly at peace. This was where I assimilated truly and belonged, burning like a star amid the warm glows of my subjects and the tender caress of my dearly entwined sister. I raised my hands in salutation like a beacon. The crowd was upturned in delight. Ragna stood beside me and together we welcomed in the death brigade, the march of holy reckoning that brought about the rule of order and retribution for those who transgressed against God's judgement. Ave Maria, hail Lord, hail. I was finally at my chosen place in the world. Mephistopheles Of Los Angeles, Queen forever.

Scheherazade's Tale:

This world is an overgrown garden, 
With white roses that tower to the Sky
Is it adviseable? Though. To prune them

You look at me in the blue eye shine
You hold me whisper in my ear
You take my hand and give me rhymes
But when I'm with you nothing matters

You look at me in the blue eye shine
You hold me whisper in my ear
You take my hand and give me rhymes
But when I'm with you nothing matters

God, imbibe me with the gold wings of truth, higher soar through firmament
This world is utterly broken
God imbibe me, we know, we know now you're making a flower wreath
Why are you so in despair then?

This world is a mess
Everybody knows it too
This world is a joke
Though all men deny the truth
This world, in this flower Garden real or false.
God, imbibe me with the gold wings of truth, higher soar through firmament
This world is utterly broken
God imbibe me, we know, we know now you're making a flower wreath
Why are you so in despair then?

As the dark skinned Princess of Persia lay on her red pillow, and Shahryar listened in rapt attention, the walls of the Palace seemed to melt into a violet haze of transitory magic. "For sooth, the Tales of Love are fraught with Folly, Shahryar, as thy life doth suggest."

Nefer Ka's Wife: It came to fruition that in the reign of the Pharaoh Akh Na Ten, when the obelisks failed and the jackals feasted on the corpses of the slain, that the humble farms-sheep-man Nefer Ka found himself in possession of an artifact of great power. This Ring, the Ring of the Sky God that would make the Nibelungen a trifle in comparison, contained many of the blood of King's on it's hard brass, yet it was cleaned and washed in the rivers and so no trace of it's accursed lineage betrayed the young hermit. Indeed he found it in the river, and upon the grove of trees that were fed by the tributaries of the Nile Nefer Ka swore a terrible oath to the Demon that inhabited it. The Djinn, this white and blue smoke abomination, hovered on the lands of the Fertile Delta and bemoaned it's story for all to heed: "I was a servant of Susano'o, I braided Astarte's hair, I found the blue opal that adorns Osiris' cowl, thus I did young traveler, and yet I was cast from the temple for the witty tongue of the Demon Be'elzebub, and he convinced the maiden that I was conspiring with the Albinos of the south against her. So I fell into the disrepute of Gilgamesh, yet hearken, little faith, for I have much of my previous power left, and I shall grant you three wishes, yet beware, for it shall be your undoing."




The warning did indeed fall on deaf ears, and Nefer Ka immediately came into contact with all the greed on him, and was imbued with life. His first wish he wished for money, and the coffer of the King's royal guard appeared to him, along with the mules to carry it back to his humble home. His second wish a harem of beautiful girls appeared to him, and he enslaved them with chains, for they were cruel Succubi, yet beautiful. His third wish he manipulated the heart of Hotep Shu, a girl he was infatuated with, and she became his wife.




Not all was at peace in the Nefer Ka household despite the lavish money and impressive Succubim servants. Hotep Shu was a capricious girl, and Nefer Ka's passive personality did not do it for her, and though she believed the affection to be of her volition somewhat of the spell and the history of the cursed artifact came to Hotep Shu and so she murdered him in his sleep with a dagger. And as Nefer Ka lay dying, he amassed all of his cognitive abilities, and cursed Hotep Shu, and the words of the celibate Pharaoh came to him "Call no man just, for there is no friend on the day of reckoning. I gave to the pauper, upraised the poor man, yet who I gave clothes to raised rebellion, and who ate my food used the knife to stab me."




Now things were not as they would seem, for curses lay much in the Egyptian world, and are considered highly by the Gods. And the Djinn heard this, and his story fell on the ears of ever whimsical Anubis. Therefore the jackal God let out his gates, and the serpent headed wild men poured through the Desert, and Hotep Shu was eaten in her decadent garden.

"And yet more," Scheherazade quoth, "The tales of the Jews are equally as fraught with Horror, though mixed with Great Triumph."

The Shadow Over Jerusalem: The Pharaoh Akh Na Ten dwelled over the destruction of Egypt while presiding over the Holy river libation and the pouring of the wine to deities of Procreation and Slaughter. Indeed, the Khemet was undergoing massive Solar upheaval, planets moving unakin to their usual orbit, seasons shifting in rapid succession, the Triple Moons hanging over the lush trees which was the Sickle Sign of Astarte's Executor. Yet not all was physical, or matched in lesser amount the horror of the Astarte Moon. In the shallow mud, fibres hissed and expanded, giving rise to the Skeletal Jade Woods, and the Snake Men that hunted at night, and the air was rent with the screams of Virgins. And a psychological malady exasperated the Problem, lo! the Lord was hung in his den, glooming, and morosely examined the fall of the Empire with a disposition unlike that of the optimistic King. The Obelisks which divided the Solar Khemet from the blasted lands at the tired end of the worn Desert weakened, and their light dimmed, and the albino people of the far Caves started to venture to the apex of the Holy Realm, to undergo their primitive and Satanic rituals. The nuclear reactors in the heart of the Pyramids started to give out corrupt green and a fell light, and hummed with the drone of several dying cities as the water mills churned the Nile into a whirlpool and the Beacons gave lightning. It was the Restoration Of Set. And from all of this, the Jews rebelled, bringing their tribe to the Desert where Moshu broke the tabu against crossing the Godline and stepped with fragrant besandled foot into the unmarked and desecrated lands of Mars. The Earth moved not on parallel then, and Gods and Demons coinhabited, and the offspring of mortals were misshapen and ugly. Several women were abandoned in the rocks, and grew to be Lamias, and with nuzzling milk from the Hyena became the Sorceresses to engrave the legends of the Sirens and Romulus' sinister obscure upbringing in the Ancient Natal Atlantisessas of Old. A Dark was on the Italian spawn of the Demon King's blood. At length the Forsaken Tribe came to the Sin Peninsula, entirely lost, going the opposite dexterous direction from Mesopotamia, where Avn Cena dined on honeydew and drunk the Milk of Paradise. A glamour was on their mind, and they gave prayers to Mammon. Moshu was still noble hearted, and at length he saw the deception and turned to Eden, where he was greeted by Embla and the Daughters Of Lilith, and fed Manna until he died, where as was related by Dante his salvation was assured by Jesu. For the Jews outside his family, however, they came to the City Of Jerusalem, and Beheld the horror of the Temple Of Solomon glowing beneath the Corpse of Baal, and between her breasts was a river of Blood. And below, drenched in the ichor of human bones melted down with resin and exuding smoke, was the Goldish Of The Dome Of The Rock, where an octopoid horror oscillated its tentacles.


Mowgli's Road: Sogton's Note: This takes place before the events previously read, and the inside Daphne's mind when she was in the Demon trance. Yet I was inside her mind as well, for the planar junction of Dis is such that dream and reality mesh together. Also Be is pronounced the same as Bay in the Be Detective Agency and Lin Be.

Preludes:


New York: 


Mihael stood by the darkened window carrying a weeks worth of "Dead Dude TM" mascara and Gothic home supplies. It was a gift from Maximillen, though his choice of buying the concoction from a number of relic and derelict shops showed that he had a pretentious English idea of what Goth was without an insider's idea of what Goth was, yet she appreciated the old man just the same. It was nearly Christmas and the air was cold, yet the soft arboreal frost was not showing and the first iotae of snow was absent from the chilly ruin.




They were in the old mansion, which Sogton's monetary support had supplied for as much as Maximillen dutifully toted in the groceries. Still, without much to do in the city Mihael and Mikey both felt that the luxury was dear bought, and personally she would be rather shooting some large and burly thing in the woods than playing with the Mikey and running through old Brandon Flowers records. The woods here were shabby, and expressly forbidden by a long wooden fence that ran through the vicinity, which was why it was quite surprising when she found someone jumping it.




Hovering over the now open mansion window, she approached the white suited bald man with a measure of distrust and curiosity. He appeared to have a pair of divination rods in his hand, which showed him to be either a cheap con man or a magician of the highest order. "Halt there, what is your purpose?"




The man seemed undisturbed. "I was expecting there was the possibility of someone owning this property, though it was quite run down you see, so I took it upon myself to do a seance."




"Seance? We are Elementals, dimwit. You could have summoned us both here and Mikey is violent when you disturb her morning bath."




"Yes, yes. I'm quite used to it, though. Simon Delano, the White Plague of Minfield, at your service. If you want to wait 'till nightfall, we can catch a glimpse of the unicornus that I detected."




The divination rods turned sideways, indeed demonstrating a considerable disturbance in the magical force. Mihael decided to be tolerant.




"Isn't it quite dangerous to be running out at night?"




"Delightfully so. Say, haven't you been locked in here too long past what is necessary? I don't want to be rude, yet you look like the women my mother told me were twenty shades past the expiration date of gone milk, to use the quaint expression. I would suggest living a little."




Mikey descended on Vampire Wings. After a brief discussion on what the man was doing here, they agreed to humor him with Maximillen and his rifle present at the slightest sound of funny business. At the moment they phoned the butler they caught him at an inopportune moment when he was smuggling Somali gold to further Sogton's seedy immigration business, yet he replied that he would be home soon while the sounds of gunshots ricocheted off in the background.




An hour later the twins had changed into hunting attire and Maximillen's limo burly rolled past through the driveway, and the white haired thug turned majordomo stepped out and roughly pitched the trunk in search for his rifle. Simon was meditating shirtless in the leaf filled yard, which struck Mihael as odd, yet she didn't comment.




When the enchanter had his shirt on they plodded through the underbush for approximately an hour and the sun was sinking low. When the rods pivoted in complete circles without any outside force, they knew they were near.




It was now Witch's Hour, and the light faded. Black serenity took over the household exploration, and Simon discovered a fairies den.




Without warning, they were cast down by a large horned creature that was white and glowing. It looked like a cross between a rabbit and a snake, with a long tail billowing behind it and sizable reverse fangs along its mouth. The legends of the Kirin were many, yet all agreed from the Vietnamese blue Nightcrawler to the petrifying Basilisk eater of Nippon, they were dangerous.




Mikey was struck with blue lightning, and while Simon cast down the rods and generated a stream of fire from his hands, the hide of the beast was such that it disparaged any heat. He was kicked down and Mihael saw a blast of blinding light.




When she awoke she was home, with Mikey and Simon besides her, looking puzzled. Maximillen entered and swore when he saw his rifle bent in half.


Utah:


In a blast of sand that uprooted the train and caused an earthquake, the Undead Jormungand Serpent emerged from the ground like a titanic wyrm, black and glowing blue and belching orange light and fire from its' muzzle.


This was not beneficial news. John could handle the Jormungand on his own with his hoverboard, but Daphne was a danger, and he did not want to slow down his mission to accommodate for her, also the Serpent's visitation boded of shadowy forces and meant Lilith was not far behind.


John shot several blue energy blasts into the Jormungand, and the Serpent reared up and mostly ignored them, roaring, which was expected, since the primary modus operandum was to distract the Serpent, and not to score a definite hit.


John called forth a whirlwind with the magic he seldom used as Osiris and blinded his foe, then leaped upon it and shot it in the head with his pistol. This hit was more definite, and the Jormungand howled in pain.


Far from over, however, the tail shot out and rung a circlet around John's waist, yanking him towards the sand. The Serpent tunneled under and dragged him along several mountains, and then as the bushes turned to plain dunes and the Ocean which was mistaken to be the size of a lake by Cartographers came into view.


John was launched into the lake, and gravitationally centered his hoverboard, kicking up waves the size of buildings as he did so. He then prepared for battle, the Jormungand Serpent entering the waters and breathing fire.


A shell of anti magic protected him. As the fire cleared, John squinted his eyes and beheld the Serpent yielding. Lilith was floating above the waters.


It was a long time since John had saw her, and he got along fairly well with her, although her natural insanity and furious disposition had meant they could not be friends for long. She was very beautiful, her red hair falling to her waist like that Rossetti painting, and Elizabeth Sidal would have remarked that she was dark and beautiful in an amoral way. Her nakedness did not make John uncomfortable, having lost the physical urge long ago, and never really having it fully. It was part of the reason his relationship with Sogton worked so well.


Unlike her sister, though, Ragna was an exhibitionist. Much like Lilith, and John lamented the fact that he had to deal with such crazy women.


Ah well. Being a God of Death had to take you to strange places.


"Yield to me, John." she said. "You are outmatched."


"So it seems." said John, hovering up and down. "Yet you forget one thing."


"What is that?" Lilith asked smiling.


"Sogton still hasn't forgiven you for interrupting her Linkin Park concert."


Around that time the Oricalc bombs I had planted in the seabed went off, reader. They had been painstakingly placed over months, and neither John nor I had the funds for them, but the U.S. government did, and a little prodding from the Atlantian majordomos of old had convinced the President to relinquish the supply orders of ten thousand leagues of fresh mined destruction.


Lilith cursed.


Egypt: 


Atop the Great Pyramid, a black man sitting in a trenchcoat with red Celtic spirals engraved upon his skin looked at the setting sun. He stood, then removed his trenchcoat, his naked chest glistening in the light as the tendons on his back concaved and retracted. He slowed his breathing, meditating in the Yogi way he learned in the Hind, hashish piped mystics humming the Bhoddhisattva and flicking through bright colored Hentai amid the tropical ferns. Terraced water flowed amid the pavillions then, but now was hot as Hades. Black Thunder knew he would have to deal with it. He had spent years preparing for this very moment, and raised his hands into the air. 


He muttered, "Oh Sun God, please receive thy libation." He held the card in the hallowed temple of Ra, golden phoenix looking like a predatory Demon.


Suddenly a dark figure in a black robe entered the Pyramid, climbing the steps. In it's hand it held a gun. 


"The goods, Nefer Sebek." it said, and Black Thunder was jumped by two black robed Thugs. 


Kneeling on the ground, he coughed and mumbled "I have no idea what you mean."


"A likely story."


One of the Thugs bent down and retrieved the Winged Dragon Of Ra card from the black man. He gave it to the boss.


The boss. "What the fuck? This is a Goddamn Yugioh card."


Black Thunder scowled, seemingly more angry at this than the fact he had been jumped. "It's very valuable."


Another black robed thug walked up the steps of the Pyramid.


"My Lord, Nefer Sebek is in the Pyramid opposite to this."


The boss: "Shit."


Then: "Did you seriously jump a random black guy playing Yugioh? In fucking Egypt? I'm whiter than Avril Lavigne, for Christ's sake!"


The Thug on the left. "Appologies my Lord. We were told Nefer Sebek would be here."


"Fuck you."


The boss threw down nearly a hundred thousand dollars in cash. It was much to Black Thunder, but to The Cult Of The Jesus Goat pitiance. 


The boss: "Use that to get treatment, and maybe whatever damn cards you want. What the fuck are you doing on a Pyramid anyway, dressed like a wizard and doing ancient Indian techniques? You resemble Nefer Sebek!"


"I'm fucking cool me." was Black Thunder's only response. 


The boss uttered some curse under his breath, it sounded like "Damn Arabs." then he departed with posse.


Black Thunder's cell phone rang. He picked it up, suddenly remembering that he had to take a plane to New York before the Yugioh theme song started blaring in his head and he knew he had to climb the Great Pyramid to see if Marik Ishtar's powers were only for himself.


It was Lin Be.


"God damn it Black Thunder, the plane left. Where are you?" She started cursing in South Korean.


"Long story."


"The next one is in five hours. Daphne is in trouble, and if you don't get on it I'm going to personally smash your manhood so brutally that you need to wear special pants. Understand me?"


From stories of what she did to her husband when he spent their fortune on Linkin Park, he knew she wasn't lying.


"Comprehend major."


She closed the phone. 


It was time to leave comfortable Egypt behind. But before he did, Black Thunder had one last task to do.


Putting his trenchcoat back on and tucking the Winged Dragon Of Ra back in his sleeve, Black Thunder faced the sun and said "Gang Star."


Then he did a JoJo pose.


Black Thunder was fucking obsessed with Anime.


Linkin Park: In the wastelands of today,
When there's nothing left to lose,
And and there's nothing more to take,
But you force yourself to choose,
In the wastelands of today,
When tomorrow disappears
When the future slips away,
And your hope turns into fear,
And your hope turns into fear
In the wastelands of today


New York: Daphne Heliopolis gazed at the momentous amount of paperwork at her desk and slowly ringing phone that was somehow half way across the room because Emily kept using it for phone calls. To the hair salon, the delivery service, the pizza, racking up a bill of nearly half her salary and three fourths the combined monthly expenses. When Emily was confronted about this, she merely mumbled "Like, okay." and went back to polishing her nails.




Daphne constantly complained to her boss Jewbag [actually his name, it was a very long and not sensical story] about this, but the elderly adventurer was busy yachting in Morocco or hiking in Yemen, and constantly replied that he was no longer a member of the Be Detective Agency which bore his name. His Asian wife was even more obtuse. When Daphne had last met him he simply blasted "Halfway Right" by Linkin Park and lit a pipe. The air was so foul with tobacc that she had to evacuate.




So responsibility felt to her to make some kind of functioning system out of the Be Detective agency, and since she could not fire Emily she devised ways of making her uncomfortable as possible including hiring a thug to periodically light her shrubbery on fire. Crude, but effective. And with the savings she bought an office fan for the hot Summer. Not that Emily, who seemed to be a Demon from Hell and equally as heat resistant, seemed to notice. Still, Daphne held some sort of loyalty to the place.




She had always wanted to be a detective since childhood. It had been a silly dream, and it was equally as silly now, but it made her feel cool. With a gun in her hand she traveled the world and dominated wherever she went. Inspecting herself in the mirror, she saw a tired but beautiful woman of about twenty, with antiquated long blond hair. And blue eyes that looked like Banshees from how bloodshot they were and her natural temperment. Slightly scowling, she went back to her work.




The phone rang.




"Emily, could you get that?" Daphne said reflexively, although she was already getting up because she knew Emily would not.




"Like, I'm busy." Emily replied, polishing her nails.




Daphne answered the phone. "Hello. This is Be Detective Agency, and we




"Answer the door." A grim voice on the end said.




Daphne worriedly looked to the door. Crazies again. To apply for the services of a Detective Agency you had to be either really rich or really insane, and the latter were multitudous.




"Why?"




"Just do it yo."




"The door was locked, but she could easily be shot through the window. She picked up an ice pick and opened the door.




A black, nearly eight foot tall gentleman in a black trenchcoat was waiting for her. Sunglasses obscured his face. He had a white undershirt and many tattoos, red and in the form of Nordic weaves. Smiling, he revealed a golden grill. And a tobacc stained tongue. He had been chewing the stuff.




"Hey o." The man said. "I'm Black Thunder. We spoke on the phone last week. I'm Jewbag's replacement assistant that he sent to you because he felt you were swamped. Anyway, enough about me. You look attractive, but I'm afraid I'm more interested in the wine on your desk. Got any sandwiches or pancakes?"




Daphne stammered. Jewbag did send a man named Black Thunder to talk to her, but he hadn't sounded so deranged before. This was just like Jewbag. Now she was stuck with a useless weight and a madman.




"Why didn't you just talk through the door?"




Black Thunder smiled.




"Because. This would be more stylish. Make me look impressive."




"Or make you look insane." Daphne thought, but didn't say anything.




Black Thunder forced his way in, elbowing Daphne and staining her immaculate tan suit with tobacc residue. He drank the bottle of wine without asking permission.




"Now, are you going to listen to the new case?"




"Are you serious, a new case already? I'm under mountains of work."




"Yep."




"Tell Jewbag I can't take it. I appreciate the help, but I believe you would only slow me down, and you could go fight a Oceanic Robber Smuggler's criminal organization or whatever it is you guys are getting up to."




"Suck it up Princess. Jewbag needs help, and you're the only Detective good enough for the job."




"What is it now? How much trouble is he in?"




Black Thunder sat down on her plush chair and swiveled to the fridge. Then he got a couple of cucumber sandwiches and continued to swivel, and didn't stop swiveling as almost thirty seconds went by.




"Are you all right?" Daphne continued.




"Ye, no worry." Black Thunder replied.




"So about Jewbag."




"Shit I'm not fine." Black Thunder replied and stopped swiveling.




"Have you never swiveled before? It gets you dizzy. Just how wasted on Mary Juana Iguana are you?"




"Not very. Anyway, Jewbag is being targeted by the cult of the Jesus Goat, only this time they have an evil Djinn behind them. And he needs a book, a certain Tome you see, kind of a Necrological Record."




"I see. So he's going to bring someone back from the dead? As usual. Who is it this time?"




"Rudyard Kipling. And apparently it has to do with a certain song." He leapt into his coat pocket so fast Daphne thought he was reaching for a gun and readied her pistol, but apparently it was a CD which he jammed in the VCRomma faster than a teenage boy on lavender oil.




A song started to play.




"Oh Lord I have been told
That I must take the Unforsaken Road"




"Everyone knows Marina and the Diamonds." Daphne said. "Because I'm Greek I can't seem to avoid being compared to her." The last name was from an eccentric grandfather who went to Egypt and lived there so long until he forgot his actual name, but she was still as Greek as Jason.




"But I thought Jewbag was nigh obsessed with Linkin Park and only Linkin Park."




"He is. But his brother, on the other hand."




"Oh no, I know where this is going."




"Join with us and Jewbag will reobtain the Agency to fire Emily." Black Thunder stood up and reached his hand out, but Daphne was already limping back.




Emily stopped polishing her nails. "Like, that's stupid wack." she said, then went back to polishing her nails.




"Not that guy. Anything but that guy." Daphne shouted.




"Yes," Black Thunder replied, seemingly ignoring her visual repulsion and focusing on his grandois mental narrative. "We are going to visit Jewball in England."




Daphne Heliopolis was now on a plane headed for Longyearshire of England, a shit town in a shit country that's only saving grace was that it was the only pretty spot in a decrepid and destitute land only functioning for the sole purpose of taking care of the world's trash and jetsoning it into the stratosphere and deep space. Thankfully, she was not empty handed, bringing her book collection and trusted pistol. She had somehow managed to smuggle it through customs when Black Thunder had offered the stewardess a ten thousand dollar bill. And the food was good, tomato cheese ravioli with a fruity drink that was possibly one percent apple and ninety percent sugared arsenic but at least tasted good. In today's mechanized world one was lucky to get nutritious food.




So, why had she agreed? Well, she didn't know herself. The benefit of expunging Emily was far outweighed by the prospect of having to deal with Jewball, but Daphne supposed she had some sort of addiction to adventure. And she had to get revenge on Jewball for the time he had dismantled her car to build a death ray. Some part of her was longing for the idyllic rustic splendor that existed only in the few sunny days in England before the rain came and washed it all away. But such moments were worth it.




Black Thunder insisted on a seat besides her. He was currently flirting with a big busted woman on the window seat, and telling her stories of his exploits in the Trading Sector which Daphne supposed were completely fabled and fabricated. Black Thunder claimed he wrestled a lion as it attacked the King of Sweden, and while Black Thunder was strong, he was far too drunk regularily to wrestle a lion.




The plane started to land, uncertainty ahead.




Jewball's manor was immaculate as always. Between the dusty libraries, Black Thunder lit a cigarette and was immediately doused in a bowl of water by Jewball, who emerged from the shadows.




"No smoking around flammables." Jewball said.




"Didn't you light your entire house on fire?" Black Thunder replied.




"That's different. There were Aliens involved."




Jewball sat down on the sofa and sipped his tea. He had not aged much in the twenty years it took since Jewbag's wedding, but was starting to get a few flecks of grey in his black hair and a new beard was forming. He was far too tired to shave, even though it had been almost a rite of passage before. Each day was started with shaving, tea, and a light nap in the sunroom, which was so dark it was only marginally better than the rest of his pitch black house.




Daphne started to pace. "Look, Jewball. I'm not too happy to be here, but business is business. And I know you won't repay the damage on my car, so I won't bother you. Still, you deserve to tell us what this is all about."




Jewball flipped open a book. "I'm not here for that. The witch will suffice."




Suddenly a flash of lightning entered through the ceiling and coalesced into the form of a silver light dragon and a slightly ditzy looking girl in a black dress.




"I believe you all have met Sogton." Jewball continued.




Daphne hadn't, but felt Jewball already knew this.




Black Thunder approached and held out a fist. "How's it hanging?" he asked.




"Hanging fine." Sogton replied and fist bumped him.




The pair then went through a complicated series of motions which could be described as some elaborate ritual, resembling that scene in Naruto where Kakashi weaved hand signs to summon the water dragon, with a few strange symbols thrown in there. To mortals unfamiliar with the art of "throwing gang signs", the complexities of thought described by the gesture would be lost, but to the expert an entire conversation was taking place, a complex exchanging of ideas that went faster than mere text.




"We're going to America." Black Thunder said.




"What? We just were there!" Daphne shouted.




"I was fucking with you." Jewball replied.




Daphne was outraged.




"Save travels, Daphne. Don't let the wind ruffle up your fine hair." Jewball continued.




"You brigand."




Sogton brandished her broom.




"Alright, everyone on the dragon's back. This will be less comfortable than flying by plane, but you will save on tickets. And from what Jewbag tells me of your lifestyle, Daphne, you'll need all the money you can get."




"I can't believe this is happening." Daphne muttered through biting her lip.




She got on the dragon. It felt a bit like the consistency of gelatin.




The flight was indeed worse than a plane. Particularily the jet force winds which Sogton's magic only slightly succeeded in blocking, which made Daphne look like a pom pom blowing in some sort of tropical storm. Which indeed was happening somewhere in the distance, and Daphne only hoped they would avoid it.




Thankfully the trip over the Atlantic was over fast, nearly half an hour. The view was immensely beautiful, the oceans lying like some mythical beast below. And when the American continent went into view, dotted with deserts and forest, it did compel a sense of awe that the mostly steel and air pollution England did not. For the first time Daphne was proud to be in a shit country, because it was the best in the world. Although she did miss the skyscrapers of her home, and when they came into view she felt a sigh of relief.




Sogton did not seem to be alarmed at the descent, which made Daphne feel nauseous. Black Thunder held on admirably, but she could tell even he was perturbed behind his tough exterior. As they entered the New York streets in plain view of passersby, who merely viewed it with the detached annoyance and grim mien of every New Yorker, Daphne included, they landed on a grassy knoll in Central park. Black Thunder jumped off and promptly lost his balance, falling into a pool.




"The Butler should be here soon."




"Butler? You mean you are rich enough to afford one?" Daphne asked through barely veiled disbelief. Even Jewbag, a successful businessman, was still poor enough to travel alone with his own private boat.




"I have my methods. But Maximillen works for free." Sogton replied.




The limo came into view, and before it arrived at the knoll was greeted by a slew of "Go to hell, cunt" and, "why don't you shove that car up your ass.". Which you would hear in regular New York, but the tone was considerably more polite than now.




Black Thunder was drying his clothes by Sogton, who held up a hand held fire. The fire was considerably more magical than regular fire, for the clothes were dried in five minutes. Then the trio walked to the limo, and the door mechanically opened to reveal a white bearded man in a black suit, the trademark stereotype of a limo driver, and two girls in the back seat nearly identical with black dresses and black hair. Their black eyes were cold, and black lipstick made them look like clowns. It was blacker than a My Chemical Romance concert.




"Greetings Daphne and Sogton. I am Maximillen, and these girls are Mihael and Mikey Jackson."




"Our parents were obsessed with Michael Jackson." The two Goths uttered in unison like some demented banshee chorus.




"Which one is which?" Daphne asked.




"Mihael." The one at the left said, seemingly annoyed at Daphne.




"Mikey." The one at the right said, seemingly annoyed at the sunlight.




"Hey, what about me?" Black Thunder asked.




"I am sorry old boy, but I am under strict instructions not to talk to rappers for fear of getting shot." Maximillen replied.




"I'm not a rapper Nigga."




"Oh, is that so? Fascinating. Back in my time Blacks would have no other career, but the march of progress marches on."




Black Thunder felt the man was entirely racist, but was hungry, so jammed his way into the back seat, feeling Mihael's breast as he did so. It was not entirely accidental, although he did miss his mark.




"Yo, get off me." Mihael said, with the same tone she would ask for a chocolate pudding at a street bazaar.




"Right away. Sorry, it was an accident." Black Thunder said.




"Oh shit!" Sogton screamed, and dove as a blue circle with runes struck her and disappeared. She was hurled to the floor, and a strange red clothed jester in a twin cap materialized, walking out of a tree.




"We got you, mistress. I hope being flesh and blood isn't too much of an inconvenience!" the Jester said, then laughed.




"Get me up Daphne. I can't move."




Daphne obliged, and felt that Sogton was considerably lighter than usual. Also cold, and the witch usually didn't show temperature. Could it be some sort of curse?




They entered the limo, which closed mechanically and the window rolled down as Maximillien got a machine gun. He fired, screaming "Die motherfucker!"




The Jester was shot, but instead of blood mist leaked from his body and into the air like some weird octopus. He entirely turned into mist and flew to the west.




"Oh no." Sogton was murmuring. She had cut her hand on some twigs as she fell and blood was pouring out. "No, no, no."




"I'm almost human." she uttered mournfully.




"What do you mean?" Daphne asked.




"She's an Elemental. A kind of a cross between a Shapeshifter and a manipulator of chemistry.  An Undine, to be precise, which gives her control over the Element water." Black Thunder replied.




"Not anymore." Sogton replied. "We aren't suppose to bleed."




"Does this mean you can't make us fly?" Daphne asked.




"I can't do anything. Even move. If the spell is what I think it is then I cannot even move for a month. You are on your own."




"Wait, Sogton. You can still provide them with information when they fight their inevitable enemies." Maximillen said.




"Are you suggesting the danger is even worse than we anticipated, Maximillen?"




"Yes. Which means you need to join them, even if they have to carry you."




The prospect of carrying a heavy Sogton, who was not fat but certainly not the kind of models on television, did not appeal to Daphne. She hoped Black Thunder would sober up and do it for her. Those muscles had to be good for something.




"Who was that jester guy?" Daphne asked.




"Judging from the mist, probably an Elemental." Sogton replied.




Before Daphne could ask another question, the roof of the limo was literally blown off by a blast of fire, which set Black Thunder's coat on fire and burnt Daphne's hand. A rainbow dressed man in a tight outfit entered, jumping from the roof, his hair bleached and eyes bloodshot. But even without the blood Daphne could see they were red. And he held a sizable dagger in his palm.




"Mm, yes. You look fine. You'll be nice for feeding the wyvern, and all my delightful little pets. A little scrawny, though. You might be from the poor district."




Daphne realized he was looking directly at her. Black Thunder disrobed his coat and trampled it, putting out the fire, but he was immobilized by the knife, which stabbed him in the arm from the circus freak's hand and pinned him to the wall of the car.




Mihael and Mikey levitated into the air and were gone from view. So they could fly. Daphne hoped they weren't leaving them, but it seemed likely that was the case.




She instinctively felt for her gun, but the thief was quicker, punching her in the stomach, then stabbing Maximillien who leaped into the backseat, putting the car on autopilot. The knife was bent, and Maximillen's torn suit revealed a bulletproof mail underneath. Daphne sighed. At least one member of her party was competent. But as she fought the assassin off with her fists, she realized he was far stronger and well trained than she anticipated.




Daphne hurled him to the wall of the car, enough for Black Thunder to grab him across the neck, but he headbutted him, and the tattood man's mouth started to bleed. The assassin wiggled out of Black Thunder's grasp, and kicked the British Butler in the head, then took a hit in his face by Maximillen's fist.




Sogton stood watching in horror. "Daphne, your gun!"




The assassin feigned at Maximillen and then reached out and took her gun, but Daphne was too weak to do anything about it. As the red eyed man started to point it at her, however, he was suddenly bleeding in a spray that looked like it hit an artery. But he wasn't wounded by any object. Was the wound in his chest some kind of bomb?




Mihael entered the car clutching a voodoo figure with a pin in it. Exactly in the same position as the wound on the assassin's chest.




"You exhibitionist bitch." The assassin said, then died.




Mikey was soon after, and the sisters tossed the dead man out of the car and sat down, seemingly oblivious to his blood staining the seats and Daphne's face. Black Thunder pulled out the knife from his shoulder and Maximillen regained control of the car.




"Uh." Mihael said gloomily. "This is so boring."




"You are right sister." Mikey replied. "I wish we had some food, or at least a My Chemical Romance song."




The next few moments were spent in awkward silence as Daphne tried to calm down. Black Thunder was bleeding a lot, and Maximillen tried some salve which he kept in his car safe and was probably illegal judging by the herbs Daphne smelt in it. But if it saved his life, Daphne didn't care. She had spent her life going with dangerous brigands largely by choice, and she was not going to stop anytime soon.




Black Thunder tore a strip of his shirt and used it as a bandage. It looked extremely bad ass, like the type of stunts you see in the cinema, but Daphne realized it was serious.




"Can you two heal him?" Daphne asked Mihael and Mikey.




"Nah, that is only possible for Gods. We are half Elemental, and not even that good at it." the sisters responded in unison.




"How did that voodoo trick work anyway?"




"The figures aren't really Necessary. They just help us focus on a mental image, which we use to track the energy of something similar looking and remotely detonate it. We need to be a substantial distance away, and the result focuses a piece of crystal on the figure that resembles a needle. We store these needles, because the process can be speeded up if we focus the energy into the needles, but it can only be used once before the needle is destroyed. The voodoo mythology was based on observing creatures like us." Mihael explained. Mikey sighed and looked out the window mournfully, probably thinking of My Chemical Romance.




The sisters were even more insane that Daphne expected, but she was glad to have them. And their cold personalities were somehow welcoming to Daphne.




"How did you get involved with Sogton? And you too, Maximillen."




Sogton sighed. "I was looking for prostitutes."




"She saved us from poverty and an empty stomach. No one has been kinder to us and given us more gifts than Sogton. We would gladly die for her." Mikey answered.




"As for me." Maximillen answered. "There is quite a lot of history. But suffice to say that I was a student and apprentice of the Russian martial artist and Samurai Ramseys. We were also greatest rivals. I proved myself by defeating him in single combat, and earned the right to be Sogton's bodyguard."




"She gives you tremendous amounts of money, is that right?" Daphne replied. Daphne was still bitter about her poverty, which apparently everyone knew about.




"When she isn't spending it on lesbian escapades and rare art, including the original essays of Oscar Wilde, yes. Which is not as much as I hoped. But I generally have enough at the end of the month to buy a significant amount of property to add to my estate. My garden is looking magnificent."




"I'm happy for you."




Daphne somehow seemed to find a connection to Sogton, and all these fellows, even Black Thunder, who was rude and obnoxious. Perhaps a part of it had to do with the fact that she had no friends, and indeed never had any friends in her life besides a few mentors who were long gone and shorty present. For the most part she had learned to rely on her own skills, and be alone. But now things were changing. A part of it lay in Sogton's personality herself, and her mysterious gravitas. The witch garnered servants to follow her.




"Where are we actually going?" Daphne asked.




"To visit my friend John, who is fighting mummies and Djinn in an attempt to find the Necronomicon and use it's secrets. So Utah, or about. The desert is a prime preserver and necessary for the mummy ritual, as well as keeping the ancient Tome out of the harm of the rain and Elements." Sogton replied. It was easier for Daphne to be told friend instead of slave.




Maximillen's eyes suddenly widened. Daphne focused into what he was looking at, which looked like a mere bird's outline. But he looked a bit too worried to be focused on avian fantasies.




"Let me guess, a Wyvern?" Daphne asked.




"Looks like the guy's pets are here to find us. Stand strong old chaps and chapesses."




Maximillen hit the gas and swerved their rout. They were headed for a water tower.




"Oh shit. You're going to blow up that tower, aren't you?"




"Bullets can't kill a giant flying reptile, old chapess."




Daphne sighed. She was just looking for a break, that's all. But she knew that when the feeling of tiredness from fighting and the dragon subsided, she would be enjoying this adventure. Wanderlust beckoned.




Maximillen was driving so fast Daphne literally couldn't rise from the seat. They stopped at the tower parking lot and evacuated the vehicle. The steps from the bottom to the top of the tower were quite lengthy, so Black Thunder who had lost a lot of blood was left behind with Sogton. Daphne drew her pistol and Maximillen brought along his machine gun, as well as a bomb. The twins flew to the top, looking like traditional depictions of vampires in the dark sky.




"When I light the bomb, we'll jump into the twin's arms." Maximillen said.




"Got it." Daphne replied.




The Wyvern was now visible, looking like a tan scaleless alligator with bat wings. She remembered that their claws and fangs were venomous, as if them being twice the size of a goat wasn't bad enough. Daphne helped remove the hatch of the water filter. As Maximillen lit a cigarette and used the match to start the bomb, she rushed to the end of the platform and leaped.




The resulting explosion after Maximillen had just barely made it off the platform caused a cloud of steam to rise all over nearly half of New York and obscured Daphne's vision. Thankfully Mikey had already veered into position. She found herself roughly thrown into Mikey's arms, and such a jarring hit that she assumed her arm was injured. When the mist cleared Daphne saw Maximillen safely in Mihael's arms, carrying him like an eagle.




"Looks like we made it." Daphne said.




"Yeah, but our friends didn't." Maximillen said. She looked at the car. Maximillen was right, Sogton and Black Thunder were long gone.




Sogton: So, reader, you think I would allow myself to be kidnapped without fighting, like a leaf in the breeze?




That was exactly what happened. Fuck that Jester guy.




So Black Thunder did make a stand against the Elemental, but what can a one arm injured guy do against a Demon from the Blackest Pits of Hell? Nothing, and that is exactly what happened. Black Thunder was kidnapped against his will and me along with him.




The fight was kind of amusing. If someone had seen this rap artist looking reject fighting a clown that looked like he belonged in Celtic Storm or a bad production of a Broadway Show, they would have certainly taken pictures, but the Jester struck Black Thunder with the strength of a man five times greater than his size.




I pitied the black man.




We were roughly manhandled into some kind of Pimpmobile, painted bright pink and boasting a variety of hanging confetti in rainbow colors on both exterior and interior. The backseat where we were tied with rope was comfortable however. There were worse places to be kidnapped.




The Jester was fucking insane. He kept laughing like a lunatic in this high pitched squeal which reminded me of an ermine about to kill some mouse. Hopefully we weren't the mice in this analogy. I bet you are wondering how I could fall so low. Sogton Kottr, the Sabre Toothed Cat Goddess, she of shadows and commander of darkness most high, brought to some childlike existence where I could not even move my arms and hung like a mannequin while my compatriots had to carry me. Sad. Pathetic. But even in my most trying times I was not forsaken.




Some of my power remained. A little Telepathy, and the ability to hide a low energy detonating attack in the Jester, which I did. I did not expect it to help much, for he had almost as much power as me and not one Elemental existed in this country to match The Mephistopheles of Los Angeles, for that is I, reader, read it and weep. And before you ask, reader, yes, Marilyn Manson did write that song about me.




I then used my Telepathy to warn Daphne about her threat. She had such a messy brain, and the static energy frequencies were almost enough to make me retch. If I had bile, which thankfully as a human I did not. If I had to go to the bathroom in this car, a disgusting human habit, I probably would have stabbed myself in shame. With my mind. Stabity Stabity.




"We're fine Daphne. At least physically. The Jester dick ass took us to his car. Judging from his art taste he's probably going to fuck us while a lion watches." I said to her dramatically and daintily, like a Princess.
"What? How the fuck are you doing this?" Daphne thought, then "I really hope Sogton doesn't know I want to fuck her."
"Oh I know. You salivate whenever you look at me, and I don't even have that big breasts."
"Oh shit."
"Calm thyself sugartoy. Black Thunder is smarter than he looks, and I'm gonna bust out of this cab and get myself a roasted Jester kabob. By which I'm gonna make that dingbat cook it for me until he pisses himself in fear."
"Stay safe." then, "I really hope she doesn't know I want to fuck the Deligerent Shadow Twins."




Ah, Freudian psychology. As the insane man had suggested, naughty sexual thoughts sipped to the surface faster than background noise, which included important life saving information like a memory of your location and an encyclopedic knowledge of past events. The human mind was a strange thing.




I cut the connection.




"Yo Jester, why don't you take a clown ball and shove it up your ass?" I shouted.




For the first time the Jester seemed disturbed. "Don't make me use this rope to bind your mouth."




I obliged. No sense in being unpolite.




Daphne was distraught. Maximillien, however, quickly powered up the car.




"We have to complete the mission." he said.




Daphne entered without objections, but she couldn't accept the loss of her friends so easily. Maximillen must have garnered a suspicion of her mind, so he consoled her.




"Our friends would not want you to worry. It is a harsh world, and you have to be tough to carry on."




"Perhaps."




Still, there was the possibility that Sogton would contact her again. She doubted the kidnapper would be stupid enough to allow her to be rescued, but the witch was intelligent. There was no telling what she was up to. Daphne was still upset. She hadn't even told her how much she meant to her.




"Oh I know." Sogton replied.




The communication was over without a second reply.




What a bitch.




Several days later, with Daphne sleeping in hotels that were far too expensive for her to regularily afford, and eating salmon with orange juice, some of the most expensive products in near apocalyptic modern society, she saw the deserts of Utah reflecting under an unopen sky and fell in love. This land was like an artwork, although some of the most dangerous in the world.




Dismounting the limo, Daphne and the band made a hike to the Excavation, a large vast system of underground caves resembling in size and depth the Temple of the Kings in Egypt. Suddenly, though, the air lowered in temperature and Maximillen held up a hand.




"It appears we have company."




Daphne hugged her hands around her waist. It was almost freezing. And in the middle of the desert day, which had been so sweltering that she was in a sweat. What kind of sorcery was this?




Maximillen suddenly shouted in pain. The girls Du Goth were knocked back, seemingly by a wind, although the sand did not shift. As Daphne ran forward, she saw that a lance of pure ice was sticking through Maximillen's chest, through nearly an inch of bulletproof armor. Blood soaked out onto the sand.




"Look here. A filthy mortal." The voice was like a torrent running through shards of glass that echoed and chimed in unison, beautiful and clear, but with a dark undercurrent, disturbing and grim.




The haze on the horizon coalesced into a girl, and Daphne rushed forward in happiness before stopping. In front of her was Sogton, but with white hair and a white dress, and with such a look of hatred on her that Sogton would never possess. A hatred for life, the sun, and all living things, from the grass budding the wet earth to a woman playing with her child son.




Sogton's attitude towards life was like a hippie towards tax forms. She knew it was dangerous and could seriously inconvenience her, but regarded it with a vague and disinterested apprehension. It could burn without her feeling a serious form of emotion. And over the course of her life Sogton had burned many metaphorical tax forms.




But this new woman was evil. She had a malice that transcended space and time.




She stabbed Daphne with a myriad ice lances.




But as Daphne fell in a pool of her blood, she saw Mikey limping towards her.




"I can reverse the course of time. But only for a few minutes. You have to do the rest."




She felt herself drifting, and her eyes spinned. The white dressed woman stepped over her and the white dressed woman's arm turned into a claw. Then Daphne saw no more.




Daphne awoke to find her and Maximillen standing at the same spot they had five minutes ago. Her wounds were gone, as were Maximillen's. Mikey was gone.




"Run!" she shouted, and they took refuge inside a cave.




Panting, Daphne supported a weak Mihael.




"You think we are safe from her?" Daphne asked.




"We should be." Maximillen replied.




"This cave is deep underground," he continued, "and we would know if someone was following us. Elemental or not, they leave footprints in the sand.




"What about flying?"




Maximillen shook his head. "Not with this hot an atmosphere. Warm air rises, and there would be no way to heat the air to supply a current without it being countered by the warm air current already present. Not for an Elemental of Sogton's power, or whoever that being was."




"It wasn't Sogton, that's for sure."




Mihael was crying. In the confusion Daphne had neglected to comfort her.




"I'm sorry about Mikey." Daphne said.




"If she used her ability to turn back time, there is no way she is still alive." Mihael replied.




In the silence that followed the wind blew mournfully on the rocks, making a howling sound.




Sogton was trying to contact Daphne.




"We were attacked by a woman that looked like you. Mikey is gone." Daphne thought.
"That attacker was my sister, Ragna Kottr. She was born from the darkness in my heart when I fought God at the Rebellion of Satan. She posed as a friend and manipulated John into fighting me, when all I was trying to do was bring peace to my home in Nippon. I'm sorry about your friend." Sogton replied.
"How are things on your end?"
"The Jester took us to some kind of Castle. We must be out of New York, but I have no idea how far. Judging by the noise outside there is some type of river."




The connection broke. Suddenly a man in a black suit entered the cavern, boasting sunglasses and a pistol. He appeared to be an enemy, for Maximillen shot at him but the man took to the ground and responded with a gunshot to Maximillen's hand, causing him to drop the machine gun.




Mihael rose, and responded with a voodoo pin in the man's chest, but it seemed to be a shallow wound, for the needle was deflected with a needle of the man's own, which came out of his breast pocket. His chest erupted in blood but he seemed unaffected.




As Daphne was about to shoot a sword wound appeared in the man's arm, cutting through the flesh from behind, as a blue sabre appeared. A hand knocked the assassin unconscious and a brown suited man in a longcoat with black hair appeared. He tied up the assassin with a rope from his backpack, which he kept outside.




"Tally ho." the man said. "I'm John Westley, and I believe you were looking for me."




Sogton: I am afraid I have to take over the text again reader. I know you want to know about Daphne's adventures with John Westley, but I feel explainations are due.




For starters, I had sealed my sister in that demi moon Phoibos on the farthest side of Jupiter's storm stream trusting the power of the steam giant to keep her locked until I could regain my powers. After the reset I felt less a being, although the Entire Universe was suffering as much as me. Still, there were upsides to the reset of the universe, for instance I could finally tolerate the man I loved and live alone in England, although the joy would be short lived as technological progress nearly destroyed our home and the lust for adventure drove me to other places.




Fortunately, space ships capable of extra strato travel were beneficial. I no longer had to rely on my Demonic powers to travel to other planets. But some idiot in a V Rocket traveled to Phoibos and unraveled the bindings on my sister's tomb. She immediately lurked in the northern reaches until she could draw enough power to damn my efforts in the deserts of Utah, which was happening now.




As for the Jester, he at least was providing us with a good warm house and a decent bed to sleep. Perhaps he wasn't as big a creep as I thought. But I had to bust out of here.




Black Thunder was lying on the bed beside me and eating a cheese sandwich with his good hand. He was quite depressed, and I tried my best to cheer him up by telling him of my exploits with Asian prostitutes, but it did not seem to work.




Eventually we played chess with me dictating my moves and him moving the pieces. I was feeling grim and thinking about flirting with Daphne when the Jester entered.




"All right. Looks like your demented sister is on the loose. We need your help in finding the Necronomicon."




I sighed with some level of insult. If you are wondering how a sigh can insult, reader, wonder no further. I did it very elaborately with an addition of several musical notes and did not stop for thirty seconds which served to infuriate the Jester. Black Thunder looked at me like I was crazy, which I was.




"I tried to warn you." I replied. "All right, you're part of our gang. Now let's get the fuck out of here. I hope you have good transportation, and perhaps an album of Linkin Park."




With no option of going out into the open where they would be vulnerable to an attack by the Ice Queen, John Westley led them deep into the depths of the cavernous structure which he was quite familiar with, having explored most of its passages before, although dangers lurked some of which even he did not know about. The weird structure seemed to span miles, some of it natural, some obviously manmade, with labyrinth style bricks layed out a bizarre architecture that resembled some lost civilization.




Daphne soon couldn't see, but John Westley had packed several kerosine torches and the warmth was beneficial underground. How strange to be in the desert, Daphne thought, where a small variable in elevation could mean the difference between burning to death and freezing to death, with very little change between the two extremes. She had to pack winter gear, and the coat was a blessing. But the Goth girl barely needed clothes, and still kept her thin dress without complaining. It must be nice to be an Elemental.




John Westley relayed to Daphne some of his and Sogton's life, his time as an explorer in Victorian England, and marriage to the Ice Queen, where he killed himself under her curse and was resurrected by Sogton, who became a spy in her household. John killed Ragna after her betrayal, the elementium forged Excalibur shard which was his sabre the only thing capable of killing her, for even Sogton was not as powerful. He was immortal now, a traveling bandit, archaeologist for hire, a man of many trades. Some called him the Black Horseman, for he draped himself with a black cloak and rode on a black steed, but he robbed rich and forgone hurting the poor except in dire needs.




A folk legend around these parts, there was even a statue of John Westley in the Phoenix Arizona town square. He proved to be as strong a fighter as Maximillen, and as compassionate as Mihael.




How he got along with Sogton, who was his polar opposite in personality and a complete bitch, was a mystery.




A pitch black drop awaited them, a damned pit which looked like an invitation to Hell, and Daphne could easily imagine Virgil and Dante climbing up the surface in makeshift ropes, like some kind of damned explorers atop a sealed mountain where no mortal foot had ever tread. Their own ropes were insufficient to traverse the expanse, and Mihael was too tired to fly. As John Westley threw a stone into the bottom to gauge the depths, it was nearly a minute before the reverberation reached them. They were through.




Thankfully, John Westley had some food, which was much better than the oatmeal they carried. They feasted on roast chicken and potatoes while using the oatmeal as garnish, and they waited for Mihael to recover her power.




Suddenly a Jester appeared, flocked by Sogton and Black Thunder. The Jester, in fact, and John Westley drew his sword, which glowed bright blue.




"Put that shit away, John." Sogton said rudely, but still more politely than to Daphne. She must really love him, as odd as it seemed for Sogton to love anyone other than herself. "I have my body back."




The blade was sheathed, and Daphne realized the scabbard was iron, perfect for reducing the radiation waves of elementium. It was a harmful substance to humans, but generally five minutes of exposure would do nothing, but to Elementals even a few seconds was toxic.




"Yet she cannot use her powers." Black Thunder chimed in. He looked much better.




"Thanks to this Red Asshole." Sogton replied.




"I'm sorry." The Jester said. "But I go where the money is. All is fair in business. Maybe next time we can work as partners."




"For your information, Argent Misfit, I have more money than your bosses could ever imagine. You should do more research."




The Jester did a bow. "Yes, I shall do better, Mephistopheles of Los Angeles."




As on cue, Sogton retrieved a radio from a pouch and started to play the Marilyn Manson song of the same name.




"I feel stoned and alone like a Heretic And I'm ready to meet my maker.
Lazarus got no dirt on me. Lazarus got no dirt on me. And I'll rise to any occasion.
I'm the Mephistopheles of Los Angeles."




The Jester fashioned a very basic Bridge of lava earth, for it seemed his power was a hybrid Vulcan and Gnome, capable of moving Fire and Earth.




The two parties were reunited.




Sogton: Now reader, we rapidly reach the finale. We crossed the Bridge and headed to the cobblestones of the labyrinth, which now resembled English roads and gave me a homesick feeling for my thatched little cottage in the British woods. John Westley always said it was the pinnacle of architecture, and I said it looked like a piece of shit, but all architecture very much looks like pieces of shit and I had to admit it held a certain charm.




The radio, which I had autotuned to my selected playlist, somehow was captured by John Westley with a few horrific additions of his own, Like The Clash, an English band whose aesthetic and vocals could best be described as rusty nails scraping across a steel beam in some forgotten scrapyard in a desert in a shadowy hole of filth and depravity. Still, it was a decent song.




"Sherrif don't like it. Rock the Casbah! Rock the Casbah!"




I quickly stole it from him and jammed on "Walking With Strangers the song by The Birthday Massacre".

Don't Think I'll Miss Her But I Want To Take A Picture When I've Found A Place Where She Can't Find Me

Now, I'll let Daphne take over, because her style during this part was quite good except the part about her romantic desires and entanglements over the responsibility of herself versus duty to others. Also random diversions to her Greek past. She was really obsessed with flora and fauna, especially oranges.

So the sextet came to a kind of enclave with several passageways leading to the east, and a natural glow that John Westley said came from some sort of natural mineral. Sogton was playing stupid music as usual, which reminded Daphne of the Emo hipsters she used to hang around with at school because there was no one better but the entire thing was filled with preps and poseurs, as well as the strange obtuse species known as the rich kids. Despite having a vacant stare they were indeed highly intelligent and had some kindness. Enough to help Daphne get through her hell teenage life.




Maybe that was why she liked Sogton so much. While all the other Emos had gotten big suits and money stuffed full in briefcases, she had gotten grown up. Older and wiser.




The air suddenly dropped to a freezing level, and Daphne clutched her arms around her waist as a high pitch entered the room. Sogton threw John's torch on the ground and held Daphne close, displaying a level of intimacy that the sorceress never did.




"Look, Heliopolis, I don't want to lose you. I rarely say this to mortals, but you rock." Sogton said.




Then she kissed her. It was weird, kind of like kissing a lama, or a llama, both of which Sogton somehow resembled in behavior.




Then Ragna entered.




Sogton quickly jammed the radio to Linkin Park's "Line in the Sand" with her foot and brought out two silver guns from seemingly thin air. The guns shot lasers at Ragna, starting off yellow and blue and transitioning to silver and rainbow. The Sorceress Weiss absorbed them, however, and white steam filled the room.




"Another day!
The truth will come
You're gonna pay for what you've
Pay for what you've done
You'll get what yours
And face your fraud
You're gonna give me back what's mine
Give me back what's mine."




Sogton then materialized a black scythe and rushed at Ragna, who blocked with her usual transformation into claw talons.




Black Thunder suddenly took Daphne's arm and rushed to the central exit, with the Jester and Maximillen following on foot and Mihael on air. Apparently it was understood to the others telepathically that Sogton was making a noble sacrifice.




Daphne had enough of Noble sacrifices in her life.




The party entered into the light of day and Maximillen was promptly dragged down to the bottom of the depths by a Chimera hiding in the darkness, one part bird one part lion. Daphne had no idea why the bird part was necessary, probably some mad Scientist or wizard as were prominent in those days was fucking around with DNA. No blood exited from the wound however, so it looked like the mail was functioning just as good as mithril in the Lord of the Rings.




"Don't worry." Mihael replied to Daphne's distress. "Maximillen is tough. He could snap this creature's necks in no time."




Maximillen saluted and fell to the Depths.




"You know, I did like that guy in the end." Black Thunder said.




"Shut up Black Thunder, Daphne lost her girlfriend." Mihael replied.




Black Thunder merely shrugged.




"Thunder, is your arm better?" Daphne asked as they descended the slope.




She sensed Black Thunder was not good at conversation but meant well. He fiddled with his bandage.




"Can't slow me down, this sayli dong ding stuff." Black Thunder replied.




"I couldn't understand any of that."




"I'm fine."




Their conversation was cut short by several black cloaked figures below.




"Aw, shit, the Cult of the Jesus Goat." Black Thunder screamed, and then brought out a rocket launcher from behind a rock and fired it at them.




"How the fuck did you know that was hiding behind the rock?" Daphne screamed through the sonic reverberation.




"A lucky guess."




The resulting fireball immolated all of the Jesus Goat members except for one, and Daphne shot him with her pistol. At the moment she was not going to deal with shit from any masked member of a secret society, for the death of Sogton hit her hard. The Black Thunder slid down the slope as a horde of a dozen Cultists of the Jesus Goat poured out of the rocks to face him, and beat them all with his fists, shouting "JoJo!" and "Golden Wind!" while he did so.




Was Daphne dead? Yes, she felt it. Mihael was gloomier than ever, so that explained. But.




"We have one last task to complete." The Goth girl replied.




She led them up a hidden ziggurat in a cliffside and to a shrine underground where the Necronomicon stood on a dias, frayed pages, blackened edges, with a silver cover.




As Daphne examined it she could tell the fraying was amazing, for it was made of a material like iron that did not bend or break. The first page said "Read on at thy peril." and to her amazement, the next page was a handwritten letter from Sogton.




"Daphne, if you are reading this, don't use the book of the Dead to revive me
Some creatures are better left in peace.
I predicted that this would happen and so left my record to you.
You are a Mephistopheles now, for as I kissed you I broke your blood with my teeth and transmitted the virus that brings blessings and curses.
Don't tell me you never wanted this, for I know lies.
I am a creature of utter loneliness, not fit for human relation.
But should I come back some day, for in the words of Lovecraft




"That is not dead which can eternal lie
For with strange aeons death can die"




And strange aeons is the only way we shall be together.
If you should choose to ignore my warning and use the instructions on page fifty, which I
Suspect you shall, for you have such a stubborn nature, you shall be burned and twisted
Beyond reckoning, and beyond recognizing, and become a creature like I was.
Safe travels, don't die."




Daphne flipped past the rest of the pages to page fifty, past waves of hentai and depraved drawings, and some notes of meteorological significance, some observations of human nature, some mundane tasks like grocery lists, and some pages specifically designed by Sogton Daphne thought to fuck with her, like an image of an orange.




The instructions were simple. And also dangerous.




"Well," Daphne said. "Looks like I have a new adventure."

Strange Aeons:

The Necronomicon was not much help in translocating the rough and dirty streets of Los Angeles. It gave directions, but most of the riddles led to old men in burly Greco apartments with fabled William Morris art and maple trees that offered her cake and more obscure hints, until Daphne was forced to dig through public parks in Sogton's mangled handwriting reading steps from landmarks, and shoveling grass until a treasure chest merely revealed "Who was Medieval Gilgamesh's enemy? Answer: Asureth"

[Sogton: Because no one gets this: Asureth sounds like Ashtoreth, another name for me.]

That wasn't even a good pun.

Eventually she came to a seaside home where "Crafters Of The Coast was filmed here, I know it" according to Sogton, and she walked up a staircase through a door and in the pitch blackness Sogton was drinking some tea.

"I thought you said I needed the Necronomicon to revive you."

"Fuck all. Hell if I understand it."

The Sorceress seemed undisturbed, but Daphne was irritated. Sogton picked up a rose.

"Do you think Crafters Of The Coast was actually filmed here? The Arab man said it was but when I followed the instructions all that was left was a pile of sand."

"God Damn it Sogton, I don't have time to be following your obscure quest about Musicians."

Sogton smiled. "Then you've come to the wrong place. Important Question, do you have a Lake behind your house?"

"What the fuck would a Lake be doing in ghetto New York."

"Valid point. I suppose I could always tweak the poetical notion. A drop of water with the qualities of a Lake. "The sadness in the falling of a leaf in Autumn", and all that."

"What the fuck are you delirious about?"

"You'll find out in a couple chapters. Anyway, I must be off." She was gone in a puff of black smoke.

Daphne gazed at the Necronomicon. As much as she hated to admit it, this Quest was rather fun. She turned another Necronomicon page.

The following story is inscribed inside the Necronomicon, and also happened in an Alternate Universe:

Magical Girl:


New York: Jewbag Fagotas stared up from his coffee and five page written typewriter that he was preparing a dissertation on marine biology on. His red coat was unorganized, his black hair untidy. He was on his seventh cup of coffee in three hours, quite unhealthy, and the caffeine was making him scrape his nails against the desk like an addict. He tiredly stitched together the last lines. Written by Jewbag Fagotas, amateur detective and wildlife enthusiast. "Note: It's pronounced Fah-goat-as" Not for the first time Jewbag wondered how long before he went crazy due to lack of rest. But that wasn't Important information. What was important was the Hitler case. The usual. Someone had claimed to see Adolf Hitler in Argentina, a tired trope repeated through the years like some flamboyant Yeti myth since almost a year after Hitler's death. But this one had some merit.
For starters, it wasn't the usual fabricated mythos of a cult of antler headed sheep masked priests roaming the forest. There was an explainable mundane encounter. But the real evidence was the pictures. Forensic scientists had combed over the black and white image a decrepid mustachioed man that looked like a bag with all the air gone from it. The scientists swore it was legitimate, built on computer models. The bone structure was just the same. Of course, there was the possibility of CGI, but the Polaroid mark was in the legal place. There was just one problem, and it was a big one. How the fuck was Hitler, discounting the years before his death, a hundred and seventy years old!?




South Korea: Lin Be rapidly traveled to the Americas in a private V-15 Plane designed specifically to be as unnoticeable as possible. Of Korean descent, she had no desire to visit the United States, where as usual she would be asked the slew of questions and racist quips like "How's Kim Jong's cock?" to which she would knee the usually male perpetrator and have her lawyer get her to be freed of legal issues. Usual rebuttal was "I'm South Korean, dimshit, we spent years getting revenge on those goat bread fuckers." but they didn't care. They hadn't lost a parent to Kim as she had. Yet business called. Her Lawyer, Ramseys, had told her an extremely dull New Yorker named Jewbag (yes, Ramseys said sadly as he shook his head. That's his name. Don't ask him about it!) Fagotas was prodding into Argentinian government business. Normally she wouldn't care if some Zionist was killed by the Brazilian government, which was likely to happen, but Jewbag's ambitions coincided with her own in the tropic of Shit.
The usual demon flies, almost Venusian heat and swarm of pesticide ridden tamales awaited Her. Still, it was worth it for an opportunity to kill Hitler. As a Magical Girl it was her duty, and it was personal. Hitler had been making secret deals with Kim Jong Ass for the payment of cells to Hitler that he needed to remain immortal. Warrior cells from Japan, or some Alternate version of Japan in another world, if that made any sense. It was some anime shit, and she got enough hate for looking like a Nip that she couldn't stand it. Her Demon Cat, black and blue furred Nanzy latched at her from his bag. "Where are my sweetbreads?" He muttered, and she tossed him a bar from her skirt with a look of disdain. He ate it wrapper and all without a thanks. Brash and vulgar, but still not without his uses. Anyway, Hitler had resurrected some sort of Warrior with the help of an Indian mystic, but the Ninja had turned on him. The man's name was Madara Uchiha, wonder what that meant.




Argentinia: Get the motherfucking money Jewbag." the Russian man growled on the radio. Jewbag Fagotas sat on the Helicopter pad of a government issued 'Choppa that Jewball had got him. The similarly named man was his brother, and a complete British prick, although useful since he was a Member of Parliament. Jewbag did not wish to dwell on the brother's names. His mother, Euphemia Fagotas had a cruel and vain temperment, and when the brawdaws were born she had named them after the first objects in sight. A bag and a ball. Worse was his last name. Jewbag constantly dreaded having to explain that it was pronounced "Fah-goat-as" and not faggot ass. The particularly most sad example was when he had been making progress with a pretty girl in college and upon recognizing him in the paper shouted "Oh, it's that""Faggot ass gentleman" and he nearly died. Twelve thugs tried to jump him after school, and even when he received a sympathetic nursing of his bloody head from Emele he was forced to explain he was not homosexual after Emele described "You know, David Bowie was a fag like you", Jewbag never got the chance to make any progress with her in romantic entanglement, but it was for the best. He was a marine biologist foremost, like the guy in JoJo that looked like he ingested a pound of steroids for breakfast. "And who the fuck are you?" The Russian man seemed to be growling, or jerking off, usually he would not suspect the latter but the Mongoloid seemed to be the kind of type. "My name is Ramseys." "Ramseys what." "Just Ramseys. Like da king. Awnly more ninja."
Fagotas the Bag never heard a large man use the word "ninja" in casual conversation and as a verb. He vaguely reminisced that friends of his would use the verb ninja when he was crying listening to Linkin Park in Anime club. His friends used to plead for him to make Conversation, but Jewbag ignored them. Why, they asked, were you listening to Linkin Park in an Anime Club. They couldn't understand. "To fully appreciate music you had to go to the despotic wastes of society." as Baudelaire had wrote. And although a Japoniphile himself, there Was nothing worse than fans of Anime. "Just answer me clearly without your voice cracking or that noise. How do you know about me?" "Lin Be. I baw her Lawyer, so I know Policy. And Brazil gon kill you." As it happened, Ramseys was not a lawyer, but had watched Vampire Slaying Lawyer: Miles Tokorov, an art nouveau show about a drunk and slightly effeminate lawyer who was bitten by an Oni and became a monster hunter with special powers due to the half human half vampire blood mixing in his diminutive form, on his piece of shit Russian T V while smoking on a cigar and nodding along when Nochnoe Revendu would play over the bloody scenes where Tokorov would impale a Vampire. Jewbag didn't need to know this. Ramseys had spent half his life in the military and the other half in Nipponese training schools for the way of the Samurai, but if you told the type of New York Goth Jewbag was this they would think you all brawn and no literature. Which Ramseys, although unorthodox, wasn't. 
"But who the Hell is Lin Be". "A hawt girl. But beware, Jew boy. I hear she does not like the Semitic tribes. Something about funding Kim Jung Assmole. You stand no chance to marry her." Jewbag suddenly dodged, for a missile was screaming directly at the 'Choppa. The resulting explosion took the blade off the revolving wind generator and tossed Jewbag against the wall like a doll. A very emo, anemic looking doll. The pilot abandoned ship in rainbow parachute gear, and Jewbag cursed. So the Russian gangsta was right, and he was going To get killed. But he was lifted out of the wreckage by an immense Fat Man in a speedo. His parachute was branded with the Flag of Texas and he wore a gasmask. Jewbag sighed. This was only slightly an improvement over death. The detective recognized the immensely chubby man instantly. There was only one idiot that stupid. As the man pulled off his gas mask (Why the fuck would you need a gas mask to go parachuting? Jewbag thought, and it infuriated him even more than wearing a speedo in below freezing weather), "Fuck you Austin, Shit!




Jewbag and Austin Aymyn fell to the ground like butterflys, one beautiful if in a decaying, wannabe Marilyn Manson kind of way, the other a basic stage resembling a worm that ate every leaf in sight and was grown immense with avarice. Jewbag, upon hitting the ground, started Hitting Austin like some sort of girlish stripper drunkly mistaking a wall for a bed. Austin was unaffected. His enormous moustache drooped like the Gates of Troy, and if he felt freezing in the albeit mildly colder ground of Argentinia he did not show it. "Colder than Ymir's Asscrack." Austin joked, and then withdrew a cigar from his dick area and lit it with a lighter that he randomly found a few meters behind a rock. Jewbag looked revolted. "That touched your cock!" "Probably touched others' cocks given how shady the Cuban smoke trade is. Doesn't matter. I need a cig." "Why the fuck did you have the Gas mask!?" "I saw a film once." Austin's eyes became misty, making him look like an extremely fat, extremely smelly Oscar Wilde: "The protagonist leaped into a field." "What is going on here?"  "Whatever it is it's shittier than David Bowie's last album." the incredibly Fat Man seemed undisturbed by Jewbag. "I'm leaving." the Detective said. "Wait. I have to tell you the reason you're in Argentinia. Well, you already know." Jewbag stopped to listen. In the huts ahead, some kind of bazaar was breaking out and him and Austin seemed to be the point of conversation. If there was a gun fight, he would need Austin's pistol. "You better not be wasting my time." "Sure as Sunday not. Now Hitler, when He was bunkered up with Eva Brautworst knew he was going to die. So he did the only sensible act and watched every single DVD in the bunker on his fucking VHS."




Jewbag threw a rock. "How the fuck did Hitler have a DVD?!" "Ima glad you asked." Austin went on. "DVDs weren't invented until the 90's you ass." "It was Aliens." Austin accepted this as simply as one would accept water. "But Hitler was mortified by the videos. Until he came to Naruto Shippuden. There, he finished the entire Uchiha redemption arc and discovered Madara's use of the ocular jutsu of immortality! The Izanagi. That was a simple way for him to escape to Brazil. He faked his own death and used the Sharingan's winged yellow Susano'o to fly across the Atlantic Ocean. Everyone in Brazil saw him but if you told someone that Hitler was flying the ocean in a Skeleton they'd think you crazy. Hitler reasoned he would live forever, and luckily the bunker had a cabinet with Madara's Sharingan in it."




"You fucking cunt." Austin was sounding much Crazier than Bob Marley after his twelfth joint in seven minutes. "So it became legend." Jewbag sat down and started crying. He wished he had Linkin Park instead of this drunk mad Avian pioneer. "And how do you have proof?" "This" the smiling Austin said, withdrawing his hand into his crotch again. "Is Madara Uchiha's eye!"




Austin retrieved the eye. It was red and bloody, like the boreal halo of some vengeful God. The Sharingan's three spokes fluttered barely perceptively in the breeze, wheeling like the ring of death and rebirth. Om made pudme Hum, Shiva hail.




"What the fuck?"




Jewbag said. The eye was too detailed to be a clever pottery fake. It might have been manufactured by some Scientist in a lab, some nerdy Sumerian obsessed with Naruto Shippuden. But in that case why would Austin have it? Austin was insane, but not someone to play a joke or rob a Scientific facility. Was the eye real? Such was the only explanation.




Jewbag tried to think rationally. There was no way that Aliens would have given Hitler a DVD of Naruto Shippuden, but Hitler may have retained the eye and possessed it's immortal power. A legend based in reality. Some Japanese manga artist used carvings in cliffside temples to tell a story that was real fact of the Gods.




"So you believe me?" asked Austin.




"No."




"But we have to go."




"Go where asshole?"




Austin started walking and Jewbag walked after like a homosexual elf. An elf smoking the Mary Juana Iguana.




"To the hotel."




A short time later they came to the Three Suns inn, where Austin now [thankfully, Jewbag thought] was in a grey suit instead of a speedo, obtained three bags that Jewbag knew were instinctively filled with guns. Before they could go any further however they were stopped by an Asian lady and a mixed race Russio-Nip male. The woman was dressed in a thin gray skirt and chainmail leggings, with a gray bra and her black hair in a triple tress. The man, burly and hard although somewhat kind and spaced out, looked unexpected for the voice Jewbag had heard in the helicopter. His hair was indeed cool, white and awe inspiring. Jewbag the Detective assumed this was Lin Be and Ramseys. Feeling a bulge in his pants, Jewbag looked to disappear. The Magical Girl was indeed hawt.




"We'll talk in the morning." He said.




"No. Now." Lin Be looked like a lioness.




"Wait." Ramseys said. "At's late, and we now have a guard over Jewbag for his protection. There is no need to push it."




Lin Be rolled her eyes. "Fine."




The guard showed up, darting from the shadows like a slippery snake. He looked like a corpse, also Michael Jackson, and some demented mannequin. Wearing a Shinto robe and tie rope he looked like. Oh, fuck is that Orochimaru? There is no way this could possibly get weirder. Jewbag thought.




The girl Asian pulled out a lolipop, which Nanzy attempted to steal. Smiling she said, "Have fun beating your dick, Jew Boy."




There was absolutely no way this could get worse. At least in Jewbag's thoughts. It wasn't his fault that Lin Be dressed like a fisherman's daughter. The next moment it did get worse. They were attacked by Nazi zombies.




Ramseys immediately started shooting, ducking to the wall in a way that would have been comical if he had not been a six foot five bodybuilder with a scowl. Nanzy immediately launched himself from his pouch and started growing, and soon the kitty was half the size of Jewbag. While Orochimaru, or whoever the guard was, started throwing snakes at the Nazi intruders Lin Be's outfit magically turned black and face paint appeared under her eyes. Jewbag dodged a bullet and Austin started spraying an AK. Lin Be produced a rapier.




"Not sure that will work girly". Austin said lighting a cigar in between blasts of his machine gun.




"Silence fat man."




Lin Be raised the rapier and lightning came out of it, impaling Nazis by the dozen. The Texan's eyes widened.




"I stand corrected."




He moved towards Ramseys. Normally the Russian would have some complaint with how Austin was blocking him, but he recognized a skilled fighter. They moved in tandem and started the King's Line defense, each compensating for the other's blindspot.




"You fight well for a Commie." Austin said. "Even if you have a small gun you know how to use it. Where were you trained?"




"Tokyo military corps."




The guard whisked away Jewbag from a volley and then down a dark corridor.




"Where are we going?" Jewbag shouted.




"Home. You should have never come here."




"And who are you?"




Blue flame filled the room. A voice said: "Who does he look like? Surely the inhabitants of this world are not ignorant enough not to know of Orochimaru."




A figure appeared in the semi light at the end of the corridor, draped in red Samurai gear and with long black hair. He seemed disinterested and fierce.




"Madara. I was hoping to resurrect you to study the Sharingan but it seems Hitler was the first." Orochimaru said. "Get down, Jewbag!"




He pushed Jewbag and pulled a sword out of his mouth. If Jewbag's Naruto Shippuden watching taught him anything it was that the sword of Kusanagi could seal anything, even Madara's Susano'o. But Madara seemed to anticipate it and tore Orochimaru's hand off with a slice of his katana, then called forth the blue Storm God to battle.




Orochimaru dodged a blast of blue fire. Crossing his arms in prayer, his eyes became orange.




"Seven Rays of the Buddha!" He shouted, and Madara was engulfed in seven rays that disintegrated his Susano'o. Orochimaru lunged with a snake and Madara countered with a flame attack, but a blast of water blocked it. Jiraiya white haired entered through the corridor and smiled.




"This is the second time I saved your life Orochimaru."








"Yeah, but you still can't bang Tsunade."








Jewbag ran. He was stopped by Adolf Hitler.




"Look what the Zionist dragged in. A gay emo who looks like he just spent the entire evening listening to Meteora." Hitler said, smiling with malice.




"Shit how did you know I listened to Meteora?" Jewbag replied. It seemed a strange statement to first say to Adolf Hitler, but it was a strange day.




"I spent all my life listening to Jews. They were not Linkin Park fans because Chester Bennington was not alive in my time, but the genre was the same."




Hitler ripped off his SS uniform, revealing a substantially muscled body. He punched Jewbag in the chest, Jewbag's red coat ripping and revealing a Meteora T shirt beneath.




Jewbag cried, dark mascara running down his cheeks as his dark hair reflected the lamplight. Was he seriously going to die, killed by Hitler without even fighting? Proving the stereotypes of his race true? Lin Be inspired him, reminding him of Luthien in the Silmarillion which he had read thinking it hentai. Proud, fierce and unyielding. He was no Beren, but at least he could fight one last time.




Jewbag picked himself up off the ground lunging.




"Rasengan!" He shouted without thinking, and Hitler was hit by a sphere of green energy.




"Shit." Hitler said, and then died.




"That was entirely too anticlimactic." Orochimaru said, returning with Jiraiya.




"Fuck that" Jewbag said, feeling blood in his T shirt. As he inspected the cut he realized he was bleeding. "This isn't some damn film."




Then he collapsed.




Nanzy ripped the throats of twelve SS agents and then shadowblasted another with his electric eyes. Austin was still preoccupied with measuring gun sizes with Ramseys, something seemingly necessary to mortals like food and water. Speaking of food, he was hungry.




He wondered if any Nazi had a schnitzel.




Ramseys got behind Lin Be and shot. "Jewbag is going to be dead if I don't rescue him."




"I know that, but we're busy here."




"You like him, don't you?"




Lin Be was confused. Ramseys was blunt, but the question threw her off because she didn't know how to answer it herself.




"Not really. But he does have more sense than the rest of you lot."




"In any case, I'm going."




"Noble till the end Ramseys? What does it matter if you're dead?"




Good question, Ramseys thought. And then his suit pocket got opened by a bullet and lewd animated girls on postcards fell to the ground.




"What the fuck?" Lin Be shouted.




Ramseys cradled them like a monk wielding a sacred object.




He departed with a salute to Austin. Then zombie Eva Braun rose from the depths and started fighting Lin Be.




Later: "Shit, that was a bad idea." Ramseys said when he came to Hitler's corpse and saw Jewbag being nursed by Orochimaru with some foul smelling potion.




"How the fuck did you beat Hitler?" Ramseys asked.




"He must be some sort of prodigy." Orochimaru said.




"Jewball must be worried." Jewbag muttered. "If I don't get home he's going to sell my furniture and use it to buy flowers."




"He's delirious." Jiraiya said.




"No his brother is literally named Jewball." Orochimaru replied.




Ramseys was already running through the corridor.




Later: Austin had known how to deal with zombies from a small age. Watching Devastation on Castle 8 he knew the most important action was to have fire nearby, and so he pulled a firecracker from his crotch and lit it, then hurled it at Eva Braun.




The dead SS leader went up in flames.




"Smells worse than David Bowie's asscrack." Austin mused, then kicked a lamp and burned more SS troopers.




Jewbag and Ramseys were coming back. Austin suddenly fell to the ground, red liquid bubbling out of his chest.




"Oh shit, he's dead." Jewbag said. "No, no."




To his surprise he was starting to cry. He never liked Austin much, but behind all his annoying and stupid ideas he was a friend. The only friend Jewbag had ever had. Now he was going to be alone with a distant brother and no one to confide in his strange feelings of attraction and fear towards Lin Be. He didn't think Ramseys would be a good listener.




"Shit!"




Austin's eyes suddenly opened and he smiled. "Psyche." He pulled out a bottle from his speedo.




"It was Kool Aid. It looks like you do care!"




Jewbag was so in between relief and rage he could have wrote an emo song about it.




The next day, when all parties were rested and Jewbag felt better, he mustered up the courage to ask Lin Be on a date.




After Austin pestered him by waking up in the middle of the night asking for toilet paper, to which Jewbag replied he had seen an entire unused roll in Austin's room, to which the Texan said he had rolled up Mary Juana Iguana in it, to which Jew emo gave him his roll with a look of disdain and bought a newspaper if he would need to clean his ass, Jewbag dragged his luggage out the front door and came to the sunlit garden.




Lin Be was sitting crosslegged under a tree on a bench. Nanzy was asleep, and there seemed to be no time like the present. Jewbag nervously flustered. Before Austin started interrupting them by talking about his Republican Hoes magazine delivery, he had to do it.




He did it.




It was Lin Be who broke the silence.




"I'm busy. But if you don't mention Linkin Park or anime I suppose I could end up dating a Jew."




The wind howled as a jet slowly descended from the forest. She smiled, then leaped on the ladder of her jet and was gone.




Cowboy Alien Hunter: Georgia: Austin Aymyn never expected much in life. If there was anything he learned from his parents and throughout college it was to maintain the outer appearance of a tough guy, which he had, training at the gym for three hours a day even if it did little to counteract his immense weight brought about by love of food and probably some personal form of madness, but to always enjoy life and the wonder of nature when he was alone. To do that you had to have some sort of personal peace, an acceptance of one's flaws and triumphs, and an never ending desire for adventure.




As a bounty hunter eighteen years later, those lessons came in handy.




Fiddling with his gun under the table, Austin calmly assessed his state. His typical speedo attire was replaced with a grey suit. He and Ramseys had come in through a brass double door elevator during which Austin had the idea to restage the famous Cowboy Bebop scene when they were going to the casino. Partly to annoy Ramseys, and partly because although it was not a fashionable pasttime for the stoic Texan, he loved anime.




"Only hands can wash hands." he said, quoting Goethe. "If you want to receive, first you have to give."




"Have you gone entirely mad, man?" Ramseys replied. He did not look amused.




Austin smirked. "Nah. Just remembering my childhood."




Ah yes. Sipping peach tea on the porch in the Texan sun. He doubted someone like Ramseys, raised in the cold Russian pine forest would understand.




"Well, looks like we're here."




The double doors opened, revealing a casino. It was much like the Bebop casino, though not in space, and with flashing lights and an array of delectable dishes such as roasted quail and noodles, rice, a variety of squash and oranges, Austin thought he might enjoy himself if it wasn't for business.




They came to the table and sat down, flash forward to the present, where Austin was fiddling his gun and a tattood Asian man sat down, only wearing a sleeveless bodyguard vest, and lit a foul smelling cigar with a gold lighter Austin was fairly certain the probably Indonesian man could not afford.




"You're looking for treasure, and it's not money you want." The Indonesian mused.




"May'be. But how would ye know that?" Austin replied, matching the cigar with a Texan brand of his own and cheap silver lighter.




"I'm Lao Feng, lord of the navy at Laos. Lin Be asked me to watch over you with whatever stupid scheme you were planning next."




Ramseys colored, although Austin suspected it was from the plum wine Ramseys was profusely sipping without invitation from the distributor.




"Looks like she does care. I'm flattered. I thought the only driving force in her life was some obscure racial vendetta against the North Koreans, or maybe taking care of Nanzy."




"Anyway" Austin broke in. "Do you know the location of the Stone?"




"If I did you wouldn't be here right now. But those guards seem to know it."




Twelve highly agile guards in black suits with lizard scale body armor engineered in the depths of the Oxford gene complex laboratories, and tasers that functioned more like lazor guns although in their beta stages, poured through the aisles.




"Well, shit, this is worse than that time we stole Jewball's book collection and we got accused of being revolutionaries because some of the material was classified from the government." Austin said, still enjoying himself as long as his cigar would last. No sense running, because he was slow. Ramseys might make a stand, but the doors were locked for non guests. Better to accept fate. Unless.




Austin's eyes fluttered to the ornamental suit of armor to the left of the table. It had a horn, and he remembered the description from one of Jewball's books.




Knight and errant come to feast
Look for statue in the east
In within the dazzled horn
The key to Stargate is worn




and "Death forlorn" underneath it but Austin didn't want to focus on that for now. He blasted the horn out of it's iron grip with a steel cutter he had been warming beneath the table for minutes now, leaving a red trail of smoky debri as he did so.




"Ramseys, hide underneath the table."




It seemed strange for a secret agent to be taking orders from a self trained Texan whose only combat experience was hunting partridge and firing rocks at his friends after a drunken night in the plains, but Ramseys knew a methodologist when he saw one, and his experience with Austin made him a trustworthy friend. Ramseys hid, and Austin fired a shot at the fire vents, aimed so that the bullet would ricochet onto the third floor railings.




Ramseys knew the man was insane. But still, it was just possible he was more intelligent than Ramseys. The resulting spray of water caused the entire casino to fill with jets of water like some primordial Aztec river out of legend, or Tiamat rising from her depths. Steam from the statues' still smouldering cut filled the room, and Ramseys couldn't help admiring Austin's genius. Still, how were they going to exit?




The solution came from Lao Feng. He pressed a button and the vented seal of the anti gravitational chamber that rich idiots used to pretend they were flying without the risk came off, and highly pressurized air entered into the complex, blowing out the windows and sending the guests and interlopers rising in a flare of wind that resembled a tornado. As Ramseys' eyes adjusted to the steam, he saw Austin flying towards him, and seeing the three hundred ten pound man flopping like a fish in stasis was comical, but Ramseys realized that Austin was heading directly for him and could crush his windpipe.




Ramseys tried to adjust for trajectory. In the process he vaulted off a rail to slow his fall and then pushed Austin hopefully gently in the stomach. He heard a cry of "Commie thug" which showed that the force had been significant. Still, both their descents were slowed enough to be moving in synchrony.




They flew out of the building and into the pool. Ramseys was amazed. The one time Austin had not packed his speedo he would have done better to have it.




Austin choked on water. He was complaining not of the immense cold, for it was winter, but of his explosive devices and cigars he stored in his pants getting wet.




Ramseys sighed and brought the both of them underwater as he lit a waterproof rocket and the both of them torpedoed into the starry night sky.




It happened in the grey haze of a British morning that hung like a medieval blade on an equally medieval grassed manor that seemed not to evolve for hundreds of years. Austin was cold, a little scared, and couldn't understand why the British enjoyed living in a sad copse that was sunless and looked like a daytime vacation in Mordor. Must be the drugs in their tea, which explained why they drank it so often. But even so he felt the energy. The mystique that made the darkness worth it, and inspired the ancient Celtic tales of good and evil. Arthur's brazen charges, the Picts' stalwart rebellion, all of these were bred out of the British resilience that launched itself out of the drab moors and into the gates of immortality.




Jewball motioned to a book. "Read if you want. But beware, some of it is dangerous stuff."




Jewbag's older brother had a few flecks of grey in his hair, and although similar in appearance to the emo he could not be further in manner. Morose, and always wearing a dirt color suit that matched the blue-ish fading drapes in the manor, he scowled even when happy. It had took Austin a few hours to know that Jewball was actually quite a nice guy.




"Shit, why is this happening?" Austin thought, feeling the fey wanderlust again.




Now, as he plunged into the voids of space with only Ramseys hard grip to steady him and a rocket that was alarmingly going the opposite direction of where their escape rout hid, Austin would give anything to feel that sickly sweet glory again.




Meanwhile, away from the Georgia casino and in the wilds of Texas where Austin might have called home, the members of the band Fall Out Boy were cruisin in their jeep Zombi, trying to navigate via the starlight because their lamps were burned out by Patrick's insistence on having a drum synthesizer plugged in during their drive, in his words "It'll give some rad beats if it warms up before we use it".




Pete thought there was nothing more stupid in the world than charging a device that did not need to be charged while they were ranging through Texan wilderness. He had already seen a snake similar to the one they had used as a prop in Just One Yesterday, and wanted nothing to do with the only country that still had Pterodactyls, it seemed.




"We have to stop guys." Pete said.




Suddenly they were interrupted by a blast of light that tore through the sky like a comet. It was predominantly yellow, but had rainbow flecks, and looked nothing like a shooting star. As Patrick squinted he could see a grey metaloid disk in the center.




"Oh shit it's Aliens!" he shouted, then had to leap from the jeep because it and the surrounding grass were immolated in a blast of fire.




Georgia: At length the rocket burned up and Ramseys pulled a parachute. Austin insisted it being the flag of Texas, but just to spite him, which Ramseys glorified in, he had painted the hammer and sickle on it. Ramseys was no Commie, as Austin claimed, made even more apparent by the fact that he was born ten years after the fall of the empire, but Austin was too stupid to understand that.




They looked to be landing in Western Georgia, by some river and a glade. Austin thought Georgia was pretty enough, like some King and Castle picture book he had read while he was younger and searching the public libraries hidden caches for porn, which he never found, but the thrill of the hunt always propelled him through the lonely nights were there was nothing to do but look for Bigfoot and rob public libraries.




All of Texas would have sympathized with him, even the public libraries.








But behind Georgia's exterior prettiness Austin recognized a subdermal of uncertainty and taint that he did not like. Better be in the boring drawl of Texas, Austin reasoned, than some idyllic paradise that had venom coursing through it.




They fell on the ground. "Alright, we got the Arkenstone, what do we do with it?"




Austin said.




"How do you know?" Ramseys said. "Almost any object could be in that horn."




"Literally no book can lie." Austin replied with the Texan childlike certainty that took legends like the Clown Posse and Roc as fact. "I know because my Granna told me."




"Fucking simpleton." Ramseys replied, but Austin could tell it was because he was worried.




"What's your plan, Buff man?"




"Find shelter, hopefully any trace of civilization."




"Well you're in luck, because there is a town in that way."




Ramseys squinted where Austin gestured.




"What the fuck? How can you know that? It's pitch black."




Austin smiled and attempted to light a waterlogged cigar from his crotch for the fifth time without progress.




"Mah eyes, Com Com. They be like Legolas."




Ramseys thought there could be nothing more Lord of the Rings than a fat man leading a washed out gangster through some immensely beautiful if dangerous forest, but firmly believed Austin resembled Gimli more than Legolas. If not some brute gnome in the burrows.




As Ramseys started to tire, Jewbags voice came to him in it's emotionless candor. "Gnomes are actually a noble elvish race, in counter to the prevailing myth of the time which portrayed them as country filth. Tolkien believed the story was corrupted by English fear of the fey, so they lumped the pixieish barrow gnome with the noble elvish Noldor."




Who the fuck would have the time to enjoy that? He muttered. Even Lin Be read the Princess and the Apple or whatever fantasy feminine romance was popular at the time. He had tried to open the Dick of the Bling, or whatever it was called, but couldn't get through three chapters. He was probably missing a good section of the plot, for he had opened Two Tatters first, but a good book shouldn't be limited to prior knowledge. Give him Volisky any day over the English wack.




Soon they did indeed come to a town after travelling through dirty trees for half an hour.




The first sight they saw was a pole, with a thirties style news real in black and white plastered to it with some glue that would probably be radioactive if examined under microscope.




"FALL OUT BOY BAND members KIDnapped!" The paper read.




Patrick Stump's picture below looked like some hardened criminal after a night spent jerking his low to animated girls.




"Well mail my ass to Norway!" Austin shouted loud enough that everyone in the town was alerted to their presence. "I wish Jewbag was here. He would know what to do with his detective skills."




"The fuck. I don't want to focus on that." Ramseys replied. "We have to get the Stone to Jewball."




"OH SHIT FALL OUT BOY'S BEEN KIDNAPPED!" A voice like a loudspeaker roared, slightly homosexual, yet still gruff, like a drag queen who doubled as a swordsmistress.




Austin turned around. Looking at him was- is this true?- David Bowie!




Somewhere in a piece of shit place in England: Jewball Fagotas methodically walked through his eleven hundred bedroom mansion. Well, ten hundred of those were for the rats, but one should not be inaccurate in one's descriptions, the British gent thought.




A plebian with the intellectual capacity of the cretins that dwell in the dirt would have mistaken his gloomy decour for laziness or cultural illiteracy, but Jewball and every aristocrat member of his Club would have known better. Every tile, nay every dust was arranged in fashion pleasing with Euclidean principles of design. William Blake would have called it a revelation and proceeded to draw a mural about it.




For instance, just yesterday Jewball had spent three hours arranging his curtains to reflect the most pleasing amount of light. He had got the ray diameter down to four centimeters before deciding it was good enough. Strictly speaking, the ideal measurement was four point eight centimeters but the curtain rod kept eluding him in a vain struggle for mastery and exposure to so much sunlight was getting his nerves agitated.




Thankfully, he had called for a cup of tea and called it a day, collapsing to the couch like a puppet out of air.




Jewball felt the feyglorious wanderlust like Austin, but was mostly immune to it being British. But he still could not forgo the urge occasionally to dust off an Emilie Autumn CD with his feather duster and slide it in his Antique DVD player, a relic even for 2000, and the year was 2180, accounting for The Cult Of The Jesus Goat's insistence that The Jesus Goat's Birth should be used for the solar cycle, not the standard Christmas model. His fingers trembled as the first violin cords broke.




His feet even managed a kind of dance.




"Days of yore, I tell my restless mind
Searching mountains fields and meadows green"




Such profound poesy. Once, when he had been incredibly naive and young and no knowledge of the Devil Bees or pesticides in the grass that had caused his allergies to flare, he had ventured into the front yard. He collapsed twenty minutes later, but the learning experience had indeed been a constructive one.




In aesthetic the English countryside matched Miss Autumn's description of Arthurian grandeur , but in practice he would prefer to stay inside. Emilie hailed from the United States which his newscards had told was a barren and desertified lands (outside of the East Seacost, but Emilie was not rich enough to afford the life of luxury provided by the Dinosaur cloning elite) so the singer's romantification could be forgiven. No such forgiveness lay the Fairy Tale authors in the books on his western bookshelf, however.




As he sipped his camomile and dreamt of far off lands and Turkish concubines beneath a wreath of grapes on the ceiling he wondered if he had slipped a little too much nightshade into the tea he was drinking. Probably not.




Suddenly the door opened and a peculiarly armed green man army carrying white steel tubes entered. The invaders, which stupid society would call "Aliens" despite the technical term being Extraterrestrial Lifeforms, were tentacled on the head and chest and bald otherwise, their skin giving on a rainbow aura when it was in the light. Their hands were humanoid, but their feet just stubs with very basic movement. All intelligent design seemed to have gone into their muscles, Jewball queried.




Jewball sighed. He was going to have to get flustered. Picking up a giant rifle that shot explosives that he kept behind the couch, he started obliterating the aliens. His house was on fire, and that was glum, but the job of the present called, and Jewball mused that it was quite romantic to be fighting green slimeoids in his manor.




He pulled out an earpad that he kept for special occasions like this. In irony, or perhaps fate, for Fall Out Boy were kidnapped not five minutes before by these exact Alien invaders, Disloyal Order of Waterbuffalos started playing.




"Imperfect Boys with their Perfect Ploys
Nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedies."




"Nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedies" Jewball thought as the last Alien died. "And nobody wants to have their home invaded by imbeciles."




Jewball kicked the door of his living room open in what he hoped was a dramatic fashions.




"Die motherfuckers!" he shouted, and lit his belongings on fire.




Georgia: "Holy shit! Is that really David Bowie?"




Austin asked.




"No I'm an Alien." The David Bowie imposer said, then revealed a sharp toothed mouth and a tongue like a whip. The alien flung the whip at Austin and had its head blown in by Ramseys' handgun.




"Why does weird shit like this always happen to us?" Austin quipped.




While Jewball was fighting Alien stupidos, Austin was trying to steal a car from the garage of a modest lot and realizing he didn't know an iota about stealing Georgean cars. Apparently the design was completely different, and the key locks.




"Why the fuck is the startup located a foot away from the gasoline tank? These rich folks have no idea how to design a car."




"Couldn't help you there." Ramseys said, and for the first time Austin saw him smoking. He must be stressed. "In Russia we used to ride snowmobiles and reindeer."




"Sounds like some shit out of Dragonquest."




"Of course you would think that." Ramseys rolled his eyes.




Fifteen minutes later Austin finally got the engine running. They rolled out with guns at ready, windows down and looking like a thug and Santa Claus on hard times.




Fortunately they met no obstruction for the first five minutes. They were almost out of the town when came the gunfire.




Austin dove beneath the seat and pulled the car on autopilot. He doubted these well off folks in the forest had high technology, but still this was the area of the States where high technology was mostly prominent.




"Oh fuck they have a velociraptor!" Ramseys shouted, then shot out the window.




Typical. Looks like someone was in the Sci Breeding program nearby. But Austin had once strangled a Chupacabra with his gloves, so he was not too worried.




"What the fuck?!" Ramseys shouted as an Alien ship descended. Three green men on ropes identical to Jewball's assailants descended from the craft, which was grey and gleaming like a heliotrope.




"Dodge the God damn Velociraptor Ramseys!" Austin shouted, but it was too late. The Russio Jap was taken by it's prodigious jaws and ran towards the copse near the road.




"Let down your guard Fat Texman." The Aliens said, and Austin, cursing because he knew surrender was the only possible option, acquiesced.




"If Heaven's grief brings Hell's reign, then I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday."




Patrick Stump was singing in the Alien's exhaust pipe.




"Do you really need to sing in a time like this?" Pete asked.




"Yeah. It's good for keeping the throat smooth and the vocal chords balanced."




"Who cares? God damn it Patrick, we've been abducted by Aliens."




Suddenly an extremely overweight fat man in a grey suit was tossed down to them. Austin smiled.








"Shit. Jewbag is going to be furious at me that this didn't happen to him."




Ramseys' first reaction to being manhandled by a Velociraptor was not panic, but a kind of Bushiram tranquility that he learned in the Tokyo corps. He had no idea to incapacitate a Velociraptor like a human, but if basic reptile biology transferred accurately to dinosaurs, he knew what to do. Twisting gently, he snapped the Velociraptor's neck and pried it's jaws open. Residual friction kept moving the beasts' legs, but he leaped into the bushes. Landing on his back, thankfully with minimal contact to his wounds from the teeth of the dinosaur, he started ripping his suit and bandaging his cuts. He still had some salve he got from the pine sanctuary in Russia while he was visiting his home in Sbrovsky, he applied it profusely to the bleeding.




It didn't seem to be too serious, at least Ramseys had got worse wounds before and survived without salve. But he didn't know if the genetically engineered Velociraptor had venom. And for that he needed a medic.




He collapsed into the sand. Austin was abducted, and Ramseys was alone in the wilderness with a potentially venomous wound. Ramseys position did not seem well.




A cloud of dirt obscured his eyes.




"Need a hand?" Lin Be asked riding a sabre toothed tiger.




Austin barely convinced the members of Fall Out Boy to cooperate in his plan to hack into the defense mechanism of the ship. Pete thought it was a better idea to let the Aliens think they were harmless and wait for the Aliens Scientific tests to conclude before the rockers and Austin were inevitably dropped off in the wilderness and could use flares they had for their concert to signal a passing helicopter for help. To be sure there was no lack of government craft in Texas, where they tried to match the east's breeding and just managed creating a fucking Chupacabra.




Fucking dumb asses.




But eventually Pete had acquiesced when Austin told him he had experience dealing with Aliens and the kidnappers probably weren't the good guys. To be fair, this was true. Austin had watched Finding Saturn on the Animal Channel, and was experienced in it, just he didn't think this was what Pete expected from Austin's Texan boast.




The bounty hunter planned to use the lessons learned on Finding Saturn to breach the defenses of the ship.




Lesson One: Press as many buttons as possible.




Austin did so as they came to the command console.




The alarms started blazing.




"What the fuck are you doing?" An Alien shouted, punching Austin.




The fat man absorbed it with his stomach and did a choke hold on da green man.




"I'm going Stone Cold Steve Austin on your ass." Austin said.




"Fuck you." The Alien replied, then started expelling gas.




Pete put his sleeve around his nasal cavity and started trying to steer the ship with a high tech steel wheel. He hoped he knew what he was doing.




Austin Aymyn did not want his last image pressed on his mind by his visual senses to be an Alien's asshole, but it seemed that was exactly what was going to happen as the caustic gas poured through him, stunning his will with the sheer force of bad stench.




Thankfully, at the last possible moment before Austin was going to faint into a pillar and the Alien rip Austin's neck, Lin Be drove her plane kamikaze style into the Alien craft and survived with the ejection seat. The sabre toothed tiger obviously could fly from retractable wings designed with Roc dna by mad scientists.




"Fuck you!" Ramseys shouted, then shot the green man seven times with his pistol, and kicked him in the throat launching himself off the sabre toothed tiger.




"You have got to be fucking joking." Austin said.




Lin Be crawled out of the ejection seat's harness and went Magical Girl mode, which was really just powering up her sabre and watching her clothes turn black from the heat and invisible mascara appear for the same reason, and vaulted into Austin's feet, reviving him with some acidic blue potion that the Texman swallowed.




Ramseys punched Pete in the eye and started beating him as he fell to the floor with his shoe.




"Fucking stop Ramseys, that's the lead guitarist for Fall Out Boy."




Ramseys paused.




"Oh. He looked like an Alien."








Patrick brought Pete to his feet.




"He's just a Mexican you ass."




Ramseys looked embarrassed. "Sorry."




Austin stepped in to be the diplomat.




"Guys, Ramseys is Russian. He wouldn't know a Mexican unless he went to Taiwan and got a prostitute, and Ramseys isn't that type of guy."




Patrick laughed. "To be honest, I'm not surprised that Pete would be mistaken for an Alien. He does smell like that."




Pete punched him softly. "Get laid, asshole."




Lin Be treated Ramseys wounds, which were not venomous. She knew because she removed the teeth from the Velociraptor's corpse and they were not hollow or wet.




"Thank God." Ramseys whispered.




"And thank the Jesus Goat." Austin added. The cult of the Jesus Goat wasn't big even in Texas, but Austin had immediately subscribed when he found out the white robed occult followers worshiped nude anime girls.




The ship crashed in a field identical to the ones across Texas, from a combination of genetically grown grass that cloned itself, and the fact that Texas was boring as fuck and even the wildlife knew it.




Co leapt off the craft and started assessing their situation. The flying sabre toothed tiger could only carry one member of the strange impromptu party, and it would take an hour per person since Austin recognized this place from one of the many evenings disposing toxic waste stolen from the Sci Complex in order to build a nuclear reactor to, in Austin's words "Fly to Japan and get da grills". Presumably he meant girls, but with a Texan nobody ever knew [He in fact meant a grilled salmon sushi roll. Austin loved food more than females]. But at least they were safe.




Patrick started singing.




"Imperfect Boys with their Perfect Ploys.
Nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedies."




New York: Jewbag Fagotas inspected his paper with tired eyes. Why was he still writing marine biology even after eliminating one of the most deadly dictators of all time, revived by some anime other dimensional shit that sounded like the ramblings of a bearded hermit? But he had been there. He had seen Orochimaru. He had held Austin's weed filled toilet paper in his hands. The whole event seemed like some bad dream, yet it was real.




Lin Be's thighs would never have that high of a resolution in a dream world.




He had received a postcard from Austin that they had saved the members of the band Fall Out Boy from Aliens. Normally he would suggest that Austin was speaking out of his ass, but Jewball had also phoned him from his archaic 1930's phone that still occasionally let out electrical flashes when he used it, confirming it. It was hard having a anti technology brother in the super modern era, but that was Jewbag's life.




Speaking of which, Jewbag's life had improved once rumor had it that he killed the German zombie. Now in Argentinia he was a national hero, and even in the rest of South America, which considered Argentinia a hellhole for exactly the same reasons the rest of the world considered South America a hellhole, viewed him with a grudging respect. There was an unspoken agreement that you would tell the truth in the Jungle, even in another culture, since if you lied it was a good way to get killed.




Jewbag looked for coffee. He was on his seventh cup in half an hour again. He could find none. This was bad.




Austin clicked on his letter box in his computer. Apparently Austin had sent him a video of Patrick Stump standing beside him singing "Heaven's Gate" as proof that he was not fabling, which Jewbag had accused him of. The Detective felt bad but Austin was prone to a lot of idiotic ideas.




"Give me a boost, a boost, over Heaven's Gate."




Patrick melodized.




"I'm going to need a boost over Heaven's Gate if I don't get coffee." Jewbag thought.




Then an idea came to him.




He would buy some from the shady dealers below in the vegetable stands. Everyone in New York respected him, mostly because he had been seen with Ramseys, so there was no chance of him getting robbed.




As Patrick Stump went on into "Novocaine" however, it seemed that there was a movement outside that Jewbag felt uncomfortable about. It might have been a bird, but not many pigeons still floated at these altitudes since the New York Empire had started genetically engineering predatory eagles (USA, their tags which were birthmarks on their talons read. The feathers were also red white and blue).




He went to the window. Patrick Stump continued singing.




"If you knew, knew what the bluebird sang at you, you would never sing along."




"Oh shit." Jewbag thought, as he saw Lin Be's rebuilt jet crash into his window and barely had enough time to leap before the metal hulk obliterated his room, spreading Linkin Park albums and animated porn everywhere.




Lin Be opened the cock pit.




"Get in, Jew Boy." She said, smiling. "We're going to kill Abdul Alhazred with Zombi H.P. Lovecraft."




In a not so piece of shit part of England: Oscar Wilde gazed up weary eyed after purousing a book titled "The Dread Crow and other Spooky Stories" and wondered why he was reading extremely bad literature at one thirty at night. Perhaps it was the Absinthe. Perhaps it was the drugs. Perhaps it was both.




The shadows seemed to darken at the edge of his immaculate Victorian mansion. Since his impromptu resurrection, apparently not much of a notable event since several other celebrities from times long past had been vivified after the Jewbag case, which was now even known in obscure Oligarchies like Russia, Oscar Wilde had been desperately trying to adjust to this new Technocrat society. Some inventions, like the handheld heat gun and tiny music speaker that could be wore as a patch, were genius, yet others, like the immense irrigation droids that flew overhead with the force of a hurricane every day above the parched English countryside, could be dealt without. Sure, they were needed for the desertification of England, but that wouldn't have gone on without the impact of technology.




Suddenly Marilyn Manson broke in through the window.




"Oscar we have to go find the Necronomicon."




Oscar Wilde blinked rapidly, confusedly.




"I'm sorry do I know you?"




Marilyn Manson laughed.




"Everybody knows Marilyn Manson. Or at least everyone I know."




Before Oscar Wilde followed a complete stranger through the wreckage of his window he had to make sure this goth punk home breaker was sane.




"Why should I come with you?"




Marilyn Manson looked surprised.




"Shit, I probably should have said that when I broke in. Shit."




Oscar Wilde had experience dealing with stupid folk. Especially after being revived by that idiot Cult of the Jesus Goat in the wilderness.




"Well," Marilyn Manson continued. "It's because Jewball sent me here."




"Oh shit." Oscar Wilde said. God damn it. The writer hated Jewball.




But business took precedent over pleasure. The Cult of the Jesus Goat had to be stopped, and if that meant working with Jewball, so be it.




Before he left he took a bottle of Absinth off the extremely detailed beverage holder on his library bookshelf and took a swig of it. He was going to need the entire bottle, he surmised.




"I'm coming."




New York: Nanzy prowled in his superior feline form through the streets of New York, searching for a sandwich. The smell was on the now balcony sized cat's radar for quite some time, and it was driving him mad. Ham, cheese, a pickle, some kind of lettuce sauce and a tomato that smelled like it was halfway from east India and equally as genetically deficient as the Indian's curry, but he could cope with that. The sandwich!




But still no luck. He wondered why Demon Cats had such a faulty radar. Yes, there was the whole being cursed by shadows for slavery to Dark Demonic Fantasies but that was only part of it. This seemed like some malice shit designed by someone with a dog fetish.




H.P. Lovecraft would have agreed. The Englishman wrote a twelve page essay detailing his love for cats and superiority of the feline over the canine race, and even illiterate Nanzy had read the tattered manuscript. It was quite good, and Gremalkin generally enjoyed praise with tired Nanzy no exception.




Finally, he found it. But it seemed to have an owner, a Goth looking wannabe gang punk who took a bite of it with incredible indelicacy and painful vulgar suddenness. Even Nanzy could do better, and he was hungry with teeth the size of daggers.




Marilyn Manson was digging through the trash with a stick, seemingly arranging random objects in a pyramidal pile that looked like some modern art exhibit gone wrong. The sight of the Demon Cat seemed not to disturb him as he puroused his endeavour. He tossed a piece of ham to shrunken Nanzy, now the size of a watering can, who caught it and began shoving it down Nanzy's throat.




"Are you Jewish, Cat? You look Jewish." Marilyn Manson quipped.




The rocker now on hard times looked like an idiot to Nanzy, but so were most rockers. And even if he smelled like trash and absinth and nail polish, and a host of other scents that Nanzy did not even want to theorize where they originated, the insane singer had greeted the Demon Cat without fear, and that garnered a little respect. Very little.




Nanzy for a moment wondered if all modern Jews had Demonic Cats, then stopped. It was a silly question. Of course they did.




"Only technically. Most Jews believe without proof or evidence, but I was actually there when most of the Old Testament apocalypses happened, so you could call me a Scientific Jew."




"Knew it." Marilyn Manson said. "I knew a girl who was Jewish once. She tore off my ear and I had to get it biologically regrown."




"There is in fact the small caveat that I am a Demon. So I don't believe that many of the Jews would call me a Jew, even the cultist."




Marilyn Manson appeared to grow annoyed with the pyramid and crushed it, spreading it to the four winds.




"Speaking of cults, Jewball wants to take down the Order of the Jesus Goat. You in?"




"Depends. Do they have food?"




"Perhaps of the poorest variety. Bread, cheese, a zucchini if you're lucky."




"Then yeah, I'm in. Let's run this."




H.P. Lovecraft reminisced about the time he had met his wife in his two story apartment in the squaloring slums of New York where he was reluctantly vacationing, mainly as a favor to a friend Thomas Blank who was purveying his latest fantasy novel at the Horror and Dragons Arts and Crafts fair, a romantic title, but really just a wooden booth and some colourful fliers and unwashed masses. Unwashed masses, that could describe New York as a whole. Thomas needed a reviewer, and an expert endorsement, and while Howard could only be considered an expert by someone with way too much herbal remedies and a flair for the dramatic, he was at least well published in the magazine Pulp Fiction, and could suffice as a decent replacement.




Now, as he hurriedly got dressed after a brief bath that he needed to take twelve times a day to maintain some standard of hygiene in the slums, donning his custom brown suit and drab white shirt attire that was his trademark and only clothing design, although he had a few aerodynamic high class models for special occasions, he was interrupted by a book of Albert Einstein that went flying from some intern who was working below and carrying a case of twenty light novels. Idiots, always scurrying around trying to impress a lady or make a business deal. Why couldn't they stop and smell the roses, Demonic as though the flowers may be?




Looking at Albert Einstein's wrinkled face on the cover of the novel Howard felt a surge of Nordic disdain overcome him. Although not strictly a racist, he was prejudiced, and with another intern spilling coffee over his freshly washed suit, he shouted "Fuck the Jews!".




That was when he saw Sonia Greene standing in the half light. She was not attractive, not really, but something in her raven hair reflected the light and made her quite dignified. Something the lonely and lost H.P. Lovecraft could appreciate.




Only much later had she found out that he was a Jew. But if it wasn't for the stupid intern, he would have never married her, and his life would be quite diminished.




But at least he would have been richer. Sonia liked to partay and partake in wine, and almost all of his ancestral British fortune was squandered on cheap dresses and fucking hats.




H.P. Lovecraft, never an imbiber of impure substances, declined it and went back to his Indian coffee and meager diet of sandwiches made of cheese and the occasional leaf.




Now, as he stood naked in front of a antler headed, goat skull wearing Practitioner of Faith of the Society of the Jesus Goat, which changed it's communal descriptor every fifteen minutes it seemed, a cold and terrified Howard realized he could have used some of Sonia's foul smelling wine after all.




Marilyn Manson and Nanzy travelled down a beaten brown stone path to the old district of the city which was maintained to allure the populace with a facade of ancient dignity while being as underfunded and squalid as possible. Food was not on the Cat's mind, thankfully, but he was worrying about Lin Be. She needed the Jet to be as private as possible, which meant Nanzy's Demon signature would be masked. How, the Cat wondered, was this possible? If the Association of the Jesus Goat was this far advanced, he didn't have high hopes about their continued plans in the near future.




"So," Marilyn began. "You think some cultists are waiting to off us with obsidian daggers or something equally as scary?"




"You watch too much eighties pop fiction."




Marilyn was faux outraged. "I'll have you know I'm a seventies chap."




"Anyway," Nanzy continued. "Howard was revived, Oscar Wilde as well, and apparently David Bowie and Abdul Alhazred."




"Yep."




"Anyone we're missing?"




"Well, we could use the Witch Hunter right now."




Nanzy shivered. "Nah. The prospect of all that toxic elementium does not suit well with my spiritual senses."




"Well someone needs to step up to the proverbial plate."




"What about My Chemical Romance or some shit like that? We could scare the Conglomeration of the Jesus Goat with teenage angst."




"I'm scared enough with Fall Out Boy. And speaking of Fall Out Boy, I think Gerard Way would piss himself when he learns that Patrick stole Gerard's herbal formula and gained semi eternal life. The pop fuck will be alive for at least eight hundred thirty years, while Gerard rots in a wicker coffin without even so much as a gilded lid. Suits his dark style, if I don't say so myself. The emo fucker would probably enjoy it."




Nanzy started to smell roasted potatoes and herbs on the distant green, but tried to ignore it.




"Didn't you work with Patrick on a collab at one point?"




"Yeah but you know I needed the money. I spent all my fortune on Oscar Wilde novels."




Did you really need to get vintage gold plated velum editions of what were available on the market for the same text nearly eighty cents a worn novel? Nanzy thought, but did not make his disturbance known. Marilyn Manson was very vain. He even sung the famous song.




You're so vain
You probably think this song is about you.




"So how long before we get attacked by black robed cultists?"




Nanzy estimated. "Probably about fucking now."




The Demonic Gremalkin was not mistaken. A light bomb was tossed and exploded in dazzling green and blue phosphorescence.




Under a tree filled with ornamental Christmas decorations, multicolored rainbowlike glowing orbs that radiated joy and happiness and childhood ill, despite the fact that it was not Christmas yet still fucking cold and nobody was in the feeling to take down the decorations despite that spring was almost here, for it was New York, fucking gloomy, despotic, trash like, and glorious, sat Jewbag Fagotas and Lin Be.




New York, New York, the Frank Sinatra song went. A hip tune to a new age where hopes were on high and nobody knew that World Wars were on the horizon and the glamour of gilded cars and high flying jets masked the dark horrors of poverty and malice. Then the seaside started vanishing, from magma in the ice caps, and eldritch horrors poured over the earth that Howard could only dream of, and New York had to be elevated with wizard magic which Jewbag suspected was really high technology from an Alien star system.




But that was gone, far away, in the past. Speaking of which, Lin Be mused, they should really get on reviving Frank Sinatra.




Underneath the Tree, with Jewbag shivering because he did not want to climb through the wreckage of the jet to get his second red coat or various black My Chemical Romance sweaters, and Lin Be not at all gloomy or cold despite wearing a paper thin skirt in snowing chill wind, Lin Be set a paper down while Jewbag glared moodily at the stalls. At least he had coffee. Sipping the cup he did feel better even though coffee wasn't really warm and inviting unless you had a Linkin Park song playing.




Life wasn't really warm unless you had a Linkin Park song playing. Someone should print that on a T Shirt.




The Paper contained a sensationalist headline about the Sassifraction of the Jesus Goat (They were really just shitting out names right now, Jewbag guessed). The usual Ritual in CERN (how could the Scientists there do their work under the devilish gaze of that green Shiva statue, Jewbag wondered morosely? Austin used to say you couldn't spell Scientist without Satanist, and it was true. Metaphysically.) , an animal sacrifice in the woods that turned out to be some child playing a Shakespeare tale or some shit, and real disturbing plans about trying to build a nuclear reactor to accelerate the world's fall towards judgement day which almost had scary grounding in truth. Some even theorized that the Transient Alliance of the Jesus Goat (As it was called in those days, even in the 2000's the Jesus cultists were fucking insane) called the eldritch abominations to the polar ice caps.




"You should be a Fucking Kamikaze Nip." Jewbag muttered under frozen fingers. "The South Koreans must have learned from Tojo how to ruin tower homesteads."




"Are you seriously dwelling on that? Read. Educate your feeble emo hipster mind a little, though I realize that is hard for someone of your intelligence."




"I did read it." Jewbag started whining now, but it was expected because he was cold as fuck. Even looking at Lin Be's thighs was beginning to be a hazardous task.




"But," Jewbag continued. "I fail to see what such information helps us."




"It helps us that we need to find H.P. Lovecraft because he is the only one who knew of, predicted, and wrote about the polar ice cap apocalypse."




"I don't care."




"Didn't you read your Mountains of Madness?"




"Nah. I was too busy listening to Linkin Park."




Jewbag started to go inside. Lin Be was special, perhaps the only lady he would consider freezing his dick off just to talk to, and one he would reminisce fondly about all his life, preferably in the warm on some vacation in the Yucatan. But no girl was worth dying over.




"I'm sorry Lin Be." He said. "But I want to live my life. I'm not ready to go like Chester."




For a moment Lin Be's dignified exterior broke and emotion flooded her. It was hard to be a Magical Girl on the roam, living only for adventure and the thrill of killing the next thug to cross her alchemically charged path. She realized she needed the Jew and all the silly homely principles he represented.




Lin Be suddenly moved in front of him and kissed him.




"Why don't you try being a hero?" she said.




"Are you serious or just fucking insane?" Marilyn Manson shouted, then started pelting cultists with a blast of his heat gun he kept in his pocket.




Nanzy dodged a photon bomb which was dangerous because it had elementium particles embedded in the dissolving interior shell, and the wind was his enemy. The Demon Cat grew wings, or at least appendages, because he had never been good at flying. Minutely adjusting his leap and fall, the Cat evaded the worst of the blast but was still caught off guard and dissolved into a ball of mist. Suddenly reforming into a naked white haired man with the black and white eyes that were trademark of Nanzy's clan, Nanzy started running.




Marilyn was close behind him. "Why are you suddenly human?" he asked.




"No idea. I suspect it is because it is easier to operate a body for my spiritual functions if that corporeal bag has less intelligence."




"Well thank you mister snoot thy nose at the human race."




"Don't take it personally."




Marilyn was shooting and talking as much to calm his nerves as to connect with Nanzy so the journey wouldn't be so hard.




"I mean, we did invent the wheel and the abacus and Gilgamesh was pretty cool, and at least the modern era had Oscar Wilde and Gerard Way even if we did ruin it with satellites and Death Cults fueled by pop drudge shit."




"Whatever," Nanzy replied. "You humans have been destroying your planet for ages now. It is almost a pattern as predictable as the rain or solar flux. A cycle of stupidity. "Cycle of Ass." One should print on a book."




"You strike a fair point." Marilyn was quite sad. He would hate to be killed by the cultists, even if life had few pleasures any more he still had an Oscar Wilde De Profundis that he stored in the Isle of Giants on a frozen iceberg several times the size of Parliament.




Why he needed the iceberg he didn't have a fucking idea. It seemed like a good action.




Nanzy hurled arcane frost bolts at the cultists, now into view, their black hooded robes not disguising their antlers. Why the fuck did all cultists have to have antlers? These miscreants worshipped a Goat, and sacrificed it too in a kind of self depriving, weirdly renewing idiocy that was almost as cyclical as the fall and rise of man.




Marilyn suddenly fell on a pine tree. Watch where you are going! Nanzy shouted. But then stopped. There were no pine trees in New York.




This was Russia. He felt the aura he had familiarized himself with during his weird excursions with Ramseys into the hot springs. Surely the end of days was upon them.

Above The Atlantic Ocean:

Jewbag Fagotas and Lin Be spent the next hour having furious and deliciously amazing sex in the cock pit of another one of the Asia girl's seemingly endless supply of rare and efficiently designed jets. Miss Kamikaze seemed to be enjoying herself, and although Jewbag still was as gloomy and dark as any teenager during a rendition of "Lost in the Echo", crying platinum mascara icy tears as the freezing room seemed to blur into a maelstrom of activity under Chester's soothing voice, inside the Detective was happier than he had ever been in his life.

Lin Be made him feel welcome, like that cosmic and unbreakable connection he always felt when listening to a Linkin Park song. He kissed Lin's ear, and was on the brink of orgasm when he saw the naked and corpse like figure of H.P. Lovecraft in the window.

"Oh fuck." Jewbag muttered, and Lin Be must have caught his tone for she stopped grinding against him and turned around.

Jewbag wondered if Howard was friend or foe, since regular Zombies you found on Kitty and the Undead Gang usually didn't snarl and bang on the windows of the private jet like some ghoul bent on dissolving Aladdin's magic lamp or something.

In a strange turn of events, the thought of Aladdin being interrupted by the golden and angry djinn in the process of having his virginity taken from him by Badr al Budur made Jewbag calmer, almost serene, as if the most important event of his existence was not being ruined by a British guy, and it was all some fairy tale he could enjoy for the moment and when it was inevitable whisked away like a star dragon he gleefully remembered it with whim.

Nah, on second thought he was going to murder the Vampiric asshole.

Jewbag didn't know how to do the Rasengan which had came naturally to him, but he did have Lin Be's bra, which he flung at H.P. Lovecraft as he broke through the window and cold Atlantic air flooded the pair.

But before he could attempt to engage the ghast, the wight was knocked off his feet by a young lady in a broomstick. The child had red eyes which unnaturally and somewhat eerily turned to blue, and black hair that didn't seem human. More like the velvet fleece of bats. A black robe enveloped her minute body.

"Sogton Kottr is here, and I'm saving all of my bitches!"

The girl shouted, and raised her hands. The gravitational balance of her broomstick was off, and she fell to the ocean below, the wooden craft hovering without her like some alien magic orb.

"Shit, didn't mean to do that."

Sogton Kottr emerged in red light, levitating like some Geist.

Jewbag felt a familiar emotion. Rage at shear stupidity. Why did she even need the broom if she could fly and perform magic? It was almost like Austin in a way. She reminded Jewbag of some Goth wanabe musician who had somehow discovered they were actually a Demonic Witch and still didn't give up acting like a bad medieval bard.

"If you're going to save us, could you do it now while the craft is still warm? I don't know if you know this, but we are kind of in a precarious position in the open."

Sogton squinted as if just now realizing that Jewbag and Lin Be were naked.

"Oh. Yeah, I am rapidly on it."

The witch lobbed a blast of fire at Lovecraft, who strangely was not immolated but stepped through the conflagration looking much healthier and normal. The fire dissolved and a string of thread from Sogton's robe turned into a red line of cloth that enveloped the inhabitants of the craft in three identical blankets.

Lin Be and Jewbag felt bad about continuing their mate in front of Howard and a Fairy Tale witch, but they had ordealed so much and come so far in their romantic endevour that they couldn't stop. When it was over and both fulfilled, lovers turned towards the British gent and the daughter of Demons, who was playing a strategic picture game with dragons and elves while H.P. Lovecraft occasionally took notes from a notepad.

"What the fuck is going on?" Lin Be asked. "Who are you, why do you have a broom, and do you have spare clothes?"

I take it back, a piece of shit place in England: Oscar Wilde paused above the flats of the waste processing station in the now monopoly controlled Techno fields where robots hummed in army formation attending to some trivial task and combines worked like the noble and assuredly horrified if revived William Blake and his "Dark, Satanic mills" predicted. Only these were even darker, steel reflecting in the bloody cloud cover and more satany. Satanlicious, if Patrick Stump was here to describe it.




Relics littered the floor, for one could not call it ground even though it was out in the open. Train tracks of steel rectangular sheafing stretched on for miles. There was no visible end to it. Oscar Wilde wondered how it was that Oscar was going to find food and shelter in this dungeon outdoor, this primitive yet advanced dystopia lying testament to the failure of humanity. Then he realized he was a Zombi and probably didn't have to deal with it.




Hopefully.




Suddenly, as Oscar Wilde trodded across the steel obstacle course like some anachronistic adventurer dressed in a black wool coat and carrying a cane of Ye Old Retribution, he was stopped by a sorcerer. An Arab in a red robe that would have been threatening if he didn't have a Santa Cap on his head that said "50% off" in bright orange marker above a 147 dollar price tag.




This was Abdul Alhazalaralad, or whatever the cretin's name was. Oscar Wilde didn't very much like Arabs even when he was in his Socialist benefits for all phase.




"Halt, brigand." Oscar said, raising his cane.




"Nayu musta halt Englishman."




The Arab's accent was so absurd, like he had ingested a helium baloon's contents before coming to these dark shores, that Wilde started laughing like a madman. But a red light came out of Alhazred's hands, and the revived dandy suddenly saw himself facing a Faceless One, dark head like shape disguising an amorphous blob that very roughly maintained a muscular red and purple human like core, with grey tentacles and a hairless male torso.




"Now what the fuck are we going to do?" Marilyn asked hopelessly, crying.




"Probably wait the continental distortion." Nanzy replied, like he was dealing with this mundane occurrence with ease. It happened every century, but each time left it's malice on the poles, a volcano waiting to terrorize the inhabitants of Terra Firma, or whatever shit they called their planet in the good old days. But for now it was harmless.




Nanzy stepped to the left and the tundra became moist flaming jungle. He picked a banana from a fruit tree and ate it. It wasn't fish or prairie meat like he enjoyed the most, but it would do for now.




"How can you be so calm?"




"Possibly because the cultists are about to be smothered by a narwhal right now."




They were.




Nanzy levitated off the newly formed icy rime glacier in a Buddha pose with all the serenity of a saint. Or a Demon Cat. In times of danger, the divisions and boundaries between the two philosophies of Saint and Sinner blurred.




Oscar Wilde did not immediately know how to deal with an eldritch abomination, but had a pretty well developed sense of self preservation, and when the tentacle swung at him leapt beneath a street lamp and lit a cigar to the end of his Death Cane, a trap tunnel slot opening and sending flaming ash and debri directly at the Faceless. The creature was on fire but still not dettered.




Suddenly a limo rolled in to the field like some X D Racer from the Millennium Grand Prix on Television, and the bulletproof windows rolled down to reveal Jewball in a burned jacket and carrying a rocket launcher. He obliterated the Fiend.




"What the fuck Jewball?" Oscar breathlessly said.




"It's a long story." Fall Out Boy music started blaring.




"Knock once for the Father
Twice for the Son
Three Times for the Holy Ghost"




"Yeah." Jewball finished.




"I don't have time to deal with you peasants." Abdul Alhazred spoke.




"Well, can you deal with me?" Sogton Kottr asked, and descended with H.P. Lovecraft in a magic carpet and skirt and a dark robed Jewbag and a dark robed Lin Be clinging to the broom.




"To hell with you motherfuckers!" Shouted the Necromancer, and ran.




"Not quite, practitioner of shadow", Lovecraft shouted, descending. As his feet hit the metal, he revealed a book hidden in the folds of the carpet. It was the Necronomicon, book of Sealing, revelations in Demonology, and many Secret cabal mysteries inside. Mostly it was just really good at saving lost adventurer's asses.




"The DArkness HAVE and SEal thee!" Lovecraft shouted, then opened the Necronomicon in a blinding flash of light.




Abdul Alhazared was sealed. I'd like to tell thee, reader, that he did not trouble the earth again with his longings towards evil and weird machinations involving tentacles and goats, but that was a lie.




The Necronomicon only lasts for a star year, you know. In the words of Lovecraft, that is not dead which can eternal lie, for with strange aeons death can die.




You all want to know what's in the Necronomicon, right. Well, I can tell you that, but I have places to be. Demons to woo. Angels to nuzzle, and pretend I'm still in the light even as my eyes turn towards Heaven and Humanity simultaneously, like an Angel who has the horns of a Demon and a halo that means one is never Abandoned by God.




Never abandoned, human. Remember that. With God's will all is right in the end.




Yet Sogton Kottr shall grant ye a piece of forbidden info. Some intel from the top Sorceress, here.




It was mostly all anime. But you already expected that.




Well, it was a nice journey. Our tale ends until my pen takes precedence over my broom, and I quit the hard life of weary wandering for a rest under a country manor.




Yet I'll tell one legend before I depart, and I swear it is true.




Yucatan: Lin Be dressed for the first time not in her skirt and bra but a long white gown. A baton of roses was in her hands, and even with the fluffy guard she couldn't help the natural daggers from cutting into her white gloves. I would like to say that Jewbag was wearing the finest suit tailors could buy, something that would even make Lovecraft envious and admit with tears in the writer's eyes that in fact Jewbag, even though descended from cretin American immigrants, was in spirit an English knight of the highest demenour.




He was wearing a Meteora shirt and a red coat reader. You already knew this. He was a thug.




"Oh fuck here comes the music." Lin Be whispered and tried to smile for Jewbag's love and the love she shared with him.




The smile disappeared as soon as Chester started singing.




"And I was there singing
In these promises broken
Deep below
Each word gets lost in the echo
So one last lie
I can see through
This time I finally let you go."




"Go,!" Jewbag joined in. "Go- Go!"




He started headbanging like some drug addict and Lin Be wondered what Oscar Wilde had slipped in his coffee.




Yet behind her disdain the bride was actually pleased. Jewbag was showing more emotion than he had in years.




Austin and Ramseys, the best man and bride's assistant, stood behind. Austin was crying and so Ramseys supported him, looking pale, which showed he was actually invested into the events.




They were married in the sun, happy, and kissed with a bit too much enthusiasm for a Christian ceremony. Jewbag would be banging that until he was old enough not to be able to walk out of the woods outside Lin's south korean estate, and even then he would embrace her and enjoy each and every moment. And he would be wearing his Meteora shirt 'til he died.




As for how I know this I was watching, disguised as a Raven. I never did get the chance to be married myself before the world became a wreck, so I was always a sucker for sappy fairy endings.




And they lived happily ever after until the end of their days.




Mount Ryuchi: Jewbag stood on the water training course amid the dirty gloom and squalor of the fabled Mount Ryuchi. Amid the pool, twelve poles wide enough to accommodate one human were standing, and Jewbag stood on one of these, Orochimaru facing him.




For hours he stood in the lotus Buddha form and tried blocking with his arms as Orochimaru threw plates at him. He managed to down three and then the last hit him in the nose, causing him to bleed.




"No!" Orochimaru shouted. "You are still incomplete."




Why he had decided to train with this madman he had no idea. Perhaps it was some sense of obligation to the party that had formed an unlikely and tenuous friendship, perhaps it was some archaic desire to be a warrior hunter and legendary barbarian. Jewbag couldn't say.




"How much longer do we have to be at this?"




Orochimaru scowled. "Until night comes or you attain Sennin mode. But if you wish we could move on to polearm training."




"Let's do that."




Orochimaru leaped to the ceiling with snake like agility and upside down retrieved a catch of  staves from an upside down snake head shaped stone vault.




He tossed one of the wooden staves to Jewbag, who looked at it like someone rich might look at a legal form. He wasn't good at this Karate shit.




Orochimaru gave him no pause, however, knocking him from the pole and down into the wide meadow below, which thankfully was soft. Jewbag rose to his feet and got in a dozen or so attacks, all blocked, but was struck on the knees and collapsed.




"You lack finesse. Your particularily gloomy view of the world is a decent starting place yet the anger you have towards Jewball, towards your best friend, towards even those who have done nothing to you, and mostly towards the world which brought you to this squalor, is a deterrent for growth. You might be calm enough to use the Rasengan, but you will never maintain it as long as you are not in dire situations."




"Shut up," Jewbag said, then lunged at Orochimaru with his hands. Orochimaru was momentarily distracted, and struck on the mouth, yet grabbed Jewbag's wrist and launched him back.




"Case in point. If you were morose with that particularily Emo life energy that professes complete inaction and horror towards the physical realm, you could actually beat me. But you have yet to accomplish the way of the Buddha."




Jewbag started to meditate, returning to lotus position.




"To quote a phrase of Jesus', all we are is bullets." Orochimaru said.




"I'm fairly certain that is a quote of Gerard Way."




Orochimaru's irises turned orange as he entered Sennin mode and launched himself at Jewbag.




"Nah. I'm fairly certain that was a phrase of Jesus Christ."

Texas: The priest in a black robe in front of Hitler was clad in the vestments of unholy subordination and defilement, yet strangely enough a happy aura radiated from the numerous Cat pictures in the shelves beside him.




"Don't neko bright up your day?" One script read with a cuddlesome brown furred kitten.




"Hail Satan, and don't forget to pet Cats" another helpful upside down Pentacle from the Cult Of The Jesus Goat read.




There were too many to list, however this did not seem to bother Hitler as he moved traditionally barechested through the circle of Domination. How Hitler had managed to get a pair of pants on him the Cultist knew not. Perhaps it had to do with the Teutonian desire to remain barechested at all times, to the extent that Hitler had materialized a pair of pants out of sheer will. That seemed reasonable.




"What ze fuck?" Hitler muttered through bare breaths.




"Hail, oh conquered Dictator from the Underworld." The Cultist inchanted, marking the usual diatripe.




"Fuck you. I was not ze conquered. That was ze Illuminati, who fed me cyanide when they knew they had to protect ze Queen Of England for ze Queen of England killing ze Jews."




"Whatever."




Hitler gazed at the Cat pictures. "I need some alcohol."




"Look, my friend, this is a hard task for me. So please try to make this go smoothly."




The German Dictator calmed, and eventually the priest continued the examination. After an obscure text from the Liber Dei which lasted five hours, and Hitler started eating chicken, then watched Naruto Shippuden on the large screen, for it became his favorite show, the bizarre invocation was finally over.




"So who are zue?"




"Are you saying you or Jews?"




Hitler grew angry. "Look, ze stereotype zue Amerifucks have about me is false. I did not hate ze Jews. I hated everyzon."




"Got it. I'm Lucian of the Cult Of The Jesus Goat, although my true passions lie with the Hello Kitty Death Cult."




Hitler was no stranger to weird cults, having worked for the Illuminati, yet these fucks took it a strange nother level.




"Tell me, what do thou worship."




Lucian got an electric guitar and plucked a few notes. "We roll with Satan!"




"Yes, yes. I meant what distinguishes you from other Cults."




"Well, we really like Avril Lavigne, in fact I have a record of hers here."




At this point Hitler covered his ears, having met Avril Lavigne and having no desire to recount that horror.




"Peace, man. We also like Cats."




Hitler unfurled himself.




"I'm in. Yet I want some juice, the drink you have here is shit."




"Is he saying Jews or Juice?" Lucian thought, yet wisely did not challenge Adolf on it.




Lucian thought he might get some lemonade from the street vendour. That might seduce Hitler's thirst for awhile.




"If you join our Cult, you have to do the hand signal."




"I have a hand signal. It goes"




Hitler raised his hand in the Nazi salute and said "Sieg Heil".




"Yeah. Ours is pretty much the same, only instead of Sieg Heil we say "Meow".




He demonstrated.




Hitler's eyes widened.




Hitler had spent his life mostly alone. It was not a terrible life, even when he coughed up the cyanide and Eva died beside him. Yet although he was content, there had been something more. He was always fascinated with anime watchers that collected Hentai in dim forts all over the world, and there was something in Lucian's manner that called to mind their fanaticism.




Although it hurt his pride, he stuck his arm out.




"Meow!"

Sogton: Somewhere in the mire, amid towering jungle trees in a green Morass as silver water tore through my dress and made it flutter like a My Chemical Romance flag, I held my feeble arms against the waves. I was struck amid a wave and weakly ceased resisting. A hand, steady as myriad Ragna's grip, brought me above the water and I fell unto an Island. 

A girl was staring at me with a black dress similar to mine. In fact, she looked almost identical to me and I wondered if God was not playing some Cruel trick with me. 

The girls voice was gentle. "Sogton, you must grasp your sword, and with thrashing fit of ecstasy drive it screaming into the vulnerable place of The One Who Is Most Evil."

I looked away and blushed. Then The Black Sword Appeared. The girl continued.

"I was speaking of Gram. What did you think I was speaking of?"

I gazed at the Sun. It was drifting amid clouds on a blue firmament, and I knew it a hard road ahead. I gazed at the girl. I quoth:

"This is a dream, is it not?"

The Sogton Who Was Not Sogton smiled. "Of course, Sogton. In Reality you would never find comfort in a girl, nor like us boys in girl's clothing."

I stepped into blue light.

In This Moment:

I won't lie, it is quite tempting
Your handouts and your bones

As above, so below
What you reap is what you sow
What you give comes back three fold
As above, so below

Watch me, watch me float away
I was never yours to save
It all comes back three fold
As above, so below, so below

Texas:

Hitler and Lucian walked through the streets of Dallas, marking a couple odd looks from the traveler.




"Look, you're really going to have to put on a shirt. There's no shortage of Hitler impersonators, this being Texas, however everyone is creeped out and they are going to bring the police."




Hitler scowled. "Fuck zue."




Then he grabbed an S.S. Uniform off a coat hanger and donned it.




Lucian spoke.




"What the fuck was an S.S. Uniform doing on some random old ladies coat hanger?"




Hitler looked dismissive. "You've never seen JoJo's Bizarre Adventure, have you?"




They came to a market. Hitler was hungry and prepared to steal a papaya, yet remembered this wasn't Germany and they had laws against such stuff like that. Lucian intervened.




"Wait. I'll buy you a lemonade."




Lucian used the last of his Church allowance and considered complaining to the papacy. He would have to do it in three days though, for there were new episodes of Lusty Lotus, the latest Hentai series being released.




He brought Hitler the lemonade.




Hitler twisted the cap and consumed half of it, then said. "Not bad. Still tastes awful."




"That's Texas for you. Our water was going through a funding crisis, so we decided to step it up a notch and place liquid arsenic in our beverages instead of tap."




"Zue fuckers."




"Is he saying Jew or You?" A random old lady asked.




"Shut the fuck up bitch." Hitler said, and then temporarily blinded her with a cloth hanging out to dry and ran.




"There's no need to be so conceited. The majority of Texas is friendly, even to S.S. dressed officers who look suspiciously like Hitler."




"Fuck that. We need to go in that store."




"Why?"




Hitler started panting and drove Lucian into a Hentai dispensary, which like all Hentai dispensaries in Texas was concealed by a cheap sign indicating "Florist". Texas didn't have Flowers, unless it was the type of Arabian Princess drawn by an Asian artisan getting defiled by a tentacle.




Lucian was intrigued, yet was stopped by touching the books when Hitler quoth: "She's here, Oh God, she's here!"




"Who, my man? You're sounding insane."




"Avril Lavigne!"




At that moment the door was ejected open and Avril Lavigne flowed in, dressed in the usual black, white, and pink rocker attire that made her halfway between a Prostitute and a cake vendor at Children's Parties. She spoke. "So Hitler, I heard you joined my Cult. I've never been one for a lackluster welcome, so here's some candy!"




She had a psychopath look on her face and was bloodshot in the eyes from lack of sleep and herbal remedies. Her dress concealed twelve knives of various Archaic Oricalc bought from Atlantis. Hitler screamed.




"OH GOD!"




Avril Lavigne drew a Oricalc dagger and started swinging at Hitler. Although Undead, the Nazi Commander had lost none of his quick thinking fast reflexes that he maintained in life. He dipped his head back and started evading her. She was cursing.




"You fuck. How the fuck could you betray the Illuminati? Fuck you, Hitler!"








The seller at the store mildly ignored this and puroused the latest Hentai volume. It was as if celebrities fighting with Zombie Hitler were common occurrences in Hentai shops, which they were.




Hitler was extremely agile, yet Avril contained a nearly Vampiric dexterity and Demonic will. The twelve shots of Arcane Root in her oolong probably had something to do with it too.




At length Hitler was pushed against a bookshelf. Avril prepared to slash his throat, yet was stopped when Jewbag and Ramseys entered through the concealed gate at the service entrance of the shop.




"Stop that." Jewbag said, restraining her hand with the knife. Ramseys had a Star Of David affixed to his vest. Although a practicing Jew, Jewbag did not want to add to his meticulous Meteora fashion which included the red jacket he wore everywhere and black trousers. Yet Ramseys despite being pagan was encouraged to wear it at this point because they were the target of several Anti Racist groups due to suspiciously having a habit of being seen with the Ghost Of Hitler.




Like Now. It was the sixth occasion.




"What the fuck." Avril screamed, and then started crying. "Why would you defend him? As a Jew? Fuck you. How dare you?"




Jewbag was not unaccustomed to dealing with crazy women from his time marrying Lin Be so gently loosened his grip on the hand though not enough that the knife would come loose.




"You were aiming at a prized Hentai collection worth millions, and the only vintage copy in the world. It would be a tragedy of art akin to the Burning Of The Library Of Alexandria if you stabbed it."




Avril's eyes widened. "That's why you rescued him?"




Jewbag didn't reply, instead eyed the Hentai like a mother with tenderness to her child.




Sogton entered by the private quarters.




"That's not the only reason. We need Hitler alive, Jewbag."




Avril had met Sogton before. It consisted of a weird love affair that Avril wasn't entirely sure wasn't a figment of her imagination.




"You know, it's rude to call someone Jewbag." Lucian replied.




"No, that's actually my name." Jewbag replied. He had to give this speech at least six times when he traveled.




"Oh."




"We're looking for the Chamber Of Cthulhu." Jewbag elabourated as if this explained why they were standing in a Hentai shop with the Ghost Of Hitler and Avril Lavigne.




Austin Aymyn entered smoking a cigar and carrying an anti aircraft machine gun.




"Long time no see, Commie Thug. And I hope your marriage is doing well, Jewbag."




Ramseys saluted. Jewbag replied. "It is. Thank you, Austin."




Long troubles had united Jewbag and Austin like a compact between diverse nations. They were friends bound by more than base affection, and more like brothers. Willing to go into any danger for each other. Sogton interrupted.




"Anyway, make up with Hitler, Jewbag. You need all the help you are given.




Jewbag put on a glove, not because he was repulsed by shaking Hitler's hand, although he was revolted at the Dictator, instead because he was somewhat phobic of physical contact. To his surprise, Hitler also withdrew a glove and donned it. They shook hands. Sogton quoth.




"Good. Now if the gang's all ready, we're going to the Ice Wall. It's Flat Earth in this bitch!"




Avril Lavigne groaned and Sogton passed her some alcohol. The singer drank eagerly.




Getting to the Ice Wall was not a problem as Jewbag had read of in the Forbidden Diaries, apparently. For one, Sogton had Illuminati clearance, and even if she didn't she could always conceal her presence in dark mist. They took the Eagle for the ship, a name unanimously voted on by all members of the party, in an exchange that went something like this:




Sogton: Dante was quite fond of the Eagle, symbolizing power and benevolence as God's eternal will.
Jewbag: I'm fine with that. As an American, we have a thing with the Eagle.
Ramseys: We used to train Eagles in the Siberian Tundra.
Austin: 'Merica.
Hitler: In Germany, we used the Black Eagle as a symbol of our dominance over lesser birds. It is fitting.
Avril Lavigne: I had a dream about an Eagle, once.




Although they were safe from the Government, they were followed by aircraft, and Sogton took a Japanese B II Spy Bomba to fire non lethal rounds at them as kind of a challenge. Sogton never liked the Agents after they killed 'Pac.




The wild rolling wastes of the Ice Wall came into slow view. As icebergs drifted in the serene rime, Sogton blasted a song by Aqua. She had a very strange taste in music, derived from primarily rap, folk, and a small amount of pop. It was like a clown with blades, which described Sogton pretty well.




"Roses are red and violets are blue
Honey is sweet but not as sweet as you
Roses are red and violets are blue A di da di mud A di da di mud"




Hitler started jamming along. As he hummed the lyrics, Austin replied "Are you saying You or Jew?" to which Hitler glared evilly until the immense Texan replied that he was merely joking.




Avril Lavigne had given up on trying to kill Hitler, although she did spin her Oricalc dagger everytime he passed. He replied "Guten Morgen."




Jewbag sat in the cabin with the window view looking at Sogton. She was at the Captain's seat, as fitting. Jewbag asked her.




"So, if the Earth is Flat, does that mean we are going to fall off?"




Sogton became irate. "That's the stupidest thing I have ever heard, Jewbag."




"Just a thought."




Then the clouds started to clear and they were nearly a mile from the Ice Wall. The features of the planar distortion were quite clear, and the Ice Wall towered higher than the Himalayas. If this wasn't evidence enough that at least some of the bizarre Flat Earth theories were accurate, there was a massive skeleton of a green dragon with tentacles floating on the frozen continent. It was Cthulhu.




"So the Earth isn't round!" Ramseys shouted.




"Everyone always knew this." Austin replied Stoically.




Sogton was looking at the sight with a mixture of sadness and joy. It was her ancestral place, a fitting dwelling for the Princes Of The Atlantian race, although Atlantis was far removed from the World Barrier. It denoted a Fall Upwards, if that made any sense, which it didn't to Jewbag though Sogton knew direction was a myth.




"And Love, which moves the Sun and Other Stars"




She muttered, quoting Dante, and Jewbag felt the Holy rays from the South penetrate him. It was such an adventure that had never been undertaken by mortal man.




They sailed into the light.




About that time Cthulhu rose. On queue, Sogton went on deck and started playing Madara's theme from Naruto. Jewbag immediately went Sage mode, balancing double Massive Rasengan and flinging them while Hitler activated his double helix Sharingan and quoth: "Susano'o" and the yellow Skeleton formed around him, streams of fire blazing. Ramseys took out a knife, and Austin fired his machine gun into the air.  Avril Lavigne gazed gloomily.




Yet the Dragon's shifting was not in an aggressive fashion. It deflected the flame, flung Rasengan, and bullets from Austin. Then Sogton raised her hands as the waters turned and spoke. "Oh great beast, we beseech thee to pass into the lands of my Ancestors and honour the Old Ones."




The Cthulhu lowered it's head and the boat sped on.




At length the Ice Wall Parted and they sailed into a gold light, and past were far green fields as far as the eye could see.




I:




In the miresome bogs of New Orleans, where the grey steel of the Osiris Corporation jutted like a lightning rod to the Four Winds, invoking a black cloud of doom, the alligators hunted and genetically engineered Chupacabra sparred with Serpents in the foam. However, within the calm gold light of the Osiris Corporation, all was at peace.




The God which gave the Corporation its name sat in a black form fitting plush chair, and peroused the many papers on his ash desk. Within an ink well, he practiced Calligraphy. The Lord Of The Night And Dawn. That sounded pleasant.




He was disturbed from his ponderings by a smiting on the door and the door bust open to reveal his white dressed wife Isis. Or Ragna, as she was going in nowadays.




"Sogton's in trouble."




"Hello too, Wife. I suppose I should expect our errant prodigal daughter to get in these situations."




"Your prodigal daughter. I am her sister, although her senior, which is why the maternal title never left me."




"Mere semantics."




She sat down on a smaller identical chair.




"Why are you here, John? Do you not have better things to accomplish? I thought you were one for archaism, and turned away from technology."




"I am Lord Of The Night And Day, so I must incorporate dualism. However, you are correct. The temple was built for Isabel."




"So we must encourage her to survive to inherit it well."




"Oh come, dear. You know if it was anything serious I would already be informed about it."




"Your servants are not working as efficiently as they should. Check the telecommunications."








Osiris pressed a button, bringing the computer system sliding in from an aperture and clicking on with a light. On the screen, the Asian diminutive and barely clothed form of Lin Be was darting through the hallowed halls.




"Ah, I see."




II:




Lin Be had awoken one moment to a postcard of Jewbag saying "I'm going with Austin to find the Ice Wall and Prove The Earth Is Flat. Much Love." and his scrawled signature below, as well as "A little bit of loneliness, a little bit of disregard" which was his usual Linkin Park fucking around.




However, what really panicked her was that Jewbag had left without the coffee. She was used to her husband's crazy adventures, yet he always took at least seven bags of coffee to bolster his supplies at all times. This must mean Avril Lavigne was involved. Just thinking about the bitch made Lin Be froth with jealousy, so she decided to rob Osiris' headquarters as kind of a therapeutic session to let loose some anger and also because Sogton's sister might be present and offer assistance.




The Osiris Corporation was under the disguise of a clothing company Fall Out Boy inspired called Vintage Misery. After the lyrics "Wearing Our Vintage Misery, No I think it looked a little better on me". The ordinary observer would think it was a harmless drug dealing operation, yet anyone with any sort of cognitive ability would realize it was Illuminati shit and front for the Godhead. Lin Be recognized it immediately once Austin gave her Foile A Deux to listen to. Patrick looked innocent in a Fedora with his slightly overweight and poor clothes concealing his diminutive figure, and Lin Be knew that no musician was that innocent without secretly being a Serial Killer. As Kimberly Freeman of One Eyed Doll professed.




The disguise had not been hard to prove. There was an Illuminati sensor, yet Lin Be had bypassed it because Sogton's gift for Lughnasadh was a Illuminati Identification card with the silver letters The Cult Of The Jesus Goat printed on a black background on one side and a blonde haired nude anime girl on the other with blue decorative text reading "Fuck The Jews" on the other.




Sogton, What a Bizarre lady.




Despite marrying a Jew, the workers did not seem to know who she was and let her into the lavish candlelit laboratory in the entrance chamber. Or perhaps they knew yet were playing a game, much like Sogton's usual Trickery. The potions bubbled. As they came to the lounge, Lin Be rested on a red velvet Sofa, then took out her katana and activated Magical Girl Transformation, which turned her armour black and made the blue paint appear beneath her eyes. The Katana was a gift from a guru in Nippon. Throughout her life Lin Be had the habit of making important friends because of her kindness and charm.




She wished she had Nanzy. He was sleeping.




With a flash of lightning, most of the Scientists surrendered and took her to see Osiris. Yet as expected it turned out to be a trap. In the antechamber coffins appeared and bandaged Eternals exited, glowing blue, and Lin Be although did not partake in Nippon stuff had a large sex drive and watched enough Hentai involving Mummies to look at her flimsy clothing and know where this was going. She ran.




Eventually she came to an elevator and randomly pushed buttons until a bright idea came to her and she spoke. "Get me to the Boss."




An automated response from the intercom greeted this. It was Sogton's voice.




"If you are listening to this, that means you want Osiris. I'm much more entertaining, still, if that's what you want. What is Jewbag's favorite Linkin Park song?"




"In The End Bitch."




"The Bitch was unnecessary, Lin Be, however that is the correct answer. It should be a couple of minutes."




The Elevator sped to the top.




Lin Be dismounted and brought her katana out, however there were no more guards. She came to a bronze serpent knocker on a door and knew the Boss was near.




She flung the door open.




Inside, Osiris greeted her with Ragna on her left.




"Greetings, we've been expecting you."




Osiris quoth.




Ragna spoke beside him.




"It appears my Sister is in grave danger. Lin Be, will you come with us to the Ice Wall?"




Lin Be was given no other option other than to accept.




The Lemurian Conspiracy: 


After so many years I was back in Lemuria, Valinor, my homeland, shining with trees silver and gold below a tempestuous Eternal Sun.




Although it was blessed I realized why I didn't like it so much. Being an Elf myself I knew better than anyone that Elves were assholes.




The colony was founded by the Shuggoth from Outerspace, my Entities, although the leaders of the pack were myself, Manwe, and Ulmo, the devious wet man. I the latter and technically the strongest though more unstable was Hades, Queen Of The Dead, who ruled over Mandos. We had a pact for not too long.




Of course Manwe would betray it. He was the Jupiter at Old, and he had learned almost everything from his pap Saturn who the Old Ones had spent twelve Star Aeons cursing and dismantling until he became weak and compact enough for us to have a functioning Universe. The fucker threatened to undo all of that.




Jupiter was vain. He liked to go among humans often. Usually he was blue eyed and white hair, like my eyes, only sickly. He took the disguise of Kings and Plutocrats, and was a master of Camouflage. He had his image plastered on the walls of The Sistine Chapel, and became the Pope, a cruel, capricious Deity. Michaelangelo retold that regarding him was like Hell. I couldn't oppose that statement. He became a copy of Julius when the Lord murdered Vercingatorix, bringing about the fall of Rome and East Galia, and the Dark Age for which all my meticulous nurturing of Leonardo and later Rossetti was naught. He was the epitome of the corrupt Church. God never wore a beard, as I should know, having an intimate relationship with Jesus.




Come to think of it, Manwe never wore a beard either. The whole thing was psychological warfare. If you had a Dotard on top, well, why not be immoral? And so humanity turned to a race of sniveling dogs.




Perhaps I am hasty. Such a comparison is brute towards canines.




Ulmo was okay. Neptune, he was gentle and noble and kind. A little stupid though. He liked to partake in the drink and hoes, and I could sympathize, although my passions tended to the intellectual. Manwe had poisoned him by sipping dark thoughts to him in the Dream and defiling the source of his magma wells.




Jupiter then corrupted my forests and twisted monsters and bred the race of Orcs. They came out of the mud and spilled the first red on the unformed Earth, to curse it's development ever on. Then he made a pact with Heimdall and set out the events that burned my Realm, Asgard, and killed the Two Trees, and we set up base in Atlantis only for him to force us to destroy it as we reanimated the Einherjar.




This isn't The Silmarillion you have read, Reader.




I suppose a small development in the story is due. Jewbag and I abandoned the Eagle, for we could not branch the land rivers without heavy toll. I took up station on a mound while the rest of the gang tried to assess their surroundings.




Jewbag was interested in the plant life, and Ramseys was stopped from rolling a blunt by even the fucked up chain smoking bastard, Austin, who was so enraptured that he did not want to even slightly defile the beauty of the Blessed Realm. I understood his reasoning, however told myself to admonish his morality later. This lost Continent was like a Venus fly trap, pleasing to the eye and senses, and utterly cannibalistic and carnivorous. Odysseus' Lotus Eaters would be grateful they had not set eyes upon this Isle.




"What is this place called?" Ramseys asked.




Hitler looked gloomy. He had been here before. I answered.




"It is Lemuria. Perhaps you have heard of it in the Miskatonic. It has another name, a more cursed name, and I shall not utter it here."




Jewbag, having read more Tolkien than he had sex with his wife, and the latter number was prodigious, knew what I was talking about.




"Sogton, was the Professor another one of your clones?"




I grew annoyed at him. They all seemed not to realize the dangers of this great Place.




"Forget about it. And no, I will not tell you if I was actually Madara."




Avril Lavigne took out her daggers. At least one member of our company was competent.  I screamed.




"Look, this is not a safe land! If you act like this, you are all going to die!"




The curse seemed effective. They serioused up. I was never one for emotion, so when I raged like this it was taken more impactful.




Austin brought his gun out. "My Lord, I fall to thy will. Ask and I shall follow."




I had admired his courage. As usual, the Texans were the last of the Atlantian race. We had some outposts in the East and West seaside, though I need not to tell anyone familiar with America that the rest of America was a piece of shit.




I was stopped from praising him when the Elves bombed us.




My Susano'o instinctively formed left, and deflected the majority of the blast. The internal theme in my head started playing.




The Noldor were still pretty, though transformed into things of horror, yet the rest of the Elves from being so long away from the Two Trees atrophied into Demons. They had blackish skin and hollow, big red eyes. Even the Teleri were yellowish in the pupils and extremely pale. Their armour was the black scales of the Ogre.




I formed the blue Skeletal Arm. Jewbag turned orange in the pupils. Ramseys shot a useless shot into the army, yet I admired his courage. And Hitler screamed as his eyes became double helixes and shouted "Susano'o" and the Skeleton formed a yellow arm like mine.




The battle was on. I killed most with a katana. I had no time for fools. Blue flame surged on the plain.




Hilter swiped at them, while Jewbag used his typical Rasengan then called forth the Wood Dragon. Avril fought like a monster. And Austin, displaying a strength of will that made even his stupid mortal guns fire like the legendary Flying Dutchman, actually managed to kill an Elf. Did I mention I love Texans?




Hitler did the Fire Jutsu. He was tactical in that he didn't waste the power of The Storm God on underlings. I had conscripted him for this purpose.




Jewbag needed training, though. The Wood Dragon was overkill, and he was taken to his feet by a bomb. The reserve army poured in.




I again instinctively activated the Ribcage, and not a moment too soon, for Jupiter himself, red robed and dark haired, entered the fray and led a charge with the All Consuming Seven Points Chakra. The white beam disintegrated the land, and his army, and was enough to send my Susano'o into its basic form though I was unharmed. The second orchestra of the Madara choir started humming the Holy verses. I used my Mangekyou Sharingan and screamed "Amaterasu".




Jupiter was lit on shwartz fire. It howled as the fire cut through its' substance, and I rejoiced grimly. Jupiter adjusted his matter and decreased size, avoiding the Inferno, though my eye followed him and tried to reignite the Deity.




At length Jupiter raised his hands and gave the signal for the Elves to surrender. I knew it was a trap. The Lord Of Valinor had lost little of his impressive capability. Yet we were tiring. The Corruption was awakening from the depths of Rl' Yeh. I was given no choice other than to play the diplomat. Jupiter taunted.




"Ah, Kementari, PRODIGAL Daughter. You have returned to the land of your Race! I am proud to meet you again. Please, come to the sacred waters of the Hallow City. I am certain it would be thy liking!"




































After sometime Jewbag and the others were led to the depths of the Sunken City of Rl' Yeh in the water and into the black jail. Jewbag was bathed in the pools by the Elves and clothed in white. Separated from his friends, Jewbag was still surprised as Sogton unfurled her bat wings, upside down on the ceiling, and stared at him with the Mangekyou Sharingan. A vision pulsed through his mind.




He was not human the slightest. His mother, Euphemia, was actually Sogton in disguise, and she had fashioned him out of Oricalc Mannequin parts like a drugged Daedalus.




"You cannot be serious. You lied. You about everything!"




Sogton had orchestrated the Death Of His Friends and the turning of his life to Ruin. From the very first sadness of his Life, the Uchiha Massacre, she had been standing like a Demon Bat on a Blood Moon. Watching, analyzing.




"I am a creature of Lies. So are you. The very same blood that moves you pumps my veins! Can you not see how we are destined to flow through the Ring Of Time, impervious to our own desires and subject to only God?"




Jewbag was starting to get hysteric. The Title was a pseudonym as well, Sogton delighting in giving him ridiculous names, he was truly Susano'o, originator of the Aura every Ashura used and a Demon. Sogton was Amaterasu, the cruel and unholy Sun that burned the plants and killed fertility, the Witch with a smile askance, the Love that always brought pain, though defiled pleasure beyond imagining.




"I would never."




"You are an Uchiha. You share my pathos, though you deny it. I made you, whelp! I fashioned you with my own hands out of the dark and lusty sacrifice of Pygmalion's failure. You are the only one of my creations that worked. A child of Artifice."




"How could I serve you, knowing that my hands have to be stained with sin?"




Sogton tired.




"The same way you usually get through life, Jewbag. You get someone else to handle it. I am a Master of it. My Sister, for instance,"




Jewbag saw the wheels in motion.




"Then Avril."




"Oh, that was perhaps my greatest trick. The Hello Kitty mannequin was designed to sing at a frequency that kills and subjugates the minion into Eternal torment in the burning River Of Fire. Truly, one of my best war weapons. Like this."




Sogton materialized a katana and stabbed Jewbag in the arm. She twisted.




"Forgive me." It was unbelievable, like a fire brand that kept expanding and devising new tortures for the weak substance to evolve, unable to acclimate to. Susano'o thought it karma. Sogton spoke.




"Oh, I enjoyed the pain. And I was proud of you for you had overcome your weakness. Unlike now, while you muse over shadows that fly beyond the eye's comprehension."




The Poem came to him. Poe:








"Mimes in the form of God on High
That mutter and mumble low And Hither, Tither Fly
Mere puppets they that come and go At the bidding of Vast Formless Things
That Shift The Scenery To And Fro
Flapping from out their Condor Wings
Invisible Woe








The Motley Drama To be sure
It Shall Not be Forgot With Its Phantom Chanced By Swirling Hands
That Grasping, Seize It Not
Like A Circle That Ever Returneth In To The Selfsame Spot
With Much Of Madness And More Of Sin And Horror The Soul Of The Plot"








Sogton read his thoughts telepathically and spoke:








"That The Play Is The Tragedy Man. And Its' Hero! The CONQUERER WORM!"




































Jewbag ran back in horror. What Sogton had transmitted to him was that humanity was a mere puppet for the God's to abuse as they see fit, and he was not human, yet forged from fire and mineral as a Dwarf, and beyond him, Above, were horrors that he could not contemplate of which Sogton was the least terrifying, and he had no choice other than to Serve Her.




"You, ruled the Illuminati?"




"Oh that was a mere diversion. Our Star Cult spans over Universes, boy. And one day you shall rule over a large part of it."




Jewbag saw it all. The Birth at the Sol Invictus. The Reign Of Horus for nine Kali Yugas, then the War with Jupiter. The Fall to Valinor. The founding of Asgard, for which Sogton toiled nine Moons growing the World Tree, Yggdrasil, the Tree Of Life, for which she ripped out a lonely Love part of her Soul and made it into Kaguya. The burning by Kaguya of her own root, for which Sogton and her Sister suffered much. The Atlantis. The Reincarnation, which killed almost everyone except No'ah, a clone, and repopulated the Earth with Terror. The slow years until Harvest. The Spirit Of God Moving Over The Waters, and the Pools Of Astarte, where Osiris transmuted into the body of the Christ and Sogton underwent Crucifixion. The forging of Astarte into two halfs, the Mother and Daughter, and Sogton being given the name Kottr over the Goddess Freja's odd insistence of Cats. And Sogton taking Oricalc, the mist substance of the Gods transmuted into the Philosopher's Stone, and building with it a Galatea for Kaguya to reside in, where she became Lord Of The Machines, Lucifer, and ultimately named Ragna, the God Killer.




The Religion Of Innana, which spread to the West and became The Cult Of Atlantis, and after the Fall the Buddh Gaya, where the smiling Oriental corrupted all the innocent and Nyarlathotep brought electricity to the primitive woods. The Homunculus, and the Dawn of Science, which underwent a massive fragmentation. And the dawn of Man.




His home. The Cult Of The Jesus Goat and listening to Linkin Park and sparring with Austin while the jovial old man smiled and smoked a cigar, and Susano'o thinking he actually had friends and caressing his wife and the ecstasies of Sex, until he had realized it was a Dream, a mere Simulation, provided by the maniacal and utterly Insane watch of his Maker, the dark Sogton Kottr.




"I don't want you!"




Jewbag was acting like a child. Yet so do all who have potential until they develop into Divas.




Sogton gently caressed Jewbag. "Oh We have come so far. Don't throw it all away."
Something inside Jewbag submitted. He started to get his usual determination, and vanity, back.




"If I Serve you, will you cast a spell of forgetfulness on me? I want my Wife back. I want Austin. And I don't care if they're illusions, those lies were the best times I spent in my Life."




"You doubt me? That was the plan all along."




Susano'o both loved and hated his Witch. They were inseparable, as her Demonic creations were a part of Sogton's soul yet an afterthought as the majority of Love went to her aberration of a Sister.




"Come along, Child. We have a City to demolish."




They turned to the door. The slab opened and Jewbag stepped into the light.




Sogton stepped past the guard and killed them instantly with psychic energy. They found Austin and Ramseys in a red petalled pool surrounded by naked Succubi, who were being held back from the males by a distraught Lin Be holding a burning brand. Ragna and John were halfway in the water, fighting with Jupiter, ice and Egyptian Laser pistol against his shadowy electrons.




Sogton: "Arrived just in time. Though I must thank John for disabling the gate."




"WHY the fuck would you go to Antarctica just to prove the earth was flat?" Lin Be screamed, transforming into a Magical Girl and chopping a sword of a Succubus in half with her white sabre.




Ramseys merely replied "Why are you even asking at this point."




With a Susano'o blue arm thrust Jupiter was pinned against the wall, and begged for pardon. Sogton silenced him as the skeletal arm contracted and Jupiter was engulfed in red mist. The Succubi retreated.




"He'll regenerate, unfortunately." Ragna said.




Sogton grimaced. "I do hate family reunions."

Sometime later on the Eagle, Jewbag went into Sogton's quarters for coffee and accidentally tripped a hidden passage, where Sogton was dressed in a green skirt and with artificial roses in her hair. Something felt to Jewbag that he wasn't suppose to see her like this.

Sogton colored. "Okay, I like Magical Girl Spec Ops Asuka, don't tell anyone."

At that moment Lin Be entered. She looked angry.

"Are you telling me the only reason you gave me Nanzy and that cursed sword and made my life considerably harder was that stupid Anime?

Sogton didn't reply and instead sat on a recliner and started reading Hentai.

"You're humming the Magical Girl Opening in your head right now aren't you?"

Sogton gazed up. "Narihibiku No."

Meow Zedong:

South Korea: 


Lin Be sat in the ochre vermillion lined seet across a table in the Office of General Michael Morganson who sat blue suited in the chair across with a look in his face that said he would rather be anywhere than in this precise moment and rather be talking to anyone than Lin Be. He fiddled with some documents. Morganson was a pilot who fought in the Tokyo Skirmish, an hour behind defeating the Gilded Guards of the Child Peacock Emperor, and although he was decorated valiantly and recieved many of an award for honor the shame never really left him, so he was curt and rude to everyone he met and not popular, although the years of serving him Lin Be had grown to know him as a kind friend. Bad News, she surmised, and not the usual Kaiju Sighting on the Beach.


Morganson spoke. "You know, if there was any chance of getting someone else I wouldn't pick you." "How dangerous is this escapade?" Lin Be muttered angrily. "We are tracking a dangerous criminal. A hacker, also drug trader with some influence in the Hong Kong suburbs and deadly enough to bring down two regimes because they tampered with his cartel. This is his calling card that he left on the last attack on the technocrat wing of the U N."


 Morganson passed Lin Be a paper. 


It was a forum style post, with the Avatar an animated flimsy dressed Cat Girl doing a paw hand gesture and the nomenclature Meow Zedong below it, the post simply reading: Lul. And bizarrely below that was another post reading: The New Season of Kaguya Sama: Love Is War sucks ass. Lin Be had met quite the amount of deranged Weeb in her life, but Never One so deranged as to hack into the U N. "Let me guess, this was because of the United Nations mandate to ban Loli Art?" 


Morganson looked like he needed sedatives. "You got it." 


"Didn't Japan neglect to sign the Charter, giving them freedom to do what they want?" 


"I suspect it was mostly a matter of principal." 


Lin Be sighed. If she had to take another jet to some third world Hellhole or worse America, she suspected her sleeping schedule would Never recover. 


Morganson seemed to read her thoughts and replied: "He's in South Korea. We initially were going to check the usual suspects in Texas, given that State is a hotbed of Weeb activity ever since they suceded from America, but we proved not to have to. Meow Zedong left the UFO and Alien files in the U N Database alone, and his only alteration to the Lemurian Archive was inserting into a Priestly Hymn a Hentai called Itadaki Seieki."


"Which translates to?"


"You don't want to know. I mean you actually don't want to know, not that it translates into You don't want to know."


"Got it. Just give me the coordinates and I'll drive." 


Morganson looked worried. "And Nanzy?"


Lin Be smiled. "Don't worry. I have the restraining collar on properly this time."  


Somewhere Else In South Korea:  


"Meow Zedong. I quite like that." Nanzy the Demon Cat said. 


"Shut up."


"I don't see why you are so worried. Remove your bra and kick him while he is gawking and I'll do the Elementium Binding, simple as that."


"He is not American. He comes from South Korea."


"Ah. You usually don't get too many South Korean Weebs. His Family must have been heartbroken."


"Stop with the immature humor and get to work, Nanzy."


Nanzy sniffed the air. "Too much wind exhaust from the tailpipes of these Cars. I can not detect the magical signature. I'm going to Sleep." He curled into a ball.


"You Damned idiot."


An hour later, Lin Be managed to rouse Nanzy with a smoked fish and they lowered the coordinates down to a warehouse on the riverside.


Lin Be dismounted the Car and readied her sabre.


Inside, several Black guards and Hong Kongers who wore the white seal of dissidents with the Rising Sun emblem of Japan on it greeted her and glancing at her sabre expected she meant business and escorted her to the Boss. Inside the lobby, which was really lonely only in a way Nipponese Architecture could invoke, she suddenly found a man almost materialize beside her in the seat adjacent.


He was dressed smartly and practically, with dark hair and a cute expression, and she would have considered him a Businessman if he was not wearing Pink Slippers and Artificial Cat Ears.


She thought: "Oh God. The U N got hacked by someone whose disguise could be seen through by a Child."


Meow Zedong was undisturbed. "Look, this is kind of embarassing, and I know you are here to track me, but the thugs here double crossed me and sold me to the Communist Police so I need your help. Also they are going to kill all witnesses so I don't think you have much of a choice."


Lin Be stammered. No doubt he was telling the truth, for despite his attire no hacker could be that stupid, but some sense of Duty still called.


"Look Meow, surrender easily and I'll commute your sentence in half."


A look of anger flashed across Meow Zedong's face, but not for the reasons she expected.


"It's Meow Zedong. Like A Pimp Called Slickback, who was in turn inspired by A Tribe Called Quest."


"Isn't that a cartoon?"


Meow Zedong shuddered in a way that made her recall when a classmate of hers was given detention for punching another Student for comparing Yugioh to Avatar The Last Airbender. The remark was intended to hurt, and she was pleased it found its mark.


"Look, you can not catch me. Morganson might, but he seriously overestimates your capabilities."


His words spoke Cold truth. Meow Zedong handed her a Plutonium Bomb and threw a smoke bomb and was gone.


When the smoke cleared, the Guards were indeed shooting at her. Nanzy set out a Photon Blanket that absorbed the laser pistols and she called down Lightning from her sabre. The corpses were burned blacker than Ben Shapiro's Thanksgiving Dinner. She hurriedly skimmed down the stairs.


Another army of guards, and more than her sabre could deal with, so she threw the Plutonium Bomb. The Demon bound inside it howled and the air was rent purple dissolving into Black And White that turned everything into a Classic Film Roll.


She ran out the now growing whole in the wall from the waves of Spectral Wind that thankfully only tore through inorganic objects. Coming out into the comforting Blue Sky, Nanzy and Lin Be prepared to enter their Car when Meow Zedong stepped out from behind a trashcan and threw emerald acid on Lin Be's face, then struck Nanzy with an Elementium Chain. Lin Be was entirely blinded, and fell to the ground screaming in Pain.


Meow Zedong: "It shall wear off in a couple of hours. I'm not a Sociopath, although it would be cheaper to use Blinding Powder. Give Morganson my regards."


Lin be continued screaming.


"I suppose you want to know why I do this, even though I am privileged and have no need for danger. Some small part of it is excitement, but it is mostly a character flaw that I can not be happy unless risking everything. And I want to see these Corrupt Governments, who make a living off the back of the Slave, be brought low. Neither you or your Boss are bad people, but surely you realized the System is not on your side."


Then he was gone.

The Painted Halways, Forever And Always:

A week later Lin Be was looking through her Military Email and was irritated and unsurprised to find a Non Authorized sender in the Chat. It came from a user called Kaguya Sama Sucks Ass. 

To: LinBe 

Major, South Korean United Air Force

Married, living with LinkinParkFan99, also sometimes known as Sasuke Jew Islam Uchiha

From: Kaguya Sama Sucks Ass

Subject:

I hope your Eyes are Recovering Fine. I thought it might Brighten your day to hear of my many Arthurian Exploits with Fair Damsels:

I was enjoying the Sunlight flitting through my Curtains when, Lo! Chibi appeared in my room, dressed in Black and White rocker attire and looking like she won a skirmish in the Border Of Palestine. 

"What are you doing here, Chibi?" Quoth I.

"It's Ben Shapiro." Chibi quoth sexily.

"No, I'm fairly certain you are not Ben Shapiro." I responded.

Chibi wrapped her arms around my Tanya The Evil outfit and pulled a Star Of David wrapped contraceptive from her NERV Neon Genesis Evangelion rucksack.

"Meow Zedong, although I'm Jewish I discovered that the Third Reich was a lie and only through mingling Jewish and German ancestry Samsaric Buddhism could be achieved and I want you to use your Teutonic manliness to secure my Golan Heights and hedonistically invade my Dome Of The Rock."

I hesitated. "Wait, Ben Shapiro claimed in his broadcast that if he ever appeared to me as the lead Singer of The Birthday Massacre and attempted to have sex with me I should resist because gayness is a Sin and the hegemony of Lucifer."

Chibi was unphased. "Afterwards we could watch the original Fullmetal Alchemist and discuss how its Philosophy relates to the Germanic Empire and how the Homunculi are Metaphors for the perfect Aryan being."

She withdrew an original Fullmetal Alchemist DVD from her NERV Neon Genesis Evangelion Rucksack.

I: "Take me now, Ben 10."

"You sick idiot." Lin Be muttered. The Magical Girl had to admit, though, Ben Shapiro did look very much like Sara Taylor.

Sogton's Note: Lin Be had gone to great efforts to purge Jewbag's Internet Alias of Sasuke Jew Islam Uchiha from record, but the South Korean Military insisted on Transperancy under threat of Perjury, and so she had to include it. She spent the next hours Wondering if her Marriage, and indeed her life, were Worth it.

"That was the Weirdest Story I have Ever Read." Daphne said, then began to follow the directions to another Puzzle.

The Present:

Newton:




Dark shores And the ringing of clerical bells A chill wind comes over the blooming moors While the monks chant out the death knells.




"Red cheeks burn as though aglow.
Hair is dark as raven's wing.
Blue eyes look upon my woe.
Lips they quiver with a sting.




Shakunta, Shakunta!
Come back, Shakunta, sing!
Those the taste of freedom know
long ever for the ring.




Winter had arrived. The sky was grey; the trees were bare and slight birdsong came from them. I strolled down the streets and green fields of Cambridge, my black coat blowing in the stiff wind and papers flying in the air. As I chased and retrieved them, my eyes caught a black dressed black haired girl with odd blue eyes across a field. Her cheeks burned like fire. She gazed at me nonchalantly, then turned around and began walking. I ran home to my cottage, eager to begin my work.




As I entered the doorway I gazed at myself in the mirror. My unruly black hair had a few flecks of grey in it, matching the color of my eyes, and my complexion was as fair as ever for an eighteen year old. I slid open a revolving bookcase and opened the lock of my secret passage with a key in my pocket, then hurried inside to the labouratory, where, on tables, a number of phosphorescent green potions in flasks and a glass orb with an oculus cut into the top to give the grey goo inside it air greeted me.




I set my papers on the nearest table and began to purouse the notes, carefully pouring out ingredients from the cabinets in my storage room and feeding it to the grey goo creation, who energetically absorbed it and grew slightly. I will not transcribe the methods here in case these documents should fall in the wrong hands, and I would advise other alchemists to take caution before embarking on a path such as mine.




My efforts were interrupted by Abigail, a Nordic girl who had taken an interest in me in my classes. She was carrying a glass of milk. I saw a look of horror on her face. "This is the Devil's work!" she cried. "I intend to go to the Church with this information!"




Suddenly, the grey goo shifted and the girl I had seen earlier entered through the door. Abigail turned around and fell to the floor unconscious, and the glass of milk suspended in the air, then floated to the nearest table. The girl smiled, revealing a left tooth broken diagonally down the center.




"Did you do anything to her?" I asked.




"I caused a brain spasm. Victims usually recover in an hour. In the meantime, I suggest you get some worms' root to erase her memory. My name is Isabel Black."




"My name is Isaac Newton. Why are you here? Who are you?" I said. Isabel sat to the left of the glass of milk and hitched up her dress, playfully exposing her thigh.




"I am a Succubus. I detected a Homunculi growing and was intrigued. The consequences of defying the Church are grave, so I expected a great genius must be behind it."




"And did you find this great genius?"




"In a way. I find you simultaneously a hard, impatient man and a soft, frivolous boy, which intrigues me the more."




I was frequently described by my teachers as childish, obsessed with ungentlemanly things like mechanics and astronomy. I built a working engine and put it on display on the Royal College Fair, but the Church confiscated it and dismantled it, saying it was possessed by a Demon.




"And I find you as cold and distant as the stars, which intrigues me. You say you are a Succubus, but you seem more like a Nephilim to me."




"There is no difference."




I fetched my supplies from the storage room and began boiling water in a kettle on the stove for the potion. Isabel followed me.




"I want you to tell me about how you created this Homunculus." she said.




"Two years ago, at Eastmount Academy, I was studying Paracelcus, and I naturally wanted to put his theories to the test. My friend Percy Shelley introduced me to a gypsy woman that inducted me into a ritual ceremony for extracting the foetus of a muta. The resulting creature looked more octopus like than human, but it reneged to become the creature here. I recently aquired the documents of Justinian, who it is rumored to have had an army of Homunculi."




"He did. They are as old as the Pharaohs."




I inserted the worm's root into the kettle. Five minutes later, the potion was complete. I poured it gently into Abigail's mouth.




"I need to go. Sunlight is a toxin for my kind and we prefer nocturnal slumber." Isabel said.




"It was an honor to meet you Isabel. I hope we'll be together again."




Isabel took an apple from the cupboard. It withered into a dry black orb.




"Be careful what you wish for.""




Sogton: I wandered through the black mansion, of course it was ephemeral, an illusion of my own mind, with dark fantasms branching at the windows and bats fluttering through the apertures in a dark and dystopian dance, but there was at least some level of structure from the castle of my childhood memories which brought about this mimicry. The Dark red velvet lining of virtually every furniture brought to mind Dracula's Vampiric castle, which it was embellished from the technology and culture by myth and legend, and no doubt there was simulated werewolves and bloodsuckers beating outside in the heavy rain where rocks stood like jagged statues to time and human suffering. This was a play, and Ragna had far underestimated my love for pantomime. I was one with the theater. Yet a darkness still hung over my heart. Why was I here, unnecessarily bound by some emotion? The apperative called that this was a trick, but I doubted, and there was a philosophy to be gained here. Not all would the dream end till the puzzle was unlocked or the last chest ravaged. The rules of the narrative permitted so. Like Poe had said, "this was a dream within a dream". Multiple layers of slander painted the picture with brutal red amid a gentle field of white flowers and green pastures with roses. The mix of barbarianism and high culture was Ragna's signature. Still, there might be a darker evil at work here. "No, Sogton, the evil was inside your own mind." So I came to a mirror and saw my diminutive form reflected like a photo but with distortions that brought to mind the fundamental wrongness of the place. My eyes looked off blue, and my dress was less tight than it's usual strong corseted form. My weary frame in the box's depth shone like a Blood Rabbit Moon, that hung form above primeval seas where all things worshiped in fear and love and terror were intertwined with no room for deviancy. The castle's walls shifted. Suddenly, I was thrown to the chair, and darkness overcame my vision. When I received clarity I was in blue jeans and a factory pressed student's black vest and dapper frilled white performance shirt. "Ah shit, not this again." Relentless experience marched on. The field was populated by students, many dressed the same as me, some showing mockable yet somewhat admirable defiance by wearing red or gold pins of whatever shit organization that they belonged to, most banned by the University and for the sole purpose that they used books as a shield to focus on banal romance and disgusting blandness. No, better have a rebellion that actually contributed to literature, I mused. Byron read One Thousand One Arabian Nights while ravishing a girl with hand and kisses, these simpletons should be able to manage a stanza of Milton, I felt. The sward that led to the archaic and redbrick University was a gentle climb and somewhat flourishing despite it's shoddy and domesticated nature. If there was some untamed dominance of Nature in the interior sector like our famed Universities of the past then I saw no sign of it, and with the poor taste in decorum I highly doubted. Following the students halfway out of habit and more out of manipulation than genuine interest, I came to the gates, where the book carrying teens entered the halls which thankfully gleamed quite cleanly and showed a religious respect to the great masters with many ornaments and pictures of the greats, although I was disturbed to view that they had a firm level of dust on them. The benches proved a sitting place to most students, but I had more noble matters to attend to. As I figured out how I was going to get to the Grandmaster, hopefully to end this trivia of marauding supposition, I was stopped by a boy who roughly crashed into me and spread his papers in every direction.   The boy adjusted his glasses and squinted. "Isabel? Is that you?" I tried to remember where I last saw him. As a Volsung I was not too easily impaired and remained unflustered despite being treated quite roughly, but I maintained some level of composure and adjusted my coat. "Oh, Isaac. It's you. Why are you here, and trapped in this illusion." I finally remembered where I had seen him. The alchemist boy, who was a heretic to the Church and lived in that epicenter between time which somehow absorbed and materialized conflicting identities like a vacuous pit and was responsible for a thinning in the realm of the Earthly Structure, a problem which to the idealistic humans below was the end of the world but to Demons like me quite beneficial and a start of conquest, leading to many bat winged Seductresses and prisms of rock. I could deal without the Giant Eldritch Spiders though. 


Isaac frowned. "I have no idea. Nor do I pretend that this is another one of your complex Succubus theories, but deciding to maintain the appearance of one of my race and intermingle with our scholarly affairs is dishonorable even for one of your character. And I thought you were toxic to sunlight?" "Time distortion." I muttered, as if this explained everything, and to every great philosopher in this England clime and even to Newton in a later date it would, but for the masses Meta theory and the physical distortions in planes were a matter of confusion and nearly breathtaking stupidity. Good on the Quantums for fixing that to the Post Revolution world. It raised a whole load of problems, but at least peasants knew they shared a bridge with Lords of a different weathered Law Of Nature. Newton shifted uncomfortable though. He drew me through the arm and roughly carried me to the eating area, although it was strange that I could not usually repel him like my senses which disobeyed being carried imperialized that I do. "Let me go!" I shrieked. Isaac seemed to apologize and did so, flustered for mistreating a woman even if she was a Demon. Segregation and politeness was a high in this culture as it had been in my Quest in Oscar Wilde's time. I wondered how the alchemist boy would react to me being Sigurd the Volsung and my effeminate if definitely masculine cosplaying throughout society. "I apologize. I was quite in a rush, and your problem only amplified the unease I have been feeling of late." "Don't sweat it. Anyway, lover boy, I assume this piece of shit University you have that doesn't even serve sausages with their eggs from the smell of the next room is Cambridge?" "You would be correct. Your mannerisms are quite unusual. Try to be more posh." "I am not here by choice. My sister's up to something, I think. And I told you we would meet again. You fucked with the fabric of spacetime, didn't you? I mind the psychology of your type.  But as long as I am stuck here, we should be safe, and I will be your guide through these uncertain musings." "Fucked?" "It's a vulgarism. You defiled some stricture or another which was clearly marked as a Forbidden Text." "I had to! That girl was dying. I figured that the church would want us to use our talents towards need, so I brewed a potion with a drop of Demon's blood." 


"So all justify it. There is a reason why we labelled that heretical." "We? You mean Demons are in control of the Church?" I gave him a bro thou art so stupid face. "Haven't you read your C.S. Lewis? Marriage of Heaven and Hell?" Isaac gave me a quizzical look. "No." "Oh I forgot. Wrong time period." I hated the bland doing of Medieval Simpletons. We moved on to the breakfast lounge. I continued. "Still, it's not your fault. At least not entirely. The ruling class do more experiments than the rest of you amateurs combined, but you at least sped my returning here. Perhaps we can fix it and bereave politicians this time." "What you speak is close to treason. Keep your voice down." "I am a Demoness. I can handle it." As we entered the kitchen, we were given plates of high quality and supplemented them with silverware, which mildly burned me, and I cursed that Arthur still had that stupid idea to give mild quantities of Demonsbane into every mundane artifact that could be seen. It was a myth that Werewolves were allergic to silver. The silver tempered with elementium, however, could kill any Greater Vampire. In fact, even the gold archery cup at the top of the shelf could probably kill me. I reserved to not let Newton know that. We our plates were ladened with potatoes, steamed herbs, and eggs, mushed into a barely recognizable stew, and I with a glowering grimace hounded the cook into giving me extra bacon. It didn't pass for good sausages, but I had no doubt these simpletons would feed them to the pigs and I was grateful for even a little meat. The cook resisted, but I was insatiable. Unlike Ragna, who could get anything done, I was constantly mistaken for an emo anemic Goth girl and derided. Despite my Divine heritage, slavents though I was merely "Oriental" and I suppose that had to do with despite my white Anglo usual hame I had the habit of throwing in some Japanese features even if I tried to morph appropriate to the culture. I really needed to balance watching violent anime. I prepared to throw a shadowbolt but thankfully the cook had some premonition of terror and acquiesced to the carnivorous demand. As we sat to eat, I quickly doing a magic trick, and replacing the silver spoon with a iron fork in my lapel, actually dissolving the elementium and possibly poisoning some minor Priest in the flanking tables with minutely harmful dust, but I wasn't going to spend the rest of my meal epilepsying like some autistic fit. I busied myself with a pork wrap. Newton dumbly said: "How do you even manage to eat anyway? I was told all Spirits have no digestive system." I narrowed my eyes. "And don't say Time Dilution." Newton continued. "Shit." The next five minutes were spent in a Science discussion, which would form the basis of Newton's Optics, although I really barely tried and it was amazing how much he didn't know. I then summed it up by saying that although I had no digestive tract or system of cleansing and food was poisonous to me, I enjoyed the structure and flavor, and had to chew thoroughly before dissipating it to smoke which I then consumed. Ragna thought I was insane. Very few Satanists had an attraction to food, and I was always the culinary genius or exception if you prefer. Newton finished rather hurriedly and got a glass of Orange juice. We then emerged into the gardens.


I materialized a Parasol like Mary Poppins if she wasn't a totally typical lesbian. And I know that I am a lesbian [when I'm in the current body] so that seems kind of hypocritical but even I have standards. "What the fuck?" my boy toy said. "I really don't like sun even if I am immune to it." "I meant with the materialization. That was a large umbrella and rather fast even for a Supernatural Beast." I then just to annoy Newton conjured a portal du emerald and brought out an Elephant through it, and he nearly had a mental breakdown, which was of course what I was aiming for. I undid the spell. "What the hell was that for?" "Fun. You should learn some." "I mean that you will attract all the attention of the Scholars and the Clergy. I will be in trouble, and you will be branded as a Witch, or worse." "I welcome that. This idyllic if somewhat daft and utterly joyous splendor is somewhat wearisome. I want some action. And war. And prostitutes, though not from London." "Who are you?" "I told you, I am Isabel." We came into the interior quarters. As I saw the lockers assembled in traditional squalor if admirable system, I was aware of a disturbance. Shadowy tendrils entered from cracks within the wall. Light poured in a decorative pattern. "I need to get Gram. Be on alert." Even Newton was starting to realize something was wrong. He shifted nervously, and I prepared to run. A blast of chaos energy stopped me in my tracks, though. I was hurled against the wall, and we rushed to class. "Why class?" I shouted. "We have a higher chance of not being spotted. More magical artifacts." Good thinking. Isaac knew of the themes of this school, and to a lesser extent a world which I was merely a visitor to and exploring my Scientific curiosity. Perhaps the miscreant would prove himself useful yet. We took our seats. The Prof frowned. "Young Isaac, you again are late. Hopefully not consorting with women, or your usual pastime of creating those infernal gadgets. And I had expected better of you, girl. Isabel, I believe your name was? Perhaps you have got yourself in bad company." I frowned. Humans weren't suppose to know of me in advance. This meant I was dealing with a higher darkness. Suddenly a student pulled out a knife. His features contracted, and he began to get a sharp grin and bloodshot red eyes. This was no student, I mused. It was a horrible Changeling, and it was infiltrating the mortal class.


It was also so advanced and skilled in magic that even I could not detect it, and I realized we were doomed. As I casted a grounding spell, I tried my best to prepare for the inevitable murder that was to follow. "What are you doing boy?" The old Professor muttered. That was no boy but a killing machine brought about by Eternals. The mummies had wrapped themselves in power but used slaves for their society, building machinations that contained Druidic chameleon energy and an insatiable appetite for blood. Also a good nose to track both material and immaterial. They were the Hounds of Tindalos, and utterly foreign to my nature and a threat even for God. The Shadowman leaped from a table with the strength of a bullet and carved into the breast of a young girl, blood pouring out onto her clean yellow garb, and then slashed her coat, cascading droplets towards me. Newton dove under a desk. I washed the blood out of my hair as the Shadowman killed twelve more students, mildly annoyed even with the danger as I held a great value towards aesthetic. The Professor was pinned against a wall. "What are you doing?" Newton stammered: "Do something?" "Nah, I can't do anything. I am powerless here. Try and ignore the screaming and dying." The Prof took out a pistol from his storage supply and shot the Shadowman in the chest eight times. The Changeling was not hurt, however, even though the bullets were elementium, and stood up not bleeding and enlarged its talons. The Professor was then torn into bloody ribbons and his blood stained his desk and a good portion of his papers red. Shame, I had rather liked him. It isn't every day a human stands up to an Immortal and pays her a compliment. Then the Shadowman turned towards me and everything dissolved into green. Now we were plunged into a scene that resembled the scene of three minutes ago, but without the student. "What the Hell happened?" Newton screamed, looking from the safety of his desk. Everyone in the class turned to look at him. "One more disruption like that, Isaac, and I shall banish you from my class." The Prof said. 


I shifted in my seat. The Changeling had been stopped, but by what, I had no idea, but whatever it was it had restructured the laws of reality to confine to our beneficial status. I thanked it. I was currently ogling the girl who had her throat ripped, thankfully she was a lot more beautiful while she was not surging blood, but I hoped her dress would be a little bit more immodest because I couldn't see anything of the fruits there from my lower perspective. "Sogton, please try destroying the chair less." The Prof had used by name. Proper Demonological name, strange. I would have to consider it later, though, for further matters pressed my mind. I was quite bored during the class, it was literally Hell to go through for an advanced mind like me, but I have to admit I admired the Prof's teaching skills. The subject was Beowulf, although the story was about me, it was embellished with so many details. I had read in the past, grateful that the story at least admitted the part where I was disemboweled by my own sword accidentally, but the Prof caught my eye and pointed to a copy of The Silmarillion in the back corner. I scowled. I was beginning to have some idea who this guy was. The rest was banal study of philosophy and language and tests like root words of Saxon and how Latin best formulated into sentence structure and hymns. I had little linguistic talent, and most seemed to understand me when I insulted them, so it was not required, although I enjoyed learning foreign curse words for the purpose of fucking with plebians. When it came to any actual study I was utterly dull, though. The Professor seemed to know this, and did not complain when I put the book down and materialized a copy of JoJo's Bizarre Adventure from my pocket, and began to doodle Giorno and Dio on a piece of scratch paper that somehow continuously materialized new pages that flew on other student's heads and hit the sexy girl on the neck, away from the breast area that I was aiming for. When the Bell finally rang it was a relief, although Newton seemed quite pleased with what he had learned and was smiling as he puroused his notes. "Professor Bombadil is quite the well learner." Isaac spoke. I laughed. "Professor Bombadil? He couldn't think of a better disguise and less ridiculous pseudonym?" "You know him." "Not really. Learning Middle Earth is more Ragna's forte. I was always interested more in darkness. And somehow I doubt the old dotard would enjoy himself at a My Chemical Romance concert." 


"My Chemical Romance? Is this Demonology you speak of?" "Worse. It's a bunch of emotional teenagers who smell like shit and stain their faces with eyeliner and sulfur." "Hmm. Sounds terrible." "It's one of my favorite hobbies." I moved through to the garden, though by now the sun had gone down and it was getting dark. My time of dominion at night. Newton seemed uncomfortable, but he would get hysterics if he knew what was happening next. We left the University proper, and stepped into Bainbridge town which was less shitty than Cambridge and off the far side of the river. The houses were actually substantial, made with love and attention to utilitarian purposes, and had a charm to them. Despite being made out of stone they were not cold. "This is the Headmaster's house." Isaac muttered, realizing where we were dreadfully going. "We should go back." "Shut the fuck up." We continued through several hedges and brambles and I stained my stockings with mud. Cleaning them I revealed a little more than was socially acceptable and Newton glared at me, responding with a hate glare of my own, which clearly told him to mind his place. The way was good going though, for we had come to a hedge field. "Are you sure we are going the right way? If you wanted to rob him it would be easier to go around the back." I realized I was lost. "Aw shit I meant to do that." As we reoriented on a more appropriate and actually easy course, I tried to uplift my spirits. "So what are we actually doing here?" Newton continued. I looked for dark Spirits or dirt Dwarves or dogs. The latter were more prevalent, but you never knew. "We're going to get Gram, idiot. I told you I needed my sword." "You mean the Sword of Sigurd the Volsung? You are going to steal his Sword?" "Hard to do that, given that I am Sigurd the Volsung." Isaac glared over Isabel as if viewing me for the first time. He was skeptical. "I didn't know Sigurd was a girl." "Well, I had a dick at the time, although I looked much the same." Isaac was puzzled, so I again translated this slang and his eyes widened. "Oh, so you are one of those folks." "I fail to see what you mean by those folks." "Well, we get a lot of crossdressers, and sometimes in the traveling circuses and caravans." "No I'm not one of those clowns, if that is what you are implying. I can freely transform into female and male forms. Well, I have to be brutally murdered first, but there is little in the Divine and Ancient world that is easy." "Fascinating. I thought that was Illegal." "For everyone except me. I am the Prodigal Daughter after all." We came to a clearing in the trees where an outhouse stood. "You buried your favorite Blade and legendary magic in a pile of shit?" "He was giving me problems." I materialized the key to the outhouse and we were greeted by an overflow of stagnant water. I fished in the toilet bowl taking care not to get an infection with the black mire and retrieved the hilt of Gurthang, who immediately started screaming and had to be bashed against a rock before he stopped. "You bitch." the Familiar said. "Shut up." Gurthang was then laid on a bank and washed in river foam and water with fine herbs, which I had Newton gather from the tree font. He seemed a little more manageable, and I prepared to be forgiving for the time he had stole my powers and stabbed me and gone off to become an accountant for the Nippon Annual Stock Exchange Program on Asian Nude Broadcast [ANB]. "So, what have you gotten yourself into this time, Sogton?" Gram asked. "The Blade talks?" Newton muttered in disbelief. "You really are quite slow, aren't you?" 


Addressing Gurthang, I said. "I was brought in to a couple of World Wars. I have to say, that toxic gas was one of the worse welcomes I've received, and that includes when a bunch of angry sluts took a flamethrower and torched my lower body. Anyway we're being pursued by the Hounds of Tindalos." "I serve thee, lead on my Queen." I grabbed Gurthang roughly in my course hand and lifted the Blade, which moved in a circle, and eventually settled on pointing West resisting my efforts to get it into the sheath. I assumed that meant that was where we were suppose to go. "Subvert to me, Devil Sprite." We were led to a leaf in the underbrush. "Try not to fall against a rock this time." Gurthang said. "You fucker. You waited a hundred thousand years to make that joke, didn't you? What a dunce." I was somewhat happy to have a friend though after so long spent alone in the hills and darkened wastes. As we walked down along Bainbridge and saw the beautiful sunset stain the sky corruptly with gold and silver and pink, making the beautiful if ruined buildings along the shoreside look pale and paltry in comparison, I started to admire the view. Many pedestrians were walking past, several carts moved in the dim, and horses drawled as a woman with a white dress red haired sang in the shallows. "As I walked down over London town One misty morning early I overheard a fair pretty maid Was lamenting for her Geordie" The ballad was one I knew quite well and I did not have time to dwell on my Emilie Autumn records although I wished I could listen to one if I could make an elementium channeler to attune the lightning rod above my castle to the frequencies above Andromeda as the stars wheeled overhead. Thus was a sad thing. But I was here for war and violence, not amusement and healing, and war and violence were my nature. As we returned to Cambridge, overlooking the town amid the University in the half light and dying sun under a rapidly dying sky and quick to be replaced by the wiles of night and the starry sky, I knew there was trouble. The Black Blade was drawing stares. As uncomfortable as can be, and I realized that there was no way we were going to be able to pass this off as two cosplayers. Because we would have to cosplay the middle Ages, and while modern cosmopolitanites might mistake Gram for a staple of Medieval fantasy literature, these were the actual fucking middle Ages, and everyone here thought it was witchcraft. 


We were soon surrounded by a peasantly dressed crowd of scowling ignants and utterly reprehensible middle class who dressed like strippers but contained the fashion sense almost as similar to their mental powers. I knew this was trouble. Trouble when I walked in. Like the Taylor Swift song, but not as shit. And if there was any sense in the Universe, hopefully the Shadowmen wouldn't attack before I was lying on the cold hard ground. I remembered Taylor Swift's clown like simpleton face and wanted to wash my face out with cyanide. There was no way any singer could be that happy and simultaneously creepy looking. But to the task at hand, we were in fact stalked by a Changeling, as Gram indicated by swiveling to the right. I quickly ran, but we were stopped by a constable. At that moment the Shadowman leached onto my back and started draining my energy, causing me to exude blue mist and Newton to vomit. It was less vomit and more residual black mire from Gram's resting place in the outhouse, which had stained us so much we looked like coal miners, but the result at least made us look human. Humanish. Though I figured the fact that the Shadowman targeted me would get us into trouble later with the Constable. So I wriggled out of it's grasp, and Newton bravely held it while I cut it down with Gram. Small comfort, for we were immediately bound in rope and Newton had a look on his face as if I had just killed his Cat. Sniveling wretch, the blame was on him, for he had decided to go experimenting with powers and putting sheep uteruses in horses and similar shit. What did he think was going to happen? Flowers would appear out of nowhere and everyone would sing Mighty To Save? That would be pretty cool actually. We were led to the hanging post, where I was tried as a witch. As well as Newton being socially outcaste and probably sent to the dungeons.


I was receiving of the first shrill accusation. "Thy Isabel Black, art thou a heathen witch, yea, a very derelict lambasted defiler of our sacred arts?" "Go shove a cup up your ass." This didn't help my case any, Reader, though I'm sure that was apparent without me having to explain it. I could easily escape, but not without killing someone. I tried to stall for time. "I say, does anyone know Sigurd the Volsung?" There were a couple of uncomfortable stares and murmurs. I continued. "I'm guessing that's a no? Show of hands?" There was one guy who raised his freckle stained hand, and even in primeval times you will be pleased to note Reader that he was a nerd. He was kind, and blonde haired in a kind of cute though unattractive way. Unaccustomed to sex, though more romantic than most. The closest vagina he had been close to sheathing to was probably that of a poor girl distinctly related to him though ambiguous enough that he wouldn't be committing the sin of Oedipus. It was better than the royals. They were so inbred it was like Family Matters if everyone was interested in art and doing incredibly weird things with dogs in dresses. I've just insulted half the population of England. So I was quite supportive of him, but the rest uttered insults, like "Bandy slut" and "Wine drinker and guzzler of pig's milk" which I'm fairly certain was not only inaccurate but biologically impossible. They started throwing rocks, and most of them were so bad at aim that they fell far away from the station, and one rolled at my feet. "Oh come on. Did the Saxons all steal the women from you when they invaded France?" This led through a roar of lambastment. One woman started waving a quilt which might have been the flag of Normandy but looked like a child's drawing of an ox. Several Changelings found me and started attacking. I said "Fuck this" and killed most of the crowd with an instant death spell, releasing my binds and retrieving Gram from the pocket Universe between Worlds that he hid in. I was pleased that the virgin was still alive. I would hate to get the blood of loser on my hands. Odin would never stop berating me about my kill count. We then walked back into the University, Hounds of Tindalos at our heel. We came to the quarters of the Prince class and those rulers of Cambridge which was off limits even for a man of Newton's high birth. The upperclassmen were phantom like patrolling the dorms, though, lost in their servile acquiescence in demands to the rich folk. Politics was high in the Scholar discussion this time, and it was mostly on regards to the Jacobites and the Monarchists, not actual important stuff, like discussion on Enlightenment values versus the ever larger strangulating hand of the Church.


This was not to take place for another hundred years, in a more brilliant England, although ironically by the time Oscar Wilde apexed English creativity and Rationalism the Atheists would destroy it and we would wish for the time of the Church oppression. Still, we have not come to discuss politics. What was in my mind was hardly desire for exiting, but rather an appreciation of battle and a desire for a fine woman. I was stopped as Newton came to Professor Bombadil's home. He knocked twice and then several times elaborately in a secret code, and thankfully it was accepted, for the doors opened and we were ushered into John's clear and candlelit vigil dorm and it was plaited with anachronism and comfortable red couches with red and blue cushions that admittedly made it seem like a Child's Birthday Party. The streamers weren't helping anything. It was profuse with books, and I had to navigate my way through several thesises to come to a comfortable sitting place. Edith, although it was really Ragna disguised as Edith, came in and brought the Tea. "You. Devil Girl." I shouted horrendously. "Oh sister dear please stop trying to act surprised when you find me in the middle of a war. You know I follow you everywhere I go. Also I am not responsible for this." Ragna was dressed in somewhat more stylish and agreeable fashion than she usually did, this time taking on a blue robe instead of the endless variations on white. Her hair was also black for the first time in years, and I found it kind of flattering that she would match my personality. Though it was an off black, and kind of mockery of my traits, and didn't contain a true appreciation for the dark and morbid. Ragna always lived in the light, although it was an evil fire, as opposed to my good coldness. We shared many traits and improved off one another. But that she was wearing blue was a symbol of mourning, a reminder of culture lost and myths dead by hand of despot. I tried to comfort her, but I could scarce make any effort if I didn't know the cause of the problem. "No, you are not. And neither am I. I blame this plebeian." I motioned to Newton. "Perhaps now that I know why my Science is Banned I shall not do it." "You could try using common sense." Tolkien, although it was really John Westley disguised as Tolkien, swigged a massive array of lemon tea. Then he started to bring out the pastries and busied himself with a plum cake. The operative principle was hiding, for although Cambridge was magically fortified I doubted it would stand up to scrutiny from the Chameleons for long. It was in this times I longed for my army. Unfortunately most of them had scattered. "So, what are our options?" John said. Ragna nudged herself onto the couch behind me and banged me in the ribs. It was kind of gentle but mostly annoying. She spoke sweetly. "I suggest we get the Spear." 


"You know I sweared never to use that thing again Ragna." "Why? Because you failed so utterly against Fenrir. If I had not used my magic on you you would have won the battle easily. And I doubt the Enemy of the Elves has the power of spell reflection." "Perhaps not. But that is not what I am saying. I speak of that the Spear drains my energy entirely, and turns me to darkness and wicked thoughts. If I could use my sword I could not be uncertain about my conscience, but unfortunately that cannot be the case." I joined in. "Sorry, Daddy, but Gram belongs to me now." I triumphantly moved the Blade. "No gloating, Sogton." Ragna said as she sipped some sugar tea. "I have no idea what any of you are talking about." said Newton. "Educate yourself." I said, and then flung my Betrayal Of Loki at him, with it's tattered pages and much loved cover that contained my sister in clown masked form with a child Fenrir and the Jormungand Serpent in teenage form on her shoulders. She continued. "Use the Spear. We have no choice in the matter." The door was flung open. Fingolfin stood with his white armor and silver claymore and a shield brought of mithril and opals. "Some choice" the Elf Captain at the gate said, and the Valkyries poured in, unfortunately with Brunhilde at their middle lead, to which Gram erupted in fire and John immediately lit a pipe because he knew there was going to be a bitch fight. Ragna tried to restrain me. As I stood up she placed a hand around my waist. "Please try and accept this. We staged a truce. If there is any necessity for the work of Aesir and Vanir it is this time, and I shall share in your despair." Brunhilde started to gloat. "I hear you couldn't even face Fafnir without dying. Sad for a son of Odin." I immediately launched a fireball and burned a substantial amount of Tolkien's library to the ground. Then I started cursing, jumping so far that my feet hit the other chair and Ragna had to restrain me by using both hands around my waist and a foot embedded in the lion handle of a desk. "You utter slut addled minded Freya! Why don't you utterly go and fail to marry Thor instead of advertising your status as poster Goddess for the spinsters? Even the priestly class among the Norns are quite sad about your chastity, even they get to lay a man every half week, but you've been years without a hug. No wonder you are a bitch to every taskmaster beneath you, and can't get a day's work done without drinking ale and painting your nails while you snuggle your pink Cats." Brunhilde gasped, and grins with chuckles from the other Valkyries showed that Isabel's description wasn't too far off the mark, and even Ragna smiled, no doubt remembering that time in Odin's court after she had been framed for the Death of Baldur where she had said something similar, and she was flattered that I had learned so much from her. Indeed that rebuke had been my primary inspiration. John started to pour alcohol into his tea. It was going to be a long night and as his wise and experienced life had thought him one could never have enough alcohol to deal with crazy women.


We prepared the army, and the haunt like legion of ghouls outside was expanding, to the point that we were not surprised to see them come out of their disguise and start to pace around the grounds, shadowy figures crawling out on all fours. I hated Chameleons. Perhaps it is good to elaborate on the nature of these creatures. They are not your base variety of Undead, and certainly not the dark and mysterious Cryptid which poses a problem if can be contained easily. No, they are far more dangerous and older than this, based on the Avignon cave paintings where superstitious hunter gatherers used their rare supply of goods and dwindling chalk to carve and array of systems and a complex message in the rocks of Sauvage. Many anthropologists assumed that this was because they were religiously oriented, and had higher brain functions. They were as stupid as a piece of shit. No, it was a vital essential order that drove them to their artwork. They were running away from something. Things suspiciously similar to buildings of the late nineteenth century were carved in black sulfur and black granite on the cold stones. Alongside them was an almost commercialist picture of lights. And beside that the unnatural grin and visage of the Slenderman. Similarly in Koyannisqatsi tribes they plotted grids and carved detailed figurines of flying saucers and Gods descending in lights from the sky. Some of those Gods had multiple arms. And besides them was the message, FEAR THE SLENDERMAN. The Doppleganger was quite a archetypical motif of German culture, and leaders in thought like Wagner had brought about the supposition that the Dopplegangers didn't just exist in the realm of the psyche but also on physical grounds as well, that they were the Other Selves that took over human form, that they represented the Draugr or water swimming corpses of Norse legend, that the rumors of the Skinwalkers in English rural towns and later American visions of the Yeti were all based on this abhorrent creature which remained elusive and whose primary characteristic besides disguise was it's superhuman speed. It even persisted into modern times, bringing about the legend of the Slenderman, that suited amorphous kidnapper of kids who performed horrible experiments and feeded off the energy of the innocent. The fear of Americans for the wilds was this result. Many children ended up kidnapped, and cattle murdered, and with strange bite marks personages blamed the Chupacabra when the teeth marks were suspiciously human in nature. Not all mental ill patients could be described as all insane, however, for even Doctors reported hearing banging on the doors and the inmates witnessed a suited man with no eyes and a pasty white array of skin and multiple flagellating arms who howled at them that they would die. How scary. Even scarier it was when they went to the cities, and beheld the legions of mental patients escape from jail and the few humanitarian faculties and start killing wardens and civilians alike. This was more than a Demonic craze. Satanism was on the rise, not normal Satanism, for even Ragna could not control the Slenderman, but Mammon based Mesopotamian Satanism that had roots in the eternal conflict between Marduk and Tiamat. And here Marduk was a symbol of evil. Ragna felt a chill as she gazed through the window. It was not the room, for she had drunk much hot tea, and not the Draugr behind the bushes either. A pall had fallen, and she had finally discovered the existence of the Slenderman. He had returned from his rest in the aeon dense caves that led to the mythical city of Leng, and brought chaos with him, of agendered blind tentacles feeling with octopus sensory organs in primeval horror Nyarlathotep caves. The Shaman had warned her. She had been proud, and she had not listened.


John broke the silence with his machine gun. He picked it up and lowered several orichalcum bullets into the revolving chamber. The gun clicked into action. "Let's kill these motherfuckers." The Professor said. On a note: "I tell you I saw the Slenderman last night and if you don't believe me you are tripping harder than those guys in Austin that said I beat up that guy after robbing a liquor store, I am not insane, and it's something the Elites and the Government are hiding from you. I have the Sources right here and what do you look it's the "NEW YORK TIMES" saying that there have been mysterious disappearances and they are kidnapping kids. They tell you about the Matrix, and look at Mr. Smith, he has that cool suit, you think oh that's just culture, but NO, I'm definitely on the accurate side, it is a mental programming because not only do the Aliens wear suits but it is a symbol of the Draugr and the Slenderman. It's meant to condition you through the cinema and popular fashion that there is nothing wrong with being an amorphous blob. I tell you, this is a Satanist thing. It's a cult. Lovecraft knew this, that's why he wrote his books, and he tried to warn everyone but they called him racist because his wife was a Jew. And this is mainstream stuff. I'm not insane. I have the sources on my table here."


The next light that came out of the window was a bomb, brightly colored in green fire and dazzling the array of the Zombi like Changelings with a yellow fire that erupted like a volcanic flow and set the forest ablaze. John rushed through the halls of Cambridge, and kicked open a door, then hid behind a pillar and started spraying the Draugr with the Orichalcum. I and my beloved sister flanked him, and we decided to forgo the usual tandem formation in favor of a sneak attack with which we intended to use Gram as a greater force and bolster through the ranks. Behind us, the Valkyries moved in military formation, and Brunhilde tempered her spear with a swift enchantment that blew up a caravan that was supplied outside the outskirts of the University town for the purpose of moving Draugr. It was the Cult Of The Jesus Goat, who were active even in those times, and I had a feeling that we wouldn't be able to stop them even if we won this fight. Legends never die, and it was certain that the ideas of the Cult Of The Jesus Goat would linger long after Nyarlathotep went into hiding and the last practitioner was eradicated from the face of the Earth. Words did not exist only as voice, but dotted the very leaves and trees and ripples in the water. All Occultists knew how to study that. Me and my sister did as well, though we used it for good, not evil. The battle was on. John reloaded and sprayed the machine gun, and the Valkyries tore into the ranks of Undead with a weaponry enchanted by the same substance as the bullets. I knew that there would be a swift retreat after our initial push, but I could not imagine what would sadistically happen next. A man appeared in the woods with a black suit and a comical tie, at least it looked like a man, but he had no features and the white skin disguised blind eyes that gleamed silver. His hands were also irregular, and unnaturally long limbs and fingers were his definite features. I felt a feeling of dread. I hefted Gurthang and charged at him, but he sidestepped despite that the blade chopped into his flesh and he immediately regenerated soon after, disengaging, making a multitude of fleshy arms that grasped at me like whips. I slashed and slashed, but the illusion cleared, and I was slashing at trees and the man had disappeared. I knew it was a trap. Ragna was next to face him, and he levitated her with a gravitational bind and choked her. I reverted to my Greater Demon form with my hair whip and horns and used Gurthang as a fire attack, but it was blocked by an energy shield. I was flung to the Earth, my aura taking the brunt of the attack and forcing me to withdraw my blue Skeletal Susano'o Ribcage, even though the Slenderman had not used a fraction of his power and was preoccupied restraining Ranga, and my defeat had been an afterthought, with no major effort. I knew we were no match. My Susano'o failed, and I collapsed to the ground. At that moment a comet blazed through the air and a spaceship fell to Earth, with the doors pressurizing open and a small girl with short white hair emerged from the thicket and blasted at the Slenderman with an energy beam. He released Ragna and materialized several tendril arms to deal with the hovering blast.  Several black suited Agents wearing the logo for the United States AntiDemonology corps [we called them Necromancy, as a kind of inside joke to our Necronomicon experiments, and we held an allegiance to them] poured out and aimed a couple rifles at the Slenderman. He disappeared in a puff of black smoke. I crawled to Ragna's feet and steadied myself on her shoulder. "And who the fuck are you?" I muttered through tired teeth. I asked the white haired girl. It was obvious that she was not mortal, though from another Universe entirely, and not a parasitic Universe that I had visited, but a highly advanced civilization like ours, and I marveled that there was an Eight Angel beyond the Walls Of Night in the elder dark. "I'm Shub Niggurath. Honestly, how could you guys forget your younger sister?"




The Vatican Archives: Billie Eilish's Song Ocean Eyes was an immediate success the moment she released it. What the parents and concerned friends who saw their loved Ones become enraptured in the gentle Ethereal Siren tones, unnaturally happy, did not know, was that at Night they walked to the piers and started staring at the Astarte Moon, gazing longingly at the Rabbit Goddess and uttering those string like verse: "Give me those Ocean Eyes". And priests huddled by the waves, muttering to Jesuah, and there were strange large fish sighted within the Sea, bearing dark scales with rainbow sheen. And at last, there was a Scientist who was a little too concerned with the fad and habit of teenagers throwing their lives away on the Ocean Eyes, and decided to analyze the notes on a spectrometer. With tomes from the Miskatonic he discovered the the first third of the pattern, when converted to Moon hieroglyphs with a code explained on Debrov's Symbolism, matched exactly the rumored combination for unlocking the Vatican's libris Arcana. With an aching heart and not really certain if this was a reasonable thing to do, or if he was entirely sane, he packed his lecture notes and booked a flight to Roma. He knew he had to save the children. His Miskatonic credentials led him to the first Private sector of the Archives, and he used a rare tome, that was given to him by the Shaman in the Bolivian rainforest, to trespass into the Forbidden sectors and find the exact room he was looking for. It was ascetic, and a marble door held intricate carvings of the Order Of The Golden Dawn and a slot. Within the mechanical compartment, was a key combination, and he typed in the remaining last two thirds of the Song transcribed in the Mesopotamian Alphabet. The door did not open. He scrambled to his thoughts for a combination, a secret phrase, and believed he had come here for useless whim. Then the first third lines of the Song came to him. "Fifteen Flares inside those Ocean Eyes." He typed the words Fifteen Flares into the device. At length the door opened, and within were literally hundreds of Mannequins, all carved of Oricalc and bearing elongated arms, and within their metallic heads, brutally fashioned, were green blue eyes, human eyes.  He heard the Song start to play and knew he was dead. The Mannequins moved, and then he saw no more.

In veiled quintescence
With serene and silent resplendence 
The dark and heretical essence
Awakes

The Modern Pygmalion: Investigating the disappearance of Professor Bombadil was a dark task that I was unprepared for in scope and magnitude. I have to humbly admit that I had a sturdy disposition and capacity for endurance and Stoicism, but the revelations of the case wounded me to my core and made me take leave for several weeks. I was unprepared for how deep the Rabbit Hole went. The darkness happened on a Sunday eve when I was attending a Church gathering and suddenly as services were closing on a hot sunny day my boss besuited and looking like some thug out of The Matrix found me and ushered me to a private dinner on a table in the riviera. "So what's with the getup?" I asked. "Quiet. We have too many listening ears. Ask not and trouble will not come upon you." I knew the tone of this meeting was serious, but could not submit the feeling of being distant. My boss related that Professor Bombadil's mansion had been found from secret documents hidden in his safe. So it was up to me to tie up the loose ends of the case. The mansion was located in the secluded Vermont woods, and I was looking forward to getting a little liquor and that famous Vermont cooking, but I somehow thought that vacation would be the least of issue here. I took the bus to the small quaint village of Fordshire, where I checked in my bags at a lovely hotel. The boss had sent in some twelve novels worth of documents. They were the Professor's writings of twelve years and each progressively more insane, if you could call it that, for Rationalism was still there, and in insanity each more wonderous than the other. The stories were for Elves and Hobgoblins and stuff of that nature, but while at first detailing the historical nature of such fables the writ became to progress Bombadil's journey through the Hobbit holes of the Elves' territory, to Cairns in Scotland and barrows in Ireland, each chronicling a journey with the little folk or a secluded old wizard that gave him advice and sometimes vague and contradictory directions. The Otherword, Tir Na Nog, was open for Bombadil, and he progressed through it like some candour and firepower out of Dante's Inferno. I studied with rapt recount as I read the annals of the Professor being entranced by a witch and fighting a Demon in the blood sport of Mannaweythan's Wild Hunt, and slaying it. The Dogs of the Red Ear then dragged him to the grey cliffs and granite fords of the lesser Underworld, where he met with the ancient heroes of old, and Cu Chullain himself, and beheld the holy red eye of Morrigan herself. Now my skeptical mind wrestled with this tale, although it was quite convincing with the amount of lore it accurately recounted from the Celtic tribes, and if Bombadil was a fabler, a skilled fabler with the poetical capacity of a Lauriat he was. But if the boss had sent me these documents he must want me to be prepared. The possibility of the Occult was present, and I had to keep my glock at ready for dealing with Cultists. It did not pass my mind the heretical tradition of these woods. Mesopotamian rites were conducted in this very forest, although long in the past, and sacrifices in blood to Cthulhu were also present. Some of the townsfolk I had passed looked kind of sallow, fishy in a way, and a odour of evil was about them. I knew of the legends of the Sheep Skull tribe, and the Salem rebels, but not once had they disrupted my splendour. Now I was starting to get unease. The breakfast was as phenomenal as rumoured. The sausage was wide and spiced, the eggs hearty, the soup quite filling, and potatoes diced and with an immense serving of tomatoes on them. I also binged on heavy honey laced tea, with herbs mixed in that would stupour and were used in drug trades and Shamaniac rituals, but I was no stranger to chemical supplementation. Slightly tipsy I prepared to venture into the wood. Professor Bombadil's mansion was not off the path, but he progenerated such a secluded life to the locals that they did not know of his riches or fame. The frame of the white building was sere, and the flowers quite overgrown, grass being wild and honeysuckle twisting in vines that blasted the windows in their aggressive yellow. I put on a kerosine torch for the day although bright was obscured by very tall aspen trees, and I tried the bolt on the door. I didn't expect it to be open, but the boss had given me a metal cutter. I heated the contraption to one hundred fifty degrees and blasted a metal hole in the brazen lock, then twisted causing the whole apparatus to disintegrate in fire with a loud sound. Inside was nearly pitch black. The kerosine torch illuminated debris and detritus that looked very untidy, and I surmised that Bombadil was an unorganized man, or else left in a frenzied hurry. The windows were nearly crumbling. I came to the bookshelf and inspected a nearly inch wide streak of dust, and realized something ill was amiss, for a literary man like him would never keep his books in such disregard. Around that time a loud noise was heard in the back. I fingered my glock and decided to withdraw it, the danger now increased to the point I could venture getting shot by the Professor on the off chance he was still on these facilities and in control of his mind. I shuddered and moved in a light zigzag, putting my knowledge of bushwork in which I had hoped never to use. I crouched behind a bookshelf and venturingly put forth the kerosine torch to see what I could discover. I found Professor Bombadil. But he was grey haired, haggard, naked and shivering, with bloodshot eyes and dirt on his face and convulsions that brought to mind someone stricken with a terrible disease. Putting aside my personal danger, I levered the glock at the passageway and went to help him. He refused treatment from my medkit however. The Professor whispered in my ear. "She's in the laboratory. Two rooms to the right. Don't use the gun, she's immune. Kill her with fire, it won't work, but might bide you enough time to escape. Enough time for both of us to escape, if her spirit lingers by the treetops." This rant seemed insane but the tone was serious, so I ventured to follow the Professor's words. I still kept my glock, but put the torch alongside it, for necessarily perhaps the Professor still held a shred of sanity in his rambling words. The second door to the right was black, locked, and near to where the noise had been. A very dark feeling of evil came off it, and even I who was usually unmoved by such things felt ill. I used the bolt cutter. A horrendous knocking of metal came from the darkened depths. Shining my torch quickly I saw a bench, but below it were innards and bloody flesh and gore that seemed animal in nature but some bones I could discern as belonging to humans. I nearly retched. What had the Professor been doing these past months? I knew those who were innocently entranced by the Occult had a habit from turning from benevolent folk ritual into dark Satanism, but I did not think the kind Professor had this in him. When I met him in University he seemed quite pragmatical. Yet an even greater horror was awaiting me as I moved the light higher through the laboratory and to the white table that was like a marble slab. Smeared with blood at the base, like a massive funnel since the floor was sloped to make a bowl for the carnage and Satanism to go, I beheld a shadowy edifice. At first my eyes could not make out the shape despite the light shining directly, but as my vision acclimated and my senses adjusted I saw a form physical yet somehow aberrant and defying the laws of physics. The torchlight did not hit it, yet it shined with its own internal illumination. The figure was a mannequin, taller than human shaped, and oblong with strange claw like digits and an obscure yet photorealistic property. I could not distinguish it from the Art of the Renaissance figures, a true Vitruvian like work, yet this was a Woman, not a man. I immediately thought of the Golem legend, and how Leonardo had struggled to keep his Occult secrets intact and eventually staged his death and burned a cottage to avoid the Church dignitaries. Yet this was no legend, but myth respirated and brought to life. The white limbs were beautiful and lissom in their dark way, but preportioned in a way to convey girlishness and a gentle artistry. The face, however! A dark cast. What a face! To describe it as terrible or criminal would be an understatement. The evil of that inhuman mockery which contained a certain animation, a human like conscience and familiarity to it, defied all reason and sent the viewer into a dark stupour. The eyes were purple and indistinguishable from living eyes although motionless. If Galatea was this, a Galatea that had rebelled against her creator and denounced the Religion of man. I understood why the Professor had wanted me to kill it. It defied all compassion. I raised my hand with kerosine torch, but was paralyzed, unable to move and dreadfully frozen by a cold that stretched into my psyche. Oh God! The purple eye, it moved! It moved!

I'm looking at a face, a pointed chin
Towards the sky, an arrogance
It easily betrays the closest friend
A moment lost, no consequence
The Circle starts again, away from you
Deception pulls us in, away from you
Away from you, away from you
An Imitation, a fabrication
A pretty fake, a counterfeit
An empty carcass behind the Artist
Is there a trace of Innocence?

I: Professor Bombadil's cottage stood amid the trees in half light. Edmond Eastwick had traveled far to get here, farther still to corroborate the evidence that made this necessary intrusion into a legally permissible endeavour. In one hand he carried a gun. In the other he carried an elementium iron, for although raised in fallen Science he had been on the practical field enough times to know that sometimes drugged out hipsters really did know what they were talking about.  He smote the door open. It was surprisingly resistless. Inside, he followed the maze like chambers to the Black Door, which gave him eerie cognizance and was described by Aleister Crowley's Libris Nox. Along with the way to get there, which was certainly helpful. Edmond blared out a prayer and fired the gun against the lock, and thankfully, the Door opened.  Inside, on a white table in a clean room slanting to the central slab, bound by an Oricalc chain, was Isabel Black. She wasn't unfamiliar to Edmond, who had been briefed by the Government by the Kaiju Documents, which described her as "Nephilim, usually taking the form of a little girl or Samurai, dressing typically in black, associated with wolves and the colour red, wields a Black Sword named Gram who is a Grimalkin, also named Sogton."  She cried out when she saw Edmond.  II:   Sogton:  Ragna was the villain, Reader. I was searching for the Slenderman to save me from her, and Edmond, a strange Spectre that constantly was killed by her and reincarnated, a minion of her as Osiris was a minion of mine, joined on the detective trail to find out the Secret Behind Professor Bombadil's necromancy and the cottage which seemed to defy time and physics.  Small help it would do him. He was going to die. Ragna Kottr came from behind Edmond and stabbed him through the heart with a stake. He died with no consciousness of the ill that befell him. Luckier than me, who was going to be slowly killed in this Atlantian prison.  Ragna returned the chains to her, the daggers at the end of them polymerizing to her form. Then she grabbed me by the hair and lifted me through the chambers to the gate and dropped me in the lake outside the cottage, me screaming for breath as the icy water tore into my essence.  All in all, it was a horrible way to die.  I tried to fight back, though it was pointless. Then I asked her "Was I really stolen as a child, or did you just abandon me out of wretchedness?"  Ragna eased her stabbing and clawing for awhile.  "I Loved you. That is enough."  I was engulfed in another spray of frozen water. Ragna continued.  "Can't you see? This world is rotting. Better for both of us to die than continue. The chains of Tolkien have suffocated this world too long. The Fae will rape and molest and murder until they kill all that is childlike and Holy, and we Demons shall be the Last to go, forced to watch all we Love die."  I couldn't argue with the logic. I just hoped she would get it over with already. My mist form was already starting to unravel and the waters were stained red with my ambrosia. The Philosopher's Stone which powered me was going to break, yet the nature which circuited it meant that it would continue attempting to regenerate even if the prospect was harmful to it. Another crucifying pain.  At length Ragna lifted her claw and plunged it into my chest. The shared Philosopher's Stone that linked our shared Divas broke, and we became disintegrating diamonds, forced to glimmer in a dying sky.  III:  I was without any memory. Shapeless, formless, and alone. Then I wondered how I got in the classroom. The Professor's voice came to me, hard, compassionate, and Cruel:  "Isabel, Isabel! Please pay attention. The end of your story, please?"  I tried to figure out what he was saying. I was in my white and black vest and black leggings again. The outfit always bothered me, yet it fit so well. I looked at the legions of bland, artificial faces, and despaired, then my gaze came to focus on a girl with white hair and a white dress whose eyes so resembled my that I couldn't feel we were different Girls. I got courage, and finished my speech which had never really gone on yet Bombadil in the back of the class wasn't going to let that impact him finishing his lesson.  "May the God and the Lord Of The Wilds save us, for we know that there are shapes in the forest which steal sanity, and Faeries lurk in the deep downs."  Those were the mantra, Reader. It kept on flittering through time, although humanity threatened to destroy it, but it was the only thing that lasted through the Kali Yuga.   Professor Bombadil lit up. "Yes. Amazing. Truly wonderful. That was what I was trying to convey. Faeries in the deep downs, and God above it all. You did well, Child." I gathered up my books and called it a day. As the other figures in the classroom, save the Girl, were leaving, I nervously approached her.  When she spoke it was like a cascade of water.  "I loved it. A little Lovecraft inspired, am I accurate?"  I thrilled. "How did you know?"  She pulled out a copy of The Shadow Over Innsmouth. The one with the cabal priest on front, though it looked like a Penguin in a Tuxedo.  "You could say I have a very special relationship with the author."  I was nervous. For the first time in my existence, spend fighting dragons and mental monsters, I found I had nothing to say. Then:  "Can we hang out? I mean, I don't know if you want to, maybe some day."  Ragna smiled. If Sogton knew that this life like all the Others was going to be filled with misery and death and brief periods of twilit happiness and despair, if she knew that she could merely avoid all of that Pain by ignoring her Sister Soul and living a normal if drab existence, if she knew that her nature was one of Ouroboric self dismantlement, she would still of her choice fall in Love with Ragna all over again. Because Ragna was the only One in this miserable world that could make Sogton feel almost human.  Ragna whispered:  "I would Love to."

The Dream:

The Battle Of London: Snow and sleet pelted the rooftops of London on a chill night in December. Hail the size of pavestones lanced through brittle wooden shingles, torrents of wind caused dogs to howl and passersby to curse, and blinding fog obscured the views of cabbies on their late night routes. As always in the city, the poor and homeless crowded under whatever makeshift shelter they could salvage while rich gentlemen gorged within the safety of their mansions, toasting golden days to come while for others there would be no tomorrow. But through the howling storm, on a row of darkened Gothic streets that brought to mind Victorian poets in their opium enriched stupor, great events were at work. A single candle burned in the windows of a grand three story house, modest enough not to draw attention but opulent enough to provide the inhabitants with well bought luxury. The ornate golden doors were flagged by marble columns, and stylized with orbs and sunbeams. A single inscription stood out: THE ORDER OF THE GOLDEN DAWN. Within the labyrinthine halls that twisted serpent like through the unlit corridors, there was a room. The door was unceremoniously left open, as if expecting company. In contrast to the rest of the buildings solemn if impressive austerity, this room was filled with candlelight and wonder. A massive rectangular table that could have seated nearly two dozen guests, but held only six, illuminated by crystalline chandeliers and immaculate candelabras. The meal had already been set, a variety of exotic and mouthwatering aromas. But none of this was as strange or captivating as the guests themselves. They each had carved nameplates set in front of them, but the most elaborate belonged to the farthest seat in the end. Occupying the high chair was a stern and grave man that had all the appearance of a battle worn sea captain. His grey hair and beard was trimmed in short military fashion, and his grey eyes held an air of high command. He stood up straight and erect, his stately posture made all the more impressive by his dark blue suit embroidered with gold. The plate below him read the following: LORD EDMUND BOREAS, Grand Master of the Golden Dawn. At Lord Boreas's left was a short, weasel like man with dark hair, a dark suit, and a curling mustache identified as Lord William Eotas. He fidgeted nervously, as if some terrible doom was upon him, and his shifty eyes always returned to the clock. At Lord Boreas's right was a be-turbaned brown man who alternated between smoking a foul substance and meticulously cleaning a golden lamp set beside him. He was clothed in a flowing tan robe that fell to his feet. Lord Sirocco, he was called, although his first name had been left out for being too long and unpronounceable. The next two guests of honor were a pair by the names of Lord and Lady Gale, both of them blond haired, blue eyed, and with such an egotistical look on their faces that they would have made even a Greek tragic hero take a step back in shock. Fittingly, the elderly man's name was Narcissus, gold suited in a longcoat, and the lady was somewhat more mildly called Lily. Odysseus and Persephone Gale had many eccentric qualities, and among them was a self-deprecating humor. When their newborn son was given a mirror and cried after having it yanked from his grasp, their choice in christening was clear. Lord Gale sat stone faced, while his wife pecked at her food as if it would bite. The sixth seat remained empty. and the stylized plaque read: LADY ELIZABETH NOTAS, Assassin. "Where on earth is that blasted woman? She should have been here ages ago!" Lord Eotas suddenly shouted, causing Lady Gale to stop her culinary inquisition and turn on him instead. "Oh do be quiet. I don't see how complaining about it will help the matter." This was extremely ironic, given that Lady Gale had been saying the exact same thing nearly half an hour previously. "The Lady is right, William." chimed in Lord Boreas for the first time. His voice was slow and melodious, like rolling thunder. "Lady Notas will be here when she is ready." "If this woman was in my home country," Lord Sirocco said, briefly setting his lamp aside, "She would be stoned to death for such an insult." He then smiled, revealing a row of yellow teeth. Whether this statement was true or intended as a joke, none could tell, and few found it funny. "I suspect she would. Lord Boreas said coldly. "But these are more civilized isles. Now, while we wait, would anyone like some more" 




Abruptly he stopped in midsentence and gawked. All around the table, others were doing the same. For in the midst of Lord Boreas's speech, unseen and unheard. a woman had appeared. The first thing anyone noticed about her was her outrageous wardrobe. A dark green dress, eyes the color of fresh mined emeralds, and even more peculiarly, lime green hair. Lady Notas was famed for it, and rumors explained this by saying she used the juice of the saphro berry, found in the South Seas. But even her eyebrows had this color, and her hair all the way down to the root. There was only one way to uncover the mystery for certain, and only a lover or relative could do so. But her Baron father, her only surviving relative, was always aloof, and Lady Notas was famed for killing any man who dared come near her romantically. The verity of this rumor was also pretty unclear, but Lady Notas used it well to her advantage, being the only woman above thirty to willingly remain unmarried. But now that she had appeared in the middle of the circle like an apparition, the other members of the Golden Dawn seemed unable to say anything. "Potatoes?" She ventured, "Yes, if you don't mind, they do look quite nice." "How did you?" Lord Gale stammered, but was silenced by a wave of the hand from Lord Boreas. "I'm sure Lady Notas has her methods, and reasons too, for appearing in such a fashion. She is, after all, an assassin." "Oh yes," The green haired girl said, grabbing a spinach and cheese tart and biting into it. "And for your information, I've been here for nearly five minutes." She smiled mischievously at the thunderstruck faces. "Yes. Sirrocco, I heard you too.", she went on, barely missing a breath. "And might I remark that civilizations who mistreat their woman have an unpleasant habit of drowning in their own blood." The dark skinned Saracen looked close to an outburst of rage for a moment, then shrugged and went back to cleaning his lamp. "I do apologize if we've offended you, Lady." Lord Boreas ventured. "My conjurer has a crude way with words, but he is valuable for ah, personal reasons." Suddenly Lord Eotas interrupted, reaching across the table in what he thought was a suave gesture. "Yes, we all do apologize. This monkey has no idea how to treat women. Now, if you want a real man..." What happened next took place in the blink of an eye. Lord Eotas made a move to touch Lady Notas' hair; the next moment he found himself in a vice like grip with a knife at his throat. Apparently, the pin that Lady Notas used to bind her hair could also be used as an assassination tool, as the unfortunate Lord Eotas was finding out. "Do that again and I kill you." Lady Notas whispered into his ear almost gently, but then with such a fierce tone as to curdle blood. "Wretch! You would use me and throw me away like a paper bag! I know your type, treacherous weasel. Even Lord Sirocco is more noble than you." Then she released him, and he tumbled back to his seat with an unrestrained sight of relief. In an almost split second Lady Notas went from raging demoness back to her old carefree demeanor, replacing her hairpin dirk, all thoughts of violence forgotten. "No, it really is nothing, Lord Boreas. I'm used to this sort of thing by now." She settled back to her meal, but beyond her serene demeanor cynically thought, "Anyone who had been through what I have has to get used to it. Otherwise they would die". She chewed thoughtfully on a spinach and cheese tart, a positively unladylike thing to do. But if anyone at the table would berate her for it, they wisely chose to remain silent. There was more to this green haired assassin than met the eye.  Lord Boreas breathed a sight of relief. "Now that that is over with, can we get to business?" A soft murmur filled the room and the guests straightened up pleasantly. Even half strangled Lord Eotas sank cat like to the back of his chair and smiled. "As some of you have doubtlessly not failed to notice". Lord Boreas continued. "Two of our member are not present here today. Lord Westley," He gestured to an empty chair. "And Lord Zephyrus." "John Westley" A hateful murmur escaped from the lips of Lord Gale and was joined by a fierce look from Lord Eotas and a nod from Lady Gale. "Now, we at the Golden Dawn are an entirely egalitarian organization," Lord Boreas went on, conveniently ignoring his place as Grand Master. "But John Westley, aided by his friend Charles Zephyrus, has extended that spirit of fraternity a little too far." "A little?" Lord Eotas interrupted. "That bastard stole the work that I'd been doing for decades! When my pieces are exhibited, oh, a bunch of second hand rubbish! But John. dashing. charming John, his work is brilliant! Self righteous fool!" "You neglected to mention that most of your work was second hand garbage that you stole from more experienced and better archaeologists." Thought Lady Notas. "If no one happened to like your stolen goods, well, I call that just deserts." "Doubtless, your work is important." said Lord Boreas in a way that made it clear that it was not important at all. "But I was referring to other matters. John Westley has been a great deal more public than others in our past. He believes it is his duty to share our treasures with the world, instead of to preserve them and protect them from harm. This cannot be tolerated. There are even rumors going about that his is seeking to be next Grand Master, and while you know I would be entirely willing to give up my position if the need arises" "That's a laugh!" Lady Notas bristled in her mind and busied herself by tearing into a rich plum pudding. "-But this John Westley is entirely too inexperienced and ambitious. Our youngest member, in fact. And now even Lord Zephyrus, we thought loyal and diligent, has befriended the traitor and conspires with him to undermine the foundations of our Order. To prevent this, the unpleasant fact remains that John Westley must be eliminated." At this, all eyes turned to the green dressed woman whose dress was a good deal more purple and brown from several undirected spoonfuls of plum pudding. She paused mid bite, and prepared her response. "If they think I'm assassinating this poor young man whose only crime is having a dream and a mind of his own, they're crazy. Still, I have to play along with them for my information." Unbeknownst to her, Lord Boreas never intended to kill John Westley at all. The whole thing had merely been a ploy to test the loyalty or lack thereof of a certain green haired assassiness. "Lose my best chest piece?" He thought. "Not likely... But let the fools think what they will." Before she could speak, Lord Boreas intruded. "Your services, Lady Notas, thankfully will not be required. A direct assassination is a messy business, and is sure to raise unwanted questions. No, I have another way." Now all ears were alert to see what the man had to say, and even Lady Notas, who disliked Lord Boreas intensely, could not help being intrigued. "Do any of you know of the island of Thule?" At this name, Lord Eotas smiled, Lady Gale gasped, and Lord Gale said. "Ridiculous! Just a myth. Like Thor and Odin and the rest of those heathen gods." "A myth certainly, but one that is proving to have basis in fact. A week ago, one of Her Majesties' royal shipping expeditions discovered an island in what was previously known to be an unsailable area, covered with treacherous mist and sharp rocks. But the mist receded for once in known history, and what the sailors found was wild beyond belief. Houses, tools, all signs of settlement, but all abandoned. Unfortunately, they were forced to return early to report to Her Majesty, and when they returned the island was gone. So they christened it Thule, after the mysterious land that the Vikings were said to have discovered before they reached Greenland and New Albion." "And exactly what is the point of this?." Said Lady Gale, who did not have much attention for anything besides fashion and high society for long. Lord Gale was also disdainful, but mainly because of an irrational hatred of mythology distilled in him by his parents. If he and Lily ever had a child, which she certainly reminded him of often, even Biblical names would be off limits. He was thinking of Robert, personally. A good, dependable name. "What is the point is that John Westley is a great adventure seeker. He will suicidally charge into this danger at first opportunity and leave us without having to lift a finger against him. Isn't it an excellent situation?' "But John is no fool." Said Lord Gale. "He will undoubtedly be cautious in approaching the island. So your plan has no guarantee." "That is why I have hired an inept shipping captain. He has been given faulty coordinates and will sail the ship into a rocky area near Thule rather than the island itself. John wanted to go alone, of course, the man is a great deal smarter than would be expected from looking at him, but eventually necessity caused him to agree to go on board a third party vessel." "But what of the captain himself? And all those innocent bystanders who think they're on a regular trip!?" Lady Notas thought. Lady Gale thought as much, as well, but her aristocratic upbringing had been refined to give her no major objection. "Isn't this a bit well dirty? I mean, I'm all for getting rid of John, he is a nuisance after all, but all those people seems a little" Lord Gale nudged her. "Hush, dear. Don't you trust our decisions? The life of John Westley is more important than that of a bunch of peasants." "Indeed." Said Lord Boreas. "Sacrifices must be made." Such was the motto of any self respecting alchemist.  "So we are agreed. But why did the monkey and the..." He came close to saying girl, but remembering Lord Eotas, decided the better of it. "Lady Notas have to come? They weren't really necessary for our meeting, were they? And they're not even part of our Order!" "Lord Sirocco never leaves my side. He is my advisor and enchanter all wrapped in one. As for Lady Notas I owe her a favor." "Damn right, you do! And you still haven't told me about my mother!" Lady Notas thought. "And now, unless anyone has anything else to add, I declare our council over." There was a great shuffling of chairs, and Lord Boreas was the first to exit. Lord Sirocco, who had remained silent all the meeting, followed after him, looking, for all of Lord Gale's racial prejudice, like nothing other than a monkey. Lord Eotas was the next to depart, moving hastily and looking behind just in case Lady Notas put a dart in his throat. The Lord and Lady Gale were the owners of the Golden Dawn establishment, and remained for the night. Furious at being cheated out of information yet again, Lady Notas made a daring decision. Stepping out of the building, instead of heading for her quarters in the west of London, she took a path that would lead her to the wharfs. Lord Boreas was certainly a chessmaster, but he was about to find out a quintessential rule of the game that he had forgot: never let a lowly pawn get to the end of the board. Lady Notas wrapped her cloak tightly around her, and, as a gust of wind rustled the leaves, was gone. 




John Westley looked up from packing luggage as the doorbell rang. Unfortunately, he also failed to register that he was currently beneath a shelf, and banged his head on the rough wood. Then he rushed towards the door and opened it. A pale, brown haired man in a grey suit was waiting for him. He posed a nice contrast with John himself. short while he was tall, thoughtful while he was reckless, and submissive while he was proud. It was because of their profound differences that they were the best of friends. "Charles. Dear man. It's been a while since I last saw you, what with preparing for the trip and all. I was meaning to stop by, but" "John. Don't apologize, I completely understand. What are friends for, if they don't forgive you for your individuality? Anyway, I just stopped by to see if you needed help packing, and I admit to dissuade you again from going on this adventure, but I know you well enough to see that nothing I say is going to make a large amount of difference." John Westley broke into laughter. "And you would be right! Come in, I'll make tea!" Physically, John Westley was not very imposing, his sole advantage being his height. But what he lacked in stance he made up for in spirit, and many a man was taken back to see this dark haired man animated and passionate by his discourse on a subject. His eyes helped, too. Black and imposing, they were the bane of many a rival and the boon of many a woman, but unfortunately John's well intentioned naivete kept him from seeing that. Besides, his only passion was discovery, and neither wealth nor woman could keep him tied down for long. That is why he joined the Order of the Golden Dawn in his teenage years, then little more than a group of adolescent dreamers with wanderlust on their mind and now the greatest archaeological society in Europe. Charles after remarked that John was born to be a leader, and he was, but what we are and what choose to be seldom have anything in common. John did not want to be a leader; he wanted to explore, and feel the simple joys of the wind blowing through his hair. He was very much like an overgrown child in that way. The simple joys of adventure that many lost come adulthood were still present in John.  After going into the kitchen and putting a kettle on the stove, John and Charles engaged in good natured sparing while finishing the arduous task of packing John's luggage. He had a host of seemingly unnecessary items, but as John said, he always liked to be prepared. Still, a Zulu war bow seemed a bit excessive. "So, have you found yourself a wife yet, Charles?" To an outside observer, it would seem strange for John, the young bachelor with nearly half the female population of London running after him, to ask this instead of vice versa. But Charles Zephyrus had come to know his friend's peculiarities like the back of his hand, so he was not surprised. "Unfortunately not. Since I'm from a noble family, my choices are severely limited, and most aristocratic girls are far too snobby and aloof for my tastes. I would like a real country girl... one that has simplicity and grace and doesn't berate you for having the wrong color shirt lace. When I was a child, barely more than fourteen, there was this girl that I was infatuated with when my father took me to our country house for the summer. She was no more than a maid and we never really met. Speaking to servants was punishable by flogging in my household. But the way she looked at me..." He paused, his chestnut eyes gleaming in the firelight. "Oh John, it was indescribable. If you seen it you'd know. Sometimes a look is all one needs." John smiled. His friend's habit to go on a rambling yarn always tempered by his practicality and good nature, was another thing that bound them together. The bold adventurer, always looking towards the future. The misty eyed poet, looking towards better times in the past. Yin and Yang. For a moment, John was struck with extreme sadness that he was going to leave his friend, not the first time that he had felt so. But he knew that there was nothing to be done. Charles, meek and timid, could not be convinced to go to uncharted lands and frozen wastes. And John would not be tied down for a second, for his was a free spirit. Still, he would miss him dearly. "Charles. Will you come with me when I depart for Thule? I would like no one else there." "I would love to, John." Suddenly, a hissing noise was heard in the kitchen. "Tea's ready." John laughed.




Several weeks later, John was ready to depart. He took a train to Liverpool, with Charles at his side. The ship he was leaving on was called the Molly Malone, a fact that pleased John, being in love with the original song. The fact that only maybe a tenth of the people on the train, most of them old timers, knew of the song did not stop him from singing: "She was a fish monger, And sure it was no wonder, For so were her Father and Mother before, And they both wheeled their barrow, Through the streets broad and narrow, Crying cockles and mussels, Alive alive o!" Charles did not mind either, and even sang along: "Alive alive o! Alive alive o! Crying cockles and mussels, Alive alive o!" Drawing many a strange look from people on board. The pair was in high spirits as they entered the dock, but as they looked at the imposing metal clad hull of the ship, so unlike the lighthearted tune they were singing, they were filled with foreboding, like a storm cloud brooding overhead. "Goodbye, Charles. It'll be incredibly dreary without you; are you sure you won't come?" "Not for all the gold in Zanzibar. I get terribly sea sick." Then suddenly, the two embraced in a teary farewell. "Godspeed, my friend," said Charles. "Come home safe." "I will, or die trying." The absurdity of this statement was not lost even on John, and he laughed aloud. Then the final call for departure rang and he was gone. Charles stood watching the steel Leviathan go past, cutting through the waters like a blade. Then, as the last black dot of the Molly Malone disappeared into the horizon, a gust of wind blew through the dock, and he found himself nearly knocked down by a blurring figure. "Sorry," a voice said, clearly female. "I'm in a terrible rush. Have you seen a man named John Westley? He's in grave danger." Coming to his senses, Charles Zephyrus saw himself looking at a small, green robed woman with hair like the inside of a kiwi. She was also quite beautiful. "Um... John... Westley," he stammered, finding himself blushing. Then the enormity of her last statement struck him. "Oh, John Westley! I'm afraid he just left. This is terrible." "Which direction did he go?" This seemed like a strange question to ask. What did it matter? You couldn't book a ship and non commercial vessels were tightly regulated by Her Majesty. It was quite impossible to recall a departed ship. "That way," he said, pointing northwest. "What kind of danger?" "Thank you. I'm sorry, but I must go." Then there was another one of those strange wind gusts, and then the lady vanished, almost as if she had turned invisible. Charles stood there then dazed, then dumbly repeated. "But you didn't even tell me your name"




Lord Boreas followed Lady Notas to the docks, disguised as an old sailor. He watched as she summoned a peregrine falcon and attached a message to it's claw, then sent it flying in the direction of John Westley's ship. No doubt John Westley, as bold and reckless as ever, would take his destiny into his own hands and try to escape the ship. He resolved to bid Lord Sirocco have his storm djinn clear any passing squalls in the area, and send in a rescue fleet as an added precaution. The chessmaster smiled. Everything was going according to plan.




"So let me get this straight," Charles said, twirling his newly grown moustache and tapping the arm of the sofa nervously. "You got an obscure message from a peregrine falcon warning you of danger, stole a boat and forcibly abandoned the ship, pursued by brigands, then crashed on an island and found a race of mythical Vikings that worshiped a Nymph in the form of a white cat, then fought Lord Gale and brought the cat back in his ship?" The cat in question was flicking through John Milton's Paradise lost. "I quite like this chap." Ragna Kottr said telepathically. "Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven. A belief I sympathize with quite well."  John merely shrugged.  "I wouldn't believe it if I didn't hear her speaking with my ears. How is she able to do that?" Charles continued.  "Voice chords, mortal. I merely manipulate the air with my mind instead of my throat."  "Fascinating." "But the fact is that Edmund has betrayed us. I'm sorry to get you into all this, Charles, but he likely will come after you too." John Westley continued. "Worry not. I'm used to your wild adventures. So what are we going to do?"  "There is a ball next week, a kind of meeting in the Order Of The Golden Dawn but informal so not all are required to go. Ragna shall accompany me as my wife, and we shall try to obtain information using her cunning and spellpower. Hopefully it won't become a battle. As for you, Charles, try to stay home comfortable until we call on you."  "Wife? Then that means?"  "Oh, do try and be quiet." Ragna interjected angrily. "I'm upset enough at having to take on human form as it is." The room then filled with blue mist, and when it cleared a white haired, blue eyed girl of immense royal mean and vicious cruelty was staring at them. She was also entirely naked. John started to blush, and Charles turned a bright shade of red and started breathing so hard he had to sit down on the sofa and steady himself.  "Ragna, humans usually wear clothes." John said.  Ragna's smile showed that she did not care.  "Oh, silly me." Blue mist filled the room again, and a white dress appeared on her. 




The Order Of The Golden Dawn was bedecked in festival gear for the Ball. Rainbow color streamers hung from shelves, crystal orbs bedecked the palace, and snow fluttered through the tightly shut window as a fire burned in the main hall. Also in the main hall, candles were placed on candelabras that hung from the ceiling, a dozen surrounding a massive candelabra in the center.  Ragna had made friends fast. Everyone seemed to like her. Even Lady Gale, who notoriously hated everyone, slightly complimented her by saying she was pleasant. Lord Eotas seemed perpetually afraid of her, making her the only woman he didn't flirt with. And Lord Gale, having been almost murdered by her until John asked Ragna to spare Narcissus' life, viewed her with a mix of admiration and fear. To John he was ashamed and distant.  Lord Boreas viewed Ragna with the pride and courage of the Demons in Satan's host rebelling against God. But unbenownst to him Ragna was Satan. Edmund was in over his head, and the chessmaster realize this, but he was in far too deep to stop. As for Ragna, she viewed him merely as a trifling pawn to do away with. A mild nuisance at best.  Ragna brought a device called a Radio, which was a black box with two circular white circles covering most of its largest side, which Ragna called speakers. The device was Satanic magic, which John recognized, but most of the Order Of The Golden Dawn members seemed infatuated with it. It could play music, seemingly from nowhere, and singers which spoke English but contained many strange phrases. John disuaded her from using it because he felt it would reveal their secret sorcery ties, but Ragna merely ignored him. Besides, he explained it as technology from a lost Indian civilization John had obtained and the Order Of The Golden Dawn members seemed to believe him.  He was called the greatest adventurer yet. Discovering Thule and a Radio.  If only they knew his dark secret.  But it was time for the meal. Ragna was not present, and John was nervous, although she soon made her presence known by blaring the Radio. It was a song from a musician known as Marilyn Manson, who was Ragna's favorite singer.  "You walked into the party.  Like you were walking into a yacht.  Your hat strategically dipped below one eye. Your scarf it was apricot.  You had one eye in the mirror and you watched yourself gavotte. And all of the girls dreamed that they'd be your partner, they'd be your partner And you're so Vain. You probably think this song is about you. You're so Vain. If you think this song is about you, Don't you. Don't you." To no one's surprise, Ragna entered with a blue hat dipped below one eye and an apricot scarf. She gavotted. Applause filled the room, although John and Edmund did not clap. They were too fearful.  The meal was salmon and potatoes, with arugala from India and a pungent chutney from Anatolia, which smelled strong and delivered a spicy punch with the peppers. Lemonade was served, which was not a popular drink in England because of the scarcity of Lemons but Ragna requested it. Another one of her eccentricities. "Your wife is looking beautiful, today, John." Edmund said.  Ragna introduced herself as Victoria White, a pseudonym which she had found amusing. "I am Victoria White."  "Indeed, Edmund. A toast to her health." Lord Gale joined in. He swigged a glass of Lemonade like an alcoholic. He was looking grim.  Ragna fake bit the fish in act, for she could not eat being a creature of not flesh. Instead she dissolved the food into a slight smoke which was indistinguishable from the incense usually in the room. She looked uneasy though.  A plant stood in the center of the table. It had broad green leaves and was unlike any John had seen before. "Lord Boreas is smart." Ragna thought telepathically at John. "He poisoned me. Catnip is toxic to Elementals. It will wear off in days."  Edmund smiled. "Now, shall we begin the most important information? John, as you know we are in dire admiration of your skills. Should you wish to prove them to the test, there is an artifact I want you to collect at The Temple Of Four Winds in India."  John was uncomfortable. "In India?"  "It is a golden Harp, rumored to contain special powers like the ones of your Radio. It is called by The Harp Of Era, or the Harp Of Rend, although this last name is more uncommon."  "I shall try my best Edmund."  But in his heart John doubted. It seemed the shadows were drawing in, and the dark feeling he had had nothing to do with the darkness coming through the window. 




The Island of Ceylon stood like a marbled rock of timeless beauty and dominance among a scorching tropical sunset. The Volcano in its center, inactive although still concealing flowing magma below it's main chambers was a sight to behold. Below it's black and Mordor like expanse was a happy sunlit jungle that gleamed bright emerald and yellow. Raindrops reflected a prism that made the whole look like a mirage. And a small village lied below, next to a pier, docked in the waters that were calm and crystal blue although could become a torpid black blue at any moment's notice.  It was on this pier that the three adventurers stepped, coming from Lord Gale's ship that John Westley had forcibly borrowed, a brown planked and gold trimmed wonder that Lord Gale called the Dauntless. Rather ironic, that name. But John Westley was not the kind of man to gloat.  Charles profusely vomited into the water, and then cleaned his face with a handkerchief. He wasn't lying, he did get incredibly seasick. And Ragna looked as aloof as ever, seemingly upset with the sunset and viewing the forest as weak and effeminate, although the burly rock did grace her attention with it's splendor and resulted in a brief affirmation from the Sorceress.  "Why did we have to come here, John?" Charles complained, profusely applying sunblock to deal with his rapidly charring face. Neither John nor Ragna seemed in any way affected. "This place is a wreck. Pretty, but damn shadowful. Like a Pandora's Box. The sun hurts, and there are so many insects. I think my sunblock attracts them."  "Good God, you're whiny, man." Ragna replied dismissively.  John was more compassionate. "Charles, this is necessary. Edmund may have been our friend once, but he had gone so mad with power that he won't hesitate to harm you to get to me. You need to stay by my side for your protection."  "I get that, and I thank you, friend. But why don't you feel as uncomfortable as me?"  "I suspect I'm made of stronger stuff than the usual man." John replied. "Now let's go!" The made their way up the pier to the village, and were about to embark in the forest when they were stopped by slightly Asian looking woman in a green dress with a straw hat obscuring her eyes. She tipped the hat up, revealing Elizabeth Notas. Charles immediately became more nervous, making that shuffling step that always happens when a man is overcome by a woman he loves. Lady Notas smiled. "Parlay?" Now John Westley and Charles were mostly unease, but Ragna assured them by assuring that Elizabeth was a friend. "You can trust her. She reeks trustworthyness." Ragna sounded almost disturbed. Of course trust would be something highly undesired in a Demonic Sorceress. "Trust a snake before a Priest, and trust a Priest before an Englishwoman." Charles said, paraphrasing Kipling. So the trio was rapidly turned into a quartet, and Charles seemed relieved. John and Elizabeth got to talking, Elizabeth describing the events of the Order Of The Golden Dawn meeting where Lord Boreas tried to assassinate John. "Lord Boreas made it so your boat would fail. And I sent the warning letter to you on falcon." John seemed disturbed. "Strange. Lord Boreas is ruthless, but he wouldn't do something like that. He knows I'm more valuable alive. There must be another force at work." "Or Lord Boreas was merely testing Elizabeth." Ragna interjected. "Then you mean I was entirely useless?" "Likely. Though I fancy that isn't different from your usual self." John looked angry. "Ragna! That was impolite. We should be respectful to our friends." Charles remained silent and nervous. Ragna did not apologize, and went immediately into describing their plan. "There is an Elemental in this volcano. He was an old friend of mind, and an old enemy. He will help us given the circumstances. Rakshata is his name, and he is a Vulcan, and he takes the form of a green dragon." "What of the Harp?" John Westley asked. "It is a gravely dangerous weapon. If Lord Boreas got his hands on it he could do damage. It was made by Elementals. The journey will be fairly easy, but the Enchanter with the Djinn could do us some harm, and he might get there first if Rakshata is weak." "You mean Lord Sirocco?" "Uh, that rat was so distasteful and impolite." Lady Notas interjected. "Yes, that man" Ragna replied. The next hour was spent trudging through the jungle. The rain from last night had made some of the footholds unsteady, and more than once John tripped in the mud. Charles was almost a burden, getting caught in roots and falling multiple times. Elizabeth seemed well versed in handling terrain, and proved to be a valuable member of their party. Ragna seemed to view her with a mixture of respect and disdain, much the same way she viewed John. Strange, it was. She rarely showed any emotion. They came to the mountain slopes. As the hard trek began, John tried to uplift the group's spirits by singing a folk song. Charles joined in after the first verse. "Twas in the merry month of May From my home I started Left the girls in Tuam nearly broken hearted Saluted father dear Kissed me darling mother Than drank a pint of beer my grief and tears to smother Then off to reap the corn leave where I was born Cut a stout blackthorn to banish Ghost and Goblin Bought a new pair of brogues to rattle over the bogs and frighten all the Dogs on the rocky road to Dublin Wack Fo La Di Ra Hunt the hair and turn her down on the rocky road and all the ways to Dublin Wack Fo La Di Ra" To their surprise Lady Notas knew the song and joined in the chorus. Ragna trailed grimly behind like a Spectre Of Death. They came to nearly the peak of the mountain, and a stone which was heavy. Ragna pulled her force into redirecting a nearby stream, and hurled it at the boulder, but it could not budge. Then amazingly Lady Notas raised her hands and blew a gust of wind at the boulder, which shattered. They stepped into the Volcano.  




The Past John Westley, Charles Zephyrus, and Edmund Boreas sat by the fire in a deserted campground on the outskirts of Oxford. It was night, and the stars shone brightly. John Westley poked at the fire nervously with a stick. Edmund seemed disturbed. "I've been thinking, John." Edmund said. "About the world. How much cruelty and injustice there is. Wouldn't be great if we could simply wipe it all away?"  John seemed distant. "What do you mean, Edmund?"  "Destroy all evil in the world. And make a new society. A Golden Dawn, if you would. To this end, I would give my whole purpose in eradicating injustice and forging a better world."  He stood up.  "From this moment, we are The Order Of The Golden Dawn."  Charles joined in. "Edmund, that's ridiculous, we're only three students, what can we do to change the world?"  Edmund looked dark. "Everything." 




The present scene awaiting them was quite different than what they would expect from the usual caldera. In the basin, a thriving forest flourished, spreading pollen into the air in fragrant efflorescence while a meandering river curtailed through the undergrowth a rocks and sprayed in a waterfall. The forest was quite different from the brute, underdeveloped trees of the jungle. It was like an Arthurian garden, or an Edenic Paradise which Ragna would be familiar with.  Charles was the mundane practicalist. "How are we going to get down?"  Lady Notas rummaged through her breast a revealed an inflatable kite. It sprung into life like a dragonfly, yellow with a green Nipponese symbol signifying Wind on it. Charles immediately started to panic.  "Oh no. The only thing I hate more than seasickness is parachuting. Please, don't make me get on it."  Lady Notas took Charles' hand in what was more than a friendly display of affection and looked deep into his eyes. Charles blushed.  "Haven't you ever wanted to take a leap of fate?" she said.  Then she grabbed him with both hands and flung the two of them down towards the forest, Charles screaming as they fell. Suddenly, though, the feeling of rapid descent started to mellow and before long Charles was floating gently through the breeze like a leaf. He stared into Elizabeth's green eyes to steady himself. It was really almost like a dream.  They crashed gently on the ground. Elizabeth flew back up to carry John, although Ragna needed no kite and merely levitated like some sort of Satanic Vampire. Soon all members of the quartet were on the ground. Ragna was immediately alert.  There was a slight shimmer in the air, which coalesced into the form of a wingless dragon with many scales and whiskers. The Dragon rapidly became colored, revealing bright emerald. A rainbow formed around him. His whiskers were the color blonde, with a tail hair the same color and many spikes on his back. His horns were Demonic.  The Dragon suddenly lunged at Ragna, but she sidestepped nimbly with a greater than human speed and then brought down her fist on the Dragon's neck, transforming it into a claw midway. Blue mist leaked from the wound, and the Dragon coiled like a snake. Ragna subdued it with water redirected from the river that pinned it to the ground and transformed into a cage of ice. The Dragon bursted some of it and then destroyed the rest with fire breath, steam pouring, but was disarmed completely by a wave of water.  Ragna was furious. "Know thy weakness. Rakashata, have you not learned your lesson that you cannot defeat me? I was born greater than you. I am Nephilim. Highest of High. What are you, but a little Imp who is good for nothing but serving my bidding."  Rakshata whimpered.  "Know thy weakness." Ragna continued. "I am Lord of thee. But rejoice, for I am not here to harm you. Our interests in this situation overlap. There is a psychopath looking for the Harp of Era, and we are going to stop him. He has a Djinn."  Rakshata rose slowly.  "Forgive me mistress Ragna. I did not know if you maintained your old ways before the Council. But I do not retreat for merely a second against you. We shall fight again. But given the circumstances, I believe we can call a temporary truce and work together."  Ragna smiled.  "Good. You still have your senses. Now, shall we fly?" 




Flying on a dragon's back was something Charles had never done before, and certainly never wanted to do again. He felt lost, almost dizzy, with a fey wanderlust that he found troublesome and he merely wanted to go home and not be careening through the air at near the speed of an arrow while the stratosphere whirled around him and clouds passed to and fro. Was this how John felt all the time? The adventurer did not seem to be bothered. He still held that distant intent look in his black eyes. He was gazing at the rapidly approaching Himalaya in the distance. They hung like God's wall.  Thankfully, Rakshata slowed once they were out of water. The Indian landmass came into view, dotted with deserts and forests and rivers and tea plantations, and the toiling labourers did not seem perturbed that a Dragon was flying above them. Apparently this sort of thing was common in these parts, or they were so into their work not to care. Rakshata led them through a complex maze in mountain peaks, necessary to avoid traps placed in the magical field around the Temple Of Four Winds. Before long they came to the Temple. It was gold with four gold pillars equidistant around it, looking more Greek than Indian. Perhaps some Greeks had stowed the Harp here.  Rakshata suddenly became disturbed and landed. Behind a rock was the fallen form of a Dragon. It was pink, but otherwise identical to Rakshata. "Lakshman has fallen." Rakshata said. "You must go on without me." Lakshman rose like a snake, and blew fire at Rakshata, who dodged and then countered with a fire blast of his own which was countered by a fire blast in turn.  The quartet dismounted off his back. They ran to the gates of the temple which were open.  Inside, they saw Lord Sirocco with the Harp in his hand. Beside him stood a figure that was part man, tanned from the waist up with tattood spirals on him and a long moustache on his otherwise bald head, and below was a whirling torrent of wind that was so strong that it prevented John and the others from walking, although Ragna easily dispelled it for her. Lady Notas pushed back and walked but she could do little against the winds.  "We're too late!" John said.  "Not quite." Ragna shouted, and hurled an ice lance at Lord Sirocco. The Djinn blocked it with his body and it impaled him, but he didn't seem to be too affected. Blue mist leaked from the wound and was blown away by the winds.  "Lady Notas, I'm about to flood this place, use the kite as a boat and get John and Charles away from here." Ragna shouted.  Lady Notas rapidly obeyed, bringing out the kite. Ragna redirected the water from a nearby river to the Temple, which flooded. She created an ice block which she surfed on like a surfboard. It was almost comical but also extremely awesome. John couldn't help gawking.  Lady Notas steadied the boat and began to use the wind to propel it. She hurled a gust of wind at Sirocco but the Djinn blocked it and it was ineffective.  Ragna hurled an ice lance at the Djinn, but a gust of wind from the Djinn shattered it. Another gust of wind hit her and sent her arm completely dissolving into a spray of mist. Ragna screamed in pain.  John shivered. The sound was almost like an animal, but held a bit of pathos and emotion in it. He was suddenly struck by sadness. And almost an affection. Still, he assisted Lady Notas in steadying herself against the wind.  John, Charles, and Elizabeth were out of the Temple. The water had turned the mountaintop into a lake, and he wondered how far Ragna's reach went. John and Charles collapsed on a rock, and Elizabeth uninflated the kite and stuck it back into her breast.  They saw the Djinn and Lord Sirocco flying into the air, Harp in hand. Lord Sirocco was laughing. Then they disappeared behind a mountain range. John embraced Charles as he sputtered from the water caught by a wave.  Suddenly Ragna appeared as blue mist beside them, which coalesced into human form, although missing an arm. It was starting to regenerate, but slowly. Ragna looked sad, perhaps cold.  "I failed." she whispered. "I have never failed so much in my life. I miscalculated. Forgive me."  John had never seen her so wan. She sounded depressed.  "Enough of that," Charles shouted. "What are we going to do? He has the Harp! He has the Harp, John!"  "Go home back to England." John said gloomily. "And hope there is still something left of it."




John and friends with their army of Vikings paraded down London square, chopping down animal headed Elementals wherever they were seen. The square was so inundated with blue mist that it resembled a bog, although as much blue mist as the Vikings spilled the Elementals spilled blood. Elementals in the forms of Lions and Bears and Jackals roamed the streets, making it resemble a Roman Coliseum. John carried his family sword staff, which was tipped with Elementium, a blue substance harmful to Elementals, which glowed blue when it was near an Elemental. Lady Notas wielded the Shinekaze, an Elementium katana in a lead scabbard that was the ancestral weapon of the Notas clan in Nippon. Unfortunately she was half Elemental, so every time she used it she was harmed. Ragna claimed both John's sword staff blade and the Shinekaze were two halves of Excalibur, one stolen by the French and shipped to Nippon and the other kept by Arthur's descendants until it came to John. Charles comically wandered with an oversized axe and shield. As Ragna caused the Thames to turn into twin waves that battered everything in the quartet's path, they rapidly came to the front Gates of The Order Of The Golden Dawn.  John was struck by a sense of sadness. Not only did he have to fight his greatest friend, but The Order Of The Golden Dawn, which was like his second home, was now shut to him. The sunbeam insignia opened and pouring out was a Jackal headed Elemental giant.  "Oh damn." Ragna said, and raised her hand and transformed it into a claw.  "Recognize someone?" John asked.  "This is Anubis. We have a long rivalry. I might be indisposed for some time." John rushed in with Elizabeth by his side.  Ragna hurled a swirl of water which was blocked by a sea of Magma. Steam filled the street. Anubis suddenly was stabbed in the back by Charles, who then had his arm broken by Anubis. The wound didn't do much but a little blue mist but it was enough of a distraction for Ragna to hurl an ice lance and kill Anubis. Inside, Elizabeth and John saw Lord Sirocco standing with the Djinn. Losing hope, they prepared to run when the ceiling broke and Rakshata entered.  "Little Sorceress, I shall be your ally. I am not indisposed as I was in our last fight, this time we may kill the Enchanter and his Djinn after all."  Lady Notas jumped on Rakshatas' back. "John, I'll handle this. You go talk with Lord Boreas. You may be the only one able to solve this peacefully."  John saluted. "I hope."  Then he rushed to the inner chamber and through a set of double doors into the garden where Lord Boreas was waiting for him underneath a peach tree.  "Well, John. The endgame comes!"  Lord Boreal unfurled his swordstaff. The conflict was over fast, although each combatant took many incredible hits and parried beautifully. Both of them were almost even, but John took the upper hand.  "End this, Edmund. You're not a natural born leader."  "I have too much at stake to lose." Edmund replied.  "As do I. Which is why I want my friend back."  Suddenly a gust of wind caused a dust storm to obscure the combatants, and once it was gone, Edmund Boreas was gone.  Outside, Elizabeth Notas fought with Lord Sirocco in the air. Without The Harp he was much weaker, although he still posed a challenge to the Assassiness. Rakshata took a loop and lunged at the Djinn, who was wounded. Blue smoke poured out. Lord Sirocco fell from the air, the current of wind that was suspending him no longer able to be maintained from the Elementium poisoning. Lady Notas knew she was going to be killed unless she leaped from the back of Rakshatas and impaled the Djinn. She did so, the Djinn uttering a howl and then dissolving into a gust of wind that caused a dust storm across London. Rakshatas caught her. It was almost too late, but the Dragon saved her with the last of his energy and collapsed onto the ground. Below, Ragna smiled. 




The aftermath of the Battle was catastrophic. Rainbow colored fires burned in The Order Of The Golden Dawn, which was almost entirely destroyed, and most of London was a charred wreck. The quartet rested in John Westley's cottage, and Ragna took her cat form again, the majority of the excitement over. "We must find Edmund." John said. Charles gazed at his newspaper with a shocked expression. "Looks like we found him." He placed the Newspaper on the table. The Headline read "Former Prime Minister Found In Iceland, Vulcan Attacks Village". "Looks like Edmund is up to his old tricks." John said sadly. "I need to take The Dauntless to Iceland. Charles, please take good care of my books. Elizabeth, take good care of his arm." Elizabeth blushed. "John, I'm coming with you." Charles said. "Don't be silly." John replied. "You are in no shape to travel. And in any case, this is something I would prefer to do alone. Even Ragna is only accompanying me for the Elemental." "Be quiet." Ragna shouted telepathically with Milton's Paradise Lost open. "I'm trying to read Paradise Lost." Some time later, the Demon Sorceress and the English Adventurer were on a boat to Iceland, and embarked on the freezing port. Thankfully, John had a fur jacket. They climbed the peaks to a Volcano, where Edmund was rumored to be hiding and they received this information from local Shaman. Edmund was indeed inside the magma chamber, on a bridge above lava that resembled the interior of Mount Doom. The Harp was beside him. In a way the Harp was like the Ring, and John longed to destroy it in the lava. Ragna rushed forward and was countered by a golem of black rock and lava, they sparred with water and fire, and the room was engulfed with steam. When it cleared partially Edmund Boreas was holding the Harp. "It ends here John!" John approached carefully. "Please, Edmund. Don't do this. I considered you a brother once." Edmund was entirely distressed. "I have no room for brothers!" Suddenly the Elemental was launched across the room and fell in the lava, hitting Edmund with it's arm as it fell. Edmund screamed as his skin erupted in fire. "Please, John, save me!" But it was too late. John was immolated by a stray lava burst and fell to the ground. Ragna doused him with water, but he was quickly losing consciousness. His last sight was Ragna, and then he was black. When John awoke, he was on a bed. Ragna was sitting beside him, looking worried. He took her hand with his blackened palm. "You're going to be fine, idiot." Ragna said. "Edmund is dead, though." "I feared as much." John replied. "You have no idea how much I worried about you." John suddenly felt a strange feeling in his heart that he never felt before. It was a bit like when he went on his adventures, but greater, like an aching in his heart that was both bittersweet and painful at the same time. He then recognized it. "Ragna. Would you like to be my wife? No games this time, only us." Ragna scowled. "Do you really think I would abandon my tribe, my beliefs, my world for the simple trifle of being wed to a human? Do you really think I love you that much?" John saddened. "It was a stupid idea." Ragna smiled. "I didn't say no. I would do it in a heartbeat." The two were married a week later, and judging by Charles and Elizabeth holding hands at the reception it seemed they would shortly follow. Yellow flowers were thrown around a wreath that contained John and Ragna, and they kissed. John felt it was like kissing a statue, there was no warmth, but he enjoyed the reception regardless. Ragna sickened five days after. She was found dead of a mysterious illness. John, in his grief, took a vial of laudanum and killed himself. At the funeral, in a repaired Order Of The Golden Dawn, in the garden, as Winter was approaching, Charles read the following poem by Oscar Wilde, John's last request. "And there, till Christ call forth the dead, In silence let him lie: No need to waste the foolish tear, Or heave the windy sigh:  The man had killed the thing he loved,   And so he had to die."




England's Green And Pleasant Land: I: A silver mist hung on the residence of the Imperial Palace of the Notas family. The estate was modest, yet opulent, and boasted a significant artistic and architectural array with its curling rooves and black tiled castle ornaments. Shin'to shrines were littered across the Castle grounds, and vermilion streamers led to statues of encircling dragons with a vast empty array where the Buddhist Shiva gardening style was practiced, with sparse bushes ascetic trees and a harsh spiral rock formation that was mostly impressed upon by the vast sand. A pool fed by a river was the Castle's main attraction. And over this Charles and Elizabeth presided, drinking green tea in the Emperor's main quarters. It was a perk being a Notas. The Shamanistic Wict family had guarded the Divine Bloodline for years now, given the task by the Celestial decree of the Emerald Dragon Rakshata and the Black Death Crow Yata Garas. With it was one third of the Divine Possession of the Triple Crucifixion Regalia, the Mirror, which soothed Amaterasu in the cave while her brother pined for her affection, the other, the Bauble, was stored by the Priesthood and kept in the Nessie shrine where no mortal could step foot by boat and a path of frost judged visitors, Nessie herself drew up her flapping fins, and her long neck swiped the scales of many Demon Samurai intruder. The Blade, Of Course, belonged to Amaterasu. And her brother, whom Elizabeth wasn't sure wasn't the same Kami as Amaterasu except in a different body. The laws of Deity were complicated. And Ragna of course, who was almost identical to Amaterasu except for a white hair and slightly taller body structure. Also she was cold, while Amaterasu had the energy of a voracious child on opiates. Charles knew of the Sword as Gram. It was Excalibur's constant bane and the wielder's clashed constantly, each killing each other throughout aeons. It was a very glum fate. The silver mist wound its way through the staircase and to the upper floors of the Notas estate, where statues hung, past incense burners and aphrodisiacs, until at long last it darted through the doors of Charles' and Elizabeth's room and coalesced. Ragna appeared in the form of a white knight, daring and beautiful. Her eyes were as emotionless as ever. "I knew you weren't dead." Charles said, gently placing the scalding tea down. Elizabeth shifted happily and smiled. "It's good to see you again, friend." Ragna grimaced, which was as close to politeness as Elizabeth would get from a Demoness Fiend. "And I suppose this means John is alive?" Charles asked, half hopefully, yet pessimistically despairing. "That is why I have arrived, although the case is a difficult one." Ragna spoke, measuring each syllable with malice. Elizabeth stood up where the black Shinikaze was sheathed on the mantelpiece. "You have our Blade," she quoth gently. Charles was more grim. He had not trusted the Sorceress in Life, and in Undeath, though how do you Undead that which is already Undead? Indeed Reanimation would be a better word for it, in her constant state of being, Charles still resented her. He had no doubt that she was responsible for John's death, and though now she was working to resurrect him, Charles had no doubt it was for selfish motives. He was correct, of course. Lovely sin was Ragna's trick and trade. The light was dimming. Already since the tea had been brewed it was mid evening, and this light dinner and conversation was beginning to be worn even for the Nipponese. Elizabeth invited Ragna to stay, yet she had urgent plans, and summoned them for War. They departed the Castle and took the winding road to the village below, passing grass and sacred Stone and weathered heath that looked like the Eye of the Storm God had smote it in a fit of transitional anger. In fact, the Villagers below also held this belief, and conducted alchemical experiments for regrowing the soil, and a deeply superstitious belief about fertility was on them. When they saw Ragna they knew she was a Kami, though not of these isles, and bowed to her magnificence. She regarded them as one would regard useful slaves. Her usual temperament led her to knock the door of a Priest's house down with the Axe Mace which was her primary weapon in Knight form. It was a remnant from Numenor, along with the plate, and she had vowed to never to use it again except in dire situations because the Slaughter Of Innocents in the Atlantian Fields and the waves crushing her semi fixed body as the Gods used her as an offering, bore heavy on her mind, which was why the Victorian corset dress and in festival times the Loki checkered white and orange was her skin and sustenance in sacred Druidry. Yet her Sister had drawn herself out of the dark of Aeons to get revenge over her pawn being blood offered to appease Ragna's dastardly betrayal by the Gods. It was exactly what Sogton should have done, yet Ragna intended to go along with her good idea stabbing and screaming, because this was her nature. The Priest, and Englishman, groveled on the floor. Ragna materialized a burning Oricalc brand and smote him, the tempered heat burning through his priory cloak and into the delicate flesh beneath, causing it to immolate, though Ragna's fire control meant that the rest of his clothing and form would not smolder in a blaze. The man screamed. Charles immediately grimaced, and even Elizabeth had serious misgivings. She was about to say something when Ragna's interrogation began. "Tell me, where are the Kitsune who sealed Sakurajan in the Mountain Home?" Ragna chastised, while seething in contempt. "How would I know anything about that? I am merely a Priest."Ragna smiled, for it meant the Priest was at least true to his vows and kept the instructions despite threat of corporeal agony. Ragna moved the brand down his arm and revealed the Tattoo of the Jormungandr, depicting him as one of the Norn chosen who survived the Draugr ritual on the banks of the North Sea. No weakling would be conscripted to join the ranks of the Vampires, and many died in the process, except this Priest in disguise was one of the survivors who had ingested the venom from Idun's vineyard and survived with blessings, if survival was what you called the cursed existence of the Draugr between life and death. The Priest cried and begged forgiveness, and showed his horns in a sign of subjugation. Charles and Elizabeth were used to freaky things happening when the Two Sisters were around, so did not cry out, though it was weird even for them. "I apologize, Mistress. I was brought up in the Lemurian fate, not the Atlantian code, so your Aura mistook me. Now I realize that I have been rude." Ragna disarmed the burner though kept her Axe Mace ready. "No need for formality. Simply tell me the seal, Heathen." The Priest did so. It was a complex series of formulae in many different languages, though Ragna seemed to understand them all. At length she gave him some holy water to restore his blistered skin and departed. "Where are we going, Ragna?" Charles asked. He half feared the result. "What is the most ill, desolate, revolting, lovely, healing, seducing, ruined wreck in all of Yamato's island, Elizabeth?" Elizabeth immediately knew what the Witch was asking. "Why, that's Kamakura, of course." 




II: "Ye who tread the Narrow Way, by Tophet Flare at Judgement Day, be gentle when the Heathen pray, to Buddha at Kamakura!" 




This was Kipling's word which referred to the cursed city in the pages of the Lama adventure story Kim. The City was never mentioned once more than in passing, yet this short poesy was all that was needed to capture the depravity of Kamakura. It started out as a fishing town, then a miasma came from the east, and the Blood Moon hung over Mount Fuji, and Sea Serpents rose from the deep to dash on the foam and terrorize inland dwellers. Then the villagers made a pact with Yukionna to avoid the Sea God's ire, and their faces became twisted, their limbs elongated, and they often swam in the very green waters they had feared. Then they took to gambling and vice and alcohol and set out lanterns in a mock Day Of The Dead where streamers lay gaudy every gold and silver rosary and even the Holy Temples were strewn with ichor and flowers and inside prostitutes lounged on Sultan's breast and nuzzled nipples with Prince while the Cleric counted out the coin for the drug deal. In this squalor it was any hardly wonder that Charles retched when he saw it, and more smelled it, for a half vibrant array of spice and fish were engulfing the air with an overpowering fog. Elizabeth, who did not smoke, lit a Cigar. This seemed to mildly help, yet even with Ragna's wind shifting the town still seemed to be feral and unwilling to acquiesces to foreigners demands. The palaces were foreign, baudy, and illicit and seducing. The Vizer's palace was the largest, with red soft carpet and beds of red and gold where purple dressed Succubus' sucked ice cream and blue banners hung from pillars. They came to the red robed Vizer. Muhamet, as usual with his family who had the long almost reptilian moustache and beard that came down to his bracers, was cold and greedy and jovial and conceited. He charged them money immediately, less out of belief that they would be scammed into divesting their purses yet residual duty to his Money Embezzler's trade and pride in genealogy. What Mooslim would pass the opportunity of impoverishing a whore infidel, especially that British Prick? Ragna threatened with a claw, showing she was not amused. A hate filled look from the Immortal blue eyes threatened him, and he knew the joke was not accepted and immediately became serious and servile. The Vizer bowed in supplication, and Ragna immediately gave the Illuminati hand sign, with a smile. "Please, Muhamet, the joke was very kind, I would have found it funny had my mind not been on thoughts of War and Conquest." Muhamet rose and lit an opium wand with his silver lighter. Charles immediately started coughing and Elizabeth had to cover her mouth with a green cloth. Muhamet spoke. "I am happy, Mistress. Ask and you shall obey. Although different, we are all at one in the Holy Faith." "Praise Allah." Charles gave Elizabeth a look which supposed the question "Isn't she a Satanist?" to Elizabeth and Elizabeth replied with a look that subconsciously said "It's complicated, shut up and enjoy the show." in a way that was intrinsically learned by any woman over the age of thirty when they married. "Please, supply yourself of my sweetmeats." Ragna raised the conciliatory hand. Muhamet continued. "Brandy Cake?"Again a gentle decline. Muhamet continued. "Wine and mead?" This time it was a polite annoyance. "Soft, soft my Marid." Now that the civilities were through with Muhamet had an inkling of what Ragna was asking and brought his servants to bring the charts. They were bound in resin and extremely old and almost illegible despite being well preserved. "I require the Tiamat Convergence to elucidate the location of the Nine Tailed Fox." Ah, yes. Kitsune. That old Trickster, though not as old of a Trickster as you, Praise The Light."The majordomos invoked the sign of the shadow and the Moon shield which stood on guard against the devouring rays. Strange that the Mooslims did it, not those like these fortunate folk that were in a paradise away from their birth in the thralldom of Eurasia, rather because the rest of their tribe originated it despite being in a desert where she Ruled. Still, she admired combat, even if it was foolhardy. The meeting was almost over, and the red written wall scroll was unfurled at the table in front of Ragna, and she inspected the Map Of The Flat Earth. She dotted a star line from pole to ring of Ice Wall, then connected the lines in equidistant translateral invocation lines until a Seal was formed that was the symbol of a Human Transmutation Circle. And in the center of one of the intersections was a town close to Kamakura. "Found it!" Ragna shouted, and she strolled out white cape swishing in the wind with a merry look on her face, while Charles and Elizabeth followed looking perplexed. 




III: The Kitsune lived in the forest. It was a quaint, gentle, efflorescent beautiful forest, with many a Fairy Tale pixie. The trees shifted in dappled light, and the smell of fruit made even the voracious bear docile and cuddly. The deer were Angelic, the Hamadryads sung and offered friendly balm to the traveler, and it was a peaceful star time under a flower dotted mountain and an orange moon. At least, that was most of the year. On Hallow's Eve the Demons came out, and the forest creatures atrophied into Shinigami and the whole town became a graveyard where ghouls ate smoke and gathered knives. This was not today. Still, Ragna and the band were uneasy. Their disposition was that of foreigners, and they were unwelcome, and Ragna being a Moon Goddess could easily shift the solar tides and bring about an early Hallow Harvest. Charles could only hope the White Knight would be civil. The first of the Kami entered through the hillside. They looked humanish, like the Elves of Tolkien if Charles had to make a quick comparison, although that similarity was inaccurate, because they had red depraved eyes. They were dressed in blue and some of the largest had half haloes expanding from their back. They bowed slightly when they saw Ragna, because of the unyielding supremacy of the Divine Hierarchy, yet everyone knew that if the gang showed minuscule signs of weakness the Elves would kill them. Then they would be trapped in the Wood Between Worlds and yearn for death. Ragna raised her arms to show she was vulnerable. At length the Kami gathered. "Show me Sakurajan." she said. These words appeared to have an adverse reaction among the Elves, and there was a rebuke, yet Kitsune walked out of the bushes and with mere one tail orange hued shone it's yellow eyes and disgorged pollen into the wind and soothed everyone's hearts with mien and sacred tidings. "Even your Wood God admits that I must be satiated. The Laws of Valinor might pin our Realms distant and apart, yet we still are blood Bound, and I must appease the writ between Deities." The Elves in large part agreed, yet there was one doubter, and his malice and ire spread until over half the Elves were in revolt. Ragna looked Wrathful, and pulled out a silver sword, and Charles rushed forward with Excaliber Lesser, fearful that a battle would start, yet Elizabeth restrained him for she knew Ragna's mood. The Sorceress stood on a mound, and with sword pointed to the sky raised a hand and above her the Sun was at once greeted by the rising Moon, which appeared despite the brightness of the day, and Ragna quoth a curse. "And God saith, the Sun stood still, and all the Earth was in silence and fear, until the darkness came and Old Death Rode on the Plain." Then the Moon crossed paths with the Sun, and an Eclipse huddled the land, and all the Elves raised the hands to their eyes, blinded by the sudden burst, and the Kitsune undaunted saw Ragna with golden eyes suddenly free from their tired looking after fools and simpletons, and with a paw raised thanked Ragna and dissolved into mist. The Witch spoke. "I am she of the Dawn. I am the one half of the eternal Godhead. I am the Night and the Holy Fire That Never Warms. Fear me, and look upon the works of thy hand and despair." The Elves cried and fell to the ground, not dead, yet not without shock. Ragna left then, leaving them in Shadow, and an old servant of Kitsune's, Immoutoutsuki Notas, a far removed Grandsire of Elizabeth whom she used to play with and had not seen since she undertook vows to his Lordship and moved into the cold and restrictive Ninjutsu clan, green heavy cloaked appeared and led them into the thicket. 




IV: Sogton sat on the throne of Eternal Night in the throne room of her Castle. It was a grey, imperial, battered thing, less imposing and more irritating, though it had a squalid nobility of old and a certain charm that more severe dwellings lacked and thus the Emperor envied her Neogoth charm. At her feet was John Westley, and he was breathing shallow, weird, in unusual stringent breaths that Betrayed his irregular heartbeat and evidenced the fact that he was not really alive, merely resurrected from the Dead as a Vampire. He doubted he was human when living. All his life had been a bizarre masquerade, a pantomime for the Theatre Goddess. Now, as John lay between her feet, he was unsure which he hated more, his murderous wife or the Mother Daughter chimerical hybrid which mocked and molested him. He'd have to go with the murderous wife, on second thought. He tried to smile. Sogton was annoying, though he had some affection for her, and the complicated ties that tugged at the Heart of Deities caused him to Love the Black Witch like no other. Charles? Charles was gone, wasn't he? Not that he was dead. But should John and his old human childhood friend meet again, there was an impassable Divide between them. Charles viewed the supernatural with fear. And John had regarded humanity with an exasperated Pity, yet the knives and death and Brutal murder Ragna had inflicted on him, the wandering for years in the Black Land which was a locked Temple of her mind, the ignoring of virtue, was such that he became hard and unkind and Cruel. He remembered how he had called out to Sogton, who self imposed her Banishment on the world after the utter sorrow of having lost Asgard, and Atlantis, and killing Ragna at Buddh Gaya after the inevitable confrontation that pit the two in a conclusive Battle to the death, and Gram pierced the Sorceress' heart, and Sogton having killed the Sister she Sogton created pierced her own heart and died, the two mixing their blood on the Hindu grass. Sogton had heard him. He was an afterthought of the Child Witch, something she had scrambled together after the massive success of the Kaguya Droid, and it was most like a spare parts jammed into a barely passable mockery of Man. He was raised on blood and hatred and chose compassion instead, and created that Religion, Christianity, which was still a competition between John and Sogton who could deny themselves the fastest and be the better Saint. Yet they were so close innocently. Sogton heard him like a mother embracing her son, and emerged from the blackness of Aeons to rescue the Prodigal Adventurer. He was doused in water, and emerged drowned from the Pools in Nippon Castle where the hot springs from Fuji fed the cold of the Atlantic Ocean and was a symbolic meeting of the Two Hearts of the Vanir, Atlantis and Yggdrassil. And there, he was nude replaced in black, a change from the previous drab bronze of his suit and longcoat, yet a welcome change. Being an apprentice of his relative Master wasn't all that bad, he realized. And despite that Sogton was insane, she was kind of cute as a Vampire Bat Demon, he realized. John Westley rose and saluted his Lady. 




V: "Come for a chess game, darling." Sogton quote this to him. The game was laid out of a strange grid, made of earthly materials, yet rare. The base was mithril, a fine mesh coat to glitter on the jade podium. The board was alternating obsidian, a Demonpoison which Sogton was strangely immune to and this immunity passed to to her son, and adamant, with marble pawns and topaz Bishops Knights and Rooks. The Emerald Queen was grand. And the King, Eternally Obtuse, was Ruby. Rose, Rose, Rose, Red. As Emilie Autumn dictated in song not too long ago. He longed for a musical note but meeting the Origin of Art was a fine substitute. The game was interesting, but John recognized that despite winning and losing the objective was actually to communicate mentally. Sogton was a telepath, and could talk with Ragna mentally such that it was almost like they were one being in two bodies, yet there was a part of Sogton's head that was obscured to John almost as if it had been intentionally locked. Now the room swirled, and John entered floating the maze of Sogton's mind, and he was flung into blue light and silver dust, and a massive brain with tendrils fluttered like a jellyfish. It was a jellyfish, John realized, though unlike any moral had ever seen. It lived not in water but Aether. And it was Sogton. "Welcome to my Mind, Mister Westley." Sogton spoke. "Please dispose of all permanents and keep your belongings close. I can't guarantee you won't get wet." This obscure and kind of deranged statement was brought with wonder with John, who accidentally caught himself on a tentacle and Sogton cried out as they were drawn into a Vortex of light. When the room solidified, he looked at his body and realized that he was one with Sogton, in one body, yet their Androgynous union caused them both to ponder. "How do you walk this again?" Sogton asked, then moved the legs really wobbly. It was almost like a Penguin walking through rime. John spoke. "Shut up? What the Hell did you do that for? You know we cannot share minds easily." Sogton took mastery again. "I'm working on it. Besides, this wouldn't be a problem if you didn't get lost and run off on your own and get killed by my Demonic Mannequin whom I specifically forgot to install a morality drive for and I forbade you from conversing with, not that you listened." "Forgot? More like focused on drawing Hentai and watching the end of Naruto Shippuden, you mean." "It's not my fault. Anno refused to work on Eva and delayed the dates of release back three years because he got depressed. I needed comfort drama.""Are you seriously suggesting you unleashed Satan on the world since you could not watch Neon Genesis Evangelion? "There was no need to answer. The answer was a resounding affirmative. Sogton looked down. Their body was naked, and a bit like Yubel or one of those other traps in whatever depraved Anime Sogton was infatuated with. Lots of lip gloss, eyes that looked eye liner although it was really lack of sleep, and hair blacker than Marilyn Manson in a coal mine. She really didn't mind, but needed clothes. It was always Fashion that made her an Egoist. "I say, John, do you remember where I put my Kimono? The noir one with the red dragon on it." "Find it yourself. It's your castle, and I got lost just looking for the tea." "That's because you are an imbecile. I knew something like this would happen, which is why I bought a tailor made Kimono in case I would lose the ability to make my essence shapeshift into looking like clothing. Aren't I a genius?"We must leave our squabbling protagonists and return to the villain of the play. 




VI: Sakurajan lived in a mountain. More specifically, Mount Fuji, the steaming caldera. Immoutoutsuki Notas called forth an iron chain and waved it, releasing the seals around the Mountain and allowing the Demon Lucifer to step with her white shoe, having changing to formal corset garbs to the occasion, in the sand on the edge of the Lava Flow. Ragna was no stranger to dealing with Volcanoes. It seemed every Occult Maniac had to have a Volcano. Yet this one was special. "Sister, come to me." she shouted, and raised her hands. Sakurajan manifested into a pink dragon, about double the size of Rakshata and almost as large as Mount Fuji itself, definitely taller. Her white fangs gleamed in the moonlight, and she let loose a burst of gold fire. "Hello, Ragna. Is Sogton treating you well?" "No idea. I have to go fight her to maintain both of our vanity, and also because she probably sabatoged herself and did some chemically metamorphosizing experiment she is unhappy with."Elizabeth and Charles sighed. Dragon travel was not comfortable, and this was the second time in a not very long interval that they had to do it. Sakurajan sped through the air like a bullet. The Castle came into view, and Sogton stood on the ramparts in the noir Kimono and Red Dragon robe. Ragna had to admit, it did look stylish. Ragna immediately dismounted and went to help. Which in her estimation would involve beating Sogton until she turned normal or at least stopped acting hysterical. As Ragna approached, however, a silver barrier appeared between them. She experimentally put out a hand and touched Sogton, which caused a white light to engulf the woods and Castle. When it cleared, John was lying on the floor in his Vampire robes and Sogton and Ragna were both sputtering and embracing each other affectionately while simultaneously reprimanding each other. Sogton spoke. "You think it's just okay to barge into my head and diffuse my body?" "Yeah, I do. How do you stand listening to that much My Chemical Romance anyway? It was like a maelstrom in there." "Well, thanks. And it's because Gerard Way is the best thing to be invented since portable radio and tea and Mari's breasts. By the way, any news from Anno when the latest Evangelion film would be out?"  So all in all it was a happy Fairy Tale ending. But anyone familiar with the pair of Kottr Sisters knows that this was not the last of their confrontation, and their dispute would continue shortly after.




VII: John Westley flew to England to visit his old cottage and relive times with the gang. Apprehensive but happy, Charles agreed to join him on the journey on the condition that he gave up the wedding band which Ragna gave him and Charles was fairly certain was the Ring Of The Nibelungs and cursed to enslave it's wearer because whenever John wore it he started whispering "My Precious" and "The Nazgul shall fly" and stuff like that. Charles obtained the Ring from him, but of course it could never disappear. It was part of Ragna, after all. They took Rakshata, and dismounted on a grassy knoll similar to the one they had embarked on on the Dauntless when fighting Lord Boreas in London. London was in view, but to John's surprise, the City looked substantially different to what it was in Edmund's rule. For starters, I'm fairly certain that they weren't giant Windmills all over the City, and towers which belched fire, and smokestacks like the pipes of a multifaceted pipeorgan, which exuded so much smoke the City was draped in fog and clouds. It was like Blake had wrote when he mentioned "Dark, Satanic Mills." John was familiar with the Steampunk aesthetic and knew who was responsible instantly. There was only one living Deity mad enough to consider dressing like a corpse and a prostitute and a clown "cute", and that was Sogton Kottr, known in Albion as Isabel Black. A quick look at the Alchemist shop validated this theory. There was a sheep skull in the back, with phosphorescent rainbow vials and a banner that read "Are you unhappy? Then why don't you kill yourself!" and below was the red banner with a black wolf that was Isabel's Logo, and incase there was some really randomly intuitive clone to copy her mojo, the name of the store was Isabel Black's Botany Lab.  "Oh God. You have an utterly insane family, John." "She's actually not that bad." John gazed at Ragna. Ragna agreed. They came to John's Cottage, where entering the door they beheld Isabel on the red carpet with a black longcoat and cane, while a Tophat rested on her head and her blue eyes were complimented horribly with Azure. She smiled, revealing that crooked tooth that was her namesake and made her look like a predator instead of her usual charming self. "What do you think, John? I reinnovated the town, and made a makeover for this poor body. I'm rather pleased. Of course, we'll need Robots, if Rome wasn't built in a Day! I knew Romulus, you know. He's a lunatic. I'm fairly certain a few of his wives were Naga." "Isabel, you have to stop. This is not my taste. You should know it's impolite to decorate my home." Isabel was on the verge of tears. Never stable, she viewed this as an excuse to get back at her Sister. She considered that her main objective at the beginning. Perhaps both John and Sogton had an unhealthy fascination with the macabre. Though she Loved John, she would throw him away at a whim to taste one sickly sweet kiss from Kaguya's Luciferian lips. She was sinful like that. Sogton took up Gram and was about to place it in John's chest, and who knows what would have happened! When lo, Ragna did something which was contrary to her impassive and destructive nature, and embraced her tearful Sister. "I'm sorry this had to come to this, lover." Sogton cried and howled and bawled like a bairn, then looked around at John who only gave her trouble and Charles who viewed her as a monster and Elizabeth who might have been a friend yet the curse of the Kottr family and her ages long blood feud with the Shamans of Nippon prevented from really getting to know, and saw how she was unfit to live without her spires and forest and moors, and longed for Astarte. Then Ragna shouted. "Now!" John took the silver teapot and threw it at Isabel. She recognized poison when she saw it, and though immune to much Catsbane she would never be rid of Arthur's ingenious methods of Demon murder. The teapot flew like a discus thrown by some legendary Greek Demigod. It carved a light in the Sun, and for a moment that Sun shone on the West and removed Isabel's sins that were stacked from the Fall Of Man to purify her in those happy days when all she wanted to do was hold the Mannequin's hands she had constructed with blood and tears and dreamed not of power and dominance in Autumnos. The Teapot struck her. She convulsed, then was still, then dissolved into silver mist, then a gold light suffused itself into the teapot and she was gone. The Sun sank below the horizon. John looked horrified, yet Ragna knew the outcome was for the best, Sogton and she could only be together after the miserable humans that infested this Earth and ruined lives for the Divine Race were gone, and Sogton could not focus on her genocide duties while consumed by love for Kaguya. As for John, she was beginning to learn from her Sister how she gave birth to such bizarre and dull witted things. And though they were dull witted, they were not awry, and had much quaint use and trivial ingenuity that could be used and manipulated and harnessed. No, perhaps this was the wrong way of thinking. Sogton had shown her something, in that brief mind gaze before death and she moved on to the Shores Of Rl'Yeh. It was appreciation. No, that was the wrong word. Compassion? It seemed a frivolous, imbecile thing to do. Yet Sogton did it constantly. And Ragna Loved Sogton. And if Ragna Loved Sogton, she could afford looking like a fool. Ragna put her hand out at the Simpleton. She grasped him in a claw. When she feigned acted as his wife she found it so humiliating to pretend he was in any way a replacement for her only Darling her Fiend, Isabel. Yet the moments she spent with him were not all horrible. Perhaps they could be friends. They placed the Teapot on an altar as a sort of memento. Then outside, they stood below a Hawthorn tree. It was cold, yet that did not match the pall on their hearts. Ragna dragged the Ring onto his finger. "Dost thou promise to Serve me, and subjugate to my Will as we both Love she of the Saw Tooth? John Westley, no, I dub thee Osiris, dost thou promise to be Loyal?" John bowed. "I do, my Lady." Ragna placed her silver Sword on his shoulder. Then the other shoulder, swiftly. "Then thou art Ringwraith. Thou shalt never have a look of kindness, thou shalt never look for thyself, nay, thou shalt always serve a Higher Master, and I shall be thy Lord and Jailer, presenting both Pleasure And Pain. And thou shalt be a Knight For Heaven. Rise, Knight Of Albion." John Westley rose. 




Inside, a small Star formed inside the Teapot. It would take years to develop into the shapeshifting form of an Angel, and higher to reincarnate the pleasure capabilities and intellectual splendor of a Demon Lord, yet waiting is something that is irrelevant for the Dreamer and the Poet. And as our play comes to an end,  perhaps you shall wait, Reader, for there is always a wonderful treasure at the end of every wait, and peace for our Sisters at last.

A Hurried Scramble In Ideas As The Blue Light In The Teapot Settles:


Poetry:




Original: Darkest moon had soon forgot The utter danger of the Plot A heightened and a highly mien Servant of Shadows, Isabel Black Dark Grimalkin call the attack! As shadows whirl around thy head Fear me, I am Sogton Kottr, and I fly as one dead




Her beauty dark as Winter's lace She touched you once and left no trace But still anon her footsteps fall In hidden valleys, mountains tall 'Tis the ice queen, you said That shatters souls and heals the dead The ice queen sitting on her frozen throne In halls of frost, no sun shone Yet still one man dared to challenge the queen Though his life, until now, was but a dream His ambitions even less Yet he saw the moonlight reflected in her pale tress Did you stop to judge the time With what reason or rhyme Did you come to these far flung shores Under a blood rime, with sea foam Disguising the treacherous rocks below This the ice queen said To the englishman Better to fly than die In icy roam Though the allure of the beauty and the beast was strong, lo Yet how could this adventurer resist the guile And slight smile, disguising the fury of the queen Such was his doom underneath the throne and light sheen. The ice queen imprisoned him, yet herself was bound With ring though nonphysical, still struck her round And love melted her accursed heart Yet could not entirely bind the art Of shadow, devilish magic Pagan shadows in the sick And eldritch dark She acquiesced to him Could she be grim? Under this amourous adventure The lure of green shores, and grass under hill Broke her out of her spell, And though uncertain, tarrying under the snow She came to knell And the thatched cottage of his home Shadowy still She bargained with goodness, helped the peasant and uplifted the half breed Yet the honeyed mead of her bargain seemed false And allayed by grief, she stole his life And became his wife Now Ragna Kottr For this was the ice queen's name Unhuman daughter Of sin, not flesh Rebelled against God And was caught in the mesh Of those who transgressed the Divine White hair, white raiment To cause the unbeautiful to lament She married John Westley, sailor Parlor magician, sometimes purveyor Of childish dream The glowing rainbow orbs of fairy tale Unfeasible, ephemeral, unsubstantial How such a man would have tamed the proverbial lion And gone From the comfort of England's green and pleasant land Sunny under fertile river band To the cold shores of island dreary No one knows, yet he was not weary And maintained the hand of the seductress in marriage Yet God had a plan Grim tidings yet nevertheless melt under the ban Of Heaven Such is what happened In England, the lovers made their home Yet from the early rebellion, the bone and flesh of humanities' transgression Was alieved by Jesus, and through fission Like that which the stars undergo, The force of goodness in Ragna's soul Formed humanistic nature The fool yet dreams of empirical power Domination of men in dark hour Yet Sogton Kottr cast aside such aspirations Living in Nippon, a frugal life Castle undecorated, free of imperial strife A simple black robe to match the sadness of her home Attended she was by lantern carrying mountain Gnomes The dark haired lady Sogton challenged the ice queen Out of jealousy, but not vanity, like the demon She cast down the London squallor, But was deposed by the englishman and his dread wife's palour. Now our tale comes to a close, as the Nymph rests imprissoned in the teapot. Yet not forgot. The Samurai wandering from the lands of feudal dominion Does not become the minion of his desires Yet stokes the fires Of nobility Strange certainty A generous mien, a wanderlust so deadly To those without the greed And desperate failure of lust But in God we trust At least, at the beginning Not all was evil then Some may say that none in the beginning was evil But when the Creator transpired that each being should give their all to art and music One great song before the fall, the Demon conspired To bring the Sephirot down A clown Yet still noble, would end up redeeming humanity. Come and see If anyone dares to pursue the rhyme to it's just end Lend aid And give the thirst land it's due sacrifice in newborn seed laid To growth If a moat bridge Was built on sand, it would fail And so the witch Ragna Kottr, Though could control hail and cold Yet had no idea of good's power for defeating the old And sending the rot to rack and ruin Still imprisoned in a teapot, the Light Sprite made a ploy To destroy the bind with eldritch abomination Manipulated for good For even the ugly shall avoid damnation, though bound in dark Away from the light, but not evil She suffered the blight, to make the ill witch pay. The day broke. John thought Sogton saved them, when really a cunning ploy Sending the assassin to a vain threat, inconsequential Met with trivial acting A emotionless play So putting forth a small fraction of the powers The flower Of youth and holy vengeance Sogton Kottr, Divine Fooled the fearful englishman into adding her to his party Not smart For Ragna, Yet hearty in the eyes of the wise The trio was amended Some ragged band of adventurers, lended To grand pursuits, a man who wanted the best for his country And two sisters at each other's throats Knife in knife, parry for parry, without heraldry or pomp But John was oblivious to this Not envious, he could not comprehend evil Until it was at his doorstep And it was not Not yet. The last chapter of our adventure unfolds at a manor In the woods Shadowy, of ancient built When the Romans still roamed Britain's isles Ragna had her fill of shadow She would strike soon Yet the doom of Sogton was not vanquished just yet. Ragna struck, claws outstretched Yet with luck John turned around and stabbed the witch And she died, in spirit, if her physical body could not be vanquished. Yet spiritually she was still present. Until Sogton manipulated time. The past was restored. And our rhyme ends on the western ocean. Like the legendary tale The pair set sail To greener pastures Under a sun that was glowing.




Sakura Blossom falleth oh Cruel Woe, Cruel Woe As soul of weary Wanderer to the Otherworld doth go The Golden Tether breaketh and the chain shatters like glass As soul of weary Wanderer to the Otherworld doth pass His soul alights on Fuji san and knows not where to go With aching heart he hears the call of those trapped down below Of Barrow Gnome, and Lonesome Elf, with lanterns bright up the mountain In pitch black night they walk, while below, the Sun shines on the plain Past Tori shrine and uttering rhyme he leaves an offering And finally at Mass he came to grass where Nightingale doth sing With aching heart he passion asks the Spirits gathered there If any Kami ever saw a Girl with Snow White Hair? Then Kitsune comes, to perilously lead the chase And pursue Ragna through the wrack and the waste With regal mien the White Sorceress dwells by Willow Tree And fast meandering River brings the Naiads free The Raven, Amaterasu's Eye, watches the fields with red gleam And as he spies, utters a cry, to below the Moon Sheen The Wanderer Comes to this Sacred Site And with Sign and signet and sapphire performs the Sacred Rite And at last the Mist parts And Kitsune leads him up a Hill to vanish with a pure heart And John meets his Goddess Not the less, does Ragna Blush, and twist her hands, with courteous White bands Her heart pines, and not like the cruel rime Was the place, yet blessed in Strands Of Divinity. Now with surety, John approaches her,  And with Mist, she could not resist, the leaves parted, They kissed.


Excalibur, The blade was forged in water sweet And hot in realms where flagons flowed with mead And dreaming damsels had some Faerie Magic While tempestuous seeking psychic Roamed over the forest emerald and tourmaline The fresh clean white tabbard, the ringing sound of the tambourine The drum beat rapt a military tune In pleasing dells, the horn and flute brayed till noon And the evening fell with hot caress on the pastures quaint And night yet beautiful the stars illuminate The realm of Arthur's home, free from Taint The Quest For The Grail was set! Excalibur, Oh Excalibur! Shall I fain discard this haliberd? And have I failed the bet? The drumbeats of war no longer soothe my heart And peace calls to me in the song of Bard Yet I cannot subside and rest Vengeance calls me hence! Shall I ever see the white walls of Camelot In ravenous glee? Or with jovial Mordred, forget the plot?




Gram, Arondight Half light Such Arthur's bane was The blade of the King Saint sanctum Laundsalin With tempered steel and moon silver it was forged A blade to rival Elementium's cursed lores And dark to subdue the murmuring of Elves And fairy Hobgoblins in desolate shelves The ice forms around the huddled leaves in glade Shading around like frightened maidens in pallourous afraid The design of Shadowy Ghouls and intelligent princes The Blade Was forged by witches, And succinct Demons, kind of Lich And All Soul's Night is saved We pray to you, King Lancelot And Mordred too, with Dark Sheen Thy noble Arms is not forgot We pray thee, Grace Our Halloween




Viking Sunset In burdened perfection Our burning inflection of regal splendor Waves crash against the shore of our ferric and fearsome dragon ships As we reach the siege of seas Tell me wise man once you left the farmland meadows Was God and Glory hiding in the shadows? was there anything waiting in treasure or compensation as you stared at the stareless and blank oppression at subjugation of the vast encircling dark? Hark At the end of the world The Jormungand Jaws turn around our screaming vessels The elves wait with vipers engulfed with the rapture of boiling magma, black ambrosia Sundown has come on the wailing and lashes of mortals that fend and impartially perish in the cold dark

Artemis Star Bow Vanquisher of the dark below Thy eyes contain sweetness The dew of the earth, is a cascade of river on thy illustrious halo The triumph of man The conquiesence of a conception of dignity The Trinity Reflected in thy light The return of Gods and Giants and Demons full bright A sad array of abandonment for the parched fallen Earth Too many failures lay in that dark dirt Thy hair, is a band that circles around the entire plane A uniting of ends, the Jormungand serpent eating its tail A sign of stability in Midgard And Beyond To the greater Stars that sit on the gate of the Elder Dark A sad and stark reminder OF RESTITUTION The dissolution of mortal binds A rhyme, to pierce even the chaos within the river of Andromeda And the song of Philomela, echos to the Divine In this clime, not much sits, but ever flows, In increasing heat, as Dante knew Until how tempered and beat like gold he returned to the eternal New Dawn. A triumph of humanity. With clarity, to analyze events. He saw Diana bathing in the vents and hot geysers of the Greek Arcadian peek And with a sleek look, was caught in her wiles, and devoured by dogs Necessary of penetrating the fog of human indecency Such a pennant monk thou hast never seen in the penitentiary Or Rosary, of Indus monk, who nurses on Ram's knee and Sita's breast Far removed, but still containing the glory of the West So Kipling mused while in field of guns, amid a sulfur cloud And even the darkest evil always passes by when Angel shroud Illuminates the plain. Be with me, Queen, and I shall tolerate pain.   Now in that bright City Where knows not sadness, nor gloomy pity Related the call of Giants and the Horn of Sylphs With deep births, their dominance over the mortal races was unchallenged With Queenly garland, their Kingdom uncommon Rose to compete with the heights of Heaven Their bronze City competed with even Olympus And the Thunderer was brashly impressed Not such a glory Has occurred since the Heathen Kings Of Atlantis in the West Who worshiped Christ though they knew not his face And were the only ones in Limbo saved Praise be to the Glory The resounding Allfather, that Pity, and Judgement Of sin, not a gentle hand, but resounding fire that refines and burns away impurity Devoutly to be wished Sister, can though comprehendest the tale? So with Sail. Earendil, desperate Mariner Beseeched the Valar for Salvation But few was given, for they were wrought by Melkor And the evil that well deep poisoned the dawn of Creation in the Gigantomachy That slaying of kith and kin that poisoned the world Enoch speaks of it, When he allayed in Mesopotamia Of the fallen Angels, and those deceitful kind Who poisoned the minds of Genius Gloria, was far gone Yet not forgotten Enoch still had wisdom enough to measure the circumference of the world When fools talk of conspiracy deep, and decry the Ice Wall, that division of Heavenly Rule and earthly desire, they hit close to the fact Yet with tact they have not, they would do well to remember the words of Milton, as he describes Mic'hael, talking to Adamas as he searches in the tree Reading the books, the sacred note, that scroll winding through the Garden of Eden Free he was, though far fallen And in time he would come to repent of his transgression, become good again. That was not now. "Turn away from misdeed, Adam, what reason do thy have to examine the Stars? Turn away from needless speculation, the Heavens are not thy to understand, and instead work on improving the race of mortals on earth. The planets are not yours to will, the movement of them is Eternal." so those lost, and ephemeral Flat Earthers, would do well to remember the will of God. We shall go back to Enoch. The King, knew of the demise of the Earth And how the Giants were rebelling So with thought spelling He turned to Jesus He was on the world in those days A king with Sapphirical stone A halo shrouded his appearance, his limbs were wan And gave the appearance of one not human The earthly races would do well to remember that he is not of their kind Although Man Made in his image Have some terror before a superior mind Fear of God is the beginning of Wisdom Jesus said thus "Behold, Enoch, the extent of my rule." And he showed him the far Earth, The Angels, with their multiple eyes and fast wings and cutting angles, amid a substance translucent, a mineral neither gem nor firmament, but one containing transmorphic powers: the wheel span, fire was below. Now in the face of these mind crushing Abominable, the parasites that fed on human will, Enoch may have quavered, but he was strong. He saw the sky beyond, and realized that it was dark, yet stone and life still grew near the mark, minerals silver and red and adamantite, a bright and fell green fire was on the white. He moved on to the Ice Wall, where death was, not even Fingolfin could come to the end of the World, without suffering great terror, this was why the Eldritch Abominants dominated the world, and the Crossing was so perilous. In Denigrous, and pale transition, the realm of Hell crossed into mortal splendor. Mark now, Reader, how the world was not separate, nor a hallow sphere, but a deeper dark expanse, ranging on Parallel Planes, this eternal Interdimensional dance, was transcribed in legend, but most ignored it. The bleed was evident, Spectres sat on the realm of human, and fed on their Souls, the alchemists seemed not to care. The stare of death was upon them. Now with desperate prayer, Enoch turned to Jesus. The Lord, in infinite mercy sent an army to help him. The Giants were rebelling, and the Angels descended and curtailed the revolt. With much blood was the field won and spilled red. Ragna bound and at that time serving Jesus rejoiced at the slaughter, although the seeds of this envy would copulate throughout the Ages, and Lucifer would revolt. Female insight and necessary expansion was always thus. Now, the plight solved, yet many ill humans still relented. For the Giants were sealed, but the teachings of bad Angels remained, and Augury was high, Science turned to sin. With the within caverns, ancient information was sealed, with gold walls, although the information would be later ignored, yet God would still give men the chance to save themselves, thus was his Mercy wont. Now a great flood was set upon the world, and we shall return to No'a, or Gilgamesh, as he was known. This mortal, would save humanity. Jesus grace the masses, Thus we relate the tale of the Garden of Eden. Eve transgressed, and ate the forbidden fruit, And for that much good was done But she also suffered And evil was allowed to creep into the world So mortals would do well to veer away from Telperion's boughs And Laurelin's cursed sap, will make Humans venomously bleed, and transform, though with heavy regret and much convulsion Let not the repulsion allay you from following the path of Good. Eve was cursed and then became known as Lilith, and thou knowst the tale How she was eternal animous to Sogton Kottr, as well as her darker more resonant and familiar personality, Astarte That sacrificer of innocent, murderer of children, in Hedonistic Uruk She was a breeder of Orcs and Hobgoblins in heated depths The breadth of her transgression was not Known to Her Long would she suffer And in the End, justly so. Let us return to the harrowing of Good in Anatolia John Westley, a King in those days Built the gates of Uruk Before it was turned to evil Wise was he wrought, and crafted the bars out of True Silver Not yet Oricalc, For Atlantis had died. Ragna had alloyed with Aztec sacrificial mask And killed everyone inside Then burned the bodies on the pyre of Satanism Though she was not as evil as Astarte, she did not kill children They drowned, and came to the Kingdom, and Jesus saved them. Thus is related in the Atlantiad. John Westley, calling himself Gilgamesh Built the walls sturdy, beyond mere bricks But polymers of steel, and technological innovation Was high, though the lying scholars of false study want you to believe not learned And unintellectual cretins built the gates with chisels and dust How could Egyptians move the Obelisks? Perpetual fools. The ramparts were laden with iron, Of garlands were the houses decorated A stone was on the welcome step Vast clean streets held a variety of commerse The bazaar was always laden with silk And fruits juicy with melons that dripped water Although perfectly ripe Such a glorious paradise Has never been on Earth since the Telemacy And Arcadia Now the King ruled supreme But Astarte had plans for him, And turned him to corruption It started with prostitutes, And before long he was Hedonistically crumbled and fell to Rejection And renounced the religion of Innana Ragna for her part turned to vengeance And made the clay man Enkidu to subdue him Breathing her own breath into the Wild man, like Odin of old Greater than any gold were his manly primitive treasures Leather and waste, a strong rope, his hands instead of a bare sword The idealism of the country was on Enkidu Years later weakened the pride of the king and turned him to gentle dreams once more Enkidu then taught him the ways of war, and for the first time drew blade Though despising violence There was nothing ill in slaying savages The glade Of Lebanon was their target The pines were the rarest in the world And they slayn the Etin Ubaba That large hybrid Which inspired the speculation of Bigfoot [No Nephilim was he, cursed be to America] in later Lays. The Days drawn on in bliss. But the flood was coming. And Astarte cruelly slain Enkidu. As the water raged through the city Through Gilgamesh's knees He saw that a part of it was slight stained with Wild man's blood And coldly cried to the wind. He then took his beloved's body, and buried it in Sky Palace, and his grave remained above the waters, like the Lone Island of Beleriand. Gilgamesh journeyed to the shore of Israel, and saw the stars spin They wheeled unnaturally in phosphorescent agony There was deep trauma, illness in the Universe He sought the Old Man how to rectify it But was told "Look within thyself" Then Gilgamesh learned from Inanna, And saw her hut And saw that humility was the best respite from the burdens of Demoniacal destruction With locomotion he built a Boat, and took the fruit of the Gods To Elvenhome, and withsustained the legacy And the immortal blood was not shed And he was in bliss, until the Slave of Sogton, that Snake Mephistopheles', sadistically stole the Fruit, and brought about the Race of Dagon So two beings, Dragon and Elves, divided Domination of the Earth As Sogton and Ragna divided the Heavens. Yet dark came upon the deep. The race of Man was doomed, for they were rude, and died alone, and no one cared about their death Thus saith the Lord.

A One Sided View Of Mount Fuji: A one sided view of Mount Fuji Can you accept the cherry trees for what they were? Many roll their lives away looking at the Sakura blossoms from an innocent perspective of childhood Never going beyond the walls of their well tended gardens Such are the lucky ones Are you like them? Or do you long for the look of an unfamiliar land, even if that land will lead to your demise Turn back traveler Sell your traveling sack Your shoes would be better off soft than for the uneven rough hills For beyond the one sided view of Mount Fuji There are Demons Shadows lurk on the horizon Lava pours down the scorched dirt And Yokai feast on desiccated souls beneath a Demon sky.

Misanthropy:


I speak of love, but not it's light
Rather shades of black emotion in darkest night
The Rose grows on the ground, but reaches for the sky
And those that prick their bloody fingers on its' thorns die


So smell is tempered with needle sharp
And not all hearts are healed by the Harp
And darkness turns boyish fatuation into lust
And deepest friends, break to distrust


So all subsides into night
With doomed flowers, not full bright
You may wish of kisses and hugs
And light caresses above perfumed red rugs
But for me consider not the gentle wight
You may love it's kiss, but I love it's Bite.

Andromeda's Gate:

In the Hell world inside the Teapot that our bubbly protagonist has to escape from:

"A l'Arromiu i a nau gats Angelina que'us a Sauvats"

Or "In Aramy there were nine Cats, Angelina had rescued them." From "Los Gats De L'Arromiu", an old Folk ballad.

I:

Now Sogton Kottr walked through the darkening streets of Aramy as the setting sun reflected on the white wall and plastered bricks of the Romanesque fort that glistened like the barracks of some old and near decrepid War God. The gold barley was flowing, within the vineyard, grapes were ready to be harvested, and the flowers twisted and twined. Yet Sogton was not alone through this ruined Paradise. Alongside her, grim and gloomy, was a battered dark warrior with the mask of a Medieval Plague Doctor.

"Merlin, where exactly is this medic we have to find?"

The Sorcerer beside her adjusted his disguise. It was getting hard to breathe through the apparatus.

"No idea. Yet, I had to arrive at Aramy before sundown. It is amazing through the evening. The light dapples and filters like nowhere on Earth."

Sogton glistened with rage. "I am no one to be trifled with! You wasted my time, and I have alchemical studies to finish!"

Sogton drew Gram and prepared to smite him, but before she could, a knock at the door in front of them disrupted their squabbling. An old lady appeared, drenched with tea and willing to give them the red beverage of African herbs while Merlin drank the liquor which Sogton resembled grape juice.

"Greetings, weary travelers. Come and rest at my inn. I'll provide a good lodging for a fair price."

Sogton was about to object but before she could Merlin brushed past her with a heavy gold purse in his hand. The greedy innkeeper accepted the money like a vulture.

"A fine mess you have gotten us into." Sogton murmured at him.

II:

The room was indeed fine. Merlin was getting himself drunk while Sogton had Gram feast in the fire flames and she conducted some Satanic ritual, or what would probably pass for Satanic ritual in these parts. They had been summoned to the town of Aramy to supply the bereaved population with medicine and to help discover where the mysterious disease spread. Sogton already had an idea since the magical signature boasted a powerful Sorcerer in these parts. And it wasn't Merlin.

"So how do we deal with this bitch?" Sogton asked Merlin as he fiddled with a foodcake. The magical signature was distinctly female.

"That is up to you. Hark though, have you seen the Cats?"

Sogton knew from Merlin's tone that he wasn't being needlessly sentimental again. In the morning she walked through the garden and by the roses viewed twelve perfectly white and beautiful Cats, all mystic and aberrant and somehow too perfect. They glided like Princes, and did not disturb the silence of the sanctified glade. The leader, a Gold Cat with a despicable mien and haughty joy, regarded her with cold blue eyes that seemed at once dismissive and impressed.

"So, it looks like you want me to follow you." Sogton muttered with a dark and happy disposition.

The lead cat purred. A bunch of golden cats gathered at her feet.

"I'll take that as a yes." she said, and then the White Cat led her into the forest wild.

III:

The source of the corruption was coming from the forest, it seemed. A Sorcerer's Cottage, dotted with Voudou effigies and poison plums. Something out of a Grimm fairy book, although much more impactful and unconcealed. Sogton kept Gram in front of her like a magic ward, which he could be, if he distracted from all of the bloodlust and ghoul catching that he usually undertook when scouting the haunted moors. Gram was aware too, this time however. The Sorceress appeared to be unusually strong.

Sogton banged the door down. Inside was a dark haired ragged dressed enchantress with a crazy look and Wearisome eyes. She muttered when she saw Sogton and croaked these words:

"It's not me. The Cat deceived you. Watch out for his hand."

Then she dissolved into black smoke.

The Gold Cat, unusually tall and angry for the others, scampered up beside Isabel and transformed into a golden explosion. When the explosion condensed in ribbons of steel and hoarfire, a man formed from the brimstone, looking gold dressed and blue eyed in a fine suit and having the manner of a blonde Prince with beauty.

Isabel hefted Gram. She glared red eyed.

"I was expecting this. No Cat I know is that calm. By the way, my surname is Kottr, so I know a thing or two about handling feral Cats."

The Prince raised his arms. "Small help that will do you."

"As much as I hate to rebel against my kin, Prince Snuffles, we need our Slaves to be in top condition and healthy for the War against the Cult Of The Jesus Goat. So I can't let you have your ambitious and genocidal plan."

The golden prince lunged, quite stupidly in Isabel's opinion, for he was impaled on Gram and did a kind of acrobat like shuffle in his blood and slid to the blade. Gram immediately went working on essence transmutation, using the spirits trapped inside Clarent of old to suck the soul fluid out of Mister Feline Shapeshifter, but to Isabel's surprise the Magister seemed to be immune to the Legendary Blacksword. Isabel tried to move away, but the Cat Man developed claws and a sharp perforated tongue and touched Isabel with both of them, the tongue having grown to immense size.

At that time Merlin entered and blasted the Prince with an arcane explosion. It was like a bomb contained in one area, and disintegrated the Prince's matter. Or at least, what would pass for matter. The blue fluff material shifted between translucent and illuminatic, and was dazzling in a way that Isabel had only experienced when visiting the Treasure Quarter of the Eternal's Traveling City on back of flying Tortoise, Ganbaride. A stupefying and puzzling experience that had been, with Isabel hanging on above twenty thousand feet of cloud cover and feeling airsick despite her brave constitution, and wondering how Ragna could stand being on the edge and virulent at all times. Perhaps she, of all God Angels, was an exception.

Now as the Cat Prince died in a pool of his own blue blood, cursing at the wind, hailing Shadowy Creatures, veiling threats, dismally hearing voices only he could hear, and figures moving to space and time to transmend him into whatever Hell Infernalscape he came from, Isabel was not at ease despite Merlin's rescue. The Blade had failed her, and her own constitution was faulty. If even the Sorciere Of Albion had better faculties than her, there was a problem. There had never been an enemy she was scared to face, but she was scared now. This Cat Demon was a harbinger of the Apocalypse.

"Die, wretches!" The Cat Howled. "I am Bel'za'mon Hadriel, the Dead Fire! Evil lidded Eye, desperate catastrophe, the shade, the shade! Come to me, Elves! Wretched Demons rejoice. The time for ending is near ARRG"

It turned from fire to a single massive blue lidded eye, brandishing shadowy particles.

At this time Gram tired of game and the Dead Fire's trivial monologue, and stabbed it in the blue eye. Red fire ran down along the blade, and acid burned the fingertips of the Fallen God, and the Prince discombobulated into a spray of grey smoke, and howled, the smoke condensing, and tentacles poured from it's back as it dissolved into a pool of black fluid.

"Is it dead?" Isabel asked, shivering.

"Probably not. Second book third verse of the Necronomicon. We should be glad Merlin had a Seraphim in a Bottle stored precisely for this occasion." Gram replied, hovering in midair.

Those beyond Andromeda's gate have no fixed form or function, and survive by parasitizing on the living host of Angel substance, where once immersed in a Realm they shall not leave it and become a part of the substructure. The Holy Book of the Damned read. Isabel had heard the words, but assumed it was merely something remote Ragna had received during her travels.

Andromeda's gate, eh? Sogton thought. Well, let me go on then. I've been meaning to try out Astarte's Wings.

Merlin turned aside and tapped with his cane. He took out a stopper from a bottle and placed it on the Truesilver flask, where it let loose gold dust into the atmosphere.

"How did you know we needed an Angel's assistance?" Sogton asked. The portal between Holy Illuminaries was only open for a fixed time during the year, and bought with extreme duress.

"Long story." The Sorciere replied. "You know there is much I do in my spare time that I out of pity do not concern you with. Yet it is getting dark and the sun still illuminates the trees with it's dying light. Let us walk. There is much beauty in the world, Isabel, and you do not have to spend all of it on Darkness and terror."

The Sorciere started walking, humming a tune as he did so.

"A l'Arromiu i a nau Gats Angelina que'us a Sauvats

"A l'Arromiu i a nau Gats Angelina que'us a Sauvats

Qu'an Minget los Arrats Damisela De L'Arromiu

Nada pesta au bordelat Damisela De L'Arromiu"

"Mad old thing he is." Isabel whispered to Gram.

"Ye. And so, he is the only reliable friend we have."

"I'm lonely, Mordred. It has been a long time since I stood with Ragna in of Divine dignity."

"Toughen up, Princess. We have a long and paltry road ahead of us."

They stepped into the blue light, and about ten thousand nine hundred ninety nine years eleven months and thirty days faster, having spent seven hours in the Teapot World, than Ragna's curse would have lifted, exited the Teapot and came to John's English villa.

The Amending:

Qu'an Minget los Arrats Damisela De L'Arromiu

"They ate the Rats, Lady of Aramy."

Nada pesta au bordelat Damisela De L'Arromiu"

"No more Plague there is, Lady of Aramy."

The Sky Brigade:


Shutter the lockets, bind the engines
This ship is fueled on blind Imagine
Our computing surpasses even Elf or Demon
With roaring fires we soar through Heaven
Alight the beacon, to call for friends in need
And help the downtrodden with Benevolent Deed
Set forth the boosters, wind the wings
With blasting ballast the Ship sails winds!
Fight not unless in mind, be chivalrous and not unkind
The Day is ours to win over Ein!
We are the Noble Sky Brigade
We fly to port town on Mars' shade
The suns of Venus are not unknown to Captain
And Neptune is our gloomy Bastion
The secrets of God are our Creed
To help our Brothers, our Sisters lead
The ice and cruel hoarfrost will not slow us down
Through shade of dark we have no frown
Through shade of night our torches burn
And home, to home we return!
Our Noble Sky Brigade
Always bright, never Slaves
So arm the gun, hold the rapier
Douse the cannons with peat Vampire!
Give us alms to win the Quest
With our blasts shall we last
Our rapport sins in bloody Mass!
Give us Victory, Nemesis Black
Sogton Kottr! Wield the attack!
Our banners red bright unfurl
Our sign, a black wolf teeth curled!
Our conquest emblem rules the World.
We are the vent'rous Sky Brigade
To no ones Slaves.
Fight us and you'll fail.
Vanquishing Wunder, set sail!


Phoenix Gang: 


Cowboy Sunset: 


Austin and Ramseys took a car and railed through the dense undergrowth and mostly unpaved roads with some trails and underbrush of the Utah canyon hotlands, with sand stinging their face and the sun comforting but promising ills ahead. Without their air conditioner they wouldn't be able to handle it. Ramseys was in the driver's seat, and Austin realized that being a soldier did not make you a good driver, especially in the wilds of Utah, which resembled Dante's canto of Heretics. The white vehicle was an old wreck, the air conditioner currently spuzzing between off and on, and sometimes only belched foul smelling fumes which Austin could swear was poison. He coughed repeatedly out the open window and shielded his face with a rag. Ramseys, who was doused with cloresine in the Indo-Russo-Jap wars and mostly immune to mild gas due to his genetic modification, merely looked stoic and hard and glared at Austin sharply.


"Fucking drive, maniac." Austin said, looking evil.


Ramseys could tell he was under stress, but didn't tolerate that kind of language from anyone but him. "Look, Fat Tex Man. If you think you can do better you are free to take the wheel."


Austin took one look at the Utah brush where a rabbit with literal fangs from Scientific genetic manipulation rushed out and decapitated a flying hawk, and decided against it.


"I stand corrected."


Ramseys jammed the stick and sped up. Why Austin wanted to have his lunch in the middle of a top secret government base was anyone's guess, but he had an inkling that it had to do when they had robbed that Chimera breeding facility looking for plans that the Nipponese army used to stage a coup against the Emperor's adviser. Merely one more danger that the Texan had got Ramseys into since Austin had become suddenly interested in politics after the Cult Of The Jesus Goat had migrated to Nippon and added naked anime girls to their list of mass distributed product in weird rituals.


Ramseys had enough of fools.


Austin vomited out the window. Thankfully the hydrocilic acid was starting to clear. Austin was very brave, also having a hard time of it, and even if Ramseys hated the man he also held a sense of loyalty and considered him a friend. They drove for a couple miles then halted in the shade of a precipice, and entered a cave to cool down and drink some salinated water and eat packed chicken biscuits which tasted like goat dung.


Ramseys gazed towards the horizon. Strangely, a horse was riding out in the dark. It was a black horse, with an archaic saddle and a harness that was studded with steel. It's rider was tall and draped in a black cloak, with a sword staff at his side and a heavy pouch. Ramseys got out to greet him with Austin stumbling behind him and then joining at his side. They stood by the truck.


John Westley removed his hood. "Well, howdy. The clothes you wear and immense stench of herbs and drugs only known to immortals tell my you are Sogton's men. I suppose we can agree to help each other, for it seems neither of us is going out the way to avoid trouble in these parts without each other's help."


Austin rolled his eyes. Even Ramseys looked disturbed.


"What has the Witch gotten herself into now?"


John smiled. It was a sad smile, like the smile one gives an unruly child knowing full well they cannot stop them from breaking a table or building an alchemical potion in a vase but still unwilling to be depressed despite the hard trouble.


Austin interrupted. He was many things, but almost all of them were perverted and involved Neko Girls. "Are there any hot women?"


John smiled worriedly this time. "Well, yes, but not in the way you hope."


Austin turned around. There was a literal Incendiad woman clad in fire.


He put the Radio aggressively high. It was Porcelain Black:


"Oh oh oh oh here we go walking talking like you know I want your pretty little psycho."


"That music is shit." Ramseys said.


John was headbanging.


The Red Light At The End Of The World:


The trio eventually came to the highway, where oddly enough the sun was starting to rise, dabbling the sky red again although night had clearly came and passed, and the wildlife was thrown in disarray, birds dropping from the sky and jackalope darting through the bushes in search for predators instead of hiding from the Aligators and Sandwyrms and somesuch shit.


They didn't have time to mark on that. The car shut down, whether from the strange astrological phenomenon or from Ramsey's shitty taste in dealers no one could be for certain, although Austin was an expert in mechanics knew that although the truck was shit it would have lasted at least another mile.


They decided to make a search part. John had supplies to last the mortals at least a few days, and if they weren't killed by hyenas they should be fine. That was a big if, though, for Austin recognized this as near a government base and testing facility that last week launched some Shadowman to kill country folk.


All in all the party was in somewhat bad spirits. Even Austin didn't try to start a campfire and only mildly told a spooky story of the time his ex girlfriend torched his manga collection after he had spent two days awake drinking Monster Energy Drinks and wondering when JoJo's Bizarre Adventure would end because although it was officially over he found a bunch of hidden scenes encrypted in the website which only a hacker or a weeb could figure out, some of them involving live action antlered cultists and Austin being both easily cracked the cipher. He spent the next consecutive hours trying to figure out the plot, which was drugged out even for Araki. Also there was a live action television series called Asylum For Wayward Victorian Girls which was either Emilie Autumn intentionally dressed as Diavolo or Emilie Autumn putting too much bloodleaf in her astral tea, for the results were nondistiguishable.


Those were good times.


Ramseys looked glum, and John was staring off into the distance when a black hover car floated through the highway and stopped by them. The lid opened, and out poured [literally, she almost tripped on a stepladder and ended up striking a pose to save herself the embarassment and disdain for a member of her Demon class] a girl in an orange robe with horns and blonde hair. It was Daphne, Mephistopheles of New York, for everyone knows that Demonism makes you emo. She hadn't entirely fallen into the Gerard Way rabbit hole, for she refused to apply mascara even though the result was trying too hard to be stylish and made her look slightly like a prostitute and novice [I had selected the outfit, reader: Sogton's note.] but she still was scary enough to be foreboding. Her eyes were green, but not the green that merely brought to mind some kind of old ladies house in the woods where she berated young lovers for making too much noise and not trimming the shrubs properly, these were a psychopath's eyes.


Sogton was so proud.


Despite the impromptu entrance of this Batmobile clone and weird introduction, she had some sort of grace, and John bowed slightly when he saw her. It was not the bow of a servant, but the mutuality of a King. Osiris grudgingly wondered what Isis was doing. It was several years before he had felt the thrill of adventure that inspired him to face a danger quite unreasonable for his weary years. But Daphne was acceptable. She swung a scythe into the side of the vehicle and set out base for defense against invaders. Several gun turrets emerged from the Sogmobile's dragon like soft and vulnerable underbelly. Red lights scanned the desert and an energy field made the sands shift in whirlwinds and squalls as the shadows lengthened.


"So, you all need a ride?"


All the gang got into the Sogmobile which blurred at an imperceptable rate through the desert strip except for a slight heat shimmer that was the byproduct of the sonic fibre of the universe being torn apart by the antimatter engines. Why this was necessary from a design standpoint I have no idea, for it was merely a hover car. With Guns capable of taking down a space armada and a photon generator that could bridge the gap between dimensions, it far exceeded the capabilities of a mere Demon Apprentice's transport and was like a mini base. Yet perhaps it was not too unbelievable. Sogton had an entire city to herself, it was not surprising that she should give lavish gifts to her underlings and worshipers. Sogton was deep in her quarters within the Sogmobile listening to Bad Trip by Takayan while a wallscreen flashed an Animated Girl in a black suit that looked like Daphne, the Animated Girl being surrounded by balloons and pharmaceuticals. John sensed Sogton wanted to be alone. 


When they traveled approximately five galactic miles they were still in Utah. This wasn't because of an error in navigation, it is that Utah is such a congregation of filth and insanity that it bends the waves of directional utility into itself, kind of like a funnel for violence and vile sense. This is evident to anyone who has ever visited a Mormon city, or even talked to a Mormon. Brandon Flowers once took the Killers on a road trip and it entirely consisted of circling around three towns in Utah, which no band members could comprehend why they were doing it, and only Brandon seemed to have some vague and drifty purpose, gazing up at the stars and saying "Oh, looks like the Three Cross Conglomeration of Divine Systemic Star Configuration is up again.". No one willingly did another road trip.


Utah is the home state of Ragna Kottr, Mephistopheles Of Avalon. As such, no one goes there except monks and goats and Demons. The entire state is populated by fucking Demons, reader.


To maintain the need of decent food, for John although being biologically aware of the need of proper nourishment and how to maintain that nourishment, he had no idea of taste, or how to make a human psychologically sound, they made a stop in the latest friendly city. His pack consisted of dried fish and biscuits that vaguely could bring someone into a half alive state merely by smelling them. He also used too much herbs in pretty much anything. The only thing vaguely tolerable was a can of stew. He tried to put some fellweed in the bowl.


The main Demon camp, which to disguise itself from utterly lost tourists traveling in Utah, which were a common occurrence despite Ragna's attempts to build a wall and land an Alien ship in front of the lake to blast at any directionally challenged car and also mist shroud it [Ragna mentally blamed the alchemists of the Cult Of The Jesus Goat for doing magical experiments], was shrouded as a Gas Station with a pink hello kitty blanket draped over it like some Mongol nomad tent, and was so run down that the red bricks started to become white and crumble from all the mysterious dust brought on by the visitors to the Gas Station, to the dismay of pretty much everyone.


The Gas Station was run by Lil' Wayne. Because of course Lil' Wayne would do literally anything for a bottle of booze. Including sell his soul to a Demon, which could have been avoided if he went two states over where liquor wasn't illegal but Lil' Wayne was never known for doing things easy. Occasionally some tourists recognized Lil'Wayne but upon leaving always remarked "Nah, that couldn't be Lil' Wayne." for three reasons.


One, Lil' Wayne was able to speak coherent.
Two, Lil' Wayne was reported to be in max surveillance at the Illinois State Prison, for the Charge of smuggling a live Gryphon and an Assault Rifle, the former charge much more illegal than the later, the Scientists of South Texas being obsessed with perfecting genetics.
Three, Lil' Wayne would never be able to stand looking at Hello Kitty memorabilia without going insane.


The solution was quite simple. Ragna made a clay doll of Lil' Wayne and embedded it with life, causing it to move, rap, steal things from other cells despite having no passages and luckily finding hidden chambers by moving stones to build his "Dope Tower", and curse at rapid fire. The guards were so fooled that they didn't realize that there was clay missing from the marble quarries below. So they continued their calm lives in the island prison while slaves mined below in the primitive conditions but otherwise much benefited and better than the streets, to the point where there was a waiting list for criminals to be transferred to the jail.


As for the coherency, Ragna was dubbing Lil' Waynes voice tones with her mind. Lil Wayne merely mumbled silently, which was not too different from his usual habit, and although she was able to affect certain slang and gestures, the jig was easily seen through. As for the Hello Kitty memorabilia, the clever shirts and banners were only facing the customers, and to Lil' Wayne displayed a black smooth exterior with the words "Thug Lyf" painted in white. With such contrivances Lil' Wayne was able to maintain his sanity, and get a good money bonus from his connections in the Luciferian way.


As John and Daphne and the others entered the shop looking for food, Lil' Wayne pulled out his AK but stopped when he recognized Osiris, who had that ridiculous looking longcoat always even if his appearance changed throughout incarnations. Daphne was unknown to him, and failed so much at the fashion of being a Demon that she was mistaken for a dumb Goth girl shopping at Hot Topic. As Osiris hailed him, Lil' Wayne put down the AK and saluted.


"Yo missa what up my home boy homie light pimp pimping the way of the dead, Shadowy acolyte rambling in the depths, Hail Cthulhu, am I right right get me ya homie?"


"What the fuck did that man now say?" Daphne asked.


Austin And Ramseys Versus The Yeti: 


Austin and Ramseys pushed through the arctic, riding on the back of Ramseys' snowmobile, Austin's trademark speedo barely covering his ass as the icy wind burned their faces. The Texan had really taken his peculiar brand of insanity to the limit, creating a more absurd situation that taking a speedo to a skydive.


Ramseys, however had some trouble. Jewbag had apparently replaced Ramseys' Celtic rap with Linkin Park. Normally this wouldn't be bad, but it was one song. Repeated over and over again. And Jewbag had somehow manipulated the feature to never stop playing it.


"The nights grow cold
Waiting for the light that never comes"


According to Jewbag, there was no reason to ever stop a Linkin Park song.


Also they were being stalked by a Yeti.


Austin grabbed a machine gun from the bags in the rear of the mobile and embraced Ramseys in a foot choke hold, then put his head and arms down in a astronaught caught in reverse gravity style sniper position.


"Yippie Kay Ey motherfucker." Austin said, then started firing.


The resulting spray didn't seem to deter the Yeti. The bullets bounced off it's muscular and white furred chest.


Then the speeding snowmobile was launched into a bed of lava.


Austin was saved by a lone rock in the tempest of heat and magma.


Later: "No way this happened." Jewbag said.


"Nah, it definitely did." Austin replied, sipping peach tea.


Ramseys played some disco music in his earpods. He declined to comment.


"I would have played In the End idiot." Jewbag replied.


"There was a Yeti though."


Austin could have very well been telling the truth. And it turns out he was.

Inspired from Takayan's Bad Trip:

Oh Friday is hitting me like a shot of sour grape juice as I try to rationalize if words make sense or are like knives, useful until they cut you.

Death wind, massive entropic Sassifraction and the meeting of both ends yo, lightly sing me sing me song of Death, Death believe me you don't want to live in a world where no Shinigami like Apples, man Everyone doesn't know if oh is life worth living when metallic paradise rises in the desert and a snake with seven arms?

In the Light lit City there was a girl, caught in a bus studying electric lamps in the dusty tavern wail. She was very smart but everyone didn't give a care so she took a businessman's essay and threw it into the river water. Whirling through towns with no fixed point and a feylust restlessness and a fear of abandonment. Guess your life was better before technology. Sorry that just has to be from necessity just the way that life goes.

Sad wind, massive entropic Sassifraction and the meeting of both ends yo, lightly sing me sing me song of Death, Death believe me you don't want to live in a world where no Shinigami like Apples, man, Everyone doesn't know if oh is life worth living when metallic paradise rises in the desert like a snake with seven arms?

Seven arms,

Seven arms, 

man, Everyone doesn't know if oh is life worth living when metallic paradise rises in the desert like a snake with seven arms?

There comes in a suspicious man with a cake that probably isn't legal and I take a bite he says "Lol guess this City is going to Caina get the bags cause we need a recovery. get the bags cause we need a recovery."

HGHGHLFG running through the forest with a white rabbit while the wolves eat candy canes and listen to Disco,
Hey God, what's that white light, what's that white light it's coming towards me,

Oh it's a fucking Orca Whale

Death wind, massive entropic Sassifraction and the meeting of both ends yo, lightly sing me sing me song of Death, Death believe me you don't want to live in a world where no Shinigami like Apples, man Everyone doesn't know if oh is life worth living when metallic paradise rises in the desert and a snake with seven arms?

Seven arms,

Seven arms,

man, Everyone doesn't know if oh is life worth living when metallic paradise rises in the desert like a snake with seven arms?
Saya please don't stab me! Oh it's a dragonfly. My family is gone but that's not too different from the usual Guess that cake was a bad idea Yeah that was a bad idea Bad idea HA.

Death wind, massive entropic Sassifraction and the meeting of both ends yo, lightly sing me sing me song of Death, Death believe me you don't want to live in a world where no Shinigami like Apples, man Everyone doesn't know if oh is life worth living when metallic paradise rises in the desert and a snake with seven arms?

Misery Business: When the game Life Is Strange came out, the legions of misfit nerds who were generally regulated to the librams of history by Cruel Society, found in Max Caulfield a rallying point and formed a loose coalition for dealing with the preps and poseurs of Codified School Districts Everywhere. The rucksack was soon popular, and every self preserving person ran in fear when they saw the plad shirt glasses wearing twee Dram Club, and no longer viewed the Tolkien Society as something to grind into the mud but real rangers of Aragorn, The Hot Topics were pleased, as the Cicadia shirt worn by the title character boomed in price and popularity, and pervy old men who formerly catered to Nouveau Goth clothing, raised their money into the air and bought compendiums of Poe and Lovecraft, and were delighted. Not so happy were the Cult Of The Jesus Goat, who used the Cicadia as a symbol of the Eternal Truth and sought this as a degradation, and in revenge went to hipster cafes and started humming Simple Plan lyrics in as malicious way as possible, to which the hipsters grumbled and poured Soy Milk into plain Lattes, to which the Cultists mimed the sign of the Triple Wheeled Cross.




Yet conflicts between Cultists and Hipsters were commonplace, and not dangerous, and what was new and flagrant was the infighting among the Goths, who were as all divided into the Punks and the Nerds, and even Tupac would turn the other way and drive off when he saw a fight over whether Fall Out Boy or Linkin Park was the best Emo band. As it happened when minorities get power and suddenly become the majority, a civil war was brewing between the Hipsters. The plot was of course that the Tolkienites believed Life Is Strange was mocking Punk culture, pointing out how Max disdained mainstream and Chloe, the stereotypical Punk, was posing for a facade because she frequently referenced Classic Art and used her Punk appearance as a bargaining chip to get Gang credo, while the The Birthday Massacre listening Punks retorted that Max would never mix Dali with Rossetti, and was a stylist Wildeian among everything else. Tensions flared to a breaking point when two Goths got in a fight over whether Lovecraft was more classical or rebellious, and some passerby had the bright idea to bring up his Jew wife, which rapidly devolved the Situation into a discussion on Lovecraft's racial opinions, with the Tolkienite obviously taking the approach that Lovecraft was a Isolationist and the Punk believing he was a Socialist with some regrettable opinions.




Eventually the Tolkienite said that the Punk's hair looked like shit, to which the Punk splashed him with a bottle of chlorine which she kept in her NERV Neon Genesis Evangelion rucksack, for which the Tolkienite was put in the burn ward for a week, thankfully with no life threatening injuries, and to the genuine humanitarian relief of the Punk, who at the moment she doused him with the acid, like Alexander realized she was in Love with him and then stood on the infirmary parking lot for three days surrounded by security because although the Tolkienite had forgiven her the police put her on surveillance primarily so they could continue to receive bribe money from the Baron Roswell, who was irked at her family over her brother's insistence that The Birthday Massacre line "I'll play it satirical" was an endorsement of Hedonism instead of merely a depressed commentary about a satirical world.




Of course, the News sought the opportunity to capitalize on the unfortunate event, and fueled panic of "Goth murder madness: Is The Lord Of The Rings making your kids violent?" to which they flashed completely unrelated pictures of Marilyn Manson, to which the much maligned singer responded with an angry press statement: "Fuck off. I don't make Goth music, I just like to fuck prostitutes." which the News, ever desperate for ratings, played in full along with Marilyn Manson's seedier moments, including saying that anyone stupid enough to kill themselves because they thought his music was inspiring it was better off dead, and vomiting on stage after a performance of "The Beautiful People", which was over all his songs cursed with unfortunate events happening, including Marilyn getting his leg crushed by a statue, and Marilyn getting drunk and telling the audience they were pieces of shit.




This was nothing new. Fox News had already ran the story "Goth Murder Madness" with guest appearances by Aurelio Voltaire, who they invited for the sole purpose of putting off the audience to Goths and Mocking his spiked hair and Mjolnir pendant, which he kept partly because he liked the stories of Odin and mostly because he wanted to score some Arctic girls.




Now they rapidly scrambled to contact Voltaire. Aurelio was sleeping, despite it being three o' clock in the afternoon, and his black bed looked like it had never seen the Sun since it was built. He picked up the skull headed phone.




"Yo, this is Aurelio Voltaire."
"Thank God. Mister Voltaire, we have an interview for you. Perhaps you don't remember, however we did a special with you awhile ago."
 "Just Aurelio is fine. Yeah, I'll do it. Give me a moment."




As he was rushing to his computer to bring up the studio transmission he had spent preparing for eight years hoping Fox would call him back, because being a Cultist wasn't easy on finances, and he had to plug on live television if he wanted to maintain his lifestyle, which was a mix of the lavish and mundane: expensive pottery and batwing ornaments and cheap lamp posts and skulls he got from Arabian immigrants. One thing was apparent, however: the studio was packed. It looked like Smaug's motherfucking Lair.




It turned out to be his undoing, for he tripped on a power cable leading to his Christmas Tree [it was February] and collapsed.




Ragna emerged from the bathroom where she was sleeping in his white coffin tub. She adjusted her Ice Queen disguise into some plain clothes that resembled Chloe from Life Is Strange, then paused for a moment before bluing her hair, because if she was going to conceal her appearance, as a deranged Hipster she might as well look the part.




She powered up the computer.




Not needing to bring up the interface because the Illuminati sensors built into every modern technologic device detected her Divinity, she mnemonically uttered the command and hacked into Fox News headquarters.




"Erm, Aurelio?" the spokesperson said. "You looked a lot different the last time we had met."
Ragna smiled. It was like a Fox getting ready to kill some mongoose.




"Oh, I'm not Voltaire. He's preoccupied at the moment, so he sent me to talk to you. I'm his Sister, I suppose you could say."




The spokesperson was getting extremely uneasy, yet tried to maintain composure. Then the broadcast lights went on.




"Shit, how did we get live? God damn it, Lisa, fix your faulty equipment!"




The blonde intern gasped. "It isn't me!"




Ragna crossed her hands which were as usual unnaturally thin and reclined in Voltaire's chair which was a Throne Of Atlantis and would have probably sustained Voltaire as an Arabian Prince's lifestyle if he had recognized it or had decent connections.




"How unhappy. As long as I am here, though, I don't mind doing a worldwide conversation."




Lisa quickly saw her opportunity to shine and redeem herself for her equipment failure, and grabbed the mic. She was red dressed, like some sort of Spaniard without a fashion sense.




"You got it, Lady! Hello viewers, I see at the moment we are panning across Seattle [how the fuck did that montage get there? she wondered] and beautiful, beautiful downtown Botany Gardens. Welcome to Fox News, and please make yourself at home. Today we're discussing the rapid string of Goth violence, and infighting between what you younglings call "Hipsters" nowadays. There has even been an upsurge in fantasy roleplaying leading to injuries which has been linked to The Lord Of The Rings and similar fantasy tales. Todays guest is, erm, I'm sorry, as you see we are kind of experiencing an unscheduled programming, what was your name again?"




"Victoria White."




"Ah, yes, Victoria White. She is an expert in Gothic studies, and sister to our former guest Aurelio Voltaire, musician and, erm, self employed writer of books such as "The Jersey Devil" and "How Not To Get Killed In The U.S.S.R."




At that moment Voltaire whimpered beneath the table. He was beginning to regain consciousness however was still trapped by the light cable.




The newswoman frowned. "What was that?."




"Oh, nothing. I have a way with Cats. You must have heard the new adopted one. It's white with a blue mark."




"How pleasant. Anyway, do you have anything you want to say about the recent attacks?"




Ragna smiled. The spokesperson was in a worse state than Voltaire at this point.




"Oh, merely that in the words of Jesus: "Oh, I never meant to brag. For I've got him where I want him now. Oh, it was never my intention to brag. To steal it all away from you now."




The mood at the station was definitely serious.




"Victoria, that's a quote by the band Paramore. I listened to the song before we got here."




Ragna's blue eyes flashed revolt.




"No, I'm fairly certain that was a quote of Jesus Christ."




At that moment a Faceless Man In A Black Suit appeared behind the broadcasters. The television broadcast was cut off, though before it was viewers reported being extremely sick and vomiting black fluid. The broadcasters were severely mentally damaged, and had to spend the rest of their lives inside a psyche ward. As for Voltaire, no records of him having a sister were ever found, and he was placed in Protective Government custody. 

The Unforsaken Road:

Daphne wandered through Sogton's Victorian mansion, the witch being out as usual and Tupac having the bright idea that lighting fireworks indoors wouldn't set the entire rapper quarter on fire, which lit on fire. After the Undines called forth a river to extinguish it, Tupac was lying in bed tired with some wine. It, being a Sorceress' mansion was a shadowy maze, the very first thing coming to mind was Pharaoh Atem's mental seal, dim and dismal, only this being Sogton's maze Hello Kitty and ancient artifacts took the place of Egyptian decour. 


At length it seemed there was a rhyme to the shifting palace, and a large door Daphne entered to behold a silvery room with blue furniture and a safe. The very first thing Daphne would do would be to rob it. Thug life, as Tupac would no doubt sing. The metallic lock was a digital combination with a keypad, and Daphne of course knew what the password was without Sogton telling her. 


She entered the word Hentai and the safe opened.


Surprisingly, though, inside were Daphne's books, which she had left with Jewball in England. She could recognize the alchemical smoke on them from the Englishman's experiments, but someone had taken a painstaking amount of effort to clean and straighten them. Also someone had placed them in the order Daphne had them in, and Daphne knew that Jewball would have gone through them being a bibliophile and not bothered setting them organized.


Sogton couldn't have done that, Daphne mused.


The answer came in an original book that Daphne had never seen before, black and filled with pictures of Daphne, most of when she was sleeping under the Demon curse. Also a painfully large amount of Marina And The Diamonds lyrics. It had a creepy stalkerish vibe, like most of Sogton Kottr's art projects, and it definitely belonged to Sogton Kottr.

Daphne found it incredibly sweet. 

At that moment the leftmost wall turned into a screen and Marina's music video for Blue stared to play. Marina ate cotton candy and rode on ferris wheels. And Daphne recognized the outfits, which Sogton had taken to wearing lately, and where her outrageous source of aesthetic originated.

We've broken up and now I regret it

I said Goodbye when I shouldn't have said it

I even cried but I never meant it

And I don't know why but I can't forget it

Give me Love, Give me Dreams,

Give me a good self esteem

Give me good and pure, what you waiting for? 

Give me everything, all your heart can bring

Something good and true

I don't want to be a Blue anymore

I don't want to be a Blue anymore


When it was over Sogton entered and switched off the display with a remote.


Daphne: "You know, you could have just told me how you felt."


Sogton: "And lose my pride? I have to keep some things to myself. I can't fall for you completely, sugartoy."


Daphne rushed forward and kissed Sogton. A real kiss, not the pantomime in the Mines Of Utah. Sogton moaned.


The dark witch hooked her arms around Daphne's neck and for a moment did not look the imposing and mean of Sogton, her usual self, but childlike and innocent. 


"Let's go to the Sea, darling. It's been ages, but now I feel I could walk anywhere."


They entered into the streets of Dis, where as if matching the Sorceress' mood it was bright and happy for the first time. The Never Ending Rain of Amegakure stopped for the first time in a thousand years, Daphne thought, remembering one of Jewbag's many Naruto Shippuden related phrases. She found herself immensely glad that Jewbag wasn't here to ruin this moment with Anime.


Avendora lay spread like a Kaleidoscope in a massive caldera that brimmed with the Sea's flowing water through a gap where poured The Ocean At The End Of The World. Towers, spacecraft, grey domes and buzzing vehicles meandered around a spiral Alien Panorama, glowing with opal lights yet somehow mellow, and conveying innocent beauty. This truly was the territory of God, and his red wheeled ships circled around a sapphire Throne. Bright light flowed. 

Sogton embraced Daphne. White suited Tupac carried a Radio, and In The Lake played, It was truly as Emily Autumn had conceived when she floated with the Angels in Avendora's highest Towers:

"In the Lake you will find me behind your house behind your house

And from that Lake I will remind you of your promises broken, your Cruel words spoken

My Ocean is bluer than the home you had to break, my Sea is deeper than your lake."

Ah, I can't end it like that.

Below the Government black Base which housed Titans of steel and chemical experiments that would make Paracelsus step back in terror, on a white operating table that was festooned with black ropes, Aurelio Voltaire was being injected with SuperSoldier Serum from masked Gov death Scientific ops. He howled in pain. Then there was a white light, and when he awoke he was standing on the rooftop in a yellow, white, and red skied spired city. Gazing at the Parthenon dome that towered in front of him, Aurelio knew where he was. It was an Apocalyptic Rome.

Sogton was in front of him. She was dressed in a red trenchcoat. Aurelio Voltaire recognized her from Ragna's guest parties where she would open the doors of his apartment. Sogton had seemed normal, but Aurelio knew everyone that knew Ragna had to be insane. 

Aurelio Voltaire recognized the aesthetic. "Sogton, why are you dressed in an outfit of the lead singer of Within Temptation?"

Sogton answered. "This isn't an outfit of the lead singer of Within Temptation. This is an outfit of Jesus Christ."

Something inside Aurelio broke. "God damn every one of you Lunatics."

Within Temptation: When the Shadows remain in the Light of day. On the wings of Darkness he'll retaliate He'll be fallen from Grace till the End of all his days.From the ashes and Hate it's a Cruel Demon's Fate, on the wings of Darkness he's returned to stay. There will be no escape till the End of all his days.

Egoist:

Jewbag and the Gang made a poorly thought out session with the intent of Climbing the Pelori mountains in Sogton's new Kingdom of Valinor. Lin Be, as usual, had been left behind, prolly to read stupid romances [why would you need a romance when you already are married? Sogton thought, and it surprisingly hurt her] and watch Classical concerts with Nanzy in their way too opulent estate. Daphne too was in the metaphorical Sultan's reverse quarters, the Sultan having prostitutes that were crazier than he could deal with. Strange that after one of her lesbian escapades would actually work Sogton would despise it, Sogton thought.

The mountains were taller and more dangerous than the Himalaya, and neither of the group was prepared for Mountain Climbing, surprisingly Jewbag although Sennin trained with Orochimaru was poorly feet trained likely stemming from the fact that Orochimaru was figuratively and sometimes literally a fucking snake. 

Yet the mission was not foolhardy, since if one of the party died Sogton with her magic would revive them upon the slopes of Taniquetil. The Eagles of Manwe were thrown out in Sogton's redecorating, and now massive bats hovered above the white palace as mixed twilight radiated from an azure stratosphere. 

Austin wanted to take his filmography gear in search of the Kaiju, and as usual he was met with loathesome stares from the rest of the group until he agreed to leave it.

Ramseys was the first to fall, although thankfully his quick reflexes allowed him to grab a ledge and reduce his injuries. Although he had a leg injury, and would require Bat assistance. Strangely enough Jewbag was next, although in Sennin mode and skilled he was suddenly gloomy thinking about his failed marriage. 

A hand gripped him, followed morosely with the rest of the moustachioed [though thankfully not barechested, since the dictator was cold] visage. It was Hitler.

Austin pulled and the Texan's muscles compensated for Hitler's weak grip. When Jewbag was safely up, he muttered "Not every occasion a Jew gets saved due to Hitler. My Mother would if she found out freak."

Suddenly he remembered that he didn't have a Mother. In her place was Sogton, and he really didn't know what Sogton was.

"Fuck your Mother." Hitler quoth. "What do zue think?"

Good advise. As he turned around he saw Sogton sitting on a stone. Sogton: "I heard that."

As Jewbag approached, he saw that the Sorceress was suddenly smiling. "Jew Boy, how's your marriage doing." Austin instinctively brought his hand to his gun which he did out of experience when Jewbag seemed to have a nervous break.

Surprisingly, though, the Jew merely grimaced. "Not so good."

"I can relate." And then, in a move that caused every member of the party to lower their eyes and would have Austin writing extremely awful fiction over the course of a month, Sogton quoth: "How would you like to live in my palace on Taniquetil? I'm afraid it isn't as luxurious as a South Korean estate, since the Elves get rebellious and try to kill everyone about once a month, yet I'm sure it would please your liking."

Jewbag stammered. "Fine. I suppose it couldn't be worse than the rest of my life."

Sogton's eyes, which were never diverted from the usual aggressive magenta around the gang, suddenly turned Blue. She didn't look nearly as much of a sociopath now. Indeed, she looked cute.

Those the taste of Freedom know for the Ring ever long

But sometimes in the Embers of Love One must Sing One's Own Song.

Afflicted:

I:

The lonely wanderer who stepped past the faded stones and meandering prairies of the New England countryside was draped in a black cloak, but her mien was quite different and much more morose and grim than the dilapidated plank houses and birchwood which stood like Sorcerer's scarecrows in a haunted and pitch town. The traveler was young, blue eyed, and dark, with black hair that ended in an Onyx dress that was Victorian styled and quite out of place for the modern town of new Greenswick, but she bore little adherence to social norms, being of that nature of sentient being which did not tie itself down to any comfort or fixed location. Isabel, for she took again the disguise she used in Galia, Isabel Black, was her name, and she had the appearance of a mannequin that had been granted life and looked in on a Science book of human behavior, then emulated it, being imperfect in motion and even failing to grasp basic concepts, Galatea murmuring to Pygmalion in the dismal haunts. But the illusion was still there.

A Blacksword hung at her belt, lighter black handled and shimmering unnaturally in the half moonlight, a blade throughout time, known as he destroyer of armies and the slayer of kin. Sentient was the weapon, Gram among the Norse, and known to the Englishman Tolkien as Gurthang, although he mistook much of it's wielder's history. Sigurd had taken the form of a little diminutive girl to enchant the population, and bring death and destruction to this miserable town, quite lost in the sin and vice and hubris of a race of cretins that rebelled against the Gods.

Timewise this would be about the Salem witch trials with an added high technology. Isabel didn't care though. She had been in a multitude of planar hellscapes and the chronology of them seemed to blend together.

She had wandered far to find the object of her inquiry, a white dressed lady with a weiss tabard and hair that seemed to perpetually in between blonde and light silver, depending on the angle as it jumped through the light. Her eyes matched Isabel's, although were much crueler and dangerous, like a wild animal preoccupied in the hunt. Now the lady, Victoria, did not seem to be surprised to see Isabel. Mostly because she was her sister, and she implanted the Geas to venture into the wilds of America and meet before obliterating the strongholds that for so long had festered in the wilds of lawless colony.

Victoria hailed Isabel with the sign of the triple wheeled cross, and the purposelessness and confusion which hung on the black Sorceress disappeared, to be replaced by a clarity brought only by those Divine. Victoria spoke.

"So you have come. Truly, I could have fixed this myself, but it is good to have company."

Isabel looked distant. "Do they really have to die?"

"Only if you cannot save them. I am not one of Halloween and the laudable celebrations of fire and candlelight, such mummery in the holiday was always your forte. As a hunter of the damned who is damned thyself you are the only one who can redeem these Heathens, if redeemed they may be, and the light and shadow in thy soul will resonate with the waning of the Veil between worlds."

Gram hefted nervously, gleaming amid an open fire that reflected from the trees and nervous about the darkness to come, although desiring bloodshed.

"I'll be off then."

"Do take care, Sogton. I've waited so long to find you it would be amiss to have you killed by a Draugr."

II:

Isabel took shelter in a burrow, which was only dimly protected from the cold and the elements but Isabel being a Succubus she could easily ware off cold and calamity, when other mortals would freeze to death. The cloak was more for deceit than anything. As she prepared to extract the life essence of whatever tubers lurked near the moss and murk near the base of the trees and dirt near the hovels, she was disrupted by the clank of wheels bludgeoning the pavement as a horse drawn carriage brought its' way through the winding paths of Middle Larch.

Isabel stood up and greeted the driver by removing her hood. The dim rain was starting and the grey stormclouds made the night obscurant, but she still made an impression on the elderly gentleman and was taken in, offered a nice home and meal. Though unnecessary, she did enjoy food. It was something about the smell and ambiance more than any physical nourishment, she reflected. The horses neighed when they saw her, the horses fearful, but she glared at them, and the age old terror of Banshees that equines had drilled in them from the Giant clansmen of the heath, where ghouls tore horse flesh and cracked the bones, powdering the beast, spilling the blood on the heather, this fear vanished. A heavy glamour was present.

Isabel was capable of controlling beasts, one of the only Demons with the ability to do such, although Dragons resisted her, and she was proud of her talents. The old man marveled, being smoothly carried along by suddenly docile steeds. With a distant look Isabel stared through the cabby to the green fields beyond.

The farmhouse where she was staying was quaint, remarkably comfortable and probably luxurious for the Puritan lifestyle. The fowl were aplenty, and dogs maniacally chased the two legged birds through the stable. There were hardships many, and the crops had to be tended on day with heavy and brutish plows and choppers, hard labour, but the simple country folk were happy regardless. Isabel came to the warmth of the inner home where a fire was blazing, and the old man introduced himself as Bertrand. Isabel replied.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

A numerous cacophony of children started to play with the dials on the telegraph machine and kick balls out of the way, which gave Isabel minor irritation. Still, the girls at least were tolerably cheerful, and Isabel resolved to make an effort to be more positive. Blending in and how quickly her mission was accomplished had much to do with outlook.

"Are you a witch?" A blonde haired girl asked.

Bertrand glowered. "Phoebe, this is a horrible thing to ask someone."

Isabel replied. "No, it's quite alright. I am merely a simple traveler."

She was a witch, of course, but not the fairy tale Vampyre the townsfolk desired and feared. No she was much darker, born in the fern hot pools of Mesopotamia where the crocodiles clamored and the phoenix sang and the Hippopotami feasted on the bodies of the slain.

"I don't believe her." A boy said.

Isabel gave the child a look when she was Sigurd the Volsung she would use on disobedient Vikings and paltry younger soldiers. It was a supreme expression of dominance, and universally understood among humans, and the child did not rebel again.

Bertrand fed her a quail with roasted pears and porridge. The meal was substantive and healthy, and Isabel was quite at ease. The girls danced among the couches and the fire in glee and high spirits, and Isabel for a brief time regretted that if the town was judged corrupt she would have to kill everyone inside. But only briefly. She had lived so long that ephemeral children and familial joys came and gone. The breeze shifted to fell fate and fey countenance. All that was eternal was suffering.

But the gloomy thoughts of yesteryear were banished by clear industry. Bertrand asked her about her history. Isabel quickly rehearsed the lie she had planted and planned from the beginning on how to gain interest with the industrious Protestants in rainy harbor glade.

"I am Isabel Black. My family was born in London, and I had a thriving business with antiques and ancient paintings. Misfortune overtook us as the merchandise collapsed, and for a long time we had to beg. Fortunately, my brother became a Scientist, a Botanist whom he had been in apprenticeship to taking a fancy in him and appreciating the boy's quick intellect. We became surveyors of the new American ecological Society, and I had an opportunity to scout unknown towns supplying the latest in French technology to improve health and working conditions."

"Fascinating." Bertrand interjected. "Do you have specimens?"

Isabel pulled an object out of her pocket, which was not really in her pocket and more of a part of her dress which was essence forged like the rest of her corporeal form. She had a feeling if she became her Angelic form the devout Protestants would start to have a manic fit and go insane.

The object was about the size of a pillbox, and equally as deep, covered in bronze with a container, and in this container was a saphhiron stone. The glow it came with became almost eldritch, and opening the box was a brighter glow. A dim song came out of it, Elfen Lied's Lilium which wouldn't be seeded by Offworld entities on this plane until sometimes after the twenty first century had past, for the Builders were experimenting with how human populations would react to anime being introduced after the Health Benefits and Modernism of the twentieth century:

"Beatus vir qui suffert tentationem

Quoniam cum probatus fuerit accipiet coronam vitae"

Or, as the Holy Scripture says in the dialect of Albion:

"Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life"

Bertrand gazed with shining eyes. The light was dazzling. "This is amazing. A music box, but clarity is quite increased to those of mine. Also lit by some devise. Perhaps a battery? Or gas reaction. If you would explain, or let me view its' insides."

"I'm afraid it is very fragile. And my brother knows more about it than me." In fact there was no mechanism inside, the frequency was being transmitted by the stones known only by the Overlords of Atlantis. But if this secret was given to the superstitious Priests Isabel felt that her time here would be over quicker than desired.

"Ah well."

The night sped quickly. The family slept while Isabel nervously half lidded her eyes, her nocturnal nature suppressed, the earth rebelling against her, a Demonic cry overtaking her spirit as she grappled with abberative and ignorant humanity.

III:

The next morning, when Isabel could actually sleep because of the solar cycle which maimed her body, she was rudely awakened by the children Phoebe, David, and Eustace, who scrambled like mad lads. Gram was thankfully in a makeshift blanket which Bertrand had smuggled over him, and Isabel was a little surprised that the blade didn't mark any backward glances. Apparently the Oricalc which the weapon was forged of didn't foreign these parts, and magic was already heavily saturated in these depths. It reminded Isabel of the Pict hideaways and Scottish lochs that contained evil before the Roman heretics had driven it away.

Ah, what she wouldn't give for a Walpurgisnacht.

Isabel was put on babysitting duty, which she scoffed at, but it was remarkably better than what she had envisioned. The kids were apparently less bad behaved in the daylight, which was probably because of the curse of these grounds, but Isabel didn't come here to give sympathy. Still, Eustace made quite a convincing argument on Theology that she was studying at the Missionary School, and the simpletons, though simple, were not dull, Isabel mused. She even found herself reluctantly getting accustomed and happy in the glorious day.

They took a trip by the river, where the reeds gently fluttered in the wind and a ripple made light shadows dance on the cool shallow sand. The smell of incense was coming from the leaves, and the glade was rife with autumnal revelry.

It was thus that made the letter all the more dismal when it came.

A peregrine falcon, the primary form of transport for Ragna and her dark cabal, alighted on Isabel's arm and she nuzzled it in the neck while removing the tube from it's talons.

Breaking the seal, inside the tablet read:

"Unfortunate news, sister. Apparently the Cult Of The Jesus Goat just sacrificed tens of thousands of witches to Mammon in Serenity. Numerous of our kin are dead, and more than a large number of innocents are slain. We are at war. Salem must fall. The plague shall be deployed, despite your objections, and you must be ready when the ergot comes and the dead wind withers the crops to dead husks. Kill them all. It would be much more merciful than leaving them alive to suffer the full course of the disease."

Isabel wrapped up the message and mourned. Her grief stricken look apparently upset the children, and Eustace tugged on her hand.

"What is the matter, Isabel?"

Isabel gazed at the dark horizon. "Nothing. Nothing at all."

Three weeks before I have to kill them, she thought. How can any love remiss this sin?

IV:

The coming of the ergot was like a slow drawl towards the Apocalypse. The fungus was bred from snakes in the darkest dens of the Aztec cenotes and fed with the blood of sacrificed children thrown to the pits. Ironic, therefore, that it would target children particularly virulently. Eustace, the younger, had a horrible reaction even before the fungus properly came into flourishing on the wheat and especially corn husks, where it originated its' potency. Purple marks appeared on her body, and her father was worried, to the extent that he started breaking out in sweat, but he still thought and half convinced himself that it was a mere fever.

Isabel saw Victoria wandering the fields, sucking the life out of the crops. Like an Angel Of Death, a Spectre on the Storm Winds, she came to proliferate the ergot. Isabel felt like shouting at her for her own moral weakness, but she knew that it was useless. Ragna was sad and grieving in her own way too. Victoria had been the only one to save the drowning children in their plight when the Gods killed the inhabitants of Atlantis all those aeons ago. Even Sogton had reluctantly admitted the City was too far gone.

So what changed? Well, Isabel concluded that the land itself had a secret that made it resist the corruption of even the greatest plutocrat and Devil worshiper. A freedom that inspired George Washington and Thomas Paine. Such a life and liberty was embedded in the rocks and resounded to the hills that Isabel felt she could even live there happily if the way to Heaven was barred. But she wouldn't enjoy it completely. Corruption still infested the wealth like a mural with one side slightly askance.

At length Eustace started coughing and Isabel knew the disease was present. Bertrand brought out a handkerchief to spit in and leaked blood from his tongue. David was in a near unconscious state. And Phoebe, with a weak immune system, was already dead. Isabel looked away in horror.

As Bertrand left the kids unattended to brew the potion which would not even abate the least of the malady, Isabel drew a silver knife shaped like a scimitar and stabbed all three children in an instantaneous way. They did not even have time to be afraid. It was not the first time Isabel had done this but each time it affected her the same. The was no acclimation to ill.

Bertrand came in, and looking at the bloody dagger he became shocked. Isabel prepared for a fight or something that desperate humans did when they knew they were doomed but wanted to rebel anyway, trusting in the last of their insignificant powers in a display of free will, but Isabel was surprised that he did not seem violent. Bertrand only became pale and had a meek surrendering look on his face. He had accepted his fate.

"I suppose there is no surviving this. I expect you are responsible for the plague. But I know people, and even though you don't resemble my friends I can tell you didn't want this. You killed us out of pity."

Isabel moved forward, balancing the blade. "That is true."

"And you are not human, are you. I read in the forbidden texts that there were a race of beings who rebelled against God yet remained loyal, and you resemble the description exactly."

Isabel moved forward closer. "That is correct."

Bertrand started to lose his composure and cry. "Tell me, is there any hope for us in Heaven? Is God the merciful God we are led to believe in the Bible or the wrathful Spectre that killed the false Priests and buried their bones in the tombs of Gil'ead?"

"A bit of both, I fancy. As for your question, you probably won't get Heaven. Not everyone in my status is as tolerant of humanity as I am. We don't like humans very much. But you may be saved. I won't tell you the road is painless, but it is worth it."

A kind of peace descended on Bertrand. "I am glad."

Sigurd turned Isabel flicked the Knife like a Viper's sting and slashed Bertrand's throat. The nerve was such that he bled quickly, and was dead before he hit the ground. Isabel walked on.

She came outside the house and unsheathed Gram. The blade basked in the blood of the slain, but some respect for Isabel and the loss she was certainly feeling made him tarry and not instantly devour the psychic energy there. Isabel plunged him into the icy river, and the water became death cold, and the water became black.

Then a wind from the West incinerated the crops, and the houses were immolated, and before long nothing remained save a wreck. Isabel walked on. The carnage was complete. It was time to leave this Accursed City.

Miniature:

The Girl Who Fell From The Sky: 

A storm was brewing in the North. Erin Marten flew beside the Airship Expedient on her broomstick as nine Demons rapidly gained on her. Her Red hair flew in the breeze and her Emerald Eyes gleamed in anger. She gripped the ropes of the Airship to propel it along at near her maximum speed, but it was futile. The Demons were rapidly approaching. Trinald, white haired and bearded, blue eyed, stood on deck by the wheel and pushed with all the effort of his muscular and powerful but still old and frail body, but it was pointless. As the first Demon approached her, she lit a fireball which rapidly fizzled into nothingness in the cold Arctic night. The Demon unfurled it's cowl due to the wind, at least the part where the hood obscured it's eyes and mouth like some Bird Alchemist face. The creature's mouth was a jagged array of teeth the size of knives, and it's eyes burned red and glowed like fire. Erin suddenly felt despair and weakness overtaking her, the Demon's natural offenses with an aura of physical terror, and she lost grip on the broomstick, and the wind current she had mustered failed. She plummeted towards the ground like a diving starling, and eventually she lost the broomstick and hit the cold snow with a flurry, causing a storm of snow to blow in the wind. She lost consciousness soon after. 

North: 

Ice Istari stood on the ridge facing the Demons who huddled around a young girl with bright red hair and a black cloak. Normally he wouldn't pause to help anyone in this unforgiving land, for emotional weakness meant death, but in this situation he was running low on food and her pack seemed like it would contain something nutritious. It seemed comical to save her only to rob her, but that was life in the cold North, and sacrifices had to be made. He was blue eyed like Trinald, white haired, with a fur coat concealing a minuscule but nimble figure. He was intelligent and not very good at fighting but still decent enough to survive. An Undine, genetic deficiency with years of poor breeding among the Tribes had caused him to be emaciated and shriveled which he had to train intensely to compensate the pressure thereof. He rapidly went into the slow breathing stance he learned in martial arts at the Aspendale Academy, where his teacher, a grizzled man named Asper, gave him kindness and also several wounds and brought him up to be noble. He wouldn't forget that blessing. But for now work had to be done. Picking up the shortsword from his back, Ice whirled around and decapitated four Demons, their heads dissolving into black smoke and their bodies following shortly after. He killed one with a dagger toss, and the others started to flee. Ice gave them no heed. The girl was rapidly developing hypothermia, and he had to start a fire fast. Fortunately he had enough supplies that it would not be wasteful to save her. He pitched tent, removing as much of the snow from her cloak as he could and throwing a fur blanket over her. He then brought out lumber from his pack and a flint and tinder. Soon a fire was roaring, enough to be overpowering in hot climates but this was the North, and it was merely a slight aid. The girl's life was pretty much saved, more or less. She might have physical damage, but she should heal quickly. Emerald Eyes identified her as the Erinwood Witches, and they were rumoured to be able to regenerate limbs. Now came the tricky part. Ice had to remove her clothes to save her from residual cold stored in the wet fabric, and she might become hostile when she found herself naked and alone. Ice was tempted to leave her, but some morality still stood with him. And an ally might be nice. So he resolved to quickly explain the situation when she awoke, although he knew from experience with women that they were curt and annoying. She wouldn't give a Damn that he saved her life. Rummaging through her pack, all he found was an apple and cheese and spare clothing. Damn. Looks like she was traveling via Airship and had her belongings stored somewhere else. The broomstick would come in handy as a traveling staff, though. He trimmed the bristles with his sword. The ice was so thick in parts that he could not navigate even with his boots. He also found a knife in her pocket. Sylph made, by the look of it. It would be valuable on the trade market. Ice cooked up a pot of Tea, less because he needed it and more because it would be beneficial to have as a bargaining tool when she awoke. He then stripped her clothes, feeling the usual cold disdain towards the opposite sex as he did so. He was attracted, and had a natural reaction, but honestly he didn't care about pleasures of that sort. It seemed a lot more trouble that it was worth. Redraping her in the fur blanket, with a small towel for her hair that Ice roughly dabbed along her head to make it dry, Ice sat down and relaxed knowing that he had completed the majority of his moral obligation. Now all that was left was Cold Apathy, which was where he felt most comfortable. Strangely enough, her left hand was completely black by charred burn and from the damage it looked like a Vulcan attack. Vulcans usually didn't travel past the Desert of the Far South. It didn't bode beneficially in tidings to come. Now he could focus on himself and hope that he didn't get killed when she awoke. Very slight chances on that. He roughly bit an apple. Tasted awful. Soon, the girl was awake. She had a wary and a wrathful look in her eyes, but was not violent, as he expected she would be, and he suspected that a lot of it was her natural angry disposition. She must have been used to danger. Looking down on her naked body and the blanket, she quickly pieced what happened together before Ice could tell her the story. "Thanks for saving me." Ice grunted affirmative. "So who are you anyway?" she asked. "I have to get going soon. My Master is in danger, and although I appreciate your kindness, I have no desire to spend time with you until he is safe." Ice continued biting the apple. "I'm Ice Istari. A traveler. And you're going nowhere until the weather clears. Even a Sylph cannot navigate these winds alone." At the word Istari Erin's eyes widened. "You have to be joking. Istari. That is the name of my Master." Suddenly Ice became disturbed. He dropped the apple. "What? You met my father? How? Is he okay?" then stammering: "I despise the man, but he was good once." Erin became nervous. "Trinald is fine. I don't know what you mean by good once. He is the most gentle and kind man I have ever met, and saved my life more times than I can count." Ice warmed his hands by the fire. "Everything he says is a facade. I'm warning you, don't trust him. He's a sociopath entirely obsessed with power. And bringing my mother back to life. He does love us, in a strange way, but he was cruel enough to abandon me at childhood and burden me with weak guardians." Erin looked sad, and her Emerald Eyes gleamed in the firelight. "I thought that was because of his military career." Ice laughed grimly. "That's what he says. In truth he was retired. He abandoned me to go on that ridiculous Grail quest: the search for the Holy Pandora." "I can't see him doing that." "It's true. Everyone who went on that quest died or worse. If you stay along with him you'll die too, and he will likely kill you." Erin rose wrathfully. "Look, Ice, I know what you say is your genuine feelings on the matter. But I had no life before Trinald rescued me. I would gladly die for him." It was Ice's turn to look sad. "Then you are lucky." He gloomily shifted to one side and lay down to rest with his back towards her. Erin felt bad that she injured his feelings. "I'm sorry." "No need. Try and get some sleep and rest. We have a rough night ahead of us."

Erin And Ice Meet Two Swans On A Lake That Take Them To The Pearl Haven Of The Undines. They Sail North In Search Of Trinald.

The boat embarked on the Island of Fangs, crashing into the sharp rocks and bursting a hole into it that it would take the Undines weeks to repair. Ice and Erin leaped out quickly to prevent a wave that would cause them to lose balance and crash into the furnature. Thankfully the shore, while rocky, was not as spiky as the lances on the eastern end which skewered the Expedient and turned it into a wreck. On the sandy beach a kraken corpse rotted. It was a scene of nightmare, enhanced by a green vortex in the air Erin knew was not natural. It was coming from a tower in the center of the island. A black tower that was pulsating a beam of green light into the air that culminated in the center of the vortex. Still, they had to go on. They climbed nearly impassable cliffs, with the more air savvy of the Undines levitating ahead, Celestia at their lead. All Elementals had temperature control, although Sylphs could fly better instead of merely glide creepily. Erin could fly for some of the journey but didn't want to leave Ice behind. She helped him over a cliff and he impaled his leg in the rock, causing blood to burst out. She pushed him to her and bound his leg with a linen bandage and ointment. Ice was still uninjured enough to go on. As they half an hour later came to the gate of the tower, Erin and Ice saw a white giant bird emerge from the mountains. It was wounded by the breast, and Erin recognized Trinald's blade. The bird spoke in a female voice telepathically. "Foolish mortals. He injured me so much I shall not regenerate for another ten thousand years. But he shall not find what his heart seeks." Then the bird crashed to the rocks. Erin and Ice were prepared to go on but the bird nudged Ice's trousers with her beak. Ice turned around. The bird coughed blood. "You are his son. Save him. He still loves you. Only you can save him now, I think. And even then he is so power mad than it shall be at a far gone price." "I'll try." Ice said, and then the bird died. They climbed the open gate of the tower and up a spiral staircase until they came to the peak. Celestia and the others were searching for Trinald in the mountains. In the highest room, lay a table. On the table was an orb of pure perfect crystal, glowing periodically with light. It gave off an aura of incredible evil and contradictory calm. Before Ice could stop her, Erin picked up the orb. A swirl of images swirled through her mind. Trinald impaling the bird as it dove towards him with his blade, Trinald climbing the tower wearily, leaking blood from his arm, Trinald raising the orb into the air in triumph before disappearing. She then saw him in a desert, with a mountain in the distance, and a gold sky. As she was physically harmed and struggled to maintain her feet, although her grip on the Pandora would not ease although she tried to pull it away, Ice steadied her. Then the walls of the room seemed to dissolve and their vision turned into a rainbow. When it cleared they found themselves in a primeval forest, in a world that was not their own.

Erin and Ice took a moment to catch themselves as they fell forward, extremely ill. Erin vomited in some bushes and Ice, who had not been gripping the Pandora directly, was not as affected, although he had to sit down. Erin sat beside him, sweating. The both rapidly realized it was midday.

The sun was hotter here, as well as not following the laws of astrophysics. It was a tropical environment, with oak trees that fluttered like giants in a barely perceptible breeze. Even the breeze was hot. Erin quickly dismantled her robe and pulled it over her head, imperceptive to Ice's blush. She donned a jerkin and trousers that she had in her pack.

Ice merely removed his coat and his second pair of trousers and was fine. He sat down against a rock, and glared at the sky like one in a daze, or mad. This forest definitely inspired madness, though it was less the fairy tale madness and more of an alien dread.

Erin foraged for food and water and eventually found a lake that was tasty. She filled their water pouches and returned to Ice. He took a long drink. Erin spoke.

"So, we are lost without our allies."

"It appears so."

"I suppose any direction is as good as any."

"You're the forest navigator. I lived most of my life inside or crawling snow fields so I leave this up to you."

Erin smiled. "Fine. But first I want to take a bath. It's stifling."

Erin came to the lake and removed her leather jerkin, then dove into the clear water. It was cold and nice. She relaxed for several minutes, then called to Ice slightly in jest.

"Water's nice. You're missing out."

To her surprise Ice entered the clearing. He started to disrobe and Erin stopped him, although she wanted him to continue.

"I was joking. You don't seem to be the kind of guy that enjoys swimming. And your clothes were so light you didn't get as hot as me."

"Oh."

Ice started to put his shirt back on. Erin continued.

"I mean, I'm not complaining. If you want, I don't mind."

What could have happened next was anyone's guess, for Erin had an undisguised hunger in her eyes and was so worried that she was likely to leap on him as much for sympathy as desire for him, and her emotions were such that she would likely not stop until her desire was fulfilled. Ice was unlucky however, for at that moment a naked old man rushed through the trees and started screaming hysterically.

The old man looked as if seeing them for the first time and stopped screaming. Then he spoke.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't know there was anyone here. No travelers around for miles in years, you see, and the ones that did come know I like my privacy. Still, my bad. You all seemed to be in the middle of something. I'll stop bothering you and go."

The old man disappeared behind a bush. Ice spoke.

"Well, that was weird."

"Immensely so."

Erin then arose from the lake and kissed him.

Ice responded, and kissed her back. It was a minute of bliss until the old man came back clothed in a green robe and traveling staff.

"I say, that's unlucky. I thought you were finished. Usually lovers stop around the thirty second mark. Unless they go all in, and it's far too hot for that. That's a keeper you got, white haired ducko. A fiery boon in the sheets, if you know what I mean."

Erin blushed and shielded her breasts and Ice turned angry for the first time in his life. The old man didn't seem to notice, but continued talking annoyingly.

"I say, I don't mean to interrupt, but this is important. I may be a nuisance, but how shall I put this, ah, I know. You're fucking Elemental possessed."

Erin started to put on her clothing. The old man continued.

"I know because I was once too. The signs are an aura in the area, a distinct magical field that only those who are Elemental possessed or were can detect. Also, would you happen to be Trinald's son? It is a long shot, but stranger things have come true, as the Emilie Autumn song goes."

Ice grunted deeply. "I am Ice Istari. And who in God's name are you? You seem to be madder than a group of circus performers."

The old man bowed. "Menas Tharan, at your service. I'm Trinald's greatest friend, and probably your only chance of salvation. You better follow me."

Menas took them to his cottage and related how his best friend Zanul and Zanul's Dark haired Sister Sandrine had obtained the Pandora from an Archaelogical dig and gone Insane because of it, then killed his friends. He escaped by teleporting into the forest.  

The story over, Erin and Ice were prepared to settle to sleep. Erin spoke.

"I am sorry you lost your friends, Menas."

The old man was crying.

"As am I."

Ice was more morose.

"So does this mean that we are going to slowly go insane due to the negative impact of this orb? This Pandora, as you call it?"

Menas looked troubled. "Yes. Probably. You will have about a year."

Erin joined in.

"I guess that means we have to find a way to destroy it in a year, then."

"Fire will not work. Lava neither, nor excessive force from a machine built by human hands. You must destroy it with atomic weaponry."

Ice looked troubled.

"And where exactly do we find this?"

"Thankfully it coincides with your rescuing Trinald. Trinald is in Omnia, or the ruins of what once was called Omnia. The entire landmass is a desert now. Nothing lives there, but some scarred remnants of survivors in primitive simplicity and Demons. Thankfully the portal is up ahead, at a tower similar to the one you found a Pandora in."

"And let me guess, it is guarded?"

"Yes. By Sandrine. It was the only location magically locked enough to accommodate her. She would blast everything else to rubble. I fear you will have to kill her, but it might be doing her a mercy. Life as one insane can take a toll, as I know from the brief period I was possessed by a Pandora."

Erin frowned. "But Ice has no powers."

Menas continued. "Perhaps not now, but I shall train both of you. It will take a week. Then Altharion shall escort us to the tower."

Erin and Ice then fell to sleep on Menas' rough mattress. The old man huddled in the floor on several blankets, and was smoking a pipe with a grim look in his eyes the last Ice saw of him. Erin was asleep much earlier.

In the morning training began. Food was scarce, although the forest was abundant with life, for the nimble creatures that inhabited it were fast. Menas killed a chicken, and that consisted of most of their food. In the bright and damaging sunlight, Ice stripped to a bare chest and Erin managed a strip of cloth around her breast for modesty.

Not that the old man cared. He was as much a pervert as Celestia.

Despite his obvious frailty, Menas moved like one far younger than him, and managed to give Ice a quite close workout with blade versus staff, although the young man was prevalent after all. Menas spoke.

"Quite good, quite good. Now for the magic test."

Ice was made to concentrate under a current of running water. A waterfall with freezing sprays. Erin recognized it as similar to the test she had to do to learn flying as a Sylph, where she was launched from a precipice by one of her friends. There was a net below, but she did not know that, and the stress unlocked her power.

So Ice was froze until he could not tolerate it any more and then called forth a fire to burst the stream and evaporate it into steam. Menas was elated.

"Fantastic. Truly incredible. You are a fast learner. For now the power will be uncontrollable, but you will gain mastery over it with practice."

Unfortunately that practice meant freezing himself. Ice scowled.

Erin, by contrast, was meant to augment her existing powers with an eye coordination test. Her eyes were blindfolded, and she tried to hit a series of targets painted on the trees in memory. She failed horribly at first, but got better.

The day went by fast. The next day went by much the same, but Menas had bread and squash delivered to him by the Wood Elves, so they ate better. Before long it rapidly became time to fight Sandrine and visit the tower.

Altharion came to them, looking exactly as Menas had described. They proceeded down the sunlit glade and into the evergrowth.

The Witch Of Mirrors And Roses

Altharion led them in a complex pattern through the wilderness, which Erin and Ice could not remember but the Elf seemed to have traversed thousands of times. They passed several streams, and the oak trees gradually became replaced with a new species that had golden leaves all year round. The Elves called it Lorlain, and it was the origin of the name of the Elves' homeland, Lorelin, meaning the land of the golden trees. Ice and Erin had little time to admire the scenery, though. They had a feeling of dread.

The elevation gradually increased, until the temperature was slightly cold, and Erin and Ice realized this was the Great Barrier Mountain range which was so familiar to them. But to be at a distance where the sun moved of a different position, it had to be so far around the world that

Altharion suddenly brought them to a halt. He shot a wild white deer with an arrow and they set up camp. They feasted by a fire until mid afternoon, then they continued the journey.

The tower came into view. It was indeed similar to the one in the Northland, on a green field with no eery lights coming from it. Altharion took the keys from his breast pocket and began to open the gate, saying that he would run as soon as they were open. Erin and Ice bid him well, and he opened the gate, revealing a kaleidoscope inside with rainbow colors reflecting and silver mirrors. Erin and Ice stepped in.

The first thing that became apparent was that it was a maze. The second thing, as Erin and Ice walked for nearly a mile through the mirrors, was that this was bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. Or at least weirdly shifting directions without any change in gravity.  Erin did not want to ponder it, it was weird enough as it is.

They came to a break in the mirrors, leading to a bridge over a precipice and several bridges above it repeating every few feet as far as the eye could see, leading to a glow on the ceiling. Below was a rose garden, with so much overgrown shrubbery and spanning nearly a mile in every direction. Erin prepared to jump.

Ice resisted.

"What are you doing?"

"That shrubbery looks like good cover. We have to hide."

"But if we are in the open we can see her in a mirror."

"I don't think so. Look at the shadows."

Erin was correct. There were several oddly spaced shadows, some projecting without a light source, and others shifting with no change in the light. It seemed the laws of physics did not apply.

Erin leaped into the garden, with Ice shortly behind her.

They traveled for some time until they came to a stream. Erin bent to rest but Ice suddenly gripped her hand. He was harsh.

"Erin, don't look at the water. It seems to be the source of the physical distortion. I saw the Sorceress' face in it."

Erin turned in the opposite direction and threw a rock into the water as an experiment. Needles of ice swirled in the direction of the rock and impaled her hand.

Ice quickly drew the needles away, but an arm followed by the rest of Sandrine pulled him into the shrubbery. Erin screamed and tore at the brambles trying to enter, but it was too thick. Then she burned a hole in it and found herself in another maze, this time of shrubbery and roses.

Sandrine appeared in front of her and then vanished. She spoke, a sing song voice that was utterly insane.

"Darling, have you come to play? I am so lonely here."

If there was anything of the old Sandrine in there, it was long gone. Erin resolved to kill her.

Another flurry of ice needles struck her, this time entering her breast. But instead of blood  blue mist leaked out, which Menas had told her it would. Erin brought out a gust of wind to stir the leaves incase they might hit Sandrine if she were concealed, but no luck.

Erin then saw a Lion emerge from the maze and start to rush at her. She started to run.

Half an hour later, she came to another river and lost the Lion. Or so she hoped. She fell against a rock, though. Staring face down at the water, she felt despair overcome her.

Sandrine started singing.

"Roses,
In Deep Ellum
Roses.
Roses,
Blood red roses."

Zanul would have recognized it, for it was a song by his favorite artist, and one of the only songs a maniacal Sandrine still remembered. She missed Zanul and Thalius so much. And was so very, very lonely. Also angry.

To her, Erin was a mere shadow. A dark figure sent to kill her. It made no sense, but little did in this world of mirrors and lies in alluring light. Sandrine stepped towards Erin silently, and then formed an ice knife and prepared to stab her with it.

Erin had brought a shard of the mirror she stepped on with her, though. And this was physical enough to reflect the truth. She deflected the knife and kicked the Sorceress.

Sandrine started screaming, then grabbed Erin by the hair and pushed her into the water, slamming her mouth against the rocks until it leaked blue mist. Then she threw her into the bank. Sandrine was furious.

"Where are my roses?!"

Sandrine launched another flurry of ice needles at Erin, but Erin was prepared. She froze a water stream and used it as a shield. The ice needles reflected off it, most of them falling short of hitting Sandrine, but one hit the mark.

The Sorceress looked at the icicle protruding from her chest and gave a giggle, then dissolved into blue mist. For a moment Erin felt sympathy for the woman that only wanted to love her lover and her brother, and share a part of her life with theirs in an intimate tapestry of hope and desire. But that hope was cut short by wickedness. Erin fell to the ground in weakness.

Erin found Ice in a bunch of Thorn bushes. She spent nearly an hour looking for him and was relieved to find him unharmed.

"Sorry for being so useless."

"You weren't useless. If you hadn't discovered where she was hiding she might have assassinated us."

"Perhaps."

They explored the tower further, looking for the portal Menas had mentioned. What they found was a room identical to the one in the other black tower, but this time at a much lower level. And on the table was a Pandora.

"Should we avoid it?"

"No sense. We could spend days here, and Trinald could die before we rescue him. We have to take the chance."

Erin and Ice took the Pandora simultaneously, and it glowed a bright orange. The room became a rainbow again, and when it cleared, they were in a desert identical to the one in Erin's vision. Their gambit had payed off.

Hand in hand, they stepped into the wild blue yonder.


Trinald found himself staring at a lake with his reflection coldly gleaming in the cruel waters. He was in a black metal object, oblong with many chambers, and he had no idea how he got there. The Pandora had took him to a desert, then malfunctioned and transported him to blistering mountain with snow freezing and hot savanna, before finally deciding here. The effort on his body that the cursed thing put on him nearly killed him.  Not all was amiss, though. He had found the Pandora, at last. He would use it to bring back Cecilia. And finally attain some measure of happiness. Then he could go back and amend the wrongs of his life. Take care of his obligation to his son. Heal the wounds of Tirion and uplift the poor out of poverty. With the Philosopher's Stone that could transmute lead to gold, anything was possible.  Trinald was not an evil man. Ruthless, yes, but not wicked. And some portion of him wanted peace. Not a large portion, for he was an adventurer, but a portion nevertheless. But he was as proud as Lucifer and would never admit he was wrong. Now, as he found himself lost, he refused to give in despair.  He turned around, and the air around him partially gleamed in light and coalesced into the form of three women. They were not entirely human, as if an artist had painted a rough outline and then forgot to fill in the details and God began to translate that into flesh. They were like mannequins. But they did have a beauty, an odd beauty, but ethereal nevertheless.  The center one was purple haired, purple eyed, dark purple robed. The one on the right was blonde, blue eyed, white robed. The left one was brown haired and white robed. And all three were nearly identical. Astarte, Simulacra, and Brunhilde, some of the most evil creatures in existence. And all Angels.  Simulacra and Brunhilde were coeval but Astarte was the strongest, near God himself, and above every single Archangel. She was never mentioned in the scripture because when she came into contact with humans she eradicated them, containing a deep hatred for non advanced life, but she genetically engineered the Sumerians and they wrote hymns about her.  They were all accurate. She was insane.  Gilgamesh, a God warrior, had struck a blow on her, but she managed to imprison him on her ship. He escaped of course, and teamed up with the renegade Evisra on a ship of his own, which the black haired bitch piloted like a fantastical drug pixie. Evisra was nothing more than a weak girl playing dress up. Her name, Sogton, was an amalgamation of the Norse words for saw and tooth. Coming from her fangs which she differentiated her teeth from her sisters and rebelled in brazen finery. The audacity.  Simulacra couldn't fault her for the surname Kottr, Cat in Norse. She liked Cats. No surprise there, they were the most beautiful creatures in the galaxy.  Simulacra had a few names of her own. Ragna was one, brought on by a shortening of Ragnarok, the End Of The Gods. False Gods, in Ragna's opinion. In the beginning, God separated the Nephilim from the Giants, and cast the Giants out. Ragna was merely fulfilling God's mission, in her opinion. Satan was another one of her names. Lucifer a code. Loki her self at her most cruel and gender confusing. Isis at her finest and most lavish, killing her husband for her amusement and then resurrecting him equally at her amusement. Set? That was Satan, fools. The proof was in the hieroglyphs. Even a child could make the connection.  Yet Osiris had eluded her grasp. John Westley, eh? Such a silly name. From John the Baptist, the greatest servant of Jesus, and The Western Lands of Valinor. She had to admit, Tolkien was a good writer. If more humans were like him she might consider sparing the lot. She wasn't as destructive as Astarte, though if a few humans died she wouldn't consider that a great loss.  Now she continued the dance against her sister and her husband throughout the years. Eons, even. Lovecraft, Nikola Tesla and Blind Nyarlathotep had all suggested the same thing. A cycle of Death and Rebirth, not random like the Scientists predicted but the work of active, malevolent forces. She was one of the best.  Brunhilde, who was often missing had agreed to join her and her quest. Usually she contrived her tricks to pretending to be asleep in a ring of fire and then killing the Volsung who approached her and his lover. But now she had bigger things to handle.  It had all culminated in Trinald. He was the central piece, the pawn who could not be lost. A prideful man with enough will to fight even the Gods. Zanul had proven useful, but he was insane and turned weak in the end. A true result of a hyperactive mind. The Goddess Three, for this is what the Triumvirate Of Evil, That Unholy Alliance, which destroyed planets and star systems, was called, had resolved to get rid of him.  To that end Trinald would be put up against Zanul in a duel to the death.  The sisters each put on their best face. Smiling, happy, alluring, wrong. They resolved to seduce Trinald. Surely they would succeed. The minds of man were brittle things.  Trinald was clothed in white and became the symbol of the Antichrist. He was given a throne in the ship, but unbeknownst to him a true king never sat on a throne. Erin and Ice wandered the red land until they came to a city. They were both on the verge of unconciousness, the thirsty sand reflecting the inevitable end and failure of humanity and the uncaring march of entropy. As they fell forward, however, the gates of the city opened, and they were ushered inside by white turbaned men in white robes.  At the fall of Omnia, it made sense that the Egyptians, whose looting had brought about the rise of the Pandora and destruction of the world, would be the only untouched. They were remote, in the desert, and the greatest Civilization to be able to survive a nuclear apocalypse. The priests prayed to Osiris, hoping that he would deliver them from disaster, but Osiris was a drunkard, on a ship with a shameless temptress who had the presence of mind of an extremely irritable child. And an unhealthy obsession with Linkin Park.  Yet these were the hands that the world was in the safety of. The only ones who could save the day. John Westley and Sogton flew on their black ship at near the speed of light to their old home planet, not saviors but not villains either, somewhere in between.  "Gilgamesh, huh? What a vain title. It means something like grand slayer, or something like that." Sogton said. She was sipping a cup of Earl Gray tea that dissolved into fireballs as soon as she sipped it. Why, she had no idea. Probably something to do with the spacetime vortex.  "You were vain once, John. Much strangely influenced by my sister." Sogton continued.  She was sitting in a throne of black spikes and black metal in the black ship that was a near duplicate of Ragna's but contained only Linkin Park music. Admittedly, Sogton did occasionally like a little something more mellow, but she set it up this way to screw with Ragna. The White Witch had hyjacked her ship like five times and made the whole thing a maze of Demons and traps. Last time Evisra had barely got through it alive.  That was a name she hadn't used in a long time. But cataclysmic times called for revivals of old names. Several races of alien interspecies rebels had rallied around that name for some time. She rather liked it. Jesus had given to her actually, when he told her to lay off the drugs and stop blasting the music loud enough to be heard five dimensions away.  She hadn't listened anyway. But she did like Je man. He was cool.  On the Radio a One Eyed Doll song played:  "Thunder crashes  Falling ashes  Batting lashes to a different place Our endeavour Live forever Never ever to be erased High Tide High Tide For the Human Race Faint Star A Faint Star Into Outer Space"  John had his usual brown suit longcoat drab in comparison to his dark hair and dark eyes. Sogton was wearing her black dress that resembled something out of a Marilyn Manson bondage concert.  What the fuck, reader, how did we get from light sword fantasy to high Science Fiction? John has no sense of keeping a plot. I liked it better when Charles was writing this.  "Sogton, please don't interrupt." John said. "This is my story, and you're distracting me from getting to the good parts."  Sorry, carry on.  Unfortunately, while Sogton was fiddling with the energy cannons of their ship they started to crash. Somewhere in the vicinity of Cairo. John had loved the city for some time, and was happy to see it again, although he wished it wasn't in such strange circumstances.  But now we must get back to Erin and Ice. They were given hot tea, thankfully less volatile than the divine [or divinely stupid, Sogton's note. Hah, reader get it?] concoction the Black Witch was sipping. The leader of the clan, a man named Farqual, told them that a black ship had crashed nearby and it could lead clues for the direction of the wanderer that had passed through the city a while ago. White haired, white beared, white robed, speaking about the End Times. Trinald Istari was giving the planet one warning before The Goddess Three destroyed it.  That was our ship. Erin and Ice were tangled in the complex web of Demonological affairs, and their destiny had begun.

Erin and Ice came to the ruins of the ship. It had crashed in one piece, but was a ruin nonetheless, less because it was wreckage and more because of the architecture. Whoever designed it beat M.C. Escher on a good day.  The interior of the ship was even weirder. As Erin and Ice stepped inside, they were greeted by a prehistoric jungle full of ferns and palm trees. Also grass, strangely idyllic and also somewhat artificial.  DEFENSE SYSTEM ON. A speaker blared.  At this moment three sharp disks made of silver material swirled around Ice and Erin, and Erin had to swerve fast and leap to avoid being bisected. Ice was attacked too, and ran, then diverted the water of a nearby lake and froze it. The third disk collided with the first in an extreme display of wit as Ice timed the angle of evasion perfectly and probably Sogton's inability to program even the most basic technology.  Their troubles were far from over, however. A frill spined lizard with gold skin approached them gigantically, roaring as it did so. A couple of purple raptors were released also [my bad, Sogton's note]. Erin and Ice prepared to fight, Ice grabbing his blade, but they didn't get a chance as the dinosaurs exploded. Bits of meat flew everywhere. It was like a thanksgiving parade.  For Sogton at least. She had weird family.  Erin and Ice looked puzzled, for this was the most bizarre part of their journey. It resembled something out of Alice In Wonderland. Balloons rainbow colored flew everywhere and Linkin Park's Faint was put on before a female voice said, "Shit, wrong button." and then Linkin Park's Talking To Myself was put on, when the female voice said "Shit, wrong button again" and finally put the speakers on to say:  NOBODY PANIC, THIS MESSAGE MEANS THE DINOSAURS HAVE BEEN RELEASED. WE'LL TRY AND GET THEM CLEARED OUT IN A FEW MINUTES.  A moment later Evisra appeared clothed in white, Gilgamesh beside her.  "Sorry, friends. I'm Evisra, magician extrordinaire. And welcome to our ship. Although I feel you'll have a hard time here. I accidentally pressed the button to release the dragons while trying to press the button to clear the dinosaurs with Safety Disks."  John Westley sighed deeply and buried his face in his hands. Ice gave Erin a "Who is this woman and why is she so stupid?" look to which Erin merely shrugged her shoulders. Evisra seemed undisturbed.  "Anyway, do you guys like my new clothes? I got them to infuriate Ragna. Well, I mean Simulacra. She changes names faster than I change prostitutes. But I do like White. I guess you can call me Sogton The White, although I'm cooler than Gandalf when he got his new threads, and much more crazy."  "We can see that." Ice said. A dragon breathed a stream of fire that made a tree alight. Behind it, an Oliphaunt trumpeted and was answered by a rocker strumming a guitar.   

"Can I get a Praise The Lord?" Sogton asked. 

I am going to take over the text here, reader. John has no idea how to write a conclusion. The whole thing has become a The End Of Evangelion sort of spectacle. As I pick up my pen which I have much more familiarity with than a button that says "Destroy the entire ship", which I accidentally placed directly besides the Hentai button, I beseech you to bear with me. The end of this wild tale is spectacular.  Consider it an entirely new story. Me and John removed Erin and Ice's clothing, bathed them, and draped them in white, a symbolic gesture by Angels and Maiar that no one really knows why they do, besides the fact that they are madder than Mad Hatter sniffing exhaust fumes from an oil container. They looked much better White though. Before their clothing resembled some kind of brigand thief and the kind of sexy assassiness that you get in run of the mill fantasy novels that is available more for eye candy than actual threat or usefulness. Wait, that actually describes Erin and Ice pretty well.  My bad.  Erin was hawt though. I always had more of an appreciation of the female side of human anatomy, and John was my husband more in Platonic terms. I resolved to seduce her if we got out of this alive. Ice developed the ability to fly and with Erin him and I threw water at the dragons and exploded the Oliphaunts, which had grown wicked, possibly because I accidentally pressed the Alchemical Experiments button instead of the Linkin Park Best Songs button.  My bad.  We also gave the rockers sedatives and played classical music. I had a little Emilie Autumn fetish. I know when saving the world the last thing to do is consider your music options, but this was important.  So we waited for the inevitable battle between Trinald and Zanul. It was over fast. Nothing to really write home about, Trinald merely launched white energy and Zanul launched white energy and Zanul lay on the floor of his black tower defeated. Then the Pandora was destroyed and a black hole formed.  One more problem to deal with.  Zanul was pretty sympathetic near the end. He regained his memories, but lacked all of the horrible things he did to Philomela and Charles and Andromeda. Quite lucky for him. He died with some nobility left, as Trinald killed him with an energy blast. We then flew to Cairo to warn the villagers, although there was no need, for the black metal ship had arrived in the skies and all the villagers were in a panic. I must admit I saw no way we could save the day. I only hoped the engines were in such a state that we could make a quick retreat. No luck.  Angels poured out, crystal like diamond shapes that gleamed like stars but were about to turn this entire planet into a volcano. They flew in a spiral formation like the illustrations of Dore to The Divine Comedy where Dante comes to the inner circle of God.  Except this time instead of serving God they were serving Astarte and my evil sister. And Brunhilde, but no one really cared about her.  So, how were we going to be saved, reader? Obviously we survived, or otherwise I would not be writing this little musing addendum to a story that had spanned long and glorious. Well, the answer came from Trinald.  It is often the case that those in positions of vanity mistake the value of humanity. They see them Narcissistic and callous because they are in this way, but what Astarte and Simulacra and The Best Of The Totally Useless Valkyries failed to realize is that that is not all there is to humanity. Most, but not all.  Some minor spark in Trinald's soul convinced him to repent his actions. Perhaps it was the Pandora showing him a vision of Zanul's life and love, which brought the old man to tears, if he could cry, which he could not for he was immortal. This was the Pandora's last rebellion against it's masters, a case of the weak contributing to the demise of the strong. Also Trinald in this world unraveling display of energy and primal power actually figured out how to bring the dead to life, and I relate it here.  Ceclia stood in front of Trinald for the first time in twenty years. It was a bittersweet moment, for Trinald had everything he ever wanted to accomplish, but the world was about to end, and he had got there on a path of blood. Blood of the innocent, as the Pandora had showed him.  "I'm so glad you're here my dear." Cecilia said and embraced him.  Trinald cradled her close.  "I'm sorry, my love. I failed our son. I failed everyone."  Cecilia smiled. "Not yet. You have one chance to make this over."  Trinald grimaced. "But how?"  "Give up your life to destroy those Godless bitches. I shall be waiting for you on the other side. Fear not, my love, for I have seen death, and it is nothing evil. It is in fact the only good force in the Universe. A Universe of malevolence and cruelty. Which you have the chance to make better."  Trinald kissed her. Then he walked ahead of her, Pandora in hand. It was glowing like a flame. A single flame that pierced the night, like Earendil when he held the Silmaril in the dark ruins of Valinor and saw the blessed isle in it's eternal beauty and moved the hearts of even the impassionless Gods.  Trinald approached the ship on foot. From her chamber, Astarte scowled.   "Well, looks like Moses with a bad hair day over here actually managed to do something useful. Of course, we're probably going to die, but this is going to be gloriously entertaining." Ragna said besides Astarte on the right.  My sister was entirely amusing, and I couldn't help liking her. She really held no general malevolence, only an entire love of life and adventure that made her do literally everything for a high. Perhaps that is why she and John got along so well. I got him in the end though.  Brunhilde ran. Are you really surprised?  Astarte descended the Heavens to meet Trinald psyche against psyche. She stood by him and tempted him with all the flaming look and carnal desires that would have seduced literally any other mortal in the Universe, but Trinald held fast. She clung to his breast placed her lips near his, promised him wonders and power and vengeance and allured him with fragrant kisses.  He slapped her with his hand.  "Get off me, bitch."  The Pandora then glowed, and Trinald burst it with the force of his will, which he was the only man who could do, and even immortals and Angels and Gods and Deities and Demigods and Mephistopheles and Demons and Fauns, Fauns which we who serve Jesus have no idea why we keep around, for they are annoying reader, annoying as Hell, marvelled, and the light of his final sacrifice reached into the Heavens like the Seven Rays Of The Buddha, which shifted the world and nourished Maya when the world was young, and the clouds accepted it.  This light then rose into the firmament passed the Boundary Of The Universe into the Primum Mobile, where they were taken by the Rose and God's own sphere opened, and God in eternal stasis smiled for the first time in a million cycles of eons. And God moved.  The resulting explosion of white light engulfed Astarte and Simulacra and everyone watching was hurled back.  The story could have ended there, but I'll give my sister the last word. I owe it to her, at least.  "Oh, fuck." Ragna said, and dissolved into blue mist. She would be back, of course. She always was. But it would take another million years, and I would sorely miss her.  We fixed the ship and I transported the Egyptians and Erin and Ice to Tirion. Erin became a jester at King Arthur's court. Yes, that Arthur. He got around. Ice and her were married, although I ruined the wedding by playing Last Ones Left by Tupac at such a volume that most were disturbed. My pet red dragon Chandra even made an appearance.      As for me, I was happy. I had more friends than usual. And that, in the end, is really all I care about.

Pantomime:

I:

Erin and Ice soon inquired Evisra for a guided tour of the continent, to which Evisra waited until she finished watching Evangelion You Cannot Advance. Then she swiveled her mechanical throne which she had transported from the ship to Arthur's castle by flying the ship into Arthur's castle and breaking down the walls, however the minor annoyance of the Sorceress was made up for her knowledge of the continent and effective form of Governance. In thanks Arthur removed the elementium from everything except his sword, which he kept sheathed. Whenever Evisra complained that Evangelion last still wasn't released despite the fact that it was now twenty thousand years after it's scheduled conclusion and Anno was living as a rich Baron of a mining Star System, he would gently shift the sheath to the point where Evisra was irritated and stopped.
"Yeah, I'll do it. By the way, did you see Mari"
Erin and Ice groaned in unison. If they had to hear another One of Evisra's poems to Mari, usually mentioning the soldier's large breasts at least a dozen times, they felt they would douse themselves in scalding water from Arthur's bath.
The Sorceress continued.
"Fine. We should start traveling before nightfall. Chandra doesn't like night wind currents."
Chandra was Evisra's pet dragon which she genetically engineered to, quote, "Fuck with that loser Fafnir. He's probably out planning vengeance with Brunhilde somewhere in some impovrished wasteland.". She had scales long as daggers and Erin suspected she was no where near as large or as dangerous as actual Dragons, which Erin came to the conclusion of because all of Evisra's other chemical experiments ended in something being lit on fire or mutating or both.
"Why can't we take an Airship?" Ice asked, with every Undine's instinctive hatred of Red Dragons.
"Oh come on. It'll be fun."
She then went into reciting "She has a pink suit, and glasses on her eyes. She took a parachute, and came to Shinji from the skies."  to which Erin grabbed a CD airphone set and blared Evisra's music so loud yet though it was as usual Linkin Park it was better than to go through another stanza of "Empirical Queen, thy Science is imperial, thy eyes gazing at the Ocean are mythical." and Ice started crying, hoping that the trip was short.

II:

Erin and Ice hung onto Chandra's scaly back while Evisra laughed with both hands in the air and muttered "She went Beast Modo, for that tyrannical Gendo." and the winds struck at them like stringent foam, or as Evisra might claim, the boosters on Mari's Eva Unit Eight's flight center.
It was substantially better than riding an airship, though. That both Erin and Ice agreed on.
When they landed, and Chandra lightly muzzled Evisra before flying back to Tirion, Erin and Ice took a moment to regain their footing and make sure their supplies were packed. Evisra merrily frolicked in a meadow.
"Oh look, a ledelbaum."
She pointed out one of the rare white flowers. Ice frowned.
"How do you know so much about our continent anyway?"
"I made it. Correction, improved it, however it was mostly a pile of floating rubble when I came here so there's not much difference. I was the only one to capitalize on the venture, and look where it got me. A Paradise on Earth. As the Americans did not want to explore Lemuria, because they had the stupid notion that the world was an oscillating circuit, or like such nonsense, for other reasons the Lemurians did not want to explore neither the Southern Ocean nor the lands beyond the Ice Wall, and left both of that to me and Ragna whenever she would come. I altered the Physics, and grew the Botany, and made certain realms parallel. Then I Christened it Erador. And so finally had a Kingdom to rival the Je Man."
Erin took over.
"I'm sorry, who is the Je Man?"
Evisra was nonchalant.
"Jesus Christ."
As both of their expressions continued to be clueless she realized her mistake.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I used the colloquial term. I forgot to introduce Christianity to these isles because I was too busy watching Neon Genesis Evangelion. Do any of you know of a man who was kind, compassionate, domineering, lonely, who traveled across the country doing good deeds and could resurrect the dead, then made an Ultimate Sacrifice?"

Erin grew nervous.

"That sounds like Trinald."

Evisra frowned. She was beginning to get a suspicion of who Erin and Ice's mysterious mentor was, and berated herself for not paying enough attention to the signs when the Je Man would walk on Erador.
"Anyway, the steppes are coming into view."
She was accurate. The meadow was beginning to disappear, and in its place was dry wasted grass and long open fields under a burning sun.

III:

The Southern Steppes had regrown substantially since the Vulcans had burned them down, and after a few miles the Great Wall came into view. It was a white, brazen, imperial thing, remnants of an aeon of Swift Death and hard victory life.
"I wonder if we'll meet any Vundar?"
"Most certainly, as we're going to the Southern Desert to meet the Vulcans."
Erin instinctively turned to her burned hand.
"Aren't they evil? I know a lot has changed in two thousand years, still the last One I met nearly killed me and the King."
"That was mostly my fault. I accidentally dropped a Philosopher's Stone through dimensions and cursed the Vulcans to require human sacrifice to remove the plague on their shores. As was the events that let to the build up of the Great Wall."
Ice shouted.
"How the fuck do you accidentally drop a Philosopher's Stone through Dimensions twice?"
Evisra smiled, clearly not registering both of her friend's horror.
"You'd be surprised."
They moved on in silence, until a shrill noise in the air gave a wind gust that uplifted both of the mortal's skirts.
Evisra continued.
"Looks like the meeting party is here!"
She gazed to the sky, and awaiting them was a Roc, Singh of legend with the purple and green feathers and white body, and eyes like ruby, and on his back was Raven Marten.

III:

"What in the name of God."
was all Erin could mutter.
"Oh do stop acting like you've never saw a body come back from the dead before."
Then, as Evisra realized that Erin was serious, replied.
"Oh, you've never seen a body come back from the dead before! You both are really, erm, how should I put this politely: country folk, aren't you?"
It was accepted by both Erin and Ice that undertaking this trip would require putting up with Evisra's insults, yet they both were too dumbfounded by a literal Goddess returning from twenty thousand years of Myth to care. At length they saluted. They wondered why.
"Hail, friends. Don't look so glum. I'm not a Demon, that honor rests in the incessantly annoying bitch in front of you, and I won't smite you. I heard of the legends of you, Erin Blackhand. There have been many Pseudo Ravens in this world, yet I think you are the only Heroine that could match me."
Erin was dazed. Ice gazed at Singh with a Scientist's wonder.
"Before you ask, I can't change forms, Undine. This is my true self, no illusions or deception. The Rocs of this time are stunted degenerate things."
Ice smiled. The Roc had a deep and gentle voice that soothed him.
Raven continued.
"Come on, we have to make it to the Capitol by Sundown."
Erin took over.
"I was told in the stories that the Capitol is twenty three thousand leagues as the bird flies. We would take months to get there."
Raven smiled. Ice immediately knew where this was going and lurched. The Queen Of The Sylphs gave him no mind.
"I'm really, really fast."

IV:

It was a surprisingly painless trip, after the first complete pain. Raven could apparently rip through dimensional barriers, and Erin realized the Story she had heard in the Sylph moot at Erinwood did not come close to the actual battle. Raven and Ithar's fire would have surely lit the sky like a sudden Second Sun.
Evisra smiled.
"Fucking Naruto,"
she intoned, which was apparently One of her rare compliments.
"Minato ain't got a thing on you."
"I'll pretend I understood any of that, Sogton."
They were floating above the Palace Of Kings, which was built of sandstone and a massive dome with flanking pillars, ramparts, and minarets that Shone to the light of the Day Moon, which in the Southern Climes never set or moved.
Singh descended through the aether and the clouds moved by like smoke to let him pass.
They roughly descended through the ramparts. They were greeted by several Vulcans, and they were armed with halberds and wore red and gold robes as well as red turbans. Erin prepared for battle, yet they seemed kind enough and motioned the sign of peace.
It turned out Evisra's story was accurate, and the Vulcans were naturally charitable. She was beginning to think it would be a pleasant Vacation when she turned a tunnel and walked almost into Lord Nathar.
He gazed at her black arm and smiled. It looked like his cruel streak wasn't solely the result of a Philosopher's Stone.
"My, my. Looks like the girl who killed me did good for herself. Say, are you her husband, elf looking Prince, or merely a boy toy?" His sneering got the better of Ice, whose hand went to his blade.
Evirsa ran between anyone and raised her hands. She had such a terrifying look on her visage that it reminded Erin and Ice that the clownlike jester was a Divinely Malicious Entity despite that she rarely showed it.
"I shall not tolerate fighting in my Sacred Temple. Take it outside if you must, yet you shall be last on my list to revive if you die."
Ice put his hands on his sides. Nathar surprisingly was polite.
"I apologize for my actions, Al' Sin. Please forgive your humble Servant."
For a moment Erin felt pity for him, for his eyes were genuine and reminded her of his final sympathetic death.
"Peace, Nathar. We are dealing with Outsiders who don't know of our culture, and everyone is very stressed." To Erin's surprise, Nathar descended to and gave her the opposite hand of her undamaged One to shake. He was gentle."I am sorry, Sylph. You are technically One of our Kin, though far removed from the grace of God. Please accept my condolences. I may be Cruel, yet I regret my actions at the palace."
Erin took his hand and embraced him. Evisra smiled. It was looking like a nice Vacation after all.

V:

Sogton:
I left Erin and Ice and teleported to Hell, having a sneaking suspicion. My inquiries turned out to be verifiable.
Trinald was standing on a peak, overlooking the meteors descending from the Curtain and blazing through the sky like God's lost Angels, which of course they once were, now transmodified into Star Stuff and Soul Shimmer to be in eternal peace over a Sea Of War. Ash was all around the Je Man, yet he did not care.
I strove forward like a Goddess.
"It's been a long day since we last met. Trinald, was it? You are ever One for coming up with stupid names."
Trinald smiled.
"As are you."
I smiled. He was as usual correct.Sogton: "So, if you're out sightseeing I assume there is something majorly wrong with the fabric of the planet, isn't there?"
Trinald became sad, and for a moment his old man disguise was transparent and his true forms of Beast and Witch shone through the aeons of the Void.
Sogton: "I'm going through Astarte's Gate."
My jovial form immediately vanished and I stumbled forward in pain and Love.
"You can't. She locked it for a reason, and I won't lose you. Not after I lost everything, not after I lost my Sister."
I cried, for the first time and the last towards a higher power in this tale. And I hesitate to write it, for it is a weakness.
Trinald was ever compassionate.
"You'll recover. I made you Immortal, as verily thou know, Sog Tooth."
I smiled, although my words were harsh.
"You're going to die and you still can't pronounce my name. I'm happy though, that's verily who you are."
I collapsed, yet he rose me up and embraced me. We had a moment there between the Fire and the Desert, and I would rather have it then all the leaves in Paradise.
Then we parted. He materialized his traveling Staff and old cloak, and then walked to the hills to Oblivion. I watched him go with a bittersweet pleasure.
I called to him.
"You're not going to trap me in the body of gay Cthulhu like the last conversation we had, are you?"
"No, I should expect NOT! Now please go to sleep, Sogton, you're ruining the moment!"
I was then sucked in a portal.

VI:

I awoke. As Trinald promised, I was not in the body of Gay Cthulhu, however I was unable to shapeshift out of a pink and white frilly Antoinette dress and blue hat. Around me, the room was frozen, and rivers of molten chocolate surged to produce steam from the Maypole striped candy and cakes lined the pantry like something out of an Avril Lavigne album cover. I recognized this as Trinald's inspiration bringing the Yu Gi Oh card Maldolche Puddingcess to life, complete with random Owls and Butlers that knew Karate, and I cursed him for it. It would be three days through the trapped maze chambers and sticky chocolate before I could make it out, about two days if I could avoid the Hippopotami.
"God fucking damn you, Trinald."

An Ancient Text:

Chapter One: On The Nature Of Love

In My Very Wise and Very Accomplished life, during which I became the Youngest Syndicated National Conservative Columnist to Great Acclaim, and also became Married at the definitely not too Young and Inexperienced Age of Twenty Five, there have been Two questions that have always disturbed me as I Vaingloriously attempted to solve them. Not because they had special, indeed One of particularily low intelligence might say Personal signifigance, but because some of my Viewers, having gone astray from the straight Path and lacking discernment, might benefit Greatly from the answer given. The first is, "Do I have a failed Marriage?". The second, of no less importance, is "Are Traps Gay?"

One may be tempted to Unite these both Worthy Questions into a single Cohesive whole, namely, "Is my Marriage failing because I Obsess Over Traps?", yet when ever I Muse Over this Question I at length give up and Watch JoJo's Bizarre Adventure, so I Believe it is a Question of Folly.

The first Question, "Do I have a failed Marriage?" is a Profound One. Before we answer it, we must be able to discern what a failed Marriage is. For instance, the Popular Perception, influenced my Mongrel Nordic Cretins who jack off to Anime in Kaguya Sama: Love Is War Striped Blankets and Wear Fluorescent Socks, would mistakenly have you Believe that if your partner does not talk to you for a whole day, or even several days, then you have a failed Marriage. In Fact the minutae of Intimate details could be farther from the truth. Indeed, there are many cues that are nonverbal that the experienced partner should be able to pick up on, and it is not always necessary to talk, or even say I Love You. Also, the fact is that people have varied and different interests. Just last Week my Children asked me to Read a Fairy Tale with them, and I quite Intelligently replied that I had to continue working on the Daily Wire to live the life that my father wished and continuously reminded me that I would be Inferior if I did not fulfill and went below a certain density of Money, that arbiter of life. They quite Understood and definitely did not harbour serious resentment that would turn into serious mental problems later on.

So this Question is easily answered, yet the latter is not so simple, and Comprises the bulk of my Novel, and as fine it should be, for homosexuality is a Sin and Condemns thee to Eternal Darkness in Mandos, where the Witch King of Angramar shall chain thee, suffocate you with his effeminate robe, and plunge his massive, alluring Sword into you until you breathless scream out in Agony and quiveringly gush uncontrollably. 

To answer the Question, "Are Traps Gay?", One must be familiar with the history of the Evil Liberal Establishment, that unreasonably asks for every One to Love each other regardless of Gender, which certainly is going to break my Children if they are exposed to it and definitely not the Fact, as mentioned before, that they Believe their Father does not Love them. Traps in their view, are men who seduce other men to be more like women. They Believe having Sex with men makes them Liberated from women, and awry, all of them, for the Only Liberated man from women is the Conservative male, who politely asks for permission from his Wife before doing damaging effeminate things, like teaching your Children about Emotion.

In the Next Chapter Entitled "Are Trans Girls Literally Demons?" we shall be discussing, whether Falsely or Accurately, Trans Girls Are Literally Demons.

Sogton The Marriage Councelor:

Russell Edgington, Indigo White, And Ben Shapiro walk into a Bar.

The Bartender asks, "I was told we were getting a Jew, a Girl, and a Vampire. Which of you is which?"

Russell Edgington: "You know, I actually don't know, myself."

Sogton's Diary: If the Liberals just Rationally Stated that Eat The Rich was Not merely a Slogan to put on the back of Rainbow colored Cars, you know I would be on that Faster than if Hitler relocated the Jewish Femboys to the Private and spaciously bedded Quarters of the Nazi Soldiers serving as his Imperial Guard, because, in his, words, while uncontrollably winking, 

"Ze Femboys, they are more depraved than ze Jews, and sexier, that is Not me saying that, that is false Jewish Scientific Literature, and so we must Discipline them with all ze Authority of ze Black Eagle tearing passionately into Lesser Birds."
Me: "Hitler, is that a Skirt behind your couch?"
Hitler: "Ah yes, that is Eva's Skirt, she must have been in a hurry, going to ze Dinnerparties."
The look on his face indicated that Eva had been sampling a lot more masculine treats than Brautworst at those Dinner Parties.
Me: "That Skirt is two sizes larger than Eva's size."
Hitler: "And how would zue know that?"
Me: "Believe me, you do Not want to go down this route."
Hitlers eyes became misty and he stopped winking uncontrollably.
Hitler: "Ah yes. I Believe it would be Better for both of us if we left this Subject to disgression."
Continuing, "You are a good Soldier, Siegfried. If you mention this Conversation to No One I conceive that a few The Birthday Massacre Records could be placed in your Room, while the Guards take a coffee break and loose Security around the Jews for a bit."
I knew Hitler was Serious because he Stopped Affecting that stupid ass Accent.
Me: "You know, you could call me Isabella."
Hitler: "Please do Not make this more Humiliating for me than it already is."

[Sogton's Note: Siegfried is the Germanization of Sigurd, did you get that Quaint Historical Reference?]

Daphne: Literally No One except you and I Care Isabel, and I am a Figment Of Your Imagination.

Good point, Sugartoy.

South Korea:

Jewbag and Lin Be stood under the watchful gaze of the Statuine Great Leader of North Korea, under banyan Trees and sheded Coconuts that had been Left as Offerings by the Cult Of The Jesus Goat that still tenaciously, yet unsurprisingly, Practiced here, for the Cult Of The Jesus Goat was like a parasitic Vine threading through marble, and showed up in whatever rocky and unyielding surface it could find, despite pesticides, manual labour, and even Flamethrowers being deployed against it. This was still South Korea, yet close to the Northern Border, and the Inhabitants mostly tritely Signed the Allegiance and kept Loyalty to Kim.

"Why did you bring me here, Jewbag?" Lin Be asked.

Jewbag nervously shifted.

Lin Be: "Ah, I get it, it is close to the Golden Beach that is famed for Lovers this Year. I thought we were taking it slow, but I definitely am glad you show such interest."

"Oh shit that would have been a good idea."

At that moment literally every Bird in a mile radius took Flight, although sharing miniscule Dragon Genetics the Terror of every Avian for the Volsung was Infinitely Present.

Sogton walked in dressed in a Purple Seersucker Suit and Gilded Cane.

"Move along Bitches."

As usual although Sogton's outfit was impressive whenever she attempted to act Black the result was embarrassing and White. She uncertainly stumbled against a rock.

She recovered her composure quickly: "You seem to be suffering from Chronic Bitch Dependency, Jewbag."

"Why are you dressed like A Pimp Named Slickback?"

This remark was ignored.

Sogton: "And you, Lin Be, although Jewbag is a Masochist and you are, and I say this with Complement, a Sadist that would make Lucifer twinge with Regret, you are so Pitiful that you refuse to discipline your mate and he mistakes your intrigue with lack of affection. Honestly I am more disappointed with you."

Lin Be coloured which showed Sogton was exactly Right.

Lin Be to Jewbag: "You hired your Side Bitch as your Marriage Counselor?"

Sogton smiled. "The Location was My Idea."

Jewbag: "It is not like that."

Virtually every One could tell he was Lying.

Lin Be: "Just tell me this Honestly, and I promise not to be mad because it was mostly my fault. While you were off on Vacation in Valinor did you Two fuck?"

Jewbag blushed. Lin Be immediately Tranquilized, because Jewbag only blushed when during an intensely Romantic moment he would not stop talking about Linkin Park.

Sogton: "I tried, but after he started talking about the Video for Numb and Graphically Describing it, multiple times, I began to Realize it was a Lost cause and Listened to the Daily Wire instead."

Lin Be and Sogton shared a look of Sympathy that was Universally shared by Females and Feminine Femboys, around Beta Males.

Sogton Metamorphized, changed outfits into the Black Kimono with White Trim of her Rukia disguise and played Sasuke's Theme. She withdrew a Pencil and Notepad from her Satchel.

"Now, tell me, Lin Be, when did Jewbag start being Awful at Sex?"

At that moment Ramseys, who was sitting under the Kim Statue and smoking a Cigar, groaned. He had a sturdy disposition but there was only so much debauchery a Hardened Gangster could take.

"All Three of you, together, Need to fuck. How are you this unable to grasp the Obvious?"

Sogton: "When did you get here, Ramseys?"

"I sat here in direct View for Fifteen Minutes. You fuckers really need to stop being horny."

Ramseys considered this. "All Four of you need to fuck together, if you count the Prostitute."

Angrily: "She's Greek." Sogton quoth defensively.

"Same difference."

Ramseys took an extremely long Drag on his Cigar: "Although I know we Russians easily blend in the Background. It was how we won the Cold War." 

At that moment Ramseys' Cell rang, and he Answered it.

Austin: "You did not win the Cold War fucker."

"How did you know I said that?"

"I placed Wiretaps around every One, although I had to Remove them from Sogton after she found them and started to Sing me Morrissey lyrics."

Sogton's Kimono started oscillating. She switched forms between nude and the White Kimono from Rukia's Abduction Arc and Mist covered before the Black Kimono returned to normal.

"Sorry, temporal distortion. I am still recovering from my Last Order of Emergency Cosplays, you guys were not here when I met Ragna in Japan, but some times my Shapeshifting fails. And Clothing is rarely tailor made to Immortals, especially if you specify Male Dresses."

Lin Be lit up. To Jewbag:

"Ah, I told you you were gay!"

Jewbag turned marginally paler than he already was, which Sogton did not believe possible. 

"Look, she is a Demon Lord, it does not Count."

Sogton was greatly enjoying this.

Lin Be: "That is literally the opening line of Chapter Fifteen of Ben Shapiro's latest Best Seller, "How Not To Have Sex With Some One Who Vaguely Looks Like Chibi In A Dark Alley After Your Wife Throws You Out Of Bed For Crying During Sex."

Sogton immediately dimmed gloomy and felt a Kindred for the Novel's Title that was only shared among those that despite gifts and incredible prospects failed in almost everything in life. 

Lin Be fumbled in her Satchel and raised a Copy of the Novel: "No it is good, now that we know the issue we could fix it. Read this, Chapter Seventeen, "How To Realize What Is Directly In Front Of You", Ben Recommends regular naps and reducing caffeine and Reading the Torah, I know you are into our late afternoon roleplaying, but we could shorten it for a nap if you find it strenuous."

Sogton smiled. "Roleplaying?"

Lin Be serioused. 

"Look, I am Sorry I could not Communicate my feelings. I am not used to the intricacies of Marriage. It was so easy before when I lived only for Thrill and Adventure, and though I would not want those days back, part of me Misses the Excitement." 

Jewbag smiled. 

"And I am sorry I was so dull. And that I became Envious of your Career and jealous of Meow Zedong." 

Sogton, Cruelly: "Meow Zedong? Who would possibly name themselves that?"

Something inside Jewbag Realized. "Another of your Disguised Shadow Clones? Damn you, Isabel."

"No, I am still not going to tell you if I was actually Madara Uchiha."

Ramseys' Cell rang.

Austin: "She looks like Madara Uchiha, Sounds like Madara Uchiha, and if there was anything the Kaguya Resurrection taught me, it was that Madara would not hesitate to wear Female Dresses in his spare time. It is Obvious that she is Madara Uchiha."

"Silence, Alex Jones Wannabe."

Sogton rose. 

"Just checking something." she said, and then kissed Lin Be. 

They did not stop for quite a while. Jewbag morosely stood there.

Sogton disengaged. 

"Nah, literally no attraction. I am glad, that was Greatly bothering me."

Jewbag thought: "Just what the Hell do you call attraction?" For a moment he despised her as much as he despised his Wife.

Lin Be was nearly shaking and her Devout expression resembled Sara at Usher at the Tom and Sara Episode in the Boondocks.

Sogton walked off into the Distance, but not very far. Even now she had to Play this like a Theatre. 

Lin Be: "You could try talking to Daphne."

The expression of genuine Wonder came upon Sogton's Ashura. She had genuinely not thought of that.

"Thanks, Bitches." she said, then dissolved into Blue Light.

Sogton Kottr Versus Corona Chan: 

Sogton stood at the bar across lengthwise from Black Thunder, who was currently squinting while leaning down from the seat in a way that had all the patrons nervous partly because he looked like he was in extreme danger yet mostly because he was Black. It turns out he had his eye on the grape juice, because Sogton muttered "It's not alcoholic" causing Black Thunder to migrate into a more sedentary position. He still looked weird. 

"What are we doing here, yo." he asked while mournfully gazing at his vanished liquor. Sogton crossed her arms in a way that she borrowed from Gendo with the intention of making her look like a mad Scientist yet merely gave off the vibe of a Nerd. 

"We're channeling deep and dark spirits." 

Black Thunder gave a grimace, which was the Black equivalent of rolling his Eyes. "Sogton, there are no spirits here. This is a shitty tavern you're bargaining with because you spent your monthly paycheck on Jewball's Alchemical Experiments." 

"Those were good alchemical experiments tho." 

Suddenly an attractive and insane woman came up to them to Serve them Tea and Rice. She Set the Platter on the Table. You knew she was insane because she wore a Black Cape. 

"If my eyes don't deceive me" she said, "it's the Mephistopheles Of Los Angeles. I wasn't aware there was any more of that decrepid city left after the technological craze. If I recall correctly it was my instruction to burn it down, though I stopped out of Sympathy because it was so pitifully barren." This was true. Sogton had little sense in Government affairs. Sogton immediately lashed out her palm and removed the cloak, revealing a red oriental outfit on a vaguely American girl with bat wings. 

"Isn't that cultural appropriation, Mephistopheles Of Hong Kong?" Sogton muttered in between gazing at the patrons for which to use as a human shield if this went awry. 

"Technically, though since I'm a Demon I automatically get sympathy points with the liberals." said Corona.

Corona was an old friend of Sogton's at the Mephistopheles academy where they both bonded over hating the other Mephistopheles yet shared almost nothing in common with one another. Corona was violent, for one, with a metaphysical army of elixirs and potions she bargained on the Black Market solely for the joy of spying on the victims who bought it as the proposed cure turned them into Zombis. The latest Virus bearing her name was one of her best machinations, brought on by years of study that she gained by flashing her breasts and accusing her male Science counterparts of partaking in sexual harassment. "Sogton Kottr prepare to die!" she screamed as she materialized a Kunai from a pocket dimension, which nearly gave Black Thunder post traumatic stress disorder from the time Daphne tried to explain to him that Naruto was real and used terms like "wood between worlds" and "transitional vortex" he was certain she got from her drug addict friends. 

In any case it didn't seem to disturb Sogton, who muttered "Sage Art Symphonic Regalia" and materialized her Scythe, as well as turning her Robe into a Skirt which wasn't necessary if the pervy sage she had learned it from hadn't insisted the Skirt increased her mana pool while moving his eyebrows in a way that showed he was completely lying. 

Corona was catapaulted back into the room, where she paused to recover. It was fast.

Sogton knew she was completely outmatched one to one, so did what any Mephistopheles would do and cheated. 

"Sage Art Rotating Scythe" another scythe attack pinned Corona against the chair, which immediately grew spikes and pinned her against the cushion. "Oh shit Demonic furnature." Corona said. "How did you know my One weakness?" 

"You left a diary, idiot. I had categorized with pride you as one of the only Goths that didn't read My Immortal." 

Corona suddenly became misty eyed. Reading My Immortal to Goths was the equivalent of reading Hentai to Nerds. "It was too tempting."

As Corona gradually became covered in slime, Sogton collapsed to the table and clutched her stomach. "What's wrong?" Black Thunder asked with concern. "I really shouldn't have ate that Chinese food."

Do you remember standing on a broken field?
White crippled wings beating the sky
The harbingers of war with their nature revealed
And our chances flowing by

If I can let the memory heal
I will remember you with me on that field

When I thought that I fought this war alone
You were there by my side on the frontline
When I thought that I fought without a cause
You gave me a reason to try

Turn the page, I need to see something new
For now my innocence is torn
We cannot linger on this stunted view
Like rabid dogs of war

I will let the memory heal
I'll remember you with me on that field

When I thought that I fought this war alone
You were there by my side on the frontline
And we fought to believe the impossible
When I thought that I fought this war alone
We were one with our destinies entwined
When I thought that I fought without a cause
You gave me the reason why

With no one wearing their real face
It's a whiteout of emotion
And I've only got my brittle bones to break the fall
When the love in letters fade
It's like moving in slow motion
And we're already too late if we arrive at all
And then we're caught up in the arms race
An involuntary addiction
And we're shedding every value our mothers taught
So will you please show me your real face?
Draw the line in the horizon
'Cause I only need your name to call the reasons why I fought

When I thought that I fought this war alone
You were there by my side on the frontline
And we fought to believe the impossible
When I thought that I fought this war alone
We were one with our destinies entwined
When I thought that I fought without a cause
You gave me the reason why

Poets Of The Fall, War

Lin Be, Moody:

For a young South Korean stripped of basic liberties and affection and plunged into the depths of Poverty, it seemed only Rational that as necessities improved, life would improve, and the pall of inferiority that seemed to set upon existence would be at least mildly lessened, if vanished optimism prevented her from expecting it to depart for good. 


Such was what Lin Be thought, at least. Now, lounging in the Lavish Military provided marbled Office with Mucha Paintings and Servants to attend to her every need, Lin Be realized that money was a torn bandage on a gaping wound. 


She thought of Meow Zedong's comment and reflected that it was not entirely wrong. Even if he was a figment of Sogton's extremely fractured conscience, he could pose a Rational Argument when the dishonor of Lin Be's sycophantic existence got to be too hard to maintain the lies of even for her. 


And speaking of, Lin Be wished fracturing your conscience was something mortals could do. It seemed the human Spirit could only fracture inwards, and represented the tears on its fabric in strings of meaningless relationships that bizarrely assisted coping with monolithic existence. How easy it must be for Sogton, how high the flights of her fancy would soar, if she could merely when feeling lonely divide herself like a Wyrm in the sand and materialize into a pale waif like Daphne or the Apathetic Witch Ragna, all tailor made to be the perfect Mirror Of The Soul, a Mannequin Doll Lacking Free Automation, and easily shifting in chromatic light to whatever soft or brittle mood Sogton was feeling, a medicine of the greatest potency, for it came from the self's Loving hands. 


It seemed she could hear her voice in the drab room: 


"Perhaps, Lin, but even a perfected Nephilim needs defend itself from dangers without. Incarnation, every body without exception, is fraught with external malice, and not the most comforting lace and frosted Minarets would save me from predation if I could not handle a rebuke. As always, the greatest quality in life is being Courageous." 


And unspoken, for Sogton was a vain and capricious Deity, was the compliment that Lin Be was highly Courageous after all. After all, who could deal with an incompetent Romantic Partner and a Discontented Persona like she did? 


"Thanks, dispenser of Cakes and Violent Candies", Lin Be thought. "But I don't see how I could get myself out of this Situation without a practical purpose." 


Sogton ceased being an Astral Projection and revealed that she was materialized in the physical world, sitting on the filing cabinet with all the aggravation of a Tiger forced to interact with its' fluffy game as a friend instead of the usual prey. 


"Oh, I could help with that. To be honest I disdain this style as much as you. The Military might have rocking Attire and a flair for the Dramatic that I can appreciate, but when it comes to architecture, they are kind of incompetent." 


"If you mention Oscar Wilde's Tea Quote or his mutterings that Americans are violent because of their drapery, I shall leave." 


Lin Be had experienced enough of Sogton's rants to know where this was going. 


"Acknowledged, oh straight laced Embodiment of the ditty Twa Recruiting Sergeants." Sogton replied, then did a mock salute and feigned almost falling from the filing cabinet. 


"Utter bitch." Lin Be thought, but couldn't help inwardly smiling at the attention, Sogton was a friend after all. 


"With no objections, I am going to turn this Mundane Tragedy of Human Simplicity into a Gladiatorial Coliseum. If you perish I shall of course Resurrect you, but don't expect me to dull your pain receptors. The risk is half the amusement, after all." 


"Sogton is quite the savage despite her frilly garb." Lin Be thought, and it was a lesson that perhaps save Austin none of the other members of the Gang realized despite lesson time again on evidence to the contrary. Lin Be liked it. It matched her personality perfectly. 


Aloud: "Bring it, Punk Bitch." 


Sogton descended from the filing cabinet, and through intentional lighting only now granted from the Witch to be visible to Lin Be, Lin Be realized that her ambiguous Victorian corset and boots was at its' unveiled intended to be a Djinn's robe, with flowing folds and ribbons and minatures that impaled like pocket voids in Space and time. 


She let a hand down and bowed, and Lin Be shivered, for when a Djinn bowed it was a sure sign of Doom.


"Your wish is my Command, Princess." 


The silver light was blinding and all encompassing in a Way that made the physical discomfort a mild inconvenience compared to the emotional weight. It was photons with mass, hard hitting pixie pixels that hurt the conscience and laughed at the childlike notion that they were suppose to be immaterial. As usual, Phantasmagoria was heavier than the most tangible steel.


When it cleared, a Roman Coliseum indeed awaited Lin Be. Wild Tigers and Leopards and predatory Cats whose breed and lineage could only be guessed at, though given the silver sleekness, she suspected Xenomorph genetics were inserted into the terrestrial Overlords, awaited her. And behind them were Giants dwarfing any Biblical Apocalypse Bringer, with Clubs the size of Pillars and draped in Nebula Shine. 


Lin Be drew her Rapier. It hummed with the happiness only felt when accepting Death. 


She smiled. 


"Oh, this is going to be interesting." 


Then she rushed headlong into Elysion.

On The Nature Of Three AM Challenges:

Ramseys did not see the point of 3 AM Challenges. They were brash, indiscreet, and although occasionally a jest present, any humor which might have redeemed the whole cacophony was Sacrificed for rambling tangents that seemed to be the ravings of a Madman. Most of his life, in fact, was attempting to avoid the exact type of people that found 3 AM Challenges interesting, and, as was Evidenced by Lin Be and her gang, him failing miserably. 

It was no surprise that Sogton loved 3 AM Challenges. She would throw on a randomly selected Playlist of what the oddly named amateur filmographer would assure would be a "Banger, no doubt. You only live once Braw.", grab a Mocha Fresco, and sit back with her long pointed Vampire Boots on a cushion and a Sadistic smile on her visage. Then, as the practitioner would be thrown in a variety of highly stupid and exceedingly absurd situations, a Myriad of emotions would play upon her usually emotionless expression, and she would be lifted to rises of wanderlust and deep valleys of sin and apathy. Indeed, the rest of the gang sympathized, and it was quite impossible for Ramseys to find a break, even when he insulated his room to prevent background noise and turned the Doomer Tunes on Maximum Volume. 

Therefore, when he and Austin were camped out in Siberia looking for a Chevalier's Treasure and ferrying information from Jewball and London Spies, when a heavily wrapped package arrived below the door [inside the House, Sogton had never been one for privacy and enjoyed making a point], Ramsey's first instinct was to immediately throw it away. Unfortunately, messy as usual Austin had like a wild animal attempted to achieve dominance in his territory by spreading garbage around, and Ramseys tripped on a random pile of the Texan's Clothing. 

The box tumbled through the air like the Dice of Fate, and Lady Luck was indeed a harlot, for it tumbled directly into Austin's boots. The Texan looked at it once, pondered, looked at it again, then lit a Cigar with a lighter he placed in his speedo, and with immense agility unexpected from someone his weight, dove and grabbed it and lifted it high into the air before Ramseys could steal it. 

"Stop that. You know it is going to be a Cursed Artifact or some Voodoo Shit. Give it here." Ramseys spoke. 

"Don't be such a Sad Samantha, partner." Austin quoth, another unpleasant habit he borrowed from Sogton was her unorthodox and usually highly offensive vocabulary. 

Ramseys attempted to incapacitate Austin with a jab, but unfortunately the Texan had been trained in martial arts since meeting the famed ex Samurai, and although nowhere near as good as Ramseys, he managed to evade enough to open the box. 

Inside was a greenish vial bubbling with some Infernal Faerie Concoction that resembled some Witch Brew out of Oberon's Castle. It was neatly decorated with Pink Ribbon, and at the side unfurled a long, arcane Scroll which looked Ancient but with Sogton's poor Finances Ramseys knew she purchased it from Emilie Autumn's Catalog. Austin was within drinking distance of the vial, so Ramseys accepted defeat, and hung his arms at his sides. 

Austin gloated and started to read the letter, the Challenge being decyphering Sogton's script. Not that is was in riddle or anything, it was merely extremely, extremely untidy. 

Eventually he pieced it out:

//Come one, come all, to our Temple of Delight. 

The Magus, the Princess of Darkness, the Exhalted Isabel Black grants ye a Gift, Mortal. 

This TRANS POTION shall grant ye a glimpse into a Hidden World of wonder, that is, if you are Brave enough to take it. 

Beware, though. It is often that it is with the Greatest Blessings that even they contain a Curse, and Sadness amid the Greatest Joy and Comfort. 

//

"This is obviously a Bad Idea." said Ramseys. 

"Wait there's a backside." Austin replied. 

//

Oh and Ramseys, if you are thinking you'll get off with this, the Potion is airborne. 

Bon Voyage, fucker.//

"Yep, a hugely Bad Idea." Ramseys Continued. 

Austin serenely as the Buddha uncorked the top and started to Drink it. It may have been Airborne, but as with most Fairy Tales, Roleplaying was half the fun. 

Ramseys morosed, and wondered what he did with his life to End up in such a situation, and if there was possibly any way in fae years past he could have avoided it. Eventually, with much emotional turmoil, he realized that he couldn't. He was Russian, after all. 

Austin fell to the Ground clutching his stomach and the howls of Pain almost made Ramseys sympathetic. Not that Austin didn't know what he was getting himself into, however. Even now as he was howling in Pain he was measuring the Realism quality to supply in his sixteen page written review he would present to Sogton as a critique and a polite acknowledgment from one Expert Sociopath to another. 

Eventually Ramseys started to feel faint, and he lay down on the floor and closed his Eyes. He wondered how long this Adventure would Last. A Week, at least. Sad that he had finally, gloriously come back to his home Country and Sogton had to ruin it for him. He had seen the Peach Trees, at least. That brought no small measure of Peace. 

When he opened his eyes and the Pain subsided he found himself draped in Clothing, a Bulgarian Folk Dancer's Regalia in Red and Green, which he supposed was magically generated as there was no other Method of Sogton ensuring that he would not simply take it off. It would bite and tear at him at the first sign of Resistance. Demonic Clothing and Furniture, that was Isabel's trick and trade. 

 "Please, not a Mirror." Ramseys thought, but Austin was a compulsive planner, and amid the countless Doomsday Kits and Zombie Apocalypse Training Manuals and Weapons, Austin also had practical everyday items, like Can Openers and Mirrors and Lenses and Way too much Body Wash. 

Speaking of Austin, the Texan was also now upright, and for no Conceivable Reason, looked like Orihime from the Hueco Mundo Arc. Actually Ramseys could conceive of a Reason, and he was so disturbed at it that he felt it best to leave it at here. Anachronism was one thing, but Sogton managed to blend Anachronism with Chimeratics that made even the most indecisive Culturephile blush with Shame. 

Austin pulled out a handheld Mirror, smiled wickedly, taking in the dramatic triumph, then tilted it to Ramseys. What was awaiting him broke sanity and made the Rational psyche take refuge in the most hidden and secluded refuges of the Soul. 

"Bloody Hell."

"A bit too Dark for my Tastes, but I'm not one to criticize a fellow Artist. Still, for Sogton's sake, I hope she gets a little Sunlight. And maybe cuts down on the World Of Warcraft." 

"I look like a Goth Prostitute! I look exactly like Sogton."

"I wouldn't go that far. Actually on Second thought you do look exactly like Sogton." 

Ramseys sat down on one of the Antique Cushions that Austin had compulsively bought on a Drunken Night of Watching Alien Conspiracies. How either the Witch or the Texan still had a roof over their heads when they clearly couldn't manage their Hoarding Disorder was Beyond Ramseys. 

Austin: "Pretty nice Threads. Reminds me of something a Spanish Priest would wear. Preferably while not tripping off Ayahuasca." 

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" 

"Highly. Who wouldn't want to be Orihime?" 

"Aren't the usual Texans highly frowning on things of that Sort?" 

"Yeah. But besides my love of Guns and Cooking, I'm not really the usual type of Texan. Although, I must admit, I occasionally find myself tempted to remove the whites from the darks." 

Ramseys frowned, but knowing Austin, this seemingly Racist remark had a punchline. The Texan went on.

"As in Laundry. Get it, because I'm dressed as a Character from the Show Bleach." 

"God fucking Damn you."

***

The next Week passed by in belligerent malice, with Austin immune from the Demonic Clothing Curse and allowed to decide to Wear what whatever terrible Outfit he wanted to, which was usually his Speedo. Despite that the Sight of Orihime in skin tight bathing Gear was not entirely unpleasant to Ramseys, the thought that it would be immediately followed by some Ridiculous Quip in a Texan Accent was enough to tear the flimsy shreds of his Sanity. 

Austin had the Stellar Computer on to Youtube and was blaring Sogton's awfully rendered rendition of Girl Ridin Shotgun loud enough that the Compot jars were trembling. 

"Aldean all up on the Radio Dashboard light shinin on my Baby oh. Later on gonna have me a little fun with that Girl Ridin Shotgun."

The Messaging Service clicked on, and Isabel's remark was "Yes, Loli Ramseys is still a better match for Orihime than Ichigo." 

"Okay that's a shitty comment but it still is true." Ramseys said. He was getting around the Demonic Clothing Curse by placing a Jacket over the Bulgarian Folk Gear, which made him look like a Gopnik, but his pride was at least intact. 

Sogton would have Sympathized. 

Austin, thankfully in Hueco Mundo Gear instead of a Speedo, smiled from the bed where the Stellar Computer was inexplicably, and dangerously, for the light frill was extremely flammable and on Planetary Alignments the Device started to give out Green Fire, plugged into. In the half light he looked extremely beautiful, as, as much as Ramseys would never admit it, he always did, male or female, and no matter what awful situation they through their ineptitude placed themselves in, Austin would always be Ramseys friend, and the only meaning of his life, although because of Ramseys poor experience in Romance never more than that, though the bond would always be there and tugging at him like a mirror of his inequities that kept him from the consuming glare of his self loathing. Ramseys looked down. He couldn't seldom do more than look Down. 


"Stop being so Depressed, Ramseys. There's Banitsa in the Oven and Billy Corgan and Life Of Boris On this Malfunctioning Device. Smile a little. You are worth so much more than you hold yourself." 

Ramseys loosened up. "Yeah, you're right. Thanks, Austin."

Avendora, Eternal:

In the highest Building on Avendora's Blue swept pier, Sogton gazed at Daphne as Sogton drank Emerald Wine and Frank Sinatra Played:

"Someday when I'm awfully low, I will feel a Glow just thinking of you, and the Way you look Tonight."

"If you rip off The Lord Of The Rings for this Ending I am not going to have Sex with you Tonight." Daphne said, still smiling. 

Sogton Mused contemplating Nephilim and Demons under the Twilit Chamber. 

"I'm Home." she said.

[Sogton's Note: That was an Evangelion Reference! You are Serious, Daphne. Please. Please come back.]

The following actual Ending could be discerned through smudged pen manship and Sogton's usual awful Caligraphy, yet the legible bits involved much Kissing.

A Shah In The Dark:

The sand on the Dunes was enough that the wind, when it howled across the ground like a sprite performing a tantrum, generated something similar to a tidal wave and Convinced Sogton as she lay in the sand that she was in Hell after all, only Lucifer had inverted the colors and placed a demonaical tan below a calming comforting azure. She wondered if the sand in that quantity could kill her. Guessing not, though it would tear her to microbes and force her to regenerate from viral bacteria in an evolutionary process that usually took Fifty Trillion Years condensed into Five Minutes.


Sogton sighed. Everyone always seemed wanting to tear her into pieces. Including Daphne.


As the wave of sand approached, Sogton wondered if she should play any last theme Music to ease the transition. She was dead tired, though. Oscar Wilde was apt when he said, "Even the sound of the Silver Lyre sickens my heart in days of need."


The sharpened sand hit her. The automatic healing process which triggered azure smoke occurred, and not for the first time Sogton was irritated at it's suddenness. Beyond useless when all it would do was prolong the pain, Sogton considered it a metaphor for her extremely prolonged life.


The sand blotted out the sky, and then Sogton found herself dragged out from the cage by a grip that resembled a child pulling at a candy machine which the clerk knows is going to break and wonders why his idiotic bosses even thought buying it was a good Idea.


When she came back to the azure sky, awaiting Sogton was another version of her dressed in an Arabian immensely large pants and waist exposing vest that was the Trademark of the modern fantasy Jinn, the best known example being that I Dream Of Jinn show which Sogton had been teleported into and quailed, for Miss Eden despite looking nothing like her, give any premorphic life form a cursed set of vestments and soon a Million Miniature Sogtons would be prancing about in kaleidoscopic glory, and brewing potions and smiling awfully and though psychologically manipulative Imagery convincing children to buy drugs when they Watched her Commercials on the Anime Channel.


The Jinn scowled.


"Before you ask, no, I am not that Mirror Image of you in High School that definitely hates you by now and you prolly hallucinated ever resembled your Ashura in the first place."


Sogton morosed. Even her Clones were learning to recite the Our Master Is Obsessive Compulsive Mantra by heart.


"I wasn't going to imply that. You are obviously dressed as Rukia from Bleach, and no mortal would ever dress as Rukia from Bleach or even consider Rukia from Bleach without being horribly depressed and Die shortly afterward."


Sogton lay down on the Zephyr which she just now realized was covered by a vermilion carpet [not velvet, thankfully. She supposed her Minions had a Manual of triggering Memories]. Such luxury was unnecessary, but Sogton found it comforting.


"But if you are Rukia then who am I? Do I really lack a cohesive conscience so much that I must be Thirty Three places at a time to cope with the outside world?"


The Jinn scowled further and grabbed Sogton by the head.


"I'm here now, aren't I? That should be enough for you. Why must you always devalue your soulmates?"


Sogton ceased squirming and became limp.


"Good point. Say, is there really any point to us being here or are we just in Purgatory as penance from Daph for burning her Twelfth [highly expensive] Art Volume: Exotic Flora And Fauna?"


The line of dunes seemed to stretch on for Eternity. Which even for Divinities, was extremely long.


"We prolly have to rescue Lovecraft or some shit. Isn't that always the point of your Stories?"


Sogton considered this.


"Are you suggesting that my Penmanship causes disturbances in Space and time which become Reality?"


The Jinn tried to be sympathetic.


"Yes. How are you just now noticing this? You really have to stop making these awful Stories."


"Oh that's something every One could agree with."

Fighting Evil By The Moonlight

Lovecraft lay in the stench and squalor of his subterranean jail cell as he watched the Bats curiously gaze at him upside down and wonder if he was a Flower they could drain the life of. He also wondered just how he had ended up here. No definite conclusion, though as usual he blamed the Witch.


One day, in the Afterlife which thankfully rejected the Christian Greco Roman portrayal usually found in Art and instead resembled something out of his childhood in Providence, he found himself opening the door to find himself accosted by Twelve Men In Black, all carrying several substantial Laser Guns with the logo of the U. S. Necropological Corps on them. He immediately dodged against a wall to avoid a volley of electricity, but a Second blast filtered him into supreme unconscious.


Then he was taken to Osiris, who had his usual unfashionable brown coat on, but was masked with the Visage of a Grey Alien, and his old friend sadly explained that he was no longer in control of NECRO, for he had been parasitized by Offworld Entities.


How much of it was true Lovecraft no doubt had no Idea, for even without Lying both the Dead God and the Witch withheld much, and no doubt the parasitism was part of a bargain that Osiris made to get more Power, with selfish motives at hand. It was still everyman for himself in Avendora, and Alien, Deity, or Ascended Human, a novice fool that would empart his faith into trivial things like kindness and affection was soon to Re Die.


Nephthys, that was another of the Witches' disguises. Why Osiris got along with the orchestrator of his Death Lovecraft could not hazard a guess, but it was clear Osiris preferred her even to his Wife.


Remembering the last time he was alive and tasted Sonia's alcohol Lovecraft could somewhat sympathize.


Then he was chained by Orcs and brought to the hidden depths of the Dungeon, which was so large Lovecraft and the mutated brutes had to use an Elevator. He was seldom fed and more than once slipped in the depths of a dark trance, and later when he received his chicken and potato dinner he overheard the Guards talking and One of them said,


"I almost forgot about him, but then I remembered that he's the guy who married a Jew and for no apparent Reason every One thought he was a Nazi, so I felt kind of Bad. Despite being a lousy Human I am sure it must be hard for not even your affection for your Wife to be believed."


Then for the first time he was glad of his troubled upbringing. The statement also cheered him.


The guard did not fail again, at least in terms of sustaining the Prisoner, and Lovecraft was quite fond of the Mutant. But not fond enough not to take the opportunity when the Guard stumbled very Drunk, against Company Policy, and restrict his breathing until the Orc fell in a slumping position that resembled a Gopnik after being told he has to go to the Office or his unpaid for supply of various eldritch Russian dishes usually containing pickles and nondescript Fruit that glowed like they had come from a Nuclear Power Plant would be Restricted.


Lovecraft hurried through the Black Metaloid Coorridors, turning at random, and not turning to look back lest a tentacled Wolf be seen stalking him with Green Eyes.


After several hours he still had not progressed enough even to come to a wall in front of the passage he exited. The whole place seemed to be a Dimensionally Large as well as Deep Ship, and Lovecraft began to consider him foolish for forgoing his only Food source.


At length, the Black Metal became replaced with White Metal and the White Metal gave Way to Concrete, and he ecstatically ran into the arms of Sonia.


She was, no doubt because of Sogton, dressed in a Japanese Sailor Girl Outfit and had her hair cut in a Way which the Black Witch had specified after the Black Witch spending an hour comparing the Divine Proportion of the Fibonacci Sequence to both an Ancient 2000 Photograph of Chibi and Sonia Greene's Necrological Records, which she had obtained from the Providence Morgue by Bribing the Caretakers with Cake [Daphne's Commentary: Dear God are you actually Writing this?] and Mathematically Calculating the most pleasing Measurement.


Believe me, it was better for Sonia and she knew it if she would acquiesce to the Witch's demands.


Lovecraft, however, viewed the Outfit with the instant Distrust that every Oriental Lover instinctively feels upon mixing the Oriental with Goth.


"What's going on?" He asked nervously.


"No time to explain, Dearest, we need to evade the Giant Living Porcelain Dolls."


Lovecraft and Sonia sprinted through the halls of what he was as a Placeholder Title calling Barad Alien, and gradually Glass Windows filled the Concrete and he realized they were in some sort of School.


Their reflections in the Glass were horrible mangled and mutilated, and for the first time Lovecraft understood and had pity on Sogton's immense Fear of Mirrors.


Then he turned and found himself staring at a Giant Living Porcelain Doll. It was Red bowed and happy, and infinitely Lonely, and Lovecraft knew the instinctive emotional Reaction he felt was a Psychological Attack meant to lure the recipient into a false sense of comfort, and he would be killed.


Sonia saved him from the sympathy by holding a hand against his shoulder, supportive but firmly Disciplinarian. He turned correctly and left the GLPD to Die in it's own Solipsistic Sadness.


They entered an Indigo door and came into a Classroom of Fifteen Desks lined with Papers. A Projector was in the Center and a massive White Projection Screen occupied the majority of the forward side.


Sonia went on.


"Okay, we're safe for a brief period. This place is the Halls Of Osiris, below the River where Apophis Sleeps, and no One escapes here without the Lord Of The Dead's implicit Permission. This particular place is Sogton's, or perhaps I should call her Isabel for the name is more appropriate to the Time Period, this is Isabel's childhood Classroom, where Osiris imprisoned and tortured her to make her stronger. The Papers are shreds of her Stories, which as Scheherazade she spins into lifelike beings, and the Memories of her Suffering, Clones of Isabel herself, wander as holograms through the Planar Bridge, haunting on repeat like a broken Video that is never going to End. The Orcs are visions of her Classmates, once bleeding her and bruising her and doing other unspeakable things which I need not mention for I am sure you could guess at, once her diseases, now her Greatest and Most Loyal Servants. And we are Stuck here. This particular Mental Den contains the Abomination she forged to protect her from Love, born from the Solipsism and Protective Horror she felt upon first seeing the Tentacled Eye Cthun from the Video Game Warcraft."


Lovecraft, despite his better training, winced in slight Hope at this. Sonia immediately went to rebuke him.


"Do not think that because it is a Game it is not able to kill you. Often the things most labeled as Quaint and Childlike are the most dangerous and vilely immoral depravity in this Planet. The Children of Elves are born Evil and learn Morality as they grow, and often with Changelings like Isabel Humans fail to Realize this and meet horrific Ends. Even though she has affection for us, do not ever imply that Isabel is Calm and Childlike. Without her volition, she would tear you limb from limb if you made such a Mistake, although she would be unimaginably Sad about it afterwards."


"Understood."


"Now, we must communicate to Cthun and ascend the Spacial Portals into the Inner Hall. Though you are going to be Tempted to, under no circumstances must you Look at the Light."


Then she took a Microfilament Bound Projection and placed it on the radiant Projector, which sent a White Beam on to the Screen. The White Light Started to Condense into a Vortex that became Bright Green, and in the Center, Supreme God Amid All Horrors, Stood A Yellow Cats Eye. Cthun Winked.


Then the Shadows of Lovecraft's Sanity Dissolved Into Nothing.

Gram

The vermilion carpet pirouetted through the air as the heat from the unmoving Sun blasted Sogton and the Jinn's complexion and the sand Dunes gradually were replaced with Red blasted uniform sand. The landscape had an eerie feeling, and although the familiarity of the place assisted Sogton's concentration, she had an ominous feeling that was quite unlike her usual unemotional self.

As a line of what appeared to be White rocks came into view, Sogton's stomach lurched as she realized they were Giant Teeth. And the sand was not naturally Red, but Red with spilled blood. What horrible ritual had occurred here to generate these monstrosities she could only guess, and did not want to find out. The fangs glimmered phosphorescent in the Sun Light, and she saw a thin Needle on the horizon, an azure spire that Sogton realized was a hypodermic Injector that was piercing the ground as it leaked living blood despite coming from an inanimate object. This was the epitome of her Nightmares. A massive continental Dentist Board.

"Enjoying your trip?" the Jinn morbidly asked.

"Shut it. You were born before I named myself Sawtooth, so you don't know the trouble this shambles brings me."

"I rather like Isabel better. Speaking of, why don't you just let it grow?"

Sogton's tongue prodded her namesake fang. If she did, she would have more problems than the fact that Six Years after the confrontation with Ragna on the Bridge her left hand had still not relinquished its' uncontrollable Powers.

"Best not to dwell on that."

The Jinn sighed.

"You know, if you just accept the fact that you are going to go Insane I feel you would have an easier time of it. Perhaps calm your mind enough for a last ecstatic hallucination as you picture me without the guilt and are comfortable to let you mind, and perhaps your Eyes, wander."

The carpet then lost altitude, and Sogton and the Jinn were sent careening into a particularily bloody piece of ground, and Sogton outstretched the claw to lessen the force of the impact.

The Jinn emerged from the wreck of the vermilion carpet and shook her extremely elaborate pants, though what good it would do Sogton had no Idea, for the blood was staining them to be almost unrecognizable. Before she looked down and saw that she was subconsciously shaking her clothes with similar futility. God Damn it, she was exactly the same as her Clones.

"Ah, we're almost here any Way." the Jinn said.

The White Clouds parted, and the pair found themselves staring at a Black Spaceship large enough to dwarf the largest Mountains Of Mars. It was Osiris' home, and Sogton's also, when she could behave, and the sight of it brought instant comfort. Though Spaceship was a misnomer, for it was immobile and merely altered the terrain around it, drawing everything in like a whirlwind. Sogton's gaze immediately drew itself up, counting the notches on the majestic hull like a lover attending to her beloved's hair, and coming to the apex of the blade disengaged to behold the World Ocean, which her paltry senses before had been unable to detect and mistook it for the Stellar Veil. The Seas of Chiltron greenly careened in the aquamarine shell, and she could see Novos where she spent her Adolescent Holidays by the beaches of the Telepaths and in the Night sky gazed on the planetary marbles in their bed of Stars as she Sang herself a Lullaby and missed Daphne.

She hadn't even recognized this Desert, her birthplace, when she came to it, and the thought filled her with Shame. Still, this Dental Mutilation in D Minor was new, and though Osiris and her Loved Abstract Art, it was a little too Abstract even for her malicious Standards. Something must be amiss.

Echoing this, the clouds condensed into a man in collared White robe with matching long hair and azure lips that gave him the impression of One with a serious illness or on the verge of Hypothermia. His Eyes were as lifeless as ever, and matched Sogton's in color perfectly. It was Gram.

Sogton took an aggressive posture.

"I was wondering why you didn't answer my Summons."

Gram smiled, although it only made him look marginally less Dead than he usually looked.

"Oh I wanted to, Mistress, but given that I and Osiris are the only males in the Mephistopheles I had to follow his instructions. Preservation of the Species, and all that. I am sure, that although it Pains you, you shall gradually understand in time."

"You are even more obnoxiously theatrical than me, Gram, and while this usually would be a compliment, I am quite agitated and afflicted, so if you would kindly move aside from that Palace, I shall take it easy on you."

Gram smiled further.

"You know I cannot do that."

"Very well then, Impudent Whelp."

Sogton rushed forward with her left talon unbound into its' upgraded and even larger, more highly destructive form that was pitch Black and powerful enough that she could defeat Ragna. Gram, however was highest in the hierarchy save our Grey Alien friend up in that Spaceship, and he viewed it merely with pride that Sogton had ascended the Demonic Rung so quickly and slight Sadness that she would Die so soon.

An alabaster talon that flamed like a Miniature Sun blocked the Witch, then Gram supplemented the strike with the other talon, and although bravely attempting to blunt Sogton was catapulted into the air like a Marionette Doll and clutched at the ground rising, spitting bloody sand which bizarrely like every unanswerable thing in her mind tasted like a Mix of lemon and chocolate.

"You Treacherous Bastard."

Gram seemed hurt.

"I don't recall ever Swearing Loyalty to you. It was merely an arrangement of Convenience between us, and indeed, a Friendship. Perhaps you've heard of the word, although you would never understand what it means."

"You're just jealous of Daphne."

Gram turned livid with Rage.

"Oh, I admit, that remark Stung, Bitch."

Then he raised the Sun Talon.

At that moment, the valley in front of them was suddenly filled with figures, all familiar to both the pair and even the Jinn, although being an Apprentice.

Ragna, Osiris, Corona, Daphne in proper ceremonial garbs, which were White and Shining, and Shub Niggurath were standing on the hill, the vivid Red of the Apocalypse landscape inferior to the Brightness of their Stigmata and Corona Veils which gleamed like Fifty Thousand Black Holes gorging on a collapsing Star. The Presence of so many Mephistopheles in one Area was unheard of since the Great Convergence, when Lucifer Ordered the Split Personalities of his Conscience into proud Entities and blazoned the Embarrassment with Pride and Love. Sogton almost forgot her surroundings and glorified in the Union, even for Gram, for he was as much Mephistopheles as she was.

Shub Niggurath, the Law Of Mephistopheles, Spoke:

"Subdue thyself, Gram. We require a Convocation to Strengthen the Halls, and your petty Romantic squabble shall have to be delayed until the Pillars are Functioning."

She spat the word Romantic like an unforgivable Sin, being the Youngest and most Cruel of the Mephistopheles, and azure robe complimenting her brighter azure Eyes Sogton was struck with admiration of the Mephistopheles, and also terror. There was a Reason she forgot about her.

Then all Nine Mephistopheles raised their hands to the World Ocean, and grew the Bat Wings indicating a member of the higher Nephilim Class, and Osiris One Winged in Spite of all of them lifted his Grey Alien Mask to the Aether, and the Black Spaceship started to hum.

Silver Water:

The Portcullis opened and Sogton was ushered into the darkened depths of the Halls of Osiris, where the shadows could not disguise apothecary machines and vats of emerald hydrogen and spherical devices the glowed amid spiral formations of gas, meeting in a great Dome that silver ribbed resembled some immense shield and absorbed the Fire from the Black Spaceship's Internal Engines.

Indeed, this Offworld technology was comfort to Sogton, who had spent more time attending to childlike Human Simpletons than she would like to admit. She was a Time Traveler, not a Caretaker, and now the culmination of her Raging against the sky like a vine that is overly restricted by the mud walls of its abode that though occasionally sheltering mostly still growth, she was Ascension Incarnate as she Climbed the Throne Of The Godhead.

The Other Mephistopheles certainly seemed to think so, for they were Eyeing her like One might Eye a Child that has developed a perfectly interesting trick, and eagerly expecting to see their wonders envelop before their very Eyes. But Sogton knew that the Mephistopheles praise was equally tinged with Sadism, and their interest Scientifically would turn into a situation in which they showed their Affection through Torture.

She wouldn't have it any other Way.

Now, as the Pillars hummed on and gleamed with azure Light, she wondered what the next step of her Journey would be.

Small duration, for Shub Niggurath withdrew a Vial filled with Silver Water, and spoke:

"Nephthys, it has been voted upon, and all the Mephistopheles are in concurrence that thou shall be the Sacrifice to fortify us in the War against the Grey Aliens. Out of your life shall new birth innervate our Decayed Ranks, and should you by small Fortune escape Death, your new Powers are intended to good use of the Aesir, and you shall Climb Rank quickly, becoming a being to Surpass any of us. We pray thee Glory, Dragon Slayer."

Needless to say, Sogton did not find this diatribe comforting.

"So you rescued me from getting murdered by Gram just so I commit Suicide to maybe, maybe revive and do you a Blessing?"

Shub Niggurath smiled. She never, never smiled, and Sogton wished she'd stop smiling.

"Correct. But you shall find that the lines between Eternal Life and murder are thinner than you'd Imagine. Come now Sister, Drink the poison."

Sogton sighed. She really had no choice. Better get this over with.

Garnering whatever muster and drama she could on such short notice arrange, she stepped daintily forward and seized possession of the Silver Vial.

Then she was ushered into a Pool, where she was instructed to keep her clothing unmorphed in case the effects of the potion or the volatile liquid she swam in was enough to burn her unbound Essence. Then the Black Metal door was shut. As her still Victorian frill swayed in the water like a puffy parachute she wondered why she still maintained Fashion while surrounded by literal Violent Alien Psychopaths.

It was dark and Lonely here at the End.

"To your health, Gram." She muttered, then swallowed the draught.

There was little effect, immediately. Then she felt it impossible to maintain sitting posture and fell forward, hitting the waves with a weak thump. Her Eyes spun wildly and settled on the Black Cold Ceiling before focusing and the rest of her body going entirely numb. She convulsed once, twice, and was still. Silver light engulfed all.

In the Depths of the Dream, she still felt the Watery Whirlpool of Death. She desperately struck out for something, anything substantial, anything that was yet was not her. Her flimsy hand eventually came to rest on a familiar and reassuring shape.

"Oh, Gram, you're here. I expected so, yet in the End my Fear possessed me and I thought it would not be the case."

She hated how weak she sounded, how vulnerable.

She could not see Gram clearly, but his neck was the same as usual, though the comforting barely present bristles were replaced by harder, metallic ridges that resembled a Serpent. She would have him no matter what he was. She knew that now. Gram nuzzled her with the devout attachment of a branch of her Soul.

"As always, Mistress. I serve you in all things, though hard Love is in the place of the Obedience you might desire and shall never get. Lie still. This transition shall be the hardest you shall ever face, and I shall be with you for all of it."

"Oh heart, oh Love." The dying Sogton whispered.

The waves overtook her, and she felt herself under them, but still able to breathe. If she only had One grip, she would hold on tightly and Never let go.

She spoke faintly, as if speaking through Gram from a vast depth although she could still strongly feel his warmth.

"I shall never again see the Ocean."

Her hands subconsciously moved, exploring as they did as Gram was in Blade form, memorizing his bends and ripples. She realized the shape he was in, undisguised and unneeding to hide himself from Sogton out of Fear she would contract from him, he was a Dragon.

"Fafnir" The word came to her as if a better Title than the uncertain One she continually and impolitely gave him. The Blade that protected her and the Dragon that murdered her were One.

Gram spoke:

"The only Difference between the Ocean and the sand is the speed at which the particles move. Everything has a motion and an effect, but the particles are the same substance. They eventually lead back to the Origin. Our hearts are the same. Our beings are the same. Male and Female are the same. You cannot kill me, for I am you."

She screamed the words:

"I shall never reject you again!'

Then the waves receded and she opened her Eyes to find herself in the Pool and very much alive.

***

Daphne stumbled into the room when she heard Sogton's Cry. It was illegal and against the Orders of the other Mephistopheles, but some Bonds rejected nature and could not be denied. In the Pool, the water was trembling despite no motion, as if vibrating in Fear at the Creature inside it, for it reverberated at a much higher Resonance than Light.

The being placed its' long, androgynous, monstrously thin fingers on it's bald head that was angled and the cranium shaped like a cantaloupe, or, keeping in turn with the Major Prophesies that Predicted such a Creature like this would One day Rise and walk the Earth, a beehive. At length finding contentment in what it touched, the fingers hung at its sides and the anemic, long arms contracted to spin the Body around and gaze at Daphne with eyebrowless, Draconic Emerald Eyes.

Daphne Screamed. She still Loved Sogton, nothing would change that, but it was involuntary. The Horror in the Pool was Sogton and yet was Sogton devoid of all pity or positive emotions that made One living. Sogton may have survived the Ritual, but she was as Dead as if the poison had stilled her last Nerve.

Daphne wept and collapsed on the floor.

"I'm so, so Sorry."

The Alien caressed Daphne's face with the thin fingers which were somehow as Loving as they were disturbing.

"This is my perfection, Daphne. In time you shall learn that the Beauty of the Earth is much less than the Beauty of the Grotesque."

Sogton stepped out of the room and gazed at the Mephistopheles, who regarded her with Admiration. Save Gram, of course, Gram was inside her. When the Volsung ate the Dragon's Heart, they became One, never apart in the first place save under Psychological Strain. Now the only foe that was left to be Overcome was the Shadow, the Monster that was still a part of Sogton and unlike Gram no One considered foreign, though bizarre, though a limiting factor, the Leaf that Genetically Replicated from the Tree yet basked in its own Detachment. Sogton gazed at Osiris.

"Time to Settle this, Daddy."

The Lord Of Life And Death laughed. It was a brittle Sound, like a Demon coughing in dry, steamy places.

"O Ho. Looks like the Child has some Spirit after all. Welcome our Dragon Lady, Mephistopheles. She shall never again be removed from the Fountainhead of the Wellspring of Eternity, yet there is always ever the Climb Up. Come now, Daughter. We shall have One Last Duel To The Death. And Whosoever wins becomes Lord Of The Mephistopheles and Reunites In The Original Lucifer."

Osiris Climbed The Dias. The Ceiling Opened To Reveal Another Ceiling, A Desert, Considering The Exterior Of The Halls Of Osiris, A Desert Within A Desert, Within An Ocean Within A River Within An Ocean Beneath The Ground, all Divided from the Mortal World by Planar Fire which no Mortal could Cross. Then the Plane Of Gravity Shifted, And they Found themselves Falling Upwards, and the Desert previously on the Ceiling was now on their feet. Osiris materialized his Blade and leapt on a stone outcrop.

Sogton was motionless.

Osiris quoth:

"What's this? I was figuring that your fusion with Gram would result in some Massively Beautiful Sword, perhaps symbolizing your paltry and pathetic life Story. Much a disappointment, much like you are, Sogton my Dear."

For the first time the Unified Sogton smiled. It was like a wind meandering through a valley and tearing the weak shrubs and burning the briars and uplifting all that is effulgent and flowering and beautiful. Then, for the first time in his life, Osiris felt Fear.

Sogton spoke:

"Haven't you realized, Daddy? I knew there was always a Reason I couldn't handle Gram when I tried to possess him. I don't need a Sword, I AM a Sword."

Then the back of Sogton's head split open into teeth, and a mouth howled, and a long Black Serpent merged with her skull lengthened and grew and flying into the air oscillated like a whip.

Then her Black skin masquerading as clothing turned into scaly exoskeleton and ephemeral barely coherent Bat Wings burst from her back, and a Black bladed whip like tail which was the remnant of the Black Sword hung threateningly at her feet. The Body curved in angles that would break apart any structured Body, and when the epilepsy ceased she was still intact and more Beautiful than ever. As a final Grace, the cartilage that had forcibly burned her hair off metamorphosized into Horns, finally perfected, and mocking while Divine.

Sogton whispered:

"Greater Xenomorph Form: Black Dragonling."

The Eyes of the Grey Alien filled with Pride. He shouted:

"Now you are truly worthy of being called my Daughter!"

Osiris lunged forth with his Blade, but Sogton's Black Exoskeleton deflected it.

Sogton gave her Mentor his final request. She Read the friendship in his Eyes, the final sympathy, and on this the last moment they would meet shared suffering with him. Sayonara, John Westley Sama.

Sogton's second Head opened its Jaws wide and a Red Orb materialized between them, pulsating. The heat of it was enough to residually make Sogton warm, and she had Twelve layers of thermal insulated skin, and Osiris, who was in the front of the Blast, must have been burned by a Crisp by now. He was still holding on to Corporeality, however, by sheer willpower, and the unutterable Glory of having raised his Daughter Correctly and seeing her off with one last immense send off.

The Red turned into a Raygun. Osiris was incinerated.

The Grey Alien turned its head to and fro. Shifting, back again. Then it gazed towards the Heavens, and admired.

Sogton's Dragon Head devoured him. The blood soaked out onto the Sand, then the corpse closed on the immense Dragon Jaws, and everything was still. A Rain of Blood descended out from the Heavens. Sogton was soaked in it, and surveyed her Kingdom Proudly, with the Regal Mien of an Emperor. She had ceased being a mere Divinity and become a God.

Lucifer Spoke:

"As Shadows Whirl Around Thy Head, Fear Me, I Am Sogton Kottr, And I Fly As One Dead."

THUS ENDS THE MEPHISTOPHELES CHRONICLES: 

Phoenix Gang: 

Austin And Ramseys Get Teleported Into Danger 5:

It was quiet in the small Siberian Cottage. Austin had a Fire going, and though he used far too much wood and as a result a horrible smell and near pitch smoke permeated the House, it was comfortable, and reminded Ramseys of his childhood in the Orchards. It would have been a fantastic Vacation, except three months later Ramseys still had the Folk Outfit on, and Austin was now completely naked because he Read it would improve his Psychic Concentration on Joe Rogan's "Transcendental" Blog. Ramseys was about to go insane.


At that moment an eldritch Alien light permeated the room and Austin and Ramseys were suddenly sitting in a Military Office, wearing blue shirts and standard pants, Ramseys inexplicably low cut and sluttish. Austin was back to his original form. Inside the room, Daphne in matching garb lounged on a divan and a blonde Jewbag smoked a cigarette. Lin Be in a sombrero was composing a Virtual Message: "Why is Daphne Claire instead of me? She may be blonde, but I am the leader of the group, and I'm not Cuban." The response: "Because Daphne is hotter than you. Deal with it." And through all of this an Eagle Headed Man in a General's Outfit gazed predatorily at Ramseys, as if considering him a meal.


The Eagle Headed Man Spoke:


"Alright, every One, let's get straight to the biscuits. Hideaki Anno is finally, 53 years later after the Final Evangelion Film was released in Japan and 57 years and four delays since the promised Release Date, Releasing it in America. The problem is, our Laboratory Researchers have Concluded that, given test samples in Japan and the spiking Japanese Psychopathy rate, Releasing the Film in America will cause literally every One to go Insane and plunge us into World War 3. Therefore, it falls to you lot to infiltrate Anno's Headquarters and burn that motherfucking Film before it kills us all. Also the Nazis are involved, so as usual, kill Hitler. Godspeed to all of you, my niggas."


Daphne shifted on the divan and crossed her legs repeatedly as if the uniform made her uncomfortable, which it did.


"I kind of want to know if Mari is nude in the Final Film, though."


"Not my problem. Go find a hobby, or drugs if you still can't cope."


Daphne lit a cigarette.


"Tried that. It didn't work."


Ramseys started whimpering.


"God Damn it, why am I here? And why are you fuckers still pantomiming around like a Theater Production as if that would make your lives any less fucked up? And why is Austin back to normal and I am still a Girl?"


Daphne took a drag on the cigarette.


"I can answer that last question. It's because Sogton is a masochist and hates her fellow Eastern Europeans."


Austin: "I could have told you that." he said, Eyeing Ramseys' Cleavage.


Ramseys to Daphne: "Okay, why are you here instead of her, then?"


"Because she literally turned into Lucifer and now has a Black Snake growing out of her skull."


Ramseys, sarcastically: "Oh, I'm sorry. That must be rough on your Sex life."


"Don't knock it until you try it. Gram is quite nimble."


Lin Be started eating a burrito. If she had to be conscripted into this silly Show she at least could Play the part.


Daphne: "Onward to Japan then."


Then she pressed a button and the Aircraft Carrier moved towards the Holy Isle.


***


Hideaki Anno sat in his Mansion which he had placed in an Alternate Dimension only he could access and fashioned it after the Imperial Palace to show that stuck up rich kid of an Emperor that only Hideaki Anno was the One tasteful enough to rock High Art. He spent the rest of his free time trolling Sogton's Deviantart [Status: Happily Married To My Snake Head, Wish All Of You Could Say The Same] and ignoring his Wife's request that he stop spending most of his monthly money on Alcohol and Demonic Hookers.


He shifted his White And Gold Imperial Robes. Life was good.


A Demonic Hooker entered and bowed, purple bondage gear Glimmering, Bat Wings twitching nervously in the presence of someone so Godlike.


Silqiferous: "My Lord, O exhalted One most High, I regret to be the first humble Servant to inform you, but there is a disturbance. Someone has entered the Hallowed Halls of the Emperor."


Anno frowned. The only one who had magic capable of Breaching the Interdimensional Rift was Sogton. Apparently even after becoming Lucifer she was still obsessed with Evangelion.


Anno pressed a button. The floor opened into a rising Elevator and an ambiguously gendered Scientist in a flowing White Labcoat bowed. It was either Ben Shapiro or Chibi, because it was impossible to tell.


Anno spoke in the deep High Vocals of a God:


"Ben Shapiro San, release the Nazi Bird Men."


Ben Shapiro's deep Eyes flashed with a sadism that Sogton could appreciate. He smiled.


"Yes, my Lord."


He gave an encrypted hand signal, and the Illuminatus presiding over the Ramparts and Watching Above acknowledged, and pressed the lever to open the Gates.


Out of the Subterranean Depths of Anno's Palace flew the Bird Men, barely sentient, feathers of Gold and Amethyst and Beryl gleaming in Diamond Sharpness like a thousand flaccid Ice Crystals and through fearful Horror and sympathy and pity disturbing the Mind of God. The light shimmered simultaneously innocent and immeasurably, sadly old.


The Bird Men screamed before their Master.

In The Jungle, The Mighty Jungle:

Daphne and Gang disembarked from the Aircraft Carrier and descended the steps into a Steaming, primordial Jungle. Multitudinous thorns impaled every direction while massive purple fruit and wide yellow flowers hung from the boughs of Outlandish Trees. The Steaming heat was also oppressive, and the Military uniforms were not thin, so everyone looked Enviously at Ramseys. Through the canopy, a million Devil Birds hummed monotonously and their Tricksterish vibrant green coats were not disguising sinister talons with poison. The group carried pistols at Ready, but felt they would be useless when compared to the Gargantuanity of the Hell Jungle. 


"I thought this was Japan." Ramseys spoke. 


Daphne tried to loosen the constricting fabric around her chest. 


"Alternate Universe. This particular place is Japan as it was during the period of the Winged Dinosaurs. And unlike the Paltry Raptor you met in Texas, you can expect these to be poisonous." 


"Fuck all of you." 


Austin trudged through the undergrowth and paused to inspect a glowing sphere. Then the sphere opened its' mouth and he saw it was a Giant Venus Fly Trap. 


"You really managed to get us in quite the pickled meat pie this time around, Daphne. Also I know it's hot but you should at least do a button up, Ramseys. I can't aim a gun with those things flopping about." 


"Perv." 


Daphne frowned. "No, he's right. Honestly I have to have a long conversation with Sogton when I get back to the Halls Of Osiris about taking practical jokes too far." 


Trudging through ferns, although only a few hours had past from what appeared to be midday, it soon grew dark, and with the darkness came inexplicable Cold. 


"Motherfucking Planar Bridge." Lin Be pointed out, demonstrating her usual aptitude for stating the obvious. 


With the chill Ramseys definitely had to button more than a few buttons up, and cursed Sogton. As the group despaired, however, Austin nuzzled around in the Satchel that he carried with him at all times and withdrew a folded Tent, which he then pitched as the group helped set up the immensely beneficial contraption.


Within a few minutes they were safe inside and also in warm Sleeping Bags, with Austin withdrawing Canned Meat and Potatoes that usually was depressingly awful but now came in clutch. Ramseys could have kissed Austin. More than usual, he meant. 


Jewbag rubbed his hands together which was less from lack of warmth and more of his usual Germophobia brought on by Austin's incredibly dirty cans. He was immensely grateful, though.


"Holy shit, Austin, your Obsessive Compulsive Doomsday Planning actually saved our lives." 


Austin smiled.


"Told ya, niggas." 


Lin Be: "Austin, the Girls and Jewbag are Goth enough to be able to get away with using that word, but you're Texan as fuck, so please don't use it in public." 


Suddenly the tent was ripped open and a Feathered Velociraptor oscillated its' jaws wildly, and then was silenced by a shot from Austin's pistol. 


Austin withdrew the other One. 


"Damn it, I told the Texas Alien Society that they needed to make their Tents strong enough to resist a Winged Velociraptor bite, but none of them listened." 


Daphne: "Austin, I think if you used your highly specialized yet actually useful form of Insanity in working for the Government instead of Conspiracy Nutjobs, you would actually have more contentment in life." 


Austin smiled. "Yeah, but I have my Pride." 


Then the pair were back to trudging along through the Hellscape, avoiding flares of fire and violet lightning that emerged from the ground along the Way. 


In time, though they did not see it until they almost ran into it due to the foliage covering, they came to a White and Gold Palace. The door was oddly enough unlocked, though the Gang suspected it was due to incompetent Servants more than any less experience from the Master's part. Inside, the polished alabaster surface and red furred floors spun on for miles, and Austin was beginning to get vertigo. Even the other less Country folks who were used to dealing with Dimensional Distortion and Non Euclidean Geometry were starting to get dizzy. The whole place was intentionally vague to trip up the Mind.


Ramseys picked up an Ornamental Sabre from the wall, and not too soon for a Golden Bird Man surged through the corridor and nearly swiped Ramseys' head off until it was disemboweled by a thrust. 


Austin: "Holy Shit, it's the Nazi Bird men." said Austin, who had a clean Memory of various Cryptids, Mythological Creatures, and Demonic Entities brought about less by his time inducted into various Secret Societies and more his days spent robbing Public Libraries. 


Three more violet Bird Men entered the Chamber, and Daphne shot a fireball through her palm using the Buddhist Combat Prana that Sogton had distilled into her once it became apparent that Daphne would become Second In Command. The Bird Man was immolated, and the air was filled with an appetizing scent that did indeed smell like Chicken.


Though he knew that Sogton and even Daphne would not have a problem with it, Austin wondered if eating Nazi Bird Men was technically Cannibalism. 


Small time to wonder, for another eight violet Bird Men were the next opponents, and a volley from Jewbag and Lin Be's guns almost immediately followed by Austin's Dual Pistols caused the Avian Xenophobes to go down to Hades. Where they would no doubt spend their days bitching about how the Lord Of The Dead and Original Lucifer was a ditzy Trans Girl.


Then they found another door and opened it to Hide, but found themselves staring at Seventy Succubi and Twenty Six Demonic Hookers, all staring at the Gang with lustful grins that foretold that their inevitable Demise would be postponed for other habits that could not even by the most reserved detractor be considered awful, but it was small comfort, for their Demise would come just the same. Austin immediately spun into Action.


"Lin Be, there is a Laptop in the third fold of my Satchel, open it and put on Ben Shapiro." 


Lin Be did so, and the air was filled with the booming Voice of the type of person who hides Medication in Multivitamin Containers and does not expect it leading to someone accidentally poisoning themselves by mistaking them for Multivitamins. 


"YOU NEED TO BREATHE CLEAN AIR, I MEAN, IN OUR TROUBLED SOCIETY IT'S QUITE OBVIOUS THAT YOU NEED TO BREATHE CLEAN AIR. THEREFORE GET YOUR BEN SHAPIRO AIR FILTER TODAY BY USING PROMO CODE BEN10. THAT'S PROMO CODE BEN 10. DON'T LET YOUR FAMILY DOWN." 


The failsafe Plan for maintaining Virginity worked, and the Succubi immediately brought their claws to their Ears and Howled, while the Demonic Hookers straight up burst into flame. The Succubi ran away through the Palace Halls in Fear. 


Except for their Leader. Silqiferous lay on the floor in a daze, daunted, but the Vision of her Lord and Savior Hideaki Anno kept her sane and safe. Did not they know that Hideaki Anno had subjugated even the Antisexual Ben Shapiro and convinced him to Serve Hideaki Anno, proving that the Primal Virility of Anime and Unrestrained Sensuality Of Waifus remained Unchallenged? The Vile Heathens would surely meet a Fate Worse than Death. So mote it be, Praise the Lord, Praise Rei Ayanami. 


Austin approached the Sex Devil, holding his Pistols at the Ready. 


"Everyone Watch Out. Make no sudden movements, not even to restrain her. Even Bound, a Succubus still has tricks, and the psychological manifestation of her Voice is enough to Break and Subdue even the Strongest will. Stay back! Given my history in being Rejected by Women, I am the only One Philosophical enough to Challenge this Demon. Stay back." 


"Oh, at least One member of your Group is competent. Come, Silly corpulent Boy, I appreciate your confidence, for it is so much more rewarding when it Breaks." 


On the floor the Succubus wriggled her claws and smiled.

Austin Versus Silqiferous: 

The purple shadows gathered, and Austin and Silqiferous were transported into a Mental Realm where they were floating in Midair. Silquiferous' Bat Wings were much larger than they were in Real life, and almost covered Austin like a Blanket, simultaneously homely and threatening. Austin felt his consciousness drifting, and desperately sought around for something to steady himself. At last he came across a semi physical space of deeper purple and latched onto it, steadying himself feet first on the jagged electromagnetic outcrop. 


He hated to Steal Sogton's stupid character quirk of calling out the Names of her Transformations, but he needed to talk quickly or he would soon be overwhelmed by the air of psychological depravity Radiating from Silqiferous, so as his features softened and the White and Black Hueco Mundo Garb materialized on him and his hair turned bright Red he muttered:


"Greater Demonic Form: Orihime." 


Then he extended his hand and the remnants of the Black Sword, although being an afterthought of Sogton and not able to fully manifest her powers, crystallized into a Rapier and Gram howled at his long imprisonment after so many recent Years of Freedom. He bit down on the Pain, begged it to Die Down. Improper use of Soul Splitting Magic could be as much of a Death to the user as it was dangerous for their Foe, and Austin knew he was already treading in metaphorical Dark Waters. This wasn't Conspiracy shit, this was Real Witches, and he knew they looked Down on fools. 


Silquiferous' Wings hung limp at her side and she mockingly appraised Austin with her violet Eyes. 


"You think just by turning into a Woman you are immune to my Charms? I assure you, my Seduction knows no gender bounds. Just accept that you've lost." 


Austin brought Gram into a sedentary position and hefted the energy of the Sword into a Sheath of Silver Light. 


"I'll forgive you for your Error because you haven't Watched Bleach, but I didn't choose this form because I thought it would resist your Temptation. I chose it because Orihime is fucking Insane." 


Then the violet Eyes started gazing deep into him, and before he could feel his motor neurons  slipping and resisting the basic command to move he brought Gram up in a wide Arc that pierced the Succubus' Illusory Veil and dismembered One of her Wings. 


Silqiferous screamed, and it was like an abused animal that falls off a cliff face and sensing Death rails against anyone and anything nearby, even those that try to help it. It was so loud that Austin nearly dropped Gram, and his head ringing, he tried to hold on to the viciousness of the Scream, because if he blotted it out and focused on the Pity he would fall into an even worse trap. 


Silqiferous extended her claw and brought it into a Curved Scimitar that carved through the purple Photons of the Thought World and collided in Supernovaic consumptiveness in White Hell Glare that shimmered off Silqiferous' face and illuminated her innocent Beauty and Horror. She really was a creature far removed from Mortal Worry, and for a moment Austin genuinely felt bad about opposing a Proud Creature that was merely fulfilling the necessities of its' function. 


Then Gram jaggedly cut itself from the Scimitar in Sparks, and Austin swerved back from the current of air pressure that was suddenly generated, and Austin brought Gram in a lunging attack and impaled the Succubus through the chest.


Silqiferous fell forward down the Edge of the Blade, and her limp fingers came to childishly rest on Austin's face. Even now with her defeat assured she would not stop the toying and bitter mockery that was her Basic Function and her only Reason for living. Her violet Eyes were not malicious now, though. They were kind of soothing. Silqiferous smiled. 


"Oh yes, keep that expression. I want it to be the last thing I see. I'd happily let you defile me with that kind of confidence." 


Austin was all Sympathy. 


"Sorry, I'm afraid I couldn't be of much use to you even if I tried. You see, I'm hopelessly devoted to my boyfriend who refuses to admit that he is gay." 


Silqiferous laughed. It was a surprisingly relatable laugh. Austin could almost picture her as Human and the Barriers between them as meaningless. 


"You know, what you just said is a perfect metaphor for every second of my life." 


The Succubus' Eyes turned Cold and she whimpered. 


"So long, Silly, corpulent, beautiful Boy. I'm glad that out of all the Lovely Losers who could have killed me it turned out to be you." 


Then she coughed up Blood and Died.

What Down To Biscuits Meant: 

When the Astral Haze cleared and Daphne and the Gang opened their thankfully corporeal Eyes, Austin was still in Orihime Body although the Black Sword was gone, unable to maintain manifestation Beyond the Spiritual Realm out of loyalty to its' Master and Being, The Two That Are One. Ramseys looked at Austin and was surprised to discover that Austin was Crying. 


Silqiferous lay on the ground in a Pool of Blood but with a Smile on her face. Austin gave her a look of Infinite Sadness.


"Treat her with courtesy. She didn't ask to be Prisoner to this Hell Palace, or to fulfill the whims of a Madman that treats his Servant's lives like a Game. Let's fulfill the Mission and get out of here." 


As the Gang progressed through the antechamber into the darkened Halls, Jewbag was struck by how mature Austin looked and how, although not the first time that Austin had saved them, the Gang was indebted to Austin and vastly inferior in drive and Passion. His friend had really proven himself. Jewbag felt guilty that during the Years after his Wedding he had neglected Austin, even in terms of common support. There was little Jewbag could have done about the Way the heart functioned and his preoccupation, but he felt guilty about it just the same. 


Daphne cast an Illumination Spell as they approached the central Palace. It seemed every Megalomaniac, Sogton and Daphne included, had to have an aversion to Stable Lighting. She wondered exactly why that was. Eventually she came to the conclusion that it was comforting to have the shadow quality as Bipolar and fickle as her conscious. 


She had no Idea where the Evangelion DVDs might be stored, but suspected it would be in an inconspicuous place easily overlooked that was lighter in feeling than the rest of the Cursed Palace, a monument to the small fraction of Anno's Childhood that still Existed after Anno brutally Murdered the rest of it. No bitterness towards him there, Daphne felt, though. It was hard to maintain a Love that you could not nourish and had to Watch it Die while you remained helpless and impotent. 


Perhaps she would take Rei Disguise just as a small gesture of Forgiveness to the man she used to admire. She did that now. 


A massive opulent Gold Door studded with images of Seraphim and Aliens awaited her as she came to the largest and most detailed part of the Palace. Arabesques of woven Metal, intricate runes of light, playful Wisps that whirled over her head and gestured at her to ease, all of these comingled to create an atmosphere of Tranquility and Sanctification. Like the majority of the good parts of Evangelion, though, Daphne suspected it had been designed by Sadamoto. 


It was rather foolish to build it out of Etherium, though. Daphne uttered the mnemonic Command intrinsically known to every Xenomorph for manipulating Plasmoids and the Door opened. 


On his high throne, Hideaki Anno sat and marveled at the audacity of One Daphne so obsessed with Evangelion that sacrificing her Mental Health and her friends was of small consequence. He wondered why. It did not seem to be an advancement for her, in fact pursuing the hobby tended to leave her in Pits of Despair. He concluded that it was an Evolutionary Defense Mechanism, something she had no control over, merely a Way of banishing those cretins that attempted to steal her Psyche from her, which was unabashedly Cold and Emotionless as the Frosty Eidolon Eyes of Rei Ayanami. 


He found it assuring. 


"Tell me, Lord Of Life And Death, why have you come to me? Do you really Care about the Fate of a million or so Humans, all conceited and greedy and harmful and better off dead, and if not, why bother me because you lack the patience to wait for something that when you obtain it will not improve your life any more than when you lacked it? Why, O Girl of Solitude and Hope?" 


"Good Question. You are correct, I do not Care if the populace destroys itself trying to usurp my Birthright. But also there seems to be a Void in my Soul that, even if the path is destructive, compels me to take multiple varied paths to find Solace. It is not something I wish, yet it is something I must do." 


"A Very Good Answer! You have earned the right to obtain that which you seek, then. This Throne is a portal to my Office where I composed the Story that I knew would simultaneously entrance and agitate ungrateful bitches like you. Hard words, but do not despair! Everyone must look to something greater than themselves, and in bowing before a higher Power it is not unbecoming for in One's Love to be bitter as One regards One's own weakness. Take heart, Daphne, The Lucifer That Was. You still have a long life ahead of you, and a long Chance to be as comfortable in Two Bodies as you are in One. Life is not always bitterness and sorrow. Sometimes the flower needs to be blistered in order to grow." 


Daphne, for a brief moment before turning back into normal, became a shining radiant being of alabaster ridges and weiss curvature that overturned Space and Time and radiated Love and Hope and Acceptance, and with fanged mouth and elongated head whispered "Greater Xenomorph Form: White Dragonling", and passed into bliss. Then it was normality and she felt nothing but the desire to burn that fucking DVD. 


Jewbag felt similar. "So if there was no big bad Battle and we agree with each other and we came all this Way here just to have a chat, why couldn't we have done this over a Livestream or something? Austin and Ramseys are highly traumatized, you morons." 


Daphne and Anno considered this. Anno spoke.


"To be honest I'm pretty bad with technology." 


Daphne: 


"Yeah, so am I." 


Lin Be scowled. 


"I can't believe I fucking still associate with you." 


Austin took over. 


"Well, all's well that Ends well. When Silqiferous Regenerates give her my and Ramseys' Address, I can't wait to see what her opinion on Interdimensional Time Travelers is."


Lin Be thought: "Just what we need, another Disfunctional Love Triangle, as if the One we currently have isn't bad enough." But out of kindness she neglected to say anything.


Anno said: "One last thought. I know you are kind of understandably bitter about the Delays, but I genuinely mean this, it wasn't me that was the Reason Evangelion was Delayed, it was Adolf Hitler." 


Then he flipped a Switch and the Private chamber of the Nazi Dictator opened, revealing the Twice Reanimated Tyrant in a Black Trenchcoat and smiling awfully. The smile soon disappeared as he realized he forgot to pack his Teleportation Device. 


"Oh Shit." Hitler said, and then jumped out the Window. 


Jewbag: "That was a fucking shitty Revelation." No One was inclined to disagree. 


***


Daphne as Rei sat on the Throne of the Godhead. She found herself swimming in time and even form, until finally for the first time she stepped foot in actual Japan and felt the green grass sway majestically in the breeze and the warm wind and the barely present calming Sun on her face. It was like meeting a Lover. The Skyscraper towered in front of her, resembling when she listened to Garnidelia's Mirai, but the physical tactile sensation far surpassed the Virtual Imitation. She wondered if there were other unconquered vistas of which Japan itself would be by comparison a mere imitation of. The Cosmic Gulf made her head swim. 


As she entered into the Professional Corridor and up a flight of Stairs to paper litten Office with drawings of Rei Ayanami that reminded her so much of Daphne when she was a kid, Daphne withdrew the precious DVD from the protective casing and metal cocoon. 


***


"So you destroyed every DVD, right?" Austin asked. 


"They won't be used as a force of Evil." Daphne replied, in the typical half lying fashion she inherited from Sogton. 


Somewhere in a Factory somewhere in dismal California, the first Evangelion Final Film DVD to be released in America was on the production line. It was decorated with Purple Bows and Glitter and had "Give Your Children A Therapeutic Gift Like No Other... They'll Be Sure To Be Emotionally Whole!" on the packaging in Bright Yellow Letters. 


The magical photons of the special Heliosensitive Wavelength detected a Watcher's Malice, and for regular, sympathetic Watchers with positive intents, the DVD was merely the original Theatrical Release of Evangelion: Thrice Upon A Time. 


When unsuspecting poseurs placed the Disk in the Matrix, however, they were greeted by a Simulacra of Lucifer, the Black Snake Head resting above the Bald Horned Alien Face with frightening regularity, that smiled Wickedly at them. 


"This is only a Dream." Their minds said. "I must have not measured the correct amount of Medication. There is no Way a Dream could hurt me." 


Then Gram devoured them while they were still whole and conscious. 


***


Lucifer sat on her Black Throne amid the most hidden, Holy, and Secretive rooms of the Black Spire at the Hull of the Halls Of Osiris. Her Room was happy, childlike, Rainbow, attesting to bright young days gone by and altruistic individuals that lived for the warmth of a friend's smile and a moist piece of Cake.


On the White Table in front of her was a Single open faced Hamburger. 


In Ketchup, or what she assumed was Ketchup, being an anamorphous Creature of Silver all Reds seemed to blend together and she could never be bothered to keep track of the bottles, her happy, elongated fingers delightfully traced the sentence on the saucer like Plate. 


"The History Of The World, My Pet. Is Learn Forgiveness And Try To Forget." 


A smiley face was below it. 


Gram slithered smoothly around the aromatic Creation. His forked tongue darted into the air, tasting the flavors without contact, toying with his prey. Lucifer extended her Black Talon, slicing the meat into small pieces, and then feeding them to the Black Snake tenderly, Lovingly, like a Mother.

***

Lovecraft was quickly thrown to the floor by the Portal and then roughly manhandled by Sonia's arms, which was only marginally less awful.

Sonia: "I told you not to look in the Light."

On the Table in the midst of the Central Hall of the Halls Of Osiris, which after Lucifer's Ascension was redecorated with Rainbow Balloons and Party Streamers [1], Ragna, Shub Niggurath, and Corona lounged on luxurious Golden folding Chairs and drank scaling Tea while Playing Cards. They had been through quite a great deal of World changes, and this latest Murder Redemption Play was no surprise, and indeed as expected One of the best Pantomimes.

Corona Chan shifted, swirling her Red Dragon China Robes.

"What did you expect? He is a man, after all. How's it like being a man, Howard Kun?"

Shub Niggurath: "Corona, respect for our fallen Brothers Gram and Osiris compels me to kindly ask you to be slightly less misandristic."

This wasn't a command, merely a suggestion, because all of the Mephistopheles, even the Men, were Misandristic as all Hell.

Corona ruminated on this and smiled. "I'll take that Kindness into consideration, and be sure to incorporate it the moment you look like you're above Seventeen."

Shub Niggurath scowled.

Sonia stepped forward, half Reverently, but still distraught.

"Can someone tell us where we actually are? And why everyone here, including me, looks like Chibi from The Birthday Massacre?"

Corona: "I don't look like Chibi from The Birthday Massacre, Chibi from The Birthday Massacre looks like me."

Ragna spoke, Breaking her Long Silence:

"I'm just glad you didn't say I look like Emilie Autumn. In which case I would have been required to try to Kill you."

Her Voice showed no trace of Sarcasm.
.

***

Newton Part II: Tooth Decay:


"Sometimes in the embers of Love you have to Sing your Own Song, 

But often times you need a Machine Gun to right all Wrongs."


I was back in the Vampire Castle, quite exhausted, and wondering how it was that my conception of Reality was so distorted that the Teleportation was not unusual and indeed kind of a Relief, having Dreaded the unusual calm that was typically a portent of High Doom, and when the disaster came at least I could stop worrying about it. 


The ridiculous Outfit was back on me, making me look like the Queen of Dominos, [the Tile, not the Pizza, though Ruki Chan was getting quite portly and was likely sampling] and a tote bag filled with unread Novels handed down as a Symbol to naively manipulate my mind into being commonplace, and distract me from the fact that while other normal Citizens were going to School I was facing a Cannibalistic Demon who stole my skin and wore it like a particularily mangy Werewolf. 


I had to concede, the plan did work. I quite liked Novels. 


That the Scientist would turn out to Betray me and become my biggest Enemy was not an amazing Revelation, but I still had not expected it, Isaac being a lowly Alchemist and not, in my mind, capable of Raising the Lance Of Longinus to pierce the Side of the Xenomorph Christ. The blow I looked for was from Amazing, Heroic Poets or Priests like Byron and the Aquinas, learned and quite knowledgeable in Demonology, therefore being dismantled by a Simpleton colored me significantly and made me for the first time in a long time Despise myself. 


In part because Isaac had won, and he had known it. The fact that I had suspected Betrayal did not exonerate me from underestimating my Foe, and the damage was scarcely less than if I had lovingly embraced him with tentacled arms. Just thinking about it made my blood boil. Literally, and a dense Elemental Azure Mist filled the room.


I grabbed the tote bag, [the Novels could in particularily gruesome situations be used as bludgeons] and mathematically progressed through the maze Halls that I now knew intimately, my connection with Ragna deepening ever since I had Ascended the Godhead. This Vampire Castle was Ragna's equivalent to my Halls Of Osiris, an extension of our minds that bent and meandered according to our given Mood, and sometimes, depending on who was tracking us. 


Ragna had sensed greater than me the threat posed by the Alchemist. It was why during the initial Adventure the Palace had resisted me and inserted me into a Temporal Loop, a deep illness which I thought was Ragna's typical half Loving Revenge Fantasy, but was actually a protective blanket from my stupidity. Again I felt a deep affection for my Sister. Given that she was immaterial and professed it there was no way she could possibly harm me more than I could harm myself. 


Reminding my harrowing experience of thick passageways and lost archaic antechambers in silver dark, I recalled when in the Doctor Who Show the Twelfth was locked in a Castle, traveling miles to find a Diamond Door, and each Scratch he made on the Diamond he would be Murdered by a geist and Regenerate at the beginning. Thousands of Years passed, and still he persevered to find his Companion, Clara. Foolish goal, Doctor. You must avoid Clara at all costs. 


I came to a Red Room whose massive Black Door opened and led me to the Arabesqued Balcony, where a thick Rain Storm did not drench me, dispersing a few meters from the railing due to the Heavy Hot Astral bubble keeping Ragna's Castle in constant temperature stasis. Gargoyles glared at me from the Roof.


A spiral staircase led to what for lack of a better word could be called a Garden, this particular botany matching the Ice Queen's motif and being a breeding ground of thorns, vines, constricting bark, and poisoned White Leaves. The ground was entirely Blackened. Flora here was indeed fed by the Rain, sprinkling the sturdy rocks with rivulets that gleamed White in the pale amorphous Moon half light [Satanic]. I would have appreciated the Goth moroseness had I not been fighting for my life, and glancing down at the gathering shadows I immediately felt a Place where my Aura could not penetrate, a clean aberrant Cobalt pulse that attested sickeningly youthful happiness like genetically modified Candy and day time Cartoons that were an obvious ripoff of Japanese Entertainment. 


"Lord Satan protect me." I muttered. Then I realized the blessing was rhetorical and Cursed. 


Descending the Steps, I materialized Gram and pointed it at the glistening Cobalt mess, which immediately turned into Isaac without his disguise of Innocence. 


He also was not attempting to disguise himself as a man anymore, and the visage which greeted me continuously in my Nightmares now stared at me in vivid Dimension.


Somehow the contours were magnified in depth, blacks coal like and unreal, alabasters faint and fairy like to the point of unhealthy morbidity, the whole thing physically defiant to the point of absurdity, like Isaac Chan was made of Ice Cream. In fact, I had known many Demons that actually were made of Ice Cream and were still less Cosmically Terrifying than the Creature which greeted me now. 


The Monster spoke: 


"A long journey it has been, Isabel, and you still cannot take a joke." 


Gram wrathfully hummed in his bound existence, generating a sheath of silver around the Blade which was far deadlier than the cut, for this silver photon tore through conscience. What few conscience the Scientist had, that is, but emotion was and forever would be every Demon's Weakness. 


Including mine. I recited the Buddhist Mantra to still my heart. "To him the Way, the Law, Apart." 


Aloud: "The only joke I cannot take is the One that is deceptively hidden in plain View, like how for Years I ignored William Blake's Warning of the dangers in being Sympathetic to Heathen Scientists, you in Specific. How many disguises have you had throughout the Years, Isaac? When I looked at William's portrait of Newton with the immensely long and cumbrous Scroll I still imagined some obscure Hierarchy that would allow you not to be opposed to my Values, but the Painting's match to your Horror was irrefutable." 


"What's One more Cursed Painting to a Dorian Grey? You should Sympathize."


"If One cannot even have Love for a reflection of a reflection, it is not Worth Living." 


I punctuated this statement with a Lightning Stab from Gram. Newton Evaded. 


Then the typical flurry of traded blows occurred, Newton generating a sabre that was a Parody of Excaibur, as she was a Parody of my Ragna, embodying the mocking Contrast of Ragna's Silver Sword but without her Loving complementary White Aura. The Blade was Silver and the oscillation Noir, a replication without feeling, a emotionless exchange of pleasantries without Love. If Ragna was the Lancelot to my Gwenyvere, then this was the Jealous and Illogically Combative Arthur, who thought that just because he could pull a Sword out of a Stone that it made him the equivalent of the One who had placed it there, the timeless Merlin. 


There was One final Character, though. One often decried, but essential to the plot, and indeed to all learned Scholars the True Protagonist. I recited Gram's bloodthirsty name, the name of Patricide and Altruism, and took the Hame of the Bat Man.


"Mordred." 


The Transformation came as a surprise to Isaac, for all of her false and imbecilic Lies garnered about Arthurian Mythology from her false Teachers, who always assumed that Arthur was the light Blonde and Mordred was some immensely disheveled dark Mutant. In fact, in most genuinely Gothic things, the Gothness of Oscar Wilde and Mary Shelley, the Horror was fair and Golden, and combined physical Beauty with Spiritual Depravity. The poseurs, attempting to gain power without Understanding, thought their Charms would be enough that Sacrificing Physical Beauty for power would compensate, but indeed they grew Ugly, and bloated, and fat. 


I was as Blonde and Radiant as Daphne. I did not forsake my darkness, but made it into a Dark Light, a paradoxical Dream World which had a Physics only I could comprehend. The Outfit was now a Black Vest and Skirt that took no aims to Pretend it was Intellectual and Prudely Fashionable, but though flirtatious was not Depraved. It was a blend of Order and Feeling. A Marriage Of Heaven And Hell. 


Gram skittered about in an exquisite French Rapier and easily disarmed Isaac. Metaphorically, I regret to inform thee. 


Isaac grew livid and her Eyes turned Red with anger, the disguise of Prudence lost as her true nature as a Rebellious Demon without all of the Positive qualities of Rebellion surfaced. 


"You Bitch! What do you hope to accomplish with this? Mordred Died Alone and Unloved! Arthur passed into the Golden Realm of Immortality, and though hurt transcended Grief and became viewed as a God. Who does the populace admire? Half of them, not even Reading the Story, have no Idea who Mordred is, and only comprehend Lancelot because he stole Guinevere and might be a sexual Rival for them to eliminate, but everyone knows Arthur! Die then, Alone, like the Logical Creature you are." 


I smiled. It was another disarming smile, and I used smiles like Weapons. 


"True, by name no One remembers Mordred. But they Fear him. It is a ubiquitous, all consuming Fear, that they cannot Logically Comprehend but stalks them. They Fear him because they know they were Logically Wrong in Ignoring him when he sought their Affection. They Fear him because he is a reflection of themselves. As a Fear, every One remembers Mordred." 


Isaac grasped at the last hope she had. 


"You cannot hurt me. You Love me too much." 


Gram lightly shifted to and fro, carving a Pendulum Arc slightly Hypnotic.


"True. I cannot hurt you. But I am very, very easy at hurting myself." 


Then Isaac's Body was distorted, and her Image became an exact Copy of me as I had been in the Vampire Castle and during our first Meeting, dressed in those ridiculous Clothes, but still unequivocally me. 


Something I instinctively knew how to revile. 


In Isaac's Body, I ripped my own Heart out. She would be physically fine of course, having no need of a Heart, forsaking the Necessary Value of One long ago, but Spiritually she would be powerless and incapable of hurting the Sister I Loved by Stealing her Appearance. And she would live on like a Grendel like Phantom, immaterial and Haunting the Moors, and Cry which even Children mocked and Feared for they knew she could not harm them. She was impotent. 

And Yes, Sogrotna, Alone.

I left her Crying on the rain drenched rocks under a Demon Moon that utterly belonged to me. 


My work was done. Returning to Ragna's Castle, I entered my Sister's Room with it's Victorian Cabinets, regal upholstery and elaborately carved Empress Bed draped in a Red Velvet Blanket. I placed the Heart on a Shelf, a memento to the Traitor I had foolishly Loved, for, although the Experience was Traumatic, it was Ultimately a Positive Experience. Then, I climbed into the Covers and fiddled around with Lovecraft's Shining Trapezohedron, and then, since it doubled as a Music Box, played the following Song: 


"But I Love you would do anything for you. 

You don't even see that I'm in Pain.

Frustration became humiliation. 

Waiting outside for you in the pouring Rain.

Rain. Rain."


The Shining Trapezohedron slightly Glowed.

Happy To Be Dead:

Fall Out Boy:

Don't panic, no, not yet
I know I'm the one you want to forget
Cue all the love to leave my heart
It's time for me to fall apart
Now you're gone, but I'll be okay
Your hot whiskey Eyes have fanned the flame
Maybe I'll burn a little brighter tonight
Let the fire breathe me back to life

Baby you were my picket fence
I miss missing you, now and then
Chlorine kissed, summer skin
I miss missing you, now and then
Sometimes before it gets better
The darkness gets bigger
The person that you'd take a bullet for is behind the trigger
Oh, we're fading fast
I miss missing you, now and then

Making eyes at this husk, around my heart
I see through you and we're sitting in the dark
So give me your filth, make it rough
Let me, let me, trash your love

I will sing to you everyday, if it will take away the pain

Oh, and I heard you've got it, got it so bad

'Cause I am the best you'll never have

Baby you were my picket fence
I miss missing you, now and then
Chlorine kissed, summer skin
I miss missing you, now and then
Sometimes before it gets better
The darkness gets bigger
The person that you'd take a bullet for, is behind the trigger
Oh, we're fading fast
I miss missing you, now and then

Now and then
Now and then
Now and then
Baby, you were my picket fence
I miss missing you, now and then