Aleister had seen his share of bad years. But this one was particularly bad. He sat at his desk, the wood worn bare from centuries of use. He adjusted his spectacles as he examined the leaves of parchment, and shook his head. He lifted the black glass bottle to his lips and took a swig, and puckered as he set it down slowly. He turned the bottle to examine the label. "Ach. A Suicide. 1832. A very bad year." He shook his head as he held the bottle to his chest. "Lean times, mein sad friend. Tavern fare. Mein stocks are low...zee Dolls...zee Ogres...zee Reanimator...ein more year like zis und I vill have to hunt..."
He was unaccustomed to the silence. Normally his servants would keep his clocks wound for him. But to do it himself would mean less time caring for what little stock he had left. Was that the buzzing of wings his preternatural senses heard?
A knock. He most definitely heard a knock. It continued in an uneven pattern. Yes, it was yet another Ereb'ai ritual. Begging forgiveness of the local Lord for a necessary intrusion. Did his descendant come to quibble with him over the quality of the last cask? Or was it about the lost drone? He grumbled as he shuffled across the hall to flip open and unhook dozens of locks. None of his ornithopters would ever veer off course..
It was a blue lobster. Most unexpected. He recognized the ring of the Sommelier immediately. His bloodshot eyes grew wide as he gazed at the sapling in the beast's claw.
"Beg paahdon, Suhr," croaked the demon. "Boot thees tree does need a beet mauhr wharmth..."
"ACH! Come in! Quickly!" He hurriedly gestured the demon to enter and slammed the door behind him and latching the largest bolt. "It is rare to meet a fellow connoisseur! Und here you haff a whole tree! Am I correct in assumink you vish me to kepp zis in a safe place for you?" He rubbed his nose having caught the scent of the crustacean's blue ichor, which was as palatable to any vampiric creature as, say, turpentine.
The crustacean gave a few slight bows, being as close as it could do to nodding without a neck. "Gut Suhr, as you know, zee entire stockpile of zee Midas is lost..." Aleister nodded sadly. The whole Northern reach of Winterfell was now littered with shattered casks, bottles and half-obliterated dolls. "Save feur zees tree, und zees bottle of zee Obsidian King's Special Reserve!" The demon reached into his apron with his free claw and drew out a blood-red bottle with a gilded seal and parchment glowing with runes wrapped around the cork.
Aleister covered his mouth in amazement. "Zee First Press!"
"Indeed Suhr. Zees are zee remains of my life's vork...Zees tree is like mah child..." His antannae began to flail as he held back a long whimper.
Gently, Aleister wrapped a his pale hand around the trunk of the sapling under the claw. "Of course, mein Herr, I vill treat zis vit zee utmost care! Und zis prized bottle.." He extracted the bottle from the demon's grip. He felt a tingle in his arm as he realized that the bottle's seal was made from a human soul. "Zees vill bring zee tree to full bloom! Vee shall recover zee art of Bloodwine fermentation from extinction! Together vee vill..."
The lobster's prodigious waist rotated from side to side in an approximation of shaking his head NO. "Mah work ees done...save for an errand at behest of zee late Blootvink himzelf!"
Aleister bowed in a sweeping motion, setting the First Press on the floor as he did so. "Herr Sommelier! Hyu are a demon of great honor und dedication! Hyu haff mein eternal respect!"
The blue-shelled one bowed in return. "Before ah take mah leave, hwould you bee so kahnd ahz to pwoint mee zee way to Schteelhead?"
He felt the excruciating crunch of silver and steel between the joints in his carapace. The man in black with the facial hair who had claimed to be the Sheriff gloated at him as he fell to the ground and his shell cracked further under the weight of his boot. He was dangling the amulet over his eyestalks, laughing maniacally at his failure. He took one last sigh and his world went black.
Tuesday, September 9
Monday, September 8
we are the children of the night - we want your blood
I received an urgent summons from Kira, that she had been bitten by a nefarious Cato Quan. I packed my medicine bag with two of the aether-dart guns I had used in New Babbage and all the Reanimation Serum I had synthesized following the my peace agreement with Aleister. While en route by ornithopter, I remotely reprogrammed one of the flying drones I had built to scoop up the bloodwine cask Aleister had prepared and left at the appointed area. Had he been there waiting for the drone I am sure he would have wondered why it changed course for Illyria instead of towards the tavern in Laudanum.
By the time I reached the Duchess Kira on her island, the vampirism had taken hold. She was clearly struggling with her bloodlust, and her will was starting to crumble. I suggested she use her shapeshifting skills to turn into "something not undead."
A dangerous move in retrospect. Her first shift was into a Blood Doll form. Without a circulatory system the innoculation gun was useless on her. I pleaded with her to change into something else. In desperation I summoned the new Regent. The light she emmanated gave me a clearer view of this island of eternal night and it sent Kira screaming to the cover of a tree. From there I saw her shadow enlarge into something far more dangerous.
I fired an entire "clip" of aether-darts at the Bast dragon. Her scales only dispersed the aether waves, dissapating the serum into a harmless mist. I adjusted my transmitter to the Baron's frequency and called for backup. As I waited for his dirigible to arrive I could tell by the sudden change in wind currents that Kira was preparing a sandstorm blast. To protect Lumina, I ran out of the range of her protective aura. I barely had time to slip my pilot's mask back on before the sand tore at my clothing and sent me tumbling end over end.
As I struggled to my feet I felt the monstrous tail slap against my midsection. I felt my ribs crack, and passed out momentarily. I woke at the sound of the Baron yelling "Red Fire!" My memories immediately afterwards are hazy, but I do rmember the Baron armed with a crossbow and armored for heavy combat. We heard the drone overhead and watched as the barrel of bloodwine floated down by parachute to the ground.
She turned back into neko form, sniffing the cask dubiously. I slipped the Baron my spare innoculator as we tried to reason with her. She let down her guard as I explained how I was very nearly able to cure Koen's vampirism, and that I had now perfected the therapy. The Baron took the opportunity to fire an entire load of serum into Kira. As she struggled to maintain her balance, I fired another full dose at point-blank range.
The Baron and I monitored her carefully as her undead physiology collapsed and her tissues resumed the work of living organisms. This had been a very risky venture. But the fact that we arrived immediately after her bite meant that her body was still ready to resume living again.
Considering how close we were to Aleister's hidden lair I could not help but wonder if he was involved in this crisis. True, the cask was at the appointed time and place. But did the vampire lure Cato to his lair? Or was that foolish Minion trying to steal the cask for his own profit and ran into the former Regent, or even a rogue Doll that survived the fall from the Midas?
Koen, I am sure, will have another chat with him. In the meantime we must all be on guard against Cato, and find out who else he may have bitten. We must check up on Miss Alter and Cato's gumbo kitchen in Taloo.
UPDATES: Cato has apparently sought forgiveness for his attack on the Duchess and received it. He claims the lady who Embraced him was not in Winterfell. Further, Aleister has sent a letter vehemently denying any involvement in this matter:
"I am not the only hidden noble in the Realm of Eternal Night."
By the time I reached the Duchess Kira on her island, the vampirism had taken hold. She was clearly struggling with her bloodlust, and her will was starting to crumble. I suggested she use her shapeshifting skills to turn into "something not undead."
A dangerous move in retrospect. Her first shift was into a Blood Doll form. Without a circulatory system the innoculation gun was useless on her. I pleaded with her to change into something else. In desperation I summoned the new Regent. The light she emmanated gave me a clearer view of this island of eternal night and it sent Kira screaming to the cover of a tree. From there I saw her shadow enlarge into something far more dangerous.
I fired an entire "clip" of aether-darts at the Bast dragon. Her scales only dispersed the aether waves, dissapating the serum into a harmless mist. I adjusted my transmitter to the Baron's frequency and called for backup. As I waited for his dirigible to arrive I could tell by the sudden change in wind currents that Kira was preparing a sandstorm blast. To protect Lumina, I ran out of the range of her protective aura. I barely had time to slip my pilot's mask back on before the sand tore at my clothing and sent me tumbling end over end.
As I struggled to my feet I felt the monstrous tail slap against my midsection. I felt my ribs crack, and passed out momentarily. I woke at the sound of the Baron yelling "Red Fire!" My memories immediately afterwards are hazy, but I do rmember the Baron armed with a crossbow and armored for heavy combat. We heard the drone overhead and watched as the barrel of bloodwine floated down by parachute to the ground.
She turned back into neko form, sniffing the cask dubiously. I slipped the Baron my spare innoculator as we tried to reason with her. She let down her guard as I explained how I was very nearly able to cure Koen's vampirism, and that I had now perfected the therapy. The Baron took the opportunity to fire an entire load of serum into Kira. As she struggled to maintain her balance, I fired another full dose at point-blank range.
The Baron and I monitored her carefully as her undead physiology collapsed and her tissues resumed the work of living organisms. This had been a very risky venture. But the fact that we arrived immediately after her bite meant that her body was still ready to resume living again.
Considering how close we were to Aleister's hidden lair I could not help but wonder if he was involved in this crisis. True, the cask was at the appointed time and place. But did the vampire lure Cato to his lair? Or was that foolish Minion trying to steal the cask for his own profit and ran into the former Regent, or even a rogue Doll that survived the fall from the Midas?
Koen, I am sure, will have another chat with him. In the meantime we must all be on guard against Cato, and find out who else he may have bitten. We must check up on Miss Alter and Cato's gumbo kitchen in Taloo.
UPDATES: Cato has apparently sought forgiveness for his attack on the Duchess and received it. He claims the lady who Embraced him was not in Winterfell. Further, Aleister has sent a letter vehemently denying any involvement in this matter:
"I am not the only hidden noble in the Realm of Eternal Night."
Sunday, September 7
Orbit - n.
1. the curved path, usually elliptical, described by a planet, satellite, spaceship, etc., around a celestial body, as the sun.
2. the usual course of one's life or range of one's activities.
3. the sphere of power or influence, as of a nation or person: a small nation in the Russian orbit.
It is the second definition I write about in this instance. Last evening I met a new arrival from Europa that was the center of the orbit of other beings known as Geisterdamen, yet she had no understanding of why this was so and urgently wished for a solution.
So devoid of freewill are they that they can't choose a flavor of ice cream without consulting her first.
My son Ash has been drawn closer into the orbit of Baron Wulfenbach. At a recent meeting he was appointed Liason to Steeltopia.
I am proud of him. He is an excellent choice. He is always direct in his dealings. The hidden temptations that Humans deal with every day are simply beyond his understanding, making him all but incorruptible. He is only beginning to understand concepts such as subtext and sarcasm, so any messages between rulers will be delivered without the distortion of personal interpretation.
Then there is my daughter Gematria. Her orbit has broken free of the vampire Aleister, yet she remains in Winterfell. Her orbit has stabilized. She has a reliable source of nourishment that no longer involves hunting live prey. As Hostess and Bartender she has become literally the Doll of Novem. She gets the most interesting customers.
EH? What's this? An emergency transmission? *sigh* I'll continue later.
2. the usual course of one's life or range of one's activities.
3. the sphere of power or influence, as of a nation or person: a small nation in the Russian orbit.
It is the second definition I write about in this instance. Last evening I met a new arrival from Europa that was the center of the orbit of other beings known as Geisterdamen, yet she had no understanding of why this was so and urgently wished for a solution.
So devoid of freewill are they that they can't choose a flavor of ice cream without consulting her first.
My son Ash has been drawn closer into the orbit of Baron Wulfenbach. At a recent meeting he was appointed Liason to Steeltopia.
I am proud of him. He is an excellent choice. He is always direct in his dealings. The hidden temptations that Humans deal with every day are simply beyond his understanding, making him all but incorruptible. He is only beginning to understand concepts such as subtext and sarcasm, so any messages between rulers will be delivered without the distortion of personal interpretation.
Then there is my daughter Gematria. Her orbit has broken free of the vampire Aleister, yet she remains in Winterfell. Her orbit has stabilized. She has a reliable source of nourishment that no longer involves hunting live prey. As Hostess and Bartender she has become literally the Doll of Novem. She gets the most interesting customers.
EH? What's this? An emergency transmission? *sigh* I'll continue later.
Friday, September 5
putting away the dolls
Ash and I wound our way to the lowest deck where the Sommelier guarded the Bloodwine casks and the source tree itself. As we came closer we heard laughter and screams. We discerned movement behind the glassteel wall that was stained with dark red.
I can only compare the revelry of the writhing silhouettes to the descriptions of the Bacchae. All propriety and decorum were abandoned as they wrestled each other over unstopped casks, construct or no, these Dolls were in full vampiric Frenzy. I found a small section of glass not splattered with translucent spirits. And peered inside. All I can tell you is I am glad I was no longer in the mind of a child!
It the far corner of the madness there was a still blue shape. The Sommelier. Even now he stood with calm and dignity as his life's work was ravaged before his eyestalks. In one of his claws he held a sapling by the trunk. The roots were carefully wrapped in canvas and rope. The fabric was stained that unavoidable crimson. He turned slightly to look straight at me, and bowed. He clenched his other claw on a nearby lever. He shouted three last words. "FOR THE FOUNDER!"
I recoiled in fright as a face of half-exposed clockwork drenched in red and wild, shredded hair slammed her face against my view through the glass and hissed, baring her fangs at me.
There was another lurch in the ship that was already dead in the air and starting to list. And suddenly, they were gone.
The glassteel wall immediately frosted over.
"He opened the airlock," Ash said. "He jettisoned the Dolls and the entire stock, as well as himself." Ash stood straight and gave a Wulfenbach salute.
"Martyred like a true Bloodwing," I said bitterly.
"And indeed, so shall you BOTH be!"
Marcus stood in the entrance to the hallway, blocking passage back to the rest of the ship. He had aged as well, and torn away the bishoen uniform. His chest was bare. His brown hair trailed down past his shoulders. An orb of flame began to curl around his fist, that illuminated the rage carved into his face. I looked back at the airlock to the winery. We were easily a mile higher than when Ash had his fortunate landing. Now our only escape was a straight drop - without wings - to our doom!
I can only compare the revelry of the writhing silhouettes to the descriptions of the Bacchae. All propriety and decorum were abandoned as they wrestled each other over unstopped casks, construct or no, these Dolls were in full vampiric Frenzy. I found a small section of glass not splattered with translucent spirits. And peered inside. All I can tell you is I am glad I was no longer in the mind of a child!
It the far corner of the madness there was a still blue shape. The Sommelier. Even now he stood with calm and dignity as his life's work was ravaged before his eyestalks. In one of his claws he held a sapling by the trunk. The roots were carefully wrapped in canvas and rope. The fabric was stained that unavoidable crimson. He turned slightly to look straight at me, and bowed. He clenched his other claw on a nearby lever. He shouted three last words. "FOR THE FOUNDER!"
I recoiled in fright as a face of half-exposed clockwork drenched in red and wild, shredded hair slammed her face against my view through the glass and hissed, baring her fangs at me.
There was another lurch in the ship that was already dead in the air and starting to list. And suddenly, they were gone.
The glassteel wall immediately frosted over.
"He opened the airlock," Ash said. "He jettisoned the Dolls and the entire stock, as well as himself." Ash stood straight and gave a Wulfenbach salute.
"Martyred like a true Bloodwing," I said bitterly.
"And indeed, so shall you BOTH be!"
Marcus stood in the entrance to the hallway, blocking passage back to the rest of the ship. He had aged as well, and torn away the bishoen uniform. His chest was bare. His brown hair trailed down past his shoulders. An orb of flame began to curl around his fist, that illuminated the rage carved into his face. I looked back at the airlock to the winery. We were easily a mile higher than when Ash had his fortunate landing. Now our only escape was a straight drop - without wings - to our doom!
Thursday, September 4
The Wake - a postscript
A hundred thousand Thank-Yous to Baron Wulfenbach for transcribing the happenings at the wake. I show my appreciation to Mrs. Kelley as well for providing music before and during the gathering. Much thanks to AliceWendy Bookmite, Lulu Seetan, and MissLily Nightfire for letting the Mason clan use the Novem facilities for this event. And especially my thanks to all who came to show their respects or sent their condolences. It was a fitting remembrance for a being that walked a fine line between Good and Evil for millenia, but finished by making the greatest sacrifice of all.
~Darien and the Mason Family
~Darien and the Mason Family
Wednesday, September 3
The Wake
Bloodwing shall be remembered tonight at a gathering at Port Novem at Winterfell Laudanum at 8pm SLT. AliceWendy Bookmite has volunteered to be the Funeral Director. Please be so kind as to forward any pictures of Bloodwing (in any of his incarnations) you may have to her for presentation. You may wish to share any amusing stories you have of him on a notecard as well. Members of the Mason family will be present to receive condolences. We will also officially announce the selection of the new Founder.
There will be an after-party next door at the residence of MissLily Nightfire.
~DM
There will be an after-party next door at the residence of MissLily Nightfire.
~DM
Tuesday, September 2
The Death of Bloodwing
*BEGIN TRANSMISSION*
In the dilation of Singularity I have delayed my demise ad absurdium. My reign of New Erebus has involved pleading and bargaining with the Fates and being assaulted with one revelation after another.
The Fates do not lie. My true Father was the Titan, Prometheus. My very reason for existence was kept hidden from me. A need so compelling that Hades raised me as his own with full knowledge that I could never inherit his Kingdom, yet still he poisoned me so I would pass among gods and demons as his kin.
Even now I hear Hades cursing at me as New Erebus burns like a jade sun over his domain. He sends every beast with wings to destroy me, but they are burned to dust as Wormwood looms closer. I was never meant to seize my Father's throne. But I can destroy it. This is my revenge, and my last boon to you, Humanity. Wormwood will not destroy Earth.
It will destroy Erebus.
I can no longer control the descent of this celestial body. Had I known the Truth beforehand I would never have taken this course. But the Fates...and the Deva...have decreed. By the time you hear this, Erebus and New Erebus have collided and both shall be destroyed along with their Kings. The gates to Tarterus beneath shall be blown open. The Hydra, when it rouses from the shock and digs from beneath mountains of rubble, shall escape.
The Hydra has done what even the gods could not do. It destroyed the other Titans. It consumed them and made them extensions of itself. It is a fact as old as the Universe itself. Only a Titan can destroy another Titan.
That is why I was brought into being. Like my true Father I have Ascended and no longer have in me what is needed to destroy the Hydra. If a successor is not found, the Serpent will consume everyone and everything!!
YOU MUST CHOOSE A NEW FOUNDER OR NONE WILL BE SAVED!
*END OF TRANSMISSION*
In the dilation of Singularity I have delayed my demise ad absurdium. My reign of New Erebus has involved pleading and bargaining with the Fates and being assaulted with one revelation after another.
The Fates do not lie. My true Father was the Titan, Prometheus. My very reason for existence was kept hidden from me. A need so compelling that Hades raised me as his own with full knowledge that I could never inherit his Kingdom, yet still he poisoned me so I would pass among gods and demons as his kin.
Even now I hear Hades cursing at me as New Erebus burns like a jade sun over his domain. He sends every beast with wings to destroy me, but they are burned to dust as Wormwood looms closer. I was never meant to seize my Father's throne. But I can destroy it. This is my revenge, and my last boon to you, Humanity. Wormwood will not destroy Earth.
It will destroy Erebus.
I can no longer control the descent of this celestial body. Had I known the Truth beforehand I would never have taken this course. But the Fates...and the Deva...have decreed. By the time you hear this, Erebus and New Erebus have collided and both shall be destroyed along with their Kings. The gates to Tarterus beneath shall be blown open. The Hydra, when it rouses from the shock and digs from beneath mountains of rubble, shall escape.
The Hydra has done what even the gods could not do. It destroyed the other Titans. It consumed them and made them extensions of itself. It is a fact as old as the Universe itself. Only a Titan can destroy another Titan.
That is why I was brought into being. Like my true Father I have Ascended and no longer have in me what is needed to destroy the Hydra. If a successor is not found, the Serpent will consume everyone and everything!!
YOU MUST CHOOSE A NEW FOUNDER OR NONE WILL BE SAVED!
*END OF TRANSMISSION*
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)