Post by Nathan Saniti on Jan 15, 2017 12:30:39 GMT -5
The Star of Babylon - Lust - Chapter 01
Baron Samedi strolled into the Union Hill Cemetery in Kansas City, Missouri. The caretaker, a tall, balding man, who normally rejoices in late night visitors and exchanges of ghost stories in spite of his employment, stood in solemn silence, watching as the Voodoo Priest walked onto the hallowed grounds as he had once before, his pathway memorized from his visit previous.
"There must be something special about that one," whispered the caretaker to himself, taking care not to disturb the dead on this night. It was a Friday the Thirteenth, and the first full moon of the new year. he knew if the Priest had returned to this site, there were very dire circumstances afoot.
Baron meandered to a fairly new headstone, an unusual site at this particularly antique resting area. In fact, new plots were of a bit of a premium on these grounds, since the space was increasingly limited by the urban surroundings.
Baron plopped his knapsack to the ground next to fairly freshly turned earth. It had been only a few years since the resident had been buried the first time, even less time since the second. The owner of the plot had been returned to his eternal rest after his services were no longer required. Out of the rucksack, Samedi produced another bag, this one an old fashioned leather tool bag with an inscription on a polished brass plate on the front that proclaimed it to be the "Tool Bag of Destiny."
The Voodoo priest reached inside his own sack once more, clutching a panicked and protesting chicken. turning to the caretaker, he smiled a grin that made the mortal man's blood turn cold. "You sure you wan' be here fo' dis?"
The caretaker took that as a cue to exit. He'd seen this ritual before. He'd even cleaned up the mess from the previous calling by disposing of the sacrificial carcass in his over with some butter and dressing. It had made him painfully ill for a month. He decided there was something at the shack that desperately needed his attention and excused himself.
Baron made sure the bird's squawkings were ended as quickly and painlessly as possible, dripping the blood of the creature over every inch of the earth next to the headstone of Joseph "Joey" T. Handy, beloved father and husband. Samedi began making incantations, his eyes lolling back in his head in a trance-like state.
The stone was adorned with a Freemason symbol, as well as one far more ancient; that of the Knights Templar, a long since thought extinct secret society. As the blood was accepted by the earth, the symbols glowed in response.
"Wake now, my charge," Baron uttered in a language long forgotten. "Wake and serve your purpose. The world is in need once again."
The ground beneath his feet began to shake in response, first only powerful enough to move small pebbles. A distant moaning filtered through the dirt, rising into the cold January sky like a haunting plea. As the ritual continued, the shaking grew more pronounced, as did the protesting wails of the occupant.
A hand, grayed and rotten burst through the surface, immediately giving the summoner the normal gesture for displeasure or traffic. Baron refused to allow his inward chuckles from disrupting the sacrament. He continue his chants as the hand was soon joined by an equally flesh-torn arm, then a second hand. The grumbling increased in volume as a sparsely furred scalp poked into the brisk night air.
The gape-mouthed skull broke the ground, its cries no longer muffled by the dirt that had been piled on top of him. The creature carefully pulled itself out into the world, its cries decreasing in severity as it finally freed itself from the earthly bounds. Its empty sockets stared at the Voodoo Priest, irritated, as its flesh regained life once again. A hissing similar to balloons being inflated emanated from its sockets as the eyes, initially colorless and white, popped into existence.
The long and painful process continued until the break of dawn, torturing the returning risen agonizingly every step of the way, his every nerve firing back into life and playing catch-up from years of decay and idle. Had Joey Handy the use of his vocal chords, he would have unleashed a tirade of four letter words that surely would have ceased the ritual from the Baron's laughter.
*******
Nathan and the rest of the Harvesters gathered at Neville's cottage in Balance. Kelli Starr, Nathan's dearest love was blatantly conspicuous by her absence. Nathan had collected a few fistfuls of thyme, placing them in a cheese cloth ice pack to assist in the healing of his wounds from the epic battle he and Alexa Black undertook at the Iceys. His appearance had returned to the glamourized normalcy that passes for his unkempt ginger locks, untamed eyebrows, yellow eyes and pallid skin.
Neville's own injuries had healed nicely, but now that the cat was out of the bag in PCW, he knew he could no longer pass as a stunt double for his twin. As such, he was fully aware that Nathan's impending battle with Phinehas Grimm on Trauma would aggravate his sibling's injuries further. That would be if Grimm was feeling charitable enough to merely agitate them and not finish the job Alexa had started.
Naomi looked on in concern at her brothers. One had finally not only achieved his independence and his own body, but his sacrifices were finally recognized by the other twin. Her heart swelled with pride at all that had happened to get to this point. She knew that despite the distraction of preparing to collect the Seeds of Life and the surfacing of the Red Dragon, his soul had been inwardly rejoicing at its freedom.
The other's plight made her heart break. Nathan had won the North American championship, no small accomplishment, she also knew it was not the focus of the horrible war between the two generals she had bore witness to. In the interim, Nathan had seemingly lost something much more precious to him; the love of Keliska Staranova. She perceived that it had weighed heavily upon him.
Rasputin wanted tea to calm his anxiety. Or perhaps some aged vodka. Or both. "So little time. So much to do," he groused.
"Agreed," added the pained Nathan. "We need to move onto the next chapter of our adventures if we're to ever collect the Seeds of Life. Idling here in Balance simply will not do."
"You're injured," scolded Naomi, shaking an accusatory and motherly finger at him, "and frankly not of the mindset for such undertakings."
"Au contraire, my sweet sibling," soothed Nathan. "It may be the very distraction I require." Nathan spread the map he'd received from Baron Samedi on a table, holding each curled corner down with a sprinkling of salt to prevent it from furling itself closed as a means of being ornery.
The depiction upon the map showed the ley lines between all worlds, known and unknown. Nathan glanced over it like an anxious efedder skimming show results for the tidbits of information they deem pertinent. He scratched at his unruly hair, unable to decipher the markings. "I'm afraid I've no clue where to begin."
Rasputin glared his displeasure at Nathan. "Use the Star of Babylon, fool."
Nathan's smile brightened as he cast a warning shot toward Rasputin, disintegrating his tea cup. "Excellent idea, my old friend."
Nathan pulled the Star out of his coat pocket, noticing something just slightly different about it than last time. The topmost point, the one inscribed "Wrath" along the edge had begun to whiten. The black colored seemed to be slowly draining from that particular point, so slowly, it could scarcely be witnessed, but noticeably nonetheless.
Nathan placed the Star on the map, much to the map's chagrin. The parchment attempted to revolt from the item's touch, but the salt kept it tied neatly in place. A bolt of white shot from the tip to the lower right point marked "Lust." As it did, the Star began to spin, slowly at first, picking up speed to the point of it producing a powerful breeze like a hurricane.
The on looking Harvesters stood in amazed silence as the Star came to an abrupt halt, the "Lust" point resting upon a green dot of a world. Neville, Rasputin, Naomi, and Nathan all leaned in unison, clapping skulls inadvertently, as they attempted to read the name of their first destination.
"Go..." initiated Rasputin. "Gonorrhea?"
Naomi laughed briefly, "Gomorrah, you nitwit."
Neville chimed, "Seems apropos. But how do we get there?"
Nathan thought for a bit, snapping his fingers as he decided upon the solution. "We'll have to use the Impossible Staircase." He paused, his eyes glistening with the recollection of memories. "I haven't been home in a while. This seems as good a time as any, I suppose."
"Then it's settled," quipped Neville. "Our adventure begins."
