ic The Meadows Of Plenty

[Poncho]

Mid October, 2024, Las Vegas, Nevada

 

WELCOME TO THE CITY OF LIGHTS

 

welcome to the city of lost hope

 

WELCOME TO THE SILVER CITY

 

welcome to the tarnished land

 

WELCOME TO THE CAPITAL OF SECOND CHANCES

 

welcome to the kingdom of despair

 

WELCOME TO THE ENTERTAINMENT CAPITAL OF THE WORLD

 

welcome to the capital of broken dreams

 

The orb was advertising a magic show.

 

The monorail sped by it.

 

The convention center was hosting a MLM conference for make-up sellers.

 

On the Strip, in every casino, in the capital of glamor, under lights that never dulled for even a moment, people gambled away fortunes. In the MGM Grand a UFC fight was being broadcasted around the world, men putting their bodies on the line to prove they were the best at fighting.

 

In the Paris, in a small stage underground, just off to the side of the underground casino area, someone else was preparing to try and prove they were the best at something.

 

Luther Earl LeGrasse had a small stage off the underground; only a few dozen people- maybe 50- could cram into the felt seats tucked away in a corner. Luther wasn't performing for a huge crowd tonight, he wouldn't be at all in Vegas. But it was a crowd, and the money was good enough. He was crammed into the back room of the stage in a dressing room maybe a bit too small, but there were people alive who would kill to play in Las Vegas, and Luther Earl LeGrasse was going to get to do so.

 

In Vegas, happiness and despair flowed in equal measures; someone won a fortune the same time someone lost one. Good for the Void, bad for the world, most likely. But right now, the most pressing thing was the performance, ready to begin in just a few minutes, to a handful of bored retirees who wanted to rest their arms from pulling the machines- though most of the machines were buttons now, not levers- to listen to someone play some Jazz music.

[Supercape]

Lament

 

It was not the money - for Luther, and not for the great Zombo, his stage name. 

 

It was for the craft. The glory. 

 

And the void in his veins grew hungry. Hungry for joy. The void was not malign, merely hungry. No more evil than a bacterium that ate the flesh. Except the void fed on hunger. How vile! Luther wanted to give a great entertaining experience, but the Void was so hungry it would soon start feasting on Luthers on spirit, sinking him into a depression. 

 

 

But Las Vegas? This would keep the Void fed. The winners at the slot machines, or the tables, they won but felt a strange flatness. No elation, for that was being stripped away by the Void. 

 

It felt sour. Luther would rather the void felt on the crooks and villains of the world, not the poor saps who risked their savings on a roll of a dice. Pfft! Las Vegas had enough misery and tears already. 

 

He sat in the dressing room, in full make up and costume. The great ZOMBO! with his face painted skull white, and all sorts of voodoo ornaments. Not a real voodoo practitioner, of course. This was entertainment - Zombo looked like an archetypal voodoo sorcerer complete with mad laugh. 

 

Tricks and trickery awaited the audience. And Zombo awaited his call to the stage...

 

[Poncho]

(GM Post)

 

The stage wasn't glamorous; the floorboards squeaked, they creaked, they seemed like they might give out. But they were home, in a certain way. In a good way. The piano player who had been warming up the crowd finished his last piece and- bowing at a small smattering of applause- cleared his throat before speaking into the mic.

 

"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you. I'm going to be taking a break for now, but we've got someone coming to replace me. That's the great Zombo. He's going to be playing some classic New Orleans Voodoo Jazz on his magic trumpet for you, so please do enjoy." The man said as he stood up, heading to the back stage.

 

He was radiant as he passed Luther. A serene, unceasing inner peace. This was a man who was truly happy, well beyond what a normal man could be. He was so bright it almost hurt to look at, so happy that the Void slavered at the wonder of what he could taste like. He tipped his hat to Luther as he made his way past him, heading for the back exit.

 

"Knock 'em dead, Zombo." he said with a grin as he left, taking his brilliantly shining light with him, wherever he was going.

[Supercape]

Lament

 

Luther was somewhat discombobulated by the man; happy? that happy? in Las Vegas? Well, it was a place of extremes. 

 

But entertainers were normally a little more balanced in their mood than the sweaty drunkards at the roullette wheel. 

 

As the stage lights hit, the speculations evaporated. This was the STAGE, darling!

 

He spun on to the stage, ragged coattails flowing behind him, plastic skull in one hand, his trumpet in the other. Cue music. Cue lights. 

 

"BEHOLD! The dance of DEATH!"

 

Smoke, cool wind, a lobbed skull that vanished into thin air half way through its arc. 

 

A tune! A dirge! Macarbe, hypnotic, a tritone cord.... the CORD OF THE DEVIL!

[Poncho]

(GM Post)

 

The performance of Zombo slowly worked the old  timers out of their haze. What had been passive existence listening to the dull and somewhat quiet tunes of the piano man was being destabalized, being invigorated, recreated, by the music and sounds of Zombo's dirge.

 

The audience was at rapt attention, joy filling their hearts as the great musician played, making them lean forward in their seats, smiling in praise at the music that he was bringing and the show he was giving them. Thsi was no longer simply a place to waste away their time while waiting for a slot machine to open up, it was a place where they were genuinely enjoying a real live Vegas music show. Maybe a bit on the quiet side, maybe not in one of the sold out theaters, but a show it was.

 

And the hapiness in the little back room theater was quite high now.

[Supercape]

Lament

 

Luther could feel the ghastly hunger of the Void. No... no... the void must not destroy the show! He was the Great Zombo, entertainer, star, adored man of the stage. His reputation would not be sullied. The crowds would walk out of here full of delight, not with some sombre flat mood that would feed into reviews. By the gods, he had had those!

 

Despite technical proficiency and stage presence, the Great Zombo was a mechanical affair, and left me feeling flat...

 

Bah!

 

He fought down the hunger. Stamped on it through gritted teeth. 

 

But what was that man? The piano player? Something about that made him itch. Some mystery, some jigsaw. 

 

Never mind that! Focus on the show!

 

"Any volunteer to aid me in performing voodoo sorcery? Only the bravest of souls, please...!"

[Poncho]

(GM Post)

 

There was a murmur in the litlte crowd. It was actually increasing a little bit; a few more people were coming in to watch Zombo as he performed, sneaking into the seats in the back. But who would volunteer?

 

"I'll do it!" someone said, rushing up to the stage. A retired woman, probably in her late 60s, at her Vegas vacation in her little plastic visor and shirt with a kitchsy slogan on it. "I've always wanted to be a magician!" Her aura was excitement and a little fear- and the joy of a vacation. She hadn't lost it all in the city of broken dreams, or maybe she was a frugal spender, so for now she was having fun. But this was Vegas, and it was just as likely that by the end of it she'd have nothing left. 

 

"Oh come on, Priscilla, don't bother the man." her husband called from his seat.

[Supercape]

Lament

 

Perfect, thought Zombo, as the woman approached. Just the right level of fear - fear blended in with excitement to make a soup of delight. 

 

He pulled a pack of cards out of her ear. An easy enough sleight of hand, what with the lighting and smoke set up exactly as per his specifications. 

 

Pick a card, any card! He said, full of smiles as he shuffled the deck in an impressive display of dexterity and skill, streams of cards flowing up and down his arms. 

 

He was enjoying this. The stage! Nothing like it!

 

For a moment, he could ignore the ravenous hunger, and the thing it  belonged to. 

 

And in just a moment, the card she was holding would vanish and her husband would find the card under his seat. That was because every seat had the same card under the seat. The king of spades.

[Poncho]

(GM Post)

 

"Wow! Did you see that, Jedidiah!? You're holding my card!" she said, pointing at it.

"Well I'll be! I sure am!" he said in amazement.

"How'd you do that, Mr. Zombo!?" asked Priscilla with fascination. Even Jedidiah seemed perplexed as he looked at the card curiously.

The crowd was absolutely buying into this show with full effort, excitedly watching Zombo as he gave his excellent performance. They were getting fattened up in joy and happiness, and Zombo was fighting the Void the whole time.

 

But all these old people were having more fun here, and enjoying their vacations more, in this little room with this man and his trumpet and magic tricks, then they were having out on the gambling floor.

[Supercape]

Lament

 

"Magic! The spirits of the dead!" proclaimed the great Zombo. 

 

Behind him, smoke, and ghostly images of skulls and skeletons. 

 

the Void, however, had had enough - reached out, and started to feed. For all his strength of will - and it was strong, Luther could not contain the reflex any longer. It was like the jerking of the knee. Invisible psychic threads split and streamed through the air, each on feeding on joy. 

 

There was plenty to feed on. With effort, Luther kept them from supping to deeply, the effort distorting his face and squeezing sweat of his pores. 

 

"The spirits! Can you feel the spirits of death?" he asked, bluffing. 

 

The Void, partially sated, could at least be prevented from reducing the audience to depression. They would just not be as happy as they should be. Something cold, flat and spooky would be mixed in with their appreciation. 

 

Curses! He needed to give the Void a proper feast! Some deserving villain. 

 

He went on to his next trick...

[Poncho]

(GM Post)

 

"Ah...I don't...I don't know that I like all this..." Priscilla said, the Void's darkness taking a little bit of her joy; joy could protect one from fear, but with the eating away of joy, there was only concern and fear left. "...This is kind of a bit much, right...I mean, I go to church every Sunday." She said, slowly stepping back to her seat. "That's a little too much for me, sir..." she said carefully, returning to the safety of her husband.

 

Zombo really only had time for one more trick, at this point, one more thing to close out his performance before moving on to whatever was next in his work. The Void had kind of dropped the mood a little in the little stage room, leaving a really heavy feeling of awkwardness hanging in the air; the people were looking for a chance to leave, a chance to go waste more money.

[Supercape]

Lament

 

Well, such was the nature of living with the Void. But it was a bitter thing. The mood had soured, and Luther needed applause. He lived for it. 

 

No wonder the Void had attached itself to him. The Irony!

 

"And now, ladies and gentlemen! I shall attempt the grave feat of astral discombobulation!" he said, in a deep, booming voice that reverberated around the stage and beyond. "Beware, those who are faint of heart, for this involved traversing the planes.. OF THE DEAD! And beyond!"

 

And with that, his eyes rolled back - pure white - his hand shook, and creepy music and moans filled the stage. 

 

A puff of smoke! A crack of sound!

 

And there he was, floating above them all on hidden wires, his body bathed in vivid white, contorting, writhing...

 

[Poncho]

(GM Post)

 

"Aaaaa! He's floating! Jedidiah! He's floating!"

 

"I see that Priscilla! I see that he's floating! Get back over here, you'll mess up his magic!" her husband said as she rightfully got out of the way as well. The crowd was enraptured, in both a positive and a negative way, at Zombo's floating. They were having fun, but they were also terrified; that's just how it was now that the Void had taken some of their joy away from them. They were getting back to the joy, though, given the time. A slow clap started, slowly picking up speed.

 

"W...wow!"

"That's incredible!"

 

"Bravo Zombo!"

[Supercape]

Lament

 

"Ladies and Gentlemen! Behold - the POWER of VOODOO! Brought to you by ZOMBO! Master of the UNDEAD!" roared Zombo, with a magnificent and flamboyant bow. 

 

Beats a nine to five... 

 

Luther was sour about the performance. It was adequate, if one was being generous, but as so often happened, the hunger of the Void had left the audience with that hollowed out feeling. Even with his skill, the best he could do was to turn a bitter experience into a mediocre one. 

 

Still. It was, as he noted, better than a nine to five. 

 

But too many shows like this and his fame, livelihood, and reputation would sink. Entertainment business was a pool of sharks, and only the fittest would survive. 

 

He stormed back to his dressing room, biting his lip and fantasising about how he could engineer a feast for the void on more deserving souls. Thugs and dealers on the street, or corporate jackass parasites, feeding on the many. 

 

 

[Poncho]

(GM Post)

 

As the house music came on and the lights dimmed and people left the theater, Luther was back backstage in the slightly too small backstage area. The Piano player hadn't left; he'd been watching the performance from behind the curtain. He adjusted the lapels of his suit as Luther came back down, smiling. He was so radiant. It was like looking at an all you can eat buffet. Or the Sun after being in a dark room all day. Why was he so happy. How could someone be so happy.

 

"Not bad, Zombo. You wanna join me at the bar after you get changed? I've got a spot at one of the off shoots down here that keeps me happy."

[Supercape]

Lament

 

Is this guy on drugs? Nobody could be that happy. That radiant. Could they?

 

It had been years with the Void. Luther had grown accustomed to the symbiote. He was the Lord of Lamentations, the Duke of Despair, the Marquis of Melancholia. 

 

"Yeah, not bad," he said. "Could have been better. But that's showbiz..."

 

It was not merely the Void now. Luther himself was genuinely interested in this character. What was his story? Meditation? Mindfulness? Magic?

 

"Sure, I could have a stiff whiskey, see you there."

 

Luther was not a big drinker, but he grew up around jazz bars in New Orleans. He knew drink, and he did drink. 

 

Back in his dressing room he changed - in an instant - into a jeans, purple jacket, white t shirt, and a black beret over his bald head. A bit ostentatious, perhaps, but that was the nature of Luther LeGrasse. He slung his trumpet into his bag, and - because this was a bar with a stranger, tucked his blackjack into the back of his jeans. He had seen one or two too many drunken brawls in New Orleans, and caution was wise, even when one was stepping into the unknown...

[Poncho]

(GM Post)

 

In the underground between the Paris and it's neighbor casino, there was a small bar area, just a few dozen feet away from the Guy Feiri's restaurant. It was quaint, insulated against the sound of the casinos and shops nearby. 

 

The piano player sat at the bar with a Jack and Coke as the UFC fight played on the tv screen, eating a hambuger as he watched.

 

"So, my name's Charles. Piano player 'extraordinarie', as it may be." he said, grinning his blindingly bright grin; for most people, he'd look utterly normal, but for Luther and the Void, he was still shining so brightly. "A pleasure to be sharing the stage with you, Zombo." he laughed.

 

"So, is that real magic you're slinging?" he asked curiously. "I know enough to know there's things I don't know, so hey, if you have The Gift, you have The Gift." 

 

But what about HIS Gift? Why was he so bright? Why was he so radiant, no matter what seemed to happen?

[Supercape]

Lament

 

"You can sure tinkle the keys," said Luther, who was always appreciative of music. But was Charles extraordinary? Perhaps? But Luther grew up in New Orleans, it was tough to be an even average musician in New Orleans. 

 

"Just sleight of hand. Look..." 

 

Luther took out a pack of cards, displayed so fancy shuffling, showed the top card - the six of spades. Slapped the deck, and pulled out the six of spades from his mouth. 

 

"Just a lot of practice and deception. ZOMBO! Master of VOODOO! A bit of showmanship, a bit of costume. All the rest. As for a gift? Well, just a gift for stage magic. And I have been known to play some music too," he added with a smile. 

 

"What's your secret? Never seen a man so happy. High on life, or something else?"

[Poncho]

(GM Post)

 

"Ah, well, my momma used to play for me, I picked it up from her. I wouldn't say I'm great or anything, but sometimes all you need is a good hand for opening; in wrestling they call 'em 'Carpenters', because they build the foundation. The Opening Match Guy. That's me." he grinned.

 

"Of course, just a little sleight of hand and some skills on the trumpet, huh? I like it. It's a good little combo. Big approval from me." He said with a laugh. "Always gotta have a hook."

 

Then the little ask about his happiness. He couldn't not smile as he fished in his pocket and pulled out a bottle of glass, with a solid gold, glowing liquid inside of it.

 

It was so much joy the Void threatened to rip itself free of Luther to drink it all in, to sink into that abyss of joy.

 

"A little liquid joy keeps me going. I got a guy who I buy it from."

[Supercape]

Lament

 

At this, Luther raised an eyebrow. "Drugs?"

 

He was no stranger to drugs. Liquor was his poison, although since the Void latched onto his spleen, he had lost something of the taste for it. Drugs? The Void had lashed out at those high on cocaine or amphetamines, even alcohol, but it was poor fare. Like eating grass. More an attempt to fill yourself than having any nutritional value. 

 

Luther swigged some more whiskey. 

 

"Tell me more..." he said, slowly, like an oiled snake slipping into the pianists ear. "I could do with a drop of two of that. Maybe a solid swig. You know how it is, on the road, playing to some numbskulls. Sometimes it gets you down. If you know someone selling, I know someone buying...."

 

He stabbed a finger at his chest.