Black Heart of Dagon

[Heritage]

Flintlock's statements didn't go over super-well with the crimefighting duo, though they were starting to see a certain inevitability in the situation.

 

-We've both seen the same movies. We know how this works. There's a forbidden tome, a group of stupid pretty people read from it, and the forces of Hell rise up to kill them. We are those stupid pretty people.-

 

-Ah, but then sometimes another group of stupid pretty people need to read a different spell to close a portal that's already open; how do we know the bad s### hasn't already happened, and we're the clean-up crew?-

 

-Um...you have me there.-

 

-Plus if you lived your whole life based on movie logic, you'd never get anything done, and we of all people can't sit on our asses at times like this.-

 

-A valid point. Also neither of us is blonde, so we should survive the whole movie.-

 

-True!-

 

Lynn and Gretchen turned to face Flintlock at the same time, their minds made up; the changeling folded her hands on her desk, and her partner stood by her side. "Okay, we will help you with your stupid drunken plan, because we work at a bookstore and that's how we roll. However, certain precautions will be taken; we will not be reading the book here at the store, where innocent lives will be endangered. We will go somewhere remote,  so when the s### inevitably hits the fan the way it always does with magic, it will go to s### on our terms."

 

"You thinking Rusty's?"

 

"I'm thinking Rusty's. Oh, and tell me you dropped a button at McCreepy Guy's place so we can keep an eye on him?"

 

"Always, always." She pulled a handful of conjured buttons out of her back pocket and held them out in the palm of her hand. "See? Plenty of bugs."

 

"Good, good." She turned back to Flintlock. "So, are our terms acceptable?"

Edited May 11, 2016 by Heritage

[Supercape]

"I may be drunk, madam, but I am not stupid!" replied Flintlock dramatically. 

 

"Ye terms be dandy" she agreed. "Read the book, safe and sound like! Away from the oceans, and rivers, and seas. Away from prying submarine eyes! Yes, dry land would be best for so nefarious a tome!"

 

"Is it a long ride? I have no steed, I am afraid. Mayhap one of these horseless chariots? Automobiles? Do you have one of them? Fantastic things! Although I prefer horses. I love some muscle between my legs! Wey heyyy!" she laughed, slapping her thigh and giving them a wink. 

 

"But I do have one condition. Gimme back me pistol!" she demanded, eyes wobbling in different directions as she tried to focus. 

[Heritage]

"I'll give you back your pistol once we're safely outside the city. But I..." And here Lynn laughed nervously. "I, uh...I don't actually have a car. And I don't think Gretch does either."

 

"Nope."

 

"So we're probably going to have to use magic..."

 

"But not evil magic like in that book."

 

"No, it's faerie magic. Y'know, more like the 'elfin magic' the Keebler elves use to make their cookies."

 

"Just with fewer preservatives."

 

"Right, of course!" The shopkeeper looked a bit uneasy. "Do you have any...problems with faeries?"

Edited May 18, 2016 by Heritage

[Supercape]

Faeries hey?

 

"Not me! They taste delicious!" she said, slurring slightly and wobbling. 

 

"Pixies and Sprites! They do love to dance and sing. But they can also vex ones skin. Tricksome devils, vexatious foxs!" she declared too loudly. "But, they have their uses!" she said. 

 

More seriously, her eyes almost square, she continued. "Why, are you a changling? Ah...ah...that could be helpful...sort of..." she said, nervously, twiddling her fingers akwardly. 

 

Flintlock had tracked the invisible stream of incorpreal blood using faerie powder. That was, the burnt ashes of dead faeries. 

[Heritage]

Lynn scowled at the boozy pirate captain, then began to sniff the air; there was a rather disturbing scent about her, beneath the smell of rum, gunpowder and sweat. Then her eyes got wide and she rose to her feet, suddenly several inches taller with a wild look about her, black talons on the ends of her fingers, and her hair curled up in a mane that revealed her pointed ears.

 

"Why yes, I am a changeling; why do you ask? And why do you reek like a charnel house?!"

 

Suddenly, Gretch was in front of her partner, her hands up in a placating gesture. "Hon, hon, hi! Why don't you take a seat, look a little less terrifying, and most importantly, use your inside voice, okay? As like a fun new game called 'Let's Not Make Anyone Call The Police'. How's that sound?"

 

Lynn stared down at Flintlock for several seconds before her eyes finally met Gretchen's pleading gaze, which began to slowly calm her down; she began to shrink by increments and her claws slid back out of sight as she resumed her seat. Her hair reconfigured into a sort of regal hairstyle that still highlighted her inhuman ears.

 

"Very well; talk." Her voice sounded a bit imperious, like she was used to giving commands. Gretch took a seat of her own, her heart still racing, only now aware that she had flown herself between her partner and the pirate!

[Supercape]

For a moment, Flintlock felt threatened. 

 

How dare....?

 

Flintlock had snapped the bones of many horrors, and a few bones of those that were not that horrible. But it was an awful cost, bringing forth mad spirits from Leng or nightmares of the silver key. No, no need to draw on such things, unless it was absolutely required. 

 

"Because, me fae witch, I am hunting that which must be hunted. I am stopping that which must be stopped. If Dagon rises from his sleep then no trickery or illusion will deceive him. This world is but an ant, a grain of sand"

 

She put forth a silver snuff box from her clothes. Filled with moonlight dust. 

 

"And this is the only way I can find the black heart of Dagon. Leastways, the only ways I know. Mayhap if I had the powder of Ibn-Ghazi, would serve same purpose, but I have not the herbs and gems for it. The only way is the bones of the fae...!"

 

"Ask not how I came upon such, for the answer may not agree with your palate. Suffice to say, it was not without cost to purse or heart" she said, slumping down wearily. 

 

She reached in and sprinkled some powdered fae into the air. It sparkled, but also boiled; a deep horrible black boil of unnameable horror. An ethereal line of blackness appeared, for a moment, leading out of the bookshop.

 

"This leads to the ocean, and to the heart of Dagon. A line of blood. And one that must be broken, whatever the cost; for the cost of not braking will be higher"

[Heritage]

The changeling heard the pirate out as she described what they were all up against; she also did a few breathing exercises as she listened, and in a rare showing of PDA, Gretchen reached over and gently squeezed her shoulder. All of this helped her calm down and focus on what needed to be done. She tended to forget that not everyone could just wave their hand and conjure something out of nothing; many spellcasters needed to work with nasty and unsavory things to work their will upon the world. Hadn't she been freaked out by Morena Colby's vodun the first time she saw it?

 

"Alright, you've made your point; Dagon is a serious threat and we have to work together on this." Lynn drummed her fingers on her desk as her eyes wandered around the room. "Okay, how much time to we have? Because I hate to say it, but I almost want to wait until dark to do this."

 

Gretchen gave her partner her best 'are you s###ing me' look, to which the dark fae could only shrug. "Okay, call me crazy, but I don't want to shut the whole store down in the middle of the day while we go off into the woods to do this! I want to be able to focus on this thing without distraction; plus, you know you and me are at our best when we have darkness on our side."

 

Her assistant manager turned to Flintlock and gestured back towards Lynn. "Please tell her this is the worst idea ever."

Edited July 4, 2016 by Heritage

[Supercape]

"As little time as we can spare" answered Flintlock, finally getting some focus. 

 

"The longer we wait, the graver the risk. Maybe a second, maybe a year. I do not know what awfulness the heart of Dagon contains, nor do I know how it could be used. Perhaps it could not be used at all"

 

"But we cannot take that risk. If Dagon awakes, the world shall tremble! We must destroy it! Even if they cannot use it, even if the spells and rituals are lost and unknown, even if the very best of circumstances befall, the mere heart itself is a poisonous black thing, that will blight all in its wake"

 

"I can almost smell its foulness here!"

 

And with the eye of belief, one could imagine a slightly rotten, existentially nauseating atmosphere lingering. 

 

"And to be destroyed, then we must consult the  Cthaat Aquading! and hope that it contains some clue, some ritual, that could do so. I confess, black as it is, I would see this work! Pray, bring it forth!"

[Heritage]

Lynn squinted slightly as she did her best to follow the pirate lady's rambling drunken narrative; most of the words were English, but she just strung them together oddly. In the end, she nodded and sighed. "Alright, fine; you've convinced me. Gretch, let the folks out there know we have to close the shop early today due to a family emergency." She held out her hand, and a number of colorful coupons appeared. "Hand these out with our apologies; once everyone's outside, lock the door and come on back."

 

Gretchen nodded. "Got it."

 

Once she was gone, the changeling stepped over to the bookcase behind her desk, waved her hand to dismiss part of the glamour, then punched in the code and yanked the door open. "Wait right here," she said to Flintlock as she slipped inside; a few moments later, she returned with the foul tome held out an arm's length, a look of obvious disgust on her face.

 

Gretchen then came back in the office and nodded again. "Coast is clear."

Edited July 4, 2016 by Heritage

[Supercape]

GM

 

The Cthaat Aquandingen

Latin Version

c11th-12th

 

Only three copies of the infamous Cthaat Aquandingen are known to exist. A deeply flawed translation, in Middle English, by author unknown, is held in the British Library. The known Latin copies of this tome are all held, to best of knowledge, in Great Britain. One in the British Library, two by collectors unknown. 

 

The authorship of this unpalatable book is unknown. Some of theorised that it was by some Christian clerics, given its text and scholarship, but the content seems quite at odds with any known or practised theology. Some are of the opinion that its origin was in fact in the Middle East, but perhaps this was because of its similarities with the dread Necronomicon, whose author, Abdul Al-Hazred, heralded from that region. 

 

What is most remarkable about all three known texts is their physical nature. All three are bound in human skin, which has been confirmed in recent years by histological analysis. This fact has not been made public, for fear of further interest and obsession over the book, whose contents surely justify censorship even to the most liberal of minds. 

 

The contents are unnerving, to say the least. The text, written in a poetic and maddening style, nauseating in its imagery, describes the practices, culture and history of "the deep ones", submarine creatures that are a unspeakable offshoot of the more benign atlantean race (of which little is discussed in the book). 

 

Amongst the text, which is weighty, are rituals that are meant for (and nobody has yet dared enact them) contacting the strange and malign alien deities of the deep ones, which are beyond human comprehension. The Unspeakable one, Tsathoggua, Yibb-Tsill, and most weight given to rituals concerning Dagon, the God of the the Deep ones that sleeps, half dead, half brooding, beneath the sea, in places unknown. 

 

Professor Henry Armitage, 1912, Studies in occult literature

 

Edited June 13, 2016 by Supercape

[Supercape]

"The Cthaat Aquandingen! Never would i have thought I would see this horror, although I confess many I time I would have wanted to. And yet, now it is in my hands, I almost dread to read it..."

 

Slowly, the tome opened. The skin of the book was unpleasantly moist. 

 

Inside, in shaky writing, Latin, inked, with some parts ineligible, and some parts that once read one wished had been eligible, was the description of the Deep Ones and Dagon. Strange and nauseating signs and illustrations were scribbled in margins and over text. Much of it was incomprehensible, insane, but if one read carefully, some cohesion could be found, although such patterns would be worse to the mind that mere insanity. 

 

As the only one present who could read Latin, it felt to Captain Flintlock to read the tome. She was glad the rum was in her veins. She had sailed many strange shores, and knew, of course, about the Deep Ones and Dagon, but still, the lore in the book was disquieting. One was left with a sense of complete insignificance, or perhaps worse, in the blackness of the cosmos. 

 

"Aha, here, Me hearties..." she said, weakly, and with diminished mirth. She stabbed her finger at a repeated phrase. 

 

"A ritual to contact Dagon! Not a pleasant thing, but by doing so, we shall know him, and where his...constituent parts...are. More importantly, they shall be vulnerable!"

 

"I shudder to do such a thing, but it must be done. By contact Dagon, we can destroy the heart. But the heart may be far away. This is a job where we must be two places at once..."

[Heritage]

Lynn squinted at that last phrase. "'Two places at once'? Uh, that might be a bit challenging, but I've done stranger things with fae magic."

 

Gretchen scowled. "You have? Actually, don't tell me."

 

The changeling nodded. "Duly noted. So, what two places do we have to be at once? I can get us to the place to do the ritual like this-" She traced a circle in the air with her finger, and a portal opened in mid-air; beyond was a small, green place that looked an animal's burrow under the roots of a tree,  its floor covered in soft pine needles. "You and Gretch go inside and get comfy, then I close the portal, teleport us there, and then reopen it there and let you guys out." She shrugged at the rum-soaked pirate lass. "Would that work for you?"

[Supercape]

"Aye, that seems dandy" replied Flintlock, pressing her temples as if the vice like pincer movement would squeeze the alochol from her brain. 

 

"The trick will be, however, to recite the ritual, and contact Dagon, and at the same time destroy his heart. Therein lies the rub. For only whilst the ritual is active will his heart be vulnerable. So you may need to send your little helper here to do that. Bring a knife. Or a fork. Perhaps both" she suggested to Gretchen. 

 

And with that, she dived into the portal. 

 

"Ah the great outdoors!" she said, getting herself, as suggested, comfy. 

 

"I've slept on worse. So if I do pass out, make sure you wake me up. Bring some coffee...."

 

[Heritage]

"That's not a bad idea," murmured Gretchen, and she ran to fetch a Thermos full of joe. Once she came back, she climbed in next to the fragrant Flintlock (Lynn's vault was small) and the changeling shut the portal. It was only a few seconds later that it reopened, revealing a large fenced-in enclosure, somewhere in the Pine Barrens, most likely; the tops of several pitch pines were visible rising over the fence. 

 

It appeared to be a sort of junkyard,  but with a purpose; all the junked cars, concrete pipes and ancient refrigerators were carefully arranged to form a obstacle course, firing range and other useful training environments. A silver trailer on one side seemed to be set up as some sort of control booth, and scaffolding supporting spotlights and speakers around the fencing conveyed a somewhat arena-like feel.

 

"Alright, we're here. Where should we set up?"

[Supercape]

"Coffee, sweet Arabian wine!" mumbled Flint, slowly returning to relative sobriety. She kind of wished she was still blind drunk. Summoning Dagons spirit was not going to be pleasant. 

 

"Anywhere will do. Meaning, right here!" she said, stamping her foot heartily. 

 

"This is a very...American....place..." she commented, diplomatically, eyes spinning the horizon. 

 

Ignoring the American place for now, she put the dread tome on the floor and traced her finger over the unpleasant words and equally unpleasant diagrams. 

 

"Alhezred Cthuaga Nicto Nyarlothotep...Ignath' Cthuaga Huull...." she chanted, over and over again. 

 

"Muuaga Mu Leng Diath'th...Ry'leh Dagon! Ry'leh Dagon!!!"

 

A rotting fish smell filled the air. It seemed cold, and dim. A pale wind that clung, humid and clammy to ones skin, started to blow. 

 

"It won't be long now...he is coming..."

 

And one could feel it. 

 

"If you have any tricks for a God, or any steeling of your heart, then know is the time to grasp them, my friends...muahahahaha" she laughed, crazily. 

[Heritage]

"Sounds like it's time to suit up, Gretch." Strange mists swirled around Lynn, leaving her thinner and younger looking, with short, spiky auburn hair and a black and midnight blue leather bodysuit, all of it topped with a black domino mask. Meanwhile, her partner floated in the air as she twisted the ring on her left hand, which called forth a flickering silver light that transformed her into the Shrike.

 

"Let me know where to go, and I'll fork that heart for you." The ruby on the Ring of Power flashed with an angry intensity as her cloak billowed around her.

Edited July 8, 2016 by Heritage

[Supercape]

GM

 

With a seeping blackness, the sky darkened, not without light, but rather an inky gloom that seemed to pour to the ground. There was no sun now, just horror. The ground below felt muddy and wet. The smell of rotting fish came from underfoot. It was cold, but not a freeze, rather an insipid wet cold that hit ones bones as well as one skin. 

 

One could not exactly look at Dagon, although most assuredly the spectre was looking at them. He was horrible and awful, wet with terrible purpose. Like a toad, or a snake, or, more truthfully, like nothing at all - or at least, like nothing one would want to see. And this, but an echo, a shadow, a vision to which one would commune. 

 

The language was deep, and reverberated like it was carried through the deepest oceans. 

 

"Why, mortals. Why do you disturb my slumber? Do you hope, do you dream? I will listen to your empty words...."

 

Flintlock fell to her knees, eyes glazed. It had been some time since she had seen the dread God's shadow, in blackest waters and foulest swamps. Something grapsed her voice and limbs, paralysing them...

[Heritage]

It was not terribly hard to look awestruck and terrified at this moment; your facial muscles combined with primitive reflexes pretty much took care of that.  The tricky thing was going to be keeping Dagon focused on Lynn while Gretchen took care of his foul heart...wherever the hell it was right now.

 

- S###, how do we know where his heart is? -

 

- The jar. It has to be the jar. -

 

- Of course! Go get 'em, Gretch! -

 

- See if he's still in his creepy corpse apartment. And distract the big guy so I can slip away. -

 

- Oh, man; distraction is my middle name! -

 

And so it was that Grim began to bluff...a god...

 

"O Dark Father...you have arrived!"

 

First, she waved her arms dramatically and conjured forth her best interpretation of 'Deep One temple architecture'; arches and columns and an alter that looked like they were carved from waterlogged stone, carved into serpentine shapes and draped with seaweed. And then she altered her wardrobe into a deep blue robe trimmed with images of breaking waves. As she worked, she snuck a quick peek at their would-be customer from earlier, via the conjured button Gretch left in his room. 

 

"I, your unworthy servant, would speak to you!"

Edited August 15, 2016 by Heritage

[Supercape]

GM

 

"Then Speak, and I will... devour...."

 

Was it words, was it souls, or was it flesh? Or mayhap all three....?

 

Alas, we may never know, because...

 

Meanwhile...

 

In the "Creepy Corpse Appartment"...

 

The light was low, with a darkness in the sky, a flickering light. Even here, in Freedom City there was a wet horror to the air, a languid feeling of universal insignificance that put nerves on edge, especially amongst the sensitive souls. History would note that on this day, many fine and disturbing works of art and music would be produced. 

 

The Seprantine man was pondering several books. To call them books might be a stretch. They were old, falling apart, and in several instruments scraps of paper that he had arranged to try and make sense of them. 

 

In an alien tongue he spoke. one that Shrike could not fathom. It had an uncomfortable flavour to it, full of strange words that just sounded awful. Perhaps not understanding them was a blessing. 

 

"<Ack-ghngh-aiee Yog-Sothoth mgtkiakghn....Tukglyanki Dagon eyaha Hydra....>"

 

To his side, the mysterious and black urn, smoking some horrible ethereal darkness. Ever was at least half of the serpentine mans eye on it...

 

 

 

 

[Heritage]

Floating in the air, invisible, Gretch pondered her options as she limited her breaths to furtive little sips of oxygen. 

 

A quick blast of the Ring right now might destroy it, but would reveal my position while I'm still close to this hideous thing, and in its lair. If it has any unknown abilities or artifacts, they would probably be very effective here.

 

Better to grab it and fly off. I can hopefully outrun him, take it to a remote place and destroy it there. Not close to the water, though, because that plays to Dagon's advantage.

 

And so she put her plan into action; using the power of the Ring,  she yanked her urn towards herself,  wrapping it up in the Cloak to minimize her contact with it. Then, clutching it to her stomach like a football, she flew a beeline towards the outside by the shortest path possible!

[Supercape]

"hssss!"

 

In a moment, the serpentine man was no more, he spun, but was no more a man. Rather, a serpent. Six feet tall, thin, green and purple, with a forked tongue and scales, with the most black of black eyes. 

 

"Dagon!" he hissed, ominously. 

 

He pulled out a small revolver, which looked both antique and alien. Grey black metal, nub nosed, spiked, large barrelled. Like something that might have been found in some horrible version of Victorian England, or 19th Century America. 

 

He fired once, wildly, almost like a reflex, spitting out something acidic and ghastly, that chewed into the wall besides Gretchen, eating it with acrid and foul smelling smoke. 

 

"It isthhhhh MINE!" he hissed, with furious volume, as Gretchen flew out the window...

[Heritage]

Not even daring to look over her shoulder, Gretchen took to the air and headed Northwest away from the city, hoping to spot a clearing somewhere in the Pine Barrens where she could land and attempt to destroy the urn. She finally spotted what looked like an abandoned picnic shelter in a remote area of the woods.

 

Dropping down out of the sky, she placed the urn on one of the tables, took a step back  and just stared at it, rubbing her face with gloved hand.

 

"Now what the hell do I do with it?"

[Supercape]

GM

 

Something had changed with the urn since she had last spied it. It was pounding, like a heart beat. Like it had been shocked to life, like it had awoken. 

 

To eyes that would not see, it would just feel horrible, a deep rooted unpleasant situation. To eyes that saw, like Gretchens, it was otherworldly, and not in a pleasant or good way. 

 

Just the softest of glances, and she was looking at something else. 

 

Beneath Cyclopean Masonry under the darkest and deepest of oceans, something stirred. It lay beneath the blackest of muds. Strange fish, with dull purple lights, and dozens of black eyes mouthed mindlessly through the dirty depths, eating the cold rotten algae that spewed forth from subterrenean vents. Beneath still, endless chasms, deformed blind humans of great strength and degenerate minds danced and prayed to strange gods. 

 

Spinning outwards, endless space, dead stars, stars that shone with light that could not be seen, and stars that burned alive and sentient, but mad. Wheeling dimensions beyond dreams and reality. And at the centre of it all, formless scales and serpents, mercurial amorphous Gods bubbling in endless universes, attended by dancing horrors that cavorted to piping music and horrible whistling...

 

The heart was now alive. And that meant it could bleed...