New Years Consequences

January 12, 2017:

Something not of this world rips its way into it


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

January First.

A new year.

Far north of where a mystic woman assisted trapped friends and made new ones. Far from the machinations of ancient sorcerers bent on wrecking the world. Far away from the sights and sounds of the happy new year. A circle of stones, old beyond words sat at the edge of an ancient glacier. Worn down to nothing more than strange gray stones hardly poking from up above the surface of the ancient ice those stones had seen civilizations rise and fall from the dawn of mankind. They had rested there, dormant and watching, for millennia.

A sapphire light slowly grew at the roots of the ancient circle. Brighter and brighter, flickering with an eldritch power. A crack between worlds. Something that did not belong in this reality tried to reach though but its power was dissipated by the stones. The blue glow intensified for a moment, pulsing with frustration before it settled again. There wasn't enough time. There wasn't enough power. It couldn't come through?


Smoke began to seep between cracks in the ice. It clawed its way through the pulsing energy. Thick, heavy, black as shadows. It stood out stark against the pristine white of the snow. A limb formed, insubstantial but resembling a spindly arm ending in four wicked claws. Those claws fastened onto the ice and pulled, dragging the thing inch by inch into the world. Slowly it came through, a cloud hugging the frigid ground. The only obvious features were two pinpricks of light glowing a malevolent blue.

Its eyes shifted round to look south before it rushed away from the circle of stones. Hunting for what it needed.

January 12, 2017
NYC. Just on the edge of Hell's Kitchen. Headed out of town.

"Look, tha' boss said he needed to go. So now we need to hide the body. It's just how this works." The rough words came from a bull of a man. All muscle and little in the way of ingenuity. A bruiser. A typical rough for whatever criminal enterprise claimed this stretch of the street.

"Urgh, I know. But why wes always gettin' tha bad jobs. Ain' tha' boss got more people ta carry bodies than jus' us?" This from a smaller, spindly man who traveled behind. Between them they carried a rolled up rug, between crumbling brick buildings and towards a car.

Neither saw a pair of glowing sapphire eyes in the shadows behind them, the oily black smoke flowing over the ground and towards their too quiet bundle.

"HEY!" The smaller man dropped his end of the bundle and jumped back. "The stiff moved!"

"You're jus' lazy pick it up." Came the reply as the lumbering brute of a man started to turn. Only then did he see the carpet move. Thick cloth shredded, the tearing noise overly loud in the confines of the alley. Claws made of twisted bone burst out from the ruined rug, catching the brute by surprise. His death came quickly. The second man tried to run before the twisted thing that was once a body caught him.

The creature with the blue eyes watched its puppet work with a feeling of satisfaction. These humans were such easily turned creatures. So useful in their own ways. It left its creation to its work, moving on though the city.

It was hunting.

It was close.

It turned its hateful gaze towards the lights of Gotham.

All it needed now, was willing help.

And once again, the humans would provide. They always do.

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