A Scripta

Grim wanted to kick the man who was on his knees before a large tree in Atlas Park, offering flowers to a grave. Grim wanted to kick him until he was nothing more than a smear on the ground and there would be nothing to put him back together again. No ghost, no armor, no bit of hair left to reconstitute him.

Grim had never felt this angry in all of his life. He had hated the man once before, but never with the all-consuming hatred he felt right now, the want and need to turn him into a bloody spot, all because of his cowardice.

Now the man got up, and Grim approached him quietly. He hauled off and hit the man right in the jaw. He rocked from the punch, but didn’t back off. “That’s from Idaho,” Grim snarled. He cocked his fist to deliver another punch. “This one’s from me.”

Masonry easily caught Grim’s fist before it connected. He thought of twisting Grim’s fist back, driving him to his knees, but figured why bother? He deserved it.

“Idaho can give me his own delivery,” Masonry said quietly. “I won’t hide from him, or any of you. There was nothing I could do.”

“Nothing you wanted to do! You wanted her dead!”

“It was futile—“

Grim pulled on his fist that Masonry held tight.

“Will you let me explain?”

“No, because you’re a liar! Let go of me!”

Grim tugged hard, and Masonry let go, letting Grim fall backwards onto the grass. Grim looked up at Masonry, fire and fury in his eyes.

Masonry rumbled, “Then I won’t bother to explain, not to you, not to anyone.”

Grim got up slowly, snarling, “I’ll get you.”

Masonry shrugged, and teleported away. Grim dusted himself off and glared at the spot he had been in. He was going to get him, and the simplest way was to get at the person he most cared about. But he was going to need a little help…

"Alex, buddy."

The group of Thorns turned to face Grimaulkin, stopping their summoning in mid-chant. The man in the center of the circle toppled to the ground.

"How dare you disturb me," the mage snarled at him.

"Cut the shit, Alex. I'm done working for you." He tossed a bag to the ground, near the man whose soul they were going to rip out.

"I heard things were lucrative," the mage said, and glanced at a couple of Thornites, who drew their swords at Grim.

"Very lucrative. I got everything I needed. See, I can summon creatures such as that, but with slightly more power than yours. As a matter of fact, I can tear their souls out of their bodies and use that." Grim slowly advanced, grinning at Alex. "Bet you didn't think anyone could do that, huh?"

"It's...not unknown," Alex said hesitantly.

Grim tossed a bone to the ground, and a creature in chain mail rose from the earth. He carried a sword, but stayed in a passive position. "Bet you didn't think I could do this, either? I found myself a relic of a medieval knight, if you believe it, and the Legacy Chain so kindly let me use it to summon that knight - and there's another one that the Lost allegedly has, too. Look what he can do!"

With a snap of his fingers, the creature drew his sword and stabbed Alex straight through with it. Alex - and the Thornites - moved in slow motion as Grim conjured a pit of blackness at their feet. The knight dispatched Alex, then turned to the Thorns. There were only three of them, also easily dealt with.

He turned to the bodies and took a bone from each, wrenching off their pinky fingers and then tossing a teleportation disk onto them. They'd realize something was amiss after a few weeks of seeing enemies return to the Zig, missing their pinky fingers. Poor Idaho, he thought, laughing.

With his athame*, Grimaulkin probed the edge of the summoning circle and got shocked for his trouble. The only thing inside it was a set of chains in a long, loopy circle at the perimeter.

He began the chant to summon his demoness there, and she appeared, in the form of a beautiful red-skinned, red-winged, naked woman, suspended in the air. "What do you wish now - " then she noticed the chains.

As she attempted to leave, she found that Grim had uttered something in the spell to lock her into the circle. She flittered back and forth, trying to keep within the center, away from the chains.

"Zoreteth," he said quietly, though it boomed within the circle, "be still."

She dropped to the earth. "How dare you!" she cried. "Who told you?! When I am free I will tear them - "

Grimaulkin ignored her as he continued the spell, pointing the athame at the chains. "Bind Zorteth tight, bind her unto me."

"NEVER!" she howled, her voice attempting to break through Grim's concentration. His thoughts centered entirely on watching the chains rise of their own volition and wrap themselves around the suspended body. She struggled as the chains climbed up, wrapping themselves haphazardly around her, even looping around her wings.

The last link left the floor and tucked itself into her waist, sealing itself with the other open link. She began to glow a bright, almost angry yellow.

"What do you expect to get from me, mage? I have given you power and spells, even your brother! Am I not generous?"

"Bound thou art to me," he replied with a smile. "I take thy power from thee, not bend to thy will; thou shalt bend to mine, Zoreteth. Thy host of underlings art mine. Thy power is mine. Thy knowledge is mine. Thy soul is mine. Thy soul..." He took the athame, held it by its blade as if he was going to throw it. "IS MINE!"

He threw the blade through the boundaries of the summoning circle, and it pierced the center of the demoness's chest. She howled in agony, the yellow growing brighter; the athame turned black and slowly the chain wrapped itself around it as well. Slowly, she disappeared.

As the last of her faded away, the knife fell, clattering to the floor. He did not touch the chain-encased black blade, leaving it there as if it were still hot from the forge. He summoned Louie instead. "Take that and put it in the desk."

Louie looked at his brother, doing as he commanded. Grim could feel rather than hear the word "Free?"

He grinned at the shade. "Are you kidding?" He passed through Louie and turned instantly into his old self. "You'll kill me." Then he laughed, falling over, his laugh becoming more maniacal as Louie mournfully put the dagger in the desk.

*athame: a blade, usually a dagger, that is used to direct a witch's power. Can be used interchagably with a wand.

Grim shivered and stared at his cup of coffee. It was near midnight, and he couldn't sleep. Dysio remained in bed. He heard the main door opened and looked up to see if anyone would come into the kitchen.

His eyes widened when he saw the man walk in. "Grim, hey." Dark hair, dark eyes, very big and broad. Grim would have loved to have his way with him, but the opposite had happened, just this past Christmas. Dysio had already threatened him, but it didn't seem to make a difference. And he did fool them for a while by coming aboard as "War Mace", but as soon as Grim heard the dark chuckle, he knew exactly who the man was.

"Masonry," he spat.

The man paused while pulling a chair from the table. He looked up and continued his motion. "Yeah," he replied.

"You owe me an apology, you son of a bitch."

Masonry leaned forward on the table. "I'm sorry. Look, I need your help."

Grim found himself leaning back, regarding Masonry. "That didn't sound very sincere."

"What else do you want out of me?"

Grim sipped his coffee and smacked his lips contentedly. "What help do you want out of me?"

"I want to know how to get a soul released."

"No, sorry, can't help you."

"That was fast."

"I wasn't sincere." He grinned.

Fire leapt into Masonry's eyes as he got up, slamming his palms on the table. "Fine. I'll find me someone who can help me."

"I don't know anyone who would help a rapist and a murderer."

He turned from Grim, then turned to look back at him. He thought to say something, but shook his head instead and stormed out of the kitchen. He heard the front door slam as Dysio came sleepily into the kitchen, in his full demonic regalia. "Who was that?"

"Masonry," Grim said, tossing the coffee down the drain.

"Why didn't you call me?"

Grim smiled, walked over to his lover and kissed him gently. "I handled him."

Dysio grinned, scooped Grim up in his arms. "Now it's my turn."

Grimaulkin stepped back from the cauldron in the center of his protective circle, careful not to step on Dysio’s chains. “Morte, morte est. Lumina, lumina est. Caliga, caliga est. Hospita, hospita est. Me, me est. Valeum, Roburum, Imperium. Inqua Impera!” And he repeated the chant over and over as he walked around the cauldron, Death, death is. Light, light is. Dark, dark is. Welcome, welcome is. Me, me, is. Power, strength, authority. I speak a command!

He looked out at the area beyond his circle and saw Dysio standing there. His chant did not waver, his mind did not focus on anything other than the chant. He wound it down, and the fire in the cauldron grew hotter, melting the liquid within to a thick goo. He took up the chains.

Now, he could relax his mind and wander to the fact that the protective circle held. What Dysio would be seeing is a large, columned mirror, his own reflection. He could also relax, knowing that the man out there wasn’t Dysio.

He contemplated a couple of minutes of who it could be, then cleared his mind again. He slowly dropped the chains into the goo, concentrating on covering every inch of the chain with it. Once it cooled, he would go through the chain by hand and cover every single inch of it, rubbing it into the cold metal.

It was overkill, he knew. But the consequences if he didn’t actually follow this would be dire on his end; not only would his demoness torture him for eternity, but probably many, many worse things that he couldn’t even dream of. No, the longer he stayed here the better it would be.

He sat down and waited.

“Hey, Mikey.”

Grimaulkin turned, his hands on fire. He felt more than saw the Death Mage at his back, and he turned to glare at him.

“Mikey, it’s me, Alex. Can’t tell anymore with the eyes. But I know you, man.”

Grimaulkin studied the older-looking man. Death Mages usually gave up bits of their essences in order to summon those zombies that did their bidding, and therefore aged faster than their counterparts. Alex could be about Mikey’s age, if not even younger.

“Don’t quite remember you, man.” He immediately buckled down for a fight.

“I’m not here to fight you.”

“Then what?”

“I’m here to congratulate you, and wonder if you’d be interested in working together.”

Grimaulkin stared at him. “Word travels fast.”

Alex folded his arms across his chest. “How you got where you are is no secret, Mikey. What you’re doing over here in Paragon is tempting fate, though.”

“I have the power, how I use it is my own choice. It’s in the contract.”

“You cheated.”

Grimaulkin shrugged. “Didn’t we all?”

“Yeah, we did.” Alex grinned. “But I need your help.”

“Oh? What do I get out of it?”

Alex held out a brown pouch and hefted it. “This.” He tossed it to Grimaulkin, who caught it on the fly. He noticed there were two pouches, one brown and fat, and the other black, flat and folded against the brown one. Alex then pulled out a pair of ornate gloves from his robes and handed them to Grimaulkin.

Grimaulkin eyed Alex. “Okay, explain first.”

“You don’t want to be handling dead bodies bare handed, do you?”

“Screw you, pal!” Grim backed away quickly, dropping the pouch.

“Wait, wait, let me explain! Here…” Alex picked up the pouch, put on one of the gloves. He took out something from the pouch that looked like a dried out chicken bone, tossed it on the ground. It hissed in the grass, grew, and a creature that looked like a skeleton with leather instead of skin rose up. Grim backed away as it turned to face him, swaying side-to-side, barely able to keep itself up.

Alex summoned darkness, which even he could feel in the air, and the creature took a shuddering, angry breath, its eyes filled with darkness and focused slightly tighter on Grim. Grim gulped and backed away further, the smell of it now stronger of death and the grave.

“Now…tell me why… I would want…that!” Grim tried to hold down his lunch, breakfast, dinner, and all the way back to last week’s Sunday dinner.

“First of all,” Alex said, “it’s your servant, would do everything you tell it. It’s quiet, discreet, and disposable.”

“So’s Louie.”

“But you can’t bring Louie to the Isles, can you? He’s a little too obvious there. The Legacy Chain would eat you for dinner if they felt you pull a soul out of the Netherworld.”

“Tell me why I’d go to the Isles.”

“To fetch some bones for me.”

Grimaulkin laughed.

“Plus, there’s lots of different magical items there that can’t be found here. The Legacy Chain has tons of things there. All I want is bones,” he held up the black pouch. “The zombies will drop an extra bone for you for every enemy it kills, it’ll look like the one you used, except it won’t have the enchantment on it.” He held up one of the bones from the brown pouch – it had a red, glittery symbol on it.

“So I use the bones and get old like you?”

“No, here’s where it’s great for you, Mikey.” Alex grinned. “You have your powers from an outside source, not from within you. That’s where you’ll get the power for your summoning. You won’t get old like me. I get more bones, better bones, and you get better magical items, things that can help you with your…quest.”

Piss off Grimmy by using her power to summon zombies. Heh, heh, heh, she’ll love that. “Those gloves aren’t enchanted, they won’t stick to me or anything?”

“No, they only make the zombies more focused on your will.”

Grimaulkin held out his hand. “Okay, let me try it. As long as I’m not downwind.”

This entry deals with homosexual themes, and may be offensive or graphic to some readers. Reader discretion is advised.

Grimaulkin watched the huge man on the other side of the Chalet. Man, he looks sick, he thought. He could barely stand up straight. He had collapsed in one of the couches by the fire, and Grim watched as he closed his eyes and breathed deep.

Grim set down his mug of beer and headed over, looking a little closer. The man had his eyes closed, looked like he was passed out. Grim stopped short, startled. First, he could smell death on him. Second, he could swear he looked like Idy.

He advanced slowly, peeking slowly around the corner. He did look like Idy, except for a few small details in his face. He sat down across from him, put his boots up on the table between them, and studied him. Finally, the man moved his head and slowly opened his eyes. "How long have you been staring at me?"

"Only a couple of minutes," Grim said with a smile.

"Huh." He sat up slowly. "What can I do for you? I'm not working."

"Neither am I. Buy you a drink?"

He shrugged. Grim took that as an affirmative answer and went to the bar. He returned with a scotch and a beer, and offered both. The man took the beer. Then Grim sat next to him. The man sat up a little straighter. Grim smiled at him. "Don't worry, I'm not going to bite."

He nodded. Grim slowly sat closer until their legs were touching. The man didn't move. Then the man moved closer. He put his arm around Grim's shoulders, and Grim leaned back into him. Both men sighed comfortably.

Since the booth was sort of in the corner, only people intentionally looking could see the two men there. Finally, the man raised his arm from Grim's shoulders and said, "Let's go somewhere more comfortable."

"I thought you'd never ask."

The two of them left the chalet and went to the red side part of the Pocket D, which was totally empty. A couch, tucked in the corner, was perfect for their needs. Grim first wanted to make sure: "What's your name, anyway?"

"Masonry," he replied with a smile, taking Grim by the goatee and lifting his head. "I've always loved this about my man," he said, stroking the goatee before leaning his own face forward.

---------------------------------

Idaho turned around when he saw the base's bathroom door open. He saw Grim, holding his clothes close to his body, backing out of the bathroom.

"Grim?"

He jumped, dropping a few items onto the floor. Idaho could never remember seeing the man jump at sudden noises. He bent to help with the clothes, but Grim protested. Idaho saw blood on them, then looked up at Grim's face. His eye was bruised. "Grim? What happened?"

Grim smiled slightly. "I got laid."

"That's not getting laid, that's getting beat up."

"No, no it isn't. He got a little rough, that's all. I was the bottom, it was all right."

Idaho put his hands on his hips. "Who did this to you?"

"You need to promise me, Idy, promise me on your life and soul, that you won't go after him."

"I know him?"

He nodded.

"Okay, I promise."

"You have to repeat it. It's an oath."

Idaho sighed. "I promise on my life and soul that I won't go after him."

Grim looked Idaho in the eye. "Masonry."

Idaho stiffened, Grim stared and watched Idaho struggle with the oath. Idaho whispered, "He raped you."

"No, he didn't." Idaho started walking down the hall to his room, Grim following him, yelling, "I started it. It was consensual, Idy, we both wanted it! He got a little rough--" The door slammed in his face. "Idy, Idy!" Grim banged on the door.

"Be right out," Idaho said calmly, almost icily. Grim backed up and hit the wall. In a few minutes, Idaho was in his hero uniform, axe in hand.

"Don't go after him, you swore an oath!"

"I'm not going after him," Idaho replied. "I'm going to kill some Freakshow." And put that bastard's face on every single one of them.

Details of Grim's assault are available via RP.