From: Bookwyrm@voyager.cris.com (BOOKWYRM) Newsgroups: rec.arts.comics.creative Subject: NTB: Dance of the Daemon #5 "Children of the Night" Date: 2 Sep 1995 18:41:31 -0400 Sorry about the delay. To make up for it, I'll be posting the first issue of Fortune's wheel, as well as Dance..#6, next week. By the way, I noticed issue two isn't on the archive. Do you need a copy, Russ? DANCE OF THE DAEMON #5 "Children of the Night" SZAGO MONASTERY, SZAGO LAKE, ROMANIA The group of tourists gawked appreciatively as the cowled monk continued his tale of the late, great Vlad Tepes. He sighed inwardly at the necessity, bemoaning the loss of sanctity the old chapel had undergone. But the tomb of the one called Dracula brought income to the order, income sorely needed in these troubled times. At least one of the tourists understood. He had broken away from the group, kneeling at the foot of the altar. The brother nodded approvingly, before motioning the group toward a small gift shop. Damien watched the glow on the earth before him resolve into an ornate medallion, which he quietly picked up, tucking it away within his coat. The Knights of the Dragon had been a proud order at one time, but this son of the Dragon, this Dracula, had been touched by the madness of Netrigan, becoming the strange mix of hero and monster so beloved by the Romanian people. But it was time to move on. At this rate, he decided, he'd be done by Christmas. Three weeks later, he wasn't so sure. After reabsorbing the curse, he'd consulted the "Powerbook of Thoth", trying to find the next item. This time, however, the images wouldn't settle down. First, it was a hill. Then, an isle of glass. Another time, it was a tree. It had taken most o f a month, but all he could glean was a general trend westward. So now he was in Germany, as baffled as ever. "I wish Max was here." he muttered, "I could use a little inspiration." The Max in question, Max Fremont, had hung up when he'd called him. Considering the unceremonious way Damien had sent him back to Cambridge, his reaction was understandable, if unfortunate. Damien would have to solve this one on his own. Even the avatars of Netatron, usually so forthcoming, had been silent. So, he spent a lot of time running around in circles, trying to get a fix. It was eerie, in a way. Finally, he'd decided to consult a specialist. Unfortunately, the Baron was unavailable, but in the process of trying to link up with him, he'd found a fairly powerful source of mystic energy close by. Maybe it was the item, maybe it was help. Whatever it was, he had nothing to lose. Following the mystic trail, he found himself standing outside a rough wooden wagon, deep within the Black Forest. Options being limited, he knocked. "Enter freely, and of your own will." a voice croaked from within. Damien did so, finding himself in a room hung with tapestries, sigils, and other tools of the seer's trade. "Welcome, bright one, I am called Magda." The speaker was an old woman, apparently of the Romany. She turned to face him, and Damien stepped back at the pale white eyes which met his. "Although I am called blind by mortals, I can see more than they. I sense your need, avatar, but can be of little help." Damien shrugged, "Little help is better than none." "Then hear my voice..." Smoke billowed from nearby lamps, as the Gypsy seer continued. Child of Light meets Child of Night, Walks the path that brings his fate. Over sea, and under hill, Is the way to pass the gate." She fell silent, and the room cleared. "Is that it?" Damien queried. "That is all. Night comes. You must go." Damien shrugged again, tossing a disc of gold onto the table. "For your help, I thank you," he spoke formally, before exiting the wagon. Dusk had fallen, bringing a chill to the forest air. Damien shivered slightly, mumbling a charm of warmth. He turned back to the wagon, but faced an empty clearing. "I hate it when they do that..." he moved on. As the darkness grew, red eyes flickered within the shadows, watching the figure move deeper into the wood. A few hours later, Damien was definitely getting disgusted. "That old witch was useless! What did she mean by Child of Night anyway?" The howling of a wolf was the only reply. Damien started at this, gazing slowly about him, finbally noticing the glowing eyes which had been his companions for the night. "...Oh my." he mumbled, completing a quote which had popped into his mind. Taking this as their cue, the wolves attacked. Quickly, surely, Damien summoned a ball of flame, propelling it at the nearest beast. Which, quite surprisingly, swallowed it, and moved in closer. "This is not good.." Another spell he'd had use for popped in his head, and once again, a golden baseball bat appeared in his hands. This was slightly more effective, as several still forms attested to. However, there seemed to be an awful lot of th em, and he was getting tired. Backed up to a tree by the circling lupines, he finally slumped to the ground, weapon fading back to the ether. The wolves moved in, and stopped. The night mists grew, and following the laws of dramatic entrances, a dark, cloaked figure stepped into view. "I am Heinrich von Geist. I want your power." he hissed, revealing pointed fangs within his pale visage. A vampire. Lovely. "I don't think I'm ready to give it up right now. Could we fight about this another time? I'm kinda busy." "You speak gallantly. I approve. However, I know of your quest, and I don't think you shall complete it." Slowly, using the tree as support, Damien rose to his feet. "Many have tried before you, Heinie. I'm still here." The undead form smiled, "Joking to the end. I must feed now. I shall leave you to my pets, until I am ready to drain you. Do enjoy yourself, won't you?" The mists swallowed him, and the dogs moved in, growling menacingly. One leapt, only to be intercepted by a bush which hadn't been there a moment before. Since this particular plant had rather long thorns, it wasn't a pleasant experience. "Did I do that?" Damien wondered aloud. "In a way. Actually, I did." came the reply from above him. Damien looked up, imminent death temporarily forgotten. Seated on a branch above him was a figure in formal attire [tux, top hat, tails, the works.] In the moonlight, the color was a little hard to discern, but it was kinda grayish, kinda blue. "Um..." "I can see you are a dazzling conversationalist," the stranger replied, "but maybe we should take care of your canine problem?" Damien looked down, at the now cautious beasts. "That would probably be a good idea." He glanced up, but the figure was gone. "Oh great, now I'm seeing things." "Sorry about that." the stranger said from his right, "My aim is a bit off." Damien whirled around clunking his head on a low-lying branch. Having had one trauma too many, his mind decided to take a short vacation. An indeterminate time later, he woke up, stretched out on the forest floor. The stranger looked down at him, his somehow familiar face [wreathed by a cascade of white hair] bearing a look of concern. "You're fine, right?" he asked solicitously. Damien sat up, moaning slightly, "I..think so." "Good. We haven't much time, and I have a lot to tell you." "Are you another avatar?" Damien asked. The stranger grinned at a private joke, "Not exactly. You might say I'm Eternity's Fool." The Fool, for lack of a better name, helped Damien stand. "First things first. The next cursed item isn't on this plane. That's why the Book is giving you garbled data." "How do you know about that?" Damien asked suspiciously. "Long story." the Fool replied. "Anyway, that's not important. We have to take out Geist, and for that you need a bit of new magic..." "Again?" Damien sighed. "Yup. It's a bit complicated, and we don't have much time. Let's just say there's more to life than Law and Chaos. You've got to be right at the edge for thungs to get interesting." Damien shook his head, "That's nothing new. Magicians have been balancing Law and Chaos for millenia." The Fool looked up at a point in midair "You were right, Doc. I can't do it in time..." "Who are you talking to?" "A friend." The Fool began snatching crystal spheres out of midair. "Let's see if I remember this right..." "I think it's too late..." Damien remarked, as the now familiar mists grew about the pair. The Fool merely began to juggle the spheres, weaving a pattern in midair. Geist made his entrance. "I am disappointed." he murmured, "I'd hoped you'd have made a more formidable ally, not just some clown." Geist's eyes grew red. Damien hastily summoned what magic he could muster. Between the knock on his head, and generic exhaustion, there wasn't much. The mists rolled back, but soon drifted inward once more. The Fool kept juggling. Geist raised his arms, fangs growing larger as his face deformed into a bestial mask. "Now," he roared, speech only slightly slurred by his new appearance, "You are mine!!!" The Fool tossed him an orb. On instinct alone, Geist caught it. That was a mistake. While the Fool juggled the remaining pair one handed, the third grew in brilliance, shedding a pure white light over the foggy glade. A light not unlike that of the sun. "No!!!!!" Geist cried, various bits necessary to the proper function of a humanoid body rotting away. Eventually, all that was left was the glass sphere, dropping to the ground with a thud. The Fool vanished the other two. Damien looked on, cursing himself for not thinking of it. Seemingly on it's own volition, the sphere rolled toward the pair, stopping at a point between them. "That worked." the Fool grinned. "Now what do we do?" Damien asked. "*You* have a quest to complete. *I* am going home." Damien looked around him at the still mist-shrouded landscape. "That could be difficult..." "Just follow the bouncing ball." the Fool laughed, as the orb rose from the undergrowth, rekindled with a much softer, less destructive glow. The mists swirled around them, and the Fool began to fade from view. "Wait! Isn't there something else you can tell me?" "If you ever see another orb like this one," the voice trailed off, "follow it..." And Damien stood alone, save only for the impatiently bobbing ball. "OK, bright guy, lead on." The orb moved off into the mists, Damien close behind. TO BE CONTINUED... [Where is Damien going? Who was that anyway? All will be answered, in the fullness of time.] ************************************************************** Mario "The Bookwyrm" Di Giacomo: bookwyrm@voyager.cris.com Visit the Bookwyrm's Lair at http://www.cris.com/~bookwyrm "Writers, by definition, have tremendous egos"- Harlan Ellison