The mad moon rises.
1. It's time to turn off the light. Wait for the time at the end of the Waxing Crescent moon, and I will come again.
2. The time of the waxing moon is upon us. Take up a candle and follow me to our meeting place. Time runs short, and the Master does not like to be kept waiting.
So said the herald, he who runs on the breath of disaster and misfortune. The news spread quickly, as bad news will.
The waxing moon hung in the sky like a crescent rift in the fabric of space. The time was at hand.
Those who felt the calling in their bones - those who had spoken with the harbinger - straggled to the meeting point (designated on a slip of paper found on the floor of their residences, blown in by the chill wind). A concrete plane, a former parking lot, cracked and broken. Dying grass pushed through the tarmac, summoning networks of cracks (a vision of the Gobi desert in crumbling tar, what place is more forsaken than that which has gone to rust?)
The candles intensify the darkness, drawing it as close as the winding sheet. What is fire in the infinite void?
The whispering begins. Softly at first, then swelling up into a crescendo of sussurri. No one voice could be discerned, but the tone was that of despair.
The candles go out, and only the anemic light of the moon remains.
A man stands in the center of the parking lot, dust dancing around his heels.
"The Master will be arriving shortly." He scans the gathering with bright eyes, fleet feet twitching. "I am to offer you pledges of safety if you wish to leave at any time. Knowledge you gain here will not be held against you." With a quick bow he darts into the deeper shadows where darkness pools like tar.
The sky brightens. A star is plunging to Earth. It crashes down in silence, the light extinguishing without smoke.
"Welcome to the beginning of the end of the world,"
says the man garbed in the shell of an angel.
"I have looked into the abyss, and I have seen the heart of darkness." he begins to pace among the gathered, looking into their eyes with his dilated pink eyes. "We are corrupted. We are infected. We are poisoned." He spreads metal wings to the sky, glowing with light. "Long ago there was a flood to wipe out the corruption that grows in the mind of man. But like rats, corruption can swim." A faint smile, baring bone-shard incisors. "It's time for a second flood: One of fire, one of darkness, one of infinite cold." He turns his face to the moon. "And then, we chosen few will start it all over again." He stopped his restless motion. "Mercury will take the census. Go home now. Contemplate the beauty of Nothing. I will see you soon, if you are Worthy."
And he began to blaze with light, a terrible light. Then he ascended into the sky, temporarily masking the stars.
Once more the fleet-footed harbinger, the swift Mercury, stepped forth. "If we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended...that you have but slumbered here..."
THE CHOSEN WILL
Find themselves at the mercy of one Judas de Flamme, the mad murderer known as Icarus. He has seized control of a lovely manor in Tuscany, far above the sea.
Mercury is always happy to provide transportation to and from the base. It is furnished, but Judas has no issues with redecoration of any form. There are only two rules:
1. Do not disclose the location to outsiders unless you are willing to answer for their mishaps
2. Do not interfere with experiments running in the cellar laboratory.
The mission? Bring about a new Dark Age
TO JOIN DEMENTIS VOX:
Be willing to end everything
Contact IcarusMach9 to join.