A Wizardly Story of Forging Gains
Part 1
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Damon stood before his home, a melancholic smile on his face.
In the three years he last saw it, the house was basically untouched by anyone, and the grass was completely overgrown. He'd need to cut it down one day. Or at least just the walking path and parts of the backyard. He likes letting the plants grow a bit out of hand.
Sometimes.
He swears he's not just lazy, alright?
But aside from the expanded green, he was pleased about how untouched it was. He actually feared that some of the Rogues would try to do something to his house while he was gone.
Then they'd have problems.
Maybe that's why they didn't do anything.
Granted, it was not like they would be able to make it more than ten paces inside the property, for various reasons. Damon looked at the small chest-high fenced wall that acted as a boundary separating his house's terrain from the rest of Gotham's infrastructure.
Graffiti and scraps of trash here and there. Just like he left it.
But it did have a fresh new layer of paint, thanks to petty vandalism and really shitty urban artists being edgy and stuff.
Two swastikas only. Hmm… improvement. He saw a couple of gang signs here and there. Some painted over others as if this little wall was worth the trouble of getting into a dispute over. What are they gonna do?
Loiter around menacingly in front of it while they smoke pot or something? Heh. Amusing. Because they did that last time Damon remembered.
Two guys, both older than Damon way back then, spent most of their time sitting by the street by his house, smoking pot, and being generally useless. They had the most basic list of curses Damon had ever heard, he's not gonna lie. Started with fuck you and only got a covering of shit after that.
Seriously, the education system of this place isn't doing anyone any favors. People should come out of school at least knowing ten different curses.
Also, they were most likely too high all the times Damon ever saw/interacted with them to even say anything that required more than five brain cells to work, so he wasn't going to hold it over their heads.
Let's see what else is new on the graffiti wall.
A drawing of Spongejoe and Sandra. Peterick and Octiavious were buried in uglier work. Shame.
Also penises.
Loads of penises.
A thing that looked like an ey-oh, never mind it's a vagina. Why did they put it sideways though? Oh… it's a woman's head with… gross.
Points for creativity, Damon supposed.
Then the mage's subtle smile fell when he found something he recognized. It was much older and covered by a lot of other ugly pieces. But he could understand basic English.
Monster Maker.
He hissed and the name burned away, barely an expression of magic that needed the traditional methods.
That was his expertise anyway.
He walked around the walled fence and through the wide metal fence gate that opened as if welcoming its master. In a way, it was. Damon hadn't needed to touch anything for this place to move following a will of its own.
The one and only reason anyone who dared come into this place would never get more than a few paces was starkly evident by the four large gargoyle statues that subtly turned their heads towards the mage and immediately bowed upon the recognition of their creator.
Damon looked at the four defenders of his abode. Constructs not too dissimilar to simple automatons, simple of mind, yet with a vague will of their own bound to this place. Each looked like a stony warrior with a fiery heart residing in a metal cage, one that burned brighter and hotter whenever they moved. Each had their own distinct weapon made of unrusting stone wrought iron.
Alphean carried a halberd, Bhethal had twin swords, Theatra wielded a huge bow with arrows that it would conjure from its heart, and Dieltos simply held a staff that always had a hazy heat at its skull tip.
"I ma denruter." Damon spoke and the constructs rose back high, bowing no longer… "Now, Tser." … and shifted their postures into one more at ease, bowing down and holding their stony weapons in a more relaxed posture as the burning cores in their breast slowly dimmed down until they eventually subsided.
They may be no longer active, but Damon could easily feel the touch of the Burn held steadily in their centers.
They were creatures attuned to the Essence of Fire, but not just any flame.
One tamed, not a wild and ravaging force that would sweep upon forests and claim all that crawled and lived there. One held in a lantern, a torch or a brazier. Caged in iron, but protected from the world, as well as protecting the world from it.
The chaos of fire and the surge of change and vitality it brings contained by a web of order born of its most fierce and stalwart child.
Damon nodding that his security system was no longer activated to crush any interloper into his paste, continued making his way to the front door and smiled at the smell of the ironwood he remembered so fondly.
A key in its hole and a twist of the nob later and he stepped in, breathing the fresh air that his home always had whenever he had been gone for more than a few days. What was it with places taking this new aroma when left uninhabited for long enough? Was it to elate a welcome to their lost inhabitants returned?
Whatever it was, it made him feel nostalgic and as he passed his hand over the dusted furniture, he smiled.
Cleanup could be done with a few well-said backward words empowered by magic. But… it's been three years since he's walked in this place, breathed its air, and felt its presence which now seemed to purr like a cat, welcoming him back home.
He could feel the subtle glances from the shadows, the mystical energies that seeped into every crevice of this place, the veins of power that flowed through the walls from an unseen hearth of energy. They were all converging upon him, like the arms of a lover, touching his soul tenderly, lovingly.
Yes… magicking away the dust and grime would be the most efficient way. But magic was not just a tool for convenience, no matter how tempting it was. He had learned that long ago and had taken it to heart.
Magic was just as much an intimate act as it was a power to exert your will over reality itself. Magic isn't to be simply ripped and torn and made to subjugate. That way lies ruin and sin, and only very few and far between bear the malice to make it work.
Such isn't the way of Damon, to steal and take. His is the path of a maker and artisan. An artist who pours every ounce of his being into all he creates.
He gives his soul to the world, and it, in return, grants him the fruits only love can nourish. It was time for a house cleaning, the proper way, and he could feel the house breathe in satisfaction, the aroma of discarded loneliness made all the sweeter as it passed into his lungs and revitalized his soul.
"Well,…" He said, and without missing a beat, took off his shirt and would take off a bit more later. He needed to get something comfortable anyway and this would take the better part of the day if he was lucky. "I can always buy food tomorrow." Besides, he hadn't eaten pizza in a while, he could order some for tonight.
Time to clean his house.
But first, shorts.
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House cleaning was not a fun thing to do.
It was mostly annoying shores he would otherwise have his magic deal with. But he hadn't been home for quite a while, and his house appreciated it. That, it also served another purpose and that was to familiarize himself with where everything was before he left. Organizing, throwing out stuff that had rotted away, beat down a couple of spirits that thought that haunting his house was a good idea, throwing out the trash, cutting some of the plants that started to grow into the porch, dust off his workshop, make sure his paints haven't expired yet and throw out those that did, you know, the usual stuff one does.
Yes. Including suplexing a ghost.
Everyone does that, don't they?
Commissioner Gordon didn't think so. Oh well.
Anyway, Damon was cleaning out his alchemical herb garden while on the phone on loudspeaker, giving hum an update on the unresolved cases that plagued Gotham. "….Listen Gordon, I just arrived in Gotham and I am making sure everything here doesn't by any chance explode and tear open a gateway to hell." Not that something like that would actually happen. Damon didn't have much interactions with demonic forces… well.. aside from blasting them with holy magic. But that was besides the point.
Explaining people that an unexpected opening to any one of the Elemental Planes was not good tended to go over their heads when they tried to think of the implications of it. Oh sure, fire and brimstone were easy to picture, because it was something so synonymous to hell in many folk's minds.
But a gateway to the Green or the Red, or hell, the Melt? Sometimes you had to give a scenario for them to understand the implications of it. The Melt would be the least problematic, and that one could involve a volcano!
Sure, the Gateway's fissure was not a risk that indicated a total breach and outpour of mystical energies out into the world. But renewing the seals was always necessary and they had withered in Damon's absence a bit. Not good, but also nothing too problematic because then the house would have sent a messenger towards one of his many contacts that could handle the situation.
"Wh-why do you have a portal to hell in your house?" He heard the commissioner blurt out.
"Because closing it means that I have to re-open it again, and doing that involves a lot more effort than its worth. Easier to keep it sealed." Damon explained. "Also, it's not a gateway to hell, but it could be just as bad if left unattended." Depending on which oscillation point the Elemental Matrix was on, Damon would wager that it could open up with a connection to the Red or the Melt. Less of a chance for the Clear though. But it still meant that someone may see a shoggoth running around if the stars were right.
And that would not do for him to be blamed for another horror running around Gotham.
"Honestly, I wonder if magic is worth the trouble to deal with."
"Only if you don't use it for evil and treat it with respect. But that's a given." Damon replied. "Just email me the info like you did when I was at my mate's birthday party and I'll look at it tonight. Send me the relevant info and if you can, please put sample evidence on a safe box and tell me where I can pick it up. I may fly over by midnight." Just barely got home and he's already working. Seriously, why couldn't they bother Blood for this?
Oh right, he has a demon inside of him. Wouldn't do to irritate the man too much.
Alright, fine, bother Batman then! He could find these missing people and the Rogues are not too active these days.
Or if he's out, then they could call Flamestride! People keep saying he's Damon's sidekick even though Damon never met the man. He really needs someone to delegate work to!
"Alright. Mind if you take a look at this one case real quick? Please? It's a thirteen-year-old kid. From what we learned, I could get the signs that his parents were abusive and I would like to find him before something were to happen to him." Damon stopped pulling out weeds and became silent.
A sigh.
Of course…. now he can't leave that one alone. How could he, when it hit so close to home? No doubt Gordon used that to get him to act faster.
That was underhanded, but Damon would admit that it worked.
Sigh.
"Alright. I'll fly by now." He stood up and levitated the phone to follow him. "Do you have any of the kid's possessions?" Damon asked as he found a tap and began washing away at the dirt that stuck to his hands.
"Yes. We have it all prepared here at HQ."
The mage nodded. "Very well. Tell someone bring it to the roof. I'll be there in a bit."
"Thanks Damon. I'll send Officer Fredrick to wait for you at the rooftop." And with that, the line went quiet, and Damon sighed, handlessly pocketing his phone.
He guessed that cleaning would have to be postponed. At least he finished cleaning the Arcanum, so he could get to Scrying right away.
Alright, just needs to put on a shirt and… oh damn! His delivery could be here in the time he's out. Hmm… the Imps have been dormant for too long and won't be able to get up to receive the pizza boy…
Hmmm….
Damon took out his hundred dollars from his pocket… He guessed that they'll have to do.
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Justin was a pizza boy. Nothing else to it to be honest. School finished like seven days ago and he had jumped into his part time job again because he wanted the money to buy a Joystation Four and his mom wouldn't be willing to spare him the amount he needed. What with taking care of the mortgage and everything else, on top of having three different kids from three different fathers… yeah. Justin's kind of on his own on that.
At least his mom's new boyfriend was nice.
Too bad that he was let off two months ago and had been door nocking for any source of income to no avail. Sad really.
Well, no point crying about it, he had a job to do anyway.
He looked at the street his delivery was sent to. To the end of Repp Street, large walled house, with four huge statues in the garden.
Why was that description familiar to him though.
He shook his head, thinking not to linger on it, nor ponder the reason as for why someone would have four large statues in their front yard.
Justin didn't question the choice of ornamentation. This was Gotham after all, and gargoyles were everywhere actually. He remembered one day he passed a house with a massive statue of Zeus by their drive through.
Whoever that guy was, he's crazy.
Anyway, finding the house he was supposed to deliver to was unsurprisingly easy. He parked his scooter and brought out the food from the back.
Three pizzas with extra cheese, meat and bacon. A lot of bacon if what he saw was correct. He swore it was more meat than pizza.
He pushed through the barred gates and walked up the front door of the house, passing the four large statues of things. That Zeus statue was weird, but these things were off… Justin swore that it felt as if they were watching him.
Pushing those thoughts out of his mind he reached the front door and pressed the bell.
Big place, Justin idly thought out loud. A little overgrown though, almost as if no one had been caring for their yard in over a year.
Then, his musings were suddenly silenced by the sound of something heavy coming down behind him. He turned around immediately and saw that one of the statues were… oh God… that shouldn't be possible!
It was walking!
It was walking towards him! A massive statue at least twelve feet tall was heading in his direction
Justin froze, like a deer before the headlights of a car, as the towering stone monster approached the poor boy and kneeled down to fit underneath the roof, and Justin could see its baleful, flaming eyes, burning with the same intensity as the fire in its chest.
Justin was about to drop the pizzas and bolt out of there when he saw the creature extend its hand and… wait… were those a hundred bucks?
He looked at the outstretched stony arm, then at the creature, then at the hundred dollar bill on its hand, then back at the creature… wait a minute… is it.. was this?
"Take." The grumbling voice of the monster spoke and the delivery boy swore he peed himself when he heard it shake his very bones. It even brought its hand closer to Justin, as if to accentuate that the boy ought to take the money.
It… it was comical… if it wasn't so fucking terrifying!
He cautiously approached and took the hundred dollar bill from its hands. Then he saw as the thing's hand opened up, palm up, as if expecting something.
Justin was sure he was hearing laugher somewhere. He just didn't know where, nor did he care.
He placed the pizza boxes on the thing's hands and he watched as the stone giant stood back and returned to its pedestal, holding the pizza box close to its chest, but not close enough that the cardboard would catch fire from the furnace inside of its body.
Justin decided that he should sprint back to his scooter, and when he got onto it, he wasted no second in turning it on and driving out of there as fast as he could.
It was then that he realized why the house description was familiar to him!
That was the Monster Maker's house! He just walked into the Monster Maker's yard and delivered pizza for one of the monsters there!
When he gets to the Pizzeria he'll throw his apron at the manager and the hat! Fuck that shit! He's quitting! He'll find another job elsewhere!
Anything that involved not delivering stuff to people's houses!
Especially ones where there are giant stone monsters living in them!
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To be continued…
AN: Since you guys are reading this and I am itching to draw... let's play a little game shall we?
I intend on drawing the characters of the story, starting with buff mage Damon, and I will let you lot decide what pose to draw him in. Next chapter will be a continuation of the game by picking other features you want me to add to him. Like hairstyle or anything else.
Pick 3 of the following poses. If you have accounts on SB and/or QQ as well, please keep your votes in one page. I would sincerely appreciate it.
