- Location
- Philippines
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Not as much as a Sir'fetched being in DVV
DoofQuest- a Disney Villains Victorious CK2-Style Quest
- Thread starter Made in Heaven
- Start date
- Crossover
Lord Ultimus
Beautiful...
- Location
- Undisclosed Warehouse
If the Darkwing Duck comics are canon, then Duckthulhu is also canon!
KitRougard
Blatant furry. Deal with it.
- Location
- wherever I feel like~
- Pronouns
- He/She
He pages through his notes on the various exteadimensional beings of the multiverse in a panic. Surely he had SOMETHING to draw upon, some way of steering the thread back from the brink of madness.If the Darkwing Duck comics are canon, then Duckthulhu is also canon!
But he did not. He could feel the eldrich thing building inside his soul, and he choked out twisted words through bloody teeth.
"̵̛͖̫̣͖̳̈́̈́̆̊̈̅̌̾̀͝D̵̬͓̜̻̗̬̙͗͑̑̇̈́͋̽͌̓̓̾͐͐͠͝u̵͙͕̗̓̈́̀̅͑͝c̸̡͙̯͕͖̝̜̱̙̜̹͈͉͕̀̇̃̾̈͂̊͠ͅk̵̰̫̜͚͑̓ͅt̷̛̛̯͕̹̳͇̳̣̘̻͆͗̃̔̔͛͆̒̏͗̀h̸̢̧͉͓̳̖̯͆̀́͌͘͜u̸̮̞̎lh̴̨̢̨̪̜͎̙̗̳̃̒͗̊́̑̎̚͜͝͠͝ù̴̢͉̰̹͘ ̴̗̾́͌̀͘̕F̶̡̛̼̖͕̭̹̳̭̗́̓̇͋'̷̡̠̜͗̈́͠s̸͖͈͐u̸̦̞̠̤̯͋͗̾̄̾̀͆͋̕͝͠ṟ̸̳̲̱̜͈͙̜͖͈̌̄̒̍͜ͅe̶̖̣̥̞͔̞̲̋̔̑̈͌̋̓̀̐̕.̵̢̛̅̆́̀͝͝"̸̢͕̜͉͕͈͈͙͂̍̅̽͒̊͒̋̽̿͝͠
You know it's bad when I have to break out the ol' Wordsmith's Anvil to put how I feel about something into words. Yikes.
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Three words:
Magical Girl Russ
KitRougard
Blatant furry. Deal with it.
- Location
- wherever I feel like~
- Pronouns
- He/She
He blinked the nonsense from his eyes as his memory fogged. Then he saw what had saved him.
"Of course, any given Infohazard can be countered by a BrainBleach-class topic of equal or greater strength. Now where did Eldrich Kit put that stuff? I need it... Again."
No problem!
I̴̳̲̠͚̜̍ ̶̼͓̠̟̝̹̾̈͆̔͆̆̈̓̏͐̃̑͌̒̕͘̚͝w̷̢̛͙̭̣̣̯̗̠̳̫̙̰̱̭̋̽̈́̄͋̎̈́̂̔̒́̃̑̀̇͘͠͝ͅa̶̠̞̬̮̩͙̺̙͖̐͋̒̎̈́ͅş̷̨̣̗̜͍̪͕̙̩̳͕͊̽͛͌͊̕͘͝͝ ̸̛̛̠͙͖̭͑̿̈̓̽̓̔́͊̄͜͝h̵̨̨͖͉͓̦̞̦̲͈̒̈́͆̊̈̇̉́̉̒̅̎͂͐̇̋͆́̉͛̂̌̈͝͝͝͝ͅą̵̡̛̻̘̟̭̖͖͙̼̳̖̗͙̲̩̰͙̬̝̲͚͎̂̈̈́͋̿̑́̈́̋̇͆̓̎͋̉͛͜͝͠͝͠p̴̹̥͓͍͚̖͉̝̤̺̤̯͖̼͔̤̩͉̔͆̊̌̀͂͊̋́͒̍͋́̾̔͌̊̃́͋͛̓͑̏͘̚͜͠ͅp̸̨̧̛͈͈̻̞̠̳͕͍̠̼̜̥̘̬̜̦̈̐̌̂̂̈́̊̈͗̽̓͠ͅy̸̳͚̖̰͑́̒͋̈́̓̈͝͠ ̸̛̛͙̥̩͉͖̠̞̖̬̜̥̿͐͊̅̈́̍̓͌͋̓̆̽̿̅̿̚͠͝t̶̢̠̻͙͉͚͍̟͉̰͕̼̼̮̳̒͗̐̒̓͆̀̿̒̂̒͆̀͛̓̊̅͘̚͝ó̴̢̝̱̘͉̻͓̗̙̺̔̾̈́̏̃́̌͜ ̸͕̬͖͇̭͍̲̬̱̈̀̍̓͗̆́́͊̐͒̂͒͊́̉̆h̷̢̖̝̝̼̟̹͇͇͇̺̳̋͒̄̓̀͂́͑̄̆͊̈́̇́̈̅͑́͒̏͘ͅę̶̡̢̨̛̰̪̗̰͔̣̮͇̹̭̭͎͙̜̅̒̍́̓̅͂̊̑̓͐́͝ͅl̵̟͍͇̰͖̩̝̤̟̖͍͕̩̍̐̇͛͘͜ͅp̸̨̟̮̳͍̠̜̤̭͍̒͛̾̆̔̓͛̕ͅ
- Location
- Somewhere nearby.
I see that yellow, nice try bill.
- Location
- Two hours away
- Pronouns
- He/Him
We do have "being max is suffering" as a tag. Russ would probably get dragged along for the ride if that meme became relevant.
Exit MacBeth? (1/3)
A little Gargoyles-centric omake, meant to be the first part of three, about something that could have happened, but which is unlikely to be canon. That said, I sort of like how this one came out, so I hope somebody else enjoys this.
***
Exit MacBeth? (1/3)
The Scrolls of Merlin, discovered in 1995 by Professor Lydia Duane and Doctor Arthur Morwood-Smyth, represent one of the scant primary sources from the sub-Roman period in Great Britain and probably the single most important one, along with Gildas the Wise's De Excidio Et Conquestu Britanniae. Although primarily an autobiography, Merlin's historical role in the formation of the Kingdom of Camelot means that this document offers us unprecedented insight into some of the main actors involved in that pivotal moment of European history...
"Somebody needs to learn that brevity is the soul of wit," muttered a very old man, looking away from the panel that flanked the centerpiece of the Met's latest exhibition and trying to find those he was supposed to meet.
That was easier said than done. The opening week of Camelot: The Realm Behind The Myth had been a truly rousing success for the museum and it was still going strong many months later, so he was in the midst of a veritable sea of humanity.
A very public, well-policed space. Not the best place for discreet conversation, but a good choice if one wanted to avoid a violent altercation. Was it a gesture of goodwill? Or just a sign that the man he was supposed to meet was playing it safe?
Probably both, decided the once King of Scotland. In this modern age, success in business required a good measure of ruthlessness and some understanding of the old game of cloak and dagger and, in spite of a string of ill-fortune, the founder of Cyberbiotics had once been regarded as a peer to David Xanatos himself.
Even the correspondence that had brought him here suggested that he was dealing with a first-rate mind. The first letters had been innocent enough, the same questions that the immortal Scot had started receiving after publishing Gargoyles In Celtic Legend, but those first missives had been followed by others full of probing questions, veiled hints and a wish to meet face to face to talk about "matters of mutual interest".
A ripple in the crowd caught MacBeth's eye. Moments later, the throng parted and he saw a tall, smartly dressed man advancing towards him, escorting the occupant of a motorized wheelchair.
Halcyon Renard did not cut an impressive figure. There was still fire in his eyes, but his skin was pale, splotchy and a gaunt sickliness could be seen in the motion of the head and the labored breathing. Even someone without MacBeth's centuries of accumulated experience could have seen that this was not a man long for this world.
Mister Renard seemed to agree, because after greeting him with a jerky nod and exchanging only minimal pleasantries, he gave his reason to request this meeting.
"Professor Macduff, I am told that you are currently party to a contract that you would wish to break and I am given to understand that your efforts to do so have been futile so far. As you can see, if I were to take your current position in that arrangement, I stand to gain much, while you would receive the freedom you desire. I think that I have the means to accomplish this, if you are amenable."
Mouth suddenly dry, MacBeth found himself at a loss of words. The silence stretched uncomfortably for nearly a minute, before he was able to utter a reply.
"Sir, before I agree to anything, I would like to discuss certain some things at length, such as your understanding of my circumstances, how you have acquired that knowledge, the means you claim to possess, your motivations..."
"Of course, professor. I intend to answer your questions to the very best of my ability. That said, if we are to discuss specifics, it may be better to continue in a more private setting."
"Indeed."
***
Exit MacBeth? (1/3)
The Scrolls of Merlin, discovered in 1995 by Professor Lydia Duane and Doctor Arthur Morwood-Smyth, represent one of the scant primary sources from the sub-Roman period in Great Britain and probably the single most important one, along with Gildas the Wise's De Excidio Et Conquestu Britanniae. Although primarily an autobiography, Merlin's historical role in the formation of the Kingdom of Camelot means that this document offers us unprecedented insight into some of the main actors involved in that pivotal moment of European history...
"Somebody needs to learn that brevity is the soul of wit," muttered a very old man, looking away from the panel that flanked the centerpiece of the Met's latest exhibition and trying to find those he was supposed to meet.
That was easier said than done. The opening week of Camelot: The Realm Behind The Myth had been a truly rousing success for the museum and it was still going strong many months later, so he was in the midst of a veritable sea of humanity.
A very public, well-policed space. Not the best place for discreet conversation, but a good choice if one wanted to avoid a violent altercation. Was it a gesture of goodwill? Or just a sign that the man he was supposed to meet was playing it safe?
Probably both, decided the once King of Scotland. In this modern age, success in business required a good measure of ruthlessness and some understanding of the old game of cloak and dagger and, in spite of a string of ill-fortune, the founder of Cyberbiotics had once been regarded as a peer to David Xanatos himself.
Even the correspondence that had brought him here suggested that he was dealing with a first-rate mind. The first letters had been innocent enough, the same questions that the immortal Scot had started receiving after publishing Gargoyles In Celtic Legend, but those first missives had been followed by others full of probing questions, veiled hints and a wish to meet face to face to talk about "matters of mutual interest".
A ripple in the crowd caught MacBeth's eye. Moments later, the throng parted and he saw a tall, smartly dressed man advancing towards him, escorting the occupant of a motorized wheelchair.
Halcyon Renard did not cut an impressive figure. There was still fire in his eyes, but his skin was pale, splotchy and a gaunt sickliness could be seen in the motion of the head and the labored breathing. Even someone without MacBeth's centuries of accumulated experience could have seen that this was not a man long for this world.
Mister Renard seemed to agree, because after greeting him with a jerky nod and exchanging only minimal pleasantries, he gave his reason to request this meeting.
"Professor Macduff, I am told that you are currently party to a contract that you would wish to break and I am given to understand that your efforts to do so have been futile so far. As you can see, if I were to take your current position in that arrangement, I stand to gain much, while you would receive the freedom you desire. I think that I have the means to accomplish this, if you are amenable."
Mouth suddenly dry, MacBeth found himself at a loss of words. The silence stretched uncomfortably for nearly a minute, before he was able to utter a reply.
"Sir, before I agree to anything, I would like to discuss certain some things at length, such as your understanding of my circumstances, how you have acquired that knowledge, the means you claim to possess, your motivations..."
"Of course, professor. I intend to answer your questions to the very best of my ability. That said, if we are to discuss specifics, it may be better to continue in a more private setting."
"Indeed."
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Lab_Accident
A 2D 1D4
- Location
- Your dreams
Huh. Since I went and followed the links on the characters involved, this is a very interesting arrangement. Might be too game-changing to get canonized, but an interesting plot bunny nevertheless.
Edit: though it may simply not work like that. Macbeth's immortality isn't physical, so it may follow him to whatever body he inhabits.
Edit: though it may simply not work like that. Macbeth's immortality isn't physical, so it may follow him to whatever body he inhabits.
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Interlude: Ave Maria
- Location
- Pennsylvania
Jeffery Robbins sighed in quiet satisfaction. His novel was coming along well. Very well. The fog had come in thick and heavy off of the Bay, and a chilly mist was just the ticket to get his mind working. He couldn't see it, of course, having been blind for the last twenty some years, but he could remember the sight of it, and when he felt the cold damp roll in off the sea and mingle with the heat of his home, it brought back just the right memories for him to dream anew.
Regardless, he had grown tired of his work for the day, and prepared a small cup of cocoa for himself and a treat for his dog Gilly. Before he could take a seat in his armchair, however, there was a gentle knock at the door. A moment later it was followed by the sound of a letter through the mail slot.
Rising to investigate, he found that it was not, in fact, another piece of spam mail; twenty years blind and the marketers still wouldn't leave him alone. Instead it was a braille letter. A short one.
⠠⠍⠽⠀⠠⠕⠇⠙⠀⠠⠋⠗⠂
My Old Friend,
⠠⠊⠀⠐⠅⠀⠽⠳⠠⠴⠧⠑⠀⠝⠐⠑⠀⠃⠑⠑⠝⠀⠁⠀⠋⠁⠝⠀⠷⠀⠮⠀⠎⠏⠂⠅⠬⠀⠃⠕⠭⠂⠀⠃⠀⠠⠊⠀⠹⠔⠅⠀⠽⠳⠠⠴⠇⠇⠀⠺⠁⠝⠞⠀⠞⠕⠀⠞⠁⠅⠑⠀⠁⠀⠇⠊⠌⠑⠝⠀⠞⠝⠲⠀⠠⠡⠁⠝⠝⠑⠇⠀⠠⠋⠳⠗⠂⠀⠎⠊⠭⠀⠕⠠⠴⠉⠇⠕⠉⠅⠲
I know you've never been a fan of the speaking box, but I think you'll want to take a listen tonight. Channel Four, six o'clock.
Jeffery, out of ancient habit, turned his head towards the old TV set. Now what was this about?
He'd find out soon enough. He couldn't see the pictures, of course, but he was able to pick up the context easily enough.
---
"Ladies and Gentlemen." David Xanatos said, stepping into the limelight with practiced ease. Perhaps ten people in all the world could recognize just how tightly strung he was tonight. "I'd like to thank all of you for tuning in."
The camera panned to show WVRN reporter Travis Marshall, already seated in a comfortable chair and yet obviously looking very uncomfortable.
"I'm sure you're wondering why I've taken time out of Mr. Marshall's broadcast, as well as why he agreed to indulge me." Xanatos continued. It prompted a faint "It was nothing" from the normally commanding reporter, but it was clear that Marshall was not in his best sorts this evening.
"I'm not here to introduce a new product." Xanatos said, "Or a plan or a policy. I'm not acquiring anyone, or divesting anything, and my personal life remains entirely unchanged."
Perhaps Xanatos was attempting to soften what came next. Or perhaps even he sometimes fell prey to procrastination. None alive could tell.
"I find it difficult to explain, so I think perhaps I'd do best to show you. I put this together tonight because I'd like to introduce some of my friends."
The camera panned again to show the broader shape of the studio, chairs arranged in front of a broader, open space. And then… they arrived.
The audience was perplexed, at first. A trio of figures made their way onto the stage. The first was small, hunched, green skin and drooping wings at odds with an obvious attempt to stand up straight against all instinct. He seemed to twist his head about every few seconds, looking from camera to camera with clear fascination. The second was far larger, massive, near a head taller than a normal man, blue and pudgy like an overfed lizard. And the last, standing with more apprehension than either of the others, was the tallest of the lot. He was large, but he carried his weight with greater poise and respect. His hair was white, his face was scarred, and together he gave off the impression of some ancient veteran. Gasps and murmurs began to spread through the crowd as it became clear just how naturally the three moved.
"These are not costumes." Xanatos confirmed, looking out at the audience. "Nor is this some sort of publicity stunt. Tonight, I'm here to introduce you to a seldom-seen portion of history, one that has remained unknown to the world at large. People of America; these are Gargoyles."
The crowd remained remarkably subdued. While some fierce murmurs ran through the studio audience, they were able to maintain at least a semblance of composure. Xanatos paused for a moment, waiting for the disturbance to die down.
The largest of the three nodded in acknowledgement, subtly reigning in the other two.
"I first encountered their people some time ago, and while our relationship has been complex, fueled by not entirely undeserved mistrust, I hope to say I can count them as my friends. Many of you in and around the city of New York may have remembered the tales and legends of winged creatures soaring amongst the buildings of Manhattan shortly before my Iron Gargoyles entered larger production. What I now intend to make clear is that what you saw were not my prototypes.
"This day has been a long time coming. I had hoped to introduce the Gargoyles to humanity again in a way that fosters friendship and cooperation. But I have spoken enough for them. I brought them here, tonight, so that they may speak for themselves."
"They… they can talk?" Marshall asked.
"Aye." The leader replied. "You may call me Hudson, if it pleases you."
"I'm Lexington!" the smallest added with an attempt at good cheer.
"And I'm Broadway!" The vast blue one finished with conviviality.
Marshall had the look of someone who recognized that they were on the verge of history. Hesitation and excitement flickered across his normally composed face in equal measure as he searched for the proper words. His teleprompter offered no help.
"I'm sure ye have questions." Hudson prompted. "Please, ask. 'Tis why we're here. It's ah… a please to meet ye." Hudson added, suddenly looking slightly bashful. "I've seen ye a lot on the picture box."
Marshall blinked a few times before speaking, the shock still evident in his voice. "W...well. A pleasure to meet you too, Hudson. Now, as I'm sure many of our viewers are wondering right now… howis it we've never heard about you until tonight?"
Hudson breathed out. "Gargoyles are very few. Centuries ago, our people came into conflict with humanity. Rather than fight, we chose to hide ourselves away. Ancient ruins, distant mountains… today, our people are scattered in small enclaves across the world."
"So does that mean you're some sort of… secret society, hiding right under our noses?"
"We try to hide as far away from yer noses as possible." Hudson replied, already not liking where this was going. "Our Clan, the Manhattan Clan, is one of very very few to live close to humanity."
Marshall seemed to realize that he made a faux pas, even if he was unaware as to the specifics of it. "I'm sorry, it's just as Mr. Xanatos said- tonight's meant to foster understanding, as we meet for the first time. I'm hoping we can avoid any misunderstandings from some people who are less than informed about your intentions."
Hudson nodded, allowing a small smile to play across his face. He held back anything larger- most people tended not to appreciate the fangs. "That's why we are here. Most Gargoyles are peaceful, reclusive, but the Manhattan Clan has always hoped to one day… come into the light, I suppose."
"Most Gargoyles are peaceful?"
"Every group will have their exceptions." Hudson said, stepping very carefully. He had to provide enough, but not too much. Silently he cursed Xanatos once again for getting them pulled into one of his schemes, especially one this desperate. And the man was desperate, as much as he wouldn't agree. "Like all people. But far more Gargoyles wish to live in peace with humans."
"As friends!" Broadway agreed.
"And the rest?" Hudson finished. "The rest simply wish to be left alone."
As they spoke, there was a brief moment of feedback as the one named Lexington fiddled with the mic clipped to his ear. He jumped. "Ooops! Uh, sorry. I've never seen a microphone this small before… is this your tech or ENCOM?" He asked, looking over at Xanatos.
"I'm afraid I'm not sure whose branding WVRN prefers. I could get you one after the discussion, if you would like."
"Oh. Uh… sure." Lexington said awkwardly after a moment.
The tension gradually seeped out of the room over the next few minutes of conversation, as many of the audience members let out breaths they hadn't realized they were holding. Xanatos remained impassive as he watched from his seat, occasionally interjecting with a brief question or comment, until finally he turned directly to the camera. "Now that we've all been introduced, we intend to spend some time discussing the nature of gargoyles, or what we understand of it. Most people may have remained unenlightened as to the existence of Gargoyles, but some always believed. As part of our outreach tonight, I'm pleased to bring a subject matter expert onto the air. Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to introduce you to Dr. Hans Rotwood."
A man wearing a green tweed jacket and a monocle walked on stage and barely made it five steps before emitting a high-pitched squeal of delight. Absolutely beaming, he skipped the last few feet towards the stage.
"Oh, I knew et! I knew zat all my theories were true, und they still called me ein crackpot! I never thought I'd see the day, Gargayles on the nighttime nachrichten! Now everyvun will know I'm not kookoo!" Rotwood declared joyously as his unkept, frazzled hair slipped even further out of place.
Hudson opened his mouth to say something only to be cut off as Rotwood vigorously shook his hand. "It is such un honor to meet you, Herr Hudson! I've studied your kind und other magical creatures for decades, und now zat I have ze chance to ask a few real questions, perhaps I can prove even more of my zeories true!" Rotwood pulled a thick leaflet of papers out of his back pocket. "Now, first and foremost- is it true zat you turn to stone during ze daytime?!"
Hudson nodded, having already considered it and decided this particular vulnerability would become known soon in any case. "Aye, two hours ago I slumbered in stone, as do we all. We heal in the stone sleep."
"Hurrah!" Rotwood cheered. "All of mine theories about magical creatures are proven true!"
"Magical?" Hudson asked with what only a very clever person might notice was a put-upon voice. "Now, I don't know about that."
"B-but… you can fly!"
"No, we can only glide." Lexington replied, stretching out his wing membranes in demonstration. "We're a lot lighter than we look, but we still can't generate enough lift to keep us airborne."
"But- but- but I saw a gargoyle, eight months ago, leaping from ze top of a skyscraper und drifting across several blocks!"
"Well, with a strong thermal we can keep going for a long time. And New York is just full of warm air compared to everywhere else."
"You can live for centuries!"
"So can tortoises." Xanatos pointed out.
"I... Zey turn to stone!"
Xanatos nodded. "Later tonight, Anton Sevarius will provide an explanation of how the ossification process works. It's completely biological in nature, but I'm quite impressed that you managed to stumble across it on your own."
Rotwood frantically flipped through his notes, mumbling to himself. "But… I… you're telling me zat zey aren't magical after all?! But what about all my research?! The effects of stone sleep, all those accounts in ancient lehrbücher?!"
"Come now doctor. 'Magic' is simply a word for things we don't understand yet. We used to call thunder the will of Zeus, or the blizzard the wrath of Odin. Yet now we know the truth, thanks to people like you. Your studies are far too effective to be dismissed as mere hocus pocus. Please, don't sell yourself short."
Hudson nodded. "When I first came to this city, from… a very long way away, I was amazed by these picture boxes. I thought them magic." He said, gesturing at the cameras. "Yet in time I came to learn this was not so. Why, I imagine Lexington could even explain it to me, if my wits were sharp enough to hear him."
"It's actually quite ingenious." Lexington agreed.
"Why should we be any different?"
Rotwood stammered for a minute, "But- but mine vork… if it's right, then- then… I was just wrong about it being supernatural?"
"There are many fantastic things in the world today, some of which we don't understand, but that doesn't mean that they're magical. Superpowers have a basis in genetics, even though we don't fully understand the mechanisms, and with them, men and women can fly, change form, disrupt gravity, and even mimic the powers of others. Unless you'd like to suggest that Universal Man was a wizard."
"I... zat… zis all makes sense now! No wonder zere were so many holes in my zeories!" Hans declared, completely disregarding his earlier insistence they were flawless. "When I was expecting zome 'nebulous force' to fill in the gaps, eet was really just science I hadn't understood yet! Ohhhh this opens so many new avenues for research!" Rotwood giggled gleefully at the camera. "Zis changes everyzing! Oh, I have so much to do, so much to do! Schnell, Schnell!"
Without another word, Hans Rotwood sprinted off of the set, one arm flailing wildly in the air, the other searching desperately for a writing implement.
Xanatos smiled faintly as Rotwood departed, standing up at the same time as Marshall. "I'm afraid we're going to have to take a short break before we can continue tonight, but before we let you go, I'd like to reaffirm everything we've said here. This is a momentous occasion for humans and gargoyles alike, and I hope that we may go forward to face the future hand in hand."
With that rather corny declaration, Xanatos reached out to shake Hudson's hand while the other two gargoyles looked on.
Most viewers would not notice the distrust in their eyes.
---
Jeffery turned the TV off with another sigh, this time not of satisfaction. He scratched Gilly's head absentmindedly. Did this change anything? Nothing between him and Hudson, that was for sure. But perhaps some things would have to be different now.
---
Jeffery was not the only one watching that night. Across Manhattan, the country, and the world, a stunned public tuned in to one of the biggest news stories of the decade. Some reacted with wonder. Others shock. Many with uncertainty. But some. More, certainly, than one might want, reacted with fear. And this made a very few others quite happy.
For the first time in centuries, a shard of the masquerade had slipped through the cracks.
For the first time in centuries, the Huntsclan was recruiting.
---
Meanwhile, in Doofania...
"Pardon me Heinz?" Mirage asked. "It seems you've received a message from Mr. Xanatos."
"Oh? What's he want?"
"He just said "WVRN, 6pm."
Time passed.
...
"OH, WHAT THE HECK XANAY!??!?!"
---
Xanatos has revealed Gargoyles to the world! It went better than he expected… but not as well as hoped.
The magical masquerade is slightly shaken but appears intact!
Regardless, he had grown tired of his work for the day, and prepared a small cup of cocoa for himself and a treat for his dog Gilly. Before he could take a seat in his armchair, however, there was a gentle knock at the door. A moment later it was followed by the sound of a letter through the mail slot.
Rising to investigate, he found that it was not, in fact, another piece of spam mail; twenty years blind and the marketers still wouldn't leave him alone. Instead it was a braille letter. A short one.
⠠⠍⠽⠀⠠⠕⠇⠙⠀⠠⠋⠗⠂
My Old Friend,
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I know you've never been a fan of the speaking box, but I think you'll want to take a listen tonight. Channel Four, six o'clock.
Jeffery, out of ancient habit, turned his head towards the old TV set. Now what was this about?
He'd find out soon enough. He couldn't see the pictures, of course, but he was able to pick up the context easily enough.
---
"Ladies and Gentlemen." David Xanatos said, stepping into the limelight with practiced ease. Perhaps ten people in all the world could recognize just how tightly strung he was tonight. "I'd like to thank all of you for tuning in."
The camera panned to show WVRN reporter Travis Marshall, already seated in a comfortable chair and yet obviously looking very uncomfortable.
"I'm sure you're wondering why I've taken time out of Mr. Marshall's broadcast, as well as why he agreed to indulge me." Xanatos continued. It prompted a faint "It was nothing" from the normally commanding reporter, but it was clear that Marshall was not in his best sorts this evening.
"I'm not here to introduce a new product." Xanatos said, "Or a plan or a policy. I'm not acquiring anyone, or divesting anything, and my personal life remains entirely unchanged."
Perhaps Xanatos was attempting to soften what came next. Or perhaps even he sometimes fell prey to procrastination. None alive could tell.
"I find it difficult to explain, so I think perhaps I'd do best to show you. I put this together tonight because I'd like to introduce some of my friends."
The camera panned again to show the broader shape of the studio, chairs arranged in front of a broader, open space. And then… they arrived.
The audience was perplexed, at first. A trio of figures made their way onto the stage. The first was small, hunched, green skin and drooping wings at odds with an obvious attempt to stand up straight against all instinct. He seemed to twist his head about every few seconds, looking from camera to camera with clear fascination. The second was far larger, massive, near a head taller than a normal man, blue and pudgy like an overfed lizard. And the last, standing with more apprehension than either of the others, was the tallest of the lot. He was large, but he carried his weight with greater poise and respect. His hair was white, his face was scarred, and together he gave off the impression of some ancient veteran. Gasps and murmurs began to spread through the crowd as it became clear just how naturally the three moved.
"These are not costumes." Xanatos confirmed, looking out at the audience. "Nor is this some sort of publicity stunt. Tonight, I'm here to introduce you to a seldom-seen portion of history, one that has remained unknown to the world at large. People of America; these are Gargoyles."
The crowd remained remarkably subdued. While some fierce murmurs ran through the studio audience, they were able to maintain at least a semblance of composure. Xanatos paused for a moment, waiting for the disturbance to die down.
The largest of the three nodded in acknowledgement, subtly reigning in the other two.
"I first encountered their people some time ago, and while our relationship has been complex, fueled by not entirely undeserved mistrust, I hope to say I can count them as my friends. Many of you in and around the city of New York may have remembered the tales and legends of winged creatures soaring amongst the buildings of Manhattan shortly before my Iron Gargoyles entered larger production. What I now intend to make clear is that what you saw were not my prototypes.
"This day has been a long time coming. I had hoped to introduce the Gargoyles to humanity again in a way that fosters friendship and cooperation. But I have spoken enough for them. I brought them here, tonight, so that they may speak for themselves."
"They… they can talk?" Marshall asked.
"Aye." The leader replied. "You may call me Hudson, if it pleases you."
"I'm Lexington!" the smallest added with an attempt at good cheer.
"And I'm Broadway!" The vast blue one finished with conviviality.
Marshall had the look of someone who recognized that they were on the verge of history. Hesitation and excitement flickered across his normally composed face in equal measure as he searched for the proper words. His teleprompter offered no help.
"I'm sure ye have questions." Hudson prompted. "Please, ask. 'Tis why we're here. It's ah… a please to meet ye." Hudson added, suddenly looking slightly bashful. "I've seen ye a lot on the picture box."
Marshall blinked a few times before speaking, the shock still evident in his voice. "W...well. A pleasure to meet you too, Hudson. Now, as I'm sure many of our viewers are wondering right now… howis it we've never heard about you until tonight?"
Hudson breathed out. "Gargoyles are very few. Centuries ago, our people came into conflict with humanity. Rather than fight, we chose to hide ourselves away. Ancient ruins, distant mountains… today, our people are scattered in small enclaves across the world."
"So does that mean you're some sort of… secret society, hiding right under our noses?"
"We try to hide as far away from yer noses as possible." Hudson replied, already not liking where this was going. "Our Clan, the Manhattan Clan, is one of very very few to live close to humanity."
Marshall seemed to realize that he made a faux pas, even if he was unaware as to the specifics of it. "I'm sorry, it's just as Mr. Xanatos said- tonight's meant to foster understanding, as we meet for the first time. I'm hoping we can avoid any misunderstandings from some people who are less than informed about your intentions."
Hudson nodded, allowing a small smile to play across his face. He held back anything larger- most people tended not to appreciate the fangs. "That's why we are here. Most Gargoyles are peaceful, reclusive, but the Manhattan Clan has always hoped to one day… come into the light, I suppose."
"Most Gargoyles are peaceful?"
"Every group will have their exceptions." Hudson said, stepping very carefully. He had to provide enough, but not too much. Silently he cursed Xanatos once again for getting them pulled into one of his schemes, especially one this desperate. And the man was desperate, as much as he wouldn't agree. "Like all people. But far more Gargoyles wish to live in peace with humans."
"As friends!" Broadway agreed.
"And the rest?" Hudson finished. "The rest simply wish to be left alone."
As they spoke, there was a brief moment of feedback as the one named Lexington fiddled with the mic clipped to his ear. He jumped. "Ooops! Uh, sorry. I've never seen a microphone this small before… is this your tech or ENCOM?" He asked, looking over at Xanatos.
"I'm afraid I'm not sure whose branding WVRN prefers. I could get you one after the discussion, if you would like."
"Oh. Uh… sure." Lexington said awkwardly after a moment.
The tension gradually seeped out of the room over the next few minutes of conversation, as many of the audience members let out breaths they hadn't realized they were holding. Xanatos remained impassive as he watched from his seat, occasionally interjecting with a brief question or comment, until finally he turned directly to the camera. "Now that we've all been introduced, we intend to spend some time discussing the nature of gargoyles, or what we understand of it. Most people may have remained unenlightened as to the existence of Gargoyles, but some always believed. As part of our outreach tonight, I'm pleased to bring a subject matter expert onto the air. Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to introduce you to Dr. Hans Rotwood."
A man wearing a green tweed jacket and a monocle walked on stage and barely made it five steps before emitting a high-pitched squeal of delight. Absolutely beaming, he skipped the last few feet towards the stage.
"Oh, I knew et! I knew zat all my theories were true, und they still called me ein crackpot! I never thought I'd see the day, Gargayles on the nighttime nachrichten! Now everyvun will know I'm not kookoo!" Rotwood declared joyously as his unkept, frazzled hair slipped even further out of place.
Hudson opened his mouth to say something only to be cut off as Rotwood vigorously shook his hand. "It is such un honor to meet you, Herr Hudson! I've studied your kind und other magical creatures for decades, und now zat I have ze chance to ask a few real questions, perhaps I can prove even more of my zeories true!" Rotwood pulled a thick leaflet of papers out of his back pocket. "Now, first and foremost- is it true zat you turn to stone during ze daytime?!"
Hudson nodded, having already considered it and decided this particular vulnerability would become known soon in any case. "Aye, two hours ago I slumbered in stone, as do we all. We heal in the stone sleep."
"Hurrah!" Rotwood cheered. "All of mine theories about magical creatures are proven true!"
"Magical?" Hudson asked with what only a very clever person might notice was a put-upon voice. "Now, I don't know about that."
"B-but… you can fly!"
"No, we can only glide." Lexington replied, stretching out his wing membranes in demonstration. "We're a lot lighter than we look, but we still can't generate enough lift to keep us airborne."
"But- but- but I saw a gargoyle, eight months ago, leaping from ze top of a skyscraper und drifting across several blocks!"
"Well, with a strong thermal we can keep going for a long time. And New York is just full of warm air compared to everywhere else."
"You can live for centuries!"
"So can tortoises." Xanatos pointed out.
"I... Zey turn to stone!"
Xanatos nodded. "Later tonight, Anton Sevarius will provide an explanation of how the ossification process works. It's completely biological in nature, but I'm quite impressed that you managed to stumble across it on your own."
Rotwood frantically flipped through his notes, mumbling to himself. "But… I… you're telling me zat zey aren't magical after all?! But what about all my research?! The effects of stone sleep, all those accounts in ancient lehrbücher?!"
"Come now doctor. 'Magic' is simply a word for things we don't understand yet. We used to call thunder the will of Zeus, or the blizzard the wrath of Odin. Yet now we know the truth, thanks to people like you. Your studies are far too effective to be dismissed as mere hocus pocus. Please, don't sell yourself short."
Hudson nodded. "When I first came to this city, from… a very long way away, I was amazed by these picture boxes. I thought them magic." He said, gesturing at the cameras. "Yet in time I came to learn this was not so. Why, I imagine Lexington could even explain it to me, if my wits were sharp enough to hear him."
"It's actually quite ingenious." Lexington agreed.
"Why should we be any different?"
Rotwood stammered for a minute, "But- but mine vork… if it's right, then- then… I was just wrong about it being supernatural?"
"There are many fantastic things in the world today, some of which we don't understand, but that doesn't mean that they're magical. Superpowers have a basis in genetics, even though we don't fully understand the mechanisms, and with them, men and women can fly, change form, disrupt gravity, and even mimic the powers of others. Unless you'd like to suggest that Universal Man was a wizard."
"I... zat… zis all makes sense now! No wonder zere were so many holes in my zeories!" Hans declared, completely disregarding his earlier insistence they were flawless. "When I was expecting zome 'nebulous force' to fill in the gaps, eet was really just science I hadn't understood yet! Ohhhh this opens so many new avenues for research!" Rotwood giggled gleefully at the camera. "Zis changes everyzing! Oh, I have so much to do, so much to do! Schnell, Schnell!"
Without another word, Hans Rotwood sprinted off of the set, one arm flailing wildly in the air, the other searching desperately for a writing implement.
Xanatos smiled faintly as Rotwood departed, standing up at the same time as Marshall. "I'm afraid we're going to have to take a short break before we can continue tonight, but before we let you go, I'd like to reaffirm everything we've said here. This is a momentous occasion for humans and gargoyles alike, and I hope that we may go forward to face the future hand in hand."
With that rather corny declaration, Xanatos reached out to shake Hudson's hand while the other two gargoyles looked on.
Most viewers would not notice the distrust in their eyes.
---
Jeffery turned the TV off with another sigh, this time not of satisfaction. He scratched Gilly's head absentmindedly. Did this change anything? Nothing between him and Hudson, that was for sure. But perhaps some things would have to be different now.
---
Jeffery was not the only one watching that night. Across Manhattan, the country, and the world, a stunned public tuned in to one of the biggest news stories of the decade. Some reacted with wonder. Others shock. Many with uncertainty. But some. More, certainly, than one might want, reacted with fear. And this made a very few others quite happy.
For the first time in centuries, a shard of the masquerade had slipped through the cracks.
For the first time in centuries, the Huntsclan was recruiting.
---
Meanwhile, in Doofania...
"Pardon me Heinz?" Mirage asked. "It seems you've received a message from Mr. Xanatos."
"Oh? What's he want?"
"He just said "WVRN, 6pm."
Time passed.
...
"OH, WHAT THE HECK XANAY!??!?!"
---
Xanatos has revealed Gargoyles to the world! It went better than he expected… but not as well as hoped.
The magical masquerade is slightly shaken but appears intact!
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Well, that was interesting. So he probably got a success. Although I'm still a bit suspicious that it wasn't stated.
Also, looks like he used Rotwood to prevent it from being thought to be supernatural.
ReaperofInterest
Herald of Disaster
Hmm...better than I had feared, worse than I hoped. I do hope Xanatos intends to follow up on this next turn.
lockingbane
If you're crazy and you know it clap your hands!
- Location
- Waxahachie tx
.... Should we get into contact with the Hun Gargoyles and inform them?
I feel like we should, at the very least, send a courtesy letter written in whatever language the Huns wrote in.
I feel like we should, at the very least, send a courtesy letter written in whatever language the Huns wrote in.
- Location
- The great frozen north
Proposal: As lord of Doofania we declare the Huntsclan a terrorist organization and throw anyone caught recruiting for it into the slammer. Screw those fucks.
- Location
- Ivory Tower of Education
Meanwhile in a secret government base, Agent Russ is either getting a raise or a reaming out.
BlueWerewolf25
The Dreamer
- Location
- Wouldn't You Like To Know?
- Pronouns
- He/His/Him
Hmm! No Brooklyn or Goliath, very interesting. In other news, I still don't want to recruit Rotwood. He's just...no. And Xan called dibs anyway.
This was definitely a Hail Mary play by Xanay.
- Location
- NJ
What mailman would be crazy enough to go there?
I don't think he hired him so much as had him come on like a expert on tv.
Is there a chance we could look into the Huntsclan next turn?
lockingbane
If you're crazy and you know it clap your hands!
- Location
- Waxahachie tx
....
Acme Mail Delivery?
Like just asking that out loud would comedically REQUIRE us to get some notice about it....
- Location
- Somewhere nearby.
We think he's taking the prophecy we gave him seriously and is doing damage control to prevent the magical masquerade from breaking.
I assume he's doing it because he connected Demona to the prophecy and is trying to let the gargoyles secret out on his own terms.
- Location
- Philippines
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Does anyone know the translation for this?