Academic who somehow got conned into working for the Government. Been role-playing both on forums and TTRPGs for close to twenty years at this point. I'm like 99% retired from active RPing on the Guild, but I still like to poke my head onto here once in a while to make sure that I didn't leave the lights on.
And with that the first chapter of Zatanna's story has come to an end! Probably not what y'all GMs envisioned as Chapters but otherwise all my posts would probably be in one big chapter for the entire season which doesn't feel right. Next time watch as Hex tries to be Donald Westlake if he took a lot of acid and decided that Wizards were the shit. Also wait a second, I managed to finish an arc in a timely matter..... this may or may not be a sign of the apocalypse.
Anyway to answer the earlier question of
Well we're almost a week into the IC and already on our third page so out of curiosity, what are the driving factors and influences in your story?
Honestly for Zatanna, it's pretty predictable for me in regards to inspiration: Alan Moore probably first and foremost particullary his run in Swamp Thing, Neil Gaiman's work on the Books of Magic, the original 1960s run of Zatanna's run which I found online just for this story, some Lovecraft, Algernon Blackwood, et cetra y'know the spoopy guys. Other media wise, I've been playing a lot of Cultist Simulator and Sunless Sea recently I don't know if that counts? Also drawing from other iterations of Zatanna we have seen in the animated world like Justice League, the old Batman cartoon, Young Justice et cetera, and I've also been watching the Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, I guess that counts? Basically its a real hodgepodge of stuff is what I'm saying. lol And like honestly I'm just having fun exploring weird magic stuff because that is kind of my bread and butter when it comes to this kind of writing so it comes the most easy to me. I have a general plot outline of where things should end up but like beside that I'm kinda just writing and seeing what happens!
Also I forgot to mention earlier but if any of the more spookier or non-spookier heroes want to do a crossover or something? I'd be glad to! You'd just wanna hit me up somehow either here or in PMs or Discord if you have my discord et cetra.
“Why England?” Zatanna questioned incredulously as followed Voodoo.
The only memories Zatanna could associate with England was of childhood when she was ten or eleven years old. A cluster of the Zatara clan had taken a boat up and around Gibraltar before the War, as it turned out the squadristi held no love towards strange academics and occultists living out in the countryside, and she and her father made a trip to visit them. The memories clung to her, it was one of the longest times she had ever spent together with her Father - a whole two uninterrupted weeks during the summer. Of course, he was as distant as always his face always down in some book or tome, and when he did speak it was always to impart some sort of lesson on the young Zatanna, but there were sparks of humanity too. Persistent little quirks that had ingrained themselves into her mind even to this day, these little dumb and inconsequent moments - he would always smile at the scent of a freshly poured cup of tea. But now he was dead and here she was again this time chasing after his ghost.
“We have a train to catch” Voodoo explained in a blaise tone pointed a single finger towards the ground.
“Are we getting on the tube?” Zatanna inquired “While you are dressed like that?” .
Zatanna gestured towards Voodoo's entire pants but no shirt beyond two leather strips getup. Though now that she mentioned it Zatanna became painfully aware that she too was dressed rather... bizarrely for 9 AM in London. To their credit the passerbyers seemed to bare the two of them little notice. There was of course a few raised brows here and there, a couple of muffled scuffs, and perhaps a slight increase in catcalls thrown in Zatanna’s direction that she had to hold her tongue not to respond to, but nothing beyond ordinary. The people perhaps too polite, too timed, too tired, or too uncaring to really but into the manners of two strangers on the street.
“Something like that” Voodoo replied as he turned a corner with the comfortable gait of someone that had made this walk several times before.
The act of turning the corner seemed to have transported the two through time. Pave asphalt gave away to cobblestone worn by the time and age to the point of smoothing over. On the corner ahead of them there was a pub that looked more at home with the works of Shakespeare than it did in modernity, the smell of cooking grease filling the surrounding air with its distinctive scent. Zatanna followed Voodoo as he walked down the block towards a big red circle that maybe once proclaimed the words Underground but now only told the world Udrgron. Zatanna carefully made her way down a set of crumbling steps trying to stay optimist even as though steps ended at what appeared to be a solid wall of brick.
She curiously watched as Voodoo approached the brick wall. He seemed to analyze the brick intensely for a moment running his finger across the surface and bringing it up to his mouth for a lick. Voodoo’s face contorted and scrunched at the taste as he muttered something underneath his breath in displeasure. Taking his staff in two hands the older man took a few steps backwards and with the careful precision of a man defusing a bomb he began to tap individual bricks. At first there seemed to be no sequence or pattern to the taps but after the first five or so flames began to appear tracing a path from each touched break. The trail of flames grew longer and longer as Zatanna watched a complex series of geometric patterns slowly began to form. Voodoo hesitated at the last brick, the staff shaking in his hands as he took a deep breath.
“What happens if you got it wrong?” Zatanna asked not realizing that she herself was holding her breath in.
“The ward will be triggered and a fireball will incinerate us before we have time to blink.” Voodoo remarked his monotone voice providing no insight on how he would feel about becoming a burnt pile of flesh.
“Fun,” Zatanna replied her voice raising in pitch as she took a step backwards though she doubted that any measure of distance would really help her “gotta cross the Rubicon at some point right?”
And with those truly inspiring words Voodoo pressed his staff against the brick. The pair watched muscles tensed with anticipation as the flaming line met with the last brick. For a moment there was nothing and in the next the arcane sigil drawn across the wall began to burn brighter and brighter. The heat was like sticking your head in a running oven and Zatanna reflexively tried to take another step back but found that her legs could not move. And then the heat died away almost as quickly leaving nothing but black scorch marks across the wall. Zatanna raised a brow as she heard a deep rumbling as very slowly and with surprising fluidity the brick wall began to slide into an indention hidden in the right handside of the entranceway revealing a long dark passageway that continued to descend downwards light by flickering candles mounted on the walls.
“Don’t stare down there whatever you do” Voodoo warned throwing a sideways glance at Zatanna before he moved deeper into the passageway.
“That’s not foreboding at all” Zatanna mused to herself with a shrug before she followed after the sound of Voodoo's staff tapping against the ground.
The path sloped downward stainless white tile walls illuminated by the flicker of candlelight. The descent seemed longer than any other she had experienced in a subway more akin to a descending mine then a place for trains. She remembered reading about the trains in Moscow built so far underground that they could survive even the shock and awe of atomic hellfire. Was this something like that? She wondered as they walked. Eventually though the slope began to level off and come to a halt. Peering through the darkness ahead Zatanna was able to make out a large wooden door with an ornate golden handle flanked on either side by two large metal braziers whose flames soared upward to about a head taller than Zatanna herself.
There standing in front of this display was two large figures easily twice Zatanna’s height. At first Zatanna though that they were wearing some kind of armor but as she grew closer her eyes widened. The figures were not wearing metal, they were made of metal. Bronze armor plating bolted in sequence over what could only be described as a sea of clockwork that Zatanna could see whirring and clicking through gaps in the armor. Atop this rather intricate display of automation was large stalagmite of crystal giving off a pale blue luminescence that tapered off to a fine point.
“What are they?” Zatanna whispered a slight hint of panic on her voice, adrenaline beginning to kick in as she readied herself.
“Calm child,” Voodoo replied in a half-whisper slowing his gait so that the pair could walk side by side. “They are the guardians of this place, they will not harm you.”
As they drew near to the guardians the large crystals that made up their heads began to emit a different going from that pale blue to a much brighter orange. Voodoo held out an arm to keep Zatanna back beyond a long line marked in black tile interwoven with gold like a stark border across the barren floor, the line stretched across the entire width of the tunnel save for the center where it bulged outward into a circular before thinning out ward again.
“H A L T” Two voices rang out in perfect unison with one another.
The gargantuan frames of the guardians turned to regard the two of them.
“J E R I C H O D R U M M, Y O U A R E K N O W N H E R E” The two guardians started but then despite having eyes Zatanna could feel them begin to stare at her “Y O U R C O M P A N I O N I S N O T K N O W N”
“My name is -” Zatanna started but was cut off as the crystals turned red.
“S I L E N C E !” The guardians roared the volume so loud it made Zatanna reflexively flinch in pain. “T H E U N K N O W N O N E W I L L S T E P I N T O T H E C I R C L E”
Zatanna looked towards Voodoo for confirmation who nodded his head and ushered her forward. With his reassurance, Zatanna hesitantly took a step into the center circle that broke up the line. The red glow of the crystals changed back to a pale blue as two beams of mystical energy emanated from the crystals directed towards Zatanna. She raised a hand upward in attempt to somehow block the beams but they managed to make contact anyway. Soon Zatanna began to glow with the same energy that the strange guardians were embedded with the aura pulsating with her own heartbeat. And Zatanna could feel the alien presence in her head as something began to analyze her, dissembling her with only a glance, and she could feel the pair began to root through her memories pulling up things long forgotten and was not for others to know.
“POTS “ She yelled at the top of her lungs almost on instinct alone as there was this brilliant display of magical energy coming into contact with other magical energy. The wave scattering the particles of the beams being aimed at Zatanna. She stumbled backward like she had just been punched square in the kidney buckled over in pain, the shockwave expanding outward with enough force to knock both the guardians back a few inches, their crystals flickering a whole rainbow of colors. Looking up from her pain she turned towards Voodoo was standing in a defensive position he staff raised looking at the two guardians uncertainty in his eyes.
“R E -R E-R E C O N F I G U R A T I O N C O M P L E T E” The guardians declared as their crystals stopped flickering and settled back on their amber-orange glow. “A N A L Y S I S O F T H E U N K N O W N O N E IS C O M P L E T E”
They projected an image in the air of Zatanna that looked identical to her form standing in the circle, next to the image a long list of biographic and biometric data. Huge amounts Zatanna herself only being able to make out bits and pieces of words as they flashed by: Homo magi, Giovanni, Caution, et cetera. As the information continued to be displayed slowly the orange glow of the crystals began to fade back down. Zatanna and Voodoo before visibly relaxing as the colors morphed.
“ Z A T A N N A Z A T A R A Y O U A R E K N O W N T O U S” The guardians declared as their voices began to fade away, the large door behind them slowly opening on its own. Zatanna and her companion looked at one another for a moment in silence, letting the tension of almost getting killed wash over them before the two of them both bursted out in nervous laughter. Giddly and quickly they made their way past the two now sleeping guardians and through the door.
Emerging through the doorway they were blinded with immense light.
“I must be dreaming” Zatanna muttered as through squinted eyes, she saw the most brilliant train platform that she had ever seen. Marble statuary and fountains surrounded the area and chandeliers made of crystal and flame hung from the ceiling. Everything was carved of persistent and spotless white marble even the pots for the strange mushroom like plants scattered about in planters. And the most fascinating thing of all was the people. Some were most certainly human though dressed in gaudy aristocratic gowns and garbs that Zatanna only saw on television. Others though were stranger than anything she had ever seen in her life: strange scaled green goblinoid creatures with huge heads, other squat square creatures who had the feet of elephants and no heads but rather faces built into what seemed to be their torso, and beautiful winged creatures that dressed in clothes weaved of flowers and whose skin shined bright as any sun to name a few. Yet despite pinching herself she did not awaken from any dream, it had to be real.
Taking in Voodoo’s advice, she tried to avert her gaze from the bizarre menagerie around herself instead focusing on the following dreadlocks on the back of her companions head.
“Drumm” Zatanna asked trying her best to not stutter from shock “What train are we taking?”
He turned to face her a wide smile on his face “The only one that matters child, the train to Faerie.”
@Inkarnate Well the story I have outlined can roughly be split into 5 acts or chapters if you wanna call them that. Each roughly four or five posts long at about 2,000+ words per post. So if I'm to get anywhere close to finishing it within our three month time-frame this is of course not including crossovers et cetera this means I gotta pump out posts quickly in some part of the narrative. And I'd rather rush the beginning then the end.
AKA Hex could of like shortened it or something... but he's a masochist who enjoys the pain.
Torn tendons and flesh pulled themselves back together as shredded capillaries took on a new form. Zatanna looked the other way and suppressed the urge to gag. She never liked healing incantations, the alien push and pull on flesh moving, a part of you moving on its own accord. The visual distorted further by the undulating flesh of whatever the hell creature had just attacked her.
The magic did its work and soon the searing pain began to subside. Zatanna waited another minute just to be sure before glancing back at the arm. The only trace of the wound that now remained was a long pale scar, that in time itself would start to fade away. Brain no longer screaming in pain and panic, Zatanna being acutely aware of herself. She felt terrible a battlefield of blood, sweat, tears, and vomit all fighting for every square inch of available space on her skin.
She needed to get clean.
She slowly pushed herself to her feet, fighting the slight tremor that still persisted. She coughed as she breathed in the air still heavy with skin and wood infused smoke. There was the particular type of silence that hung after such sudden and harsh violence, the absence of action masking itself as the presence of peace. Blue eyes regarded the destruction of the room one last time before she made her way towards the door, careful to keep a large distance between herself and the still smoldering pyre in the center of the room practically hugging the wall as she went.
"Mister Tong!" A last ditch effort as she exited the study her voice echoing through the lonely halls without a response. She didn't want to admit it but Mister Tong, or whatever remained of him, was lost in the fire.
Robotically she made her way through the halls of the estate and towards the bathroom. Clothes were discarded in a messy heap on the floor, black marble tile cool to the touch. Bloodstained hands grasped old bronze shower knobs and rotated them as far as they could go. Steam began to fill the room as Zatanna stepped into the shower and into the stream of hot water. Pinpricks of pain shot across her body as scalding hot water made contact with her skin, but she fought the urge to pull away.
The blood was long washed away by the time the water was turned off. Stepping out of the shower, Zatanna looked down at the pile of stained clothes clumped on the ground.
"Those won't do," She muttered to herself.
"Emitwohs"
Conjured tendrils of cloth and ribbon began to wrap and weave themselves around Zatanna's frame slowly taking on the appearance of the black and white tuxedo outfit that was her show outfit. She mainly used the incantation mainly during performances as it made quick changes a breeze. Now though staring at her reflection in the mirror quick changes and Vegas seemed to have occurred in another lifetime, by a different version of herself.
Turning away from her reflection, Zatanna headed back out into the hallway and back towards the study. She halted in her march as she came across a portrait hanging in the hallway. The sharp blue of her father's youthful gaze met her eyes. The portrait was painted when the elder Zatara was her age may be a few years older. He was standing in what appeared to be his study one hand resting lazily on his hip and the other hoisted what appeared to be a human skull that he was intently examining. Even confined to the portrait there was a certain pull that was there, the type of palpable charisma that manifested itself in those few individuals who didn't just think but knew they were the biggest person in the room.
"Is this what you were training me for," Zatanna asked the empty air "is that what you were expecting me to so willfully inherit?"
Her father's confident smile frozen in time and paint provided no answers, the long silence that hung in the air perhaps an answer in itself.
"Just like the real thing huh?" Zatanna mused softer this time as she turned away and headed back towards the study.
As she turned the corner a flash of light burst through the open door followed by a large explosion of noise like one of the large confetti cannons used during her shows. Going into a crouch Zatanna began to creep down the hallway towards the door. She could hear the noise of footsteps pacing across old wood and the sounds of a deep baritone voice muttering to itself. Zatanna took a deep breath as she came to the edge trying to steady the slight tremor that ran its way from her legs up and into her hands. Cautiously she peered the top of her head around the corner and looked into the room.
"It would appear that I arrived too late."
There standing in the middle of the room was a man who was bent over consulting the burned pile of what were once bookcases. He was holding a piece of burnt wood in his large, muscular, dark-skinned hands holding it up to a weathered and wrinkle-worn face peering at shard intently. Gazing at him from behind as Zatanna was he appeared almost like a giant skunk hunched over on two legs. Hair brought together in a massive mane of dreadlocks falling beyond the shoulders marked with a long strike of white that went down the middle. The man clicked his tongue in thought as he regarded the charred piece of wood.
"You know," He addressed the room suddenly without turning around "most people that try to sneak up on me end up in shallow graves."
Zatanna felt her heart seize up as she nearly stumbled backward. Her mind froze over with apprehension. What did she do? Did she run? If she did where would she go? No. She was tired of running, and she was tired of strangers barging into her house uninvited and making threats. She took a deep breath and marched out from around the corner with her head held high and fire in her eyes.
"And you know," She countered as she stepped forward "people that come into my house uninvited usually end up underneath a pile of bookcases... On fire."
The man stood up slowly turning to face her as she did. To Zatanna's surprise, there was no trace of malice on the man's face but rather a slash of white teeth fixed in a grin. The man began to laugh, a deep, warm laugh that came from the chest and seemed to easily fill the entire room. He was doubled over from the effort of it all resting his hands on his legs and laughing while he shook his head. Zatanna took a step backward in confusion unsure if the man was in the midst of a mental break down or something else.
After what seemed like an eternity the laughter began to die down and the man looked back up at Zatanna. His eyes were impossibly old, but they sparkled with a youthful mischievousness. "You are most certainly Giovanni's daughter."
Zatanna took a step backward as if she had just been punched in the gut. "You... you knew my dad?"
"Knew him?" The man asked cocking a brow "I was the best man at his wedding!"
"...wedding?"Zatanna felt the words come out of her mouth almost automatically.
"He never told you..." The man asked disappointment lingering on his voice "Of course he didn't, always left me to clean up his mess."
The fog of confusion that had taken over Zatanna's mind was slowly beginning to dissolve. Replaced now only with the simmering pool of frustration. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath and when she opened clear skies were replaced with the thunderous storm, her voice seemed louder taking up more of the room. "Listen, all this talk is doing nothing more than confusing me. You're still a stranger who barged into my house without warning. So you better give me a name before I force you to vacate these premises."
There was conflict in the older man's face, Zatanna could see it in his eyes. He was looking not at her but beyond her. There was a weariness to his gaze the hesitant look of somebody who had been hurt before. Finally, he sighed the tension in his body falling away as he looked up for the first time to really look at Zatanna.
"The world knows me as Doctor Voodoo," He explained with a small smile as he reached out his hand in an offering, "but you may call me Jericho, Jericho Drumm."
"You see that wasn't that hard was it?" Zatanna offered with a small smile as she took Voodoo's hand and shook it "It's a pleasure to meet you mister Drumm, my name is Zatanna Zatara but I think you already know that."
"Indeed," Voodoo offered as he gestured to the space around them,"you must be wondering why I am here."
"Yeah," Zatanna replied with a laugh,"you could say something like that."
Voodoo tilted his head towards the pile of wood and ashes that took up the center of the room.
"The Loa told me you were in danger."
"Yeah... well, I appreciate it but as you can see I was able to deal with the creep myself," Zatanna explained spitting on the pyre as she did.
"It is not that simple child," Voodoo offered as he knelt back down next to the pile.
He produced a small knife from the cluster of small satchels and bags that hung at his waist. Carefully he scrapped at the charred flesh and blood that still clung to the floor. He removed a small sliver no longer than a fingernail placing it gently into his outstretched hand. Zatanna was about to ask what was going on, but Voodoo raised a finger to his mouth urging silence. rolling her eyes Zatanna watched the piece of inert flesh. Slowly, so slowly at first that Zatanna believed it is a trick of her eyes the flesh began to move. It wiggled and twitched pulling itself forward like a worm back in the direction of the pyre.
"What the hell?" Zatanna asked feeling her stomach lurch
"Flesh elementals," Voodoo explained making no effort to hide the disgust in his voice "mimicries of living flesh that seek only to consume and devour. They are almost impossible to destroy, despite the damage you may throw at them they will eventually reform and continue whatever task was assigned to them."
"So that thing that attacked, is currently pulling itself back together?" Zatanna questioned.
"Indeed it is " Voodoo commented as he produced a small glass vial guided the piece of squirming flesh into it before sealing the lid. He muttered a few words beneath his breath and for a brief moment, the seal began to glow with a faint green aura. He examined the vial one more time, seemingly content with the seal he tucked it away. He looked back up Zatanna who was growing paler by the minute as her gaze continued to flicker between him and the pyre as if she expected to abomination to remember any second.
"Calm child," Voodoo placed a hand on her shoulder and giving it a squeeze forcing her to focus her attention on him "it takes time for the elemental to reform. Anywhere from a few days to several weeks depending on the damage that it received."
Zatanna took a deep breath nausea pulling away,"You said almost impossible to destroy. That means there is a way right?'
"Yes," Voodoo admitted with some level of reluctance "you have to deal with whoever or whatever conjured the elemental in the first place."
"And if we don't," Zatanna asked though she felt like she already knew the answer.
"If we don't," Voodoo explained bluntly "then the elemental will continue haunting you to the end of your days. Killing and stealing the faces of the ones you know and love to get close to you. You will try your best to stay one step ahead of it and for a time you will succeed, but one day you will be thinking about something else perhaps and it will end your life."
"Alright," Zatanna gulped, "so all we gotta do is find the creep that created this thing and makes him dispel it!"
"That is the general idea yes" Voodoo agreed.
"But," Zatanna offered as she noticed the hesitance in his voice "there is a problem."
"Mhm,"Voodoo nodded as he began to pace about the room back and forth"this type of magic is very old and forbidden by most paths, I have no idea who could of possibly created this creature."
"So we got nothing," Zatanna proclaimed visibly deflating.
"Not necessarily," Voodoo offered hesitantly stopping his pacing to stare out the window. He peered out towards the horizon looking for something, his brow furrowed "there is someone who can help us. Acquiring his assistance though in this matter will be somewhat complicated."
"Complicated?" Zatanna questioned as she walked over to join him at the window.
"He angered someone very powerful" Voodoo admitted "and he is now, how shall we say, in shackles at it was"
"So what does that mean? We are going to have to stage a jailbreak?"
"I would prefer it not to come to that."
Voodoo turned away at this to face Zatanna. Standing this close to him Zatanna was able to see the toil of age upon his face, wrinkles lay atop wrinkles that lay atop scars. The bare skin of his chest that lay exposed a patchwork of bruises and cuts in various stages of healing. He still managed to hold himself tall, but there was a conscious effort there to keep it pulled together.
He placed his hands atop her shoulders, "Are you sure that you want this child?"
"Well," Zatanna started "considering my other option is to wait until that thing eventually kills me? I don't think I really have any other choice."
Voodoo nodded, "Then so be it."
There was another pulse of green energy as a long shape began to take form in Voodoo's hand pulled from the beyond. Wood and bark began to grow outward from the green glow weaving and pulling itself together. Moments later Voodoo was grasping a long wooden staff, a series of red ribbons tied to the top, and draping down from it like tendrils.
Voodoo slammed the staff into the ground and as ancient wood collided with ancient wood his eyes became glazed over with white. He began to hum softly, the humming wrapping and tugging at Zatanna as the sound began to multiply. The humming slowly transformed into a song, the words ancient and old but effortlessly pulled at Zatanna's heart all the same. A song driven by the beat of the largest drum sat on the tallest monument in all the heavens. As this chorus began to fill the room Voodoo spoke his voice thunderous.
"Oh great Kalfu mirror of the mighty Papa Legba, I beseech you now always the humble servant. I ask that we mere mortals may walk as you do, in your shadow between the worlds..."
And as Voodoo chanted the green energy around his staff turned bright red. Zatanna could see human faces in the churning mist screaming as they were pulled away. This energy coalesced growing larger and larger with each thunderous beat of the ethereal drumming. Voodoo lifted the staff again and slammed it into the ground and with that, the energy rushed outward from the staff quickly building itself in the shape of a large red archway.
Voodoo turned to Zatanna his eyes still glowing white, voice still thunderous as if many were speaking through him "We must go now, child." "Well," Zatanna spoke her voice shaky as she looked at the strange archway above her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath forcing her feet to move "here goes nothing."
And with that, she ran through the archway.
For a moment she was swimming in an ocean of red. The only sound that she could hear was the still beating drum that continued even in this strange place. The reverberating echo muffled like the beating of a heart through a stethoscope. With each beat, the red around her shook like water. And soon she felt herself begin pulled along by a mysterious tide as the drumming grew louder and louder as in the distance a great wave was beginning to form, so large that it threatened to block out the entire sky.
The next moment she awoke with her face pressed against cold concert. Groaning, slightly she began to push herself upward. She could hear birdsong on the air and the honking of cars in the distance. She was in an alleyway between two buildings, a trashcan next to her having been knocked over with her arrival. She gasped as she looked up expecting the night sky of Gotham but instead saw the light of morning peeking through overcast clouds. Ahead of her Voodoo was already waiting where the alleyway ended ushering her forward.
"Hey," Zatanna asked as she headed over "where are -"
If you are reading this letter than I fear you are in grave danger and I have failed you.
Everything I have ever done is to protect you. Every sacrifice I have made was always for your sake. The work that I did was always so that you did not have to experience the pain that I had growing up.
There has always been a darkness in this world. A leeching presence that hides just beyond the corner of the eye. You can feel it in mankind's oldest and most primordial fears: the dark, the monsters hiding under your bed, and the creeping feeling of being watched.
For over a millennium, since the time of Romulus and Remus, the Zatara family has stood against this terrible tide. We stand tall where others would run. We fight where others would hide. We do what must be done to keep the darkness back.
But now it seems my fight is over. The darkness has consumed me. I discovered a grave and terrible secret, a secret which angered powers not even I could withstand. And now I fear that these powers will set their sights on you. For these creatures, these things do not care for petty familial squabbles. They do not recognize your rejection of your legacy they see you as a threat.
My dearest daughter, I fear that your fight has just begun.
There was an aura of perpetual unease that clung to Zatanna. The peculiar type of feeling that arose in the head when one lays down to sleep in their childhood bed and feels like a stranger. The destructive and self-flagellant feeling of alienation distilled in the slightly-off sensations of bedsheets against bare skin. A shift of positions here and the flipping of a pillow there, kicking the blanket off and then minutes later pulled it back up. Tiny rituals performed to find some level of ease and each failing one after another.
Giving up on this fitful parody of sleep Zantanna blindly grasped at the bed table for her phone. Squinting at the harsh glow she was immediately assaulted with a torrent of information: texts, emails, reminders, social media pings. The life of a celebrity no matter how minor or insignificant was one of constantly giving yourself to others. As her eyes became readjusted to the light, she opened her email app and began writing an email to her European tour manager.
Or at least she attempted to write the email. Her mind kept on wandering, kept on drifting to the stack of journals and the half-read letter still in her father's study. It was exactly something he would do, even in death everything was always about his work. Every little thing, every gift, every bonding moment, every shared word, just another constructed plot woven together in an attempt to get Zatanna to take up a mantle she already rejected.
Yet there was something there. Words clinging with stubborn persistence to her subconscious - "You are in grave danger." Her father was many things paranoid, goal-driven to the point of obsession, and more stubborn than a mule. But if there was, one fault that he did not possess was over-exaggeration. Always running, always moving, always on to the next "big thing", not a word, was wasted on assumption.
With a sigh, she placed her phone on the bedside table and began the arduous process of getting out of bed. Bare feet against cold hardwood sending a shiver up her spine. She looked about in silent contemplation around her old room like a refugee regarding the bombed out shell of her old home. Old books covered in layers and layers of dust like overgrown statues in some long forgotten garden.
Fumbling in the dark Zantanna reached towards an old Victorian candle holder that sat waiting on the bedside table. Another reminder of the strange other-worldliness of the house, influenced by her father's paranoia in the belief that magic and modern technology did not "dance well together." She sighed as she searched through a draw for a familiar misshapen metal tin of breath mints yet inside she only found broken match heads and discarded motes of phosphorus. Resigned Zantanna begin to mutter an incantation as she focused on the wick of the candle.
Peoples ideas of magic always had confused Zatanna from a young age. The media and literature she consumed presented a very peculiar type of the magic that seemed very alien to her. It found its foundation in the imag3 of bespectacled British children going to school to learn magic. To Santana these conceptions acts of profane blasphemy to make magic into a science something to be studied and tested, the act of trying to make something very much alive into something cold and dead.
Magic wasn't something found in the rigor of equations or the austerity or the boarding school education of a British socialite. Magic was a dialogue with the universe, asking and receiving, domination and submission, anticipation and release. The universe was perfectly willing to break its facade of rigid structure and foundation, all you had to do was know how to ask.
"Eldanc thgit evig em thgis" And just like that a thread snapped and reality flinched. And like some all-powerful God creating something from nothing there was heat and warmth and light.
Grasping the ornate silver handle in her hand she rose from her bed and entered the hall. Without thought, Zatanna took on a familiar creeping stance, her foot expertly avoiding sections of the hallway where creaking floorboards would protest to even the lightest of footsteps. The act itself reminiscent to a particular moment in time. A young girl sneaking through hallways that to her limited perspective seemed cavernous and labyrinthine in scope and scale during her midnight escapades in search of vampires, ghosts, and other fascinating secrets that seemed a 1000% more interesting than anything that her tutors could ever provide.
And just like those ghostly after-images, her path lead her back to the sturdy wooden door with the burned in G & Z. When she was younger it was something of the unattainable prize, the one door in that her magic words could never pull open the wards that her father placed too strong for even her to shatter. But that was a long time ago and that once stalwart barrier now lay slightly ajar, beckoning her forward.
The study was exactly how she had left it. Half-read letter and journals still prostrated upon the desk like offerings to some foreign idol. Zatanna tried to regard the rest of the room but a certain inescapable magnetism kept on drawing her eyes toward the journals and the note. Letting that magnetism pull her in closer Zatanna found herself soon standing over the desk. Fingertips grazing the darkened leather of one of the journals, their construction stout, simple, and utilitarian. The slightest hint of personality derived much like the door through only the simple G and Z etched into the cover. Fingers tracing the groove made by those etchings, lost in contemplation Zantanna almost didn't hear the sounds of footsteps behind her.
She raised the candle, pushing the creeping shadows of the room backward. There in the doorway half-hidden by the flickering candlelight was the unmistakable hulking frame of Tong.
"Mister Tong?" Zatanna called out curiously,
"The young...miss should be sleeping at this... hour," Mister Tong responded his dictation off-kilter as the very spacing between his words was distorted some smashing together too fast and others creeping together agonizingly slow. The Voice was still definitely his but it immediately put Zantanna on edge.
"Mister Tong," Zatanna questioned nervously taking a step backward only to find the hard edge of the desk pressing against her backside "are you okay?"
"We... I am okay," Tong answered as he stepped into the study left foot dragging limply behind the right"it is late and I am worried about your safety young...miss. be-be-be-be-becau"
Cautiously, Zatanna swung out the hand holding the candle holder casting the shadows in the room backward and illuminating the creeping and stuttering figure of Mister Tong. "Mister To-... What the hell?!"
What Zantanna saw almost made her vomit. Covered in a thick coating of viscera and blood was what resembled what was once the large frame of Mister Tong. His skin was torn and split covered with lesions, scar tissue, and growing and shrinking tumors, the whole mass writhing and shifting like boiling water. And where Mister Tong's bald head and gentle smile once existed was instead a writhing mass of tentacles, sharp teeth and glowing orange eyes.
"BECAUSE YOU SHOULD BE CAREFUL OF MONSTERS!" The abomination yelled as it lurched one of its arms forward. Following from the movement was a crescendo of snapping bones and screaming flesh as its arm began to extend outward impossibly long. At the tip of the extension where the hand once began was no crushed together getting thinner and sharper as it morphed into a fine needlepoint.
Zatanna barely had time to react managing to throw up one of her arms in time to prevent the needle from piercing her head. There was the sharp sting of pain as the flesh of her arm was ripped into. The long lance like appendage only stopping as it deflected off bone not possessing the momentum required to smash through. Zatanna screamed out in pain collapsing down onto one knee clutching her arm. The candle-holder falling from her hand and clattering to the ground, the flames beginning to lick at the nearby wood, smoke curling ever so slightly upward.
"WEAK, VULNERABLE FLESH" The creature laughed clearly enjoying the pain that it was causing. It retracted its arm backward flesh and bone coiling back like a great whip. Taking another step forward it snarled and released another strike.
Zatanna was still hunched over one knee, her other hand pressed as deep as she could manage into the gash on her arm, blooding pouring through the gaps between her fingers. The pain was all-consuming like a siren screeching in her head but there was also the adrenaline. Fight or flight response kicking into overdrive somehow managing to give her the clarity to notice what was happening, the long lance coming to run her through.
"Didn't they ever tell you?" Zatanna asked her voice shaky but managing to put on a smile nonetheless "Never show a girl the same trick twice!"
"Ezeerf!"
That one word dripping with anger, desperation, and fear was all that it took. The air around the arm rushing forward suddenly growing colder and colder. Long tendrils of ice began to form and take root across the distorted mimicry of flesh, despite the screaming protest of the monster. The entire arm was frozen within the blink of an eye. The needle frozen in its deadly flight only managing to have made it halfway across the room.
Zatanna still clutching her injured arm stumbled to her feet. Her entire frame shaking with each deep breath. Eyes typically cast in the joyful tones of a clear summer sky were instead dark and crackling with energy, a tempest unleashed.
"Rettahs"
A cacophony of noise followed as the arm cracked and splinter. The result was something close to a Pollock painting as ice and blood filled the air and the room. The abomination screamed as it stumbled backward clutching the bloody and torn stump where its arm once existed.
"INSOLENT FLESH!" The Monster screamed its voice full of rage and hatred at the young woman standing definitely across from it.
Zatanna was not focused on the mass of teeth and tentacles shouting at her, but the fact that the arm was already beginning to grow back. The wound already having scabbed over and covered by a large undulating cancerous growth that was slowly beginning to extend outward. It wasn't angry that she had injured it significantly in some way, it was angry that she managed to harm it at all.
"I'm the insolent one?!" Zatanna challenged her voice booming with anger. "You came into my house, took the form of one of my friends, and attacked me! You dare call me the insolent one?!"
"llup!"
There was the splitting of wood and metal as one of the large heavy bookcase bolted to the ground was ripped from its anchoring points. It stood to suspend in the air for a moment over the monster before it came down like a hammer smashing into the creature and sending it directly into the ground. Wood splintering and pages of old tomes and texts scattering in the air. It reminded Zantanna of a large beetle being crushed the crunching of bone and squish of flesh. Despite this thunderous impact, the creature was still moving its large frame attempting to push the bookcase off of it.
"llup!"
Another bookcase from the opposite came crashing atop the other. The creature screamed in pain but it still moved.
"llup!"
A third bookcase came down this one directly from above falling like an executioner's ax. Somewhere below the wood and the books, the creature still thrashed. The bookcases jostling and shifting slightly as it tried to unpin itself.
"Why won't you just die?" Zatanna muttered as she stepped forward. The exhaustion and blood loss finally starting to kick in. She wobbled on her feet but managed to keep a steady footing. Gasping for breath, she looked at the shifting heap of wood in front of her. And she furrowed her brow and whispered a single word beneath her breath.
"Nrub"
The small burning flame of the knocked over candle holder trying to burn through the thick wood of the floor was pulled upward. The flames coiled and coalesced like a large snake suspended in the air. The flames continued to grow as Zatanna felt the heat at her back increase. Seconds later it released like water from a firehose enveloping the collapsed heap of wood turning it into a funeral pyre.
The creature still sounded like Tong as it screamed in pain. It began to thrash and push trying to get away from the hungry flames licking at its flesh. For a moment, Zantanna worried that it would be able to break free from its burning prison. Soon though the thrashing began to slow and finally ceased altogether. Even the screams began to die away being swallowed by the roar of the flames.
Zatanna didn't realize she was vomiting until it hit the floor. The shock that the adrenaline and the fear of death had managed to repress finally coming barreling over the levy. She stumbled away from the smell of burnt flesh and vomit going to the other side of the room back towards the desk. She sat down slowly unable to trust her shaking legs, she pressed her back against the desk using it as a guide to slowly ease her down.
Her master's wisdom clinging to her ears Charuri released a breath she didn't realize she was holding. Around her, the hangar bay of the Acclamator I-class assault ship the Reclamation had been overrun with moving bodies. Starfighters taking off and landing in waves. Refueling and maintenance teams rushing performing an interact dance as they bobbed and weaved around one another to get each and every ship out on schedule. All the while there was the constant drumming as the quad-lasers from a Lucrehulk-class battleship slammed into the Reclamation's shields. Followed by the rumble of the Reclamation's own turbolasers as they fired a volley back in response lighting the space above Ossus ablaze.
Ossus, Charuri regarded looking up at the blue-green of the planet that dominated the view above them, the interior of the Reclamation separated from the cold and hungry void of space only by a thin transparent veil of shimmering plasma. Charuri had read about Ossus; everyone did during their youngling days it was up there with Ilum with being the closest thing the Jedi has to a holy site. (Though unlike Ilum not many ever traveled to Ossus save for members of the ExplorCorps, the urge to delve deep into ancient Jedi history was not a favorite field these days amongst the Order.) A world that was nearly destroyed in the crucible of war so many thousands of years ago, but Ossus survived and the life on the world steadily began to regrow and replenish.
And who are we again to bring ruin once more? Charuri questioned in her own contemplative thoughts.
"Ma'am" Her attention snapped upward, a clone trooper was looking back at her. He was dressed in the swirled dark green and brown recon armor of a scout trooper, the distinctive square helmet clutched beneath one arm against his torso. Like all clones, he carried the face of his genetic predecessor the Mandalorian bounty hunter Jango Fett. Yet there was a single spark of identity told through the single short mohawk that he carried his bleached blonde hair in. His expression was stern but relaxed as he raised a brow at the young Jedi.
"Yes, Twoshoes?" Charuri asked the Clone who gestured towards the LAAT parked behind them.
"The boys just about finished packing," Twoshoes explained, "we are ready to depart when you are Ma'am."
"Lead the way Captain," Charuri answered.
With the snapping together of feet and a quick nod of his head, Twoshoes made a quick about-face towards the LAAT. There clustered around a group of empty crates were five other clones dressed in the similar green and brown armor. They spoke amongst themselves as they cleaned and double-checked their weapons the occasional well-timed joke sending the entire group into a fit. Charuri wondered if they found it strange that all their laughter sounded the same, a reverbing echo that seemed to only get louder and louder, she did sometimes. The group began to calm down as Twoshoes and Charuri approached. Posture and general air aligning itself from friends joking around to professional soldiers with ease.
"Alright boys," Twoshoes announced propping one leg up on one of the crates, "you all know our mission: we fly down there, we rendezvous with Commander Reath and the assault team and we take out those AA Guns. Any Questions?"
"No sir!"
Twoshoes grinned in approval taking his helmet in both hands and locking it in position. The squad began to file into the waiting LAAT. Like the squad it was carrying the dropship was painted in the same tones of forest green and brown. The only breakage in the pattern near the cockpit where there was a vibrant splash of orange in the form of a reclined Twi'lek dancer with a flirtatious smile that had been painted on. Following closely behind, Charuri grasped an outstretched hand from Twoshoes who easily pulled her up and into the main cabin. The door closed behind her sealing with a hiss as the entire cabin was pressurized.
"Bantha 1 to Reclamation command" A voice came crackling into the cabin, the audio from the cockpit being piped in "Repeat Bantha 1 to Reclamation command."
"Go Bantha 1."
"Requesting permission to launch"
Charuri felt the metal plating beneath her feet begin to rumble as the repulsor engine was kicked on. Twoshoes and his squad began to anchor themselves into place with the large clips that hung from the ceiling of the cabin. Charuri followed suit taking the clip that dangled above her and attached it to her robes. As a secondary measure, she also reached up and grabbed one of the handles above her.
"Permission granted Bantha 1. Good luck!"
The entire cabin lurched as the LAAT lifted from the ground. A buzzer rang out through the tiny space as the running light shifted from an easy green to a harsh red that filled the entire cabin. Charuri closed her eyes and breathed as the LAAT began to move taking its position with the two other LAATs that made up Bantha Squadron. Slowly the dropship began to tilt upward and upon finding the precise angle began to accelerate.
As they left the Reclamation's gravity field, Charuri began to feel her feet began to slightly lift off the ground before the LAAT's inboard gravity generator pulled them back against the floor. Almost immediately the ship began to pull a hard right to avoid a barrage of blaster fire. Another rumble begin flight as another starfighter screamed across the top of the dropship.
"Hopefully they are as terrible shots as you Torque" Commented one of the clones as he readjusted the optic on his DC-15x sniper rifle.
"Love you to Scratch" Torque grumbled as the cabin began to be filled with nervous laughter as the cabin continued to rumble.
Charuri closed her eyes trying her best to block out the noise. Falling away from the shaking cabin with each breath. Her vision began to fade replaced only with the tug and pull of the Force. There were the clones that surrounded her not only in the ship but in the entire field of combat, hundreds of souls all joining together like the largest choir in the world as they each worked as smaller cogs in a bigger machine. There was also the pull of Ossus itself, the planet, despite the death and the horror it had experienced in its past still practically breathed with the force, it was almost magnetizing in the way it Charuri felt pulled towards it. But there was another feeling as well, it hung over the rest like a heavy fog that seemed to drain and dilute the colors of the rest, the dark side. It was still growing stronger and stronger as the war pulled on and here in the violence that surrounded her, Charuri could feel it resonate clear around her.
"Beginning descent"
The crackle of the comms cut its way into Charuri's mind breaking her concentration as the LAAT began to pitch downward. The rumbling began to increase as they began atmospheric reentry, the shaking growing more and more intense until Charuri could feel it in her bones. Heat began to radiate upward through her boots, the thermal shielding cooking away as it dispersed the heat so that they didn't end up cooking. Just as Charuri began to doubt the Rothana engineers that had bolted the thing together waiting for the whole ship to be ripped up by the friction, the shaking stopped as the LAAT began to level out.
"Welcome to Ossus boys! Now, hold on tight!"
The atmosphere was an entirely different monster than space. Up there you had to infer everything that was happening to you, the lack of air meaning there was no sound only the vibration of the metal around them. Atmosphere by contrast was loud. Almost immediately the grumble and roar of the repulsor engine beneath them began to fill the cabin battling the sound of air rushing past as the dropship began to pick up speeds of 600+ kilometers per hour. There was the thud and scream as the mass-driver missile launcher fired below them strafing ground targets below them. And in response, there was the roar from Separatist AA Emplacements as volley after volley of laser fire flew by the LAAT trying to land on target.
"This is Bantha 3! This is Bantha 3! I've been hit! I've been hit! Arghzkkt---"
Charuri was nearly thrown from her feet as the LAAT swerved hard to miss colliding with the steadily expanding fireball that was once its compatriot. Charuri gripped the handle tightly trying her best to just breathe and stay calm. It was hard sitting there and just trying to wait out a bad situation that you couldn't really help with it all. The running lights in the cabin flickered for a moment as a round of anti-air managed to hit its mark connecting with the side of the LAAT causing a shower of red sparks as the blast shield flickered and failed.
"Another hit like that and we are dead before we hit the ground" Torque commented checking his weapon for the twelfth time during the descent.
"We all appreciate your endless optimism and skills of observation Torque, truly." Twoshoes quipped back but there was no laughter this time.
Charuri ended up feeling it before anything else like she just pressed her fingers into a hot stove. "Hold on!"
She shouted as another volley of fire connected headlong into the cockpit of the LAAT. A yell and static began to fill the intercom as the entire dropship began to drop downward immediately. She winced in pain as she was thrown into the dropship wall as the rapidly descending ship crashed into a tree and ricocheted off.
Almost automatically Charuri began to pull herself into a hibernation trance. The blaring alarms of the falling apart dropship, the yells of the clones, and the whine of the failing repulsor engine all begin to fade away. To those around her, the Jedi seemed to have just closed her eye and her body gone limp held aloft only by the metal clipped that she had attached to her robes. A moment later the LAAT crashed into the ground
----
When Charuri opened her eyes, the world around her was turned upside down, the floor of the cabin somehow in the crash ended up in the air. She still hung suspended the clip holding her in place as her feet dangled limply in the air. She grunted as she struggled to reach the clip. Eventually, she gave up and withdraw the lightsaber from her belt pointing it upward towards the cable and engaged one of the halves. A brilliant flash of green filled the darkened space of the cabin as the lightsaber ignited cutting through the cable.
Catching herself as she fell, Charuri checked herself over. The hibernation trance seemed to have done the trick, forcing her body to go limp so that when the collision occurred that it would do the least damage to her as possible. She was definitely bruised but nothing was broken and that was certainly something of an accomplishment.
She looked around the wreckage of the cabin, daylight spilling in through a large jagged crack that had ripped open during the fall. She saw the limp form of Twoshoes in the corner, and she quickly rushed over, bruised body yelling in protest. Checking his vitals, she thankfully found a pulse, he was still alive just knocked unconscious in the fall. She quickly went around checking the other members of the squad all in similar condition.
"Well, this won't do..." Charuri muttered to herself as she looked around at the wreckage around her. "Wait a second!"
Quickly Charuri stumbled over to the closet clone by her that being Scratch and quickly removed his helmet. "Come on, Come on. You gotta still work."
She placed the helmet on her head and checked on the onboard HUD. Vitals...Motion sensor... Ammo counter...Communications! Charuri almost did a little dance when she saw that the long-range communicator was still marked as functional. Pressing the button on the side of the helmet, she began to speak trying to ease the excitement out of her voice.
To all secure Republic channels. Repeat to all Secure Republic channels. This is Jedi Commander Charuri Rol, my gunship has been shot down. I'm in need of immediate assistance. My coordinates are...
The Zatara estate was small compared to many of the manors and mansions the dotted the upper-class suburbs of outer Gotham. An odd conglomerate of a church and a castle built in the Gothic Revival tradition, like a piece of medieval Europe dropped right in the middle of coastal Jersey. Looking at it through the tinted car window Zatanna felt approximately 23 separate emotions and she didn't like any of them.
Reflexively she began to fish around in her purse pulling out a breath mint wrapped in a saccharine yellow wrapper. A short crescendo of crinkles was followed by a burst of peppermint hitting her tongue. Crumbling the wrapper and tossing it aside Zatanna sighed, it wasn't a cigarette but it was going to have to do. She tightened her hands into little balls fighting the urge to check her phone. She promised herself there would be no work calls. Her adoring fans could deal without the Mistress of Magic for a few days.
The car slowed to a lurch as it came to the top of the hill. She took a moment to realign herself as the chauffeur exited the vehicle and walked towards her door. One deep breath and then another. She eyed her reflection in the mirror. The anxious girl returning home wasn't there in her place was Zatanna Zatara badass bitch: confident, cool, and collected. Turns out a career on the stage was good for something - you got real damn at putting masks on.
The door opened and she stepped out easily into the fresh mid-morning air. Her thigh-high combat boots crunching against the gravel of the driveway. Despite the cloudless day and the sun shining above she had to repress a shiver as she marched toward towards the lard wooden doors of the estate. The house looming above her like a giant eyeing up its prey.
Waiting at the door for her was another giant. Dressed in a simple white ao dai was a hulking titan of a man, large shoulders drew back in perfect posture, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. Despite his imposing physicality, there was a softness to his features and his eyes seemed to brighten as he saw Zatanna walking down the path to meet him.
"Still hanging around here Mister Tong?" Zatanna called out to the large man, her facade breaking for a moment as a genuine smile danced across her features.
Her father's former bodyguard and butler return the smile and gave a deep bow. "With all due respect young miss this is my home. Where else would I go?"
"Young Miss?" Zatanna questioned with a raised brow and a curtsey, "I'm not the young girl who played hide and seek with you in the garden Mister Tong"
"No of course not," Tong admitted with a grin. "But you are still far younger than old Tong and as long as that remains true, I shall still refer to you as the young miss."
Zatanna rolled her eyes but the smile remained on her face. As her boots clacked against the stone steps. Tong pushed open the large wooden doors ushering her forward. The grin that had slowly been growing on Zatanna's face died where it stood. She froze there for a minute on the threshold. Unable to move her foot beyond the door, time frozen, the pulse of her heart strong enough to feel in her hands. She bit down hard into the peppermint candy in her mouth, the burst of peppermint as shards of white and red coated her tongue was just enough to force to get her through the door.
Zatanna wasn't sure if it was possibly how it was possible but in her 27 years, she wasn't sure that the house changed. Caught in some unspecified stasis that held every coat and book within its grasp. The same pair of mud-covered boots sat by the door and the same book on the semantic evolution of Swedish sat on the table in the foyer. It had the unnerving and unpleasant effect for Zatanna of immediate drawing her back in time, a time machine composed of old artifacts and perpetual cobwebs.
The pair walked quietly through the halls, the wooden floorboards creaking ever so slightly in protest against Tong's weight. A slow procession passed a seemingly endless array of bookshelves, display cases, and portraits.
"Were you with him when...." Zatanna spoke allowed her whispering tones echoing like a scream in the quiet of the house.
"No," Tong admitted with great pain, "when your father retired for the evening all seemed fine. I did not find him until the morning."
"I see..." Zatanna spoke the words heavy and clumsy coming out of her mouth.
"My deepest apologies young -" Tong started
"No, no" Zatanna answered quickly "it's fine. I was just wondering that was all."
By this time their meandering path brought them to the drawing room. The door was already ajar and the warm glow of light spilling through the crack. Giving one last nod and look to Tong she stepped into the room.ought
There in the center of the room were two chairs and a table. Sitting at one of those chairs was a man dressed in a sharp suit and wearing a trilby hat, his eyes concealed by the shadows of the room as he shuffled through a stack of papers. There next to him sitting on the table was a large bronze urn and one of her father's old antique gas lamps, the flame flickering as it illuminated the space around them. At the sound of Zatanna footsteps, the man in the chair looked up and smiled.
"Ms. Zatara, it is my pleasure to finally meet you." The man said with raising from his chair and offering a hand.
"Just, just Zatanna please" Zatanna insisted as she took the hand. It was cold to the touch the handshake itself was firm.
"Zatanna it is," The man responded with a knowing smile "allow me to introduce myself. My name is Mr. Granters I am the executor of your father's estate."
"It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Granters," Zatanna replied giving the man the same polite smile that any reporter or fan knew from her quite well. Granters motioned towards the seat and Zatanna nodded sitting across from him. Though as she did her eyes couldn't help but fall to the large urn sitting on the table. A pit in her stomach growing larger and larger the more she examined it.
"Is that...?"
"Indeed," Granters replied with the removed sympathy of a man that did this often "I'm sorry that you weren't able to be there. He was very particular in his will that immediately upon death he was the cremated post-haste. To prevent any "nefarious"" forces from having their way with his corpse."
"That sounds like him," Zatanna admitted with a trace of venom in her voice. She looked over to Mr. Granters as she reached over to touch the urn. The man nodding his head and making a small gesture towards it.
Zatanna took the urn in her hands. The metal exterior was cold and was surprisingly heavy for what it was. Though it wasn’t like Zatanna had much of a metric to judge on, this was the first time she was holding something like this. She reached her fingers against the raised engraving, a repeating pattern of stars and moons that ran across the entire exterior
“Zatanna” Granters started stirring the women from her contemplation.
“Yes?” Zatanna asked as she placed the urn back on the table. Granters now had gathered the collected papers from his lap into his hands and was peering them over.
“It’s time to go over the estate,” Granters explained begining to read aloud her father’s will.
Most of the explanation of the will ended up falling on deaf ears. Zatanna was unable or unwilling to focus on the proceedings. Her attention being dragged away again and again towards where she had placed the urn on the table. The very sight of it making her stomach perform minor curls and flips. Somewhere in the middle she brought out another parcel peppermint and placed it in her mouth, trying her best to quell whatever anxiety was starting to build in her chest.
“There is one more thing,” Granters proclaimed as he cleared his throat and pulled the rest of the papers together “your father had left one more thing for you”
Granters rose from his chair and gestured for Zatanna to follow. Together they took a brisk pace through the house. Climbing up old protesting stairs and turning towards the left, the path they followed was one that Zatanna knew well. They stopped at an ornately carved wooden door, the letters G and Z burned into the wood. Her father’s study.
Zatanna turned to look at Granters who nodded his head. She reached for the handle and tested the door.
Well-oiled hinges swung open without protest. Stacks and stacks of bookshelves lined the walls filled and overflowing, the titles of the bindings in dozens of different languages. A menagerie of artifacts lined the walls: jewel-encrusted weapons, maps, and even the bones of some strange animals that defied explanation. There at the center of it all next to a large fireplace was a large desk and atop the desk was appeared to be a stack of books.
Zatanna looked towards Granters for confirmation but the executor was gone. Taken aback at this she looked down the hallway to her left and then to her right.
“Mr. Granters?” She called out her voice echoing down the hall to no response.
A thud from her father’s study made her address the room. The curtains about the center window fluttered like a breeze had just passed through despite the windows being closed. And there in the center of the room, a book had fallen off one of the shelves. Tentatively Zatanna stepped into the room with the tepidness of a child entering a haunted house.
The first thing that Zatanna noticed was the smell. It smelled like him, the air carrying the faint order of the cologne that he specifically had imported in from Italy. A lingering remnant somehow managing to cling on despite everything. She kneeled down to pick up the book that had fallen, the cover pulling away from the binding from use and age. The writing seemed to be in a language that Zatanna herself couldn’t read. A strange series of interlocking runes and twisted tentacles creating a series of indecipherable geometric patterns. She carried the book over to the desk placing it on the corner.
There on the desk was a large stack of leather-bound journals and atop of them was a white envelope with her name on it. The only thing inside was a folded piece of parchment. Looking once and twice around the room unable to shake the feeling that she was being watched Zatanna pulled out the parchment. And there was a letter written in her father’s hand.
La mia bella orchidea, If you are reading this letter than I fear you are in grave danger
[center][img]https://media3.giphy.com/media/v1.Y2lkPTc5MGI3NjExamE0ZDl0dTlzcm9peXR2OTN0ZjE4cmdoZGc0NjAyd3pjbzZqZmt1eiZlcD12MV9pbnRlcm5hbF9naWZfYnlfaWQmY3Q9Zw/PlEqIvCQj2TLy/giphy.gif[/img][/center]
[u][i][b]Hexaflexagon (Concept)[/b][/i][/u]
[quote][sub][url=https://maa.org/sites/default/files/pdf/pubs/focus/Gardner_Hexaflexagons12_1956.pdf]In geometry, flexagons are flat models, usually constructed by folding strips of paper, that can be flexed or folded in certain ways to reveal faces besides the two that were originally on the back and front.[/url][/sub][/quote]
[u][i][b]Hexaflexagon (Person?)[/b][/i][/u]
[quote][sub]Academic who somehow got conned into working for the Government. Been role-playing both on forums and TTRPGs for close to twenty years at this point. I'm like 99% retired from active RPing on the Guild, but I still like to poke my head onto here once in a while to make sure that I didn't leave the lights on.[/sub][/quote]
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;"><div class="bb-center"><img src="https://media3.giphy.com/media/v1.Y2lkPTc5MGI3NjExamE0ZDl0dTlzcm9peXR2OTN0ZjE4cmdoZGc0NjAyd3pjbzZqZmt1eiZlcD12MV9pbnRlcm5hbF9naWZfYnlfaWQmY3Q9Zw/PlEqIvCQj2TLy/giphy.gif" /></div><br><br><span class="bb-u"><span class="bb-i"><span class="bb-b">Hexaflexagon (Concept)</span></span></span><br><blockquote class="bb-quote"><sub><a target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener" href="https://maa.org/sites/default/files/pdf/pubs/focus/Gardner_Hexaflexagons12_1956.pdf">In geometry, flexagons are flat models, usually constructed by folding strips of paper, that can be flexed or folded in certain ways to reveal faces besides the two that were originally on the back and front.</a></sub></blockquote><br><br><span class="bb-u"><span class="bb-i"><span class="bb-b">Hexaflexagon (Person?)</span></span></span><br><blockquote class="bb-quote"><sub>Academic who somehow got conned into working for the Government. Been role-playing both on forums and TTRPGs for close to twenty years at this point. I'm like 99% retired from active RPing on the Guild, but I still like to poke my head onto here once in a while to make sure that I didn't leave the lights on.</sub></blockquote></div>
mickilennial
Carlyle
Rockette
vietmyke
Izurich
Ti
AlteredTundra
