DEMON SUMMONING BIATCH
Aug 17, 2010 1:34:53 GMT -5
Post by Ben Malloy on Aug 17, 2010 1:34:53 GMT -5
Ben had finally done it.
He'd been poring over this text - a cracked thing he handled with latex gloves on only, looking like a geeky culinary student of some kind more than a master of the occult - since he was less than thirteen years of age, and its Latin was long and complicated, with so many loan words from so many obscure sources that he wondered where the fuck its writer had learned the damn language. Clearly this person was very learned and very insane, possibly driven mad by his own knowledge, in a Lovecraftian sort of way (the dangers of such knowledge had never affected Ben, but then he was young and careless).
He had finally completed, after the necessary month-long cycle and years of preparation, an extremely powerful summoning spell; independent of his tools and the burning incense, in the center of a strategically drawn chalk circle in the center of his living room (the ancient couch having needed to be pushed out of the way, which had been annoying, but paid off - despite being unable to watch the fucking television at a decent angle for a month), a large cloud of red smoke had suddenly appeared.
Looking half-bewildered in his cassock and his gloves, his glasses slightly steamed, Ben held his breath.
If it worked, he had just called up a powerful demon from hell to do his bidding. If it didn't.... he hadn't actually considered this possibility. Some Lovecraftian god about to chew on his brain in 4D? He would have to risk it, especially since it had only just occurred to him.
He'd been poring over this text - a cracked thing he handled with latex gloves on only, looking like a geeky culinary student of some kind more than a master of the occult - since he was less than thirteen years of age, and its Latin was long and complicated, with so many loan words from so many obscure sources that he wondered where the fuck its writer had learned the damn language. Clearly this person was very learned and very insane, possibly driven mad by his own knowledge, in a Lovecraftian sort of way (the dangers of such knowledge had never affected Ben, but then he was young and careless).
He had finally completed, after the necessary month-long cycle and years of preparation, an extremely powerful summoning spell; independent of his tools and the burning incense, in the center of a strategically drawn chalk circle in the center of his living room (the ancient couch having needed to be pushed out of the way, which had been annoying, but paid off - despite being unable to watch the fucking television at a decent angle for a month), a large cloud of red smoke had suddenly appeared.
Looking half-bewildered in his cassock and his gloves, his glasses slightly steamed, Ben held his breath.
If it worked, he had just called up a powerful demon from hell to do his bidding. If it didn't.... he hadn't actually considered this possibility. Some Lovecraftian god about to chew on his brain in 4D? He would have to risk it, especially since it had only just occurred to him.