Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Go Ahead and Sign The Scroll [Private 1x1]

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The cathedral was hauntingly beautiful, the way it had been abandoned but kept all of its' statues, windows and tapestries. But this could not distract Bo from what was getting ready to happen to him. Being the chosen one sounded like it would be an amazing thing, but it wasn't, it meant that you were getting ready to be sacrificed.

The cult members surrounded the entire cathedral's main room, sitting in pews and standing around a table, and in the corner, a rusty cage holding Bo, trying to drown out whatever they were chanting. Bo's small frame was shaking, his eyes were filled with tears, he had bruises and scrapes all over him and dirt and dust covering his clothes. Bo feared this was his last day.

Some of the cultists opened the cage and dragged Bo out, dragging him across the floor to the table, where they lifted him and placed them forcefully on the table. Bo struggled, but was kept held down, while the cult leader, held a knife.

Bo seen the knife, closed his eyes tightly, whimpering, tears rolling down his face. He muttered quietly to himself, "Anything, anyone, be my savior, don't let me die here-" And the cult member went to swing the knife, until the knife.. suddenly was stopped with a seemingly invisible force, confusing the cultists and Bo.

He had been having a perfectly lovely day. Absolutely lovely day. He'd had a nice cup of what passed for coffee, a sludge so thick it literally held up his spoon, and a crisp biscuit while reading the daily paper. It was a lovely day! Actually, it was incredibly boring because he had had this exact same day for the last three weeks straight - more or less, time flowed strangely here - and he was bored to tears. He desperately wanted something to happen, but when something interesting happened here in this realm, it was not without massive consequences. He was not without the means to protect himself, and he was far above the low-level peons, but there were still those with a lot more power than he. Those who viewed him in much the same way he viewed the peons under him. It was a brutally effective way of keeping everything exactly as it should be.

Just as he was reading through the informational articles about what new advances the industrial offices had made over the agricultural ones (yesterday it had been about the advances the agricultural ones had made over the industrial ones), the sphere on its little brass stand began to pulse with light. He paused and lowered the paper slowly. A summons? Really? He set the paper aside and walked over to the orb. No one had summoned anyone in this realm for... decades at least. He watched it curiously. In every house in this area, the summoning orb would glow, inviting someone to accept the summons voluntarily. If no one volunteered, and the request was powerful enough, the orb could randomly select someone to send to the call. It was part of an old pact, one that the majority of the populace had long forgotten the details of. It still worked, for the most part, so they tolerated it, undignified summons and all. The only time anyone was really annoyed was when no one would answer the summons and someone in the shower or similar got summoned. It was less than ideal, but it hardly ever happened.

He idly played his hand over the orb, which triggered it to declare the summons. He listened curiously and asked it to play them again. Oh, very well. It had to be more interesting than sitting around reading the same old dull news every day! He tapped the orb three times, accepting the summons.

The trip to Gaia was a simple matter, and in no time at all, he stood in a dreadful stone ruin. It seemed to be some sort of holy building judging by the relics and decorations all around him, but he didn't have time to look too closely. Calmly, confidently, he strode into the circle of robed men surrounding a squirming child. One held a knife high before dramatically plunging it downward. He reached out a hand and caught the tip of the knife on one outstretched finger, halting it as abruptly as if it had struck concrete.

"Why is it always robes?" he asked aloud, his voice as smooth and velvety as the shirt he wore. "When it is not robes, you lot run around naked. What extremists you are."

The cultists stared at the knife, and Bo had opened his glassy, wide eyes to take a better look at it as well.

The voice spoke, and the cultists gasped, "We have done it!" The one holding the knife shouted, holding the knife back up and discarding it behind him. "We have summoned a demon!" He held his arms out, a uncomfortably wide grin on his face.

Bo was still on the table, forced down, shaking and crying, but soon, enough of the cultists had let go of him for him to break out of their grasp and he sat up on the table, squirming his way further away from the cultists. He sat on the end of the table, tears running quickly down his flushed cheeks, sweat drops on his forehead. He had his knees and arms close to his body, almost as if to hug himself.

"Wise demon!" The leader, who was the one previously holding the knife, shouted to the voice, "We, us group, have summoned you and you called to us and arrived to us!" The leader was relieved. But it wasn't he, or the cultists that summoned him.

All answers of who summoned this demon, pointed to Bo. The little boy crying and trembling on the end of the table, staring with horror and disgust at the situation he was in, too afraid to speak or make any noise that wasn't sobbing.

"Wise demon?" he preened.  "I suppose you are not complete idiots.  You are still idiots, do not misunderstand, but idiots nonetheless.  Only idiots summon demons, but, as it happens, you are not the ones to summon me."  He raised one hand and flicked his fingers in a shooing motion.  The cultists standing between him and the boy were thrust aside - firmly, but not violently - by an invisible force.  It was a simple levitation spell he'd figured out how to essentially turn sideways, meaning they were shoved sideways several feet rather than up in the air.  He strode through the opening and stood next to the boy, staring down at him.  

"As official summoner of a native of Chinvat, I offer my contract to you, child of Gaia," he droned, sounding bored.  It was always the same old prattle, and though it had been years since he'd been summoned by any of the surrounding dimensions, he remembered it with ease.  It did not seem as if he was looking at anything but the boy on the table, but he was keeping an eye on the cultists, ensuring they weren't doing anything stupid, like attacking him.  "Should you accept my contract, I shall fulfill the desire of your heart.  In return, you shall surrender to me the luxuries of your life.  There is no negotiation.  If you agree, I shall be bound to you as your servant until my part of the contract is fulfilled.  Should you fail to uphold your end of the contract once my end is fulfilled, punishment shall ensue.  Should you choose not to accept these terms, I shall leave you as you are.  Do we have a deal, child of Gaia?"  He extended a pale hand with black, pointed nails to the boy, silver eyes gleaming.

Bo watched as the cultists were thrown aside by this 'invisible force' as if they were nothing but garbage, and Bo would actually agree on comparing them to trash. Bo watched as the mysterious being, the demon as the cult said, approached and stood next to him. Bo turned his head and looked up to the demonic man, tears slowly running down his cheeks.

Bo didn't know what Chinvat was, or what he meant by Gaia, but he listened, despite being a little afraid of this being.

The cultists were in the distance where they had been thrust to by the levitation spell, staring in confusion of how the demon was focusing on their sacrifice rather than them. Especially the leader, whose face was so red with anger and frustration, and his breath so heavy, that you'd almost think he'd have a heart attack.

"The.." Bo's voice cracked, it was a soft, gentle voice, a scared, hurt one. A voice that did not deserve what he had received. "The desires of my heart?" He spoke up again, trying to force his words out of his lungs. "The luxuries of my life?" Bo had a concerned tone to his voice, unable to figure out what this demon was trying to say. It wasn't that he didn't know these words, because he did, but he just didn't understand them in this context. Bo avoided eye contact briefly during the talk of no negotiating and agreeing, and failing to uphold ends of contracts..

But he quickly looked back at the demon when he was told if he didn't accept the terms, he would be left. "Please!" His voice cracked again, weak from screaming and crying. "Please.. don't leave me here." He said, his voice shaking. He raised his hand, holding it out for a moment, but hesitated, staring at the demon's hand. Should he really make a deal with this thing? What could he be getting himself into?

Thinking back on the horrible time he had been with the cult and its' cruel, twisted-minded cultists, he quickly decided that this was better than the cultists. Bo outstretched his hand to the pale, sharp, black-nailed hand of the demon, his hand twitching as if begging for help itself. "We have a deal, demon!" Bo cried out, looking up at the demon with wide, glassy eyes.

He engulfed the small, cold hand in his own warm one. "Don't leave you here?" he asked almost pleasantly. "Is that your first request? What about these men? How would you have me deal with them?"

He kept hold of the boy's hand as he raised the other. A single finger traced out a sigil that glowed a dark blue in the dim lighting. The room rumbled as the gravitational pull increased in just that room. A strong, healthy person could still pull themselves around and move, but it would take a tremendous effort to even stand. As the caster of this spell, he was exempt, as was the boy because he willed it so through the connection of their hands, but the cultists would all be affected by the pull as if someone had piled weights upon their bodies.

The boy was just a little child. He knew he would be getting much out of this deal with a child, but children were often unpredictable. Unpredictability was far more interesting than sitting around doing very little. He would handle this simple contract in no time, take whatever it was the child had to offer as far as luxuries, and then be free of the whole thing. It would make for a good story the next time he went to visit his friends.

Bo's hand grasped the demon's tightly, tears rolling down his cheeks once more. He looked to the cultists, watching as they suddenly were unable to stand or hardly move from the sigil that the demon drew with his finger.

What about these men? How would you have me deal with them?

Those words bounced around in Bo's head, trying to figure out the answer.

But then he realized. He turned his head at the demon, grabbing the demon's hand with the other hand now. Both of his hands shook as they grasped the demon's hand, and he spoke up. "I want.. I want them to suffer!" He sobbed, furrowing his brow. "I want them to suffer.." He repeated, saying through his teeth, trying to fight back more tears.

"I don't.. I don't care how you make them suffer, just make them!" Bo closed his eyes tightly, a few more tears escaping. He wanted these cultists gone, all of them, no matter how it was done. He didn't even care if it was death that made them disappear, he wanted them gone.

Three emotions, Bo experience, at this time.
Fear, sadness and anger.

All in-which he wanted to stop experiencing, he didn't like those emotions at all.
He wanted to feel safe, he wanted to be happy, he wanted peace.

Finally, he spoke again, confirming what he wanted the demon to do with the cultists. "That is my request!"

He allowed his brow to rise in a perfect arch. "Oh, really? Suffering? Hmm, now that is such a broad request." He turned, still holding the boy's hand, and rubbed his chin lightly. "Suffering is so much worse than mere death. Living while cursed to suffer, that is truly a terrible terrible ordeal! Very well, it shall be done. Close your eyes."

Again, his hand rose, this time palm up, and something bright and sparkly blossomed into being. It was a gold coin the size of a man's head. It spun slowly one way and then the other, calling the attention of every eye in the room. If the child did not close his eyes, it would affect him, too, but he did not look to ensure the boy closed his eyes. If he was smart, he would. The coin caught a human's attention, held it, and opened their mind for suggestion. Humans often called it hypnosis.

"Listen to my voice. Listen well. Fall into the void that is my voice," he chanted in the language of his home dimension. Those caught in hypnosis would instinctively understand without knowing they understood, and when they were released, they would never be able to remember the exact words. "You shall all live long lives, but they shall not be happy lives. Everything you eat, everything you drink, it shall taste of ashes and dust. There shall be no pleasure in food or drink. A small itch shall rove about your bodies, never satisfied. No matter where you scratch or how, you shall itch. Whenever you sit or lay down, whatever touches the seat or the bed shall burn. You shall never find rest wherever you lay your head or rest your feet. Finally, you shall always hear the faintest sound of ringing in your left ear. Always. It shall haunt you no matter what you do to drown it out. Forever shall this curse follow you, tormenting you to the end of your days.

The coin flashed, wakening those hypnotized. They might remember he said words, but not what they meant. They'd have no idea how to break the hypnotic curse he'd placed on them. He smiled a small, cold smile and tightened his grip on the boy's hand. He snapped his fingers, and the sight of the decrepit room swirled and vanished. Seconds later, a new sight took its place, and they found themselves standing in a feild near a road. It was quiet, and the building with its cultists was nowhere in sight. He paused and looked around, satisfied he'd removed the child to somewhere safe.

The cultists watched, hearing these words that they both understood and didn't understand. They didn't even know that there life of luxury and comfort was being slowly ripped away from them with each word the demon spoke.

Bo kept his eyes closed, as the demon told him. He waited, no matter how long it took, he kept them closed.

And suddenly, the demon snapped his finger, and when Bo opened his eyes, he was no longer in the hauntingly beautiful cathedral, he was in a field, nearby a road. Bo slowly took his hands grasp off of the demons, standing up and looking around. He didn't know where he was, but as long as it wasn't that building, he was okay with where ever he was placed by the demon.

Bo looked down at the ground, before looking up gently at the demon again. "Thank you.. demon.." He said slowly, before he looked around again and looked back at the demon again. "Demon, what is your name?" Bo asked, pulling his own hands to his chest, his fingers gently playing with the frills on the dirt and dust covered blouse.

It was clear that he had been there in that building for a while. His hair was messy, his skin was bruised, scraped, his clothes were dirty and dusty.

He flicked his fingers and dusted off his nails briefly. Why was everything and everyone around here so dirty? He didn't pay attention to the boy's thanks, not thinking he meant it, but upon his second question, he replied, "You may call me... Othello. Not that you will need the name long. Now that our contract is fulfilled..." He paused, frowning.

When a demon, as the people here called them, made a contract, there was a sort of intuitive and instinctual knowledge that came with it. The exact sensation was difficult to describe to someone who had never felt it, like trying to describe color to a blind person, but he knew that the contract was not fulfilled. Odd. The boy had asked to not stay there, to not die, to make them suffer... he'd done all that. What else could be left?

He turned and looked down at the boy. "Child, what is it you desire?"

"Othello.." Bo gave him a small smile, it was so small that it was hardly noticeable though.

Bo looked down at the field's ground, "My name is Boucémissaire.."

"You.. can call me Bo, if.. if you'd like?" Bo pulled on his own sleeve a little.

Child, what is it you desire?

Bo looked at him with an innocent, genuine expression of confusion. "What do I desire?"

He didn't know the answer. Or rather, he didn't know how to word it, he had a feeling of what the answer was, but not the words. "I.. don't know how to explain it." Bo frowned, looking down at the ground again. "This, um.. Desire of the heart, does it require words?" Bo asked, "I know, but I just.. don't..know how to word it." Bo messed with the bottom of his blouse, straightening it. "I want to say.. safety, but it doesn't quite explain." Bo said softly.

Family.

The safety of having someone take care of him, family.

That's what his 'desire of the heart' was, but Bo just didn't know how to say it, not yet.

Bo then got distracted by the scenery, "Where are we?" He asked quietly, before taking a few steps away from Othello.

He stared at the boy. Bo. "You do not know what your desire is?" He spun away with a frustrated growl that sounded similar to a feral dog's. "This is just wonderful!" he snapped, gnashing his teeth. "How can you not know your desire?"

Despite his frustration with the boy, Othello, as he was now to be called, he knew he had only himself to blame. In normal situations, the one summoning the demon presented the contract, taking great care to outline the exact parameters so the demon could not find ways to exploit loopholes. They usually still found loopholes. It had become a game in the last few centuries. If the summoner did not have an exact contract and only a desire, the demon would present the contract, and it was up to the human to ensure they were not getting taken advantage of. Here, Othello had been far too eager to escape the boredom and mundane aspect of his life and had underestimated the situation considering it was a mere child. He'd been too cocky and thus too vague. He'd assumed he'd known what the child wanted, and assumptions were only good in certain mathematical branches. He'd only taken this contract because he'd thought he could be done and home by tea time. Yet, here he was still standing in a field with a child.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before turning back to the child. "I do not know where we are," he said a touch scathingly. "The spell specifies only to take the caster to the nearest place of safety and seclusion to avoid all detection. This is your dimension. Surely you can figure it out?"

Bo flinched at Othello's frustrated growl and the snap at him.
He took a step back from Othello, a worried expression on his face.

Bo went silent, before muttering. "Sorry.." He replied, upset that Othello was frustrated that he didn't know his own desire.

He glanced around the area, "..Maybe.." He spoke back up, "Maybe there's a sign that can tell us where we are.." Bo slowly wandered off, closer to the road in attempts of finding a road sign that might have told them where they were.

Bo noticed a big road sign in the distance and pointed at it, "See, maybe that'll tell us where we are."

It also appeared Bo had no caution upon being near the road, because he was half in the road. If a car had came along, they would probably have to swerve to miss him. Maybe it was best to get him out of the way before a car comes.

Othello glanced briefly at the sign before watching Bo. "Child, how old are you?" he asked, lightly folding his arms. "Do you have yet the ability to read signs and to reason?"

Bo looked at Othello, "I'm thirteen." He said, stopping and turning to the demon. "A lot of the kids at my school before mum took me out of it, because I was being bullied, said I don't act it though."

"I can read though." Bo said, frowning, a slight bit of a offended tone in his voice. He began walking again and got closer to the sign, "Like that sign says.. London, 6 miles north." Bo said calmly, looking at it from where he was standing. Still in the road. "My house is in London!" He spun on his heels to look at demon, at first, he had an happy expression on his face, but it slowly faded, as if something hit him.

Bo looked down at the ground, "But.. there.. My mum and dad, they.." Bo whimpered, as if he was going to cry again. He didn't finish, but it was clear that something must have happened to his parents at the house before the cult captured him.

"Very well, we shall go to this... London," Othello said with a slight curl in his lip. What a silly name. London. He looked down at the road. "It occurs to me that while I may not be the most versed on certain protocols here on Gaia, I am aware of the strips of pathways upon which vehicles travel. If I recall correctly, they travel quite quickly with minimal stopping ability. Thus, it seems someone of such advanced years as yourself should know better than to stand on such a pathway inviting misfortune upon yourself."

He turned his gaze in the direction London lay. Then again, perhaps a child standing in the middle of the road was not such a bad idea. Six miles was a long way to walk. If Bo caught the attention of a vehicle driver, perhaps they would stop, allowing Othello to impress upon them the importance of driving himself and the child to the house of which Bo spoke. He could always shield Bo or summon him out of the way if the vehicle did not stop. He could magic the vehicle to a stop, but why waste the effort when a child standing in the way might do the same thing?

Bo looked up to hear the whole thing about the 'not being the most versed on Gaia protocols', then looked back down at the road. He carefully took a few side steps until he was out of the road, an embarrassed blush in his cheeks. "Sorry, you're right, I shouldn't be in the road." He said quietly. He then continued walking north, as the sign said, but this time, out of the road.

Bo also seemed to be easily distracted, as he had stopped a few times to pick up a stray rock, or a thrown out bottle cap, look at it, and place it back where he found it. They began crossing a small bridge across the road, a stream of water running underneath it.

And like he had done previously, he had stopped mid-walk, but this time not to pick anything up, but to look at Othello.

"Um, can I hold your hand?" Bo looked down at the river, then looked at Othello, gently holding out his hand. "Bridges make me nervous. I'm always afraid I might lose my balance and fall or something.." He said. It wasn't even a tall bridge, in-fact, if he had fell, he would have just fell for a few seconds and into the water. Maybe there was a reason for his fear, or maybe it was irrational. It was unclear.

Why were there no vehicles? Was this the only road that did not bear vehicles? It wasn't that Othello couldn't walk, no, he could cover quite the distance if he desired, he just very much did not want to. Walking was not comfortable and worked up a sweat. Thankfully, the child was slow enough that Othello did not work up a sweat. In fact, if anything, he was highly bored. This was going to take forever.

When Bo asked to hold his hand, Othello's mind had drifted off to other subjects, and it took him a moment to recognize the question. He sighed but dutifully held out his hand to take Bo's. Thanks to their contract, he couldn't refuse the request. At least it wasn't anything too tedious. He held Bo's hand and led the way across the bridge.

"There will be no falling into the water," he stated as they crossed. "I shall not allow it."

They had barely made it across when Othello heard a vehicle approaching from behind them. He turned to look and then smiled.

"Ah, this will work well," he stated. "If you shall stand in your most pitiful manor there by the side of this road, as you call it, I shall make myself temporarily invisible. When the vehicle stops to inquire as to your well-being, I shall request that they take us to this London. Are we agreed?"

Bo held Othello's hand, feeling his nervousness fade, as he crossed the bridge with Othello by his side.

He heard the vehicle approaching and turned his head too. "Oh, umm, okay, I think I can do that." Bo said with a gentle voice, letting go of Othello's hand. Bo took a deep breath, closing his eyes, then he opened them, his eyes practically sparkling as they hit the sun just right.

The expression was almost sickeningly cute, yet pitiful enough to convince someone to stop. It looked like when a cartoon cat would do a cute expression to try and get what it wanted. "Will this work?" Bo asked.

The vehicle was getting closer, so it would have to do, either way.

"How utterly revolting," Othello couldn't help but remark. "Yes, that is just disgustingly sweet enough it should work. A tear or two might not e amiss. Now, stand where they can easily see you." He stepped back and willed the light to bend around his body, rendering him virtually invisible to all but the most observant of people.

The car drew up near Bo and slowed, finally stopping just a short distance from him. A young man with a ring in his nose and tattered clothes opened the door and scowled out at Bo. "Hey, kid, what are you doing here? Are you okay?"

Othello waited until the young man was out enough to get his attention. He moved to stand directly in front of him and snapped his fingers. The illusion disappeared, making him visible. The young man looked up, startled, his eyes going wide as his eyes met the red-rimmed eyes of the demon.

"We need a ride," Othello purred, caressing the young man's mind.

"Okay," the young man said easily, his eyes never leaving Othello's. "Where to?"

"Bo, tell him where we wish to go," Othello said, maintaining eye contact.