His ParaComm HRO-X mobile phone rang, the ring-tone a tinny version of It's a Kind of Magic by Queen. He looked up from the book he was reading, Stealing Souls or Just Borrowing Them? By Zanton McCrowl, swallowed the mouthful of pasta salad and dropped the fork into the bowl. He tapped the tiny, wireless earpiece. "Nyx here. Who is this?"
* * *
He traced an arcane glyph into the air with his finger, trails of dark vapor hung writhing in space before him. When he closed the symbol, the fabric of reality melted away within its lines revealing a black, yawning void. He patted down his pockets quickly: keys - check, cell phone - check, wallet and Hero Registration ID - check, hat - check, shades - check, Talisman against the Withering Curse of Wagmoragoth (he had heard rumors it was going around) - check.
He stepped through and was swallowed by the churning shadows. The rift quickly closed and the smoky lines of the symbol wafted away.
* * *
There was a shrill, piercing scream and a crash. The door to the women's bathroom burst open and Nyx slipped out quickly into the coffee shop. A roll of toliet paper was flung out after him. Ignoring the stares of the other patrons, he straightened his hat and made his way to an isolated table.
He really needed to work on his landings.
* * *
He tipped back his cafe mocha, but the whipped cream had clogged the small hole in the lid. He popped off the top and took a long draw of the hot liquid. He tried to maintain a dignified face even though he had just scalded his tongue and throat.
Karcana Winchester leaned across the table and whispered, "I wasn't sure if I should call you. I know you told me only to use your number in an emergency, but I think this is pretty serious."
Nyx had met the young student about a year ago when he gave a lecture on Legalicia Diabolis: Common Loop-holes in Demonic Contracts at her university. She was star pupil of folklore, the occult and ancient history. He sensed The Power pulsing within her aura, but felt she was too young to understand or harness it, so he kept the knowledge to himself. He did, however, give her his number in case she ever was in trouble. Sinister cults and transdimensional terrors seemed to home-in on the mystically gifted.
Nyx was all too aware of that fact.
* * *
Long ago on Walpurgis Night when Nicholas Morton was a baby only weeks old, the Knights of the Overshadow - cultist followers of the demon Zor'naregrezh, murdered his parents and spirited him away as a sacrifice to their Demonic Lord. He was taken to their hidden temple, anointed in the blood of innocents and cast into the Umbramaw, a shadowy, extra-dimensional vortex that opened only once a year and emptied into the shadowy Demonic Dimension.
As Zor'naregrezh was about to devour young Nick, he sensed waves of intense power emanating from the child. Famished for an uncorrupted soul though he was, this gave the demon pause. If such power was contained in so young a mortal vessel, when it matured it could make a formidable servant.
Zor'naregrezh was trapped by ancient and unbreakable wards which forbade him from entering the mortal world, but Nick could be his dark instrument, carrying out his twisted and sinister will in the realm of man. When grown, trained and properly conditioned, the child could take the reigns of his fiercely devoted Knights of the Overshadow and shape them into a true force of darkness.
Instead of consuming his victim, instead Zor'naregrezh transformed himself into the guise of a wizened old man who Nick would come to know as Uncle Grezh.
He raised the boy, carefully tutoring him in the dark, forbidden arts, honing and tempering his untamed power like a keen, dark blade. He called the boy Nyx Morta. He would become his weapon of Darkness and Death.
Over two decades, as Nyx's body grew, so did his arcane power and skill.
Another of Zor'naregrezh's servants, a demonic thrall by the name of Jenx'vallinax, grew jealous of his Lord's attention to the mortal boy. Before Nyx's arrival, he had been the favored one and had been originally groomed as Zor'naregrezh's Dark Hand on the Earth.
Jenx (in human guise) pretended to befriend Nyx, a plan of treachery germinating in his diabolic mind. He would gain the young man's trust and then would wait until exactly the right moment to strike. He would tell him the truth: his parents' slaughter, his sacrifice and who his beloved Uncle Grezh really was.
On the night of Maldios Bane, when the cosmic forces sway strongly to the side of Light, Jenx decided it was time to act. His Dark Lord would be at the ebb of his power.
He was sparring with Nyx, dueling with spells, hexes and counter-hexes as they often did. Uncle Grezh relaxed near-by, offering direction, advice and praise during the mock-battle.
During a break to regain their strength, Jenx revealed the terrible truth to his friend.
At first Nyx simply did not believe him. This life was all he knew. His Uncle was his only family. He could not accept it.
Jenx had antipated this and was prepared. He passed Nyx a black scroll inscribed with the Revelation of Revon'anoth, one of the most potent and rare of disenchantments. It was for this reason that he had waited until Zor'naregrezh was at his weakest. He would be unable to maintain his human guise under the disillusionary influence of Revon'anoths masterwork.
Hesitantly, Nyx intoned the complex incantation. His uncle's form wavered, blurred and faded. In his place was revealed the vile horned and tentacled visage of the Demon Lord Zor'naregrezh!
Enraged, Nyx lashed out, unleashing all of his power at the deceiver. Zor'naregrezh was taken utterly by surprise and wounded in the assault. Still, even with the waning of his power, he was still Lord of the Demonic Dimension and nearly omnipotent within his realm. He returned the attack, raising one claw in a mystical gesture that seized and crushed Nyx's body. He conjured a whirling cloud of invisible tallons that ripped at his apprentice's mind, body and soul.
"This is an unfortunate turn of events, mortal," Zor'naregrezh's voice crashed around him like rumbling thunder. "I had such great expectations for you. No matter. I will destroy you and begin anew. It is... a shame."
At this point, Jenx turned on his friend, joining in the defense of his Dark Lord to regain his favor.
But, Uncle Grezh had trained his student too well. Nyx steeled his mind against the agony and muttered a potent counter-spell. He broke free and released his rage in one irresistible blast. Jenx's form dissolved with a blood-curling scream.
The battle raged on, pupil against master. Nyx's flesh was torn and bloody, hanging from his bones in ragged strips. Tiny, razor-clawed demons invaded his brain, gnawing their way out through his skull. His bones splintered and cracked and his eyes boiled in their sockets. Still he fought on. He had been trained all of his life to be used as a weapon and during this savage battle, he nearly ceased to be human. He became the thing that his master had forged him into... destruction personified.
The magical fallout from the constant magical discharge filled the chamber, thrashing wildly around them. Dark currents of force buffeted them and a chilling, vortex of feral energy began to form between the combatants, growing more massive with each spell cast.
With blurred vision, Nyx saw his only chance. Zor'naregrezh was immortal and could carry on the fight throughout eternity. He, however, could not. Soon Maldios Bane would end and when the Demonic Lord's power resumed full potency, Nyx would be blasted into oblivion with a mere thought. This was a fight he simply could not win, but that didnt mean that he had to lose.
His ripped and ruined lips curled into a sneer and he dove into the raging vortex!
The clash of arcane energies from the battle had ripped open the Umbramaw, breaking its natural cycle and throwing its dimensional balance into chaos. Just before it sealed forever, Nyx was disgorged in a torrent of thrashing darkness into the Main Sanctuary of the Temple of the Overshadow. The assembled cultists looked up from their dark ritual in shock at his bloody, gasping form shrouded in writhing, angry shadows.
As the Umbramaw began to collapse upon itself, the temple trembled as the unstable dimensional forces ripped at the fabric of reality. The foundations quaked, the walls cracked and the mighty pillars splintered. Debris and rubble rained upon the sinster host.
When he realized where he was, Nyx was consumed by adrenaline and blinding rage. Mindless of the destruction around him, he exacted savage, merciless retribution for the murder of his parents and the theft of his own life. Their screams fell on deaf ears as blood painted the black, crumbling walls.
The leader of the cult, the corrupt and immoral Mistress Blaspheme, was crushed under the huge stone idol of her dark master even as she implored it for aid.
Many years later, nightmares of the carnage he inflicted that night still haunted him. The very few surviving members of the Knights still whispered his name in terror from their shadowed, secret lairs.
How he escaped the collapsing ruins or came into the care of the Sisters, he will never know.
Months later, after his body was mended and his sanity mostly restored, he found himself in a strange new world, the world of his birth. He would be forever indebted to the Sisters of St. Bosco's Convent who found his broken and twisted form and gently guided him back from Charon's bony, beaconing hand.
A stranger in his own world, he slowly adjusted to life among his fellow mortals. He went to Law School and became a public defender. Later, he specialized in Infernal Business Law as well, aiding the misguided who had sold their souls, finding loop-holes in their contracts to prevent collection. This service he performed for the meager fee of fifty percent of any material wealth they gained in the original transaction.
He continued his studies of the dark arts in earnest, though the fierce battle with Zor'naregrezh and the magic-poor atmosphere of the human world left his powers diminished.
By day, he became Nick Morton, attorney-at-law and advocate of the innocent. By night he took up the mantle of Nyx Morta, using his dark powers to defend the defenseless from the evil that dwells within every shadow.
* * *
"... so that's what happened. What do you think I should do?"
"Are you awake?" Karacana waved her hand in front of Nyx's face. "Hel-lo? Is anyone in there?"
Nyx looked startled. "Yes, I'm listening. You said it was serious..."
"That was almost ten minutes ago. What do you think I should do? I'm really scared, Mr. Morton."
"Call me, Nyx... and can you go over it one more time? I just want to make sure I didn't miss anything."
* * *
Journal Entry, October 30, 2004
Karacanas problem turned out to be fairly routine. Her dreams had started coming true. This wasnt surprising since her untrained power was finally beginning to manifest. Random precognition during dream-state is fairly common in cases like her's.
Her dreams predicted trivial things at first, but recently she had dreamt that she was magically suspended over a terrifying ritual being performed by eerie robed figures with burning eyes.
Those damn Circle of Thorns zealots wanted to get their barbs into everything, literally.
I assured her that there was nothing to worry about, it would be taken care of and to just get on with her life. Cloaked in shadow, I kept a constant vigil on her apartment. When the Circle showed up to claim their prize, I made it very clear to them that she wasn't interesting in joining their spooky little club.
Afterward, I sent her to see Azuria, who was more than happy to take her under her wing. I think she's well on her way to being able to take care of herself.
I wonder if there's any of that pasta salad left...
His ParaComm HRO-X mobile phone rang, the ring-tone a tinny version of It's a Kind of Magic by Queen. He looked up from the book he was reading, Stealing Souls or Just Borrowing Them? By Zanton McCrowl, swallowed the mouthful of pasta salad and dropped the fork into the bowl. He tapped the tiny, wireless earpiece. "Nyx here. Who is this?"
* * *
He traced an arcane glyph into the air with his finger, trails of dark vapor hung writhing in space before him. When he closed the symbol, the fabric of reality melted away within its lines revealing a black, yawning void. He patted down his pockets quickly: keys - check, cell phone - check, wallet and Hero Registration ID - check, hat - check, shades - check, Talisman against the Withering Curse of Wagmoragoth (he had heard rumors it was going around) - check.
He stepped through and was swallowed by the churning shadows. The rift quickly closed and the smoky lines of the symbol wafted away.
* * *
There was a shrill, piercing scream and a crash. The door to the women's bathroom burst open and Nyx slipped out quickly into the coffee shop. A roll of toliet paper was flung out after him. Ignoring the stares of the other patrons, he straightened his hat and made his way to an isolated table.
He really needed to work on his landings.
* * *
He tipped back his cafe mocha, but the whipped cream had clogged the small hole in the lid. He popped off the top and took a long draw of the hot liquid. He tried to maintain a dignified face even though he had just scalded his tongue and throat.
Karcana Winchester leaned across the table and whispered, "I wasn't sure if I should call you. I know you told me only to use your number in an emergency, but I think this is pretty serious."
Nyx had met the young student about a year ago when he gave a lecture on Legalicia Diabolis: Common Loop-holes in Demonic Contracts at her university. She was star pupil of folklore, the occult and ancient history. He sensed The Power pulsing within her aura, but felt she was too young to understand or harness it, so he kept the knowledge to himself. He did, however, give her his number in case she ever was in trouble. Sinister cults and transdimensional terrors seemed to home-in on the mystically gifted.
Nyx was all too aware of that fact.
* * *
Long ago on Walpurgis Night when Nicholas Morton was a baby only weeks old, the Knights of the Overshadow - cultist followers of the demon Zor'naregrezh, murdered his parents and spirited him away as a sacrifice to their Demonic Lord. He was taken to their hidden temple, anointed in the blood of innocents and cast into the Umbramaw, a shadowy, extra-dimensional vortex that opened only once a year and emptied into the shadowy Demonic Dimension.
As Zor'naregrezh was about to devour young Nick, he sensed waves of intense power emanating from the child. Famished for an uncorrupted soul though he was, this gave the demon pause. If such power was contained in so young a mortal vessel, when it matured it could make a formidable servant.
Zor'naregrezh was trapped by ancient and unbreakable wards which forbade him from entering the mortal world, but Nick could be his dark instrument, carrying out his twisted and sinister will in the realm of man. When grown, trained and properly conditioned, the child could take the reigns of his fiercely devoted Knights of the Overshadow and shape them into a true force of darkness.
Instead of consuming his victim, instead Zor'naregrezh transformed himself into the guise of a wizened old man who Nick would come to know as Uncle Grezh.
He raised the boy, carefully tutoring him in the dark, forbidden arts, honing and tempering his untamed power like a keen, dark blade. He called the boy Nyx Morta. He would become his weapon of Darkness and Death.
Over two decades, as Nyx's body grew, so did his arcane power and skill.
Another of Zor'naregrezh's servants, a demonic thrall by the name of Jenx'vallinax, grew jealous of his Lord's attention to the mortal boy. Before Nyx's arrival, he had been the favored one and had been originally groomed as Zor'naregrezh's Dark Hand on the Earth.
Jenx (in human guise) pretended to befriend Nyx, a plan of treachery germinating in his diabolic mind. He would gain the young man's trust and then would wait until exactly the right moment to strike. He would tell him the truth: his parents' slaughter, his sacrifice and who his beloved Uncle Grezh really was.
On the night of Maldios Bane, when the cosmic forces sway strongly to the side of Light, Jenx decided it was time to act. His Dark Lord would be at the ebb of his power.
He was sparring with Nyx, dueling with spells, hexes and counter-hexes as they often did. Uncle Grezh relaxed near-by, offering direction, advice and praise during the mock-battle.
During a break to regain their strength, Jenx revealed the terrible truth to his friend.
At first Nyx simply did not believe him. This life was all he knew. His Uncle was his only family. He could not accept it.
Jenx had antipated this and was prepared. He passed Nyx a black scroll inscribed with the Revelation of Revon'anoth, one of the most potent and rare of disenchantments. It was for this reason that he had waited until Zor'naregrezh was at his weakest. He would be unable to maintain his human guise under the disillusionary influence of Revon'anoths masterwork.
Hesitantly, Nyx intoned the complex incantation. His uncle's form wavered, blurred and faded. In his place was revealed the vile horned and tentacled visage of the Demon Lord Zor'naregrezh!
Enraged, Nyx lashed out, unleashing all of his power at the deceiver. Zor'naregrezh was taken utterly by surprise and wounded in the assault. Still, even with the waning of his power, he was still Lord of the Demonic Dimension and nearly omnipotent within his realm. He returned the attack, raising one claw in a mystical gesture that seized and crushed Nyx's body. He conjured a whirling cloud of invisible tallons that ripped at his apprentice's mind, body and soul.
"This is an unfortunate turn of events, mortal," Zor'naregrezh's voice crashed around him like rumbling thunder. "I had such great expectations for you. No matter. I will destroy you and begin anew. It is... a shame."
At this point, Jenx turned on his friend, joining in the defense of his Dark Lord to regain his favor.
But, Uncle Grezh had trained his student too well. Nyx steeled his mind against the agony and muttered a potent counter-spell. He broke free and released his rage in one irresistible blast. Jenx's form dissolved with a blood-curling scream.
The battle raged on, pupil against master. Nyx's flesh was torn and bloody, hanging from his bones in ragged strips. Tiny, razor-clawed demons invaded his brain, gnawing their way out through his skull. His bones splintered and cracked and his eyes boiled in their sockets. Still he fought on. He had been trained all of his life to be used as a weapon and during this savage battle, he nearly ceased to be human. He became the thing that his master had forged him into... destruction personified.
The magical fallout from the constant magical discharge filled the chamber, thrashing wildly around them. Dark currents of force buffeted them and a chilling, vortex of feral energy began to form between the combatants, growing more massive with each spell cast.
With blurred vision, Nyx saw his only chance. Zor'naregrezh was immortal and could carry on the fight throughout eternity. He, however, could not. Soon Maldios Bane would end and when the Demonic Lord's power resumed full potency, Nyx would be blasted into oblivion with a mere thought. This was a fight he simply could not win, but that didnt mean that he had to lose.
His ripped and ruined lips curled into a sneer and he dove into the raging vortex!
The clash of arcane energies from the battle had ripped open the Umbramaw, breaking its natural cycle and throwing its dimensional balance into chaos. Just before it sealed forever, Nyx was disgorged in a torrent of thrashing darkness into the Main Sanctuary of the Temple of the Overshadow. The assembled cultists looked up from their dark ritual in shock at his bloody, gasping form shrouded in writhing, angry shadows.
As the Umbramaw began to collapse upon itself, the temple trembled as the unstable dimensional forces ripped at the fabric of reality. The foundations quaked, the walls cracked and the mighty pillars splintered. Debris and rubble rained upon the sinster host.
When he realized where he was, Nyx was consumed by adrenaline and blinding rage. Mindless of the destruction around him, he exacted savage, merciless retribution for the murder of his parents and the theft of his own life. Their screams fell on deaf ears as blood painted the black, crumbling walls.
The leader of the cult, the corrupt and immoral Mistress Blaspheme, was crushed under the huge stone idol of her dark master even as she implored it for aid.
Many years later, nightmares of the carnage he inflicted that night still haunted him. The very few surviving members of the Knights still whispered his name in terror from their shadowed, secret lairs.
How he escaped the collapsing ruins or came into the care of the Sisters, he will never know.
Months later, after his body was mended and his sanity mostly restored, he found himself in a strange new world, the world of his birth. He would be forever indebted to the Sisters of St. Bosco's Convent who found his broken and twisted form and gently guided him back from Charon's bony, beaconing hand.
A stranger in his own world, he slowly adjusted to life among his fellow mortals. He went to Law School and became a public defender. Later, he specialized in Infernal Business Law as well, aiding the misguided who had sold their souls, finding loop-holes in their contracts to prevent collection. This service he performed for the meager fee of fifty percent of any material wealth they gained in the original transaction.
He continued his studies of the dark arts in earnest, though the fierce battle with Zor'naregrezh and the magic-poor atmosphere of the human world left his powers diminished.
By day, he became Nick Morton, attorney-at-law and advocate of the innocent. By night he took up the mantle of Nyx Morta, using his dark powers to defend the defenseless from the evil that dwells within every shadow.
* * *
"... so that's what happened. What do you think I should do?"
"Are you awake?" Karacana waved her hand in front of Nyx's face. "Hel-lo? Is anyone in there?"
Nyx looked startled. "Yes, I'm listening. You said it was serious..."
"That was almost ten minutes ago. What do you think I should do? I'm really scared, Mr. Morton."
"Call me, Nyx... and can you go over it one more time? I just want to make sure I didn't miss anything."
* * *
Journal Entry, October 30, 2004
Karacanas problem turned out to be fairly routine. Her dreams had started coming true. This wasnt surprising since her untrained power was finally beginning to manifest. Random precognition during dream-state is fairly common in cases like her's.
Her dreams predicted trivial things at first, but recently she had dreamt that she was magically suspended over a terrifying ritual being performed by eerie robed figures with burning eyes.
Those damn Circle of Thorns zealots wanted to get their barbs into everything, literally.
I assured her that there was nothing to worry about, it would be taken care of and to just get on with her life. Cloaked in shadow, I kept a constant vigil on her apartment. When the Circle showed up to claim their prize, I made it very clear to them that she wasn't interesting in joining their spooky little club.
Afterward, I sent her to see Azuria, who was more than happy to take her under her wing. I think she's well on her way to being able to take care of herself.
I wonder if there's any of that pasta salad left...
END
Nyx Morta
33 D3, Champion