The cloaked figure strode silently through the dark Montfort night. The fall of his boots on the stone street made no sound whatsoever, nor did the soft breeze carry any scent of his presence. His deep hood hid his features from the few street urchins that noticed his presence. Those that DID take notice, immediately scrambled to get as far away as from the dark stranger as quickly as possible
"Hold it right there, sport..." the voice came from several yards behind the cloaked man.
The stranger stopped and turned to face the man that had interrupted his thoughts.
"Whatcha got in your hand there, stranger?" continued the man.
"This?" the stranger's voice was soft and calm... and was most certainly NOT the sound that would normally emanate from his throat. He held out his right hand... sitting in his palm was a large disk, nearly six inches in diameter and half an inch thick. The exposed face bore deep carvings and patterns that seemed to shift and change before the thief's eyes.
"Yeah, that."
"A gift."
"For me?"
"Why... yes. You and all the city of Montfort."
"Well let's HAVE IT then!" The thief approached, his bloody dagger held tightly in his hand.
"All right. If you insist..." The stranger thrust out his hand, palm facing outward. There was no flash of light... no arc of power... yet the approaching thief stopped cold as every inch of skin was seared off of his body. The skinless thief collapsed onto the street and screamed for mercy. The pain only intensified as his exposed nerve endings continued to be assaulted. His eyes focused on the stranger's disk even as it continued to remove his flesh one layer at a time.
"Had enough?" asked the stranger. The thief gurgled and lay still.
The stranger's arm returned to his side. He stood before the smoking lump that was his assailant for a few moments, and then continued on his journey.
He toured the city until he came to a large abandoned building. He stood in front of the dark structure, his eyes taking in every inch of the building and the land upon which it sat.
"Location is everything," he said to himself, " This... will do nicely."
He held out his free hand and made a small sweeping motion. With the sound of snapping wood and cracking beams, the abandoned building was ripped apart and carried away as if by a tornado, leaving a large empty lot. The stranger walked to the very center of the lot and paused. He knelt down on one knee and placed the disk firmly in the soil. He twisted it slightly in a back and forth motion to drive it deeper into the earth. Finally he stood.
At his feet, the disk continued to move, rotating clockwise... screwing itself into the ground.
The stranger stepped away and headed back towards the street. Behind him, the mysterious disk vanished under the soil. Soon there arose a gentle humming noise, which grew to a low rumble. The ground began to shake. Soon, the rumbling was joined by what sounded like thousands of screams being heard from far away.
The stranger watched.
The screaming sound grew in intensity, quickly rising to a sudden, horrifying climax. As it did, the ground opened and spat forth a dark, hideous structure. A black spire that shot towards the sky until its base completely filled the newly vacant lot. Then the cracked, rocky surface of the thing changed and warped, taking on the appearance of brick and wood. The shape widened and became squat and roughly rectangular.
The stranger smiled as the transformation played itself out before him. In just a few seconds, a completely nondescript building stood occupied the lot. Its structure and composition were indistinguishable from any other in Montfort... there was absolutely nothing unique or outstanding about it. It fit in with its surroundings almost TOO perfectly.
Facing the street was a staircase that let up to a large metal door.
The stranger mounted the steps. When he reached the door, the portal flew open of its own accord. The interior blazed with a Hellish red light, and the smell of brimstone assaulted him.
The stranger took a deep breath, as if smelling flowers or the aroma of a sumptuous meal.
"Now to set the interior to rights...." He said. Then he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
...
Hours later, a three thieves traveled together down that same street. The night had been exceptionally good to them... their pockets were weighed down with stolen gold. Some of the coins still bore the blood of their original owners.
The group paused as a strange sensation passed over them. The knew not what it was, but they each received the distinct impression that someone had called them by name. They drew their weapons and scowled into the shadows surrounding them.
"What's that?" said one of the men. He pointed at a building to their right.
"What's what?" answered another.
"That building. It wasn't there before."
"Are ye daft? Dat buildin's been there for years."
"No. It was different when we passed here before."
"So what are ye sayin'? That somebody came and knocked the odder buildin' down and then built demselves a new one in just one night?"
"Stranger things have happent" injected the third thief.
"Ya... Dat's true. Espescially in THIS town."
"I know those stairs weren't there before. Or that door."
The three men sheathed their weapons and stood before the strangely compelling building, watching it as if they expected it to suddenly uproot itself, grow legs and walk away. It did not.
"Let's go inside." said the first man.
"Okay." the others answered simultaneously, surprised at their own boldness.
The trio mounted the steps. Just as they reached the top, the metal door opened. They all reached for their blades, but relaxed when they heard the faint sound of music, and detected the unmistakable aroma of ale.
"Ahhh, new patrons," said a voice from just inside the door. "Please come in and make yourself at home. Welcome to the Pan-Demonica. My name is Leonardo and I am your host..."
Copyright 1998 by Marc Washington