Almost half a week has passed and my nightmare is not over. For a short while, I entertained the idea that the first day was merely an unfortunate aberration that I summoned from a dream, a terrible fantasy dreamt up by an overactive imagination. And yet, as each morning dawns, as I awaken again, I find that I am still the demon I saw myself become.
However, I am beginning to become more comfortable in my new flesh. It is unclear how much of me remains human (how would one even test for this?), but if nothing else I still seem to bear my own consciousness and mind. If anything, even that has improved- I've found my wit and focus growing even sharper. Perhaps even my brain has undergone the same dark change as the rest of me?
I am beginning to learn that I have developed... powers. My skin is tough and hardened, and I find myself entirely undeterred by heat or flame. In fact, I find myself craving it more often than ever, though I always feel a bit warm under the collar. (I fear testing myself with a thermometer and discovering my temperature easily exceeds the low hundreds.) When I find myself angry, either at my current state of affairs or over some passing trifle, I've seen my frame accompanied by small wisps of black, drifting flames. And last night, over the peaks of Maghelm's buildings, I spread my dark wings and flew.
So the most easily summoned conclusion to draw is that I am, indeed, one of the Empowered that seems to be populating Maghelm of late, though it is truly impossible to tell. For me to be so similar to the demons and devils of lore, to be a creature out of a child's nightmare, I almost feel as if I am different, somehow. Perhaps, my body has truly been seized by some supernatural, devilish being that has some grander design for my fate than I can currently perceive.
I've met some others, some people who seem to know what struggles an Empowered faces. However, my fear of their (our? my?) ostracization bears heavily on me. There is a populace of normal, unaffected humans that may very well fear these people (myself previously being one of them). And with the whispers and rumors I've heard, the arrests that have already been made? This is certainly the case.
[Note: I will not be posting details about any of the Empowered that I encountered or will encounter, aside from perhaps my interactions with them. This is to product their identities in what is to be considered mostly a highly stratified world state.]
With a kind heart's help, I've found a neighborhood to live in. The landlord was hesitant at first, but I met double rent and he stopped asking any questions fairly promptly. Assuming I can do small jobs around the neighborhood, rent should be fairly manageable for a few months, at least until I am able to figure out more. (Cash reserves, save me now.)
For now, I am passively researching the conditions of the Empowered and trying to network with more. Some seem intent on becoming heroes, others villains. I don't have much ambition towards either, at the moment; the well-being of the Empowered should be the first (only?) priority. Then we (they?) can start discussing how to best use our powers.
Posts will be irregular, I was forced to type this from an internet cafe. I have my laptop and tablet, thankfully, but evidently my building is having a networking issue. I'm probably going to try to find the building router and force myself in to fix it.
No one stops the IT guy, especially if he's also evidently the devil.
-Az
Friday, May 16, 2014
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
Day 1
Today, Azathoth was born.
My original identity is not relevant. I worked with computers, fixing and maintennance mostly. Lighting programming here and there, Database management. Typical IT stuff. "Have you tried turning off and turning it back on again?" Cue laugh from the studio audience. It wasn't an interesting or social life, but it was one I found acceptable. I was content. I was safe.
I woke up in the middle of the night, and my body was covered in sweat. Night terrors weren't an entirely odd or outside event for me. Dreamscapes were strictly reserved for nightmares. But I didn't remember anything of the sort before awakening. As I lay, staring at my ceiling, I realized in horror that my sweat was starting to boil on the surface of my skin. I heard a loud sizzling, as if my skin were an oiled grilltop. And yet, I felt no pain. By the red glow of my alarm clock (which I noted to read 3:01 AM), I could see it bubbling over.
I dashed to my darkened bathroom, grabbing a towel and patting down my arms and torso, finding spots of sweat boiling over until the popping stopped, until the seemingly deafining sizzle ceased. Only now did the absurdity of the situation seize me, as I stifled a chuckle. My hands groped for the sink, finding purchase on the cool porcelain. My left hand went to the lightswitch, and toggled it to on.
The face in the mirror was not mine. My skin looked like a deep shade of scarlet, closer to a Coke can than human skin. My hair, though it was recently short from a haircut, had grown to rest just above my shoulders, and turned from a dark brown to a jet black. My teeth were now pearlescent, almost glowing in the lightbulb's illumination, and my canines extended into sharp, almost vampiric fangs. And my eyes... Instead of their usual, gray, human resolve, I stared into the golden, evil eyes of a serpant. And for the briefest of moments, I spied a black shape over either of my shoulders.
The room seemed to spin, as I backed away from the mirror, slamming into the wall behind me. I looked backwards, surprised by my speed and strength of withdrawal. In the plaster, the dark masses on my back left two, oval shaped holes. In the mirror, I caught myself in profile, realizing that the shadow behind me were growing out of my back, two small and darkened wings. Again, the world shifted and I found myself backed into a corner, fetal and hyperventilating.
I must have cowered there the whole night and eventually passed out. (Probably from lack of oxygen, in hindsight. Hyperventilation is hardly an efficient way to exchange air.) I woke up as light began to creep through the windows. I stood, convinced I had been hallucinating or having a walking nightmare. After rising, again, the mirror proclaimed that I was not. As my anger grew, I felt myself becoming angry. Beyond angry, I started to feel real rage. My body started to feel like it was on fire. From my eyes, black wisps of flame started to flicker, developing from mere embers to meter-long strands that shot horizontally off of my face.
My closed fist struck my foe, the mirror, a fatal blow. It fractured into countless pieces, shattering instantly. I looked to my knuckles, expecting to see blood and viscera. Instead, my new flesh seemed fine, as if the power of the shards could do nothing to pierce it.
I felt myself wondering about my changes, this... Transformation. As my curiosity grew, my ire proportionally shrank. In a larger shard, I saw the black streaks dissipate and disappear as they if they never were. They apparently were summoned by mere emotion, so I noted to myself that emotional restraint would be required until I was sure what I was dealing with. However, is was at least evident that I would be the next of Maghelm's empowered. I sighed, looking at the floor. Lucky me.
I spent a long while, then, just sitting in my bedroom, staring at the ceiling that had so long ago been my night's best and most faithful companion. It hadn't changed once in the past two years I had been here, but for some reason I expected to find guidance in it's rough surface. Nothing did.
I heard my roommate, Ed, stirring from his room. His footsteps approached his door and the hallway outside. I glanced down the hall, outside of my open door. A moment of clarity later, and I had jumped up, seized the door in my grip, and slammed it shut. By the time Ed had emerged into the hallway, all that accompanied him was a closed door and its echo.
His voice sneaked it's way into my room. "Uh, hey man, making eggs. Want some?" I formed a story. I wasn't feeling well. I wouldn't be out, I wouldn't be going to work. I began to speak. "*No, I-". I realized even my voice had changed. I transferred from a light trill to a deep, gravelly register. I sounded like a god damn movie thug, not an IT Technician. I mustered out a feigned cough (which even managed to vaguely sound like a gutteral growl), and spoke again. "Throat. Day off." Ed's voice sounded... scared. Concerned. "U-Uh, okay bud. Try to keep your illness to yourself, huh?" He laughed. He always thought he was the funniest person in the world. We have... Differing opinions.
It wasn't long until he had left for his own job. I sent an e-mail to my supervisor, informing them of my impending absence on this day. It felt strange to do so, typing away with foreign, demonic fingers. I was in no form to be seen, not by people so damned familiar with me. Then, a new wave of panic seized me. How much of my life could I maintain, now? Would I honestly be able to go, live a normal life, looking like a knock-off Satan? I looked more like a Lovecraftian Horror than a human.
So I resolved that I needed to... escape. Lay low for a while. See if I could find a way to revert my.. Deformity. My metamorphosis. The walking devil wasn't safe in a middle class apartment in the suburbs. People were too prying, too pushy. Too many curious eyes. I needed to be somewhere people wouldn't give a shit.
So I went searching, and not even an hour later, found another apartment, located right in what might be referred to as a "bad part of town". I have enough in savings for the security deposit and a few month's rent. Hypothetically, I could survive there for a long while anonymously without having to do anything. I budgetted my cash and stored the large majority of it in a category I called "Survival Funds". At least I would feel guilty if I tried to spend it on my FF14 subscription.
I leave later today. I've left most of my possessions, and a note for Ed telling him I'm visiting my parents. I'm not sure if my original identity is relevant any more. I'm not sure if, with the way the empowered seem to be fucking up on the news, if I'll even be considered a human by the people I meet. Maybe my moving into the city, I can meet Empowered that don't feel like they need to be god damned heroes all the time. Some refuge where I could lay low.
For now, I've dubbed myself Azathoth. He is the daemon sultan, a name that no man would dare speak aloud, a creature that hungers beyond the reach of the space and time. He is nicknamed as the Blind, Idiot God. Considering how little answers I have, it seemed appropriate. I just hope I have not jinxed myself into some accidental, self-fulfilling prophecy.
I'll update this when I can or when there are events. I do so through enough VPNs and proxies that I should be safe, unless some organization wants too desperately to find me. But if they can muster that much computing power, I'm already screwed anyway.
I was an Atheist, before, even when super heroes emerged from every day citizens. But now... I'm not sure if I believe in a God, but I certainly do believe in Demons. Every mirror declares their truth.
Good luck.
-Az
My original identity is not relevant. I worked with computers, fixing and maintennance mostly. Lighting programming here and there, Database management. Typical IT stuff. "Have you tried turning off and turning it back on again?" Cue laugh from the studio audience. It wasn't an interesting or social life, but it was one I found acceptable. I was content. I was safe.
I woke up in the middle of the night, and my body was covered in sweat. Night terrors weren't an entirely odd or outside event for me. Dreamscapes were strictly reserved for nightmares. But I didn't remember anything of the sort before awakening. As I lay, staring at my ceiling, I realized in horror that my sweat was starting to boil on the surface of my skin. I heard a loud sizzling, as if my skin were an oiled grilltop. And yet, I felt no pain. By the red glow of my alarm clock (which I noted to read 3:01 AM), I could see it bubbling over.
I dashed to my darkened bathroom, grabbing a towel and patting down my arms and torso, finding spots of sweat boiling over until the popping stopped, until the seemingly deafining sizzle ceased. Only now did the absurdity of the situation seize me, as I stifled a chuckle. My hands groped for the sink, finding purchase on the cool porcelain. My left hand went to the lightswitch, and toggled it to on.
The face in the mirror was not mine. My skin looked like a deep shade of scarlet, closer to a Coke can than human skin. My hair, though it was recently short from a haircut, had grown to rest just above my shoulders, and turned from a dark brown to a jet black. My teeth were now pearlescent, almost glowing in the lightbulb's illumination, and my canines extended into sharp, almost vampiric fangs. And my eyes... Instead of their usual, gray, human resolve, I stared into the golden, evil eyes of a serpant. And for the briefest of moments, I spied a black shape over either of my shoulders.
The room seemed to spin, as I backed away from the mirror, slamming into the wall behind me. I looked backwards, surprised by my speed and strength of withdrawal. In the plaster, the dark masses on my back left two, oval shaped holes. In the mirror, I caught myself in profile, realizing that the shadow behind me were growing out of my back, two small and darkened wings. Again, the world shifted and I found myself backed into a corner, fetal and hyperventilating.
I must have cowered there the whole night and eventually passed out. (Probably from lack of oxygen, in hindsight. Hyperventilation is hardly an efficient way to exchange air.) I woke up as light began to creep through the windows. I stood, convinced I had been hallucinating or having a walking nightmare. After rising, again, the mirror proclaimed that I was not. As my anger grew, I felt myself becoming angry. Beyond angry, I started to feel real rage. My body started to feel like it was on fire. From my eyes, black wisps of flame started to flicker, developing from mere embers to meter-long strands that shot horizontally off of my face.
My closed fist struck my foe, the mirror, a fatal blow. It fractured into countless pieces, shattering instantly. I looked to my knuckles, expecting to see blood and viscera. Instead, my new flesh seemed fine, as if the power of the shards could do nothing to pierce it.
I felt myself wondering about my changes, this... Transformation. As my curiosity grew, my ire proportionally shrank. In a larger shard, I saw the black streaks dissipate and disappear as they if they never were. They apparently were summoned by mere emotion, so I noted to myself that emotional restraint would be required until I was sure what I was dealing with. However, is was at least evident that I would be the next of Maghelm's empowered. I sighed, looking at the floor. Lucky me.
I spent a long while, then, just sitting in my bedroom, staring at the ceiling that had so long ago been my night's best and most faithful companion. It hadn't changed once in the past two years I had been here, but for some reason I expected to find guidance in it's rough surface. Nothing did.
I heard my roommate, Ed, stirring from his room. His footsteps approached his door and the hallway outside. I glanced down the hall, outside of my open door. A moment of clarity later, and I had jumped up, seized the door in my grip, and slammed it shut. By the time Ed had emerged into the hallway, all that accompanied him was a closed door and its echo.
His voice sneaked it's way into my room. "Uh, hey man, making eggs. Want some?" I formed a story. I wasn't feeling well. I wouldn't be out, I wouldn't be going to work. I began to speak. "*No, I-". I realized even my voice had changed. I transferred from a light trill to a deep, gravelly register. I sounded like a god damn movie thug, not an IT Technician. I mustered out a feigned cough (which even managed to vaguely sound like a gutteral growl), and spoke again. "Throat. Day off." Ed's voice sounded... scared. Concerned. "U-Uh, okay bud. Try to keep your illness to yourself, huh?" He laughed. He always thought he was the funniest person in the world. We have... Differing opinions.
It wasn't long until he had left for his own job. I sent an e-mail to my supervisor, informing them of my impending absence on this day. It felt strange to do so, typing away with foreign, demonic fingers. I was in no form to be seen, not by people so damned familiar with me. Then, a new wave of panic seized me. How much of my life could I maintain, now? Would I honestly be able to go, live a normal life, looking like a knock-off Satan? I looked more like a Lovecraftian Horror than a human.
So I resolved that I needed to... escape. Lay low for a while. See if I could find a way to revert my.. Deformity. My metamorphosis. The walking devil wasn't safe in a middle class apartment in the suburbs. People were too prying, too pushy. Too many curious eyes. I needed to be somewhere people wouldn't give a shit.
So I went searching, and not even an hour later, found another apartment, located right in what might be referred to as a "bad part of town". I have enough in savings for the security deposit and a few month's rent. Hypothetically, I could survive there for a long while anonymously without having to do anything. I budgetted my cash and stored the large majority of it in a category I called "Survival Funds". At least I would feel guilty if I tried to spend it on my FF14 subscription.
I leave later today. I've left most of my possessions, and a note for Ed telling him I'm visiting my parents. I'm not sure if my original identity is relevant any more. I'm not sure if, with the way the empowered seem to be fucking up on the news, if I'll even be considered a human by the people I meet. Maybe my moving into the city, I can meet Empowered that don't feel like they need to be god damned heroes all the time. Some refuge where I could lay low.
For now, I've dubbed myself Azathoth. He is the daemon sultan, a name that no man would dare speak aloud, a creature that hungers beyond the reach of the space and time. He is nicknamed as the Blind, Idiot God. Considering how little answers I have, it seemed appropriate. I just hope I have not jinxed myself into some accidental, self-fulfilling prophecy.
I'll update this when I can or when there are events. I do so through enough VPNs and proxies that I should be safe, unless some organization wants too desperately to find me. But if they can muster that much computing power, I'm already screwed anyway.
I was an Atheist, before, even when super heroes emerged from every day citizens. But now... I'm not sure if I believe in a God, but I certainly do believe in Demons. Every mirror declares their truth.
Good luck.
-Az
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