The Atlantian System: Creation

Tariq’s Perspective

The ever-present need to hunt had been absent for some time now. In the past, any sudden movement would have caught his attention, his predatory nature honing when he caught sight of someone running or turning their back to him.

It was in his nature to seize an opportunity to strike when his prey were unaware, a trait he’d had to work on for years to contain. Even still, his breath would catch when he caught the scent of a Chosen, the newly Risen still so smothered in the smell of the Mundane that their scent was nearly completely masked.

At least, that was until a blue-eyed vexation that was barely a woman had caught his eye. As he walked through the warehouse near the Athens docks, he looked left and right at other Loupgarou that were still in their Mundane forms, all in various stages of losing their minds. Some were fresh-faced, still shell-shocked by the realization that they were no longer ‘normal’. Others fidgeted and twitched, the constant stimuli of smells and textures grating on their sensitive minds. Even in their Mundane flesh where their senses were slightly muted, it was still enough for them to flinch and bare their flat teeth and the clinking of chains and the blasting of the ship horns.

And then there were the truly lost, those that had been hunters of the night for so long that what had once been Mundane had long since withered and decayed away. All that was left were beings stuck halfway, creature in mind but man in body. They hated their Mundane forms, longing for fangs and claws as they scratched stumped fingers over frail flesh, their wild eyes focusing on him as they tried to rend the flesh from their bodies in the hope that there was fur beneath.

He should be among these rabid fiends, crazed by years of succumbing to the whims of the sun and moon that he forgot his name and yearned to submit to his canine instincts.

These wild beings were the eldest of their kind and lived as stark reminders of the fate that awaited all Loupgarou.

As elegant and deadly as they were, ultimately, a mind born of the Mundane could not exist alongside that of the Loupgarou.

For 200 years, Tariq had haunted the deserts, only in the last few decades wandering across the vast sea to lands unknown at the beck and call of his master. Loupgarou younger than himself had fallen and become little more than wild dogs, and yet through focus -and a bit of spite he’d maintained his whits.

Now the wild dogs watched him as he walked through the warehouse, lips curling back in contained snarls as he passed, only to whimper and roll in the dirt on their backs when his gaze fell on them.

As manic as the wild dogs were, they were of use to himself and his master.

As the Alpha of the region, it was his duty to execute the demands of his betters, and wild dogs made excellent shock troops when needed.

With the recent losses at the hospital and the constant skirmishes taking place under the sea, every soldier counted, and he was in no position to be picky.

At the opposite end of the warehouse a green shipping container that was typical of the ships bobbing in the water just outside the building. The placement within the warehouse was odd, but it was done at the request of a powerful acquaintance.

With each step towards the structure, the air seemed to grow thinner and the shadows deepened as if the light itself was hesitant to go near it. Even the wild dogs growled and glared at the container but refused to go near as if their animal minds sensed the danger of a predator more powerful than them.

As one approached, you could see a thin trail of white smoke lazily floating from some hole in the roof of the structure, the smell of burning fat and meat tickling his nose.

The sound of the shipping container’s door unlocking made many of the wild dogs and Loupgarou jolt upright, their hearts pounding audibly in his ears as the echo of the heavy metal swinging open rattled off the walls.

From its depths came the faint glow of candlelight and the smell of sour herbs.

“Tariq. Tariq.” The sing-song voice that came from inside would have matched perfectly with a black widow spider, “Why do your pets smell of piss and blood, Tariq?”

“Lizzie.” He greeted her formally, even going as far as to politely bow his head.

“Always the gentleman, you are.” She giggled, her thick American-Southern accident stressing each vowel spoken.

The sliding door of the warehouse creaked open on rusty wheels, filling the space with mid-day light and causing the Loupgarou to growl as a beautiful woman in ragged clothes dripping with seawater entered.

Right behind her came a hooded figure that was covered from head to toe, their thick coat out of place for Greece’s humid and hot summers.

“Minon, love. And look, you’ve brought Cadoc with you too.” Lizzie cajoled from the darkness as the Siren pushed the heavy metal door closed.

The moment they were once again alone, the figure pushed his hood back to reveal a handsome face that most in today’s age would have found attractive. His skin was a purple-brown hue that made his nearly-white blue eyes stand out, even from a distance. Coupled with his slightly pointed ears and the flash of fangs in his smile, he was anything but Mundane.

“Oh, he’s smiling.” Lizzie giggled, “You must have something nice to give me.”

“Indeed, lovely.” He chuckled, his deep voice tailor-made to seduce and draw one in like a moth to the flame.

Minon’s hands flashed about as she signed, “Today’s catch bears fruit.”

“Oh?”

The soft tinkling of tiny bones clacking together sounded almost like rain as they heard the rustle of fabric. In the candlelight, eyes that reflected in the darkness like a cat watched them with an unblinking manic stare.

From the shadows of the shipping container stepped a female figure, her form taking shape as she approached.

She was tiny, barely coming up to his chest, with a shock of dark brown hair and bright green eyes on a heart-shaped face. Skinny as she was, she looked nearly skeletal, her white shift dress stained brown resembling what was given to asylum patients centuries ago barely clothing her. Around her waist she’d tied animal bones to an old belt with sea grass, painting the bones with archaic runes Tariq had no hope of deciphering.

Her bare feet were dirty and caked in what looked like old blood as she stepped from the container. The wild dogs around them whimpered at her presence, scuttling away to the darker corners of the warehouse so as not to be seen by her.

White teeth flashed as she gave the Siren a toothy grin, her manic eyes too wide as she held both hands up like a child asking for a piece of candy.

“Please?” She drew the word out, her excitement palpable.

Minon went to her satchel, which was little more than a man's shirt that had been sewn and knotted together to make a pouch, and pulled for a rod-shaped object about the length of a forearm that was rusty and covered in grim.

“Ooh.” Lizzie cooed, fingers wiggling as Minon placed the object in her waiting hands. Running her thumb over the dirt and rock that had calcified over the millennia revealed silver-colored metal that had wavy patterns in its grain like Damascus steel.

“How pretty!” Black nails clawed at the fossilized sand, pulling chunks off, and in the process of dislodging the stone cut and bloodied her fingers.

A hard tug at the end revealed that the metal curved upward into a raised tip, still sharp after thousands of years below the sea.

“Ah! You have had quite the catch there, Minny.” Lizzie gave her a sparkling smile, her giddiness rivaling a toddler holding something they should be as her bloody fingers left crimson smudges on the rock.

“We have more, but they are checking to ensure they are Atlantian.” The Siren signed, to which the woman patted her cheek like a loving mother presented with an art project by a child, black nails leaving a streak of dirt and blood on the Siren’s face.

“I can’t wait to see it.”

“I think my present’s better.” Cadoc sang as if he were tempting them with a secret.

“Oh, I love surprises. Gimme.” She held a hand out, her hand opening and closing impatiently.

Cadoc chuckled and pulled forth a rusty, barnacle-crusted object from the folds of his clothes that was almost rectangular. It was about the size of a school textbook and just as thick, the fossilized sand and stone nearly covering the object entirely.

“Cadoc! You shouldn’t have.” She sighed, the blade she’d been given nearly forgotten as he placed his catch in her palm.

“Oh! Ain’t it heavy.” She cackled, wrapping it in her arms and holding it and the blade close to her chest as if her school crush had given her flowers. “You bring me the sweetest things. I’ve seen a lot of artifacts, but I ain’t never seen one like this.”

“Well, you know I love to make you happy.” He smiled, his fangs and pointed ears making the act look almost sinister on his handsome face.

Lizzie’s head tilted back at a frightening angle to look back at the Loupgarou. “Whatcha got for me, Tariq love?” Her crazed eyes watched him unblinking like a possessed doll.

His eyes looked up to the Siren and the Drow that watched the exchange. While Minon seemed unaffected by anything, Cadoc had a smirk on his face like he’d come out on top in a competition.

“Unfortunately, I have not been involved in the site, so I do not bring you anything tangible to enjoy.”

“Oh, poo.” Lizzie pouted, pursing her lips in disappointment.

“However,” He quickly added, “I did get to meet the new Queen and observe her power.”

“Really now?” The Witch’s eyebrows perked up in interest.

“Indeed, and I bring some interesting news.” He leaned forward, his voice low as if to whisper in her ear but loud enough so the others would see, “The new Queen isn’t a Chosen.”

“What!?” Lizzie shrieked in surprise, her shrill voice frightening the wild dogs that were hiding.

Tariq glanced up to see Cadoc’s smirk had slipped seeing Lizzie’s attention moving away from him.

“Yes, she had a vision during her Rising, but her powers are nothing I have ever seen. As I watched, she does not bestow blessings upon her allies as the stories say about Crowns. Instead, she touched her enemies and they turned to mummies while she grew stronger.”

Lizzie’s mouth dropped open, “Well, I’ll be.” she breathed in shock. “A Paradox Queen, as I live and breathe. I think this calls for giving our master a ring, yeah?”

To himself, Tariq grimaced as Lizzie spun on her heels to return inside the shipping container, the bones at her hips clicking with each step.

A growling noise vibrated from Cadoc as he pushed past to follow the Witch inside.

Tariq turned back to Minon, whose lips were pressed in a thin line as if something weighed heavily on her mind.

“I’m worried.” She signed.

He nodded, “Me, too. But, we do what we must when we play dangerous games.” He held a hand out for her to enter the shipping container like a gentleman holding the door for a lady.

Inside the shipping container, it looked like one had stepped inside a pocket of hell. Bones, rags, sea grass, and other strange objects hung from the walls, and candles were placed in various locations making the archaic runes painted over the ceiling easy to see. Near the center was a small fire heated a large steel stew pot that could have fed an army if it was cooking to nourish.

Instead, he could see a human jaw bone with the teeth still attached bobbing up from the bowels of the thick, bubbling brown goo.

The smell nearly had his sensitive nose sneezing, the cacophony of scents assaulting him from all directions.

Lizzie dumped her offerings next to a pile of firewood and turned back to a body that was tied hand and foot to a chair at the far end of the shipping container.

It was a young man around fourteen or fifteen years of age, his curly dark hair matted with blood from a head wound that dripped over one eye. His clothes were dirty and he smelled of human excrement, indicating that he’d been tied up for a very, very long time.

“Ring, ring.” She sing-songed, dipping her thumb in the boiling pot. The sticky mess stuck to her finger like glue, barely moving from her finger as she slowly approached the boy.

“Ring, ring.”The boy startled awake, dark eyes racing around the room as the sound of his racing heartbeat caused the Loupgarou outside to stir.

Wide eyes fell on the terrifying woman approaching him and fixated on her painted thumb.

“Ochi, ochi sas parakaloúme, ochi.” He trembled, his stuttering as he struggled in vain to break free.

“Ring, ring.” Lizzie sang, coming to stand so close her stained dress nearly touched the young man’s knees.

“Sas parakaloúme. Ochi, sas parakaloúme-”

“Ring, ring.” She sighed as she ran her thumb from the crown of his forehead to the bridge of his nose, the disgusting goo mixing with his blood as she did.

He gasped, the muscles in his neck straining as he threw his head back. As if he were having a seizure his body twitched under his restraints, eyes rolling back in his head as his back arched. It drew to a head when he opened his mouth as if to scream, his jaw looking like it was unhinged with how wide he opened it.

The candles around them flickered, the flames dancing on their wicks as if an unseen force was at work when suddenly the young man’s body went limp and the candles dimmed ever so slightly.

Moments passed before the body moved, head rolling back on its neck to look at them with eyes that were the white, glazed-over kind that could only be seen on the dead.

He smiled, teeth stained red from where he’d nearly bitten off his tongue. “Well, well, my Elizabeth.” The voice that came out of his mouth was not the sniveling, terrified cry of a young boy, but the baritone of an adult.

“Hello, master dear.” Lizzie giggled, kneeling before the young man with an excited smile. “I’m so glad you accepted the call.”

“Of course, of course. If you’re trying to get in touch with me at such an early hour, it must be important. Did you find something at the site?”

“Maybe. An interesting artifact has been brought up, one I haven’t seen before.”

“Oh?”

“Uh, huh.” She nodded as if he could see her, “Rectangular and heavy. I’ve got an idea of what it is, but I’ll need to do a thorough examination before I know for sure. That isn’t why I’m calling, though.”

Lizzie turned her head to look back at Tariq and gestured him forward with the crook of a finger.

Dutifully, he stepped forward and took a knee. “Master?”

“Is that Tariq I hear?” The boy’s head turned in curiosity as if parroting the movements of the puppet master.

“It is, master.” Tariq bowed his head, “I bring word on the new Queen.”

The boy’s smile grew, “Oh? I was under the impression that the mission I gave you was a failure.”

Tariq could hear Cadoc snicker behind his back, but he ignored it.

“While the raid was unsuccessful in killing the infant Queen, I believe that it has brought forth some interesting information regarding her.”

“Believe I was quite clear in my instructions to you.” The young man’s head dipped forward, his cheerful smile taking on an angry sneer.

“You were, master, but I believe that what I have to say may make up for my mistake.”

There was a pause as if the puppet master was thinking about what to do next when the boy’s head finally tilted back, “Explain.”

“I observed the Queen on Santorini do something odd to the feral Minotaur that had been in the area. She channeled the power of the storm to turn the poor thing to ash-”

“I am well aware that she wields the power of storm.” The boy scoffed, “Though this power is undocumented among the Arisen, this fact is not unknown to me.”

“I state this only to add a prefix.” Tariq replied soothingly, “At first, I believed it was the power of the storm that ate the insides of the Minotaur before it turned to ash, but upon further reflection, I’ve come to the conclusion that she was absorbing its life force before using the storm to burn it to ash.”

The body stopped, not a hair moving as if the one controlling it had to pause to understand the words that had been spoken.

Tariq let the pause hold for a moment longer before continuing, “Then, during the raid on the hospital, I saw her touch one of my soldiers. This time, she did not call forth the storm to destroy the corpse. Instead, she held the Loupgarou in her grasp and I watched as his body mummified, aging before my eyes as the wounds on her body closed and healed. He fell to the ground dead, appearing as if he had been lost in an ancient tomb for a thousand years while she stood tall, healed, and perfect.”

The young boy said nothing for several heartbeats as the new information was processed.

“But she had a vision on her Rising?”

Tariq nodded, “I confirmed this when we first made contact in Santorini. But in every instance where she was in danger, she did not use the powers of a Queen to bless her comrades with invincibility. Instead, those she touches are drained of life.”

“She’s a Chosen, and yet she isn’t.” Lizzie gushed excitedly, “A Paradox Queen. Can you imagine?”

“Hmm.” The boy’s lips pursed in thought, “A mystery, but more so a threat. Can she be brought to heel?”

“I do not know, master.” Tariq lowered his head, though it grated on his nerves to ever show such submission to another, “Her mother was taken by a Gargoyle during the raid, but they are not under my command.”

He turned his head to look back at Cadoc, who grimaced as if he’d swallowed something sour. Schooling his features, he stepped forward and knelt next to Tariq. “Your servant, Cadoc, is here, my master.”

“What of the Gargoyle’s under your care.”

“Their nests on Mont Giora are not easily accessed, but we will go to retrieve her.”

“If the mother cannot be retrieved or the Queen cannot be swayed, our plan remains the same. Tariq, you may continue to observe her actions, but if the opportunity presents itself, then remove her from the chessboard. Do I make myself clear?”

“Inescapably, master.”

“I expect either her words or loyalty or her heart to be delivered by post in one month. Lizzie?”

“I’m here, my master.” Her bubbly manner is at odds with her bloody hands and unkept appearance.

“If this is the artifact we seek, then I would be most pleased.”

“Me, too, my master. It’s what I’ve been dreaming of.”

The boy’s lips pulled back in a grin like a father pleased with his daughter before his face went slack and his head fell forward like a puppet off its string.

As before when Lizzie used this method to contact their master, Tariq could no longer hear the boy’s heartbeat after the connection was severed.

“Well then,” Lizzie clapped her hands as she rose to her feet, “I’m just as excited as can be. I’ve never met a Queen’s mother before.”

“I fear though that it might be a lost cause.” Cadoc sighed as he stood, “The Gargoyles are fickle things. They may be subservient to Drow, but unrestricted as they have been the last fortnight, we may discover not but bones left.”

“Well, that isn’t such a bad thing. There’s gotta be some real good power in that marrow, and at the very least I’d love to add them to my collection.”

Lizzie leaned down and gave Tariq a quick peck on his cheek, holding his breath as the smell of diseased meat entered his nostrils.

“Let me know if you need my help with the Queen, Tariq love. Oh, and why don’t you take that thing with you.” She pointed at the corpse still tied to the chair. “I’m sure your pets outside are hungry, and no one works well on an empty belly.”