Meet Your Hero: Contempt of the Familiar
Witchlight has been busy in the months since his encounter with Cataclysm and the heroes. Just what is he scheming? Will Cataclysm get his vengeance before the heroes take the Sinister Sorcerer down? Or will the allure of the Witchlight prove too great for all of them?! WILL RHEUS EVER KNOCK?!
And what the hell is a TE KE LI LI?! ANSWERS TO THESE QUESTIONS AND MORE!
Made an edit that I think makes things a little clearer.
Four Months Later, Tower City, East Coast USA...
“Just who is Witchlight? That's the question everyone is asking as his months-long reign of terror continues." A female fox says as a picture of the masked magician comes on screen.
“That's right! We're here with Mighty Horn, one of the heroes leading the charge against this magical menace." A salt-and-pepper-haired human says. “Thanks for joining us."
A rhino in a tight-fitting green and yellow costume smiles at the camera. “Happy to be here Jeff, Tracy."
“So what can you tell us about this villain? Before a few months ago no one knew who he was!" Tracy asks.
“We believe he had been secretly gathering power and resources for years before making his debut." Mighty Horn replies. “All we can be sure of, though, is he's collecting magical artifacts. For what purpose, we don't know, but it can't be good."
“What should the civilian populace know to protect themselves?" Jeff asks.
“Despite his destructive streak, he appears to avoid collateral damage. He uses his powers very precisely." Mighty Horn replies.
“Unlike a certain disgraced villain," Tracy says earning a laugh from Jeff.
Mighty Horn shakes his head. “If he can tangle with Cataclysm, Nightclaw, and Snowblind at once and come out on top he's to be taken seriously. Witchlight is a high-level thre–" A high-pitched whine emanates from the Rhino's golden bracelet. “I have to go! He's on the move!"
“My God! Does he ever stop?!" Tracy cries in terror.
“Good luck, Mighty Horn!" Jeff adds.
The screen changes to a shaky video feed. Standing on the steps of a white brick building is Witchlight. He's surrounded by a ghastly fog and a dozen orbs of light. With determined steps, he strides up toward the Museum of Occult History.
A bar stool flies into the television, completely obliterating it and the wall behind it. Cataclysm, dressed in his street clothes, growls at the screen. His furious presence sends the other patrons scrambling to the corner of the room.
“Awww come on, Cat! I just fixed that!" A blonde mouse says.
“Why do we have to watch this stupidity?!" He falls back into his booth. “I'm tired of seeing that idiot everywhere I look."
“Kids got moxie, gumption, even a bitta chutzpah, Cat!" The mouse replies. “People like him!"
“I hate him."
The mouse hefts a keg twice her size over her shoulder and throws it at Cat, who catches it out of the air. In a single swipe of his claw, he tears the top off and swallows the contents down, much of it spilling over his chin onto his chest.
“Well, you gonna do somethin' bout it or just drink?"
“Kix, what can I do? He teleports everywhere, and attacks without warning. Even the Knights of the Round can't keep up." He throws the empty keg across the room. “How am I supposed to?"
“The old Cat would hunt him down! Come on, you still got connections!" Kix says.
“Maybe I can find him on Supr and lure him to my lair…" Cat scratches his chin.
“Okay, that's some low-level serial killer shit. Not necessary anyways," Kix rolls her eyes. “If you were payin' attention, he's attackin' the Occult Museum."
“Yeah, and?"
“The museum… it's five blocks away, you fuckin' doof!"
Cat leaps upward. “What?! You're joking!"
“Nah, go get him, tiger!"
Cataclysm stomps the ground and howls. His hammer explodes out of the ground, and once it is in his paws he grows several feet taller. Glittering silver armor appears around him, and he turns toward the door.
“Stop breakin' my shit!" The mouse throws a wrench after him.
He doesn't reply, months of resentment have led to this moment. The moment of his revenge.
“Witchlight…" His braying laugh terrorizes the nearby civilians. “You're fucked."
“Make this easy, curator," Witchlight says. “Give me Morganas Grimoire."
A weasel cowers before him at the entrance of the museum. “N-never! Its place is here, like all the artifacts you've pilfered!"
“Do not make me ask twice." Witchlight stares down at the weasel.
Civilians cower just inside, some try to flee through windows or back doors. Sirens sound in the distance as first responders rush to the scene. A helicopter flies overhead, recording the entire debacle for the world to see.
As Witchlight prepares to enter the museum a sound like glass shattering draws his attention. “Ah. Mystic Marmot, you got here quickly."
Emerging from a broken mirror in the air and floating several feet off the ground in long, flowing, white and gold robes is the Mystic Marmot, his face a mask of serenity. “You have become predictable, Witchlight. We anticipated the Grimoire was your next objective."
“Good for you." Witchlight sighs. “Must we do this every time?"
“Do Wh–" Fog envelops the marmot.
"Pretentious ass." Witchlight grabs the weasel by the collar and drags him into the museum. “I am short on time, be a good host and give me the Grimoire."
“You'll never get it in time! Soon the other heroes will be here and they'll put you away for good!"
Witchlight groans and drags a palm down his face. “You're the third person to say that, you know. Let me cut to the chase." He grabs the weasel's collar and stares deep into his eyes. “Give me the Grimoire."
The weasel's mouth goes slack. “Yes, follow me."
They barely make it down the first hallway when spectral chains wrap themselves around Witchlight. “Fucking…"
“Your crude illusions will not trap one such as me for long." Mystic Marmor floats with his legs and arms crossed in meditation.
With almost no effort Witchlight shatters the chains. “I'm not the only one using familiar tactics."
Witchlights eyes flicker to a shadowy corner, he spots an orange blur dash down the hall. Perfect. Rheus would have the Grimoire in no time, all he needs is to distract the old Marmot and whatever other idiots tried to stop him.
“What do you hope to accomplish? You are meddling with forces you cannot understand!" Marmot says.
“On the contrary, I am the only one who understands them! Our world is doomed if I fail!" Heroes loved to listen to rambling villainous monologues, it would buy him a couple of minutes, and rambling about the plan came easy to him now.
Mystic Marmot smiles once the young mage's monologue ends. “They have arrived."
More mirrors appear around the Marmot, and stepping forth are some frustratingly familiar faces. First, is the cougar and mistress of the dark, Nightclaw. Right behind her is the incredibly unfunny Snowblind. Ice puns? Really?
Next is Dracunaut, his gimmick doesn't make sense. A vampire astronaut? He couldn't tell what species he was behind the stupid getup. At least it was unique. Finally his favorite of the bunch: Mighty Horn.
“You're finished, Witchlight." The Rhino says.
Witchlight fights every urge to oggle the Rhino. His costume left absolutely nothing to the imagination, did he do it on purpose? The heroes move to surround him and he allows himself one (respectful) glance at the bouncing package as the rhino moves forward. He would remember that for later.
He stands upright and clears his throat. “I have to say I'm getting bored with all of this." He gestures at the team of heroes before him.
Snowblind acts first, sending a volley of icicles at the mage.
They pass through him harmlessly. “I can't believe you all fall for this every time." the image of the mage melts and eerie green fog fills the hallway along with the sorcerer's sadistic laugh.
Mystic Marmot scoffs. “Your silly fog trick again, it will not work, child!"
Nightclaw steps back. “Something is… different."
Dracunaut grunts in agreement.
“Stay alert everyone. Don't underestimate him!" Mighty Horn says.
The heroes stand in a circle together, ready to strike, as the fog completely absorbs them. The air grows cold and wet and shadowy figures move in the fog. Only the silhouettes are visible, but they lumber slowly toward the do-gooders.
“I have learned much in my time with the other relics." Witchlights voice comes from everywhere at once. “This is one of my favorites…" His cruel laugh lingers in the mist.
“No! What have you done to them?!" Mystic Marmot exclaims in horror.
Stepping from the mist is the Curator and with him dozens of bewitched civilians who had taken refuge throughout the museum. Now they'd been turned into the villain's mindless puppets.
“The allure of the Witchlight is irresistible to lesser minds, Marmot." Witchlights voice is distant.
“Don't hurt them! Dracunaut, Snowblind, you're on crowd control! The rest of us will go after Witchlight."
Witchlight laughs as Nightclaw and Mystic Marmot writhe on the ground in agony, the Grimoire pulsing arcane power from its profane pages. “With this, not even the full might of the Knights of the Round could stop me!"
“We will… Stop you!" Mighty Horn says.
“Oh?" Witchlight asks. "Come to me, pet." His voice is like poison, flowing through the rhino's veins.
Mighty Horn rages against the enchantment, but he's not strong enough. Not so long as Witchlight commands the occult mysteries of the Grimoire! Mighty Horn kneels enraged before the human mage.
Witchlight lifts his mask up past his lips. “Good boy." And plants a mocking kiss on the Rhino's cheek. “I'd hate to hurt a face as pretty as yours, so I will leave you with that."
Mighty Horn's face turns crimson, from embarrassment or rage no one can be sure. “You'll pay for this!"
“Maybe one day, but not today." Witchlight begins to open a portal.
The ground shakes and erupting from the earth is the one unexpected variable for the day: Cataclysm.
“You're fucking joking." Witchlight leaps back, dodging the spray of shrapnel.
“ BITCHLIGHT , WHERE ARE YOU?!" Cataclysm howls.
“Bitchlight, seriously?" The mage droops.
“Not very creative." Mighty Horn adds.
“Shut up!" Cataclysm's hammer whirls through the air at the mage, stopping inches short of his face.
“This nifty little book has added a trick or two to my repertoire, Cataclysm. I will not be such easy prey." With a flick of his wrist, the hammer hurtles back at the hyena.
“I thought you were my biggest fan?" Cataclysm opens his paw, the hammer returning to his grip. “Aren't you happy to see me?"
“Of course, that is why I am trying not to hurt you." Witchlight hisses. “Ass!" He twirls out of the way of Mighty Horn just as the behemoth would collide with him.
“What, I thought you wanted to tangle with me!" Mighty Horn winks.
Cataclysm roars incomprehensibly.
“Ugh! Have you been drinking? I can sm– Wait." Witchlight clicks his tongue. “Why am I wasting time like this? I have what I came for." He claps his hands, summoning dozens of mirror images of himself, each one pointing and laughing. Taunting his rivals. “This playdate has been great, but I simply must get on with things."
“Little coward! Come back!" Cataclysm swings his hammer wildly, shattering the walls, roof, and various priceless artifacts.
A tear opens as the two brutes try to discern which illusion is the real one, and Witchlight makes a quick exit. There is but one small issue.
“Arthur you idiot! You useless dolt!" Rheus scrambles across the marble floor between the two huge men. “Stupid mage! Stupid! Stupid!" The cat tries to find a place to hide, but between stomping feet and falling debris, she's out of options.
As the cat rushes toward a hole in the wall a massive spotted paw grabs her by the scruff. “Oooh, he forgot his kitty-kitty, eh?"
“Mrow?" Rheus mews innocently.
“Come, Kitty, I have plans for you." Cataclysm slinks away from the clueless Rhino.
Arthur, you fuckwit! Rheus thinks as Cataclysm's triumphant braying drowns out all other sounds.
“I'm getting sick of this, Rheus. That condescending Marmot is the worst!" Arthur sighs. He spins in place when he receives no response. “Rheus?" He throws his mask off and searches the room. “Rheus?!"
He spends nearly an hour tearing apart his lair, looking in all the cat's usual napping spots. Eventually being driven deeper beneath the Ancient Oak that comprises his hideout. Braving that dreaded–
TE-KE-LI-LI
“RHEUS?! Rheus please!" Arthur struggles to hold back his tears. “No! No! Fuckity, fuck, fucking, fuck! RHEUS!" He storms out of the lowest levels, deaf to the eldritch monsters' droning.
He grabs his new Grimoire and rifles through the pages, there had to be something, anything to help him locate his precious familiar! He scowls down at the pages, ignorant of the wet streaks forming on his face.
“Here! Divining spell! Rheus, please be okay…" His voice cracks with each word. “Be okay…Please." With that, he gathers his things and prepares the spell.
It was going to be a dreadfully bad day.