The Front Desk

Hannah broke off from comforting the moment the door opened to admit the god into the lobby. Her blade, still in its sheath, began to buzz in anticipation when Nyarlathotep stepped past Hannah's crouched form, her every sense focused wholly on the god. She gagged lightly as the pressure of his presence washed over her, the hugeness of his dimensional being filling the room and causing the lights to flicker. Fighters within the plasmic echo of his form seemed to shift slightly, and Hannah could feel it's malevolence threatening to sweep in and crush her. Madness flashed in Hannah's eyes, and it seemed as though she was suddenly miles away from the sobbing woman she had been comforting a moment ago. Without moving or breaking eye contact from Aster she began to softly whisper.

"Out of the darkness crawls The Whisperer. He has put on the semblance of men, the waxen mask and the robe that hides his grotesque form. Many of his kith have we felled; the fungus that speaks, those that crawl in the mud and hide from the light, the men who are too broken to see a god of light. Worshiped by the weakest filth of humanity and grown wan from feeding on the refuse of man. A weak wretch cast off by the Yith in ages past and sealed beyond the veil by locks of his own devising. Trash for the broken to cling to and fear, a rat devouring shit in the hopes of attaining a bit of power left after the feast..."

She continued to whisper her odd, softly lilting invocation as she slowly stood and, as Nyarlathotep addressed Dan, quietly opened the door. The fresh air outside the room carried a taint of the being behind her that seeped out of his phantasmal aura and stained the very air he had passed through. She turned back to address the black-clad figure standing at the desk as she stood at the office's threshold.

"We have no interest speaking to a single gnarled branch of the fetid vine we have come to weed out. We will rip your roots out of the shit you consume. "

With a sharp turn Hannah stepped out into the icy air of the arena environs, the squeak of her luggage's wheels announcing her exit. The door, currently a wooden door reminiscent of a manor house and matching the exterior of the building, snapped closed behind her.

The tall man watched Hannah leave. His unsettling smile seemed to falter, if only for an instant, before returning to its original state. "Well, I do believe I've found my gal. If the rest of you are as feisty as she is, this will be an interesting season in the arena indeed!" He cackled maniacally, "Yes indeed, I don't believe I'll find myself without entertainment this time around." He pushed himself off of Dan's desk and walked around the room, sizing up each of the combatants.

Each step echoed around the room, a chorus to the power behind them. First he approached the sobbing Aster on the floor, kneeling down so that he could be at her level. He looked over her, studying her. After what seemed like an eternity he stood back up, all the while never breaking his smile. He began to make a wide lap around the room, making sure to make extended eye contact with each of the fighters.

"Greetings all, you must forgive my rudeness at my late self introduction. My name is Nyarlothotep, and I am the proprietor of the best bar in town, the Arkham Inn. I am sure that you all have a multitude of questions you would like to ask, and I am more than happy to assist in any way I can."

With his final words he took a slight bow. His body collapsed in itself releasing a horrifying ear shattering screech, vanishing into thin air.


As Nyarlothotep vanished the lights in the room went back to normal, and the atmosphere became noticeably warmer and more welcoming.

"And then there's this asshole-" said the incredibly underpaid and over worked reaper for the Realm of Superheroes™ as he guided another poor idiot to this pomped up fight club. "Hey Dan, got a real winner for you this time. Guy has freaking Bearhands. Bearhands! His popularity hit rock bottom real quick so we're letting him be your problem now. Hopefully he didn't have a cult following so he'll be here for good." The reaper shoved Bart through the door, brushing off the growls coming his way as he stomped away to deal with his busy schedule.

"So like...am I dead or something?"

"I.....am dead" Razzak uttered after the paleface behind the desk made this clear to the room. The fact that he was standing in this strange place meant that his soul was too strong for the Souleater to consume. There was some comfort in that. There was a part of him that hoped this was the doing of some unknown dark one magic. That some rarely used spell had flung him to a distant world. If so, he might have been able to get back. But no one can return from death, not the same as they once were.

Then another paleface was on the desk. "fast" Razzak though. He took note of its scent, he would not be caught off guard again. Then another figure was in the room. Another paleface female. There was terror in her gaze met Razzak's. She began to back away and scream at the door. "So many dead palefaces" Razzak though.

It was then the dark figured rolled into the room. Razzak could feel is power, taste it. It surpassed even the strongest of the dark ones of his world. He offered answers, Razzak might just go to this....'bar' and find the dark clad man.

Razzak turned to the paleface behind the desk. "Razzak is ready to fight" he loudly declared, bringing his fists together as a show of bravado. "What must Razzak do?"

Dan settled his chin on one of his hands as he surveyed the fresh wave of chaos sweep over the room. Never a dull moment in the front office. He glanced up at Fortune Favors, still perched on his desk even as Nyartholep approached, and said, "You are more than welcome to take your leave, as you have already filled out your paperwork. Thank you for your expedience."

He'd have to pull out the Clorox wipes and make sure to wipe down the entire surface of the desk once this rowdy bunch finally filtered out. Entirely too much desk invasion.

Hannah answered Nyartholep's question for him with a grandiose exit. Not the first bit of otherworldly chanting Dan had ever been exposed to, though it did seem that this was based on a personal vendetta rather than attempting to summon anything.

When Nyartholep took his leave Dan cleared his throat and motioned at Razzak, waving him over to the desk. "A good place to start would be finishing your paperwork. I need you to read over the information on this page and sign at the bottom if it is accurate."

Dan looked up at the other beings still hovering in various points of the room and gestured to his leather tome. "I will need that from each of you, actually. If you could form a line that would be lovely, it goes relatively quick without any interruptions."

Aster had quieted some by the time Hannah approached her, thankful for the body imposed between herself and what could only be the form of Satan himself, cruelly twisted into the likeness of a massive lizard. Her eyes flickered over teeth and talons and tail, arms coming to cross themselves over her chest. No one else seemed alarmed or even worried about the devil standing in their midst...the man behind his odd desk even seemed bored.

She looked back to Hannah again as a strange new figure entered the room unaccompanied. She could feel the sudden shift in atmosphere, a roiling jolt that left a sour taste in her mouth. Aster didn't want to see this...person...face to face, some previously unknown knowledge in her gut telling her that she wouldn't like what she saw.

But Hannah was no sanctuary either. Her eyes bored into her own with uncomfortable intensity as the other woman's voice took on a strange lilting cadence, words pouring from her lips dripping with venom. Aster squirmed, unable to look away, and was silently grateful when Hannah abruptly departed.

Even that was no lasting peace. The uncomfortable presence from before stopped down in front of her with a grin that felt like it raked over her skin. Aster stared silently at the floor, not moving until it had left.

She eventually drifted into the line, only to be distracted from lizard Satan by a fellow who had literal bear heads for hands. Aster was beginning to suspect that this wasn't heaven or hell at all - she'd been told all her life that each would have a certain kind of order, and everything she'd witnessed so far had definitely not been anything close to orderly.

"Are you...in pain?" She asked Bart, glancing over toward the unconscious man again. The person with the dreadful bird mask had made attempts at getting him into a chair and otherwise comfortable, so...perhaps he wasn't so horrid after all?

She was also curious about this "paper work" that she would need to sign on. Aster didn't think she even had a signature. What information about her would be on that paper that she didn't already know? Her guide's words to her from before rang dully in her ears.

Witch, witch, witch...

Razzak looked at the parchment. It contained his name, race, and other pieces of sensitive information. Not surprising, this was the afterlife after all. He looked it over all the information appeared accurate. When he came to the blank section the desked paleface asked him to sign he made a small cut I one of his hands with his claw. Once a thin layer of blood had formed on his hand he tipped each claw and pressed it against the paper. The crimson handprint covered over half the page. "Hope that will do, it is our way." he stated.

He then began walking towards the door. As he passed the female paleface, the one who had shown so much fear, he stopped and made his way to her. She appeared to be trying to help the scarred one. As he got close his knelt low trying to bring his face close to hers.

"I understand why you are afraid..." he said in a surprisingly gentle tone. He then leaned in closer and whispered "...but never let them see your fear" he said, the gentle tone shifting to a harsher one. "Should you required strength, seek me out."

With those words he exited the room past yet another paleface whose hands were like the head of a beast. Previously, this one had asked if he was dead. Razzak replied "Yes, we all are" without even stopping his advance to the door.

As he exited the office his mind went back to the frightened paleface. He had seen the look many times before. He had seen it on the face of his people, who for centuries knew only the cut of fear and the weight of despair. He had seen it on his opponent's faces as he mercifully brought their lives to an end in the Crimson Colosseum. He had seen that look on the faces of many dark ones during the uprising as he ended their vile lives.

He shook his head "Enough of the past" he though. Right now he had questions and the creature in black had answers. He found the nearest person, confronted them with is massive frame and asked in a demanding voice "Where is Arkham Tavern?

Fortune’s leather boots left the floor and came to rest cross-legged on the edge of the desk. One knee gently tipped Dan’s preciously placed plastic nameplate flat. “And why” he exclaimed at the secretary’s offer to leave “would I do such a thing? The players are here.” He liked the lizard man. He seemed forthright and to the point. A simple fighter, and an intimidating one. He could rack up some serious merit in laying him out. His kinship with the sobbing woman puzzled him in the profound way someone with no morality was oft to experience. He supposed the well-meaning bird was one and the same, helpful to know, safe to ignore. Of course, he could follow the well-dressed nightmare to his inn, and learn what he may, or see about befriending the bitter noblewoman, but it seemed to him that the best move would be to linger at the chokepoint of incoming fighters, to better gauge his opponents.

The bear-handed gentleman was not easy to overlook. In fact, Fortune was keen to stay just to see how the fighter could possibly put his name to paper.

The room certainly became busy rather suddenly. Peculiar new arrivals, imposing figures, and powerful beings all began moving about as suited their purpose. Veric decided it was about time he made his move as well. After ensuring the poor sod he'd been caring for wasn't about to fall out his chair, Veric made way to the desk.

He ignored the presence of the man astride Dan's desk. The man did not provide word before so Veric to it as a hint that he was simply uninterested. "I was the next arrival after the lizard. I am Captain Veric Skalker." He stated. In the world of the living he sent many fools to their doom in many a painful fashion which warranted fear of such a name and fastened it with many of additional titles. All bad. He didn't think it would garner the same weight in this world but it couldn't hurt to try.

"I also have some questions. I know I am dead, but in life I pursued research in multiple areas. I wish to know of where I may find such commodities here. That of tools and ingredients. To continue my work." Veric only had his serums, sword, and pistols on his person. His other tools used up in the fight that had ended his life or lost to the sea with the rest of his ship. He was confident in his swordsmanship but from what he'd seen of the other contenders he decided a few explosives and toxins would be necessary.

Bart turns to Aster and responds to her question saying "Nah, I feel fine. Minus the whole being dead thing."

He walks over to the desk to review his contract on Dan's desk. It's a short and simple parchment listing his name, villain ranking, powers, cause of death, and the various details of the arena.
Name: Bart Styles
Villain Ranking: B-class minor antagonist
Powers: Ursine appendages
Cause of Death: Impaled on skyscraper

"At least I got a pretty cool death. Welp, might as well get this over with." Reaching out with one of his bearhands, he has the right head bite into a pen lying on the desk. Gently lifting it up over the paper, he lines up right over the signature line. And CRUNCH. The jawed appendage bites the pen in half raining down a blotch of ink in place of a signature.

"Ugh, that always tastes like shit."

A small exposition imp approaches Razzak with a parchment clutched tightly in his story progressing little hands. He hands the parchment to the giant man-lizard and it is revealed to be a comprehensive map of the everclear arena. The map reveals that the Arkham Inn is tucked away in a corner of the commerce district.

(Bitchin! I want a map!)

Razzak had been wandering for short amount of time. Everytime he had managed to stop someone he would end up with no information. Some managed to slip away. But the annoying ones would stutter and and stand shaking at his questions. Eventually, he would get frustrated and unleash a lound roar, causing the creature to flee in a panic. Suddenly he felt a tug at his breeches. When he turned he saw a small imo power clutched in hand. Offering it to Razzak.

Razzak looked at the tiny imp and acceped the parchment. Looking it over he managed to finally decipher it and find his destination.

"Thank you small one." He said. The imp took a nervous bow and fled. Razzak clutched the map in his hands and headed to the commerce district.

With his business more or less finished, Bart strolls out of the room and into everyone's hearts.
Or a bar. Probably the bar.

A muffled imp scream is heard from beyond the door followed by a small pop, like a firecracker going off.

The sudden entrance, and possible demise, of the small being that just dropped off the stack of parchments was of little concern to Veric. A map, however, should prove useful in locating a market place. Surely they must have one. After grabbing a new pen, due to the other one being bitten in two, he went about signing the documents about him on the desk. He signed the last dotted line, tipped his hat to dan, then started towards the doors. Grabbing a map as he went out into this new world.

After studying the map a few moments he decided to head to the area described the 'Commerce District'. The souk specifically. Hopefully they'll have what he needs in stock. If not, then he'll just fight as is. No use worrying. Besides, it was truly exciting. New world, new ingredients, new possibilities. Veric then strode on with a hop in his step and a eager gleam in his gray eyes.

She could faintly hear the sounds of soft foot steps behind her, and an ever present...squeaking. As the fog cleared from her mind she realized she was sitting. Squeak, squeak, squeak. She remembered walking out into the night after a long night of drinking at her bar. Squeak, Squeak, Squeak. As she managed to creak her eyes open she remembered her last blurry moments. The mass of tentacles and eyes reaching out for her, the pain of her limbs being torn asunder cutting through the haze of whiskey and beer. Squeak, squeak, squeak. Moira blearily turned her head to examine her surroundings. She was in an old wheelchair, being pushed down a long marble hallway. She craned her head behind her so that she could see who was pushing her chair.

She found herself staring at an 8ft tall skeletal creature, dirty white rags hung from its appendages. The large creature had to hunch over to push Moira through the seemingly endless hallway. She smiled wryly. "Top o' the morning to ya." The creature did not respond. She let out a single exasperated chuckle. So this is it? This is my afterlife. That's fine. Moira tested her fingers and toes, everything seemed to be there and in perfect working order.

She looked up to see two wooden doors creaking open into a large office space. "That's fine, boyo. I'll take it from here." She said, lifting herself from the old wheelchair. She started walking towards where she saw a line of people, but stopped when she felt a boney hand grab the back of her coat. She turned around to find the dreary creature handing her a form with her name on it. Moira took it, gave a slight nod of gratitude to it as it turned and left the room, and turned back around to stand in line.

Dan turned his attention to the remaining stragglers. The impertinent Fortune was still sprawled on his desk, making bored faces. Dan was of a mind to push him delicately off with a ruler, loathe to touch him, when he noticed that his nameplate (sensible and functional) had been knocked over by the interloper.

"Alright, off of the furniture, thank you," he said tersely, clearly far more disturbed by the disruption of his personal property than the death of the exposition imp. "There's a map for you by the door, no need for you to dawdle here and delay your inevitable future any longer."

A tiger-headed guard leaned his head out of the door to Nib's office, ears flickering curiously. Dan gave a small shake of his head even as he continued to frown his disapproval. This one was just a rascal, not anything that needed to be strong-armed.

He just needed to wait on this Astor fellow (Astor was the name on one of the remaining sheets of paper, and he was fairly certain he could place Aster and this new Moira woman, now that she'd appeared) to politely regain consciousness.

"Moira, you can sign next if you'd like," he called out to her, noting that Aster still wouldn't look up from the floor. Her paperwork needed another look anyway - he'd need to forward her to one of the dragons for consideration. Not a fighter at all, that one.

Moira stepped forward, brandishing the paper that she received from the creature. Her hand began to tremble on its own and she grabbed her wrist hurriedly to stop the shaking.

"You seem pretty fine with all of this, means you must be used to it. Tell me, what exactly am I looking at here? Is this heaven? Hell?"

"It's neither, strictly speaking." Dan used one finger to push his glasses back up from where they'd been slipping down his nose. "This is the Everclear arena. When your soul was reaped upon your death it was determined that you could be given a second chance at earning a new afterlife for yourself."

He took the paper from her, giving it a quick once over and checking that it lined up with what he had in his book. "You will fight in the arena to earn the favor of the literal gods that reside in this plane of reality. One may, over time, take a shine to you."

"I just need your signature on this bottom line. It verifies that everything on this sheet is true."

With a heavy sigh, Fortune indolently rolled off the desk without making the guard come move him. He supposed the bit with the nametag may have been overselling it. It was interesting to see the guards here, ready to come to the aid of the staff at a moment’s notice. He bet if anyone tried to flee, or harm a spectator, they would be just as responsive. “Fine, I’ll let you get on with it. You’ll miss me before too long.” He told Dan as he quit the desk, swaggering past the remaining fighters, and sipping in front of the buxom pirate. He gave her a cheerful smile as both a greeting and exit. No one had seen him grab a map, but he opened one nonetheless as he left, walking through the entryway for the first time and appreciating the landscape. It really was a handsome setup. Vaguely, he wondered where the other fighters had chosen to go, but decided he would track them down later. For now, he had urgent overdue business to attend to, the kind that came before plots and intrigue, as enjoyable as they might be.

Moira watched briefly as the leather-bound Fortune made his leave. "Well...I thought my fight was over once that beast had me in it's grasps. I guess there's still some fightin' left to do though." Solemnly she signed the sheet and placed it on the desk.

With a casual wave she turned away from Dan and headed for the door, grabbing a map on the way out.

Once she was alone in the room with Dan and the unconscious man, Aster finally dragged her gaze up from the floor and stepped tentatively toward the desk, wringing her hands in silent anxiety. She was morbidly curious about what the sheet of paper with her name on it said, having caught a glimpse of one of the other papers in the midst of some flailing.

The man at the desk didn't rush her. He took his time righting his nameplate and straightening some other books and stacks of paper, giving her plenty of time to gather what scant courage she possessed.

"...my name is Aster Hawthorne," she managed. "I want...need...to see what is said about me on that paper. I need to know the lies it is telling."

Dan slid a piece of paper forward on the desk, already turned for her to be able to read it. Her eyes traced over the neat, tidy handwriting, hands beginning to tremble as she read.

"I can't sign this," she murmured. "None of it is true."

Dan nodded and seemed unsurprised. "I'll be sending you on to speak with Shib or Nib. They'll have some sort of assignment for you, I'm sure. Just proceed into the board room and I'll inform them we have a unique case for consideration."

He motioned toward one of the doors and she went after a few long moments of hesitation, feet dragging like she was headed for the gallows, paper clutched in her hands.

The office door labeled "Nib" swung open slowly. From within the dragon's breath could be heard echoing through the hallway.