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thymoit
Star
- Joined
- May 11, 2009
Magic always fascinated Max. When he was a small child it was fairy tales and Disney movies. When other kids wised up, he was still wishing on stars and believing in Santa. When he grew older he discovered Dungeons and Dragons and became a gaming nerd. He read every fantasy novel he could get his hands and books upon books about the occult. He tried out paganism, but shied away from Satanism, because he was a believer. He wanted magic, but he believed he had a soul. He went to college and majored in anthropology where he could get away with studying magic as part of primitive belief systems. However, he spent far too much time at college gaming and dabbling in magic and wasn't able to get hired as a working anthropologist. He ended up in corporate America, in a generic job as a sales consultant, mostly pushing paper for people who were better natural salesmen than he was. Still, he dreamed of magic.
Then he found the book. It didn't have a title, just an old book written in a weird dialect halfway between old Latin and modern Spanish. It purported to hold the true key to mystical power. Max felt a strong feeling of déjà vu the moment he laid eyes on it. It cost more than he could afford, but he maxed out his credit card to buy it. After having tried so many rituals to achieve nothing he knew he was being foolish, but from the moment he started reading the book he felt compelled. The book had a self-consistent logic about it and all the mumbo-jumbo he'd read for years and years about magic suddenly seemed to be fit together and make sense. He tried a ritual, instead of the usual self-doubt, he felt a sense of predestination. This time was different. This ritual would awaken the slumbering power he always knew that he had. He felt something stir within him.
This time it worked. After a lifetime of living in fantasy, he finally found power. It was weak, intermittent, inconsistent, but there were times when he knew things were about to happen. When he spoke, sometimes people would suddenly start agreeing with him. There were moments he felt a synchronicity about events, and then an opportunity would unfold. Women who dismissed him before sometimes looked at him with smoldering interest. He even took two of them to bed. He went to Vegas and won fifty grand in craps before he stopped. He had the strong feeling that he was being watched and he had better stop while he was ahead.
All of that was wonderful, but Max wanted more. He wanted money, success, women and power. There were formula's for potions. Actual spells and rituals, but he was missing a key ingredient for most of them - a familiar. The book was clear on that. A magician's familiar multiplied his power tenfold. It acted as a catalyst for all his more powerful magic. Max had to have a familiar.
Although it wouldn't come without price. The ritual was clear, documented and made sense to Max. He knew it would work. However, the book didn't talk about summoning a demon or some animal. No, according to the book a familiar wasn't summoned. A familiar was created using a ritual. The main component was a human being, the sacrifice who would be transformed into his familiar. He had shied away from Satanism and other black magic. Could he really do this to another person? Could he take a person and turn them into an animal, his familiar, his slave? Yes, he could. Magic was his destiny, but who did he hate enough to make his victim?
As he wondered this, she walked past his cubical. He felt a moment of synchronicity. He could almost see her aura glowing like a halo. Her. The bitch. If there was anyone who deserved it, she did.
Then he found the book. It didn't have a title, just an old book written in a weird dialect halfway between old Latin and modern Spanish. It purported to hold the true key to mystical power. Max felt a strong feeling of déjà vu the moment he laid eyes on it. It cost more than he could afford, but he maxed out his credit card to buy it. After having tried so many rituals to achieve nothing he knew he was being foolish, but from the moment he started reading the book he felt compelled. The book had a self-consistent logic about it and all the mumbo-jumbo he'd read for years and years about magic suddenly seemed to be fit together and make sense. He tried a ritual, instead of the usual self-doubt, he felt a sense of predestination. This time was different. This ritual would awaken the slumbering power he always knew that he had. He felt something stir within him.
This time it worked. After a lifetime of living in fantasy, he finally found power. It was weak, intermittent, inconsistent, but there were times when he knew things were about to happen. When he spoke, sometimes people would suddenly start agreeing with him. There were moments he felt a synchronicity about events, and then an opportunity would unfold. Women who dismissed him before sometimes looked at him with smoldering interest. He even took two of them to bed. He went to Vegas and won fifty grand in craps before he stopped. He had the strong feeling that he was being watched and he had better stop while he was ahead.
All of that was wonderful, but Max wanted more. He wanted money, success, women and power. There were formula's for potions. Actual spells and rituals, but he was missing a key ingredient for most of them - a familiar. The book was clear on that. A magician's familiar multiplied his power tenfold. It acted as a catalyst for all his more powerful magic. Max had to have a familiar.
Although it wouldn't come without price. The ritual was clear, documented and made sense to Max. He knew it would work. However, the book didn't talk about summoning a demon or some animal. No, according to the book a familiar wasn't summoned. A familiar was created using a ritual. The main component was a human being, the sacrifice who would be transformed into his familiar. He had shied away from Satanism and other black magic. Could he really do this to another person? Could he take a person and turn them into an animal, his familiar, his slave? Yes, he could. Magic was his destiny, but who did he hate enough to make his victim?
As he wondered this, she walked past his cubical. He felt a moment of synchronicity. He could almost see her aura glowing like a halo. Her. The bitch. If there was anyone who deserved it, she did.
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