bragnificent: (💁🏽‍♂️ ⦄ 307)
REGGIE⭐️MANTLE ([personal profile] bragnificent) wrote in [community profile] maskormenacelogs2018-06-20 11:57 pm

I feel it in my blood, in the fire and the flood

WHO: BAPHOMET, HIS ENTOURAGE (REGGIE MANTLE & NICO MINORU), and YOU.
WHERE: Maurtia Falls, in the woods.
WHEN: June 21st
WHAT: Baphomet's concert debut!
WARNINGS: Possible drinking, drug use, fire hazards, and/or Wicked + the Divine spoilers; anything else, please mark your threads as necessary!




Although promoted across all four cities -- mostly via ominous posters and graffiti displaying a simple symbol and the date, June 21st -- directions to the concert are a little more obscure to come by, although those who want to find it will find their way. Part of it is via word-of-mouth, yes, but there's also a sort of... strange draw in the air, one that will just instinctively guide those who truly belong at the show, or are at least open to hearing it.

But however they find their way, it becomes much more obvious the closer you get. Reach a particular Maurtia Falls forest and one might start to notice that same symbol painted on some of the trees and nearby power poles, accompanied by arrows guiding attendees deeper into the woods.


The destination itself is obvious once you arrive to it: a large clearing in the woods, illuminated by a number of eerie floating red and gold lanterns and (what would appear to be) faerie lights. There is fog and, somehow, a cloak of dusk surrounding the area even before the sun really begins to set, and the ground is dark and illuminated by cuts of flame as if there were just a fire here. Visual effects courtesy of Nico Minoru's magic, no doubt. There's streaks of red paint smeared across several trees, the ground, and the props meant to look like blood, too, but it's probably not actually. One thing is for sure, which is that from a distance, from the outside looking in, it will certainly look as if there's a fire blazing within the woods the entire night.

The stage itself is made of wood and metal, elevated just a bit from the ground so it gives off the appearance as a dilapidated bridge, splintered and rusted, and is backed with black and orange curtains. Far from the stage is a merchandise table, which includes black t-shirts sporting Baphomet's insignia in white or red, as well as posters of the same design (some of which include also Baphomet's name, or flaming eyes below the symbol), various takes on the goat-skull, blades, and spikes theme via metal rings and necklaces, a Goatman plushie with burning red eyes, and then finally, shirts and encouraged donations promoting Linda Belcher's Lind-a-Care foundation. On the opposite side of the stage is a broad table with refreshments, sporting an enormous golden claw-footed punch bowl in the center which compartments a few different varieties of red-colored drinks (which Reggie Mantle will be happy to spike alcoholically, using his powers, should anyone want or ask) within itself, BAPHOMEAT (lamb kebabs), a broad spread of sandwich fixings and bread, elaborate fruit-and-cheese plates, a selection of fireball whisky, and of course, bottles of water.

Once it begins to get dark, the sun setting in earnest now... let the show begin.



( For a more individualized read on your character's reactions to Baphomet's godsong, please comment to THIS. )

The solstice sun burns low in the sky, descending quickly as dusk chases it, as stars speckle a darkening sky, when those red circles materialize. They glow into being in the field before the stage, neon yet ethereal, inviting yet taunting. And that metal stage-- there's a shimmer, like the atmosphere is melting. The stage becomes the opening to a cave, the audience situated in the "cave". You're in the cave, a lion in its lair. The outline of a neon red door appears, and you can feel the warmth from it on your face. It's like the hot high noon sun, it's like rage and war. It gets into your blood, this heat.

Baphomet steps through the door, onto the raise of stone that remained reminiscent of a performance stage. He raises both his arms above his head. He points to you, index finger out and thumb up.

One,
two,

three,

four.

The sound pours out of his mouth and it burns. You feel it under your skin, you feel it spreading -- infectious, you know it's viral. You know it is contagion. He screams a riot, incomprehensible yet intimate, he roars for you. He sings every surrender you've regretted, he sings your fists ripping at your own chains, of your searing and bloodied triumph. His eyes are catlike slits, his fangs displayed in predatory snarl.

Your veins glow with inspired revolution. You can break free, you can escape a hell of your own making. You can become your own plague, and lay waste those who would ever again hurt you.



It's also one of Baphomet's talents, to create what he calls image golems. They are illusions, mirages, a plague set upon your heart and your mind. They aren't real, but they seem real, they'll talk to you and react and provoke. Sometimes they give to chase. You may see it lurking, its blinkless stare looking back at you through thinning foliage. You may hear the twigs snap beneath its hooves. He will beckon to you, his all-too-human hand nearly normal, with only some fingers seemingly melded together. He walks with mostly a man's body, but he wears the head of a goat. Welcome to the sideshow.

If you approach him, he will speak with a voice familiar to you. The voice of someone not here, someone back home. Someone you miss. Everyone within earshot will hear.

"It's been too long. I miss you."

Something along those lines come out of his mouth.

And then he'll flee. You can either:
A. Give chase to him, catch him, and NPC him from there.
B. Take comfort in your company, who would have also heard a love one from the goatman's tongue.
C. Give chase to him, catch him, and kill him. An image golem of his nature will not hurt you. He will but dissolve.
herrstory: ([ 44 ])

[personal profile] herrstory 2018-06-28 12:52 am (UTC)(link)
His eyebrow arced upward after Baphomet called him an oddball. The clarification that he meant everyone here didn't really take away from the insult to him. But this was a god. A legit god with legit powers. So Starr could curb his murderous impulses for the time being.

"I suppose." A noncommittal answer as he looked the godling over. "I find it all rather strange -- the powers and abilities of your kind. There was a certain level of inspiration derived from your performance. I will not deny that much. But the manner in which you inspire -- that it must be a performance to this magnitude. That is what I find odd. Can you not tap into your abilities in any other way?"
baphlement: gabbie (Withstand.)

[personal profile] baphlement 2018-06-28 03:53 pm (UTC)(link)
"That's just how our generation seemed to manifest," he said, shrugging at the implications of Starr's question. "In terms of inspiration, we all have our speciality areas. Cass -- I mean, Urdr, you've met her? She's all about nihilism and being a killjoy. That's her speciality."

He grinned, pleased with himself for managing to snipe in a rude word about Cassandra.

"You heard how it isn't really words spoken. We just open out mouths, all speaking-in-tongues, and supernatural nonsense pours through us."

His breed of godhood afforded some tricks, aesthetic designs, and neat new ways to die. But the godsong was the masterpiece in their throats.

"I'm Baphomet," he said, extending a hand. Presumably Starr knew that, but Baph figured Older People liked their polite rituals.
herrstory: ([ 48 ])

[personal profile] herrstory 2018-07-01 12:39 pm (UTC)(link)
Starr glanced at the hand before taking it, scrutinizing Baph in detail. Then, he accepted the hand in his own. "I am aware of who you claim to be." This wasn't him calling Baphomet out on his lie, though. Starr obviously didn't know the truth. He only knew comparisons. "What I mean to say is, I know a version of Baphomet from home. You are different from him. Largely, he spends most of his days in hell, for one."

Which Starr supposed required a bit more of an explanation. "I work for an organization called The Grail back home. We are employed by heaven to ensure the safety of the Messiah. My specific job is to be the holy executioner of the Samson Unit. Eliminating false prophets. All of that nonsense. Fear not, I am not at your concert on business. But you know the lore behind your namesake. I am sure you understand how I've come to know my world's version of you."

He released Baphomet's hand at that, returning his own to his pocket. "Do you exist to be in support of your female Lucifer? Or are you your own entity?"
baphlement: gabbie (Compatriot.)

[personal profile] baphlement 2018-07-13 03:27 pm (UTC)(link)
"Do I -- No!" Baphomet crossed his arms, clearly affronted. "I don't exist just to support her, no. I don't exist just to support anyone."

That was a lie. Cameron wouldn't be Baphomet if not for the Morrigan. She had done this to him.

"I'm Baphomet, just Baphomet." Another lie. "My own man." Debatable. But Baphomet wasn't the type to simmer in his own offended sensibilities, and quickly his smile eased back onto his face. His posture loosened, he rolled back on his heels. All's forgiven.

"What's your Baphomet like? We have some... Lore. But I'm the first resurrection in written history."

Yet another lie, as Baphomet was entirely fictional in his universe. He was Nergal, god of pestilence, and apparently god of lying right to Herr Starr's face.