AO Thing
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It would have been a dark and stormy night, if only Fredrick would have gotten his way, but the weather forecast had diminished all his hopes for an appropriate atmosphere at this hour. The day had been long, boring, and uneventful, much like all the time Fredrick spent outside of his unusual and frowned upon hobby. Only the evening finally brought some excitement, as his parents left to go and eat at some fancy restaurant downtown.
The moment they’ve shut the door Fredrick rushed up the stairs and to his ominous room filled with occult items of all colors and shapes, ranging from sophisticated daggers, chic robes and cheap crystal spheres to psychedelic potions and dazing censers - the walls were covered with impressive geometric shapes and mystic figurines. If one were to see this room in all its glory for the first time it'd be a sort of headache inflicting overstimulation.
But Fredrick was the master of this chaos, supreme ruler over all the makeshift and plastic toys in his possession, which he proudly claimed to be artifacts of great importance, and had an easy time as he avoided knocking anything over whilst smoothly maneuvering in-between the pieces to reach his bed.

Of particular interest was the space below the sleeping place. Dusty as it was, and home to a few generations of spiders who have produced many interweaved cobwebs over the years, it held the greatest pieces of Fredrick’s extensive collection, and at that also the smallest and seemingly most benign of them all.
Said items, of invaluable worth to the young man, were stored in metal boxes, wrapped in silk cloth meant to keep away all evil forces with all the fancywork on them.
Trembling in excitement, though the actual ritual was several hours in the future, Fredrick shoved a few random toys aside to reach his favourite belongings - a set of old scriptures, collected over his entire time as an occultist. Only the ‘real’ ancient texts were kept in the locked box. His friends have asked him a few times about where he got them from, but Fredrick always brushed it off as nothing worth of note, saying he got them from other collectors who delve deep into the occult scene.

But today was a special day, for the collector would visit them and show them how to make their very own spells to appease the Gods and to get all possible benefits from them. Fredrick didn't want to seem like a fool or layman, of course, so he decided to set up and practice one of the rituals in his box.

The bed’s frame creaked as he sat down onto it. With the box on his lap, Fredrick mumbled a silent prayer to Fortuna and, just to be safe, the Chaos Gods, hoping to find the papers untouched.
His lips were pursed as he academically went through the collection, checking on the papers one by one. A sigh of relief escaped him when he saw the uniquely horrific and ugly handwriting of the ritual he had in mind - with it they’d summon a ghostly illusion of sorts. Not too hard to pull off, yet charming.

Fredrick tenderly took the paper and put it onto the nightstand near his bed - the box itself wandered back under the bed, where it could collect dust once more. The occultist stood and walked over to his wardrobe, which was covered in dreamcatchers and amulets of all kind. There could never be a secret meeting of his club without the proper occult attires, so he wanted to change into something fitting - loose jeans and an oversized t-shirt were far from appropriate. As this was a very special and unique occasion, Fredrick chose the fanciest robe of all four he possessed, a midnight blue, lengthy and surprisingly smooth piece, with glistening gold embroideries resembling the most powerfully abstract, and as a consequence least recognizable, occult symbols. It had costed him four months worth of his salary as a paperboy to order and acquire it from a local tailor, but he liked to reiterate that he got his money’s worth. Whether he actually thought that true or just held onto that belief to justify his wasteful purchase was up to interpretation.



Two hours later someone ringed at the door, prompting Fredrick to fitfully raise his head in surprise and turn around, thereby knocking over two cheap second-hand glass vases he had been setting up in the basement of the house.

Goshdarnit.” he cursed quietly, once more angry that his parents haven't given him permission to permanently transform the otherwise barren room below the house into something resembling an overstylized meeting room for a lodge. It was just that the ritualistic and ominous ritualistic items that had been hastily placed all around the room didn't look good next to shelves containing all sorts of misc gimcrack. Not to mention that the cold grey walls hardly made for a good environment, and as candles weren't, despite all their usage in pop culture, sufficient light sources for entire room, the half-broken bulb hanging from the ceiling had to do.

He left the shards of the two broken vases on the ground to deal with later, and stumbled upstairs to - hopefully! - greet his friends - or adepts, as he preferred to call them.

Opening the door just a bit to be able to look through the gap, Fredrick posed the ever so important question to assure the legitimacy of the beings before him, despite the fact that he very clearly saw who it was. After all, traditions were there to be upheld.
On the blackest of the inner moonshards, I ask ye, what is the divine God that howls for ever more?

“It is the wisest Ataegina, why, o brother in the mystic secrets. Her bleating echoes through the night like the cries of the Sluaghs”, was the melodic reply of the larger kid closest to the door.

Fredrick nodded in acknowledgement and fully opened the door, disregarding the fact that he hasn't tested the other one yet.
“Very well, the veil dies upon our pale transcendence.”

The two visitors hushed inside, both clothed in something vaguely resembling Fredrick’s own robe. There in the illuminated entry corridor of the house their height difference became painfully apparent - the younger of the two was a small lad, twelve years old at most, while the one who had answered Fredrick was exceptionally long and clanky and had an acne-ridden face.

“Uh, guys, if you could help me out a bit?” Fredrick asked with his normal voice, as the ominous tone was not required any longer.

Item Description: A complex ritual which, when performed correctly, causes the manifestation of a single pepperoni pizza. Ritual was originally written on a receipt from a local pizzeria for one large pepperoni pizza.
Date of Recovery: 11-16-1993
Location of Recovery: Phoenix, Arizona
Current Status: Original receipt is kept in a low security filing cabinet at Site-17.
Notes: Investigation of pizzeria showed no signs of further anomalous activity.

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