Then

Viggo D'Marco was a dark and mysterious man. Tall with thin, sculpted features, raven hair and somber, brown eyes. He was born of incredible wealth and power and migrated to America from Italy, bringing along his dreams of conquering the world and the means to do just that. Deeply obsessed with ancient cultures, religions and the occult, he became consumed by a primordial belief that stemmed from the stories of a bygone era. Compelled and driven by it, he researched, prepared and planned for many years, before he found the right location to reside. A tremendous castle that had been renovated and converted into a mansion, in the hopes of luring the elite. It succeeded in snagging Viggo's attention upon first glance but not for the reasons the sellers assumed. Buried deep within a dense forest, it existed well beyond the outskirts of a town called Desire. The name coined back in frontier times, it was rumored you could obtain anything your heart desired... in Desire. A romantic concept that Viggo came to appreciate more with time as he settled into his brand new life. He had hungrily signed that dotted line and made a castle his home. Plunging directly into tidying up his freshly purchased land and clearing away any unwanted debris, he had acquired the perfect cover and distraction from what he was really after. No one questioned the work he was doing, based on the fact, that he was now the new property owner and it was his right to renovate or tear down and construct, whatever he pleased. This work would remain in constant and continuous motion, around the clock as fresh projects were conceived daily and added to the ever growing to-do list, while he pressed forward with his true agenda. Excavating the land, in search of a buried secret, lost through time and forgotten by man. He hunted for the ancient temple of Ozarath.


Ozarath
God of destruction, wrath and ruin.
The creator of chaos. Lord of war and bloodshed.
The great slaughterer and he who dismembers bodies.
His hand is the darkness that crushes the light.

In a time when the gods were abundant, brutal and vain and mortals were plagued with fear and devastatingly devoted to their faith, Ozarath was a powerful deity, worshiped by all. Ruler of the battlefield and one of the seven, Wanderers Of The Parallel, he saw to the balance of havoc. Those seeking their enemies' obliteration and aid in combat, prayed to him for guidance, took part in rituals and held sacrifices in his name. Though the more barbaric acts were a sure fire way to obtain his attention. He would then bless those he saw fit and condemn the rest. Cruel and vicious, his fury could cause the fall of worlds... or so most feared. Since the Wanderers Of The Parallel could traverse between dimensions, one world could crumble beneath their feet and still they would remain. Their fate unaffected, so long as there was tenet in their names. Unfortunately, as time progressed, the humans grew bold and slowly, belief in the old gods faded in the face of new divinities. Lost to this realm, they remained dormant to our plane of existence, until Viggo D'Marco uncovered the temple of Ozarath and with that discovery, he relit the flame of faith.

After years of devotion and countless hours of grueling labor, the temple was located. Entombed beneath centuries of detritus, the actual entrance had been buried under several tons of rocks and dirt, while the temple itself existed deep within an underground cavern. Remarkably pristine, despite the trials and wears of time, its discovery would spark the fuse of irreversible change. As Viggo D'Marco's obsession with Ozarath and the Wanderers Of The Parallel, rekindled their control and invoked a resurgence of their following, even stronger than their last reign. Building his entire life around spreading the word of worship, Viggo would eventually meet and marry, a young woman named, Fawn. An eager acolyte he met during one of his many trips into town, he would wed her under the light of a blood moon, in the name of Ozarath. Immediately following that gesture, Viggo then offered an immense sacrifice. One that would be beyond comprehension to anyone else. Viggo would offer up his bride. Or rather, her vacant womb. Yes, Viggo would present the ultimate gift to Ozarath. A permanent link to the mortal domain and a half human heir. Which Ozarath gladly claimed. The only cost, the life of Viggo's bride when the infant literally ripped from her body, during birth. An act so incredibly gruesome and violent, the child could be none other than the son of the lord of blood.

This offspring of Ozarath was then sent out into the world, with a pair of like-minded followers, hand chosen by Viggo to raise the child as their own. However, any mention of his true heritage was forbidden. For the sake of building character and upholding a rite of passage. He was only permitted to know the truth, when and if, he discovered it on his own. This would prove his worth in his father's eyes and show that the child could fulfill his destiny. Bridging the gap between humanity and gods and creating a lasting channel that could never be broken. He would eclipse the boundary of belief and forge a new beginning. The dawn of everlasting immortality and the ultimate control over one realm. Forever.

---

Now

"Why haven't you returned home yet?"

The question was precise and to the point and it ripped him from his slumber, like a newborn being yanked from its mother's womb. It was a process that threw him into a groggy state of confusion as he tried to make sense of what was happening. And then it hit him like a ton of bricks. The quiet quarters of his hotel room was being invaded by an uninvited guest. Normally, this would be a severe cause for upset, for anyone else, but Dillinger. He didn't really get shaken or agitated. About anything. Yes, he was extreme and often times, he could even be seen as psychotic but in circumstances like this or others that would usually cause individuals grief, anger or panic, he would remain unfazed. Calm, collected and even relaxed. Dillinger blinked in the darkness and slowly rose halfway up in the oh so comfy hotel bed, only to observe that Queen Valeska was standing at the end of it. Dressed in a flowing gown, she smiled and Dillinger dropped back down onto the bed and closed his eyes. Hoping she would go away. He really wasn't in the mood for another trip down the rabbit hole.

"I asked you a question. I'm expecting an answer. Why haven't you returned home yet?"

Dillinger sighed and blindly reached out into the dark, grabbing a lighter and the cigarette that he left, half smoked in the ash tray on the bedside table, he promptly lit it and took a long drag.

"I needed some time away, to clear my head and I'm not ready to go back. Not sure when I will be, I only know I'm not now. Though, I don't understand how that's any of your business."

Valeska chuckled, deep and heartily, like she heard Dillinger say that oxygen was comprised of pudding, or something else completely preposterous like that.

"Oh sweetheart... all business, is my business... the sooner you realize this, the better."

He wasn't annoyed, he was bored. Of this, her and everything in-between. Or maybe it was the tiredness creeping back into him. Whatever the case was, he wanted this interaction to end.

"Isn't there something else you could be doing?"

"Is that an invitation?"

Dillinger exhaled a cloud of smoke and said nothing. Mostly because he didn't know what... to say.

"Just so you know, I take silence as acceptance."

Now it was too late to speak because before he could utter a word, Valeska had slinked her way along the bed, crawling methodically, until she came to rest on top of him. Her legs straddled around his torso and her radiant eyes locked directly onto his, as she stared down at him.

"Didn't you say... we were related?"

"I don't think your erection believes that."

Okay, that statement hit him and Dillinger's eyes widened a bit as Valeska rolled off to the side. Laying on her back, in near hysterics, the entire bed shook with her laughter. In a rare phenomenon, Dillinger scrambled for words and came up with...

"That just happens sometimes, it has nothing to do with you... it's a... natural occurrence."

Real smooth. Tens, across the board. Roses. A standing ovation. Oh shit. Dillinger had that part covered. Valeska turned towards Dillinger and propped herself up with one elbow, so she could look down at him again. Her laughs instantly quieted as her free hand slid beneath the covers, until it came to a complete stop on Dillinger's cock. Yep, that just happened.

"I never said we were related. I said we were family. There's a big difference."

She smirked and inched a tad closer.

"What does that mean?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out."

Then Valeska lowered her position, sliding downward, she quickly disappeared beneath the covers. Silencing herself from that point on, with a very obvious action. An act that also seemed to remove the words from Dillinger as well, as he struggled with the decision of stopping her. Though this wasn't exactly Sophie's Choice, it was real and pretty damn fucked up. Yet he couldn't stop the inevitable from occurring. Yeah, it was bound to happen, even in this odd scenario and seconds after the release, Dillinger needed answers. Or rather, clarifications. He tossed the covers back and... she was gone. Vanished from sight, she disappeared in the very same instant that he tore away the covers. Unbelievable.

With a sigh, Dillinger closed his eyes, only to pop them open again, when the fire alarm started to blare. His cigarette had found itself on the floor and with a sheet resting on top of it now, it had begun to slowly catch the fabric on fire. Dillinger leapt from the bed and instinctively stomped on the flames until only the remnants of a charred sheet remained. The potential tragedy snuffed out, it didn't stop members of the hotel staff from barging into his room. Panic stricken and deeply concerned about the smoke they seen wafting from his door. It was an awkward moment, especially when you take his exposed, still somewhat stiff wang into account. Clearly, this night was in shambles and there's no way he'd get back to sleep after this. It was time to go home. What madness awaited him there? That simply remained to be seen.

---

"This coming Wednesday, I'm set to face Bearded War Pig. A true man's man. He's stated that he believes that he'll outlast me in our battle. To which I'm inclined to respond... bring it on. I can't wait till you come at me with everything you got. Try to break me. Give it your best shot. I'm lookin' forward to some real, actual damage that might stick cause lately, I seem to be healing a lot quicker. Just the other day, I was sharpening a machete and it slipped and landed in my foot. Stabbed clean through too. So I pulled it out and blood started shooting everywhere. It was a huge fuckin' mess. But in a couple of minutes, that's all it was. My foot stopped bleeding and upon further inspection, I found that the wound closed up. There isn't even a scratch there now, let alone a machete sized stab wound. It was really outta this world but I swear it happened and I'm no liar. I'm a lot of things but a liar I am not. So riddle me this, Pig... how do you hope to damage me, worse than you, when I can heal like that? Like I said... I'm looking forward to you tryin'. By all means, come at me with all ya got. I'm totally ready for this shit and I haven't even trained for one second, since I started my career as a wrestler. That's another fun fact about me. I don't train for fights. Like at all. I just wing it. The last time I wrestled, I don't think I even stretched. I simply walked out to the ring after taking a nap in the back. And I won. Imagine that. Maybe you should try my method and see what happens. Think you'll have the same results?"