The El Libro de los Misterios.

The Libro de los Misterios (The Book of Mysteries) is a book on demonology, spirituality, and history written by Spanish monk Antonio Ferdinand Cortes, who was burned at the stake in 1646.  The Libro de los Misterios was found in the Spanish fort town of Irun by French, who then tried to burn the Book, but could not, so they buried the cursed Book.  El Libro de los Misterios turned up in the hands of the Madrid Occult who hid the book away in their library.  The Libro de Misterios tells history from a truthful viewpoint, Antonio Cortes was said to have traveled to the Astral Plane before he wrote the Book, a vast collection of demonological topics and witchcraft.  It has some pages all over the that talk of other dimensions and mystical beings from these dimensions.   

Mason Bazel Burr.

Mason Burr awoke from another nightmare by the annoying voice in his head.

"Come on, wake up human, I'm bored just sitting here in your head.  I need to hurt something."  Mason was confused at first then remembered what the voice was, Bazel, the smart-mouthed demon.  Mason got out of bed, changed shirts, brushed his teeth, then went down to the kitchen.  Now Mason's family, he, his mom, and his baby brother, Brian, lived in a small, rented, six room house outside Haven Valley City, his father had left when he was born.  

"Why must you eat?  I'm not a fan of just sitting here, watching you intake useless slop."  Whined Bazel, inside his head.  Mason grunted at him, slugged down his orange juice, then ran and grabbed his backpack.  As he ran past baby Brian, he could see the yellow school bus coming down the road, Bazel cringed away from the cute, pudgy baby on the floor.  Mason rushed out the door past the dog, who growled at him, all animals reacted to Mason Bazel this way, except snakes.  Mason boarded the bus, then worked his way down the aisle to the back seat.

"Just look at them all, no creativity, just mush for brains, that's the way I like it."  Bazel said in Mason's head.

"I'm guessing that includes me?"  Mason replied.  Bazel grumbled.

"Not, exactly.  Because of me you have a gateway to supernatural knowledge, and historical information, and the wisdom of a thousand generations." 

"So that will come in handy for today's history test?"  

"Are you kidding?  Cheating is what I do best!"  Exclaimed Bazel, ego swelling.

"Then after school we go looking for vampires."  Said Mason, leaning back in his seat.  For Mason Bazel Burr was a half-demon vampire hunter, he liked to think of himself as a  demon slayer, though Bazel was not a fan of this term.  

Mainframe City.

Mainframe City, a sprawling metropolis of advanced technology.  The biggest city in the history of man, Mainframe City is the home to state-of-the-art technology and the greatest thinking minds since Einstein.  The city's technology is run and watched over by the Binary Brain, a super mainframe computer in the heart of the city.  On the political level, Mainframe is watched over by the MCSF, or Mainframe City Special Forces, who carry the latest technology to combat criminals, and make sure no one leaves the city.  Currently crime has taken a rise under the corrupt government of Mainframe, so young men have been drafted into the MCSF academy, we follow Corporals Soot, Mal and Heart as they leave the academy and are given the job of Street Patrol. 

Manhattan, one month ago.

Marcus Yewbark, an elf solider, awoke with a start, where was?  He got up off the dirty wooden floor, holding his throbbing head and looked around, he appeared to be in a human warehouse of some kind.  Marcus then checked for any broken bones or other injuries, he found a gash on his left shoulder, so the elf let his magic flow into the wound, it was surrounded with white energy then closed.  He then looked if any humans had spotted him, no, there was no one here.  So he sat down, trying to recall what had happened, let's see he was looking for a witch cabal member, then as he was on the docks, he had heard a noise behind him, then darkness.  Marcus' thinking was interrupted by a gun barrel to his temple, he looked up, and to his surprise, another elf was at the other end of the 9mm.

"Surprised, Marcus?  I certainly hope so, it is not every day one sees an elf with a human weapon."  The strange elf said, cocking the hammer on his gun.  Marcus said nothing, but reached for his sword, but all he found was an empty sheath.  The crazed, gunslinging elf laughed;         

"You shall not harm me, elf, mundane or magic for it is hard to cut someone when you have no sword, and hard to hinder with magic when you have to much iron in your silver veins."

"Who are you?  And where are we?"  Marcus asked the obvious question.

"Never you mind that, I just need a favor from you.  If you don't mind."  Chuckled the stranger.
"I will never help you, reject."  Marcus spat at the stranger.
The mad elf sighed.

"Fine I will kill you, then wait for the next fairy to come looking for the"witch cabal", then get him to tell Alder Turnleaf a friend is coming home."  He pulled the trigger. 

Excerpt.

... And the Hundred Ancients gathered in the space between spaces, to discuss the capturing of the High Elder Gods.  And one called K' ntral of a Thousand Eyes spoke unto his brothers: 'We shall call the High Gods to a grand feast, then when they are tired with drink, we will have drawn a great pentacle around the table, and we shall trap their cosmic forms in flesh and blood.  Then Jorkkta'l shall fly them to the Mountain that Is.  We shall rule the worlds without interference from these now mortal gods."  And the Ancients were joyful to have a plan to rid the universe of the High Gods.  So Ojlyuth the Sigil-Maker prepared the Threefold Pentacle of Ptolemy, and Impius the Jester prepared food and drank that would even intoxicate gods.  But Leos Diablo saw what the Hundred Ancients were doing, so he traveled to the Second World...

 -El Libro de los Misterios, page 111.      

Civitas, the demiplane city.

Civitas is the name of a demiplane, a man-made mini plane, that is one, big city. The city is home to all types of races from the Central Planes, but many men and gnomes are found in Civitas. Civitas was created by a powerful wizard known as "The Gray Old One" made Civitas circa. 1007. Civitas, like Bator-Gotha, is ruled by a number of guilds, the guilds being;

The Acolytes of the Gray Old One: a magicians' guild, and one of the most powerful. Founded by the followers of the Gray One, the Acolytes' main job is to police magic-usage and planeswalkers in Civitas. The Acolytes always wear gray robes, with deep cowls, and they have gray staffs, and massive spellbooks. The Acolytes make their home in the Gray One's Castle. The members of the Acolytes of the Gray One are called Gray acolytes.

Grandel's Sewerworks: a spy guild, Grandel and his sewerworkers are the most infamous interplanar spy ring, Grandel has sewerworkers in every major and minor city in Eilendor. On Civitas, the Sewerworks' main job is to keep the sewers and pipes working, though this allows them to spy on the people of the city. The guild was founded by Grandel, a human from Eilendor, and he still runs the guild. the Sewerworks make their home in the Civitas sewers, and members are called Sewerworkers, or Grandelites.

The House of Black: an assassins guild, a guild of black-clad assassins that go around Civitas, and sometimes beyond, for pay. The House of Black members are seen at night, policing roof tops and alleyways in their black, tight-fitting suits, at day they are normal civilians, or at the House's home base, the Hall of Black. The House's main job is to watch over Civitas at night, though they have drifted away from that job somewhat. Members of the House of Black are usually called black assassins.

The Cult of Rezvardus: a religious/occult guild, a secretive guild, the members of the Cult of Rezvardus are in charge, along with the Golden Masters, of the churches of Civitas. The cultists spend most of their time in their secret temples, worshiping the mysterious demon entity, Rezvardus. Rezvardus disciples wear gold-lined, crimson robes and carry holy, or rather unholy, symbols of Rezvardus. The Disciples of Rezvardus's home base is referred to as the "Crimson Sanctum".

The Secretspeakers Coalition: a magicians/scholarly guild, the Secretkeepers are a mix of scholars and magicians, in charge of preserving and collecting books and knowledge. The Secretkeepers are seen clothed in blue, rune-covered robes, and are almost always seen with a book or more. The Secretkeepers also have and collect many secrets from the planes, and many of their planeswalkers have been all over the Multiverse. The members of the Coalition are called secretkeepers, and they gather in the Great Civitas Library.

Halderd's Legion: a militia guild, the Legion's soldiers are seen policing the streets during the day, and hunt down the members of the Guild of Knives. Helderd's followers are mundane races, mostly humans, and prove themselves through martial prowess, and the members wear armor and weapons of any kind, but they all have a green tabard with a silver castle on it. The members of Halderd's Legion are known by most people as "legionaries", and their headquarters are the Civitas Barracks.

The Guild of Knives: a thief guild, mortal enemies with Halderd's Legion, the Guild of Knives relive many of the rich Civitas citizens of their heavy gold jewelery. The Guild's job was espionage, to disguise as criminals, then turn them in, but the Guild quickly became a thieves guild. The members of the Guild of Knives have no uniform, but all members carry daggers, knives, or throwing knives. The Guils's members are usually called knife thieves, and they gather in the Rogue's Den, a secret section in the Minotaur"s Axe Inn.

The Blue Judges: a religious guild, are enemies with the Cult of Rezvardus, and are both the protectors and judges of the religions on Civitas. Blue Judges wear navy blue judges's robes, wield staves, and reside in the Marble Temple. The Blue Judges revear all good gods, and have shrines to them in their Temple.

Visit with the Prime minister.

The new Prime minister of England adjusted his tie as he entered his office, anxious for the meeting.  Now this meeting he was going to have, hopefully in six minutes, was no ordinary conference, he had found the informant letter sitting on his desk four, the day of his inauguration, days prior, it was made of old papyrus, and written in a type of dark blue ink.  It had told him of a foreign ambassador was coming to welcome him into office.  The clock over the fireplace chimed seven o' clock, the appointed time, the Prime minister waited for his secretary to call him any minute now.  No buzz from the secretary, he waited.  Then came  a rap on the window, outside the window was four pigeons, he got out of his high-back leather chair and strode to the window to open it, he felt like he should.  As the pigeons flew in, the Prime minister noticed one pigeon was slightly green, and slimy.  When the pigeons landed on the carpeted floor, they changed all of a sudden, into, well, not humans.  Two were about five feet tall, pointed ears, long chestnut hair, and held a silver-tipped spear and glittering armor, another, the green, slimy pigeon was small, green, hook-nosed, and wielded a hammer and shield, the fourth was smaller than the first two by about a foot, had inseectile wings, but looked like the first.  The English Prime minister stood there for a moment, then went to his desk, took out a bottle of strong stuff, and chucked it out the window, then sat down in his chair.  The mythical creatures before him walked around the room, looking it up and down, then one of them, presumably an elf, took out a crystal ball from his rucksack, spoke some Gaelic into it then approached the desk.

"Good evening, Prime minister, in just a moment the ambassador will arrive.  And I see you think this is some type of hallucination, I assure you, this is not, just call the Taoiseach of Eire, we visited him on his inauguration.  But I assure you, there is nothing to worry about, call security if you wish."  The minister's hand stopped inches from the button.  Then the ambassador came, an elf garbed in a dark gray tunic that came to his knees, and a silver chain mail shirt underneath.  He came flying through the window, a great falcon, and turned into an elf just above the chair, he sat there, green eyes on the Prime minister.  The four guards stood behind the elf envoy, ready to protect him from any danger.

"I, uh, suppose you are the foreign ambassador?"  Stammered the shocked Prime minister.

"I am indeed, Prime minister.  I am the representative of the fairy peoples, a race you and your kind have long thought mythical.  I have come to welcome you into office, and I ask that you continue to uphold the Avalon-Britain Pact, made in the fourteenth century by King Richard the second and the fading Queen Caelia."  The Prime minister searched his memory, Avalon-Britain Pact?  He'd never heard of it.

"Please explain, Mister uh...?"

"Goldleaf."

"Mister Goldleaf."

"The Avalon-Britain Pact states that no British citizen may go into a fairy fort, and all standing stones are to be left as they were, also any old oaks and yews should be left alone, in return fairies will never trespass on British property, we will protect those who preserve the sacred sites, and Gog and Magog are the eternal protectors of London."

"Um... yes, I see."  Stuttered the Prime minister.

"Here is the contract," he handed the minister a sheaf of papyrus, "take your time, and read carefully."  The elf and his bodyguards waited while the Prime minister read the contract, the goblin flexing his diminutive muscles in the mirror.  At the bottom of the document, the man saw eleven signatures; Thorn Halfberry  Oren Ironforge  Garden C. Seeds  Grub-skin  Torus Hurus  Mistletoe  Robin Bind  Amethyst Williamson  Colin Forktounge  Sprig K. J. Brown Bogan.

"Who are these, uh, names?"  Asked the minister, having finished and signed the contract.

"The eleven current councilors."  Answered the elf, taking the sheaf of papyrus.  "My thanks, Prime minister, and the Council's, we hope your term is good and prosperous."  The unearthly party went to leave, but then Goldleaf turned to the Englishman, "Ah, and one more thing, if you need any help, ask the mirror, and I or one of my helpers will answer on the other end.  And this meeting is strictly secret, as you read in the document, "top-secret" as you humans would say, and now adieu."   

The poor Prime minister of the United Kingdom and Northern Ireland sat in his 17th-century leather chair for a few minutes, he called up his secretary,

"Debora, cancel my seven o'clock."