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Hobbes's Day

An excellent story all about our favourite villain (unless that happens to be Ethel, of course).  This story is being sent to me from our dear friend Coburn Trent in parts, so if it's not completed when you are here, check back later for the rest!  Enjoy!

Chapter 1.
Ethel Hallow walks the living room clothed in a black silky robe, a 
hint of pale thigh showing when with every step. She yawns. The clock 
reads quarter past three in the morning. What was she woken by?
Looking stunningly beautiful even after such a rough night she feels 
she should wait for it to happen again. Cloaked in shadows, a pale 
shaft of moonlight scorching the expensively carpeted floor, she 
glances about from ebony corner to corner.
                       
                                             Chapter 2.
Nick Hobbes, the enigmatic
                                             but dark handsome young man lies on his 
side surrounded
                                             by total pitch, like evil hands reaching for him from 
the
                                             corners of the room it is all he can do to stay focused. The 
patter of fast, heavy feet somewhere in the shade, circling him, 
waiting for him to drop his guard.
     Lifting himself up cumbersomely he rests upon his gnarled staff
                                             
wearily, the emerald his only source of light.
                                             He summoned this, this 
monstrosity through Coburn Trents
                                             Goetia. The library's archaic text 
named 'Des Spirit
                                             Del Culten' detailed the summoning of Azathoth only 
to
                                             a point, he needed that other to aid him. Hobbes stole into 
Coburns pleasant dwelling while he was out with Ethel, a quiet drink 
in the canteen with sweet talk and kisses.
     Nick felt the throb of energy emanating from that codex. But it
                                             
was not Azathoth he called into this lonely,
                                             destitute room. HE sent 
a representative, a representative
                                             that thirsted for flesh and blood. 
It wanted him but
                                             the protective incantations placed about the circle 
of
                                             power were strong...now it waits for him to fall asleep so it can 
extend it's many maws and tentacles onto his limbs to slowly and 
deliberately drag him from the circle.
The representative
                                             lurches too and fro hidden in the perpetual night, 
every
                                             now and then the lashings of tentacles macabrely feeling the 
air stir Hobbes from his fatigued state. Then it scuttles about him, 
those feet rattling the stone floor ominously, that bent over husk 
with flesh so grey like age old leather, that almost human face 
twisted into painful expressions suspended by hooks and arrows. It 
swivels it's beaded yellow eyes to him before vanishing again.
     Nick waves his staff frantically at the thing intoning
                                             a prayer 
from the Goetia which is held in his
                                             left hand, a brilliant but short 
explosion lights the
                                             dark for a second and the representative's 
laughing
                                             plagues his ears. Swinging the cloak about his frame Hobbes 
begins again with his concentration, trying to fix onto Ethel and 
call her to him for aid.
              Chapter 3.
'Ethel... Help... The crawl spaces...'
Yelping, Ethel swings around, her fists clenched sparking with 
electricity. Whos here, I'm a witch, the greatest witch that ever 
lived...'
'It.....me Ethel, the crawl space...
                                             Azathoth.' With that the static 
in the room fades and
                                             her hair falls back nadir to her perfect head.
'Hobbes?
                                             Nick...!?' Receiving a flash or premonition her soul runs as 
ice at the sight of that thing pursing its lips and howling, those 
torn, deranged, splintered lips revealing rows of jagged yellow fangs.
     Dressed in the robe the young lady pursues the fleeting
                                             static 
like a bread crumb trail till she descends
                                             into the college's dank 
crawl space, Nick has a secret
                                             hide-away down here where he practices 
his most dangerous
                                             spells. She told him not to mess with Coburn's 
Goetia,
                                             the combined powers of that and the library's text would be 
too much for him to handle, looks like she was correct.
     On hands and knees she grimaces crawling through the
                                             dirt but 
after ten minutes she has arrived before
                                             that heavy iron door. 
Bracing her strength against
                                             it Ethel manages to budge the huge 
hinges ajar to the
                                             sound of that bleating wail. She hesitates. Again 
it
                                             comes and peering in she sees Hobbes entwined within worm like 
appendages being dragged inexorably toward that gapping chasm mouth.
     'Osartum, moratinum, benedictious-el magnificent!'
                                             Flicking her 
hands toward the beast it yelps
                                             as flash after flash appears before 
its eyes, blinding.
                                             The flesh about the face shrinks and peels like 
melting
                                             rubber and it finally releases its victim.
     Scooping him up and taking the Goetia, Nick grasping his staff,
                                             
Ethel heaves him out leaving the monster behind
                                             the now locked door. 
A concentrated power surge plus
                                             the reading of Goetia prayers 
submerge the circular
                                             room in high level waves of energy, like water 
going
                                             down the plug the representative screams and blasphemes as, it 
a tidal wave of power, it is broken apart and dissolved back to its 
original plane of existence.