This is the history of Slender Man or to call him by his earliest name Grosse Mann which in German means Tall Man (as far as I am aware. If there is anyone who does speak fluent German and is reading this then feel free to correct me).
So when Grosse Mann has done something to upset Filius Mortis, what does he do?
What he does best...
Go hunting...
And how will Filius Mortis and Dead Weight's fates be interwined?
Tome: When the Night Falls
Chapter 1
Dead Weight looked over his shoulder. They were here, he could sense them in every hair that stood on end. There he was, trapped under a tree, the rain pounding all of his body. Clutching his wounded arm. The burning had stopped when Cale had been killed which pleased him a little.
It told him that his enemy was dead that he had finally completed what he had waited four years to do. Of course it was nothing compared to the time that someone else was going through so very far away.
Dead Weight wondered, was his hunt for that being going better… or worse…
Filius Mortis stood on the edge. The edge of the cliff and he looked down into the darkness beyond. He could hear the voice in the back of his head that whispered, “Do it… do it…”
Mortis could only oblige…
He dropped, down and down, faster and faster. The rocks on the cliff walls flew past, threatening to reach out and grab him, tear him apart. Even with his ancient metal form that would still… hurt.
The light was dimming here and so that meant the shadows were enclosing in, the bottom approached. Rapidly, quicker and quicker until Mortis hit the bottom.
He flipped over not wanting his face to crash head first into the ground and landed hard on his feet. The landing was like the boom of a gunshot. Gunshots were exactly what, Mortis wanted to hear now. His hand slipped back to one of the long tails of the jacket that he wore and threw himself against the wall with his Forty-four Magnum loaded and primed.
Mortis whirled out with his Magnum held in two hands and pointed forwards.
“Twenty-One,” was all that Mortis thought out in the language of the Bio-Mechanical.
The silence answered so Mortis continued.
“Twenty-one suicides were committed at the top of that cliff there. The bodies were never found,” Mortis called out hoping for a reply, his aim steady and true. Arms ready to whip back and grab his scythe should the need be. The bone hands around his neck didn’t clink against each other, no wind battered them. Mortis was completely still.
“Twenty-one… oh so… very… juicy meals,” the monster paused in its thoughts between taking huge bites out of the latest victim’s soul.
Grosse Mann walked out of the shadows, his hands covered in the black blood of the dead soul where he had made the incision into his meal’s body. His entire, faceless face was covered in the blackness too.
“Mortis… how long has it been now…” Grosse Mann walked out, the entity that was the fear of death itself, “Since I ate your parent’s soul in that burning building…”
“Twenty four long years,” Dante replied.
Grosse Mann raised its two, dirty, clawed arms. The other four tipped with stabbing arms. The last remnants of the Necromancy that had been exhausted so long ago formed the suit that he wore. Weakened now but its material had once been so much more than this. It had protected him utterly and entirely.
The gunshot exploded through the cave and lit up Grosse Mann darkened form, the bullet stabbed its way through his stomach. Grosse Mann stood, deathly still for a few seconds before a jaw pried itself free from the rest of his face. Teeth made for ripping through flesh with precise cuts in the skin for getting at the soul.
The wound in Mortis’s shoulder remembered the attack well as I stung again. That was in another time… in another place that never existed.
Grosse Mann’s arms flayed out as his one feature on his featureless face cackled happily.
“Face me, Mortis! Come and die!” Grosse Mann’s arms reached Mortis’s place but it was as if he had disappeared.
“Necromancer trickery,” he cried out hoping that wherever Mortis had run to he could hear him but then he changed tact.
“How does it feel, Mortis? How does it feel to know that the very discipline that you created it being destroyed before your eyes? You see it… I know that you do.”
Then Mortis appeared out of nowhere, scythe spinning as the plumes of Necromancy energy flew from his body. He cut a long gash down, Grosse Mann’s torso and then brought his staff up and let the wooden tip connect with Grosse Mann’s face. The hit sent him sprawling backwards across the floor until he fell against the ground and let out a great breath. Bones were broken and teeth were chipped.
“That hurt,” Grosse Mann groaned lifting himself up from the rubble of the cave.
Mortis stomped forwards, scythe held in two hands ignoring the bodies that he romped through at his feet. Precise cuts smashed open by his large, metal feet.
Grosse Mann let loose his arms and threw himself at Mortis. Mortis dodged the first but the second clipped his right arm and ripped open his jacket leaving a gash across the shining metal on his arm. The third missed completely and so did the forth but the firth and six had claws. They clamped around Mortis’s arms and pulled him forwards straight into Grosse Mann’s feet.
The force of the shot crumpled mechanics inside of his body and broke plates of steel on his chest. Bio-Mechanical blood leaked out, the thick gas stained his white shirt a light blue.
Pushed himself up weakly, Mortis retrieved his scythe and moved his ageless, deathless form ever on.
“Run, Mortis. Run away… I’m going to kill you here…” Grosse Mann walked forwards.
Mortis was not so easily put off casting a single hand over his body and whispering some words. Crumpled plates repaired and mechanics inside of him repaired. He could feel the feeling return to his arms again. The touch of his scythe cold as ever around his own hand.
Mortis raised his staff and pointed it forwards and called out in the words of the Necromancers, “4,1,18,11,14,5,19,19,” (“Darkness”) the letters of the Necromancer’s alphabet were uttered so quickly and with so much purpose that they were not mere numbers anymore but letters of so much power that when said in the right order could form words of great power.
The light was sucked in by his scythe’s blade and it was the only thing that shone in the now dark cave. Mortis’s face however stayed hidden under the haze of Necromancy that had always hid his face and always would.
Mortis could see Grosse Mann skirting the light that his scythe produced as it tried to escape his powers. Mortis pointed his staff forwards again and the light rushed out like a bullet from a gun straight towards Grosse Mann…
Stay Tuned to see how Mortis's duel with Grosse Mann will end...
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