2015.02.20 - A Twist of Fate

Clotho understood the world in ways that Lachesis and Atropos could not, but like all three of them, she could carry a grudge. And she held it highly. When her daughter had been taken, she had begged the others to allow them to use their vast powers to rescue her. They had spoken of duties and obligations and refused her. Because she was youngest, they thought her the weakest. They did not see how she studied not only her own duties but that of the others as well. They thought her predictable And so she had done the one thing none of them would ever expect. She used the flexibility of time and sent back agents to earlier, woven sections of the tapestry and undid the most complete cutting they had ever performed. Veolus had been regarded as the greatest threat to their power ever to walk under the stars. And she had changed things just enough to ensure that no only did he survive the destruction in some forms but that a limited vessel would allow a full return. "I knew it!" Lachesis shrieked,"Look, he is already causing ripples!" And it was risk, even knowledge was a dangerous thing. This threatened Ragnarok which was an anchor for so many things. For a moment Clotho regretted....but only a moment. They would not rescue her daughter. But there were others who would....                                          Atropos chuckled. "Now now. No need to panic. There are so many many threads to pull...look here..." --                                                             He had been nothing bit a machine to them, making millions of their supposedly unduplicatable currency. And then, somehow, the power had stopped. And so they had left him to rot in a cell with millions if other in one of their prison worlds. He would be here literally forever until, almost by chance, one of the guards let him close enough to grab their gun and passage back to the underworld...                                    Blessed release...                                                       -- Franz looked at the mask as it lay there in the museum. Most thought it a mere piece of Norwegian art on loan, quite at the last minute and on display in New York for two weeks. They were wrong. It was an artifact of power if you knew the right words. Franz knew the right words. --                                                         Ascot had always known that keeping some coins behind in the underworld was a good idea. Such as when you wanted to bribe the guardian to Hades's vault, you could find all kinds of useful things. The essence of lichdom, the staff of death and this highly useful chime...one that would summon an enemy of his enemy. All quite useful but even Ascot was shocked when the  tail ripped a hole in the fabric of reality...                            Ascot smiled as the dragon emerged,"We should talk...." --                                                             The words were spoken in crisp rhythm and pitch, a demented human drum beat that caused the mask to glow a sudden eldritch emerald green, slowly calling on ancient devices put inside it long ago by a young god with great ambition...