Spanderverse: Confusion of Three
Ch. 2 - Introducing Toth
The Monday morning bustle of Sunnydale was in full swing as office workers began to leave their homes for work. The sun was already bathing the morning in brightness, chasing away any fears that the town's inhabitants may have entertained in the darkness of night. The warm yellow bathed the lawns, the dew glistened, and the tree branches swayed in the gentle breeze coming in from the west of town. The gloomy cloud cover of the night before had been blown far to the east over night and everywhere people breathed a sigh of relief. Of course this was done under breath and mostly unconsciously. If questioned, no one would have admitted to feelings of foreboding over something as natural as a little gloomy weather.
Dawn was in the kitchen waiting for the toast to pop up from the little appliance that always seemed to be on its last leg, before summoning the strength to brown just one more piece of bread. It was Dawn's plan to replace the ancient thing with a brand new one for Christmas. Maybe, even one of those toasters that could handle four pieces of bread at a time. While she did this, Buffy was busy making coffee.
The girls studiously avoided speaking to one another. They had already had their first argument the moment both of them had entered the kitchen. Buffy, wanting Dawn to make her own lunch for a change, began doing that "Slayer-y giving orders" that Dawn couldn't stand. So, of course, she'd refused stating that she'd just get a few bucks from their mother for lunch.
With the mention of disturbing Joyce, sleeping in since she wasn't expected at the gallery today until noon, had sent Buffy on a 'super bossy' trip. Then Dawn had yelled that she wasn't a Scooby and didn't have to do what Buffy said and the Slayer had responded with a guilt trip over bothering their mother when she obviously wasn't sleeping well these days. The whole thing had ended in sullen silence between the two sisters.
Once Dawnie was finally out of her hair, Buffy got herself ready for classes. Her first wasn't until ten and she wanted to check in with Giles before she got to campus. It had become routine for her to allow him to watch the local news for any signs of the next demonic threat and to check with him every morning for the latest word.
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In the extensive cave system over which the Mayor had built Sunnydale, an unusual figure was staring over a large, black metallic cauldron. This cauldron would have looked familiar to any children who had grown up watching cartoons, as it epitomized the 'witches cauldron' that so many of the animated used to cast their fiendish spells. It was nearly as large as well, coming nearly to the waist of the six-foot, four-inched being which swayed to and fro before it. Below the cauldron a small, but intense flame was burning; causing the contents to steam.
The demon, for surely it was one, appeared to be in a deep meditative state of mind. Though its small dark eyes were opened, they were glassy and unfocused. Its dark skin ran with veins of a fluorescent green which seemed to glow and fade as it began to chant softly. The language, along with the demon's race, was on the verge of extinction. There were none in Sunnydale who would have recognized its words and the demon was woeful of this fact.
Once, the Tothric Clan had been proud and strong. After a series of lost wars, infighting, and ineffectual leaders (and the resultant near-constant coups) the population had been decimated over the last 250 years. With the death recently of his wife with no children produced, Toth was, to his knowledge, the last remaining representative of his entire species. It was a deeply painful state which he would have gladly passed upon.
"Spirits of the Clanhood," Toth intoned in his dying language, "hear the pleas of your last son. Let power arise from your spirit world…flow…flow…heart to mind to body. Give me, your last servant, strength for the last task ahead. Though this day be the last for your son, by all my blood and that of my line; the Slayer will die this day." And with this pronouncement, Toth grabbed a large branch of cedar wood and dipped it into the bubbling, broiling, concoction of herbs in the cauldron.
The branch glowed with an unearthly orange light. It elongated and thickened from a mere tree branch to a powerful club. As the power raced up the newly powered weapon it burned the hand that held it, but Toth did not let go. All magic had a price, and a little pain was his. It was nothing compared to the pain he carried within him, knowing that by the end of the day, tomorrow tops, his race could be extinct. Toth gritted his teeth and refused to cry out, even as his palm blistered. Just as he was sure his spell would fail, and his hand would burst into smoking ruin, the orange light faded. Toth stumbled back from the cauldron. Removing the club from his pained hand, he saw no sign of the burn that surely should have seared his skin to the bone. He smiled; the spell was a success. His prayerful incantation had been received by his dead kinsmen and they had blessed his plan. Though he may be gone from this place onto whichever hell-dimension he was destined to travel to, word of his great deed would precede him. The killer of a Slayer could expect worship in the beyond; he would rule his people's new home well.
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End Ch 2