#THE WAY THEY STOP AND WAIT FOR THEIR GODKING TO DO HIS THING

[heartoferebor]

Talokanil introduction make brain go brrrrrrrrrrr

[favoredsouls]

Remy Sivaron

Idk if i ever told this story of one of my favorite characters. Its a time i worked with the dm to tell the characters story. We planned it out, he gave me some meta knowledge that fell in line with my goal, and we let the pieces fall into place. There were alot of what ifs because there were still 3 other players. I knew i may not get to achieve my goal and we didnt tell anyone the plan so they would do what they wanted to do. I was a good enough role player by this point to adjust my goal if it came up. It didnt. So like i said. It fell into place.

Remy was a half elf with one goal in mind. To become famous. It was all he used his powers for. To be well known. When he lay awake at night he told himself he would be a god or the next best thing. He didnt know how true that would be.

Sivaron was a noble name. The family were the lords of a border mining town between Roon (Remys homeland) and Tilanor. Roon was purist human country bordering the Sylvanwood for a time. Despite stigma and rascism humans still had relations with the elves. Half elves became a thing. Civil war struck roon after decades of prejudice and Tilanor was born.

Back to the Sivarons. They led the mining operations of their town and fought in the Civil War. Remy was the youngest of the family and doesnt remember the conflict. He was kept in the castle for safety and he was but a babe anyway. The conflict would set the stage for the familys downfall. The mines would dry up after Tilanor won its independence.

Remy still knew a life of luxury. He was constantly dotted on as the youngest and shown off to other families but people knew the Sivarons werent long for the world. They humored them. Came to their parties that were attempts at forming alliences with the other nobles. To show an air of strength in their fading wealth.

Remy had several older siblings but the eldest was a proud son. He demandex respect even when his family was losing it. When he was sent to a gala on behlaf of the family he would be killed in a duel he started. One insult led to another and he found himself dead. This was the final nail in the Sivaron coffin as no one wanted to help the family after that.

Remy had started to develop magically at this time. So much that family had started to keep him from the public eye. Roon had a prejudice against all magic as well. Saw it as an impurity and a crutch. He would be sent away by the family to a secluded temple in Tilanor with his rothers death as they feared they could no longer care for him.

The temple saw him for what was. A favored of the gods. Though in the absence of any god claiming him they had assumed him to be one of their gods. I dont remember their name but it was a god of love i think. They raised him from their on and he never saw his family again. The temple was silent on the matter, insisting he should "let them go". He stopped caring after awhile. He barely saw his parents and only his eldest brother paid him any mind. He was dead now.

Remy lost the attention he had grown fond of. Of strangers and servents givning him what wanted. Compliments and service. Without any real family or money he only had the worship of monks. He grew to like this. He knew he wasnt favored by their god but he knew how to lie. When they consideded it as a possibility he started talking of visions and dreams. They ate it up for years.

They would send him out into the world on his world he would help people. He instead became an adventurer and helped people in his own way. He acted as a kind of evangel, performing miracles for the downtrodden and he reveled in their thanks. He always acted as favored by whatever god was popular in that town. Namely the sun god since he visited some farming communities.

Some would figure him out. Chase him away or stop giving him free shit. Remy would be hurt but move on quickly. He traveled through Tilanor, the Sylvanwood, and Vodsguard but never went home to Roon. They wouldnt buy his magic acts and besides. His elves features came in during his teens.

He did this for ten years before he was approached by a hooded figure who promised he knew who favored Remy. Remy didnt care too much for faith but knowing would make lying easier. Maybe he wouldnt even need to lie anymore. So he let the guy talk to him for abit. Then he was knocked out via drugged wine and woke up under the effects of a Geas.

He kneq he had to go to lanwar and so he did. From their the campaign started. To shorten this as its already pretty long. They were to find a divine relic. We learned along the way it was used by former vampire to become a god. We delivered it to the hooded figure, an inevitable, and worked to stop him.

We learned he was going to use it to ascend and in order to do that he needed a great deal of power. Either alot of souls or one godly soul. He was after the elven god king. The sylvanwood was being invaded by demons on accounts of tears between that world and theirs. The godkings extended prescence on the world was too much for it.

We rallied armies and fought our way to his throneroom. An ascension chamber from when he became a god. We fought and killed the inevitable, aquired the sphere of divinity and had to answer a question. The god king would die. There was no stopping that. His soul would transcend but something had to be done about the energy that would be released on his death. By this point Remy had learned alot of things. That his power seemed to come from within himself and from a current divine. His friends had learned he was a liar but a sweetheart. He had pieced together that he was his own god. A god of time. He favored himself from the future to set him on the right path. He still had to make the choice and become a god.

So with the parties blessing, he used the fallout of the god kings death in a rituaal to ascend. He ceased and became a god. It couldve gone differently. We couldve walked away. Anyone else couldve taken the oppurtunity. I made sure to wait in case someone else wanted to before i revealed remys ambitions.

He was fun. I never played a liar before. I never completed a campaign before. I used to date that dm but we broke up before the last session. Were not friends aanymore. About six months later he started dating someone and he seemed to change. Or maybe i was blind to who he really was. Probably both. Suffice it to say his then girlfriend threatened my best friend and i stopped talking to him.

Anyway. That was Remy Sivaron and how i became my own god. Dont know if he still uses him in that setting or not. Dont really care. Im happy about how i played that character. A mix of selfish and selfless. A journey of learning he had to be himself and that he didnt need to lie anymore.

I miss Remy alot nowadays.

[terraclae]

An introduction to Clan Canephora and her Humble Majesty's Wreck

Bit of a POV shift! Off to a clan by the sea that likes their agriculture healthy. There's a lot of characters in here who will get more time in their own shorter stories.

Lore pings: @cityofinoue @yuushanoah-fr

‘How's the hull holding up?’

There was a moment of silence that lasted too long for Stolas. ‘How is-’

‘As well as it could be holding up.’ Sounded from down below. Stolas could peer down the hole that ran from the upper main deck down through a few floors to the bottom of the ship. As it was now, it had currently been patched up with wood, steel, and whatever else would hold the water out. Bravo paced around on an elevated piece of wood with cloths tied like socks around her feet. ‘It's salvageable.’

Well, they weren't out at sea anymore so salvageable would probably do. Stolas gave Bravo a half hearted salute, marching on. ‘Sails?’ He called out above him.

‘We need replacements.’ Ren dropped down next to him in a cloud of smoke. She observed an already tattered sail being ripped apart by two other shipmates who promptly dragged it off to the sick ward. ‘There's no salvaging most of them and only Nur’s good with needle and thread’

‘She doesn't have the patience for that.’ Stolas scoffed. He glanced around the deck. ‘I'll check in with her later since I need to oversee the dead anyway.’

‘And what are you looking for now?’

‘The captain.’ Stolas said, and soon spotted a familiar shape curled around the bowsprit. ‘Wow, he really isn't doing well, is he?’ Captain Lucifer had frantically tied himself in a knot and looked mostly pensive now as opposed to his earlier panicked outburst over losing his ship. He seemed halfway between his spiral self and his more bipedal form. At least he usually had the decency however to not freak out until it was absolutely certain everyone's safety was assured and they were sailing into a harbor.

‘Let him sulk sailor, this is basically his life, remember?’ She looked a little grimmer. ‘You need to patrol if anyone is infected. Just because they seem fine doesn't mean that monster didn't rub his essence off on none of them.’

‘Yes.’ Stolas started his approach to the starboard side of the ship, pushing the thought to the back of his mind. As tallied, they lost five men, and many others had gotten wounded. Luckily none among the dead had been imperials, then he would have a bigger problem and perhaps would be left staring at his hands again the next weeks in self consciousness. Two things were on his mind right now; Altair, and the damage he had left with the centerpiece of the latter thought being Arodan’s fall off the boat. He immediately tried to find some support for his shaking knees by leaning over the side of the boat, feeling as if he might hurl. Damnit Stolas, you are better than this, he thought.

‘Whatcha thinking about bro?’ The head of a young ridgeback poked out of an empty gunport below Stolas. Stolas recognized him as Kohaku and as soon as he made eye contact with the child they clawed their way up towards Stolas until they sat besides him. ‘Why are you sad, we’re alive right?’

‘I would be happier if that was the end of our problems Haku, but it isn't that simple.’ Not if it came to shade-ridden godkings. He focused on the settlement in the distance, and knew by the stretch of coffee fields by it they had arrived at Clan Canephora’s clan grounds. Spectacular, he still had a knuckle sandwich to cash in there. He turned back to Kohaku with a sour look and was met with a grin that seemed like it could rival the sun in brightness. ‘I'm… I'm sorry I left you downstairs in the skirmish.’

‘Brother, stop saying that.’ Kohaku clasped Stolas’ face. ‘I'm fine right? We're alright, that's what matters.’ They let go and turned to look at the clan grounds in the distance. Judging the activity on the ship the rest of the crew was preparing to disembark. ‘The only thing I'm worried about is Danny though. Do you think he's alright?’

Stolas didn't reply to that initially. Death was the more likely answer to that question, as hardy as he might be. Undead was an alternative answer if the shade he had treated in Arodan functioned as he had witnessed it in others. ‘... Probably. Sornieth is big kiddo, we might not see him in a long time.’ He inhaled a little too loudly. ‘Maybe he'll stop by on the clan grounds while we’re fixing the boat.’

‘Fair enough.’ Kohaku shot Stolas a curious look and then turned to look at the view again alongside Stolas, holding their tongue. Their tail idly pat against the ship’s side, and that was the end of their conversation.

After a while Ren joined the two at Kohaku’s side, idly patting their head. ‘We’re landing soon boys. Better get your stuff, because this Ham isn't sailing for a while.’ She pat the side of the boat this time and made a mental note she had to paint the name of the boat on again. ‘Enjoying the view?’

‘I can't wait to see Dolores again actually!’ Kohaku immediately chirped in response. ‘Ren, do you have any friends within Clan Canephora?’

‘Oh kid, I don't really make friends. Don't have time for that.’ That earned a disappointed whine from Kohaku. ‘Well, except for you. You're a good soul.’ She looked around them to Stolas with a coy grin. ‘Speaking of friends, are you excited to see your old buddy again?’

‘Basil is not my buddy and he will never be Ren.’ Stolas grunted, his mood growing more toxic than it already was. ‘You know, when I stepped on this boat I didn't expect to end up here again.’

‘How long has it been?’ Ren asked.

‘A year.’ Stolas answered.

Ren stifled a laugh at that. ‘Time sure flies doesn't it?’

‘Well, at least I was productive among the Tempest Brigade.’ As was his employment in the forges of the Ashfall wastes after that. Even his brief vacation in between those two jobs had been a more efficient use of his time than whenever he was forced to hang out anywhere in light flight territory. ‘I wonder if they'll stop by.’

‘Not likely.’ Ren bluntly answered. ‘They've apparently started getting chummy with some big corporation and headed out to the Viridian Labyrinth.’

‘How would you know?’ Stolas picked up Kohaku so he could now actually look at Ren and make sure they weren't going to topple overboard.

‘I overheard Cap’n talking about it last night.’ Ren answered. ‘T’was a little hopeless. But y’know, what can you do?’

‘Spying? Really? On your own captain?’ Stolas made a disgusted noise and immediately started to make progress to distance himself from Ren. ‘Why do I talk to you?’

‘We’re friends moron, and I'm basically a puff of smoke.’ She ran after Stolas and Kohaku with the biggest grin. ‘Oddities should stick together.’

‘Yeah, whatever.’ Stolas flustered a little at that and allowed Ren to tag along to where people had started to gather to disembark. She knew him a little too well for comfort, despite the long time that had been between them speaking to each other. ‘Kohaku, go get your bag.’ He set them down on the deck.

‘Do I need to get yours too?’ He asked, rocking back and forth on his feet. ‘Don't you-’

‘No, I'll get it later.’ He said, rolling up his sleeves. 'There's stuff in there I don't want to potentially damage so I'll retrieve it later.' Ren shook her head in disappointment and Kohaku only looked up a Stolas with a questioning but innocent stare. 'I'll see you on the shore, okay?'

'Okay!' Kohaku ran off to do as they had been told and Stolas waited until they disappeared out of sight. As soon as they did he reeled around and marched towards the plank that had just been lowered from the larboard side of the ship. Ren still followed him, keeping the silence initially.

'You're not actually going to hit him, are you?' She finally asked.

'If he makes any snappy remarks about me or Kohaku the gloves are coming off.' Stolas grunted, shouldering his way past a few other crewmembers. He only stopped to allow Captain lucifer to pass who finally seemed to have taken a smaller bipedal form. He didn't look any less worn in it, his clothes still in pristine condition which only more emphasized his currently hollow stare. Quartermaster Kravitz closely followed and ushered him off the ship.

'You know Kravitz will have you tied to the bowsprit for hitting a trading partner right?' Ren added, coming to perch on Stolas' shoulder. 'I don't care what beef you have but leave it for the bar fights.'

'Can't promise that.' Stolas shook his head. 'If anything happens then so be it.' He attempted to swat Ren off of his shoulder but only ended up brushing through a handful of smoke. 'You gotta give me some way to take out my frustrations right? I mean, Basil hates me too, maybe he's thinking about punching me.'

'Stolas, this conversation is going nowhere and you know it.' She rode along until Stolas was at the very bottom of the plank and standing in the pleasantly warm water of the shallow bay. At that Ren evaporated and whizzed around Stolas' head, stopping before him so he'd come to a halt. 'Focus. And… Relax a little, will you? Give it a chance.'

'Whatever it is you two are scheming, put it out of your mind.' At that moment Ren and Stolas both nearly got knocked over. 'Ren, think about that offer I made you earlier?' The large guardian turned towards the both of them, bags slung over his shoulders and tail. 'Or do you have an alternative?'

'Gotta watch this troublemaker Franz.' She pat Stolas' head who was grimacing widely. 'Try Prospect instead, she's more interested in weapons.'

'You're kinda missing a great chance here.' He shrugged, and looked another direction. 'Like that bolt of magic is not gonna miss your head, Solly.' On that note his large paw rose up and pushed Stolas down, Ren evaporating in a puff of smoke. Franz himself ducked and folded his wing in front of them both, a sizable bolt of blue lightning reflecting off of it. 'Prospect, your aim is getting better.' The blast would certainly have hit Stolas if he hadn't shielded him.

'Ah, I swore I had him this time!' A girl with a hat far too big for her head came running up to Franz, magic still dancing on her clawtips. 'Franz is still faster than you though Stolas.' Prospect looked over Stolas, mildly disappointed. 'I thought I told you to think fast the next time I'd see you.'

'He's supposed to be.' Stolas spat, clutching his chest. Ren still swirled around his head in circles urging him to stay calm. Well, he could try. He righted himself again, checking how soaked he had gotten from suddenly being pushed down. For now he'd ignore Prospect. 'Where's Basil?'

'I see someone else is looking for me?'

Within seconds yet another figure swept into Stolas' line of sight, making the area feel far too crowded. Said figure was clad in gold and at least half a head taller than Stolas, a set of round glasses making his dark eyes seem far bigger. 'Welcome ashore again crew, it is always such a joy to have you all.' He bowed lightly, and opened his eyes. 'And Stolas, it seems.'

'Basil.' Stolas narrowed his eyes and his fists balled and shook. 'It sure has been a while but I'm sure you're not up for chitchat right now, are you?' He unflexed his fist. 'Not that running away is unusual for you.'

'Depends, I don't have temper issues like you do.' The eyes of the surrounding dragons darted between the two and turned into glares. Stolas and Basil both seemed to get the hint. 'Welcome anyway.' He stepped forward and tugged at Stolas' arm. 'Stolas, I'll drop the pretense and I'd hate to drag you along directly but I need to speak with you.'

'Hey, what's the deal man?' He yanked his arm away. 'Don't you have better things to do? And I thought I made it clear I don't want to talk to you unless you square up.'

'Because it concerns your line of expertise and I don't know who else to ask.' On that note Basil dragged Stolas along with a force unlike him. 'And no, this is not up for negotiation.'

‘Hey-What- Asshole, slow down!’ Stolas failed to jump out of Basil’s grasp until the two stopped under a tree in the shade. ‘What is your problem this time?!’

‘So many but I don't want to talk about what problems you might have with me alright, save that for teatime.’ Basil hissed, near pulling his hair out in frustration. Finally he extended his hand into a direction, pointing. ‘Look over yonder.’

Stolas turned his gaze and followed Basil’s hand to see what he meant. Before him, he saw a wide view of a field of various crops, all blackened, resembling a blackened scar upon the land. ‘What, had a fire or something?’

‘No.’ Basil shook his head, and quietly approached the field, stopping on a fair distance. Stolas followed him in similar thread. ‘I wish it had been a fire.’

He understood what Basil meant by just the smell. Immediately a thick, iron and smoke like smell assaulted his senses and made him instinctively clasp his mouth. ‘Good fucking gods, that's awful.’

‘You don't need to say that twice.’ He grew more grim as he said this. Basil looked at Stolas with a suspicious glance. ‘Can you purge it?’

‘... You're lucky I'm not completely awful.’ He threw Basil a snide look and marched up to the field, pulling out a small stick. It extended into a longer pole and Stolas held it out before him. ‘You'd better cover your ears, I'm gonna purify.’ Immediately the staff flashed with the intensity of a small sun and a mass of solid energy formed at the end to make a hammer, Stolas taking the now hammer in both hands and lifting it above his head. ‘Yield!’ he brought the hammer down on the edge of the field, initially hitting the ground with a dull thud until all sound seemed to be swallowed and visibly imploded. In one heavy, scorching and loud crash the earth was set alight in dancing columns of white light. After a solid five seconds the light finally started to fade, dissipating into ribbons that had burnt the shade infection off the leaves on the plant, leaving only an expanse of underwatered plants before Stolas. He shook the last remnants of energy from his staff and rested it on his shoulder, smugly turning to Basil. ‘How about that huh?’

‘Dork.’ Basil whispered, a laugh escaping him. He loved it when Stolas tried to act cool. It was when he noticed he had caught on to him smiling that he fell back to his serious facade again and reminded himself that no, this wasn't like the old times in which they used to be friends. ‘Thank you. It's been spreading now since last weeks and no one wanted to come near it.’

‘I can understand that.’ He folded the staff and pocketed it again. ‘Any idea who did it?’

'Same as always. Terminus cultists.The Shade.' He seemed tired to Stolas, weary from all that had happened, and if just for a moment he felt a flicker of pity. 'It would be easier to uproot everything again I think, move to the Viridian-'

'Basil, not again, come on!' Stolas exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. 'I just got here and you start the same nonsense of moving this, moving that, are you going to fight back or not?'

'I want to Stolas, I really do. But you know I also can't bring the rest of my clan in danger.’ Basil snapped in return, walking off. 'Don't you think I'm not stressed? My parlor is a mess Stolas, I can't be bothered to rearrange cups by color anymore, my room is a mess, I can't be bothered to do anything because it feels as if it could crash down any moment anyway.'

'That's why you have to act Basil, what are you going to do then, run back to your mom?'

'She's half in charge now actually.'

'Right.' Stolas threw his hands in the air and resigned to looking up to the sky as opposed of glaring at Basil. 'Why are we like this?'

'I don't know, you could ask yourself.' Basil sat down by the tree with a resigned sigh. 'Will we ever agree?'

Probably not, Stolas thought. He wanted to be friends again too, he could only guess Basil had the same thought. The one thing stopping them both had been Clan Canephora's situation, something they'd never agree on, even if Stolas was just glad that somehow cowardice did keep the clan safe for this long. 'Basil, I-'

'Delivery! Delivery for Stolas!'

Stolas whipped around and watched how a fairly small Nocturne landed in wobbling manner. He always threatened to fall over but was quick to swing his bag in front of him as counterweight. A label on the bag said "Langdon", which Stolas assumed was his name. 'Uh… That's me?'

'Oh good, you look like the description!' Langdon chimed, searching his bag immediately. He retrieved a letter sealed with a heavy mark. 'Letter from Arodan!'

'He's alive?!' Stolas ripped the letter from the Nocturne's hands and this time he did topple over. Stolas only briefly threw a look and then decided he'd help him up once he was done reading, ripping open the letter. He scanned it over quickly, only taking in the most important parts, then reached out to pull Langdon upright. He immediately continued reading the letter more thoroughly. 'Oh thank the Lightweaver.'

'Would you like to write a letter in return?' He paced around Stolas, still frantically dusting off his scarf and shaking the sand off. 'I can wait for you to finish writing, I think I have to refile my letters anyway.' He glanced into his bag which was a little shaken up. Dangit.

'Yes, yes, just wait, gimme a moment!' Stolas scrambled to retrieve paper from his pockets, only finding a rather crumpled piece of parchment that would have to do. No pens though, so he reeled around and marched up to Basil who looked a little taken aback. 'Two questions, first, give me a pen, second, are you still any good at diplomacy?'

'I'm not fixing your problems Stolas, negotiate things yourself.' Basil snapped, retrieving a pen that was quickly snagged from his hands. 'Why?'

'You owe me.' He gestured at the field behind him with the pen, and immediately and fiercely started to write a letter against the tree. 'I need access to the city of Paramo, a friend of mine is in there and I haven't finished treating him. I want to get him out and also that he won't grow to be a danger to others there.'

'Well fine, whatever then.' He knew what Stolas meant by that all too well so he'd best just let him. Basil turned to Langdon. 'That's in the Southern Icefields right?'

'Yes!' Langdon was currently deeply focused on organizing his medium urgency tab within his bag. 'Do you need a letter sent too?'

'To your leader.' Basil pulled out a piece of paper and a second pen he would prefer to keep far away from Stolas. 'I've heard it's well hidden, so is that possible?'

'Oh, yeah, of course!' Langdon answered, and noted Stolas had finished writing and was now reading over his own letter once more. He hurried to get his bag organized. 'Our king likes letters, even if we keep the city closed. So, give me yours once you're done writing it.' He got Stolas' letter shoved into his hands and gently put it into the low urgency tab.

'Good. Please deliver this quickly, I've decided to help this jerk.' He wrote his letter as quickly as he possibly could without making any mistakes or possibly strange remarks. Stolas' disapproving stare didn't help either but he neglected to give it any attention. 'I'd like to get this wrapped up as quickly as possible.' He held out the finished letter, folded and marked with the clan's seal.

'Got it!' Langdon eagerly took the letter and immediately filed it high priority, preparing himself for takeoff. 'Until next letter!' And gone he was, oddly fast for having frail looking wings. Basil and Stolas were left standing in silence, one looking oddly relieved while the other looked positively annoyed.

'I expect you to help out here though as long as you don't have another place to go.' Basil started, a grit to his voice.

'Who says I don't?' Well, he could head back to the Brigade but wanted to be easy to find. No matter how he looked at it it was better to stay, from the fact it meant a dry place to sleep, easy location to relative safety if he could help it. 'I'm not leaving though. Worry over that.'

'Well… If it's any consolation I'm strangely glad to have you around.' He threw a glance at Stolas, knowing that had rattled something in him. Slowly he rose and walked off towards the main building. 'It's nice to have you back.' On that he disappeared from Stolas' view, leaving him in peace, at least for the moment. He had to plan his new task.

[grace-abaddon]

Gematria Pt.1 || Self || Para

A taste of freedom, that’s all she needed. She wanted to escape and fought with herself about sneaking Izzy out with her, but she knew Azazel hadn’t been the nicest to her-- at all. Abaddon didn’t want to chance that, not again. At least where she had been, the demon seemed to have left her alone. 

She’d bring her back something cool anyway.

Heading to her dad’s room, the door seemed to appear for her, the last thing she remembered Moloch telling her to do- hide in this room. The door still opened to her and that’s exactly what she did, slamming the door behind herself and leaning against it as if someone had been chasing her.

Moloch’s room.

Besides herself, it had remained relatively untouched. The velvet curtains, the silk sheets.. the collection of porn laying out on under the huge flatscreen tv and sex toys on the floor. Abaddon peered around curiously, last time refusing to touch anything. This time she knew better. If it was true, this room was technically hers and so were the contents. She just had to keep it hush-hush- especially if she found anything interesting.

Drawer after drawer, closet, even under the bed she began to check for things, even money, a credit card... Abaddon even fished through pants pockets. To her surprise she felt something. Taking it out, she found a wallet and quickly opened it. Cash, wads of it, filled the billfold. Crisp hundreds. Cards in here as well, three to be exact. She knew Moloch had more but he had accounts all over the world, constant money flowing into these. There shouldn’t have been any problem using these. Counting the hundreds, she was delighted to have five thousand in cash in hand. Pocket change to her dad. 

She pulled out other cards, insurance, lots of business cards written on and noted, even receipts. Abaddon found it strange to see the few ID cards with her father’s face on them, peering at the smug looks, unsmiling mugs... 

Fuck, she missed her daddy. 

Sitting down on the floor, she couldn’t help but fondly examine each picture, wanting like hell for him to burst through that door and reprimand her for going through his stuff. But her silent prayers to this godking were left unheard, leaving Abaddon with a frown as she tucked the ID’s away in the closet. 

Looking around more, she could see old candles put away, spell components in the closet corners... What else could she find?

The chest.

He had mentioned it before, thinking his daughter was preoccupied as he boasted about his security system in the asylum. Abaddon crawled out and saw it next to the wall, going over and trying to open it. It was sealed shut. Even if Moloch let someone in, he certainly didn’t want anyone getting into this.

She needed a key or something.

So Abaddon hit the top of it, pried the lock, even started to whisper demonic things--- willing it to open. Nothing. Frustrated, she rested her elbows on the top and cradled her chin in her hands, thinking of what to do next.

And that’s when it popped- literally.

It was her’s in a round about way just as everything else. And this revelation was stronger than willing it to be. In actuality, it was Moloch’s way of creating his own fail-safe should something happen-- yet that wasn’t known to anyone just yet. Abaddon slipped back and opened the chest, hinges creaking.

Bottles of alcohol filled most of the space, these not allowed in the asylum. But here he had hid some books, things he used when he had studied topside. 

Abaddon pulled one out, the weight of it heavy and almost burning at the touch of it. Power seemed to sizzle through the flesh bound cover as Abaddon handled it, her eye wide with the feeling of it in her hands. This book was the Wrath King’s rituals, spells, things that were too intense, too involved, and too powerful for any demon to use let alone understand. The demon magic in here could kill someone instantly if they were lucky, the unlucky ones would go mad as their mind could warp to nothing more than mush. That’s if they could read the pages at all. Each page was safe guarded, much of it seemed blank unless the reader could understand that level of power...

Curiosity filled her to see what sort of things the book had in it, especially since she had been studying. And honestly, she studied fast, abyssal and demon things coming to her almost naturally. A lot of it she hid from Azazel... Abaddon was excited but she wasn’t stupid. She knew Azazel fucked up a lot of her life, Izzy’s... and both their dad’s. So she was playing dumb mostly. If he knew how much she actually excelled...

She flipped open the cover, symbols of the demonic language appearing. Most of it she could read easily but parts of it jumbled and made her feel dizzy. Quickly she snapped it shut, getting the warning. “Just have to study more then I can read this.” Abaddon looked to the rest of the books left over in the chest, curious to what else could be in there. She began picking up another book as her phone went off. A slight huff as she sat back an pulled it out, not recognizing the number that texted her. “Hey come out here” it read as she looked at the number.

After a few moments of thinking, she messaged the unknown number back, “Who is this?”

And immediately, “A friend.”

“Where are you?”

“Outside the gates. Hurry up.”

She felt torn. On one hand she could leave and go on some sort of an adventure. Maybe it was Azazel. On the other... Moloch had taught her that even as he was a godking-- really a king of Hell, that there were demons and other creatures gunning to come and get her.

But no one ever did. Everyone seemed to be after Izzy. Maybe her dad was really just overprotective and no one would come get her...

“I’ll be down.”

Abaddon quickly put the books away and locked up the chest again, leaving the room as the wall made the room unreachable again, boots clunking down the hall.

Tired of running, Abaddon appeared near the gates and stopped at them, peering between the bars. It looked clear. No creepers creeping. No scary looking guys waiting on her. Maybe it was Azazel. Slowly, she opened the gate and slipped out, heading toward where Azazel would park his car. Carefully, she kept looking around, examining the parking lot. Still no one. Not even the car. “Hello? A friend? I’m here....”

Out of no where Abaddon felt herself being grabbed, everything going dark just as she screamed.

The soft hum of an engine played out in her mind until she realized she wasn’t dreaming. Quickly, Abaddon bolted out of her slumber and looked around herself, people she had never met watching her. Certainly not friends of hers.

“Uh. Hi?” Abaddon shifted uncomfortably, looking down at her hands and feet as they were shackled. Here, she was in a limo like the ones her dad would take her around in minus being bound with symbols against demons. “So... where are we going...?”

One of the few in here seemed to take lead, a woman with blonde dreads, dark skin. Most were dressed similar: dark colors or that of military but with torn hosiery or fishnets adorning their legs and arms or cargo pants, collars of metal and leather and boots made for combat. All of them had weapons on them. “A safe place.”

“Safe? Then why do you have me cuffed up?”

“For our safety.”

“Oh.” She looked down, feeling weird about this, even unsafe. “Who are you?”

“Friends.”

“Okay, no, friends are people I know, I don’t know any of you.”

“Friends of your father.”

The only real ‘friends’ Abaddon was ever told about were at the asylum, so the worry grew. Eventually she looked up, carefully studying each one until her eyes fell on the dark skinned one again. “My dad? He’s gone so you’re lying.”

“No, Abaddon. We’re saving you from Azazel. We want our King back.”

She wasn’t sure of the truths here but that tidbit of information had her excited and yet terrified. Aware of what horrors Azazel could do, it wasn’t like she wanted to be away from him. As they grew closer, so did the pull of their energies- cementing the belief that he was truly hers and she his. A month ago she didn’t want to believe it, but now she felt it. Unless he was pulling some sort of crazy demon shit, the feelings were there.

“You coulda just not tied me up like this. I want my dad back, too.”

With the same sort of expressionless face, the woman said, “We know you’re Azazel’s. We aren’t that stupid. All of Hell knows this.”

Welp. Looked like there wasn’t any way of weaseling out of this one. “So you’re all Wrath?”

One other demon snickered as the dark skinned woman gave a disapproving sideways glance at him. “We are all sorts, turned independent before Azazel wiped the legions clean.”

“You could do that?”

“Only in the most extreme of circumstances. We are marked as traitors and will be killed, but we needed to get our King.”

“You said you’re not all Wrath so... how is my dad everyone’s king?”

“He’s not,” the dark man chimed in from the front, “But Azazel didn’t claim the throne as he should have and even if he had, your dad had such a fear and respect around the whole of Hell that even our kings couldn’t deny. Azazel fills part of a prophecy, Moloch fitted a whole. Don’t consider us independent- that name is for scum demons. *he had to glance back to another chick in the car that quickly* Consider us rebels, demons who cut ties with our kings just for this.”

Abaddon hadn’t heard of such a thing and perhaps it may have been due to there never being a group like this-- or dad never told her this part of history. But the former made more sense, considering demons, no matter how spiteful and vengeful they were, never had an uprising in groups. “It’s just the five of you?”

“No.” The woman spoke again. “There’s many other where we are going.”

Shifting in her seat, Abaddon tried to look out the window but it was blacked out. “And just to make my dad king again?”

The woman just peered directly to her. 

“Right?” Abaddon looked back at her.

The woman smirked, finally a different expression, “Right.”

The car slowed and turned, feeling the change while they rode as it entered an underground garage. They were far from the asylum, so far in fact they were across the country, unknown to Abaddon. These demons were taking no chances considering the events that took place in Colorado. As the limo stopped, door opened and more of the same demons were there, all in this dress. Abaddon was led out by the arm as she peered around this parking facility. The limo was the nicest looking vehicle here, everything else was... well... military or altered and fitted with armor, guns, and who knows what else. Abaddon liked this very much and wanted to take a closer look but she was pulled harshly to follow the pack through the garage. 

“Ow. Be more careful!”

No one seemed to listen or care.

“Really, stop being so rough, I’m coming anyway--”

“Hush, Abaddon.” A voice came from the stairwell they were heading to as another demon stood there, dressed unlike the others. She barely recognized him, someone from the asylum she had seen in passing. 

“Were you followed?”

“Of course not. She was alone as expected. They probably don’t know she’s gone.”

“Come.” They all disappeared in their clouds and only Abaddon and the few reappeared in a room, this room looking as if it had no exits somehow, brushed steel walls and a single seat sitting on bare concrete floors. They rushed her to it, forcing her to sit as she winced, suddenly feeling confined as ornate demon traps surrounded her top to bottom. 

“What-- wait, why!?” Abaddon tried to struggle but she couldn’t move from the chair, bound to it.

“You are too dangerous to have moving around freely.” That man spoke again as he peered curiously at her.

“Are you like... their leader or something? Because you fucking suck right now.”

He chuckled lightly, “No, Abaddon. I’m merely in this for my own self interest. I’m assisting them on this endeavor and will inspire you to do the same.”

“So... you do want my dad back or....?”

“It doesn’t matter to me either way. Yet the demons here do want to return him to his throne. While they have rebelled against their kings and even the knights of the independents, I have stayed true to my domain. Gluttony. You need not know why my interests lie being here. All you need to know is that you, too, will learn to embrace your gluttonous nature.”

Abaddon didn’t enjoy this at all, not one bit. “It sounds like Greed. I think you’re confused.”

“Greed wants everything, gluttony is overly so and in the interest of the self, not in the interest of others. Self-centered. Unsympathetic. Egocentric. Greed wants everything to be their own... gluttony does not care about something if it does not benefit themselves in the process. Take for example the human that overeats. Greed would want all the food just to have it. The glutton would eat and over eat but stop as he is satisfied at some point, yet not restrained on just eating for nourishment nor until he is not hungry anymore. Greed would rather have this food regardless of how hungry he is, what it is, or how rare it is. All would be his.”

She swallowed hard, getting schooled by another demon that wasn’t someone she outright trusted or knew. Not that she completely had trusted Azazel, but that felt more like... At least the puzzle fit with him. Having this random demon teach her felt like something could be said wrong and then she’d just go on believing this and piss off someone who actually was right. 

“O... kay.... so.... why do you need to do this again? Can’t I just be at home reading a book or you come in for school lessons or some shit?”

“We want you to want your father for your own self interest. You have already awakened with Azazel, your interest there is moot. Right now you fight between your lover and your dad, but you are powerful enough to not need Azazel. For them to get what they desire, we will need you to focus and be completely aware of how your father fulfills your gluttonous desire. He will benefit you more than Azazel.”

“How the hell does that help get my dad back?!”

“You will be helping to locate and get him out of where he may be. But you cannot involve Azazel in the matter as Azazel would like nothing more than to stop us and yourself. You will need to be fully engaged in your self interest, not Azazel’s.”

This was all starting to sound like this was all in THEIR self interest. Yes, she wanted Moloch back and hated Azazel for taking him, but now she had money, she had all his things... Okay, that was sounding a lot like greed but it was for her own interests to even have these things... “I want Azazel.”

The demon woman who stood there slapped Abaddon in the face hard, Abaddon gasping as it struck her. “You will not think that way here. He is no king of ours and you will get Moloch back.”

A few of the demons looked to each other, knowing this would prove difficult to sway her despite having a reputable glutton demon around.

Abaddon looked at the woman, glaring, her eyes suddenly glowing black. “Don’t you ever hit me again. I am Abaddon, Queen of destruction and I will have your souls for this! When Azazel finds me like this, he will make your deaths slow and painful in my name!”

A couple shifted uncomfortably and others stepped back entirely, thinking this plan already failed them. But the woman remained steadfast and unmoving, smirking at Abaddon from where she stood in front of her. “We know you want your father back and so do we. Azazel will remain living so that you may live out your prophecy, but we cannot allow his reign over the whole of Wrath nor any other. We get your father back, Azazel’s rule ends. You two can reign under your independents-- we all win.”

Abaddon hadn’t stopped glaring but who was she right now to stop this? It would be nice to not only have her dad back, but put him at the top where he was and her and Azazel could just do as they pleased-- that didn’t make her any less of a Queen, did it? And she was the Queen of Destruction foretold, not a Wrath Queen if there ever was one. Demon politics seemed really confusing.

[xavierfiles-blog]

Entry 63 - Old Man Logan

Art by Andrea Sorrentino and Marcelo Maiolo

Name: Logan

Code Names: Wolverine

First Appearance: Fantastic Four #558 (but only on a technicality and has unofficially been retconned out of continuity)

Powers: Healing factor, enhanced senses, adamantium coated claws in hands and feet

Teams Affiliation: X-Men

About

The beauty of alternate realities in comic books is their ability to show impossible versions of existing characters. When done poorly it just feels like a different coat of paint on the same old characters. When it’s done well, alternate realities keep the core of the character while putting them in situations one could only dream of. The Age of Apocalypse showed what Magneto would be like if his passion and survivalist streak was targeted at peaceful coexistence, not domination. The Days of Future Past was a window into the fierce leader that that young Kitty Pryde could grow to be. These glimpses into a different world let creators do things that could never happen in the 616. In 2008 the all-star team of Mark Millar and Steve McNiven took a look at what Wolverine would become after he stopped being Wolverine and created one of the most beloved alternate realities of all time.

Portrayed by Hugh Jackman in Logan

The tale of Old Man Logan starts on the day the villains attacked. Marvel’s baddest had come to a realization, the outnumbered the heroes and could take them down if they coordinated their attack. At the X-Mansion, forty villains charged in, but the Wolverine was ready. The fight lasted hours and one by one the dastardly foes fell at the end of Wolverine’s blades. Bullseye was the last. As he stood there, skewered on Wolverine’s claws, he cried out “Logan, stop. Please… Why are you doing this? You’re supposed to be out friend…” Wolverine’s eyes saw clearly for the first time that night. Across the room gloating was the master illusionist Mysterio, in his arms was Jubilee, and all around him were the gash ridden bodies of his fellow X-Men. He spent the next few weeks in a daze until he saw a train rail. He laid down, his neck resting on the cold iron, and waited for the thunderous train to barrel towards him. In that moment, the Wolverine died.

Art by Steve McNiven, Dexter Vines, and Morry Hollowell

His vaunted healing factor kept Logan alive, but he wasn’t the mad he had been before. Years past and Logan became complacent in a world run by evil. He rambled through the countryside, just surviving. He swore to himself that he would never pop his claws again. He was a man of peace now. In Canada, he found the first glimmer of hope he had seen in decades. Her name was Maureen and she was able to domesticate the beast he had become. They moved to California, a land ruled by the Hulk and his inbreed descendants, started a farm, and raised their two children, Scottie and Jade. The Hulk gang was brutal and money was hard to come by. Logan knew he couldn’t make the next month’s rent, and he knew the Hulk’s would make an example out of his family if he didn’t. He needed a miracle and it came speeding across the horizon in the Spider-Mobile.

Art by Steve McNiven, Dexter Vines, and Morry Hollowell

Hawkeye had survived the culling, the villains didn’t think of him as a threat, and he came to Logan’s pig farm with an opportunity. He was going across the country to New Babylon, the former Washington DC, to deliver some secret package, drugs Logan assumed, and Hawkeye needed a navigator. It was a two week round trip but Logan’s cut would be three month’s rent. He couldn’t believe that the two heroes had been reduced to drug runners but here they were. Two old men just trying to survive in a world where they no longer belong.

Art by Steve McNiven, Dexter Vines, and Morry Hollowell

The trip went as well as most road trip stories do. Logan and Hawkeye traveled the twisted wasteland, passing the Moloid devastated San Francisco, the holy site where Mjölnir rested (Hammer Falls), and the desecrated Mount Rushmore, clad with the face for President Red Skull. They were chased by a T-Rex who had bonded with the Venom symbiote and saved by the former Inhuman king, Black Bolt. He took the duo to Emma Frost, who didn’t look a day older. Emma wasn’t at the mansion the night of the massacre and survived by bonding herself to Victor Von Doom by marriage. Logan was disgusted to see the former X-Man stoop so low, but who was he to judge? The world didn’t have room for heroes anymore.

Art by Steve McNiven, Dexter Vines, and Morry Hollowell

At long last, they reached New Babylon and Hawkeye came clean. They had been transporting ninety-nine vials of the super-soldier serum for the underground resistance. Hawkeye was going to lead the next Avengers and the heroes were going to return. Horror struck when Logan realized that Hawkeye’s contact was less than altruistic. It was all a sting conducted by the Red Skull and Logan and Clint were gunned down. They took the corpses to President Skull who gloated over his fallen foes. Slower than it used to be, Logan’s healing factor kicked in and he was out for revenge. Logan grabbed the mighty shield of Captain America from Skull’s trophy room and used it to decapitate the man who ordered the fall of the heroes.

Art by Steve McNiven, Dexter Vines, and Morry Hollowell

Grabbing the armor of Iron Man, and years’ worth of rent from the Skull’s vault, Logan flew the three thousand miles home. His family wouldn’t want for anything again. He dreamed of the peaceful life they could live. It would be simple, but it would be theirs. Got to his ranch to see a neighbor sitting outside, his face sullen with grief. The Hulk’s got bored and came to the farm early to collect their rent. When Maureen couldn’t pay they brutally murdered her, Scottie, and Jade. In that moment, Logan died, and the Wolverine was reborn.

Art by Steve McNiven, Dexter Vines, and Morry Hollowell

Wolverine went on a rampage, obliterating every one of Banner’s back woods, inbreed spawn. They Hulks had thought that Logan was just a broken shell of a man, they didn’t realize the beast they had awaken. They paid for that mistake in green flesh. Wolverine made his way to the decrepit, old Banner and they two battled like the old days. While Logan had been peaceful for the last fifty years, Banner had only grown more ruthless and devoured the Wolverine. In his old age, the Hulk forgot just how potent Logan’s healing factor was, and he couldn’t shake the feeling of indigestion. Wolverine ripped his way out of Banner’s stomach, eviscerating the man. Next to Banner’s corpse, sat a crib with a small green baby. Wolverine took the child as his own and got on his horse. The world still needed a hero, and it might as well be him.

Art by Steve McNiven, Dexter Vines, and Morry Hollowell

When the multiverse was destroyed by the incursions and recreated on Battleworld, Old Man Logan and his baby Hulk were placed in the Wastelands, but he knew something wasn’t right. This world wasn’t the one he knew, Thor wasn’t an order of police, Thor was his long dead friend. And these walls. He and Hawkeye had traveled across the country; the world was bigger than this wasn’t it? He left the baby Hulk in the care of Dani Cage and scaled the wall between realms on a mission to uncover the truth.

Art by Andrea Sorrentino and Marcelo Maiolo

His journey took him across Battleworld and Logan knew that this world was different than the one he remembered. He met the X-Men of the Age of Apocalypse, the Iron Men of the Technopolis, and battled his way through the zombified villains of the Deadlands. As he cut through the undead horde he realized just how foolish this trip had been, he shouldn’t have left his son, he shouldn’t have questioned his place in the universe, he should have stayed. But soon as he questioned his role he was met with his fate. In the Kingdom of Manhattan, he saw faces that he hadn’t seen in years. The X-Men, his X-Men were staring right at him and he knew he had a chance to redeem himself from his dark past. They explained to him what was going on in Battleworld, how Doom was controlling everything and, hearing that, Logan led the charge against the godking. The battle to end all battled raged on. There was a flash of light, then nothing.

Art by Andrea Sorrentino and Marcelo Maiolo

Logan opened his eyes, sniffed the stale air, and knew where he was. New York City, a city not overrun by villains but heroes. He had a chance to do it all again, to do it right and prevent his future from ever occurring. He went to work tracking down the Black Butcher, a minor villain who once hit Scottie and stole his baseball cap. Logan made sure the Butcher wouldn’t live long enough to torment his son. He crossed the name off the list he was keeping on his arm, a list of everyone he needed to kill to stop his future from ever occurring.

Art by Andrea Sorrentino and Marcelo Maiolo

Logan slowly began to realize that this world was different than the one he came from. Banner was supposed to be Hulk, not Cho. Steve Rodgers wasn’t supposed to be as old as Logan. He didn’t want to believe it, but try as his might, this wasn’t his past to change. It took him seeing the body of Wolverine encased in adimantium for him to accept that he was powerless in this world. After the realization, Logan rested in his native Canada. He had left his son and was powerless to prevent his future from occurring.

Art by Andrea Sorrentino and Marcelo Maiolo

Months later the X-Men found him but he had no interest being a hero again. The time-displaced Jean Grey, herself struggling with her place in this timeline, reached out to Logan. He confided in her that he was terrified that he was destined to play out his future again and kill the X-Men. She convinced him that he was destined to be an X-Man again and Logan joined her with the rest of the X-Men. Slowly, Logan accepted his place on the X-Men. He was part of a family again and, even if he was still a fighter, Logan found himself at peace.

Art by Humberto Ramos, Victor Olazaba, and Edgar Delgado

Must Read

I’ve been reading a lot of Old Man Logan recently, and while what both Jeff Lemire and Brian Bendis did with the character recently has been great, nothing can top how it all began. The Old Man Logan arc is everything you would want from a Wolverine story. It has the introspection and world class art of Claremont and Miller’s original Wolverine mini-series combined with the brutality and fun that Millar was known for. It is a masterclass in restraint, holding back so much until the moment Wolverine pops his claws again and then never slowing down after. It is very much a Mark Millar comic, but it is one that plays to his strengths without falling prey to his greatest weaknesses. It is on sale on Comixology right now, plus you can always find the trade or read it on Marvel Unlimited.

Art by Steve McNiven, Dexter Vines, and Morry Hollowell

Ranking

I want this to be very clear, I am only ranking Old Man Logan, not Wolverine as a whole. That doesn’t make it easier because it’s a real challenge to rank an alternate reality character and not be influenced by their 616 counterpart. As I said at the top of this article, Old Man Logan is the template for how alternate reality stories should be done and all of that starts with a Wolverine who has been distilled to his core. Old Man Logan is the essence of Wolverine given a twist, and it works so well. The relatively small amount of appearances, coupled with the high quality of those runs, propels Logan near the top of this list. As I see it, he falls just outside of our top 5 between Psylocke (whose history is doing her a lot of favors here) and Dr. Nemesis (who I love but just isn’t as deep as Logan). For all those reasons and probably a little bit of hype for the movie, Old Man Logan ranks as the new number 6 in the Xavier Files.

Old Man Logan was requested by a good personal friend, Nate Winters. Thanks for the support bro and congratulations again on passing your boards and becoming a real doctor (even if you can’t work above the ankles)! If you have a request just submit it at the bottom of this article and I will add it to the list that currently stretches well into 2018! If you want to cut to the front of the line, we have a Patreon if you want to support it and get a line cutting reward for just a $1 pledge. We just hit our 2nd goal and now I guess I am reviewing X-Books so that will be coming soon. Oh and we also have exclusive physical items so check those out!

Make sure you check out Legion Quest a new podcast where me and Newsarama reviewer Matt Sibley talk about the FX show Legion. You can follow the show at any of these sources (iTunes | Google Play | Sticher | RSS).

Click here if you want to see the full ranked list, with links to every entry in the Xavier Files so far.

If you liked what you read be sure to follow Xavier Files on twitter, Tumblr, Facebook!

Next week I finally fufill the promise I made over a month ago and cover Polaris. See you then!

Entry 63 – Old Man Logan was originally published on Xavier Files

[voiceinthemidstofthefourbeasts]

The Death of Love pt 3

"We're dead, Moloch." The Godking's eyes wide, not wanting to accept the truth. Mind racing with ways it couldn't have happened or how it could be true. It was fail-proof, after all, even if there was an impermeable loophole.  "We are in Purgatory." Yet still Moloch had a hard time digesting it, even with Robert in front of him, the screams of the soul that used to reside within the host now silent. "We have to find a way out! My best demons are probably on it, all we have to do is wait. And... and Aaron! He's the anti-christ... him and Sexy Satan wouldn't just let me STAY dead! They NEED me!" "Moloch..." "They will find a way. We... will find a way. All it will take is coming up with a plan. I know how my powers worked when binding us and keeping us alive.... I just have to find a way to... boomerang us back. Maybe trick the spell into feeling one of us in transition..." Mark sighed deeply, "How do you plan on this? Our bodies are on the material plane, the spells you put on us thrive in them." Moloch held up his finger, " NOPE. WRONG. Souls and bodies. Mostly souls. And guess what? Here we are, now we just need to get to the bodies." The harbringer nearly face palmed himself at Molochs ranting and broken logic, but stopped himself with a thought. Moloch didnt seem so crazy after all.  "The necromatic spell... the one you and I searched for with Alexander... That was supposed to stop the loophole of dying from me, right?" "Duh- before that, anyone could have killed you and then I'd die. Killing me though- nadda. I basically made you and me the same. Patched loophole." "Tell me... how could the loophole be broken?" Moloch shrugged widely,"How the fuck would I know? If I knew, I would've already been safe guarded against it. So... something tells me something is still there that can bring us back." The harbringer wanted hope, but even he knew that could be foolish. Purgatory was always rumored to be much like Hell except no one ever knew what happened to angelics here. "We might need to communicate with someone back in Hell... or the asylum." "Purgatory is a cut off. From Heaven angels come and go when needed, visions and otherwise can be given. Prayers heard. In Hell... you know demons travel from plane to plane... your visions, spells... what have you. Purgatory is meant to be the ending. Where souls come to die if they aren't taken to Hell. Where demons killed come to their final place. Any creatures not granted passage in Heaven or Hell and not granted afterlife on Earth come here. They cannot leave. They cannot speak out. It is but a prison for the lost." Moloch's brow cocked, a smirky, know-it-all look came about him as he retorted, "Then explain Akane." Mark paused his line of thought, forgetting completely about Moloch's acolyte. This also jogged his memory of the horrid and strange creature that followed Moloch when he was shunted by Purgatory a while ago- that sort of disfigured blur made flesh on the plane of the world. "Akane.... Did Akane ever tell you about this place? How he came to escape?" "Pfft, like I really cared then. He came back and that's all that mattered. But... if Akane was able to break out, then there's still a way. Think about it. Akane at least realized where he was and found hi way back to Earth. We just realized it, now we just have to become as crafty. And we have an advantage. Our bodies." "How are we to communicate?" "We will find a way." Mark felt frustrated but nodded anyway. Did he not understand the difference between Purgatory and the others? He was a King of Hell, and although very young, Mark was sure the demon would have been educated even through Hell's rumors of afterlife. Even more so since the demon had spent the time to keep them OUT of purgatory. "I searched the building, there's nothing here. Nadda." "Considering this is a manifestation of our memory, that would make sense." Moloch rolled his eyes, more so at Robert who was still weeping and mumbling this whole time. "Could you /please/ do something about him?" "What would you have me do?" "Shut him up! Kill him! I don't fucking care!" The harbringer sighed, feeling pity for the human soul. "Moloch, go back to your room, I will meet you there." "Just do something about him. I'll work on my plan." Mark watched the demon leave,  some relief once he disappeared down the hallway. Mark stood and peered at the man, watching the broken soul curled now in the corner. Death stepped over and knelt, wanting so much to help Robert. If only he could be soothed, to forget all the horrible things he witnessed. None of these things had been the human's fault. "Robert, look at me." But the man kept weeping. "Robert?" The man slowly looked to him, then began to panic. "Where's Tori?! Have you seen her?! Is she okay?!" "Shh... shh... Tori's not here." "Who are you?! What did you do to my sister?!" "Listen, everyone is safe... but I you need to calm." "Tori? Tori!?" Mark could tell the soul was beyond help as if he had been in Hell. Who knows what horrors Moloch subjected Robert to. Mark pulled off his shirt, letting his wings unfurl behind himself. He was going to calm this man so he and Moloch could think, and keep hidden from the figures... even if it was going to exhaust him again. Mark pulled closer to Robert who wasn't paying attention at first. But his eyes caught the sight and he stopped his babbling. "An angel..." "Relax.... " Robert was between panic and awe as his breaths came fast, his soul's mind not knowing what to do.  As Mark moved forward, so did his wings. Enfolding the area- Mark's breath shuddered as his own concentration broke. Feathers like that of a hawk, spotted with the grey of age formed a protective barrier. They were no longer mangled and tinged with gold and black, no bones twisted among the fluff and softness... He couldn't help the tears in his eyes, seeing the purity as it had before becoming Moloch's Belial.  Mark pushed back his own wonderment and focused back on the fearful, broken soul in front of him.... And Robert fell peacefully asleep and Mark swayed and fell beside him in exhaustion once more. Mark awoke a while later, Robert. still fast asleep under his wings. At least he was quiet....  The harbringer peered around before moving to get up, heading out to go find Moloch once more. He was able to enter the room, watching as Moloch paced back and forth, an intense look upon the demon king's face.  "Have you come up with anything?" Yet Moloch didn't stop, just murmuring, "Yes, no thanks to you." He was taken aback but shrugged it off as he closed the door. "And?" "Witches do séances. All we need to do is communicate during a séance." "...Purgatory is impermeable." Moloch shook his head, finally stopping and looking at Mark. "Akane escaped." "We know that... but communication is shut off here. Must I explain this again?" "/Akane/ escaped... and /with/ him escaped another. I doubt they patched the hole." Mark rolled his eyes and sat on the bed, knowing ideas like this were sure to fail. "We don't know where this tear is- if it's even still active. And truthfully, if it was, you could escape just fine to another host." But the demon king smirked, "Not if the hole is tiny. But it would be enough." "What about another plan... in case this one fails? I highly doubt a séance would work as is. Only human spirits can be called..." "Bullshit--" "Listen! Only human spirits... and they would have to be in Hell or still on Earth... Rarely is one taken from Heaven as speaking to spirits is tinged with dark magic or necromancy. A spirit from Heaven torn from there, even just to speak, can have dire consequence for both spirit and summoner. Now... even if we could communicate outside of here, we would need to be human and... summoned to speak." Moloch shrugged, "What about a random party crash?" "Again... we would have to be in the lines of it to even be pulled forth... " He noticed the look drawing on Moloch's face, " think of it as being near a phone... you can't answer it unless you're close enough to hear it. And Purgatory is impermeable. " "Perfect! Let's go find this tear." "What ARE you on?! Really, Moloch?" "Why not? We have a soul. a HUMAN soul, and we have you. All we need now is some lucky person on the other side wanting to talk to the dead. Easy peasy." Death wanted to argue this more, but he could tell Moloch's plan had a sort of logic behind it, and Moloch's plans usually worked even if not according to what he talked about. The GodKing was intelligent and methodical, even if something would go wrong it still seemed to work in Moloch's plan.  "How do we find the tear?" "You." "Excuse me?" "You're Death, right? You're going to do all your little deathy powers and feel the shift in the plane." "That could take days... weeks... We don't even know how big this plane is let alone the dangers. And... the power it will take." "Then we better get on it." Mark groaned, "We don't even know if Robert's soul is going to be in his right mind to say what we need..." "For the love of--"  Mark suddenly fell off the bed as Moloch extended his hand, the harbringer writhing in pain and shock of this sudden attack. " While you were cradling that jackass I was practicing my powers here. I guess knowing you're dead really helps put it in perspective. Oh. and by the way, I saw those shiney old wings. I guess this plane really does detach parts of people. I gotta fix that." "Stop! Please!" "Or what, Marky Mark? Are you going to resist working with me? Leave me inside this place to rot with the other demons?" "Moloch... no! Nothing like that!" "Then say it and mean it." Mark's body flew up and hit the ceiling, being pinned there by the unseen force the demon willed.  "Moloch! Stop!" "Just say it right and maybe, just maybe, I'll play nice." He couldn't help but cry out, his bones feeling as if being crushed by the demon power. It took everything in his being not to use what he could to attack Moloch, knowing Moloch would find a worse way to retaliate. " My Lord...!" "Louder." "My Lord! Mercy! I beg you!" And with that, Mark fell to the ground, weak and panting. "You're such a bitch."  Mark came to, groggy and sore. Nothing had changed except the sureness of the demon king and his new found strength in Purgatory, and the fact that Moloch was just speaking demonically in abyssal, trying hard to cast whatever spells he could in the middle of the room.

[bwicblog]

AA: spoilern alernt, flarnping in the rnain fucking S U C K S.

AA: got mud all the way up to my goddamn flaps.

AA: n, p surne I've got mud I N them, ugh.

ID: clearly you need me to show you how it's done. =:P

AA: lmao, y, mb when yrn off bedrnest, dude. >:}

AA: I'm playing forn bodies, but that doesn't mean I want Y R N S.

ID: psh not wanting my hot bod, i'm crushed. =:'(

ID: tho i get what you mean, the mud is the fucking worst.

AA: lmaoooo. soz, soz. am I supposed to say yrn hella hot now to soothe yrn poorn ego?

ID: obvs. =:P

ID: my ego has been brushed enough at this fair! =>:(

ID: ...bruised.

AA: too late.

ID: =>:I i'm working with one hand here, i demand a break.

AA: it's been brnushed and now you gotta polish it, orn shit'll just look fucking tacky.

AA: lmaoooo.

AA: I offerned you a wornm, dude.

AA: you C Ö U L D be, wtf did prni say AA: 8/10 hot A N D w two frnonds, but n, you gotta go and get squicked on me. >:P

ID: i think i lost enough blood without feeding it to a worm too.

AA: blood comes back, suck it uppp.

AA HAS ATTACHED lolheded.jpeg! It is a troll trying to wrench his leg out of a bog. AA: lmaoooo, evernyone sucks at this sO harnd. AA: wtf you up to?

AA: feeling bettern yet?

ID: i mean. define better. i'm not feeling like i'm about to die.

ID: i'm on my way to pheres' cart for some bandaging and a shirt. and pay.

AA: k, good. >:} AA: make him buy you food too!!

AA: when's the last time you ate??

ID: uhhh.

ID: the pizza night?

AA: soz forn ditching, btw, totes was like.. not thinking abt

AA:

AA: lmfao, what the fuuuuuck.

AA: congrnats, yrn a trnashcan firne, brnah.

AA: y, make him feed you.

ID: at least i'm not a fucking mud monster. =:P

ID: i mean i'm preparing myself for a whole lot of fussing, don't worry. he's already trying to talk me in to getting a room.

AA HAS ATTACHED godkingmudmonstertoyou.jpeg!

ID: did you fucking roll in the mud?

ID: you oinkbeast.

AA: he is a fussy fangs. >:P AA: and y! well, n. Ï HID in the mud and then jumped out.

AA: tactics, mothernfuckern.

ID: okay godking oinkbeast. =:P

SS: (Wtf, Hads, I thought you were food acquisition extraordinaire. (\ene/) You tellin me a temp -3 to CHA courtesy a lookin like you already been culled's enough to stop you??) SS: (Ain't you supposed to, like, work that ish for pity?)

ID: uh actually i think looking like i do makes peeps want to help me more.

AA: y, y, that's the joke, gj.

AA: >:P

ID: i was just feeling like garbage too much to take advantage.

ID: =>:P

ID: let a one-handed guy finish sips.

ID: you're just all too fast for me. =:P

AA: lmaoo. well, I can manage arnd stabbing folks, so I think you oughta manage just fine. >:P

ID: well if you finish up soonish, hit me up around pheres'. probably take him a while to patch me up. especially if i can get him to get the fucking stitches out.

AA: mm, mb, mb!! will drnop by, at least. >:} AA: laaal. you wanna come with??

ID: well now you gotta, or else my pumper will get all crushed. =:P

AA: yrn pushern is so frnagile, omggg. >:}

ID: it's been through a lot okay. =:'(

AA: y, y, will come. AA: you taking a whale back orn staying up herne, btw??

ID: haven't decided yet. still got time. depends how much i've healed too.

ID: rather not be in this huge-ass city all busted up.

AA: y, well, come rnide W me and lal. it'll be fuuuuuun.

AA: and i totes will just keep my phone on voice2text. >:} since he whined abt it so much last time.

ID: got my lusus to worry about remember. =:P

AA: oh, lame. laaaaame. AA: .. I can drnive supern fucking slow. >:P

ID: sorry we can't all have easily portable lusii. =:P maybe! i don't want to slow you and lal down if you both need to be back or whatever.

AA: naaah. mb?? AA: .. eh, if you can't rnide w us, you should totes rnide w prni. trnavelling is, like, waaaaay morne fun w ppl. AA: also, you'll, like, look less like cullbait, js. >:}

ID: fucking rude. =:P

ID: pri is a ways away in the wrong direction i think. idk. we'll see!

SS: (Wait, where am I gettin wigglernapped to?)

SS: (Soz, missed some ish through Sipa's unique and charmin quirk accent. (\ eue/) )

SS: (Aka dropped my palm husk in a hay pile.)

AA: dude, when they say a quick rnoll in the hay, it's not supposed to be lits. js. >:} AA:and we'rne gonna go watch hads get bits rnipped out by phern.

AA: it'll be fuuuuuun.

ID: if he doesn't do it you will, right sips? =:P

ID: stitches don't agree with my fragile lil bod.

SS: (Define 'bits,' omfg - I'm delicate, my constitution can't handle straight up guro ish and the bleatbeast!) SS: (Guro or furry ish, pls limit to one.)

AA: n, dude, half the fun is seeing you go grneen when you find out.

ID: just no barfing on me lal.

AA: bc spoilern alernt, yrn totes going grneen.

SS: (No reverse vore, got it.) (\unu/) )

SA: laledy, I believe in you. You were okay for the fight weren't you?

SS: (And shit, pal, here I thought I was gonna go violet!)

SS: (Give or take a stab wound!)

SS: (Nah, I totes swooned! Didn't you see 'em valiantly carry the greenblood away? That was totes me.)

AA: n, n, that only happens when you stay in the trnap forn morne than fourn hourns, soz.

SA: wasn't Hadean in the bathtub for several hours over four when we first met.

SA: I don't remember.

ID: was that when we first met? i did spend a lot of time in a tub.

SA: swooned... laledy, you should get a costume. Maybe you will have fun with Sipara and the others acting

SS: (N, def me! Like we totes said, I'm going violet!)

ID: no gills. =:'(

SA: it's a scientific fact that non seadwellers are softer to the touch anyways

SA: so it's for the best

SA: no scales

AA: oh my god, y. AA: pls get a costume. frnom phern.

SA: 😄

AA: it'll be grn8. >:}

AA: and eyy, you and hads can M A T C H.

SA: please don't put laledy in a stripper outfit. I think they at least deserve better than that.

SS: (Shit, pal, I'm down to be a booth babe.)

SS: (Y, SA's got it right! Gimme the hooker outfit like I deserve. (\unu/) )

ID: i will forever be the booth babe master, let's be real.

SA: I-- oh, well, if that's what you really want. 😮

AA: hads, my dude, you can't just say that.

AA: you gotta C'O M P E T E.

ID: fite me lal.

AA: lmao. >:} y, exactly.

SA: what if others want to compete

SA: a booth babe tournament

SA: Sipara, go

SS: (I nominate Sipa to be my champion.)

AA: n, no one else is prnetty enough, soz. AA: and fuck off, it'd be totes unfairn forn M E to compete, dude.

SS: (For fightin, not for babe-ness.)

AA: do you see these abs?? shit's unrneal.

SA: I think im pretty enough 😠

ID: i'll beat all of you any night. anyways, pris! pheres is at the greenblood circle now. so go there and not the maroon circle or where ever he was before. i'm gonna get walking. and i want my eyes free to watch anyone who wants to mess with me.

SA: Sipara wins on abs alone

SS: (Shit, wait, can we have Pheres judge? He's, like, got a thing for green, right?)

SA: I will.

AA: soz, prni, you totes ain't. yrn, like, qt.

SS: (Sipa wins on accounta I'm p sure she can, like, pick me up with one frond and I'm p sure I'm too intimidated to fight that ish.)

AA: like a barnkbeast.

SA: but I wanted to be handsome

AA: totes diff genrne.

SA: but will you fight her in a contest of looks laledy

SA: that's the most important part

AA: ... idk abt one frnond, but now we'rne totes gonna have to see. >:}

SA: oh. Now you've done it 🙃

SS: (Omfg.)

SS: (I demand a one-fronded Sipa carriage to tote me around.)

SS: (And, SA, think of it this way: if you're up an competin with someone on, like, any front.)

SS: (And they can up and do that.)

SS: (D'you really wanna challenge 'em?)

SA: perhaps at a safe distance, with a required boundary line.

SS: (Zactly!)

SA: but I also weigh little enough anyone could pick me up. I am sure Sipara could lift you and I together

SS: (You hear that, Sipa??)

AA: boundarny lines arne forn cheaters and cowa

SS: (He's totes sure!!)

AA: !!!!!!!!!!!!!

SS: (Are you gonna let him down??)

AA: now we gotta fucking do it. way2babully, prni, jfc.

SA: what is... babully..

AA: ugghhh

AA: I've got some chucklehead trnying to fucking get back up. brnb, brnb. lal, you explain!!SA: be careful Sipara

SS: (Well, you see.)

SS: (When a troll and her ability to talk proper-like love each other v v much, they hook up!)

SS: (But trolls ain't made for datin abstract concepts, so it inevitably goes real sideways-like, and results in ish like trolls decidin they ain't never gonna have ish to do with talkin proper-like again.)

SS: (And that's why Sipara doesn't know how to talk right.)SA: but... what does babully mean

SA: I understand Sipara may have a strange quirk and not speak with perfect grammar or syntax

SA: so is your relationship with the abstract concept of language doing alright?AA: is that also why i'm gonna say you should go pail yrn lusus?? yrn the wornst, omfg. and stfu, prni, you know my quirnk is  G RN8. >:P

SA: :thinking:

SA: :laughing:

AA: it's a bb bully, duuuh.

SA: oh

SA: I'm a good person, I'm not a bully

SA: :lying_face:

AA: that's a box 2 me, brnah, dd.

SA: oh...

SA: I tried

AA: omggg, don't go all glum.

AA: yrn so a bully. bc you darned me and ppl gotta take darnes.  >:}

SA: it was an emoji that was saying j was lying

SA: you could also say no and tell me to hush

SA: another option

AA: LMAO WHAT

AA: omfg, yrn trneachernous. >:'{

SA: :hugging:

SA: now let me hug you with my traitorous hands

SA: I promise nothing bad will happen

SA: this is a joke

SS: (That's, like, the least ominous ish I've heard tonigh twixt the bleatbeast ish and the stitch-pulling, negl.)

AA: oh my god, yrn nevern getting a hug again, jsyk.

SA: I will ask Hadean for one

SA: :cry:

SA: since you won't share hugs

SS: (Sipa, quick, go hide Hads. (\qnq/) )

SA: does that mean I win, laledy?

SS: (Depends, pal, if you win does that mean you ain't gonna go all Bewear on me??)

SS: (Cos I ain't a man of pride, pal, I'm down to forfeit for, like, my life. (\unu/) )

SA: oh I wouldn't do that anyways.

SA: :smiley:

SA: you are all safe with me

SS: (I totes believe you. (\qnq/) )

SA: I'm glad

SA: I must rest now. I will see you later laledy

SS: (See ya laters! (\eue/) )

[xavierfiles-blog]

Entry 64 - Old Man Logan

Art by Andrea Sorrentino and Marcelo Maiolo

Name: Logan

Code Names: Wolverine

First Appearance: Fantastic Four #558 (but only on a technicality and has unofficially been retconned out of continuity)

Powers: Healing factor, enhanced senses, adamantium coated claws in hands and feet

Teams Affiliation: X-Men

About

The beauty of alternate realities in comic books is their ability to show impossible versions of existing characters. When done poorly it just feels like a different coat of paint on the same old hero. When it’s done well, alternate realities keep the core of the character while putting them in situations one could only dream of. The Age of Apocalypse showed what Magneto would be like if his passion and survivalist streak was targeted at peaceful coexistence, not domination. The Days of Future Past was a window into the fierce leader that the young Kitty Pryde could grow to be. These glimpses into a different world let creators do things that could never happen in the 616. In 2008 the all-star team of Mark Millar and Steve McNiven took a look at what Wolverine would become after he stopped being Wolverine and created one of the most beloved alternate realities of all time.

Portrayed by Hugh Jackman in Logan

The tale of Old Man Logan starts on the day the villains attacked. Marvel’s baddest had come to a realization, they outnumbered the heroes and could take them down if they coordinated their attack. At the X-Mansion, forty villains charged in, but the Wolverine was ready. The fight lasted hours and one by one the dastardly foes fell at the end of Wolverine’s blades. Bullseye was the last. As he stood there, skewered on Wolverine’s claws, he cried out “Logan, stop. Please… Why are you doing this? You’re supposed to be out friend…” Wolverine’s eyes saw clearly for the first time that night. Across the room gloating was the master illusionist Mysterio, in his arms was Jubilee, and all around him were the gash ridden bodies of his fellow X-Men. He spent the next few weeks in a daze until he saw a train rail. He laid down, his neck resting on the cold iron, and waited for the thunderous train to barrel towards him. In that moment, the Wolverine died.

Art by Steve McNiven, Dexter Vines, and Morry Hollowell

His vaunted healing factor kept Logan alive, but he wasn’t the man he had been before. Years past and Logan became complacent in a world run by evil. He rambled through the countryside, just surviving. He swore to himself that he would never pop his claws again. He was a man of peace now. In Canada, he found the first glimmer of hope he had seen in decades. Her name was Maureen and she was able to domesticate the beast he had become. They moved to California, a land ruled by the Hulk and his inbreed descendants, started a farm, and raised their two children, Scottie and Jade. The Hulk gang was brutal and money was hard to come by. Logan knew he couldn’t make the next month’s rent, and he knew the Hulk’s would make an example out of his family if he didn’t. He needed a miracle and it came speeding across the horizon in the Spider-Mobile.

Art by Steve McNiven, Dexter Vines, and Morry Hollowell

Hawkeye had survived the culling, the villains didn’t think of him as a threat, and he came to Logan’s pig farm with an opportunity. He was going across the country to New Babylon, the former Washington DC, to deliver some secret package, drugs Logan assumed, and Hawkeye needed a navigator. It was a two week round trip but Logan’s cut would be three month’s rent. He couldn’t believe that the two heroes had been reduced to drug runners but here they were. Two old men just trying to survive in a world where they no longer belonged.

Art by Steve McNiven, Dexter Vines, and Morry Hollowell

The trip went as well as most road trips do. Logan and Hawkeye traveled the twisted wasteland, passing the Moloid devastated San Francisco, the holy site where Mjölnir rested, and the desecrated Mount Rushmore, clad with the face for President Red Skull. They were chased by a T-Rex who had bonded with the Venom symbiote and were saved by the former Inhuman king, Black Bolt. He took the duo to Emma Frost, who didn’t look a day older. Emma wasn’t at the mansion the night of the massacre and survived by bonding herself to Victor Von Doom in marriage. Logan was disgusted to see the former X-Man stoop so low, but who was he to judge? The world didn’t have room for heroes anymore.

Art by Steve McNiven, Dexter Vines, and Morry Hollowell

At long last, they reached New Babylon and Hawkeye came clean. They had been transporting ninety-nine vials of the super-soldier serum for the underground resistance. Hawkeye was going to lead the next Avengers and the heroes were going to return. Horror struck when Logan realized that Hawkeye’s contact was less than altruistic. It was all a sting conducted by the Red Skull and Logan and Clint were gunned down. They took the corpses to President Skull who gloated over his fallen foes. Slower than it used to be, Logan’s healing factor kicked in and he was out for revenge. Logan grabbed the mighty shield of Captain America from Skull’s trophy room and used it to decapitate the man who ordered the fall of the heroes.

Art by Steve McNiven, Dexter Vines, and Morry Hollowell

Grabbing the armor of Iron Man, and years’ worth of rent from the Skull’s vault, Logan flew the three thousand miles home. His family wouldn’t want for anything again. He dreamed of the peaceful life they could live. It would be simple, but it would be theirs. He got to his ranch to see a neighbor sitting outside, his face sullen with grief. The Hul’s got bored and came to the farm early to collect their rent. When Maureen couldn’t pay they brutally murdered her, Scottie, and Jade. In that moment, Logan died, and the Wolverine was reborn.

Art by Steve McNiven, Dexter Vines, and Morry Hollowell

Wolverine went on a rampage, obliterating every one of Banner’s back woods, inbreed spawn. The Hulks had thought that Logan was just a broken shell of a man, they didn’t realize the beast they had awaken. They paid for that mistake in green flesh. Wolverine made his way to the decrepit, old Banner and they two battled like the old days. While Logan had been peaceful for the last fifty years, Banner had only grown more ruthless and devoured the Wolverine. In his old age, the Hulk forgot just how potent Logan’s healing factor was, and he couldn’t shake the feeling of indigestion. Wolverine ripped his way out of Banner’s stomach, eviscerating the man. Next to Banner’s corpse, sat a crib with a small green baby. Wolverine took the child as his own and got on his horse. The world still needed a hero, and it might as well be him.

Art by Steve McNiven, Dexter Vines, and Morry Hollowell

When the multiverse was destroyed by the incursions and recreated on Battleworld, Old Man Logan and his baby Hulk were placed in the Wastelands, but he knew something wasn’t right. This world wasn’t the one he knew, Thor wasn’t an order of police, Thor was his long dead friend. And these walls. He and Hawkeye had traveled across the country; the world was bigger than this wasn’t it? He left the baby Hulk in the care of Dani Cage and scaled the wall between realms on a mission to uncover the truth.

Art by Andrea Sorrentino and Marcelo Maiolo

His journey took him across Battleworld and Logan knew that this world was different than the one he remembered. He met the X-Men of the Age of Apocalypse, the Iron Men of the Technopolis, and battled his way through the zombified villains of the Deadlands. As he cut through the undead horde he realized just how foolish this trip had been, he shouldn’t have left his son, he shouldn’t have questioned his place in the universe, he should have stayed. But soon as he questioned his role he was met by fate. In the Kingdom of Manhattan, he saw faces that he hadn’t seen in years. The X-Men, his X-Men, were staring right at him and he knew he had a chance to redeem himself from his dark past. They explained to him what was going on in Battleworld, how Doom was controlling everything and, hearing that, Logan led the charge against the godking. The battle to end all battles raged on. There was a flash of light, then nothing.

Art by Andrea Sorrentino and Marcelo Maiolo

Logan opened his eyes, sniffed the stale air, and knew where he was. New York City, a city not overrun by villains but heroes. He had a chance to do it all again, to do it right and prevent his future from ever occurring. He went to work tracking down the Black Butcher, a minor villain who once hit Scottie and stole his baseball cap. Logan made sure the Butcher wouldn’t live long enough to torment his son. He crossed his name off the list he was keeping on his arm, a list of everyone he needed to kill to stop his future from ever occurring.

Art by Andrea Sorrentino and Marcelo Maiolo

Logan slowly realized that this world was different than the one he came from. Banner was supposed to be Hulk, not Cho. Steve Rodgers wasn’t supposed to be as old as Logan. He didn’t want to believe it, but try as his might, this wasn’t his past to change. It took him seeing the body of Wolverine encased in adimantium for him to accept that he was powerless in this world. After the realization, Logan rested in his native Canada. He had left his son and was powerless to prevent his future from occurring.

Art by Andrea Sorrentino and Marcelo Maiolo

Months later the X-Men found him but he had no interest being a hero again. The time-displaced Jean Grey, herself struggling with her place in this timeline, reached out to Logan. He confided in her that he was terrified that he was destined to play out his future again and kill the X-Men. She convinced him that he was fated to be an X-Man once more and Logan joined her with the rest of the team. Slowly, Logan accepted his place on the X-Men. He was part of a family again and, even if he was still a fighter, Logan found himself at peace.

Art by Humberto Ramos, Victor Olazaba, and Edgar Delgado

Must Read

I’ve been reading a lot of Old Man Logan recently, and while what both Jeff Lemire and Brian Bendis did with the character recently has been great, nothing can top how it all began. The Old Man Logan arc is everything you would want from a Wolverine story. It has the introspection and world class art of Claremont and Miller’s original Wolverine mini-series combined with the brutality and fun that Millar was known for. It is a masterclass in restraint, holding back so much until the moment Wolverine pops his claws again and then never slowing down after. It is very much a Mark Millar comic, but it is one that plays to his strengths without falling prey to his greatest weaknesses. It is on sale on Comixology right now, plus you can always find the trade or read it on Marvel Unlimited.

Art by Steve McNiven, Dexter Vines, and Morry Hollowell

Ranking

I want this to be very clear, I am only ranking Old Man Logan, not Wolverine as a whole. That doesn’t make it easier because it’s a real challenge to rank an alternate reality character and not be influenced by their 616 counterpart. As I said at the top of this article, Old Man Logan is the template for how alternate reality stories should be done and all of that starts with a Wolverine who has been distilled to his core. Old Man Logan is the essence of Wolverine given a twist, and it works so well. The relatively small amount of appearances, coupled with the high quality of those runs, propel Logan near the top of this list. As I see it, he falls just outside of our top 5 between Psylocke (whose history is doing her a lot of favors here) and Dr. Nemesis (who I love but just isn’t as deep as Logan). For all those reasons and probably a little bit of hype for the movie, Old Man Logan ranks as the new number 6 in the Xavier Files.

Old Man Logan was requested by a good personal friend, Nate Winters. Thanks for the support bro and congratulations again on passing your boards and becoming a real doctor (even if you can’t work above the ankles)! If you have a request just submit it at the bottom of this article and I will add it to the list that currently stretches well into 2018! If you want to cut to the front of the line, we have a Patreon you can support for just $1 to get a line cutting reward.

Check out this awesome Strong Guy video our friends at Sticks & Spoons made for Xaiver Files. Make sure to like and subscribe!

Make sure you check out Legion Quest a new podcast where me and Newsarama reviewer Matt Sibley talk about the FX show Legion. You can follow the show at any of these sources (iTunes | Google Play | Sticher | RSS).

Click here if you want to see the full ranked list, with links to every entry in the Xavier Files so far.

If you liked what you read be sure to follow Xavier Files on twitter, Tumblr, Facebook!

Next week I finally fulfill the promise I made over a month ago and cover Polaris. See you then!

Character Request

Who do you want me to write about? *

Who are you/what name do you want me to thank you as for the request?

Entry Key

Entry 64 – Old Man Logan was originally published on Xavier Files