You find yourself in a block of abandoned warehouses. You start to worry that someone might attack you out here in the middle of nowhere, but you remember that there are much more terrible things to fear in the darkness than just people.
You pull out your phone to check the time and right on cue, you see a black town car speeding towards you.
The car pulls up and rolls down tinted windows. The same masked man, who is still wearing a mask, beckons you to enter.
You look around you at the industrial emptiness, and then step into the car.
There is a slight smell of incense, and also a tinge of sweetness in the air that reminds you of vomit.
The masked man smiles at you, and then begins to speak.
“I’m so glad you have decided to hear me out, my friend. Not all who seek power have the..fortitude to see things through. But I can see you are someone who takes action, and that initiative is well rewarded.
“We are the Order of the Dark Wheel. A group of occultists, demonologists, and sorcerers from around the world who have committed to fulfilling the prophecy of The Doom.
“Like you, we all crave power, yet are also willing to bind demons to our will through the dark magics. By doing so we hope to amass enough power from the Abyssal Void to fulfill the prophecy that was made by one of our greatest seers back in the year 666, The Blood Skylar. This prophecy states that The Doom shall arise once we can summon the Seven Who Feed, each one a powerful god that makes up the seven spokes of the Dark Wheel.
“As a member of the Order, all we ask is your support in our ventures, but if you choose to bind demons to your will, and I’m betting you shall, the magic does require a bit more…sacrifice, if you will.”
The masked man’s cell phone buzzes, and he looks at the screen. You can’t see his face clearly, but you suspect that he’s grimacing.
“I know this might be a lot to process, yet time, unfortunately, is sparse. There are forces who might try and fight the prophecy of The Doom, using magic of their own to banish or kill the demons we release from the portals to the Abyssal Void, and I’ve heard they’re beginning to move. I unfortunately must attend to business relating to these…interferences, but if you’d like to join us, visit us, and all shall be revealed to you.”
The man hands you a card, and you exit the car, barely before the door shuts behind you and the car tears off into the night.
Now standing alone on the street, you look at the card, wondering why every cult seems to be so cryptic and why they rely so much on paper invitations. You shrug, flip the card over, and on it, is a hand-written address.