Foundations - Oil Rigs - Victor Morton

As none of the rigs were on schedule to be decommisioned anytime soon, he had to press the matter. It was time for a major safety incident that resulted in the sinking of yet another oil rig in the gulf.

Obfuscated from sight he teleported roughly to the location of the rig, yet several hundreds of feet above it. Teleporting to a location never visited was always risky, so it was safer to aim high then fly closer after a short fall.

Not knowing where exactly the commander of the vessel would be, he simply aimed for an area that looked to hold crew.

Reaching into one of their minds, extracting the location of the command deck, he headed towards such. First things first, he needed to shut down the flow of oil. A sinking oil rig drew far less attention if it did not leave a stain upon the ocean.

Only then could the crew be dealt with, none would be walking away tonight.

From there he searched for someone who might actually know how to run this device,, or books that would describe its operation, preferibly the prior, he had time to read a manual or six, yet imagined there would be far more than that involved. Besides he despised computers, and everything was computer controlled now a days.

Not finding the captain on the control deck, he moved about to find his quarters, it made since that he would be asleep durring the night shift. It was always so much easier just to kill them, if only this project was not important. Blood would come later.

How he despised mortals, yet for all that disgust, there was a pleasure at how easily they could be used and maniplated. A moment of telepathy and he would know how many crew were currently on board and if he should expect to be interupted by shippments any time soon. Then the captain would be roused from his sleep.

Reaching out with his cane prodding the man awake as he appeared from the cloud of onfuscation, eyes focused upon him, waiting for the first moment of eye contact.

"Get out of bed, get dressed in your normal work clothes, then drawing as little attention from those aboard and those who might be observing transmissions from this oil rig, sever all communication between this oil rig and any who are in contact with it. then shut off the flow of oil from the sea floor to the rig. Do all this by yourself and without setting off any alarms. When all this has been compleated lay face down upon the floor and remain motionless. Do all of this starting now and ignoring my existance." (Dominate 2) Once the command was given he stepped out of the way, waiting for the captain to turn his back so he could remove himself from mortal minds again.

"Then get dressed in your normal work clotehs, then do all that is necessary to shut off the flow of oil from the sea floor to the rig just before destroying every control component you can find on the rig, do so now, with a disregard of my existance ." His words holding the same force of will as previously.

He may have wanted it silent, yet perhaps this was the better route anyway. If anything it would be far more fun. It was a small crew, easy enough to silence.

The Captain departing, the warlock faded from mortal minds again and followed. As he did so, he searched for a pipe or storage container that held large quantities of oil, or other flamable fuel.

And that realization was where his plan became firm. He quickly moved to the lower levels, checking to make sure all doors that could be sealed were. He expected they would be, yet caution and planning were important.

He would trust in the captain to complete his task, knowing once alarms started going off, his plans would be well along their way. Once all the doors to the floatation pillars were verified closed he searched for the storage taks, uncertain if there would be one or many.

Approaching the closest tank he sought out a valve to open it, hopefully to allow its contents to spill upon the floor. If he could not, there were otherways, yet why waste blood when it was not necessary.

Letting the liquid flow over his feet, he continued from one tank to the next, fueling his strength to ease the process. If the oil remained contained it could explode, flowing freely when lit it would meerly burn hot.

As he heard no alarms, he was begaining to worry that the captain had failed in his task. Either way he would finish here before checking on him. Soon panic would engulf the crew as fire would engulf the vessel and nothing else would matter then.

Looking up as the lights started to cycle, giving a toothless smile before continueing his efforts. There was a satisfaction knowing he would be bringing about a magnificant flame soon.

As the last of the tanks was opened, the gouts of amber fluid splashing down catwalks, and hallways, covering him in visqious layers he assended back up and out of the tank hold, back out into the open air of the upper decks to see how things were going up there.

The moment he disired had finally arrived, as a tinge of excitement and pleasure surged. Stripping on his oil soaked robes and holding them away from himself. Steeling himself to what he was about to create.

The candle flame of fire appeared along a dry patch near the base of the robes slowly igniteing the cotten garment, as the flame grew to hand sized and flickered as the oil that stained it heated and vaporized into small bursts of flame, he looked down into the giant pool of oil he had created. Waiting another few moments, the fire spreading rapidly now along the seams, he tossed it into the amber gel that undulated several stories below him.

Watching his greatly addorned robes burst into a ball of fire as the air rushed past him, was almost saddening, yet this was a moment of creation and new robes would be a part of the process. The oil would not explode like gasoline, yet given the fuel he provided it would without a doubt ignite and in less than a minute this rig would be a pillar of fire and smoke.

"By the Fire of Soul, I create. By the Fire of Sin, I Destroy." The words were not loud, nor hidden, they were an oath and an affirmation for the moment.

Concealing himself from the minds of mortals once more. Seconds ticked by as the blood flowed. Four pints to agility, four to strength, two pints to speed beyond mortal measure. The obsidian sphere of his cane jutted into the air as he caught the base of his cane which became club. He was hungry now, and the first one he saw would become food, to be drained to all but the last point and discarded too the sea to share with the sharks.

Only then would the harvestr begin.