Stephen strange starter.

<i> The sanctum sanctorum was a place of respite for Strange, even though it was a nexus of all things bad that happened in his life. Currently the sorcerer supreme gathered in his meditation chamber, basked in the sunlight coming down from the circular window overlooking bleeker street. Greenwitch Village was so peaceful this time of year, summer had rolled in and all the kids were walking up and down the street, he could hear the chatter outside, the cars coming and going, finally he opened his eyes and landed safely onto the wooden floor. He took a minute to stand up as astral projection demanded more concentration and focus which worn out the body considerably, finally after a minute or two he rose to his feet and started walking through the museum-like displays that littered the upper floors of the building, remnants of previous protectors of New York and some that he himself fetched through the years of living there.

<i> Things have been quiet  lately, what with the battle between Avegers and X-Men ending, the whole multiverse shattering experiments conducted by S.H.I.E.L.D. and the ripples it caused to change the biggest hero in the world. Everything was quiet now, war was — over and they were now basking at the remnants of conflict so institutionalized peace could linger for a little while before the next big thing happened, that was the fate of this earth and the cycle that continuously plucked innocent people from their mediocre lives and into a world of damnation. Strange stepped through the displays, he would often gaze at them reminiscing over the circumstances in which he had obtained them, some were happy, some were sad, some involved <b> her </b>. Those made him the saddest. He slid his hand off the wooden base and made his way to the library where all the secret tomes and magical compendium he owned resided.

<i> Glossing through the titles he realized just how many he had read in the past, almost the entirety of his collection had been absorbed at this point, all the information there, years and years of research. He perused through the selection of salacious mystical arts that could end reality, black magic that could tear a soul from a body, necromancy. All sorts of interests, from the tame to the dangerous, he wished to burn some of the exemplars, but they were unique volumes and above all he wished to preserve knowledge instead of discarding it, even if there was danger involved.  He kept a steady pace while letting time fly by. As he was about to face the 'rituals' section of the library he heard a sound behind him, he turned around and saw a book on the floor. Oh shit. This was never a good sign. He took silent steps towards the fallen hard cover volume of 'paranormal entities and their ways of communicating'. Even bigger Oh shits.

<i>He never took thinks for granted, fallen books, they were never 'just' bad placement, there was always something more to it. </i> "Whoever is trying to communicate, please remain calm. I am Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme and I can help you." <i> He spoke loud and clear to the spirit trying to make themselves known, Strange crouched down and went over to reach the book and grabbed it. </i> "Is this a sign? Are you trying to tell me something through the books?" <i> He waited for a second and nothing. He stood up while holding the volume above his head.</i> "If this is a childish prank I would like you to LEAVE my house I have NO patience for children." <i> Again — nothing. Maybe, just maybe this was actually a fallen book for a change, he wasn't getting any responses. After a minute of silence and not a single sign he brushed the idea of having a visitor off and diligently returned the volume to it's rightful place.

<i> As he returned the book back to the shelf every other volume from the entire library exploded out of the walls, pages flew everywhere. Strange quickly moved his hand and created the mystical circles, flying back to somewhere less destroyed. </i> "WHO IS THERE — make your presence known in the name of the Vishanti." <i> He sent a blast of spiritual energy through the library and waited. Suddenly the books all opened at the same time, black tar leaving them and dripping down on the wooden floor, creating a pool of the substance. Strange had never seen anything like this before, what was this incredible power and where was it coming from. The pool had stopped increasing in size. He stepped closer to it to look inside and saw nothing but pitch darkness. </i> "What are you doing in my house?" <i> He moved his hands around and pushed the shelves away from the tar giving it more space.

<i> It was probably 10 to 12 feet wide, blacker than night, it gave him the uneasy feeling of death, wherever this came from it was serious. He clutched his hands and stepped forward just as soon as five figures rose from the pit, disfigured, mangled, disturbing, they were human in appearance, but there was always something slightly off about them. Strange lifted his hands over his head trying to gauge the power he was dealing with, but he felt — nothing, no threat whatsoever, it was if there was nothing there to begin with. </i> "W-Who are you, what do you wa-" <i> Stephen was pushed back against a shelf as the five figures started speaking in unison. ""We come to herald your demise, Sorcerer Supreme. The Alizarine king will take your soul, you will become one with him and bring the end of a cycle that lasted a millennia too long. A warning this is not, but your fate, Stephen Strange."

<i> And just like that everything was over, the tar disappeared, the books were completely dry and not a single remnant of those <b> things </b> he just saw. Who could they be? Who was the Alizarine King? What did they mean? This was way too sudden, but he knew someone that might know a thing or two about this. Wanda. Oh boy, here he goes again.