In one of the narrow corridors of the Niccals’ house there hangs a portrait of Notoriah Virgilius Niccals (1413-1458), Earl of Malshire which was home to some of the most notorious figures in history.
Notoriah was born a commoner, more specifically the son of an apothecary who worked in very close proximity to Earl Mowbray and his family. Notoriah was forced to take over his father’s business early on when the Plague had suddenly swept over Europe depriving him of his father and twin sisters. Despite Notoriah’s adeptness in medicine his bereaved self had absolutely no desire to serve the current Earl and his family, nor did it help that the Plague had triggered bouts of hypochondria in him.
Instead, Notoriah had his eyes set on a much bigger goal: one that presumably included a throne, a small army and the governance of what he liked to call “stupid people”. It wasn’t particularly difficult to climb the social ladder during the turmoil caused by the Plague. People of various positions were dying daily, and often the people closest at hand had to replace those positions.
One day - as if by some ill-fated miracle - Earl Mowbray and his family along with all the servants in his castle supposedly perished by the plague and Notoriah - being the opportunist he was - quickly seized the Earl’s title as his own. He claimed he was the only one educated enough to keep the Earldom standing, and the only one close enough to Earl Mowbray’s family to carry out their wishes. It was later rumoured that Notoriah had in fact usurped the throne by treacherously poisoning Mowbray’s well, killing everyone who drank from it. Notoriah’s insistence to only drink wine afterwards didn’t help curb the suspicions floating around against him, nor did it help his cause when he refused to bathe in water from the area.
Many years after Notoriah had attained his title of “Earl” he grew increasingly paranoid about losing it, so much, in fact, that he had replaced his council twice with minds more feeble than his own and he refused to go anywhere in his castle if the curtains weren’t closed. So in order to secure his position of power he did what any Niccals was bound to do: he made a deal with Satan. …And thus the family’s decent into darkness began.
(Picture: Satan depicted in the 15th century)
Notoriah’s greatest fear was that some day a man would dethrone him, not by brute force alone, but by exercising wit far greater than his own. Notoriah feared the intelligence of others above all else, so his scheme was to eliminate it entirely. But the Satan was cunning in his dealings, and he would not simply kill off those who posed as a potential threat to the Notoriah’s position.
Instead they came to this agreement:
No man within Notoriah’s jurisdiction could possess more knowledge than him. No man within Notoriah’s jurisdiction could be blessed with the ability to read or write.
Notoriah was content with this deal though it was peculiar that Satan didn’t name his price. Any man with an ounce of common sense knew that all deals made with Satan came with a hefty sacrifice. But it appeared Satan kept his promise and little by little the men around the earldom grew stupider, and their ability to read and write began to deteriorate. For awhile, Notoriah was at peace…but his sense of serenity didn’t last for long.
Soon he began experiencing headaches. At first, they were mild. But then they grew more and more excruciating. It was unlike anything he had ever felt. The very act of opening his eyes suddenly became unbearable, for even if just a smidgen of light peered through, it would burn his irises, matching the intolerance his eyes had to the scathing sun. The smallest sounds, like the beating of a fly’s wings, amplified tenfold so that it reverberated into a perpetual high-pitched ringing. And Notoriah experienced depression far darker than he had ever known. Eventually the effects were debilitating, and Notoriah found himself bedridden.
It soon became very clear as to why Satan didn’t specify his price. He agreed to rid men of their knowledge, but the knowledge had to go somewhere. So for Satan’s own sick entertainment and pure curiosity, he decided Notoriah would make a wonderful receptacle. It was only a matter of time before the knowledge overloaded and Notoriah was diminished into a vegetative state.
Ironically, in the end, the people who assumed his throne afterwards were the very people he mocked for their stupidity.
Notoriah’s story became the cautionary tale that the Niccals family used to advise their children not make deals with the devil. But generation after generation, the Niccals children would completely disregard that advice, and go about making deals anyway. Arguably, the Niccals Curse was not just the everlasting side effects that remained after each and every deal. Their curse was simply their resolute will to ignore every piece of advice their forefathers gave them.
Even though I draw little Sebastian being innocent, I feel like I got to remind people what a shitty kid he turned out to be. For instance, he used to go out with his cronies and shoot baby rabbits for the mere sport of it.
(P.S. the character on the right is Gary who was conceptualized by @butteryg00d-ness. I just love him~)
Ironically, one of Marvin’s secret obsessions was to blow things up. He figured that if he was a klutz and was naturally good at destroying things, why not put that skill to better use? So whenever Marvin visited Stoke-on-Trent, he and his brother, Sebastian, would detonate miniature bombs together. It was one of their favourite pastimes.
Pic 1: A pic of Grampa and Grandma Niccals. Sebastian’s least favourite toy was the Jack in the Box because to him it represented a nightmarish experience he once had.
One day, when his father came home drunk and in a foul mood, he caught Sebastian using the toy, but told his son not to stop because they’d play a little “game”. He told Sebastian to crank the the box ten times and if the jester popped out some time between those ten rotations, that would determine whether Sebastian received a beating or not…👀
Pic 2: A young Sebastian and a young Marvin being creeps and checking out the local Stoke-on-Trent ladies.
Marvin: The nerve of some people, treatin’ ye like that. I swear, next time I go back there, I’m givin’ them a piece of me mind. I’ll tear that place apart. They won’t see what hit ‘em.
Isaac: Pfft, you serious? You’d do that? Now, that’d be a sight te see. You, who can’t even hurt a fly…
(Isaac was often discriminated against - especially when they travelled in America - which made the simplest tasks so much harder. So sometimes he’d go into supermarkets and as soon as the cashiers took one look at him, they’d raise the prices.)
