Nine Swords

Until Legends comes out I decided to give my future character a backstory, should I ever decide to enter the RP scene.
It's been a fair while since I've last written something more than a regular, dry report in English (or, admittedly, any language), nonetheless I want to flesh this story out a significant bit. I am no poet by any means, so I'll stick to prosaic writing and see what becomes of it. Pretty much means that there will be a couple of textwalls, telling a story of how my char actually found his way to... well, our little cabal. Or at least to its doorstep in the new iteration of our beloved world. Comments and criticism are not only welcome, but even asked for!


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Scene I: Of Crimson Horizons and Shocking Dawns

Sitting on a lone rooftop and gazing out into the night, fascinated by the clear sky and the myriads of glittering dots above... I remember those mildly cool summer nights well. Back when the night was peaceful and bequeathed calm solace upon my troubled mind. I trusted in the night, in the stars bountiful shimmer and in the winds cool breeze. They were pleasant and reliable. You know what I did not trust? Dreams.
Don't even know when this started, but I had trouble sleeping since I can remember dreaming. When you lie asleep, your mind is... fractured, I think. You're not your whole self, and your emotions run over you like a freight train with full momentum. What follows after is inconsistency, incoherence. That's what got me to wake up dozens of times per night, really. Somehow I did not manage to fracture myself as well as others manage to, I suppose. Kept checking the clocks, and if the time did not pass consistently, I would wake up. Kept re-reading bookpages or signs – they never say the same thing twice in a dream, you know? So yeah, waking up again. So no, I did not trust dreams, but I knew them, knew their essence. I did not like it, did not agree with their ever changing, ever uncertain and arbitrary nature. This uncertainty, this incoherence was not welcomed in my world. I suppose I was at war with the sole notion of inconsistency.
Say, do you know where real peace lies? I believe it to lie in structure, order, certainty, security... perhaps, in one word, tranquillity. Sure, you can't know everything nor predict it all, but when you are sure the ground won't cave beneath your feet and you will not be randomly shot on the street, that's when you can rest easy. Peacefully. Even when there's a whole lot of really bad stuff happening. Peace is freedom in tranquillity, my friends. And tranquillity requires consistency, coherence. So, dreams aside, I have to admit that I was bathing in peace.

That is, until I was no longer.
Remember what I said about dreams? Their incoherence driving me to wake up from them? Well, there's of course much more wrong with them, as their form is in no actual way bound by laws of physics. Dreams consist of wild turmoil and chaotic fantasies. It's just that you don't really notice that while you're in them, because they are a mirror of your own innermost currents. Yet there is still a feeling that things are off, right? Well, that one night said feeling was filling my soul to the brim. I remember it clearly because this feeling was the first thing that I noticed. Me standing on a broken rock the size of a small house, floating in the open space of an endless night, which was lit by the red glow of an omnipresent event horizon – that came right after. This was a dream, all right. Obviously. Naturally. CERTAINLY. As I looked around, I came to notice a few things floating around my safe island. I felt slight relief as I spotted an old, wooden clock. It was just what I needed, my ticked back to reality! Ticktock, ticktock. Steady to a fault, its seconds moving consistently with minutes. I stared at it for six full minutes, trying to shake off the fear that was rapidly devouring any trace of relief I've ever felt. There is no consistency in dreams. It is a thing that can not be... yet the clock's rhythmic ticking defied all what should be, all that could be! Except for one possibility. This one last possibility, this apparent and undeniable reality, this was which brought the entire horror of my situation to mind. It pierced my whole world, my order, my tranquillity... my peace. All shattered by this incessant, indifferent ticking.
Standing on that lone rock and gazing out into the night, perturbed by the clear sky and the myriads of desolated celestial bodies in unfathomable distance, I remember whispers trying to enter my consciousness, telling of choices and truths. They never really reached my detached self, which was being slowly consumed by the overwhelming revelations that had presented themselves so frankly before me. Darkness was closing in, and I was powerless... when a sudden storm erupted from my chest.

As I woke from this experience I found my room devastated, electricity coursing through my veins, taking turns with ice, blood and fire. It took almost a month to regulate the bursts of energy and learn how to deal with them, but all that was a minor concern of mine. My tranquillity had been shattered, my gentle night had turned into the constant reminder of that dreadful, consistent dream, of a thing that should not be. Meanwhile my dreams had become beacons, no, milestones. Each dream woefully less coherent and consistent than the other, yet now I kept on dreaming, knowing that the time of those other dreams had not yet come. I welcomed this incoherence now.
Whatever happened to me that gave me my newfound powers, it brought me back from that life-forsaken sleep, brought me back to the earth from of that fractured piece of rock. And as I now stood, my feet firmly planted on the ground, I came to be sure of one thing:
Not all were so lucky as to wake up from that event horizon.

Scene II: Colours in the Twilight

Suffering from a permanent sense of imminent doom sadly does not make it easy to find the cause of it, and neither does living in the middle of nowhere. The internet, truly a magnificent invention of our age, makes research easier – but what if you have to look for obscure occultism? Without any prior experience it becomes not only difficult to find something that makes sense, but it also makes it impossible to understand whether you've found something true or not. If in doubt, go with the doubts, hm? I decided to leave my home to find first-hand access to the actual depths behind our world. I was no chosen one, no hero to save mankind, I knew that. Life does not weave such tapestries. Mainly because people write their own stories, so go ahead and try writing the story of several billion writers who in turn write yours. No, I was just a lucky soul who happened to get pulled away from the abyss – and got to use magic now. Begs the question if you happen to address Miss Fortune in a mail with your keyboard having a broken spacebar, would you still be addressing the same entity? I guess that depends on the observer, huh? Anyway, if magic is real, what else is? Everything? Got to admit I did not even shudder at this thought after that dream. It's not a horrific fantasy, it's just the most likely reality, right? Then again, what even is everything...

My train of thought got interrupted when the CD player in my car's radio unit decided that it no longer could stomach the CD spinning inside of it and thus shred the poor disc in a cacophonial requiem to pieces. I stopped in the middle of the lonesome old forest-road to check the damage, but could only remove the whole unit. Trying to repair it now would make little sense, so I just threw it on the backseat, next to my travelling bag. Before I could start the engine again however, I heard something like a... shout? I listened again and was sure that somebody was shouting now, but the dim twilight outside did not really help to figure out who or from where. Despite a bad feeling I got out of my car to look around – I knew I could defend myself, especially with my newfound powers, if needed. Once I got out I saw the man running through the forest towards my car and shouting something in a foreign language... Japanese? Or Korean? I could not understand the words but his voice was bordering on panic, which was complimented by the body he carried in his arms. Whoever was being carried by the foreigner did not look all too... lively, to say the least. His arms were dangling, and his head shaking from the steps the foreigner took, almost looking like it would fall off any second. I've seen such scenes already, but never expected to see them here. Here least of all! This whole situation made very little sense to me, but I was not going to abandon those two here, in the middle of nothing. So I opened the doors of my car, put the keys in my pocked and hurried towards the struggling man.
As I got closer to the two I could already tell that the shouting one had been wounded as well, so I took the unconscious one from his hands and told the foreigner to hurry to the car. He did not need a detailed explanation in any language to understand. Somebody was obviously following them, and I was pretty sure that whoever it was would hardly be any sort of government employee. Not in this place. While we were running back to my car I had a look on the two men. Their wounds were not inflicted by guns or blunt instruments, no – those were claws. Big ones, at that. The Korean, just decided that he was one on a whim, he had only one wound which he had tried to patch up with a piece of green cloth, while the unconscious one had suffered multiple wounds that left his blue jacket in tatters, and he was bleeding through his provisional bandages. I also noticed that the unconscious one was armed with two solid looking .45 calibre pistols. Much good they did him I thought, as I laid him on the backseat of my car. I had to crawl inside though to remove the radio unit from the seat – which was just in time, because something big hit the upper car body right where my head had been a second ago. On reflex I jumped out of the vehicle, did a short roll and got back on my feet facing the forest, where I was some hulking greenish brute charging our position.
The object which had almost turned my car into a convertible was a log, long as my foot and thick as two men. And judging by the distance the log travelled and the force of impact, this brute had far more strength than anybody I've ever seen. The Korean started shouting from the front seat again, but it was obvious that even if I were to jump into the car and start it up, we would not be able to get away in time. He must have realised it too, because he shut up and just stared at the charging thing in blank horror. The whole situation – apart from happening in the most unexpected place and the two meter tall hulk charging us – was awfully familiar though. So familiar that I forgot about the magic I could cast and instead grabbed one of the guns off the unconscious guy, checked the still full magazine, smacked it right back in, dropped on one knee, unlocked the security and fired five shots right at the feet of that abomination. For an abomination it was – it only vaguely resembled a human. That was not the only thing I noticed, however. The recoil of the pistol was almost inexistent, and for some reason it shot with... some form of light instead of bullets. The familiar smell was lacking, and no casings dropped to the ground.
I realised then that I was not shooting a pistol. I was using my magic. Somehow this magic was in no need for bullets, but it still managed to make the brute stumble and fall. No lethal damage was inflicted, he was already getting back up. I merely wanted to make him unable to follow us, but since I was apparently able to shoot without using bullets and since aiming with my eyes seemed not even necessary, I decided to grab the other pistol and just shoot this hulk's face in until he stopped moving.

Scene III: The Importance of 'B'

I've been a firm believer in practicality, and that included to never try shooting with two pistols at once. The reasoning behind it was simply that you'd be lacking accuracy, but with the powers that I had now I could simply point the handguns in the general direction of my target – the projectiles flew to the mark regardless.
The brute had no chance against this sudden barrage of occult weaponry and soon stopped moving altogether. I got up from my shooting position and exhaled to get rid of the tension in my body. Whatever this thing has been, it was nothing natural. Or, well, nothing normal-natural at least. With its body lying so close to us (about twelve meters) I could smell the terrific stench it emitted already... rot. Was that an undead? Somehow I imagined zombies to be a bit different. I also noticed that the creature already had been wounded, so apparently I only finished it off. Well, done is done, and I really could not remain here any longer. I had two bleeding people in my car. A fleeting look on my poor vehicle showed that its right backside was heavily damaged due to that bloody treetrunk smackshot. It should still drive though, and I needed to get out of that place. So I got into the driver seat, put the two handguns – Performance Center, Smith & Wesson 1911, with custom made grips even – in the holder of the driver's door and got the thing going.
“Yu B?”
The Korean asked at me, as he finally regained his ability to speak. I was sure that he was trying to communicate with me in English, but sadly I had not the foggiest what he wanted of me. My facial expression told him this better than I could have tried to convey with words, so he just repeated his odd question:
“Yu B?”
I guess he was asking if I was a B. Or a bee? Neither made any sense to me, so I just shrugged it off. We needed to get to a hospital, and I had to drive there since I had no cellphone. I paused for a moment, then turned to the Korean guy, showing him to the best of my ability that I needed a cellphone. Or smartphone, whatever people use these days. He looked at me in a disapproving manner, probably because I did not answer his question in a way that he expected me to, then gave me his smartphone. Which was locked. I pointed to the screen lock, but he stared me right in the eyes and shrugged his shoulders.
“You're not serious, are you?”
I asked, knowing that he'd not be able to understand the words. The tone however should be unmistakeable.
“He is.”
I heard our backseat body mutter in pain. I turned around to see him reach in his pocket, then he offered me his phone. It was even more fancy then the pistols, if even possible... I did not have the slightest clue what kind of phone that was, but the wounded man at least had taken the screenlock off. With one hand, without even looking. Well, it was something... I dialed the emergency number when the Korean started yelling:
“Nonononono!”
I put down the phone, already openly displaying anger.
“Who call?”
He asked, visibly troubled.
“Doctor.”
No reaction, his troubled expression remained unchanged. I felt my right eye twitch due to the absurd situation and the Korean's nonsensical behaviour, but was well aware that talking on the phone would be impossible with him nearby unless he'd get his answer. So I decided to demonstrate. Took out the little red duster which I used to clean my sunglasses and formed a cross with it. Everybody across the globe knows the red cross and that it stands for medical help, right?
Apparently not. Me showing the Korean the red cross made his already pale face go from palish yellow to about as pale as chalk. He was about to protest, but our backseat blood dispenser, after a good chuckle, made a couple of gestures and the Korean fell asleep. So I indeed managed to stumble upon two magically talented individuals... or at least one.
“Just drive. Please.”
He muttered, and closed his eyes right after. Respecting the last wish of a probably very soon dead man I made my way down the road in the direction of the nearest town. It was still over twenty kilometres away and with the awful condition the back of my car was in I was not exactly able to hurry anyway, so I used the time to still try and call the emergency line on fancyman's phone. I did not even get to hear the dial signal when I had to turn my attention to the road again. Looks like Lady Luck was indeed playing games with me this day, since in front of me I saw a couple of police cars standing on the side of the road. They did not appear to be victims of some rotting forest troll like ourselves, judging by the quite healthy looking cops surrounding the cars. They signalled me to stop, but I had no other intention anyway. After parking the car in front of the police I got out and was greeted with three of them. After quickly explaining that I had found two wounded men on the way (and that a huge treebranch broke off from a tree, fell on my car and demolished it like that) they went to get a closer look at the two wounded. Now the two would be taken care of, and I had the phone of Mr. Bloodriver one in my pocket, unlocked. He had clearly demonstrated that he was a mage of sorts, so with this technical device I had access to the secrets of his world! Well, our world now, really. The possibilities, secrets and insights which this piece of technology could open up for me should be most illuminating. Things started to look up, finally.

Scene IV: A Gambler's Advance

Two hours later I found myself sitting on the ground, staring at the steel bars of a detention cell. A sigh escaped me when I thought about this whole day and how nothing has really worked out as intended. Things happened way too fast for me to understand what was actually going on, but I needed to understand in order to act correctly! What I knew however, was that things had taken a sharp turn in the unwelcome direction once the cop whom I was explaining my situation to called a woman to the scene. By the looks they all gave her it was obvious that she was their superior in some way, but she did not wear a uniform of any sort. Her classical, black suit with a carmine blouse beneath the jacket did not boast any symbol, mark or card of affiliation with an organisation whatsoever, but the moment she locked eyes with me I knew she knew – and she knew I knew she knew. Must be a professional, I thought, since she did not pause even for a moment. The distant, cold look she gave me as she ordered my arrest made clear not to try anything. Especially nothing out of the ordinary... seeing as I did not see how I was guilty of anything worthy of jail I did not resist, trusting in that this matter would surely be resolved soon.
Now I was not so sure anymore. The law was not something I have ever had trouble with, and while I still did not really trust the police to actually understand the situations they tried to get involved with, I still had some sort of hope that the law was a properly operating system. But how would the law assess my current situation..? I pretty much stacked my hopes on the woman who ordered my arrest. She was doing her job, obviously, but she knew about this weird world that I've been pushed into. And she seemed to have the authority needed to influence things. Surely she'd not let me wither away in a prison? Well, then again I was pretty sure that if things would really go down the drain I'd be able to get out of any regular prison, or at least the transport to one. Just when I was thinking about what event should mark this point of no return one of the cops came to my cell.
“Follow me please,”
He said while he opened this cage. Down the hallway we went until he opened the door to a room which I believed to be some sort of interrogation chamber. Chairs, a table, two CCTV cams on the ceiling but no one-way window. Looked we were moving forward on the road of unfolding events. I stepped in and sat on one of the chairs. Curiously enough I did not get chained to the table – a good sign for sure. Hardly fifteen minutes later the woman I stacked pretty much all my hopes on entered the chamber. It was night outside already, I thought, as she was wearing a long overcoat now, too. This was lined with a few bright red threads... a quite unusual style, I found. Then it dawned upon me. Perhaps that was some sort of special dress code I knew nothing about? Coming to think of that, the two guys I rescued into the woods, too, had very distinct colours. Green and blue. This time she was also carrying a leather briefcase. She introduced herself as Josephine Harper, while bowing ever so slightly forward with her upper body.
"Richard Alde. Pleasure."
I answered, glancing at the briefcase. She opened it on the table and I could see some folders in it, but also the pistols and smartphone of the dead man. She put those on the table, closed the briefcase with the folders again and said:
“The police only did their job confiscating these. You can have them back now,”
After which she sat down on the opposite side of the table without another word. I had the intense need to let out a sigh again. It looked like my situation was in fact not quite good as I hoped. I wasn't about to go out of here free of charges, but was more like an animal one step away from a beartrap – that was the only explanation. I knew they confiscated my walled with the ID as well, but there was nothing in that wallet that had any sort of relation to the supernatural. These things however, these guns and the phone, they not only had a connection but also an identity. I looked at the smartphone, on which I now noticed the obvious deep blue casing which somebody skillfully engraved golden triangles in. By all I have seen from the dying guy this might actually be real gold. I was well aware that this expensive piece of tech might hold all the answers I was looking for, but saying that it is mine would snap the trap right around my neck. I did not know this for sure, but the implications of my situation were too grave to be ignored.
“These belong to the man who was bleeding out on my backseat, I'm afraid. I merely took the guns as to not have them misfire from the back, and tried to call for aid via his phone. As soon as I had dialed the number though I saw you and your men on the road, so I decided to go to you for help.”
The woman raised a brow, but decided not to comment on the explanation. She then hinted at the CCTV cameras.
“Our conversation is not being monitored, so no need to worry about that. We can not have even bits of it slip outside, as I'm sure you understand.”
I nodded in agreement. Spreading tales of this weirdness to people not in touch with it would not help me, of that I was certain. She then continued:
“We have verified your ID, and it appears you've been living north from here for about five years. You are renting a small house in the middle of nowhere, and have not made any of the usual arrangements for moving out, nor for travelling for longer periods. Yet we have found a total of three travelling bags in your car.”
I felt there was a question somewhere in there, but saw no need to comment just yet. Would I have gotten into such a situation a couple months earlier I would definitely have demanded to contact a lawyer – but right now this was not quite an option. Then again, she did not exactly look like she would drag me to a courtroom... at least not one of those that I knew of. Was there a system of law in the supernatural world? Now that was an interesting thought. Since they did not go around performing miracles every second week they must be contained somehow, controlled. But how? And by whom? Meanwhile the woman decided to continue:
“What, so I wonder, were you doing on this road this evening?”
My thoughts returned to the problem at hand. The phone was out of reach and I was seen as an unknown variable by her. Comparing my possible choices was simple: Even if I should be able to weasel my way out of this police station, I would end up without any clue as to what to do next, and my car was in a too bad shape to use. So I was basically stranded here, with my travel bags. I could of course try to get in touch with the two guys I saved, but communicating with the Korean would be a doomed endeavour from the beginning, while the American – who else would have such guns around here? - was most certainly dead. Should I however fail to weasel my way out of this... well. I could not even gauge the possible outcomes. None of them would be agreeable though, of that I was convinced. Trying to be evasive was thus a losing game. And with the ever consistent dream looming over me I could not take such odds. No, I had to go for another tactic.
I lowered my shoulders in a manner that suggested minor resignation, let out a sight and looked the woman straight in the eyes.
“Honestly?”
I made a small pause, scratching my backhead and licking my lips in hesitation, while letting my eyes wander the chamber before looking at her again. It was hardly noticeable, but I was looking for this sign. She indeed had leaned in a little bit, thinking I'd finally break my uncooperative behaviour and give her some of the vital information that she was here for. That meant she let down her guard. Just a little, yes, but that would be enough.
“I was looking for you.”

Scene V: Storytime

There it was, that hint of confusion in her eyes, that crack in the facade, the moment when the world does not make sense and all makes sense at the same time. The instant in which the mind is off balance. I gambled on it – now it was time to deliver.
“It all began with the dreams. Scenes, call them visions, full of voices, whispers, whole arias of unintelligible languages. With those dreams while I was asleep came sudden and forceful eruptions of destructive energy of all kinds when awake. The first few days were truly horrific. I'm sure you can find plenty of evidence in my home, should you send somebody there.”
If everything is true, if I can shoot lightning from my fingertips without feeling the shock myself, if I can shoot bullets of light instead of actual bullets from pistols, if I need not even aim, then surely there is also some sort of mysticism around that deals in visions. I would have just told her the truth, but I had no way of explaining how I managed to find those two guys in the middle of the bloody forest. And something told me that blue and red do not necessarily mix. At least that was the vibe I got off her when she placed those things on the table, especially the phone.
“But after, the dreams started to clear. I saw things I haven't seen before in my life. Faces, voices, events even. The eruptions had calmed down too – now I am able to keep them at bay for most of the day.”
Not quite a lie, no. I could keep the coursing energy down for most of the day, but for the rest of the day, too. Implying to not have full control however gave me leverage. As a representative of order she surely didn't want a full on explosion of the elements in the middle of town, and I did not have to actually threaten her with it. So I would not come off as an asshole, but could instead use that for a more favourable standing.
“Today I saw a clear vision for the first time. Two men, wounded, on the road, running from a grave danger. I was not sure how exactly I could help, but the scene played at dusk, and there was no telling when I would get another vision. So I packed my things just in case, then got in my car to arrive in the forest at the time of my vision. The sense of urgency was undeniable and pushed me to accept this vision as a true sight. And indeed, I found them! But they were in a much worse condition than my vision let me assume.”
That would at least somewhat explain my lack of bandages and first aid on such a rescue mission, right?
“I got them in my car, when I saw what was hunting them. A two meter big, green, rotting hulk. I used the pistols to shoot that thing to death, but the man they belonged to was dying, so I rushed in the direction of this town – when I found you and your men.”
By now she had regained her focus, but my story had already taken root in her mind. Sure, she was sceptical, but she was not rejecting it. Not yet. I still had to deliver the finale.
“I then explained the situation to them as well as I could without going too much into details. When you came to the scene I did not recognise you, but I did recognise your voice. It was one of those I heard in my visions! You, or, well, your voice at least helped me get a better grip on my powers. Now I have actually met you... see, the voices have grown silent these past few days, it's getting harder to hear them. But I still need more control, I'm too unstable still! So please...”
I could almost hear the figurative coin of fate turn on the table as I spoke the words:
“Please help me.”
In my mind I was going through all the assumptions I had made to present this story, and there seemed to be no end to them. Being mistaken in any one of them would break my story, even though I tried not to overdo it. Thankfully my face was no open book and no sign of the doubts I was having found its way to the surface. Not like she would have noticed, since she seemed buys trying to put some things together in her mind. She knew something about my situation I knew not, I realised.
“When did you first suffer a burst of your powers?”
Not exactly a question I was expecting, but no death sentence, either.
“Timekeeping went a bit off the rails, but I think it was about twenty days ago. Might be a bit more, might be a bit less.”
She nodded, taking mental notes of something. I was being left out of the loop, which I really did not like. Little I could do about it though – asking questions in such a situation, especially the wrong questions, was still an option. At least I apparently managed to pass the first test.
“What do you know of the two wounded that were with you?”
So the interrogation continued, but now I had hopes of not only getting out of this situation but also learning quite interesting bits of information.
“Not much. The Asian one had great difficulties speaking English and did not understand even most basic things. What I found interesting was that he apparently was unarmed, but much less injured than the other one. Speaking of the other one: He knew English well, and given his clothing and equipment, especially the Smith & Wesson pistols with custom grips, I have come to assume that he was American. Due to his severe bleeding and injuries I am certain that he is no longer alive. He was the one who cast a sleeping spell on the Asian guy so that I could drive, by the way.”
“You said the American knew English well. Did the two of you have a prolonged verbal exchange?”
“Afraid not, he was in no shape to speak much. In fact I doubt we exchanged more than two sentences. He did hand me his phone to contact a hospital though before passing out. I never got to call one, but you know that part of the story already.”
“Do you have any idea why these two were out there in the forest today?”
I wondered why I hadn't given this significantly much more thought. They never said a thing about their reasons for being out there, but it certainly was not to hunt down that thing I killed. Both seemed way too ill prepared for the encounter. And the American was definitely neither dressed nor equipped for combat.
“Hm. Come to think of it, no. Their presence there really seems out of place though. Also, I did not have the impression that they were working as a duo. More something along the lines of teaming up in the face of a threat.”
The woman leant back in her chair and gave me a long, contemplating look. I did not feel like I had messed up, so the only thing left to me was to wait patiently. Bringing up some weird question might just ruin everything. After about two minutes of complete silence she shook her head.
“Your gift has gotten you into a mighty fine mess, Mr. Alde. But after your story things are finally making sense. By the way, the Asian you were mentioning, he inhaled a large portion of some powder he was carrying while we were transporting him, which caused almost instant cardiac arrest. He is dead now, all medical reanimation attempts have failed.”
I did find it somewhat troubling that she felt the need to say 'medical' in that sentence. The implications of magical reanimation attempts must be literal necromancy... something apparently not welcome in the society of supernatural people.
“The American however was treated with basic anima-based healing and is fine. He did manage to escape custody almost immediately, however. I have reasons to assume that he will be trying to meet with you, and I advise caution in dealing with him. As I have come to notice, your phone was not confiscated. I would urge you to call me if... no, when he will try to get in contact with you.”
Now that was a really interesting turn of events. So this anima-based healing could cure somebody even from the verge of death? Fascinating, but not quite as fascinating as the American who escaped custody and apparently did that to meet with me. TFor what purpose I wonder? I still was missing some context to figure this out. Surely he would be able to help me out in this regard.
“My phone was not confiscated due to it not existing, I'm afraid.”
And that was not even a lie. What followed after my statement was silence. It was obvious that even with the whole story I have just told her and her apparent expertise in the field of the supernatural lawbreaking, the idea of somebody who lived his life in a developed country without a cell- or smartphone was truly shocking news for her.
“Unexpected. Hm. We will deal with that later. Tell me, will you be able to control your elemental outbursts until tomorrow?”
I pretended to give the question some thought, then nodded.
“Shooting up the hulk with magic significantly helped in reducing the pressure. I'm sure I will be able to contain the energies for at least the next fifteen hours.”
“Good. I will make arrangements to get you a basic room in a hotel nearby. Rest there for today, I will get you tomorrow at seven in the morning, sharp. There are some things we need to talk about, after which I will help you with your condition. You have my word.”
Her speech had remained in a professional tone for this whole conversation, but those last two sentences had been said with a solemn undertone. Like an oath almost. People don't do that much nowadays I thought, and bowed slightly to show my appreciation.

Scene VI: Wise Men

It was indeed night outside, and the chilling wind made it clear that autumn was slowly turning to winter. I buried my hands in the pockets of my old jacket and left the premises of the police station, heading towards the hotel. The building was visible from where I was standing already, so I would not have to go around looking for it. As I passed the cement walls of the precinct I heard a mild chuckle. I heard this chuckle today already...
“You magnificent bastard, you. That was truly an entertaining performance in there.”
“No idea what you're talking about. But I'd be careful if I were you... they're looking for you, after all.”
The American was leaning against the wall and looking at his smartphone. I blinked. No, it was not the same one, this was an older, less expensive looking model. He let out a chuckle again, then put the phone in his pocket. His clothes were new, too – but his jacket was blue still.
“Yeah. Doesn't matter though. Redshirts might be good in the field, but their tech... nah man. Unless that girl comes out here looking for me herself she'll never find me. And I fed her phone some info which should keep her from going anywhere in the next hour. Means we have some time to talk!”
I shrugged. He did not have to know that I was actually looking forward to this little conversation, so I turned away from him and made my way towards the hotel.
“See, that might work on her, but you can't fool me that easy.”
He said while catching up with me. There was a bit too much spring in his step for a man who was on the verge of death just a little while ago, which made me wonder just about how powerful healing magic actually is.
“Know why I know? Because it takes one to know one, know what I mean? Cig?”
“No thanks.”
“Eh. Don't be so cold, man. Anyway,”
He said while lighting his cigar – yes, cigar, not cigarette – and inhaling deeply with an overjoyed look on his face.
“I really wanted to thank you. Saved my skin back there, you and the greenhorn. So I kinda owe you something. And see, I really don't like being indebted. Leaves such a yucky feeling, don't you find?”
Accepting gifts from strangers was not exactly a good idea, no matter what pretence they present for handing them out. And going by what this man had already demonstrated, I felt like it would be wise to be very careful with him. Much more so than with the 'redshirt'.
“It does,”
I agreed, but did not leave him any time to start talking about whatever he was planning to trick me into. For it takes one to know one, after all.
“So how about you answer some of my questions, hm? About as truthfully as you can. Just a couple of answers, and we're even. Easy, right?”
Wise men would not gamble. If I were a wise man I would leave him behind and just go into the hotel. If he were a wise man, he would try to further his agenda instead of trying to outsmart me. He again inhaled deeply and blew a whole cloud of smoke into the glimmering sky. Apparently neither of us made for a great sophos.
“Alright, shoot.”
“What were you doing out there in that forest? And don't tell me you were hunting that weird zombie, because you weren't.”
The American shook his head.
“Ghoul.”
“What?”
“Ghoul, not zombie. Different kind of stuff, really. Zs prefer to eat the living and are pretty braindead, ghouls however eat carrion. Humans, preferably. They also have some intelligence.. eh, no matter. Ain't here to give lessons on the fuckers. Got no qualification for that, either. As for what I was doing out there: I was trying to shake off that damned redshirt. They're trying their best to hunt us down, and she got the drop on me. Not that she had planned to do that, it was mere coincidence, really.”
So there's a definite rivalry or even conflict going on between blues and reds. My assumption got validated! So far, so good.
“Highly inconvenient one for her, too. Good thing this Jhuangzi was around. No idea how they do it, but these wannabe Confucii can find ways to predict and resolve situations in the weirdest ways.”
“Go on, I'm listening.”
“See, after being discovered, the two of us fled into the forest. Better to try and shake her off than to deal with all the nonsense that might happen, you know? So we ran through the woods. This here is supposed to be a relatively safe location, so you can imagine our surprise when we slid down in one of those old WWII bomb craters only to find a heap of corpses there. Somebody around here's been naughty... not my business really, but the ghouls took offence on our sudden intrusion.”
“There were several?”
The thought did not really sit well with me. The one hulkish brute I managed to shoot down demonstrated extreme physical prowess. I could hardly imagine what would happen if a whole group of those things were to happen upon a village.
“Yeah. Fifteen or so of the lesser, the shambling ones, were just having a feast as we fell right into their laps. They almost got the better of us, but I gunned my way through while Laotze used some of his shaolin moves on the others. He got a call in the middle of it, turned fuckin pale and told me to hold the ghouls off for a while, else we would surely die. Luckily for him I understand mandarin to some degree. Things weren't exactly looking great so I decided to roll with that dragon fengshui stuff of his. Held the rotters off until they decided to flee. That tibetan leprechaun said he knew how to get out of that mess, and something about honor or such bullshit, after which he bandaged me with my own damn jacket. Any idea how much that thing cost? Then helped me to get up and we made our way to wherever he found out or salvation was supposed to be. That's when the big ghoul found us. The two of us managed to impair him for a while, but my injuries were too bad – greenhorn carried me from then on. That was when we got to the part of the road with you, you mad fucker. Any idea how much it takes to kill such an old ghoul? No, of course not, but you still turned that things head into a coarse screen.”
If he was hoping to make me feel great about killing that thing then he was failing. Doesn't take much to shoot something if you've got the nerves and practice. Takes a bit more of both to shoot somebody, but I could do that, too. So no, I did not feel like I deserved much praise for that.
“So you knew that being here was potentially problematic for you, yet you still decided to come. Why?”
This question made him think a bit. He scratched the back of his head, then looked at me.
“It's really simple, but to make you understand it I gotta ask you a question first.”
I raised an eyebrow, but the American looked pretty serious. He wasn't fooling around right now.
“Why did you lie to her?”
Safe to say I did not quite understand what he was getting at.
“As far as I can tell you understood that the redshirt knows stuff. Our kind of stuff. Dunno how you could tell, but you somehow felt it I suppose. Happens every now and then. So why did you feel compelled, in your situation, to not tell her the truth? Oh and don't try to bullshit me, man. You're not having any visions or hearing voices, nah. You know how to shoot things, yea, and you had not done a single fuckin thing wrong. So why did you felt compelled to lie to the one authority person in this whole damn backwater countryside?”
The answer for that was simple: I was certain that the story I told her would not only have higher chances of me getting out of the precinct without any charges, but also might net me more answers and some sympathy. I've been a utilitarian asshole to her, but did not really feel bad about it. It was to further my own cause, my agenda. I did not cause her any problems with that, so why not?
“Mhm. Yea, you don't lie to yourself, I can see that. You could have told her the truth and trust in law and order... but you decided that rather than help the authorities, you'd have the authorities help you. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, so why not pave the way to heaven with small lies and intrigues, hm? Tell me I'm wrong.”
I really did not like lying to myself. Coherence is a virtue, after all. That put me in the slightly awkward position of the American being right. I used Josephine as much as I could, with no regards for her, really.
“Suppose you are right. What of it?”
One more chuckle, and a clap on my back.
“My man. So, how did you put it..?”
He paused for a second and then, with an overly dramatic voice, quoted:
“I was looking for you.”

Scene VII: Humanitarian Values

Until now I had just assumed that the paranormal activities in the world are just constantly ongoing, so these news came as a bit of an surprise. After looking at the whole situation from this viewpoint however, things did start to make sense. We were in red territory right now, but the blue and green guys figured out about me having these new powers sooner than the reds, so they tried to get to me before the red ones found out. Things did not go as planned, green guy is dead, so taking him out of the equation meant that only red and blue remained on the field. Well, and I. Siding with either would mean to side against the other – but it seemed like my powers were at least greater than those of the American. I reminded myself that one should never weigh power against experience and ability. Even a tank can be blown up by a dog with a suicide belt.
“Correct me if I'm wrong, but you've come here to find me and... what? Get me to join you blue wearing, casually cigar smoking, hacking weirdos?”
The American threw the rest of his cigar on the street and gave me a disapproving look, but shrugged it off a second after.
“Pretty much, yeah. You don't yet understand, but you have been granted powers beyond those which regular magi can achieve even after a lifetime of study. Let me give you some perspective on that. Me, I've been trained in magic and have practised spellcraft for a bit over twenty years now. I have improved a lot in this time... now, if we were to talk in weight and take my weight as corresponding to my capabilities, then the closest thing corresponding to yours would be a fucking whale. No training, no experience, and yet look at you: A fuckin' whale.”
He sure had an interesting way of expressing something good in a way that almost made it seem bad.
“Now, whales are amazing creatures, right? Big, strong, free to roam the seven seas as they see fit. They don't even give a damn about all the small fish around them. Being a whale is amazing! If you don't decide to dive too deep and wrestle with some giant kraken, you'll do just fine. At least that's how the things once were. But now, right now, like in this decade, it's whale hunting season. Shit's stirring up in the world. Dormant powers awakening and all that. Mayan end of the world, you know? Just that it did not end in '12, instead that was just the beginning of the end. All goes south now, ever faster, too.”
He instinctively tried to put the cigar in his mouth only to notice that he had thrown it away. I could see the idea of just taking out another one flickering in his mind, but for some reason he chose not to. Perhaps my comment got to him?
“Wielding power makes you great, but also a target. Alone you won't stand a chance about the coming dark days, trust me. That's not even a threat – it's a fact. Even the red ones will tell you the same. Don't let that gift that was bestowed upon you go to waste, man. Your power, that's not that half-assed cuban cigar over there lying on the dirty street of what's-this-town-called, a thing nobody will even think about picking up. No man, your power is the power to change the course of history. Real history, not this crap they teach you in highschool. Now granted, you are not the only one with this blessing, but there are not too many of your kind, either. Every one is precious!”
I tried to make sense out of all those things, shaping my new worldview. I still had much to learn, but things had already become clearer. I leaned against the post of a streetlight and looked up into the sky. The terrible vistas of emptiness were as frightening as ever since that fateful night, but I knew that daylight was only an illusion, make-up for the truth beyond the stars. The night sky at least did not try so blatantly to hide it. An intense cold gripped my soul and I looked back down. Yes, I had a pretty solid idea of the coming dark days. Been there, done that.
“The power I have should be harnessed and used to defeat the looming threats then?”
“Yeah. And you, my friend, you don't belong with the redshirts. It's not your style, you've seen it, for fucks sake. You play with them, use them... that's our way of doing things. We watch, we know, we influence. We're the brick in the wall, listening to the barber who goes mad in his solitary apartment and decides to offer people to the gods of his ancestors. We're the webcam which you know you've turned off, watching as you recite long lost incantations in your dreams. We're the ones who tell your politicians what hands to shake, which projects to classify as top secret. Corporations, stars, businessmen, lobbies, secret lodges... we got them all. And you know why? Because we know people. We are people, and we do not try to deny it as the red ones do. We embrace ourselves, the whole of our me. Sex, drugs, monsterslaying – the doors are open for you. We have it all, and with your powers, you'll have the best of the best of the best that's the best. Make the world a better place by day and fuck three new girls each night after. Or guys. We don't judge, for we know what it is to be human. You can be who you are with us, do what you want... as long as you don't join the enemy, that is. Obviously.”
“Mhm, sounds good indeed.”
“You don't sound convinced though. Here.”
He handed me an envelope – even the damn paper of the envelope felt expensive. How was that even a thing?
“In there you'll find a plane ticket. Edinburgh to NY, first class... because you won't be flying any other way ever again. Well, private jets aside. It goes in a week, so you have some time to consider, talk to the red girl, see what they have to offer you. You know, process the information. Then board the plane and join us. The card inside will provide all the info needed. Be seeing ya.”
And that was it. He tipped his inexistent hat, turned around and went who knows where. I put the envelope inside my jacket, intent on checking it for any sort of bugs later on. But for now I just really wanted to get some sleep. At the desk they told me that they were glad to have a customer like me, who booked the best suite they had for an entire week. Roomservice already paid for, too. I nodded knowingly and got into the elevator. The idea to be living like this definitely had some charm.

Scene VIII: Reunion

The town was not really big, and the hotel was nothing special, either. Still, what use is their best and most expensive suite if you only get to fall asleep the moment you touch the bed and have to leave even before the sun is out? What's the point of luxury, however faint it might be, if you can't indulge in it? Would I be able to indulge in luxuries with my mind being constantly gnawed at by what I had already seen? I would have to think about those questions in peace. Peace was however not to be found for a while, since Josephine, the representative of the red ones – apparently the only one of them around, too – wanted to continue our conversation at 7 a.m. already. I do value order, and punctuality is important in that sense. Thus I was waiting outside of the hotel at 06:50 already. She was early, too – but she looked like she barely slept that night.
“Mr. Alde, good morning.”
Whatever happened, it has had detrimental effects on her cold aura of professionalism. In her tired look, which was only half heartedly masked behind a thin veil of make-up, I could see no sign of animosity towards me. Whatever the American had uploaded to her phone seemed to at least not have anything to do with me. Still, hers was no condition to start a working day with.
“Good morning, Ms. Harper,”
I answered, trying to not sound too positive. Things have been going great for me so far, I really had no reason to be in any sort of foul mood. Except for the fact that we were all doomed, of course.
“Join me please. We have a place to visit.”
She was not really asking, but I wasn't going to decline either way. Her car was parked at the precinct, and once I saw this old open I had to think of the American. Whatever car he would drive, that would not be it.
“Yes, I know it's old, I do. I still like the car though, so please no comments on it.”
Apparently I was not the first with these thoughts, since mind reading was certainly not within her repertoire. I choose to remain silent and got into the car. As she drove out of the precinct Josephine asked me to have a look inside the glove box. In it I found a strange man-shaped piece of steel wire, which looked like an oversized keychain accessory. I took it out to have a closer look, but could not find anything strange going on with it.
“What's this?”
“I told you I would help you to control your powers. This is a tool that will help you in this endeavour a great deal.”
As I looked outside, I noticed that I knew the road we were taking. It led to the road I used when I happened upon the two agents. For agents they most certainly have been.
“We're going back to the place where you shot the thing you told me about yesterday. I have inspected the scene yesterday, but was not able to do much. So I had the road closed. People should not see a ghoul with a head half-turned into mushy blood purée. Or any ghoul at all, really.”
“And what exactly are we to do there..?”
“Not we. You. You made that mess, you'll clean it up. And since you're a bee, this will also help you to gain a better understanding of your powers. With me explaining things as we go.”
The ghoul attacking the two foreigners was certainly nothing I could be hold accountable for, but this whole situation definitely happened because of me. Not because of my doing, but... well. She wasn't wrong though – I could have killed the ghoul in some other place, further away from the road. I did not think about the consequences of my actions as I shot that thing up. So that was definitely a thing I could take responsibility for. I just wondered why on earth killing an old ghoul, which according to the American's words was no easy task, suddenly felt like getting scolded.
“Wait... bee?”
“Yes.”
A moment of silence followed. She was definitely not trying to speak Korean or Mandarin with me, but it still made about as much sense as when the green guy asked me if I were a bee.
“Could you elaborate, please?”
She seemed a bit preoccupied with her own thoughts, but snapped out of it as I asked.
“Oh, pardon me. Afraid I'm not as focused as I should be... I forgot how new you are to our world. The secret world, I mean.”
“No worries. You do seem shaken for some reason – I will not inquire.”
She nodded in appreciation. So it was a private matter then? To throw her off like that the American must have dug up some serious crap. That is if her condition ever was his doing. But I was fairly certain that this was the case, going with how he talked about 'redshirts' and how he grinned as he told me about this 'distraction'.
“Bees are what people like you are commonly called. Saying goes that you guys get your powers by swallowing a bee in your sleep. Not just any bee, mind you. One of those gaia-bees. Never seen one myself, to be honest. I mean the gaia-bees. Or whatever those are called. You see, swallowing such a bee infuses you with the blessing of gaia herself. Not the diety, like the gods you hear about, no no. The actual force of nature, growth, light. All things good, that sort of thing. Anima energy, really.”
The idea of swallowing bees to gain great magical power most definitely sounded like a new concept to me. But the bee symbolism was quite nice I found. Fitting, if this was indeed such a force of nature.
“Magic can be cast in several ways, with different powers to call upon. Your magic draws its power from anima, thus from gaia. At least as I have understood it. There is also arcane energy, for example. It's what the machinery in hell still runs upon, I've been told. I'm also sure there are ways to cast magic by extension of being blessed by some magical being, like a god... but that leads us too far. As I have said, yours is the anima based magic. While you can use it in its raw form per se, it becomes stronger and more refined if you use something to conduct this energy through. My instructor once told me to imagine a shotgun loaded with grapeshot ammo, but with the barrel ending right at the end of the shell. It's still powerful, but nobody in their right mind would use it over a proper one. And yes, sawed off shotguns are still proper shotguns.”
I again decided that it was in my own interest to not comment on this. Trying to sort these things in my mind was a priority anyway.
“That barrel, that's your weapon. You can channel your energy through the weapon you're wielding, and depending on your own power and the quality of the weapon you'll get a more or less satisfying result. You have already experienced it with the Lumie's dual pistols”
“Lumie's?”
“That's what we usually call the Illuminati.”
Now that was what made me blink a couple of times. So that American was an Illuminati? The Illuminati wanted to recruit me? His whole talk about influence, business and politicians definitely fit with the image I had in mind, but I still would never have expected...
“With we I'm referring to my organisation, of course. The Templars. You might have heard of us.”
The faint smile on her lips showed that she'd been waiting for a long while to say that. And she was proud to say it, too. Well damn, who wouldn't be? The Templars?
“THE Templars? Like, the ones?”
“No, the other ones.”
I could not tell if she was joking or not. Then again, which other ones?
“The Knights Templar were disbanded in 1312, but we are pretty much their descendants. We defend those who can not defend themselves and shield those untouched by the wickedness of the world. We are the iron first, the army against all that is dark. We are the might of the secret world, soldiers against the corruption.”
“An organisation of St. Georges, hm?”
Josephine's chillng and scolding look sent shivers down my spine. So it was indeed better not to joke about such matters with Templars present, huh? I understood why the American did not like them... if I were to take these two as representatives of their respective factions, then I had to admit that I already saw major discrepancies in their worldviews. And be it just that the Templars decided to purge all corruption while the Illuminati embraced all that was human. Pretty big philosophical differences, in my opinion. As for me, I was not sure which ones appealed to me more, for both had obvious downsides. Then there of course was the ominous third faction... but something told me that I most likely would not feel very welcome among them.
“Let's not focus on our organisations for now thought. I need to help you with that condition of yours so that you won't spontaneously erupt in blue flame in the middle of a street. Sure, we can cover this up, but would be nice to to have to.”
I silently agreed. It was best not to cause confusion, people were chaotic enough without some wonders happening around them. Can't have lunatics start up fanatical cults or some other thing as braindead as that. Coming to think of it, just how fanatical were these new age Templars? I decided to try and have a glimpse of it.
“Let's not abandon this topic too fast though. You see, I spoke to the Lumie, as you call them, after out talk at the precinct.”
I could almost feel her momentary intent to slam the brakes. But she didn't.
“You what?”
“He found me before I entered the hotel. And I figured that it would be best not to anger somebody who managed to escape your custody within two hours of being caught.”
That was sharper said than I intended and Josephine turned her head away a bit. It was clear that she felt really bad about the blue agent escaping her. I decided not to tell her that he was actually standing like twenty meters away from her, boasting that she'd never find him. Looks like he was right about that, too.
“So?”
She asked carefully, still with some bitterness in her voice.
“He offered me to join his organisation. Something along the lines of blackjack, hookers and demonslaying.”
“Right. I can guarantee you that they have no shortage of the first two things, but it's us who do the demonslaying while they revel in debauchery and self destructive revelries. There's a reason why even the greater demons of the hell dimensions curse our order and not their thrice damned conglomerate. For all I know the Illuminati would gladly do business with demons if they could make a profit from it.”
She might be right about that. The American did mention fighting the darkness fairly often, but he himself demonstrated none of that. But what he did was basically flashing wealth on his every step. Though he just might have been a recruiter, not an actual field agent. Still...
“I, for one, believe the greatest difference between us and the Lumies is that they care for their own selves much more than for anything else, while we know what sacrifice is. It is a thin line between foolishness and bravery, but the Illuminati will never know it. They'd rather push a family off a cliff than jump themselves to save them.”
I decided not to push this matter further, it was not my intention to have her rage on about the Illuminati. There was apparently a lot of bad blood between these two factions... more than I expected, really.
“Anyway, he told me how he came to end up in that forest. And in that story he mentioned that this ghoul was not the only one. According to him there's an old bomb crater from WWII somewhere in the forest where somebody has dumped a couple of dead bodies. He and the Asian fought against about fifteen ghouls there, he said.”
“What?”
I could not discern what exactly it was that made her ask this question, for she sounded more surprised than alarmed.
“You mean somebody has not only found a ghoul nest, but is using it as a dump for dead bodies?”
She thought about it for a while, then nodded.
“There have been no dead on the roads around here for a long time, so somebody supplying ghouls with bodies would be the more logical explanation. Good thing I called my handler to tell him of this incident, but in the meantime the two of us will have to look into this matter. I just wanted to give you some basic idea of how to use the elementalism focus to incinerate things – like ghoul bodies – but it looks like you'll get to try out your powers on live targets, too. That'll give you some idea of what it's like to be a Templar.”
“Not afraid of me causing a forest fire?”
She stopped the car, as we had actually arrived at the scene. The damned log which wrecked my car was still on the road. Josephine then gave me an odd look with a raised eyebrow.
“I tell you that we're going to fight a whole nest of ghouls, deadly supernatural beings whose diet consist of human flesh, and your main concern is not to cause a forest fire?”
As she put it like this, it indeed did sound strange. But the American said that there were mostly weaker ghouls there and only one strong one. The latter was dead, and I was sure we'd be able to deal with a couple of the small ones. Especially since they would still be wounded after their fight with the Illuminati agent.
“Well, looks like you do know something about responsibility. Don't worry about it though, I got something to help you with that.”
She reached to the backseat of her car and got the briefcase from yesterday. As she opened it, I understood what she meant.
“Here. Since I confiscated them for the Templars I now grant them to you, to commemorate your first kill of a supernatural being.”
I gladly accepted the two pistols which formerly belonged to the Illuminati agent. Sure, the grips were custom made to fit in his hands better, but it looked like we did not differ much in that aspect.
“Now let's go. We got one ghoul to burn and a nest of them to shoot up. All before breakfast, too.”

Scene IX: Who Cleans Up After The Cleaners?

Out on the street Josephine had me practice to channel magic through that oversized keychain which was supposedly a focus for elementalism spells. At first I thought she meant the traditional western elements, but the focus being made of steel wire made little sense. As it turned out the school of elementalism encompasses electricity, fire and ice only.
After a few minutes I got the hang of it, and while I did not really like this magic – the pistols felt much more familiar and more personal – I at the very least could now focus my more destructive powers reliably. Incinerating the ghoul's body took me a while, but at least I could stop the fire from spreading with a few applications of frost.
“Good! Now then, let's find out if there's indeed a nest of ghouls in this forest.”
We did not have to be expert trackers to follow the more than obvious trail left by the Asian and the bleeding American, but it wasn't like they were trying to hide their tracks, anyway. Even though the sun did not yet fully rise and the blood wasn't too visible at times, we still had the trail of the enraged older ghoul to follow, which made it even easier. Josephine seemed to get lost in depressing thoughts again, although we were marching right towards a nest of deadly creatures. Perhaps the shambling variant of these ghouls was just that much less dangerous? Nonetheless I decided to get her mind back to our reality.

“So, if there are human bodies at the site, whose bodies would that be? You had many people go missing recently?”
“No, we haven't. Not one in the last two years, in fact. I would assume the Lumie lied to you for some reason, but the fact remains that ghouls don't just happen to just randomly wander the woods. They are drawn to death. Death and dark magic, actually.”
“So we best be on our guard then.”
One should not be too pretentious I thought, and it seemed that she in fact focused on the task at hand now. It took us about five more minutes until we got to smell the subtle but already apparent, sweetly foul stench of death. We slowed down significantly and I pointed to the left, where we could walk to somewhat higher ground. That must have been where the two agents came from initially, before falling into the ghoulpit. Once we were on the high ground we sneaked closer to the pit, where we could indeed see several oddly deformed shapes chew on what appeared to be human bodies. They appeared almost like malnourished hunchbacks, far less intimidating than the one I shot yesterday. After a moment of consideration I gestured Josephine to crawl back again. Once we were out of immediate proximity I told her that the Illuminatus told me how the ghouls fled after he had injured them significantly.
“So..?”
“So we have to make sure they don't get away. You stay up here and shoot them with that elementalism stuff. Seeing as how the way up here is much easier if they go over the left side they will most likely all try to get to you from there. I'll hide in some distance and ambush them from behind with the pistols, so they won't have many possibilities as to where to run.”
“Except from in the forest to our left now, yes. But I think I can set up a minor trap there to slow them down. Should give us enough time to deal with them.”
“Sounds perfect. I'll go find a spot, you go prepare that trap. When you're done just open fire – I'll be in position by then.”
At least I was certain of it.
“As soon as the last of them will have left the crater I'll fall in their back. Sounds good?”
She nodded.

The plan worked like a charm. The ghouls tried to swarm Josephine as soon as she started to attack her, but once I showed up from behind and started shooting them in their backs panic settled in – a couple tried to get away through the forest where the trap indeed slowed them down and turned evasive creatures into sluggish dummies for target practice, so that I had no troubles dispatching them. One ghoul really tried to escape by jumping back into the pit, but Josephine got the thing with a precise lightning spell.
“That was the last of them.”
“Any chance for more being around?”
Josephine thought about it for a bit, so she wasn't so sure herself.
“Maybe. I doubt it, but they tend to build small, mouldy huts or the like. Can't see any here... alright, watch for any ghouls coming our way, I'll check on the bodies, see if I can find something.”
The position from which she opened fire on the ghouls would be the best lookout I thought, so I went up there and watched the surroundings while she tried to figure out who those bodies belonged to. If there were no people missing, where would the bodies come from? Travellers? I looked down there for a moment and counted no less than twenty bodies. The ghouls made it difficult to actually count them, but it seemed from up here that some of the dead had been here longer than others.
“Coming up!”
She called, and got up to my position.
“What did you find?”
“I know who the poor souls are. They are part of a really small bohemian commune from nearby – I did not even think of them until I saw the dead. And they were indeed not killed by ghouls, but by people. Or one killer, at least. Whoever did this, they cut in their victim's bodies to remove the hearts. Definitely seems to be related to dark rituals.”
“So wait, how comes there's a Czech commune somewhere around here?”
“No, no, not Czech. Bohemian. Like... hm... think of hippies before there were hippies. They're pretty rare nowadays, having been more of a early 20th century thing.”
I was not sure what exactly she meant, but at least I had a general idea now: Somebody killed a whole bunch of hipster hippies.

Christ, this whole thing turns out to be much longer than I expected it to be...