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@hero-diaries
... Broke the interaction between the website and this tumblr. There are three new things up in the Empire section of THD.
A Quiet Home
The gate does not accept his fingerprint, and it takes a while to remember the password for the override codes. He pays for and dismisses the taxi while he tries to fight through the brain-fog the weekend left him with. The driveway winds up towards the house, and he plods up the driveway for a while before abandoning his bag and supplies below a tree. Unencumbered the walk goes faster, and at…
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[AU] Memoirs
[I]n the highly unlikely event that your character survives to a (happy?) old age, what are they like? What do they look like? How do the upcoming fresh-faced new generation of heroes perceive them? There used to be windows from the city that looked out over here, but none have faced this way for a few generations. As the city was rebuilt, and as the battlefield scars were subsumed into new…
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Quadrivium 2 - Roadtrip: Interrupted
In answer to your question, yes, it is dangerous.
Not the planer creatures who can set fire to things with a thought, or the flying invisible things with spikes and claws. These I have fought and escaped unscathed. Only once have I been in serious jeopardy:
Some stupid bastard who didn’t like that I beat him at cards, so held up our coach and shot me. With a rifle. Which bloody hurt. Eventually I nicked his rifle, but it turns out they need quite some skill to shoot. Still, better mine than his.
We went through a variety of pissant villages - including the inept card-sharks - tracking this thing. It’s still consistently Southeast of us, but the road goes East. One of those previously mentioned invisible flying things was tracking us from above (they can’t stay invisible forever, fortunately) and led us fairly effectively into an ambush. Not without difficulty, we beat them at least without casualty, and found at least one of them had come from an old tower nearby. Not so much a tower anymore, mostly it too was underground.
Inside I found a couple of demonic lackeys, bound with silver and set up as a power source for some kind of area protection spell that used to cover the vicinity. I tried - with middling success - to convince them I was a friend and to tell me the plan, but apart from “The call has gone out” I didn’t get much. Something reached out and freed the third lackey from beyond, and I suspect Our Ancestor’s involvement, but still nothing concrete. We couldn’t let the lackies live, so we shot them in the cages. Seems sad, somehow.
Anyway, we’ve made it to Black Hill without much further incident. Newspapers around say there’s a big ancient magical items display down the road a ways, which looks interesting (and might have some clues), and the creatures we’ve been fighting have been seen a lot more.
Black Hill’s surprisingly dwarven, even for a dwarven city. It’s like a diorama of how you would expect a dwarven city to look. Even the hotel we’re in (again, levels down, not up) is trying *very hard* to be as dwarven as possible. We passed through here on the way up to the “Lodge”, but we’ve got nicer digs this time. Plus, the hotel has a post service which leaves in... about ten minutes, so I should sign off.
“Regards”,
Tez.
Quadrivium 1 - Speak Fiend and Enter
My lady.
The following, and - I suspect - the next several letters I send you are going to be part travelogue, part confession, and probably part evidence at whatever trial analogue the university can cook up for us. I’m telling you this because it’s something to do with our family, and someone other than me should know what’s happened. I deeply apologise for everything you’re about to read.
We graduated. That in itself is the cap on a set of wonders and coincidences that should be documented at some point, but as a last hurrah, the outgoing exec of the historical society decided to take one last trip to a site. Or, if you look at it another way, our first trip without the backing of the university.
Serada (Wyrnham. Yes, them) has a “lodge” up in the forests to the north-west of Travesford, and invited us (Edric (the religious guy with the hat), Durlan (the other Warlock trained), Astili (The one who set the table on fire) and Emma (The one who put it out)) up so we could investigate a dig happening nearby at Ash Hill.
By the kind of complete coincidence that I don’t believe in, Ash Hill has something to do with Our Ancestor. It used to be some kind of... monastery without the monks, is the best I can think of. The first level underground seemed to have been home to some nasty things for a long time, The next level library was blighted by a heavy curse, below that a librarian poltegeist tried to kill us, and the last level was still inhabited by the “Library Council”, a group of liches who had sealed themselves away due to some great evil in the land. The whole kaboodle was sealed twice, once by them, but then again by... well, guess who. It opened when I shouted at it in demonic. We cleansed the library (some really weird elementalism going on there) and the Library Council gave us a spell that could track by blood. (Magic, powered by blood? Yeah... Not that we’re in any position to question, right now), so we are tracking the origin of the creatures who tried to kill us.
Oh, yes. Also in Ash Hill, creatures of Our Ancestor’s plane. Imps and some kind of spikey dwarf thing. Things that can turn themselves invisible are entirely unfair.
Thing is, I think I’m coming into my inheritance. I’m certainly getting really quite a lot better at wielding his power. But he’s up to something, it’s coming to a head. We caught one thing alive, but I couldn’t convince it I was part of the plan enough for it to tell me the *rest* of the plan.
We’re back at the Lodge now, preparing to find this thing - it’s tracking south-east of us. I’ll send you more later.
Pretend you’ve said hi to my father from me,
Tez.
I find it weird how so many of us have such similar former apartments.
Did anyone get their deposit back, btw? I know I didn’t.
What if there is a parking garage in issue 11
Slow down there Satan
((FOUR MACHINE TYRANTS))
I’m going to strap an explosive vest on myself and walk in. If I go, entire building goes.
You don’t think they have wards up to prevent that kinda hijinks?
Then I don’t get in, have one less traumatic experience in my life.
But I’m taking my cue from the bees - if they go, they’re taking us with them. If I go, I’m taking the building (at minimum) with me.
Anyone knows where I can get one of these in portable version of at least 0.1 kiloton yield?
I saw one of those for sale a few days ago. Charismatic man in a dark purple shirt, in the markets of London. I'm sure he can be trusted, after all, he knew my name.
Sandwarn and the curse of Insight
Sandwarn and the curse of Insight
When I was in training in Neanton, I accidentally slept with someone I almost certainly shouldn’t have done. Not in any immoral or illegal way, just in a way that was not a great idea because of who they were (Heir of the family fortune. Engaged) and who I was (Hi, I’m Sandwarn. Bard. Not engaged.). As a result, for the next few weeks it became fairly obvious who knew the family, and who knew of…
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Log 006
The coffee in al-Merayah is splendid.
That is all.
Anyone who hasn't been there absolutely doesn't understand.
The coffee in al-Merayah is splendid.
That is all that is splendid.
There is no other splend.
The there is nothing else good there.
It is a bad place
and I will never, not ever, get the goo from the ankh out of my hair.
Season's Beatings
Wizzard can suck my glorious and elongated deftly painted shotgun.
"I wish" Roy Wood sang, in a 1970s explosions of crass, crazy and cocaine, "It could be Christmas every day".
Three years ago I could have shared that sentiment. Two weeks off work, kicking back with a comfy jumper, warm mulled wine, partner of choice. Presents, dinner and all the relatives you could stand.
Now, Christmas is a focus of the kind of crazy my life has become.
This year not only has Krampus once again popped up his head from the place where we kicked his arse too last year, due norse, with the associated requirement to put his mum back to the ground. Not only has half the crap the Mayans attempted to pull a couple of years back returned ("Temporal Echos" say the experts back at HQ. By which I mean "guess the experts back at HQ) but even when someone invites me to see an opera it turns out to be in order to bring me up to speed on another threat to the national order.
And by "Bring me up to speed" I mean "Cause me to obtain a series of obscure references that might lead me in the right direction".
Okay, so far so normal. I wouldn't usually freak out so much about this, but it's only a few days since I got back from Tokyo.
Tokyo was bad. Bad in an "I have the seen the future and it is black" way, bad in a "All roads lead to biblical threats" way, and bad in a "I've had to kill *far* too many things that once were human this week" way. Fighting unabashed monsters - even if they're ginormous Ak'abs (and seriously, fuck Ak'abs) - feels like a holiday, and I hate that feeling so very much.
Some days of this, and then I'll fly back to London and try to integrate with my family for a few days while they ask me about a) How my new job with this New York publisher is going, b) Are there any grandchildren on the way (There are a dozen layers to answering that question, none of them good, some of them fatal), c) Why I hardly ever speak to them anymore.
I suspect the answer that I hardly ever speak to anyone anymore will not help this.
So here it is, Merry Christmas, everybody's having fun.
*blam*
You know how weird it is that despite the broken fences, the open gates, the surrounding woodland and the lack of protection, the grounds of the Franklin Mansion itself are not part of the Ak'ab-infested wilderness that sounds them?
Weird, isn't it.
Don't fuck with the cats of the Franklin mansion. They can look after themselves, and anything else.
-- Sal
Excitment in New York
I should update here a bit more.
Apparently there was some kind of [GAS MAIN ISSUE] that was causing problems in Times Square, so my bosses in the [GAS MAIN COMPANY] said I should take a look. Nearly a dozen of us [GAS MAIN WORKERS] from all three [MAIN GAS SUPPLIERS] working together to defeat this [PROBLEM WITH THE GAS SUPPLY].
Lucky all of us were there, because soon after we arrived an *incredibly huge* [GAS EXPLOSION] came out of the ground, and laid waste to the surrounding area. Someone sent the army in to [HELP] the area, but in the meantime it was up to us to defeat the [PROBLEMS CAUSED BY THE GAS EXPLOSION] as well as several people driven crazy by the [GAS].
After a few tries, we sent the [REPAIRED GAS MAIN] back where it belonged, deep in the earth.
Now I think I need a shower.
[What part of "tell nobody" did you fail to get? Fun fact: 85% of agents would not have survived this treason - KG]
It is abundantly clear that it's not Ms Geary's shoes that are at risk this evening. The Ankh, she says, referring to the combination Orochi research base and tar-pit deep in the deserts of Egypt, needs looking into. Today, I am her top agent. Today, it is my job. Yesterday it was someone else's, and they are... not the top agent anymore. Such is advancement in the Illuminati. Being the top agent, I'm not stupid enough to go in alone.
As we descended deeper into the Ankh, the Filth on the walls got thicker. The lights are broken, the stairs are cracked, the employees of Oriachi who used to work here are... infected. But the radio tannoy system works, and there's a dangerous lunatic on the DJ station.
He claims that daily doses of the filth have made him immune to it. Perhaps in the same way sufficient Vodka makes you immune to standing up.
He does appear to have control over those annoying purple orb things which seem to be able to disconnect me from my ability to wield anima. A strange feeling, and stranger still to describe to my former self, I suppose. Deeper we go.
Slow going though this tar stuff down the facility, especially with all the stairs out. I can't imagine what it's like for people who _can't_ fall a thousand feet with no ill effects.
My life before the bees was dull, but at least the spiders were less than twelve feet tall.
...and the bouncers less than a hundred feet. Good grief, my head's barely to his big toe...
...when I objected to twelve foot high spiders, exchanging them for thirty foot high spiders made of filth was not the aim.
And back to the giant again.
What does it say about my life that I can file a report that says "Found ancient Atan temple. Orochi have Orochi'd all over it, and the scientist found the Filth and went native. Cleaned up, cleaned out. Suspect this might be where they found the box to use on Tokyo, may be worth a chat with the Kingdom."
Anyway, all over now. Insert one rocket, and call me in the morning.
Holiday snap from my vacation in Egypt attached. I wish I'd thought to wear something other than white, but it does make me really appreciate the Illuminati dry cleaning service.
Backstory
Dear diary.
It's been two years since my last entry. This is because shortly after my last entry the notebook you were in was suddenly on fire, along with everything else I owned.
From memory, my last entry was on the Tokyo incident, and how it must be worse than it seemed. It was that it did not seem possible that they would have to shut down so much of Tokyo for so long, and the details were so sparse... I used the word Conspiracy, and laughed.
My first entry was after I got my first bike of my own, after years of borrowing my brother's, and sped down the hill back towards home. I remember the entry - I've reread it so often over the years, and thought about it so many times recently - because on my way down I swallowed an insect. It hit the back of my throat as I screamed down the hill, and I coughed, and I swerved, and I nearly crashed, nearly died.
Two years ago I swallowed a bee.
And I coughed, and I swerved, and I crashed, and I nearly died.
I think the bee was a physical manifestation of Gaia, who was the personification of the earth in Greek mythology, and if you think that's a strange statement, today's going to be rough on you.
It... enfused me? with Anima. Anima is some kind of life force, and I still don't know of what kind, but the bees were released as some kind of antibody, some kind of white blood cell reaction to what happened in Tokyo. Tokyo seems to have been an explosion of a different form of life force, or force, or something. Research into it called Anima the Life, and this stuff The Blood. or the Zero Point Pathogen. Mostly, though, it's called the Filth. If Anima comes from inside the world, The Filth comes from outside. If Anima is light, Filth is black. Both seem sentiant, or communicative. Or, if I'm right, have aspects they use to talk. Anima uses the bees, the buzzing; The Filth has the black signal.
I don't know, and I don't understand, but I'm trying to.
One of the effects of being infused with this anima was that I'm immortal, in a sense. If I die, I come back at an Anima well, and can either reform in my corpse, healed whole, or anew at the well. This is fortunate, because it also gave me the tendency to set things around me on fire. It took me a week before I could leave my flat to learn how to control it, to direct it. By that point they had found me.
Three groups took an interest in those recruited by the bees. The Knights Templar are grand and ordered, the Dragon are terrifying and chaotic, the Illuminati are technological and self-centered. I don't trust Chaos and prefer concrete to polished mahogany. I took the trip to New York and joined the eye.
I might go back over what I've seen later on. Solomon Island was weird, Egypt was complicated, and Transylvania was... stereotypical. But this week, we got the go-ahead to enter Kaiden, the area in Tokyo that the "bomb" hit.
And now I'm terrified.