@mylkshaek I’m your paranatural secret santa! Here’s a short story about Max and Isaac being friends!
A Proper Teenage Birthday
“Coo-ee! Maaaaax! One of your friends is here to see you!”
The musical intonation of his dad’s voice caused Max to stir in bed.
“The one with the spiiiiiky haaaaair!”
Max groaned and got out of bed. What could Isaac want? On a Saturday, no less. Max changed into a comfortable Insolent Children hoodie, and sulked into some slippers.
Lefty hung in the air, disapprovingly.
“It’s a Saturday! I’m not getting dressed.” Max waved the disembodied hand away as Lefty floated slowly through the wall.
Downstairs, Isaac was waiting for him.
“ ‘Sup, man?” Max yawned his greeting, ignoring the million dollar smile his dad was putting on. Well, hundred dollar. Before taxes.
“Big day coming up Max.” Isaac whispered conspiratorially.
“Something…” Max lowered his tone to a whisper as he pretended to check out the shelves. “Spectral?”
“No! Your birthday!” Isaac beamed at him.
“What? You woke me up at…” Max peered outside at the midday sun “The crack of dawn just to talk about an event happening in a MONTH?”
“Yes.”
“Why? It’s not like I’m even sure I’m inviting you yet.” Max smirked wickedly
Isaac feigned being injured, “Oh, Max, you wound me so. I’m here to HELP you, ya dork.”
“What could I possibly need your help with? It’s MY birthday. And it’s in a MONTH.”
Isaac casually tossed a Vegi-rap (Made of real Vegetarian Rappers!) into his shopping cart. “Because, young Max, you’re going to be a teenager. And I am a teenager. And as such,” he paused to dramatically gesture with his hand “I’m going to make sure you have a Proper Teenage Birthday!” He held the pose for a moment, seemingly expecting applause. None came. Max coughed, awkwardly.
“I was just going to have a few of you guys around and eat junk food, play video games, and stay up late.”
“Which guys?”
“Um. The club, I guess? Not Mr. Spender - I feel like he’d try to get an invitation.”
“Great! Teenage birthdays are all about small groups of people you actually like. We’re done with that ‘the whole class gets an invite’ stuff. That’s kid stuff.”
“Isaac. Why are you so into this?”
“It’s important! First birthday as a teenager!” Isaac double checked his cart. “Any chance of a discount?” he smiled, a rare sight on the broody 13-year-olds face.
“I’ll ask my dad. You want to continue this conversation upstairs? I’m kind of interested in what you think a ‘teenage birthday’ should be like.”
Isaac purchased his stuff, Max managed to swindle a discount (friends, family, and ferret owners! Surprisingly, Isaac qualified for 2 out of the 3), and they ran upstairs to Max’s room.
Isaac conjured a spectral board on one wall, and began making notes, pacing the floors in a vague impersonation of Spender.
“Right, a proper teenage birthday party requires 3 things!” He gesticulated to the board.
“Firstly, food. There are limits here - I’m a Vegetarian, and Ed doesn’t eat anything with fewer than 3 artificial flavours or preservatives.”
Max looked incredulously; “You know we own a convenience store, right?”
“Great point! So that’s sorted - you can steal as much as needed, right?”
“We own it, Isaac. It’s not stealing.”
Isaac waved away Max’s logical reasoning.
“Theft is cooler. You’re a teenager now. Well, will be. Second thing! Music. I see you already have… advanced taste for your age,”
Max looked over to the Necromantid poster on the wall. “Yeah, and who doesn’t like Insolent Children?”
Isaac nodded, clearly impressed. “And Saint Hat Trick too! That’s unexpected for a pre-teen.”
Max bristled at the comment. “And third?”
“And THIRD: Games. What consoles do you have, and this is important - do you have enough controllers?”
“Uh… can I borrow like… two?” Max looked towards the slightly beat up console
“Aha! This was an important conversation then. I am vindicated. What games do you have?”
“Uh… Timothy Blackbird’s Semi-professional cyclist 2? Average Attack Associates? Puppet Monsters: Gotta Observe Them All?”
“Good selection, I’ll bring the controllers, and some other classic party games - Mimo From Accounts Wacky Racers, and Mimo From Accounts Celebration Board Game.”
“Oh I love those, I need to get my own copy!”
“Well, that’s a good idea! Don’t buy it before next month. For no particular reason.”
Max looked up at Isaac as he smiled, and the spectral board disappeared.
“This is going to be the Best. Birthday. Ever.”
“A Proper Teenage Birthday! See! Told ya this was good. I’ll text the group.”
Isaac flipped open his phone, and messaged the Activity Club group. Max’s phone buzzed in response. It was nice to have friends in this new town, he thought to himself. And a proper birthday coming up!
Max opened his own phone as it buzzed a second time.
“A PARTY? I’d LOVE to come!!! Who’s gonna text me the deets?”
Isaac had managed to text the group with Spender in it. Max smiled, despite himself. It WAS good to have friends.
It’s the beginning of Bloodbowl season folks, on this happy First Sontag of Icetime, Year 300! For the first match of this historic season, we have the Anku Circus up against the Arinia Invaders - a friendly warmup match to begin the scoreboard here in the Inner Sea Championship.
This match turned out to be a No Goat, but was plenty exciting all the same - with both sides giving away a fair number of penalties. The Invader kicker, Strongcut, is noteworthy simply because he has failed to prove why he was picked - missing every shot - and was knocked out during the late game, so it may be some time before we see a reason for his selection!
Heavy losses on the Circus side in the form of Ramla and Freedom; both being knocked out; hopefully the Circus substitutes are up to the task!
In form of Touchdowns, all tied up at six apiece - fairly well distributed across the team on the whole, although whether that was from a lack of good defense on both sides will have to be judged throughout the season.
In the end, the penalties the Invaders gave out went to Tikar and his kicks - giving the Circus a 3 point lead they needed; allowing them to just edge out over the competition.
An exciting first match to the season to be sure! I will be catching up with Strongcut later in the week to see if this was just an unlucky day for the Invaders, or whether he suspects something more sinister was involved - the Circus did give away plenty of penalties!
i was getting real sick of this post and seeing everybody reblog it and thinking “what the god damn is with these memes from shit ive never heard of that everybody suddenly knows that i dont” and then i finally read the comment
At long last, the London Metropolitan Police have discovered the locations of the bodies from a particularly grisly set of murders that have terrorised the city for the past half-year. The victims - Barry Sandhurst, Bettie Gold, and Clive Archer - have had their bodies returned to their families. Our thoughts and prayers are with them in these trying times.
The victims were located in a grain-storage warehouse along the riverbank in the Chiswick area roughly one week ago, and the delay in identifying the bodies was, according to an official statement from one Captain Baker, due to a horrifying disfigurement placed upon them post-mortem, it would seem. These mysterious runes and ciphers have been recorded and are considered a crucial part of the investigation, and the police are urging anyone who sees these symbols to come forward.
The force seem confident that the other three victims will soon be found now that they have this lead, and all of us here at the Times hope that this spells the end of these awful serial killings.
Olvorin breathed in as he closed the last page of the dusty old tome he found in the family library. He had found it - the way to contact his elven ancestors. Or even their ancestors! The fickle fey creatures that he was lucky enough to draw some of his privilege from!
It wasn’t long before he got to work - roaming the surrounding forests of Leefside searching for a grove, somewhere for him to begin the ritual.
Oh also, he had to compose a poem. Apparently his ancestors had a thing for rhyme.
“Oh great fey being
Help me be the one seeing
Your face upon this fresh green grass
While I sit upon my-”
No, thought Olvorin, too crass. The great fey being would never respond. Plus, the book had said something about being truthful and honest, saying something you really wanted.
“I want power
I want love
My enemies to cower
Me to rise above”
It was good, though Olvorin, meditating on the log in the clearing, but rang kind of hollow. Did he really want people to bow to him? His older brothers were much more suited to that sort of thing.
Thinking of his true desires, his mind drifted to Jane Jacinthe. Jane, whose mother was always disrespecting his house. Beautiful Jane, his hearts desire.
“I wish for Jane
No matter her name
I wish to hold her
Not to remould her
I wish for honour
And to win her favour
I wish for Jane…”
It was clumsy and not eloquent, but heartfelt and with meaning. A gentle whisper appeared on the breeze, and wormed its way into Olvorin’s ear.
Description of Crime: Korvon was discovered attempting to steal a bag of coins from one Harold Leishman, estimated to contain around sixteen silver pieces. The would-be victim apprehended the perpetrator, and brought him into the town guard office.
Outcome: Korvon was made to apologise and repaid Harold Leishman 3 gold pieces for emotional distress
Name: Korvon Tosscobble
Age: 16
Description of Crime: Korvon was discovered attempting to sell a selection of rings that matched the description of a set reported missing by one Mabel Kingsley - once apprehended, he admitted to the crime of stealing them from her house.
Outcome: He was imprisoned in the guard house for a total of 6 days before one Fallond Thunderbeard bailed him out for a sum of 5 gold pieces.
Name: Korvon Tosscobble
Age: 18
Description of Crime: Korvon was discovered breaking into the Galanodel household - apparently because he’d been kicked out of his own house. Himo elected not to press charges.
Outcome: No charges pressed.
Name: Korvon Tosscobble
Age: 19
Description of Crime: Korvon was discovered squatting in the Huan family basement, with a hoard of other people’s possessions. He came willingly.
Outcome: He was sent to the Vreka to be imprisoned for a year.
Name: Korvon Tosscobble
Age: 25
Description of Crime: Korvon has returned to us, after an extended imprisonment due to bad behaviour. He seems reformed and has been allowed to join the rest of the population of Leefside.
“He was always a wild child.” May’s words were kindly intended, but to me they stung like arrows. I merely sipped the homemade soup she had come over with, and stared blankly at her.
“He’ll be back within the week, just you see.” She continued, and then started prattling off about other gossip from the village.
She was a dear friend of mine, but in that moment I could’ve strangled May Rose. She just sat there, gossipping as if my only son hadn’t fled into the woods not three days ago, and hasn’t been seen since.
My mind drifted back to our last conversation - me saying no to him going to the tavern with some of his older friends. Him bringing up how I never let him do anything, and then listing examples of exotic and dangerous beasts I forbade from our house. Then he grabbed his stuff and fled into the woods. The thought of our terrible final conversation brought tears once more to my eyes. May noticed this, and stopped talking.
“Oh, Mabel.” She said, with genuine compassion in her voice.
She wrapped me in a warm embrace before she left as I crumpled onto the floor and wept. I had lost my husband, my son, and I was sure soon I would lose my mind. Out of nowhere, a cat suddenly leapt through an open window and purred and pulled up alongside me. I felt a little better, but when I went to get the small beast some water, it had gone.
As the months went on, it got easier. I began weaving to earn some coin with travelling merchants to afford food, and the people were very generous. I barely thought of Javor. It would strike at random moments, the grief - in his favourite flavour of honey-cakes, in his voice I thought I head on the breeze. Every time the grief would strike, I’d be crying and that cat would appear. I ended up calling it ‘Penny’ as it would always show up. Penny had green eyes, just like Javor’s. It helped, somewhat.
Months rolled into years and my need for Penny lessened, but never truly went away. One night, on Javor’s birthday, the cat came before I started crying. I don’t know what came over me, but I offered it a celebratory meal. It seemed very content with this, and stayed for an hour before departing. Penny never stayed longer than an hour, it seemed.
Eventually, four years had passed. I had just gotten over the loss of my son. Everything was fresh, a new start. I hadn’t seen penny in a year and a half. Then, as I was planning on leaving, a voice at the door.
“Um, Mrs Stonturge?”
“Yes?” I replied
“This is for you”. The man's hand opened up to reveal a single shining copper penny, and I looked up into the face of my son.
A bright spark in the void. The great entity stirs.
What is this? Its unfathomable intellect hurriedly informed it: a soul. A potential servant. Willing. Sick.
The entity approached the spark. And then entered it.
Within the spark, a child. Too young to be an adult for his human kind, but older than a youth or newborn. A sick child - ill with fever. A frustrated child - craving schooling from his teachers he’s missing out on being confined to his bed. A child with potential - and a hunger.
The entity made itself known.
“Who are you?”
The child’s voice, demanding and fearful.
Kranius. The reply.
“What’s a Kranius?”
The child, insatiably curious.
I am. Kranius, knowledge unincarnate. I can offer you great knowledge.
The child’s soul approached, curious.
“In exchange for what?”
Smart, this child. He knows that nothing is without cost.
A soul. Your soul.
The spark withdrew, then approached again.
“Can you make me better?”
I can make you better. I can recover you from your illness and make you better in a thousand other ways. Knowledge is power, and I can grant both.
“Fine.”
And with that, the pact was sealed. The entity swirled around and engulfed the spark of light, as the child on the material plane was flushed from his disease. He sits bolt upright in bed, and checks his memory. Of all his fever-infused dreams, one stood out.
“Oh, Ewyn! You’re awake.”
His mother entered his bedroom, carrying some bread and broth.
“And looking much better!”
Ewyn looked at her with newfound knowledge. He saw the lines on her face which indicated her worry, the bags under her eyes of sleepless nights of fear for her son.
“Oh, I should mention - a package came for you! Probably more well-wishings from your classmates.”
She gently placed a brown paper-wrapped package on the end of his bed. It was addressed to one Ewyn Irven.
Ewyn’s new knowledge informed him immediately that it was a book. A magic book, no less, as his mind continued to awaken to its newfound power. He sensed his mother’s thoughts, briefly, then recoiled and focussed on the book. He managed to stammer out a simple thanks before his mother left and he tore open the packaging.
Within the parcel, a magic book, as expected. A tome of great knowledge and great potential for knowledge. A gift from Kranius, in exchange for his soul. Arcane power, unlocked. A patron, gained.
I have arrived safely at the Temple. Uncle Regnus has taken me in and everyone has been very hospitable so far. Tomorrow my training begins. I feel excited to finally be following in the family footsteps! How’s Leefside? The journey was thankfully uneventful, I was only stopped by the guards about a dozen times. How’re the younger ones? Tell them all I said hi.
Write again soon!
Darrak
Dear Ma and Pa
It’s been a crazy first week of training! In addition to weapon training, I’ve learned loads of rituals and rites, and already have a test on my knowledge of them coming up soon! I’m shocked to hear about Javor! I hope he’s alright. Let me know if he’s ever found. I’ll keep him in my prayers!
Thor be with us,
Darrak
Dear Ma and Pa
Sorry for not writing every week, but Uncle Regnus said that, as a Thunderbeard, I should be able to tap into the Thunder-Lord’s power directly, so we’ve been working on that. I’m glad to report that I have now heard his voice, just like you Ma! My weapons training is fairly average, I’m much better at the divine stuff. Keep me posted on the rest of my friends! Thank you for taking in Korvon, I know he can be trouble, but he’s a good kid really.
Thor be with you,
Darrak
Dear Ma and Pa
I know it’s been a few months, but my studies have progressed incredibly! I’m being sent out on my first mission for Thor soon! With plenty of the older acolytes, so no reason to fear, I know how Pa worries. I’m glad to hear about Symphony’s first gig! Glad it went well, even if it was hosted by that awful guy she’s dating. As always, keep me updated about Leefside! I should be returning soon, as Uncle Regnus says that I’m doing really well!
Thor be with you,
Darrak
Dear Ma and Pa
I’m sorry it’s been a while, but I was on an expedition! We went to an old shrine of Thor’s and found the place overrun with undead. I can’t quite describe it, but I really, REALLY didn’t like all those skeletons lurching in our Lord’s sacred place. I channeled the essence of the lightning lord, according to Uncle Regnus, although I remember nothing except rage, thunder filling my ears and then all the skeletons raining in little pieces around me. Uncle Regnus says that the shrine can’t teach me much more, so I’ve got to commune with Thor and see what he has laid out for me and my life! I’m glad Olvorin has found piety, even if it is a slightly strange sort of piety. This should be the last letter I write you before I see you in person, so don’t bother writing back!
It had been a bitter, cold, winter. The village of Leefside just managed to get by on their food stores with minimal effort, although the elderly and the young were coming down with sickness as fast as the snow was falling outside. The guard forces, employed by the Families of Vreka - the local power in the area - had been increased in number in many small villages to protect them from hungry animals from the surrounding woodlands. For the most part, this worked.
For Leefside, it wasn’t an animal that attacked.
The first indication of the oncoming attack was a terrifying screech coming from the woods, followed by more humanoid sounding screams of wounded men. The attacker then became visible by the rest of the townsfolk, as they fled into their houses and the guard ran into the main square to confront the beast.
The creature tore into them with a large, serrated beak, rending flesh and skin from the hapless guards who got too close. The guards slashed at the beasts fur and feathered covered hide, as its baleful, owl-like face glared a challenge at any who got too close.
The guards quickly became wounded, and began to fall back to a more defensible position. They seemed to rally until a woman ran towards the beast, crying out incoherently. The guards quickly held her back, but she pointed forward and screamed;
“My baby!”
Now they saw. An insatiably curious half-elf child had wandered up towards the conflict and was reaching out towards the owlbear, showing an incredible lack of fear. Or self awareness. The owlbear reared up on its hind legs, and screamed in triumph as its jagged beak head down towards the child.
His mother screamed.
Then, so did the owlbear.
The half-elf boy was on the ground, wounded in the side, but crying - and alive. The owlbear now had an arrow in the side of its face, and whirled around to see the target. The guards, protecting the mother, followed its gaze. Standing atop a shorter home, dirty blonde hair shifting slowly in the wind, narrow green eyes sizing up her foe, stood a wood elf woman. She had her longbow trained on the beast, and was lining up another shot. As the owlbear turned to face her, she released it.
Her aim was true, and the owlbear suffered another arrow sprouting from its hulking form. She then leapt from the building, ran past the owlbear as it swiped at her back - her leather armour barely scraping out under its claws. She ran towards the child, and quickly picked him up into her arms. She began to whisper some words, and her eyes began to glow even brighter green as the child's wounds were closed and the scent of new grass filled the air.
Distracted by the child coming back to consciousness, and oblivious to the shouts of warning from the guards behind her, she felt a sudden pain in her shoulder as she tore away from the owlbears vicious bite. Spinning around and sizing up the beast, she stood over the child, threw her longbow to the side and unsheathed two shortswords.
A whirling, glittering display of dancing swords and slashing claws filled the space above the child, who was cowering and trying to back himself up against a nearby building.
The wood elf got a cut in here, a slash in there, all the while narrowly avoiding being cut by claws or bitten by that vicious beak.
The cunning owlbear, now wounded, redoubled its efforts. Barrelling into the elf, it threw her backwards, next to the boy, and her short swords scattered to the ground. It rose up once more on its hind legs, screeching in triumph and at the prospect of its next meal.
The elf grabbed her bow, just within reach of her foot, and scrabbled for an arrow as the owlbear descended upon her and the boy.
She began yelling something, in a language so primal and raw that even the owlbear hesitated for a second. She unleashed the arrow towards the creature above her.
And missed.
The owlbear descended upon her, and she grabbed the boy and curled up around him to protect him from the vicious claws and stabbing beak. She held her eyes tight shut and wondered if this was truly how it would end.
The guards saw the arrow miss, ascend towards the sky, then slow. Gravity took it as it began to descend. A similar green energy to that which surrounded the child as he was healed began to coalesce around the arrow as it suddenly shattered. Each fragment of the original arrow fell faster, and faster, and faster - peppering into the owlbear about to devour the elf and the child.
With a cry of anguish, the owlbear collapsed on top of the two figures. The guards rushed over, returned the boy to his mother, crying in fear, and helped the elf to her feet. She seemed shaken and breathed heavily, propping herself up against a wall.
The mother showered her with thanks through her tears, and claimed that the Galanodel household and therefore the town of Leefside would forever be in her debt. The elf, for her part, waved off these praises.
“At least tell me your name!” the mother demanded
The wood elf gave a wry smile, even with her face partially bloodied.
2nd Fechtag of Slowtime, Menhit, The Desert of Despair
The ruthless sun beat down upon the city streets, reflecting off of the white and sand coloured buildings. The warmth of the afternoon had made the streets scarce of people, but a few vendors still cried their wares for food and some more exotic items from the adventurers out into the desert.
Strolling between these small stalls in the bazaar, a young tiefling sways gently, as if moving to a beat only he can hear. His green tinted skin is clearly visible, a skirt being the only clothing he is otherwise wearing. His hair has been all but shaved off, to cope better with the heat, and he is adorned with three gold bands on his long, antelope-like horns. A necklace bounces against his bare chest, the symbol of a Tyet a burnished bronze against his green skin.
The bazaar vendors opened their arms and redoubled their efforts as the newcomer approached, his pupil-less amber eyes appraising various sweet cakes at one stall. Appearing to deliberate for a moment, he eventually selected a small treat, and handed over the copper pieces from his coin purse kept at his belt. Biting into the sweet dates, a smile crept its way across the tieflings mouth, revealing sharp canines that caused the sweet vendor to rapidly being hailing another customer.
Strolling along once again, on a mission apparently known only to him, the Tiefling continued his journey - heading into the centre of the city, and towards the oasis that permitted the cities very existence. The patrolling faith militant, servants of the god-king himself, eyed up the stranger, but left him alone. The tiefling smiled at each of them, meeting their eyes, and then preceding along the main thoroughfare.
Making a very sudden and sharp turn off of the road and towards a quieter, less busy street, the tiefling found himself wandering towards an inn. Entering the inn, some of the sand from the street blowing among his sandals, he appraised the interior. Here, in the finer parts of Menhit, the drink would be strong, the environment relaxed, the sandstone walls painted with a small overlay of red. The other patrons were mostly content to escape the afternoon’s heat by taking shelter in the inn - drinking iced wine and playing small dice games for petty change. The tiefling appraised the others, then his eyes settled on a human man - dark tan skin, bare chested, bald, and with a large golden ruff of metal that caught the eye. Dark kohl surrounded his eyes, and he looked up from his drink to see the tiefling standing in the doorway.
Hurriedly, the human began to make excuses and stand up, but it was too late. The green tiefling raised a hand, and an orb of shifting colours materialised in his hand, the knot of Isis attached to his necklace glowing with arcane power. The members of the public began to panic - some yelling, most scrambling to get out of the way of the green-skinned tiefling and the man he was clearly pursuing. Quick as a flash, the orb had settled on a sickly yellow tinge and the tiefling hurled it at the gentleman. The ball hit him in the side as he was turning to leave via a back exit, and he screamed as the acid began to melt away at his flesh. He turned, wide eyes wild with hatred, and unsheathed a scimitar from his belt and ran towards the tiefling, lunging forward. The tieflings amber eyes suddenly winced in pain as the scimitar slashed across his forearms, he not quite ducking out of the way fast enough. The power of Isis flowing through him, he stared into the humans eyes, the tieflings own pupil-less orbs flicking rapidly through all of the colours of the rainbow. The humans eyes began to do the same until he clutched at them in fear and frustration, blinded by the magic.
The tiefling took the opportunity to leap back towards the bar as the human lashed out blindly, his scimitar glancing off of a nearby table. Roaring in frustration, the human span aggressively, trying to protect himself from each direction but seeing nothing. Smiling once again, the tiefling conjured forth another colour-shifting ball and threw it at the human who inspired his ire. The colour settled on a burning, bright red, which briefly illuminated the interior of the bar with flame before scorching the side of the human and sending him tumbling to the ground away from the tiefling, dead.
The remaining patrons - those who hadn’t already run to fetch the faith militant - had ducked out of sight behind furniture or the bar, and began to show their frightened faces towards the green-skinned tiefling who just killed a man in cold blood.
The tiefling, for his part, smiled, revealing those long and unsettling canines. “Isis be with you.” he said, and then in a flash of multicoloured light, he was gone.
Officially I am writing this letter on behalf of the police department to ask you to stop your investigations into the murders. I tried informing my superioris of the futility of this endeavor, but nonetheless I must write this letter.
I have selfish motivations for this letter - our sister Jean mentioned that when she met you for tea you had a slight limp, perhaps sustained from an injury investigating a location you shouldn’t have been? Please be careful, sister dear.
Although I know I may have better luck writing a letter to the tide to stop it from flowing, I must attempt anyway for my conscience. Nonetheless, I have also discovered more information concerning the murders. It would appear these serial killings are occurring almost monthly.
As Jean also mentioned there may be an occult link, I took the liberty of consulting the astrology charts at the time of the murders and found that they always occur on the first day of the new moon. I have also informed my captain of this - perhaps this will get me a promotion to a detective role for showing ingenuity!
I am indeed in good health, as are the children - despite Jimmy having a small case of the sniffles earlier in the month. It is most pleasing to hear that you are well yourself, and indeed we must meet for tea in the near future!
Alas your sparing me the details did nothing to ease my slumber as the night I received your letter I had all sorts of ghastly dreams of your disappearance. Do be careful, my dear. As for your fascination with the plants, I asked Sylvester whether they had any medicinal properties and he replied that they did not, although he did mention to be careful around wormwood as it can be poisonous.
I get the distinct sensation that forewarning you of impending danger may only serve to fan the flames of your curiosity, however. To help potentially sate this bizzare desire you have to land yourself in the most dastardly of trouble, I broached the topic when I took tea with some old friends from my school days - have I introduced you to the Lady Charity Oshea?
If I have not, I must. She is very interested in that occult and mysterious nonsense, and informed me that both of the herbs you mentioned are associated with the dead - not particularly helpful, I thought, given that this is a murder case - but that they are used to ‘pierce the veil between this world and the next’ whatever that means.
It is a shame to hear about your continued lack of fortune when it comes to men - soon, my dear, we will find someone who is able to keep up with you in all things! As for me, little Lola is finally sleeping all night so I once again have free time in the evenings! I am so thrilled for the next grand ball now that I can attend and dance the night away like I once did. Nathan is performing admirably at school - he is becoming quite the young sportsman, and Jimmy - having got over his mild case of illness - is reading at a level deemed quite advanced for his age! We shall have to introduce him to the classics soon!
I hope this letter finds you and all of the children in good health. I have recently purchased a new set of spectacles and would appreciate your opinion on them. Perhaps I will get your opinion when we next meet for tea, it has been so long since I last saw you. I am writing merely to inform you that I am in good health and have recently started writing a new piece about a recent string of mysterious killings. I shall spare you the details as I know they disturb you, but the fascinating thing about these particular deaths is that the bodies are not being recovered. Some of the policemen claim merely not to be showing them to me, but I have it on good faith from Miles that no bodies have been recovered. I shall need to conduct further investigation to write my piece, but it is certainly fascinating, is it not?
Truly the settings of these killings are fascinating also. At each location herbs have been found scattered on the ground - I believe them to be wormwood and patchouli, although one of the gentlemen from The Daily Telegraph and Courier believes them to be sagewort. I also happen to believe he is a buffoon. His constant leering over me as I was performing successful journalism was an annoyance at best and a hinderance at worst. He had the audacity to ask me whether or not I had dinner plans, to which I declined to respond.
All my love to the children and of course my darling brother.
“Look, look, I’ll get you the money I swear!” The man known as ‘Lucky Harry’ backed up against the alley wall.
“You said that the last time, Harry.” The reply from the gnome in the darkness was quiet, but powerful.
“It’s just a temporary setback, I swear!” Harry gulped as one of the other gnomes twisted a small ring on his finger, causing a small arcane spark to flare up across his features.
“Look, look! No need to be unpleasant here!” Harry was pleading now. “100 platinum pieces, as promised, I’ll have it for you by next week!”
The flare grew brighter, and illuminated the faces of the gnomes in the alley. The leader of the trio wore a tailor-made jacket and trouser combination, and was smirking dangerously. The two other enforcers looked brutish - scars crossed their faces. One had on the ring from which the dim light was glowing, and the other a pair of knuckledusters. The woman with the knuckledusters grinned evilly at Harry’s pleas.
“I’m afraid, ‘Lucky’ Harry,” the leader of the trio formed the air quotes with his intonation, feeling no need to raise their hands. “That empty promises mean nothing to the Syndicate. Less, even, when your business plan is mere… gambling.” The leader twisted the last word as if it left a foul taste in their mouth.
Harry let out a deep sigh. The cold night air filled his lungs.
“May I say some final words?”
“I see no reason why not.” The gnome in charge seemed pleased with how civil this was going.
Harry bowed his head and closed his eyes. He uttered a quick chant, then opened his eyes, glowing with arcane power. He smiled at the now worried look of the gnomish enforcers, as his form turned into wisps of mist which quickly reformed into him a little ways down the alley.
“Sorry, gentlemen. Gotta run.”
The gnomish enforcers did recover from their shock quite quickly, it must be said. Not quite quickly enough, however.
Three bolts of eldritch energy sprung from Harry’s outstretched palm, blasting each of the gnomes with a bolt of arcane force. The leader and most well-dressed of the three looked appalled and affronted. He composed himself, and with a dismissive wave, spun on his heel with a cry of “Deal with it.”
The small gnomish woman with the knuckledusters was visibly angry. She charged forwards and swung for Harry, catching a nasty blow to the side of his jaw. Harry recoiled, spitting a curse along with the blood out of his mouth. The blood hit his assailant on the forehead, and formed a familiar rune atop her. The rune flared brightly and she was wreathed in flames. She let out a scream as the fire burned away at her flesh, rendering her little more than charred ash.
Apparently professional enough to disregard the death of his companion, the gnome with the glowing ring raised his hand and muttered a quick incantation. Three arcane bolts briefly lit up the alleyway before each finding their way into Harry’s body, striking with the force of well-aimed punches. Briefly winded, Harry sketched the symbol of his patron - the dark entity known as the Keeper - in the air, and eldritch energy sprung from his fingertips. One of the three beams struck wide, chipping some stone off of the wall of the alleyway. The other two, fortunately, found their mark in the gnomes small body and sent him skidding along the ground of the alley.
Taking that as his cue, ‘Lucky’ Harry began sprinting down the alleyway. He knew that wouldn’t be the last he saw of the Gnomish Business Syndicate, but as long as he kept up his debts to the Keeper, his debt to the Syndicate could wait.
Harry smiled, with a twinge of fear. One day, he knew, his debts would catch up with him. But for now, it was time to hit the casinos once more.
I was a relatively average guy. Did well enough in school, did ok at university, landed a job as an accountant in the city. Proposed at 24, married at 25, now going through a divorce with my wife at the age of 40. No kids. I guess that makes the divorce easier.
For most of the working week I commute into the city, do the daily grind, and return home. On Fridays, I go to my local to celebrate the end of the working week, and catch up with some old friends.
In many ways, everyone’s oldest friends.
I walked into the pub, beneath the sign that loudly proclaimed the name of the establishment to the unseeing eyes of the masses. Most people walked right by the place. I took a stool at the bar, nodded at the man behind it, and was promptly poured a pint of lager. I took a sip, and felt a tap on my shoulder.
“Well, fancy seeing you here,” said the woman at my shoulder, blonde hair loosely spilling down her shoulders and onto her shimmering cocktail dress.
“No, it was surely meant to be!” A gentleman in a full suit ensemble appeared behind her, both smiling at me.
“Coincidence. Fate.” I greeted each one in turn.
Coincidence gave a big grin; “Hello, John. How’s your week been?”
I rattled off some meaningless nonsense about some issues I had with a work colleague. Fate and Coincidence listened intently, enraptured by the normal lives of normal people.
“And how are things with Susan?” Fate asked, casually.
I was shocked; “How do you know about that?”
Fate gestured to a table across the room, where a small lady with unremarkable features and thin rimmed glasses looked up and gave a slightly embarrassed wave. During this time her fingers never left her phone, constantly scrolling and typing.
Rumour. Of course.
“You didn’t really think you could keep it a secret from us, did you?” Fate seemed amused. He gestured at the bartender for another round, and escorted me to a table.
“Really, though, how are things?” He asked.
“It’s OK. I’m OK.” I responded.
As I said this I caught the eyes of a woman dressed all in white, who made eye contact with me and raised an eyebrow disbelievingly. She didn’t say anything, but I knew that she knew the truth. After all, that’s who she was.
A few more patrons had noticed my presence and come over to greet me. A sickly looking gentleman made an offer in a nasally voice - “I could make her have a very unpleasant few weeks, if you’d like…”
“Now, Pestilence, I don’t think that’s what John wants, is it dear?” The rather rotund form of Virtue smiled sympathetically at me.
“No, no, thank Pestilence. Best let her live her life.” I took a long sip of my drink. “I just hope the settlement goes smoothly.”
“I’m by your side, don’t you worry.” A waitress fetched the other drinks from the bar. “I will prevail.”
“Thanks, Justice.” She gave a half-smile and walked towards a very thin man tucking into a very large meal, and took another order from him. By the grease-stains on his shirt, he’d been eating there for quite some time.
“Fear not, my boy!” An elderly man, dressed to the nines in a golden suit with a cane to match strode over to me. “In your line of work, you’ll be perfectly fine! A promotion soon, from what Rumour hears.”
“Wealth, I appreciate the sentiment, but ‘money doesn’t buy happiness’ and all that.” I said outwardly, but reflected on the promotion news with a little bit of excitement.
Wealth clearly didn’t listen to a word I was saying and was busy ordering the most expensive cocktail on the menu.
“Thanks, guys, though. This does make me feel better.” I said to the room at large, and was met by murmured ‘No problem’ and ‘We’re here for you, buddy’-esq responses.
The door to the pub was suddenly thrown open, and in walked a girl. Young, probably only just old enough to drink, wearing a short pink skirt and fashionable top. I gave a start - it was unusual to get people in here that dressed anything approaching normally. More pressingly, I didn’t recognise her.
She surveyed the room, lips pursed together for a moment before spinning around and bringing a handheld camera out of her pocket. She began to talk - loudly and clearly - to the camera.
“What is up, guys?!” Her shrill voice rebounded off of the walls. “It’s your girl Fame here, ready to tackle a new challenge! I heard that this is where all the suuuuuper old and ancient guys hang out, so I thought I’d check it out with a few buddies of mine! Maybe we’ll see some familiar famous faces!”
Every sentence was ended with exclamation, and I relaxed slightly. She definitely wasn’t human - real people didn’t speak like that. The other patrons seemed a mixture of curious and a little tense.
“Hey, that looks like Time! Hey, Time, what do you have to say to all your long-term fans!?” She thrust the camera into the face of a very old man who was snoozing in the corner, beneath the grandfather clock, before she came in. He spluttered something incoherent as she began anew.
“Cool! Way to show us young-uns how to stay in the business! Ooh, let’s see who this is. Vanity?”
Vanity took to the camera instantly, and kept this new girl - Fame, wasn’t it? - distracted for a bit. While all that was happening, a few more faces had appeared at the doorway - again, all quite young. Presumably these were Fame’s friends.
The first was a skinny ginger kid, who surveyed the room with cold, dispassionate eyes. His glasses had a microchip in them, and was displaying a screen to him, while he tapped away at a phone in his off hand.
The second was a wilder looking girl, multicoloured streaks ran through her hair and she was dressed in a relatively revealing outfit. She hazily looked around the room and staggered to the bar, drunkenly slurring out requests for jager bombs.
The third was another guy - torn jeans and a plain white T-shirt covered in a denim jacket - unremarkable except for the tattoos of all colours, shapes, and sizes that ran their way up both of his arms across his dark skin.
At their entrance, Fame squealed and tore her camera away from Vanity. Vanity looked a little put out.
“Hey guys, look who turned up! Tech, a few words?”
The skinny ginger merely replied “Your camera’s out of date.”
“Haha, thanks Tech! Sesh, you?”
The drunken girl downed the last of her jager bombs, stared blearily at the camera and said nothing.
“Right on! Equality, what about you!?”
The third lad looked awkward, and said “Fame, don’t you think you should be a little quieter? This looks like a nice place and-”
“Sure thing!” Fame replied, making no difference in volume whatsoever. She began doing circuits of the pub, talking to well-known faces and interviewing them all.
“Sesh? Who’s THAT?” Virtue asked me.
I racked my brains, then remembered something.
“I think it’s a young people thing,” I said with a note of bitterness. “I heard some of the interns at work talking about it. Its going out to a club and getting fully wasted and not really stopping. One of the interns had been on a ‘four-day bender’ whatever that means.”
Virtue huffed up. “Well. No wonder I haven’t heard of her. Equality looks like a good kid though. He seems friendly enough.”
Looking at the kid in question, I realised his jacket was covered in pins from various activist groups. Sort of a freedom-fighter, I guessed.
Before I was quite aware what was going on, Fame was at my table.
“And here we have VIRTUE!” She squealed. “Oh, so many people said you and I wouldn’t get along, but I’m sure we’ll be great friends!” Virtue glanced at me, and got up and left.
“Well, we’ll work on that! Later!” Fame seemed nonplussed. “And who are you, stranger!?” She asked me. “How come I’ve never seen you before!?” She seemed fascinated by this concept.
“Oh, I’m not like one of you.” I replied. “My name is John, and I-”
“You’re HUMAN!?” She cried out, loud enough to draw the attention of everyone in the room.
“Yes, but-”
“You’re not supposed to be here! This isn’t a place for mortals! Who let you in?! What is this outrage!?” She began ranting, and I found myself unable to get a word in edgeways.
The kid with the enhanced glasses strode over to me. Tech, I remembered him being introduced as.
“You really aren’t supposed to be here.” He said, smugly and matter-of-factly. He brought up a file on his phone and passed it to me. “See?”
It was some sort of terms and conditions document. Highlighted was section 3 subsection 4 - ‘Under no circumstances are mortals permitted in establishments reserved for anthropomorphic personifications - those establishments with a license 42b (see appendix 7). Consequences permit the immediate termination of the mortal.’
“The implication is clear, but we are willing to be merciful.” Tech spoke, calming Fame down into a simmering rage as Sesh wandered angrily over from the bar. Equality reluctantly came behind.
“Leave now, and never return, and you won’t be killed!” Fame threatened, with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer.
“Come on, guys, he’s clearly cool with the rest of them,” Equality tried to speak up on my behalf, but Tech shut him down.
“The rules are clear. He leaves, or he dies.”
The tension in the room became palpable. Everyone knew I wasn’t supposed to be there, but I was accepted. The new kids stared at me, I tried to avoid making eye contact with anyone and not letting my fear show.
“Well, mortal? What’s it to be?” Sesh slurred at me.
I rose from the table, ready to say my piece and leave, but I was stopped. An icy cold sensation ran through my shoulder into my body. Sweat beaded on my forehead and my heart began thudding in my ears. The lights in the pub dimmed and became black as a great spectre appeared behind me.
“HE. STAYS.” The voice like tombstones spoke of a certainty that could not be argued with.
The new kids gave a series of frightened yelps, and left the pub in a hurry, tripping over themselves to get out. Only Equality stayed, shaking gently in his shoes, clearing his throat, ready to make a stand.
Just like that the presence was gone, my vitals returned to normal, and Equality gave a deep sigh of relief. The rest of the patrons looked shocked, directly at me. Equality sat beside me, for I has sunk back to my chair, and said; “Right, let's try that again. I’m Equality, nice to meet you. You are?”
I was many things at that moment - scared, confused, relieved, but most pressingly, alive. Also unable to speak, which didn’t allow me to articulate a good response.
Slowly the hustle and bustle returned to normal levels, and the night proceeded as so many had done before, and so many would continue to do.
