The wind howled and snow flakes swirled around me as I waited the arrival of the South Beach Slayer at the appointed time. The sounds of the wind whistling through the hollowed-out, windowless building made it difficult to hear if anyone was approaching or not, so I kept my eyes open and weapons handy.
I really had no idea of what to expect form this meeting. The last time we had met face to face, the Slayer had left me on my back in the sands of South Beach with an incapacitated crazed killer to take the blame for his crimes and another dead body. He had also left me with a warning that I had a long way to go before I truly threaten him and his masters like my ‘father’ had. He meant Drake of course, the person who had orchestrated my birth into undeath.
Looking out over the edge towards the abandoned husk of Tiger Stadium, it felt strange to be so alone in the heart of a once-bustling and vibrant city. Even the streets below were devoid of traffic, the snow settling softly on the pavement that the city government could no longer afford to salt properly.
I had arrived at this crusty old shell of a building the old fashioned way, partly for the curiosity of being able to explore the once grand rail station on my way up to meeting and partly to conserve power for a hasty exit, should one be required. The base of the building was surrounded by a strong fence, but it was clear that any number of vagrants and other curiosity seekers had found alternative routes into the building. I was able to follow a trail in the fresh snow to a place where a hole had been made in the fence that I was easily able to squeeze through.
The first floor of the massive structure was covered in graffiti and littered with trash, including used needles and empty dime bags. Empty bottles rattled around and potato chip bags and candy wrappers swirled with the whistling winds. I rousted a pair of young men who were about to inject some recently heated heroin into their veins before they had the chance to get their high going. They scattered when I kicked over their portable kerosene stove, cursing me all the way. Neither of them had the courage to back their curses with action. They fled harmlessly into the night in search of their next fix and a quieter place to get it on.
The stairwell leading up to the roof through the more than dozen floors in between reeked of urine and human waste. The trash was piled highest on the first landing, with less and less of it on each successive level. I didn’t waste time on the intervening floors since it was pretty apparent that the place was largely abandoned, except for the druggies I had already evicted. On a warmer night in the spring or the summer, I could see this place as much busier, but not many folks were immune to the freezing weather like I was.
I sensed the arrival of the Slayer as a ripple of disturbance in the surrounding Shadow. I turned to face him.
(Part 2 by Wednesday, July 1, 2009)
Showing posts with label Drake. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Drake. Show all posts
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Sunday, November 16, 2008
A Presidential Conversation
Zulu retreated from the room with a deferential nod when the President-Elect nodded acknowledgement to him. Before long it was just the newly elected 44th President of the United States and me, if you didn’t count the half-dozen Secret Service Agents standing in vigilant pairs at discrete distances in the room.
He crossed his legs after he sat in a seat directly across from me. There was nothing but about a couple of feet of empty space between me and the next president. It was a very surreal moment.
He was the first to break the silence. “Thank you for coming to see me on such short notice, Rusty, I hope that you don’t mind if I address you by your first name.”
I nodded, finding it hard to find my tongue. “Not at all. It’s my pleasure to see you, Sir. I’m very surprised that you would even know who I am.”
He grinned as he clasped his hands over his knee. “Your friend there,” he nodded towards where Zulu had gone, “has been instrumental in bringing me up to speed on some of the less than savory activities of the current administration. He made sure that I had access to several classified databases that contained quite a lot of information. He asked to pay particular attention to one particular dossier simply titled the Omega File. As you might imagine, you and your family and associates are the primary subjects in that dossier. I must say that reading your file has opened my eyes to a number of things that I had never considered to even be possible before.”
I swallowed. “I’m almost afraid to ask what’s in that file, Sir.”
He gave the briefest of nods. “It was not pleasant reading, Rusty, but I am better prepared for having done so. I have also had a chance to read through much of your blog. I think I have a pretty good handle on who you are and what you have been through over the past few years.”
“So, what I can do you for you, Mr. President?”
His expression became more serious. “Rusty, I asked you here so that I could judge for myself how much of what I read was the truth. If I am to be the best President that I can be, I will need to have as much information about the dangers this country faces and to know as much I possibly can about the people and resources that I can call upon to help me face those dangers…”
“Sir, you have my full support. I…”
He raised a hand from his knee to stop me. “I appreciate your support, Rusty, but please let me finish. I can see now that there is so much more to this job that any one person can possibly anticipate. The revelations from your file and the others that I have read have been extremely disturbing.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat before continuing. “As much as I want my administration to be open and transparent, I can see that there are a great number of areas where I will need people that I can trust to act with professionalism, honest, respect and dignity to resolve crises and problems far away from the public eye. I am going to need people who can act independent of direct governmental oversight, but to do so while acting in the best interests of the American people, perhaps even in humanity’s best interests. I know from reading your file that you were targeted by Drake Kampmann and his team on the Omega Project long before they tricked you into participating in that sham of a program. I also know that you were assassinated so that you would have little choice in taking part in the real Omega Project.”
It was my turn to shift uncomfortably in my seat. I nodded as he continued to speak.
“I would like to ask you to serve with me to protect this nation and its people from the forces and enemies that threaten it. Will you serve with me?”
I was shocked. To actually be asked to help out rather than be tricked and manipulated into it was something completely new to me. “Sir, I would be honored to serve with you. How exactly can I be of service?”
“I have asked…Zulu…,” he hesitated with using that name, clearly uncomfortable with using Zulu’s handle rather than his very well known name, “to join my administration publicly as one of my Senior Advisors, but his real role will be that of a Secretary of Supernatural Affairs, a sort of shadow cabinet level position that will be in charge of dealing with these issues and crises as they arise. I would like you to report directly to him when he calls upon you for assistance. He will have a direct line of communication with me whenever he needs it. I will be issue the appropriate orders to ensure that you and your companions, if they also agree to serve with me, have all the resources and authorities that are needed to act when called upon to do so.”
“Absolutely, Sir. I will be glad to serve under you. I’m sure that everyone who came with me will also agree, but I will let each them speak for themselves. Sir, I do have one question.”
“Only one question, Rusty? From what I have read, you usually have more than that. Go ahead.”
I smiled, he had read my blog! “Yes, what about my blog? Can I write about this, or should I treat this meeting as classified?”
He smiled and shook his head. “I actually want you to continue to write about these events, including this conversation with me, on your blog. One day, all of this...strangeness…that you have been involved in will come out in the open. Some day, the American people will be ready to face the truth about the world, or worlds, that they live in. Until that day, your blog may be seen as pure fiction by those who simply cannot accept these truths, but it will be there for any who are truly ready to see things as they to see it for themselves. You have my blessings to continue writing as you see fit. From what I have seen, you have been quite diligent in protecting information that has needed to be protected. But the truth is in there for those ready to see it.”
“Sir, I do know that some of my enemies have found this blog. Are you sure that you want me to let them know that you are aware of them as well?”
His smile was radiant. “It is especially important for those enemies to know that you have my full support. Zulu will see to it that we take all reasonable precautions against the infiltration of these enemies.” He stood up, signaling that this conversation was coming to a close. “I will need to speak with each of your comrades as well. Thank you for agreeing to serve. It means everything.”
I stood up as well, extending my hand to him.
He took my hand in his and gave me a firm shake. I could feel a certain kind of strength within him that had only been hinted at in his campaign for the job. “Oh, and Rusty, one of my first assignments to you is to continue the search for your daughter Alexa and her mother. I would very much like to meet with each of them.”
I couldn’t help the tears from streaming down my face. “I will be glad to make that happen, Sir.”
With that I turned to see Zulu had reappeared. He motioned for me to follow him out. I wiped the blood red tears from my cheek as I left…
He crossed his legs after he sat in a seat directly across from me. There was nothing but about a couple of feet of empty space between me and the next president. It was a very surreal moment.
He was the first to break the silence. “Thank you for coming to see me on such short notice, Rusty, I hope that you don’t mind if I address you by your first name.”
I nodded, finding it hard to find my tongue. “Not at all. It’s my pleasure to see you, Sir. I’m very surprised that you would even know who I am.”
He grinned as he clasped his hands over his knee. “Your friend there,” he nodded towards where Zulu had gone, “has been instrumental in bringing me up to speed on some of the less than savory activities of the current administration. He made sure that I had access to several classified databases that contained quite a lot of information. He asked to pay particular attention to one particular dossier simply titled the Omega File. As you might imagine, you and your family and associates are the primary subjects in that dossier. I must say that reading your file has opened my eyes to a number of things that I had never considered to even be possible before.”
I swallowed. “I’m almost afraid to ask what’s in that file, Sir.”
He gave the briefest of nods. “It was not pleasant reading, Rusty, but I am better prepared for having done so. I have also had a chance to read through much of your blog. I think I have a pretty good handle on who you are and what you have been through over the past few years.”
“So, what I can do you for you, Mr. President?”
His expression became more serious. “Rusty, I asked you here so that I could judge for myself how much of what I read was the truth. If I am to be the best President that I can be, I will need to have as much information about the dangers this country faces and to know as much I possibly can about the people and resources that I can call upon to help me face those dangers…”
“Sir, you have my full support. I…”
He raised a hand from his knee to stop me. “I appreciate your support, Rusty, but please let me finish. I can see now that there is so much more to this job that any one person can possibly anticipate. The revelations from your file and the others that I have read have been extremely disturbing.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat before continuing. “As much as I want my administration to be open and transparent, I can see that there are a great number of areas where I will need people that I can trust to act with professionalism, honest, respect and dignity to resolve crises and problems far away from the public eye. I am going to need people who can act independent of direct governmental oversight, but to do so while acting in the best interests of the American people, perhaps even in humanity’s best interests. I know from reading your file that you were targeted by Drake Kampmann and his team on the Omega Project long before they tricked you into participating in that sham of a program. I also know that you were assassinated so that you would have little choice in taking part in the real Omega Project.”
It was my turn to shift uncomfortably in my seat. I nodded as he continued to speak.
“I would like to ask you to serve with me to protect this nation and its people from the forces and enemies that threaten it. Will you serve with me?”
I was shocked. To actually be asked to help out rather than be tricked and manipulated into it was something completely new to me. “Sir, I would be honored to serve with you. How exactly can I be of service?”
“I have asked…Zulu…,” he hesitated with using that name, clearly uncomfortable with using Zulu’s handle rather than his very well known name, “to join my administration publicly as one of my Senior Advisors, but his real role will be that of a Secretary of Supernatural Affairs, a sort of shadow cabinet level position that will be in charge of dealing with these issues and crises as they arise. I would like you to report directly to him when he calls upon you for assistance. He will have a direct line of communication with me whenever he needs it. I will be issue the appropriate orders to ensure that you and your companions, if they also agree to serve with me, have all the resources and authorities that are needed to act when called upon to do so.”
“Absolutely, Sir. I will be glad to serve under you. I’m sure that everyone who came with me will also agree, but I will let each them speak for themselves. Sir, I do have one question.”
“Only one question, Rusty? From what I have read, you usually have more than that. Go ahead.”
I smiled, he had read my blog! “Yes, what about my blog? Can I write about this, or should I treat this meeting as classified?”
He smiled and shook his head. “I actually want you to continue to write about these events, including this conversation with me, on your blog. One day, all of this...strangeness…that you have been involved in will come out in the open. Some day, the American people will be ready to face the truth about the world, or worlds, that they live in. Until that day, your blog may be seen as pure fiction by those who simply cannot accept these truths, but it will be there for any who are truly ready to see things as they to see it for themselves. You have my blessings to continue writing as you see fit. From what I have seen, you have been quite diligent in protecting information that has needed to be protected. But the truth is in there for those ready to see it.”
“Sir, I do know that some of my enemies have found this blog. Are you sure that you want me to let them know that you are aware of them as well?”
His smile was radiant. “It is especially important for those enemies to know that you have my full support. Zulu will see to it that we take all reasonable precautions against the infiltration of these enemies.” He stood up, signaling that this conversation was coming to a close. “I will need to speak with each of your comrades as well. Thank you for agreeing to serve. It means everything.”
I stood up as well, extending my hand to him.
He took my hand in his and gave me a firm shake. I could feel a certain kind of strength within him that had only been hinted at in his campaign for the job. “Oh, and Rusty, one of my first assignments to you is to continue the search for your daughter Alexa and her mother. I would very much like to meet with each of them.”
I couldn’t help the tears from streaming down my face. “I will be glad to make that happen, Sir.”
With that I turned to see Zulu had reappeared. He motioned for me to follow him out. I wiped the blood red tears from my cheek as I left…
Monday, September 01, 2008
The Update Post
Is it me or is Hurricane Gustav trying to find the shortest path to the Twin Cities where the Republican Convention is about to kick-off?
Hey you Evangelical dipshits, God is gonna rain all over your parade. Hmmm…maybe He actually meant it when his Boy was talking all of that shit about turning the other cheek, helping the poor and destitute, and to be nice? Ach…what do I know? I’m just your local unbelieving dead man. It is your religion, not mine, but maybe you Christians should try reading that little book of yours a little closer. That are lots of little nuggets of wisdom allegedly uttered by that long-haired, sandal wearing, do-gooder of a pre-hippie dude that you claim to follow. If more of you actually did that, there would be a hell of a lot less misery in this world.
Ah well, enough of that, for the moment, anyway.
A lot has happened since I met Raxgar in the Alaskan wilderness, much of it worth telling about at some point, but I think it is time to catch the story up to the present day.
The battle in the Alaskan wilderness turned out to be somewhat of a watershed moment in the brewing conflict between the ORC’s and the An’girasii. While the ORC’s lost too many good people that day, including my son Kenny, the losses for the An’girasii were staggering. Three of their most powerful Banes and a dozen Doppelgangers were slain.
Banes aren’t killed very often. But when, on occasion, they are killed, their Spirit finds a new host body and begins the arduous process of modifying that body to suit their desires. That is what happened with the Bane that Drake killed on the tanker ship when he took over my body.
The three who died in that battle with us, however, didn’t just get killed. I absorbed their Spirits into myself, essentially destroying them. This was a crippling blow to the offensive forces of the An’girasii. To make matters worse for the An’girasii, El Diablito used the diversion created by my drawing the Banes and their followers into battle to betray his erstwhile masters. He and his minions snuck into a secret stronghold that the An’girasii had established and stole a large number of artifacts and weapons that the An’girasii had been gathering for their own servants. Among the things he took was an orb that can lead its bearer to where Alexa is being held.
I can’t reveal yet how I know all of this information, but I will tell it when doing so will no longer compromise valuable secrets.
El Diablito and his organization are now the focus of the rage of the An’girasii and their surviving minions which has taken considerable, if temporary, pressure off of the ORC’s.
This brief respite has allowed for the ORC’s to regroup and establish several new bases of operation. I am now back in a rural area just outside of Metro Detroit with my ex-wife and daughter and several of my oldest friends among the ORC’s—including Ravyn, the Frau, Cerrydwen, the Professor and Alora. We are safely tucked away on a large swath of property that the organization has owned and operated for quite some time under an alias that I won’t be divulging here. I will not reveal any more of the location for obvious reasons, other than to give you the name by which we are calling our new home base—the Den.
I use the place as a base of sorts, but spend more than half of my time away on various missions for the Bureau or the ORC’s. Supervisory Special Agent Jennifer Wilson was able to settle the situation with the Bureau so that I am now fully restored to my previous position as a Provisional Special Agent. More importantly, I have had my access to the various law enforcement systems restored. I am still free to take on cases as I see fit, but also have to be available on short notice at any time to help the Bureau out with one of their cases as well.
As the strange woman, Me’shwara, had warned, I no longer have easy access to the Shadowland. In the many months since I’ve been back, I’ve only managed to make two short-lived trips, each one consuming tremendous amounts of energy that is not really very easy to store up. I can only shake my head and marvel at how powerful I had become and how much I took that power for granted until I lost it. I now have to get around in more traditional ways. For the most part I travel by way of my black Ninja motorcycle.
Since my latest transition, I have found it easier to move about in society. I’m still the ugliest mug in any given room, by now my skin looks a lot more like skin, even if it is pasty white in color. But I can throw on a hat, some mirrored sun-glasses and a jacket and get by without too much trouble. I still avoid crowds of any sort when I can, but I can mingle freely when I have to.
As mentioned in a previous post, my new body has its full complement of senses. I can smell and taste again, although sometimes I wish I couldn’t taste the kinds of stuff I have to eat in order to build up my strength. In order to be as strong as I need to be, I have to consume a diet of raw meat.
In the last few months I have discovered a lot of information about my new body and how it works. For one, I have a new appreciation for how Drake was able to take on the strongest servants of the An’girasii. Like Drake, I can suffer wounds by weapons big and small, but also like Drake, I have the ability to control my body’s reaction to such attacks on an almost cellular level. In the last few months I have been shot, stabbed, and nearly crushed while investigating various cases. In each case, however, I have been able to absorb the wounds, redirect my energy and resources around the wounded area and keep on trucking. Once the immediate danger is over, I’m then able to heal the damage far quicker than the normal healing process would be if I were a normal person.
Even though I have lost most of my ability to manipulate the Shadow, I have discovered a number of new abilities that also mirror some of the things I watched Drake do. When I haven’t been engaged with cases, I’ve spent hour after hour training to hone the skills that I know that I will need for the coming battles.
In my next post, I will update you on the status of some of my comrades and go into more detail on some of the doings of the other ORC’s.
Hey you Evangelical dipshits, God is gonna rain all over your parade. Hmmm…maybe He actually meant it when his Boy was talking all of that shit about turning the other cheek, helping the poor and destitute, and to be nice? Ach…what do I know? I’m just your local unbelieving dead man. It is your religion, not mine, but maybe you Christians should try reading that little book of yours a little closer. That are lots of little nuggets of wisdom allegedly uttered by that long-haired, sandal wearing, do-gooder of a pre-hippie dude that you claim to follow. If more of you actually did that, there would be a hell of a lot less misery in this world.
Ah well, enough of that, for the moment, anyway.
A lot has happened since I met Raxgar in the Alaskan wilderness, much of it worth telling about at some point, but I think it is time to catch the story up to the present day.
The battle in the Alaskan wilderness turned out to be somewhat of a watershed moment in the brewing conflict between the ORC’s and the An’girasii. While the ORC’s lost too many good people that day, including my son Kenny, the losses for the An’girasii were staggering. Three of their most powerful Banes and a dozen Doppelgangers were slain.
Banes aren’t killed very often. But when, on occasion, they are killed, their Spirit finds a new host body and begins the arduous process of modifying that body to suit their desires. That is what happened with the Bane that Drake killed on the tanker ship when he took over my body.
The three who died in that battle with us, however, didn’t just get killed. I absorbed their Spirits into myself, essentially destroying them. This was a crippling blow to the offensive forces of the An’girasii. To make matters worse for the An’girasii, El Diablito used the diversion created by my drawing the Banes and their followers into battle to betray his erstwhile masters. He and his minions snuck into a secret stronghold that the An’girasii had established and stole a large number of artifacts and weapons that the An’girasii had been gathering for their own servants. Among the things he took was an orb that can lead its bearer to where Alexa is being held.
I can’t reveal yet how I know all of this information, but I will tell it when doing so will no longer compromise valuable secrets.
El Diablito and his organization are now the focus of the rage of the An’girasii and their surviving minions which has taken considerable, if temporary, pressure off of the ORC’s.
This brief respite has allowed for the ORC’s to regroup and establish several new bases of operation. I am now back in a rural area just outside of Metro Detroit with my ex-wife and daughter and several of my oldest friends among the ORC’s—including Ravyn, the Frau, Cerrydwen, the Professor and Alora. We are safely tucked away on a large swath of property that the organization has owned and operated for quite some time under an alias that I won’t be divulging here. I will not reveal any more of the location for obvious reasons, other than to give you the name by which we are calling our new home base—the Den.
I use the place as a base of sorts, but spend more than half of my time away on various missions for the Bureau or the ORC’s. Supervisory Special Agent Jennifer Wilson was able to settle the situation with the Bureau so that I am now fully restored to my previous position as a Provisional Special Agent. More importantly, I have had my access to the various law enforcement systems restored. I am still free to take on cases as I see fit, but also have to be available on short notice at any time to help the Bureau out with one of their cases as well.
As the strange woman, Me’shwara, had warned, I no longer have easy access to the Shadowland. In the many months since I’ve been back, I’ve only managed to make two short-lived trips, each one consuming tremendous amounts of energy that is not really very easy to store up. I can only shake my head and marvel at how powerful I had become and how much I took that power for granted until I lost it. I now have to get around in more traditional ways. For the most part I travel by way of my black Ninja motorcycle.
Since my latest transition, I have found it easier to move about in society. I’m still the ugliest mug in any given room, by now my skin looks a lot more like skin, even if it is pasty white in color. But I can throw on a hat, some mirrored sun-glasses and a jacket and get by without too much trouble. I still avoid crowds of any sort when I can, but I can mingle freely when I have to.
As mentioned in a previous post, my new body has its full complement of senses. I can smell and taste again, although sometimes I wish I couldn’t taste the kinds of stuff I have to eat in order to build up my strength. In order to be as strong as I need to be, I have to consume a diet of raw meat.
In the last few months I have discovered a lot of information about my new body and how it works. For one, I have a new appreciation for how Drake was able to take on the strongest servants of the An’girasii. Like Drake, I can suffer wounds by weapons big and small, but also like Drake, I have the ability to control my body’s reaction to such attacks on an almost cellular level. In the last few months I have been shot, stabbed, and nearly crushed while investigating various cases. In each case, however, I have been able to absorb the wounds, redirect my energy and resources around the wounded area and keep on trucking. Once the immediate danger is over, I’m then able to heal the damage far quicker than the normal healing process would be if I were a normal person.
Even though I have lost most of my ability to manipulate the Shadow, I have discovered a number of new abilities that also mirror some of the things I watched Drake do. When I haven’t been engaged with cases, I’ve spent hour after hour training to hone the skills that I know that I will need for the coming battles.
In my next post, I will update you on the status of some of my comrades and go into more detail on some of the doings of the other ORC’s.
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
My Father's Son...?
Now clean, but cold and wet, I returned to the clearing where Yggsdrasil had once stood vigil.
A figure stood near the giant stump. I felt a strange mixture of fear and joy at seeing this figure. Joy at the thought of being able to talk to someone, anyone about what had just happened to me, fear began to wrap its cold hand around what passed for my heart though as I got a closer look at this figure.
It was vaguely feminine, its pale flesh almost translucent in the dim light of the clearing. Her hair was long, dark and tangled in massive clumps that seemed to have a life of their own. Her eyes shone with a bright blue light that only made me feel even colder in my nakedness.
She waited as I stepped from the forest and cautiously approached her.
Now that I had the my natural equipment again, I found it difficult not to drop my hands down to cover my privates, but something told me that there was nothing truly sexual about this creature, so I resisted and kept my hands down at my sides, fists nervously clenching and unclenching.
“Who are you?” I saw no reason to beat around the bush.
“I am Me’shwara, She Who Watches, in your mortal tongue.”
“Can you tell me what the hell happened to me here?” I looked down at my new body before meeting her gaze again. “Where is my son? He helped to bring me here.”
“Your son made his sacrifice. His time has expired. He has moved on in his journey. You, however, have much work yet to do.” Her voice was cold and distant, ringing out with a hollow echo as she spoke, as if she were using a microphone and bad speakers.
“Why couldn’t he wait until this…transformation…that I went through was finished?”
The woman’s face showed no emotion as she replied. “His sacrifice was required for you to rise again. Without the completion of the act, you would no longer exist.”
I stepped forward, losing the fear for this strange woman as my frustration level grew. “What do you mean that I wouldn’t exist? I was far more powerful than I feel now. What the fuck did you people do to me? What happened to my body? Why do I need to eat again? Why…”
Her raised hand ended my rush of questions and halted me where I stood, unable to move or even speak as she exerted some sort of power over me.
“You will have to find your own answers to most of your questions, but I answer three questions that you ask now. Ask carefully, because I will answer no more than three questions.”
I felt her grip of power on me loosen. “OK, what happened to me?”
“You had fallen into the trap of becoming that which you had been fighting against. By defeating the Banes and absorbing their essences, you became too dangerous. This was a process that had been taking place over a number of years, but you reached a critical mass, a tipping point, where you would have soon fallen under the sway of the An’girasii and destroyed all hope for your people. Your son sacrificed his own life so that you could be saved. As you can see, your body has been dramatically altered. You are now flesh and bone once again, your Spirit has been reunited with a body that has certain physical needs. Your Spirit has been cleansed of all the others that you had absorbed over the years, including the creature you knew as Grendel’s mother.”
I didn’t stop to think about her answer before asking my next question.
“So, do I need to eat and drink again because I am alive?”
“You are immortal, to a degree, in that you do not require sustenance to survive. You do, however, need to eat and drink in order to thrive and become as strong as you will need to be for the challenges that you will surely face. You will find that you crave the lifeblood of living creatures, the fresher the kill, the more strength you will gain from its consumption. In that aspect, you are now well and truly your father’s son.”
That caught me off guard. I couldn’t resist throwing out my third question. “Wait a minute, who do you think my father is?”
“The man you know as Drake Kampmann was both your biological father and your spiritual father.”
I was so stunned by this statement that I had trouble forming coherent words in reply. “But…that’s…not…possible…”
The creature smiled for the first time. “It is the truth. When you come to a full acceptance of this fact, you will truly discover the full range of your inherited powers.”
“No…no…no…”
“Say your farewell to this place, human, for you will likely never return. You will find that it will be exceedingly difficult to travel through the Shadow, as you call it, like you did before. You still retain the knowledge of how to do so, but you will no longer have the same complete mastery of that place as you did before.”
She pointed to a pile of clothes and gear next to her.
“Please collect your things and prepare yourself for your final journey from this place. I will open the path for you to take back to your home world.”
I couldn’t bring myself to move just yet. “But what happened to Alexa? Why can’t I see Kenny one more time?”
She shook her head. “You have used up your allotment of questions, human. You will need to find those answers for yourself. You do not have much time before the pathway is open to you. I suggest that you use this time wisely.”
A door of Shadow formed just beyond my pile of clothes. Still dumbfounded, I staggered forward to scoop up my gear. I noticed something was missing. “Hey, where is Excalibur?”
“The Lady of the Lake has claimed the blade for now for safekeeping. If you prove worthy of it, and are in need of it, it may be returned to you at a later time. I suggest that you leave now.”
Clothes and gear in hand, I stepped into the Shadow with far more questions than answers.
“Drake is really my father? Mom, you’ve got some ‘splainin’ to do!”
A figure stood near the giant stump. I felt a strange mixture of fear and joy at seeing this figure. Joy at the thought of being able to talk to someone, anyone about what had just happened to me, fear began to wrap its cold hand around what passed for my heart though as I got a closer look at this figure.
It was vaguely feminine, its pale flesh almost translucent in the dim light of the clearing. Her hair was long, dark and tangled in massive clumps that seemed to have a life of their own. Her eyes shone with a bright blue light that only made me feel even colder in my nakedness.
She waited as I stepped from the forest and cautiously approached her.
Now that I had the my natural equipment again, I found it difficult not to drop my hands down to cover my privates, but something told me that there was nothing truly sexual about this creature, so I resisted and kept my hands down at my sides, fists nervously clenching and unclenching.
“Who are you?” I saw no reason to beat around the bush.
“I am Me’shwara, She Who Watches, in your mortal tongue.”
“Can you tell me what the hell happened to me here?” I looked down at my new body before meeting her gaze again. “Where is my son? He helped to bring me here.”
“Your son made his sacrifice. His time has expired. He has moved on in his journey. You, however, have much work yet to do.” Her voice was cold and distant, ringing out with a hollow echo as she spoke, as if she were using a microphone and bad speakers.
“Why couldn’t he wait until this…transformation…that I went through was finished?”
The woman’s face showed no emotion as she replied. “His sacrifice was required for you to rise again. Without the completion of the act, you would no longer exist.”
I stepped forward, losing the fear for this strange woman as my frustration level grew. “What do you mean that I wouldn’t exist? I was far more powerful than I feel now. What the fuck did you people do to me? What happened to my body? Why do I need to eat again? Why…”
Her raised hand ended my rush of questions and halted me where I stood, unable to move or even speak as she exerted some sort of power over me.
“You will have to find your own answers to most of your questions, but I answer three questions that you ask now. Ask carefully, because I will answer no more than three questions.”
I felt her grip of power on me loosen. “OK, what happened to me?”
“You had fallen into the trap of becoming that which you had been fighting against. By defeating the Banes and absorbing their essences, you became too dangerous. This was a process that had been taking place over a number of years, but you reached a critical mass, a tipping point, where you would have soon fallen under the sway of the An’girasii and destroyed all hope for your people. Your son sacrificed his own life so that you could be saved. As you can see, your body has been dramatically altered. You are now flesh and bone once again, your Spirit has been reunited with a body that has certain physical needs. Your Spirit has been cleansed of all the others that you had absorbed over the years, including the creature you knew as Grendel’s mother.”
I didn’t stop to think about her answer before asking my next question.
“So, do I need to eat and drink again because I am alive?”
“You are immortal, to a degree, in that you do not require sustenance to survive. You do, however, need to eat and drink in order to thrive and become as strong as you will need to be for the challenges that you will surely face. You will find that you crave the lifeblood of living creatures, the fresher the kill, the more strength you will gain from its consumption. In that aspect, you are now well and truly your father’s son.”
That caught me off guard. I couldn’t resist throwing out my third question. “Wait a minute, who do you think my father is?”
“The man you know as Drake Kampmann was both your biological father and your spiritual father.”
I was so stunned by this statement that I had trouble forming coherent words in reply. “But…that’s…not…possible…”
The creature smiled for the first time. “It is the truth. When you come to a full acceptance of this fact, you will truly discover the full range of your inherited powers.”
“No…no…no…”
“Say your farewell to this place, human, for you will likely never return. You will find that it will be exceedingly difficult to travel through the Shadow, as you call it, like you did before. You still retain the knowledge of how to do so, but you will no longer have the same complete mastery of that place as you did before.”
She pointed to a pile of clothes and gear next to her.
“Please collect your things and prepare yourself for your final journey from this place. I will open the path for you to take back to your home world.”
I couldn’t bring myself to move just yet. “But what happened to Alexa? Why can’t I see Kenny one more time?”
She shook her head. “You have used up your allotment of questions, human. You will need to find those answers for yourself. You do not have much time before the pathway is open to you. I suggest that you use this time wisely.”
A door of Shadow formed just beyond my pile of clothes. Still dumbfounded, I staggered forward to scoop up my gear. I noticed something was missing. “Hey, where is Excalibur?”
“The Lady of the Lake has claimed the blade for now for safekeeping. If you prove worthy of it, and are in need of it, it may be returned to you at a later time. I suggest that you leave now.”
Clothes and gear in hand, I stepped into the Shadow with far more questions than answers.
“Drake is really my father? Mom, you’ve got some ‘splainin’ to do!”
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Forgiveness
(The events of this post take place several weeks after the events of the previous post—sorry, but some events must remain hidden for reasons of operational security.)
I stepped from Shadow into the quiet darkness of the pre-dawn wilderness just outside of our hidden haven. Inside my head, though, it was anything but quiet. Dark whispering voices cried out, expressing their hunger, their pain.
After four weeks of constant forays to locate and retrieve stragglers the Bat Cave was bursting at the seams with people. There were very few areas where there weren’t any cots or sleeping mats laid out for ORC’s or their family members. The Frau had been working hard to find each and every person as much space and privacy as the cramped quarters could provide, but even she couldn’t cast a spell that would create enough space for the nearly four hundred survivors that had been assembled.
I needed an opportunity to be alone with my thoughts and to deal with shattered remnants of those dark spirits that remained inside with me. Their voices had become too loud to ignore, too dangerous for those I cared about to be around me. But those chances had been few and far between of late. That was especially true since our latest raid on the headquarters of Bone Financial had stirred up El Diablito and his allies again.
Ravyn had been the impetus behind that raid—she felt it was vital that we inflict a little damage and inconvenience on our enemies. It had been wildly successful, but retribution against our few remaining agents and allies that hadn’t been hit in the first series of attacks had been swift and severe.
My hard-soled boots crunched on the stony ground of the hillside. Even the thick layer of pine needles and low grasses couldn’t keep my steps from scraping loudly in the stillness of the pre-dawn darkness. But the clamoring inside of those dark souls almost kept me from hearing my own steps.
The air was probably cold at this time, but I couldn’t feel it. I never have to breathe unless I need to say something, but even if I did my breath wouldn’t bring about any steam since my body generates no warmth. Extremely cold temperatures used to affect my inner workings, when I still needed the infusions of sugared soda pop to keep me operating, but ever since my encounter with Ma Grendel, flushing and gushing was no longer necessary—small residual bits of her life essence had fused with my body, providing all of the energy I would ever need to keep working. That same dark energy also healed my body of any wounds I suffered, usually within minutes, depending on how severe the blow had been.
Those things came with a price, however. While I had gained a number of powers and abilities over the Shadow and a huge host of memories from Ma Grendel, I had also inherited a darker side. Most of the time, I was able to control the urges, the hungers, or those evil little voices deep inside, but the more people that I was around for extended periods of time, the more those voices were able to play on my own innate insecurities and darker moods. With the Bat Cave as cramped as it was for the last month or so, I was getting dangerously close to snapping and doing some things that I would’ve regretted.
I turned uphill and began trudging to the summit of the hill, towards the Sacred Circle that mirrored the exact placement of the obelisk in the Shadowland.
Each obelisk was unique, but they all shared some powers. One of those shared powers was that no one, no matter how skilled or powerful in their use of magick, could locate one through the use of magick. Just like Drake had been, each obelisk was invisible to detection through any kind of magick.
John had told me that the obelisk was located at the top of this particular mountain, but that it could only bee seen in the Shadowland. I had to discover for myself though that the thing wouldn’t let anyone or anything approach it within the Shadowland. Even with the amulet that allowed us to use the transportation chamber below, it blocked all approaches to itself within the Shadowland itself.
The closest that I had been able to get to it within the Shadowland was a few hundred yards from the summit where it stood. It stood there in the distance, a towering pillar of obsidian stone that simply radiated power like a radio tower in the real world. It was easily a hundred feet tall and forty feet in diameter at the bottom. It narrowed gradually, coming to a point well above the nearest trees. Even at the distance I had been from it, I had been able to make out strangely glowing and moving runes that appeared at seemingly random points on the obelisk before they shifted shapes and positions, like a foreign language neon sign in Times Square.
I had tried every trick I knew of moving about in the Shadowland, including flying, but I could never approach closer than three or four football fields to it.
So I gave up on approaching the thing within the Shadowland and had decided to hike to the summit. I needed the time alone anyway.
Herne had simply nodded and clapped me on the shoulder when I told him I was going. “Good, you need to get away for a bit.”
“Have I been that bad?”
He nodded. “You nearly took that kids head off last night when he bumped into you. Go, recharge your batteries.”
I shook my head as I walked away. “If only it was that damn simple.” But Herne was right. I had spun around and raised my arm to strike before I even realized it when that kid of fifteen had barreled into me trying to escape his friend. He had gone completely pale as he realized who he crashed into and what I had been about to do.
The kid had stammered his apologies, but I was lost in my own world of dark whispers and a sudden hunger to exact revenge. Luckily for both of us, Cerrydwen had been passing by and rushed over to get between us. She, of all the people I knew, understood the darkness that lay inside of me.
She placed her left hand on my raised fist and spoke softly to me. “Easy, Rusty. Let it go.”
Her simple presence and her quiet reassurances brought me back to the moment. “Damn. What the hell was I going to do?”
She turned to the boy and waved him away. “Go on Darren, Rusty knows it was accident. He accepts your apology. Why don’t you and your friend there head to the library? I’m sure the Frau could use some of your energy to get that place organized better.”
Darren had nodded and ducked out of the hallway, glad to be away from me.
It only took about thirty minutes to reach the crown of the mountain from where I had come out of the Shadow, but in that time the first sliver of morning sunlight had begun to lighten the eastern horizon. The mountain was not particularly tall, but it was tallest of the nearby peaks. Even so, the summit was still crowned with smaller pine trees that leaned to the east from the constant wind. There was one wide area, however, that was barren of all growth. It was a circular patch of ground about sixty feet in diameter, with an inner circle about forty feet in diameter that was clearly marked out by deliberately placed stones, each no larger than a closer fist. The inside of the smaller circle was barren, hard-packed dirt, except for in the very center. In the center was a small set of larger rocks that formed the edge of a fire pit.
I recognized the spot immediately as the exact place where the obelisk stood in the Shadowland. By entering the circle of smaller stones, a person would be simultaneously inside the Shadow of the obelisk and in a place of power.
John had indicated that this place had been sacred to each of the various tribes of Native Americans who had controlled this land, that this was a place that shamans and warriors had come to participate in vision quests without ever knowing of the existence of the obelisk in the Shadowland that stood in that very spot.
As I approached the circle, I could feel the power of this place. The dark whispering inside my head reached a crescendo as they objected to my coming here, crying out in fear and pain, but I pushed them away and crossed the threshold. As soon as I did, they stopped as if a switch had been thrown.
I signed in relief as my mind was finally as quiet and peaceful as the outer world around me. I was alone with my own thoughts and just my own inner voice for the first time in weeks. I knew it had been bad, but now in the total absence of their hounding, I realized just how loud and obnoxious they had become. I needed to come here far more often.
As the eastern sky continued to brighten, I moved to the center of the circle near the fire pit. In the distance I heard the sharp, piercing cry of an angle soaring high above on the warming currents. Glancing up, I saw the majestic bird as it circled high above me before continuing on its own journey.
I smiled to myself and sat down. “Thanks, John. I needed this.”
I felt a tremendous welling of emotion as I thought back to all that John Red Bear had done and all that he had sacrificed for the greater good in a battle that had never been his to fight.
For the first time since I learned of his dealings with Drake, I found myself truly able to forgive him. Now that the dark voices within had been silenced, even if only for a short while, I could begin to appreciate all that he had given up to help Drake bring me to this point of self-realization.
The sun finally rose above the peaks to the east, shining gloriously on the verdant greens and deep rich browns of this magnificent land. I could feel the cleansing burn of the sunlight on my mostly artificial skin as it washed over me. The shadowy spiritual remnants of Ma Grendel and her thousands of victims cringed quietly, hiding deep within the cracks of my flawed and all-too-human Spirit.
This beautiful, peaceful feeling was better than almost anything that I had ever experienced while I had been alive.
I stepped from Shadow into the quiet darkness of the pre-dawn wilderness just outside of our hidden haven. Inside my head, though, it was anything but quiet. Dark whispering voices cried out, expressing their hunger, their pain.
After four weeks of constant forays to locate and retrieve stragglers the Bat Cave was bursting at the seams with people. There were very few areas where there weren’t any cots or sleeping mats laid out for ORC’s or their family members. The Frau had been working hard to find each and every person as much space and privacy as the cramped quarters could provide, but even she couldn’t cast a spell that would create enough space for the nearly four hundred survivors that had been assembled.
I needed an opportunity to be alone with my thoughts and to deal with shattered remnants of those dark spirits that remained inside with me. Their voices had become too loud to ignore, too dangerous for those I cared about to be around me. But those chances had been few and far between of late. That was especially true since our latest raid on the headquarters of Bone Financial had stirred up El Diablito and his allies again.
Ravyn had been the impetus behind that raid—she felt it was vital that we inflict a little damage and inconvenience on our enemies. It had been wildly successful, but retribution against our few remaining agents and allies that hadn’t been hit in the first series of attacks had been swift and severe.
My hard-soled boots crunched on the stony ground of the hillside. Even the thick layer of pine needles and low grasses couldn’t keep my steps from scraping loudly in the stillness of the pre-dawn darkness. But the clamoring inside of those dark souls almost kept me from hearing my own steps.
The air was probably cold at this time, but I couldn’t feel it. I never have to breathe unless I need to say something, but even if I did my breath wouldn’t bring about any steam since my body generates no warmth. Extremely cold temperatures used to affect my inner workings, when I still needed the infusions of sugared soda pop to keep me operating, but ever since my encounter with Ma Grendel, flushing and gushing was no longer necessary—small residual bits of her life essence had fused with my body, providing all of the energy I would ever need to keep working. That same dark energy also healed my body of any wounds I suffered, usually within minutes, depending on how severe the blow had been.
Those things came with a price, however. While I had gained a number of powers and abilities over the Shadow and a huge host of memories from Ma Grendel, I had also inherited a darker side. Most of the time, I was able to control the urges, the hungers, or those evil little voices deep inside, but the more people that I was around for extended periods of time, the more those voices were able to play on my own innate insecurities and darker moods. With the Bat Cave as cramped as it was for the last month or so, I was getting dangerously close to snapping and doing some things that I would’ve regretted.
I turned uphill and began trudging to the summit of the hill, towards the Sacred Circle that mirrored the exact placement of the obelisk in the Shadowland.
Each obelisk was unique, but they all shared some powers. One of those shared powers was that no one, no matter how skilled or powerful in their use of magick, could locate one through the use of magick. Just like Drake had been, each obelisk was invisible to detection through any kind of magick.
John had told me that the obelisk was located at the top of this particular mountain, but that it could only bee seen in the Shadowland. I had to discover for myself though that the thing wouldn’t let anyone or anything approach it within the Shadowland. Even with the amulet that allowed us to use the transportation chamber below, it blocked all approaches to itself within the Shadowland itself.
The closest that I had been able to get to it within the Shadowland was a few hundred yards from the summit where it stood. It stood there in the distance, a towering pillar of obsidian stone that simply radiated power like a radio tower in the real world. It was easily a hundred feet tall and forty feet in diameter at the bottom. It narrowed gradually, coming to a point well above the nearest trees. Even at the distance I had been from it, I had been able to make out strangely glowing and moving runes that appeared at seemingly random points on the obelisk before they shifted shapes and positions, like a foreign language neon sign in Times Square.
I had tried every trick I knew of moving about in the Shadowland, including flying, but I could never approach closer than three or four football fields to it.
So I gave up on approaching the thing within the Shadowland and had decided to hike to the summit. I needed the time alone anyway.
Herne had simply nodded and clapped me on the shoulder when I told him I was going. “Good, you need to get away for a bit.”
“Have I been that bad?”
He nodded. “You nearly took that kids head off last night when he bumped into you. Go, recharge your batteries.”
I shook my head as I walked away. “If only it was that damn simple.” But Herne was right. I had spun around and raised my arm to strike before I even realized it when that kid of fifteen had barreled into me trying to escape his friend. He had gone completely pale as he realized who he crashed into and what I had been about to do.
The kid had stammered his apologies, but I was lost in my own world of dark whispers and a sudden hunger to exact revenge. Luckily for both of us, Cerrydwen had been passing by and rushed over to get between us. She, of all the people I knew, understood the darkness that lay inside of me.
She placed her left hand on my raised fist and spoke softly to me. “Easy, Rusty. Let it go.”
Her simple presence and her quiet reassurances brought me back to the moment. “Damn. What the hell was I going to do?”
She turned to the boy and waved him away. “Go on Darren, Rusty knows it was accident. He accepts your apology. Why don’t you and your friend there head to the library? I’m sure the Frau could use some of your energy to get that place organized better.”
Darren had nodded and ducked out of the hallway, glad to be away from me.
It only took about thirty minutes to reach the crown of the mountain from where I had come out of the Shadow, but in that time the first sliver of morning sunlight had begun to lighten the eastern horizon. The mountain was not particularly tall, but it was tallest of the nearby peaks. Even so, the summit was still crowned with smaller pine trees that leaned to the east from the constant wind. There was one wide area, however, that was barren of all growth. It was a circular patch of ground about sixty feet in diameter, with an inner circle about forty feet in diameter that was clearly marked out by deliberately placed stones, each no larger than a closer fist. The inside of the smaller circle was barren, hard-packed dirt, except for in the very center. In the center was a small set of larger rocks that formed the edge of a fire pit.
I recognized the spot immediately as the exact place where the obelisk stood in the Shadowland. By entering the circle of smaller stones, a person would be simultaneously inside the Shadow of the obelisk and in a place of power.
John had indicated that this place had been sacred to each of the various tribes of Native Americans who had controlled this land, that this was a place that shamans and warriors had come to participate in vision quests without ever knowing of the existence of the obelisk in the Shadowland that stood in that very spot.
As I approached the circle, I could feel the power of this place. The dark whispering inside my head reached a crescendo as they objected to my coming here, crying out in fear and pain, but I pushed them away and crossed the threshold. As soon as I did, they stopped as if a switch had been thrown.
I signed in relief as my mind was finally as quiet and peaceful as the outer world around me. I was alone with my own thoughts and just my own inner voice for the first time in weeks. I knew it had been bad, but now in the total absence of their hounding, I realized just how loud and obnoxious they had become. I needed to come here far more often.
As the eastern sky continued to brighten, I moved to the center of the circle near the fire pit. In the distance I heard the sharp, piercing cry of an angle soaring high above on the warming currents. Glancing up, I saw the majestic bird as it circled high above me before continuing on its own journey.
I smiled to myself and sat down. “Thanks, John. I needed this.”
I felt a tremendous welling of emotion as I thought back to all that John Red Bear had done and all that he had sacrificed for the greater good in a battle that had never been his to fight.
For the first time since I learned of his dealings with Drake, I found myself truly able to forgive him. Now that the dark voices within had been silenced, even if only for a short while, I could begin to appreciate all that he had given up to help Drake bring me to this point of self-realization.
The sun finally rose above the peaks to the east, shining gloriously on the verdant greens and deep rich browns of this magnificent land. I could feel the cleansing burn of the sunlight on my mostly artificial skin as it washed over me. The shadowy spiritual remnants of Ma Grendel and her thousands of victims cringed quietly, hiding deep within the cracks of my flawed and all-too-human Spirit.
This beautiful, peaceful feeling was better than almost anything that I had ever experienced while I had been alive.
Friday, January 04, 2008
Starting over...
…is never easy.
The band of ORC’s that arrived in the Bat Cave was a tired, wounded, ragged bunch of shell-shocked survivors. The assault by El Diablito’s forces and An’girasii allies had come as a total surprise. Every ORC safe house, stronghold and academy across the United States had been hit in some way on the same night. All told, hundreds ORC members and students had been slain; dozens more were badly injured or missing.
By the time the final tally of escapees and survivors was taken—several days later—fewer than three hundred full fledged members and associates of the ORC’s survived that deadly night. The last census prior to that deadly night had put the membership rolls at just over a thousand members and associates. Forty of those survivors came with me to the Bat Cave.
After a close inspection by Cerrydwen, Ravyn or myself, I created a portal of Shadow that established a link between El Diablito’s dark tower in the Shadowland and another place of relative darkness—the entrance hall to the Bat Cave.
The hall was actually a natural cavern that had been worked on and expanded extensively by the military in the early part of the Cold War. The hall was easily wide and smooth enough for two vans to pass in opposite directions and long enough to hold a whole caravan of vehicles—in fact several aging but otherwise non-descript vehicles were parked along one of the walls facing the opposite direction. They were facing a set of heavy metal blast doors that opened to the outside world. I knew from Drake though that those doors were concealed from casual observation by what appeared to be a storage facility for salt for local highways.
Looking ahead, our way into the Bat Cave itself was barred by a smaller, but equally formidable set of steel doors that were secured both by lock and key and by a combination key pad set bear the handle of the left door.
Between the keys Drake had sent to Ravyn and the combination codes that I had memorized, we were able to open the doors to the incredible refuge that Drake and John Red Bear had secretly spent nearly four decades creating.
Beyond that sealed door was a decommissioned underground military base that was easily large enough to house several hundred people. The facility was comprised of several sections. It was also fully stocked with food and water. But the true bounty of the Bat Cave was found deep inside, beyond the living quarters. The Command Center was a fully operational, if slightly outdated control room full of computers and communications equipment. The Inner Sanctum was even more amazing as it included a vault that held the hundreds of weapons and other items of power that Drake had taken or acquired through his existence.
The Frau, Ravyn and Herne quickly took control of situation.
The Frau immediately drafted most of the able-bodied folks and began to set up a sick ward in one of the larger rooms in the dormitory part of the complex. She gently clucked out her orders to those that could carry them out while she coddled those who were still too shocked to act independently just yet. Moira, though wounded herself, helped out.
Ravyn, Cerrydwen and Zenny Al Farhan had set up shop inside the vault as they began to identify and catalog the surprising large cache of weapons and items that Drake had amassed.
Herne, the Professor, and the pretty gal from the San Diego Circle, Alana Danae, began the process of firing up the computers and communications equipment in the Command Center. Between Herne’s intimate knowledge of the military, the Professor’s computer tech skills and Alana’s expertise in software and network systems, they had the place humming to life in no time.
As everyone else set down to the task of getting the Bat Cave up and running, I finally had time to search out my ex-wife Katherine and our daughter, Jasmine. Katherine was sporting an improvised sling for her left arm, which had been broken in the initial struggle at the Coop, but she was still one of the people helping the Frau to tend to others. Jasmine appeared to be physically unharmed, but her nerves had been badly shaken.
I had come up from behind Jasmine and touched her gently on the shoulder. “Jazz, are you alright?”
She flinched at my touch, but whirled around for a fierce hug when she heard my voice. “Dad!” She was sobbing. “I was so scared!”
“I know, honey. I wish you never had to experience that.” I put my hand on the bottom of her chin to get her to look into my eyes. “Did anyone hurt you?”
She swallowed hard, her gaze glazing over as she looked through me rather than at me. “I…I…think I killed someone, Dad, with my…my…magick.”
“Was it someone who was trying to harm you?”
She nodded. “One of those shape-shifter things grabbed me from behind, it looked like Mom at first, but it just didn’t feel right. The eyes didn’t look right, so when it tried to take me away from the others, I pushed it away. I saw it’s face change for just a moment. I was so scared. When it grabbed for me again, I just sort of felt the magick flow through me. I killed it with a blast of lightning from my hand.” She was looking down at her right hand. Her fingertips were still blackened by soot. “I just did what Mistress Fyre had taught me to do.”
I nodded and pulled her close in another hug. “It’s alright, Jazz. Those things aren’t really people. They’re monsters. That thing would have probably taken you away and stolen your memories before killing you. You did the right thing.”
Katherine stood watching me console our daughter. She gave me a tight little smile and small nod of approval before giving me that look that she had always given when she wanted to talk, in private.
I disengaged from Jasmine and pointed her towards where the Frau was. “Jazz, do you think that you can go see if the Frau needs any help? Sometimes you just need to stay busy to keep from thinking of nasty things like the attack for awhile. We’ll have more time to talk later.” I gave her a pat on the shoulder. “I’m sure Ravyn will be very proud that you were able to summon and control that kind of energy.”
As Jasmine shuffled off to go help the Frau, Katherine and I took a small walk back out into the large area where we had first come in, the garage area.
“Thanks, Jason, Jasmine needed that from you.”
I nodded. “It was the least that I could do. Has anyone heard from Kenny?”
Her face tightened up. This was why she wanted to talk to me. “No. He was away at school. I don’t know if he is safe or not. Can you try to find him?”
I nodded. “As soon as I can make sure this place as safe as it seems and Herne and Ravyn give me the all clear signal, I’ll go check on him. I think he’ll be safe enough at that school since it didn’t have anything to do with the ORC’s.”
Katherine didn’t look very reassured. “I don’t know, Jason, the Professor teaches there and I know that Kenny often stays at his house when the Prof is away. He could be in all sorts of danger.”
I reached out and grabbed her healthy hand, giving it a quick squeeze. “I’m worried too. If he’s in danger or has been harmed in any way, I will find out and get him to safety. You can count on that.”
She squeezed my hand hard. “I know, Jason. I have faith in you. I better go see if my help is needed inside.” She released my hand and went back to the infirmary.
I made my way back to the Command Center.
Herne looked up from a monitor as I walked into the room. The previously quiet room was not a hub of beeping, buzzing, and chattering activity.
“Rusty, come check this out. This stuff looks vintage but it was top of the line equipment not that long ago.”
I walked over to stand behind him. The monitor was an older clunker, with a resolution level that would’ve given me a headache if I had actually had any optical nerves left to be irritated.
Despite its age and its low level of resolution, it was clearly accessing the internet. Herne had pulled up a newswire service.
“It looks like there is a strong PR campaign going on to characterize the ORC’s as some sort of New Age death cult. All of the news agencies have picked up on the various attacks, although the attacks aren’t being depicted as attacks at all, but as some sort of suicide pact.” He looked up at me. “They’ve got to have agents in the government and maybe even the Bureau to have tied all of this up so neatly so quickly.”
The Professor sat at another workstation with his own unique laptop that had somehow survived our bizarre journey. Alana was standing behind him, a look of concern on her face.
Jim looked up form his computer. “They’ve acted very quickly to shut down all of our corporate accounts as well—none of my attempts to access any of them have been successful.”
That reminded me of something else Drake had given me. I pulled out a small notebook that Drake had used to record several account numbers and passwords for the off-shore accounts that he had held in reserve. I held it out towards Jim. “Try looking up these accounts. I think you will find that we’ll have the financial resources to put up one hell of a fight.”
He nodded and took the notebook.
Within minutes, he had logged into the first of the accounts. He whistled in appreciation. “Yeah, there’s more money in this account alone than the ORC’s have ever had in all of our other accounts. It’s a Swiss account too, so we will have absolute privacy with what we do with it. I can make this work quite well.”
I watched as Herne bounced from website to website checking out all of the stories about the attacks. El Diablito and his allies had done a very thorough job of destroying and discrediting the ORC’s.
Ravyn and Zenny soon joined us, notebook in hand. They had heard some of the news already from Herne before. Ravyn’s face was quite grim.
“Rusty, we’ll need to have an executive council meeting as soon as the Frau has seen to the last of the wounded. We’re going to need to take stock of who’s here and what resources we have at our disposal. I think we’ll want to gather as many of our members and associates to us as possible, but we’ll have to screen anyone we bring back to ensure that we aren’t bringing any Doppelgangers or other spies back to our little haven here. I’m afraid we’re going to be working long and hard over the next few days to take full stock of what’s left of the ORC’s and what can be salvaged.”
Herne nodded. “We also need to come up with a plan of action. We need to show these bastards that while they’ve won this battle, they’re going to have a long, hard war on their hands.”
There was no disagreement with Herne’s statement.
The band of ORC’s that arrived in the Bat Cave was a tired, wounded, ragged bunch of shell-shocked survivors. The assault by El Diablito’s forces and An’girasii allies had come as a total surprise. Every ORC safe house, stronghold and academy across the United States had been hit in some way on the same night. All told, hundreds ORC members and students had been slain; dozens more were badly injured or missing.
By the time the final tally of escapees and survivors was taken—several days later—fewer than three hundred full fledged members and associates of the ORC’s survived that deadly night. The last census prior to that deadly night had put the membership rolls at just over a thousand members and associates. Forty of those survivors came with me to the Bat Cave.
After a close inspection by Cerrydwen, Ravyn or myself, I created a portal of Shadow that established a link between El Diablito’s dark tower in the Shadowland and another place of relative darkness—the entrance hall to the Bat Cave.
The hall was actually a natural cavern that had been worked on and expanded extensively by the military in the early part of the Cold War. The hall was easily wide and smooth enough for two vans to pass in opposite directions and long enough to hold a whole caravan of vehicles—in fact several aging but otherwise non-descript vehicles were parked along one of the walls facing the opposite direction. They were facing a set of heavy metal blast doors that opened to the outside world. I knew from Drake though that those doors were concealed from casual observation by what appeared to be a storage facility for salt for local highways.
Looking ahead, our way into the Bat Cave itself was barred by a smaller, but equally formidable set of steel doors that were secured both by lock and key and by a combination key pad set bear the handle of the left door.
Between the keys Drake had sent to Ravyn and the combination codes that I had memorized, we were able to open the doors to the incredible refuge that Drake and John Red Bear had secretly spent nearly four decades creating.
Beyond that sealed door was a decommissioned underground military base that was easily large enough to house several hundred people. The facility was comprised of several sections. It was also fully stocked with food and water. But the true bounty of the Bat Cave was found deep inside, beyond the living quarters. The Command Center was a fully operational, if slightly outdated control room full of computers and communications equipment. The Inner Sanctum was even more amazing as it included a vault that held the hundreds of weapons and other items of power that Drake had taken or acquired through his existence.
The Frau, Ravyn and Herne quickly took control of situation.
The Frau immediately drafted most of the able-bodied folks and began to set up a sick ward in one of the larger rooms in the dormitory part of the complex. She gently clucked out her orders to those that could carry them out while she coddled those who were still too shocked to act independently just yet. Moira, though wounded herself, helped out.
Ravyn, Cerrydwen and Zenny Al Farhan had set up shop inside the vault as they began to identify and catalog the surprising large cache of weapons and items that Drake had amassed.
Herne, the Professor, and the pretty gal from the San Diego Circle, Alana Danae, began the process of firing up the computers and communications equipment in the Command Center. Between Herne’s intimate knowledge of the military, the Professor’s computer tech skills and Alana’s expertise in software and network systems, they had the place humming to life in no time.
As everyone else set down to the task of getting the Bat Cave up and running, I finally had time to search out my ex-wife Katherine and our daughter, Jasmine. Katherine was sporting an improvised sling for her left arm, which had been broken in the initial struggle at the Coop, but she was still one of the people helping the Frau to tend to others. Jasmine appeared to be physically unharmed, but her nerves had been badly shaken.
I had come up from behind Jasmine and touched her gently on the shoulder. “Jazz, are you alright?”
She flinched at my touch, but whirled around for a fierce hug when she heard my voice. “Dad!” She was sobbing. “I was so scared!”
“I know, honey. I wish you never had to experience that.” I put my hand on the bottom of her chin to get her to look into my eyes. “Did anyone hurt you?”
She swallowed hard, her gaze glazing over as she looked through me rather than at me. “I…I…think I killed someone, Dad, with my…my…magick.”
“Was it someone who was trying to harm you?”
She nodded. “One of those shape-shifter things grabbed me from behind, it looked like Mom at first, but it just didn’t feel right. The eyes didn’t look right, so when it tried to take me away from the others, I pushed it away. I saw it’s face change for just a moment. I was so scared. When it grabbed for me again, I just sort of felt the magick flow through me. I killed it with a blast of lightning from my hand.” She was looking down at her right hand. Her fingertips were still blackened by soot. “I just did what Mistress Fyre had taught me to do.”
I nodded and pulled her close in another hug. “It’s alright, Jazz. Those things aren’t really people. They’re monsters. That thing would have probably taken you away and stolen your memories before killing you. You did the right thing.”
Katherine stood watching me console our daughter. She gave me a tight little smile and small nod of approval before giving me that look that she had always given when she wanted to talk, in private.
I disengaged from Jasmine and pointed her towards where the Frau was. “Jazz, do you think that you can go see if the Frau needs any help? Sometimes you just need to stay busy to keep from thinking of nasty things like the attack for awhile. We’ll have more time to talk later.” I gave her a pat on the shoulder. “I’m sure Ravyn will be very proud that you were able to summon and control that kind of energy.”
As Jasmine shuffled off to go help the Frau, Katherine and I took a small walk back out into the large area where we had first come in, the garage area.
“Thanks, Jason, Jasmine needed that from you.”
I nodded. “It was the least that I could do. Has anyone heard from Kenny?”
Her face tightened up. This was why she wanted to talk to me. “No. He was away at school. I don’t know if he is safe or not. Can you try to find him?”
I nodded. “As soon as I can make sure this place as safe as it seems and Herne and Ravyn give me the all clear signal, I’ll go check on him. I think he’ll be safe enough at that school since it didn’t have anything to do with the ORC’s.”
Katherine didn’t look very reassured. “I don’t know, Jason, the Professor teaches there and I know that Kenny often stays at his house when the Prof is away. He could be in all sorts of danger.”
I reached out and grabbed her healthy hand, giving it a quick squeeze. “I’m worried too. If he’s in danger or has been harmed in any way, I will find out and get him to safety. You can count on that.”
She squeezed my hand hard. “I know, Jason. I have faith in you. I better go see if my help is needed inside.” She released my hand and went back to the infirmary.
I made my way back to the Command Center.
Herne looked up from a monitor as I walked into the room. The previously quiet room was not a hub of beeping, buzzing, and chattering activity.
“Rusty, come check this out. This stuff looks vintage but it was top of the line equipment not that long ago.”
I walked over to stand behind him. The monitor was an older clunker, with a resolution level that would’ve given me a headache if I had actually had any optical nerves left to be irritated.
Despite its age and its low level of resolution, it was clearly accessing the internet. Herne had pulled up a newswire service.
“It looks like there is a strong PR campaign going on to characterize the ORC’s as some sort of New Age death cult. All of the news agencies have picked up on the various attacks, although the attacks aren’t being depicted as attacks at all, but as some sort of suicide pact.” He looked up at me. “They’ve got to have agents in the government and maybe even the Bureau to have tied all of this up so neatly so quickly.”
The Professor sat at another workstation with his own unique laptop that had somehow survived our bizarre journey. Alana was standing behind him, a look of concern on her face.
Jim looked up form his computer. “They’ve acted very quickly to shut down all of our corporate accounts as well—none of my attempts to access any of them have been successful.”
That reminded me of something else Drake had given me. I pulled out a small notebook that Drake had used to record several account numbers and passwords for the off-shore accounts that he had held in reserve. I held it out towards Jim. “Try looking up these accounts. I think you will find that we’ll have the financial resources to put up one hell of a fight.”
He nodded and took the notebook.
Within minutes, he had logged into the first of the accounts. He whistled in appreciation. “Yeah, there’s more money in this account alone than the ORC’s have ever had in all of our other accounts. It’s a Swiss account too, so we will have absolute privacy with what we do with it. I can make this work quite well.”
I watched as Herne bounced from website to website checking out all of the stories about the attacks. El Diablito and his allies had done a very thorough job of destroying and discrediting the ORC’s.
Ravyn and Zenny soon joined us, notebook in hand. They had heard some of the news already from Herne before. Ravyn’s face was quite grim.
“Rusty, we’ll need to have an executive council meeting as soon as the Frau has seen to the last of the wounded. We’re going to need to take stock of who’s here and what resources we have at our disposal. I think we’ll want to gather as many of our members and associates to us as possible, but we’ll have to screen anyone we bring back to ensure that we aren’t bringing any Doppelgangers or other spies back to our little haven here. I’m afraid we’re going to be working long and hard over the next few days to take full stock of what’s left of the ORC’s and what can be salvaged.”
Herne nodded. “We also need to come up with a plan of action. We need to show these bastards that while they’ve won this battle, they’re going to have a long, hard war on their hands.”
There was no disagreement with Herne’s statement.
Friday, December 28, 2007
Confessions all around...
(The events and conversations in this post took place in the Lower World immediately before and during Drake’s final passing. These events can now be told in full. For a brief refresher on the context in which these events take place, readers are encouraged to re-read the posts from the following dates: March 18, 2007, A Visit from an Old Friend…Part 1; May 27, 2007, Drake’s Farewell Message; June 10, 2007, Meditation and June 14, 2007, Hell’s Bells…Part 1)
When Drake revealed to me the location of his secret stash of artifacts, his voice was been dry and raspy in my head, like he was having difficulty with what he was saying. “Rusty, I have been afraid to reveal this information to you, because it is perhaps the last and most dangerous truth that I have to tell you.”
“Drake, as much as you have lied, I can only imagine how painful it would be to have to tell the truth. Say what you have to say and be done with it.”
“It is not that simple, Rusty, because this truth goes to the very foundation of who you are and how you came to be as you are now. It was the one truth that I could not risk for you to discover on your own.”
“Drake, stop playing around. Nothing you have to say will surprise me.”
His dry chuckle resonated in my mind. “Very well, I will delay no further.” His voice became deep and somber when spoke again. “Long before there was an Omega Project, I had met a young man—an FBI agent—who I thought might have the potential to eventually inherit the struggle against the An’girasii. He was a talented Caster with a natural charisma and the strength to carry on a long, lonesome battle, if need be. He left the FBI at my urging and worked with me for several years. We learned a great deal from each other once we learned to trust each other. He taught me much about the Shadowland and the many Spirit Worlds that I had been unable to experience myself. I taught him of the long and bitter war that I had been fighting against my father’s people. After nearly a decade of working together though, we came to the mutual decision that he would not be the one. But even so, we made a solemn pact. The essence of that pact was that I would provide him with the initial financing and support to form a secret group of Casters that could become the backbone of a defensive force against the An’girasii if necessary, and in return, he would provide me with any assistance that I needed when I had found the person I considered to be the candidate. I also asked for his assistance in creating a secret storage site for all of the artifacts and books that I had acquired in my many millennia. He agreed, providing a place that was secret and safe.”
“Come off it, Drake. It sounds like you are trying to take credit for founding a group like the ORC’s.”
“Indeed, this young man was instrumental in just that, it was he who founded that little group that you are so fond of.”
“Yeah? I find that very hard to believe. Who was this mystery man?”
“He didn’t have to keep his end of the bargain until quite recently, so it is someone you know, or rather, you knew, quite well…”
I sat there stunned as I listened to his words, coming to a conclusion that I did not like very much at all… “No…not him!”
“Yes. John Red Bear was my ally in creating you.”
“That’s not possible!”
He sighed again. “I am sure that you have the means to ask him yourself, should he choose to answer you, but you may rest assured, John Red Bear helped me to make you who are now.”
“You better believe I’m going to ask him! But I want to hear it all from you, Drake. Finish your story and tell me where this stash is so that I can be done with you forever.”
“As you wish. It is well past time for me to move on in any event. After we parted our ways, he began to form the group that became the ORC’s. He sought out like minded Casters and individuals who had the potential to become Casters. He helped to mold this budding young group into a force for good, creating secret schools and academies all over the country. I began to gather individuals like Klimm and Papa Locks to me, in part to keep them from interfering with John Red Bear and his fledgling group, and in part because I had come up with a new idea to try that would need the services of Casters with fewer morals and inhibitions than those individuals that Red Bear was making contact with. Throughout the years though, I kept in secret contact with him, each of us providing guidance and resources to the other as needed. He had very deep misgivings about my new ideas, but maintained his pledge to assist me when I felt that the time was right.”
“So, you are saying that John Red Bear knew of this plan to make zombies of people?”
“He was aware of the general principle that I was looking at, yes. He wasn’t privy to some of the darker details that were required to make the Omega Project successful, but that was necessary in order to make his eventual role easier to play.”
“What role was that?”
“He played the role of the good cop.”
I snorted. “Let me guess, you played the role of bad cop?”
He chuckled. “Indeed, a role that I am quite comfortable playing.”
I shook my head. “Drake, just tell me this. Why did we—did I—have to go through all of this? Why did you have to bring John into this mess? And why did you have to tell me about his betrayal?”
“Rusty, over the millennia I have come to learn that I do not possess the ability to ultimately win this war that I have been fighting against the An’girasii. But I have learned something about what will be needed to win this war. Every trial, every single test that I have put you through has been designed to determine if you had the potential to develop into the person that could help lead this struggle. In all of my previous attempts, save one, I had either broken my potential successor or created a monster that I would later have to put down. John Red Bear was the lone exception. He was the one candidate that I parted on good terms with. In the process he taught me a very important lesson…that in order to succeed my heir would have to maintain an essential humanity that I have never had. Despite all of the years that have passed, I remain my father’s son.”
“An evil fucking bastard.”
“Indeed. That is why I needed him to help with you. I had to push you away, to make you stronger. I had to make you hate me enough to fight with everything you had. He was there to pick you up again, to keep you grounded in you human nature, and to give you the spiritual tools that would allow you grow in ways that I never could.”
“But why are you telling me all of this now? Why are you trying to ruin my memories of John?”
He sighed. “Rusty, I’m telling you this now because it is the truth. You needed to hear it from me—and him, if he is willing or able to speak to you about it—before it discovered by your real enemies and used against you. Red Bear sacrificed much in order for you to become who you are now. Don’t let those sacrifices be in vain.”
I sat in stunned silence as I contemplated everything that Drake had said so far. His voice was small and quiet in my mind when he spoke again.
“My last gift to you and your friends is the location of that vault I had mentioned earlier. You will find it safely hidden in the Black Hills of South Dakota. Here is the exact location and the combination you will need to access everything…”
With that last bit of information, Drake left me and the ring behind. His Spirit moved gracefully to stand in front of Alexa. Her small face was both serious and tender as she took his confession of and forgave each and every one of his thousands of crimes, one at a time.
I was still trying to absorb everything that Drake had just revealed when the sound of a footfall behind me caused me to turn around.
John Red Bear stood behind me in human form. His face was that of his younger self, but his eyes held all of the wisdom of his years and a tremendous sadness. “Jason, will you walk with me one last time?”
I couldn’t have been more surprised by his appearance here after what Drake had just told me, but I was suddenly nervous leaving Alexa alone with Drake. That nervousness must have been obvious.
“Jason, do not worry about her. She, of all people, is safe in this place.”
I snorted. “I’ve heard that kind of assurance from you before, John. But I’m not sure I want to have anything to do with you anymore.”
“I would understand if you refuse my request. You have every right to reject me, but I feel I have much to explain in just a short time. This is the last time that I will be able to come to you, so please, will you walk with me one last time?”
I swallowed my pride and my anger and nodded.
John turned and guided me out from underneath Yggsdrasil’s canopy and towards a small path that was opening in the woods beyond.
We walked in silence for a few moments. I couldn’t take it for long though. “John, is Drake telling the truth? Did you work with him to help create Rusty Bones?”
I could tell from the flash of emotions across his face that he was deeply conflicted.
“Yes, Drake spoke the truth, as much of it as he knows.”
“What does that mean?”
He stopped and knelt in the middle of the trail. I knelt down beside him as he began scribbling in the open patch of dirt with a twig.
“I am sure Drake has told you that he and met many years before.”
“Yes. He said that you were an FBI agent then.”
John nodded. “Yes, I was the first Native American agent that the FBI ever had. I had a promising career ahead of me, but despite the promising career track laid out before me, I was unfulfilled. I longed for something deeper, more spiritual than such a career would allow me become.
“One winter, near four decades ago, I left my assigned office and cases work to track down a vicious killer in the backwoods of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. There had been rumors that this killer was actually a wendigo, a creature from the myths of many tribes in that region.
“I had asked my supervisor in Detroit to allow me to go investigate this mysterious killer, but he refused. He said that there was no indication that this killer warranted the Bureau’s involvement yet. His victims were poor, rural, and Native American. He said that the locals and the tribal cops would handle the investigations. One Friday night after another brutal killing, I ignored my boss and set off on my own to investigate the matter.
“By the next evening, I had tracked the creature to an abandoned cabin deep in the woods. I was about to confront it by myself when I discovered that I wasn’t the only person tracking the wendigo. A strange man who later introduced himself as Drake Kampmann came up beside me and indicated that my shotgun and sidearm would be of little use against the creature. He recommended that I use a bladed weapon, if I had one.
“Before we could come up with a plan, the wendigo charged us from the cabin. It was a terrible sight. As Drake had predicted, my shotgun blast to its face had little effect on it. But luckily for me, the wendigo had no interest in me. It attacked Kampmann with its full fury.”
John shook his head as he looked up from his scribbling in the dirt. “I had never seen anything as fast as those two fighting each other. The wendigo towered over Drake, fully eight feet tall, but incredibly gaunt. Despite being very thin, it was wiry and strong enough to push down small trees with each clawed hand. Drake ducked and dodged with such speed and agility, striking the creature with only his feet and hands, yet obviously causing it great pain.
“In less than two minutes, it was all over. Drake had broken one of its legs and each of its arms. He had the creature in a headlock from behind. He looked up at me long enough to ask one question. “Can you come get the necklace out of my jacket pocket?”
“I did as he asked, pulling out a strange looking pendant with a large ruby at the center. He grabbed it from me and placed it on the creature’s forehead. The beast let forth a terrible howling shriek that died in the winter air as the creature dissolved in his arms. Needless to say, I had never seen anything like this creature or its demise.”
I looked down at the drawing that John had made in the dirt. It looked very much like the creature I had known as Grendel. “John, what does any of this have to do with why you helped to create me?”
John tossed the stick away and stood up. He motioned for me to continue down the path with him. “Jason, that was the day when my eyes were opened to the possibility—the reality, really—that monsters that were walking freely in this world. My people had stories of such creatures—most cultures have had their stories of fantastic creatures that roam the world—but I had never seen one with my own eyes. I had not yet learned to walk the worlds of Spirit, so this was all new to me.
“Drake saw something in me that day though, perhaps he sensed the shaman that I would later become, but whatever his reason was, he asked me to join him in his fight against creatures like the wendigo and their masters, who he named as the An’girasii, as you know well. In this strange, distant man, I sensed a certain strength and strong sense of purpose that I had been unable to find as an agent of the FBI.”
John turned from the path that lay before us and pushed through the thick foliage into the heart of the forest. He waved for me to follow him.
“I left the Bureau the following week and joined up with Drake Kampmann. We spent a period of several years together. He taught me much about his history and the war he had fought against the An’girasii. He took me to a number of masters and teachers that he knew of who helped me to find my path. It was he who was most responsible for me becoming a shaman of some small skill.
John stopped moving ahead of me and stared at a tall obsidian obelisk that was almost totally obscured by thick, leafy vines and tall, thorny bushes that had grown right up against it.
“What is that thing?”
“It is a map of sorts.”
“A map? A map of what?”
He moved closed to the obelisk and began pulling the vines off of it. I moved in to help him as he replied.
“It is a map that can be used as a guide through the many Spirit Worlds and to some places beyond as well.”
“There are places outside of the Spirit Worlds?”
John laughed and pulled another vine from the stone. I could see that there were thousands of tiny symbols, pictographs and writings all over it. “Oh yes. The multiverse is an inconceivably large and complex place. This obelisk is a both a map and guide post placed here long, long ago. There are similar markers in other places, other worlds. For those who recognize them and who discover the keys to unlocking their mysteries, these obelisks tell how to get to places that might otherwise be totally inaccessible. Before I leave you, I wanted to show this one to you and show you how to access at least a portion of its information. But first let me finish with Drake.
“After a few years under his guidance, I found the path that I knew that I needed to follow. Unfortunately, my destiny was not to be the Warrior, the Hunter, the Successor that Drake had been seeking in me. Our skills complimented each other in ways that found us each wishing that we had some or all of the skills and abilities of the other. We parted ways quietly after coming up with a new plan. Drake explained to me that he felt that he needed to re-create, as much as possible, the conditions that led to him becoming who he was, but that he would try to do so in such a way as to drive his chosen successor to acquire some of the same skills in the realm of Spirit that I had. That plan eventually led to your creation, and to the creation of the ORC’s.”
I dropped the vine I had pulled from the obelisk and looked into his eyes. “John, tell me this. Do any of the other ORC’s know of your involvement in helping to create the Omega Project? Do they know the role Drake had in creating their own organization?”
John shook his head. “No. Those were secrets that I have had to keep to myself. By design, none of the others share my guilt. Jason, I feel no pride in having deceived you as I have. It is a shame that I will carry with me as I leave these realms and move on to my next journey.” He held up his hands imploring me to listen just a little longer.
“Jason, I could not reveal any of this to you before because I could not risk the possibility of failure. You were our last best chance at succeeding before the An’girasii freed themselves again. Time had grown exceedingly short. I know this not from Drake and his stories, but from my own journeys and research through using these obelisks. So let me tell you how to access the information on this so that you can someday do your own research. I am not asking for your forgiveness, but only for your eventual understanding. Once you learn everything that I have, I hope that you will come to fully understand the necessity of what has been done to you. Please don’t judge me too harshly until then.”
At that point John showed me how to unlock a small portion of the mysteries of that and any other such obelisk that I might encounter. But dear reader, you will come to see how those things work in the coming weeks.
My next post will be made on Friday, January 4, 2008 where I begin the story of what happened after the surviving ORC’s fled El Diablito’s tower in the Shadowland.
When Drake revealed to me the location of his secret stash of artifacts, his voice was been dry and raspy in my head, like he was having difficulty with what he was saying. “Rusty, I have been afraid to reveal this information to you, because it is perhaps the last and most dangerous truth that I have to tell you.”
“Drake, as much as you have lied, I can only imagine how painful it would be to have to tell the truth. Say what you have to say and be done with it.”
“It is not that simple, Rusty, because this truth goes to the very foundation of who you are and how you came to be as you are now. It was the one truth that I could not risk for you to discover on your own.”
“Drake, stop playing around. Nothing you have to say will surprise me.”
His dry chuckle resonated in my mind. “Very well, I will delay no further.” His voice became deep and somber when spoke again. “Long before there was an Omega Project, I had met a young man—an FBI agent—who I thought might have the potential to eventually inherit the struggle against the An’girasii. He was a talented Caster with a natural charisma and the strength to carry on a long, lonesome battle, if need be. He left the FBI at my urging and worked with me for several years. We learned a great deal from each other once we learned to trust each other. He taught me much about the Shadowland and the many Spirit Worlds that I had been unable to experience myself. I taught him of the long and bitter war that I had been fighting against my father’s people. After nearly a decade of working together though, we came to the mutual decision that he would not be the one. But even so, we made a solemn pact. The essence of that pact was that I would provide him with the initial financing and support to form a secret group of Casters that could become the backbone of a defensive force against the An’girasii if necessary, and in return, he would provide me with any assistance that I needed when I had found the person I considered to be the candidate. I also asked for his assistance in creating a secret storage site for all of the artifacts and books that I had acquired in my many millennia. He agreed, providing a place that was secret and safe.”
“Come off it, Drake. It sounds like you are trying to take credit for founding a group like the ORC’s.”
“Indeed, this young man was instrumental in just that, it was he who founded that little group that you are so fond of.”
“Yeah? I find that very hard to believe. Who was this mystery man?”
“He didn’t have to keep his end of the bargain until quite recently, so it is someone you know, or rather, you knew, quite well…”
I sat there stunned as I listened to his words, coming to a conclusion that I did not like very much at all… “No…not him!”
“Yes. John Red Bear was my ally in creating you.”
“That’s not possible!”
He sighed again. “I am sure that you have the means to ask him yourself, should he choose to answer you, but you may rest assured, John Red Bear helped me to make you who are now.”
“You better believe I’m going to ask him! But I want to hear it all from you, Drake. Finish your story and tell me where this stash is so that I can be done with you forever.”
“As you wish. It is well past time for me to move on in any event. After we parted our ways, he began to form the group that became the ORC’s. He sought out like minded Casters and individuals who had the potential to become Casters. He helped to mold this budding young group into a force for good, creating secret schools and academies all over the country. I began to gather individuals like Klimm and Papa Locks to me, in part to keep them from interfering with John Red Bear and his fledgling group, and in part because I had come up with a new idea to try that would need the services of Casters with fewer morals and inhibitions than those individuals that Red Bear was making contact with. Throughout the years though, I kept in secret contact with him, each of us providing guidance and resources to the other as needed. He had very deep misgivings about my new ideas, but maintained his pledge to assist me when I felt that the time was right.”
“So, you are saying that John Red Bear knew of this plan to make zombies of people?”
“He was aware of the general principle that I was looking at, yes. He wasn’t privy to some of the darker details that were required to make the Omega Project successful, but that was necessary in order to make his eventual role easier to play.”
“What role was that?”
“He played the role of the good cop.”
I snorted. “Let me guess, you played the role of bad cop?”
He chuckled. “Indeed, a role that I am quite comfortable playing.”
I shook my head. “Drake, just tell me this. Why did we—did I—have to go through all of this? Why did you have to bring John into this mess? And why did you have to tell me about his betrayal?”
“Rusty, over the millennia I have come to learn that I do not possess the ability to ultimately win this war that I have been fighting against the An’girasii. But I have learned something about what will be needed to win this war. Every trial, every single test that I have put you through has been designed to determine if you had the potential to develop into the person that could help lead this struggle. In all of my previous attempts, save one, I had either broken my potential successor or created a monster that I would later have to put down. John Red Bear was the lone exception. He was the one candidate that I parted on good terms with. In the process he taught me a very important lesson…that in order to succeed my heir would have to maintain an essential humanity that I have never had. Despite all of the years that have passed, I remain my father’s son.”
“An evil fucking bastard.”
“Indeed. That is why I needed him to help with you. I had to push you away, to make you stronger. I had to make you hate me enough to fight with everything you had. He was there to pick you up again, to keep you grounded in you human nature, and to give you the spiritual tools that would allow you grow in ways that I never could.”
“But why are you telling me all of this now? Why are you trying to ruin my memories of John?”
He sighed. “Rusty, I’m telling you this now because it is the truth. You needed to hear it from me—and him, if he is willing or able to speak to you about it—before it discovered by your real enemies and used against you. Red Bear sacrificed much in order for you to become who you are now. Don’t let those sacrifices be in vain.”
I sat in stunned silence as I contemplated everything that Drake had said so far. His voice was small and quiet in my mind when he spoke again.
“My last gift to you and your friends is the location of that vault I had mentioned earlier. You will find it safely hidden in the Black Hills of South Dakota. Here is the exact location and the combination you will need to access everything…”
With that last bit of information, Drake left me and the ring behind. His Spirit moved gracefully to stand in front of Alexa. Her small face was both serious and tender as she took his confession of and forgave each and every one of his thousands of crimes, one at a time.
I was still trying to absorb everything that Drake had just revealed when the sound of a footfall behind me caused me to turn around.
John Red Bear stood behind me in human form. His face was that of his younger self, but his eyes held all of the wisdom of his years and a tremendous sadness. “Jason, will you walk with me one last time?”
I couldn’t have been more surprised by his appearance here after what Drake had just told me, but I was suddenly nervous leaving Alexa alone with Drake. That nervousness must have been obvious.
“Jason, do not worry about her. She, of all people, is safe in this place.”
I snorted. “I’ve heard that kind of assurance from you before, John. But I’m not sure I want to have anything to do with you anymore.”
“I would understand if you refuse my request. You have every right to reject me, but I feel I have much to explain in just a short time. This is the last time that I will be able to come to you, so please, will you walk with me one last time?”
I swallowed my pride and my anger and nodded.
John turned and guided me out from underneath Yggsdrasil’s canopy and towards a small path that was opening in the woods beyond.
We walked in silence for a few moments. I couldn’t take it for long though. “John, is Drake telling the truth? Did you work with him to help create Rusty Bones?”
I could tell from the flash of emotions across his face that he was deeply conflicted.
“Yes, Drake spoke the truth, as much of it as he knows.”
“What does that mean?”
He stopped and knelt in the middle of the trail. I knelt down beside him as he began scribbling in the open patch of dirt with a twig.
“I am sure Drake has told you that he and met many years before.”
“Yes. He said that you were an FBI agent then.”
John nodded. “Yes, I was the first Native American agent that the FBI ever had. I had a promising career ahead of me, but despite the promising career track laid out before me, I was unfulfilled. I longed for something deeper, more spiritual than such a career would allow me become.
“One winter, near four decades ago, I left my assigned office and cases work to track down a vicious killer in the backwoods of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. There had been rumors that this killer was actually a wendigo, a creature from the myths of many tribes in that region.
“I had asked my supervisor in Detroit to allow me to go investigate this mysterious killer, but he refused. He said that there was no indication that this killer warranted the Bureau’s involvement yet. His victims were poor, rural, and Native American. He said that the locals and the tribal cops would handle the investigations. One Friday night after another brutal killing, I ignored my boss and set off on my own to investigate the matter.
“By the next evening, I had tracked the creature to an abandoned cabin deep in the woods. I was about to confront it by myself when I discovered that I wasn’t the only person tracking the wendigo. A strange man who later introduced himself as Drake Kampmann came up beside me and indicated that my shotgun and sidearm would be of little use against the creature. He recommended that I use a bladed weapon, if I had one.
“Before we could come up with a plan, the wendigo charged us from the cabin. It was a terrible sight. As Drake had predicted, my shotgun blast to its face had little effect on it. But luckily for me, the wendigo had no interest in me. It attacked Kampmann with its full fury.”
John shook his head as he looked up from his scribbling in the dirt. “I had never seen anything as fast as those two fighting each other. The wendigo towered over Drake, fully eight feet tall, but incredibly gaunt. Despite being very thin, it was wiry and strong enough to push down small trees with each clawed hand. Drake ducked and dodged with such speed and agility, striking the creature with only his feet and hands, yet obviously causing it great pain.
“In less than two minutes, it was all over. Drake had broken one of its legs and each of its arms. He had the creature in a headlock from behind. He looked up at me long enough to ask one question. “Can you come get the necklace out of my jacket pocket?”
“I did as he asked, pulling out a strange looking pendant with a large ruby at the center. He grabbed it from me and placed it on the creature’s forehead. The beast let forth a terrible howling shriek that died in the winter air as the creature dissolved in his arms. Needless to say, I had never seen anything like this creature or its demise.”
I looked down at the drawing that John had made in the dirt. It looked very much like the creature I had known as Grendel. “John, what does any of this have to do with why you helped to create me?”
John tossed the stick away and stood up. He motioned for me to continue down the path with him. “Jason, that was the day when my eyes were opened to the possibility—the reality, really—that monsters that were walking freely in this world. My people had stories of such creatures—most cultures have had their stories of fantastic creatures that roam the world—but I had never seen one with my own eyes. I had not yet learned to walk the worlds of Spirit, so this was all new to me.
“Drake saw something in me that day though, perhaps he sensed the shaman that I would later become, but whatever his reason was, he asked me to join him in his fight against creatures like the wendigo and their masters, who he named as the An’girasii, as you know well. In this strange, distant man, I sensed a certain strength and strong sense of purpose that I had been unable to find as an agent of the FBI.”
John turned from the path that lay before us and pushed through the thick foliage into the heart of the forest. He waved for me to follow him.
“I left the Bureau the following week and joined up with Drake Kampmann. We spent a period of several years together. He taught me much about his history and the war he had fought against the An’girasii. He took me to a number of masters and teachers that he knew of who helped me to find my path. It was he who was most responsible for me becoming a shaman of some small skill.
John stopped moving ahead of me and stared at a tall obsidian obelisk that was almost totally obscured by thick, leafy vines and tall, thorny bushes that had grown right up against it.
“What is that thing?”
“It is a map of sorts.”
“A map? A map of what?”
He moved closed to the obelisk and began pulling the vines off of it. I moved in to help him as he replied.
“It is a map that can be used as a guide through the many Spirit Worlds and to some places beyond as well.”
“There are places outside of the Spirit Worlds?”
John laughed and pulled another vine from the stone. I could see that there were thousands of tiny symbols, pictographs and writings all over it. “Oh yes. The multiverse is an inconceivably large and complex place. This obelisk is a both a map and guide post placed here long, long ago. There are similar markers in other places, other worlds. For those who recognize them and who discover the keys to unlocking their mysteries, these obelisks tell how to get to places that might otherwise be totally inaccessible. Before I leave you, I wanted to show this one to you and show you how to access at least a portion of its information. But first let me finish with Drake.
“After a few years under his guidance, I found the path that I knew that I needed to follow. Unfortunately, my destiny was not to be the Warrior, the Hunter, the Successor that Drake had been seeking in me. Our skills complimented each other in ways that found us each wishing that we had some or all of the skills and abilities of the other. We parted ways quietly after coming up with a new plan. Drake explained to me that he felt that he needed to re-create, as much as possible, the conditions that led to him becoming who he was, but that he would try to do so in such a way as to drive his chosen successor to acquire some of the same skills in the realm of Spirit that I had. That plan eventually led to your creation, and to the creation of the ORC’s.”
I dropped the vine I had pulled from the obelisk and looked into his eyes. “John, tell me this. Do any of the other ORC’s know of your involvement in helping to create the Omega Project? Do they know the role Drake had in creating their own organization?”
John shook his head. “No. Those were secrets that I have had to keep to myself. By design, none of the others share my guilt. Jason, I feel no pride in having deceived you as I have. It is a shame that I will carry with me as I leave these realms and move on to my next journey.” He held up his hands imploring me to listen just a little longer.
“Jason, I could not reveal any of this to you before because I could not risk the possibility of failure. You were our last best chance at succeeding before the An’girasii freed themselves again. Time had grown exceedingly short. I know this not from Drake and his stories, but from my own journeys and research through using these obelisks. So let me tell you how to access the information on this so that you can someday do your own research. I am not asking for your forgiveness, but only for your eventual understanding. Once you learn everything that I have, I hope that you will come to fully understand the necessity of what has been done to you. Please don’t judge me too harshly until then.”
At that point John showed me how to unlock a small portion of the mysteries of that and any other such obelisk that I might encounter. But dear reader, you will come to see how those things work in the coming weeks.
My next post will be made on Friday, January 4, 2008 where I begin the story of what happened after the surviving ORC’s fled El Diablito’s tower in the Shadowland.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Playing Hardball...Part 3
Jim tossed his mangled, misshapen cap on the couch and stalked off towards the front door mumbling something unintelligible.
Everyone else began to mill around, gathering items that they might need and packing them into bags.
The slamming front door told us that Jim was back, a small black briefcase in hand. He moved to the bar counter between the kitchen and common room and opened the case to reveal a computer of some sort.
I moved to get a better look. “What’s this all about?”
He glanced sideways at me before pressing a button that began firing up the thing. “I need to make the alert goes out to all ORC facilities and independent operators out there. This computer represents the merging of magick and technology that we have been able to come up with. It has the capability to uplink to the net in a way that can’t be tracked or traced by anything the government has. I don’t want anyone else caught by surprise.”
The inside of the case was completely taken up by this computer. He had opened it like a laptop computer, and while the keyboard looked a little clumsier than those of modern computers, the screen looked completely normal. It didn’t look particularly ‘magickal’. I said as much.
He grunted. “We designed it to look as normal as possible to outsiders. It’s not the equipment on the outside that makes it special. It’s the power source and connections to the net that make this thing special. Well, the software is unique. We couldn’t exactly ask Bill Gates to come up with an operating system for this thing.”
I watched as the screen booted up in a flash of colors and 3-D graphics. “Who did all of this?”
“It was a group effort. The software was designed by one of our closest friends from the San Diego Circle, Alana Danae, she’s both a Shaman and computer whiz. I’m really hoping that she was able to make it out alive from that attack out there, we’re going to need her talents.”
Once the computer finished booting up, I watched as Jim’s hand flew over the keyboard and mouse as he toggled open a number of different applications, sent dozens of messages. After the messages had gone out, he surfed among several different bank accounts. He cursed violently as some of the sites appeared to be blocked, but for those that he could get in, he logged into each one, made several lightning quick moves and logged out of each them quicker than I could even note which banks or brokerages they belonged to. He was closing the machine down within minutes.
As he closed the shell of the briefcase, clicking it into place, he looked up again at me. “It looks like some government agency has already identified some of our accounts and has placed blocks on them.” He shook his head. “We are under a coordinated, full fledged attack. These guys are playing hardball with us.”
Ravyn moved in between us, grabbed each of us in one arm looked up at Jim. “Well, as I understand it, it takes two teams to play any game with a ball. We need to gather ourselves, figure out exactly who is attacking and why, and hit back with everything that we can. I know there’s one particular Bane out there that I want a rematch with!”
Jim nodded. “I’ve sent out a request for an emergency Convocation of the Clans to take place at the Asylum once everyone has safely seen their people to safety. We need to know who’s already been attacked, what resources we’ll have available to us, and to come up with a battle plan before this situation gets any worse.”
Cerrydwen came up. “Did you say that the Convocation is taking place at the Asylum?”
“Yes.”
She shook her head and raised her left hand for emphasis. “You can count me out. I’m not setting foot in that cursed place.”
Ravyn cocked her head. “Why? What’s wrong with the place?”
The Frau chuckled as she waded into the conversation. “The Asylum is in the basement of an old mental institution just outside of Detroit. It sits on a large, abandoned campus that affords us a lot more privacy because it is rumored to be haunted.”
Cerrydwen shuddered. “It’s not a rumor. That place is awash in tortured Spirits and echoes with their pained cries. I could feel the terror of that place just be driving by it. I won’t be going there with you.”
The Frau patted her on the shoulder. “That’s OK, Dear. I’m sure Herne could use some help getting everyone off to the safe houses. Besides, I don’t think Naomi and Alexa should go to the Asylum. It is not a pleasant place.”
Jim nodded. “That’s probably for the best then. Frau, Ravyn, Rusty and I will be heading to the Asylum-we can get there by driving in less than hour-and set up for the Convocation. Cerrydwen, Naomi and Alexa will use the Transit Point and head out to the Lodge and then off to whichever safe house Herne feels is the safest.”
I remembered something that had almost gotten lost in all of the excitement. “Hey, we might want to make a side trip, if we can. Drake gave me the location to his store of weapons and items.” I looked over at Jim. “And, with that computer, I think you’ll be able to access the accounts he gave me the passwords to. I seriously doubt that anyone has been able to put any blocks on those funds.”
Everyone else began to mill around, gathering items that they might need and packing them into bags.
The slamming front door told us that Jim was back, a small black briefcase in hand. He moved to the bar counter between the kitchen and common room and opened the case to reveal a computer of some sort.
I moved to get a better look. “What’s this all about?”
He glanced sideways at me before pressing a button that began firing up the thing. “I need to make the alert goes out to all ORC facilities and independent operators out there. This computer represents the merging of magick and technology that we have been able to come up with. It has the capability to uplink to the net in a way that can’t be tracked or traced by anything the government has. I don’t want anyone else caught by surprise.”
The inside of the case was completely taken up by this computer. He had opened it like a laptop computer, and while the keyboard looked a little clumsier than those of modern computers, the screen looked completely normal. It didn’t look particularly ‘magickal’. I said as much.
He grunted. “We designed it to look as normal as possible to outsiders. It’s not the equipment on the outside that makes it special. It’s the power source and connections to the net that make this thing special. Well, the software is unique. We couldn’t exactly ask Bill Gates to come up with an operating system for this thing.”
I watched as the screen booted up in a flash of colors and 3-D graphics. “Who did all of this?”
“It was a group effort. The software was designed by one of our closest friends from the San Diego Circle, Alana Danae, she’s both a Shaman and computer whiz. I’m really hoping that she was able to make it out alive from that attack out there, we’re going to need her talents.”
Once the computer finished booting up, I watched as Jim’s hand flew over the keyboard and mouse as he toggled open a number of different applications, sent dozens of messages. After the messages had gone out, he surfed among several different bank accounts. He cursed violently as some of the sites appeared to be blocked, but for those that he could get in, he logged into each one, made several lightning quick moves and logged out of each them quicker than I could even note which banks or brokerages they belonged to. He was closing the machine down within minutes.
As he closed the shell of the briefcase, clicking it into place, he looked up again at me. “It looks like some government agency has already identified some of our accounts and has placed blocks on them.” He shook his head. “We are under a coordinated, full fledged attack. These guys are playing hardball with us.”
Ravyn moved in between us, grabbed each of us in one arm looked up at Jim. “Well, as I understand it, it takes two teams to play any game with a ball. We need to gather ourselves, figure out exactly who is attacking and why, and hit back with everything that we can. I know there’s one particular Bane out there that I want a rematch with!”
Jim nodded. “I’ve sent out a request for an emergency Convocation of the Clans to take place at the Asylum once everyone has safely seen their people to safety. We need to know who’s already been attacked, what resources we’ll have available to us, and to come up with a battle plan before this situation gets any worse.”
Cerrydwen came up. “Did you say that the Convocation is taking place at the Asylum?”
“Yes.”
She shook her head and raised her left hand for emphasis. “You can count me out. I’m not setting foot in that cursed place.”
Ravyn cocked her head. “Why? What’s wrong with the place?”
The Frau chuckled as she waded into the conversation. “The Asylum is in the basement of an old mental institution just outside of Detroit. It sits on a large, abandoned campus that affords us a lot more privacy because it is rumored to be haunted.”
Cerrydwen shuddered. “It’s not a rumor. That place is awash in tortured Spirits and echoes with their pained cries. I could feel the terror of that place just be driving by it. I won’t be going there with you.”
The Frau patted her on the shoulder. “That’s OK, Dear. I’m sure Herne could use some help getting everyone off to the safe houses. Besides, I don’t think Naomi and Alexa should go to the Asylum. It is not a pleasant place.”
Jim nodded. “That’s probably for the best then. Frau, Ravyn, Rusty and I will be heading to the Asylum-we can get there by driving in less than hour-and set up for the Convocation. Cerrydwen, Naomi and Alexa will use the Transit Point and head out to the Lodge and then off to whichever safe house Herne feels is the safest.”
I remembered something that had almost gotten lost in all of the excitement. “Hey, we might want to make a side trip, if we can. Drake gave me the location to his store of weapons and items.” I looked over at Jim. “And, with that computer, I think you’ll be able to access the accounts he gave me the passwords to. I seriously doubt that anyone has been able to put any blocks on those funds.”
Friday, July 06, 2007
Hell's Bells...Finale
I turned to Naomi. “We can’t leave until I do something about those creatures out there that are preventing us from leaving. Will you be OK here for a moment?”
She glanced out the window behind me and shook her head. “No, we’re coming with you.”
“What are talking about? It is quite a drop from here!”
Naomi reached out and touched my shoulder. “We’ll make it down there, you just worry about yourself.”
Alexa perked up as she looked from me to her mother. “Are we going to fly again, Mama?”
Naomi nodded and put both arms around Alexa again before smiling down at her daughter. “Yes, dear, we’re going to fly again, but not too much this time, OK?”
Alexa bobbed her head and pumped her tiny fist. “Yay!”
Naomi shifted her gaze back to me. “Go now, we’ll follow behind you at a safe distance.”
I shook my head and decided to trust her judgment. I knew that she would never do anything that she would endanger Alexa.
Using my gloved hands, I cleared all of the sharp shards of glass from the opening of the window, pulling the curtains off the wall in the process. Once it was clear, I stepped up onto the windowsill, hunching my shoulders down to fit into the square opening, if barely.
Another violent explosion rocked the house as I prepared to jump by glancing to the ground beneath me. Unearthly screams of pain and terror accompanied the blast, giving me the impetus I needed to get going. I pushed myself forward, kicking out with my legs in an attempt to land standing up.
It worked, almost.
I landed on my backside with a tremendous thud in one of Ravyn’s favorite flower beds. I let go of the rucksack that had unbalanced my fall and started scrambling up to my feet amid of a shower of dirt and ruined petals. My actions became more urgent as I noticed two wolf-like shadows emerge from the bushes near where I had seen the line of figures holding up the shield in the Shadowland. It was all I could do to get Excalibur out and my feet set before they were upon me.
Apparently, the blade decided that these creatures, were worthy of taking on and guided my hand as I lashed out at the first of the attacking beasts. I felt the blade sink into it, but its weight bore the blade downward as the second beast launched itself into my chest, knocking back to the ground.
The creature snarled and snapped at my face, held back only by my left hand on its throat. I tried to wrest Excalibur from the first creature’s chest, but I lacked the leverage to yank it free while lying on my back, pinned down by the second.
I was just about to give up on pulling the sword free and taking the thing on with my hands when the creature, much to our mutual surprise, began to float above me, its paws flailing helplessly in an attempt to regain traction.
Naomi’s voice rang out from the shadows to my left, obviously straining with effort. “Now, Rusty! I can’t hold it for long, it’s too heavy!”
Using only my left hand, I heaved upwards and yanked at Excalibur with my right. The blade slipped free and slashed upwards across the throat of the still struggling second creature. Its lifeless body fell to the ground as I stood up.
Naomi stepped from the shadows, pale and sweaty with exhaustion, Alexa standing beside her.
Alexa was straining against Naomi’s hand, reaching toward the first dead creature. “Poor wolfies!”
“Hush, girl. These aren’t real wolves.” Naomi pulled her back gently.
“Follow me.” I waved at them to get behind me. “We need to get to the perimeter so I can get you guys to safety.”
I reached down and grabbed the rucksack with my left hand and brandished the glowing blade of Excalibur with my right as I began moving towards where I had seen the figures standing in the Shadowland.
Nothing else moved to attack us as we moved forward, so I was able to take a glance back towards the Coop. The building behind us was glowing orange from the flames that were now eating at the place from several locations inside. Smoke billowed upwards, disappearing in the night sky.
I wondered how this could be happening without any response from the Fire Department, but I had to push that thought away as we approached the perimeter. I felt, more than saw, the field of energy that had been set up by the man-sized creatures that I had seen earlier. There was no sign of them with my normal sight, so I shifted my vision to the Shadowland.
As my vision shifted, I found myself staring in the vacant, nearly lifeless eyes of a pale, naked creature that stood, unmoving, spread-eagle. Its long, thin arms stretched outward towards the outstretched arms of others just like it.
Looking into its face, I now recognized them for what they were…Drake had called these creatures Dream Weavers. They were another servant race of the An’girasii. They worked in groups of thirteen, using their powers from the Shadowland to create powerful, complex illusions in the ‘real’ world.
They apparently also had the ability to shut off my access to the Shadowland.
I lashed out with Excalibur towards the Dream Weaver immediately in front of me.
There was a tremendous amount of resistance, as if the illusory shield created by the Weavers was resisting the power of the blade. Sparks of magickal energy erupted as the blade fought its way through the shield and into abdomen of the Weaver.
The shower of sparks turned into an eruption of energy that must have flashed into the real world as well. The entire illusion that had been created by the Weavers crumbled in an explosion of energy that threw me back into normal vision again.
Alexa called out in appreciate surprise. “Oooh, fireworks!”
I sheathed Excalibur in one motion and reached out to Naomi. “Hold on! This is going to be rough!”
I called the Shadow and stepped from this former place of safety to another, Naomi and Alexa in tow…
She glanced out the window behind me and shook her head. “No, we’re coming with you.”
“What are talking about? It is quite a drop from here!”
Naomi reached out and touched my shoulder. “We’ll make it down there, you just worry about yourself.”
Alexa perked up as she looked from me to her mother. “Are we going to fly again, Mama?”
Naomi nodded and put both arms around Alexa again before smiling down at her daughter. “Yes, dear, we’re going to fly again, but not too much this time, OK?”
Alexa bobbed her head and pumped her tiny fist. “Yay!”
Naomi shifted her gaze back to me. “Go now, we’ll follow behind you at a safe distance.”
I shook my head and decided to trust her judgment. I knew that she would never do anything that she would endanger Alexa.
Using my gloved hands, I cleared all of the sharp shards of glass from the opening of the window, pulling the curtains off the wall in the process. Once it was clear, I stepped up onto the windowsill, hunching my shoulders down to fit into the square opening, if barely.
Another violent explosion rocked the house as I prepared to jump by glancing to the ground beneath me. Unearthly screams of pain and terror accompanied the blast, giving me the impetus I needed to get going. I pushed myself forward, kicking out with my legs in an attempt to land standing up.
It worked, almost.
I landed on my backside with a tremendous thud in one of Ravyn’s favorite flower beds. I let go of the rucksack that had unbalanced my fall and started scrambling up to my feet amid of a shower of dirt and ruined petals. My actions became more urgent as I noticed two wolf-like shadows emerge from the bushes near where I had seen the line of figures holding up the shield in the Shadowland. It was all I could do to get Excalibur out and my feet set before they were upon me.
Apparently, the blade decided that these creatures, were worthy of taking on and guided my hand as I lashed out at the first of the attacking beasts. I felt the blade sink into it, but its weight bore the blade downward as the second beast launched itself into my chest, knocking back to the ground.
The creature snarled and snapped at my face, held back only by my left hand on its throat. I tried to wrest Excalibur from the first creature’s chest, but I lacked the leverage to yank it free while lying on my back, pinned down by the second.
I was just about to give up on pulling the sword free and taking the thing on with my hands when the creature, much to our mutual surprise, began to float above me, its paws flailing helplessly in an attempt to regain traction.
Naomi’s voice rang out from the shadows to my left, obviously straining with effort. “Now, Rusty! I can’t hold it for long, it’s too heavy!”
Using only my left hand, I heaved upwards and yanked at Excalibur with my right. The blade slipped free and slashed upwards across the throat of the still struggling second creature. Its lifeless body fell to the ground as I stood up.
Naomi stepped from the shadows, pale and sweaty with exhaustion, Alexa standing beside her.
Alexa was straining against Naomi’s hand, reaching toward the first dead creature. “Poor wolfies!”
“Hush, girl. These aren’t real wolves.” Naomi pulled her back gently.
“Follow me.” I waved at them to get behind me. “We need to get to the perimeter so I can get you guys to safety.”
I reached down and grabbed the rucksack with my left hand and brandished the glowing blade of Excalibur with my right as I began moving towards where I had seen the figures standing in the Shadowland.
Nothing else moved to attack us as we moved forward, so I was able to take a glance back towards the Coop. The building behind us was glowing orange from the flames that were now eating at the place from several locations inside. Smoke billowed upwards, disappearing in the night sky.
I wondered how this could be happening without any response from the Fire Department, but I had to push that thought away as we approached the perimeter. I felt, more than saw, the field of energy that had been set up by the man-sized creatures that I had seen earlier. There was no sign of them with my normal sight, so I shifted my vision to the Shadowland.
As my vision shifted, I found myself staring in the vacant, nearly lifeless eyes of a pale, naked creature that stood, unmoving, spread-eagle. Its long, thin arms stretched outward towards the outstretched arms of others just like it.
Looking into its face, I now recognized them for what they were…Drake had called these creatures Dream Weavers. They were another servant race of the An’girasii. They worked in groups of thirteen, using their powers from the Shadowland to create powerful, complex illusions in the ‘real’ world.
They apparently also had the ability to shut off my access to the Shadowland.
I lashed out with Excalibur towards the Dream Weaver immediately in front of me.
There was a tremendous amount of resistance, as if the illusory shield created by the Weavers was resisting the power of the blade. Sparks of magickal energy erupted as the blade fought its way through the shield and into abdomen of the Weaver.
The shower of sparks turned into an eruption of energy that must have flashed into the real world as well. The entire illusion that had been created by the Weavers crumbled in an explosion of energy that threw me back into normal vision again.
Alexa called out in appreciate surprise. “Oooh, fireworks!”
I sheathed Excalibur in one motion and reached out to Naomi. “Hold on! This is going to be rough!”
I called the Shadow and stepped from this former place of safety to another, Naomi and Alexa in tow…
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Hell's Bells...Part 1
I emerged from the Shadow and stepped into the library at the Coop with Alexa cradled in my arms, dead-to-the-world asleep.
I was met by the stern glare of Ravyn, her right hand held high with a ball of red and orange fire swirling around her clenched fist. “Is that you, Rusty?”
Hugging Alexa close to my chest, I nodded. “Yeah, it’s me, finally.”
“Sorry, but I need to be sure you are who you appear to be, Rusty. Look directly into my eyes.”
I looked up from the cherubic brown face of Alexa to meet Ravyn’s steely gaze. “Drake’s gone for good now. He had his little chat with Alexa.”
Ravyn’s face softened as she realized that I was telling the truth. “Thank the Goddess, it is you!” The fireball surrounding her fist died with a fizzle as she brought it down, still smoking, and moved to take Alexa from my arms.
“How long has it been since he took control?” I let my arms fall to the side as Alexa settled into her arms and nuzzled up against her neck, still asleep.
Ravyn shook her head. “I’m not sure, but it must be close to two months now.” She shifted Alexa into her left arm, brushing back Alexa’s dark, curly bangs from her forehead. “Naomi is going to be so relieved to know that she’s back safe and sound. What did Drake do with her and why did he have to take her like he did?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “Is Naomi OK?”
She nodded. “Yes, she’s been beside herself for days now, but she wasn’t harmed.”
“Good. Drake didn’t let me know what he was doing all of the time, so I’m not sure what happened when he came for Alexa, but he did let me experience his passing when he took her to the Tree.” I shook my head. “That was the weirdest thing to watch Drake bow down before my toddler of a daughter and pay his respects to her. It got even weirder when she acknowledged his respect and spoke to him in that same voice that she used back at Yule.”
“What did she say to him?”
“They spoke together for quite a while, but the main thing was that she thanked him for his service and then forgave him for everything that he had done to harm others.”
Ravyn looked incredulous. “She thanked Drake for his service? And she forgave him?”
I nodded. “Yep, and that’s what took the longest. He had left me in my body by that time and stood before her in pure Spirit form, looking almost exactly as he had when he was alive. She reached up with her little hands to his head bowed head and whispered name after name after name of all of the people that he hurt or killed throughout his miserable, long assed life and with each name, he became just a tiny bit lighter, more translucent. It must have taken days.”
She looked down into Alexa’s face before looking back up at me. “That must have been thousands of names…how did she know them all?”
“I have no idea. But I can tell you that it was a fucking who’s who of world history, that’s for sure. You have no idea how much of the history that we learn about in school was influenced by the people that Drake screwed with or outright killed.”
“I think I can believe it after all of the stuff he used your body to get stirred up. Rusty, you are not going to be able to show your face in public for quite some time—I’ve lost count of the number of different law enforcement agencies that have contacted me looking for you. I even had to send away the FBI students away from here after Agent Wilson called and told me that you had been declared a fugitive from justice and that you had made the Most Wanted list for a string of murders!”
“Shit! He let me see some of that stuff, but obviously not everything! He told me that he was taking down servants of the An’girasii.”
She pursed her lips and clucked her tongue. “That may well be what he was doing, but he has landed you in a lot of hot water in the process. Did you know that he took Dick Arnold?”
I stepped back at that. “No, I had no idea.”
She shook her head this time. “Well, you’ve got a lot of catching up to do, but not before we get this little girl back to her mot
I was met by the stern glare of Ravyn, her right hand held high with a ball of red and orange fire swirling around her clenched fist. “Is that you, Rusty?”
Hugging Alexa close to my chest, I nodded. “Yeah, it’s me, finally.”
“Sorry, but I need to be sure you are who you appear to be, Rusty. Look directly into my eyes.”
I looked up from the cherubic brown face of Alexa to meet Ravyn’s steely gaze. “Drake’s gone for good now. He had his little chat with Alexa.”
Ravyn’s face softened as she realized that I was telling the truth. “Thank the Goddess, it is you!” The fireball surrounding her fist died with a fizzle as she brought it down, still smoking, and moved to take Alexa from my arms.
“How long has it been since he took control?” I let my arms fall to the side as Alexa settled into her arms and nuzzled up against her neck, still asleep.
Ravyn shook her head. “I’m not sure, but it must be close to two months now.” She shifted Alexa into her left arm, brushing back Alexa’s dark, curly bangs from her forehead. “Naomi is going to be so relieved to know that she’s back safe and sound. What did Drake do with her and why did he have to take her like he did?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “Is Naomi OK?”
She nodded. “Yes, she’s been beside herself for days now, but she wasn’t harmed.”
“Good. Drake didn’t let me know what he was doing all of the time, so I’m not sure what happened when he came for Alexa, but he did let me experience his passing when he took her to the Tree.” I shook my head. “That was the weirdest thing to watch Drake bow down before my toddler of a daughter and pay his respects to her. It got even weirder when she acknowledged his respect and spoke to him in that same voice that she used back at Yule.”
“What did she say to him?”
“They spoke together for quite a while, but the main thing was that she thanked him for his service and then forgave him for everything that he had done to harm others.”
Ravyn looked incredulous. “She thanked Drake for his service? And she forgave him?”
I nodded. “Yep, and that’s what took the longest. He had left me in my body by that time and stood before her in pure Spirit form, looking almost exactly as he had when he was alive. She reached up with her little hands to his head bowed head and whispered name after name after name of all of the people that he hurt or killed throughout his miserable, long assed life and with each name, he became just a tiny bit lighter, more translucent. It must have taken days.”
She looked down into Alexa’s face before looking back up at me. “That must have been thousands of names…how did she know them all?”
“I have no idea. But I can tell you that it was a fucking who’s who of world history, that’s for sure. You have no idea how much of the history that we learn about in school was influenced by the people that Drake screwed with or outright killed.”
“I think I can believe it after all of the stuff he used your body to get stirred up. Rusty, you are not going to be able to show your face in public for quite some time—I’ve lost count of the number of different law enforcement agencies that have contacted me looking for you. I even had to send away the FBI students away from here after Agent Wilson called and told me that you had been declared a fugitive from justice and that you had made the Most Wanted list for a string of murders!”
“Shit! He let me see some of that stuff, but obviously not everything! He told me that he was taking down servants of the An’girasii.”
She pursed her lips and clucked her tongue. “That may well be what he was doing, but he has landed you in a lot of hot water in the process. Did you know that he took Dick Arnold?”
I stepped back at that. “No, I had no idea.”
She shook her head this time. “Well, you’ve got a lot of catching up to do, but not before we get this little girl back to her mot
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Meditation
This post has been much harder to write than I ever envisioned that it would be.
I had been looking forward to writing about the final and permanent demise of Drake Kampmann for years now. Now that I faced with writing about that very thing, I am filled with a profound sense of sadness and loss that I haven’t felt since my own father passed away twenty years ago.
For the better part of a decade I have both feared and hated Drake Kampmann. At first he was the aloof, mysterious director of the Omega Project—someone who first recruited me and then oversaw my participation in that project—my fate was literally in his hands, in more ways than I cared to consider.
There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that Drake was a ruthless, cold-hearted, evil sociopath who wouldn’t hesitate to kill someone if he thought that there was any advantage to him or his plans by doing so. He used everyone that he ever came into contact with, manipulating them into doing what he wanted done by telling half truths and outright lies. If he ever knew what it was to love another person, he had long allowed the memory of such love to slip from his memory.
So, why do I feel as conflicted by his passing as I do now?
That is hard question to answer.
In part, I think it is because so long as Drake was around, I had a focal point for my own fears and insecurities. He was easy to blame for whatever hardship I faced. If I had never met Drake, I felt like my marriage would have been as strong as it was before, and that I could have sat back, fat and happy, as I watched my kids grow up. I would have advanced easily within the Dearborn Hills Police Department and been getting closer and closer to a nice middle class retirement of watching baseball games and fishing on the weekends.
It is like there is this alternate reality out there—that if Drake had never come looking for me, all of this weird freaky shit would never have happened. People like Papa Locks and El Diablito would have never even existed. Magick would have remained a figment of my wife’s imagination. Monsters like Grendel, Ma Grendel, Doppelgangers, and Banes would have stayed as characters in someone else’s books.
But then I remember all of the wonderful people that I have met because of Drake and I marvel at how the universe works. I would have never met Ravyn Fyre, Jim, Cerrydwen and the Frau. I would have never had the chance to learn about all of the different paths between the worlds that John Red Bear taught me to explore.
If Drake hadn’t found me, would another man, another officer, been able to become the creature that I am now? Would that person have been able to break free from the flawed prison of the Omega Project Chakra yet remained in this world to take on Drake and his cohorts? Would that person have embraced the immortality and been satisfied to exist in that cold, dead shell of his own body? Would that person have become a willing, but less than capable servant, that the Omega Project seemed designed to create?
So much has happened since that time that Drake came to find me—a whole universe of magick and monsters and strange new worlds has been opened up to me to explore—that I cannot even comprehend what it is to be that ‘normal’ guy anymore, living out a quiet, suburban life in ignorant bliss.
As much as I was dragged kicking and screaming into this (un)dead existence, I now can’t imagine things being any different.
There is so much to tell about Drake’s passing and the things that he did while he had use of this body—the messes he made that I am still trying to clear up, the enemies that he tracked down and eliminated, and the gifts he left for me and the ORC’s, but that stuff will have to wait just a little bit longer. I have needed to take this time to contemplate what his passing has meant to me.
There is little enough time for reflection, however, as events have continued to take place. My next series of posts will focus on what has most recently taken place while we tried to recover and safeguard those things that Drake left for us, and what is taking place right now in the Shadows all around as the An’girasii have begun to make moves against us.
The story of Drake’s passing will be a story for another time, since it is one that is worth taking the time to tell well. He deserves at least that, if not much else.
I had been looking forward to writing about the final and permanent demise of Drake Kampmann for years now. Now that I faced with writing about that very thing, I am filled with a profound sense of sadness and loss that I haven’t felt since my own father passed away twenty years ago.
For the better part of a decade I have both feared and hated Drake Kampmann. At first he was the aloof, mysterious director of the Omega Project—someone who first recruited me and then oversaw my participation in that project—my fate was literally in his hands, in more ways than I cared to consider.
There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that Drake was a ruthless, cold-hearted, evil sociopath who wouldn’t hesitate to kill someone if he thought that there was any advantage to him or his plans by doing so. He used everyone that he ever came into contact with, manipulating them into doing what he wanted done by telling half truths and outright lies. If he ever knew what it was to love another person, he had long allowed the memory of such love to slip from his memory.
So, why do I feel as conflicted by his passing as I do now?
That is hard question to answer.
In part, I think it is because so long as Drake was around, I had a focal point for my own fears and insecurities. He was easy to blame for whatever hardship I faced. If I had never met Drake, I felt like my marriage would have been as strong as it was before, and that I could have sat back, fat and happy, as I watched my kids grow up. I would have advanced easily within the Dearborn Hills Police Department and been getting closer and closer to a nice middle class retirement of watching baseball games and fishing on the weekends.
It is like there is this alternate reality out there—that if Drake had never come looking for me, all of this weird freaky shit would never have happened. People like Papa Locks and El Diablito would have never even existed. Magick would have remained a figment of my wife’s imagination. Monsters like Grendel, Ma Grendel, Doppelgangers, and Banes would have stayed as characters in someone else’s books.
But then I remember all of the wonderful people that I have met because of Drake and I marvel at how the universe works. I would have never met Ravyn Fyre, Jim, Cerrydwen and the Frau. I would have never had the chance to learn about all of the different paths between the worlds that John Red Bear taught me to explore.
If Drake hadn’t found me, would another man, another officer, been able to become the creature that I am now? Would that person have been able to break free from the flawed prison of the Omega Project Chakra yet remained in this world to take on Drake and his cohorts? Would that person have embraced the immortality and been satisfied to exist in that cold, dead shell of his own body? Would that person have become a willing, but less than capable servant, that the Omega Project seemed designed to create?
So much has happened since that time that Drake came to find me—a whole universe of magick and monsters and strange new worlds has been opened up to me to explore—that I cannot even comprehend what it is to be that ‘normal’ guy anymore, living out a quiet, suburban life in ignorant bliss.
As much as I was dragged kicking and screaming into this (un)dead existence, I now can’t imagine things being any different.
There is so much to tell about Drake’s passing and the things that he did while he had use of this body—the messes he made that I am still trying to clear up, the enemies that he tracked down and eliminated, and the gifts he left for me and the ORC’s, but that stuff will have to wait just a little bit longer. I have needed to take this time to contemplate what his passing has meant to me.
There is little enough time for reflection, however, as events have continued to take place. My next series of posts will focus on what has most recently taken place while we tried to recover and safeguard those things that Drake left for us, and what is taking place right now in the Shadows all around as the An’girasii have begun to make moves against us.
The story of Drake’s passing will be a story for another time, since it is one that is worth taking the time to tell well. He deserves at least that, if not much else.
Saturday, June 02, 2007
I'mmm Baaaccckkk
Well, that was...uh...interesting.
Ravyn, I'll report for my ass kicking shortly, I'll bring along the information on that vault that Drake mentioned as well. It is in a very interesting location that will make for a good road trip.
Prof...I notice that the Tiger's are dropping like stones, we need to make a road trip to Cleveland to see if we can reverse their baseball mojo against the Tribe. Oh, and by the way, I do have those pass codes for the accounts that Drake mentioned.
I have been reading through all of the stuff that he left for me to read while trying to figure out how I straighten things out with the FBI and the various other agencies that now have me on their watchlists.
Let's just say that I was not very happy to give up the control that I did on that tanker, but it is now a lot quieter in my head. Bernstein is indeed gone, with all of his memories (except for those that I assimilated into my own memory-and those are bad enough). Drake also did a good job of smashing the reassembling consciousness of Ma Grendel--that entity has been smashed and scattered so thoroughly that it took a little bit of work to remember how to work with the Shadow again.
I am intend to have a fuller, more detailed post up about some of the aftermath of Drake's visit and his ultimate (and final) passing from this world and how that came to pass in the coming couple of days.
Thanks, as always, for your patience...
Ravyn, I'll report for my ass kicking shortly, I'll bring along the information on that vault that Drake mentioned as well. It is in a very interesting location that will make for a good road trip.
Prof...I notice that the Tiger's are dropping like stones, we need to make a road trip to Cleveland to see if we can reverse their baseball mojo against the Tribe. Oh, and by the way, I do have those pass codes for the accounts that Drake mentioned.
I have been reading through all of the stuff that he left for me to read while trying to figure out how I straighten things out with the FBI and the various other agencies that now have me on their watchlists.
Let's just say that I was not very happy to give up the control that I did on that tanker, but it is now a lot quieter in my head. Bernstein is indeed gone, with all of his memories (except for those that I assimilated into my own memory-and those are bad enough). Drake also did a good job of smashing the reassembling consciousness of Ma Grendel--that entity has been smashed and scattered so thoroughly that it took a little bit of work to remember how to work with the Shadow again.
I am intend to have a fuller, more detailed post up about some of the aftermath of Drake's visit and his ultimate (and final) passing from this world and how that came to pass in the coming couple of days.
Thanks, as always, for your patience...
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Farewell Message
It is perhaps time to bid all of you a fond a farewell, as my work here is almost done.
It may seem like I have not done or said much here on this blog of Rusty’s, but you may rest assured that I have made very good use of the time that has been allotted to me in Rusty’s body.
I have spent much of the last few weeks (the exchange on the oil tanker happened quite some time ago) engaged in the writing and recording of several volumes of work that Rusty will have access to and will have control over. After our next exchange, I will no longer have the ability to provide him with the answers or assistance that I have since my ‘death’. What Rusty decides to do with this information is entirely up to him. Hopefully, he and his allies will come to realize that while my actions and many of my motivations appear to be evil and without remorse, that I have always acted in the best interests of humanity.
I have, however, been able to take care of some necessary business interests during my free time.
Since I am not the writer that Rusty is, I will just provide a brief summary of some of the things that Rusty will find that he has become involved with. It will be up to him to provide a more detailed account of these events, should he choose to do so:
Daniel Bernstein is no more. His betrayal of me and all that I have worked for was very nearly disastrous. Before he died, I did restore his memories to him so that he could try to explain himself. His pleadings were not nearly convincing enough. His body will never be recovered.
The Professor will soon be receiving a rather large envelope containing the account numbers and access codes to a number of my oldest, and largest, bank holdings in Switzerland. The information is encrypted, so Rusty will have to provide the keys to that encryption before the Professor will be able to access those monies. The resources in those accounts will be able to fund the activities of the ORC’s for generations to come.
Ravyn Fyre will also be receiving a package delivered by a special courier. That package will contain the keys and access codes to a vault where I have stored various artifacts, items, and tomes that I had created or have otherwise obtained throughout the millennia. She will be able to ask Rusty for the actual location of that vault. Zenny Al Farhan will be able to examine those items and determine if they will be of any assistance to the ORC cause. Ms. Fyre will have to take the responsibility for safeguarding those items that will be more dangerous than helpful, but I am confident in her ability to do so.
I have left a list of influential people for Rusty of those individuals who I believe to have already been replaced by Doppelgangers or who are in eminent danger of being targeted by them. I have taken the liberty of eliminating a couple of the less obvious ones for Rusty, but given how my style is completely different from his, he will have to deal with the consequences of my ‘interventions’ and figure out how to address the remaining individuals appropriately.
Rusty may also have to deal with the potential negative consequences of the ‘disappearance’ of a small number of urns from some rather prestigious museums and university research centers, especially if I failed to adequately disable all of the appropriate surveillance equipment. Those urns held beings that I don’t feel that Rusty and his allies were adequately prepared to deal with at this time. I have taken them and disposed of them for the time being. I have left Rusty an account of each of those beings in the event that my disposal of them wasn’t as permanent as I would have liked.
Finally, if all goes as I have planned, Rusty will return to the full control of his body and with some memory of the things that I have done with it while in the presence of his daughter. I have one final appointment to keep with Alexa. If she is truly the individual that I believe her to be, then I will be able to move on from this world, finally.
Rusty and his companions have seen glimpses of what she is potentially capable of doing, but I don’t think that they fully realize her importance just yet. The An’girasii will become of aware of her rather soon, which is why I have endowed all that I can into the hands of the ORC’s. Rusty and the ORC’s appear to be her best chance of growing into the catalyst for change that she has the potential to be. If I have succeeded, then in the next thousand years, humans will achieve the kind of transcendent awareness and enlightenment through her teachings that will eliminate the differences between Jews, Christians, Muslims, Buddhists, and Hindus. Instead there will be a new guiding force, more of a philosophy than a religion. It will perhaps be called Alexandrianism. And that will be what the An’girasii will be fighting so hard to prevent, for it is religion and all of its false teachings, false promises, and the excesses of the fundamentalists of each of the world’s major religions that the An’girasii use to prey upon humanity.
In this blog, through Rusty’s eyes, you have seen me as an evil, implacable foe willing to sacrifice innocent people to further my agenda. Much of what you have seen is entirely true. In taking on the foes that I have, in hunting them down as I had to do countless times over the millennia, I have had to do many evil things and sacrifice many innocent people. Finally though, I have a worthy successor, a man who, while deeply flawed, has proven himself capable to facing implacable evil and holding his own. Rusty has taken the tools that I endowed him with and grown into something stronger, yet more curious and more compassionate than I could ever be.
So, I leave you, and the rest of the world, in the hands of a naïve zombie with the powers of a demon but a heart of gold supported by a kooky cast of well-meaning misfits. It is the best I could do in the time allotted to me. I hope it is enough.
Drake
It may seem like I have not done or said much here on this blog of Rusty’s, but you may rest assured that I have made very good use of the time that has been allotted to me in Rusty’s body.
I have spent much of the last few weeks (the exchange on the oil tanker happened quite some time ago) engaged in the writing and recording of several volumes of work that Rusty will have access to and will have control over. After our next exchange, I will no longer have the ability to provide him with the answers or assistance that I have since my ‘death’. What Rusty decides to do with this information is entirely up to him. Hopefully, he and his allies will come to realize that while my actions and many of my motivations appear to be evil and without remorse, that I have always acted in the best interests of humanity.
I have, however, been able to take care of some necessary business interests during my free time.
Since I am not the writer that Rusty is, I will just provide a brief summary of some of the things that Rusty will find that he has become involved with. It will be up to him to provide a more detailed account of these events, should he choose to do so:
Daniel Bernstein is no more. His betrayal of me and all that I have worked for was very nearly disastrous. Before he died, I did restore his memories to him so that he could try to explain himself. His pleadings were not nearly convincing enough. His body will never be recovered.
The Professor will soon be receiving a rather large envelope containing the account numbers and access codes to a number of my oldest, and largest, bank holdings in Switzerland. The information is encrypted, so Rusty will have to provide the keys to that encryption before the Professor will be able to access those monies. The resources in those accounts will be able to fund the activities of the ORC’s for generations to come.
Ravyn Fyre will also be receiving a package delivered by a special courier. That package will contain the keys and access codes to a vault where I have stored various artifacts, items, and tomes that I had created or have otherwise obtained throughout the millennia. She will be able to ask Rusty for the actual location of that vault. Zenny Al Farhan will be able to examine those items and determine if they will be of any assistance to the ORC cause. Ms. Fyre will have to take the responsibility for safeguarding those items that will be more dangerous than helpful, but I am confident in her ability to do so.
I have left a list of influential people for Rusty of those individuals who I believe to have already been replaced by Doppelgangers or who are in eminent danger of being targeted by them. I have taken the liberty of eliminating a couple of the less obvious ones for Rusty, but given how my style is completely different from his, he will have to deal with the consequences of my ‘interventions’ and figure out how to address the remaining individuals appropriately.
Rusty may also have to deal with the potential negative consequences of the ‘disappearance’ of a small number of urns from some rather prestigious museums and university research centers, especially if I failed to adequately disable all of the appropriate surveillance equipment. Those urns held beings that I don’t feel that Rusty and his allies were adequately prepared to deal with at this time. I have taken them and disposed of them for the time being. I have left Rusty an account of each of those beings in the event that my disposal of them wasn’t as permanent as I would have liked.
Finally, if all goes as I have planned, Rusty will return to the full control of his body and with some memory of the things that I have done with it while in the presence of his daughter. I have one final appointment to keep with Alexa. If she is truly the individual that I believe her to be, then I will be able to move on from this world, finally.
Rusty and his companions have seen glimpses of what she is potentially capable of doing, but I don’t think that they fully realize her importance just yet. The An’girasii will become of aware of her rather soon, which is why I have endowed all that I can into the hands of the ORC’s. Rusty and the ORC’s appear to be her best chance of growing into the catalyst for change that she has the potential to be. If I have succeeded, then in the next thousand years, humans will achieve the kind of transcendent awareness and enlightenment through her teachings that will eliminate the differences between Jews, Christians, Muslims, Buddhists, and Hindus. Instead there will be a new guiding force, more of a philosophy than a religion. It will perhaps be called Alexandrianism. And that will be what the An’girasii will be fighting so hard to prevent, for it is religion and all of its false teachings, false promises, and the excesses of the fundamentalists of each of the world’s major religions that the An’girasii use to prey upon humanity.
In this blog, through Rusty’s eyes, you have seen me as an evil, implacable foe willing to sacrifice innocent people to further my agenda. Much of what you have seen is entirely true. In taking on the foes that I have, in hunting them down as I had to do countless times over the millennia, I have had to do many evil things and sacrifice many innocent people. Finally though, I have a worthy successor, a man who, while deeply flawed, has proven himself capable to facing implacable evil and holding his own. Rusty has taken the tools that I endowed him with and grown into something stronger, yet more curious and more compassionate than I could ever be.
So, I leave you, and the rest of the world, in the hands of a naïve zombie with the powers of a demon but a heart of gold supported by a kooky cast of well-meaning misfits. It is the best I could do in the time allotted to me. I hope it is enough.
Drake
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Anthraximander
Well, I suppose it is time to wrap up the events on the tanker.
You will have to pardon me if you find significant differences in the way that I tell this tale as opposed to how our dear Rusty would do so. He seems to have taken to this online journaling/writing business, while I write merely to convey information.
The Bane—an old foe that I have known since our run-ins during the Bronze Age in Ancient Greece as Anthraximander—was caught entirely flat-footed by our maneuver. Anthraximander had anticipated that he would be able to create problems for Rusty because of all of the vestiges of the Drashe’en that remained within the poor lad, but he had not anticipated that Rusty would be willing to surrender his body to me.
Before I could deal with my old foe, however, I had to regain control over the Drashe’en insurgency and put ‘Ma Grendel’ (that is a fabulous name for the old gal, if I don’t say so myself) back into place. It was easier for me that it was for Rusty simply because I am just as ruthless and evil as that old bitch ever was. In short order I used my Will to shatter her into the multitudes of shards that Rusty refers to as ‘the Voices’ and shove those pieces back into their appropriate places.
Anthraximander had stood there watching, assuming that his spell was working as planned on Rusty. Ever since I was very young, I have realized that my own ‘Spirit form’ (to use another Rusty-ism) is completely invisible to even the most powerful Casters, it is something that has served me very well over the millennia. Knowing that the Bane would be unable to discern that I was now in control over Rusty’s body, I staggered to my feet and acted as if I was moving to sit upon the throne of the dead that he had wanted Rusty to sit in.
One thing that I have tried to pass on to Rusty, especially in dealing with An’girasii and their servants and allies, is that it is useless to spend much time talking to them. Rusty always seems to find himself engaging in conversations with these creatures, which is completely useless. The one time he had success against a doppelganger was when he used that damn sword of his to lop its head off without any discussion or warning. These creatures use conversation, discussions, and speeches to measure up and then deceive their foes as their weave their own hidden spells to take advantage of their prey. The most effective way in dealing with these enemies is ruthless, merciless, and sudden violence.
Take our friend Anthraximander for an example.
He is rather typical for a Bane. Banes are creatures of almost pure Spirit. They don’t have physical bodies of their own, so they have to possess someone—usually just a normal person of any race or sex—and then consuming the victims’ own Spirit to fuel the transformation of that body into a form that the Bane perceives as having the maximum intimidation factor for other humans. The process of possessing, then molding and shaping that body takes several years at the minimum, and can take decades. By taking on forms that most humans see only in their nightmares and then surrounding themselves with a cadre of undead Reavers, all while wielding equal amounts of magick and fear Banes usually avoid any physical confrontations.
If Rusty had taken my advice from the beginning, he would never have listened to Anthraximander in the first place. He should have continued acting like the killing machine he was designed to be, and left the talking for another time. Instead, he treats these creatures like he’s a liberal social worker on a mission to solve all of the world’s ills.
I didn’t make that mistake. Before Anthraximander could figure out that his tightly woven spells were now useless, I barreled into him, snapping his staff like a twig with one blow. As the creature staggered back and stumbled, I wrapped my left arm around its head and dragged him down in a head lock.
He knew he was in trouble now as I felt the panic rise within him. His scrawny, pasty bald head was now uncovered, revealing the twisted, warped face of a once young Asian man. “What are you doing, Brother?”
I smiled. “You old fool, Anthraximander. You’re not dealing with the kid any more. I hope you didn’t invest too much time in this body, you fool, because you are about to lose it.”
“Only one human knows that name…it cannot be…”
I smiled again as I yanked the head off of its scrawny neck.
The Banes screamed in pain and defiance as its physical body collapsed in a heap. Its Spirit slipped from the body and gathered into a dark mist that hung in the air in front of me.
“How is this possible?”
I dropped the early bloodless head onto the floor and turned my back on the now virtually harmless mist before replying. “I am not inclined to aid you in answering that question, Anthraximander. But, while you search out a new body, you might contemplate what new tactics you and your kind will need to deal with the likes of me again. You caught the kid unaware this time, but that won’t happen again, I can promise you that. Now move along. I have things to do here.”
The black mist that was all that was left of the Bane gathered into a tight ball as I glanced back at it and passed through the hull of the ship into the daylight beyond.
Now that the Bane was physically destroyed, the band of Reavers that depended on its power would collapse back into lifelessness.
As the throne behind me melted into a pile of rotting body parts, I turned and stood over that damnable sword. I could feel its hatred radiating up at me. I couldn’t leave a sword like this laying on this ship would soon be swarming with disgusted sailors and Coast Guardsmen, so I knelt down and held Rusty’s gloved hand over the white hot hilt.
“Look, Blade. I know you detest me as much as I detest you. But let me pick you up long enough to sheath you in that place where Rusty has devised for you and then you can wait for him to return. I will not attempt to use you in any fashion.”
It relented for the brief moment that allowed me to pick it up and sheath it, allowing it to slip back into the Shadowland.
I left the cabin and headed to the helm of the ship, passing the bodies of the Reavers that now lay motionless where they had last stood.
Once at the helm, I pushed aside the slumped body of the Reaver that had been steering the ship and pulled back on the handle that controlled the speed of the engines. Slowly the ship began to stop its forward motion.
Last, I slipped back down to the deck long enough to find the flagpole and hoist the Coast Guard flag that Rusty had been given by that Commander.
I didn’t stick around to see the reaction of the assault teams.
You will have to pardon me if you find significant differences in the way that I tell this tale as opposed to how our dear Rusty would do so. He seems to have taken to this online journaling/writing business, while I write merely to convey information.
The Bane—an old foe that I have known since our run-ins during the Bronze Age in Ancient Greece as Anthraximander—was caught entirely flat-footed by our maneuver. Anthraximander had anticipated that he would be able to create problems for Rusty because of all of the vestiges of the Drashe’en that remained within the poor lad, but he had not anticipated that Rusty would be willing to surrender his body to me.
Before I could deal with my old foe, however, I had to regain control over the Drashe’en insurgency and put ‘Ma Grendel’ (that is a fabulous name for the old gal, if I don’t say so myself) back into place. It was easier for me that it was for Rusty simply because I am just as ruthless and evil as that old bitch ever was. In short order I used my Will to shatter her into the multitudes of shards that Rusty refers to as ‘the Voices’ and shove those pieces back into their appropriate places.
Anthraximander had stood there watching, assuming that his spell was working as planned on Rusty. Ever since I was very young, I have realized that my own ‘Spirit form’ (to use another Rusty-ism) is completely invisible to even the most powerful Casters, it is something that has served me very well over the millennia. Knowing that the Bane would be unable to discern that I was now in control over Rusty’s body, I staggered to my feet and acted as if I was moving to sit upon the throne of the dead that he had wanted Rusty to sit in.
One thing that I have tried to pass on to Rusty, especially in dealing with An’girasii and their servants and allies, is that it is useless to spend much time talking to them. Rusty always seems to find himself engaging in conversations with these creatures, which is completely useless. The one time he had success against a doppelganger was when he used that damn sword of his to lop its head off without any discussion or warning. These creatures use conversation, discussions, and speeches to measure up and then deceive their foes as their weave their own hidden spells to take advantage of their prey. The most effective way in dealing with these enemies is ruthless, merciless, and sudden violence.
Take our friend Anthraximander for an example.
He is rather typical for a Bane. Banes are creatures of almost pure Spirit. They don’t have physical bodies of their own, so they have to possess someone—usually just a normal person of any race or sex—and then consuming the victims’ own Spirit to fuel the transformation of that body into a form that the Bane perceives as having the maximum intimidation factor for other humans. The process of possessing, then molding and shaping that body takes several years at the minimum, and can take decades. By taking on forms that most humans see only in their nightmares and then surrounding themselves with a cadre of undead Reavers, all while wielding equal amounts of magick and fear Banes usually avoid any physical confrontations.
If Rusty had taken my advice from the beginning, he would never have listened to Anthraximander in the first place. He should have continued acting like the killing machine he was designed to be, and left the talking for another time. Instead, he treats these creatures like he’s a liberal social worker on a mission to solve all of the world’s ills.
I didn’t make that mistake. Before Anthraximander could figure out that his tightly woven spells were now useless, I barreled into him, snapping his staff like a twig with one blow. As the creature staggered back and stumbled, I wrapped my left arm around its head and dragged him down in a head lock.
He knew he was in trouble now as I felt the panic rise within him. His scrawny, pasty bald head was now uncovered, revealing the twisted, warped face of a once young Asian man. “What are you doing, Brother?”
I smiled. “You old fool, Anthraximander. You’re not dealing with the kid any more. I hope you didn’t invest too much time in this body, you fool, because you are about to lose it.”
“Only one human knows that name…it cannot be…”
I smiled again as I yanked the head off of its scrawny neck.
The Banes screamed in pain and defiance as its physical body collapsed in a heap. Its Spirit slipped from the body and gathered into a dark mist that hung in the air in front of me.
“How is this possible?”
I dropped the early bloodless head onto the floor and turned my back on the now virtually harmless mist before replying. “I am not inclined to aid you in answering that question, Anthraximander. But, while you search out a new body, you might contemplate what new tactics you and your kind will need to deal with the likes of me again. You caught the kid unaware this time, but that won’t happen again, I can promise you that. Now move along. I have things to do here.”
The black mist that was all that was left of the Bane gathered into a tight ball as I glanced back at it and passed through the hull of the ship into the daylight beyond.
Now that the Bane was physically destroyed, the band of Reavers that depended on its power would collapse back into lifelessness.
As the throne behind me melted into a pile of rotting body parts, I turned and stood over that damnable sword. I could feel its hatred radiating up at me. I couldn’t leave a sword like this laying on this ship would soon be swarming with disgusted sailors and Coast Guardsmen, so I knelt down and held Rusty’s gloved hand over the white hot hilt.
“Look, Blade. I know you detest me as much as I detest you. But let me pick you up long enough to sheath you in that place where Rusty has devised for you and then you can wait for him to return. I will not attempt to use you in any fashion.”
It relented for the brief moment that allowed me to pick it up and sheath it, allowing it to slip back into the Shadowland.
I left the cabin and headed to the helm of the ship, passing the bodies of the Reavers that now lay motionless where they had last stood.
Once at the helm, I pushed aside the slumped body of the Reaver that had been steering the ship and pulled back on the handle that controlled the speed of the engines. Slowly the ship began to stop its forward motion.
Last, I slipped back down to the deck long enough to find the flagpole and hoist the Coast Guard flag that Rusty had been given by that Commander.
I didn’t stick around to see the reaction of the assault teams.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Under New Management
Now that Rusty is...indisposed...I may as well make my own stamp upon this place.
I will update events as often as it suits my purposes.
Feel free to make any comments you like, but I am not as forgiving as Rusty. Comment at your own risk.
I will update events as often as it suits my purposes.
Feel free to make any comments you like, but I am not as forgiving as Rusty. Comment at your own risk.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Brother Mine...Part 3
“What the…?” Before I could complete that question I felt a surge of dark energy fueled by long-repressed rage and an aching hunger that threw me off balance. His offer triggered an unexpected resurgence from the residual consciousness of Ma Grendel and many of her less savory victims.
“Yeeessss…You are beginning to remember who and what you are, Master.” The creature leaned forward, bringing its cloaked head closer to loom over me, its own red eyes burning bright.
My vision blurred as I tried to regain my balance and strike at this thing with Excalibur. The sword became heavy and unwieldy though, straining my ability to keep it aloft, even with both hands grasping the hilt. Either the burden became too heavy, or the control over my hands became too weak, but the blade fell to the floor with a loud clang, dull and lifeless, no longer the glowing blade of vibrant energy that it had been not five minutes before.
“Take full control, Master. You are far too great to be ruled over by the weak spirit of a mere human. Rise up, restore yourself to your full glory!”
The creature inched ever closer as it wove the spell that seemed to be weakening my command over the darkness within my own body. I fell back against the still open door, trying every trick of Will that I had learned over the last year to regain even a modicum of control over the roiling forces of darkness and chaos that were striving with each other to take over my body.
Residual bits of Ma Grendel’s consciousness that I had sequestered far apart from each other began to coalesce back into a larger, more powerful and more willful entity as yet other remnants of other creatures began to reform themselves in order to strive for control over the newly available prize of my body.
I couldn’t pull my eyes away from the growing flames at the center of the Bane’s shadow enshrouded face, but no matter how bright those eyes became, nothing else of his face became visible.
I just barely noticed the thumping impact of my rear end hitting the ground. I had lost almost all control over the body that I was in.
The internal battle inside was now almost over, I felt Ma Grendel’s presence growing as she reabsorbed her many victims and took their power for herself. While still a mere shadow of what she had been when I had first battled her, I could tell that enough of her consciousness and her powers remained that she felt reborn, that she could regain all that was lost to her if she could only gain control over this body and sit on that foul throne.
Realizing that I could not now win against both the Bane and Ma Grendel’s resurgent shadow, I abandoned the fight over my body except for two areas. I focused instead on bringing my left hand up towards my chest. Slowly, in fits and starts, I was able to reach up and grab hold of the ring that dangled from the chain at my neck. Using the last ounce of strength I possessed, I did something I could never have before imagined doing.
“Drake,” I whispered, “I release you. Please help.”
I felt a cold, distant laugh. His voice was harsh. “So, Bones, you can’t handle a Bane? Why am I not surprised?”
I could only respond Spiritually, I no longer had control over any aspect of my body. “Drake, I can’t fight them both! I can’t let her loose again, not with this Bane helping her!”
His Spirit poured forth from the ring, overwhelming what little consciousness I still maintained as I felt myself being pushed into the ring he had just vacated.
“Now, my boy, you will experience what it is to feel completely helpless while someone else does what you are no longer capable of doing.”
Everything became dark and silent.
***
Oh, that was so painful. Bones has such a sappy writing style. Please don’t expect me to adapt to his style, I would rather present things in a more factual format. I don’t ‘feel’ things the way that poor sap did, so deal with it.
I must say though, I am very much enjoying this body of his. If he only realized how powerful he truly was, I would never have been given this opportunity to experience it.
So, you are probably wondering what happened on that ship?
Well, I will provide some details as to that soon. But I have a few more errands to run before I enlighten you folks. I have a few debts to repay.
“Yeeessss…You are beginning to remember who and what you are, Master.” The creature leaned forward, bringing its cloaked head closer to loom over me, its own red eyes burning bright.
My vision blurred as I tried to regain my balance and strike at this thing with Excalibur. The sword became heavy and unwieldy though, straining my ability to keep it aloft, even with both hands grasping the hilt. Either the burden became too heavy, or the control over my hands became too weak, but the blade fell to the floor with a loud clang, dull and lifeless, no longer the glowing blade of vibrant energy that it had been not five minutes before.
“Take full control, Master. You are far too great to be ruled over by the weak spirit of a mere human. Rise up, restore yourself to your full glory!”
The creature inched ever closer as it wove the spell that seemed to be weakening my command over the darkness within my own body. I fell back against the still open door, trying every trick of Will that I had learned over the last year to regain even a modicum of control over the roiling forces of darkness and chaos that were striving with each other to take over my body.
Residual bits of Ma Grendel’s consciousness that I had sequestered far apart from each other began to coalesce back into a larger, more powerful and more willful entity as yet other remnants of other creatures began to reform themselves in order to strive for control over the newly available prize of my body.
I couldn’t pull my eyes away from the growing flames at the center of the Bane’s shadow enshrouded face, but no matter how bright those eyes became, nothing else of his face became visible.
I just barely noticed the thumping impact of my rear end hitting the ground. I had lost almost all control over the body that I was in.
The internal battle inside was now almost over, I felt Ma Grendel’s presence growing as she reabsorbed her many victims and took their power for herself. While still a mere shadow of what she had been when I had first battled her, I could tell that enough of her consciousness and her powers remained that she felt reborn, that she could regain all that was lost to her if she could only gain control over this body and sit on that foul throne.
Realizing that I could not now win against both the Bane and Ma Grendel’s resurgent shadow, I abandoned the fight over my body except for two areas. I focused instead on bringing my left hand up towards my chest. Slowly, in fits and starts, I was able to reach up and grab hold of the ring that dangled from the chain at my neck. Using the last ounce of strength I possessed, I did something I could never have before imagined doing.
“Drake,” I whispered, “I release you. Please help.”
I felt a cold, distant laugh. His voice was harsh. “So, Bones, you can’t handle a Bane? Why am I not surprised?”
I could only respond Spiritually, I no longer had control over any aspect of my body. “Drake, I can’t fight them both! I can’t let her loose again, not with this Bane helping her!”
His Spirit poured forth from the ring, overwhelming what little consciousness I still maintained as I felt myself being pushed into the ring he had just vacated.
“Now, my boy, you will experience what it is to feel completely helpless while someone else does what you are no longer capable of doing.”
Everything became dark and silent.
***
Oh, that was so painful. Bones has such a sappy writing style. Please don’t expect me to adapt to his style, I would rather present things in a more factual format. I don’t ‘feel’ things the way that poor sap did, so deal with it.
I must say though, I am very much enjoying this body of his. If he only realized how powerful he truly was, I would never have been given this opportunity to experience it.
So, you are probably wondering what happened on that ship?
Well, I will provide some details as to that soon. But I have a few more errands to run before I enlighten you folks. I have a few debts to repay.
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