(Continued from previous post...)
“What is happening to my body? Why am I reacting to light now like that? Why is my skin crawling with little worms and why am I starting to feel things again? Why the Hell can’t I stay a fucking zombie? It’s so much easier that way!”
“You have taken the easy path for most of your existence. That path has ended.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“You lived your life taking the path of least resistance, when faced with choices of between a quick and easy solution, and a hard or challenging one, you inevitably chose the easiest, as most humans tend to do.”
“Don’t piss me off, Tree! I’ve faced plenty of tough choices in my life, took on my share of difficult tasks! I was married, for Christsake! I had two children! I was a soldier and went to war! I was a fucking beat cop in a tough city! Don’t give me any shit about taking the easy damn way out!”
“If you wish to list your littany of life’s choices, I will dissect them for you if you would like.”
“Fucking right, you will. Why don’t you tell me how the easy choice was made when I got married? Her father hated my ass, but we got married anydamnway!”
The Tree actually sighed before it began, the prick, “If you will remember, you were in fact dating more than one young lady at the time. Once you and your future wife discovered that she had gotten pregnant from your dalliances, you made the decision to get married against the wishes of her parents. However, your decision to get married in the way that you did was the easiest solution to the problem of her pregnancy and the dislike of her parents. Rather than try to build a relationship with them, you swept their daughter off her feet and convinced her to marry you, even though you didn’t in fact love her in that way.”
“What the Hell would you know about human relationships? Would you have had us abort the baby? I did the honorable thing!”
“The honorable thing would have been to not be involved with more than one young woman, and to not have engaged in pre-marital sex in the first place!”
“Pah. Like you even know what it is to be human.”
“Indeed, I am but a humble Tree.”
“Humble tree my ass. You’re about the most arrogant thing I’ve met, outside of Drake anyway. In any event, what does this ‘easy path ending’ shit have to do with my present condition? What the Hell is happening to my body now?”
“When you were facing the creature that have called Grendel’s Mother, you took one last, fateful easy way out of a predicament, you surrendered yourself to her Essence...”
“Now wait just a Goddamn minute! The only way I saw to prevent her from winning and taking my body anyway was to sacrifice myself! I figured I was done, but I was determined to take her with me. How was that the easy way out?”
“Had you more fully explored your own abilities before, you would have found the strength to resist her powers of absorption. You made a number of decisions to lead to that conclusion, but nevertheless, that final choice you made, to sacrifice yourself in order to destroy her was merely thelast in a long line of bad choices. Now you must face the consequences of all those bad choices.”
“And just what are those consequences?”
“You have been Called to this exstence to face a much greater foe than that dark spirit. If you had been allowed to be consumed by her at that time, the loss of your potential would have been catastrophic to the Powers that made your existence possible. That is why the Spirit of that blade, Maria Guadelupe de la Paz, was given the authority to try and save you from your own decision.”
“Try, huh? She succeeded, didn’t she? I’m here dammit!”
The damn Tree audibly sighed again, apparently I was testing even the patience of a tree, go figure. “There are limits to all Powers, even those who have chosen to use you as their agent. The attempt to free you from her clutches was not entirely successful. A part of that dark spirit, a very small part at this time, remains within you, looking to grow and take root.”
“You mean she’s not gone, not destroyed, or whatever you call it when a spirit is killed?”
“No, not entirely. Just as you had within you the ability to plant my Seed, she has left her own seed deep within you. If allowed to grow in power and mature, it will take you over as surely as she did in the first place.”
“What the Hell!? Can I get rid of this damn Seed? I don’t want whatever it is!”
Somehow, I sensed a damn ironic smile from the Tree in its next words, “That is what I meant when I said your path of easy choices has come to an end. The easy path in this set of choices will lead you down a path of darkness and destruction that no Power can redeem you from, only you have the power to avert that. But it will not be easy, nor will it end anytime soon. You must learn to master your own Will and learn the skills you will need to control and reduce the influence of the Dark Seed within you. Failure to do so will result in the unleashing of a monster that will be far more dangerous, and far more powerful than Grendel ever was.”
“Fuck me.”
“That is one way of describing your situation, yes.”
“OK, smartass, where do I start? How do I take control of what is happening in my body?”
“The Dark Seed within you will always look to increase your dependence on its abilities. It will heal your wounds, it will restore things that have been lost to you until now...”
“You mean like feelings of pain and pleasure?”
“Yes.”
(To be continued...)
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Sunday, August 21, 2005
Life Sucks, Then You Die, Then it Just Gets Worse
I got back to the Bonesmobile, locked the rental van up, and went inside.
First, I called the Frau to make sure Ravyn and Herne made it to her safely. That call was more than a little surreal. After we conferred on the health status of my two injured companions and on the sad loss of Fang, Frau asked about how I was doing.
“Uh...I think I’m alright.”
“What do you mean, you think you’re alright? What’s wrong?”
I described what happened when I stepped out into the sunlight, how I felt the strange sensations on my skin and then noticed that I was burning. I then described how I began to heal up when I stepped back into the shadow. Her reaction was a bit of a shock.
“Oh cool. Hey, can I get a sample of your new skin sometime? I would love to run a few experiments on it to see what exactly has happened to you.”
“Uh...yeah...I suppose so.” What else could I say? “Hey Frau, I’ve a got a lot more to get done tonight, so I need to get going. I’m glad Herne and Ravyn are OK, can you pass along my regards and sympathy to Fang’s family? Thanks a bunch.”
I hung up before she could ask any more questions I didn’t want to even think about answering.
Wow. I sat back for a second and tried to gather my own thoughts on the events of the last day or so. But wrapped up like I still was, I just couldn’t relax. I was actually feeling almost hot and maybe a little sweaty....that’s strange. I hadn’t had any feelings like that since I was alive...just how much was I changing?
I got up and locked the vehicle up, turned off all of the computers and communication gear in the living area and retired to my meditation chamber. There I began stripping all of the extra clothes off, but I still felt hot and sweaty, so I started shucking all of my clothes and gear into a big pile.
Before long, I was standing naked in the chamber, staring at myself in the single wall length mirror in the muted glow of a nightlight. My skin had a wet sheen to it, like it was actually sweating! Everywhere I looked on my skin, I could see just barely visible tendrils of darkness, like tiny little black worms, moving and shifting about underneath the surface layer of skin! My whole body was a squirming mass of pasty white dead flesh infested by small, fast moving worms of dark energy!
Son of a bitch! What the fuck was happening to me?
I soon began to feel random patches of itchiness, cold, heat, pain, and even the remembered touch of a lover’s skin all over my body. All of these sensations were more than I could bear!
I sat down, crossed my legs and closed my eyes. I needed some damn answers and fast!
It took more concentration that I could remember needing anytime recently, but I was able to slip out of my quickly changing body and find the nearest hidey hole to take me down into the Spirit World.
The journey seemed slower and more frustating than I remembered, even though I was trying to hurry to the clearing where I knew Yggsdrasil would be waiting...hopefully with some damn answers!
After an eternity of trekking through endless woods, I came to the place. I was actually relieved to see everything as I had last left it. The massive black tree with its gently swaying white and black leaves looked just the way I remembered it looking. At least this place hadn’t changed!
I stepped into the clearing and made my way through the tangle of roots towards the trunk. “Tree, please, I need to ask some questions. Don’t play games with me this time, dammit!”
I stopped to listen to its leaves, since its voice can be as soft as the murmurring of the leaves, I didn’t want to miss anything it might have to say.
I did hear a rustling of the leaves above me, so I looked up curious. Usually when the thing answered, the whole treetop swayed. I about jumped out of my skin when I saw the barely familiar brown face of Diego looking down at me from among the branches!
“Diego! What are you doing here?”
He waved and laughed, and went clambering up higher among the branches. I was just about to yell after him, when I saw the slim form of Herlinda come out from behind the main trunk of the tree. Her cheeks were tearstained, her shoulders wracking with sobs.
“Herlinda, what’s wrong?” I moved up next to her, hugged her in the fatherly kind of way I’ve hugged my own daughter to give comfort.
“Oh Senor Bones, this place, this Tree, it is so beautiful.” She was holding something in her hands, but it was being held too closely to her body for me to make out what it was.
“Yes, it is. But tell me, why are you crying? And how did you two get here?”
She brought one hand up to wipe away the tears from her eyes and to push her long black hair out of her face before looking up to answer me. “The Tree called to us Senor Bones, asked us to come here and be with him. I was afraid when I first saw him, but Diego had no fear. He just started climbing.” She stopped for minute, sniffled a bit, and then continued. “As soon as I touched the tree, I knew that everything would be OK. The Tree, he told me to pick a leaf from one of his branches. When I did, I turned it around and saw this picture of Mama and Papa holding each other.”
She was holding out a now crumpled leaf for me to look at.
I took the proferred leaf and looked at the likeness of two people, a middle aged man and woman who had a world weary look about them, with a deep sadness in their eyes that came through even on this outlined sketch. These were quite clearly the parents of two lost children who knew that would never see them again. I felt all choked up looking at them. Tears blurred my own eyes. I handed the leaf back to her and sat down heavily on a nearby root.
Herlinda took the leaf back with both hands, held it close to her body again as she too sat down.
She looked up at me after a minute, “The Tree, he said that we were welcome here whenever we want to come, that makes me glad. But he did say that the cave on the other side is a special place where only you, Senor Bones, were allowed to go. Even Diego has agreed to leave that place alone, especially after the Tree gave him permission to climb his branches. Diego loves to climb.”
“Yeah, so I noticed. Hey, if the Tree says you can stay here, I have no problem with that. I come here sometimes for answers to questions I can’t find any other answers to. His name is Yggsdrasil.”
“Yes, he told us.”
“OK, speaking of needing answers, I need to go visit that special place. The Tree had better not have worn himself out just yet, he’s got some ‘splaining to do!”
Herlinda nodded her understading as I got up, her eyes were fixed again on the image of her long dead parent. I could hear her nearly silent sobs as I slunk away, feeling like quite the heel.
But what could I do? I barely knew the girl. I was still coming to terms with the shit I was going through. Damn, how weird is this, thinking I should be going over to comfort one fo the Spirits who inhabited a deadly damn blade?
I set my shoulders and continued on around the trunk of the Tree, coming to the small entrance to the Cave below.
I stooped down and entered, slinking down the slick steps carefully until I was standing in the dark room that echoed with the steady drip drop of water falling from the roots above to the small pool that I had looked into before.
Finally, I had sense of aloneness with the Tree. Diego and Herlinda were just fleeting memories as I breathed deep the dank air of the cave, heavy with moisture and earthy aromas. There was a sense of decay and thriving life all at once here.
“Tree, please help me.”
I heard the familiar sighing rustle from above. I was finally able to make out what the Tree was saying as it responded to me. “Welcome back. It has been too long since your last visit.”
“I’ve been kinda busy, you know.”
“Yes. But when things are most hectic and when events drive you to distraction, it is most important to seek solace and to find answers from within.”
“Please don’t mess with my head this time, I need to get some answers and fast. Do you see what happens to me when I am gone?”
“I am the Seed of your Spirit, what happens to the Seed Father is known to the Son.”
“What is happening to my body? Why am I reacting to light now like that? Why is my skin crawling with little worms and why am I starting to feel things again? Why the Hell can’t I stay a fucking zombie? It’s so much easier that way!”
(To be continued...)
First, I called the Frau to make sure Ravyn and Herne made it to her safely. That call was more than a little surreal. After we conferred on the health status of my two injured companions and on the sad loss of Fang, Frau asked about how I was doing.
“Uh...I think I’m alright.”
“What do you mean, you think you’re alright? What’s wrong?”
I described what happened when I stepped out into the sunlight, how I felt the strange sensations on my skin and then noticed that I was burning. I then described how I began to heal up when I stepped back into the shadow. Her reaction was a bit of a shock.
“Oh cool. Hey, can I get a sample of your new skin sometime? I would love to run a few experiments on it to see what exactly has happened to you.”
“Uh...yeah...I suppose so.” What else could I say? “Hey Frau, I’ve a got a lot more to get done tonight, so I need to get going. I’m glad Herne and Ravyn are OK, can you pass along my regards and sympathy to Fang’s family? Thanks a bunch.”
I hung up before she could ask any more questions I didn’t want to even think about answering.
Wow. I sat back for a second and tried to gather my own thoughts on the events of the last day or so. But wrapped up like I still was, I just couldn’t relax. I was actually feeling almost hot and maybe a little sweaty....that’s strange. I hadn’t had any feelings like that since I was alive...just how much was I changing?
I got up and locked the vehicle up, turned off all of the computers and communication gear in the living area and retired to my meditation chamber. There I began stripping all of the extra clothes off, but I still felt hot and sweaty, so I started shucking all of my clothes and gear into a big pile.
Before long, I was standing naked in the chamber, staring at myself in the single wall length mirror in the muted glow of a nightlight. My skin had a wet sheen to it, like it was actually sweating! Everywhere I looked on my skin, I could see just barely visible tendrils of darkness, like tiny little black worms, moving and shifting about underneath the surface layer of skin! My whole body was a squirming mass of pasty white dead flesh infested by small, fast moving worms of dark energy!
Son of a bitch! What the fuck was happening to me?
I soon began to feel random patches of itchiness, cold, heat, pain, and even the remembered touch of a lover’s skin all over my body. All of these sensations were more than I could bear!
I sat down, crossed my legs and closed my eyes. I needed some damn answers and fast!
It took more concentration that I could remember needing anytime recently, but I was able to slip out of my quickly changing body and find the nearest hidey hole to take me down into the Spirit World.
The journey seemed slower and more frustating than I remembered, even though I was trying to hurry to the clearing where I knew Yggsdrasil would be waiting...hopefully with some damn answers!
After an eternity of trekking through endless woods, I came to the place. I was actually relieved to see everything as I had last left it. The massive black tree with its gently swaying white and black leaves looked just the way I remembered it looking. At least this place hadn’t changed!
I stepped into the clearing and made my way through the tangle of roots towards the trunk. “Tree, please, I need to ask some questions. Don’t play games with me this time, dammit!”
I stopped to listen to its leaves, since its voice can be as soft as the murmurring of the leaves, I didn’t want to miss anything it might have to say.
I did hear a rustling of the leaves above me, so I looked up curious. Usually when the thing answered, the whole treetop swayed. I about jumped out of my skin when I saw the barely familiar brown face of Diego looking down at me from among the branches!
“Diego! What are you doing here?”
He waved and laughed, and went clambering up higher among the branches. I was just about to yell after him, when I saw the slim form of Herlinda come out from behind the main trunk of the tree. Her cheeks were tearstained, her shoulders wracking with sobs.
“Herlinda, what’s wrong?” I moved up next to her, hugged her in the fatherly kind of way I’ve hugged my own daughter to give comfort.
“Oh Senor Bones, this place, this Tree, it is so beautiful.” She was holding something in her hands, but it was being held too closely to her body for me to make out what it was.
“Yes, it is. But tell me, why are you crying? And how did you two get here?”
She brought one hand up to wipe away the tears from her eyes and to push her long black hair out of her face before looking up to answer me. “The Tree called to us Senor Bones, asked us to come here and be with him. I was afraid when I first saw him, but Diego had no fear. He just started climbing.” She stopped for minute, sniffled a bit, and then continued. “As soon as I touched the tree, I knew that everything would be OK. The Tree, he told me to pick a leaf from one of his branches. When I did, I turned it around and saw this picture of Mama and Papa holding each other.”
She was holding out a now crumpled leaf for me to look at.
I took the proferred leaf and looked at the likeness of two people, a middle aged man and woman who had a world weary look about them, with a deep sadness in their eyes that came through even on this outlined sketch. These were quite clearly the parents of two lost children who knew that would never see them again. I felt all choked up looking at them. Tears blurred my own eyes. I handed the leaf back to her and sat down heavily on a nearby root.
Herlinda took the leaf back with both hands, held it close to her body again as she too sat down.
She looked up at me after a minute, “The Tree, he said that we were welcome here whenever we want to come, that makes me glad. But he did say that the cave on the other side is a special place where only you, Senor Bones, were allowed to go. Even Diego has agreed to leave that place alone, especially after the Tree gave him permission to climb his branches. Diego loves to climb.”
“Yeah, so I noticed. Hey, if the Tree says you can stay here, I have no problem with that. I come here sometimes for answers to questions I can’t find any other answers to. His name is Yggsdrasil.”
“Yes, he told us.”
“OK, speaking of needing answers, I need to go visit that special place. The Tree had better not have worn himself out just yet, he’s got some ‘splaining to do!”
Herlinda nodded her understading as I got up, her eyes were fixed again on the image of her long dead parent. I could hear her nearly silent sobs as I slunk away, feeling like quite the heel.
But what could I do? I barely knew the girl. I was still coming to terms with the shit I was going through. Damn, how weird is this, thinking I should be going over to comfort one fo the Spirits who inhabited a deadly damn blade?
I set my shoulders and continued on around the trunk of the Tree, coming to the small entrance to the Cave below.
I stooped down and entered, slinking down the slick steps carefully until I was standing in the dark room that echoed with the steady drip drop of water falling from the roots above to the small pool that I had looked into before.
Finally, I had sense of aloneness with the Tree. Diego and Herlinda were just fleeting memories as I breathed deep the dank air of the cave, heavy with moisture and earthy aromas. There was a sense of decay and thriving life all at once here.
“Tree, please help me.”
I heard the familiar sighing rustle from above. I was finally able to make out what the Tree was saying as it responded to me. “Welcome back. It has been too long since your last visit.”
“I’ve been kinda busy, you know.”
“Yes. But when things are most hectic and when events drive you to distraction, it is most important to seek solace and to find answers from within.”
“Please don’t mess with my head this time, I need to get some answers and fast. Do you see what happens to me when I am gone?”
“I am the Seed of your Spirit, what happens to the Seed Father is known to the Son.”
“What is happening to my body? Why am I reacting to light now like that? Why is my skin crawling with little worms and why am I starting to feel things again? Why the Hell can’t I stay a fucking zombie? It’s so much easier that way!”
(To be continued...)
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Allergic to Sunlight?!?
Cleaning up the mess of the Grendel incident was no fun. Between the New York City Police Department and the Bureau, I had to write more memos and reports than I could believe. I also had to help the Bureau come up with a believable story to cover up the fact that an inhuman serial killer had been stalking the city, been killed and the body disposed of without making a big splash in the news hungry press of the Big Apple.
All that had to be done after helping Ravyn and Herne take Fang’s body to the Portal in fortune teller’s cluttered basement home and business. I was sad to see Ravyn and Herne go, since I had the disturbing feeling that it would be awhile before I saw either of them again. But they needed to get healed up from their injuries and to take care of the arrangements with Fang’s body.
My biggest shock of all, however, came later in the day when I stepped out into the sunlight like I have nearly every day of my (un)life and for the first time felt a strange sensation on my skin. Mind you, I haven’t felt a damn thing on my skin in nearly two damn years, so this was a bit of a surprise.
It was hard to quantify what the damn feeling was for a moment, I kind of just stood there for a minute, puzzled. One of the two agents sitting in the car waiting for us to come out was the one who focused things for me, “Agent Bones, why are you smoking? Are you alright?”
I looked down at my hands and the bit of my forearm that were visible and noted, “I’ll be damned, I am smoking!”
The exposed skin on my hands, arms, gut (from the slash in my clothes created by the stab wound), and face and head was literally smoking and burning in the damn sunlight!
OK, I’m not the brightest guy around, but I stepped into the shadow of one of the buildings and no longer felt the sensation of...burning...anymore. My skin stopped smoking, but remained a little charred from the time I stood there dumbfounded. As I watched, the skin that burned began to smooth out and change. The charred bits fell off, sloughing in small, dark patches, but the fresh skin beneath was of a darker hue than before. I could almost see tendrils of darkness weaving themselves into my skin, pulling together healthy patches with their own new fabric of small dark strands.
I shuddered as I realized just how significant some of the changes were going to be. I was fucking allergic to sunlight! This was going to be pretty damn inconvenient in my everyday existence!
The agent who had appraoched me out of concern took one close look at me, covered his mouth briefly, and then pitched over onto his knees retching. When i went over to see if he was alright, I stepped back into a patch of sunlight inadvertantly and began smoking again. When he looked up at me the sight was too much even for a seasoned FBI agent to handle, he made the sign of cross and scrambled back to his car faster than I figured he could move in his condition.
I stepped back into the shadows, which again ended the burning sensation I was feeling as well the smoking, and tried to collect my thoughts.
The car with the two agents in it peeled away, with both agents inside casting furtive glances my way as they fled.
So how the Hell was I going to be able to move around in the daylight? It was still in the afternoon, and I had to drive the van back to the Bonesmobile, a 40-50 minute drive.
I decided to call SAIC Murphy and let him in on the problem before he heard it from his panicked men. He agreed to bring me a hat, sunglasses, gloves, scarf, and a black trenchcoat, although he didn’t quite seem to grasp why I needed them at this particular moment. His questins were answered by my appearance when he arrived with the requested items.
He agreed that meetings in the immediate future to clean up the aforementioned messes would take place after sunset.
Once I was bundled up worse than a woman at a Taliban convention, I was able to drive the van back to my base of operations. I then spent some time sending my own queries to the Frau, the Professor and everyone else I could think of who might be able to explain my newfound allergy to the fucking Sun.
All that had to be done after helping Ravyn and Herne take Fang’s body to the Portal in fortune teller’s cluttered basement home and business. I was sad to see Ravyn and Herne go, since I had the disturbing feeling that it would be awhile before I saw either of them again. But they needed to get healed up from their injuries and to take care of the arrangements with Fang’s body.
My biggest shock of all, however, came later in the day when I stepped out into the sunlight like I have nearly every day of my (un)life and for the first time felt a strange sensation on my skin. Mind you, I haven’t felt a damn thing on my skin in nearly two damn years, so this was a bit of a surprise.
It was hard to quantify what the damn feeling was for a moment, I kind of just stood there for a minute, puzzled. One of the two agents sitting in the car waiting for us to come out was the one who focused things for me, “Agent Bones, why are you smoking? Are you alright?”
I looked down at my hands and the bit of my forearm that were visible and noted, “I’ll be damned, I am smoking!”
The exposed skin on my hands, arms, gut (from the slash in my clothes created by the stab wound), and face and head was literally smoking and burning in the damn sunlight!
OK, I’m not the brightest guy around, but I stepped into the shadow of one of the buildings and no longer felt the sensation of...burning...anymore. My skin stopped smoking, but remained a little charred from the time I stood there dumbfounded. As I watched, the skin that burned began to smooth out and change. The charred bits fell off, sloughing in small, dark patches, but the fresh skin beneath was of a darker hue than before. I could almost see tendrils of darkness weaving themselves into my skin, pulling together healthy patches with their own new fabric of small dark strands.
I shuddered as I realized just how significant some of the changes were going to be. I was fucking allergic to sunlight! This was going to be pretty damn inconvenient in my everyday existence!
The agent who had appraoched me out of concern took one close look at me, covered his mouth briefly, and then pitched over onto his knees retching. When i went over to see if he was alright, I stepped back into a patch of sunlight inadvertantly and began smoking again. When he looked up at me the sight was too much even for a seasoned FBI agent to handle, he made the sign of cross and scrambled back to his car faster than I figured he could move in his condition.
I stepped back into the shadows, which again ended the burning sensation I was feeling as well the smoking, and tried to collect my thoughts.
The car with the two agents in it peeled away, with both agents inside casting furtive glances my way as they fled.
So how the Hell was I going to be able to move around in the daylight? It was still in the afternoon, and I had to drive the van back to the Bonesmobile, a 40-50 minute drive.
I decided to call SAIC Murphy and let him in on the problem before he heard it from his panicked men. He agreed to bring me a hat, sunglasses, gloves, scarf, and a black trenchcoat, although he didn’t quite seem to grasp why I needed them at this particular moment. His questins were answered by my appearance when he arrived with the requested items.
He agreed that meetings in the immediate future to clean up the aforementioned messes would take place after sunset.
Once I was bundled up worse than a woman at a Taliban convention, I was able to drive the van back to my base of operations. I then spent some time sending my own queries to the Frau, the Professor and everyone else I could think of who might be able to explain my newfound allergy to the fucking Sun.
Sunday, August 14, 2005
Drake's Second Message
I had listened to this message prior to facing Grendel the first time, and had intended to post the contents after investigating things, but getting my ass kicked as thoroughly as I did kinda prevented me from posting it immediately. Of course, once I was repaired, I was more focused on getting some payback rather than posting the rantings of this damn madman. But now is a good time, as the Boneswulf story has been told, and in the coruse of it, more has been learned about Drake. Some of this second message actually makes more sense now than when I heard it for the first time.
So, I will now post the contents of his message, without editing it this time-you bastard, I know you’re reading this-and I will now have time to make progress towards getting his next damn love letter. Without further blather on my part, here is the message:
“Ah yes, I see you do desire to learn more about me. I am glad to see that you still have enough vestiges of your humanity to be curious. That is a good sign, a good sign indeed.
“So you know by now that I was a mentor to the man best known as Rasputin. He was one of my pupils, a fast learner he was as well, but alas, he was too interested in the pleasures of the flesh to master the lessons I had to teach. Still, he nearly escaped from the trap that was laid for him.
“But enough of poor dead Grigori, I merely wanted to peak your interest with him. I am sure that even you have surmised by now that there is far more mystery about me than my mere age. For while it is remarkable how long I have been around, it is more remarkable the way in which I have accomplished this over the many centuries of my existence.
“That is the mystery you must unravel, my dear son, if you are ever to discover how to bring about my end. But let us not get ahead of ourselves here.
“Right now, I want to focus not on the How of my immortality, but the Why of it.
“For as long as humans have had the brains to recognize their own mortality and to fear what laid upon the Other Side, there have been those who also had the ability to manipulate matter and energy with what we call magick. In those earliest, primitive groups, those people who had the innate ability to do things with magick were seen as special. Their talents were often seen as useful to the whole group, either in healing the sick, or in foretelling good times to hunt or move the group. These talented people were fairly rare, probably no more common than 1 in 1000 adults, which is a really small percentage when you consider how small most of these groups were, often no more than 10-20 adults per group.
“When someone was discovered to have this talent, they were given special status in the groups, and indeed they would often come to serve more than one group with their skills, as they were seen as too valuable to everyone’s survival for just one group to benefit. Over time, as groups of humans grew in size and some became more sedentary, these kinds of specially talented people became a distinct class of priests or shamans. In some societies these people were elevated to the point that they either ruled directly, or they selected those who ruled in their name.
“But in some societies, these people were cast to the fringes, and their abilities regarded as suspect, as well they should have been. Over time, almost all societies came to recognize the threat that these people represented. You must understand, when a group of people possesses a set of skills that sets them far above other people, those who lacked those skills feared that they would be forced into being the slaves of those who had them, and rightly so, since in many of those ancient societies that were ruled by this priestly class did become enslaved.
“The most successful cultures found ways to identify and either eliminate these ‘sorcerors’ or force them into roles that served the greater good. Organized religion is one such avenue. Even Christianity has evolved from a small cult of followers of a powerful ‘mystic’ to become an organ of control over the masses and the small minority of magically talented people, many of whom become ‘called’ to the ministry.
“But in many cases over the centuries of human civilizations, many of these ‘talented’ individuals escaped into the shadows of society and formed secret groups, cults, or covens where they could learn to practice their talents and use them in secret to gain advantage over those who didn’t possess these skills.
“Now some of these secret groups formed merely to help others of their kind to survive, and some even helped ‘normal’ people in times of need. But most of these groups had secret agendas that envisioned them regaining the power over the masses that they once had back at the dawn of civilization.
“I am sure your mind is beginning to wander, so let me bring you back into focus with this little lecture. I was born a very long time ago to a family of very ‘talented’ people. However, I learned very early on that this ‘talent’ is not always hereditary, as I completely lacked any of the abilities that made my family ‘special’.
“In my youthful naivete, I tried as hard as I could to please my parents through hard work and diligence. But to no avail, to them I was just an extra mouth to feed with no useful skills. I was a burden and a symbol of failure to them, even as my siblings all showed promise and potential. It came as little surprise to me then to be sent packing as a young man, to find my own way in the world with nothing to survive by but my own strength and my wits.
“Yes, I know this hardly sounds like a unique sob story, but it is important if you want to know why I became who I have become and why I have done many of the things I have done.
“I had seen the intimate world of these ‘talented’ people and I saw how my parents were far older than they appeared to be. I saw how they used their ‘talents’ to improve their lives at the expense of others who didn’t have those ‘talents’.
“When I left our family home, I was ashamed of being weak, of being without any ‘talent’ and I was burning with the desire to find my own talent, or to acquire one in some way and return to show my parents the mistake they had made in sending me away.
“I returned many years later, after travelling much of the known world at that time as a soldier, as a seeker, and finally as a man who become more than a man. It was with great relish that I saw the look of horror and surprise on the faces of my former family as I took their power and extended my own life beyond my own wildest dreams.
“Your quest, should you choose to continue it, is to find out where I came from, and what secret I found. When you do that, you will find out how to defeat me.
“That is enough for now. I will be following your progress. When you are ready, I will send you the next message and the next clue to your journey.”
With that, the message ended. What did I tell you? The ravings of a madman.
So, I will now post the contents of his message, without editing it this time-you bastard, I know you’re reading this-and I will now have time to make progress towards getting his next damn love letter. Without further blather on my part, here is the message:
“Ah yes, I see you do desire to learn more about me. I am glad to see that you still have enough vestiges of your humanity to be curious. That is a good sign, a good sign indeed.
“So you know by now that I was a mentor to the man best known as Rasputin. He was one of my pupils, a fast learner he was as well, but alas, he was too interested in the pleasures of the flesh to master the lessons I had to teach. Still, he nearly escaped from the trap that was laid for him.
“But enough of poor dead Grigori, I merely wanted to peak your interest with him. I am sure that even you have surmised by now that there is far more mystery about me than my mere age. For while it is remarkable how long I have been around, it is more remarkable the way in which I have accomplished this over the many centuries of my existence.
“That is the mystery you must unravel, my dear son, if you are ever to discover how to bring about my end. But let us not get ahead of ourselves here.
“Right now, I want to focus not on the How of my immortality, but the Why of it.
“For as long as humans have had the brains to recognize their own mortality and to fear what laid upon the Other Side, there have been those who also had the ability to manipulate matter and energy with what we call magick. In those earliest, primitive groups, those people who had the innate ability to do things with magick were seen as special. Their talents were often seen as useful to the whole group, either in healing the sick, or in foretelling good times to hunt or move the group. These talented people were fairly rare, probably no more common than 1 in 1000 adults, which is a really small percentage when you consider how small most of these groups were, often no more than 10-20 adults per group.
“When someone was discovered to have this talent, they were given special status in the groups, and indeed they would often come to serve more than one group with their skills, as they were seen as too valuable to everyone’s survival for just one group to benefit. Over time, as groups of humans grew in size and some became more sedentary, these kinds of specially talented people became a distinct class of priests or shamans. In some societies these people were elevated to the point that they either ruled directly, or they selected those who ruled in their name.
“But in some societies, these people were cast to the fringes, and their abilities regarded as suspect, as well they should have been. Over time, almost all societies came to recognize the threat that these people represented. You must understand, when a group of people possesses a set of skills that sets them far above other people, those who lacked those skills feared that they would be forced into being the slaves of those who had them, and rightly so, since in many of those ancient societies that were ruled by this priestly class did become enslaved.
“The most successful cultures found ways to identify and either eliminate these ‘sorcerors’ or force them into roles that served the greater good. Organized religion is one such avenue. Even Christianity has evolved from a small cult of followers of a powerful ‘mystic’ to become an organ of control over the masses and the small minority of magically talented people, many of whom become ‘called’ to the ministry.
“But in many cases over the centuries of human civilizations, many of these ‘talented’ individuals escaped into the shadows of society and formed secret groups, cults, or covens where they could learn to practice their talents and use them in secret to gain advantage over those who didn’t possess these skills.
“Now some of these secret groups formed merely to help others of their kind to survive, and some even helped ‘normal’ people in times of need. But most of these groups had secret agendas that envisioned them regaining the power over the masses that they once had back at the dawn of civilization.
“I am sure your mind is beginning to wander, so let me bring you back into focus with this little lecture. I was born a very long time ago to a family of very ‘talented’ people. However, I learned very early on that this ‘talent’ is not always hereditary, as I completely lacked any of the abilities that made my family ‘special’.
“In my youthful naivete, I tried as hard as I could to please my parents through hard work and diligence. But to no avail, to them I was just an extra mouth to feed with no useful skills. I was a burden and a symbol of failure to them, even as my siblings all showed promise and potential. It came as little surprise to me then to be sent packing as a young man, to find my own way in the world with nothing to survive by but my own strength and my wits.
“Yes, I know this hardly sounds like a unique sob story, but it is important if you want to know why I became who I have become and why I have done many of the things I have done.
“I had seen the intimate world of these ‘talented’ people and I saw how my parents were far older than they appeared to be. I saw how they used their ‘talents’ to improve their lives at the expense of others who didn’t have those ‘talents’.
“When I left our family home, I was ashamed of being weak, of being without any ‘talent’ and I was burning with the desire to find my own talent, or to acquire one in some way and return to show my parents the mistake they had made in sending me away.
“I returned many years later, after travelling much of the known world at that time as a soldier, as a seeker, and finally as a man who become more than a man. It was with great relish that I saw the look of horror and surprise on the faces of my former family as I took their power and extended my own life beyond my own wildest dreams.
“Your quest, should you choose to continue it, is to find out where I came from, and what secret I found. When you do that, you will find out how to defeat me.
“That is enough for now. I will be following your progress. When you are ready, I will send you the next message and the next clue to your journey.”
With that, the message ended. What did I tell you? The ravings of a madman.
Facing the Music
In a rush, I became aware of myself again, mainly becaus Ravyn was shaking, or at least trying to shake me. “You damn fool stoopid zombie! I don’t even know why I care! I can’t believe he grabbed the blade like that!”
That and more than a few expletives flew from her lips as she was trying to pry the blade from my fingers without actually touching the hilt of it. Herne stood nearby clutching his side, a look of bemusement and concern on his face.
I must say, I was a bit bad as I let her continue on for a bit, just to see if she could actually pry the blade out my hand. It was amusing to listen to her tirade. (And boy am I gonna hear it when she reads this!)
“Rusty Bones, you better snap out of it before I burn this thing out of your hand. We need to destroy these cursed blades!”
“No.”
She just about jumped out of her skin at hearing me respond to her last comment. She recovered far quicker than i normally do after being surprised though. She stopped trying to pry the hilt loose and instead whipped around to face me, hands on her hips with a very defiant glare in her eyes, which were flashing bright orange warning signs. “What do you mean, ‘no’ to?”
“No, we cannot destroy these last two blades.” I stood back up, glad that I never had to worry about tightness in muscles, or at least not having to worry about feeling it. “The Spirits in the blades do not wish to be released just yet.”
Herne spoke up, “Look Rusty, these blades are abominations beyond belief. They must be destroyed so that those poor innocent Spirits can be released. It was the only on the condition that we finally dispose of them that Moira allowed the blades out of her eyesight.”
Ravyn piped in, “Have you been possessed by one of those damn things?”
“No I haven’t been possessed, at least not by the blades. But the Spirit of this blade, Diego, did draw me into the Spiritworld for a discussion with his sister, Herlinda, she’s the Spirit in the other blade.”
Herne cocked his head, “The Spirits spoke to you? What did they have to say?”
I told them what had happened and about how the twins wanted to remain as they were until they had a chance to help destroy the man who was most responsible for their being trapped within the blades and forced to kill other magickally talented people...Drake.
Ravyn’s eyes grew wide as saucers, flashing brighter than ever before, “That bastard again! How is that even possible?”
I shook my head, “I don’t know for sure, but I have my suspicions, especially after reading the messages he has left on that PDA he left for me. Now, the Spirits in these blades tell me that they saw their creator in my memories when I was being separated from Ma Grendel. When we spoke during the struggle, Ma Grendel did refer to him as my father, and said that she had met him many times.”
Herne spoke up, “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me all that much. There was a similar feel to both Grendel and Drake when I got near either of them. Perhaps they are of a kind, and perhaps that explains his seemingly extraordinary age. They are not of the natural world, that much is for certain.”
I was still holding Diego’s blade in my hand, I brought it up to look at it a little bit better. Something seemed changed about it, the blade actually reflected a little of the light being shed by Ravyn’s floating flame orbs. He felt lighter in my hand, the blade seemed to want to dance and play, much like the youthful, playful spirit contained inside it.
Reluctantly, I sheathed the blade in the sheath that been for another weapon, now destroyed. Nothing happened as I sheathed it.
Ravyn had gasped as I made the motiuon to sheath it, but the gasp died down quickly as nothing happened. “You shouldn’t have been able to do that.” She said it very quietly, almost like speaking it louder might bring about some sort of reaction.
“Look, I told you, Diego and Herlinda have promised to work with me, to help destroy Drake. Maybe because we are all abominations created by the same bastard, their curse doesn’t affect me like it would someone else, or maybe it’s because I am already dead, but I do know that they have said they will serve me, so long as my cause is Just, whatever the Hell that means.”
I walked over to Herne. “Let me have the other one. I can promise you that they will only be used against creatures and foes like these things we just killed, and against the likes of Drake and whoever he gets to serve him. Once Drake is gone, I have a feeling these Spirits will allow themselves to be released.” I held out my hand.
Herne looked hesitant at first. Herlinda was still sheathed on his belt. With a glance over to Ravyn, who wasn’t looking too sure herself, he reached down to his belt and undid the ties that held the sheath in place, handed me the sheathed blade.
“Thank you.” I drew Herlinda from her sheath and examined her blade as well. Was it me or did her blade seem slightly longer, slimmer and more graceful than her brothers? Her blade also now reflected the orange flames of Ravyn’s orbiting flame balls. Herlinda didn’t seem to be as eager to play as her brother, there was a far more serious feeling of deadly purpose about her. She had killed many, many times but took no joy in the activity. I could feel her deep desire to kill just one more time...
I sheathed her quickly, again no reaction. I tied her sheath to my belt for the moment, with the intention of finding a way to mount both blades on my back for easier, quicker access.
Ravyn was strangely subdued as she spoke up again, “We need to get out of here. Let’s tend to Fang’s remains and get back to the Frau for some much needed healing. I’ve had enough excitement for awhile.”
Herne looked relieved that someone else felt the same way, “Yeah, I need to get home and do some ‘splaining to Moira. She’s not going to be happy about this turn of events. We also need to let Fang’s family know that he died a hero.”
“Yeah, I’ll take care of the Bureau paperwork. Ravyn, can you manage to transport you guys back to the Frau? It will only complicate things if you guys are still here when I make my reports.”
“I think so. Once we get back to the home of that unfortunate fortune teller, I think I saw a Portal we can use.”
With nothing else to say, we turned and headed back the way we had come.
That and more than a few expletives flew from her lips as she was trying to pry the blade from my fingers without actually touching the hilt of it. Herne stood nearby clutching his side, a look of bemusement and concern on his face.
I must say, I was a bit bad as I let her continue on for a bit, just to see if she could actually pry the blade out my hand. It was amusing to listen to her tirade. (And boy am I gonna hear it when she reads this!)
“Rusty Bones, you better snap out of it before I burn this thing out of your hand. We need to destroy these cursed blades!”
“No.”
She just about jumped out of her skin at hearing me respond to her last comment. She recovered far quicker than i normally do after being surprised though. She stopped trying to pry the hilt loose and instead whipped around to face me, hands on her hips with a very defiant glare in her eyes, which were flashing bright orange warning signs. “What do you mean, ‘no’ to?”
“No, we cannot destroy these last two blades.” I stood back up, glad that I never had to worry about tightness in muscles, or at least not having to worry about feeling it. “The Spirits in the blades do not wish to be released just yet.”
Herne spoke up, “Look Rusty, these blades are abominations beyond belief. They must be destroyed so that those poor innocent Spirits can be released. It was the only on the condition that we finally dispose of them that Moira allowed the blades out of her eyesight.”
Ravyn piped in, “Have you been possessed by one of those damn things?”
“No I haven’t been possessed, at least not by the blades. But the Spirit of this blade, Diego, did draw me into the Spiritworld for a discussion with his sister, Herlinda, she’s the Spirit in the other blade.”
Herne cocked his head, “The Spirits spoke to you? What did they have to say?”
I told them what had happened and about how the twins wanted to remain as they were until they had a chance to help destroy the man who was most responsible for their being trapped within the blades and forced to kill other magickally talented people...Drake.
Ravyn’s eyes grew wide as saucers, flashing brighter than ever before, “That bastard again! How is that even possible?”
I shook my head, “I don’t know for sure, but I have my suspicions, especially after reading the messages he has left on that PDA he left for me. Now, the Spirits in these blades tell me that they saw their creator in my memories when I was being separated from Ma Grendel. When we spoke during the struggle, Ma Grendel did refer to him as my father, and said that she had met him many times.”
Herne spoke up, “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me all that much. There was a similar feel to both Grendel and Drake when I got near either of them. Perhaps they are of a kind, and perhaps that explains his seemingly extraordinary age. They are not of the natural world, that much is for certain.”
I was still holding Diego’s blade in my hand, I brought it up to look at it a little bit better. Something seemed changed about it, the blade actually reflected a little of the light being shed by Ravyn’s floating flame orbs. He felt lighter in my hand, the blade seemed to want to dance and play, much like the youthful, playful spirit contained inside it.
Reluctantly, I sheathed the blade in the sheath that been for another weapon, now destroyed. Nothing happened as I sheathed it.
Ravyn had gasped as I made the motiuon to sheath it, but the gasp died down quickly as nothing happened. “You shouldn’t have been able to do that.” She said it very quietly, almost like speaking it louder might bring about some sort of reaction.
“Look, I told you, Diego and Herlinda have promised to work with me, to help destroy Drake. Maybe because we are all abominations created by the same bastard, their curse doesn’t affect me like it would someone else, or maybe it’s because I am already dead, but I do know that they have said they will serve me, so long as my cause is Just, whatever the Hell that means.”
I walked over to Herne. “Let me have the other one. I can promise you that they will only be used against creatures and foes like these things we just killed, and against the likes of Drake and whoever he gets to serve him. Once Drake is gone, I have a feeling these Spirits will allow themselves to be released.” I held out my hand.
Herne looked hesitant at first. Herlinda was still sheathed on his belt. With a glance over to Ravyn, who wasn’t looking too sure herself, he reached down to his belt and undid the ties that held the sheath in place, handed me the sheathed blade.
“Thank you.” I drew Herlinda from her sheath and examined her blade as well. Was it me or did her blade seem slightly longer, slimmer and more graceful than her brothers? Her blade also now reflected the orange flames of Ravyn’s orbiting flame balls. Herlinda didn’t seem to be as eager to play as her brother, there was a far more serious feeling of deadly purpose about her. She had killed many, many times but took no joy in the activity. I could feel her deep desire to kill just one more time...
I sheathed her quickly, again no reaction. I tied her sheath to my belt for the moment, with the intention of finding a way to mount both blades on my back for easier, quicker access.
Ravyn was strangely subdued as she spoke up again, “We need to get out of here. Let’s tend to Fang’s remains and get back to the Frau for some much needed healing. I’ve had enough excitement for awhile.”
Herne looked relieved that someone else felt the same way, “Yeah, I need to get home and do some ‘splaining to Moira. She’s not going to be happy about this turn of events. We also need to let Fang’s family know that he died a hero.”
“Yeah, I’ll take care of the Bureau paperwork. Ravyn, can you manage to transport you guys back to the Frau? It will only complicate things if you guys are still here when I make my reports.”
“I think so. Once we get back to the home of that unfortunate fortune teller, I think I saw a Portal we can use.”
With nothing else to say, we turned and headed back the way we had come.
Monday, August 08, 2005
Dark Discoveries
When Ravyn got up, after discovering her stern side again, her eyes grew wide, one hand going to cover her mouth, the other pointing at my chest, where she had been sitting only moments before.
I looked down at what she was pointing at, the broken blade protruding only slightly from my chest. I reached up and fingered the still sharp edge of the blade. Carefully, I pinched down on the flat of the blade and gently pulled it out. “Ah don’t worry darling, it might be a little on the sticky and messy side, but I should be OK.”
There was a bit of my carmelized goop on the blade as it slid out from between my ribs. Of course, I didn’t feel any pain, so it was pretty easy to do. There was only a small spurt of ‘juice’ as the last bit of the blade came free.
I pulled the blade up to my eyes so I could take a better look at the thing, but was shocked out of my examination by another gasp from Ravyn. She was still pointing at my wound.
I looked down again. this time I shared her surprise as I watched in amazement as the skin around the edges of the wound began to bind itself back together. It wasn’t a real fast process, more like a steady knitting of fabric than flesh actually healing. I could see little tendrils of darkness reaching out from the edges of the gaping wound, finding other small probing tendrils, and then knotting themselves together in a gradual, deliberate manner that closed up the wound fully within two minutes.
“Wow, that’s a first.”
Ravyn looked up from the now very dark scar on the previously pale white flesh to my eyes. There was an intense look about her eyes as she asked, “What happened here? Tell me everything, and don’t you dare leave out any little details.”
It took more than a few minutes to relate the struggle with Ma Grendel and the fateful decision I made to take her out of action. Then I relayed the journey that we took together and the meeting with the little Spanish girl.
Both Herne and Ravyn listened carefully as I finished up with the cryptic statements of Maria and my return to my body.
Herne had moved over to where the other blade had fallen from my hand in the struggle with Ma Grendel and was a little hesitant in picking it up. He looked up from where the blade lay, asking, “So you don’t know what changes have taken place, eh? Well I think we see one significant change, your body seems to heal itself of some wounds.”
Ravyn looked from me to Herne and back to me. “Herne Clarksson, you better not pick that blade up, I don’t know if it has drawn any blood!”
I got up, feeling almost...stronger, more balanced than I could remember feeling in quite some time. I seemed to move easier and with better agility as I walked to where Herne stood. I reached down and picked the blade up before Ravyn could object.
As soon as my hand wrapped around the hilt, my Spirit was drawn through the hilt, pulled into the blade itself, where I soon found myself standing on a windswept, rocky mountain slope. Facing me at a good twenty paces was a small brown skinned boy with dark hair and an impish grin.
He waved for me to follow him and bounded from rock outcrop to rock outcrop like a mountain goat. Not seeing any viable alternative I followed after him, a bit slower and a lot clumsier, but I followed nonetheless.
He was so quick that I soon lost sight of him, but his high pitched laughter led to me where he was waiting. Soon I found myself standing outside of what appeared to be an abandoned herders hut. the boy was waiting for me right outside the darkened door. As soon as I got close enough to watch him, he disapeared inside.
I got to the door, looked at the nearly collapsing roof above, but slipped inside after him.
It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the gloom inside, but when they did, I found that my little guide had a companion, a girl who was maybe a year older than him, taller, but of the same brown complexion and dark hair. They were very clearly siblings.
She spoke first. “Buenos dias Senor Bones.”
My ears perked up at the accented Spanish, very similar to that of Maria, the girl who had returned me to my body just recently. “Hello. Who are you?”
She continued speaking, this time though, I either understood the language unconsciously or she had learned some English. “My name is Herlinda and this my twin brother Diego. Pardon him, but he has never spoken.”
“S’alright by me, I suppose. So what can I do for you?”
“My brother and I are the last of the spirits trapped within the weapons you call the Witchbane blades. All of our companion spirits have been release by the destruction of the other blades. Maria Guadelupe was the last one besides us. We are very happy that the others have been freed from the prisons we have shared for so long.”
“Yeah, so am I. As soon as we are done here, I can destroy the other two blades, to set two free!”
Herlinda’s eyes grew wide, while Diego grew very animated, bouncing up and down. “No, Senor Bones, this you must not do!” She seemed very adamant.
“Why the Hell not? I can’t let you remain trapped like this!”
“You must not destroy our blades yet. We have a request of you.”
“Uh, OK. What can I do?”
“When Maria Guadelupe freed you from the Other who had taken you, she discovered something very important about you and your history. Someone you have met and know very well was the one who trapped us in these blades in the first place.”
“Son of a fucking bitch, that bastard Drake!”
“We did not know the name that you know him by, but in the time we lived, he was a powerful advisor to the Archbishop who created these blades because he was obsessed with finding and torturing people like our parents, people who could work with the energies of the world around them, people he called Witches.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, that must mean that Drake, or whatever the Hell his name was then, had been around since the fucking Inquisition!
“We beg you, Senor Bones, please do not destroy our blades until you have a chance to use them against this man you call Drake. It will bring us great peace if we can use our powers to strip him of the lives he has stolen from so many to fuel his quest.”
I was stunned. These two...children...but how could I consider 500 year old Spirits to be children...wanted me to keep them trapped so that they could help destroy my own mortal enemy! Unbelieveable. “Look, I can understand the desire for revenge, God only knows how badly I want to destroy that bastard. But do you really want to remained trapped until I can track him down again? I have no idea where he is now, or how soon I will find him again.”
“But you will be looking, yes?”
“Damn straight I will.”
“Then that is enough for Diego and I. Hunt this man, this monster, and we will willingly serve you as weapons against all foes like the Others you faced with Maria Guadelupe.”
“Wow. If you are sure you want to do this, I will agree to keep the blades intact until I find and defeat Drake.”
“Then we shall serve you willingly, so long as your cause is Just.”
I looked down at what she was pointing at, the broken blade protruding only slightly from my chest. I reached up and fingered the still sharp edge of the blade. Carefully, I pinched down on the flat of the blade and gently pulled it out. “Ah don’t worry darling, it might be a little on the sticky and messy side, but I should be OK.”
There was a bit of my carmelized goop on the blade as it slid out from between my ribs. Of course, I didn’t feel any pain, so it was pretty easy to do. There was only a small spurt of ‘juice’ as the last bit of the blade came free.
I pulled the blade up to my eyes so I could take a better look at the thing, but was shocked out of my examination by another gasp from Ravyn. She was still pointing at my wound.
I looked down again. this time I shared her surprise as I watched in amazement as the skin around the edges of the wound began to bind itself back together. It wasn’t a real fast process, more like a steady knitting of fabric than flesh actually healing. I could see little tendrils of darkness reaching out from the edges of the gaping wound, finding other small probing tendrils, and then knotting themselves together in a gradual, deliberate manner that closed up the wound fully within two minutes.
“Wow, that’s a first.”
Ravyn looked up from the now very dark scar on the previously pale white flesh to my eyes. There was an intense look about her eyes as she asked, “What happened here? Tell me everything, and don’t you dare leave out any little details.”
It took more than a few minutes to relate the struggle with Ma Grendel and the fateful decision I made to take her out of action. Then I relayed the journey that we took together and the meeting with the little Spanish girl.
Both Herne and Ravyn listened carefully as I finished up with the cryptic statements of Maria and my return to my body.
Herne had moved over to where the other blade had fallen from my hand in the struggle with Ma Grendel and was a little hesitant in picking it up. He looked up from where the blade lay, asking, “So you don’t know what changes have taken place, eh? Well I think we see one significant change, your body seems to heal itself of some wounds.”
Ravyn looked from me to Herne and back to me. “Herne Clarksson, you better not pick that blade up, I don’t know if it has drawn any blood!”
I got up, feeling almost...stronger, more balanced than I could remember feeling in quite some time. I seemed to move easier and with better agility as I walked to where Herne stood. I reached down and picked the blade up before Ravyn could object.
As soon as my hand wrapped around the hilt, my Spirit was drawn through the hilt, pulled into the blade itself, where I soon found myself standing on a windswept, rocky mountain slope. Facing me at a good twenty paces was a small brown skinned boy with dark hair and an impish grin.
He waved for me to follow him and bounded from rock outcrop to rock outcrop like a mountain goat. Not seeing any viable alternative I followed after him, a bit slower and a lot clumsier, but I followed nonetheless.
He was so quick that I soon lost sight of him, but his high pitched laughter led to me where he was waiting. Soon I found myself standing outside of what appeared to be an abandoned herders hut. the boy was waiting for me right outside the darkened door. As soon as I got close enough to watch him, he disapeared inside.
I got to the door, looked at the nearly collapsing roof above, but slipped inside after him.
It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the gloom inside, but when they did, I found that my little guide had a companion, a girl who was maybe a year older than him, taller, but of the same brown complexion and dark hair. They were very clearly siblings.
She spoke first. “Buenos dias Senor Bones.”
My ears perked up at the accented Spanish, very similar to that of Maria, the girl who had returned me to my body just recently. “Hello. Who are you?”
She continued speaking, this time though, I either understood the language unconsciously or she had learned some English. “My name is Herlinda and this my twin brother Diego. Pardon him, but he has never spoken.”
“S’alright by me, I suppose. So what can I do for you?”
“My brother and I are the last of the spirits trapped within the weapons you call the Witchbane blades. All of our companion spirits have been release by the destruction of the other blades. Maria Guadelupe was the last one besides us. We are very happy that the others have been freed from the prisons we have shared for so long.”
“Yeah, so am I. As soon as we are done here, I can destroy the other two blades, to set two free!”
Herlinda’s eyes grew wide, while Diego grew very animated, bouncing up and down. “No, Senor Bones, this you must not do!” She seemed very adamant.
“Why the Hell not? I can’t let you remain trapped like this!”
“You must not destroy our blades yet. We have a request of you.”
“Uh, OK. What can I do?”
“When Maria Guadelupe freed you from the Other who had taken you, she discovered something very important about you and your history. Someone you have met and know very well was the one who trapped us in these blades in the first place.”
“Son of a fucking bitch, that bastard Drake!”
“We did not know the name that you know him by, but in the time we lived, he was a powerful advisor to the Archbishop who created these blades because he was obsessed with finding and torturing people like our parents, people who could work with the energies of the world around them, people he called Witches.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, that must mean that Drake, or whatever the Hell his name was then, had been around since the fucking Inquisition!
“We beg you, Senor Bones, please do not destroy our blades until you have a chance to use them against this man you call Drake. It will bring us great peace if we can use our powers to strip him of the lives he has stolen from so many to fuel his quest.”
I was stunned. These two...children...but how could I consider 500 year old Spirits to be children...wanted me to keep them trapped so that they could help destroy my own mortal enemy! Unbelieveable. “Look, I can understand the desire for revenge, God only knows how badly I want to destroy that bastard. But do you really want to remained trapped until I can track him down again? I have no idea where he is now, or how soon I will find him again.”
“But you will be looking, yes?”
“Damn straight I will.”
“Then that is enough for Diego and I. Hunt this man, this monster, and we will willingly serve you as weapons against all foes like the Others you faced with Maria Guadelupe.”
“Wow. If you are sure you want to do this, I will agree to keep the blades intact until I find and defeat Drake.”
“Then we shall serve you willingly, so long as your cause is Just.”
Thursday, August 04, 2005
Boneswulf...Aftermath
The thing about dying a violent death, something I am getting a little too much experience with, mind you, is that it is so sudden. The first time I died, I was shot in the forehead by some hired thugs who were hunting specifically for me in the first place. The bullet slammed into my skull, causing a brief, blinding blast of pain, and then silence and darkness. Of course, that was when my Chakra was still functional and was operating more as a prison for my Spirit than anything else.
This time, my Spirit had been engulfed by the far more powerful presence of Ma Grendel as the Frau has called her, so when the Witchbane blade plunged into our chest, we were both affected by its powers. It was the first time in nearly two years that I had felt anything akin to pain. It was a sensation that had become a distant memory, an echo in my memory. It was the first time I had that feeling since I had been killed the first time, I am almost afraid to say this, but it was so...thrilling, so pleasurable to actually feel anything again.
The time when our Spirits were merged though was a very interesting time. I am still processing the events that transpired in those few moments when we were more one being than two, but I can tell you that the experience has changed me in ways I am not entirely comfortable with.
Too much knowledge can be a terrible thing, but more on that later. Let me get on with what actually happened.
Ma Grendel fought against the powers of the blade mightily, but it was her inherent nature that made the blade even more powerful against her magick. When the blade plunged home, we were thrown from the body and thrown into some shadowy dimension that had never even hinted at existing when John Red Bear had discussed the nature of the Three Worlds. This place was dark, roiling with chaotic energies and lacking any firm substance, yet there we were, two Spirits, one great and one small, but merged nearly as one.
Ma Grendel seemed to recognize this place though and did not like it one bit. She tried to exert her Will in order to open a pathway between this new place and just about anywhere else, but she simply wasn’t strong enough.
This struggle continued for what seemed a very long time, but which I now know was merely moments in real time. She finally succumbed to a hopelessness and turned her attention towards the little bit of me that remained separate.
“Why did you do that, you fool?”
“I couldn’t let you win, I couldn’t let you have my body and gain the freedom to walk the world above.”
“Don’t you realize what you have done though?”
I tried to show a little smugness, “I killed you!”
“Foolish human...”
She was interrupted by a small, female figure approaching us from the roiling chaos storm. The figure was walking slowly, deliberately through the massed energies and approached to where we could make out her appearance more easily. She appeared to be a small, slight girl of perhap 10 years of age. She was wearing simple woolen cloths, trousers and a loose shirt. She was barefoot.
We both turned our attention to our strange visitor.
The girl spoke at first in a language I didn’t understand. She raised both hands towards us, joined at the palms at first, then spread them in a ripping motion. I felt a strange wrenching sensation as most of my essence was forcibly separated from most of Ma Grendel’s. At the end of her movement, there were two of us standing before her, one that was mostly evil, demonic and pissed, and one of us that was mostly good (I hope anyway), formerly human and more confused than anything else.
When the separation was complete, the being that was mostly demonic tried to snatch back at the smaller figure, but it was quickly restrained by a waving motion of the girls hand and then dismissed with anohter wave. The screaming figure that was mostly Ma Grendel dwindled rapidly and then with a slight pop, disappeared.
The girl turned towards me and spoke...this time I could understnad her:
“It is not yet your Time to pass beyond this world. I will be returning you momentarily.”
I was more than a little stunned, “Who are you?”
The girl smiled, “My name was Maria Guadelupe de la Paz.”
“What happened to you?”
“My mother was accused of being a witch, so I was taken from her by a very cruel man and killed in order to make the blade that killed you and the Other who was here a moment ago.”
“You were one of the children killed to make the Witchbane blades!”
“Yes.”
I looked at her, a feeling of great sadness and loss washed over me. “I am so sorry.”
“As am I, although now is a time of great gladness, for in slaying your body, my blade has been broken, and I have been freed. I now may seek out my mother, who I have been told has been waiting for me for many centuries.”
“How did you do that, I mean, defeat that...creature...so easily?”
She smiled, an almost innocent smile of a young girl keeping a secret. “You will come to understand when you are ready. It is not for me to teach you these things.”
I remained silent for a moment, searched my own feelings, my own memories, trying to come to grips with all that had transipred. I looked up at her again, “I feel...different... have memories of things I know I never expereinced. I feel like some things are lost to me. What has happened?”
“The mingling of your essence with...that being...was not completely reversible. You will find that you have changed, grown in some ways, diminshed in others. But these...changes...were necessary for the tasks that you will need to accomplish in the coming conflict.”
“What do you mean by that?”
That coy smile again. “I am not permitted to explain more fully. Again, you will come to understand when the time is right. I can only say, that you will find some of the changes...significant, while others will be more noticeable by others than by yourself. My time grows short, Mama is waiting.”
With that she raised her hands up over her head, made some strange circling motions and with a whoosh that I felt as well as heard, she brought her hands down in one sweeping motion, throwing me out of that place.
The next thing I knew, I was laying on a stone floor, face down. I couldn’t see anything other than the floor at first, but I heard a tremendous racket...
“Stoopid damn zombie! I can’t believe you would be so damn selfish as to commit suicide and leave us down here in the bowels of this gods forsaken city!”
“Calm down babe, we’re going to need to decide what we’re going to do here. I can’t carry him, not with these broken ribs.”
“Dammit Herne, I’m pissed. Why did he plunge that blade into himself?”
That was my cue...”Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.” I pushed up from the floor into a sitting position.
I was just starting to get my bearings when I was bowled over again by the leaping hug that Ravyn landed on me with. “Rusty!”
I was on my back, with her sitting on my chest by the time her shock wore off and her stern face returned. She pointed a finger at my nose and said, “Give me one damn good reason why I shouldn’t toast your ass for making us believe you were gone for good!”
This time, my Spirit had been engulfed by the far more powerful presence of Ma Grendel as the Frau has called her, so when the Witchbane blade plunged into our chest, we were both affected by its powers. It was the first time in nearly two years that I had felt anything akin to pain. It was a sensation that had become a distant memory, an echo in my memory. It was the first time I had that feeling since I had been killed the first time, I am almost afraid to say this, but it was so...thrilling, so pleasurable to actually feel anything again.
The time when our Spirits were merged though was a very interesting time. I am still processing the events that transpired in those few moments when we were more one being than two, but I can tell you that the experience has changed me in ways I am not entirely comfortable with.
Too much knowledge can be a terrible thing, but more on that later. Let me get on with what actually happened.
Ma Grendel fought against the powers of the blade mightily, but it was her inherent nature that made the blade even more powerful against her magick. When the blade plunged home, we were thrown from the body and thrown into some shadowy dimension that had never even hinted at existing when John Red Bear had discussed the nature of the Three Worlds. This place was dark, roiling with chaotic energies and lacking any firm substance, yet there we were, two Spirits, one great and one small, but merged nearly as one.
Ma Grendel seemed to recognize this place though and did not like it one bit. She tried to exert her Will in order to open a pathway between this new place and just about anywhere else, but she simply wasn’t strong enough.
This struggle continued for what seemed a very long time, but which I now know was merely moments in real time. She finally succumbed to a hopelessness and turned her attention towards the little bit of me that remained separate.
“Why did you do that, you fool?”
“I couldn’t let you win, I couldn’t let you have my body and gain the freedom to walk the world above.”
“Don’t you realize what you have done though?”
I tried to show a little smugness, “I killed you!”
“Foolish human...”
She was interrupted by a small, female figure approaching us from the roiling chaos storm. The figure was walking slowly, deliberately through the massed energies and approached to where we could make out her appearance more easily. She appeared to be a small, slight girl of perhap 10 years of age. She was wearing simple woolen cloths, trousers and a loose shirt. She was barefoot.
We both turned our attention to our strange visitor.
The girl spoke at first in a language I didn’t understand. She raised both hands towards us, joined at the palms at first, then spread them in a ripping motion. I felt a strange wrenching sensation as most of my essence was forcibly separated from most of Ma Grendel’s. At the end of her movement, there were two of us standing before her, one that was mostly evil, demonic and pissed, and one of us that was mostly good (I hope anyway), formerly human and more confused than anything else.
When the separation was complete, the being that was mostly demonic tried to snatch back at the smaller figure, but it was quickly restrained by a waving motion of the girls hand and then dismissed with anohter wave. The screaming figure that was mostly Ma Grendel dwindled rapidly and then with a slight pop, disappeared.
The girl turned towards me and spoke...this time I could understnad her:
“It is not yet your Time to pass beyond this world. I will be returning you momentarily.”
I was more than a little stunned, “Who are you?”
The girl smiled, “My name was Maria Guadelupe de la Paz.”
“What happened to you?”
“My mother was accused of being a witch, so I was taken from her by a very cruel man and killed in order to make the blade that killed you and the Other who was here a moment ago.”
“You were one of the children killed to make the Witchbane blades!”
“Yes.”
I looked at her, a feeling of great sadness and loss washed over me. “I am so sorry.”
“As am I, although now is a time of great gladness, for in slaying your body, my blade has been broken, and I have been freed. I now may seek out my mother, who I have been told has been waiting for me for many centuries.”
“How did you do that, I mean, defeat that...creature...so easily?”
She smiled, an almost innocent smile of a young girl keeping a secret. “You will come to understand when you are ready. It is not for me to teach you these things.”
I remained silent for a moment, searched my own feelings, my own memories, trying to come to grips with all that had transipred. I looked up at her again, “I feel...different... have memories of things I know I never expereinced. I feel like some things are lost to me. What has happened?”
“The mingling of your essence with...that being...was not completely reversible. You will find that you have changed, grown in some ways, diminshed in others. But these...changes...were necessary for the tasks that you will need to accomplish in the coming conflict.”
“What do you mean by that?”
That coy smile again. “I am not permitted to explain more fully. Again, you will come to understand when the time is right. I can only say, that you will find some of the changes...significant, while others will be more noticeable by others than by yourself. My time grows short, Mama is waiting.”
With that she raised her hands up over her head, made some strange circling motions and with a whoosh that I felt as well as heard, she brought her hands down in one sweeping motion, throwing me out of that place.
The next thing I knew, I was laying on a stone floor, face down. I couldn’t see anything other than the floor at first, but I heard a tremendous racket...
“Stoopid damn zombie! I can’t believe you would be so damn selfish as to commit suicide and leave us down here in the bowels of this gods forsaken city!”
“Calm down babe, we’re going to need to decide what we’re going to do here. I can’t carry him, not with these broken ribs.”
“Dammit Herne, I’m pissed. Why did he plunge that blade into himself?”
That was my cue...”Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.” I pushed up from the floor into a sitting position.
I was just starting to get my bearings when I was bowled over again by the leaping hug that Ravyn landed on me with. “Rusty!”
I was on my back, with her sitting on my chest by the time her shock wore off and her stern face returned. She pointed a finger at my nose and said, “Give me one damn good reason why I shouldn’t toast your ass for making us believe you were gone for good!”
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Boneswulf...Finale
(With apologies for the delay...)
As I left to follow the trail, a quick glance back showed that Ravyn was coming to and Herne was moving around a little bit better than he had been only a few minutes earlier. Something inside told me not to tarry long however, there was a nagging feeling that I had something to finish, and quickly.
I tightened my grip on each drawn Witchbane blade and started to follow the trail of glowing green ichor to where Grendel had decided to retreat.
The path was rather straightforward. the tunnel seemed to be heading straight, with perhaps a slight, almost imperceptible curve to the right, and an ever so slight feeling of descending as well. The thin layer of mud and even the occasional puddle of stale looking water made the trail that much easier to follow, even though there were several sets of tracks, probably his travel over the last few weeks. Apparently this place was his own personal highway through Manhattan.
There were literally dozens of side passages, old rusted doors, and wrenched open grates, both in the ceiling above and in the floor itself. Many of them showed usage of some sort, with tracks leading to and fro, but the trail I was following now was right down the middle of this passageway.
After about a half mile, the passageway took more an angle downwards, causing me to slow down, the mud was slippery, and the slope was steep enough to make the descent more than a little harrowing, especially since it went on this way for quite some time.
As I descended, I felt something almost familiar about the unknown place I was approaching. It took me a couple of minutes to recognize the spiritual residue I had felt when I had visited Ground Zero when i had first come to New York. I was definitely coming close that place again. It felt very similar, but there was a distinct difference in...flavor? There was a building sense of dread that I tried to stamp down until I realized that it was not something that I was personally feeling, but something that was pervasively present. It was emanating from where it was that I was heading.
Up ahead I saw the tunnel begin to level out, but it also made a sharp turn to the right, obscuring whatever was at the end of the tunnel itself. Something, no someone, lay slumped on the floor right at the corner. As I approached, I could make out the prone form of the one armed Grendel.
His form lay completely still. In my various encounters with him, I could not ever recall having seen whether or not it breathed in the way that all living vertebrates do, so I wasn’t entirely sure that he wasn’t faking his ‘death’ as I approached.
I came to stand just out of easy reach in case he was still ‘alive’ and surveyed my surroundings. The feelings of dread, fear, and...sorrow seemed to flow from the dark doorway at the end of the tunnel, just beyond where Grendel’s prone form lay. He was laying face down, his one arm reached out towards the inky blackness that somehow seemed to be reaching out towards him as well. There was a small puddle of his ichor pooled around his wounded shoulder, but nothing seemed to be flowing anymore.
I moved next to the body, prodded it with one foot. No response.
I crouched down next to him, used the tip of one of the blades to just puncture his skin, again no reaction.
OK, I thought to myself, if it doesn’t rect to being pinked by one of these blades, then his well and truly dead.
I put one blade aside and used that hand to grab his intact shoulder to roll him over. His body was nearly as heavy as mine, so it took quite an effort, but it did roll over part of the way. His face didn’t seem quite as demonic laying there as it had when he was alive. His face was a mask of pain and suffering as he had bled to death short of his goal.
As I was examining his face and features, I noticed a tendril of darkness emerging from the doorway and making its way cautiously towards us.
I jumped back for a moment, grabbed that other blade and assumed a defensive position. The tendril soon assumed the clear shape of an inky black tentacle that seemed to be formed not of flesh and muscle, but of the very darkness itself.
It reached out slowly towards the prone form of Grendel, it brushed up gently against his face, almost stroking his cheek lik a mother would her child...
Uh oh, Mama Grendel does exist. This can’t be good.
A second tendril began to emerge from the darkness that enshrouded the doorway, this one a little thicker than the last one. It also formed into a tentacle and started reaching out towards me tentatively.
I was curious, but not that damn curious. As soon as the tentacle got close enough, I lashed out with one of the Witchbane blades and watched satisfied as the part of the tentacle that I sliced off dissipated into a harmless smoke, while the remainder of the thing jerked back to the safety inside the doorway. The first tentacle also withdrew when I approached Grendel’s body waving the blades.
So there I stood over the dead body of my slain foe, glaring menacingly at an unnaturally black doorway. Somewhere in that darkness, Mama Grendel waited, but for how long?
“Why have you done this to my son?”
I about jumped out of my skin when I heard that question. Startled beyond words for a moment, I looked up from Grendel’s body to see a female form emerge from the doorway, although it was pretty hard to distinguish her features, she was made of the same ephemeral stuff as the tentacles had been, only the barest glints of light reflected off the shiny surface of her skin. She stood just outside of the doorway, her voice had a smoky quality to it, but I couldn’t be sure I actually heard the voice, or if came inside my mind as some sor tof telepathic message.
“I ask you again, Slayer, why have you slain my son? I must know why you have done this.”
“Uh...well you do know that he has been killing people in the City above, don’t you?”
“Grendel was a hunter. He hunted for me. He brought me sustenance. He was a good son!”
“Well, I’m sorry, but I can’t let you feed off of innocent people like that. Your son committed serious crimes against the people of this city, for that he had to be brought to justice.”
She spat at me, “Justice! What is this Justice you speak of. Our people have been cast away from your society for time immemorial. We do what we must to survive!”
“Your people? There are more of you?”
She laughed at this, approaching just a little bit more, growing in size perceptibly. “Fool! There are many of us, hidden away in the crooks and crannies of your so-called society. We feed in the Dark of Night! We bring terror and nightmares wherever we go. You take us wherever you go, for we are bound to you as one, yet you reject any knowledge of our presence. We are called by many names, demons by some, Children of Cain by others. We are the Vampires, the Werewolves, the Evil Within!”
As she loomed ever closer, I slashed out with one of the blades, it sliced through her like a hot knife through butter. Her form dissipated like so much smoke.
The voice came back inside my mind, “Fool, your blades will only affect the part of me that I choose to make flesh! We shall see how well you stand against my full might!”
A dozen large black tentacles launched from the doorway and snatched at me. I lashed out with both blades cutting off large pieces that merely dissolved when I hit them, but more kept coming out. Bdefore I knew what was happening, there were more tentacles than I could fight, one grabbed an ankle, another grabbed a wrist. Soon I was immobilized and was being dragged into the doorway, into her den.
I struggled whenver the chance was allowed, slicing at unseen appendages, feeling those disappear, only to be replaced by two more for each one I destroyed. One wrist became so entangled, that I felt the blade wrested from my grasp. It took a moment for the distant clank of it hitting the floor to tell me that I was fairly high up, suspended by the grapsing, pulling tentacles.
“Ah, I sense that you are closer to us now than to the humans whom you serve at the moment. Why do you serve those fools, when your powers could be much more usefully employed with us?”
“Never!” I gasped out loud, even though I felt the possibility of answering mentally.
“I know your Creator, your Father. I have met him many times. Why have you rebelled against Him?”
I responded mentally this time, since my face was covered by a pair of heavy tentacles. “Drake is not my father, or my creator! I am a man, a human being!”
Her voice almost purred as she answered, “Correction, you were a human. But now you are one of Us. We are brethren, you and I. Cease your struggling, and I shall teach you things, powers, that you have only dreamed of acquiring. I can give you the strength to overcome your Father!”
“I’ll never serve you! You and all of your ilk should be destroyed!”
“That is impossible. As long as humans exist, they will fear the dark, they will lust for what they cannot have. Their fears, their greed, their avarice and hatred, their lust are what feeds us. As long as humans are human, they will create that which they fear the most, they create us, we feed on them. It is a cycle that is as natural as the cycle of life and death that you have violated with your very existence.”
“I will never become like you. I am human!”
“Very well. If you wish to be human so badly, then perhaps I shall treat you as such. It seems a shame to destroy this body though. Perhaps I can make use of it after all!”
As she said that, I could feel the tip of one of those tentacles force itself into my mouth, then elongate and force itself into my body. I tried to push back Spiritually, like I had against Papa Locks that time we had faced him in the mine, but to no avail. It was like trying to stop an avalanche with a shovel, the force of her entering my body and taking control was too overwhelming.
I had a sense of falling as I was pushed back within my body, into smaller and smaller spaces within it. More and more of her essence filled my body, I soon ceased my efforts to resist her, and instead forced my way to the one hand that still held something in its grasp.
I could barely feel that the body was now standing on its own as the tentacles had all dissipated as she had filled my body with her essence. A strange feeling of near limitless power surged through the parts of the body that I could still feel, but no longer control I had been forced into the one arm, but I could feel her essence overwhelming me even there. Too much longer and I would be consumed by the power of her evil essence.
Gathering all of my remaining strength, all remaining vestiges of my control over my own body, I reversed the grip on the blade in my hand and began to bring it up to her/my chest.
She was trying to resist, but with all of her power over things magickal, she was new to my body and had not yet learned how to control it very well. I felt her try to fight me internally. A struggle of Wills ensued that I nearly lost, as her overwhelming power began to absorb me within her vastness.
With one final, desperate push, I surendered the fight against her spiritually so that I could plunge the dagger deep into her/my chest.
Pain...exquisite, blinding pain like I had’t felt since that fateful Halloween evening nearly two years ago. Pain...darkness...release...
In the far distance, I hear a small desperate female voice calling out froma million miles away. “Rusty! NOOOOO! Don’t you quit on...me....”
As I left to follow the trail, a quick glance back showed that Ravyn was coming to and Herne was moving around a little bit better than he had been only a few minutes earlier. Something inside told me not to tarry long however, there was a nagging feeling that I had something to finish, and quickly.
I tightened my grip on each drawn Witchbane blade and started to follow the trail of glowing green ichor to where Grendel had decided to retreat.
The path was rather straightforward. the tunnel seemed to be heading straight, with perhaps a slight, almost imperceptible curve to the right, and an ever so slight feeling of descending as well. The thin layer of mud and even the occasional puddle of stale looking water made the trail that much easier to follow, even though there were several sets of tracks, probably his travel over the last few weeks. Apparently this place was his own personal highway through Manhattan.
There were literally dozens of side passages, old rusted doors, and wrenched open grates, both in the ceiling above and in the floor itself. Many of them showed usage of some sort, with tracks leading to and fro, but the trail I was following now was right down the middle of this passageway.
After about a half mile, the passageway took more an angle downwards, causing me to slow down, the mud was slippery, and the slope was steep enough to make the descent more than a little harrowing, especially since it went on this way for quite some time.
As I descended, I felt something almost familiar about the unknown place I was approaching. It took me a couple of minutes to recognize the spiritual residue I had felt when I had visited Ground Zero when i had first come to New York. I was definitely coming close that place again. It felt very similar, but there was a distinct difference in...flavor? There was a building sense of dread that I tried to stamp down until I realized that it was not something that I was personally feeling, but something that was pervasively present. It was emanating from where it was that I was heading.
Up ahead I saw the tunnel begin to level out, but it also made a sharp turn to the right, obscuring whatever was at the end of the tunnel itself. Something, no someone, lay slumped on the floor right at the corner. As I approached, I could make out the prone form of the one armed Grendel.
His form lay completely still. In my various encounters with him, I could not ever recall having seen whether or not it breathed in the way that all living vertebrates do, so I wasn’t entirely sure that he wasn’t faking his ‘death’ as I approached.
I came to stand just out of easy reach in case he was still ‘alive’ and surveyed my surroundings. The feelings of dread, fear, and...sorrow seemed to flow from the dark doorway at the end of the tunnel, just beyond where Grendel’s prone form lay. He was laying face down, his one arm reached out towards the inky blackness that somehow seemed to be reaching out towards him as well. There was a small puddle of his ichor pooled around his wounded shoulder, but nothing seemed to be flowing anymore.
I moved next to the body, prodded it with one foot. No response.
I crouched down next to him, used the tip of one of the blades to just puncture his skin, again no reaction.
OK, I thought to myself, if it doesn’t rect to being pinked by one of these blades, then his well and truly dead.
I put one blade aside and used that hand to grab his intact shoulder to roll him over. His body was nearly as heavy as mine, so it took quite an effort, but it did roll over part of the way. His face didn’t seem quite as demonic laying there as it had when he was alive. His face was a mask of pain and suffering as he had bled to death short of his goal.
As I was examining his face and features, I noticed a tendril of darkness emerging from the doorway and making its way cautiously towards us.
I jumped back for a moment, grabbed that other blade and assumed a defensive position. The tendril soon assumed the clear shape of an inky black tentacle that seemed to be formed not of flesh and muscle, but of the very darkness itself.
It reached out slowly towards the prone form of Grendel, it brushed up gently against his face, almost stroking his cheek lik a mother would her child...
Uh oh, Mama Grendel does exist. This can’t be good.
A second tendril began to emerge from the darkness that enshrouded the doorway, this one a little thicker than the last one. It also formed into a tentacle and started reaching out towards me tentatively.
I was curious, but not that damn curious. As soon as the tentacle got close enough, I lashed out with one of the Witchbane blades and watched satisfied as the part of the tentacle that I sliced off dissipated into a harmless smoke, while the remainder of the thing jerked back to the safety inside the doorway. The first tentacle also withdrew when I approached Grendel’s body waving the blades.
So there I stood over the dead body of my slain foe, glaring menacingly at an unnaturally black doorway. Somewhere in that darkness, Mama Grendel waited, but for how long?
“Why have you done this to my son?”
I about jumped out of my skin when I heard that question. Startled beyond words for a moment, I looked up from Grendel’s body to see a female form emerge from the doorway, although it was pretty hard to distinguish her features, she was made of the same ephemeral stuff as the tentacles had been, only the barest glints of light reflected off the shiny surface of her skin. She stood just outside of the doorway, her voice had a smoky quality to it, but I couldn’t be sure I actually heard the voice, or if came inside my mind as some sor tof telepathic message.
“I ask you again, Slayer, why have you slain my son? I must know why you have done this.”
“Uh...well you do know that he has been killing people in the City above, don’t you?”
“Grendel was a hunter. He hunted for me. He brought me sustenance. He was a good son!”
“Well, I’m sorry, but I can’t let you feed off of innocent people like that. Your son committed serious crimes against the people of this city, for that he had to be brought to justice.”
She spat at me, “Justice! What is this Justice you speak of. Our people have been cast away from your society for time immemorial. We do what we must to survive!”
“Your people? There are more of you?”
She laughed at this, approaching just a little bit more, growing in size perceptibly. “Fool! There are many of us, hidden away in the crooks and crannies of your so-called society. We feed in the Dark of Night! We bring terror and nightmares wherever we go. You take us wherever you go, for we are bound to you as one, yet you reject any knowledge of our presence. We are called by many names, demons by some, Children of Cain by others. We are the Vampires, the Werewolves, the Evil Within!”
As she loomed ever closer, I slashed out with one of the blades, it sliced through her like a hot knife through butter. Her form dissipated like so much smoke.
The voice came back inside my mind, “Fool, your blades will only affect the part of me that I choose to make flesh! We shall see how well you stand against my full might!”
A dozen large black tentacles launched from the doorway and snatched at me. I lashed out with both blades cutting off large pieces that merely dissolved when I hit them, but more kept coming out. Bdefore I knew what was happening, there were more tentacles than I could fight, one grabbed an ankle, another grabbed a wrist. Soon I was immobilized and was being dragged into the doorway, into her den.
I struggled whenver the chance was allowed, slicing at unseen appendages, feeling those disappear, only to be replaced by two more for each one I destroyed. One wrist became so entangled, that I felt the blade wrested from my grasp. It took a moment for the distant clank of it hitting the floor to tell me that I was fairly high up, suspended by the grapsing, pulling tentacles.
“Ah, I sense that you are closer to us now than to the humans whom you serve at the moment. Why do you serve those fools, when your powers could be much more usefully employed with us?”
“Never!” I gasped out loud, even though I felt the possibility of answering mentally.
“I know your Creator, your Father. I have met him many times. Why have you rebelled against Him?”
I responded mentally this time, since my face was covered by a pair of heavy tentacles. “Drake is not my father, or my creator! I am a man, a human being!”
Her voice almost purred as she answered, “Correction, you were a human. But now you are one of Us. We are brethren, you and I. Cease your struggling, and I shall teach you things, powers, that you have only dreamed of acquiring. I can give you the strength to overcome your Father!”
“I’ll never serve you! You and all of your ilk should be destroyed!”
“That is impossible. As long as humans exist, they will fear the dark, they will lust for what they cannot have. Their fears, their greed, their avarice and hatred, their lust are what feeds us. As long as humans are human, they will create that which they fear the most, they create us, we feed on them. It is a cycle that is as natural as the cycle of life and death that you have violated with your very existence.”
“I will never become like you. I am human!”
“Very well. If you wish to be human so badly, then perhaps I shall treat you as such. It seems a shame to destroy this body though. Perhaps I can make use of it after all!”
As she said that, I could feel the tip of one of those tentacles force itself into my mouth, then elongate and force itself into my body. I tried to push back Spiritually, like I had against Papa Locks that time we had faced him in the mine, but to no avail. It was like trying to stop an avalanche with a shovel, the force of her entering my body and taking control was too overwhelming.
I had a sense of falling as I was pushed back within my body, into smaller and smaller spaces within it. More and more of her essence filled my body, I soon ceased my efforts to resist her, and instead forced my way to the one hand that still held something in its grasp.
I could barely feel that the body was now standing on its own as the tentacles had all dissipated as she had filled my body with her essence. A strange feeling of near limitless power surged through the parts of the body that I could still feel, but no longer control I had been forced into the one arm, but I could feel her essence overwhelming me even there. Too much longer and I would be consumed by the power of her evil essence.
Gathering all of my remaining strength, all remaining vestiges of my control over my own body, I reversed the grip on the blade in my hand and began to bring it up to her/my chest.
She was trying to resist, but with all of her power over things magickal, she was new to my body and had not yet learned how to control it very well. I felt her try to fight me internally. A struggle of Wills ensued that I nearly lost, as her overwhelming power began to absorb me within her vastness.
With one final, desperate push, I surendered the fight against her spiritually so that I could plunge the dagger deep into her/my chest.
Pain...exquisite, blinding pain like I had’t felt since that fateful Halloween evening nearly two years ago. Pain...darkness...release...
In the far distance, I hear a small desperate female voice calling out froma million miles away. “Rusty! NOOOOO! Don’t you quit on...me....”
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Boneswulf...Part 6
I sat up from my newly prone position. My hand was still clamped to the wrist of the arm that had blown off the creature. I held it up to take a closer look, saw small tendrils of smoke billowing up from about a dozen places and tossed the arm to the side before getting up and moving to see if Ravyn and Herne were OK.
Moving over to their prone figures, I could see that they were both still alive. Now it was Herne who was moving more than Ravyn. She had flown backwards onto him, but had hit her head on the wall behind her. Her eyes were technically open, but her dazed look indicated that she was pretty much out if for the moment. I bent down to check on her, saw the smoking ruin of the hilt in her hand, so I gently pried it out of her clenched fingers and tossed the relic aside.
Herne groaned and shifted where he was laying.
“Herne, you OK? Where are you hurt?”
He shook his head to clear some of the cobwebs, and immediately regretted it as he leaned away from Ravyn quickly and retched. After his convulsions stopped, he eked out a soft answer, “I hit my head on something pretty bad. I have splitting headache. What’s happened?”
“Well, the creature attacked, killing Fang. You leaped to the attack, but it looks like you banged your head when you were thrown aside. Ravyn stabbed the thing from behind with one of your blades, I believe. She took nasty hit early on though, and then when the explosion happened, I tihnk she hit her head as well.”
“Where did that thing go?”
“He left his arm behind, but he staggered down this tunnel, I think that’s towards Ground Zero, if I have my directions right.”
“So despite losing its arm it still walked away?”
“Yeah, but it looked pretty bad. I was just checking on you two before I went after it. Are you going to be alright here?”
“Help me to move Ravyn, I need to check her head for any serious damage.”
I helped to move her into a better position, allowing Herne to actually sit up. As I rolled her to her side, careful to keep her neck aligned, he checked the back of her head. His hand came away bloodied, but he seemed confidant that nothing was broken, just a scalp wound and a likely concussion for her as well.
He rummaged around the knapsack that he always carried and pulled out a small wooden box. He openned it after fumbling with the delicate clasp, and pulled out two small vials of a cinnamon colored liquid. He pulled the cork on the first one and downed it in one big gulp. His gasp indicated that the stuff had a potent kick to it. He openned the second vial and held it up to Ravyn’s nose first, which seemed to rouse her just a little bit, and then used one hand to plug her nose and the second to force the liquid into her mouth. She swallowed the stuff, sputtering and seeming to come around a little bit more.
“What’s that stuff?”
After wiping the remaining liquid from around her mouth with his sleeve, he responded. “It’s a concoction of the Frau’s. She claims they are healing potions, but I don’t know, I think she tries to make them so damn nasty tasting that the injured get up and get moving so as not to have to take any more of it. Seriously though, these should help to get us moving soon, the Frau makes some potent stuff.”
“Good. Look, I better at least check and make sure that bastard isn’t bringing any reinforcements. I’ll be back to check on you guys soon.”
“Fari enough. I didn’t like the idea of that thing wandering away in any event. Best to go put it out of its misery and be done with this.”
“Agreed. You have one blade left, just in case, I’ve got mine over here, but let me take Fang’s as well, since this thing has destroyed one blade already.”
I walked over to Fang’s body and said a silent prayer for him as I drew his blade from the sheath on his wrist. I then walked over to where I had left my blade, picked it up, and turned to follow the one armed Grendel, hopefully to his lair.
(Finale of the Boneswulf arc tomorrow...)
Moving over to their prone figures, I could see that they were both still alive. Now it was Herne who was moving more than Ravyn. She had flown backwards onto him, but had hit her head on the wall behind her. Her eyes were technically open, but her dazed look indicated that she was pretty much out if for the moment. I bent down to check on her, saw the smoking ruin of the hilt in her hand, so I gently pried it out of her clenched fingers and tossed the relic aside.
Herne groaned and shifted where he was laying.
“Herne, you OK? Where are you hurt?”
He shook his head to clear some of the cobwebs, and immediately regretted it as he leaned away from Ravyn quickly and retched. After his convulsions stopped, he eked out a soft answer, “I hit my head on something pretty bad. I have splitting headache. What’s happened?”
“Well, the creature attacked, killing Fang. You leaped to the attack, but it looks like you banged your head when you were thrown aside. Ravyn stabbed the thing from behind with one of your blades, I believe. She took nasty hit early on though, and then when the explosion happened, I tihnk she hit her head as well.”
“Where did that thing go?”
“He left his arm behind, but he staggered down this tunnel, I think that’s towards Ground Zero, if I have my directions right.”
“So despite losing its arm it still walked away?”
“Yeah, but it looked pretty bad. I was just checking on you two before I went after it. Are you going to be alright here?”
“Help me to move Ravyn, I need to check her head for any serious damage.”
I helped to move her into a better position, allowing Herne to actually sit up. As I rolled her to her side, careful to keep her neck aligned, he checked the back of her head. His hand came away bloodied, but he seemed confidant that nothing was broken, just a scalp wound and a likely concussion for her as well.
He rummaged around the knapsack that he always carried and pulled out a small wooden box. He openned it after fumbling with the delicate clasp, and pulled out two small vials of a cinnamon colored liquid. He pulled the cork on the first one and downed it in one big gulp. His gasp indicated that the stuff had a potent kick to it. He openned the second vial and held it up to Ravyn’s nose first, which seemed to rouse her just a little bit, and then used one hand to plug her nose and the second to force the liquid into her mouth. She swallowed the stuff, sputtering and seeming to come around a little bit more.
“What’s that stuff?”
After wiping the remaining liquid from around her mouth with his sleeve, he responded. “It’s a concoction of the Frau’s. She claims they are healing potions, but I don’t know, I think she tries to make them so damn nasty tasting that the injured get up and get moving so as not to have to take any more of it. Seriously though, these should help to get us moving soon, the Frau makes some potent stuff.”
“Good. Look, I better at least check and make sure that bastard isn’t bringing any reinforcements. I’ll be back to check on you guys soon.”
“Fari enough. I didn’t like the idea of that thing wandering away in any event. Best to go put it out of its misery and be done with this.”
“Agreed. You have one blade left, just in case, I’ve got mine over here, but let me take Fang’s as well, since this thing has destroyed one blade already.”
I walked over to Fang’s body and said a silent prayer for him as I drew his blade from the sheath on his wrist. I then walked over to where I had left my blade, picked it up, and turned to follow the one armed Grendel, hopefully to his lair.
(Finale of the Boneswulf arc tomorrow...)
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Rusty's Rules of Demon Fighting
The shattering of my baton came as a bit of a shock, but I didn’t have much time to recover, because Grendel was grinning like a fool as he leapt to the attack. Apparently, he had tweaked his protections since our last encounter and had healed up too, since there was no hint of any wounds I had inflicted on him.
He leaped with both claws extended to try and get to my head, but I had just enough of my wits and my own reactions speed to grab each of his wrists and fall backwards, flipping him head first into the solid cement floor.
The impact of the move surprised us both, I lost my grip on his wrists, his head bounced a couple of times as he skidded away to land in a heap against the far wall.
Knowing I didn’t have much time, I leaped back to my feet and spun to face the critter, just as he used the base of the wall to launch another leaping attack at me.
I reached behind me and grabbed the hilt of the Witchbane blade that was sheathed there. I had it out just in time to dodge away from his latest attack and slash out unsuccessfully with the unfamiliar weapon. The blade felt heavy in my grip and distinctly...wrong.
We began circling each other again, he seemed to wary of the blade, like he recognized that the blacker than black blade could actually harm him.
Seeing the look of caution in his alien eyes, I waved the blade just a little bit, brandishing it while smiling and waving with one hand for him to try me out. He kept his distance, and even shifted directions in his circling with me when I changed to move to meet him sooner. He seemed to respect both the weapoon I was carrying and the degree of difficulty I was giving him.
I didn’t hear anything from my companions, our battle was being fought in a kind of eerie silence. Had I been alive, I would have thought that due to the rushing adrenaline and tunnel vision that accompanies highly stressful situations. But I no longer exeperience such things, so I could easily hear little sounds that were separate from the struggle I was engaged in. A quick glance during one of our shifts in direction confirmed that Ravyn and Herne seemed to be alive and breathing, but were either unconscious or too hurt to move much.
Not knowing the extent of any of their injuries, I figured I needed to move to finish this as quickly as I could. So I faked to my right like I was changing directions again and then dove forward in a modified forward roll where I came up with both hands on the hilt, trying to drive the blade into its chest. At least that was the effect I was trying for.
Unfortunately, I am not an experienced knife fighter, and I had never tried such a move before...I was too slow. Just for future referemce to any budding young demon hunters out there...it is never a good thing to throw yourself onto the ground in front on a faster, more agile foe. Let’s call that Rusty’s First Rule of Demon Fighting.
As I was coming up out of my nearly perfect move and looking to stab the bastard, I found myself looking for my opponent. Apparently he had faked his own response and had continued circling, allowing him to send my ass sprawling with powerful blow to my head with one closed fist. The blow was damn powerful, I realized anew the advantages to already being dead, since there a damn good chance that such a blow would have killed me had I been inconveniently alive at that moment.
I had managed to keep hold of my weapon and managed to twist onto my back and bring the blade up in defense as the thing pounced on me. I slashed out at the first claw I saw, managing to slice a half his taloned fingers off in a desperate move. It roared in pain and leaped back. So I had found a weapon that could pierce his protections and he didn’t like the feel of it one bit.
As it backpedaled, I bounced back up and started advancing, slashing wildly each time I got close enough to possibly hit it. Holding it’s wounded claw with the other, it kept bounding backwards with each of my attacks. Rusty’s Second Rule of Demon Fighting: Once you find something that works, keep doing it until your opponent finds a way to stop it!
The only problem with my current strategy (and it was a huge one) was that I pushing the damn thing right back towards Ravyn and Herne’s unconscious forms!
I slowed my attacks as soon as I noticed that I was pushing him in the wrong direction. I dropped into a more defnsive crouch, but also began preparing to leap forward in case he tried to do anything to my companions.
As soon as I stopped pressing the attack though, he stopped moving backwards and at this point he didn’t seem to have much interest in people he saw as no threat.
It was in that moment though that I noticed Ravyn moving every so slightly. I could see her eyes looking at me, imploring me not to say or do anything to bring to get her noticed. Those eyes burned with a hatred of this creature deeper than anything I thought possible from the normally bubbly and effervescent Ravyn. She was reaching under Herne’s body ever so slowly for something with one hand.
The creature was adjusting quickly to the setback and was already flexing its wounded claw, apparently working the pain out of its system. He was in a battle crouch as well now. We stared at each other for moment, but I could tell he was getting ready to make a move. I didn’t know what it was planning to do, so I thought maybe I would try to buy some time for Ravyn.
“Hey buddy,” I called out, “Don’t you like my little knife? Didn’t feel very good did it?”
His eyes narrowed, it either understood me, or was trying to figure out whatever trick he thought I was going to try next.
I needed to keep it distracted and focused on me, so I motioned with my free hand towards the blade and started talking again. “Hey you know what? I don’t think it is very fair of me to use this big nasty knife on you anymore, how about I put it down and we settle this fight naturally, man against demon?”
That perked its interest.
“Now I’m going to put this thing down to the side over here, but I don’t want you trying to jump me when I do that, OK?”
Did it just nod in agreement? Hell, I don’t know, but it sure seemed like it at the time. I made a big show of setting the knife off to my side, keeping my eyes locked on his the whole time. He didn’t make any sudden moves, so I set the blade down and got back into my battle crouch.
Now let me just say that what I just did was a serious violation of several of Rusty’s Rules of Demon Fighting, namely numbers 4--Never make deals with demons, and 6--Don’t put away your weapons until the damn smoke clears, but they are my own damn rules, so I can break them if I want to.
Once I was up and in my crouch again, the beast actually smiled like he thought I was a fool. Perhaps I am, but there was a method to my madness, Ravyn was silently getting into a crouch of her own, grimacing in pain and rage simultaneously, clutching at something I couldn’t quite make out.
I leaped forward, hands outstretched just as he made his own move, lunging in my direction with both claws out and ready to snatch at me. We grappled there, my arms on his writsts, his claws and fangs trying to reach at me. We stood there locked in a struggling embrace, each testing the sheer strength and the balance of the other, he was grunting with exertion, I was grunting out of a desire to hide Ravyn’s footsteps as she stood up and moved towards us with deadly intent in her burning eyes.
Too late it noticed that she was approaching. I held on firmly as he tried to break free. Slowly, deliberately, and with more malice than I ever thought possible from her, Ravyn came up behind the thing, limping and holding one arm close to her wounded side. She raised one of the Witchbane blades over her head with her good arm and hissed out, “Die, you fucking beast!”
With that she plunged the black blade into Grendel’s back with all of the force she could muster.
The blade pierced through its tough hide, but bounced off of some bone to sheer through the shoulder of his previously unwounded arm. There was an explosion of dark, roiling energies, whether it was from the blade or Grendel himself, I couldn’t tell. The force of the explosion knocked Ravyn back towards Herne, smoking hilt still in her hand.
The force of it blasted against me, but I had been able to maintain my grip on the wrist attached to the shoulder she had cut into, the whole arm ripped free from the beast, sending both of us flying.
Grendel was screeching in pain as he fell. He was still wailing in a strange, unearthly kind ofway as he staggered up using his one, wounded clawed hand and staggered away, trailing a stream of greenish ichor as he went.
He leaped with both claws extended to try and get to my head, but I had just enough of my wits and my own reactions speed to grab each of his wrists and fall backwards, flipping him head first into the solid cement floor.
The impact of the move surprised us both, I lost my grip on his wrists, his head bounced a couple of times as he skidded away to land in a heap against the far wall.
Knowing I didn’t have much time, I leaped back to my feet and spun to face the critter, just as he used the base of the wall to launch another leaping attack at me.
I reached behind me and grabbed the hilt of the Witchbane blade that was sheathed there. I had it out just in time to dodge away from his latest attack and slash out unsuccessfully with the unfamiliar weapon. The blade felt heavy in my grip and distinctly...wrong.
We began circling each other again, he seemed to wary of the blade, like he recognized that the blacker than black blade could actually harm him.
Seeing the look of caution in his alien eyes, I waved the blade just a little bit, brandishing it while smiling and waving with one hand for him to try me out. He kept his distance, and even shifted directions in his circling with me when I changed to move to meet him sooner. He seemed to respect both the weapoon I was carrying and the degree of difficulty I was giving him.
I didn’t hear anything from my companions, our battle was being fought in a kind of eerie silence. Had I been alive, I would have thought that due to the rushing adrenaline and tunnel vision that accompanies highly stressful situations. But I no longer exeperience such things, so I could easily hear little sounds that were separate from the struggle I was engaged in. A quick glance during one of our shifts in direction confirmed that Ravyn and Herne seemed to be alive and breathing, but were either unconscious or too hurt to move much.
Not knowing the extent of any of their injuries, I figured I needed to move to finish this as quickly as I could. So I faked to my right like I was changing directions again and then dove forward in a modified forward roll where I came up with both hands on the hilt, trying to drive the blade into its chest. At least that was the effect I was trying for.
Unfortunately, I am not an experienced knife fighter, and I had never tried such a move before...I was too slow. Just for future referemce to any budding young demon hunters out there...it is never a good thing to throw yourself onto the ground in front on a faster, more agile foe. Let’s call that Rusty’s First Rule of Demon Fighting.
As I was coming up out of my nearly perfect move and looking to stab the bastard, I found myself looking for my opponent. Apparently he had faked his own response and had continued circling, allowing him to send my ass sprawling with powerful blow to my head with one closed fist. The blow was damn powerful, I realized anew the advantages to already being dead, since there a damn good chance that such a blow would have killed me had I been inconveniently alive at that moment.
I had managed to keep hold of my weapon and managed to twist onto my back and bring the blade up in defense as the thing pounced on me. I slashed out at the first claw I saw, managing to slice a half his taloned fingers off in a desperate move. It roared in pain and leaped back. So I had found a weapon that could pierce his protections and he didn’t like the feel of it one bit.
As it backpedaled, I bounced back up and started advancing, slashing wildly each time I got close enough to possibly hit it. Holding it’s wounded claw with the other, it kept bounding backwards with each of my attacks. Rusty’s Second Rule of Demon Fighting: Once you find something that works, keep doing it until your opponent finds a way to stop it!
The only problem with my current strategy (and it was a huge one) was that I pushing the damn thing right back towards Ravyn and Herne’s unconscious forms!
I slowed my attacks as soon as I noticed that I was pushing him in the wrong direction. I dropped into a more defnsive crouch, but also began preparing to leap forward in case he tried to do anything to my companions.
As soon as I stopped pressing the attack though, he stopped moving backwards and at this point he didn’t seem to have much interest in people he saw as no threat.
It was in that moment though that I noticed Ravyn moving every so slightly. I could see her eyes looking at me, imploring me not to say or do anything to bring to get her noticed. Those eyes burned with a hatred of this creature deeper than anything I thought possible from the normally bubbly and effervescent Ravyn. She was reaching under Herne’s body ever so slowly for something with one hand.
The creature was adjusting quickly to the setback and was already flexing its wounded claw, apparently working the pain out of its system. He was in a battle crouch as well now. We stared at each other for moment, but I could tell he was getting ready to make a move. I didn’t know what it was planning to do, so I thought maybe I would try to buy some time for Ravyn.
“Hey buddy,” I called out, “Don’t you like my little knife? Didn’t feel very good did it?”
His eyes narrowed, it either understood me, or was trying to figure out whatever trick he thought I was going to try next.
I needed to keep it distracted and focused on me, so I motioned with my free hand towards the blade and started talking again. “Hey you know what? I don’t think it is very fair of me to use this big nasty knife on you anymore, how about I put it down and we settle this fight naturally, man against demon?”
That perked its interest.
“Now I’m going to put this thing down to the side over here, but I don’t want you trying to jump me when I do that, OK?”
Did it just nod in agreement? Hell, I don’t know, but it sure seemed like it at the time. I made a big show of setting the knife off to my side, keeping my eyes locked on his the whole time. He didn’t make any sudden moves, so I set the blade down and got back into my battle crouch.
Now let me just say that what I just did was a serious violation of several of Rusty’s Rules of Demon Fighting, namely numbers 4--Never make deals with demons, and 6--Don’t put away your weapons until the damn smoke clears, but they are my own damn rules, so I can break them if I want to.
Once I was up and in my crouch again, the beast actually smiled like he thought I was a fool. Perhaps I am, but there was a method to my madness, Ravyn was silently getting into a crouch of her own, grimacing in pain and rage simultaneously, clutching at something I couldn’t quite make out.
I leaped forward, hands outstretched just as he made his own move, lunging in my direction with both claws out and ready to snatch at me. We grappled there, my arms on his writsts, his claws and fangs trying to reach at me. We stood there locked in a struggling embrace, each testing the sheer strength and the balance of the other, he was grunting with exertion, I was grunting out of a desire to hide Ravyn’s footsteps as she stood up and moved towards us with deadly intent in her burning eyes.
Too late it noticed that she was approaching. I held on firmly as he tried to break free. Slowly, deliberately, and with more malice than I ever thought possible from her, Ravyn came up behind the thing, limping and holding one arm close to her wounded side. She raised one of the Witchbane blades over her head with her good arm and hissed out, “Die, you fucking beast!”
With that she plunged the black blade into Grendel’s back with all of the force she could muster.
The blade pierced through its tough hide, but bounced off of some bone to sheer through the shoulder of his previously unwounded arm. There was an explosion of dark, roiling energies, whether it was from the blade or Grendel himself, I couldn’t tell. The force of the explosion knocked Ravyn back towards Herne, smoking hilt still in her hand.
The force of it blasted against me, but I had been able to maintain my grip on the wrist attached to the shoulder she had cut into, the whole arm ripped free from the beast, sending both of us flying.
Grendel was screeching in pain as he fell. He was still wailing in a strange, unearthly kind ofway as he staggered up using his one, wounded clawed hand and staggered away, trailing a stream of greenish ichor as he went.
Sunday, July 24, 2005
Boneswulf...Part 5
Herne insisted on descending first, Fang went down next, follwed by myself and then Ravyn. Once we were all down the ladder, Ravyn dispatched another floating ball of fire to illuminate the area better. Each of the two seemed to have minds of their own, floating about in lazy, hazy circles, but always seeming to be where we needed them at the moment.
My previous trail was pretty obvious, the dark, syrupy liquid from my ‘veins’ had congealed into sticky puddles.
Herne saw the trail and motioned for us to come together briefly. “Fang and I will hug opposites sides of the walls. Rusty I want you to follow the trail, taking no care to cover any sounds. Just like that valley in the desert, I need you to be the distraction. This thing is likely expecting you to come back.”
“What about me?” Ravyn was looking a little peeved that she had to speak up.
“Babe, I know better than to give you directions. You can follow behind Rusty, that’s probably the safest place, since this thing seems to kill with its claws and teeth and doesn’t use any weapons that we know of. However we are going to need to drop the fireballs soon, that kind of magick will attract this thing. I would like us to be the hunters, not the hunted.”
“Hmmph. Wll alright then.” With that the fireballs winked out of esxistence and the soft darkness of this unlit tunnel descended. “I’ll stick close to Rusty. Once the fighting starts I will light things back up to prevent any additional surprises for sneaking up.”
‘Very well then, let’s roll. Rusty, don’t worry if you don’t see us, we’ll be there. Fang and I have some non-magickal tricks up our sleeves to stay hidden until the right moment.”
My lenses quickly adjusted the near total darkness of the place, so I was able to weatch as Fang and Herne slipped away in opposite directions and then completely disappeared from even my enhanced vision. Ravyn was shifter on her feet nervously. I reached out and gave her arm a freindly squeeze, to reassure her that we would be OK.
“Can you see at all?” I whispered to her.
She managed a wan smile, “Don’t worry about me, you big lummox. I just hate being cooped up in this small, dark place. I’m fighting very hard against the urge to light this place up like the Fourth of July! Now get moving before I lose that battle!”
I gave her one more squeeze and then turned to follow the trail of my own dried up ‘blood’ to find Grendel and have our little rematch.
I walked loudly down the hall, keeping more to the middle this time than I did the first time. I felt more than heard Ravyn following behind me, a few paces back. After a hundred feet or so, I came to the first intersection where I had turned down the first time. This would lead to a much smaller hall, with hardly any room for Herne or Fang to be hidden to the side, so I hesitated before proceeding. I was just about to say something, when a sickening wet ripping sound and a gurgled half-grunt cut me off.
Ravyn gasped, “What was...”
Fang’s headless body crumpled to the floor about twenty feet away to our right, blood gushed out in a showering fountain from the stump of his neck.
I immediately dropped into a battle ready stance, snapping my wrist to drop my baton into place. I reached behind me with one hand to make sure Ravyn wasn’t exposed.
A form rushed out of the darkness from the other side of the hall straight towards the darkness that still stood over Fang’s lifeless body. Silently, Herne had drawn one of the two blades he carried and leaped towards the form, trying to bury the knife in its side.
One bloody clawed arm lashed out of the darkness and caught Herne just as he was leaping to the attack, catching him under his extended arm and spinning quickly to throw him solidly into the wall. With a crashing clang, and the sounds of something snapping, whether it was bone or blade, I wasn’t sure. Herne sunk to the floor, seemingly lifeless as Grendel turned towards us.
With a fierce, defiant cry of “No!” Ravyn leaped past my protective arm and launched a massive bolt of fiery red flames at the creature.
The bolt of flames lit up the hall in a blinding flash, and splashed harmlessly off the chest of Grendel who was now clearly quite visible, standing there with Fang’s head in one terrible, bloody claw.
In the quick glance I had of him before the fire dissipated, I could see that Herne was still alive, but was clearly dazed, if not unconscious.
Seeing that Ravyn was not going to play it safe, I rushed forward as the darkness descended yet again. I passed her easily and put myself between her and the creature.
It saw me and dropped into its own battle crouch, apparently it remembered the damage I inflicted upon it before and was taking a more cautious approach with me now. We circled as we closed on each other, allowing Ravyn to rush towards Herne to see she could help him.
Just as I was about to make the first move, the creature reared back and faked throwing Fang’s head at me, before hurling it at the darting form of Ravyn. I tried to call out, but it was too quick, the head struck her in the side with a sickening thud and slammed her up against the wall.
I lashed out at that, hoping at least to get an advantage on this damn creature. I landed what I hoped would be a solid blow on its shoulder, only to see my baton slam into it and shatter like it was glass.
Uh oh...
My previous trail was pretty obvious, the dark, syrupy liquid from my ‘veins’ had congealed into sticky puddles.
Herne saw the trail and motioned for us to come together briefly. “Fang and I will hug opposites sides of the walls. Rusty I want you to follow the trail, taking no care to cover any sounds. Just like that valley in the desert, I need you to be the distraction. This thing is likely expecting you to come back.”
“What about me?” Ravyn was looking a little peeved that she had to speak up.
“Babe, I know better than to give you directions. You can follow behind Rusty, that’s probably the safest place, since this thing seems to kill with its claws and teeth and doesn’t use any weapons that we know of. However we are going to need to drop the fireballs soon, that kind of magick will attract this thing. I would like us to be the hunters, not the hunted.”
“Hmmph. Wll alright then.” With that the fireballs winked out of esxistence and the soft darkness of this unlit tunnel descended. “I’ll stick close to Rusty. Once the fighting starts I will light things back up to prevent any additional surprises for sneaking up.”
‘Very well then, let’s roll. Rusty, don’t worry if you don’t see us, we’ll be there. Fang and I have some non-magickal tricks up our sleeves to stay hidden until the right moment.”
My lenses quickly adjusted the near total darkness of the place, so I was able to weatch as Fang and Herne slipped away in opposite directions and then completely disappeared from even my enhanced vision. Ravyn was shifter on her feet nervously. I reached out and gave her arm a freindly squeeze, to reassure her that we would be OK.
“Can you see at all?” I whispered to her.
She managed a wan smile, “Don’t worry about me, you big lummox. I just hate being cooped up in this small, dark place. I’m fighting very hard against the urge to light this place up like the Fourth of July! Now get moving before I lose that battle!”
I gave her one more squeeze and then turned to follow the trail of my own dried up ‘blood’ to find Grendel and have our little rematch.
I walked loudly down the hall, keeping more to the middle this time than I did the first time. I felt more than heard Ravyn following behind me, a few paces back. After a hundred feet or so, I came to the first intersection where I had turned down the first time. This would lead to a much smaller hall, with hardly any room for Herne or Fang to be hidden to the side, so I hesitated before proceeding. I was just about to say something, when a sickening wet ripping sound and a gurgled half-grunt cut me off.
Ravyn gasped, “What was...”
Fang’s headless body crumpled to the floor about twenty feet away to our right, blood gushed out in a showering fountain from the stump of his neck.
I immediately dropped into a battle ready stance, snapping my wrist to drop my baton into place. I reached behind me with one hand to make sure Ravyn wasn’t exposed.
A form rushed out of the darkness from the other side of the hall straight towards the darkness that still stood over Fang’s lifeless body. Silently, Herne had drawn one of the two blades he carried and leaped towards the form, trying to bury the knife in its side.
One bloody clawed arm lashed out of the darkness and caught Herne just as he was leaping to the attack, catching him under his extended arm and spinning quickly to throw him solidly into the wall. With a crashing clang, and the sounds of something snapping, whether it was bone or blade, I wasn’t sure. Herne sunk to the floor, seemingly lifeless as Grendel turned towards us.
With a fierce, defiant cry of “No!” Ravyn leaped past my protective arm and launched a massive bolt of fiery red flames at the creature.
The bolt of flames lit up the hall in a blinding flash, and splashed harmlessly off the chest of Grendel who was now clearly quite visible, standing there with Fang’s head in one terrible, bloody claw.
In the quick glance I had of him before the fire dissipated, I could see that Herne was still alive, but was clearly dazed, if not unconscious.
Seeing that Ravyn was not going to play it safe, I rushed forward as the darkness descended yet again. I passed her easily and put myself between her and the creature.
It saw me and dropped into its own battle crouch, apparently it remembered the damage I inflicted upon it before and was taking a more cautious approach with me now. We circled as we closed on each other, allowing Ravyn to rush towards Herne to see she could help him.
Just as I was about to make the first move, the creature reared back and faked throwing Fang’s head at me, before hurling it at the darting form of Ravyn. I tried to call out, but it was too quick, the head struck her in the side with a sickening thud and slammed her up against the wall.
I lashed out at that, hoping at least to get an advantage on this damn creature. I landed what I hoped would be a solid blow on its shoulder, only to see my baton slam into it and shatter like it was glass.
Uh oh...
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
Boneswulf...Part 4
“I’ll carry the fourth blade,” Herne said, looking to calm things down. “I can use two if I need to, but it is alway good to have a spare on hand if needed. I should tell you one more thing about these blades.”
Now Fang spoke up, “What’s that dude?”
“The reason there are only four of these blades left is because Moira and I have made it our personal mission to destroy these cursed weapons. They black magick that was used to create these blades caused the Spirit of an innocent child to be trapped inside each blade. When the forging of the blades was nearing completion, the evil bastards that the Arch Bishop had hired to make these things cooled them in then living bodies of children of people who had been accused of using witchcraft.
“After this fight, I want to ask your help in destroying them for once and for all.”
Ravyn looked like she could kill with a thought at this moment, she was shaking as she said, “I will certainly see that we do whatever is necessary to destroy them and release those poor Spirits.”
“Me too. I have some personal experience on being a trapped Spirit, I couldn’t imagine being trapped inside a prison like that for hundreds of years.”
“Agreed.” Fang looked as outraged as I felt when he said that.
“Good. Shall we track ourselves a monster then?” Asked Herne.
With that, he sealed up the case again after restoring the one sheathed blade he had pulled out to show us. He muttered some more words as a small flash lit up the locks again. He loaded the case back into the van that they had rented. We piled into the vehicle with Herne taking the driver’s seat.
The ride into the City was a quiet one, we had already shared everything we could on the coming struggle already, and the talk of those damn daggers put a damper on any kind of idle chat.
On the way into the City, i called up SAIC Murphy of the Manhattan office and informed him that I was going to the scene of the last crime for another look around. He was more than a little surprised to hear my voice and to hear that I was well enough to try tracking that thing again. He did manage to regain enough composure to ask if I needed any backup, but seemed more than a little reassured when I indicated that no additional men would be needed, other than a pair of men to watch the scene from the outside to keep curious onlookers away.
He agreed to send the one car and hung up.
About 45 minutes later, we were pulling up to the alleyway where a car with two bored looking agents were waiting near the still roped off entrance to the home and business of the dead gypsy fortune teller, Henna.
The agents perk up with more than a little interest when they recognized me, both of them spent more time looking at my resotred leg and hand than at any of my new companions. I approached the driver’s side of their sedan. “Look, I’m going back down there with these folks. We’re taking in some special tools to deal with the killer. I need you guys to make sure that no one slips in behind us and tries to interfere. Also, keep a line open to Murphy in case we need to request assistance.”
The driver looked at Ravyn, Herne and Fang and then back to me. “You sure you gonna be OK down there Agent Bones? You were messed up pretty bad the last time.”
I made a point of patting him on the shoulder with my new hand, which I saw he noted, and said, “We’ll be OK down there. Just keep anyone else from getting involved, OK?”
“Yes sir.”
With that, I led the three others to the rusty door and pried it open, “Be advised, it stinks pretty bad in here.”
Herne follwed me in, carrying the closed case containing the blades. Fang followed him with Ravyn trailing. Her gagging cough sounds told me all I needed to know about how bad it actually smelled down here. Remembering the way back to the manhole cover, I led them through the warren of bookshelves and knicknacks until I came to the still open cover.
“I think we need to get ready right here, that thing could be anywhere down there, so we better be armed for trouble.”
Herne nodded, set the case down and did his little ritual to open it back up. Once it was open, he carefully handed one sheathed blade to me. I used the clip on the sheath to attach the thing to my belt in and angled the blade so that the hilt pointed down from the small of my back, making it easily accessible with either hand.
Fang took his sheathed balde carefully as well and clipped it to a device on his left forearm, giving him a tool to block blows with the sheathed weapon, and the ease to draw it with his other hand when needed.
Herne attached the remaining two sheathed blades to his own belt and nodded when he finished.
Ravyn stood by the hole waiting impatiently for us. Once she saw Herne nod his readiness, a ball of flame erupted from her outstretched hand and balsted down into the darkness below. The ball of fire then seemed to settle near the floor, illuminating the place with its flickering flame. The shadows danced to an unheard music as Herne took the lead and climbed down into the tunnel below....
Now Fang spoke up, “What’s that dude?”
“The reason there are only four of these blades left is because Moira and I have made it our personal mission to destroy these cursed weapons. They black magick that was used to create these blades caused the Spirit of an innocent child to be trapped inside each blade. When the forging of the blades was nearing completion, the evil bastards that the Arch Bishop had hired to make these things cooled them in then living bodies of children of people who had been accused of using witchcraft.
“After this fight, I want to ask your help in destroying them for once and for all.”
Ravyn looked like she could kill with a thought at this moment, she was shaking as she said, “I will certainly see that we do whatever is necessary to destroy them and release those poor Spirits.”
“Me too. I have some personal experience on being a trapped Spirit, I couldn’t imagine being trapped inside a prison like that for hundreds of years.”
“Agreed.” Fang looked as outraged as I felt when he said that.
“Good. Shall we track ourselves a monster then?” Asked Herne.
With that, he sealed up the case again after restoring the one sheathed blade he had pulled out to show us. He muttered some more words as a small flash lit up the locks again. He loaded the case back into the van that they had rented. We piled into the vehicle with Herne taking the driver’s seat.
The ride into the City was a quiet one, we had already shared everything we could on the coming struggle already, and the talk of those damn daggers put a damper on any kind of idle chat.
On the way into the City, i called up SAIC Murphy of the Manhattan office and informed him that I was going to the scene of the last crime for another look around. He was more than a little surprised to hear my voice and to hear that I was well enough to try tracking that thing again. He did manage to regain enough composure to ask if I needed any backup, but seemed more than a little reassured when I indicated that no additional men would be needed, other than a pair of men to watch the scene from the outside to keep curious onlookers away.
He agreed to send the one car and hung up.
About 45 minutes later, we were pulling up to the alleyway where a car with two bored looking agents were waiting near the still roped off entrance to the home and business of the dead gypsy fortune teller, Henna.
The agents perk up with more than a little interest when they recognized me, both of them spent more time looking at my resotred leg and hand than at any of my new companions. I approached the driver’s side of their sedan. “Look, I’m going back down there with these folks. We’re taking in some special tools to deal with the killer. I need you guys to make sure that no one slips in behind us and tries to interfere. Also, keep a line open to Murphy in case we need to request assistance.”
The driver looked at Ravyn, Herne and Fang and then back to me. “You sure you gonna be OK down there Agent Bones? You were messed up pretty bad the last time.”
I made a point of patting him on the shoulder with my new hand, which I saw he noted, and said, “We’ll be OK down there. Just keep anyone else from getting involved, OK?”
“Yes sir.”
With that, I led the three others to the rusty door and pried it open, “Be advised, it stinks pretty bad in here.”
Herne follwed me in, carrying the closed case containing the blades. Fang followed him with Ravyn trailing. Her gagging cough sounds told me all I needed to know about how bad it actually smelled down here. Remembering the way back to the manhole cover, I led them through the warren of bookshelves and knicknacks until I came to the still open cover.
“I think we need to get ready right here, that thing could be anywhere down there, so we better be armed for trouble.”
Herne nodded, set the case down and did his little ritual to open it back up. Once it was open, he carefully handed one sheathed blade to me. I used the clip on the sheath to attach the thing to my belt in and angled the blade so that the hilt pointed down from the small of my back, making it easily accessible with either hand.
Fang took his sheathed balde carefully as well and clipped it to a device on his left forearm, giving him a tool to block blows with the sheathed weapon, and the ease to draw it with his other hand when needed.
Herne attached the remaining two sheathed blades to his own belt and nodded when he finished.
Ravyn stood by the hole waiting impatiently for us. Once she saw Herne nod his readiness, a ball of flame erupted from her outstretched hand and balsted down into the darkness below. The ball of fire then seemed to settle near the floor, illuminating the place with its flickering flame. The shadows danced to an unheard music as Herne took the lead and climbed down into the tunnel below....
Sunday, July 17, 2005
Boneswulf...Part 3
We spent the next several hours discussing all of the available information on the Grendel-thing and its potential mother/companion that was suspected to be present as well. I pulled up the recorded images I had downloaded onto my iMac and after those were viewed and reviewed and view again, I led everyone into the back of the motorhome and tried to demonstrate some of the moves the creature had displayed. I alternated using Herne and Fang as the ‘dummy’ creature in recreating some of the scenario, in part so that the other could watch some and also in part to get a true feeling for their individual strengths. I also wanted each of them experience my strength so that they could have a better understanding of this creature’s strength. Combined with its sheer speed and the vicious claws and jaws, it was going to be a very dangerous opponent.
I found that both Fang and Herne were stronger than they looked and had better trained reflexes and hand to hand combat skills than most athletic men. But I was still very concerned. A part of me didn’t want any of these people down there with me, I would feel so responsible if they were grievously injured, or worse yet, killed.
Fang alleviated some of my fears when he offered to spar with me, one on one. He was an expert in several forms of martial arts and demonstrated an amazing ability to escape my punches and blows. For the most part he was able to land blow after blow on me, but with my much heavier frame and reinforced skeleton, he was unable to land any disabling blows. So many of his various forms were designed to impact nerve centers and to otherwise incapacitate living opponents who could feel pain. The contest was ended rather abruptly when I allowed him to make a leaping kick where he landed two solid blows, one to my head, another to my chest. Once he was fully committed to the attack I grabbed the foot that hit me in the head and held in place with one hand and reached out with the other hand, landing a glancing blow to his ‘nads. He fell to a gasping heap on the floor as I stepped over him and grabbed his neck, lifting him off the floor with one hand.
“This creature doesn’t have the same weak points as a human. I don’t think it feels pain any more than I do. You would be dead right now, if you were facing it alone.”
Fang nodded as I put him down. He hid his obvious pain and embarassment very well, bowed to show he respected the lesson and took a seat.
“Are you done flaunting that testosterone that you claim not have anymore Mr. He-Man Zombie?” Ravyn was not so impressed.
“Look Ravyn, I’ve fought beside Herne and you before, I know what you can do. I needed to know what Fang was capable of, and I think he needed to know for his own good what it was like to face an opponent that was virtually unstoppable. Am I right Fang?”
He nodded, still flushed from our sparring, “Dude, no worries there. I appreciate and shared your concerns. I had read about you, but it was good to find out first hand what I am up against. I also have some skills I didn’t bring to bear that will be very useful. I didn’t think it was appropriate to use any of my Chi powers in the sparring match.”
“That’s all very well and good gentlemen,” said Ravyn, looking rather perturbed that Fang had agreed with me, “but I don’t think we’ll destroy these creatures with your punches or kicks. Herne, can you get the case that Moira sent with us?”
Herne nodded, left to get the case, and returned very soon with a long black suitcase that looked large enough to hold a rifle.
He brought the case into the room, placed it on the floor and then muttered some Celtic sounding words over the locks before reaching to the now glowing locks and clicking them open. He carefully openned the lid to reveal four long, sheathed daggers that were so black in color that the light seemed to grow dimmer right around them. There was a definite feeling of deep, dark magick about these blades.
Herne reached into the cushioned case and pulled out one of the still sheathed daggers. I could see Ravyn almost shiver as the dagger was brought out into the full light.
“What’s up with these things?” I asked as I reached towards one of the other blades.
Herrne stopped me from touching it, but brought the sheathed one in its hand closer to me to see better. “These blades are exceptionally dangerous. Don’t try to unsheath any of them until you are prepared to use it in battle. These are the last four Witchbane blades known to exist.”
“Witchbane blades?”
“Yes,” he continued, “there were originally thirteen of these blades created by some very talented and very twisted men during the Spanish Inquisition, the Burning Times. They were conceived and commissioned by a powerful Arch Bishop in order for his men to be able to face and slay powerful Casters. These blades will cut through any and all known spells, wards, or protections raised by any Caster, and should be able to put this Grendel thing out of its misery rather easily.”
“Why can’t we unsheath them then?”
“These blades are evil. Once they are drawn from their protective sheath, it is literally impossible to sheath them again until they have drawn the blood and life energies of a Caster or magickal creature. If you try to sheath one of them without quenching its thirst, it will pull the life energy right out of its wielder through the hilt. When we recovered the fourth blade, it was from some poor soul who thought those were just stories. I sheathed the blade while it was still in his cold, dead grasp.”
“I see. So what’s the plan with these things then?”
“Well, you, Fang and I will each carry one of the blades down there with us. Once we locate the beast and its mother, we’ll use these blades on them to cut through the protective spells that prevent most weapons from harming them.”
I looked over at Ravyn, “Aren’t you going to carry one as well?”
She shuddered visibly. “No. I won’t touch one of those cursed things.”
“But what if they get to you, you won’t have a weapon that can hurt them.”
“You worry about keeping your own damn hide intact. I can take care of myself. Always have, always will. Besides, you’ll need my brains around since you are all so impaired by that terminal condition known as manhood.”
I found that both Fang and Herne were stronger than they looked and had better trained reflexes and hand to hand combat skills than most athletic men. But I was still very concerned. A part of me didn’t want any of these people down there with me, I would feel so responsible if they were grievously injured, or worse yet, killed.
Fang alleviated some of my fears when he offered to spar with me, one on one. He was an expert in several forms of martial arts and demonstrated an amazing ability to escape my punches and blows. For the most part he was able to land blow after blow on me, but with my much heavier frame and reinforced skeleton, he was unable to land any disabling blows. So many of his various forms were designed to impact nerve centers and to otherwise incapacitate living opponents who could feel pain. The contest was ended rather abruptly when I allowed him to make a leaping kick where he landed two solid blows, one to my head, another to my chest. Once he was fully committed to the attack I grabbed the foot that hit me in the head and held in place with one hand and reached out with the other hand, landing a glancing blow to his ‘nads. He fell to a gasping heap on the floor as I stepped over him and grabbed his neck, lifting him off the floor with one hand.
“This creature doesn’t have the same weak points as a human. I don’t think it feels pain any more than I do. You would be dead right now, if you were facing it alone.”
Fang nodded as I put him down. He hid his obvious pain and embarassment very well, bowed to show he respected the lesson and took a seat.
“Are you done flaunting that testosterone that you claim not have anymore Mr. He-Man Zombie?” Ravyn was not so impressed.
“Look Ravyn, I’ve fought beside Herne and you before, I know what you can do. I needed to know what Fang was capable of, and I think he needed to know for his own good what it was like to face an opponent that was virtually unstoppable. Am I right Fang?”
He nodded, still flushed from our sparring, “Dude, no worries there. I appreciate and shared your concerns. I had read about you, but it was good to find out first hand what I am up against. I also have some skills I didn’t bring to bear that will be very useful. I didn’t think it was appropriate to use any of my Chi powers in the sparring match.”
“That’s all very well and good gentlemen,” said Ravyn, looking rather perturbed that Fang had agreed with me, “but I don’t think we’ll destroy these creatures with your punches or kicks. Herne, can you get the case that Moira sent with us?”
Herne nodded, left to get the case, and returned very soon with a long black suitcase that looked large enough to hold a rifle.
He brought the case into the room, placed it on the floor and then muttered some Celtic sounding words over the locks before reaching to the now glowing locks and clicking them open. He carefully openned the lid to reveal four long, sheathed daggers that were so black in color that the light seemed to grow dimmer right around them. There was a definite feeling of deep, dark magick about these blades.
Herne reached into the cushioned case and pulled out one of the still sheathed daggers. I could see Ravyn almost shiver as the dagger was brought out into the full light.
“What’s up with these things?” I asked as I reached towards one of the other blades.
Herrne stopped me from touching it, but brought the sheathed one in its hand closer to me to see better. “These blades are exceptionally dangerous. Don’t try to unsheath any of them until you are prepared to use it in battle. These are the last four Witchbane blades known to exist.”
“Witchbane blades?”
“Yes,” he continued, “there were originally thirteen of these blades created by some very talented and very twisted men during the Spanish Inquisition, the Burning Times. They were conceived and commissioned by a powerful Arch Bishop in order for his men to be able to face and slay powerful Casters. These blades will cut through any and all known spells, wards, or protections raised by any Caster, and should be able to put this Grendel thing out of its misery rather easily.”
“Why can’t we unsheath them then?”
“These blades are evil. Once they are drawn from their protective sheath, it is literally impossible to sheath them again until they have drawn the blood and life energies of a Caster or magickal creature. If you try to sheath one of them without quenching its thirst, it will pull the life energy right out of its wielder through the hilt. When we recovered the fourth blade, it was from some poor soul who thought those were just stories. I sheathed the blade while it was still in his cold, dead grasp.”
“I see. So what’s the plan with these things then?”
“Well, you, Fang and I will each carry one of the blades down there with us. Once we locate the beast and its mother, we’ll use these blades on them to cut through the protective spells that prevent most weapons from harming them.”
I looked over at Ravyn, “Aren’t you going to carry one as well?”
She shuddered visibly. “No. I won’t touch one of those cursed things.”
“But what if they get to you, you won’t have a weapon that can hurt them.”
“You worry about keeping your own damn hide intact. I can take care of myself. Always have, always will. Besides, you’ll need my brains around since you are all so impaired by that terminal condition known as manhood.”
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Boneswulf...Part 2
I was so happy to get back to being functional again, I virtually kicked Mike and his crew out of the Bonesmobile. I only half listened to Mike as he mentioned something about him and the crew heading off to a hotel closer to the City itself, just in case I needed further repairs in the course of this assignment.
Once I had them packed up and out of my home, I spent the better part of the rest of that day and night getting my sense of balance back and practicing with my new arm and hand. I couldn’t actually feel them, but there was a sense of stiffness about the limbs. It was probably purely mental, but I still felt a need to work out the kinks.
With everyone out of the bedroom, I put away the examination table and cleared the space to use for physical and mental meditations.
In my mind, I replayed the encounter with Grendel, trying to wrap my mind around just how fast and agile that thing had been. It was easily faster than I was, and probably close to having the same brute strength I did. It had advantages in various things like arm length, leaping ability, razor sharp claws, and a mouth full of teeth that could crush through my armor-plated skeleton and bite my hand right off my arm.
I certainly hoped that I had some advantages. I felt that I had slightly more brute strength, and was slightly heavier to boot, so there was a chance that I could get ahold of him and use my size and strength to hold him down, but to what end? I had been told that this thing was probably immune to most modern weapons such as firearms and explosives, and magick likely made him stronger rather than harming him. My baton had hurt the thing before, but it was hard to bludgeon something that quick and that strong to death, if it could even die.
After the exercises, I got online and read through the research material that the Professor had been able to dig up in the intervening time. Most of that material was historical in nature, some of it consisted of different translations and interpretations of the original Beowulf tale, while other stuff seemed to be even more obscure. The most interesting stuff was rather recent...stories from local newspapers in half a dozen languages (with translations) from war torn and chaotic areas where ‘strange, murderous creatures’ were often blamed for some of the most gruesome killings.
Overall it appeared that these creatures (or something quite like them) had appeared in different places where strife and violence were commonplace. Of course those who saw these creatures were often belittled or disregarded as crazy. Each incident or sighting seen individually didn’t seem very noteworthy, but when put together by someone as good at research as the Professor, the evidence was rather compelling that creatures like this Grendel and his mother had been around for as long as men had been killing each other.
I stayed up all night long reading through the dossier of information and stories that the Professor had compiled, losing all track of time until I heard the rather insistent knock on my door and the shouted impreccations, “Rusty, you better still be in there or I’ll be roasting whatever flesh those creatures leave behind over a spit!”
Ah yes, Ravyn to the rescue!
I got up and openned the door to the waiting cavalry. Standing front and spunky center was the defiant and agnry looking Ravyn. Her face softened somewhat when she saw me open the door, and even smiled as she exclaimed, “Oh, you don’t look half bad now!” Her jaw tightened though as she finished with, “Now let’s try not to get let it get all messed up again, shall we?”
Standing behind Ravyn were a healed and refreshed looking Herne and another man, with raven dark hair and strongly oriental features. Herne grinned and introduced him, “Rusty, meet our friend Fang.”
The man smiled extended his hand and spoke with a California accent, “Daniel Wang, actually, but most people like to call me Fang.”
I shook his hand, and motioned for everyone to come on in.
Once I had them packed up and out of my home, I spent the better part of the rest of that day and night getting my sense of balance back and practicing with my new arm and hand. I couldn’t actually feel them, but there was a sense of stiffness about the limbs. It was probably purely mental, but I still felt a need to work out the kinks.
With everyone out of the bedroom, I put away the examination table and cleared the space to use for physical and mental meditations.
In my mind, I replayed the encounter with Grendel, trying to wrap my mind around just how fast and agile that thing had been. It was easily faster than I was, and probably close to having the same brute strength I did. It had advantages in various things like arm length, leaping ability, razor sharp claws, and a mouth full of teeth that could crush through my armor-plated skeleton and bite my hand right off my arm.
I certainly hoped that I had some advantages. I felt that I had slightly more brute strength, and was slightly heavier to boot, so there was a chance that I could get ahold of him and use my size and strength to hold him down, but to what end? I had been told that this thing was probably immune to most modern weapons such as firearms and explosives, and magick likely made him stronger rather than harming him. My baton had hurt the thing before, but it was hard to bludgeon something that quick and that strong to death, if it could even die.
After the exercises, I got online and read through the research material that the Professor had been able to dig up in the intervening time. Most of that material was historical in nature, some of it consisted of different translations and interpretations of the original Beowulf tale, while other stuff seemed to be even more obscure. The most interesting stuff was rather recent...stories from local newspapers in half a dozen languages (with translations) from war torn and chaotic areas where ‘strange, murderous creatures’ were often blamed for some of the most gruesome killings.
Overall it appeared that these creatures (or something quite like them) had appeared in different places where strife and violence were commonplace. Of course those who saw these creatures were often belittled or disregarded as crazy. Each incident or sighting seen individually didn’t seem very noteworthy, but when put together by someone as good at research as the Professor, the evidence was rather compelling that creatures like this Grendel and his mother had been around for as long as men had been killing each other.
I stayed up all night long reading through the dossier of information and stories that the Professor had compiled, losing all track of time until I heard the rather insistent knock on my door and the shouted impreccations, “Rusty, you better still be in there or I’ll be roasting whatever flesh those creatures leave behind over a spit!”
Ah yes, Ravyn to the rescue!
I got up and openned the door to the waiting cavalry. Standing front and spunky center was the defiant and agnry looking Ravyn. Her face softened somewhat when she saw me open the door, and even smiled as she exclaimed, “Oh, you don’t look half bad now!” Her jaw tightened though as she finished with, “Now let’s try not to get let it get all messed up again, shall we?”
Standing behind Ravyn were a healed and refreshed looking Herne and another man, with raven dark hair and strongly oriental features. Herne grinned and introduced him, “Rusty, meet our friend Fang.”
The man smiled extended his hand and spoke with a California accent, “Daniel Wang, actually, but most people like to call me Fang.”
I shook his hand, and motioned for everyone to come on in.
Monday, July 11, 2005
Life Intrudes
Even for the Undead, Life often intrudes upon Art.
My apologies for the delay in posting entries to the blog, but events have conspired to make it impossible for the last few days. New entries are forthcoming, starting with tomorrow's episode in which Ravyn brings the cavalry. But will it be enough?
Will Grendel and his mother be able to escape to kill again?
We shall see...
My apologies for the delay in posting entries to the blog, but events have conspired to make it impossible for the last few days. New entries are forthcoming, starting with tomorrow's episode in which Ravyn brings the cavalry. But will it be enough?
Will Grendel and his mother be able to escape to kill again?
We shall see...
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
Parts is Parts
The next morning Mike and his crew of showed up. Mike and three and his assistants pulled up in a white Caravan with government plates, soon to be joined by another two assistants driving a highly modified Hummer with a big cap on the back.
I stood on my one good leg inside the doorway to the Bonesmobile watching them. Mike was all business. He was evaluating my damaged arm as he was shaking my good hand. “Let’s get inside and take a look.”
Without delay, I hobbled back into my modified bedroom, which was the largest open space in the Bonesmobile. I even had an examination table that I had pulled out of a closet and erected before they had arrived...not an easy thing to do one handed, but I managed.
As we filed into the bedroom, Mike looked around and nodded that he could work in this space. His assistants began filing in behind them, each carrying cases of various sizes, some were obviously tool boxes while others had the look of modified rifle or guitar cases.
Mike began talking before I could even ask any questions. “OK Rusty. We’ve been able to pull up the schematics from the old NecroLab files on your modifications and assembly. I’ve had my team and I working on the body of the other zombie...”
“His name was Greg.” I snapped, interrupting him.
“Oh right. Well, we’ve been practicing on Greg’s body and have a pretty good handle on the modifications that were made in your transition from corpse to working zombie. I’ve been pretty impressed by what I’ve found.”
“Yeah, and what is it that you have found?”
“Well, essentially, your limb structures were modified after your death in such a way that most of those moveable parts are easily detached and replaced. Matter of fact, we have at least functioning replacements for each of your limbs, and multiple copies of your hands and feet.”
“You mean they have whole extra limbs just sitting around for me?”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I am saying.”
“How’d they manage that?”
“Best as I can figure, when they were preparing your corpse, they removed each of your limbs in order to wire you up properly and to strengthen your bones with metal casings that make you so much heavier than a living person. Your whole muscular system had to be replaced with a specially designed system of bundled wires and microprocessors that functioned like your own natural muscles. When they did that though, they must have figured on using you in situations like this where you might get damaged, so while they had you all disassembled, they made a bunch of exact replicas of your limb bones and entire sets of the accompanying wires and such.”
“Did they do this for me and for Greg?”
“Yeah. They had to, since each of you is different in size in the various long bones, things just wouldn’t quite fit if we were to mix your parts with his.”
“So replacing this hand and fixing my leg shouldn’t be much of a problem then?”
“Nope. Like I said, we’ve been practicing on...Greg...so we’ve become pretty good at finding the release points on the joints and we can get you fixed up here in a couple of hours.”
“How about replacing the skin I’ve lost?”
“We’ve got some of that too. It was one of last things that Dr. Bernstein was working on before he...retired. We’ve got some very realistic looking synthetic skin that we can use to replace some of the stuff that has worn off, or been...”
“Eaten.” I waved my damaged arm at them, showing them the tooth marks and twisted metal and bone at the end of it.
Mike turned a shade paler when I made that last comment. One of the assistants dropped his case and ran for the bathroom. A couple of the others looked like they wanted to join him, while still others were snickering.
“Well,” he managed to spit out, “in any event, we can replace some of it for you. This new skin is in shorter supply however, and we are still larning to run the machinery to produce more. So, shall we begin?” He motioned for me to get onto the table.
I hopped up onto the table and laid down. “OK Doc, make me beautiful again.”
“That’s a tall order Agent Bones. We’ll be happy with just making you presentable.”
“Yeah, I guess that’ll have to do. Look, I don’t want to distract you and your team here. I’m going to shut down for a bit and watch things from a different perspective. Don’t worry if you feel a draft and a chill in the air, it’ll just be me. If you need me, just call out my name loudly, and I’ll bring myself back online.”
“Uh, OK. Thanks for this chance to make history Rusty.”
“Hey, thanks for putting my ass back together. See you in a couple of hours then.” With that, I detached my Spirit from my body and drifted up to watch them work as they began opening the stacked cases of tools and assembling portable work tables.
I had a chance to reflect on the strangeness that is my so-called life...how many folks can sit and watch a team of mechanics disassemble their limbs and pull out brand new shiny replacements that they almost snap into place like a damn machine with broken parts. Maybe this is the future for living people people too, like for the all too many wounded soldiers returning from Iraq and Afghanistan. Maybe they too would benefit from the technology...and magick...that had gone into making me possible.
I marvelled at the business like way that Mike and his team basically unzipped the remaining skin on my forearm with a sharp knife, peeled it like a banana and then detached the still shiny, but damaged bones of my forearm at the elbow. Mike tossed the damaged pieces into an open case for return to the NecroLab and then set about attaching the new, fully assembled forearm and hand into place. It was all so amazingly simple, but still so very strange.
Once the new forearm was locked into place, they cut off the peeled off skin and pulled out a roll of skin to wrap around the exposed muscle and nerve system. Once it was in place, they used what appeared to be a hot glue type gun to seal up the seem on the inside of my new forearm. At this point, my hand was still without a covering, but that was fixed when they pulled out a new pair of skin colored gloves, complete with fingernails and even a few stray hairs on the backs of the gloves. They slipped these obviously fitted gloves into place and used the glue gun like device to seal the skin gloves on the exposed edge of forearm skin on hand.
Next was my leg. After examining the damage, Mike apparently wasn’t satisfied that it was just the knee cap that was damaged, so he apparently ordered a couple of his assistants to go get another case. It took both of them to carry in a very long, and obviously quite heavy case that contained a fully assembled leg. The process was quite similar to my arm.
Overall, it took less than two hours to affect the repairs and make me more human looking than I had been in a while. They even took the time to patch up my head and neck, using scissors to cut away patches of damaged skin and then patching in new skin to replace those patches. The glue gun device actually did a passable job of making seals look like healed up scars.
The crew was just starting to pack away the myriad of tools and the used up parts when Mike called my name out. I slipped back into my body and felt things click into place nicely.
I stood on my one good leg inside the doorway to the Bonesmobile watching them. Mike was all business. He was evaluating my damaged arm as he was shaking my good hand. “Let’s get inside and take a look.”
Without delay, I hobbled back into my modified bedroom, which was the largest open space in the Bonesmobile. I even had an examination table that I had pulled out of a closet and erected before they had arrived...not an easy thing to do one handed, but I managed.
As we filed into the bedroom, Mike looked around and nodded that he could work in this space. His assistants began filing in behind them, each carrying cases of various sizes, some were obviously tool boxes while others had the look of modified rifle or guitar cases.
Mike began talking before I could even ask any questions. “OK Rusty. We’ve been able to pull up the schematics from the old NecroLab files on your modifications and assembly. I’ve had my team and I working on the body of the other zombie...”
“His name was Greg.” I snapped, interrupting him.
“Oh right. Well, we’ve been practicing on Greg’s body and have a pretty good handle on the modifications that were made in your transition from corpse to working zombie. I’ve been pretty impressed by what I’ve found.”
“Yeah, and what is it that you have found?”
“Well, essentially, your limb structures were modified after your death in such a way that most of those moveable parts are easily detached and replaced. Matter of fact, we have at least functioning replacements for each of your limbs, and multiple copies of your hands and feet.”
“You mean they have whole extra limbs just sitting around for me?”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I am saying.”
“How’d they manage that?”
“Best as I can figure, when they were preparing your corpse, they removed each of your limbs in order to wire you up properly and to strengthen your bones with metal casings that make you so much heavier than a living person. Your whole muscular system had to be replaced with a specially designed system of bundled wires and microprocessors that functioned like your own natural muscles. When they did that though, they must have figured on using you in situations like this where you might get damaged, so while they had you all disassembled, they made a bunch of exact replicas of your limb bones and entire sets of the accompanying wires and such.”
“Did they do this for me and for Greg?”
“Yeah. They had to, since each of you is different in size in the various long bones, things just wouldn’t quite fit if we were to mix your parts with his.”
“So replacing this hand and fixing my leg shouldn’t be much of a problem then?”
“Nope. Like I said, we’ve been practicing on...Greg...so we’ve become pretty good at finding the release points on the joints and we can get you fixed up here in a couple of hours.”
“How about replacing the skin I’ve lost?”
“We’ve got some of that too. It was one of last things that Dr. Bernstein was working on before he...retired. We’ve got some very realistic looking synthetic skin that we can use to replace some of the stuff that has worn off, or been...”
“Eaten.” I waved my damaged arm at them, showing them the tooth marks and twisted metal and bone at the end of it.
Mike turned a shade paler when I made that last comment. One of the assistants dropped his case and ran for the bathroom. A couple of the others looked like they wanted to join him, while still others were snickering.
“Well,” he managed to spit out, “in any event, we can replace some of it for you. This new skin is in shorter supply however, and we are still larning to run the machinery to produce more. So, shall we begin?” He motioned for me to get onto the table.
I hopped up onto the table and laid down. “OK Doc, make me beautiful again.”
“That’s a tall order Agent Bones. We’ll be happy with just making you presentable.”
“Yeah, I guess that’ll have to do. Look, I don’t want to distract you and your team here. I’m going to shut down for a bit and watch things from a different perspective. Don’t worry if you feel a draft and a chill in the air, it’ll just be me. If you need me, just call out my name loudly, and I’ll bring myself back online.”
“Uh, OK. Thanks for this chance to make history Rusty.”
“Hey, thanks for putting my ass back together. See you in a couple of hours then.” With that, I detached my Spirit from my body and drifted up to watch them work as they began opening the stacked cases of tools and assembling portable work tables.
I had a chance to reflect on the strangeness that is my so-called life...how many folks can sit and watch a team of mechanics disassemble their limbs and pull out brand new shiny replacements that they almost snap into place like a damn machine with broken parts. Maybe this is the future for living people people too, like for the all too many wounded soldiers returning from Iraq and Afghanistan. Maybe they too would benefit from the technology...and magick...that had gone into making me possible.
I marvelled at the business like way that Mike and his team basically unzipped the remaining skin on my forearm with a sharp knife, peeled it like a banana and then detached the still shiny, but damaged bones of my forearm at the elbow. Mike tossed the damaged pieces into an open case for return to the NecroLab and then set about attaching the new, fully assembled forearm and hand into place. It was all so amazingly simple, but still so very strange.
Once the new forearm was locked into place, they cut off the peeled off skin and pulled out a roll of skin to wrap around the exposed muscle and nerve system. Once it was in place, they used what appeared to be a hot glue type gun to seal up the seem on the inside of my new forearm. At this point, my hand was still without a covering, but that was fixed when they pulled out a new pair of skin colored gloves, complete with fingernails and even a few stray hairs on the backs of the gloves. They slipped these obviously fitted gloves into place and used the glue gun like device to seal the skin gloves on the exposed edge of forearm skin on hand.
Next was my leg. After examining the damage, Mike apparently wasn’t satisfied that it was just the knee cap that was damaged, so he apparently ordered a couple of his assistants to go get another case. It took both of them to carry in a very long, and obviously quite heavy case that contained a fully assembled leg. The process was quite similar to my arm.
Overall, it took less than two hours to affect the repairs and make me more human looking than I had been in a while. They even took the time to patch up my head and neck, using scissors to cut away patches of damaged skin and then patching in new skin to replace those patches. The glue gun device actually did a passable job of making seals look like healed up scars.
The crew was just starting to pack away the myriad of tools and the used up parts when Mike called my name out. I slipped back into my body and felt things click into place nicely.
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