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Blackwood Gazette #313- Ganborran Mercenary Hired to Deal with Chirpy

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5/4/283- The scourge of Chirpy, the Ganborran stink-monkey that escaped from the Oeil de Fleur Menagerie 3 months ago, may soon be at an end, if reports from the Oeil de Fleur city guard are to be believed. According to an inside source who refuses to be named, Empress Marcelette Bastian Herself has conscripted the legendary Ganborran Mercenary, Ilios Parnothocles et Zarios, to track, hunt, and eliminate the malodorous menace once and for all.

While details surrounding et Zarios are hard to come by, his reputation precedes him in Explorers Society circles the Triumvirate over. According to one Luca Depardieu, the head of the Official One and Only Flower’s Eye Society of Discovery and Intrepitude, et Zarios made a name for himself at a very young age, trapping and killing the largest game Ganborrah has to offer with nothing but a spear, including but not limited to Giant Ganborran Mud Oxen, Mammoth Ganborran Tree Huskers, Colossal Ganborran Pigeon Pitchers, and wolves.

We reached out to the Imperial Palace for official word on the hiring of et Zarios, but have yet to hear word. However, the sighting of a large man wearing furs and wielding a multitude of weapons arriving by Ganborran airship this past weekend would seem to lend credence to the rumour. The local air harbor master confirmed a man of that description causing quite a stir when the local customs agent asked the traveler to declare the contents of an oak trunk he carried with him. The man opened the trunk and, according to those present, several individuals who bore witness to the contents of the trunk turned green and have refused to speak of what they saw.

Get ready, Oeil de Fleur. We may have a fight on our hands. Who will win? Legendary merc or lowly stink-monkey? Only time will tell.

Blackwood Gazette #313- Ganborran Mercenary Hired to Deal with Chirpy

Blackwood Gazette #312- Artifact from Deadlands Exhibition goes Missing

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4/4/283- Not even a week into the Deadlands Exhibition at the Imperial Palace Museum in Oeil de Fleur has passed, and some sort of derring-do has taken place.

Imperial Guardsman claim that an urn, believed to contain the remains of Some Important Person, went missing late Mornsday night from the museum’s examination rooms. They believe the theft was an inside job.

“The piece wasn’t on display, nor was it publicly listed as one of the items in the museum’s possession,” said Guard Captain Mauricio Nicez. “Because of this we believe a member of the museum’s scientific staff to be the culprit. At this time, however, we have no leads beyond staff members who were on duty that day. And since all of those staff members showed up to work for their subsequent shifts, and given the nature of the artifact, we’ve hit a brick wall, pending further investigation.”

The nature the Guard Captain speaks of is the Urn’s origin in the Deadlands.

“Since the Deadlands are, well, dead lands from half a world away, and no known descendents of this lost civilization are known to exist, we have no way of pursuing a theory of ancestral claim as a possible motive, as in the case of the Dagger of Xian Qoluon from a decade ago, or half a dozen other high profile artifact thefts over the years.”

Which makes the fact that the urn was the only thing taken more puzzling. If the theft was motivated by monetary gain, why take only a chipped, clay urn, and not other artifacts believed to be more valuable?

“It could simply be a theft of protest,” Nicez said. “There’s a been a groundswell in recent years against the removal and display of indigenous artifacts from extra-colonial sites around the globe. Just last year we found some well meaning fool of a University student suspended from the ceiling, caught up in a rope he’d been using to descend from an overhead skylight.”

Nicez went on to say that the Guard was looking into other leads, but couldn’t say what those leads were. He also said that security around the museum would be increased, but that the exhibit would remain open.

Blackwood Gazette #312- Artifact from Deadlands Exhibition goes Missing

Blackwood Gazette #311- Deadlands Artifact Showcase Draws Record Breaking Crowd

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1/4/283- The Imperial Palace Museum recently opened the doors of a new exhibition this weekend, focusing on the recent discoveries made by explorer Veronica Trenum’s expedition into the Deadlands. The opening saw the museum’s attendance record explode, to the point that a queue had to be formed.

“It was nearly to the street corner,” said the museum Curator. “We’ve not had such a turn out in ages, not since Rinkenbach’s expeditions to the Blackwood grove. And many of the attendees were of an affluent nature, as well! It was a wonderful fundraising opportunity.”

The exhibit features the usual detritus often shipped from such expeditions: stone tools, clay pots, and various other heirlooms of some people lost to time. However, the center piece of the attraction, the remains of a strange carnivorous bird encountered by Trenum in the jungles of the Deadlands, has caused quite the stir.

“It is a fearsome creature indeed!” said Magnus Ogsby, noted explorer and game hunter. “Why, once Ms. Trenum returns and the pathways of the Deadlands are open to us, I’d very much like to stage an expedition of my own, and hunt the beasts myself!”

Others weren’t quite so thrilled with the terrifying beast being front and center of the exhibition floor, despite a clearly posted notice including a picture of the animal displayed in the lobby before the entrance to the exhibit.

“Little Alice is going to have nightmares for a week,” said Karen Vorneau, a nanny who brought her ward’s children. “They really oughtn’t put such a thing on display in the front areas. It’s all teeth and claws and spines. I’m having a hard time believing it’s a real creature at all and not some smoke show perpetrated by the curator. That man was glad-handing the whole time. Ought to be a politician, that one.”

Blackwood Gazette #311- Deadlands Artifact Showcase Draws Record Breaking Crowd

Blackwood Gazette #310- Chirpy ‘Artwork’ Sells for 5,000 Crowns at Auction

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28/3/283- Some great artists strive for years to be recognized. Others have their work vandalized with monkey offal and become instant overnight sensations.


Such is the case for one amateur painter who, while painting in Oeil de Fleur’s east park, found himself face to face with the escaped Ganborran stink-monkey, Chirpy.

“I suppose I have to call it providence, really,” said the painter. “There I was, minding my own business, giving the old sunset my own interpretation, when the beast lighted on my easle, sprayed me in the face, and proceeded to add it’s own touches to the work. A splash of urine here, a dollop of feces there. The fervor with which he aquitted the task was not something I’d seen or felt in quite some time from myself or my fellows.

“I call it, ‘Crowndon Sundown’, I think for obvious reasons.”

Given the recent flutter of activity surrounding Chirpy’s escape, it wasn’t long before a local gallery invited the young painter to showcase his Monkey Muse’s masterpiece…provided certain precautions were met.

“We wanted the painting in our gallery,” said Daniel Thornbuckberry, the venue’s curator, “But given the nature of the work, we had to take extreme measure to ensure the comfort of our guests. First of all, the piece is kept in its own private wing. Second, it, along with the young man in possession of the work, were required to remain within a nine centimetre thick glass enclosure, to prevent the smell from wafting to the other installations.”

The showcase was a smashing success. At the end of the night, Chirpy’s Crowndon Sundown was sold for 5,000 gold Imperial crowns, the highest sum of any painting ever featured at the gallery.

“I’m simply beside myself,” Thornbuckberry said of the sale. “”The amount paid for the piece dwarfs any stipend we’ve recieved from the Palace in a decade. On the one hand, I weep for the state of the art world, where a wild animal’s fecal smearings bring more attention than a new Andarade or Montserrat. On the other hand, the gallery gets 25% of the bid, so I’ll be eating something other than boiled sewet tonight.”

The buyer wished to remain anonymous.

Blackwood Gazette #310- Chirpy ‘Artwork’ Sells for 5,000 Crowns at Auction

Blackwood Gazette #258-Geologists Concerned About Recent Seismic Activity Around Crittendon’s Crater in the Newlands

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By Timothy Petite, Science and Technology

8/9/282– Geologists at the University of New Crowndon in the colonies have issued requests to the governments of all three members of the Triumvirate for funding to investigate recent earthquakes in the region around Crittendon’s Crater. So far, they have received either denials or been ignored.

“The Crittendon Crater has been of interest to us for the last decade, since it was discovered not to be just any crater, but a caldera,” said Henry Carthus, lead geologist at the university. “We theorize that the volcano has been dormant for several thousand years, but recent activity in the region suggests that an eruption is not only possible, but likely.”

The Government of Crowndon, in their response, demanded a timeline from Carthus and his team.

“I couldn’t give them one. A time line is what we hope to discern with our research, which requires funding. They rejected the petition, citing the lack of evidence and the remote location.”

According to Carthus, and other leading members of the field, that remote location would not mean much should the volcano spring to life.

“It would be a disaster of apocalyptic proportions,” Carthus said. “The eruption itself would likely obliterate the land bridge connecting the Newland continent to the Northern Mass. The entire upper half of the Newlands, including New Crowndon would be covered in ash; large tracts of valuable woodlands would be lost. Unique species of flora and fauna would be wiped out. The ecosystem of both the Barrier and Omeddon Oceans would be irrevocably damaged, leading to millions of dead sea-life washing up on the shores of the Triumvirate and Sarnwain. The ecological and economical effects would be felt everywhere, for hundreds of years.”

What could be done, if Carthus and his team determined a timeline for this eruption?

“Nothing could be done to stop the eruption itself, but we could prepare for the event, put contingencies in place for the evacuation of the colonies and the stockpiling of supplies. And I know what you might suggest: skip the timeline and just make the contingency. But doing so with any accuracy without wasting millions in gold and man-hours would be difficult without proper data. Trust me; it is less costly to invest in research now than to over or under react to such an event in the future.”

Blackwood Gazette #258-Geologists Concerned About Recent Seismic Activity Around Crittendon’s Crater in the Newlands

Blackwood Gazette #3: Politician Killed in Purrrfect Assassination (sorry)

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I just realized that today marks the second year anniversary of the Blackwood Gazette here on wordpress. This was the first post, a goofy story about a politician assassinated via his pet cat.

Blackwood Empire

The Governor of Walsh, Thedore Francis Williamsburg of Thorndyke the Third, was found dead this morning. Cause of death: he was suffocated…with his pet cat, Peaches.

“It was the strangest thing I ever saw,” said Governor Williamsburg’s maid, who discovered the body. “I came into the room, to wake [the governor], and found him dead, covered in cat hair.”

Inspectors say that the death was likely foul play. When asked about the motive and possible suspects, they refused to comment. That hasn’t stopped members of the Governor’s social circle from speculating.

“If you ask me,” said one prominent friend of the deceased who asked to remain anonymous, “It was the Scarlet Circle. This has their stench about it, believe me. They specialize in this kind of [madness]. Who knows who’s going to be next? Worse, who knows how they’re going to go?”

No one seemed all that shaken up about…

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Blackwood Gazette #3: Politician Killed in Purrrfect Assassination (sorry)

Blackwood Gazette #206- Julianos Calls for Construction of New Fleet in Wake of Summit Attack

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By Chester Seaton, News

14/1/282- Rumors have been swirling for several weeks now that Alejandro Julianos, High Admiral of Monteddor’s Air Defense Fleets and recent recipient of the Guardian of the Triumvirate Medal, would be meeting with Triumvirate Authority military command to propose a new defense initiative for the Empire. We can now confirm that meeting did indeed take place, and what was discussed.

“The Summit Attack late last year hit the Triumvirate Authority two fold,” said Jasper Stapleton, High Admiral of the Triumvirate Authority. “The physical cost of the attack was nearly a quarter of the fleet’s ships. We’ve had trouble patrolling the borders ever since, and Seylene Plamondon has been getting frisky as a result.

“Even more than the physical cost was learning that our remaining ships are simply not up to the task of going toe to toe with the ships used by our attackers. They were simply more advanced: faster, with longer range weapons and better armor. They were kept aloft by rotors, not by balloons. Such ships shouldn’t even be possible, but they are, and we need to figure out how to match them.”

Such was the brunt of Julianos’ proposal, according to Admiral Stapleton. The Monteddorian High Admiral proposed a new fleet of fifteen ships, built in the same design as those used by the Summit attackers.

“We balked at the idea, at first,” Stapleton said. “Not because we thought it was a bad idea…it isn’t. More important, it’s necessary. It was an issue of cost, in both money and time: research and development, manpower, construction. One ship would take years, we thought. But fifteen, in the time frame Julianos proposed? The Empire would be bankrupt.”

That’s when Julianos did the unthinkable, and ordered a ship to maneuver down from the clouds where it had been hidden.

“That son of a [expletive removed] had already built one,” Stapleton said. “I was floored. I have no idea how Julianos managed it, but he’d built a working prototype. Not only that, but from the plans he provided us, there are several improvements to the design.”

In the end, Admiral Stapleton says that the Triumvirate Authority approved an eight ship fleet to start, to be commanded by Admiral Julianos, making him the first Monteddorian Admiral in Authority history. They plan to increase that fleet by the end of next year, with rotary ships being added to regular fleets over the next decade.

Blackwood Gazette #206- Julianos Calls for Construction of New Fleet in Wake of Summit Attack

The Lelina Horror, Part 15

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PIXIE (VII)

“Let’s get moving,” I said, mainly to call Ronnie’s attention away from her surroundings. In all the years I’ve known her, I’d never seen her as shaken up as she was then. This was someone who once ran through four miles of a forest full of cannibals with an injured porter on her shoulder. Another time, she’d been trapped alone in a cave for a month after a shell from a nearby battle caused a cave in, surviving off ground water and grubs before the rest of her expedition dug her out.

“Ronnie,” I said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“Right,” she said. “Yes. If Adella is here, she won’t spend another second here due to my own inaction. Let’s find her.”

We exited the room and entered a long corridor that ran the length of the building. The paint peeled from the walls in long strips, and discarded medical debris and other detritus littered the floors. The dense odor of mildew filled the space, forcing me to breathe through my mouth. We pushed forward.

I kept one ear open as we walked, but the only sound to be heard was dead silence and our tiny footsteps crunching against a layer of dirt that covered the floor. I kept my eyes on the ground, looking for other signs of passage. Surely any occupants would have left a trail.

It wasn’t footsteps I found, but an adjacent corridor that had been swept clean, coupled with wall sconces that emitted a small gaslight. Not enough light to draw attention from outside, but just enough to see. We walked the length of the corridor. A second hallway similar to the one we’d started in ran the length of the building’s far side. It showed no signs of passage.

“Hmm,” I said, turning back. “I wonder, is this the hallway we’re looking for? Or is it lit precisely to draw our attention?”

I made the choice to walk back down the lit hallway. There were spaces where doors might have been, but they were bricked over. On a hunch I reached up and pulled one of the sconces as we passed it. Nothing happened, so I tried to turn it. Nothing. I repeated the process with the other sconces, hoping one of them might open a secret passage or some such. Nothing happened. I was stumped.

“Pixie, look.” Ronnie pointed at the ground ten feet in front of us. There was a threadbare rug, completely unremarkable, laying askew on the floor. I walked over to it and pulled it back. There was nothing underneath.

“Well, I’m out of ideas,” Ronnie said.

“There has to be something. A lever, or a trapdoor. Something.”

“Kill your light.”

I stuffed the glow-tube in a pocket while Ronnie went down the hall, cutting off the gaslights. Once they were all off, we were in complete darkness. After a minute of trying to fight off my imagination, my eyes adjusted. There, in the middle of the hall, from underneath one of the bricked over doors, was a thin strip of light.

“Do you think that’s it?” I asked.

“Wouldn’t hurt to check,” Ronnie said. I pulled the glow tube out of my pocket. Ronnie stood in front of the door, smiling warily. It was a short lived smile as her eyes shifted to something behind me.

“Pixie, look out!” she shouted, but I was already throwing myself forward. I felt a rush of air over the top of my head as I rolled forward and turned, my hand reaching for my dagger. There stood the mad woman. She still had her rifle, but was using it as a club.

“Out of bullets?” I asked.

“I don’t need bullets. You sure as hell didn’t.”

“So, you can talk. Mind telling me what this is about?”

My not knowing pissed her off to no end. Normally, someone her size barreling at me like a charging elephant would be cause for alarm, and it certainly was, but rage makes people stupid, and stupid people are predictable. She brought the rifle butt up and down in a wide arc. I sidestepped the blow, dropped low, and put all of my weight behind throwing myself into her broadside. If she’d been standing ready, I’ve no doubt I would have just bounced off of her, but she was off balance and off guard.

The mad woman fell to the right, striking the bricked over door. The bricks didn’t fall away, but I did hear them shift. I waited for her to begin to stand.

“Ronnie, with me!” I said, and pushed forward again. Together, Ronnie and I crashed into the woman and pushed her back through the loosened bricks into a stairwell beyond. The three of us tumbled down the steps, the edge of every one a threat to life and limb. We made it to the bottom in a nice little pile, with me landing on top of the mad woman and Ronnie landing on top of me.

The landing knocked the breath out of me, but Ronnie seemed alright, if a little dazed. She stood first and helped me up. As I stood catching my breath, the mad woman started to stir. I was trying to decide what we should do with her when Ronnie tapped me on the shoulder.

“What is it now—oh.”

Five cartographers stood behind us, guns raised.

“Ah, hell,” I said, raising my hands. I was too damned tired after that fall. And besides, if they took us alive, maybe they’d just take us to wherever Adella and the others were being held.

“Agent Sinclaire?”

The voice didn’t come from the five men in front of us, but from a sixth man farther down the hall.

“That’s me.”

He stepped out from around a corner, holding his hands behind his back, his hair slicked back and a know-it-all smirk on his face. I disliked him immediately.

“Lower your weapons,” he told his people, and they did. “Let Miss Sinclaire and her companion through. As for the Circle assassin, restrain her and bring her with us.”

Circle assassin? I turned to look at the mad woman, still laying on the ground but otherwise fully recovered. She was watching me with a keen eye. And I remembered who she was.

Arufina Villanova, a member of the Scarlet Circle. I’d had a run in with them a few years before. She’d led a group of her compatriots in an attack on an arms dealer I’d been sent to negotiate with. The whole affair had led to the discovery of a Pre-Rift vault, just like the one at Lelina. And just like Lelina, the vault had contained automatons like the Mistwalker described by Veronica.

Over the course of events, I was directly responsible for the death of one of Villanova’s team, a young woman named Osyn, if I correctly recall. I supposed that’s why Villanova had been hunting me, to exact some sort of vengeance.

The Cartographers picked her up off the ground and placed her in shackles, then wrapped her upper body with a heavy rope.

“Isn’t that a bit excessive?” Ronnie asked.

“No,” said the man. “Wouldn’t you agree, Agent Sinclaire?”

Five minutes ago I would have agreed vehemently, but now that I knew the woman’s identity and an idea of why she wanted me dead, I found it hard to feel much animosity toward her. Don’t get me wrong…I didn’t appreciate her trying to kill me, but I could sympathize with her position. I’m not a monster.

“Come this way, then,” the man said. “I have someone who’s been waiting to see you for a very long time.”

The Lelina Horror, Part 15

The Lelina Horror, Part 9

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PIXIE (IV)

When I came to, I found myself tied to a chair underneath a dock along the Miskaton River. A precarious position to be sure, but it was a rickety thing and at least they hadn’t tied me to one of the supports holding up the pier. Their mistake.

They stood about ten yards away, whispering harshly at one another. The sun hung low over the trees on the other side of the river, casting a reddish yellow hue over everything. A boat was moored nearby, creaking as it rocked on the gentle waves of the river. It had a small Blackwood motor strapped to its aft. Might make a good escape.

“She’s awake,” the Monteddorian said, in Monteddorian. Bianca brushed past him and stalked toward me, brandishing her six shooter. She seemed much less jittery and much healthier since the last time I’d seen her. Judging from the new meat on her bones, I’d say she’d kicked her habit.

“Agent Sinclaire,” she said, crouching in front of me. “That’s right, we know who you are. You leave quite a trail, for a spy.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“You aren’t very good at it, are you?”

I shrugged. “Well, I’m still alive. And I get results.”

“Yeah, I suppose there’s some truth to that. Could also be luck. Too bad that’s about to run out, too.”

“I’ve been told that before, too.”

Bianca had been pretty calm up to this point, but I saw that old rage flare up in her eyes when I said that.

“So, tell me,” I said. “What is it the Cartographers want?”

Bianca looked back at her compatriot. He shrugged.

“Yeah. That’s right. I know who you are, as well. Now that we all know each other, let’s hash this out.”

I didn’t see any reason not to tell them. Hell, they probably already knew. And a little conversation might just have bought me some time to get loose.

“There’s nothing to hash out,” Bianca said. “You’re going to Lelina. We can’t have that. And since you’re the kind of person who, once they’ve made their mind up about something, can’t be dissuaded, well, we’re just going to have to kill you.”

She thumbed the hammer back on her revolver and put it to my forehead.

“So why even bother with this?” I asked, fighting against my restraints. I think I did a fairly decent job keeping cool, even though I was sort of freaking out on the inside.

“That? That was Hector’s idea.” She threw her head back to indicate the Monteddorian. “He’s a big softy. Doesn’t think killing you is necessary. And he’s right. It isn’t. I just want to.”

The entire time Bianca was talking, I’d been worming around in my restraints. One of the legs on the chair seemed fairly loose, but when I strained against it to kick out, it didn’t break. Bianca noticed, and started laughing. It really was quite embarrassing.

While she was laughing, a gun shot rang out, but it wasn’t from Bianca’s weapon. Behind her, I heard Hector cry out and fall, clutching his arm.

“Bianca!” He yelled. “Take cover!”

Another shot took the pistol out of Bianca’s hand. I kicked again. This time, the right leg of the chair broke. I drove my foot forward, right into Bianca’s knee. I heard a pop and she went down, howling in pain.

A third shot hit the rear right leg of my chair. So, this wasn’t some valiant rescue. Whoever was shooting was trying to wipe us all out.

The chair fell to the right, and I landed on my side in the wet sand. I looked up, trying to find the source of the shots. I saw only a blur as the shooter moved between posts, the shadow of a person almost tall enough to have to duck under the pier. The figure was wearing a duster.

More gunshots rang out, much more closely. Hector was back up and firing, moving toward Bianca. He picked her up and put her on his shoulders.

“Time to go, girl,” he said, holstering one gun and pulling another. The mystery shooter peeked out and Hector fired. His shot splintered the post by the shooter’s head, driving the shooter back.

“Wait!” Bianca said. “Kill the ginger!”

“No, Bianca,” Hector said. I was grateful for that.

“Please?”

Hector ignored her and carried her out from under the pier and up over the river bank, firing, as he went. While he kept the mystery shooter engaged, I fought against the chair. Not exactly my most glorious battle, but a fierce one nonetheless. I proved victorious just as Hector made it to safety. That left the mysterious stranger to focus on me.

Bullets began throwing up wet sand around me. I rolled away, grabbing Bianca’s revolver as I did. Judging by the mystery shooter’s rate of fire, he or she was using a revolver as well, or maybe a repeating rifle. Was it another Cartographer? Or an extremely wealthy bounty hunter?

Whoever it was, they weren’t going after Hector and Bianca, which meant I was the ultimate target. That wasn’t good.

I took cover behind a post and blind fired a couple of shots. That left me with four, assuming Bianca had kept her weapon loaded. I looked over at the motor boat. Now that I was closer to it I could see that it wasn’t in the best of shape, but it was still my best bet.

I peeked around my post. The mysterious shooter was moving forward and looked to be reloading. I could also tell from the way the shooter was walking that it was a woman, at least six feet tall with long, black hair. She looked familiar.

I took the time her reloading afforded me to move to the next post. She finished her reload, aimed, and fired. Her speed was frightening, almost inhuman. I felt a bullet wiz past my ear, and the only reason it didn’t take my head off was because I slipped at the last second.

I was in some serious trouble.

I made it behind cover and looked once again at the boat. I didn’t think it was going to do me any good. The woman was close enough and fast enough that I’d be dead before I got the motor started, assuming the motor even worked. I had to stand and fight.

I raised the gun and thumbed the hammer back, then turned to face the post I was hiding behind. I didn’t know where she was and I was afraid to sneak a peek.

“Um, pardon me?” I said, maybe thinking I could get her to talk. Villains loved to talk, as Bianca had just displayed. “But would you mind telling me just who the hell you are?”

She answered me with a bullet that went straight through a rotting spot in the post above my head.

“Alright then,” said, more to myself than to her. “Someone who wants me dead and…that’s about it.”

I faked right, poking out just far enough to draw her fire. Two bullets struck the post. One of them grazed my shoulder as I pulled back, but I barely felt it as I came around the left side. I had to search to find her…she already had me.

Her bullet hit me in the left thigh. I cried out and fired wildly as I fell. One of my three bullets hit her in the upper left arm.

Each of us had one bullet left. Seeing that she was already recovering, and knowing that she was faster, I didn’t try to aim and fire. I just started moving, rolling to the right to try and get behind the nearest post. Sand and salt water burned like fire in the wounds in my leg and shoulder. I heard the cough of her revolver and felt pain bite deep in my side, right between my lower ribs.

I stopped rolling and raised the gun. She wasn’t reloading.
Why wasn’t she reloading?

She lifted her off hand and a small pistol shot out of her sleeve into her palm. That so wasn’t fair.

I aimed for her chest and fired. The bullet struck, knocking her back. The tiny pistol went off with a ridiculous little pop. The bullet hit the water right next to my head with a ridiculous little plop. That ridiculous little pop and plop was nearly the last thing I heard.

I sat up, my ribs and my leg screaming at me as I did. They weren’t fatal wounds, and what scared me most was the thought that they had been intentionally non-fatal. The woman had been playing with me, like a cat with a mouse.

I didn’t bother checking whether she was alive or dead; I didn’t go anywhere near her, for fear that she had some other trick up her sleeve. Instead, I just popped one of my little sleeping pills and threw it next to her. As it went off and the brown smoke engulfed the body, she didn’t move or thrash. Perhaps she was dead; perhaps she was just really committed to the idea of baiting me toward her. I can’t say I cared. I needed to get the hell away from her as soon as possible.

I backed slowly away and got in the boat. The motor started on the first try, but there was no doubt in my mind that had I tried it while under fire it would have coughed and sputtered and put up a fight.

I guided the boat out onto the water and headed south, not once looking back. I’d had my share of Docryville.

The Lelina Horror, Part 9

The Lelina Horror, Part 5

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ADELLA: PART (III)

First of Nine Month, 280th Year of the Triumvirate

It’s been two days since we left New Crowndon on a riverboat, south on the Miskaton river toward the southern townships. I am told we will be making a couple of stops along the way, to take on supply and drop off and pick up new passengers. We will be disembarking in New Dennan, a port town about a day’s north from Lelina. We should be arriving on site on the 13th of Ten Month, if all goes well. From what I’ve heard, ‘all goes well’ is a tall order.

Passengers on the boat at present are rather scant…not many people are leaving New Crowndon for the southern frontier. A couple of years ago, this boat would have been full of prospectors, sales men, bar men, trappers, and purveyors of various amusements.

However, word has gotten out that the gold pickings are slim. What gold was found had washed down from the mountains to the south, in a region colloquially known as the Deadlands. Supposedly, everyone who has gone into the mountains to search for the mother lode are never to be seen again. The region maintains interest with trappers and lumber men, however the gold seekers and those who follow have all but stopped, choosing to head northwest.

Despite a sparsity of passengers, the boat does have its amusements. It is well stocked with cheap booze, a fact that Mister Mackay and Doctor Trenum are both exceedingly happy about. It is the only interest they seem to share, but it is more than enough. According to Doctor Trenum, she’d only corresponded with Mister Mackay once before, through a proxy. Watching them now, that one correspondence appears to have been enough for them to know they’d get along swimmingly. They sit at a roulette table, sharing a drink, either congratulating or ribbing each other over victories and losses, in equal amounts.

I spend the first evening of our journey in the presence of Doctor Rothery. He is pleasant enough since clearly expressing my intention to have nothing more than a professional relationship with him. Well, at least to me. He often burbles things about Doctor Trenum into his cups at the end of the night. I get the feeling he is mostly harmless. Should he prove otherwise, I am sure Doctor Trenum is more than capable of dealing with him herself.

When he is not burbling, he is actually a rather rich source of information about the indigenous cultures. He is well regarded in his field for the time he spent with several southern tribes years before. An honor, he claims, that has never been granted to an outsider before or since.

He regales me with tales of his time living amongst them and participating in their traditions of oral storytelling. He tells me several. They are harmless amusements for the most part, until the sun goes down and he has a drink or two in him. Then he leans forward and tells me that there was one tale, from the very region into which we are heading, that made his blood run cold.

And what tale was that? I ask. Why, Miss Chatelaine, he says, that would be the tale of the Mist Walker.

Doctor Rothery pauses, offering no further insight into the tale. I can tell he’s waiting for some prodding from me, so I indulge him. He goes into the typical hemming and hawing until finally deciding to spill the proverbial beans.

The story goes that in the mist choked swamps around Lelina, there lives a powerful elemental force the indigenous peoples know as the Mist Walker. It patrols the swamps on nights when the moon is full, a hulking figure with the head of a deer concealed by a rolling cloak of mist. Some people who have seen it claim it walks on two legs, though others claim otherwise (typical for this sort of regional legend). Some say that, in the rare moments when the mist rolls away, you can see the glint of moonlight off of silver armor.

Many of the tribes of the Southern Nation revere it in equal parts as both god and devil, a being that both protects and destroys. It cannot be appeased: to wander into its territory is to be considered, without question, a threat.

One tribe, however, far to the east and along the shore, paints the creature in an entirely malevolent light. They say that in times long forgotten, on a night when the fog from the ocean mingled with the mists from the swamps, and a mighty storm came over the land, the Deer-Men (as it is called in this regional variant, and note the plurality, also a fact exclusive to this version of the tale) came from far inland, killed all of the men in the village, and all but one of the women. The children were left unharmed, according to the tale, which plays a large role in that particular tribe’s matriarchal culture.

I ask Doctor Rothery why the Mist Walker would nearly wipe out an entire village. He waggles his fingers, leans over the table candle to under-light his face and says, “Nooobody knoooows. Woooooh…”

Does Doctor Rothery have any theories on the origin of the tale?

“Several. One is that there is actually something out there, some species we haven’t observed yet, or at the very least there was, at one time, and it is now extinct. Another possibility is that long ago someone got drunk, saw a deer on a misty morning, freaked out, and started telling tales that became more exaggerated over the centuries. Speaking of drunk, I’m just a little over that line myself. Excuse me.”

I stop him as he starts to stand and ask him if any of the settlers in the region have stories to tell about the Mist Walker. His eyes darken, but he says, “Nothing that can be substantiated with any observable proof. Good night.”

The Lelina Horror, Part 5