Post by JohnnyDangerous on Jan 30, 2012 6:16:58 GMT -5
And so it was that I left Illinois's cold barren wilderness and jumped to a place where things, at there coldest, are mere inconvenience... quite taken by a lovely lady I wrote this to describe the events of my trip....
Chapter 1: A Cold Reunioun
It was the winter of 2012. I had spent the last six months in weekly discussions with professor Eirden Gray, professor of Physics and secret researcher of the arcane. It was our combined interest of diverse culture which caused us to become friends, though one could easily have said that it was our fear of failing our classes which brought us together. He was always reckless but very passionate about his studies, where I was more reserved and practical, this however made our study sessions very organized yet exciting. By the time we graduated and went on to our higher educations we had become roommates and a daring team of paranormal detectives. We had to split our artifacts and on occasion, shipped them back and fourth depending on whom was investigating what and of course it became easier once we were full professors with university expense accounts.
The reason this endeavor had been planned was by sheer coincidence alone and/or perhaps an alignment of the powers of the universe. I had flown to Denver in order to speak at the US Conference on Elemental Conjuration and while I had been expecting to run into many of my associates, Professor Gray was a welcome sight for sore eyes, strangely many of the other professors I had expected to see were held back by weather and could not attend. It was not long before we were both giving advanced details of our exploits and planned adventures. At some point we realized that we had a common desire and that this investigation would most likely require a second investigator. It was the acquisition of the Shard of Ta’ Rhajeem. The Shard itself was said to have broken off somewhere in space where the spirits of energy congregate to feed. Even though just a small piece or this galactic crystal, it held potential to both create and destroy paranormal forces and denizens of the dark places where most men do not dare to even dream of. A plan was then hatched to meet in the cooler months, when the energy of the world was weak, and two explorers had a chance to defeat any opportunistic creatures feeding off this shard, as they would most likely defend it to their ethereal demise… and if they had taken physical form, they would hopefully be weakened by the cold air of Midwestern winter.
Professor Gray picked me up from the airport. Something seemed wrong from the start, but as this had been the plan, confusion had taken a small root in my brain(hopefully he was not ill). The first thing that seemed odd was that when he picked me up from the airport he saw me, drove about half a block, and then pulled over and parked. I waited for him to back up to me so that my equipment could be loaded into his Mercedes, but he did not. I carried my equipment to the vehicle and without any word or signal he popped the trunk. I was getting a bit worried because he was generally a very friendly and polite person and this seemed unlike him, hopefully there wasn’t any trouble. I looked in the car, there was no one in the back seat and it appeared to be Eirden behind the wheel, so I got in. So started an odd and distant conversation, after which I felt it had been confirmed that something was indeed a rye.
He dropped me off at my hotel, said he would pick me up the next day and left. At the hotel, Le Felipe De Magister, a hotel used by the university, I met with one of my exploration/research teams. They had flown out and scouted the area in advance, had made potions and teas, plus had brought most of the artifacts I would need for the ritual I would be performing later in the week. In addition they had found a great little pizza place and had made sure to have a few slices left for me. After eating and getting things organized I was blessed with holy water, anointed with special oils, and energetically charged by the groups spirits. They wished me luck and begged to accompany me, but I could not let them as it would be far too dangerous to the untrained minds of mortal men. It was going to be dangerous for me as well, and with the Professor not seeming entirely ready, my nerves were a bit on edge.
As if beckoned by my arrival or conjured by my teams pre-work, the weather agencies issued a winter storm warning. I had been getting a bit anxious with the unseasonably high temperatures and was delighted to see the plan was working. I retired to my chamber and fell asleep almost as soon as I had removed the layer of decorative pillows from the bed and had entered its welcoming bosom. In this restful state I dreamed that I was speaking with a native person of the area. In this dream we shared the same language and as I spoke to him he continuously ground various herbs and powders into a large mortar with an equally large pestle… Of what was conversed about I do not remember, however I believe it was the plans of the mission/investigation. As the conversation continued, he stopped grinding, laid his head into the mortar, and exposed it revealing a face painted like a skull as such is seen on El Dia De Los Muertos, the day of the dead… In a state of shock I was violently jerked into reality only to realize it was time to rise and prepare for my investigation.
Knowing full well the professors headquarters layed far from the hotel, I arranged for a rental, packed my equipment, and headed into the storm. The few flurries of weather which fell from the sky inspired optimism as this would be a rewarding trip whether or not the mission was able to be completed and if based on the dream, we both perished in hideous fits of madness. As I reached the city the storm had already overtaken it, the ground was white and unplowed, the cars of those who had abandoned them lay covered in the white precipitation falling from the sky. There was an air of oddity about. Due to the economy Eirden had spoke of cutting back on certain supplies from his budget, specific amongst these were protective hand coverings. As the 24 hour Walmart was the only thing open, and we had no time to lose, I stole into the building to purchase a suitable pair as a sign of good faith. While I shopped I sent the professor a text, first letting him know I had acquired vehicular transport, and asking if he would like to acquire his own breakfast or if I should just bring it to his office so we could get started on planning the investigation. He replied that he normally ate out and that if I picked him up he knew a place to go.
I quickly paid and maneuvered the vehicle through the tumultuous icy terrain, it was a short drive, but it felt dangerous. I picked him up and he directed me to the diner of his preference. We quickly both ordered coffee, when for no clear reason he asked to be taken to Denny’s. I was a bit confused but obliged the request, after all this did seem odd, but I had not engaged in such an operation before and wanted a productive atmosphere for our plans to hatch from. This and knowing that any spiritual imbalance may taint the entire procedure led us to the Denny’s to have our first meeting. It was in a sense that he acted in accordance to someone who did not know me. Mentions of past associates stirred long looks of confusion or disdain, I kept the conversation light. As to the fate of the protective hand equipment, he decided they were not rugged enough for our operations and would have to be returned. I tried to slip in details of our impending agenda and he changed the subject… It was as if I were a stranger he had only a fleeting recollection of.
Inspired by the cause I dragged Eirden back to his home where he expressed his negative disposition of our work. “The tomb will not be a safe ground and we will surely perish,” he eventually lamented… “The energy alone has conjured more beings to it than we can defend against,” he passionately followed and then fell quiet. I waited patiently for his next collected thought, and then he said, “I know it is in us to carry out the task but it seems so serious now, I am worried.” I spent the rest of the day with him being led like a tourist to his usual haunts and eventually it seemed he felt comfortable enough to return to his office. He produced a bottle of red wine and after a few delicious sips he sat in front of me, a file of his research. “This was the first case I investigated solo.” he said,” “tell me what you think.” It was interesting.
Before going back to school in California, he had taken a slight detour to Sweden. The far north, besides experiencing the northern light phenomenon, had also been experiencing something of a more bone chilling livelihood than simply the artic could produce. As it appeared in his research the true fall of the Vikings was not prodigious breeding, it was in fact(at least based on records he uncovered) a war for earth. It had been the case that a certain relic, known only as “the Crux of Nom Shuggoth,” had fallen to earth around the same time as the pre-Viking people had begun to experience an unusual pattern of growing very large… The pattern continued for many generations until it was seen as a “Viking” trait, however for the Swedish people of the time the large children became a norm in certain regions. Historians attribute the growth to a healthy diet rich in fresh herring and genes transferred through non homogenized cows milk. However, the time of a great comet matches the prehistoric birth records very coincidentally. Of course it had all started from a time magazine article on ancient asteroids, a low selling volume for the magazine.
He had flown there, found the underground temple of devotion to said artifact and had started leaving the virtual crypt when he had discovered that he was not alone… You see as the Vikings became larger and stronger the owners of the relic, a space fairing race, descended upon the country. They were quiet and stealth in their maneuvers, only appearing to a select few who had information. Many souls went to Valhalla that unseasonably cold winter. As can only be an interpretation, they injected "beings" into the minds of the deceased to find the clues they needed to regain the artifact. The holy men of the tribes hid the relic deep in a forested glade where only a strong man capable of surviving the conditions could come and go. A snowmobile and several instant heat packs had done the job in getting there. Eirdon's own notes reflect the distance of the trip saying “Thank the kindly ones for my extra fuel, and thank goodness I did not fall asleep.” He had used satellite data of comet crashes to pinpoint the origin of the holy men who hid the relic, combined with the lyrics of the long lost song translated,” From on Above it Came,” and other historical documents to find the very location of the relic.
The whispers from the tomb coagulated into spoken words as he left the tomb, he remembers a bright light searing his eyes and he woke up warm, with his snowmobile out of gas, just outside Stockholm… The package, still hidden in its leather sack, pulsed with energy… he had it boxed up and sent to his home where upon arrival he kept it in a lead safe of his design. The ruins of the tomb still permeating his dreams from time to time. It also appeared that the larger “Viking peoples were able to fight off the invaders, if only utilizing rudimentary equipment. At my amazement, he produced more files, and even more files were to follow. When the wine was empty and the files had been reviewed it was very late. Due to the storm I rented a room at the local hotel, “Shea Domagiano,” and slept in the sleep of adventure.
Chapter 2: This Coming Omnifrost
At the first mornings light I roused from my slumber in a sort of dreamy eyed gaze. The icy snow which had continued to accumulate the entire evening had left the otherwise normal scenery draped in a splendor of wintery wonder, for which the beauty of I found especially captivating. It was a very unfortunate coincidence that with this visually stunning atmosphere the cold found a way to permeate even the most insulated of fortifications. The irony that the weather mirrored my experience was not lost on me, but I was too immersed in a pile of ludicrously warm blankets at the time and was trying to figure out a way to escape their fabulous clutches. It seemed like a hopeless undertaking, If I stayed under the blankets I could not continue my day, if I left the blankets I might freeze to death, and well there were simply too many blankets to carry around all day. I decided I was possibly over reacting to the cold, I was inside after all, and I could hear a heater running somewhere, so the chances were good I would be safe. I threw back the luxurious membrane which surrounded me and departed from its rich bosom. It was chilly, but I felt confident that it was significantly above freezing in the room. I had possibly wasted a bit of time and Eirden had promised to make his “World Famous Juevos Rancheros” for breakfast.
He had apparently learned the recipe while excavating a hidden tomb under Mexico City. He said it was simple, delicious, and easy to make. Not wanting to offend the “chef” I hurried to get ready, checked out of the hotel and texted him that I was on my way to his office. I pulled up and parked at the closest spot to his office, there was hardly any cars in the parking lot of the executive building his office was attached to. I had sort of expected to be tardy, however, I had apparently beat him to the punch. I waited about five minutes and then refriended the glory that is mobile cellular internet. About a half hour later Professor Eirden arrived; I waved from the inside of my car, he waved back and then, turned and headed into the professional building taking some kind of alternative route to his office. I waited a few more minutes and then headed into the frozen wasteland which stood between my vehicle and his office. The door was open so I let myself in. Eirden was busying himself about the office, collecting papers, organizing shelves, and was virtually unresponsive to hellos or other verbal communication. I took this that he was very busy with something, so I went to his lobby, turned on the history channel and began watching something about world war II, I believe it was a special on “Operation Market Garden”. It was about the time when they were interviewing infantry men about the botched parachute drop when Eirden came into the room and said,” OK, I need you to turn that off and come help me in the kitchen.” I was much obliged, being hungry and a novice chef myself, perhaps he wanted to show me how it was done, or even he wished to discuss what we were going to pick up from the University as we had planned the night before.
Upon reaching the kitchen, which was very elaborate for an office, though I figured with having a huge team if interns came the need for food preparation, he asked me what I wanted to do. The puzzled look on my face caused him to be more specific. “There are three things which need to be done,” he started, “The eggs need to be made, the tortillas need to be heated, and the sauce needs to be prepared,” he said sharply. “So what do you want to do,” he asked again. Not having had extra ordinary experience with tortillas I decided that was going to be a problem and as this was supposed to be his “World Famous” dish, I figured the sauce would be a key ingredient. “I’ll make the eggs,” I said. Not knowing where the utensils and cooking supplies were kept I began searching the room with my eyes assuming he had asked because the tools needed were readily available. Not finding them in 5 seconds Eirden said,” You know, when Im leading an investigation and issue an order my team hops to it without pause.” Without falling over laughing, I took a deep breath to center myself and calmly said,” Eirden, I am not on your Payroll, and you are not the lead investigator.” To this he replied,” You know what, I’ll just do it all myself.” Thinking that this was the plan the entire time, I said,”that sounds very reasonable. How long do you think it will take?” He replied that he did not know.
I went back to the lobby and the history channel feeling like in some way I was living the movie fight club where Eirden was Tyler Durden and I was Marla Singer. The war footage streamed on talking about veterans holding their ground against insurmountable odds, and then Eirden called me back to the kitchen saying the food was done. I arrived and sat at the bar area looking into the kitchen. I told him it smelled delicious and that the world famous moniker may not be far from the truth. He did not reply. He scooped a plate from his left side counter, placed the food onto it, finally turning around and sort of tossed it onto the table in front of me. I waited patiently for his food to finish before I started eating, that is until he said,” you had better start eating now before it gets cold.” I tasted the first delicious bite and was happy I had not hit the panic button and left at his first rude barrage. His food finished and instead of sitting at the bar area where we could converse he took his food to his drafting table and started writing something down on a sheet of paper. I finished the delectable entrée, rinsed my plate as I could find neither soap nor cleaning scrubber, and then asked him what was up. He turned to me and said,” I am not the same person you once knew,”” This is who I am now and if you don’t like it you should go.” I reminded him that we had been planning this escapade for 6 months and that I was only comparing his strange demeanor this morning to that of the night before. I slowly and carefully placed my files back into my brief case and told him that If he found time and wanted to continue our expedition to call me later.
I had only made it 45 minutes away when he texted me. He still wished to continue the mission and was still hoping to go to the University. I agreed but only with the caveat that I would bring my own transportation (In case it was a trap). He agreed. I stopped by the home of one of the members of the BWP(Brotherhood of The Worldly Protectorate) and borrowed some uplifting music, as I had felt the experience had drained me. I then went back to the Le Felipe De Magister, drank a health tonic and meditated. Feeling renewed, I gathered up equipment to combat whatever was indeed ailing him, and headed once more into the breach. The members of the BWP, now knowing I was in town, began asking me to attend a last minute pre-meeting before the event the next day. I told them that it sounded very reasonable, but that I knew not what the night would bring. It seems odd, but in being in the artifact room, Eirden seemed to open up, and though I was looking for an exit once supplies had been gathered, he asked if I would like to go back to his office to discuss the mission. “Finally,” I said to myself, maybe this trip would turn out to not be a total loss after all. The planning went well, he mostly listened to the research I had brought and seemed enthusiastic. Frankly I started to think that something from the artifact room had cleansed him of the apparent daemonic possession he was maligned with. The time flew too fast, and soon I had to leave. Sunday, surely, it was on.
I awoke to another frigid morning from a dream where I had invented a new candy. It was a candy that was liquid but contained solid sugar crystals due to its over saturation of the sweet material. It was delicious, sort of like a warm snow cone... The meeting was broken down into three portions, the first being the meet and greet breakfast. I arrived a bit late as the meeting was far from my hotel, but the gracious host took my breakfast order all the same, it was nice, the Brotherhood had waited for me to get their before ordering and did not act strange in my presence. Full of corned beef, eggs, and great conversation we moved into the next room which was prepared for the tactical simulation portion of the meeting. I was paired up against to up against two up and comers. As the reigning champion of the last event I opted for the worst positioning and the hardest tactical assignment. I did come close to winning though it was an odd simulation in which a novice wizard had opened a gateway and let Azathoth with retinue of followers through. We had only a scarce number of items to use to combat the fiend, and due to time considerations had to end before my plan went into full swing. We then adjourned to the lounge to discuss the simulations. It seems important to mention at the point that the BWP is an international organization. Its original manifestation was in Europe and was known as the Franciscan Order of Misfit Bowlers. The organization is dedicated to protection of earth and its inhabitants from those which would harm them from other dimensions and realities for which there is little that our worldly military can do. In the lounge the members ask me if I would consider joining them on an investigation they were partaking in later that night. As it was the point of my trip and my University secretly wished for me to keep my membership with the protectorate, I agreed.
The location was a well known brew hall. The back story they told me was that some famous sports celebrity had bought it, and then abandoned it. The building lay abandoned for years, due to its circular shape it had become a place of many magicks and arcane rituals, due to its geographical location it provided covens with extra energy for which to conduct their torrid affairs. It wasn’t until the brewery bought it under questionable conditions that the building again flourished with life. The BWP had taken an immediate notice and started investigating. To the point that at any given time an agent was either on staff or in the building. As a public place the flare and drama associated with pagan ritual had taken a backseat, but was still very present. The operation had almost been compromised multiple times by the management who seemed to be able to cross the large building more rapidly than a mortal man should, the suspicion was that they had layed a network of shadow tunnels throughout the complex, but this was yet to be confirmed. The specific event which caused the BWP to unite this night was the performance of a band with a name ending in MeatHawk. The meat hawk or Fleish Helm, has its roots in German ritualistic human sacrifice, and this performance was thought to possibly reveal which members of the cult were the true believers.
Geared up with what I brought to the meeting, we entered the large and ancient complex. It was clear that it had not originally been designed for its current purpose. We watched as the first group of worshipers watched a televised performance of men wearing red uniforms and golden helms who threw around an object made from the flesh of a swine. When that ended, the service had apparently ended, I did not understand the deep spiritual significance this performance had on the watchers, and they quickly cleared the room. I had ordered a libation from the bar and it was truly delicious. I found myself soon engaged in a conversation on the finer points of the manual transmission operation. While listening to one of the orators I found my eyes drawn to a peculiarly beautiful woman who approached the group. My first thought was assassin, these were troubled parts and for a woman of such delicate design to be operating alone it pointed to very few other likely options. Though she quickly joined ranks with the present BWP members. I do believe I actually mentioned out loud that my feelings said she was going to be trouble later. The Fleish Helm took the stage and the crowd appeared from nowhere. I thought to myself they must have powerful influence and that these denizens were ready to begin their ritual. I began observing the crowd, taking notes on their nature. It seemed plausible that some of them were only present to witness the performance of live music.
I had been trying hard not to pay attention to the lovely woman I had seen earlier, I had found out she had been cleared as an agent but had the mental fortitude for deep cover operations. It was in accordance that she had entered the throng of bodies and started moving in the ritualistic fashion the crowed presented. It was a movement and way of dance I noted as: strange undulations I thought reserved for those under a spell or possession, but her particular style made it seem somehow less awkward. I had been engaged in latent data dispersions and updates when the agent asked me to join her on the dance floor. I was of course immediately reticent. Though it quickly occurred to me that this would lend great experience to the research of the BWP. And so it was that I found myself amongst the thronging masses, though clearly I was out of my element. Its not that I have an aversion to “rock” music, it is simply the lack of clear composure which truly caused my disarray. I first began my musical experience when I was in third grade and was forced against my will to learn to play the saxophone. Later I chose to take piano lessons but quit that as I realized my natural talents were being used by my instructor to forward his own agenda.
The genre of music I listened to and opted to perform for an audience at one point, did not require the live repetition of complex melodies or rhythms. The bands, if one must know, I listened to were Skinny Puppy, Frontline Assembly, and KMFDM… Though my flavor has changed, as with all things, and now I am a bit more partial to Grendel, Psyclon Nine, Dulce Liquido, and even more recently selected tracks from Tackical Sect and Life Cried. Of course there was an interim period where I listened to the complete works of Suicide Commando, Combi-Christ, and various other “aggro-tech” artists. Though in truth I still find harmony in Covenent (not to be confused with The Covenant), Icon of Coil, VnV Nation,and bands of similar fortitude and sound. An interesting developmental path can be found by google searching “Ishkurs guide to electronic music “and once on site clicking the trance link and reviewing the “industrial” section. Though I am not opposed to other genre’s of music, this was my development. I am now I find myself growing board of it.
This lack of experience with rock music was very evident, and the worshipers seemed to take note. Though embarrassed and placing the entire operation in jeopardy I continued my ruse… It was however my observation that the agent was seemly becoming entranced by the bands vibrational waves. I tried to escape opting for a cigarette, but was once again drawn back to the dance floor. Perhaps I myself was entranced, but to this day I hold true that it was not by the music. It was the case that while comparing notes I became enamored with this agent. Perhaps it was her amazing sense of rhythm, perhaps it was her audacity to place her life on the line in an investigation which could quickly warrant her death. In any case her soft lips were like kissing dreams within dreams and I could not muster the force to stop. The truth is, it was very enjoyable and I wished it not to end. There was an exchange of numbers and I again entered the cold wasteland the city had become. I reclined in my cars chair feeling a bit wonderful this person knew nothing about me, had not heard of my exploits (or did not associate my form with these fables), and was still charming and cordial. I went back to my hotel room and checked over my notes, the day and episode leaving me questioning purpose and geographical existence to a higher degree than simply the protection of this realm.
Part III The End of Ages
And so it was on a beautiful Sunday morning that I headed into the far west. I started the day with a Nepalese herbal tonic which researchers around the globe had given credence to enhancing mental capacity and spiritual strength. The rental car had been packed with boxes of mystical items, just in case I had forgotten any in my plans. I felt it was much the same of driving straight into the open maw of terror, but as my personal mission in life has proven it is often a maw which can be not given a chance to bite.
Missing my exit due to a focus on my yogic chant: “O' Matra Muy Salie Doo”, the opening of the Spirtual Gates(as taught to me by the weirdest crossdressing yogic on my myspace friends list), enhancing my abilities and strengths, I quickly regained course to Eirdens office and was there shortly after a detour which took me out of state. Bedecked in what I could only consider to be an outfit chosen by one who does not understand that it was below freezing, Eirden entered my vehicle and we drove to the sight. It could have been my eyes playing tricks on me but as we approached the exit of the expressway, it seemed to get darker. Again Eirden was quiet and while a portion of his part in the mission was to be the guide he did not seem to have a devil of a clue as to where we were. Driving in circles in the wilderness seemed to take hours and we found ourselves in a situation where he thought it was the place we were looking for. Having said, “this doesn’t look like it.” over a dozen times, this sight seemed somehow familiar to him. I began to question if he had already tried to retrieve the shard without me but realized it was far more dangerous.
The bitter air clawed at my flesh as I exited the vehicle. Backpack secured, book of lore in hand we entered the woods. Truly an amazing sight. If it had not been for the need of the cold on this expedition, I think I might not have seen the amazing contrast of the ubiquitous red berries amidst the dark wet wood, and bright pristine snow. I thanked the gods and wished for a camera to capture this splendor. With all of the delays it had begun to become the time of which the sun was beginning to set, and our hike was taking us through long twisting paths. To further complicated things these regularly traversable paths were covered in virgin snow which acted in the same way as trudging through sand, slowing down our movement considerably. It was perhaps if by luck that upon rounding the last bend I was willing to take, led by this unprepared buffoon, that we came upon a clearing containing a large rock formation which was thoroughly out of place for its environment. One of my personal treasures, “The Stone of Three Spiders”, actually began to glow with a pale blue light previous unbeknownst to me in its capacity. We both felt relief in that it must be being powered by the shard. After much had been done to establish a focal point of the power, we determined the center of the energy was the center of the clearing we had come to. I began the ritual of opening the portal to pass into its presence, it turned out to be a blessing that it was dark as one of the items required for the ritual was a silver medallion which had never seen the sun, I would be able to use it again if we survived. “A’sarten Nom’ich la Kevil Cali’tom D’reatch…” Slowly like a spontaneously forming fog the vortex opened in its sparkling green energetic ways, it had much the appearance of unzipping the very reality we lived in. Yet we still needed to cross the bounds of infinity, beyond the reality of gaseous light based organisms who only now theorize physical particles, we had to peer into its visage to make sure we were not stepping into a trap. So it is in this type of field work, there is so much that cannot be controlled.
I do not believe that it was intentionally set up in this way by those beyond our realm, but peering through the mist of the portal we could see that a large army had set up an encampment. It was perhaps a war between sects and/or possibly a party assigned to guard the power which seeped through all realities at this very point where the very energy of the shard brought them together. It was quickly decided to scrap the mission, it had become far more dangerous than two mortals could hope to conquest. I did take note that a small teem of BWP assassins might have the ability to penetrate the fog and obtain the shard. I closed the portal, packed up the ritual items, and headed back to the car… Though the distance seemed extraordinarily short and I saw no evidence of the trail being used previous to this trek in return to the car.
I returned Professor Eirden, slightly frost bitten, to his
headquarters as requested and met him for dinner at the local restaurant of his choice. Due to an issue with his car key loss our dinner was delayed significantly, It appeared that the review of the mission had become a second thought at this juncture.. Eventually Eirden arrived tired and distant as always, had only had a small appetizer for his meal, and left. Asking me politely to meet him at his office in 2 hours before his exit… I finished my meal, had a couple of Guinness’s, reviewed my notes, and then headed to his office. On the door was a sign which said please come in. Obligingly I entered. Upon doing do I found him asleep on the couch in his lobby with a note pinned to him.
The note read,” Go to the kitchen! Ignore my sleeping corpse.” A note which I felt odd. I continued to the kitchen and found he had set his mission data on the bar countertop with another note. This note read.” I wish I could say these things but I cannot, I fear my body is being taken over by a messenger from another realm, read this file quickly as I am feeling it will be burned a soon as I awake!” it continued,”I made the necessary plans to be drugged by one of interns during a moment of extreme clarity after we went to the University, I am sorry old friend we live in dangerous times, a malady only our work can cure.” I quickly read through his research like it was made from a chemical which exposed to oxygen would burst into flames, taking photos of all important data with my phone. Eventually, I heard a certain moaning from the lobby and exited post haste. I had started the car and had been allowing the engine to warm when he emerged from the office building machete in hand. Luckily he paused as he exited, possibly the sleeping agent still having an effect, which gave me time to throw the car in reverse and then speed away leaving only a small scratch where his blade scratched the paint…. I drifted into a trance-like state and found myself awakened the next morn, ready to face the oncoming enemy.
Many a pushup and crunch were done that day… yet there was no word from Eirdon or visitors from the beyond be they malevolent or otherwise . I attempted to meet with members of the BWP but they were all busy attending to family matters, worried for my safety, I met with the lone gunman known only as The Szoestek. He agreed to meet at a nearly empty non-described pub at the edge of town. I had hoped the agent(now known as codename: Feathered Boa) would be able to join me as a back up, but it was not the case, she had been called to carry out a different mission that evening. I entered what could only be described as a suspicious situation based on a previous accord I had struck with the man. My previous endeavors with this free agent had proven maladjusted and confusing, now they felt like they were unified, The discussion led to a greater understanding of the vortex and shard, he had infact done his homework, and was actually surprised I had been able to look into the portal without suffering in some way or bringing something back through. As the night continued he revealed that he had once sought the shard but had become too damaged in its recovery to complete the mission… Vague as he may have a preponderance of being, he was very specific in his distrust of Eirden and would keep an eye on him while I was away. I felt a bit more secure in my understanding of the situation.
The BWP announced a meeting the next day, perhaps the opening of the portal had Illuminated the brains of those psychic in the brotherhood. It was decided that Buffalo Wings and Rings would be the meeting place. It was perhaps that the tables had bar taps built into them or that the wings were on special for 50 cents a wing which allured the group. In any case I drove my brother to the meeting point and had my away team meet me to discuss results, even though they were still on a mission of their own. I was issued a stern warning by the high counsel of the BWP that I was to ensure my actions towards Codename : Feathered Boa were honest and from the heart in all dealings. My response was that I know no other way, my close associates seconded my statement. I believe there was a level of disappointment that my mission had failed, but the details and information gathered proved exceptionally useful for upcoming missions. I thanked them for their hospitality and escaped into the frigid night air as to not place them in harm’s way.
Upon arrival home, my team immediately noticed that I was acting peculiar. After allowing them to place me into quarantine for 24hours, it was determined that simply my life force had been depleted. Even now I plot a University transfer as I must close the distance between the shard and myself. Plus I feel like the BWP needs more strong investigators in these troubled times. Especially with the nexus of activity close to the area, my expertise will be needed.
I am but one trained and experienced investigator who can show many how to fight that which lies beyond the capacity of reason and the fears which lie inside our hearts and minds. I am guided buy love and an appreciation of emotional qualities many have forgotten exist within the human experience called life. However it does not mean I will be romance by evil in any form and will fight along side my brethren to the end. When they do come, I will be ready, when they finally break the bounds of reality, we will be safe, and when lurking in the minds of men I will be there staring back at them, forcing them out of this world… It is after all my mission.
Chapter 1: A Cold Reunioun
It was the winter of 2012. I had spent the last six months in weekly discussions with professor Eirden Gray, professor of Physics and secret researcher of the arcane. It was our combined interest of diverse culture which caused us to become friends, though one could easily have said that it was our fear of failing our classes which brought us together. He was always reckless but very passionate about his studies, where I was more reserved and practical, this however made our study sessions very organized yet exciting. By the time we graduated and went on to our higher educations we had become roommates and a daring team of paranormal detectives. We had to split our artifacts and on occasion, shipped them back and fourth depending on whom was investigating what and of course it became easier once we were full professors with university expense accounts.
The reason this endeavor had been planned was by sheer coincidence alone and/or perhaps an alignment of the powers of the universe. I had flown to Denver in order to speak at the US Conference on Elemental Conjuration and while I had been expecting to run into many of my associates, Professor Gray was a welcome sight for sore eyes, strangely many of the other professors I had expected to see were held back by weather and could not attend. It was not long before we were both giving advanced details of our exploits and planned adventures. At some point we realized that we had a common desire and that this investigation would most likely require a second investigator. It was the acquisition of the Shard of Ta’ Rhajeem. The Shard itself was said to have broken off somewhere in space where the spirits of energy congregate to feed. Even though just a small piece or this galactic crystal, it held potential to both create and destroy paranormal forces and denizens of the dark places where most men do not dare to even dream of. A plan was then hatched to meet in the cooler months, when the energy of the world was weak, and two explorers had a chance to defeat any opportunistic creatures feeding off this shard, as they would most likely defend it to their ethereal demise… and if they had taken physical form, they would hopefully be weakened by the cold air of Midwestern winter.
Professor Gray picked me up from the airport. Something seemed wrong from the start, but as this had been the plan, confusion had taken a small root in my brain(hopefully he was not ill). The first thing that seemed odd was that when he picked me up from the airport he saw me, drove about half a block, and then pulled over and parked. I waited for him to back up to me so that my equipment could be loaded into his Mercedes, but he did not. I carried my equipment to the vehicle and without any word or signal he popped the trunk. I was getting a bit worried because he was generally a very friendly and polite person and this seemed unlike him, hopefully there wasn’t any trouble. I looked in the car, there was no one in the back seat and it appeared to be Eirden behind the wheel, so I got in. So started an odd and distant conversation, after which I felt it had been confirmed that something was indeed a rye.
He dropped me off at my hotel, said he would pick me up the next day and left. At the hotel, Le Felipe De Magister, a hotel used by the university, I met with one of my exploration/research teams. They had flown out and scouted the area in advance, had made potions and teas, plus had brought most of the artifacts I would need for the ritual I would be performing later in the week. In addition they had found a great little pizza place and had made sure to have a few slices left for me. After eating and getting things organized I was blessed with holy water, anointed with special oils, and energetically charged by the groups spirits. They wished me luck and begged to accompany me, but I could not let them as it would be far too dangerous to the untrained minds of mortal men. It was going to be dangerous for me as well, and with the Professor not seeming entirely ready, my nerves were a bit on edge.
As if beckoned by my arrival or conjured by my teams pre-work, the weather agencies issued a winter storm warning. I had been getting a bit anxious with the unseasonably high temperatures and was delighted to see the plan was working. I retired to my chamber and fell asleep almost as soon as I had removed the layer of decorative pillows from the bed and had entered its welcoming bosom. In this restful state I dreamed that I was speaking with a native person of the area. In this dream we shared the same language and as I spoke to him he continuously ground various herbs and powders into a large mortar with an equally large pestle… Of what was conversed about I do not remember, however I believe it was the plans of the mission/investigation. As the conversation continued, he stopped grinding, laid his head into the mortar, and exposed it revealing a face painted like a skull as such is seen on El Dia De Los Muertos, the day of the dead… In a state of shock I was violently jerked into reality only to realize it was time to rise and prepare for my investigation.
Knowing full well the professors headquarters layed far from the hotel, I arranged for a rental, packed my equipment, and headed into the storm. The few flurries of weather which fell from the sky inspired optimism as this would be a rewarding trip whether or not the mission was able to be completed and if based on the dream, we both perished in hideous fits of madness. As I reached the city the storm had already overtaken it, the ground was white and unplowed, the cars of those who had abandoned them lay covered in the white precipitation falling from the sky. There was an air of oddity about. Due to the economy Eirden had spoke of cutting back on certain supplies from his budget, specific amongst these were protective hand coverings. As the 24 hour Walmart was the only thing open, and we had no time to lose, I stole into the building to purchase a suitable pair as a sign of good faith. While I shopped I sent the professor a text, first letting him know I had acquired vehicular transport, and asking if he would like to acquire his own breakfast or if I should just bring it to his office so we could get started on planning the investigation. He replied that he normally ate out and that if I picked him up he knew a place to go.
I quickly paid and maneuvered the vehicle through the tumultuous icy terrain, it was a short drive, but it felt dangerous. I picked him up and he directed me to the diner of his preference. We quickly both ordered coffee, when for no clear reason he asked to be taken to Denny’s. I was a bit confused but obliged the request, after all this did seem odd, but I had not engaged in such an operation before and wanted a productive atmosphere for our plans to hatch from. This and knowing that any spiritual imbalance may taint the entire procedure led us to the Denny’s to have our first meeting. It was in a sense that he acted in accordance to someone who did not know me. Mentions of past associates stirred long looks of confusion or disdain, I kept the conversation light. As to the fate of the protective hand equipment, he decided they were not rugged enough for our operations and would have to be returned. I tried to slip in details of our impending agenda and he changed the subject… It was as if I were a stranger he had only a fleeting recollection of.
Inspired by the cause I dragged Eirden back to his home where he expressed his negative disposition of our work. “The tomb will not be a safe ground and we will surely perish,” he eventually lamented… “The energy alone has conjured more beings to it than we can defend against,” he passionately followed and then fell quiet. I waited patiently for his next collected thought, and then he said, “I know it is in us to carry out the task but it seems so serious now, I am worried.” I spent the rest of the day with him being led like a tourist to his usual haunts and eventually it seemed he felt comfortable enough to return to his office. He produced a bottle of red wine and after a few delicious sips he sat in front of me, a file of his research. “This was the first case I investigated solo.” he said,” “tell me what you think.” It was interesting.
Before going back to school in California, he had taken a slight detour to Sweden. The far north, besides experiencing the northern light phenomenon, had also been experiencing something of a more bone chilling livelihood than simply the artic could produce. As it appeared in his research the true fall of the Vikings was not prodigious breeding, it was in fact(at least based on records he uncovered) a war for earth. It had been the case that a certain relic, known only as “the Crux of Nom Shuggoth,” had fallen to earth around the same time as the pre-Viking people had begun to experience an unusual pattern of growing very large… The pattern continued for many generations until it was seen as a “Viking” trait, however for the Swedish people of the time the large children became a norm in certain regions. Historians attribute the growth to a healthy diet rich in fresh herring and genes transferred through non homogenized cows milk. However, the time of a great comet matches the prehistoric birth records very coincidentally. Of course it had all started from a time magazine article on ancient asteroids, a low selling volume for the magazine.
He had flown there, found the underground temple of devotion to said artifact and had started leaving the virtual crypt when he had discovered that he was not alone… You see as the Vikings became larger and stronger the owners of the relic, a space fairing race, descended upon the country. They were quiet and stealth in their maneuvers, only appearing to a select few who had information. Many souls went to Valhalla that unseasonably cold winter. As can only be an interpretation, they injected "beings" into the minds of the deceased to find the clues they needed to regain the artifact. The holy men of the tribes hid the relic deep in a forested glade where only a strong man capable of surviving the conditions could come and go. A snowmobile and several instant heat packs had done the job in getting there. Eirdon's own notes reflect the distance of the trip saying “Thank the kindly ones for my extra fuel, and thank goodness I did not fall asleep.” He had used satellite data of comet crashes to pinpoint the origin of the holy men who hid the relic, combined with the lyrics of the long lost song translated,” From on Above it Came,” and other historical documents to find the very location of the relic.
The whispers from the tomb coagulated into spoken words as he left the tomb, he remembers a bright light searing his eyes and he woke up warm, with his snowmobile out of gas, just outside Stockholm… The package, still hidden in its leather sack, pulsed with energy… he had it boxed up and sent to his home where upon arrival he kept it in a lead safe of his design. The ruins of the tomb still permeating his dreams from time to time. It also appeared that the larger “Viking peoples were able to fight off the invaders, if only utilizing rudimentary equipment. At my amazement, he produced more files, and even more files were to follow. When the wine was empty and the files had been reviewed it was very late. Due to the storm I rented a room at the local hotel, “Shea Domagiano,” and slept in the sleep of adventure.
Chapter 2: This Coming Omnifrost
At the first mornings light I roused from my slumber in a sort of dreamy eyed gaze. The icy snow which had continued to accumulate the entire evening had left the otherwise normal scenery draped in a splendor of wintery wonder, for which the beauty of I found especially captivating. It was a very unfortunate coincidence that with this visually stunning atmosphere the cold found a way to permeate even the most insulated of fortifications. The irony that the weather mirrored my experience was not lost on me, but I was too immersed in a pile of ludicrously warm blankets at the time and was trying to figure out a way to escape their fabulous clutches. It seemed like a hopeless undertaking, If I stayed under the blankets I could not continue my day, if I left the blankets I might freeze to death, and well there were simply too many blankets to carry around all day. I decided I was possibly over reacting to the cold, I was inside after all, and I could hear a heater running somewhere, so the chances were good I would be safe. I threw back the luxurious membrane which surrounded me and departed from its rich bosom. It was chilly, but I felt confident that it was significantly above freezing in the room. I had possibly wasted a bit of time and Eirden had promised to make his “World Famous Juevos Rancheros” for breakfast.
He had apparently learned the recipe while excavating a hidden tomb under Mexico City. He said it was simple, delicious, and easy to make. Not wanting to offend the “chef” I hurried to get ready, checked out of the hotel and texted him that I was on my way to his office. I pulled up and parked at the closest spot to his office, there was hardly any cars in the parking lot of the executive building his office was attached to. I had sort of expected to be tardy, however, I had apparently beat him to the punch. I waited about five minutes and then refriended the glory that is mobile cellular internet. About a half hour later Professor Eirden arrived; I waved from the inside of my car, he waved back and then, turned and headed into the professional building taking some kind of alternative route to his office. I waited a few more minutes and then headed into the frozen wasteland which stood between my vehicle and his office. The door was open so I let myself in. Eirden was busying himself about the office, collecting papers, organizing shelves, and was virtually unresponsive to hellos or other verbal communication. I took this that he was very busy with something, so I went to his lobby, turned on the history channel and began watching something about world war II, I believe it was a special on “Operation Market Garden”. It was about the time when they were interviewing infantry men about the botched parachute drop when Eirden came into the room and said,” OK, I need you to turn that off and come help me in the kitchen.” I was much obliged, being hungry and a novice chef myself, perhaps he wanted to show me how it was done, or even he wished to discuss what we were going to pick up from the University as we had planned the night before.
Upon reaching the kitchen, which was very elaborate for an office, though I figured with having a huge team if interns came the need for food preparation, he asked me what I wanted to do. The puzzled look on my face caused him to be more specific. “There are three things which need to be done,” he started, “The eggs need to be made, the tortillas need to be heated, and the sauce needs to be prepared,” he said sharply. “So what do you want to do,” he asked again. Not having had extra ordinary experience with tortillas I decided that was going to be a problem and as this was supposed to be his “World Famous” dish, I figured the sauce would be a key ingredient. “I’ll make the eggs,” I said. Not knowing where the utensils and cooking supplies were kept I began searching the room with my eyes assuming he had asked because the tools needed were readily available. Not finding them in 5 seconds Eirden said,” You know, when Im leading an investigation and issue an order my team hops to it without pause.” Without falling over laughing, I took a deep breath to center myself and calmly said,” Eirden, I am not on your Payroll, and you are not the lead investigator.” To this he replied,” You know what, I’ll just do it all myself.” Thinking that this was the plan the entire time, I said,”that sounds very reasonable. How long do you think it will take?” He replied that he did not know.
I went back to the lobby and the history channel feeling like in some way I was living the movie fight club where Eirden was Tyler Durden and I was Marla Singer. The war footage streamed on talking about veterans holding their ground against insurmountable odds, and then Eirden called me back to the kitchen saying the food was done. I arrived and sat at the bar area looking into the kitchen. I told him it smelled delicious and that the world famous moniker may not be far from the truth. He did not reply. He scooped a plate from his left side counter, placed the food onto it, finally turning around and sort of tossed it onto the table in front of me. I waited patiently for his food to finish before I started eating, that is until he said,” you had better start eating now before it gets cold.” I tasted the first delicious bite and was happy I had not hit the panic button and left at his first rude barrage. His food finished and instead of sitting at the bar area where we could converse he took his food to his drafting table and started writing something down on a sheet of paper. I finished the delectable entrée, rinsed my plate as I could find neither soap nor cleaning scrubber, and then asked him what was up. He turned to me and said,” I am not the same person you once knew,”” This is who I am now and if you don’t like it you should go.” I reminded him that we had been planning this escapade for 6 months and that I was only comparing his strange demeanor this morning to that of the night before. I slowly and carefully placed my files back into my brief case and told him that If he found time and wanted to continue our expedition to call me later.
I had only made it 45 minutes away when he texted me. He still wished to continue the mission and was still hoping to go to the University. I agreed but only with the caveat that I would bring my own transportation (In case it was a trap). He agreed. I stopped by the home of one of the members of the BWP(Brotherhood of The Worldly Protectorate) and borrowed some uplifting music, as I had felt the experience had drained me. I then went back to the Le Felipe De Magister, drank a health tonic and meditated. Feeling renewed, I gathered up equipment to combat whatever was indeed ailing him, and headed once more into the breach. The members of the BWP, now knowing I was in town, began asking me to attend a last minute pre-meeting before the event the next day. I told them that it sounded very reasonable, but that I knew not what the night would bring. It seems odd, but in being in the artifact room, Eirden seemed to open up, and though I was looking for an exit once supplies had been gathered, he asked if I would like to go back to his office to discuss the mission. “Finally,” I said to myself, maybe this trip would turn out to not be a total loss after all. The planning went well, he mostly listened to the research I had brought and seemed enthusiastic. Frankly I started to think that something from the artifact room had cleansed him of the apparent daemonic possession he was maligned with. The time flew too fast, and soon I had to leave. Sunday, surely, it was on.
I awoke to another frigid morning from a dream where I had invented a new candy. It was a candy that was liquid but contained solid sugar crystals due to its over saturation of the sweet material. It was delicious, sort of like a warm snow cone... The meeting was broken down into three portions, the first being the meet and greet breakfast. I arrived a bit late as the meeting was far from my hotel, but the gracious host took my breakfast order all the same, it was nice, the Brotherhood had waited for me to get their before ordering and did not act strange in my presence. Full of corned beef, eggs, and great conversation we moved into the next room which was prepared for the tactical simulation portion of the meeting. I was paired up against to up against two up and comers. As the reigning champion of the last event I opted for the worst positioning and the hardest tactical assignment. I did come close to winning though it was an odd simulation in which a novice wizard had opened a gateway and let Azathoth with retinue of followers through. We had only a scarce number of items to use to combat the fiend, and due to time considerations had to end before my plan went into full swing. We then adjourned to the lounge to discuss the simulations. It seems important to mention at the point that the BWP is an international organization. Its original manifestation was in Europe and was known as the Franciscan Order of Misfit Bowlers. The organization is dedicated to protection of earth and its inhabitants from those which would harm them from other dimensions and realities for which there is little that our worldly military can do. In the lounge the members ask me if I would consider joining them on an investigation they were partaking in later that night. As it was the point of my trip and my University secretly wished for me to keep my membership with the protectorate, I agreed.
The location was a well known brew hall. The back story they told me was that some famous sports celebrity had bought it, and then abandoned it. The building lay abandoned for years, due to its circular shape it had become a place of many magicks and arcane rituals, due to its geographical location it provided covens with extra energy for which to conduct their torrid affairs. It wasn’t until the brewery bought it under questionable conditions that the building again flourished with life. The BWP had taken an immediate notice and started investigating. To the point that at any given time an agent was either on staff or in the building. As a public place the flare and drama associated with pagan ritual had taken a backseat, but was still very present. The operation had almost been compromised multiple times by the management who seemed to be able to cross the large building more rapidly than a mortal man should, the suspicion was that they had layed a network of shadow tunnels throughout the complex, but this was yet to be confirmed. The specific event which caused the BWP to unite this night was the performance of a band with a name ending in MeatHawk. The meat hawk or Fleish Helm, has its roots in German ritualistic human sacrifice, and this performance was thought to possibly reveal which members of the cult were the true believers.
Geared up with what I brought to the meeting, we entered the large and ancient complex. It was clear that it had not originally been designed for its current purpose. We watched as the first group of worshipers watched a televised performance of men wearing red uniforms and golden helms who threw around an object made from the flesh of a swine. When that ended, the service had apparently ended, I did not understand the deep spiritual significance this performance had on the watchers, and they quickly cleared the room. I had ordered a libation from the bar and it was truly delicious. I found myself soon engaged in a conversation on the finer points of the manual transmission operation. While listening to one of the orators I found my eyes drawn to a peculiarly beautiful woman who approached the group. My first thought was assassin, these were troubled parts and for a woman of such delicate design to be operating alone it pointed to very few other likely options. Though she quickly joined ranks with the present BWP members. I do believe I actually mentioned out loud that my feelings said she was going to be trouble later. The Fleish Helm took the stage and the crowd appeared from nowhere. I thought to myself they must have powerful influence and that these denizens were ready to begin their ritual. I began observing the crowd, taking notes on their nature. It seemed plausible that some of them were only present to witness the performance of live music.
I had been trying hard not to pay attention to the lovely woman I had seen earlier, I had found out she had been cleared as an agent but had the mental fortitude for deep cover operations. It was in accordance that she had entered the throng of bodies and started moving in the ritualistic fashion the crowed presented. It was a movement and way of dance I noted as: strange undulations I thought reserved for those under a spell or possession, but her particular style made it seem somehow less awkward. I had been engaged in latent data dispersions and updates when the agent asked me to join her on the dance floor. I was of course immediately reticent. Though it quickly occurred to me that this would lend great experience to the research of the BWP. And so it was that I found myself amongst the thronging masses, though clearly I was out of my element. Its not that I have an aversion to “rock” music, it is simply the lack of clear composure which truly caused my disarray. I first began my musical experience when I was in third grade and was forced against my will to learn to play the saxophone. Later I chose to take piano lessons but quit that as I realized my natural talents were being used by my instructor to forward his own agenda.
The genre of music I listened to and opted to perform for an audience at one point, did not require the live repetition of complex melodies or rhythms. The bands, if one must know, I listened to were Skinny Puppy, Frontline Assembly, and KMFDM… Though my flavor has changed, as with all things, and now I am a bit more partial to Grendel, Psyclon Nine, Dulce Liquido, and even more recently selected tracks from Tackical Sect and Life Cried. Of course there was an interim period where I listened to the complete works of Suicide Commando, Combi-Christ, and various other “aggro-tech” artists. Though in truth I still find harmony in Covenent (not to be confused with The Covenant), Icon of Coil, VnV Nation,and bands of similar fortitude and sound. An interesting developmental path can be found by google searching “Ishkurs guide to electronic music “and once on site clicking the trance link and reviewing the “industrial” section. Though I am not opposed to other genre’s of music, this was my development. I am now I find myself growing board of it.
This lack of experience with rock music was very evident, and the worshipers seemed to take note. Though embarrassed and placing the entire operation in jeopardy I continued my ruse… It was however my observation that the agent was seemly becoming entranced by the bands vibrational waves. I tried to escape opting for a cigarette, but was once again drawn back to the dance floor. Perhaps I myself was entranced, but to this day I hold true that it was not by the music. It was the case that while comparing notes I became enamored with this agent. Perhaps it was her amazing sense of rhythm, perhaps it was her audacity to place her life on the line in an investigation which could quickly warrant her death. In any case her soft lips were like kissing dreams within dreams and I could not muster the force to stop. The truth is, it was very enjoyable and I wished it not to end. There was an exchange of numbers and I again entered the cold wasteland the city had become. I reclined in my cars chair feeling a bit wonderful this person knew nothing about me, had not heard of my exploits (or did not associate my form with these fables), and was still charming and cordial. I went back to my hotel room and checked over my notes, the day and episode leaving me questioning purpose and geographical existence to a higher degree than simply the protection of this realm.
Part III The End of Ages
And so it was on a beautiful Sunday morning that I headed into the far west. I started the day with a Nepalese herbal tonic which researchers around the globe had given credence to enhancing mental capacity and spiritual strength. The rental car had been packed with boxes of mystical items, just in case I had forgotten any in my plans. I felt it was much the same of driving straight into the open maw of terror, but as my personal mission in life has proven it is often a maw which can be not given a chance to bite.
Missing my exit due to a focus on my yogic chant: “O' Matra Muy Salie Doo”, the opening of the Spirtual Gates(as taught to me by the weirdest crossdressing yogic on my myspace friends list), enhancing my abilities and strengths, I quickly regained course to Eirdens office and was there shortly after a detour which took me out of state. Bedecked in what I could only consider to be an outfit chosen by one who does not understand that it was below freezing, Eirden entered my vehicle and we drove to the sight. It could have been my eyes playing tricks on me but as we approached the exit of the expressway, it seemed to get darker. Again Eirden was quiet and while a portion of his part in the mission was to be the guide he did not seem to have a devil of a clue as to where we were. Driving in circles in the wilderness seemed to take hours and we found ourselves in a situation where he thought it was the place we were looking for. Having said, “this doesn’t look like it.” over a dozen times, this sight seemed somehow familiar to him. I began to question if he had already tried to retrieve the shard without me but realized it was far more dangerous.
The bitter air clawed at my flesh as I exited the vehicle. Backpack secured, book of lore in hand we entered the woods. Truly an amazing sight. If it had not been for the need of the cold on this expedition, I think I might not have seen the amazing contrast of the ubiquitous red berries amidst the dark wet wood, and bright pristine snow. I thanked the gods and wished for a camera to capture this splendor. With all of the delays it had begun to become the time of which the sun was beginning to set, and our hike was taking us through long twisting paths. To further complicated things these regularly traversable paths were covered in virgin snow which acted in the same way as trudging through sand, slowing down our movement considerably. It was perhaps if by luck that upon rounding the last bend I was willing to take, led by this unprepared buffoon, that we came upon a clearing containing a large rock formation which was thoroughly out of place for its environment. One of my personal treasures, “The Stone of Three Spiders”, actually began to glow with a pale blue light previous unbeknownst to me in its capacity. We both felt relief in that it must be being powered by the shard. After much had been done to establish a focal point of the power, we determined the center of the energy was the center of the clearing we had come to. I began the ritual of opening the portal to pass into its presence, it turned out to be a blessing that it was dark as one of the items required for the ritual was a silver medallion which had never seen the sun, I would be able to use it again if we survived. “A’sarten Nom’ich la Kevil Cali’tom D’reatch…” Slowly like a spontaneously forming fog the vortex opened in its sparkling green energetic ways, it had much the appearance of unzipping the very reality we lived in. Yet we still needed to cross the bounds of infinity, beyond the reality of gaseous light based organisms who only now theorize physical particles, we had to peer into its visage to make sure we were not stepping into a trap. So it is in this type of field work, there is so much that cannot be controlled.
I do not believe that it was intentionally set up in this way by those beyond our realm, but peering through the mist of the portal we could see that a large army had set up an encampment. It was perhaps a war between sects and/or possibly a party assigned to guard the power which seeped through all realities at this very point where the very energy of the shard brought them together. It was quickly decided to scrap the mission, it had become far more dangerous than two mortals could hope to conquest. I did take note that a small teem of BWP assassins might have the ability to penetrate the fog and obtain the shard. I closed the portal, packed up the ritual items, and headed back to the car… Though the distance seemed extraordinarily short and I saw no evidence of the trail being used previous to this trek in return to the car.
I returned Professor Eirden, slightly frost bitten, to his
headquarters as requested and met him for dinner at the local restaurant of his choice. Due to an issue with his car key loss our dinner was delayed significantly, It appeared that the review of the mission had become a second thought at this juncture.. Eventually Eirden arrived tired and distant as always, had only had a small appetizer for his meal, and left. Asking me politely to meet him at his office in 2 hours before his exit… I finished my meal, had a couple of Guinness’s, reviewed my notes, and then headed to his office. On the door was a sign which said please come in. Obligingly I entered. Upon doing do I found him asleep on the couch in his lobby with a note pinned to him.
The note read,” Go to the kitchen! Ignore my sleeping corpse.” A note which I felt odd. I continued to the kitchen and found he had set his mission data on the bar countertop with another note. This note read.” I wish I could say these things but I cannot, I fear my body is being taken over by a messenger from another realm, read this file quickly as I am feeling it will be burned a soon as I awake!” it continued,”I made the necessary plans to be drugged by one of interns during a moment of extreme clarity after we went to the University, I am sorry old friend we live in dangerous times, a malady only our work can cure.” I quickly read through his research like it was made from a chemical which exposed to oxygen would burst into flames, taking photos of all important data with my phone. Eventually, I heard a certain moaning from the lobby and exited post haste. I had started the car and had been allowing the engine to warm when he emerged from the office building machete in hand. Luckily he paused as he exited, possibly the sleeping agent still having an effect, which gave me time to throw the car in reverse and then speed away leaving only a small scratch where his blade scratched the paint…. I drifted into a trance-like state and found myself awakened the next morn, ready to face the oncoming enemy.
Many a pushup and crunch were done that day… yet there was no word from Eirdon or visitors from the beyond be they malevolent or otherwise . I attempted to meet with members of the BWP but they were all busy attending to family matters, worried for my safety, I met with the lone gunman known only as The Szoestek. He agreed to meet at a nearly empty non-described pub at the edge of town. I had hoped the agent(now known as codename: Feathered Boa) would be able to join me as a back up, but it was not the case, she had been called to carry out a different mission that evening. I entered what could only be described as a suspicious situation based on a previous accord I had struck with the man. My previous endeavors with this free agent had proven maladjusted and confusing, now they felt like they were unified, The discussion led to a greater understanding of the vortex and shard, he had infact done his homework, and was actually surprised I had been able to look into the portal without suffering in some way or bringing something back through. As the night continued he revealed that he had once sought the shard but had become too damaged in its recovery to complete the mission… Vague as he may have a preponderance of being, he was very specific in his distrust of Eirden and would keep an eye on him while I was away. I felt a bit more secure in my understanding of the situation.
The BWP announced a meeting the next day, perhaps the opening of the portal had Illuminated the brains of those psychic in the brotherhood. It was decided that Buffalo Wings and Rings would be the meeting place. It was perhaps that the tables had bar taps built into them or that the wings were on special for 50 cents a wing which allured the group. In any case I drove my brother to the meeting point and had my away team meet me to discuss results, even though they were still on a mission of their own. I was issued a stern warning by the high counsel of the BWP that I was to ensure my actions towards Codename : Feathered Boa were honest and from the heart in all dealings. My response was that I know no other way, my close associates seconded my statement. I believe there was a level of disappointment that my mission had failed, but the details and information gathered proved exceptionally useful for upcoming missions. I thanked them for their hospitality and escaped into the frigid night air as to not place them in harm’s way.
Upon arrival home, my team immediately noticed that I was acting peculiar. After allowing them to place me into quarantine for 24hours, it was determined that simply my life force had been depleted. Even now I plot a University transfer as I must close the distance between the shard and myself. Plus I feel like the BWP needs more strong investigators in these troubled times. Especially with the nexus of activity close to the area, my expertise will be needed.
I am but one trained and experienced investigator who can show many how to fight that which lies beyond the capacity of reason and the fears which lie inside our hearts and minds. I am guided buy love and an appreciation of emotional qualities many have forgotten exist within the human experience called life. However it does not mean I will be romance by evil in any form and will fight along side my brethren to the end. When they do come, I will be ready, when they finally break the bounds of reality, we will be safe, and when lurking in the minds of men I will be there staring back at them, forcing them out of this world… It is after all my mission.
