Hmm (Midwel Companion)

These pieces I've been writing will (after editing and such) make up a document called the 'Midwel Companion' or perhaps 'Compendium'. The idea is to provide me with a reference and also a spot for all 'how does xyz work?' arguments to be resolved. And maybe an intro/supplement for the 'world'. As such, if one of the 'data files' leaves you with questions, ask it 'cause it'll help me make it comprehensive (in person, on Facebook, on the post, wherever <_<). I've probably forgotten important details that I need to add.

The piece on Elementals is probably going to be part of it as well; there are some things the IPC aren't interested in/know much about. There'll probably be other random 'tome' stuff, and some things from the Meander Corporation as well. Iiiif I get around to it.

Supernatural Creature Data Files: Vampires (‘Ordinary’)

Supernatural Creature Data Files: Vampires (‘Ordinary’)

Description: ‘Ordinary’ vampires are known as such for two reasons: they are the most common variety of vampire, and they are the closest to most modern depictions of vampires (barring the ‘aristocrat’ variety, although the more recent modern depictions are closer to ordinary vampires).  They lack most of the weaknesses associated with traditional vampires (the only exception being sunlight, and ‘holy’ powers).
            Their powers are limited, and fairly weak. Moderate increases to all physical abilities (seemingly random) such as strength, speed, co-ordination, resilience, etcetera. They are able to hide their true appearance (corpse like, but with overly red, healthy lips and red eyes) using ‘glamours’ (a low level perception altering ability that trained individuals can easily overcome). It can, however, be difficult to persuade individuals fooled by the glamour into seeing through it. Vampires need to drink blood roughly once a month (although not much); if they do not they suffer a series of symptoms (see physiology section).
            Ordinary vampires are bound to their creator (if still alive) through the ‘blood bond’. This reduces their mind to a fairly passive state, in which they only seek to carry out commands given by their creator to the best of their abilities. Critical thought and self-awareness seems to be almost absent, although they are not ‘dopey’ or easily confused any more than they were in life (as certain agents, overly fond of fiction, have discovered). Attempts to reason with bound vampires (even in the most extreme of situations) have found no deviation from blind obedience to their creator.
            The creating vampire may, whenever they choose, release the subservient vampire from the blood bond. This also occurs if the created vampire drinks more than a certain amount of the creator’s blood, or if the creating vampire is slain. Of interest is that drinking the creator’s blood will not immediately break the bond, but instead weaken it; leaving the created vampire not wholly subservient to their creator.
            During the first two years after becoming a vampire the created vampire will change greatly in personality. This effect is most pronounced during the first two weeks after creation. This effect is the reason most vampires are remorseless killers, and even those that do not see any need to consume all of humanity sympathise little, if at all. Combined with the blood bond, this results in the created vampires becoming very similar in attitude to their creators.
            Due to the nature of the blood bond, vampires tend to exist in small groups with one to three unbound vampires, controlling between three to ten times their number of bound vampires. The bound vampires are usually much younger and often still maintain ‘living’ identities, which are used to provide the funds needed to support the (often somewhat luxurious) desires of the unbound vampires. After about ten to twenty years a bound vampire is sacrificed (usually through a legitimate ‘death’) and a replacement created, to minimise suspicion. Notably, although this is the most commonly discovered form of arrangement, we suspect this is because destruction of a group rarely allows any vampire hunter to eliminate all bound vampires; and they, now free, will seek to create similar arrangements of their own. Additionally, this arrangement is easy to spot (for trained individuals) compared to other known setups.
            Like other types of vampirism, ordinary vampires are created through a ‘curse’ (see Supernatural Ability Data Files: Curses). They are a form of undead (like most vampire types) as the body of the human the curse is spread to is reanimated after death.

Physiology: As with other curses, the body of an ‘ordinary’ vampire is altered by the magic of the curse. In this case, the curse reanimates a ‘dead’ body (careful observation has revealed that though physically dead, life never leaves the body). The curse does cause some alterations to the body, however, most of the abilities of the resultant entity (the vampire) are from the curse; the curse itself provides the increased strength, speed, resilience and especially the glamour abilities.
            The result of the curse’s alterations is simply that the vampire is ‘better’ physically than they were as a human, although the extent varies somewhat randomly (no causes have been identified). Thus, in combat, they will likely be stronger, faster and harder to kill than an ordinary human. Thankfully this increased physical power convinces many that they do not need combat training, and they are as such rarely skilled in any other form of combat.
            Sunlight is the only ‘traditional’ weakness ordinary vampires possess. Exposure causes them to char and burn (usually without flame except in bright sunlight, and when skin is fully exposed). They are not as powerful as common folktale vampires,, and as such can also be killed using ordinary means (such as shooting). It is important to confirm any vampire kills: they have a habit of persisting on the edge of death for several hours, possibly even days, in a very close to death state when severely injured. They can be revived from this state using blood, even that from another vampire (which does not usually provide them with sustenance).
            Vampires create new vampires through sharing their blood with a dying human. The shared blood must end up in the dying individual’s bloodstream at least ten seconds before death; as such, most vampires cut themselves and press their wound against the wound they have been drinking from (frequently a palm pressed to their victim’s throat). Without sharing of blood, the dying individual will not return as a vampire, regardless of being bitten (or even being bitten repeatedly). Oral ingestion of blood is not effective.
            Ordinary vampires must drink fresh (cells must still be alive) blood at least one a month to prevent certain negative effects occurring. This amount does not need to be much; one hundred millilitres suffices (though most vampires will drink more than this). Extended denial of blood leads to the following symptoms: initially, an ever growing and gnawing hunger (bound vampires seem to have no trouble ignoring this), followed by increasing sunlight sensitivity (after a couple of years, reflected sunlight from the moon is enough to cause them to burn up) and eventually (after five to ten years) entering a ‘hibernation’ state. This state seems to keep them alive indefinitely, and they will awake from it whenever a suitable ‘meal’ (living human) is nearby. Please note that the only cases of vampires entering this state have been through our own experiments upon captured individuals, and as such this data may not reflect field operations.

Identification and Destruction: Identification of ordinary vampires is simple due to the ease with which proper training (which is part of all IPC agent training) can allow anyone (even non-psychics) to pierce the glamours hiding their true nature. Standard agent training should also include necessary subterfuge lessons to track vampires until location of all members of a group are identified (this may not be necessary if the identified vampire is unbound).
            Vampires may be killed in the same manner as an ordinary human; however they do possess greater resilience and thus will require greater damage to eliminate. Confirm kills on downed vampires – though their hearts do not beat, the curse that sustains them does give them a pulse. Their weakness to sunlight is severe enough that exposure for more than ten seconds will harm them enough to incapacitate; twenty or more seconds (depending on the areas exposed and level of exposure) will likely kill.

Other Details: Ordinary vampires were a known threat at the time of the IPC’s founding, alongside a couple of other supernatural entities. The first official encounter with vampires was also during the first action taken by IPC agents against supernatural entities (in 1970). A small group of vampires, in an arrangement that has been repeated by many other groups, were supporting a single unbound vampire who held control over the others. This group was eliminated with relative ease after being taken by surprise.
            For the most part, ordinary vampire groups are not a threat to trained individuals. They pay little attention, and as such fail to spot investigators spying upon them in almost all cases. As they have no special access to firearms or other weapons, and usually little if any training, they are simple for a well-trained and equipped team to eliminate despite their superhuman physical characteristics.

Supernatural Entity Data Files: The Lich

Supernatural Entity Data Files: The Lich

Important Details: The lich is a unique and incredibly powerful necromantic entity. In form, he seems most similar to a wraith. We believe he still retains his ‘life’, however – in a similar fashion to elementals (as gleaned from the efforts of an ESP agent who has met with him). It has been difficult to get anyone capable of observing him close enough to observe, and also difficult pinning down what is actually him.
            His origin – name, where he was born, details of his early life (or anything before he took over the Meander cult after lichdom) – has been impossible for us to discover. We believe several high ranking Meander Corporation ‘executives’ know some details, but they have not been forthcoming with them. These days (although he never meets any non-necromancer/tainted Meander employees) he goes by ‘James Sanders IV’, owner of sixty percent of the Meander Corporation. Several false births and deaths have allowed him to pass the company through the ‘generations’.
            Records we do have access to indicate that the Meander Corporation was founded one hundred and fifty years ago by ‘James Sanders’; this, combined with an offhand comment about founding the company after he became a lich, gives us a rough age of at least two hundred years, likely two hundred and fifty (due to necromantic age extension practices).
            As leader (though never in an official, public facing capacity) of the Meander Corporation, the lich is at present an ‘ally’. We are unsure if he is behind the decision to cease hostilities between our organisations, or our tenuous alliance that exists to curb increases in blackwing. Direct dealings with him have been limited to a couple of encounters that seemed to be matters of pure curiosity on his part. Current information indicates that he does not consider us a threat to his life, and as such is probably for the alliance.

Physiology: As a proper, detailed examination has proved impossible what follows is mostly conjecture. It is also important to note that the little information we do have was garnered with the lich’s foreknowledge; as such, we may have been fooled completely. The lich is most similar to a wraith. He has dissolved his body into dust, and imbued each part with large amounts of necromantic energy. His ‘life’ – somehow unaffected by the presence of so much necromantic energy – is used to hold his body together.
            Beyond this, details of his physiology are unknown. We do, however, know the extent of his power. He is capable of actively channelling necromantic energy in amounts equal to thousands of apprentice necromancers; and his body serves as a reservoir that likely holds enough necromantic energy to destroy an entire city. This is more power than we thought was possible, and makes destruction of the lich (an eventual necessity) a highly difficult task.

Other Details: The lich is responsible for Meander Corporation’s creation and growth into a powerful, multinational organisation. Though it remains privately held, Meander Corporation has expanded worldwide (for more details, see Supernatural-Aware Organisation Files: Meander Corporation).
            As far as we are aware, ‘the’ lich is the only lich in existence. There are several ‘failed lichs’ (of varying properties and power), but all are incapable of accessing necromancy following their failure. The uniqueness of the lich despite the attempts of contemporaries to replicate his achievement hopefully means that there will not be a ‘creature’ file for lichs any time soon.
            We do know that the lich has been behind (though acting through the Meander Corporation) the elimination of many necromancer cults (and, we suspect, vast numbers of non-necromancer magi). Records gained from various sources indicate that there was little unity amongst necromancers, beyond certain small cults, until the emergence of the lich and his ascension to the head of Meander (“They by the river”).  Amongst magi in general they were a minority.
            Over the past one hundred and fifty years, however, Meander has absorbed or eliminated most necromancer groups; and necromancers have exploded in number while magi have dropped in number. This is the work of the lich; no lieutenant of his remains from the earliest years, yet the drive and nature of Meander remains the same. Of late, we have fewer instances of magic-using groups being wiped out. This is likely because, for all intents and purposes, the lich has already won.

Supernatural Creature Data Files: Tainted

Supernatural Creature Data Files: Tainted

Description: The ‘tainted’ are a fairly simple type of necromantic undead. In essence, they are zombies that retain their intelligence (and, as such, cannot be controlled by the creating necromancer). Due to this (and also due to their inability to use necromancy in any manner), they are only very rarely encountered. With only a couple of exceptions to date, all known tainted are in the employ of the Meander Corporation.
            Initially tainted were included under the same umbrella as ordinary zombies, however due to their intelligence (and their ability to move normally) they are now referred to, and dealt with, as a separate form of undead. The necromantic energy used to create, and animate tainted focuses on increasing their strength, resilience and speed; the result is a never sleeping, inhumanly strong, unnaturally fast, and very hard to kill being. Additionally, even when severely injured (to the point of becoming disabled), a trained necromancer is usually capable of repairing, and reviving, the tainted.
            Although not under the control of the creating necromancer (an explanation from the Meander Corporation indicated that mind control is not within the capabilities of necromancy, and hijacking the body from the would-be controlling intelligence would simply result in an ordinary zombie) those who become tainted are chosen very carefully – creation of a powerful, immortal undead entity that is liable to turn against you is something only a very, very foolish necromancer would carry out.
            It is suspected (though the practicality is denied by Meander) that ‘abomination’ tainted – that is, tainted possessing additional limbs – are a possibility. Although none have been encountered, such entities would be vastly more dangerous than an ordinary abomination (due to their ability to adapt to and eventually properly control additional limbs and parts, instead of being clumsy and impractical).
            For a broader overview of the potential abilities of tainted, please see Supernatural Creature Data Files: Zombies (including 'Abominations').

Physiology: Tainted are humans whose life has been devoured, and replaced, by necromantic energy. This energy animates them instead of their former life, as with all other kinds of necromantic undead. As creation of tainted requires significant skill (to allow the persistence of intelligence), and often several necromancers, the resultant beings are, at weakest, perhaps twice as strong as ordinary humans. The vast majority are significantly stronger.
            As undead, tainted do not need to eat or drink to continue their existence. They also lack the normal human requirements for sleep, and cease aging. They are unaffected by extreme cold until their joints completely freeze (which occurs when their internal body temperature reaches around -30 degrees Celsius), and are able to thaw without damage from any temperature. Extreme heat has no effect until the tainted begins to burn or melt. This is similar to most varieties of undead, though significantly more extreme.
            Although they do not require use of their organs to move or survive, tainted do require their brains to be intact to act. As such, traditional advice – which sadly does not work on mindless zombies – can be applied here: aim for the head.

Identification and Destruction: Tainted are difficult to identify without the presence of an ESP agent (who is able to observe their lack of life combined with their mobility). The only other means of positively identifying a tainted is to observe their blood – as with all necromantic undead, their blood will be black due to the necromantic energy present within it. Some tainted are identifiable by their complexion (this is rare, and depends on the creating necromancer’s skill).
            All tainted created by the Meander Corporation (and some of those created by other necromancers) are marked in some fashion. Unfortunately, without fore-knowledge of the expected mark it is likely to be passed off as a tattoo. Meander Corporation have been unfortunately unforthcoming with details on how they mark their tainted.
            Destroying tainted varies in difficulty depending on the tainted in question. Damage to the brain (from any form of head trauma) is the optimal way of stopping a tainted from moving, however extensive damage to bone structure or musculature will also suffice. After a tainted has been disabled, it is important to dispose of the corpse (preferably through burning; although extreme damage (such as being cut into small chunks or crushing of the bones) will also suffice), or else a necromancer will be capable of repairing them. Note that brain damage does not seem to affect the repaired individual in any way – they will remember everything until they ‘died’, and sometimes sensations leading up to their revival.
            Though inhumanly strong and capable of moving with normally deadly wounds, tainted are rarely more than slightly tougher than ordinary human beings. As such, melee combat focused on severing limbs or cutting muscles has proven more effective than ranged fire in most situations.

Other Details: The first encounter recorded occurred only relatively recently, in 2005. A party negotiating with Meander Corporation for a cessation of passive hostilities between our organisations identified a member of Meander’s negotiation team as a previously unseen form of undead. Details were – grudgingly – shared by Meander following this discovery.
            Subsequent encounters with tainted have mostly been during interaction with Meander, as many of their current active agents are tainted. Information received from Meander indicates that use of tainted for this purpose has allowed them to focus the efforts of their necromancers solely on research, thus leaving ‘resource acquisition’ and ‘politics’ to the tainted.
            Only a handful of non-Meander tainted have been encountered; and several of these are suspected to have been rogue ex-members of the corporation.

Supernatural Creature Data Files: Zombies (including ‘Abominations’)

Supernatural Creature Data Files: Zombies (including ‘Abominations’)

Description: ‘Zombie’ is a catch all term for several forms of very similar, mindless, necromantic undead. A zombie is simply a corpse reanimated through necromancy, and bound to the will of the reanimating necromancer. Depending on the strength and skill of the necromancer, as well as the effort exerted the zombie’s strength will vary from barely animate, easily disabled and non-infectious, through to being as mobile as the corpse allows, almost unkillable, and carrying a deadly, contact spread infection.
            An ‘ordinary’ zombie will usually be difficult to kill, but not as difficult to disable (by, for example, breaking the legs of the zombie). Spreading necromantic infections are the most dangerous facet of a zombie; the most deadly can kill and reanimate within minutes, creating a similarly strong and infectious zombie. Thankfully, necromancers have yet to master the creation of truly deadly zombies carrying highly dangerous infections; at present, a moderately mobile zombie will usually have an infection time of about half a day.
            Abominations are combinations of several different corpses, combined and reanimated as one. These creations are often intimidating, but rarely truly dangerous – even the most masterful creations are less mobile than an ordinary zombie would be.
            All ‘zombies’ are controlled by those capable of necromancy (which includes certain kinds of undead). As such, any being that is capable of acting with independent intelligence are classified as other forms of undead, and are not detailed herein.

Physiology: Zombies are created through the application of necromantic energy to a corpse (or, in some cases, a living victim). The resultant being retains no intelligence or semblance of life, and is solely animated by the necromantic energy, which can manipulate the muscles of the corpse into motion. Though we are not sure how, necromancers have been able to – over many years – improve on this basic formula, limiting control to the creating necromancer, making zombies stronger, infectious, and roughly one hundred years ago, removing the damage dealt to the necromantic power by sunlight.
            Due to the necromantic energy that animates them, zombies do not rot further after being raised. The cannot, however, repair damage they receive (although necromancers are capable of patching up zombies, depending on their level of ability).
            Abominations differ from ordinary zombies only in the presence of magic used solely to connect and aid the parts of the creature in working together. This magic is – to summarise information gleaned from destroyed necromancer cults, and the Meander Corporation – not particularly effective.

Identification and Destruction: Identifying zombies is fairly easy, as they will not (and are not able to) try to conceal themselves. Additionally, as mindless necromantic undead, an ESP can sense their lack of life, combined with motion.
            Destruction can, however, be quite complicated. To truly ‘kill’ a zombie, enough damage must be done to the necromantic energy animating it to force the animating curse to dissipate, or at least cease activity. For lesser zombies, this is fairly simple – a few bullets, removal of a limb, or other straightforward harm will destroy it. Stronger zombies are hard to kill, however; as such, disabling the zombie (through destruction of the eyes or breaking of bones) and eliminating the creating necromancer is advised instead. Even the most skilful necromancers have trouble co-ordinating more than a dozen zombies carefully at one time, or a few hundred poorly.
            There are other means of destruction – the clerics and paladins (see Supernatural Supplementary Data Files: Holy Entities) are capable of blasting necromantic curses, causing them to dissipate. Holy imbued bullets – which we have been provided in small number – are useful for this purpose. These should be kept in reserve for only the most dangerous zombies; to use them for other entities is a waste of a very rare resource.

Other Details: Zombies were first encountered during the same event that was our initial contact with necromancers, and magic in general. A small time necromancer had been murdering and raising homeless people (and leaving one hell of a mess behind). Several tomes – mostly on necromancy, but one on magic in general – were recovered after he was killed.
            Information trades with the Meander Corporation have revealed a rough history of zombie creation. After the appearance of magic in the world (roughly one thousand, eight hundred years ago) it was initially thought that necromancy was a useless form of magic that was unable to transfer through correctly. However, experiments with binding energy to living creatures (initially a failure for the elemental magics) were a success – although they killed and reanimated the subjects, seeming to replace their natural ‘life’. These were the first zombies.
            Following this, centuries of experimentation resulted in several great strides. Firstly, control over zombies, roughly fifteen centuries ago. Then, eleven centuries ago, necromancers were able to create the first ‘infectious’ strains of necromantic curse. About eight centuries ago, restricted control over zombies. Between that point, and until about a century ago, all progress was in increasing the strength, mobility, and infectiveness of zombies, as well as further improving control. Then the greatest stride was made: necromancy in daylight.
            This development was not discovered in relation to zombies – Meander have stated that it was part of other research, but not specifically what – but it was quickly applied. The creation of this form of zombie was integral in several necromancer cults (including the Meander Corporation’s predecessor) gaining the upper hand over the holy organisations, and forcing them to restrict their activities to rogue necromantic undead, and the various curses. In part, this development seems to be responsible for us rising to fill the void that has been increasingly growing as the holy organisations gradually – for whatever reason – fade away.

Supernatural Creature Data Files: Blackwings

Supernatural Creature Data Files: Blackwings

Description: Blackwings are a necromantic form of undead. Unlike many kinds of undead, they are not difficult to kill. They are, however, incredibly infectious – a single scratch from their claws, or a minor contamination from their blood, is enough to begin an infection that will kill any human within twenty-four hours. Following death (symptoms are similar to toxic shock, ending with a massive heart attack), reanimation occurs immediately. At this point, individuals are joined to the hive mind of the infecting blackwing (so long as a member of the infecting ‘hive’ is within range (suspected to be roughly five kilometres) of the victim).
            After becoming a blackwing and joining with the hive the individual’s personality is overwritten with that of the hive. Their knowledge and skills are retained, and will be transferred to other members of the hive where useful (often newly joined individuals will have a set of useful skills – such as advanced weapons training – transferred to them). Members of the hive are still individuals, and may act individually or with what seems to be unnatural levels of co-ordination as necessary.
            In rare cases (mostly within older hives), the hive is an ‘average’ of the differing personalities in the hive. Differences in personality and aims will, however, often cause hives to split (this is also caused by large distances between members); as such, large and old hives are both rare.
            Blackwings have four identifying characteristics. They have black blood, which gives them an unusual, sickly complexion; they possess claws that slide from under their fingernails (and are their primary infection vector); they have strangely distorted eyes (solid gray with a thing white ring where the iris should begin); and their eponymous black spined wings. Infected individuals lose about forty percent of their weight (though, seemingly, not that much mass) and are able to fly. Older blackwings are able to hide the characteristics of their infection.

Physiology: As with other necromantic beings, blackwings seem to possess no ‘life’ when ESP individuals scan them. They are animated by necromantic energy, that has permeated their blood and their flesh (though with minimal effect beyond tainting it all with the light devouring black of necromancy). Blackwings are not difficult to kill, unlike most necromantic creatures; they are no tougher than they were when alive. They require no sleep, nor sustenance.
            The wings of a blackwing are roughly two metres wides (giving a total wingspan of four metres). They consist of overlapping and melded together spines; with two large ‘bones’ giving structure and supporting musculature needed for flight. Investigation of severed wings indicates that much of the necromantic energy gained from the ‘life’ consumed within the infected individual is used to create these wings, as they consist almost entirely of some form of concentrated necromancy. These wings are capable of allowing the blackwing to fly, along with a load of up to forty kilograms.  This is suspected to be possible due to necromantic energy subverting (to an extent) gravity, similar to what has been noted with ghouls.
            The claws that blackwings gain – essentially thin spines – are made of the same material as their wings, and are usually hidden within the fingers of blackwings. When desired, they can protrude these claws from under their fingernails and use them to infect others. This can be done rapidly; skilled blackwings have been known to infect without the target even noticing the wound.
            The eyes of a blackwing (as mentioned previously) are a symptom of the general corruption of their body by necromancy. This is also evident in the complexion of blackwings, although not as blatantly. As blackwings age, they gain control over their infection (this does not seem to be a transferable skill, and may thus be a product of the infection stabilising or furthering itself) and are able to hide obvious physical signs, instead appearing as normal humans.
            Blackwings are highly allergic to several components of garlic, which rapidly destroy and disperse the necromantic curse that creates and sustains them. Garlic is the only known cure for infection from a blackwing (beyond having a skilled and powerful necromancer on hand to replace or alter the curse). This is due to a safety measure (and, to an extent, a joke) by the original creators.

Identification and Destruction: As with all necromantic undead, blackwings are easy for ESP agents to detect, as though mobile, they are not ‘alive’. A skilled ESP agent may also be able to tell blackwings apart from other forms of necromantic undead, due to unique properties of their physiology (such as their claws).
            Without the presence of an ESP agent, and taking into account the abilities of older (20+ years) blackwings, the optimal method of blackwing detection is to check an individual’s blood.  No known blackwing has been able to recolour their blood properly (several attempts have been observed, but none have been successful enough to be of note).
            Blackwings are, thankfully, easy to kill through any method that would kill an ordinary human being. However, due to the number of skills most have been imprinted with from their hive, engaging in hand to hand combat is not advised; use of projectile weapons, offensive powers, and tactical superiority through ESP is necessary. In a pinch, or strange situations, it is possible to use garlic to kill blackwings; however, as one must force them to ingest or directly inject garlic this is often more difficult that it would be to simply inflict bodily harm.
            Tracing a hive requires presence of a necromancer (they are, it seems, able to trace the links between hive members). As such, if exterminating a hive, please contact the Meander Corporation for assistance.

Other Details: Blackwing fever, as the symptoms of infection are commonly referred to, progresses over a twenty four hour period from initial infection. Early symptoms include headaches and a fever, followed by a coma at around twelve hours. Victims remain in this state for a further twelve hours. Roughly twenty four hours after infection, the individual will seem to be on the cusp of slipping away quietly, however they will then suffer a massive seizure and heart attack, before returning almost immediately as a blackwing.
            In some cases an infected individual will die instead of becoming a blackwing. This is the result of an individual strongly resisting the overwriting of their self; to avoid the creation of ‘free’ blackwings the hive will resort to overloading the mind of the resistant individual, killing them. This occurrence is more common when the infected individual knows what they are ill with, when they know that the attempted override is coming, and also if they have been given special training. As per standing orders, all IPC agents should have received training to ensure death, rather than return as a blackwing, from infection.
            Blackwings are the greatest threat we know of to mankind – more so than anything else we have encountered. Their high level of infectivity, ability to go unnoticed (shades and physical removal of wings mean even a recent victim can return to their ‘ordinary life’ as a blackwing) and great amounts of shared knowledge make them hard to track, and dangerous. The initial encounter with blackwings in 1979 – with, as we have discovered, their first ever hive – resulted in the destruction of the hive’s lair. However, our lack of knowledge led to the escape of many hive members, and the formation of a large number of splinter hives.
            Despite extensive – and ever greater – attempts to wipe them out, blackwing numbers have been rising ever since. It is suspected that blackwings will be the reason we reveal ourselves to the world at large, as has been predicted many times (see Power Data Files Supplementary: Important Premonitions).
            The origin of blackwings is known in detail following our alliance with Meander Corporation (which, in fact, mostly exists to attempt to curb the rising blackwing population), though many details were known beforehand. In the early 1970s, a Meander Corporation project to create a next generation type of zombie (with the primary aim of utilising experiments towards a shared intelligence) backfired when the creations (the initial blackwing hive) rebelled against them.
            Though many of the individuals added to the hive (especially after the first wave) were unquestioningly loyal to Meander, their minds were overwhelmed by the rest of the hive. The linking was too powerful – and, through cunning, the hive hid its existence from Meander. Eventually they broke free (in June, 1975) and hid away from the world until 1979, when we discovered them.

Supernatural Creature Data Files: Ghouls (Master, Ancient, Ordinary)

Okay, so there's a bunch of stuff that should have "IPC" tagged as well, I think. <_>

This is the first of a series of 'data files' that I intended to write ages ago and really should have. The idea is to cover the critters in the Midwel setting, although slightly limited in scope as they're the files of the IPC (Internation Psychic Council, aka the dudes who keep files >_>). Also some general stuff on magic/necromancy/psychics/curses/etc/etc.

Supernatural Creature Data Files: Ghouls (Master, Ancient, Ordinary)

Description: Ghouls are a necromantic (see Supernatural Supplementary Data Files: Necromancy) form of undead. They devour living entities (favouring those with greater intelligence, especially self-aware beings). They possess great strength and the ability to regenerate from most injuries (note: both effects require a week to reach noticeable levels; a newly created ghoul is barely stronger than they were in life). Sunlight harms the magic that animates ghouls; fresh ghouls will die quickly, older ghouls will rot away (note: very old ghouls will be weakened, but not actively harmed, by sunlight due to their regenerative powers).

            Ghouls come in three varieties. The most common variety is referred to as ‘ordinary’ ghouls, when a distinction is made. A human slain by any ghoul (if bitten or scratched) will reanimate as a ghoul themselves after about twelve hours. These reanimated ghouls retain no memory of their previous lives due to brain death. Their reanimated brains are cunning, but are not self-aware.
            The second most common variety is the ‘master’ ghouls. These are ghouls that have retained their intelligence through their transformation. This effect is deliberate achieved through careful, slow infection of the individual to ensure that they spend only a couple of minutes in a state of ‘death’. We believe this process to take roughly twenty-four hours. Master ghouls are named for their ability to command ordinary ghouls in their vicinity. It is questionable as to whether this effect is achieved through the given verbal commands – tests have concluded that ordinary ghouls retain no ability to speak.
            The third, exceptionally rare variety of ghouls is the ‘ancient’ ghouls. These are ordinary ghouls that have lived for a very long time and have managed to become self-aware. Their intelligence is quite alien – although they had regained their mental faculties due to the structure of their brains, the few we have encountered had not regained any human emotions. Like master ghouls, ancient ghouls can command ordinary ghouls to do their bidding.

Physiology: Ghoul physiology – like other monstrous physiologies – is quite unusual. They are animated by necromantic energy that initially infects only the blood fully, and tissue minimally (it is at this point that a ghoul is reanimates). After reanimation, the blood within a ghoul becomes remarkably thick; this often allows reanimation of bodies that have severe wounds (presence of certain wounds will prevent reanimation, although the infection will still spread).
            As the necromantic energy infects the flesh of the ghoul, they begin a rapid gain in strength. This gain completes about two weeks after the ghoul’s reanimation. Following this, all strength gain depends upon the living material ingested by the ghoul. This material is corrupted by the necromantic curse, creating additional necromantic energy. The material is then formed into additional musculature and flesh, increasing the strength of the ghoul. Within ordinary ghouls this process is uncontrolled, and causes strange bulges and other deformations (these will, however, change over time into usable, though distorted, forms). Master ghouls retain their human shapes, which also slows their gains in strength.
            The retainment of a human form (though, in many cases, moving towards some idealised version) in master ghouls highlights the nature of the ghouls’ increase in strength. They are not merely adding muscle mass – the necromantic energy that is within them is squeezing that mass into a smaller space than it would otherwise occupy, allowing them to be impossibly strong and heavy given their apparent size. Furthermore, it seems to oppose their weight, allowing them to ‘weigh’ not much over a hundred kilograms at most – despite their mass (as investigated using the application of great force) being in some cases over one thousand kilograms.
            The strength and weight gain of ghouls begins to taper off after around two months; at this point a ghoul will weigh roughly twice their former weight, and be at least four times as strong. After a year, they will weigh only fifty percent more, with a similar increase in strength. To reach the greatest weight and strength that has been observed, a ghoul must persist for over a thousand years.
            Although their great weight and strength is intimidating, the truly dangerous element of older ghouls is their regenerative powers. First becoming usable after about one week (though it often takes longer for the instinctive ordinary ghouls to realise they have such capabilities), the abilities are initially of little use beyond repairing minor wounds. Ghouls that are several years old are able to use their abilities in combat, healing bullet holes (though not the larger holes left by explosive rounds) within thirty seconds. Ghouls that are hundreds of years old are nigh invulnerable; their great mass makes them impenetrable to all but armour piercing ammunition, and the holes torn into them are repaired within moments.

Identification and Destruction: Identification is only difficult for master ghouls. Ordinary ghouls are not self-aware and will not hesitate to engage unless commanded not to; but even if held back they will be obviously inhuman. Ancient ghouls possess warped forms in all known cases, and as such are easily identified as inhuman.
            The optimal means of identifying a master ghoul is use of an ESP agent due to the lack of life in the body of the ghoul (this is believed to be due to the replacement of ‘life’, as such, by necromantic energy). If no agent is present or available, observing the blood of the suspect individual through some means is the second best means. Notably, not all master ghouls are ‘evil’ – they are intelligent beings with human intelligences (many are ‘evil’, but this is because existing master ghoul groups bring in others that share their murderous tendencies). As such, asking (if the individual is aware of the strangeness of the world) is advisable in many cases.
            Destruction of younger ghouls is can be accomplished through ordinary bodily harm. After all targets have been neutralised, inflict additional damage to ensure that regeneration does not revive the ‘killed’ ghouls. If direct attacks are not possible or ineffective, sunlight can be used to destroy most ghouls. Those that cannot be destroyed by sunlight should not be engaged except by very well equipped teams setup to deal with such entities. As ghouls are not much faster than ordinary humans (despite their lack of exhaustion) flight is advised if overwhelmed. As they lack any form of mental extraction, or post-conversion mind control, suicide is unnecessary.

Other Details: The first encounter with ordinary ghouls was during investigation of a graveyard in 1972. This was prompted by detection of moving, seemingly ‘dead’ entities by an ESP agent. A group of ordinary ghouls (of varying ages) was found lurking underneath the graveyard, consuming bodies of those buried there. All ghouls were eliminated after they engaged the investigating squad.
            Master ghouls were later encountered through ‘underworld’ contacts in 1975. From them, the basis of much of the information herein was recorded. Apart from one other group, all master ghoul groups since encountered have been actively hostile to humanity and engaged.
            Initial encounter with an ancient ghoul was found (in 1980) to have occurred in 1971, when a team was lost while exploring the ruins of a city buried beneath modern construction. For further details on this and other encounters, please review encounter files involving ghouls.
            Investigation into the origin of ghouls returned little fruit until our arrangement with the Meander Corporation. Details they have provided to us indicate that the first ghoul (who may still exist) was the result of an attempted transcendence into lichdom around 600 A.D. The would-be lich survived, but as a ghoul. Meander necromantic theorists tell us that they believe this individual attempted to become a lich using magic in the vein of older zombie varieties. As these older zombies had similar issues with sunlight, and levels of infectivity are similar, we believe this possibility to be likely.
            The oldest master ghouls in existence are only slightly over one thousand years in age, and most have indicated that the first ‘master’ ghoul was created in an accident by an ordinary ghoul. As ancient ghouls (some of which may be older than the eldest master ghouls) are unable to remember their first few hundred years clearly, one hundred percent certainty as to the origin of ghouls is unlikely unless this ‘first’ ghoul is encountered.

Elemental Construction

Note: pretty sure a lot of things should be tagged "Meander Corporation".

Elemental Construction

                Ghosts, along with curses and holy magic, are the reason I believe that there are two types of magic in the world. The first – our magic that consists of the four elements and for some reason necromantic energy – is from outside our world; whereas the second – our souls, the curses that create vampires and werebeasts, even the holy magic cast by the clerics – seem to originate from within us, something that is imbued in our world or imbued in us by virtue of being alive.
                Elementals (and the darker creation, wraiths) are a union of these two magics, created by imbuing the remnant soul of a human being (often a ghost of some kind; as an ordinary soul is hard to find and contain) with the power of an element. In the case of the ordinary elements, the magic is imbued into the soul itself, becoming a tool it can use to produce heat and cold, or movement of the air and earth. And strangely, unlike the normal examples of such imbuement, an elemental can use the power imbued into it for as long as it persists (though there is a relatively small cap upon the power, albeit one large enough for an elemental to be quite powerful). An elemental will persist for several, sometimes several decades, though all eventually fade as the imbued ghost passes (there are dangerous, broken souled ghosts that seem to persist eternal; but these insane individuals should not be imbued – and would rarely give one opportunity to do so).
                Stranger still is that – through very careful manipulation – one can turn one’s own soul into an elemental, before one’s death. This will cut one off from our magic forever, which makes it an unappealing option for most studying magi; yet is something often done to servants, or those close to the mage, to provide powerful living guardians. Notably, the rare few that return as ghosts after death do return as elementals, as one would expect. A further oddity is that in very rare cases the magic will persist in a bloodline (though with varying strength from generation to generation). I have, myself, only encountered three such cases; only one of which persisted for more than a single generation.
                One cannot complete discussion of elementals without mentioning wraiths. These are dark perversions of normal magic, like all necromancy; rather than merging with the soul, the necromancy seems to replace it, to destroy it. All wraiths are cunning psychopaths at best, and usually murderous lunatics. Performing such an imbuement on a living being – I have been told – will always end their life, and always cause the creation of a wraith. Instead of normal elemental abilities, the wraith may only consume the souls of living creatures. Thankfully they grow no stronger from their terrible meals.
                The creation of several elementals is a good means of protecting oneself from intruders and the ever more organised necromancer cults. If possible, however, the optimal solution is to imbue servants with the power; as they will (hopefully) live much longer than a ghost would linger in this world. The rest of this tome shall detail my methods of elemental creation and related experiments; copies may be acquired by sending me (or my descendants) a letter and, of course, suitable recompense for the times.

-- Introduction to tome in the Meander Corporation archives; titled “Elemental Construction, Maintenance and Control, Master Edition”. Tome was partially damaged in combat during acquisition, and is missing much of the Control chapters.

Action

Action

                Tanya Fayes stared at her watch, counting down the seconds. Almost go time, she thought. Three, two, one, and here we go. She yanked hard on the door handle, and stepped into the room, sunlight blazing around her from the door.
                “Stay right the fuck there!” she yelled, aiming her pistol at a cluster of vampires. From the look of it, they were imps that’d just been torturing insects for entertainment.
                “Whyyyy!” one of them spat, prompting Tanya to fire a round into the wall behind them.
                “Because next time I’m not going to shoot the fucking wall, you sadistic shits,” she replied.
                Although obviously pissed, the imps stayed put as Tanya stepped into the room, allowing Claire Firth and Leon Graves to come in behind her. “Pretty sure you just woke all of ‘em up, Tanya,” said Leon as he went past, heading for the door opposite. Claire giggled, and Tanya rolled her eyes.
                “Keep moving,” she said.

                Leon and Claire made their way through a couple of rooms before encountering any more resistance. Half way through what looked like some kind of lounge or staffroom, a pair of vampires (the ‘ordinary’ kind that no-one had a fancy name for) came in, knives in hand. “Fuck!” one of them yelled, bolting to get more help. The other advanced carefully towards Leon, who was seemingly unarmed.
                “I got this, babe,” he said to Claire (whose hand had gone to her holstered revolver).
                “I’ll cover your back, honey bunny,” she replied, smiling and turning. Leon advanced towards the vampire slowly. The vampire was a tall, muscular man – quite possibly a professional body builder – and he held a thirty-odd centimetre knife in hand. His face, however, was confused – Leon was a seventeen year old kid; not really scrawny but in no way physically intimidating.
                Then Leon shot fire from his hands at the vampire’s face, lighting him up like a candle. As he started to scream and dropped his knife, Leon rushed up and jammed his own knife – a military combat knife he’d been given by Zach Corvus – through the vampire’s throat, severing his spine.
                The vampire toppled to the ground, and Leon retrieved his knife before staggering. “Ugh,” he said, rubbing his head with his free hand. “I think I overdid it again, babe. Shoulder?”
                Claire shook her head and giggled as she came up to lend her boyfriend her shoulder. “You keep doing that, you know,” she said. “Are you trying to impress me?”
                “Banter after headache,” replied Leon. “Head hurty.”

                Meanwhile, on the other side of the building, Lucy Drake was merrily holding back a group of fifteen vampires with a constant stream of flame that came from all around her. “Damn, you’re really cutting loose today Lucy!” hollered May Dreyson, as she fired her pistol rapidly into the bottlenecked vampires.
                “It’s because Leon isn’t here to feel outdone,” yelled Daniel Fayes in reply. “And she can’t hear you over all the fire she has going!”
                The trio were holding a corridor to allow the rest of their party – who had taken the front door – a path through to their target; an aristocrat vampire that had been biting several members of their group of survivors for the past couple of days.
                As yet another vampire collapsed under the combination of fire and bullets, May let a happy woop. “It’s good to be fighting these bastards for once, instead of cowering and hiding,” she said, mostly to herself (given the noise).

                The rest of the front entrance party – Zach, Naomi Drake and Renee Norman – were fighting a group of imp and plain vampires right outside of the aristocrat’s chamber. Zach and Naomi were taking pot shots – with an automatic shotgun and fireballs respectively – at vampires who were poking their heads in and trying to advance from an area out on their left. On the right, Renee was carving through vampire after vampire with her empowered sword; her pure white armour covered with blood from those she was killing.
                Leon and Claire merged from another door as they fought. “The other door’s barricaded up,” Leon said, moving up to Zach, Claire right behind him.
                “We’ll be done here soon,” replied Zach. “Then we can move in. Renee!”
                “Yeah?” Renee replied, though still engrossed in her melee.
                “Hold here as we head in,” Zach yelled, his voice somehow managing to pierce the noise of his shotgun firing another round into a foolish vampire.
                “Gotcha!” said Renee, dispatching another opponent and beginning to back up towards the central double door. The rest of the group rushed for it, and pulled it open.

                In the centre of the room lay an ornate stone coffin – like many other aristocrats, this one was a sucker for theatrics. Surrounding it, in various states of sleeping and dozing, were seven scantily clad plain vampires. Zach grinned. “I’ve been wanting to do this all week,” he said, and switched his shotgun to full auto.
                The first series of bangs – no longer muffled by the walls of the room – woke all the vampires; except the one it hit, who became, for the most part, a red mist. The others had no more luck than the first as Zach expertly (and with glorious overkill) obliterated them all in seconds.
                “Bloody hell!” said Naomi, taking her hands off her ears. “Why the hell is it louder when it’s doing that?”
                Zach laughed, and said, “Something to do with how the chamber gets cleared. Awesome, isn’t it?”
                Naomi shook her head, and the group advanced on the coffin. “My turn,” said Leon, placing his hands on the coffin. A few seconds later, a scream came from within, and the lid was pushed up from the inside.
                Which prompted Zach to aim his shotgun through the small gap, and pull the trigger. A terrible screech rent the air for a second as Zach’s shotgun fire round after round, but then there was silence.
                After a few seconds, Leon heaved the lid fully off. Inside lay a charred body, large chunks blasted away by Zach’s shotgun. “Mission accomplished,” said Zach with a grin. “Leon! High five! Those flames of yours are damn useful for keeping them from going mist on us.” Leon obliged, and the group split up to make their exits.

                When Zach, Naomi and Renee (almost entirely covered in blood) rejoined Lucy, Daniel and May there were only a couple of vampires still alive; and they were cowering out of sight. “I guess things went well here, then?” said Naomi.
                “Hell yeah,” replied May.

                On the other side of the building, Claire and Leon rejoined Tanya. “Why are all the vampires dead?” asked Claire, noticing that the imps had all been shot.
                “They moved,” replied Tanya. “Let’s go.”
                Leon chuckled as he and Claire followed Tanya out.

                The group piled into their cars, driven by their combat avoiding (Neil Freyghkt) and busy empowering objects (Jake Hall) group members.
                “Perfect victory?” asked Jake, as Naomi hopped into the passenger seat beside him.
                “Of course,” replied Naomi, leaning over and giving him a peck on the cheek. “Now drive, I wanna make sure we got the right one this time.”

                In the other car, Neil got a high five from Zach as he hopped into the passenger seat. In the back, Leon said, “Shit we’re awesome.”
                Claire smiled, and Tanya said, “Hell yeah.” Leon raised his fist, and with a broad grin Tanya gave him an epic brofist.

***

                Tanya awoke from her dream with a snap. She’d fallen asleep at a desk, rough calculations and notes spread before her. She leant back in her chair and sighed; her eyes clouding and tears beginning to roll down her cheeks.
                As she sobbed softly, a voice came from behind her. “Has something happened?” it asked, concerned.
                “I-” Tanya breathed deeply, calming her sobs, “I had a dream. What might have been, maybe? If-if they weren’t all dead, and worse. God.”
                Tanya laid her arms on the desk, put her head in her hands, and started to cry.

The Tale of the Sylphs

The Tale of the Sylphs

                As recounted by Sparrow, during her travels.

                “My turn to tell a story, then? Fine. We winged ones have our villains, too, not only heroes. This is the tale of Vassen Oftstruck, and how he destroyed the great wind spirit whose true name can only be spoken by the wind itself; and was thus called Ophoo.”
                “Ophoo came to this world in a similar fashion to most other benevolent spirits – trapped by his darker counterparts, and exiled in a prison that could not hold him forever. When his prison failed, nearly two thousand years ago, he made himself known to us.
                “In his old world, he had been a god, tasked with the creation of the winds that brought the rain, and changed the seasons. On this world far larger than that he came from, and with his powers reduced from the shift, he had less purpose; though he took it upon himself to ensure fair weather for the northern coast, above the mountains, which is prosperous to this day.
                “But this task he had taken did not use all his power, though it took most of his time. And he grew lonely, for none could keep him company; who could follow the wind as it blew from one end of the mountains to the other in under a day? As his loneliness grew, an idea came to him.
                “In his home realm it was forbidden for the gods to create more life; but banished from there he was under no such constraint. He focused his power, bending the air itself, shaping it… Those who watched him as he made life for the first time said he was manic, then calm, then manic again. Eventually, after many false starts, he succeeded.
                “His first creation was not much; a faithful being that whistled and hummed in the air as it followed him. But having created once, and with unused power forever seeming a waste to him, he began working on creating greater creations – more powerful, and more complex.
                “He failed many times, as he learnt this new art. Some failures had to be destroyed, as they were twisted and wrong; but most travelled with him, and those that could not took care of each other in a home he built, deep within a mountain.
                “Then one day, he succeeded. He created a living being from air that could talk, think, live. He named her Sylphae; and she was the first of the sylphs. Over time, he created more sylphs – some greater than others, some weaker. All were his daughters, who assisted and accompanied him in his efforts to bring prosperous weather along the north coast.
                “The lesser sylphs can barely show themselves, even if they will it, but have the ability to become truly invisible. An ordinary sylph, such as Sylphae, can take a solid form if they wish, and can control the breezes, but cannot make themselves invisible.
                “Of the greater sylphs, it is said that they were created to one day take care of other lands. Each possesses a unique power, as well as control of the wind, and the ability to create lesser sylphs. One of these was Upidoe, and her power allowed her to call down the rain, or snow.
                “The village of Oftstruck (named so as it was often struck by lightning) was a poor village; the mountain it sat atop was short, and it rarely had a snowy cap for the villagers to farm upon. Upidoe discovered this one day, and took pity. She made it snow, and for many years (from not long after her creation, six hundred years ago) returned to do so again. One year, she met Vassen.
                “It’s said that he was absurdly handsome, and charming. As Upidoe made it snow from high above one year, he sat at the top of the highest crag on the mountain top, and sang a song to her. A song of thanks, and praise of her beauty and kindness. Charmed by the song, she descended to thank him.
                “She fell for him, and he… He saw an opportunity. No-one is sure if he loved her, a little or even at all. But with her devotion to him, he could ask her to make it snow where he desired; and he used her. He would come to a village, and in exchange for money and goods he would have Upidoe make snow (or rain) fall.
                “This continued for several years, before Ophoo came to them, angered. ‘You have disrupted the winds!’ he said to Upidoe, ‘Cease this at once, my daughter!’ But Vassen did not wish to give up what he had gained, so Upidoe continued.
                “Eventually Ophoo could take no more, so one day he captured Upidoe and took her away, sealing her deep within his mountain home. At this, Vassen was distraught; and came up with a terrible plan. He would kill Ophoo to free Upidoe.
                “Using the gold, and resources, he had gained from Upidoe’s labour Vassen acquired a powerful enchanted blade from the far south. Using his wings (which he had long ago gained so that he could travel, and sell Upidoe’s efforts to many) he flew to Ophoo’s home.
                “Upidoe, in her love, had taught him many secrets of the sylphs, amongst them a means of detecting them as they moved through the air, even if invisible. So Vassen made his way deep into Ophoo’s home, and even into the great chamber in which he had met heroes, and kings, in the past.
                “Once there he waited for two days, until Ophoo returned. As Ophoo settled upon his throne, Vassen struck; his blade piercing Ophoo’s windy heart and causing it to blow apart. As Ophoo wailed in pain, dying, the sylphs who were there – four of the seven greater sylphs, many ordinary, and countless lesser – charged Vassen. But he had long prepared for this day; and the sylphs had never fought before. He slew them one after another, until the survivors fled.
                “He then made his way to Upidoe’s cell, and freed her. But upon hearing what he had done, she tore his blade from him and slew herself with it. But that was not the end of Vassen’s villainy. During his escape, he convinced the sylphs that he acted on behalf of all winged ones, to ensure that their rage did not rest upon him alone.
                “Vassen escaped Ophoo’s home, and made his way to a nearby village. It was not long before the sylphs attacked, and he fought them off; pretending to be a brave hero. But the sylphs had not just attacked there. All over the mountains, formerly friendly sylphs – commanded by the remaining greater sylphs – attacked the winged one villages.
                “Yet, they were not familiar with war (whereas we, who have fought much in the past, are ready for even foes we cannot fly from) and were soon defeated. And so two hundred and fifty years ago, Vassen thought he had escaped justice for what he had done.
                “But many sylphs yet lived. Years after Vassen’s death, some sylphs – those more thoughtful in their actions – made contact with villages again, and the truth was discovered. And Vassen, known as a hero for his efforts in the short war, became known for the villain he was.
                “Though the end of Vassen’s story, his misdeeds still haunt us. There remains one greater sylph, who hates all winged ones. Her lesser sylphs pick off lone travellers; and there are other sylphs who hide away, refusing to give up the ‘fight’.
                “And the winds of the north coast grow wilder each year.”

A Tale of Peretalia

A Tale of Peretalia

    “Far south on the great continent, there is a region split into many petty realms. These realms were once each guarded by a knightly order, all possessing empowered weapons and armour. But by the time this story is set, most of these artifacts have been lost, or stolen; and few remain in the realms built around them.
    One of these realms, however, is an exception. In the republic of Peretalia there is a great iron tower, known as the Thorn Tower. Within it, a dozen knights of the thorn – those still armed with the ancient, empowered weapons they were gifted – live, and master the art of combat. But the true strength of Peretalia lies not in the Tower, but in the Petal Garden that surrounds it. Within the Garden, an order of lady knights lives, each granted power, armour and arms by the giant, imbued flowers within.
    The Petal Garden has not withered in time, nor has it been burnt, nor stolen. With great care, and constant attention, the passage of time has allowed it to grow. Where once there was only a handful – perhaps twenty – Petal Knights, there are now almost three hundred. They have long since taken over the duty of the Thorn Knights in protecting Peretalia, and have kept the land safe and stable.
    Peretalia has not expanded with time, however, and remains much as it was (excluding the secession of the Black Forest into the Inheritor Empire twenty years ago). If one could examine the entire history of Peretalia, it may seem a stagnant realm; but as its neighbours have risen and fallen, again and again, it has remained constantly prosperous.

    “In a field in Peretalia, a woman tills the soil of her family’s small garden. Though they are town folk – living in one of the many towns that dot Peretalia – they have a plot of land, and they grow vegetables upon it to supplement their diet, and their income. Her father is a basket weaver, weaving from straw (and sometimes supple wood) various containers for local use. Her mother keeps the house, delivers and takes orders, and keeps an eye on her children.
    The eldest two – twenty-four and twenty-two years of age – have long since left, one apprenticed to the local tanner, the other married to the butcher’s son. The eldest of those younger than the woman is her father’s apprentice, and the younger two – fourteen and twelve years old – help where they can. But the woman, twenty years of age, has no craft, and no hope of marriage.
    Once she was a clothmaker’s apprentice, but the old woman died before she could learn much of the craft, and the man who moved to town to replace her had no need of an apprentice. And the woman had no hope of marriage; for she had been the victim of a cruel attack when younger, that left her unable to bear child. Her parents despair for her; their plans for her life are in tatters, and they see no future but that of a useless spinster.
    But the woman is not troubled. The attack in her youth left her strong-willed, not weak, and she bears the scar that serves as her right brow with pride. I’ll deal with it as I come to it, she thinks to herself, sinking the hoe into the ground once more. Her name is Refenne, and though she does not know it yet, there is hope to come.”

    Refenne set the pen down, pushed the parchment aside and laid her head on her desk with a sigh. If only it was that certain that good things would happen, she thought. Her situation was just as she had written – but at the moment, she was not tilling the field. She was practicing her writing, to ensure her application to join the Petal Knights would be as good as possible. That was her only hope, really. To become one of the protectors of the realm. There was honour, glory, praise, and various other things she didn’t really care for. What mattered was that she would have a life to live, instead of being trapped without any purpose.
    She raised her head, and shook it. Time to write my application, she thought. There are eleven – a record number! – new recruits required this season, and my chances are the best they will be in my lifetime. The season before, only three flowers had been ready; and she had been told by the recruiter (not a Petal Knight, but one of the garden assistants) that at most two would flower the next season. She clutched the desk tightly, took two deep breaths, and began writing.

One month later, another recruiter came through town. They examined her, and put her through some exercises, before leaving. A month after that, a rejection letter came in the mail, along with an apology. They would not accept those unable to bear children into the Petal Knights. Of course, since they rely on the bloody descendants of their retirees to help fund them, Refenne thought to herself, staring at the letter.
    She tossed the letter across her desk, and started to cry. Fucking recruiter even said I was tough enough to be a fucking knight anyway, she thought, sobbing. Asshole bitches thinking with their fucking wallets, ah. She cried for hours, and then lay upon her bed, trying – and failing – to find another way.
    Eventually, late at night, she felt a tug in her mind. She was half asleep, and couldn’t really understand, but it felt like… Hope? She rose from her bed, and crept from her bedroom to the cobbled street outside. It was… Weird. She could feel something leading her along the street, and as she walked it grew stronger, and stronger. Her dreams started to go through her mind, her desire to become a Petal Knight, her hope to do something great with her life…
    She barely noticed as she started heading down some stairs, into someone’s basement, and then – suddenly – she tripped on something and fell face first onto a stone floor. She swore between gritted teeth, and pulled herself to her feet. She was in a small room – it looked like someone’s cellar – that was lit by shards of moonlight coming from small street windows. In the centre of the room was a statue of a large black war hammer. It seemed to be calling out to her, tugging at her mind…
    This is probably very, very, very not good, Refenne thought, edging backwards. She bumped into what had made her trip, and she whirled around. Behind her, kneeling, staring at the hammer vacantly, was Tiegin. She was, as far as Refenne knew, one of the only people in town worse off than she. Cursed with stupidity, ugliness and infertility Tiegin had spent years as a beggar, before taking a job as a servant to a rich – and apparently abusive – second cousin of the local senator.
    “Tiegin?” Refenne asked. “Tiegin, can you hear me? Where are we?”
    Tiegin did not respond, instead continuing to stare blankly at the hammer. Refenne shook her, and then slapped her, to no response. Tiegin continued kneeling, completely unresponsive. Refenne felt the tug continuing in her mind – this close, it seemed to be offering her something; her dreams? She turned to look at the hammer, curious.
    Then, with a sudden realisation, she turned back to Tiegin in horror. It offers us our dreams, to take our minds? To trap our souls? To do something that leaves us like that, Refenne thought. Refenne looked around for an exit, and finding stairs lit by moonlight, she went up them. She came out into a garden. Shutting the door behind her, she headed for a gate, and out to the street beyond. Looking back at the house she noticed that it was where Tiegin worked – the home of the senator’s second cousin.
    What is that thing? thought Refenne, as she hurried of home. Whatever it was, it almost captured my mind.

    Refenne returned home, wrote some notes on what had happened, and fell asleep quickly. The tug that had called her from her home was gone; and now that she was distant from the hammer the effect was no more. She woke early the next morning – before dawn – and sat on the bed, staring at the wall. She checked her notes – confirming that it was no dream – and decided that she had to investigate. What the hammer was for, who had put it there – she had to get to the bottom of it.
    She had no tasks at home that day, and no errands to run, so her parents were glad to see her out of the house before midday. She returned to the house she had been drawn too, and knocked on the door. To Refenne’s surprise, Tiegin answered.
    “Tiegin?” asked Refenne. “How are you?”
    “I am just fine,” Tiegin said, somewhat blankly.
    After waiting, only for Tiegin to stand there without answering, Refenne said, “Do you want to go for a walk and have a chat?”
    “No, I should get back to my duties,” replied Tiegin.
    “Oh, okay,” said Refenne. “Good day.” Refenne backed away from the door, and Tiegin shut it firmly. That was very strange, thought Refenne, I’ve never seen her turn down anything. Tiegin had been treated kindly by the old cloth-maker Refenne had been apprenticed too; the old woman had been one of the few people who had any real sympathy for her. This had led to Refenne knowing Tiegin fairly well.
    With a start, Refenne realised something else. She wasn’t wearing her necklace, she thought. She always wears that thing! Tiegin’s only love – a young man she had grown up with, who died in a tragic fire – had given her a poorly made (and very tacky) necklace. Despite its quality, she wore it always – and became highly aggravated at even the suggestion she take it off (which had amused Refenne, when Tiegin had started screaming at the old cloth-maker when she stated that Tiegin needed to be completely naked to bathe).
    Tiegin not wearing the necklace was very unusual. Refenne shuddered. I think I almost ended up like that, enslaved by that hammer, she thought. Refenne looked up and down the street, before quietly opening the unlatched door and sneaking inside.
    She could hear Tiegin in the distance, working in the kitchen. Sulser won’t be back until the evening, if he follows his usual pattern, Refenne thought. Sulser – the second-cousin of the senator – headed out to one of the various farms he owned each morning to carry out an inspection, returning in the late afternoon. Refenne snuck up the stairs, and made her way into Sulser’s bedroom.
    The room was immaculately clean – in fact, it looked as if it had just been cleaned thoroughly that morning – with the exception of the desk, which Refenne headed straight for. It was covered in letters and accounting documents regarding Sulser’s farms. Refenne shuffled through them, ignoring letters that were obviously about farms, until she came to a series that were signed with a small black hammer.
    This is what I’m after, she thought to herself. She read every letter signed with a hammer, and also a couple of drafted replies that had been tossed aside into the general mess of letters. They detailed an offer of power and potential riches to Sulser, and the eventual delivery of the statue downstairs. The group responsible were – unsurprisingly – known as ‘The Black Hammer’, and apparently controlled a secret network of such devices throughout the Inheritor Empire (Peretalia’s neighbour to the east, which was not one of the petty realms).
    The device supposedly enthralled people who were desperate by offering them their greatest desires. Once brought before it, they become trapped in a fantasy world within their own minds. Within it they possessed whatever they desired – riches, power, or the return of a loved one. To the rest of the world, however, they became a near mindless slave to the hammer, taking commands from those who controlled the artefacts (who were also somehow connected to the hammers). Sulser had agreed to become a lesser controller of the devices – a ‘Servant of the Black Hammer’ – in exchange for access to one, and supposedly the possibility of immortality.
    It seemed that the creators of the statue wished to use Sulser as a means of contacting the senator in the hope of bringing him into their conspiracy. This is… Insanely evil, thought Refenne. She considered her next move, and decided on the simple and sensible one – going straight to the town’s police with the letters, and taking him to see the statue. Refenne unlocked and opened Sulser’s window, and snuck back out of the house.

    After reading the letters, and listening to her testimony, the town sheriff grabbed four of his men and followed her to Sulser’s home. They headed in the back, through the garden and down the stairs into the cellar. The statue still stood where it had the night before, but before it knelt three newcomers. Refenne recognised two – one was one of the town drunks – but the third looked like a traveller.
    “Unrik, get up,” said the sheriff, approaching the drunkard. Unrik merely stared, unresponsive, at the hammer. The sheriff shook Unrik’s shoulder, and got no response. His men attempted to rouse the other two, also to no response.
    “This is what Tiegin was like, last night,” said Refenne. “I guess they’re… waiting for orders?”
    The sheriff shook his head sadly. “It’s good that we’ve caught on to this so soon. Mind-affecting magic is outlawed in almost all the realms because of stuff like this,” he said. “Jure, smash the damn thing.”
    Jure (one of the sheriff’s men) pushed the statue over and hit it with his club, to no effect. “Doesn’t look like we can destroy it easily, sheriff,” he said.
    “Alright. Hunter, help Jure grab it and take it back to the station. Lock it up, and make sure nobody is allowed near it! Hopefully these unfortunates will follow you – see ‘em locked up if they do. Don’t want ‘em doing anything at Sulser’s order,” ordered the sheriff. “Refenne, Dorrey and Joller, with me. We’re going to grab Tiegin and take her in too.”
    As Refenne followed the sheriff up the internal stairs, the two constables grabbed the statue. As they moved it, the three people under its control stood and began to follow. “Expected that,” muttered the sheriff. “It’s how these damn things always work.”
    As they exited the cellar into the house, the sheriff called out, “Tiegin! Come here! We’re placing you under arrest for your own good!”
    Tiegin popped in from a neighbouring room, and said, “What for, sheriff?”
    “Being under control of that damn hammer down stairs,” said the sheriff.
    “Oh, there’s nothing going on,” said Tiegin. “I should get back to my duties.”
    “Tiegin, girl, not only is saying that horribly unusual for you I ain’t believing anything you say. That necklace Wern gave you – where is it? I’ve never seen you without it, you near bit my damn finger off when we brought you in for public drunkenness and I tried to remove it.”
    “Oh, I threw it away. It was a tacky old thing. Now I sh-“ Tiegin was interrupted before she could finish.
    “We’re taking you in. You can attend to your duties later.”
    “No, I mu-“ Tiegin was unable to finish her sentence before the sheriff brutally clobbered her over the head, knocking her unconscious.
    “Joller and Dorrey, stay here and wait for Sulser to return,” the sheriff said as he bound Tiegin. “Refenne, you may as well come with me so we can get a signed statement to go with the proof. Actually, Dorrey, while you’re here take a look around, see if there’s any more evidence about. Especially if Sulser’s been up to any other crimes.”
    The sheriff picked up Tiegin, and tossed her over his shoulder. The constables saluted as he and Refenne left. Maybe I should just join the police, or something, thought Refenne. Or the army. It’d be just like what I’d do as a Petal Knight, only less glamorous. Which is fine, I guess...

    The sheriff had Refenne write up what she had seen and heard, and then sign it. He thanked Refenne again, and sent her home with one of his men (to guard her home as her family slept). It was just before midday when she returned home.
    After explaining what she had been doing that morning, her father gave her a hug and said, “Well done.” Her mother hugged her as well, and Refenne spent the rest of the day helping around the house.
    Nothing further happened that day, nor that night. The next day the Sheriff visited, and she learned that Sulser had been captured easily, and had admitted his crimes. In exchange for his life (he was to be sentenced with a life sentence on a chain gang, rather than being executed) he divulged everything he knew about the conspiracy of the Black Hammer.
    “I may as well tell you everything he knew,” said the Sheriff. “Seeing as you were nearly a victim, and the reason we uncovered this plot. Might keep you from becoming paranoid.”
    Refenne nodded, and the Sheriff continued. “They come from the Inheritor Empire. The Emperor caught wind of what they were doing, and wiped most of them out, so they’ve fled to the small kingdoms. They haven’t managed to make much progress here, but they claimed to Sulser that they were gaining power rapidly further south.
    “There are supposedly no other groups in Peretalia. If there are, we can find them – Magus Odlin says he can trace the magic, so stronger mages should be able to find hammers hidden in any other towns. News of this will go right to the senate; hopefully they can discover why the Inheritors never gave a warning. Or, perhaps, they’ll realise that they should have taken a warning more seriously.
    “One last thing – thank you. You’ve saved everyone a lot of trouble at least, and might just have saved us all. So thank you. I don’t know what I can offer you as a reward, but ask, and I’ll see what I can do.”
    Refenne sighed, and said, “A good word with the Petal Knights would be fantastic.”
    “You want to join them?” asked the Sheriff.
    “I sent an application, the examiner saw me when they came through town,” Refenne replied. “I got rejected.”
    “They must have a lot of very good candidates this year,” said the Sheriff. He paused, before continuing, “If they rejected you, they won’t change their minds. But, a trio are coming to town to assist the investigation – the mayor called them in. They’ll probably want to talk to you; I don’t know what you can say but maybe they’ll be impressed enough to accept you next year? I can explain to them your bravery and cunning in all this.”
    Refenne groaned, and rubbed her face. “There’ll be fewer flowerings next year. But thanks anyway. I…” Refenne paused, and forced a smile. “I guess it can’t hurt.
    The Sheriff rose to leave, and put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he said, “There’s more than one force for good in the world you can join.”

    Refenne spent the next couple of days getting back into her fitness routine. After the Petal Knight examiner had come through, she had fallen out of the routine; but she wanted to be in as good shape as possible when the knights arrived. She couldn’t help but hope that, as unlikely as it was, they would accept her next year – or even for the year after. There were many stories of women achieving great feats being accepted into the Petal Knights, or even being outright offered membership.
    When they arrived, the Petal Knights were giving a suite at the best inn in town to conduct their investigation from. Rumour of what had happened – and of Refenne’s involvement – had spread about town, and although the sheriff had clarified things as much as he could (especially that the threat was no more) the townspeople were much relieved that the Petal Knights had arrived.
    In the early evening, on the day they arrived, a constable (aiding the Petal Knights by serving as a runner) came to bring Refenne to them. I’m so excited, thought Refenne. I thought I was more bitter and cynical than this. I just have to keep my expectations low, hope for some meaningless praise. She kept her breathing tightly under control, prompting the constable to ask her “Are you meditating?” on their journey; to which Refenne smiled and said, “No.”
    She was led to the inn, and upstairs to the ‘senatorial suite’. Refenne had never seen in the room – in fact, she had only seen some of the inn’s rooms when lending a hand during a feast – and was disappointed, as it was not as amazing as she had expected.
    The Petal Knights, however, were. She had seen a few from a distance before – they came through town from time to time – but she had never been close, nor spoken to one. They were beautiful – at least the two standing up were, the third was sitting at a desk across the room writing quickly (but also, strangely, elegantly).
    “You must be Refenne,” said one of the Petal Knights. She was perfectly – to an almost ridiculous extent – pretty. Her smile, which she flashed after she finished speaking, was the beautiful kind of smile that makes you unable to do anything but smile in response. She was a fair bit shorter than Refenne (who was, in truth, very tall) but she gave an impression of strength despite her petite-ness. Her brown hair was tied up behind her head in a bun.
    “Please take a seat,” said the other, “I am Voena, and this is Julene. Xelen will join us in a minute after she finishes writing.” Voena was incredibly beautiful. Refenne couldn’t help but compare her to the rich courtesan who had come through town once – a beautiful seductress. Although Refenne doubted Voena’s beauty came mostly from – or in fact, at all from – large amounts of makeup. She had golden blonde hair curling down to just below her shoulders. Refenne suspected that, if she were male, she would have trouble refusing Voena anything. Both she and Julene seemed young – though as Petal Knights, they could be as old as their mid-thirties and still seem so.
    “Yes, I’m Refenne,” Refenne said quickly. She made her way to the table, trying to get a hold on her nerves.
    “Calm down, we don’t bite,” said Voena, grinning. Her smile, unlike Julene’s, was somewhat predatory.
    Julene looked at Voena, and as they all seated themselves she said, “The good sheriff told us of your application, and how hard you tried. We may talk about that afterwards, but for now we need to ask you some questions.” Julene was smiling warmly – and Refenne found herself calming down.
    That woman can really smile, thought Refenne. I wish I could smile like that.
    A sigh came from the corner of the room. “That’s that done,” said Xelen, pushing her chair out from the desk. She stood and turned towards the table, making Refenne gasp.
    Xelen had a huge scar across her face. From her left eyebrow, around her left eye, through her nose and from the middle of her mouth to the far left of her face was long, mangled scar. Her nose looked as if it would barely be able to function, and her mouth looked as if it was twice as long as should have been. When she saw Refenne’s reaction, she made a twisted grin. “Not all of us are beautiful,” she said, walking over.
    “Sorry!” said Refenne hurriedly. She looked away from Xelen’s face, and settled on her armour.  It consisted of a large segment of plate over the top half of their chests, shaped like a pair of leaves, and a cloth segment bearing a stylised rose over the lower half. Apart from a few bits of plate here and there, it seemed to mostly be chainmail (although what it was made from was odd, and did not seem to be a metal). She had been too distracted by their beauty to look at Voena or Julene’s, but quick glances showed that theirs were much the same.
    Xelen chuckled. “Not all of us are young and unscarred, either,” she added, taking a seat. “Now, how about you tell us your side of the story, from the start.”

    After going through what she had seen, and answering a few questions, Xelen said, “Thank you. You are a very brave and resourceful young woman.”
    “Thank you,” said Refenne, smiling.
    “Do either of you two have any reasons against choosing her?” asked Xelen, looking at Julene and Voena.
    Voena shook her head, and Julene said, “No.”
    “Huh?” asked Refenne, confused – but also immediately hopeful.
    “You made an application to be chosen as one of this year’s recruits, correct?” asked Xelen.
    “Yes, I did,” replied Refenne.
    Xelen picked up a group of bound documents from the table. “This is the report on you we assembled while considering the recruits. You were-“
    “Xelen!” said Julene.
    “I’m going to tell the girl the whole story, Julene,” said Xelen. “You made it to the last eleven.”
    “That’s g-“ said Refenne, pausing. “Wait, aren’t there eleven flowerings this year? That means-“
    “That you were to be chosen? Yes,” said Xelen. “You can blame Garesia if you ever meet her. The idiot flowered one of them early, and hopped in. It happens from time to time – garden staff are mostly part of long lines of gardeners, loyal, respectful… But still subject to temptation. We had to cut one of the eleven chosen out at the last moment. So close to the last moment I’d even penned your damn acceptance letter.
    “Of the eleven, there were two candidates who were not completely on level with the rest. One of them because she was a little too weak; and you – despite being a damn side stronger than almost every other candidate – because your family is poor and because you’re plain. Of which neither is a good reason, in my opinion, but we have to play politics to keep on everyone’s good side. And the other girl’s father is a senator, and rich. So she was in, and you were out.”
    Xelen paused. Refenne was shocked; unable to speak. She could feel anger beginning to boil deep down inside her, although she had no idea where it would be targeted. However, Xelen continued before Refenne could say anything.
     “You might be wondering why I’m telling you this. I’m telling it to you in full because I believe you deserve to know – it should’ve been in your damn rejection letter – but also because I have an alternative for you. Up until thirty or so years ago, there was a female Thorn Knight. About three weeks ago, the Thorn Knights finally recovered her armour from the pit it was lost within. They asked us to go through our candidates, and to test the strongest to see if any were suitable to take up the armour and serve as a Thorn Knight.
    “We are the group assigned to the task, though the assignment of three Petal Knights is mostly to honour our many debts to the Thorn Knights. We were, in fact, going to come through town and test your fitness again in about a week. But with this… I would like you to come with us, to be the candidate we present to the Thorn Knights to join them. I cannot guarantee that they will accept you; but I can think of no reason why they would not. Will you?”
    Refenne’s took a moment to get her thoughts in order. They quickly coalesced – the Petal Knights were the heroes of Peretalia, known by all and respected. But the Thorn Knights… The Thorn Knights were living legends. Fewer in number, but barely lesser in deed. Stronger, braver, tougher – Refenne had dreamed of joining the Petal Knights, but she had never considered that she could join the Thorn Knights. “Yes,” she said in a rush, “Definitely yes.”