All Your Souls Strips

I can't draw and these are pretty awful. I'm hoping this is one of those things where if I do it for a while I get at least a little better? Heh.

Anyway, I decided to make some Nexus Clash strips about All Your Souls (a faction I'm in and founded waaay back in Nexus War in 2006).

Break because ~2mb all up.

Supernatural Power Data Files: Elemental Magic (excluding Necromancy)

Supernatural Power Data Files: Elemental Magic (excluding Necromancy)

Power Details: This document excludes details of necromancy – the results of which we encounter regularly – despite it originating from the same source. This choice has been made as necromancy’s differences to elemental magic and the far more reliable information we have provide more than enough material – and far more important information.

            Elemental magic, like necromancy, is channelled into this world from ‘somewhere else’ by practitioners (oft called mages or similar, for convenience). While being channelled, the magic takes the form of thin threads of colour (a small amount of light is emitted of the colour used, but any light hitting the thread will be reflected and converted to the appropriate colour) – these will usually originate from within the channeller, though experienced mages are said to be able to begin the strand outside their body.

            As the mage grows in ‘power’ (all recovered information indicates this is something that occurs over time as the mage utilises their power more) the amount they can channel slowly increases. Each element has a different channelling limit – a master channeller of one element may be completely incapable of using any another. After initially channelling enough magic for it to be visible as an almost imperceptible thread (something that may take more than a decade of training), over roughly twenty to thirty years the rate can increase up to perhaps the size of several solid sewing threads – still a tiny amount.

            The key to utilising this power lies in the ability of the mage to bind this magic into items, for them to trigger and use later. Though the threads, even from the most powerful mages, are tiny the amount of power a mage can charge into an item – often over several days – is huge. This can then be activated by the mage when desired to cause effects relating to that element – or even transferred, at some small loss.

            The four elements are as one would expect, given classical literature: earth, air, fire and water. Their colours are brown, white, red, and blue. Activated power of each creates the ‘element’ it is associated with – for example, earth magic will actually create stones or dust depending on the intent of the mage, air will create air, water will create water and fire will create energy in the correct manner to induce the appearance of fire. There are many nuances of this – for example, the resulting material can also be imbued with motion, so a mage is capable of generating and throwing stones at opponents; or again with earth magic of generating various types of soil.

            Where this matter or energy comes from is believed to be the ‘somewhere else’ – the visible, almost non-corporeal magic form is believed to be a type of ‘temporary storage’ for the material. As just noted, the magical threads are not entirely non-corporeal – they can be moved through solid objects, but seem to experience some (though little) effect when solid objects are moved through them.

            The full extent of the possibilities of elemental magics are detailed in supplementary and case files (as well as recovered tomes and documents). However, a general overview: fire can easily be used to create large explosions, bursts of flame, and with a little earth magic fireballs; earth can be used to hurl large rocks or sharp stones, and with experience and knowledge used to create ores rich in gold; water can be used to push people around or form ice and cold (far more dangerous than one would expect); wind can be used to push people around, to flood the air with toxic gases and to increase the pressure.

History and Theories: Various recovered sources indicate that elemental magic first became possible within our universe in the late third century. Whether this date is accurate is a matter of contention, however, the first ‘mage’ appeared around this time – passing his knowledge on to several apprentices (the contention originates from the issue of ‘how long was it possible before someone tried it enough to succeed’). Up until around the start of the twelfth century mages made slow progress, learning much but sharing little.

            From about that point onwards, mostly due to conflicts with necromancers, the number of mages has slowly decreased until the modern day: now, barely any survive. The works of many have fallen into our hands (via aristocrat vampires or other entities in most cases). It is from these that we’ve pieced together most of what we know about elemental magic, and also to an extent necromancy.

            Theories on the ‘somewhere else’ bear mentioning. The general consensus was that the magic is being pulled from another dimension of some kind that presses against our own – this was also used to explain changing ease of using magic (some data indicates it became easier for a period of several hundred years, but has not varied significantly since) and the nature of necromancy (see Supernatural Power Data Files: Necromancy for further details). 

Supernatural Creature Data Files: Elementals (including Wraiths)

Supernatural Creature Data Files: Elementals (including Wraiths)

Description: Elementals are the fusion of elemental magic with a human soul – usually that of a living being, as imbued ghosts are said to dissipate in time (something we have yet to fully observe, as detailed in Supernatural Creature Data Files: Ghosts). These beings are capable of using a fair amount of magic of the type they have been imbued with, offensively and defensively. Recovered information indicates that at one point imbued ghosts were favoured, due to the great difficulty involved in killing them.

            Imbued humans are indistinguishable from normal humans, though those able to sense ‘life’ within people have stated that they feel slightly ‘off’. Imbued ghosts are easy to observe – the elemental will be permanently visible, possessing the colour of its associated element. Strangely, they will take the form of a floating ‘cloud’ of sorts, rather than that of their ghost/living form. They will often hide in out of the way places when not needed, allowing them to appear from nowhere to surprise intruders or attackers.

            Elementals are created by mages for several reasons, but usually either to grant friends power to defend themselves or to create guardians for their laboratories. In the course of guard duty, they will only be hostile if the mage is hostile – and this will depend on the mage.

            One particular type of ‘elemental’ is completely different – wraiths. Wraiths are ‘elementals’ created by using necromancy, instead of one of the ordinary elemental magic types. As necromancy is usually inimical to a soul, and our relative lack of information about necromancy, we are unsure how it is at all possible. Regardless, it is impossible to create a ‘living’ wraith – the process will, without a doubt, kill the victim. A theory of note is that zombies and most other forms of necromantic undead are the equivalent of human elementals.

            As they utilise the power of necromancy, the presence of a wraith is inimical to nearby life. From the one encounter we have had, it seems that they are unable to manifest any magic – instead they simply ‘grip’ living beings, exposing them to the necromantic energy they are made up of. The result is highly deadly. Also unlike other elementals, wraiths are quite likely to be openly hostile to living beings.

Physiology: Human elementals are physiologically indistinguishable from ordinary humans, and may be killed in the same manners. Their ability to channel magic does, when active, seem to grant them some resistance to heat or cold (depending on their associated element), but this is not significant and is similar to that mages seem to exhibit while channelling.

            Ghost elementals are more or less non-corporeal, similar to inactive magic that is being channelled by a mage (that is, somehow, slightly corporeal and affected by solid objects, rather than being completely incorporeal like ghosts). They will be visible at all times, and appear as a ‘cloud’ of magic of the colour associated with their element. As nigh incorporeal beings, they are very difficult to harm through conventional means.

            Wraiths, unlike other ghost elementals, are completely non-corporeal. Additionally, examination has revealed that unlike other elemental types, and like other necromantic creatures, wraiths seem to have no ‘life’.

            All types of ghost elementals seem to have difficulty communicating (they are unable to produce sounds except through the use of magic), but appear to have no trouble understanding us (assuming we are speaking a language they know). This, unfortunately, includes wraiths.

Identification and Destruction: Visual identification of imbued humans is very difficult – they are, outwardly, completely identical to anyone else. Visual identification of ghost elementals and wraiths can be easily made on sight. ESP detection of imbued humans is possible, but difficult – something is said to be ‘wrong’ with the imbued human. Detection of ghost elementals is difficult but easier, as they will be as ‘alive’ as a human, yet in a strange shape (as they are only likely to be present in a mage’s home it is not particularly difficult). Unfortunately, wraiths have no like (as with other necromantic creatures), and are thus completely undetectable through ESP and several other methods. If a wraith’s presence is suspected, keep your eyes peeled.

            Imbued humans are easily dispatched, however, attack from a range if possible to avoid attacks (their magic is too weak to give them true range). Luckily, upon death the ‘magic’ attached to their soul will dissipate. Imbued ghosts are very difficult to kill with conventional weapons, and wraiths cannot be. It is advised that active offensive psychic powers and specialised gear acquired from the clerics be utilised to eliminate ghost elementals and wraiths if encountered.

Other Details: We have only rarely encountered elementals, much like we have only rarely encountered mages. These are both related to the ‘strange’ decline in the number of ordinary (that is, non-necromancer) mages over the past few hundred years – something we believe the Meander Corporation has played a significant role in during more recent times (no proof).

            Much of what we know about elementals has been cobbled together from various tomes. Although several of our operatives have experimented with magic, both elemental and necromantic magic seems somewhat opposed to our psychic abilities, and as such we have not succeeded in creating elementals ourselves.

            One important, but unverified, fact about wraiths has come from the Meander Corporation. When asked why they did not employ them at all, they claimed that ‘all created wraiths will turn on their creators – or, rather, anything that possesses a soul – immediately.’ By soul, we presume they mean the life that seems to exist in most living things to some degree.

            Only two actual encounters are on record. Firstly, a human elemental of the fire type was encountered during one of our (few) encounters with living mages. Unfortunately, due to the mage’s preference for isolation, we could not learn much from this encounter. The second encounter was with a wraith. As detailed in the case file, it was a disaster – we were unable to eliminate the wraith until a specialist was called in. Later analysis has shown that any high level offensive abilities, or a cleric/paladin, would also have been effective.

            One final piece of information of note is that several records have indicated that, on occasion, an imbued human who has children will pass their imbuement on to their child. Though we have no knowledge of any extant cases, it is unlikely that they would show up on our radar – being as they are, apart from an innate ability to channel some type of elemental magic, entirely human.

Supernatural Creature Data Files: Ghosts

Supernatural Creature Data Files: Ghosts

Description: Ghosts are, we believe, related to curse magic. They are, as one would expect, the remnants in some manner of formerly living humans. Only in rare cases do they exist – and only in the rarest are they capable of any kind of manifestation.

            Broadly speaking, there are two kinds of manifestation: possession, and physical manipulation of objects. Possession ghosts are rarer, but we believe this is because the amount of ‘power’ required by a ghost to fully possess a person is significantly more than that needed to, for instance, cause a light breeze to ruffle some papers.

            Possession style ghosts range from being able to influence people’s actions (it is thought that the ‘weaker’ possession ghosts do this to an imperceptible degree) through to the capability to full take over a person’s body for a period of time (in some cases indefinitely). This possession should be detectable by all agents (due to training), but is often unnoticed by ordinary people until the victim begins to act unusually. Object moving ghosts are, at strongest, able to give people a solid push – this has, in past, been used to commit murders. Any ghosts strong enough to move physical objects should be detectable by agents who have received training.

As far as we can tell, ghost power is a crapshoot – murder victims, the long term abused, psychotic killers; these are all just as likely to return as a powerful ghost as someone dying in ordinary circumstances. We are unsure if reincarnation exists, or if ghosts slowly lose power, or if there is some kind of afterlife they have not reached – all we know is that some humans will, upon death, return as a ghost. The lack of historical ghosts of any kind indicates either some kind of decay of power or an afterlife (according to some).

            Though ghosts powerful enough to cause trouble are incredibly rare, however, psychics possessing several different powers (ESP and telepathy especially) are often able to sense those ‘close’ to manifesting, especially when they are attempting to. Training is also able to increase the sensitivity of anyone to ghosts, enabling even ordinary people to sense ghosts that are unable to manifest (but not, we think, the weakest).

Physiology: Ghosts are non-corporeal, and seem to be somewhat related to both curse magic and our own psychic powers. We as yet are unsure of the connections, although many theories have been put forward. In some rare cases, it is possible for particular powers to be used to harm ghosts – though this seems to mostly reduce their power, rather than seriously hurting them.

Identification and Destruction: As they are non-corporeal beings and fairly transparent even when manifesting, it is easy to identify a ghost. Training should also prepare all agents to identify possessed individuals. Issues do arise with object moving ghosts: this is also a potential sign of rogue psychics.

            Ghosts cannot be killed through ordinary means. Thankfully, most ghosts of the object manipulation variety tire themselves when they act, and can thus only rarely manipulate physical objects maliciously. Possession victims can be ‘freed’ by interacting with the ‘life’ of the individual being possessed – this is a technique taught to agents with the aptitude for it. Other options are elimination or containment of the possessed individual.

            If absolutely necessary – e.g. in the case of ghosts capable of possessing or manipulating objects without severe time limitations – send notice up your command chain. A specialist will be sent to resolve the situation. Do attempt to call in the specialist merely because the ghost is highly malicious: unless they present a constant threat to human life, they are not worth the specialist’s time.

Other Details: Ghosts were encountered before and during the initial formation of the IPC. They are, of all that we have encountered, usually the least threatening – most ghosts simply do not have the power to be a threat to anyone, let alone a trained agent who can sense their presence. Even the most powerful encountered possession ghost was unable to possess a trained agent.

            Despite ostensibly being people who have died, ghosts rarely seem interested in conveying messages to the living. Even malicious ghosts seeming to act on some kind of grudge will not communicate it, even if they are trapped and forced. Whether they are unable to communicate anymore, or something else is going on, is another mystery.

            It can be noted that of all ‘creatures’ we have encountered, ghosts are the – to us – most mysterious, despite being so common in folklore and pop culture.

Supernatural Power Data Supplementary Files: The Ayn’Sca’Raer Curse

Supernatural Power Data Supplementary Files: The Ayn’Sca’Raer Curse

Details: One particular curse is important and complex enough to merit extended discussion. The Ayn’Sca’Raer curse (the name ascribed to it – without access to the full details of its creation, we are not sure what name, if any, it was originally called) is an old, failed ‘curse’. Passed down stories ascribe its origin to the same ‘curse-smith’ group that are responsible for all vampire types, and supposedly some lycanthropes.

            The story is fairly simple: the aim of the curse-smiths was immortality. One of their earlier, cruder experiments was an attempt to straightforwardly grant ‘immortality’ (no aging) to a small family. This partially succeeded – the family’s lifespans were tripled, or more, according to the handed down legend – but the curse-smiths desired a more permanent solution (and, as such, continued their research down darker paths).

            Part of idea behind the curse was to ensure that not just the afflicted generation, but also all subsequent generations, would live forever. This was successful, but after the second generation were born (and proven to possess the same qualities as the first) the family was entirely wiped out.

            This is when the ‘problems’ began. Due to some part of how they cast the curse, the curse still afflicted people – completely at random, and with a ‘lesser’ version of the curse. For people not exposed to further curse magic – specifically curse magic – no noticeable symptoms present themselves, apart from a strange ability to tell whether someone else is also afflicted by the curse.

            Unnoticed by the curse smiths for some time, it came to light when they attempted to curse one of their victims. Due to the presence of the Ayn’Sca’Raer curse, their new curse failed spectacularly – the tale has it with a torturous death. This discovery is supposedly the reason the tale has persisted.

            The curse has unpredictable effects when combined with other curse magic. We have been unable to acquire anyone afflicted with it to test the curse (the rate is around one in a million, possibly one in ten million or one every year), but the effect when combined with werewolves is well known. Quite simply, they gain immortality.

            As such, the only Ayn’Sca’Raer we have encountered are a pack of around thirty of the oldest, most sick and vicious werewolves we have ever encountered. With their age has come combat experience and caution – despite several engagements, we have only managed confirmed kills on two of them. There have been no encounters beyond the second, during which they realised how dangerous we are. This group of werewolves strikes fear in the other organised packs, and promises death to any who kill, rather than infect, an Ayn’Sca’Raer (werewolves and some other cursed creatures are capable of sensing Ayn’Sca’Raer as well, for reasons unknown).

            There is one exception to the ‘evil’ Ayn’Sca’Raer werewolves – a single individual who was born as one. Like other born werewolves he never had to make peace with his ‘inner beast’, and perhaps through luck was the child of two peacefully inclined born werewolves. This individual is an ally to us when deigns to come forward – he has a particular code to contact us as with other allies.

            It is theorised that vampiric Ayn’Sca’Raer exist, but none have been encountered.

Supernatural Entity Data Files: The Blood Maiden

Supernatural Entity Data Files: The Blood Maiden

Important Details: The ‘Blood Maiden’ is an incredibly strong, incredibly evil spirit. We are unsure whether she is a ghost, the result of a particular bit of curse magic upon a ghost, or something akin to a wraith or elemental. Regardless, she is one of the most dangerous entities we have encountered. Despite being destroyed three times by our agents, she has managed to regain full physical form each time.

            Nothing is known about her origin, however, we do know a fair amount about her actions since she became the Blood Maiden. She leads a cult dedicated to worshipping her (and is somehow able to reform it after it is wiped out – we have succeeded in this completely previously as well). This cult performs regular sacrifices to her – bleeding their victims out into a large pool that she will frequently immerse herself within.

            This ‘pool’ is key to her survival and her physiology. Her body is not an ordinary one of flesh, blood and bone – it is just blood, bound together by some terrible magic to form her shape. The blood of countless victims. Destroying this form is very difficult – wounds, even grievous ones, are instantly healed, the only noticeable damage being some blood spatter. Trapping or binding her is also impossible – she will ‘dissolve’ parts of herself into a form similar to an ooze to flow through bonds, and we have observed her assuming this form fully.

            After several eliminations it was discovered that the Blood Maiden is bound to a small figurine that is stored either in the ‘sacrifice pool’ or within the Blood Maiden herself. The exact nature of this figurine is unknown, but evidence suggests that it can morph in a similar manner to the blood maiden, and also influence minds in a similar manner.

            When in power, the Blood Maiden will have her cult perform as many sacrifices as possible. After a certain number have been performed, she will enter the resulting pool of blood (presence of the figurine with the pool prevents any decay of the blood) and absorb it into her current form. Although she demands sacrifices of her cultists, she does not seem to need them to maintain her form (discovered when she committed absolutely no murders during the six month chase that capped off the second elimination).

            Apart from the sacrifices, the Blood Maiden focuses on building her cult – inducting new faithful, holding religious services, or researching how to better control and manage them. The last was discovered during the most recent elimination of her cult – she had been making use of a computer to read about other cults and religions, and especially how they worked and promoted fervour in their members. All information indicates that she is completely emotionless beyond her desire for.

The current status of the Blood Maiden is unknown. After the most recent elimination (circa five years ago) she has been completely off the radar. We suspect that she is rebuilding her cult, and aiming to perform the ritual that allows her to reform herself.

Physiology: The current primary theory is that the Blood Maiden is a powerful spirit, likely enhanced through curse or other magic. Her soul is bound in some manner to a figurine in the shape of a young woman. As the figurine has never been examined or catalogued, we have no details on its nature.

            Interrogations have indicated that, when without her physical form, the Blood Maiden will communicate with people in close proximity of the figurine. Additionally, the figurine is capable of some form of movement (likely similar to the unusual transformed movement the Blood Maiden is capable of).

            The Blood Maiden’s corporeal form appears outwardly to be completely human. It is, however, entirely composed of blood – the blood of the sacrifices used to initially give her new life, and any she has absorbed since (DNA testing has confirmed this). Despite this, her body seems to have only the features of an ordinary human body – until one inflicts harm upon her. She is impossible to bruise, and cuts, burns or piercing wounds are nigh instantly healed. Any ‘flesh’ pushed out of her body will revert to blood, although her remaining body will immediately patch up any damage.

            In addition to her ordinary form, she is also able to revert to a ‘blood’ form in whole or in part. This form will leave some of itself behind as she travels (a disgusting trail of blood). She is able to revert to this form instantly, but reforming herself seems to take some time – similar to the amount of time interrogations have indicated she spends reforming or absorbing blood from her ritual pool. Her ‘blood form’ is able to travel very fast – a flamethrower is advised.

            The optimal method of destruction for the Blood Maiden is capture and, when she reverts to blood form, use of a flamethrower or acid to full eliminate her.  Her strange physiology (as a being of ‘solid’ blood) prevents the use of many psychic powers that can otherwise be used to eliminate high tier threats such as her (and also any form of mind reading).

Other Details: The Blood Maiden’s cult was discovered in the early 1980’s. Although it had several adherents around the world, the major concentration was a traveling group of ‘gypsies’ (so they claimed – however, their origins and nationalities were a broad mix, and socially they had nothing to do with the Romani people). This group travelled through eastern European countries (as early as the late seventeenth century) inducting members into the group and working in cities, and murdering out of the way townsfolk between them. Suspicion was lowered by creating evidence of ethnic disputes, or simply having the victims disappear entirely.    After identifying the nature of the cult, a large and well-equipped team was dispatched. The operation met with success.

            After the first time she was destroyed (with great trouble – despite being isolated and only possessing limited combat capabilities, she withstood sustained automatic fire from twenty individuals for more than twenty minutes) we believed her ended, however, three years later the remnants of her cult managed to revive her. After a second, far more bloody elimination, we managed to eliminate her and her cult completely.

            Twenty years later she emerged again, with a new (and slightly different) cult. After eliminating the cult (and her) again, all information relating to each of the three cases was poured over. Conclusions reached indicated that a single strange common element was present at each of the sites – a small red figurine, vaguely similar to the Blood Maiden’s form. The site of the third elimination was thoroughly searched (a large pile of rubble – the containing building and extensive basement was destroyed after completion of the mission), but the figurine was not found.    As such, the Blood Maiden is likely rebuilding her cult, preparing to reform again.

            The details of the sacrifices have varied over time (the Blood Maiden’s old cult had devised quite an intricate method of preparation, marking, and cutting; whereas the reformed cults favoured far quicker killings), but key elements are: The victim is drained of blood over the sacrifice pool slowly, to ensure as much as possible is ‘fresh’. Upon death, additional cuts are employed to drain as much as possible in the minute following, before the blood itself dies.

            The blood collects in the sacrifice pool (often large enough to hold the blood of hundreds), in which the Blood Maiden’s figurine sits. The blood within the pool will remain fresh indefinitely. After at least ten, and often more, sacrifices have been made the Blood Maiden will immerse herself in the pool, and absorb the blood. We assume a similar act occurs when the Blood Maiden is reformed, but we do not know how much blood is required for her to do so.

I Will Help You

I Will Help You

                Dytja climbed the mountain, despite the blizzard that raged around her. It wasn’t much of a storm in her view – the snow was soft and small, as much as it was blanketing everything. A rock storm, now that was a storm…

                She trod on silently. If it wasn’t for the heavy pack (containing a dangerous artifact she intended to have destroyed somewhere none knew of its temptations) the trip would be fine. Easy, even. As it stood, however, she was regretting comments made in the past to those less capable of strolling through a blizzard.

                “Howdy there!” came a voice, almost from nowhere. Looking around, Dytja spotted a burly man a bit off the path, standing under a tree. The foliage made him hard to spot.

                “Howdy back,” replied Dytja, stopping to respond.

                “Can’t say I expected to see someone trying to make it through this ‘ere blizzard, definitely not a woman carrying a huge load,” the man said.

                “I’m fine. The pack’s lighter than it looks,” said Dytja.

                “I’d hope it is! But listen, ma’am, if you’d like you can shelter with my wife and I for the night. I don’t think this blizzard will let up until the morning – and I’m betting it’ll worsen overnight,” the man said.

                Dytja almost declined immediately, but her tiredness (she had been walking for two and a half days already) made her consider it. And how she was tired – as often happened, what had seemed an alright load had become heavier and heavier as she walked; until now she was regretting bearing it. Internally, she sighed, as any load that was more than a human could take was not one she could haul around for long.

                “Strange for me to say, but I think I will accept your offer!” Dytja replied, calling out loudly through the snow. She adjusted her pack and began to make her way towards the man.

                For his part, the man started smiling. “Oh, good. I was truly worried about you – you must be truly mighty to get this far but the storm will get worse in the night; and I’ve found too many frozen on this road in my time,” the man said, relieved. “Follow me!”

                With a wave of his arm, he indicated their general direction of travel. Dytja followed behind, catching up to the man quickly (much to his surprise). “I’ve no idea how you’re doing it, but that’s the fastest I’ve ever seen anyone walk through a blizzard! Are you a traveling hero of some sort, head to toe in magical gear?” the man asked.

                “More or less,” replied Dytja. “I’ll ask that you don’t open this pack while I sleep – it contains a dangerous artifact that I’m taking all the way to a great master smith to be destroyed.”

                “Ah, a responsible traveler? Fear not, I’m not foolish enough to meddle in things I do not understand. Nor is my wife, who’ll be awaiting us inside,” responded the man. “I’m Francis, although I prefer Frank, by the way.”
                “Dytja,” Dytja replied.

                “A guest?” said Angeline upon seeing her husband and Dytja make their way inside. Angeline was a matronly woman; quite pretty in a reserved sort of manner. She had ash-blonde hair that hung down to her shoulders.

                “Yes dear, her name is Dytja. A wandering hero of sorts, she says,” replied Frank.

                “Really? How interesting. Perhaps a couple of tales over dinner?” asked Angeline.

                “Sure,” answered Dytja. “I can retell a couple you might enjoy, and a few that might stretch credulity – you can believe them or not as you wish.”

                “That sounds wonderfully entertaining. I better prepare dinner quickly!” said Angeline, bustling back to the kitchen.

                “Why did you look sad when she mentioned dinner?” asked Dytja, as she followed Frank through to a sort of ‘lounging’ room. Set facing a fireplace were several chairs – enough for Angeline, Frank, and several guests. From the looks of things, the room saw little use – not unusual, given how far they lived from civilisation.

                “Oh, nothing,” replied Frank. Dytja decided not to press him; although it was certainly not ‘nothing’.

                “Would you care for a drink?” asked Frank, making his way to a small bar.

                “Sure,” replied Dytja. “Make it a double if you don’t mind.”

                With a chuckle, Frank complied. Shortly, the pair were sitting opposite one another in comfortable chairs, sipping well-aged whiskey.

                Conversation ranged over several topics – why Dytja had taken the risk of the mountain in a blizzard, how she needed to take the mountain path to avoid anyone falling prey to the artifact, how Angeline and Frank lived up on the mountains, and why they had come.

                Soon enough Angeline wandered in. “Dinner is served,” she said. Leaving their empty glasses behind, Dytja and Frank followed her through.

                “The guest seat,” said Angeline, indicating a seat on one side of a small table. It was the least worn – the spots on either side were obviously those used by her hosts.

                “Thank you,” replied Dytja, taking the seat. The dining room was fairly large, especially compared to the table – as if a bigger table had been planned, but never added. A couple of hunting trophies – antlers from what was likely a very large dear, and some kind of horn – adorned the wall.

                The meal in front of her – still steaming – was bear meat, along with a helping of still fresh vegetables (the blizzard being the first snow this part of the mountain was seeing). Dytja licked her lips. “Bear, I take it?” she asked her hosts.

                “Why yes,” replied Angeline. “Frank killed a bear a few days ago, he says.”

                “That I did,” replied Frank. “Thank you greatly, Angeline; this meal looks absolutely delicious.”

                “Dig in dear. Oh, and you too, Dytja,” said Angeline, beaming in response to Frank’s praise.

                Dytja needed no other prompting. She hadn’t eaten for a few days – not uncommon for her – and was quite famished. The truth was, she’d prefer to eat about twice as much as was before her; but it was still quite a generous meal.

                Angeline and Frank made light conversation around their eating as Dytja thoroughly devoured her food. Despite her perfectly graceful, absolutely proper method of eating, she had finished before either Angeline or Frank had eaten even a third of their – despite their quite speedy, uncultured method of eating.

                “Wow,” said Frank, after Dytja neatly arranged her utensils out of habit. “I’ve never seen anyone eat quite like that.”

                “Old habits,” replied Dytja.

                “Well, it’s certainly a sign that you enjoyed your meal!” said Angeline, smiling. “Perhaps, while we finish, you could tell us a couple of tales?”

                “Sure,” said Dytja. “Perhaps ten years ago…”

                Dytja regaled the pair with three tales as they ate; tales of adventure and travel. Though entertaining, Frank and Angeline didn’t quite believe them – or, at least, believe them fully. In part, it was the fantastical nature of Dytja’s adventures – conversing with kings, fighting great and terrible monsters. But the other, more unusual part, was how she would start with, ‘about one hundred and fifty years ago’; or the third with ‘a couple of millenia past’.

                After Dytja finished her third tale (some time after the meal was finished), Angeline stood and said, “Time for me to clean up.”

                “I’ll give you a hand, dear,” said Frank, also rising. “Dytja, do you recall the corridor before the lounge? At the end, the first door on the left, is a guest room. You can make yourself comfortable within.”

                “We’ll be around if you need anything,” added Angeline as she disappeared through to the kitchen with her plate.

                “Nice people,” mused Dytja as she stood. “Like many in this world.”

                Dytja heaved up her pack, and hauled it through to the corridor Frank had spoken of. Curious, she checked the other rooms. Interesting,she thought, they seem to sleep apart. Two guest rooms means they probably can’t have kids or something sad.

                Dytja placed the pack, her adventuring pack (hidden underneath the pack containing the artifact) and her belt of pouches on the floor, and gave the bed a try. It was soft, obviously rarely used but well kept. “Aaah,” she sighed, relaxing.

                She relaxed for a while before she came to the conclusion that talking with her hosts was probably the polite thing to do. It didn’t take long before she found Frank in the lounge, having another drink.

                “Catching up?” Dytja asked, playfully.

                Frank sighed deeply. “I’m sorry. Stuff’s just getting to me today. Help yourself if you want another,” he said.

                “What sort of… stuff?” asked Dytja, curious. She took a chair opposite Frank.

                “Angeline,” said Frank, putting a hand to his forehead. “I… I’m not sure how long I can keep doing this. I miss her.”

                “Miss… her?” said Dytja, confused. “She was here while we were eating only half an hour ago – I didn’t hear you guys argue either.”

                “Ah, sorry, I should be clearer – that was her ghost. She doesn’t know she’s dead; she just… keeps coming back on certain evenings, especially when we have guests. Seven years now,” said Frank, swirling his glass.

                Dytja, on the other hand, was still pretty confused. “I’ve been many places, Frank. Ghosts don’t work like that,” she said. “Ah, but she might still be dead, I’m sorry for your loss ack sorry.”

                “Really?” said Frank. “Maybe not quite a ghost. A torment for me, every day, when she comes back. By the snow…”

                Feeling awkward, Dytja let silence continue for a couple of minutes. Frank simply ruminated, lost deep in thought, staring at the swirling liquid in his glass. Then Angeline walked into the room.

                “Oh, I guess you’re not a ghost,” she said to Dytja, ignoring Frank completely. Dytja quickly glanced over at him – he didn’t seem to have noticed or heard her.

                “This was always the room Frank was proudest of,” Angeline continued, putting a hand on one of the chairs. “He often brings guests in here.”

                “What did you mean just then?” asked Dytja, staring at Angeline.

                “That you’re not a ghost? Oh. Sometimes the guests we receive are ghosts – they disappear after a dinner, just like Frank. It was nice to see him again,” replied Angeline. “It’s. It’s hard, sometimes, but it’s better to see him from time to time, even if it’s not for long. He’s a ghost you see, he has been for several years.”

                Yet, at the same time, Frank had said, “By the snow? Just an expression from around here.” Neither he nor Angeline seemed to notice each other, at all.

                “May I ask a question?” said Dytja, leaning her head back.

                “Of course,” Angeline replied, while Frank said, “Yeah.”

                “Have you had any guests not of the same gender in the past seven years?” asked Dytja, rubbing at her eyes.

                “No actually, you’re the first,” replied Frank. “Strange that.”

                Angeline, after pausing to consider it for a moment, said, “No, not a one! How strange. Now that I think of it, all the ghosts Frank has brought home were men. Very unusual.”

                “Bloody curses,” muttered Dytja. “Okay, both of you: neither of you are dead, I’m guessing seven and a bit years ago you pissed someone off? Probably accidentally, or they were just an arsehole, since you’re both really lovely.”

                “What?” both said, simultaneously.

                “I’m not sure how it convinced you both that the other’s dead, but you’re both under a curse that removes you from the sight of the other gender. Except at dinner time. I’ve come across this sort of curse before – it’s old magic, not from here, but it interacts with people and the nature of this world to really, really inflict pain on those it targets,” explained Dytja.

                Both looked shocked, and Dytja could see they were quickly moving towards ‘outrage’. “Okay, come over here and push the side of my cheek closer to you around,” she said. “And I’m immune to the curse because I’m not human, if that helps.”

                Hope won out over outrage, and the pair advanced on Dytja. Tentatively, Angeline reached out towards Dytja’s left cheek – but she gasped as Frank roughly started pressing Dytja’s right cheek around.

                “Who’s doing that?” she gasped.

                “That’s Frank. Can you – thanks,” said Dytja, swapping what she said as Angeline more gently (though still not really gently…) pushed her left cheek around.

                “Angeline?” said Frank, hope in his voice.

                “She can’t hear you and I’m guessing you just walk through each other – no, it’s not because you’re both ghosts – but do you believe me?” Dytja said.

                “Y-yes,” both replied, tentatively.

                “Tell me of anyone you remember visiting just before your spouse died. I’m going to end this curse by forcing them to recant it, and any others they’ve cast,” said Dytja, forcefully.

Noticing that her forcefulness was off-putting, she calmly added, “I will help you.” It was enough; the pair started to look at her with pure hope, no longer a mix of hope and concern. In that moment, as in many others, she was truly a hero.

                There was only one likely suspect – and he was very likely. He had possessed a strange bracelet (memorable enough that both could describe it to Dytja, who had some clues as to its make). He had argued with both Frank and Angeline, and though he had left without violence, had sworn to hurt them. Sworn that they’d never see each other again.

                Though the man never returned, a few months later Angeline and Frank found each other ‘dead’. They dug a grave in the same spot, and buried the corpse there; leaving an inscription on a stone they dragged over. Unlike all others, when Dytja read the stone she saw two messages scrawled over each other.

                From experience, Dytja guessed that the curse had heavily messed with their perceptions for that short period; and then –given that the intent of the curser was to hurt them as much as possible – settled on causing an immense amount of pain. Some nights, they would be together – and with the curse’s manipulation they would each believe the other knew nothing of their death.

                Conveniently for Dytja, the man who cast the curse was a traveling jeweler, headed in the same direction she had to take to destroy the artifact. Ten days later she stood outside his shop, a lush boutique in a very large town. He was, quite obviously, doing very well for himself.

                Dytja entered, and laid her pack on the ground. “Is Omeric in today?” she asked the counter girl.

                “Yes, he is. Are you interested in a custom piece?” the girl asked. Leaning forward conspiratorially, she added, “I’d ask for something complicated – he’s been getting his apprentice to do the easy ones of late.”

                Dytja smiled and said, “Thank you, but no. I’m here to enquire about a bracelet he may still own, actually.”

                “Oh, that daft black stone piece? It’s dreadful. But, ah, I mean, no, it’s truly dreadful. Are you a collector of some sort? You do have some interesting gear,” the girl replied.

                “Of a sort, yes. May I head through and speak to him?” asked Dytja.

                “Yes, head through. I have to keep an eye on you as we go, though,” said the girl, indicating the doorway behind her.

                “Of course,” replied Dytja. She made her way through the door and a short corridor beyond, into the jeweler’s workshop. The only person present was a middle aged man – obviously Omeric. He wore a black stone bracelet around his left wrist. Barely perceptible light gray material of some kind linked together the pieces – Dytja knew it would be a type of plastic, although few others would recognise it.

                “Omeric the jeweler, I presume,” said Dytja, walking up to the man. The counter girl disappeared from behind Dytja, now that Omeric could keep an eye on her.

                “Yes. Who, may I ask, do I have the pleasure of speaking to?” said Omeric, sizing Dytja up. Dytja could unfortunately tell that he liked what he saw.

                “My name is Dytja. I’m here about the bracelet, and the curse you foolishly placed upon a lovely couple on Mount Arbile,” said Dytja, moving closer towards the man. Despite being seated, he realised exactly how tall Dytja was – easily fifty centimetres taller than he.

                “I – I – What are you talking about?” he asked fearfully.

                “I don’t know what you had against them, but seven years of suffering is enough. They cannot see each other – much like you screamed at them as you left. That bracelet you are wearing is a ‘curse-bank’, a device from another world that stores unformed curses for anyone to use. Or blessings, if you truly know what you are doing. But I presume you do not,” said Dytja, glaring down at Omeric.

                “And if I have learnt how to use it? If you do not leave I’ll curse you to never see good fortune again!” replied Omeric viciously. “It’s mine, and I’ll never revoke a curse!”

                Dytja grabbed Omeric by the shirt, and lifted him wholly up off the ground. “I CURSE YOU TO DIE!” he yelled. The bracelet pulsed visibly – the darkness in the stones starting to flow out. Half a second later, all of it had.

                Omeric started to laugh as Dytja glared at him. The magic dissipated, becoming invisible as it began its work. As the last little bit of darkness left the bracelet – leaving only clear crystals behind – the plastic dissolved, sending the crystals tumbling to the floor where the burst into sand.

                “Hahaha, terrible to lose it but soon you’ll be dead and I’ll be fine!” said Omeric.

                Several minutes later, when Dytja was still holding him and glaring the same as ever, he became worried. “Why aren’t you dead yet? Or perhaps you’ve died an- URK!” he babbled, cut off when Dytja grabbed him around the throat.

                “Listen, idiot,” she whispered in his ear softly, “I’m immune to curses because they don’t understand me. I’m not from this world either, and I’m not bound up in its rules. Where I come from, this sort of magic can’t do anything; so when it obeys my world’s rules – which it tries to, to try and make a curse – it just fades away.”

                “So you have one choice, right now. Say what I tell you to say, or I end the curses you’ve cast by killing you. I know you’ve cast others. Probably had to get rid of a little competition, right? So do you understand me?” Dytja threatened.

                Unable to breathe, Omeric nodded his head as much as he could.

                “Okay.This is what you say: I break all curses I have cast. If you say anything in the five seconds after that, I will kill you,” said Dytja.

                She slammed Omeric into a chair and released his throat, moving her hand to his chest to keep him down. After a coughing fit (while glancing frequently at Dytja in case she was about to attack him), he wheezed out, “I break all curses I have cast.”

                Though it was only five seconds, it felt to Omeric like he spent an age beneath Dytja’s glare. It was worse than the rest that were merely anger. This glare promised pain, torture, death, if he dared to cheat her.

                Once the five seconds had passed, Dytja let go of Omeric, and cracked her neck. “You better hope I never have a reason to see you again,” she said.

                As Dytja left without a single glance behind her, Omeric’s mind was busy reconsidering a large number of less than moral plans he had had for the future. He’d never do anything he knew was wrong, even slightly, ever again.

Wintry Path

Wintry Path

                Once, a long time ago now, I used to travel the lands. I saw many things, and met many people. One of the saddest I ever met was a man who lived a ways up Mount Arbile, where it snows every year.

                I was traveling the road up the mountain to reach the pass - my next stop the Deserts of Arbile (the man had a habit of naming things after himself). It was an arduous journey - one of my first experiences traveling in snow - and it turned out that I could not get as far in one day as I had hoped. Not wishing to camp in the snow (I'll tell you how you can survive that another day) I looked for shelter along the road as I went.

                Luck was with me - not far further along was a large log cabin; a curling stream of smoke billowing from its chimney. Chuffed, I wandered down the road and reached it just as dawn fell. Light came from inside, and I rapped upon the door in hope of gaining a place to spend the night.

                A lovely, matronly woman answered the door. "Hello!" she said, "Are you traveling to the mountain pass?"

                "I, well, yes," I replied. "Do many travelers find themselves caught this far out?"

                "Oh, a few, perhaps two or three every cold season," she replied. "Please, come in, our hearth is warm and dinner is on the way!"

                "Why thank you, but please let me introduce myself! I am Phillippe of Jeanton, and I am wandering to see the world while my legs will still carry me," I said, giving my regular introduction.

                "Greetings, Phillippe. I am Angeline, and I live here with my husband, Francis (though I must tell you that he prefers Frank)," replied Angeline.

                With a smile and a beckoning hand she bad me to come inside, and I complied. "Frank is just through there," she said, before yelling, "Frank! We have a guest!"

                Taking the door Angeline indicated led me to a dining room, with two places set around a small square table - a chair on each side. Her husband, Frank, sat awaiting his meal. He was a burly man, the result of the woodcutting, hunting, slaughtering and farming that supported him and his wife on the snowy mountain. The two places set were opposite one another, so I sat on a side between them.

                "Greetings!" said Frank cheerfully as I took a seat. "You might find it odd for us to be so accepting of guests, but we have nothing worth robbing and so few travel this mountain that kindness only begets kindness. At least, as far as I have seen!"

                I smiled, and began a conversation with Frank. We talked about the kindness of humans to one another, and of the mountain, of the trees that grew upon it, of the animals in the woods. Of how he spent his days, so far away from civilisation.

                Time passed quickly, and soon Angeline bustled in bearing the evening meal. "I had to play around with the servings to fit in a guest so late," she said, "But I think we've all got a good feed."

                And she was certainly right about that - each plate was piled high with boar meat, surrounded by cooked vegetables (I know you're picturing fresh ones from the garden, these were long lasting root vegetables but delicious nonetheless). She even graciously served Frank and I a tankard of ale apiece and herself some wine while setting my place.

                Around that small table we crowded, staring at our meals. "Thank you, Angeline," Frank said. It struck me as strange even then how thankful he was.

                "It's nothing dear, dig in!" Angeline replied, smiling.

                Frank needed no further prompting to start tearing the meat apart with his knife and fork, and I quickly followed his lead. I have to say, compared to the two I was slow and clumsy - only rarely have I seen such efficient eating. Over the food, the chatted about their day to day life. I, myself, spent most of my time eating and not much talking.

                Conversation eventually turned to me, and my travels, which I'm sure you've all heard enough about for me not to need to repeat here. I told the story of my encounter with the stone-king, and the time I found a group of people trapped in a time bubble. Unfortunately my best act - my favourite tale - had yet to come to pass, but they laughed and enjoyed my recollections anyway.

                Then I asked a few questions of my hosts; "How did you come to live out here?" Well, they loved the snow and the woods and it was peaceful and plentiful if one knew how to live there so they traveled up the mountain and there they were!  "How long ago?" Oh, at least ten years - eleven dear. "Do you see many travelers like myself?" Maybe two or three a year, something like that. Mostly during the winter season, as the rest of the year travelers just head on by. "Are you planning to have children?"

                "Ah," replied Frank, looking at Angeline solemnly.

                "We've been trying, ever since we came out here," replied Angeline. "But we haven't succeeded." Angeline frowned.

                "It's not your fault, my love," said Frank, placing his hands on one of Angeline's.

                Angeline smiled sadly and nodded.

                "I'm sorry I brought it up," I said. "I beg your pardon."

                "It's alright, almost everyone who drops by asks," replied Frank.

                "Yes, that's true. We should talk about something else though - why don't you tell Philippe about the time you met a talking wolf?" suggested Angeline.

                "Ah, now that's a tale," said Frank, my faux pas forgotten.

                The ensuing tale was quite marvelous - although, technically, it was not a talking wolf. If you have heard of the beasts that sometimes look like women yet are certainly not, this wolf was a similar creature - but one with the form of a wolf. It could not truly talk (as with other such beasts), but it lured Frank into the woods - yet he wised up and slew the creature before it could harm him.

                Angeline clapped and smiled as Frank finished his story. Frank's face bore one of the most happy, loving smiles I have ever seen as he beamed at her. Now, during Frank's tale I had (finally) managed to finish my meal, and Angeline stood and began to clear the table.

                "I'll show you where you can bed," said Frank. He led me off through a passage and towards a cluster of four doors.

                "That's my room, and that's the guest room," he said, indicated the door opposite. "Make yourself at home - I'll be in my workshop on the far side of the dining room if you're inclined to chat a while before taking rest."

                I nodded and thanked him and Angeline both profusely. I quickly settled in - setting up my bedroll on the floor (many would dirty a clean bed with their long unwashed self, but I could not bring myself to do so), preparing some nightclothes, gumming my teeth. I added a couple of pages to my diary (logging my stay and Frank's story) as well, which took me some time.

                I decided to seek out Angeline and offer my assistance cleaning up after the meal, and then perhaps to speak with Frank about hunting in the region. She had already finished (which was unsurprising), so I decided to seek her out to offer her thanks for the meal in person instead.

                I moved through all rooms of the house, even looking outside. I couldn't find her - though more strangely, I couldn't find anywhere she would really have gone after cleaning up. There was no sewing room, no craftswork room, nothing. Soon enough I almost smacked myself on the head - she'd be in the workshop with Frank.

                But she wasn't. I opened the door and stepped in only to find Frank, working on some arrows. Considering how far they lived from civilisation, it was a useful skill. "Good evening," I said.

                "Good evening to you as well, Philippe," he replied.

                "I was wondering, where has your wife gotten to? I wish to thank her for the lovely meal, and I took too long with my diary to catch her cleaning up," I said.

                Seeing sadness - such deep sadness - set in so quickly almost made me cry then and there. "She's gone," he said.

                "Gone? Gone... Gone how?" I asked. But I already knew it had to be something so terrible.

                "She's been dead for seven years, but she doesn't know it," said Frank. He had to have already explained it to so many, but saying it was bringing him to the verge of tears. I couldn't say anything.

                "I can't bring myself to tell her. Every night, she comes back in time to make dinner. She doesn't know that I haven't seen her all day, since last night. She makes it, we eat it, and then right after she finishes cleaning up she's gone again," Frank said in a rush.

                As soon as he finished saying it, he covered his eyes with his hand. I let him have some time, and a minute later he wiped his eyes. "Follow me," he said, and stood.

                I followed him out of the log house he and Angeline had built together, out to a copse not far away. Frank walked to the centre and kneeled, sobbing just barely audibly.

                In the centre of the copse lay Angeline's grave; covered by snow and worn by time.