II
____September 2nd, 12 P.W.
____ Harold Phillips, of the chronicler’s guild
____ Day 1 of the investigation
____ The crisp papers rattled in my hands as I peered over them, the inks difficult to read in the orange glow of the only light available to me. I pulled the lamp over much closer, it now feeling hot on one hand in its proximity, and dared to read on. I refused to allow myself to pause any further until I was satisfied with my readings, so that I might immerse myself with the material as much as humanly possible. Harold Phillips had been a smart man after all, his notes full of detailed writing (and far less doodling than my own tended to possess), and I wanted to know exactly what he could prepare me for going forward. I delved.
____ I was not Prompted to begin this search by the Chronicler. Nor was it spurred by any of my other associates in the guild, a fact I know find fascinating considering the history and intrigue I was promised to find here. Indeed, I fully expect this find-to-be to finally win me the Glyph of Scop and the position of head of the guild. The fact that the temple of Drooling Pine Hill hasn’t already been the subject of study by our guild is all at once a grave oversight on the part of the chroniclers as well as a potential gold mine for me.
____ I had heard the story in passing from a friend of a friend at an excavation dig in northern Thaelenk, on the 22nd of June. He—a Kyrie fellow of Anund descent—expressed interest in the chronicler’s guild (although he was disappointed at the discovery that the guild was exclusively Human) and had asked me if I knew of the Legend of Orym and the people of the marshlands. He seemed surprised that both my colleague and I hadn’t heard of it. Smelling a story right then and there, I waited until my associate was gone before pressing for more details, knowing that this was going to be my ticket—and mine alone—to the Glyph of Scop. I set out to Old Vestklar as soon as the Thaelenk dig ended.
____ The Kyrie—his name was Sol—told me of the temple and the long-dead Valkyrie, and of the horrors he had summoned deep within the heart of the bog. Of course, no such monstrosities had been sighted in the area, nor were any reports of creatures ever filed in the nearby town. My eye was more on the history of the place, although finding any horrors would honestly only improve my stories to the Chronicler. The church was once the site of a wellspring and a Valkyrie: of great historical significance to the war records. Plus beneath that was the burial mound erected by the Old Tribes. It was two stories at once. I rushed to Old Vestklar as soon as I was able and arrived late the night of September 1st. Unfortunately I was too weary from travel to see the temple right then and there and instead rested at the abode of a Warforged named Craft.
____ Today I met with two of the townsfolk: Redgir Sylien and Vigo Love (a human), both of whom agreed to accompany me to the Temple. Redgir was my guide from Dellbriggs to Old Vestklar and throughout my stay, and Vigo was one of the temple caretakers who gave guides to any outsiders who wished to study it. The three of us ventured to the temple at 11:00 in the morning.
____ It was cautious work, the journey, veering on perilous. There was a simple and shabby boardwalk traversing the marshes between the town and the hills, and with it still being the wet season the bog was hazardous to tread through. Now I was envious of the Kyrie folk, seeing Redgir simply fly overhead while Vigo and I had to wade through the rickety wooden path.
____ Vigo was quick to remind me that our time at the temple had to be very limited, as it was both hazardous and forbidden to be at the temple after dark. He refused to tell me why, being very obstinate on the matter, and even Redgir would only say it was because traversing the marsh in the dark was dangerous. I had suspicions of ulterior motives right away, but shelved them for politeness or chalked them up to the small town superstitions of unenlightened folk. Whichever line of reasoning you prefer.
____ We reached the temple at 1:15 in the afternoon and stayed until 2:37. I wanted to simply survey the location and know its layout at its most basic before moving on with the investigation, so I was not too irked by the short visiting hours. I will, after all, be here as long as it takes to get to the bottom of this, and I knew that no one else at the guild knew of the legends. I had the town all to myself.
____ The temple was smaller than I had imagined, propped up by the burial mound like a child standing atop a gravestone to appear taller. It was built from a gray stone that I did not recognize, many parts of its ancient walls missing and deteriorated. For being built during the last war, it had aged terribly. It could very well be lost to time soon, as the nature around it seemed to have no intention of enabling it to endure the winters.
____ The inside of the church was made up in a cross shape: four smaller chambers connected at cardinal ends to a center circular room. Further structures, being far more depleted, surrounded this building. I could not discern their purpose during my short tour, although Vigo told me that they were originally walls and corridors of a castle around the church—as Orym had intended to become a Valkyrie General. I cannot say if he knew what he was talking about or not.
____ The only find of significance I discovered during the stay was that of some strange symbols etched upon the northern wall. I could not discern them for the life of me, being in neither Kyrie nor English or any other language I have come to know over my years. So strange and alien this language was to me, I could only describe it as some sort of eldritch hieroglyphs. Yet even those ancient Egyptian symbols possess more understandable meaning to the untrained eye.
____ Bafflingly, my universal translator was unable to decode it. My scanner dated it as being the same age as the temple around it, so I could at the very least conclude that the message was not particularly old. When I consulted Vigo on the matter, he merely said they were nonsensical ramblings that belonged to no official cypher and left it at that. Perhaps he is right. Perhaps not…
____ Most strangely of all, the particular corner in which I found this message was noticeably colder than the area around it. Not the kind of cold that indicated its origin, such as the damp cold of nearby water or the moving cold of wind or air. Just colder in general. I spent a good deal of time searching that one corner of the temple but was unable to discern a source or reason.
____ I spent the rest of the day interviewing various townsfolk about the temple, and received many differing answers regarding it. Some spoke of the religious importance of either the wellspring or the burial mound (and why pesky investigators like myself oughtn’t disturb it), while others talked with far less reverence: warning me of the horrid experiments Orym preformed on his victims up at the temple.
____ It seemed that there were several ghost stories regarding the old church that were traded all over the town and neighboring provinces. One regarded how Orym was so affected by the primordial terrors he’d summoned that he was transformed into a wretched beast that stalked the marsh at night and sometimes wandered into town looking for victims to steal away and tear apart. I was told that if I heard two taps on my bedroom window that I should not answer and avoid looking out or at the window for the rest of the night.
____ Another proverb spoke of the victims Orym had so cruelly taken to his church to experiment on or supply to his summoned demons (whichever you prefer). Some were mutilated to death and hidden in the bog, where they remain to this day looking for victims to share in their pain. Others were unlucky enough to endure the simple knife and saw, the eldritch torture turning them into creatures beyond the description of words. They stalked the halls of the church and sometimes returned to town hoping to return to their former lives, only to turn to monstrous violence and bloodlust upon the rejection of the normal and the living. I was told that should I awake at night and see a deformed figure at the door, I should immediately hide my eyesight beneath the covers and remain there for the duration of the night.
____ Lastly I was told of the horrors beneath the church, where a twisted wellspring that could only summon creatures beyond evil was hidden away. I was told that some of the monsters that killed their fledgling summoner still remained, trying at all times to find a way out to the surface world where more victims could be found; where more mortal minds blissfully awaited the destruction of their sanity. I was told that if I heard a sound alien to me, beyond my peripheral, beckoning me to places where no one else was, I was not to follow it.
____ These things seemed quaint to me on hearing, having just visited the same wretched temple only a few hours ago. The words rung of country exaggeration for the sake of cheap scares or enforcing pre-established rules. At worst, to someone like me, they were a call to adventure. I remained very interested in the writing I had found, and the dip in temperature that had accommodated it. If the stories were intended to scare off visitors, they weren’t about to work.
____ Tomorrow I will visit the temple for a longer period of time. Despite my interest in the symbols, I ought to further investigate other areas. There could very well be more to find. I will also do a bit more research around town regarding the character of Orym. There is a good likelihood that he wasn’t a Valkyrie at all, with the lack of evidence regarding the wellspring and summoned creatures. Oh, silly me, that’s right—they’re all underground beneath the burial mound, waiting to get out.
____ I flipped pages to the next entry, still only mildly intrigued at the moment.
____ September 3rd, 12 P.W.
____ Harold Phillips, of the chronicler’s guild
____ Day 2 of the investigation
____ Early this morning I spoke to Craft regarding Vigo, the tour guide who had given me some sketchy answers during yesterday’s venture. I found many of the townsfolk dodgy but had expected better of my guide nonetheless, and since Craft was a Warforged who was relatively new to town compared to everyone else I was hoping he would be more intellectually honest. If there’s any idea that frightens me when it comes to this line of work it’s not mutilated monsters or ghosts of the damned: it’s being alone and far away from everyone else. At least as far as understanding between men goes. Fortunately that wasn’t entirely the case here, as I still had some people in town I could relate to and work with honestly.
____ Surprisingly Craft informed me that Vigo wasn’t too much older than himself regarding staying time. He had come in only a few years earlier, looking for a life very far away from the Valkyrie and their society. He stayed for a while and settled in Old Vestklar, marrying a Kyrie woman who’d lived there her whole life. When I asked why Vigo would give me rotten answers to my queries, Craft answered in a simple enough way: he too didn’t know the temple all that well. He didn’t answer straight because he wasn’t sure. I suppose I couldn’t act too surprised.
____ Later that morning Redgir and I visited the town hall to look through records on its history. The hall was more of a large shack, heaped miserably on the end of Mahkra Street. It genuinely looked more haunted than the temple did. We were hosted by a man named Valiska, a melancholy fellow whose pallid hollow form accompanied us throughout our search for records.
____ He told me that Orym was a Kyrie of noble descent whose family had moved to Old Vestklar to hide from the purges of a rival house (likely Vydar, judging by the region of Orym’s origin). Despite their notable lineage, Orym’s family did not rule Old Vestklar during their long stay.
____ The history was bloody before too long. Unable to bear the loss of status, Orym’s younger sister slit her wrists and walked off into the northern marshes less than a year after arriving. His older brother abandoned the family’s status and instead took up a normal living no different than any other peasant in town. His only sons both died in freak accidents when they were young—otherwise I would’ve been able to meet them and interview them right now.
____ Orym didn’t give up on his lineage, nor did he give up his life like his sister did. Instead he turned to bitter zealotry and ambition, studying the forbidden arts of summoning. He intended to restore his family to fame, and if there was indeed a wellspring under the church on Old Pine Hill as they say then he very well had a chance at succeeding.
____ During his stay in Old Vestklar, Orym had held the position of a banker. It’s likely he used stolen funds to construct his temple, between the years of
____ The sound of a extremely loud and shrill scream put a sudden halt to my reading. It sounded distant yet loud enough to reach me nonetheless, and rung of a child’s voice. I stood up and paused, momentarily unsure about investigating. But no, there was too much going on around here for me to sit one out, even if it turned out to be nothing. Grabbing my machinepistol and holstering my shortsword, I ran to the door and rushed outside.
____ It was cold and damp out, the rain having momentarily stopped. Only the odd light of a half-dead lamppost and its twin reflected in the puddles guided my way through the darkness. At first I only had a general direction to go on, but my destination soon became more clear as a single home dead ahead lit up its windows. That had to be it.
____ Running up, I kicked the door open and dodge-rolled in. A cramped hallway lay directly ahead, the source of the light at the furthest-left door accompanied by hushed voices. I dodge-rolled over and peered in, aiming my gun but not touching the trigger just yet. I called out as I went, “Inquisitor Fantus. What’s going on?”
____ It was a child’s bedroom, a boy of about 6 still in bed sitting up. A Kyrie woman knelt next to him, both of them looking back at me wide-eyed and shocked. There was no sign of any threat. I lowered my weapon.
____ “What’re you doin’ here, senior?” Vigo’s voice came from behind me, the man running up with a shovel in his hands. He too peered into the room and lowered the tool.
____ “I could ask you the same.” I told him.
____ “This is my house!” He snapped crossly, shouldering past me and walking over to his family, “Are you okay? What happened, Junior?”
____ “He said it’s gone.” The Kyrie woman replied.
____ I frowned, “Do you mind explaining what’s going on here?”
____ “It’s nothing, senior.” Vigo said, “Uh, this is my wife Lanore and my boy. He’s Mr. Fantus, the Chronicler; I told you about him honey.”
____ “Hello.” Lanore merely nodded.
____ She was a simple and tired-looking woman. I didn’t ask her anything, instead returning the nod and advancing over to the kid. He looked drenched in sweat, staring at an empty corner of the room with a wide-eyed shock. I had to draw very near before he looked over at me, “What’s your name, kid?”
____ “vigo” He whispered back in a barely audible tone.
____ “Hm? What’s that?”
____ He spoke up louder, “Vigo. But I don’t like it.”
____ His father piped up as well, looking entirely too proud, “He’s named after yours truly, senior. Little Vigo Junior.”
____ “Thank you for piecing that together for me, Mr. Love.” I said dryly, “Don’t care for it? How about Junior?”
____ No reply.
____ “Yeah, that sucks too.” I stroked my chin, “How about VJ then? Yeah, that sticks.”
____ “What’s the J stand for?” Vigo Sr. requested plainly.
____ I stood up, “You’ll hafta figure that one out yourself, my dear assistant. Now VJ, tell me what happened. In detail.”
____ The illusion of a professional’s presence must’ve calmed the kid down, as he slowly breathed deeply and nodded toward the corner. He spoke in a soft tone, “There was a door in the corner. Someone was coming out. Over there.”
____ “Hm.” I strode over to the directed spot. The walls were faded, cracked white, not a speck on them hinting at any activity. I retrieved my trusty scanner and began meticulously testing the area. Nothing. I tried again and again, muttering a hum to myself as I worked, “Stop, Don’t Touch, Scan the Area, Tell and Adult. Stop, Don’t Touch, Scan the Area, Tell and Adult…”
____ I kept my ears peeled, listening to the consolation of the family behind me in hushed whispers.
____ “It’s okay now. It’s gone.”
____ “It keeps happening, Ma. I’m scared. It keeps getting worse.”
____ “If anything comes at you boy, just pray. And it’ll go away. Promise.”
____ I piped up as I stowed my unsuccessful tool, “Depends on who you pray to, I’d wager. How long has this been happening?”
____ Vigo paused, “Uh, I don’t remember. Only a short while, senior.”
____ Lanore spoke up, “We didn’t think much of it when it started. We thought it maybe was a good thing: that our child was gifted and being visited by Celestials. But they’ve become increasingly malevolent over time.”
____ “‘When it started’, eh?” I paced around, “Started around when Harold Phillips was in town, perhaps?”
____ Vigo shrugged, “Uh, maybe. I dunno.”
____ I scowled at his dodginess, walking back to the door only to be stopped by a strange
squish at my boot. I’d stepped in something extremely sticky, finding slime under my step when I looked down. It was an ugly transparent violet color, a substance I did not recognize. I stooped down and scanned it as well.
____ SUBSTANCE: Genosplasm \ AGE: Unknown
____ The hell was Genosplasm? Nevertheless it was obvious evidence of some sort of activity. I took a sample the stuff and rose to my feet, my lips wavering as I mused. This was going to involve more investigation. I was dismayed. There was a lot going on here.
____ “Does the entity ever visit more than once a night?” I asked.
____ “N—No…” VJ sheepishly replied.
____ “Then you should be safe for now.” I said, “Don’t worry, VJ. I believe you. I’ll be back tomorrow to fix this.”
____ “But what about seeing the temple, senior?” Vigo inquired.
____ “I’ll get to that too, Mr. Love. But surely you don’t mind if I also investigate these, erm,
episodes your son seems to be experiencing?”
____ “Certainly not! I’ll, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
____ “Let’s hope so, Mr. Love.” I took my leave the same way I came in, sample in hand. I only looked over my shoulder once on the way back, shortly after exiting the house. I could see Vigo’s silhouetted form standing at the open door, watching me leave. I mused on it.
Are you a friend or a foe, Mr. Love? I’ll need to read more of Harold’s notes to know for sure… Hmm…
____ My room was just as I’d hurriedly left it, notes left unread still laid out upon the desk. I shelved them for now and retrieved some more advanced testing equipment from my case. The M4C-G0F1N 219 was the finest evaluating technology Alpha-Prime had to offer, making my handheld scanner look like a child’s toy. I set it up on the desk and inserted the sampled Genosplasm, yawning as I did so. I’d sleep if I could at this point, but this new development was too important to wait. And the dead of night was my hour.
____ Genosplasm ---
____ Age Unknown -----
____ The results popped up on the screen. I frowned hard at the repeated results, turning the rigid knob on the side of the machine and scrolling down the data.
____ Element Number Unknown ---
____ Molecular Number 45OC -----
____ RNA Pattern Unknown -------
____ Planet of Origin Earth ---------
____ I paused and double-checked the last one. Earth? I was prepared to acknowledge the possibility of summoned monstrosities remaining in the town and leaving behind a bizarre residue. Primordials or Illithids perhaps but nothing from Earth. This material didn’t even register as an element and yet it was from my own planet.
____ “Ugh.” Frustrated with the contradicting and vague results, I picked up the M4C and threw it (okay, I didn’t actually do that). But it was irksome nonetheless. Perhaps the machine was mistaken, or maybe Vigo had accidentally come into contact with it and marked it as Earthen. Either way I was exhausted with lack of answers and retired at that.
____ Laying down on the bed after vanquishing any remaining lights, I found myself again surrounded by complete darkness. Everything I had read and discovered this evening alone was enough to continue to spur my imagination even as I tried to sleep. But fatigue won out in the end and took me to sleep and dreams somehow less dark than the waking world.
____ And to think Harold Phillips had thought that his first evening in Old Vestklar wasn’t even worth discussing in detail.