[Story] Chronicles of Jakob Pettersohn (01/Jun/08 - Final chapter)

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

Indeed.

It's a nice touch when Jakob requests the healer to stand by, that it -is- a request, and that "other pressing needs" are mentioned. Even if it's an order phrased as a request, there's a heck of a lot of wiggle room in there that most tyrannical despots, in your typical story, wouldn't leave.

Heck, by the sound of it, wandering off to relieve yourself would be acceptable, and not roundly castigated should the poor guard die in the meantime... That, I think, is a nice touch explaining how come the whole setup remains working...

There was also a comment I was going to make about how the story as a whole reads (something that came to me whilst I was thinking it over) - you mention about a paragraph or five down how it's been a year or so since the end of last chapter. Since the "wrapper" story is Jakob telling his life story, surely it should be mentioned right at the start of the chapter? Unless it's a specific effect you're trying to implement...

Just a thought.

[Tapewolf]

It's a nice touch when Jakob requests the healer to stand by, that it -is- a request, and that "other pressing needs" are mentioned. Even if it's an order phrased as a request, there's a heck of a lot of wiggle room in there that most tyrannical despots, in your typical story, wouldn't leave.

Yes.  This was inspired in part by.. [looks it up] ..Chapter 19 of White Wolf by David Gemmell.  In this chapter, Ironmask, a tyrant who makes Cross look like your favourite uncle, has had his face burned by the Old Woman.  His deputy, Morcha (whom Jakob is not unlike, now I come to think of it) requests the surgeon to attend him.

The surgeon, a thin-faced man with rounded shoulders, looked at him curiously.  Morcha felt embarrassed suddenly.  The man had no choice.  When Ironmask issued a command you either obeyed or died.  Sometimes you did both.

..which of course he does - Ironmask kills his surgeon as soon he has been healed (Morcha starts to realise that his Lord is crackers around this point, but sadly doesn't live to make amends).
Jakob is treading a very fine line between being an evil tyrant and actually being a decent sort, which makes the writing somewhat hard.   That said, he has always been supportive of his employees and henchmen.  In Furrae Chronicles chapter 14, it mentions the pension plan for his evil minions.

I do have a certain amount of leeway in that by the present day, his rule ended a century ago and some of the facts have become blurred.  The thing about Jakob killing his own clan leader to take his place and get the powers is a total rumour.  Again, this sort of thing happens a lot with Skilgannon in W.W. - that's probably where I got the idea of Jakob's wicked past from, now I come to think of it.

Originally the demon in the song 'One Less Hero' and Jakob were separate characters.  I got the idea of fusing them when I started to write what became chapter 11 of Furrae Chronicles.  But that meant that something really drastic had to have happened to make Jakob become evil...

Talking of which, when Furrae Chronicles first began, I thought Gareeku had drawn from Gemmell since his character, a white wolf, acts very similarly to Skilgannon the Damned (alias the White Wolf) - at least to begin with.

Heck, by the sound of it, wandering off to relieve yourself would be acceptable, and not roundly castigated should the poor guard die in the meantime... That, I think, is a nice touch explaining how come the whole setup remains working...

Yes.  Jakob trusts his judgement.  Implicitly, he is going to be pretty pissed off if this trust is breached.  If the Captain did die while the healer went off to play cards or something, I would not want to be in his position.
(If there were more pressing needs, Jakob would probably have tended Ashley himself, BTW)

There was also a comment I was going to make about how the story as a whole reads (something that came to me whilst I was thinking it over) - you mention about a paragraph or five down how it's been a year or so since the end of last chapter. Since the "wrapper" story is Jakob telling his life story, surely it should be mentioned right at the start of the chapter?

I've done that on a few occasions, I felt it was a bit of a cop-out actually.. a little sentence at the top to maintain continuity sticks out like a sore thumb to me.  I thought it would seem more natural if it was just mentioned in an off-hand way.
Originally this chapter was set a short while after the previous one, but when I got the idea of promoting Ashley - well, the last we heard of him was that he'd just been chewed up for trying to kill the Weasel.  Now it's a few years later and he's set out to prove himself.

Truth be told I don't yet know how I'm going to link to the next one.  It's going to start in a wholly different location and I don't want to have a blob about Ashley at the start of it.  Unless I think of something better, I'll probably throw that in about halfway down as well.  Again, I'm not sure if it's set a few weeks or a year after the previous one, but I haven't made the target word count on that one yet anyway so I guess we'll see what happens.


And now, here is the original ending from chapter 13.  At first Jakob didn't know his name, but at the last minute I realised that it broke the link with the song - he had to know who was attacking him for it to work.

* * *

"Your body is dead," I told it.  "You're just a soul in a beer bottle now."  The wire made an eerie screaming sound.
"QUIET!" I snapped at it and the screaming ceased.

"You were right though," I pointed out, "your name shall live on in legend, but not in quite the way you had intended.  Your name shall henceforth be a reminder of the price to be paid by those seeking to thwart Johan Cross."

Suddenly I paused.  "Hold on," I said, "I don't actually know what your name is."  Cork the Avenger,, the bottle replied sullenly.  I left the study and headed towards the infirmary, roaring with laughter.

* * *

'Cork' is a surname, although not necessarily a common one.  I was a little miffed at having to yank that joke, although I guess it wasn't brilliant anyway.

**EDIT**
Even I forgot about the pension plan in Furrae Chronicles..

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

Heck, by the sound of it, wandering off to relieve yourself would be acceptable, and not roundly castigated should the poor guard die in the meantime... That, I think, is a nice touch explaining how come the whole setup remains working...

Yes.  Jakob trusts his judgement.  Implicitly, he is going to be pretty pissed off if this trust is breached.  If the Captain did die while the healer went off to play cards or something, I would not want to be in his position.
(If there were more pressing needs, Jakob would probably have tended Ashley himself, BTW)

I'm presuming, here, that Jakob is sane enough that if, despite all the healer can do, the Captain dies anyway, that he's not going to come down on the healer like a ton of bricks.

I may be wrong in that. :-)

[Tapewolf]

Yes.  Jakob trusts [the healer's] judgement.  Implicitly, he is going to be pretty pissed off if this trust is breached.  If the Captain did die while the healer went off to play cards or something, I would not want to be in his position.

I'm presuming, here, that Jakob is sane enough that if, despite all the healer can do, the Captain dies anyway, that he's not going to come down on the healer like a ton of bricks.

Indeed.  Jakob blew away the cat in the previous chapter because they had gone around killing (relatively) innocent people for kicks.

If Ashley had killed the Weasel trying to defend Jakob, chances are he would have been kicked out on his arse at worst, or more likely demoted - depending on Jakob's mood and how much he can empathise with the guard's motives.

As for the healer, keep in mind this is the chief healer we're talking about - he's already proved himself, otherwise he'd be one of the underlings instead.

If they deliberately killed someone a'la Shipman, Jakob in his current state would get angry enough to kill them too.
If as you suggest, he neglected the patient and they died, that's less clear.  Jakob would probably not have them killed, but his wrath would nonetheless be terrible and there would certainly be a new chief healer afterwards. 
If the chief healer tried his best to save someone and failed, Jakob would be pissed but rational enough not to take it out on them - after all it might mean losing someone else.

An interesting point while we're on the subject is that the 'intruder' sequence and the 'kills the feline' sequence were originally developed separately.  In an early draft the intruder scene happens afterwards:

* * *

"STOP!" I yelled.  "I said there will be NO MORE KILLINGS without my EXPRESS orders.  You!  Halberd to the floor.  I shall deal with you later."

* * *

..but I gave that one up once I linked the two together after a struggle to decide what tips Jakob off about the murders.

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

As for the healer, keep in mind this is the chief healer we're talking about - he's already proved himself, otherwise he'd be one of the underlings instead.

Point. However, granted there's a lot more helpful magic around etc, and granted there is more likelyhood of the healer managing to save someone than, say, in the 1400's in Europe. Despite that, I still see most healing (even now) as "some do, some don't" and guesswork. On that basis, the healer might be good at guessing, but that doesn't mean he wins them all. Even doctors these days don't win them all, or even half of them, really.

Just go ask about pediatric care. There's no baseline, they really don't know why the kids get sick, they just guess, and hope they get better (serious sickness, here, I'm talking. or deciding not to eat, or stopping breathing for no reason, or SIDS, or...)

Not to be a drag on the convo or anything, just a few thoughts...

[Tapewolf]

As for the healer, keep in mind this is the chief healer we're talking about - he's already proved himself, otherwise he'd be one of the underlings instead.

Despite that, I still see most healing (even now) as "some do, some don't" and guesswork. On that basis, the healer might be good at guessing, but that doesn't mean he wins them all. Even doctors these days don't win them all, or even half of them, really.

Just so.  Actually I really meant that in becoming the chief healer he's demonstrated that he's responsible as well as skilled, and not going to slip out for a cigarette or something while the patient lies dying.

Now, this morning it occurred to me that they could simply shoot the intruder (a design glitch caused by this storyline being planned over a year ago).  The answer to that is that Jakob prefers to give people a chance to surrender first, so I've updated the description of 'gazelle' to reflect this.

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

I was thinking more a "well, he looked ok, and then took a sudden turn for the worse when I turned my back for a second" type situation.

Which is slightly different to "I was there, and then I wandered off because the blood was dripping off the table, and when I came back a couple hours later, after three hands of poker, he was dead! Gee, what a surprise!" :-)

[Tapewolf]

I was thinking more a "well, he looked ok, and then took a sudden turn for the worse when I turned my back for a second" type situation.

Gotcha.

Now - I've just re-read chapter 1 and compared to some of my more recent efforts, I thought it left something to be desired, so I've just done an fairly substantial edit to it if anyone is interested.
Fa'lina's explanation is now a lot better and should make a lot more sense for non-DMFA people too.  A habit I had then of starting sentences with 'I' and using lots of short sentences in a row has been fixed too.

[Tapewolf]

This is about half of one huge chapter which I decided to cut in half at the last moment.  The rest of it will follow in a few days.  Putting off Ashley's fate was not my intention, it just turned out that way but we'll get there in the end.  I love inventing kooky religions, by the way.  Can you tell?

Chapter 14

Niall Cartwright looked wistfully at the sky.  He was about sixteen and his fur was grey as a wolf's should be, although there were patches of orange upon him here and there, traces of the fox side of his family.
He had seen hangings before, of monsters, murderers, petty thieves and heretics.  Not that enjoyed watching them, but the attendance of executions was mandatory by Church law.  Each time, Niall had closed his eyes at the moment of death although the Church had denounced this as a mortal sin.

He hadn't slept much in the night, but that was not unusual these days and it was part of the reason why it was now his turn upon the scaffold, hands bound behind his back, awaiting death with an air of quiet resignation.

They put the noose over his head, the headwings making this slightly awkward, and then drew it tight around his neck.  "I haven't done anything!" he insisted once more, but it hadn't helped him so far.  They prodded him over the trapdoor and read the charge to him.  His crime was simple - he had grown a pair of wings on his head, and that meant he was an incubus.  He had to die in case he began to feast upon his fellow townsmen.

At least my parents didn't live to see this, he thought.  Out of the corner of his eye he saw a guard climb up the steps and stand behind the hangman.  Finally, Father Mandamus ascended the steps as well and came to stand beside him.

"Be not afraid, my son," he began.  "Accept the death which we now offer you, for it is a holy death - the death of the Saviour visited upon you.  For just as His hanging brought us salvation, so too will your death purify your soul and allow you swift passage to heaven.
"If you continued to live, the demon side of you would grow and grow until you became one  with the spawn of the pit.  Death then would mean damnation for you.  Trust me, this way is better."

"Bullshit," spat the wolf, his impending death finally giving him the courage to speak out against the town's high priest and leader.
Hands bound, he gestured with his head at the jeering crowd.. men, women and children impatient to watch as his young life was snuffed out.  The execution of a demon was a grand event and pedlars were hawking mementos, small wooden sets of gallows with a winged wolf figure on a string.

"Look at them," he said.  "This is nothing more than a lynch mob.  Can you, Father, as a man of God, look me in the eye and tell me that these bloodthirsty sadists care one jot for my soul?  I think not.  It's just a lie you've made up to justify killing me when I haven't done anything wrong!"

The Father turned away.  "We are too late!  You have already made a pact with the forces of the Evil One.  If only you could have seen the Lord has he appeared before me, then you too could appreciate the sanctity of what we are about to do.   But alas, it is too late for you.
That blasphemy shall be taken as your final words," he said and then raised his voice so the crowd could hear.

"Go now sinner, to meet your dark Master!" he shouted, the crowd giving a cheer that quickly fell into the hushed silence of anticipation.  The young wolf closed his eyes as the hangman reached to pull the lever.  Death came suddenly.

There was a scream of terror from the crowd along with a horrible wet sound on the scaffold.  Hardly daring to believe that he was still alive, Niall gingerly opened one eye.  The executioner's heart had been pierced by the wing-tentacles of a very angry canine incubus, standing where the guard had been just a second before and wearing a look of savage delight upon his face.

The prospect of death had emboldened the young wolf, but the realisation that he risked his very soul being devoured suddenly made the gallows seem like a really, really good idea.

"No.. no.." he whimpered as the 'cubi turned to face him, almost lazily knocking the furious Holy Father off the scaffold and into the crowd below.
Frantically, Niall jumped up and down on the trapdoor in a vain attempt to kill himself before the incubus could destroy him.  A sharpened tentacle promptly sliced over his head - the noose falling limply around his neck and blocking that means of escape.

Niall's eyes were wide with terror, forgetting for a moment that he was a 'cubi too now.  When he remembered it didn't bring any consolation - this incubus was probably from a rival clan.  He didn't know much about 'cubi but he did know that they had clans and that the clans had rivalries and feuds and wars.. and that they ate people's souls.

The young wolf curled into a foetal position, cowering and whimpering as the 'cubi's tall shadow fell over him... the brave face he had put on at the gallows had long since fled.

"Well, Niall," I said, "That was a close one!  Let's go."

"No... please... not my soul...  Let me stay here and die!" he sobbed.

"Your soul?"  I asked, bewildered.  "I came here to save your life, not eat it."

Niall began to giggle hysterically.  "Save it for later consumption?"

"Don't be stupid," I growled.  "I've just killed someone in order to rescue you, so you're coming with me, like it or not."

I pulled him up by the arm, and as the guards made their way up the steps, halberds at the ready, I proscribed a circle with one of my claws and we vanished in a flash of black light.

* * *

As we walked through the corridors of my palace, the lad finally found courage enough to ask me the questions I had been patiently waiting to hear.

"What do want from me?  Did you save me because I'm a fellow 'cubi?  Or a fellow wolf?  Or what?" his voice was unnaturally shrill - he still seemed to believe that he was about to face execution after all, or quite possibly a fate far worse than mere death.

"Well, because you're a 'cubi, I suppose." I said.  "Not just any 'cubi, though.  I saved you because you personally are very important to me.  It took me a while to track you down, though.  And for that I apologise."

"But who are you?" Niall asked.
"Johan Cross," I replied.  He whimpered again and made the sign of the Noose.  "I'm your great-great-grandfather," I added.

* * *

Niall and I sat in an office which I used for important meetings with my staff.
The lighting was electric, which impressed Niall greatly, as did the air-conditioning system - crude by today's standards, but not bad as a first attempt.

Once he was convinced that he was going to live and had got over the initial shock of learning that his great-grandfather was the product of a one-night-stand between a vixen and a 400-year-old farmer who was now the region's most notorious crimelord, he began to settle down and asked various questions which were troubling him.
For instance, how it was that I was only his great-great-grandfather when nearly eight generations had passed since I had bedded Chelsea?

"I don't really know myself," I said, "but it turns out that your grandfather was actually a Were, which could account for his remarkable ability to sire  your father at the grand old age of 85.
"Genetics and metabiology aren't my strong point I'll admit, but it seems likely that his counter-magical abilities may have somehow interfered with the 'cubi factor and left it dormant for a couple of generations."

"None of my ancestors were 'cubi, then?" he asked.  "Apart from you, of course.."

"No, I've examined the birth records.  No-one was born with wings until you.  I had almost given up when one of my agents in Macura heard reports of a wolf becoming an incubus in some weird town nearby."

"The Church said it might happen," Niall admitted.  "They must have kept watch upon me.  I guess I always knew they would get me in the end, that's probably why I never paid much attention to their laws."

"Tell me about this Church." I said. 

* * *

Niall's home was Mundathra, a small, impoverished town just on our side of the border between Ha'Khun territory and Macura province.  Granted a certain amount of autonomy by Page many centuries ago and later forgotten, it had come under the control of a deeply religious group who called themselves the 'Church of Christ the Furry'.
I had never heard of them before, although the more Niall told me, the less I liked the sound of them.

I had been brought up under the wing of The Church of Christ the Human, who believed that God was human in form, and had sent his own human son to Furrae in order to help sort things out.  Like most Christianic religions they had a curious belief that demons served Hell, that angels were servants of their God and that good people would turn into them when they died.
As a consequence of this it seemed that their religion was primarily aimed at Beings, and this was probably the reason I later became apostate, all things considered.

Overall, in spite of this weird hangup, they were an honest and charitable sort whose tithings were mostly used to aid the community at large and the poor in particular.  Yet from my studies at SAIA, I knew that there were other, more sinister organisations that warped their religion to further their own ends and seemed to me that this 'Furry Church' was one of these.

They worshipped the Lupus Christi, sharing a not uncommon belief that the Son of God was a wolf (others believed Him to be a sheep or a lion).
But whereas most Christianic religions had a common theme of crucifixion, this group was unusual in that they believed their Lord had been hanged.  Perhaps in days gone past their faith had been honest like mine was, but by now it had been twisted into some kind of death cult.
For they believed that death by hanging was somehow holy, and since they were in full control of Mundathra, public execution by the gallows was the death penalty proscribed for most crimes, many of which were considered trivial offences in other, more enlightened regions.

Attendance at the executions themselves was mandatory, and it was expected that everyone should watch the last moments of the condemned person's life, apparently part of some weird mass-prayer for their soul.  Many of the crowd turned up willingly for the excitement - others, like Niall, came only reluctantly and turned away or closed their eyes when the unfortunate victim died.  This was not something the Church could easily prevent, but many sermons were preached against it, threatening dire spiritual consequences for sinners who refused to give the spectacle their full attention.
Those who failed to attend without just cause would be cautioned by the Church.  Too many absences, and they could well find themselves attending a hanging of their very own.

The Church's stance on magic was fairly predictable.  Even in some of the more rustic areas magic was considered a special gift to be treasured.  In nearly any other community Niall would have had his natural talents nurtured and encouraged.  But in Mundathra it was forbidden as a tool of the Dark One, with - surprise surprise - a hanging in store for anyone found guilty of what they referred to as 'witchcraft'.

Ultimately it was most likely this very prohibition, combined with the massive and regular influxes of emotional energy from the executions which had allowed Niall's headwings to form at so young an age.  Had he been a regular spellcaster, the magic level that caused them to appear would have been reached maybe ten years later.

* * *

"..and you let this band of fruitcakes run your town?" I said when he had finished.

"I don't know," he replied.  "They've been in control since before I was born."

"Not for long," I said.  "They may have been granted concessions when it comes  to tax-gathering, but executing my citizens without authorisation, let alone in public, is not something that I will stand for.  They are flouting the laws of my realm and I shall have to bring them to heel."

Niall looked at me.  I could sense conflicting emotions in his unshielded mind, a faint tremor of fear as he remembered that he was talking to a powerful mountain lord, and a flickering thrill of horror and excitement that he was about to see Johan Cross at work.

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

oooo.

Promises to be entertaining :-)

[Hilary]

   
=



*rules for having an emote post*

[Tapewolf]

oooo.

Promises to be entertaining :-)

Damn.  Now I'll have to write the actual attack scene... I should never have glossed over it anyway.  That will probably delay the next bit though..

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

Damn.  Now I'll have to write the actual attack scene... I should never have glossed over it anyway.  That will probably delay the next bit though..

Piffle. I meant the story as a whole. :-P

[Tapewolf]

Chapter 15

To Niall's disappointment, we did not rush into action.  I wanted to plan the operation in detail, and his descriptions of the town proved most useful.
Niall was not yet grown enough to dispense with sleep entirely, but during the day I helped train him in basic weapons skills.  Not that I intended him to do any fighting, but it helped keep him occupied. 

The headman of Mundathra was their high priest, Father Mandamus, the badger who had presided over Niall's attempted execution.  Within seven days these roles were somewhat reversed.
About a month before his 'crime', Niall had been inside the Holy Father's home on an errand, and so he had a clear memory of its location and layout.  This was just what I needed in order to be able to warp there, the only difficulty was getting this information out of his head.
One possibility was to enter his waking mind, but this was difficult, time-consuming and would be rather draining for both of us.

So instead I entered his dreams that night, another nightmare recollection of his brush with death.  Asserting my presence within it, I caused him to enter a lucid state, and wishing away the angry mob of pitch-fork bearing villagers, followed him down the thirteen steps of the gallows and off into Father's Mandamus' house.

There were several doors inside, some of which would not open - Niall did not know what was behind them.  Fortunately we did catch a dim glimpse into the bedroom, so I wouldn't have to search the property when I arrived.  The only guards were posted outside.

Leaving Niall behind, I left his dreams and warped into the real living room of our foe.  It was past time when all good Beings should be in bed, so I went there directly.  As I stood over him, I hesitated.  It didn't seem right to attack him in his sleep, but I shrugged the feeling aside rapidly.  It's not really an attack anyway...
Using a low-level stun I forced his sleep to become even deeper, so that he did not awake when I bundled him over my shoulder and warped back to my fortress completely undetected.

* * *

The priest stirred a minute or two after I used the counter-stun spell upon him.  He blinked, sniffed the air and looked around, but he did not panic.  In his mind I could tell that he had half-guessed what had happened and a moment or two later his mind-shield snapped on.
I watched him impassively from a desk obscured in shadow, a G-36 purring softly to itself and capturing the proceedings on tape.

"Father Mandamus, I have brought you here because you have broken the laws of my realm."

He turned with a start as I spoke, stepping out from the shadows as I did so.  I had assumed something close to my normal form, changing only the markings on my fur.  This served to emphasise the fact that Niall and I were related, while yet concealing my true identity.

"I thought this place had the reek of sulphur," he replied, seeing my
headwings.  "Whom am I addressing, demon?"

"My true name is not for your ears," I replied, "But you may call me Johan Cross.  As I said, I am most deeply unhappy at the way you have been treating your fellow townsmen.  Capital punishment has been banned for all but the most  severe crimes for many centuries.  It may only be used with my express authority, yet you have continued to take people's lives.  That is murder.

"In fact you have, by all accounts, murdered many hundreds of my citizens.  That you have done this at all is bad enough, but the fact is that you also tried to kill my heir.  That's treason.  And for that, I'm afraid you are going to have to be punished."

As I spoke, Niall stepped out from the shadows, his arms folded and his face set in a grim manner.

"Niall," said the priest sadly.  "I am unsurprised to find you here in this house of blasphemy.  I always knew that we should have sent you to heaven as well as your mother.  Our failure to hang you at birth has stunted your soul, and now you face only the pits of hell when your wicked life is through..."

"What...?" cried Niall in distress.  "I was told she died just after my birth!"

"Indeed she did," he said.  "But we took it upon ourselves to aid her in her passage to God.
You see, her husband was sixty-four when she became pregnant.  When she gave birth to a winged demon child, our suspicions were confirmed!
"Greatly desiring the child her ageing husband could not sire, she had in sin made unholy pacts, seeking intercourse with devils, until she was answered at last by an incubus!
"For this most terrible way in which she had strayed from the path of righteousness, we were forced to hang her as a witch.  She confessed to it after only a short period of questioning."

"Let me see if I understand," I said in a stony voice.  "You tortured my great-grandson's wife until she managed to invent some cock-and-bull story that you wanted to hear.  And then you hanged her, not merely taking her life as Lord Page and I had forbidden by decree, but doing so before the vulgar gaze of the public, denying her even the dignity of a blindfold?"

"Yes," he said, smiling.  "That suffering, death and shame purified her soul allowing her swift passage to heaven.  For just as our Lord's lupine Son died upon the gallows-tree to bring us salvation, so too did she find salvation for herself."

I looked at Niall.  He was crying softly and making the sign of the Noose again.

"Father Mandamus," I said.  "As lord of Ha'Khun and its surrounding territory and thus your ruler, I hereby formally accuse you of mass-murder and treason.
I was taught to believe that life was sacred, yet it seems that only by ending yours can I ensure the safety of my citizens.   Have you anything to say in your defence?"

He laughed scornfully.  "I serve a higher power than you, demon.  You preside only over temporal law!  We serve the spiritual laws given us by our Lord.  It is under His authority that we end the lives of the wicked to help them atone for their sins.  So He has commanded to us in person.
For yea, I have witnessed His glory with my own eyes...  For ever and ever, Amen..."

The badger made the sign of the Noose, his eyes shining with religious fervour.  I looked at him very strangely, unable to maintain the grave demeanour I had chosen for his trial.

"You met God?"  I asked him, unable to believe what I was hearing.  Insanity.. that would be a valid defence.  "Tell me about Him," I added.

"He visited our founder, blessed him to be long in years, and it was so, Amen.
He gave to us the new commandments and said that He would return to lead us into paradise.  At Easter Mass His presence visits us in secret chambers and His will is made known to us in person!"

"..And what is His will?" I asked, incredulously.

"Those who have sinned must be sent to Him at once to ease their passage to heaven, as I have said.  Where it is unclear who has committed the sin, we are to question all concerned with force until one of them confesses.
And most importantly, we are to remain ever vigilant for His prophet!"

Behind me, Niall began to recite fragments of the litany.

"And shall come at last a horse with the wings of a demon and the mind of an angel.  Dark in appearance and dark in name, he shall yet do My bidding in all things...
"After many hundred years of journeying shall this chosen one come unto the brethren and work many wonders in My name...
"For just as the omlette doth need the breaking of eggs, so too My return doth need the breaking of souls...
"The souls of queen and fae must needs be spilled, for only thus can paradise be brought at last to the earthly kingdom..."

The priest beamed.  "Spoken like a true child of the faith!", he said.

Something snapped inside Niall's mind and it went black with rage.  I really don't know how else to describe it.  Unable to find words to express his reply, he opted instead for something rather more direct.  The priest crumpled, a small bullet-wound just above that beatific smile, a single red tear mingling with the white stripe down his forehead.

* * *

Niall's reply had left the priest in an uncooperative mood and since his corpse had so far refused to answer any of the many questions I still had, we were forced to settle for a less immediate way of obtaining answers.

To begin with, I sat Niall down in front of a typewriter and asked him to type up all the fragments of litany that he could remember.  This was made easier by the discovery of a small bible upon the late Father's person, but it also gave Niall something to focus upon and helped to distract him from the guilt of what he had just done.

Studying the mass of texts, there was a definite pattern to the Furry Church's rather unorthodox mode of worship.  It seemed that within the last fifty years, the Church of Christ the Furry had actually begun to phase out the deity after which they were named, using the Lupus Christi only as a figurehead and a pretext for hanging people.
Their actual prayers were now aimed directly at God rather than using His son as an intermediary like all other such groups did.  Looking back at what the priest had said about meeting God in person, which he had also spoken to Niall about on the gallows, I suddenly realised that their religion had, in effect, been invaded.

As far as I could make out, some force or deity had imposed itself upon them, pretending to be their god and steering the faith in some strange direction to fulfil its own agenda.  This in and of itself was quite disturbing but there were things which I half-recognised from the tomes I had studied at SAIA and this unsettled me still further.

After pondering it for a few more hours, it suddenly began to make sense.
The hangings were sacrifices, the emotional energy released by the crowds was going to feed some malignant creature.  A rogue Fae was a possibility, but then it would have easily been able to manifest itself in corporeal form instead of just at the Easter Mass and besides, sacrifices for energy just wasn't a usual Fae tactic - they simply didn't need to use such crude methods.

And then it all fell into place.. the creature behind this twisted religion was almost certainly a malign entity I had read about which called itself the Dark God.  Its origins were not known, but it was believed to have been a physical creature at one point before it was slain or otherwise forced it into a noncorporeal form.
Throughout all of its many known manifestions there was one main point which remained pretty much static - it wanted its followers to assist it in the creation of a body to bring about its resurrection on Furrae... and now Niall's townsfolk were helping it to do just that.

[GabrielsThoughts]

Take a good idea or corrupt the meaning of the words of god, then add people who are too afraid to stand up to the bullies, the bullies become more powerfull, and you get a terrorist government crushing the people with a boot to their neck... sounds about right.

[Gabi]

Whoohoo! Interesting brush with canon DMFA continuity. Nicely played.

[Tapewolf]

Take a good idea or corrupt the meaning of the words of god, then add people who are too afraid to stand up to the bullies, the bullies become more powerfull, and you get a terrorist government crushing the people with a boot to their neck... sounds about right.

I've always found the excesses of the 13th century Church to be fascinating.  The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco for instance, I found to be a truly awesome read.  Not everyone will find it so interesting though - it can be rather heavy going unless you like Tolkien and other rather flowery writing styles.

Whoohoo! Interesting brush with canon DMFA continuity. Nicely played.

Thanks.  Gently does it, as I say - Jakob most certainly is not going to fight Pegasus directly.
Originally the Church of Christ the Furry was just going to be a crackpot religion with no basis*.  You should have seen it when I had that idea - it was like a light suddenly came on.  After all, the Dark God is likely to be older than Dark Pegasus (who would have been born while Jakob was in SAIA, by the way).

*Not that we know for sure if Dark Pegasus' god exists anyway in DMFA - he might have been completely insane himself anyway, and trying to invoke a wholly nonexistent Dark God.  In CJP I've taken the middle-ground - I'm assuming that something has been urging him to sacrifice people.  It doesn't follow that it's an actual deity, though - more likely it's something of god-like power.  This is Furrae after all 

[Tapewolf]

Chapter 16

"What the hell are we going to do about it?" I said.

"Do we need to do anything?" asked Niall.  "It seems to be intent on bringing paradise to Furrae.  What's so bad about that?"

"For someone who was nearly sacrificed to help feed It, that's a pretty  blinkered viewpoint," I snapped.  "Look, kid.  Have you ever heard of the great god Kar'Pech?"

"No," he replied in a subdued tone, sensing my concern.

"Well, Kar'Pech was a Fae.  He wanted to be a god, and with the powers at his disposal he was able to pull it off pretty good.  He appeared before the inhabitants of a prosperous city, and by the time he left - a thousand years later - it had fallen into ruins.  Its people were reduced to serfs tending the land to bring him sacrifices of grain and wheat.  Living in shanties... illiterate.
That was his idea of 'paradise' - a feudal system where he was on top and everyone else worshipped him and obeyed him in all things."

Niall's tail drooped.  "And what happened to this Kar'Pech?"

"Oh, he got bored with it all.  The way the story goes, he left the city one night in search of new challenges.  Some say he began to try and teach feral rabbits to talk so that they could worship him.  Others say he succeeded, but that's not the point.  It took his worshippers over a hundred years of praying for his return before they finally twigged he wasn't coming back and slowly began to rebuild their once-proud city.

"Now whatever the Dark God is planning may be paradise for It but for us mere, uh, quasi-mortals it will assuredly seem more like hell."

Niall swallowed.  "So, er.. what are we going to do about it?"

"You know what?  I haven't the faintest idea."

* * *

In an attempt to clear my mind, I decided to go for a stroll in the city.
Disguising myself as a fox Being, I took Niall with me and we set off into the dark, rain-spattered night.  I always found these trips invigorating.. the faint aura of nervousness and fear which the sight of a stranger brought to my citizens had become my primary source of nourishment.  A little cruel perhaps, but I could feel it doing me good all the way down.

Everyone who saw me go past had a faint thrill of terror, a sinking feeling that the stranger in front of them might be Johan Cross (and it was!) and they would hurry away, their heart beating faster with the fear that I had come to end their lives.
I could feel that Niall was able to metabolise this too, which was good.  The only problem with taking him out to feed like this was that he wasn't yet able to disguise himself properly.  I had taught him to conceal his headwings, but I didn't want him to go out with the same base form each night.  Someone would eventually realise who he was, and from there deduce who his companion was which increased the risk of assassination for us both.
I resolved to try and build him a concealment charm.  Azrael had been the true master of that and most of his secrets had died with him, but all the same I should be able to rig something to change his fur colour.

The trenchcoat helped disguise me of course, and Niall was similarly attired.  It also helped cut down the amount of rain which made it through to our fur, saving the irritation of getting wet and the attendant problems of drying it out again.  Sitting in front of a warm fire helped at a pinch but it was generally considered impolite on account of the smell it made.  Not that I was actually beholden to anyone in my present position as ruler, but it was something I was taught as a cub and old habits die hard.

As we wandered through the half-deserted evening streets, I suddenly had an idea.   Turning sharply left, I led Niall to a strangely ornate building illumined by an unlikely combination of electric lighting and braziers.

"Welcome, O sucker.." intoned a musical voice, cutting off suddenly as a hand smote the speaker.  "That's 'Seeker', you IDIOT!"
A babel of voices sounded as the apprentice and the grandmistress began to partake in an ancient ritual known as beating-the-shit-out-of-each-other, but this quickly stopped as I clapped my hands, suddenly reminding them that they had a customer waiting.

"On behalf of the Temple, I bid you welcome, Mister.. uh..."

"..Cross," I finished for her. "..as I presume you foresaw.  So you may as well cut the crap and let's get down to business."

Niall looked at the Phoenix Oracles in awe and wonder.  "Can they really predict the future?"

"I'd like to think so," I said, "But they certainly weren't just now."

Ignoring the look of irritation from the grandmistress, I slouched into a chair and turned to face them.
"Right.  As you are doubtless aware, something very bad is going to happen in a small village known as Mundathra.  I'd like to know when and what we can do to prevent it."

The Oracles conferred with each other for a while and then one of them spoke up.  "It shall take place when the moon is in the seventh house, and the white star aligns with the red."

"I see," I said, nodding politely.  "And what steps must we take to prevent this thing from coming to pass?"

"Make thee a sacrifice, a burnt offering of pumpkins, flour, milk, butter and cinnamon..  mix the flour and milk into pastry and bake for two hours.."

"Thank you very much, ladies," I said abruptly, interrupting the prophecy and placing a small bag of gold upon the table.  "May I have a receipt, please?"
There was silence, the looming prospect of my demanding a refund bringing a look of stark horror to their faces until another voice piped up behind me.
"I'll do it," she said, and hastily scrawled the amount down on a small piece of parchment.  I took a quick glance at it - in their relief, no-one noticed that she had put the wrong time on it.

Bowing politely, I led Niall back out into the night.  As soon as I was out of their earshot, I began laughing hysterically.
"What is it?  What did the prophecy mean?" asked Niall.
"I don't know," I gasped, "and I don't care.  I really ought to do something about those old frauds at some point.. but never mind that right now.  I don't know about you, but I'm feeling thirsty."

* * *

A few minutes later I was sat down in The Smoking Gun and ordering two glasses of water, for myself and Niall.  Exactly twenty-three minutes later, a hooded figure arrived and made their way towards us.  The corner I had chosen, while offering us a good degree of privacy, was nonetheless very brightly-lit so it was impossible to see that the newcomer was glowing faintly of their own accord.
They moved towards our table and I ordered a third glass of water for them as they sat down.  I glanced at my wristwatch - a fine Swiss specimen I had purchased on Earth at great expense - it was exactly the time scrawled on the receipt.

"I'm glad you've made it," I said.  "So.  Can you give me the real deal?"

"Yes," she said, in the same voice as the Phoenix who had given me the receipt.

"Are you supposed to be telling us this?" asked Niall, butting in.  The phoenix cocked her head and looked at me, a quizzical expression just visible below the folds of her hooded robe.

"No, she isn't," I said.  "she's an agent of mine.  In times gone by it was easier to deal with the Oracles, although they have become downright shifty of late.  Did you see their faces when I asked for the receipt?  Heh.
When I was younger, there was a burgeoning cottage industry for 'cubi who would ask the Oracles a question on your behalf and read the answer directly from their minds.  That way they would get the truth, rather than the dross and outright lies which they have taken to fobbing off their customers with of late.
That proved a little too successful, so nowadays they have taken to using mental shielding which pretty much put a stop to that.  Eventually I hit on the idea of using a plant to get the truth from them, hence our friend here.  Anyway, carry on my dear."

I nodded to the phoenix, who quietly resumed speaking.  "According to the Sisterhood, the Dark God is going to try and manifest Itself in about twelve days."

"Twelve days?" I said in a horrified voice, "I was banking on at least a couple of months.  Do you know what It is planning to do?"

"Well, to be honest, the prophecy has become a little fuzzy, but it looks like It is sending a demon to perform the final rites, but there are two candidates.  Firstly, It will send a raccoon demon by the name of 'Jay Farrow' to perform the summoning.
But the Dark God has been putting all Its energies  into this event - if the summoning fails, It will be pretty much screwed and it will take about three centuries for It to become strong enough to try again.

"In that event, It will send a horse demon known as 'Dark Pegasus', but he is I believe still being groomed by the Dark God to act on Its behalf and not yet ready to perform the ceremony himself."

"What about the Church prophecies?" asked Niall.  "It said they'll have to sacrifice a Fae and a Queen."

"Well, the thing about prophecies is that the clearer they are and the better understood they become, the more likely you are to be able to change them.  That's one of the reasons our prophecies are so heavily veiled, by the way, although as your illustrious ancestor has pointed out, the tendency towards concealment has sadly attracted a great many frauds and charlatans to our ranks.

"The prophecy you're referring to is, so far as we can tell, a fragment of the second-level prophecy, a sort of emergency B-plan in case the first one is defeated.  In effect, the more I tell you about the first prophecy, the more able you become to prevent it happening, and the more likely it is that the second-level prophecy will come to pass instead."

"Well that would be a good start," I said.  "If we can buck the first one, we'll have delayed Its return by about 300 years.  What do we need to do to ensure this?"

"Well, as I say, It's sending someone to Mundathra, probably a raccoon.  When they arrive, they will round up the villagers and pick out those who are most pure-of-heart.  The single most pure individual will be sacrificed in some horrible manner to bring back the God.  The others who didn't quite make the grade will be disposed of or possibly fed to the God when Its return is complete.  The rest of the villagers will worship It and help to bring about the New Age.
"Not just in Mundathra either, but gradually expanding Its territory until It controls Ha'Khun, Macura Province and basically everywhere It can take hold."

Niall and I were silent.  After a while, the Oracle spoke again.

"If it were me, I'd either prevent the demon from getting there in the first place, or failing that ensure that he doesn't get what he needs when he does show up."

"And if we fail at that?"

"Then you may as well bake a pumpkin pie and hope for the best."

[Drake Manaweilder]

The aincent ritual of beating-the-shit-out-of-each-other. I've really gotta' remember that.

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

Jakob isn't the only one laughing hysterically at them. :-)

[Tapewolf]

Notes and trivia about this chapter, for those who are curious...

"for us mere, uh, quasi-mortals"
I was going to say 'us mere mortals', but of course they're 'cubi and thus not entirely mortal.

A little cruel perhaps, but I could feel it doing me good all the way down.
http://www.jpmorris.force9.co.uk/music/test/poison.mp3
..I love The Box of Delights.. the BBC pulled off that rare trick of making their filmed version better than the original book.  My brother and I used this clip for one of the trooper death sounds in Doom (Look for the 'Kansam's Trial' addon).  You may need to download the thing and then play it as most of the streaming players I've tried cut the end off.

It also helped cut down the amount of rain which made it through to our fur, saving the irritation of getting wet and the attendant problems of drying it out again.  Sitting in front of a warm fire helped at a pinch but it was generally considered impolite on account of the smell it made.
In their misspent youth my parents once used this trick with Boff to clear a crowded waiting-room at a railway station.
See also: http://clockworkmansion.com/forum/index.php?topic=1502.msg65942#msg65942

"Welcome, O sucker.."
My brother did this to the gypsy in Ultima 6.

"It shall take place when the moon is in the seventh house, and the white star aligns with the red."
http://lyrics.rare-lyrics.com/H/Hair/Aquarius.html

[Gabi]

The fake oracles made me smile. I wonder what rols the pumpkin pie will play in the upcoming events.

So Jakob's disguise is actually a follower of the Dark God? Why couldn't he think of anything more innocent? ¬_¬

[Tapewolf]

The fake oracles made me smile. I wonder what rols the pumpkin pie will play in the upcoming events.

So Jakob's disguise is actually a follower of the Dark God? Why couldn't he think of anything more innocent? ¬_¬

It's actually the result of promise he made to the original Jay.  I'm still writing the middle section where Jakob actually deals with the Dark God, but Jakob's interactions with the raccoon are all written as of last week.

**EDIT**
I might add that no-one knows Farrow is a worshipper of the Dark God.. as far as anyone else is concerned, he's just another priest.

[Tapewolf]

Chapter 17

At the edge of my realm was a sheer wall of rock in a roughly-circular configuration, probably the remains of an eons-old impact crater or perhaps the result of a Fae enraged beyond belief.  If I had found such speculation to be sufficiently intriguing, it is quite possible that I could have found a dragon who remembered its formation, but right now, I was far more interested in the Dark God.

Hewn into this caldera using an obscenely conspicuous display of magic, was a wide tunnel through the granite rock.  This was the chief means of journeying between Macura Province and my realm, the sheer rock providing an otherwise impassible barrier which had naturally come to mark the boundary of our respective territories.

I sat in the early evening upon the hills on the Macura side, suddenly spotting my prey.  A wagon, pulled by a feral mule made its ponderous way towards the entrance to the tunnel.  At the reins was the cart's sole occupant, a raccoon demon with cobalt blue fur and a pair of dark leathery wings protruding from his back.  He was dressed in a set of plain robes... just another monk to the casual onlooker, but I knew better.
Putting away my telescope, I crouched behind a large rock, and waited a few minutes before making my trademark magical pass and vanishing in a flash of black light, which my opponent did not see having entered the yawning tunnel.

As the raccoon emerged from the cave, I leapt at him with astonishing speed courtesy of my own demon reflexes and dealt him a swift hook to the side of the head.  Taken completely by surprise, he fell from his wagon and crumpled unconscious to the ground.  With a jolt of mental force, I paralysed the frightened and bolting mule, allowing me to focus upon the raccoon demon without having to round up his steed into the bargain.

Entering my victim's unconscious mind, I made a few slight modifications to put him into a coma.  Not an irreversible one, but enough to keep him placid for a day or so.  Stripping the raccoon, I studied his body carefully from all angles and then stared at the back of my hand until it changed colour to match the demon's own dark blue fur.
Taking the most useful possessions from my pockets, I swapped clothes with him, donning his robes and carrying him to a cave in the mountainside where I left him lying there in my own attire, before taking his place upon the wagon.  Beside me sat Niall, dressed as an acolyte.

* * *

"Welcome, Brother Farrow," cried the high priest, an ageing yet energetic fox whose black coat was punctuated throughout by flecks of grey.  Behind him, illumined by flickering lamplight, the town's large gallows loomed in the distance, fitted with a new noose but mercifully unoccupied.
While I was no stranger to death and indeed had six killings to my name by that point in time, I was - and still am - of the opinion that executions are an absolute last resort and the sight of a furre swinging limply in the cool night breeze with their head lolling from a snapped neck would almost certainly have caused me to blow my cover.

"Father Mandamus, I believe?" I smiled, knowing full well that Niall and I had emptied the Holy Father's ashes into the lake just under a fortnight ago.

"Alas, our Holy Father is no longer with us - he is said to have been captured and martyred by heretics, so until such time as he is miraculously delivered to us, I have assumed his duties myself.  You may call me Father Trumidian."

"Well met, Father," I said, shaking his hand.  "I have brought with me a young acolyte to assist in the preparations for the Glorious Coming of our Lord.  He has taken a vow of silence to improve his discipline and may speak only within the chapter house or the church itself and only then in connection with his duties.  I trust this will not present a problem?"

"Indeed no," the Father replied as we entered the abbey.  "Such acts of piety are indeed good for the soul.  Let me show you to your quarters."

He showed us to a large room in the guest houses.  Looking around, I smiled to myself.  Like the little I had seen of the abbey so far, it was ornate and sumptuous, the Furry Church having evidently forsaken the austere furnishings of their more devout rivals and gone to seed.  Most likely they were partial to rich food as well, and that would make the plan so much easier.

* * *

It was Terce on the morning of the day of the Glorious Coming of the Dark God, whom the Church of Christ the Furry still believed to be some divine saviour that would bring paradise to all Furrae.

My mole within the the Phoenix Oracles had told me the rituals which the Dark God was planning to invoke, which was what had originally given me the idea of taking Farrow's place since I not only knew how to perform the rituals but I also had a fairly good understanding of what made them actually work.  I had given the prone Jay's mind a quick examination to verify what rituals he was expecting to perform, and now I was ready as was Niall, whom I had briefed on the few last-minute alterations during our ride into the town itself.

When the bell finally rung for Mass, we assembled into a well-lit chamber in the basement below the main church to perform a special ritual.  The clergy stood in a circle marked upon the ground with blood from the slaughterhouses.
A boiling cauldron of sanctified incense sat upon a fire in the middle of the room, a receptacle to hold and focus the Dark's God's powers.  Next to it was a small table containing holy books and a number of sacraments to be cast into the cauldron at the correct moment, guiding the collected energy into the form It required to manifest Itself.  Adding these sacraments was to be Jay's duty and as far as the Dark God was concerned, he was indeed going to perform it in spite of the fact that he was really lying helpless in a cave some miles hence.

As the clergy began to chant, I took the first sacrament, a small coil of rope made into a hangman's noose, and threw it dramatically into the sanctified potion after performing a reasonably good imitation of blessing it, which was made easier by the fact that the Furry Church considered magic to be a sin and had therefore never seen the real thing.

At this point, the clergy's chant ended and they simultaneously reached for and ate their own blessed sacrament, a small slice of pumpkin pie placed on a lectern next to each member of the congregation which they washed down with consecrated wine.

"Is all in readiness?" I asked Niall.

"Yes my Master," he replied demurely, in exactly the way a silent acolyte would when commanded to speak by a superior.  That boy is going to make a good actor, I thought.

No-one seemed to notice the triumphant gleam in my eyes and voice as I bade him find the correct page for the next part of the ritual.  Perhaps they did, but if so they must have assumed I was pleased with way the ritual itself was progressing.

At some point between Prime and Terce, Niall had entered the kitchens on my instruction, bearing a parchment and a small vial of holy water to be added to the pie mixture.  According to the parchment it came from the blessed fountain of Zyxthura Cathedral where Jay had been trained.  This was in fact true until I had poured the contents away and replaced them with something that was neither water nor holy.

Nothing happened for a few minutes as the congregation began their second chant, but just before it ended - in a far more ragged and faltering way than the near-military precision of their first song - their voices were most definitely starting to go off key with one another as the LSD-25 took hold.

I cast the second sacrament, a toadstone, into the cauldron - deftly bouncing it off the rim of the cauldron where it ricocheted off the wall and fell into the fire.  No-one noticed as I spat into the potion instead, confused as they were by the monumental drug overdose which Niall had spiked the pie with.

I will never know what it was that they saw, but by the time the fourth and final sacrament was due, the entire congregation barring Niall and myself were lying slumped upon the floor in various states of happiness, terror or profound insight.

For good measure, I absorbed the cauldron's energy into myself, transferring a third of it to Niall as well.  After all, why waste such a bounty that was just left lying around already collected, ready for us to consume?
As the potion turned from its shimmering, glowing self into a cold lump of congealed mess, Niall and I hugged one another in the realisation that the Dark God's precious ritual had been averted, Its power now added to the reserves of Niall and myself.  We would have had to eat quite a few souls to make such a gain as the Dark God had granted us that night.

Then a black, oily substance began to flow down the walls.

"Farrow," said a slick, almost simpering voice from mid-air.  Releasing Niall I prostrated myself before the cauldron.

"I am here, Lord," I said, in what I hoped was a convincing replica of the raccoon's voice according to what I had read from his memories.

"Farrow, the ritual should have begun in earnest by now.  Has there been a problem?"

"No, Lord," I replied.  "I have performed the ritual exactly as you asked."

The god seemed to be oblivious to Its tripping followers - apparently It had a very narrow field of vision on Furrae until It could complete Its manifestation.

"The collected emotions from the hangings... the agony of the deaths and the oh-so-varied feelings of the crowds...  All of this should have been gathered into that cauldron.  It is empty.  Explain."

"It was like that when I found it, Lord..." I mumbled.

"Then bring the High Priest to me.  He shall explain why...  why.."  The Dark God's voice faltered as Father Trumidian stumbled past the cauldron pointing at absolutely nothing with a blissful expression on his face.

"What are you doing?" It suddenly demanded as I stood up, grabbed Niall and teleported us both out of the abbey.

* * *

My hasty teleportation had deposited us somewhat further from our destination than I had intended, so we were forced to run into the cave before the Dark God realised where we had gone.  Aware that these could be the last moments of our lives, Niall and I whooped with exhilaration and joked with each other as we ran in the knowledge that if even we were to die, we had outwitted a god and stalled Its plans to return for several hundred years.  This laughter faltered and died when I turned round and noticed the fire and the lightning.
In the distance Mundathra burned, one last petty act of destruction from a fading power. 

"Oh no..." I cried, as I entered the cave and moved rapidly to where Farrow was lying prone on the floor in a heap of debris.  My black leather trenchcoat and indeed his chest had been pierced by some unknown force - apparently the Dark God had got here first.

Summoning a light spell I could see burn marks surrounding the wound and there was a horrible stench of cooked meat and burnt fur.  I knelt down, and feeling his throat for a pulse, suddenly jumped back as his eyes opened slowly and focused upon me.  Startled, I began to change back to my usual wolf form.

"No," he whispered, "you are the victor, incubus... you bested me, I beg of you, stay in my form...
"I see now the true nature of that which I swore to serve, and I'm only sorry... that it was not me... who thwarted It..."  He struggled to sit up.

"I'm sorry," I said.  "it wasn't meant to be like this..."

"Never mind that now... Dark God thinks it has killed you...  Take my identity... but use it well... too late for me to seek redemption...  But... if you do noble deeds in my persona...
People will remember me kindly... and not for my sins...  That is my last... request..."

"But you don't have to die," I told him.  "I can trap your soul.  One day I'll  find a new body for you, I promise..."
I searched for the soul-trapping crystals I usually carried with me, but it was in vain.  The Dark God had smashed them during Its attack on Farrow.  In any case, Jay didn't reply... a look of agony passed across his face and then with a small gasp it was replaced with a peaceful expression.

Standing up and closing my eyes, I saw his shade turn to face me, free of his terrible wound and casting a dim view of the cave around him as though he was some kind of light source.  I really must ask someone about this, I thought to myself.

Jay looked at me expectantly.  "I promise," I said, and he gave me a brief gesture of thanks before suddenly turning around as if someone had called his name.  A few seconds later he was gone and I could see nothing but the inside of my eyelids.

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

Heh.

LSD.

Heh.

[Hilary]

Another great chapter... LSD put to work in problem-solving! 

Fav line:

I had poured the contents away and replaced them with something that was neither water nor holy.

[Gabi]

And don't forget the pumpkin pies. But yes, there seems to be a lot of drug promotion in this story.

I see what you meant about Jay now.

[Tapewolf]

And don't forget the pumpkin pies. But yes, there seems to be a lot of drug promotion in this story.

Yeah, much of my humour is drug-related.  Ironically it was actually your "how is the pie going to feature in this" line that set me on that track.  The whole pie thing was actually some BS that the oracles had made up and not a true prophecy at all until Jakob made it happen.  Work that one out

I might add that every single character who has taken drugs in this story is now dead apart from Jakob who has abstained ever since.
I'm still not sure if he synthesized the acid himself from Wilson's notes.. more likely he went back to earth and got it that way since if he did make it himself he might have succumbed to it in the process.

Another great chapter... LSD put to work in problem-solving! 

Remember kids, don't try this at home.  Drugs are bad, Mm'kay?
(Actually they're a great help in keeping the gene pool nice and clean)

Fav line:

I had poured the contents away and replaced them with something that was neither water nor holy.

Yes, I'm quite pleased with that one.  The one which still cracks me up is where Jay/Jakob fobs the Dark God off with the schoolboy excuse of "It was like that when I got here, Lord"

[Tapewolf]

This comes to you courtesy of my laptop.  Not exactly Christmassy, but could be worse    Now I'd better go to bed as it's late.

Chapter 18

I crept stealthily through the fractured landscape of a warzone.  A sniper on the roof missed my head by inches as I slipped on a piece of rubble.  He died moments later as I returned fire.
Hearing the shot, a band of six soldiers ran out of a half-collapsed building and opened fire on us with automatic rifles.  Two of them died instantly as I ducked behind another building and took them down, having taken only a flesh wound in my left shoulder.
Niall was not so lucky - he gave a small grunt and fell dead.  "Clumsy," I said, rolling my eyes, and killed the other four.

A few years had passed since the Dark God affair, and I had started to teach Niall the basics of mental shielding and dreamwalking.  Despite his youth, he had proven quite competent at the latter and we had engaged in vast a number of friendly DreamWar matches in my staff.

By means of some spells I had discovered in my library and customised myself, I was able to cause a Being to dream a particular dream according to my whims and we had designed an elaborate world to play in which I had recorded in an enchanted crystal.

I could have forced any member of my staff to act as a playground for our DreamWars, or kidnapped a vagrant from the city streets but it turned out to be quite unnecessary as I was able to make them dream lucidly and therefore become a third player in the game.  Because of this I had more volunteers than I knew what to do with.

"You won again," said Niall.  "I only got thirty-three this time.  What's your total so far?"

"I got forty-one, so you're catching up.  That brings my total to... twenty-three thousand, four hundred and seventy," I said, performing the arithmetic and adding the new numbers to my Dreamwar journal.

"I think that will have do for tonight," I said.  "I have a state to run after all.  You should probably relax.. I'll be in the throne room if you need me." 

Scant minutes after I had entered it, there was a knock on the door.
"Come," I replied, hastily seating myself upon the throne and dimming the lights.

"I have urgent news, Mi'lord," said Ashley.
In spite of my healers' best efforts, he had never fully recovered from the injuries he had been dealt by Ulric.  As such he had been forced to resign as captain of the guards, so I had put him in charge of intelligence instead... a less physical role that nonetheless made good use of his talents.

I always ensured that staff who pleased me were treated well - it promoted a fierce loyalty.  But there was a bit more to it that that.  I liked Ashley... there was something about him that reminded me of Page.

"What is this news?" I asked, bringing the lights up a few notches.  This was a measure of my trust - the closer someone was to my confidence, the better I allowed them to see me.  Ashley, like Niall, was one of the few who had actually seen my true lupine form.  Not that I would expose that with others present, of course - instead I usually took the form of a fox, husky, alsatian or occasionally a different species of wolf.  Remaining canid took less effort.

"We have a report from our agents in Macura Province, Mi'lord." he said.  "It has just arrived.  Apparently two weasel demons have been sighted there, and they match the description of your ancient enemies!"

My heart leapt.  "Are they still there?" I asked, looking at him intently.

"I believe so, Mi'lord.  We think they may be spying out the land to see if you are still pursuing them."

"I want them, Ashley."  I said, smiling my infamous smile.  "I want them alive.  They won't be alive afterwards of course, but I want them to be delivered to me in the best possible condition."

"How would you like us to approach it, Mi'lord?" he asked.  "As I see it, we can either request Macura to extradite them to us, or we can use a covert approach and send in a stealth team to extract them."

"The stealth approach at first," I decided.  "It would be best to take them by surprise.  If we went through the proper diplomatic channels, it would take time and we might lose them.  Even in the best case it is possible that someone could tip them off.  Detail a squad to perform the extraction.  I think the risk of a diplomatic incident with Macura Province is an acceptable one."

As he left, I got down from the throne and began drafting a letter to SAIA.

* * *

"I'm so proud of you," said Fa'Lina.  "I knew you could go far!  Your own private empire, filled with Beings to devour.  I've heard so much about it... all the killings!  You must have eaten thousands of souls by now!"

Niall gave me look that just screamed "what the hell is she talking about?" and I covered my eyes with my hands*.

"Er, no." I replied.  "I haven't eaten anyone's soul."

"What?" she yelped, "You mean you just killed them all?  You wasted all that precious energy?"

"I only banished them," I replied.  "It keeps the rest frightened and allows me to harvest their fear.  You know me.. fear and wonder.."

Fa'Lina's horrified expression gave way to a slightly crestfallen look but she brushed it aside and waited for me to resume speaking.

"Anyway.  As I told you in my letter, this is my great-great-grandson.  I have taught him what I can, but I feel the time has come for me to entrust his continued education in your capable hands.  He shares my abhorrence of soul-stealing, having been brought up as a Being and I would prefer that he retains his present moral outlook, incubus or no.  If he is returned to me as a monster I shall be extremely disappointed."

"There are a great many Beings and a number of 'cubi who consider you to be a monster," Fa'Lina pointed out.

"True," I sighed, "and while that's largely down to my reputation, there may yet be a grain of truth in it.  Look, I realise I have done questionable things and that's part of the reason I'm not sure I trust myself to continue his education in person.

"Anyway, I must return to my little empire forthwith.  With your permission I would like to visit him on occasion, and should my empire crumble I may yet return to aid you in the running of your Academy."

"Indeed," she replied.  "And now I sense you would like a final word alone with your great-great grandson.  I will wait outside."
 
"I'll be level with you, Niall," I said, my face lined with concern.  "I'm about to engage in a risky bit of diplomacy with a neighbouring state.  If it fails, things could get very nasty.  I should be able to pull through it myself, but that's on account of nearly six centuries' experience which you do not yet possess.  Even if it succeeds, things could happen which I don't think I want you to see.  In either case, the best place for you to be is here in the Academy.  I promise I'll come and see you from time to time."

We hugged each other, and then I left, with Niall safely in the care of my old headmistress.

* * *

Sending Niall to SAIA left me in a strange mood for a number of days, and so I was distinctly unimpressed when I returned to find that the guards had captured a young dog fox, yet another would-be assassin.

"You slew our holy Lord and Master, Page!" he screamed as they led him before me, his hands bound behind his back.

"You are mistaken," I snarled, furious that this piece of misinformation had not only been propagated, but somehow distorted into a religious cause.
"You came to assassinate me when I wasn't even here.  You were caught by the security system the moment you entered the palace, and now you are spouting some insane drivel about one of my dearest friends.  You are a fool.  All your mistakes have been foolish, but it is the defamation of Azrael's memory that I will not stand for.
 
"That was your last mistake.. a mistake which will cost you most dearly," I said, pulling out a pistol and loading it ostentatiously before flicking the safety catch off.  I focussed on his mind.  It was shielded, although the shield was beginning to falter as I took aim.

The gun went off with a crack and his knees buckled, collapsing like a rag-doll.  As I dragged the foxes' limp body feet-first into my private chambers, I could feel the horror of the onlookers, guessing that I was about to consume my foe's immortal soul.

I placed him upon my bed.  The entry and exit wounds to his head were now gone, a cheap trick.  Such grotesque uses of shapeshifting and projected illusion were a staple of the extravagent Hallows Eve parties which took place at SAIA... some of the best students had actually been mistaken for undead.
I entered my victim's unconscious mind and performed a few minor alterations to calm him when he awoke, lest the shock of his apparent execution prove fatal or break his mind.

There was a faint gasp and he awoke, eyes struck with horror, the first twinges of guilt starting as I wondered how I was going to explain it to him.

"Good," I said.  "you're back in the land of the living."

"Dead?" he whispered.

"Blanks don't kill people," I said, "although they usually let me through your mind shield.  I've generally found it's better when people think my enemies are dead.  It helps keep up my impression as a ruthless psychopath."

"But you are a ruthless psychopath," said the fox, recovering his voice.  He was still somewhat nervous about what I was going to do to him, but apparently he had decided to go out in a blaze of defiance.

"Yes, I suppose I am," I said.  "Sometimes I have daydreams about the pair who killed Azrael, and I can almost feel my hands around their throats...  squeezing the life from them, as helpless as Beings.. and then I realise that I can kill them twice, crushing the life from their bodies and then eating their terrified souls... savouring the power that it brings me and the knowledge that they have been wiped from existence..."

There was a hungry expression on my face, a look of savage pleasure at the prospect.  Suddenly a noise distracted me, breaking my evil mood.  It was a dull thump made as the fox backed into a wall, his face a mask of sheer terror.

"Well, I suppose I'd better do something about you," I said as if nothing had happened.  "Officially you're dead, so I can't have you seen wandering around, it would spoil the illusion."  There was no reply.

"Oh come on," I snapped.  "You think I'd go through all the effort of faking your death only to kill you afterwards?"  Rummaging around, I located an old sword in a scabbard.  Checking it had a reasonable edge I grabbed a few dried provisions and a water bottle and shoved them into a bag along with the sword, thrusting the whole package into the frightened vulpine's hand.

Finally I grasped his trembling hand.  Making a pass with my other hand, there was a flash of black light and we stood on the edge of a dry plain.  "I understand that there's a settlement over there," I said, pointing at a rocky formation a few miles in the distance.  Head towards it and be thankful that I can be merciful."

The fox finally found his voice again.  "So this is what becomes of your foes...?"

"That's more like it," I smirked. And giving him a swift kick in the ass, I vanished in a flash of black light.

*Jakob's long muzzle preventing him from burying his entire face as a feline or a human might.

[Gabi]

Good.
What's that about Jakob's long muzzle precluding a more human gesture?