Category: Creature

#Lore24 – Entry #197 – Supers Month II #16 – Why Have One World When You Can Have Many?

Musings of Demon Lord Kurae

For all of her flaws, I do have to give credit to my dear sweet mother for one thing:  spawning me.  The rest of her accomplishments, if you can call them that, have amounted to what?  A failed invasion, a pitiful attempt at keeping her hordes sustained during the lean times by feeding upon the souls of the kerryns and what few souls they could get through the barrier enacted by their annoyingly resolute goddess, all before it came crashing down when that upstart kerryn slave and her aerian murder machine put her down? 

Fortunately, I was never cursed with mother’s shortsightedness and refusal to take in the wider picture.  I suppose that’s why I’m senior amongst my sisters, and the most powerful demon lord around, isn’t it?  I knew long ago that focusing an incursion into a realm through a single world was doomed to fail, but for whatever reason, she simply could not see that.  I was happy to take up the rear guard, so to speak, during that whole fiasco, bolstering our defenses, gathering more power for myself, creating this realm that I have full dominion over, just waiting for the day of her inevitable failure, when there would be need to seize control from the others who so blindly believed in her plans. 

I figured this out ages ago, you see.  Why focus all of your power on invading a single world with the entirety of your forces to create a bastion with which to conquer that realm when you can much more easily invade a world here and there, take what you want, then slip away before you can be molested by the greater powers that exist within the realm that world is in?  Create a little chaos in your wake, deflect attention from your actions, and be gone with your diverse platter of tasty souls before the powers that be can retaliate.  Seems simple enough, doesn’t it?  Goes against the traditional mindset of my kind, I suppose, but that’s why I’m a visionary and still alive all these many millennia later, and dear old mother was snuff out.

Her desires far exceeded her capabilities, I would say; I’m much more pragmatic in that regard, and much stronger than she ever was because of it.  And that’s why, my delicious little morsel, that you’re here, and why you’re going to be telling me all about your world, the next world I’ve chosen to be graced by my illustrious presence, the one with the ever so boring name of Earth.  A pathetic world in comparison to many others I’ve defiled, certainly, but the souls there have a peculiar flavor that I simply must partake of.  So speak, pet, tell me of Earth, of the humanity of this world, and all that you know about it.  Oh, don’t worry; I love it when my pets resist me; your coming screams only sweeten the suffering that I will inevitably extract from you.  If it’s one thing that I’ve found universal in the many worlds I’ve plundered, it’s that humans are particularly responsive to pain.

#Lore24 – Entry #191 – Supers Month II #10 – Mines and Monsters

From the journal of Abigail “Sassy” Dawson, Mage of the Order of Hecate

A couple days later we’d ridden into the Black Hills area, and before long, we’d found where this thing had wanted us.  Weren’t hard to find, I suppose, considering there was a whole mining town that this thing had consumed for itself, leavin’ the bodies of the miners and townsfolk behind as mindless, walking corpses with a right fierce hunger for fresh meat.  It was grim work, but it had to be done, lest these diseased things spread their condition around the whole area.  Figure it was this demon’s plan to help tire us out before the real fight, cause while the zombies weren’t much of a threat to myself or my two ever-bickering companions, it did take us the better part of the day to clear’em out, even with Assane and Richard’s considerable magic.

We could sense the presence of the demon all over the place, and we knew exactly where it was hidin’, deep in the mines.  I never was one for the underground, and after this, I surely wouldn’t feel no better about goin’ into tight and dark places like’em.  Still, there was work to be done, and I weren’t goin’ to let a little thing like that stop me from dealin’ with that evil bastard.  We knew goin’ into the place it was gonna be dangerous, traps abound from the dynamite and sabotaged bracings and the like, no doubt.  My companions didn’t have so much to worry about if they mistepped down there, but I was under no such protections, and, as much of a handful as they are, it was rather touchin’ that they were bein’ extra careful on my account. 

Weren’t just traps in there, though; the demon had some more undead roamin’ the place, and as we got further down, some lesser demons it had called up, bunch of little imps and flyin’ things that were more or less balls of teeth that spat acid everywhere.  Was a good thing I knew some curin’ magic, cause I would’ve been right deaf before it was all said and done.  My magic reserves weren’t nothin’ like Assane’s and Richard’s, so I had to be careful with what I used up.  Not that I had a ton of powder on me at the time, so I had to be careful regardless, though my magically enhanced toothpick did its own fair share of the work down there.

So, it was slow goin’, and well into the night when we finally navigated our way through the maze of tunnels and drops into the deepest recesses where this thing had took up.  We knew we was close when we heard the chantin’ and saw the red glow in the dark of the tunnels ahead.  I hadn’t counted on there bein’ a cult of humans ‘round the demon, but of course, I weren’t as learned on them as I was followin’ this whole thing.  I could see the magic swirlin’ about and knew we was in for a rough time of it.  Still, we marched right in there, knowin’ what needed to be done and with some idea how to do it.  I was the weak link, bein’ the most inexperienced and the only one who could die permanently, but the pair, for all the trouble they had put me through, had taught me several tricks I’d never had thought up on my own.

Turns out, this demon, and its cult of worshippers, were after Richard.  I honestly weren’t surprised by this revelation, nor was Assane.  Turns out he’d been at the center of a nasty fire some years back that nearly wiped out some city over in England, and some of the wealthiest survivors were none too pleased that they’d been put out like they had.  So, they’d been nursin’ the grudge for a good thirty or more years, just tryin’ to track Richard down so they could kill’em off and had learned the dark arts to make sure that happened.  Assane was of a mind to leave them to it just to get it out of their system, but I ain’t for sure if she was just doin’ that to throw them off their guard or what. 

Needless to say, things got real messy, but it was the first time I’d seen Richard and Assane unleash their full elemental genie natures, turnin’ into bein’s of pure fire and ice.  These Limey cultists weren’t unskilled at what it was they were doin’, and the magic they’d warded the place with was provin’ difficult to deal with, but in the end, we managed to see it through.  In the heat of the moment, I didn’t think about it too much, cause my life was on the line, and who knew how many others if we didn’t kill this demon off, and in a moment of desperation, with my bullets expended and my magical reserves nearly exhausted, I called on that damn spell I’d learnt from Arrnor.  Don’t think that demon expected me to call out to another demon, and it certainly weren’t expectin’ what that spell did to it, but it did the trick, and let us do what was needed to banish that sucker back to its own little corner of the pits it had came from.  Think that spell might’ve broken the resolve of the cultists too, cause it weren’t much trouble to finish the clean up after that.

Sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do, even if it ain’t always the smartest or best thing.  In the end, that demon got cast out of our world for a good long while, the cult that called it up got wiped out, and we made it back out without the whole place fallin’ in on us.  All in all, I’d call it a definite positive on the scale of things.  That event would lead me to the next big change in my life, which I’ll be getting’ to right shortly.

#Lore24 – Entry #190 – Supers Month II #9 – A Right Mess of Things

From the journal of Abigail “Sassy” Dawson, Mage of the Order of Hecate

Course, wouldn’t be long before Assane and Richard done decided to make things even worse for us.  We’d been on the trail of that demon for a couple more days when Richard up and stopped right there in the middle of the prairie round noon and declared he had the solution to the problem.  Assane and me were skeptical, and we didn’t hide that when we glanced at one another.  But then he told us his bright idea and I was floored, came just a hair fallin’ out of my saddle right there. 

“To catch this demon, we’ll need to summon one of our own!” he told us, and he was somehow sure we’d agree with him, judgin’ by that smile on his face.  I was the first to disagree, recovering myself enough to call him right crazy amongst a few other choice words.  Assane was a little less heated on the subject, as was her way, but it weren’t long before the pair were snarlin’ and snappin’ at one another again.  I rode on ahead just to get the two out of earshot for a while, and stayed that way the rest of the day, ever on the watch for signs of our target.  Never got sign that it was near, but had that feelin’ like it was still a watchin’ us, and we hadn’t spotted no carrion birds flyin’ around, so we hadn’t needed no other signs to guide us along, apparently.  We were generally headed northwest, and there were some rocky hills comin’ from what I could see.

Anyway, I stopped as the sun started goin’ down and waited on the two, and it weren’t long before I heard’em still arguin’ back and forth, but it weren’t about no demon this time, just which one they was gonna summon.  I couldn’t believe that Assane had been won over on the idea, but she just plainly told me he’d made a lot of good points.  Knowin’ this could only end bad, I likewise knew I couldn’t talk the two out of it after just a few minutes.  They fought all the time, but when they were in agreement, weren’t no force on this planet that could get them to change that. 

And so it was that I learnt the intricacies of summonin’ up a demon that night under the new moon, and no, I ain’t gonna detail it here.  That knowledge is forbidden for a reason, and this was just one of those times that called for extreme measures, I guess.  They assured me this demon was friendly with them, though, and that they’d dealt with it many times over the centuries.  Assane even called him a “lovable little scamp.” 

Well, I’d call it a little more on the goofy-lookin’ side personally.  This particular demon weren’t one of the big ones like I’d been thinkin’ they meant to call, this one was called Arrnor, and his head was bigger than his whole body, comedically large, to the point I just couldn’t make head nor tails of how he was possibly movin’ around on his own two legs.  Assane’d told me it was just because he had such a high opinion of himself and it had literally gone to his head, but I’m still not sure if she was jokin’ or not. 

When they started with the negotiations, I didn’t miss the fact that the two had started to strip down, and then when the demon’s eyes fell on me, I somehow was expected to do the same.  I put my foot down, right hard, and said I wouldn’t be party to none of their debauchery, but since I’d been there when they started up the ritual, I didn’t have no choice, lest I get us all dragged into the demon’s realm for a century of torment at his hands.  Needless to say, I weren’t happy, and told’em they should’ve stated the details clearly, only to be told they thought I knew already, and just shrugged it off like it were nothin’. 

I still regret that I learned of all this knowledge first hand, for Arrnor is a right indecent demon, even amongst his kind, I reckon.  See, whereas most demons will just kill and torment and drive people mad and such, Arrnor just likes to play, and knows all the most wretched of ways that get humans all worked up in ways that nobody ought know.  I ain’t proud to admit that the ritual was one of the most intensely pleasurable experiences in my life, nor am I proud that I was gifted with knowledge of his signature spell, one of the forbidden ones cause it taps into his essence to use…nor am I proud that all of us got to experience it for ourselves that night.

But, once we had come back to our senses, all tangled up in each other’s arms there on the prairie, we had the information we had been huntin’ for, and knew what it was we faced.  Maybe it was worth the price, and maybe it was worth the stain on my soul in the name of the greater good, but I’m still strugglin’ to work that one out.  Regardless, we set off, bound for the Black Hills, to face that monster and get the job done.

#Lore24 – Entry #189 – Supers Month II #8 – Hunting What Hunts You

From the journal of Abigail “Sassy” Dawson, Mage of the Order of Hecate

I ‘spose it were sometime in mid-spring, somewhere in the Nebraska or Dakota Territories when we had some trouble that weren’t of the normal variety.  We’d managed well enough to avoid trouble with the Indians, well, ‘ceptin’ that one incident, but that ain’t nothin’ to get into here.  My travelin’ companions were bickerin’ back and forth as they usually were when we was on long stretches between civilization, ‘bout something that happened back in the Dark Ages, I reckon, how it was Assane’s fault Richard got drawn and quartered for somethin’ she’d started, or somethin’ or other like that.  I was ridin’ on a little ways ahead just so me and Asher could have a little peace and quiet for a time when everythin’ went all deadly quiet. 

We was on alert, stopped cold in the middle of some old Indian trail in the middle of the woods when this feelin’ of dread just came rushin’ into me like nothin’ I’d ever felt before.  I had my pistol in one hand and a protection spell in the other before I knew what was goin’ on.  I scanned around the area with my mystic sight but didn’t see no signs that we’d come into one of them ‘bad places’ where things was known by the Indians to be unnatural.  Didn’t see no Indian signs aside from the trail in fact.  Asher couldn’t get a bearin’ on anythin’ either, and he was downright spooked like I ain’t never seen him before. 

As the two genies came back into earshot, they realized, for a wonder, that somethin’ was wrong, cause they were suddenly very alert when they saw me standin’ stock still on the trail, and had their own protections up.  They took to the air and split up to scout from above, but by then that dreadful feelin’ had started to fade, and a few minutes later, the sounds of nature started comin’ back.  When the two came back, they played it off as them spookin’ away whatever it was, but I could tell they was a little rattled by whatever had been there.

We’d get our first clue a bit further on down the trail that we was bein’ hunted by somethin’, and that it wanted us to know we was getting’ hunted.  We came up to a clearin’ in the hills, real idyllic little scene with a pond and a freshwater spring.  Well, it woulda been were it not for the pile of rottin’ meat we found on the shore and the smaller chunks floatin’ around the water.  I figure it must’ve been a whole herd of deer what were massacred there, and though they was rottin’ off the bone, it couldn’t have been done too long ago.  We set to cleanin’ up the mess, Richard burnin’ the corpses while Assane worked on purifyin’ the water.  Whatever had just come through ate a little of each one, the organs like the heart and liver and even the brains, but left most everything else.  Weren’t no messages left behind other than the bloody mess, but it wouldn’t be the last one of those we came upon.

Was maybe three or four days later when we ran up on that feelin’ again, drawin’ us to the north, only this time when we came up on the massacre, it were a bunch of Indians, maybe two dozen of them, all warriors.  They was missin’ the same parts as the deer were, but this time, instead of bein’ thrown all around, they was laid out deliberate-like, in some kind of dark ritual, their innards splayed out in specific ways, devilish signs made in their blood.  Worst part was they was all still alive somehow, cryin’ out in agony, even without their brains, it was like their spirits were still trapped in the bodies.

I hadn’t never seen nothin’ like that before, and couldn’t evern start to imagine what could’ve done it.  My companions had some thoughts about it, though, cause it was their job to know this kind of stuff, so they had told me many times, and for once they agreed it were some kind of demon runnin’ around, and likely sent after us by someone or somethin’ that we’d pissed off.  Most likely it was their fault, cause I didn’t reckon I’d done nothin’ to deserve that kinda attention just yet.  They was pretty sure it was leavin’ a trail for us to follow, just waitin’ for the right time to strike, when it was good and ready, meanin’ we had to somehow find it first.

It weren’t no happy trail we’d found ourselves on, that was for damn sure.

#Lore24 – Entry #188 – Supers Month II #7 – Conversations on the Trails into the West

From the journal of Abigail “Sassy” Dawson, Mage of the Order of Hecate

Once I’d calmed myself down and gotten over my shock at seein’ the pair alive and kickin’, I was of a mind that they were out to get revenge on me for it.  But that weren’t the case, cause neither of them held a grudge, even admitted to havin’ died plenty of times before.  I’ll admit, that one threw me a bit.  So, I took a seat and started askin’ the tough questions. 

They weren’t shy ‘bout talkin’ to me ‘bout themselves, since I already knew they weren’t what you’d call “human”.  Turns out they were only half-human, the other half bein’ genie.  Found that one hard to believe, but they was dead serious ‘bout it, and they’d been around for centuries.  Back when the great mage Scheherazade (always thought she was just a character in them “Arabian Nights” stories till I met these two) had first whipped up the true genies, breedin’ was one of the first things humanity felt they had to do with ‘em.  Here I thought modern times was right indecent in that way, but turns out, ain’t nothin’ had really changed.  So, they was amongst the first of the half-genie children that were made, and some of the few still roamin’ around on Earth.  They had taken up the duty of guarding the planet, they told me, from all kinds of supernatural evils and the like. 

You could say I was doubtful, but that would puttin’ it mildly given what I’d seen the two get up to in the town they’d very nearly destroyed.  That they shrugged off as just one of their “little arguments”.  They’d been huntin’ a particular vampire that had been roamin’ the town, they said, one with a taste for children, so Assane had gone and changed up her appearance to that of a child as bait.  When the deed was done and the vampire was dusted, she’d decided to stay that way for a bit, and this got Richard all riled up cause he thought she wasn’t attractive when she looked that way, and then it had spiraled out of control, she’d gotten drunk, lost control of herself for a few days, and then the rest was as I explained it earlier.

Apparently when you live forever, time don’t mean much, so what’s a few days or weeks in a drunken stupor? 

Anyway, they’d been married early on, sometime during the Crusades I reckon, though I don’t rightly know which one, both bein’ of royal blood and all.  And apparently, they’ve been causin’ trouble all over the world ever since, whenever they get into arguments or if they ain’t too careful in who they cozy up with.  Turns out these two might’ve been responsible, well, more or less, for more than one tragedy one the centuries, but that ain’t a story I’m tellin’ here; you want to know, you ask them about it.

With them revelations out in the open, I started askin’ them ‘bout how they did their magic, cause it was a good ways beyond what I could manage back then.  Turns out most of their powers came natural to them, given that they’re elementals to some extent, given their genie heritage and all, though they’d learned plenty of spells and rituals beyond what their elemental nature let them do.  I got the impression they felt I was about as capable as a newborn babe on the scale of our magic talents, but I ‘spose they saw somethin’ in me, cause as we’d travel further on, they’d teach me plenty that Granny Opal had never even imagined, or at least, had never bothered to mention.

After ridin’ down the Mississippi for a while, we disembarked in St. Louis and started headin’ west.  We didn’t have much in the way of a goal at first, cause all of us were curious to see the new side of the country that had opened up, and to get away from the nastiness that followed the war.  They hadn’t been in America too awful long themselves, just a few decades, and most of that was spent on the east coast.

Turns out there was plenty of things to keep us busy out there.  My eyes were opened up to all kinds of things I had only thought of as fanciful stories or myth till I started hangin’ round these two.  First night in St. Louis we wound up takin’ down another bunch of vampires (they just love the city life, good food supply), and it weren’t a week later we were trackin’ down a right ornery bunch of werewolves that were terrorizin’ the people travellin’ out west.  For all their rash behavior and dang near childlike antics at times, they were mighty impressive to watch when they worked.  They’d always try to make introductions and handle things peaceable, even when we came up on that pack of werewolves while they was in the middle of eatin’ their most recent kills.  Basically the choice was to get the hell out of this world and off to another one, or die where they was standin’, and bein’ pretty sure of themselves, lackin’ proper arcane trainin’ and all, they had no clue what they was facin’.  Guess the ways of the Old World weren’t so well known in these parts.

And so things went for the better part of the winter months that year, more or less without misfortune, movin’ on from one town to another on the trail of some maneater or troublesome fey or some cult doin’ magic they had no business delvin’ in, the kind dealin’ with elder bein’s from beyond, that kinda foul thing.  I had to act as mediator between the two half-genies a few times, and they’d manage to rope me into some rather…intimate affairs I ain’t gonna speak of here.  They’re nothin’ if not passionate, I’ll say that. 

Our good deeds wouldn’t go unnoticed, though, and soon enough we’d find ourselves bein’ the ones that were getting’ hunted.

#Lore24 – Entry #185 – Supers Month II #4 – Something Worse than Man

From the journal of Abigail “Sassy” Dawson, Mage of the Order of Hecate

With some supplies from Granny Opal’s stores, a bit of food, and plenty of powder and shot, I set out from her cabin and didn’t look back.  I wanted to see the country, see what had become of it after the war.  I was kinda an odd case at that time, I guess.  I’d had my life torn apart by the war, but I didn’t feel no strong emotions about it.  I guess my trainin’ in the arcane, learnin’ that there was a much bigger world out there that most people don’t even know about kinda put things in a whole new perspective.  Things I’d only heard of growin’ up that I thought were fairy tales were real, in some way or another, and though I didn’t know it at the time, it weren’t too long before I’d run headlong into some of them.

I’d only ever been around small towns and the hill folk growin’ up and even when I was with Granny Opal, so for all my desire to explore, I was nervous as heck when it came to dealin’ with people, and they were not shy about givin’ me the hairy eyeball.  Guess it was the fact that I was dressed like a mountain man, wearin’ leathers and hides instead of them dresses and the like that women normally wore back then. 

I was a lady out of time even when I was a youngin’, I ‘spose. 

Still, as I made my way along through the small towns and down them hills and valleys of Kentucky, goin’ from place to place, I was slowly learnin’ how to speak with folk again, though I could tell there was some serious trauma all over the place.  I’d lost count of how many wounded soldiers I’d seen makin’ their ways back home, or how many homesteads I’d come across that were abandoned or burnt out.  Weren’t none of it right, and it ought not have happened, and I don’t even think I understand exactly how it came about even to this day.

But, I’m ramblin’ on here when I need to get to my point.  It were maybe three months after I’d cleared on outta Granny Opal’s holler and I was over on the western end of the state in the flatlands, just south of Bowling Green when I first came across one of them kinds of things Granny had warned me about.  By this time, I’d managed to earn a bit of money and had won a few shootin’ contests, and had myself a pretty well-kept Colt Navy revolver and a proper gun belt and clothes (still weren’t wearin’ none of them fancy dresses, though), and I still had my trusty old Enfield and a wicked little Arkansas toothpick I’d picked up.

As it were, I came across the scene of a right tragic affair down in a town called Franklin, and a spread that had been allied with the Confederates that had seen its own brand of Union terrors.  Place stood out cause it was a unique lookin’ house, octagon shaped, and I could see the arcane energy in turmoil all over the property.  Was somethin’ much worse lurkin’ around them parts back then, cause the Veil Between Worlds was right thin there; I just didn’t know if it were cause of what happened, or if that had caused the stuff that had happened there.  I’d seen places that had off-kilter flows before, but nothin’ like this.  Didn’t take much talkin’ with the locals to learn that somethin’ was goin’ on, and it weren’t no Union troops doin’ it.  There were people goin’ missin’, and piles of bloody remains bein’ found, like people and livestock both were bein’ butchered and eaten.

Don’t know really what made me do it, just a sense of doin’ the right thing, I guess, but I decided to do what I could to deal with the problem.  Not that I was no expert or nothin’, but I reckon I could shore up the barrier and root out anything that might’ve been comin’ through.  Won’t linger too long on the nitty-gritty details here; after some huntin’, I’d learnt that it was a pack of dogmen that had moved into the area, come from somewhere on the other side through the leyline that went through the area.  Kinda like werewolves, only without the subtlety, I ‘spose.

It weren’t the brightest decision I ever made to track these things, to be sure, but I was young and dumb back then.  They knew I was a trackin’ them pretty quick, and it weren’t long before they came after me.  Musta been a good two-dozen of them in that pack.  Asher and I both got one hell of a workout that first encounter, and thankfully they’d only sent half a dozen after the lone human and her horse, thinkin’ I was easy prey.  They weren’t countin’ on me havin’ magic bullets, nor on Asher movin’ faster than them.  He weren’t just no ordinary horse, after all, and had grown stronger alongside me.

After that, things got real dangerous, real cat n’ mouse kind of huntin’, and I took a few licks myself.  If you can, I’d recommend NOT getting’ bit or clawed by dogmen; ain’t a pleasant thing.  I must’ve been out there in those fields and patches of trees for a good two weeks trackin’ these things in and out of the places where they’d jump the Veil.  Each time I’d come across a portal, I’d work up the ritual to seal it off, usually havin’ to fend off another bunch of the pack while I did it.  They eventually got the hint, though, and cleared out of the territory, and I put up as strong a warding as I could in the area to bolster the Veil, though I don’t expect it to have lasted forever.  Ain’t had a chance to make it back there to follow up, cause my life would take a drastic turn after that little excursion. 

#Lore24 – Entry #177 – Wild West Month #26 – The Great Valley of Stone Towers Reaching to the Sky

As told by Kumiko Stalks-Amongst-the-Stars, shaman of the Midnight Panther tribe of Kerra-Kerra

South of the Peaks Reaching to the Sky, west of the Plains Which Stretch Forever, several days before you would reach the harsher deserts of the Great Scorpion Flats and the Vast Dry Sea of Salt lies the Great Valley of Stone Towers Reaching to the Sky.  Surrounded by higher mesas, the valley drops sharply from these heights.  Below lies a land that is more hospitable than the other desert areas I have spoken of, with plants and animals and water that are more easily found.  Most striking of this wide, long valley are the Stone Towers Reaching to the Sky, standing as high as the mesas surrounding the valley, but dotted all throughout the valley floor.  It is almost as if they were pushed through the earth by the spirits of earth and accepted by the spirits of the sky.

We sometimes journey to the Great Valley of Stone Towers Reaching to the Sky, for it is one of the sacred meeting places of the Kerra-Kerra, a place where we commune with the Many Spirits of the Broken Cage that Still Imprisons, for days, sometimes weeks.  It is one of the places that we come closer to our Great Mother Saressh, and a place where we lay our venerated dead to rest, hidden amongst the many Stone Towers, where the spirits welcome them into the Great Beyond and home to the Great Mother so that they may be born again.

There are many pathways hidden amongst the Stone Towers Reaching to the Sky that lead to the flat tops, for that is where we perform our communion with the Many Spirits.  These paths may be found by those not of the Kerra-Kerra, but only the brave would venture to such places, for the spirits often do not allow those who do not commune with them to come into these places.  There are other dangers for those who do not venerate the Many Spirits, for the Valley itself is guarded by the mighty Thunderbirds that make their nests atop the Towers, and they do not recognize outsiders as welcome, and they wield the power of thunder and lighting as easily as we wield our bows and spears and guns.  Not even one of the Howling Steel Chariots could survive the attack of a Thunderbird.

#Lore24 – Entry #176 – Wild West Month #25 – The Horses that Go Up in Flames

As told by Kumiko Stalks-Amongst-the-Stars, shaman of the Midnight Panther tribe of Kerra-Kerra

To the east of the Peaks Reaching to the Sky, north of the Plains Which Stretch Forever, and west of the Hills of Coal, there lies a stretch of cursed land where little grows, and few animals live, the very rock of the area painted in the shades of blood where they are not burnt black.  But, unlike so many places, the Burnt Lands are not cursed by the Devil Wardens, but by the spirits themselves.  Here is the land of the Horses that Go Up in Flames.

From the distant hills and mountains that surround this region, in the darkness of night, you can see the Horses that Go Up in Flames from many miles away, for they leave fiery trails stretching behind them.  Most often you will see but one, but on some nights, you may see a half dozen or more running together, not stopping even for the mesas, running up and over them as if they were not there.  For those daring to venture closer, you can see that the horses are spirits of fire, their skeletons visible and the color of charcoal, wreathed in billowing flames.  Their pained, angry cries can be heard before they are seen, but by then, they are likely already upon you, for they move with the speed of a wildfire.

The Horses that Go Up in Flames are a mystery to the Kerra-Kerra and the Horse People.  They do not seem to wish to speak with us as other spirits do, and may not be entirely of the spirits of the elements.  Horses that have strayed from our tribes as they travel around the Burnt Lands sometimes end up there.  Tales speak of these horses running as if possessed by a spirit, not fearful in the least as they drive headlong toward the Horses that Go Up in Flames.  As they approach, they cry in agony as their bodies erupt in flame, and in moments, they join the flaming herd as if they belonged there all along.

It is best to cross the Burnt Lands on the outside, for the Horses that Go Up in Flames do not stray from the area they have claimed, though what it is they may protect or guard we do not know, though in times of great need, you may dare cross through these lands; it is best to do so in the day, for the Horses that Go Up in Flames are less active then.

#Lore24 – Entry #172 – Wild West Month #21 – The Dead That Do Not Rest

As told by Kumiko Stalks-Amongst-the-Stars, shaman of the Midnight Panther tribe of Kerra-Kerra

Be ever aware of the smell of death, for one cannot ever be certain that what lies dead will stay still upon the Bitter Frontier.  Dark sorcery, perhaps lingering from the times of the Devil-Wardens, can steal the body once the soul has gone, using it as a vessel to consume the living.  Such things are often the work of the Reaper Spirit, for once the soul is consumed, the bodies that remain are but tool for it to use to slay more of the living.  These are the Dead That Do Not Rest.

The Corpses that Walk are the lowest of the Dead That Do Not Rest, shells of the living that still move and have a fierce hunger for fresh flesh.  Without a soul, the body is as a puppet, controlled by this hunger, doing all that it can to sate its unrelenting with fresh meat.  They are not always easy to kill, for a dead body feels no pain, but a well-placed arrow into their heads is best, or crushing or removing the head entirely; fire is also effective, but best used when the Corpses that Walk are many.  The greater threat is their numbers, for they carry a foul sickness with them that will weaken and kill almost anyone who is bitten by them, and those who succumb have their souls consumed by the Reaper Spirit, their bodies turned into its vessels.

There are more fearsome Dead That Do Not Rest, those who have once served the Reaper Spirit perhaps, thinking they could control it, or who have succumb to their own dark sorcery.  These Dead That Do Not Rest, while having no souls, still have a shadow of their former living souls within them that grants them deadly cunning in addition to greater power.  The Corpses With Bloody Claws and Fangs consume flesh like the Corpses that Walk, but still think and attack from ambush, or, in some cases, consume the recently dead as would any scavenger; if there has been a great battle, be ever cautious, for these are likely near.  They are fast and deadly when one is not prepared to face them; holy magic from the Great Mother will work well against them, as will it against all Dead That Do Not Rest, as does fire, or cutting them to pieces through strength of your warrior spirit.

Even more powerful are the Corpses that Drink Living Blood, for they are the most powerful and cunning of the Dead That Do Not Rest, for they are the users of dark sorcery who have willing brought the Reaper Spirit into them.  They can appear as they did in life, hiding their true nature and using their dark sorcery to control the minds and bodies of animals and people alike, luring them close so they may consume the blood that flows within their veins using their hidden fangs.  Those so chosen by the Corpse that Drinks Living Blood can remain as a cow does, a constant supply of blood, until their body finally fails, which is when they too become a Corpse that Drinks Living Blood, albeit weaker.  However, they can live for many, man years if they are smart, so their power will eventually become the same as the one that spawned them.  These are weakest during the day, and should they touch the light of the sun, they will burn.  It is best to try to paralyze them with a wooden stake to their hearts and drag them into the light of day, or use much fire, for their bodies are strong and hard to hurt without holy magic.  Great care must be taken when dealing with these abominations.

#Lore24 – Entry #161 – Wild West Month #9 – The Horse People of the Plains Which Stretch Forever

As told by Kumiko Stalks-Amongst-the-Stars, shaman of the Midnight Panther tribe of Kerra-Kerra

Though they are called the Plains Which Stretch Forever, these lands are bordered in the east by the mighty River Before the Great Walls, and in the west by the Peaks Reaching to the Sky, and only take many weeks of travel to cross.  These lands are pleasant, yet as part of the Bitter Frontier, they hold their own dangers.  Powerful winds and storms frequently rage across them, and the Expanse of Calm Grasses that Kill have claimed many of the unwary.

Upon the Plains Which Stretch Forever roam the mighty Horse People, Equinari as they call themselves, for they of such size need the vastness of such a place to flourish.  It is here that their tribes roam free and trade with the Kerra-Kerra of the Sprinting Horse and Sly Fox tribes, working with our cousins to hunt the mighty herds of antelope and bison that travel the plains.  Their tribes rarely travel beyond the plains, though the borders of these lands, as with most of the Bitter Frontier, can change at the whim of the Great Spirits.

The Horse People are usually peaceful with our kind, though they often must fight with the Northern Orcs and the Travelers from the Cities Beyond the Great Walls who try to steal their ancestral lands or threaten their hunting.  One would be wise to reconsider any anger towards one of the Horse People, for they stand half again as tall as most others, and are built powerfully, like the plains bison.  Tales are many of those who have angered one of the Horse People who have been crushed beneath their mighty hooves or thrown as easily as if they were one of our spears.  Their shamans are powerful and friendly with the many spirits of the Plains Which Stretch Forever, and can call upon them to drive off those who would dare cross them if the offense is great enough.

For now, the Horse People tolerate the People from Beyond the Great Walls and their Bands of Wood and Steel that carry their Howling Steel Chariots to the far west, and have granted them passage through certain areas of the Plains, but I fear that soon there could be conflict, for they seek ever to expand and stretch the range that their Bands of Wood and Steel cover, and the Northern Orc tribes have taken to attacking these Chariots, for those aboard often carry much of great value.

The spirits and the visions of the Great Mother tell us to be wary, for such troubles will fall upon us sooner rather than later.