Heroes of the Realm Chapter 3: Introductions

It was a nice dungeon, Hugo decided, as far as dungeons go. The cell was on the fourth floor of a guard tower overlooking the sea. If one was tall enough they could look out the windows and get a great view of Seagull's Landing, and he assumed judging by the salty air coming from the windows outside the bars if one were to see through those one could get a fantastic view of the sea.

The only view Hugo had though, was of four of the other prisoners resuming their shouting match.

They'd been at it off-and-on for the better part of four hours. From what he'd gathered the orc was angry at the gnome for stealing his coin purse, though it was returned. The elf was angry at the orc for spilling his tea, though he'd magically cleaned the mess off his coat since. And the halfling was screaming at all three of them for spoiling her bounty, even though he was sure she couldn't have taken out the beast on her own.

This was the way of the world, sadly. Everyone holding onto old grudges from the past even if they don't effect them now.

Hugo was hardly one to judge, he thought glumly. Between shouting matches he had approached each of his cell mates in turn and offered his healing skills. The elf with the fiddle politely declined while the one in the floppy hat gave him a cool rejection. The halfling welcomed it as did the orc, though Hugo cringed when he saw the orc blood dripping from several wounds. Orcs and elves aside though, Hugo had to fight an internal battle before approaching the gnome, only doing so after reminding himself that Solaris shines on everyone equally, and if He Who Shines could stand the thieving race, so could he.

Hugo looked at the elf sitting on the opposite side of the bench from him. This one he didn't understand. He'd seemed confused more than anything when they were arrested, and had hardly spoken a word since they entered the cell. Hugo thought he looked younger than the other elf, but it was hard to judge with a race who aged so slowly and lived so long, but if he was a human he would guess he was maybe 16. He wore simple peasants clothes with a leather vest serving as his only form of armor. His skin was a light olive, not as dark as the wild elves he'd seen, but not even close to as light as the one currently screaming about the price of a decent shirt in this city. His dark curly hair was cut short revealing only slightly pointed ears, again not quite like the other elf in the cell.

"Half elf." Hugo said, realizing what the man was.

The half elf jumped as though Hugo had hit him with his mace. The rest of the room went quiet to look at him, which Hugo blatantly ignored.

"You're a half-elf." said Hugo, pointing.

"Yes," the boy said, reaching up to his ear. "My father was a wild elf."

The other elf made an indignant noise. "I would suppose you never met him, yes?"

"No, I haven't." he said looking down.

"Typical." the elf spat, looking down at the young half elf.

Before anything more could be said, the door slammed open followed by a troop of guards with Samantha walking among them. The pink dress was gone and her steel plate shone as bright as any of the guards. Her long blonde hair was put into a simple bun showing off her striking features. She was taller than several of the other guards, a trait that human men seemed to find attractive, as well as her long muscular body. She had the face like a marble statue, perfect and delicate but you knew that if you tried to harm it you'd do far more damage to yourself then you ever would to her.

"Good news folks, you are not being executed" said the man ahead of Samantha. As soon as they were arrested, she'd shown her credentials and had disappeared since, presumably negotiating for their release.

"Why do I feel like there's a but?" the gnome said suspiciously.

"We're being banished." Samantha said, looking straight at Hugo. "We're to collect whatever things we have in whatever inn and are to be escorted out of the city at sundown."

"Which way out of the city?" The orc said. While healing him, Hugo had noticed that the man had smelled like the ocean.

"North side," said the guard. "You will be escorted out of the north gate. We considered sending you off seaside but..." He glanced at Samantha with a frown. Samantha maintained her soldier posture, maintaining eye contact with Hugo.

"But we saved the city!" cried the half-elf. "We're heroes!"

"You're being let out alive," said the guard. "Consider that our thanks."

***

The gates shut with a loud clank behind Bud. The sun was setting somewhere off in the woods and the darkness had already crept to the gates. He looked at the rest of the group, their equipment since returned to them and their bags packed from wherever they were staying. They stood awkwardly, not knowing quite what to do next.

"Well, now what?" asked Bud to nobody in particular.

"I think we should get as far away from the walls as possible," said the gnome. "Before they decide to use us as target practice."

"That's not a bad idea," the human said. "Hugo and I need to get back to our people anyway and file our reports."

They began walking up the road in silence, except for the dwarf Hugo and the human who talked quietly between the two of them. After they crested the second hill and were out of sight from the walls, the halfling asked "So what people do you work for?"

"We work for the temple of War, in Tarn." said the human.

"Oh, are you a paladin?" the halfling asked, her dog walking beside her.

"No," the human said. "Just a person who can lift a sword and who wants to help."

"Lady Blacksmith is a sworn warrior of Gabrius ," the dwarf said. "At least she swore the vows once..."

"That was one drunken night" the human said annoyed. "And you know I hate that name."

"What is your name?" Bud asked.

The pair stopped and turned around. The rest of the group formed a circle in the road, with Bud opposite the armored pair.

"I suppose if we're going to be travel companions for the moment some introductions are in order." the dwarf said. "I am Hugo, formerly of Clan Silverhammer. May I present Lady Samantha Blacksmith of the Silent Hill Blacksmiths." Both bowed in turn as though this was long practiced.

"Cassandra Butterhill," said the halfling. "And that's midnight" she said as she pointed to the brown dog by her side.

"Talesian of the Honorable House Quithlana, 8th House of Katumal." said the elf as he bowed with a swish of his hat.

"Gimini" said the gnome, his arms crossed. Hugo said something under his breath which made Samantha smack him in the back of the head.

"Thayne Allen" said the one Hugo called a half-elf earlier, looking awkward at the group.

"Your father's name?" said Talesian with a smirk on his face. For some reason Bud wanted to punch that smirk right off his face.

"No," Thayne answered confused. "It's my mother's."

"Of course it is." said Talesian.

"I'm Bud." said Bud, trying to move the conversation before he put Talesian into the ground.

"That's an odd name for an orc," said Cassandra.

"I'm half-orc. And it's more of a nickname... it's just what they called me on the ship."

"Oh, are you a sailor?" asked Cassandra.

"Not anymore." said Bud.

"It's getting dark," interrupted Samantha. "We should probably see if we can find a place to set camp for tonight and try to get out of Kind tomorrow."

The group trooped off, chatting occasionally as they went. They still weren't friends, Bud thought, but at least they weren't at each others throats. And they might stay that way depending on if Talesian could keep his damn mouth shut.

***

Talesian had never been more humiliated in his entire life. First his best cravat had been stained (Thank Thoth his magic could fix it!) then he'd have to fight alongside a dwarf, an orc-oh excuse me, a half orc- and a half-human with the other half obviously wild elf!

As he marched on he noticed more scuffs on his boots. He'd cleaned them at least a dozen times since leaving the city with his magic, but by now he was tired of the effort and decided to clean them when they stopped to camp. He hadn't planned on actually walking very far on this trip, maybe spend a night watching griffins on the cliffs of Mandare, but extensive walking was never his style. he wished that the guards had let him return to the Magic Sanctuary where he could use their teleport circle to return home and report his mistreatment to his parents, who would be furious to hear how a member of the 8th house of Katumal was being treated.

The darkness stole the color from the world but to Talesian's elf eyes none of the detail was lost. The human though drew out a torch and lit it with a single strike, its flame becoming a beacon in the gloom. While it ruined Talesian's night vision he did appreciate having something warm and familiar to follow.

As they turned a corner they happened upon a shrine to Calbhac along the side of the road, with a statue of Lord Laurentus, the patron diety of the Kind. The smaller shrine was worn and looked like it was seldom cared for, while the taller statue of the noble knight looked almost brand new. Rumor was that the statues to Laurentus were replaced every few years, while the icons of other dieties were left to deteriorate.

Behind the statue was an acre of land cleared from the forest. The shrine indicated that the land was meant for travelers to rest, as Calbhac, God of the Road would want. While Talesian didn't agree with the theology, he appreciated the sentiment.

"We can camp here," said the human.

A round of agreement was heard in the group as they began to walk into the field. Packs were dropped as talk of supper and a fire began. Talesian had never been to one of the roadside sanctuaries of the Wandering God, but he had heard that while they were supposed to be places of peace for all travelers, many of them were still frequently used by bandits to ambush the weary.

As he looked across the field, he saw a light flicker between the trees at the far end from where the party was setting up. At first he thought it was a trick of the torch, until he saw it several more times and realized it was a lantern.

"I do not believe we are alone here," he said to nobody in particular.

The dwarf, displaying what Talesian thought was customary for dwarf manners, called out to the light.

"Oiy, who goes there?"

The light stopped moving for a moment then appeared to get brighter. The rest of the group stood around Talesian, not sure weather friend or foe would come out of the woods.

What did come out were three men, two of whom were carrying a third between them. The one on the left held a lantern up towards the group while the other merely dragged the middle companion along. The one in the middle seemed unconscious.

"What's all this then?" barked the dwarf.

"This'ere fellow was using dark magic, so we decided to teach him a lesson." said the man with the lantern. As they approached Talesian could see the build of a farmer with a thick scraggly beard and weathered skin.

"I"m sorry, you must be mistaken." Talesian said. The men stopped in their tracks looking confused.
"Magic is neither dark nor light my good sirs. Magic in and of itself is benign. It is the user that can wield it for good or for ill. Pray tell, my good sirs, how did this man use magic against you?"

The men looked dumbfounded. Talesian continued to look at them, seeing parts of them in light with color and parts in shadow in shades of grey. The man between them had yet to move on his own. His hair was long and black and covered his face like a veil. On top of his head was a hat with a pointed tip that looked like a cheap version of Talesian's own wide brimmed pointed hat.

"We seen em do dark magic" said the man on the right, speaking for the first time. "It was right over there. He made green flames appear."

"Well now good sirs, green flames are hardly cause for alarm," he said calmly.

"Why don't you bring the fellow over here and we can help figure out what ought to be done with him," said the dwarf. While Talesian didn't like it he had to agree. While the major cities in the Kind had Sanctuaries of Magic, many of the rural areas were not friendly to the arcane, believing it to all be in league with devils.

"We could do that, but if we wake him up he may do magic again and kill us all!" said the man with the lantern. "Best kill im now while we's have the chance!"

Talesian was stunned. Surely these men did not have the authority to execute a criminal. He was about to speak when their prisoner looked up and locked eyes on Talesian. The elf saw the man's face, a patchwork of scrapes with one eye nearly swollen shut.

Please! Help me! I don't want to die!" 

Talesian heard the voice in his head as if it were next to him. Mental communication was not a foreign concept to the elf, since he'd studied most of his life to become a wizard. Between the voice and the look in the man's eyes something stirred within Talesian's soul. Living his life at the knee of tutors and waited on by servants he'd never truly seen the outside world. This trip was supposed to be a little vacation, the first trip outside his homeland. His plan was to do some studying and explore one of the more esoteric cities on the continent, maybe go griffin watching, but that had all been disrupted today.

In his short time in Seagull's Landing he'd seen many wondrous sights, but he'd also seen poverty for the first time. He'd seen how peasants lived, and he'd seen desperation in people's faces. When facing the ogre he'd seen the terror such a powerful being could invoke in those that did not have the means to defend themselves, and had used his magic for the first time to attack another living being.

Now in that split second looking into the man's eyes he knew what he was seeing: It was desperation, and the fear of someone helpless against something that could destroy them.

The spell came from his fingers almost faster than he thought of it. A streak of red flame bust from his hand hitting the man without the lantern in the chest. He dropped the prisoner as he attempted to put himself out. Before the other man could react a second bolt tore through the air shattering the man's lantern and lighting the dry summer grass on fire. The two men screamed as they ran away in terror from the elf, leaving their prisoner to crawl away from the flames on his own.

"By the gods!" said the dwarf as he reached out his hand and caused water to rise to the surface of the ground, drowning out the flames. The water immediately receded from where it came, thanks to the dwarf's small miracle. Talesian hurried to the man on the ground and helped lift him to his feet. Despite being battered he seemed more or less alright.

"Thank you," he said as he stood trembling in the night.

"What's your name sir?" Talesian asked, as the others circled them.

"Roland," he said. "I am forever in your debt."

The others, who up to this point had let Hugo and Talesian handle the situation, all began talking at once. Some talking to each other about the exchange, others asking Roland questions about why the men had taken him. He explained that he was using magic to hunt for food when the farmers happened upon him and decided that he was evil.

As Hugo began to use more of his holy magic to heal the man's wounds, the human, Samantha, sidled up to Talesian.

"I wouldn't really picture you as the hero type," she said with half a smile.

Talesian looked her in the eyes and for the first time since becoming associated with what he considered to be a group of mismatched common rabble, he smiled.

"Neither did I."

Heroes of the Realm chapter 2: First Fight

Hugo stood awkwardly playing with the ends of his braided beard in the second story room of the inn.

"Are you sure this is the best way?" he asked again.

"Yeah, believe me, it'll work" came Samantha's voice from behind the partition.

"I still don't like this," he said. "I would hate to be thought of someone who took part in lascivious activities."

Though to be honest if he even tried anything unseemly with Samantha Blacksmith he would probably find himself flat on his dwarven behind faster than he could call on Solaris for protection.

"Don't worry," she said as she struggled behind the screen. "After we're done I'll explain who you are and why we're here and it'll all be fine."

Hugo doubted it would be fine. Subterfuge was always a double-edged sword, and he feared being cut for no reason.

"I'm sure we can-" he said before something outside the window caught his attention. It was a gnome wearing a green cloak clinging to a massive ogre using two daggers as handles. The ogre was thrashing around trying to get him off while arrows appeared on his hide.

Before Hugo could say anything he was shoved aside as he saw Samantha smash through the window, sword drawn with a pink dress half pulled on over her armor.

Hugo regained his footing, brushed himself off and muttered "That works". He then picked up his mace, kissed the holy symbol around his neck, and calmly walked out the door.

***
Thayne watched from behind the bar as people crowded into the tavern. Shouting could be heard outside as well as the occasional roar. A man came up to the bar and shouted to nobody in particular "Ogre attack! Ogre attack!"

This was it.

This was the call Thayne had been looking for. Three months of working in a tavern in the big city and he finally had a lead. A call to adventure.

He saw a guest, a dwarf in shining armor and wielding a mace come down the stairs and push his way through the crowd to the open street. Thayne saw this as the final sign. He took off his apron, grabbed the pack he'd had ready since he started working here and his fiddle, and followed the dwarf through the crowd.

The scene outside was chaos. The ogre was nearly two stories tall and was currently trying to grab a small person on its back. Another small person, a halfling woman, was behind it knocking an arrow. An orc stood across the street with two axes, covered in blood and laughing. To his right, a tall man in a pointed hat said something strange before a ball of purple energy flew out of his hand and split in half before both balls hitting into the ogres chest. On his left the dwarf was trying to swing at the creatures foot with his mace. The oddest thing he saw by far though was a woman in front of him. Her blond hair spilled over her torn dress, which had bits of armor poking out of it. She held a massive sword with two hands and was sweeping it at the monster.

Thayne decided to help her so he set his fiddle and started to play. With the music he poured his soul, his magic, into the notes. It was his gift, to inspire others with his own personal magic. He focused the music on the woman in front of him who swung her sword and slashed the ogre across the chest. As the creature stepped back she glanced over her shoulder, met Thayne with intense brown eyes, and said "Thanks."

Thayne smiled and channeled his music towards the person on the ogre's back.

***

Gimini decided as he rode the back of the thrashing ogre, his twin daggers stuck in the meat of its massive shoulder blades, that this was not his day. He'd pictured himself having lunch, maybe a glass of wine to wash it down with. As it was he was just trying to figure out how to survive the next few minutes.

It was then that he heard the sound of a fiddle being played from somewhere near the street. He wondered for a moment why in the hells anyone would pick now to start playing, but the melody touched something in him that made him feel oddly stronger.

He suddenly had an idea. Planting his feet on the ogre's back he kicked off with all his might, performing a back-flip off the ogre and onto the pavement. He landed surprisingly well in a crouching position, both daggers to either side and both dripping with blood. The halfling he'd encountered earlier was standing next to him with an arrow knocked and looking at him with surprise.

"We really must stop meeting like this, my dear" he said with a smirk. She let out a laugh and fired into the giant beast.

***

Samantha was having a fantastic time. The ogre was a monstrous thing, looming over her frame despite the creature being hunched over. With the gnome off its back she redoubled her efforts to attack the beast, and noticed her companion, the shirtless orc, matching her fervor.

She'd been startled to see the orc fighting the ogre, as she was lead to believe that the two species usually worked together. This orc was far different than the ones she'd seen before. She usually saw them wrapped in animal furs with crude weapons, but this one had hand crafted studded leather pants and fine boots, and he wielded two well crafted hand axes. He was shirtless, which was something Samantha had never seen on an orc, but was something she decided she appreciated.

Samantha and the orc moved like dancers at the ogre. His swings were viscous yet somehow graceful,  like a cat mauling a deer. Hers were timed, well trained, and disciplined, yet somehow the two fighting styles flowed. He would attack then she would, both keeping their weapons from striking the other, both stepping in on their turns. When the creature would swing with its gangly arms to try and claw at her or the orc, they would parry then step back in, as though they had rehearsed this fight a hundred times.

Between their fighting and the others attacks, the ogre started to tire. It had over a dozen nicks from her and the ogre's blades, as well as a smashed foot from Hugo's mace, bruises to the face from the gentleman in the pointed hat's magic, shoulders bleeding from the gnomes daggers, and arrows sticking out everywhere like a partially plucked chicken. As it staggered, Samantha looked at the orc and he bowed his head, indicating that she could finish it off. She gave a small bow with a smile then put her sword through the beast's head, finally killing it.

The small crowds that had formed on either end of the street started cheering. Samantha hadn't even noticed their gathering till now as she looked at her companions. Most were exhausted and Hugo was using magic to heal the halfling who seemed to have taken a hit before Samantha had arrived. She turned around to thank the magic user when she saw several soldiers in full plate armor, swords drawn, push their way through the crowd. Each had a shield with the symbol of Lord Laurentus emblazoned on it, with matching symbols on their armor and helmets.

"You're all under arrest!" the first man shouted by way of greeting.

Samantha was taken aback by this. They'd just killed an ogre. She looked directly at the man who spoke.

"For what?!" she shouted.

"For causing a disturbance!" He replied. "Drop your sword!"

"Why didn't you get the ogre for causing a disturbance? He was the one who started it!"

"We'll see! Now drop your sword!"

Samantha swore as she threw her sword to the ground and was grabbed by the guards. This was definitely going in her report, though she was glad she didn't have to try the whole damsel idea.

Harvey Loveless Mysteries 4: Dorm

It's weird to think that people still go to college. 30 years ago all basic beliefs in religion, science and philosophy was turned on its head when a giant creature came out of the ocean near South Carolina and proved that we had no idea how anything worked. But people still get married in churches, movies still get made about space travel, and for some reason people still go to college, which is why I could find myself walking through the doors of a men's dormitory at 8 A.M., despiting wanting nothing more but to go back to bed.

Coffee in one hand and sunglasses firmly in place, I entered the dorm's common room. The usual smattering of students sat in just barely comfortable armchairs, doing everything from frantically typing on laptops to sleeping. I walked past them, doing a quick scan for anything that looked Necronomicon-ey. No such luck, though I did see an amusing Freddy Mercury tee shirt I'd have to remember to pick up later.

I continued up the stairs past a sign that said "Men Only". The rule had been ignored by plenty of students over the years to smuggle late-night girlfriends in, but knowing Nick the thought probably never crossed his mind. I took the stairs up to the third floor and, after wondering why the hell this place didn't have an elevator, made my way to room 304, Nick's room.

The door was unusual in the fact that it wasn't covered in the usual posters and stickers that decorated the other doors. It only had a simple nameplate that said "Spinner/Sanders". I knocked and waited for an answer. The door opened slowly to reveal Nick, not looking like he'd slept since the events of last night, peering out from behind.

"You decent?" I asked. The awkwardness hadn't left my office till he did last night. It's unusual for friends to drop their pants in front of each other, much less casual aquaintences from support groups for those not wanting to become a monster.

"Uh, yeah, I guess." he said and let me in. The room looked like it was a model for perspective residents. Everything was so neat I felt like I was cluttering it just by being there. Two beds sat at either side of the room, with a desk directly opposite of each. Sitting in one was who I presumed was Barry, Nick's roommate. He was dressed in a black turtleneck with matching jeans, as tough he was about to recite poetry in a coffee shop somewhere. Nick closed the door behind me. He was in the same sweater/jeans combo he was in last night, and I wondered if he'd slept in it.

"Nice place," I said as I stood there awkwardly.

"Barry, this is Harvey, the guy I told you about. Harvey, Barry." said Nick, though Barry never looked up from his computer.

"Yeah hay" Barry said.

"Hi" I said, taking another sip of coffee.

"Barry, I'm sorry but I need the place." Nick said to his roommate.

For the first time Barry looked up. "Nick, you've never needed the place before. Oh la la!"

Nick rolled his eyes as Barry packed his laptop into a backpack and took a step toward the door. "Don't make a mess boys!" he said as he left.

"Sorry about that," said Nick as he quickly shut the door. "Barry's gay and thinks I am too since I never go out with girls."

"Right," I said, setting my coffee down on the desk. "Does he know about..." I asked while motioning to his belly.

"Oh no! I always change in the bathroom. Modesty is one of my biggest rules for myself." Nick said.

"Right," I said again. "Listen, let's get to the task at hand, where is this friend of yours who showed you the bootleg book?"

Just then a knock came at the door and Nick opened it to reveal a man with Nick's muscly build but who had at least five inches on me. He was huge to the point of almost unreal. He had in his massive hands a stack of papers loosely tied together with an equally massive rubber band.

"Harvey, this is James," Nick said. James extended his hand out to me and I took it. For a moment it felt like I was shaking a bunch of bananas.

"Yo," he said smiling. "Hay Nick, is this guy cool?"

Nick looked even more nervous. I interjected. "Yeah, I'm cool. Is that the thing?"

Apparently that was all the veneration James needed as he grinned and slapped the pile of papers onto the desk. "Yeah, man! A genuine Necro!"

I eyed the stack cautiously. It looked like any other stack of printer paper, dog eared with a coffee ring on the top like someone had used it as a coaster at one point, but I'd seen Nicks.... Affliction... and I knew something was up.

"May I?" I asked as I reached for it.

"Be my guest," said James as Nick made the sign of the cross behind him.

I removed the rubber band and started flipping through the pages. It was identical to the one Tom had shown me except this one had extra notes in the margins in various handwriting and the back to some of the pages had doodles and cartoons illustrating different passages, particularly the sex rituals.

The thing was that, once again, I could tell it wasn't real. A real Necronomicon teems with power, and calls to anything touched by the Eldrich around it, so that little voice in the back of my head that tempts me to use magic would've started screaming. This thing though, nothing. No drawing towards it. No loud voice. Just paper with lewd pictures.

"How does it work?" I asked, feigning interest while stopping on a particularly detailed drawing.

"Dude, you just do the ritual for whatever you want to do and it does it." He said as if explaining to me how the phone works. I lifted my eyebrow at him hoping he'd elaborate.

"Here, let me show you." he said pushing me aside with ease. Nick tried to object but I caught his eye and shook my head. I needed to see what this guy did with the book.

James flipped through the book till he found a page he liked. He then produced a piece of chalk from his pocket and began drawing a set of symbols from the book onto the desk. My stomach twisted as I watched him write, wondering if this may've been a bad idea. He then began chanting in a language I'd never heard.

The thing was, I'd seen a real Necronomicon, a few times. I'd used one only once, but it was an experience I'd never forget.

Imagine my surprise then when the symbols began to glow with a sickly green fire. I instinctively stepped back and began to reach for my own power. Before anything else happened though there was a loud pop and the glow disappeared. On the desk sat a steaming cooked burrito.

"Um... what?" was all I could say as I stared at the burrito torn from the aether.

"Food summoning spell!" James said as he picked up and bit into the eldrich snack.

I wanted to say "There's no such thing" but apparently there it was, clear as day. A ritual spell that summoned food, but didn't require making a pact with an otherworldly creature.

"Can I see that?" I asked and held out my hand for the bitten burrito.

"Sure, man." James said with a mouth full of food. I took it carefully not to spill the contents. It was perfectly warm, not hot enough to burn but just right to make it the perfect tasty treat. I smelled it and got the aroma of fresh beans, cheese and chicken. I felt a little stupid examining the thing, I'm supposed to be a magic Dick Tracey not college Gordon Ramsey.

"Where are you from?" I said to the burrito, throwing some of my power behind it. At this point I was at a complete loss so figured one shortcut wouldn't hurt.

My vision faded as I saw the burrito go back into the pages of the book then the book quickly restore itself to when it was first copied, then I saw it go back to the copier and becoming blank pages again. Then I followed the papers that book was copied from, then the book it was copied from and over and over through eight different copiers till I arrived at the original book.

It was small, about the size of a paperback novel, and not very thick. It was wrapped in black leather with a white shard of metal woven into the cover. It wasn't a Necronomicon, it was something... else... I saw the woman in a plain white dress, her blond hair coming in waves off her face. She looked like she was on her way to a Renaissance fair but there was a modern copier in front of her. She looked nervous as she made the first copy of the book.

My vision cleared and I was sitting on the floor of the dorm room. My back was to the bed as I sat in a sitting position. I had a splitting headache for some reason. The burrito was cold in my hand.

Nick and James looked at me with worry in their eyes.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Dude, you totally spazzed out!" said John excitedly.

"Are you okay?" asked Nick, his face pale and shining with sweat.

"I think so... Sorry I tried to do a tracer spell..."

I felt something burning on my stomach. I lifted up my shirt to expose the tendrils coming from my naval, black and otherworldly and saw that the spot where they'd last grown a little since using magic on the idiot cultists had retreated. In its place was the regular under tanned flesh of my stomach.

"Interesting..." I said, which I decided was the best thing to say when you have no idea what the hell's going on.

Heroes of the Realm Chapter 1: Meetings

Bud walked down the bustling street unimpeded. He realized why Captain Fisker always had him stay on the ship whenever they stayed here. Mostly human, the inhabitants avoided eye contact wherever possible with the dripping wet half-orc as he walked up the cities market street.

Most port towns wouldn't look twice at a half-orc, but the kingdom of Kind was a different beast entirely.

He idly padded the small bag of coins at his hip, reassuring himself that even here an innkeeper wouldn't turn him away if he could pay, and thanked sweet Gabrius that he at least had the coin to do so. He was exhausted, and while he could sleep anywhere, one night at an inn would probably do him good.

***
Gimini Cogworthy knew a mark when he saw one. Walking up the Trade Street, bare chested and soaking wet, the orc had to be drunk. Didn't see much of his kind around here, but the gnome wasn't about to question his good luck.

He slipped into the crowd, bright green cloak billowing around him. Most thieves traditionally wore black but Gimini wasn't a fan of advertising himself to targets. Using the magic inherit to his race he conjured an illusionary fly to buzz around the orc's head. In an instant Gimini had the bag of gold and was walking back into the crowd.

He was only a dozen steps away when he heard "Hay!" coming from behind him.

Gimini broke out into a run.

***
Talesian of the Honorable House Quithlana sat enjoying his afternoon tea at the quiet little bistro near the marketplace. The book he read had a particularly interesting chapter on the frequency of goblin hoard attacks on the Western Planes during the avocation of Vulmon the Generous.

If the chapter hadn't been so interesting he may've noticed the gnome running at full speed around the corner, running across his table and jumping over the back gate. Unfortunately by the time he looked up all he caught was a glimpse of an orc smashing through both himself and the table and slamming into the gate with a roar, breaking its hinges.

Talesian was so insulted by the rude disturbance of his reading (And the spilling of his tea over his long coat) that he decided to go after the miscreants himself and turn them into the city guard at once.

***

The dog stopped in front of an inconspicuous building and began to howl. Cassandra drew her bow and knocked an arrow. The creature had to be near here, but in the city she was completely lost. Moonlight howled again and began scratching at the wall of the building, indicating it was inside.
She looked around trying to spot an opening without looking too conspicuous. She saw a window 15 feet off the ground and made an annoyed huff at it.

Human cities were too tall.

Removing a grappling hook from her belt, she began to tie a rope to it while estimating if she could get ahold of the bars. In the wild her size rarely made any difference, as an owlbear could take out a halfling just as easily as it could a human, but in the city everything felt just a little too far out of her reach, like she was a child.

After a couple swings she managed to nab the bars and climb up to the window, her athletic body having no trouble with herself or her gear. At the top she peered through the glass at her prey: An ogre stood in a large room, pacing back and fourth in front of a human with a whip.

"What in the hells..." she whispered as she peered in. Before she had time to decide on a plan of attack, her dog Moonlight started barking below. She looked down to see a gnome in a green cloak grab her rope and start climbing up, with an orc- no a half orc- hot on his heels. In a moment the gnome was sitting on the small window sill staring down at his persuer.

"Good afternoon," the gnome greeted.

"Good afternoon," replied Cassandra, now beyond confused.

The half-orc and Moonlight both seemed to be below them barking, though the half-orc sounded far more threatening, especially wielding an axe in each hand.

"Look, I'm sorry, here." said the gnome as he dropped a small purse down. It clinked on the pavement with the unmistakable sound of gold, but was completely ignored by the half-orc.

"Did you steal that from him?" Cassandra asked, arranging herself to a similar sitting position next to the gnome.

"Well, yes, but in my defense I thought he was drunk." he replied with a smile.

"How is that a defense?" She asked.

Before he could reply she saw the half-orc throw an axe and barely miss their heads. This was getting out of hand.

"Now see here," Cassandra said, pulling her bow back out. "You got your gold back, if you still have issue with this man then take it up with the city guard, but don't go dragging me into it by getting me killed!"

Either Cassandra's words or the arrow in her hand convinced the half-orc to calm down because he took a deep breath and visibly relaxed, though kept his eyes glued above him. Cassandra breathed a sigh of relief. At least she wasn't going to have to kill this idiot, though she felt like she should remember something...

Just then a man with a floppy pointed hat and a long black and gold jacket turned the corner.

"You owe me a new cup of tea!" he shouted, pointing at the half-orc. The half-orc turned to him and opened up his arms as the other man approached.

"I'm sorry but he stole my purse!" he shouted as he pointed up to the gnome.

"I thought you were drunk!" the gnome shouted back.

Cassandra was about to try and have the man explain again why that gave him a right to steal when the wall they were sitting on exploded outward in a shower of stone and dust. Her and the gnome both managed to tumble to the ground without taking any serious damage, though the half-orc and hatted man were both sprawled on the ground. As the dust settled Cassandra realized three things at once: The first was that the man had lost his hat and she could now see that the man was an elf, second was that her bow was no longer with her, and third that she had completely forgotten that the only reason she was on that wall was that she was tracking an ogre through the city.

An ogre that was now standing in front of them.

Harvey Loveless Mysteries 3: Support

I have to think that every church has one of these: a grimy room specially made for support group meetings. The Sunday parishioners get gothic ceilings, stained glass windows, and paintings of naked people flying through the clouds. We get a water heater, metal chairs and a coffee pot from when the first Bush was in office.

Not that we needed the space. We had five this week, four participants plus Father Gregor. He sat directly across from me in our little circle. He was young for a priest, probably late 20's, but I respected him more than any priest I'd ever met. I don't know if he took this job voluntarily or if he ticked off a higher up, but he always acted like he genuinely wanted to be here. Support groups were never fun, but this one was exceedingly looked down upon.

I always thought it was funny, if someone voluntarily drinks and wants to stop then they're a hero. If someone is born to become a monster and don't want to they are still labeled with the monsters.

Father Gregor started out with the serenity prayer. Our group had just whole hardheadedly ripped off the Alcoholics Anonymous protocol, including the steps, though recovery had different meanings here. Some of us will never truly recover.

After a short silence Nick was the first to speak. He was a little shorter than me but outweighed me by at least 100 pounds. All of it was pure muscle though, which he tried to hide under baggy jeans and an oversized sweater. He kept his blond hair at a close military style length, and never used product in it. I always meant to ask him why he didn't attend the survivor meetings, since he wasn't like the rest of us, but it seemed like too personal of a subject to broach.

"A woman came up to me at the gym this week," he said, never looking up from his massive hands. "She said she'd seen me around before, and wanted to say hi. I tried to act cool but at one point she touched my bicep and I cringed away. I smiled and said I was sore. She seemed weirded out but was still friendly and kept talking. I think we had a real connection."

"That's great!" said Father Gregor, real enthusiasm shining through is green eyes. "I'm glad! That's such a good step forward. Remember that God did not make women to be our enemy."

I glanced at the woman sitting directly opposite from Nick, though she didn't seem to notice the comment. She was, as usual, staring at her gloved hands as though she was looking for the answer to all of life's mysteries in the silk.

"Thanks, Father" Nick said, turning a little red. It's unusual to hear a priest praise a young man for being touched by a young woman, but in this case it was a positive step. At 18 Nick was at a party where he got drunk and went to bed with a pretty girl. Halfway through the act she shucked her skin and revealed herself to be a massive insectoid creature, trying to get his DNA. By that point Nick was past the point of no return and she got what she came for. He'd been terrified of women ever since.

The woman in our circle, Alice, looked up and said she wanted to go next. Her eyes were abnormally large and seemed to portrude in an unusual Steve Buscemi if his mother was part iguana sort of way. Her mouth was a little too wide when she spoke, and her unusually pale skin was pock marked with scabs and scars, many of which were self inflicted.

"I haven't found new scales in over a week," she said enthusiastically. "The doctor says that my showers are fine and that it's sea water that's a problem. I can even do salt water since its something in the ocean itself that triggers... episodes..." She trailed off, her enthusiasm draining away like a balloon with a hole.

"Have you been to the beach this week?" asked Father Gregor, concern in his eyes.

"No, I haven't" she said quietly, returning her odd gaze to her hands. "I've been taking extra shifts so I'm too busy to go, but I've wanted to." She wore a red gingham waitress uniform complete with apron and name tag. Her "skin condition" was listed as a medical issue so her employers let her keep her gloves though it was a mystery to everyone how she kept them so clean.

"That's good! Remember about idle hands..." said the Father, smiling at her kindly. The mention of hands made hers twitch a little. I'd never seen her without the silk gloves, but from what I'd heard about the operations on her fingers she'd been through, I don't think I wanted to. About every six months they would have to go in and remove the excess skin growing between her fingers. She always seemed much happier after the operations, and I think her next one would be coming up soon.

Alice was a result of a similar DNA collection process Nick had gone through. A race of sea beasts had been breeding with the residents of a coastal town for centuries before the city was raided and its residents quarantined. Some of the lines had moved away from the town beforehand, and some of their children still showed signs of their heritage. The most extreme would grow gills, scales and webbed digits coupled with an extreme urge to return to the sea and join the bizarre underwater race.

Attention turned to the last member of our little meeting, besides yours truly. The man was in his mid fourties, though he looked far older than he did. He was wearing stained sweat pants and a thin blazer, and rocked a beard that would be the envy of any hipster. His eyes were always darting around the room, occasionally stopping on something in the middle distance only he could see, at which point he would close his eyes and count to ten before going back to his searching.

"I... I think... I slept last night... No dreams..." he said. His voice was shaky like he just emerged from a polar bear plunge.

"Nate that's great news!" said the Father in his usual upbeat tone. "Is the medication helping?"

"I... Think so...." he said before snapping his eyes shut and counting to ten quickly. Six years ago he was a stock trader who had made the wrong investments to the wrong people and had ended up owing more than he had. In a desperate move he'd turned to magic hoping to gain the ability to see a little into the future and know what stocks to trade when. The ritual had gone wrong somehow and the creature he had dealt with for power gave him the ability to instead see the unseen world, meaning that he now saw the plethora of spirits and demons that surrounded humans on a constant basis. He lived in the church now and worked as its janitor. Apparently his wife remarried recently in another city.

Nate never looked directly at me.

"And how are you, detective?" the Father asked turning to me, his wide grin as warm and friendly as it would be meeting at a summer barbecue.

I inhaled slowly. "I cast three spells last night."

"Oh Harvey, what happened?" Asked the priest, his concern genuine on his face.

I explained the circumstances of the previous night, with the cult and the woman on the table, leaving out Detective Holms' visit this morning.

"Harvey, do you know Luke 22:42?"

"I had no idea she was my sister and she kissed me anyway?"

The priest looked confused for a minute before breaking out in laughter. The rest of the group followed nervously.

"No no, it says "Saying, Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done."

I nodded my head in agreement although I had no idea what he was talking about. To be honest I'd never read the Bible cover to cover. Not for its length or even language, I was just a little weary of religious tomes. In my experience they usually lead to trouble.

"I think that while your condition is not ordained by God, it can be used for good. And if you use it for his will, to help those in need, you can sanctify it, make it into something good that he can use."

  

It wasn't really what I interpreted the passage to mean, but the rest of the group nodded in agreement so I did as well. The meeting wrapped up with a small discussion on the meaning and significance of step two, most of which was done by Father Gregor. We adjourned with another recitation of the serenity prayer and one of those freestyle prayers the priest liked to do. While everyone was standing up, stretching, shaking hands and meandering towards the coffee and doughnuts I casually said "Hay has anyone heard about a fake Necronomicon floating around?"

The room froze and all eyes fixed on me. I'm apparently not as great at acting casual as I thought I was.

Father Gregor spoke first. "Harvey, you remember the first rule: We are here to recover not gain more dark knowledge?"

"I know," I said feeling slightly sheepish. "It's for a case I'm working on. The thing's bogus anyway."

"I would still rather you didn't bring things like that up in meetings," he said, the concern in his voice turned down and the dad authority turned up.

  

The members resumed their activities and I headed for a doughnut. I knew better, I know I knew better, but it was worth a shot. As I decided between cream filled or chocolate covered Nick sidled up to me.

"I need your help," he whispered, trying to look like he was getting a doughnut but was instead shuffling them around the box.

"Well, the cream filled is out, but the chocolate is good" I said as I took a bite of my newly acquired doughnut."

"No, I mean, I need your help, with something else" he whispered nervously. Nate came up to pour a cup of coffee and Nick immediately walked away, tilting his head in a way that meant I was to follow him. I rolled my eyes and did so.

  

"Look, is there somewhere we can talk, in private?" he asked, still glancing at the others in the room.

"We are talking in private" I said while still chewing on my doughnut. The kid was young, probably early twenties, and I figured it was about time he learned how to ask for something directly.

"I mean, like your office? Can you meet me at your office in like, an hour?" He asked.

I rolled my eyes again and fished a card out of my coat pocket and put it in his beefy hands. "In one hour." I said and headed for the door.

~~~

The best part about my office was that there was a door in the back of it that, when cleverly opened with the cunning use of a doorknob, lead to my apartment. Waiting for Nick was far less of an inconvenience than I wanted him to believe, simply because people who knew me and what I did tended to think that I would do odd detective jobs for them for free. When he got here I was going to tell him that if it wasn't group related I'd be charging him for his time, though I can't imagine what it would be if it was. Did he want me to be his sponsor? In his case he wasn't really trying to recover from using magic, nor was he fighting off the urge to do solo reenactments of "The Little Mermaid" every night, he was just afraid of women. What would he want me to do, get him girls? Did he think I was a pimp?

It was nearly ten, near the time we were supposed to meet and I sat with my feet propped up on my desk and my laptop on my legs going over the case notes from the last few months. Seven cults. I hadn't really thought that much of it honestly. A busy season, yes, but I'd rather deal with kids in Halloween costumes than the real thing any day of the week.

A knock came at my door. I want to say that it sounded nervous, but that was probably just projection. Plus not many people knock on a detective's door at 10:00 at night and are excited. The two groups just don't seem to meet.

"Come in" I yelled, putting my computer down on my desk and adapting a more professional posture. I only had my desk light on, less for effect and more because I preferred not to waste electricity.

Nick stood in my doorway, his huge form taking up most of the space he occupied. He came in nervously and stood at the other end of my desk, his hands clasped tight in front of him.

"Have a seat," I said, "Take a load off."

As he sat down I heard my poor guest chair groan in protest once again. If I kept getting larger gentlemen in my office I'd have to upgrade sooner rather than later.

He kept staring down at his hands in the poor light. He'd yet to say a word. "Can I help you?"

"I... I...." he said "I think I have a problem."

  

"Yes," I said, starting to lose patience. "We've established this, hence why you're here."

"The black spot, how did you get it?"

I was taken aback by the question. The group knew I did magic but I had only told Father Gregor why and how.

"How do you know about...."

"I think I have one" he blurted out.

I was again taken aback. I swore I could feel the black tendrils on my chest twitch at that point, as impossible as it was.

"Um... Okay..." I said not sure what to say. It's not a feeling I have often and not one I'd like to have again.

"I noticed it a few weeks ago. I talked to Father Gregory and he said you had a similar problem. I wanted to bring it up but I didn't know how and then when you brought up the fake book..."

I perked up at that. "Wait, what? You know about the book?"

"Yeah," he said. "Someone in my dorm had a copy and I thought it might have some answers so I took it. And now I think I've been tainted".

"Okay" I said, putting my fingers on my head to preemptively nurse the headache I could feel coming on. "You can't get tainted from a fake Necronmoicon. It doesn't have any power. It's just-"

"But I was!" he yelled then collected himself. I was surprised, this was the most emotional I'd ever seen him get.

I had an idea. "Nick, why don't you show me the taint and I can tell you weather or not it is what you think it is."

Nick looked nervous. "Don't you need more lights?"

I shrugged and clapped my hands twice. The room lit up in an instant. He jumped and I had to stifle a laugh. When I'd first moved in here the voice had whispered that I could use my powers to turn on and off the light to the point where I thought that alone would drive me insane, so I installed a Clapper. Problem solved.

"Okay," said Nick as he stood up. I figured it had to be an errant mole or a rash, something stupid that I could tell him was fine and at worst send him to a dermatologist. At the very least I expected it on his arm or chest, so I was a bit surprised when he started undoing his belt and unzipping his pants.

"Woh Woh!" I said, throwing my hands up. "I said show me THE taint not YOUR taint."

He didn't stop as he pulled down his pants, revealing form fitting UnderArmour underwear. I wasn't sure when he dropped them what I was more surprised by: The fact that there was a man bare from the waist down standing in my office, or the fact that starting at his genitals and tendrilling across his hips and up near his naval was the same black coloring that I had coming from my chest.

"I um..." I said. "I'd like to see this fake Necronomicon and talk to the friend who had it. Also I'll take the case"

Harvey Loveless Mysteries 2: The Counterfeit Cult

My head pounded as I stared at the bottle of Asprin in my hand.

Do it. One more spell. 

I ignored the voice and swallowed the pills with the water on my desk. I'd cast three spells the previous night, three spells I probably shouldn't have cast. 

I put my hands on the back of my head and tried to massage the headache away. My entire body hurt, like I'd spent the entirety of the previous night at the gym, at least it felt how I assumed spending at an entire night at a gym would feel like. Admittedly, I'd never done it but it seemed right. 

Anyway, the human body is not built to channel the dark powers of the Eldrich through them, especially for what I did. Most practicing wizards and whatnot, without the aid of a Necronomicon or other dark entities fueling their magic, usually can only manifest things like curses and at best mild telekenesis on their own, at least to the mortal world. I had super heated a dagger and turned a solid to a liquid and back. That was some serious power. 

And now I was paying for it. 

One more spell. Just a quick one to make the pain go away. 

I jerked my head up and opened my laptop. The template for a police report I had started the previous night was there. A few more details and it would be ready to send in. I focused on getting the details of Mrs. Jensen's bonds right. Someone in the little group had known how to tie people down, and that was not good news. 

I think that's what pissed me off the most about the previous evening. It was the seventh "cult" I'd busted up in a month, but this one was the most threatening to a person's life. The worst the others had done was noise obstruction, scaring the neighbors and that one mutilated cat I'd had to deal with (That kid's going to jail). This is the first one that had tried a human sacrifice, and that had set me off. 

A knock came at my door. It was well past my time to open shop so I shouted "Come in" to the figure on the other side of the semi-transparent glass. Detective Holmes (Seriously that's his name) walked, or rather, waddled in and took a seat on the other side of my desk. 

Detective Holmes (Don't make jokes about it he hates that) looked a lot like how I would imagine Scruff the Crime Dog would look in human form, and if the owner fed him table scraps. He had massive jowls connected by a bushy blond mustache flaked with white. His hair, nearly gone, had been a striking blond when he had started. The man looked more like Wilford Brimley than he did Sherlock Holmes, or even a cop for that matter. The chair creaked as he adjusted himself to get comfortable and I half expected it to collapse beneath his weight. 

"Heard you had some fun last night," he said by way of greeting. 

"Yeah, fun. Just what I need at 9:00 at night, a scared husband ranting about how his wife has been abducted by a cult." 

"Yeah well thank God it wasn't a real one!" he said throwing a newspaper on my desk. 

My first thought was wondering why on earth Holmes bought a newspaper, then I saw the headline:

"CULT ACTIVITY ON THE RISE, POLICE BAFFLED" 

"Baffled? Is that still even a word?" I said sliding the paper back. 

"It is when your industry is dying, you want to sell headlines" he said back with a laugh in his throat. 

"Thing is though, we do have a puzzle with the new cults"

"Tom, these are hardly cults. They're mostly just kids trying to have some fun. I mean, yeah, we've seen a lot more lately and last nights got kinda intense but it's a phase"

"Got kinda intense? Harvey, they had to saw that kid out from the floor last night. What did that cost you?" 

I winced at that. The only reason the Department of Extra Dimensional Activities (DEDA) let me do what I do was under the condition that I kept my magic under control. Half the cops in the department wanted to disassociate with me, the other half wanted me locked up in Arkham. Tom Holmes was the only man to give me the time of day. 

"I'm fine" I lied, trying to sound nonchalant. 

One quick spell and he'll believe every word you say

"Harvey," Detective Holmes said as he pulled something from his coat. "Have you ever seen this?" 

On top of the paper he flopped a giant three ringed binder covered in hand drawn pentagrams in red ink. I must've really been out of it to not have noticed him carry this thing in. I stood up and flipped the binder open to read "The Necronomicon" typed out on the page. I flipped through the book finding pictures and diagrams all neatly compiled into the binder, like someone's elaborate homework assignment. 

"I... Tom, what is this?" I asked as I stopped on a page where a man with a goat's head was dancing in a circle with three women. 

"That's what we're hoping you can tell us" he answered. "Harv, do you think it's..." 

"No," I said firmly. "No it's not real. The spells, the images... No, this is not a real Necronomicon."

"We figured as much," Tom said, letting loose a breath he'd apparently been holding. "We cross referenced parts of it with the sanitized version we have, but I wanted you to look at it for sure." 

"Yeah, Tom. This isn't it." I said sitting back down. I'd only seen a real Necronomicon a handful of times, and only studied it once. The thought made me want to reach for my chest where the black tendrils sprung from. I sipped my water instead. "Where did you get this?" I asked. 

"In the floor kid's house" he said. "As soon as he was booked we went to his house on a standard sweep for any dangerous contraband and found this thing. His mom said she thought it was for one of his classes. If you look on the back page, you can see where each member of his little club signed it in what looks like blood." 

I didn't want to see it. Of course they had though, it was only the most cliche'd thing to do when in a satanic cult next to the pentagrams and someone calling themselves Lucifer. 

"Did he tell you what website he got it on?" I asked. For over 30 years knowledge of the Eldrich had been public knowledge, but with the advent of the internet misinformation had spread faster than mono in a freshman dorm. 

"That's the really weird part. Harvey look again at the front page," he said as he opened the book back up and pointed to the title. "See how the wording is kinda fuzzy? He photocopied this. He photocopied the whole damn book!" 

I raised an eyebrow. The binder held what had to be at least 300 pages. That would be a pain to photocopy. Plus why do that instead of just finding it online? 

"So you think this thing is getting passed around? Like a Playboy some kid finds in his dad's study?" I asked. 

"Apparently. We're going through the names of the other members of both his and the other cults we've messed with lately and see if any of them know about this book." 

"And the floor kid?" 

"He clammed up about it. Won't answer any questions about it, won't even look at it when we brought it in. Now mind you, he talked from the time we find him all the way till then, saying how lord this and lord that was going to curse us and how dare we get his mugshot and bla bla bla..." Tom made talking gestures with his hands. I chuckled at it. 

"I can ask around, see what I can dig up on this book." I said, looking at it again. "Don't know what I'll find, most of the people who are serious about this stuff don't need counterfeit books, and would for sure not use a photocopier to obtain said books" 

Tom picked up the binder and newspaper as he stood. I suspected my guest chair was breathing a sigh of relief to be freed from Tom's round shape. When I first met him, I had to suppress my impulse to make Sherlock Holmes jokes, but now I had to try not to look at him and say "I'm Wilford Brimley and I have diabetes". 

"Let me know what you find, Harvey" he said and extended his hand. I took it and we shook. I noticed as we did the tattoo on his wrist glowed faintly, informing him that he was touching a person with magic. Tom of course didn't need the reminder, but I still thought it was a neat little trick. 

As he walked out of the room I sat down again at my desk, my headache starting to dissipate and my limbs beginning to loosen up. The first rule of being a private detective was to ask a lot of questions and several immediately came to mind: Who would want to make a fake Necronomicon? Why would they pass it freely to college kids? What's to gain from it? 

Cast a spell to find out. Scry into the origins of the book.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Another side effect from using magic was the temptation to use it again, especially the type I could do. In general magic came in three forms: inherited, meaning that someone along your family tree had encountered an Eldrich creature or had got ahold of a real copy of the Necronomicon. Then there was learned, which meant YOU had a copy of the Necronomicon or one of the less powerful spell books that shifted around the black market and was teaching yourself magic. Then last but not least directly from the source itself. You'd made a bargain with something beyond time and space to get power and they had granted it to you, which was the boat I was currently in. Most people did magic immediately after they got it, very quickly either killing themselves or driving themselves mad. 

I was a.... special case... 

The fact was though, the temptation was strong today. Plus I had questions I needed to answer. 

Looks like tonight was a good time to hit up my support group. 

Harvey Loveless Mysteries 1: On the altar

The woman was still screaming when I burst through the door. Of course she was, what else could you do when tied to an altar and surrounded by fanatics in red robes, the leader of which was holding a knife above his head?

There were eight of them, all chanting and holding various Satanic looking objects, one had a skull, another a candle, a third a book with a pentagram drawn on it in white paint. The effect was pretty good if you didn't know that the skull was probably someone's Halloween decoration and the candle required batteries.

I walked in, leaving the door swinging behind me. It had been unlocked, but kicking it open was more dramatic and since that's what these idiots wanted I  figured I'd give it to them. The woman was still screaming despite the fact that the leader was now looking at me with a puzzled expression on his pimply face.

"Okay boys, the street lights are on so you have to go home" I said as I put my hands into my black trench coat. I really wasn't in the mood to deal with these guys tonight. When the captive woman's husband burst into my office a few hours before I told him that if it was a bunch of college frat boys playing cultists I'd charge him double. I'd been right of course, and the prick would pay, but that didn't mean I wasn't annoyed at missing The Tonight Show thanks to these wannabes.

"How dare you disrupt this unholy ritual heathen!" the leader said, still holding the knife.

"Heathen? Really?" I said cocking one eyebrow. "You're the ones who ruined perfectly good bathrobes and hoodies for your little outfits there."

"Seize him!" he commanded pointing to me.

I stood there trying to maintain a blank look on my face despite the urge to double over laughing. Seize him? God this guy has read too many comics.

As I expected, the followers looked at each other awkwardly wondering what to do. The woman kept screaming, oblivious to her absolute lack of danger. I really wished this wasn't the first idiot housewife looking for adventure I'd had to untie from one of these supposed "Death cults", but it was far from it and probably far from the last.

But whatever at least the commission would pay for my new tires.

"Okay, put down the dagger and untie Mrs. Jensen and you can all go home and get back to jerking off to American Horror Story." I said to the group.

"Our great work will not be undone!" the leader screamed again, as he raised the knife to stab into his victim.

"Shit" I said and pulled my hands from my pockets. I lifted a hand towards the leader as he plunged and shouted "Heat!"

The cheap dagger, probably bought at some strip mall for around $30 and never sharpened, heated up and fell to the floor as its owner screamed in pain. The rest of the assembly scrambled for the door, dropping books, skulls and candles on their way.

 I flicked the switch next to the wall better illuminating the room. The scene lost a lot of its atmosphere when the lights illuminated the dated food pyramid posters on the wall. Mrs. Jensen was tied to a large wooden table, the customary plastic chairs around it scooted away haphazardly throughout the home economics classroom. I frankly didn't want to know why the "cult" chose the high school home ec class for its ritual, though I'd guess it was to get back at some teacher who gave them an F on baking cookies.

"You son of a-" the leader sputtered

"Ah ah ah.... Not in front of the lady..." I said, staring at him across the room.

He wasn't that far away. If I put my foot on the door frame and stretched my fingers out I might be able to touch the end of the table, but my 6'6 height probably helped. This guy was short, 5'4 maybe and built like he spent too many nights in front of the TV when he should've been running.

Yeah yeah, glass houses, but I have an excuse.

Mrs. Jensen seemed to look confused at the addition of lights. She was in her late 40's, and from the looks of it was also not one to go on a late night jog. They had her in her bra and panties, neither of which matched, which confirmed my suspicion that she didn't come here looking to be tonight's sacrifice. I have to say I was impressed with the way she was tied. Both her hands and feet were tied together with a single rope that wrapped under the table, meaning that the more she wiggled one set of appendages the tighter the other set would be. What can I say, I appreciate good workmanship, even in late night ritualistic murder.

"He has come, your time is at hand" the idiot said while he cradled his burned hand.

This guy actually believed it. Shit. "Yeah, yeah." I said, approaching him and reaching for a set of handcuffs on my belt. "He came 30 years ago, so what else is new?"

"The time of reckoning will be at hand!" he said circling the table to get away from me.

"Oh come on buddy," I said, switching directions so he couldn't run out the door. "Just come quietly and your mom can bail you out in the morning!"

He changed directions again and we started into a stupid Marx Brother skit with the table between us. Mrs. Jensen kept craning her neck to see what was going on.

"You are gifted with his power, you know of his might!" he said as he feigned back and fourth trying to throw me off. All he was really doing was pissing me off though.

"Look kid, I'm not in the mood for this." I said standing straight up. The problem with these fake cultists was that they didn't know how real power worked. They played at calling on the power of the Eldrich without knowing what it actually means, or what it can do.

I'm always up for a quick lesson though

"Sink" I said pointing at the floor. The cultist immediately looked down as the area of floor directly around him turned into something sticky and viscus. He immediately began to sink down like quick sand. He tried grabbing for the edges but couldn't find any purchase on the solid linoleum.

"Solid" I said once he got to waist deep and the floor immediately solidified around him. He was now stuck in the floor with his gut hanging over the lip. I pulled the table away from him with Mrs. Jensen still attached to it, not an easy feat mind you, and strolled over to the flailing cult leader.

"Look buddy, you made this difficult. I don't care if you and your friends want to get together and chat Latin and pretend that you're calling on the big bads. I don't even care if you wanna strip down and tie each other up, do whatever weird kinky shit you're into. I do draw the line though at trying to sacrifice people for your stupid beliefs. And I especially don't like it when it requires me to drive a half hour to some podunk school in the boonies to bust it up."

The kid started crying and mumbling something in gibberish. I figured he couldn't be more than a college freshman, probably the first time he'd had the resources and freedom to do something like this, but I was also getting the feeling he actually believed in what he was doing.

I crouched down next to him and pulled up my shirt. I pointed to the black veins that spread from the middle of my chest and nearly reached my navel.

"You see this, kid? This is what real messing with this crap gets you. One day this is going to creep all over my body and then I join up with one of those assholes forever. You still think it's glamorous?"

The kid looked at my black lines with envy. "It is the beautiful gift of Cthluhu.:

I slapped the kid across the face."It's Azathoth, asshole. Get it right" and stood up turning to the victim. A couple quick swipes with my actual functional dagger and she was freed, just in time to see the cops swarm in. I raised my hand producing the badge I kept in my sleeve (Really why keep your badge in your pockets when the cops will just assume you're reaching for a gun?). It stated that I was a special liaison to the police force and that it was okay for me to be here. They gave Mrs. Jensen a blanket and escorted her out then puzzled as to how to get the little prick out of the floor as I headed back for my car.

A quick glance at my watch told me it was almost midnight. Not bad for a night's work, now to go back to the office, get my payment, pop some popcorn and see what's on TV.

The Anxiety Challenge

I'm going to get a little honest here so everyone hold your socks:

I have a problem with anxiety.

It's not the kind of anxiety that you get because there's a big test coming up, or the kind of anxiety from wondering for a minute if you forgot to lock your door.

It's illogical.

It's irrational

It's crippling.

It's bad enough I should probably be medicated.

But while I'm deciding weather or not to bring it up with a physician, I have found this neat little quote on one of my favorite websites: Pintrest

While I'm not really sure if my condition is psychological or physiological, I do know for sure that it's a problem. What I do know though is that I have a pretty awesome imagination, and that one of my favorite ways of expressing it is through blogging, weather it be here or over at Mormon Geeks. So here's my challenge to myself: While my anxiety keeps riding high this week I'm going to blog. I'll either be here or at MG, but either way I'm going to talk. I'm going to be creative.
Let's see if it helps.
-JOE

The RM

A friend of mine's kid came home from his mission recently, and I had the opportunity to spend an afternoon with him while we painted his dad's kitchen. It occurred to me, as he insisted on listening to MoTab and praying over the $.99 Wendy's burgers, that I could never go back to being a missionary.

Let me back up: I came home after 10 months serving in the Oklahoma Tulsa Mission for health reasons, meaning I suffered a nervous breakdown. I came home and had to go into therapy for the things I ha
d experienced. Despite that, the window was always open to return and finish serving my mission. It's weird that it didn't occur to me until about six years and a marriage later that the window could ever be closed, and due to the residual effects my breakdown has had on my psyche even to this day I've never been tempted to go back, but now that the window is officially closed to serve as an Elder with a little name badge in a crummy apartment with another Elder, it makes me wonder what might've been. It also makes me question my motives into why I went in the first place, as well as why I left.

I don't regret serving. Not in the slightest. I met some dear friends there, including my adopted grandmother Sam, and my once roommate now dear friend and fellow Game of Thrones enthusiast Nate, and I can't not mention my buddies who I rarely see Elder Abraham and Elder Bracken. My first question is who else would I have met? Would I have found other families in need of a geeky Mormon kid to show up? Maybe I would've met some companion and formed some sort of eternal bond of brotherly love Scrubs style. Of course there's a flip side to the coin. I may've met more companions with whom I would want to wring their scrawny necks, or more families that made me want to run to the nearest clinic to get tested because I was foolish enough to sit on their couch. So I guess that's just a moot point.

I guess the biggest question I can ask is: Who would I have become? After I got home from my mission I met several people who have made some major impacts to my life, and taken other relationships to whole new levels of intimacy, including with my wife Katie. From going to college after my mission I met Neil and Tyler, who helped make my wedding actually work, and help me to this day with the trials in my life. Would I have them if I had stayed or gone back? Would they have become friends with that Joe? In the here and now I can't imagine my life without them, or without Spencer, or TJ, or Stephen, or Stu, or Bryan. or Sholom or a hundred other people I consider dear to me.

With that I have to wonder about the reason why I came home: My then deteriorating mental state. I had the option of staying but decided to go home and get treatment there, but if I had stayed, would I have been able to recover or would it have become worse? It's taken years to reach the level of stability I'm at now, which some days admittedly isn't much. I wonder if the stress of still being there would've been too much, and how far things would have progressed. Did I save my own life or did I ruin it?

Unfortunately without a Flux Capacitor, or as my more up-to-date friends would say, a TARDIS, these questions will never be answered until the next life when all truth will be freed. Despite it's flaws I love my life now. My wife and I are very happy to come to our oddly shaped home to the smell of the Crock Pot making Swedish Meatballs, sitting in our spots and watching Criminal Minds. I'm just curious what could've happened.

-JOE

ADHD and No Laptop Makes Joe something something...

Two weeks into my latest semester at the U and I seem to be running into a bit of a problem: Only two of my classes are actually in classrooms and neither of them will let me use my computer.

I know this is petty but let me explain:

I suffer from a condition called ADHD-Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder. It's basically ADD on steroids. Short of it is that it's hard for me to pay attention to one thing at a time for a long period of time. It drove me nuts when I worked at Toys R Us and nobody was in the store. I would pace the aisles until I wore down the linoleum.

It's only a total of 7 hours a week, but that can be a lot to ask sometimes. My Media Effects class especially. Three hours completely unplugged has me crawling up the walls. I don't even go that long at church!

Is this a sign of the times? I was diagnosed when

This was last week's attempt to stave off boredom...

I was pretty young but back then I didn't have the wonders of the internet to keep my focus prisimed like I do now. I have to wonder: Does my constant connection to the internet help my condition or does it make it worse?

A few weeks ago I spent a week camping out of state. For most of it my cell service was spotty at best and what I could get I used to text my wife, but honestly I didn't miss it at all. I spent the entire time surrounded by my buddies laughing, talking and enjoying each other's company.

The classes of course are different. The classes are interesting enough, but just sitting still and listening to the lecture is a lot less entertaining than playing in the woods. I know people have told me to just pay really close attention but that doesn't work for me. I live in a world where if I get too bored I start losing focus in everything, and regaining focus becomes almost impossible.

I know it's popular to say that we need to eliminate distractions from the classroom, but for me it's a necessary tool to function. As much as I love complaining about my problems on the internet, I have too much pride to talk to the teachers about this particular need. It's hard for me to go to a professor and say "Hay, you're class isn't stimulating enough so I need permission to cruse Facebook while you're talking so I don't zone out and fall asleep. Is that cool?"

Nobody would buy it.

I write this not just to vent but to draw attention to a problem that doesn't get a lot of attention, or if it does negatively. I have ADHD, a condition which makes it hard for me to focus. This has made working a job an agonizing process and classes without my computer brutal that borderlines on impossible. This isn't a pity party for me, just a part of my story I wanted to tell.

-JOE

The Naked Truth

You wanna know a secret?

Come here get close.

I like getting naked.

TMI? Well how about this-

I like getting naked with my buddies.

And no, it's not gay.

It started a few years ago when I found myself with a Gold's Gym membership and no idea how to exercise in the gym. My friend, who for confidentiality sake we'll call Michelangelo, also had a membership so off we went. The first time was beyond awkward, especially after years of high school locker rooms where the other boys never got past their underwear. Luckily Michelangelo didn't have my same high school experience, he being a practiced runner, so off came our shorts.

Piece I did in my art class a few years ago

The first time was awkward. I'd never been that comfortable with my body, believing that I'm built like Gollum from that old Hobbit cartoon. But standing there in that smelly locker room (bleach and sweat, yay?) I felt something. I felt seen but not judged, and I felt like I was seeing a part of Michelangelo I had never seen before (not just THAT), he was being physically vulnerable with me, and I with him. This experience increased our relationship exponentially, creating a new level of emotional intimacy.

I've since had several opportunities to take my clothes off with other guy friends, many of which were set up by me. Each time I feel the facade I set up every day, the "me" I try to project to the world falls away and my authentic self can show through, and I find that I can authentically be with the people around me.

Naked time hasn't just been confined to moments in the locker room. After taking an intriguing life drawing class my artist friend, whom I shall call Scooby, and I will hold drawing sessions with our friends in which our subjects will disrobe for the sake of art. This allowed me to reach a different level of connection since now I had to actively STARE at my friend's naked body while I try to draw it. The first time I did this with friends was with Michelangelo again, then later Scooby and I arranged one. I found myself enthralled with the human body, it's subtle shapes and lines, how light plays off of human skin...

Sorry that was getting a bit artsy. Back to the matter at hand...

My overall point is that hanging out naked with my buddies is fantastic. I create a safe place of authenticity where I can be myself in every sense of the word, and they can be themselves in turn. It's fun, it's manly, and an overall good time and I would recommend it to anyone who can set up the same.

-JOE