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[Shadow Angelus III] Mirko's Journal


Eosin

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Here is the start of my campaign Journal. I'll write notes from my characters perspective which may not be the truth. This campaign is the third Shadows Angelus Campaign, more can be found on Angelus in the links below.

 

Shadow Angelus Discussion: where ideas were worked out for the shape and texture of Angelus.

Shadow Angelus I: on Susano's Site

Shadow Angelus II: On Susano's Site

Shadow Angelus III: Information for this campaign on Susano's site.

Angelus: The city of Angelus a work in progress describing the city itself.

 

Mirko's Background

 

Alice Cadbury crossed her legs as she appraised the young man in front of her. His pop star good looks would certainly help XSWAT with public relations, she thought idly.

 

Across the desk, Mirko Song felt the sweat trickling along his scalp. Who would have imagined him sitting here with one of the most powerful women in Angelus when less than a year ago he was training to become a monk.

 

“I’d like to hear your story candidate Song,” Alice said in a motherly tone that seemed at odds with her position and authority.

 

“Do you want the high points or all of the details Commissioner Cadbury?”

 

She checked her watch. There was a moment of indecision before she touched the badge on her shoulder, “Lini, hold all my calls unless they are urgent. And let me know when I have 15 minutes before my meeting with the City Councilor.”

 

Alice returned her gaze to the young man, “I’d like to hear the whole story. XSWAT is a family and we need to know what we are adopting if we take you on.”

 

Mirko smiled, it was an innocent smile but still dangerous. “I suppose the story doesn’t really start with me. Lidda Song, my Grandmother, was a witch and that seems like a good enough place to start. I mention her because my father has said that he and his brothers are the children of angels. The family legend holds that Grandma Lidda consoled the angel Uriel after the quake that killed so many.” Mirko shrugged. The story seemed far fetched even to him but something supernatural happened to his Grandmother, something that marked his family.

 

“I don’t think anyone actually means that Grandma and Uriel, umm, you know. I’ve thought about it quite a bit and I think that the angel was moved to tears at the loss of so many mortals. I think Grandma Lidda held him while one of God’s greatest servants wept. The tears of an angel are powerful and the tears of Uriel, the Fire of God and mankind’s guardian angel, are powerful indeed. He may have shed one tear, seven tears, or a number uncountable but Grandma Lidda had seven kids so I like to think that he shed seven tears – one for each of my uncles and another for my father.”

 

Mirko leaned back into the cushioned chair as he continued his tale. “No one misses the significance of a witch having seven sons. I still haven’t met all of my uncles and cousins yet but I’ve been told they are an interesting lot.”

 

Mirko wondered if he would ever meet all of his kin? He hadn't met his father until a year ago. Never met any family, except for mom. Heck, he didn't even know he had a family.

 

“I don’t know my mothers intentions. I suppose if we had more time together I would have found out, but she was killed when I was eight years old. Tobias, that’s my dad, said that mom seemed perfect until she disappeared but that Grandma Lidda never liked her much. I don’t know,” he said with a non-committal shrug. “Whatever else she might have been she was good ro me.”

 

Mirko took a long drink from the glass. He stared into the reflections of the water for a few seconds lost in the disconcerting thought that his mother was something more than what he ever imagined. She was his rock in this world and yet he had not known her except with the unquestioning love of a child.

 

“I never knew I had a father. I mean, I know someone had to be my dad but I didn’t know who that person was and mom didn’t talk about him. We had each other and that seemed more than enough. It wasn’t until Conrad started coming around that I ever longed for a father. Mom was afraid of him and I imagined that my father would walk through the door, standing seven foot tall and made of stone, to throw Conrad out. He never did, but I have no doubt after meeting dad that he would have given Conrad a good beating. Anyway, one night things got out of hand. Conrad was always asking me questions. Strange questions about what I saw when I dreamed or what I thought when I saw pictures of Entities. I always wondered why he would show me pictures of creatures sure to inspire nightmares? Heck, I wonder how he even knew what the Entities were much less how he got pictures of them? Anyway, one night he was forcing me to look at more pictures and their were bodies everywhere. I was crying and mother told him to stop. Conrad put the pictures away and told me to go to my room.”

 

“Mom stopped me in the hallway. She took off her ring.” Mirko held up his hand. Colorful tattoos laced across the tops but it was the silver ring with runes that drew Alice Cadbury’s attention. “This ring,” said Mirko.

 

“She whispered a few words. I didn’t know it at the time but she was enchanting the ring.” Mirko looked at the runes enameled into the scarlet face of the ring. “I don’t know much about what this ring is or what powers it may possess but the runes are a script that no one seems to understand. It is arcane, I know that much. Grandma thinks the script is angelic.”

 

“Anyway, back to mom. Conrad and mom began fighting. Then I heard screaming. I went to look, to protect mom, but she saw me and told me to run. She said ‘Hide Mirko. Hide and the ring will protect you. Run away and don’t come back.’”

 

Mirko slumped in the chair, the weight of running while his mother was killed still sat heavily on the young man. There were few sins that one could never forgive yourself for but leaving your mother at the hands of a monster was ranked in the top slot.

 

“I ran. I hid. I don’t like to think about the year I spent on the streets. I think it was a year but it could have been more or less – what did I know, I was eight years old. Eventually I got picked up by a police officer. That landed me in the Clearwater Boys Reformatory. I like to think of that place as my first, hopefully last, taste of hell. A boys home is not a place to send young boys.”

 

“Anyway, just down the street was the Red Flower Monastery. After school I would watch the monks practicing.” Mirko looked up, his golden eyes catching the gaze of Alice Cadbury, “Have you ever watched the monks,” he asked?

 

“No. That’s a shame. There is a serenity in them that other people don’t have. The temple takes after the tradition of the Young Forest Temple in China where Shaolin Kung-Fu and Buddhism were married into a seamless lifestyle. It is a perfect marriage. Focus of mind, body, and soul on harmony with all things. Western religion has it all wrong. If you don’t include all parts of what makes us human towards the comprehension of the divine than we are doomed to only understand a fraction of it. In the west, schools and seminaries stimulate the mind but leave the body fallow soil where sloth and negligence take root.” Mirko smiled as he blushed, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to lecture.”

 

“Anyway, from the first moment I saw the monks practicing in the courtyard I knew what I wanted. I wanted to be a monk. After a month of watching and hoping that someone would talk to me I finally received a visitor. Sifu Gyatsu came to the gate. I had seen them watching me so I knew they were aware of my spying. The Sifu invited me into the temple and performed a tea ceremony with me. We talked for awhile and I asked him if I could learn to fight. He laughed at me in that gradfatherly sort of way and told me that the monks learned to live not to fight or kill. He said if I wanted to learn to live that they would teach me but that it would be many years before I would learn to fight.”

 

“While the rest of the kids in Clearwater learned robbery and thuggery, I stole away time with the monks. They helped me come to terms with my past and to once more begin to look forward to the future. They became my family. I’d be there now, shaved head and all, if it weren’t for an attack on the monastery by an Entity.

 

“I’ve tried to figure it out. You know, why an Entity would attack the Red Flower Temple and it just doesn’t make much sense.”

 

Mirko played with the buttons on his coat, running his fingers along the edge of a seam.

 

“People always try to make things makes sense don’t they? They try to use logic to deduce why the bridge buckled when their children were on it or why the train derails with their wife on board. I think it might be easier for us to swallow if there were some kind of reason rather than simple dumb luck. Everyone wants to believe they are immune to the 'BAMB you're dead' lotto but it just ain’t so and stuff like this cracks the illusion that we are safe and in control of our world.”

 

“Anyway, some of the elder monks were fighting the Entity but martial arts is not much of a weapon against an intelligent, alien creature the size of an elephant. The creature seemed intent on reaching the dormitories where the children sleep. I could see that they were not going to make it to safety. There wasn’t enough time for them to make it out on to the escape and down the ladder.”

 

Mirko leaned forward buttons forgotten, “Director Cadbury have you ever known you were going to die. Wait, I don’t mean like the cognitive awareness that some day this Earth will be without your grace but that right here, right now – you are about to discover the afterlife in an up close and personal way? That’s how I felt. I shut the firedoor to the dorm and turned to face the Entity with a crowbar that I had found on the ground. I knew that this was futile but if it stopped for a minute then the others would have a chance to get away. I didn’t really think about it much or what that really meant for my long term prospects of becoming a monk. It just happened.”

 

“About that time Tragen Kos entered the picture. I think you know more about him than me. I am not even sure how he managed to arrive in time but somehow his mystical awareness warned him of the Entity attack. Who knows, maybe he was in the neighborhood taking a walk? Kos told me to run but I was trapped. I could not open the door and I could not sneak past the Entity so I stood my ground while Kos unleashed his wizardly powers.”

 

“That was the first time I ever saw magic in use. I know mom did magic and now I know that Grandma does magic but this was the magical full monte – fires, planetary emanations, bindings, and all that cool stuff like you see on video walls. It sang to me. I could feel it in my blood. I didn’t realize that others didn’t feel magic the way I did until much later.”

 

“Where was I? Yeah, the magical assault. Kos had the Entity whipped but there was a second Entity. It was human form and powerful. It got the drop on Kos cause I didn’t realize what it was in time to shout a warning. Suddenly Kos was hurt and this new Entity, the shadow man, was unleashing magic of his own. I got knocked down and dazed in one of the explosions and when I came to the creatures were gone. Kos was alive but barely. I don’t know how he was alive, most of his guts were simply gone. It was horrid. He kept waving me over like this.”

 

Mirko tried to imitate the wave for director Cadbury.

 

“Honestly, I hesitated for a moment thinking that he would just give up and die and then I wouldn’t have to watch him pass but he didn’t give up. So, I crawled over to him.”

 

“Will you grant a mans dying wish?” Tragen asked me.

 

“The man had died saving me, what the hell could I say? Of course, Master, if it is within my ability.”

 

“I remember that the wizard closed his eyes. I actually thought he was dead until I heard him whisper, 'Take my hand.' One hand was nearly gone so I took the other, the one he had waved me over with. I felt him press something hot into my palm but then he began to chant.”

 

Mirko leaned back into the chair. His eyes searching for the words used by the dying wizard.

 

“I stand with the angels. Raphael commands all before me. Gabriel, the watcher, guards behind me . Michael, the flaming sword stands to my right. Uriel, the vengeance of the holy waits on my right. The cardinal directions are closed and sealed. The five flames of the otherworld surround me.

 

I call upon the spirits that light the earth and heavens. I call upon the angels to witness my deeds. In the name of the spirits of the heavenly bodies and the emanations of the world spirit I relinquish my powers to this worthy vessel. Let my tasks become his tasks. Let my fate become his fate. Let my powers become his.”

 

“We were both wrapped in a green-gold light and then suddenly it and the wizard were gone. Kos let out a rattling noise from deep in his chest and I could tell that he was dead.”

 

Mirko’s hand touched the cold silver metal of the Eye of Horus Amulet, “I found this pressed into my hands and my senses were different. Kos had passed his arcane heritage to me rather than let them fade with him.”

 

“Dad showed up even before the battle was over. I knew who he was the moment I saw him. Grandma Lidda had felt me in the battle. She said she could feel the spark of angelic blood in me and knew that I was one of hers. I suppose mom never let on that she was pregnant. I know Grandma enough to know that nothing would have kept her from me if she had even a hint that there was a grandson out there. She is protective that way.”

 

“Dad and Uncle Cornelius made sure everyone was safe and then got me away from the Temple.”

 

“There isn’t much left to tell. I’ve begun study as a mage with Grandma but it has been slow going. At least it seems that way to me but Grandma says that I am unglodly powerful but ignorant as a duck’s footprint. She also says that our line does not produce wizards, only witches. Dad and his brothers have talents but that is about the extent of it.”

 

Mirko looked at Alice once more, “I don’t rightfully know what I am. I don’t know where all of the pieces fall together. I do know that I cannot be a monk. Not now. I’ll never be a spell for hire and that leaves me very few other paths. I suppose I could work with Grandma but she warns me to stay away from the Entities. Director Cadbury, they have plagued me all my life – and I am not that old. I’d like a spot on XSWAT. I’d like to make sure that my children know Entities only as fictional bogey men who have gone the way of the dinosaur.”

 

Mirko sat back just as the comm went off, “Director Cadbury, you have 15 minutes.”

 

Early the next morning Mirko smiled as he reported to the XSWAT Training facility.

 

 

Mirko's Character Sheet

 

MIRKO SONG

Val... Char ... Cost ... Roll ... Notes

15 ... STR ... 5 ... 12- ... Lift 200.0kg; 3d6 [1]

17 ... DEX ...21 12- ...OCV: 6/DCV: 6

15 ... CON ... 10 ... 12-

11 ... BODY ... 2 ... 11-

13 ... INT ... 3 ... 12- ... PER Roll 12-

14 ... EGO ... 8 ... 12- ... ECV: 5

18 ... PRE ... 8 ... 13- ... PRE Attack: 3 ½d6

18 ... COM ... 4 ... 13-

 

3 ... PD ... 0 ... Total: 3 PD 5 rPD 10 FF 10 FW

3 ... ED ... 0 ... Total: 3 ED 5 rED 10 FF 10 FW

4 ... SPD ... 13 ... Phases: 3, 6, 9, 12

6 ... REC ... 0

34 ... END ... 0

27 ... STUN ... 0 ... Total Characteristic Cost: 74

 

Movement: Running: 6"/12"

Leaping: 3"/6" [20”]

 

Arcane Paraphernalia

1) Scarlet Ring [protection spells]

2) Pentacle Ring [otherworldly spells]

3) Scarab Brooch [knowledge spells]

 

1 Roku's Amulet: +4 END; OIF (-½)

3 Fearless: +7 PRE; Defensive Only (-1)

 

Martial Arts: Pakua

Maneuver OCV DCV Notes

4 Palm Strike +0 +2 5d6 Strike

4 Martial Dodge -- +5 Dodge, Affects All Attacks, Abort

 

Perks

5 Fringe Benefit: Concealed Weapon, XSWAT Powers

 

Skills

2 PS: XSWAT Officer 11-

0 PS: Monk 11-

 

3 Scholar

1 1) KS: Arcane and Occult Lore 11-

1 2) KS: Criminal Law & Procedures 11-

0 3) KS: Entities 8-

0 4) KS: Internal Martial Arts [Pakua, Tai chi] 11-

1 5) KS: Magical Styles 11-

1 6) KS: Mystic World 11-

1 7) KS: Occult World 11-

1 8) KS: Thaumaturgy 11-

 

3 CK: Angelus 12-

1 Language: Cantonese (basic conversation)

 

2 TF: Motorized Ground Vehicles, Grav Bikes, Spinners

2 WF: Energy Weapons, Handguns, Police Baton

 

Combat Skills

5 1) Evasive: +2 with DCV; Requires Half Move (-½), Costs Endurance (-½)

3 2) +1 with Magic Skills

 

3 Acrobatics 12-

3 Breakfall 12-

1 Bureaucratics 8-

0 Climbing 8-

0 Concealment 8-

0 Conversation 8-

1 Criminology 8-

0 Mimicry 8-

0 Persuasion 8-

11 Magic: Power 16-

0 Seduction 8-

0 Shadowing 8-

1 Spell Research: Inventor 8-

3 Stealth 12-

3 Streetwise 13-

0 Systems Operation 8-

 

68 Thaumaturgy: Variable Power Pool, 50 base + 18 control cost, Powers Can Be Changed As A Half-Phase Action (+½) (87 Active Points); all slots Spell (-½), Gestures (-¼), Incantations (-¼)

• Sun/Mars - Fire, Light, Tiphereth

• Moon - Water, Healing, Yesod

• Mercury - Air, Travel, Hod

• Gaia/Venus - Earth, Love, Chesed

 

Total Powers & Skill Cost: 138

Total Cost: 212

 

100+ Disadvantages

15 Dependent NPC: Red Flower Temple, Uriel's Children 8- (Normal; Useful Noncombat Position or Skills; Group DNPC: x4 DNPCs)

5 Distinctive Features: XSWAT Uniform (Easily Concealed; Noticed and Recognizable; Detectable By Commonly-Used Senses)

15 Distinctive Features: Powerful Wizard (Not Concealable; Always Noticed and Causes Major Reaction; Detectable By Uncommonly-Used Senses)

15 Hunted: Shadow Entities 8- (Mo Pow, Harshly Punish)

10 Hunted: XSWAT 8- (Mo Pow, NCI, Watching)

15 Psychological Limitation: Puts Innocents Before Himself (Common, Strong)

5 Psychological Limitation: Seeking the Truth/Enlightenment (Common, Strong, Custom Adder)

5 Reputation: XSWAT Officer, 8-

15 Social Limitation: Subject to Orders, On-Call 24/7 (Frequently, Major)

6 DEX Bonus

 

Total Disadvantage Points: 206

Earned Experience: 6

Spent Experience: 6

 

 

 

Reflections and Meditations

The Journal of Mirko the Wizard

 

March 18th.

Today was my first day on the job at XSWAT.

 

I am not sure what I thought but it sure didn't turn out anything like I imagined. Mankind's first and best hope against the horrors of the Omega Zone are nothing more than a band of misfits. Somehow I expected a team filled with people who worked as hard as doctors to get where they were but that isn't the case at all. The 9th Squadron is mostly filled with people who have nowhere else to go.

 

J.T. is our squad leader. A cyborg. He was blown to bits as a police officer and rebuilt as a machine to save what little was left of his life. The captain said that over 70% of his body was robotic. I wonder that such trauma and fundamental disconnection from humanity doesn't drive one completely mad. How does one understand the human condition when one is no longer truly human? How do you reach enlightenment when your life energy is electricity? J.T. is a man (creature?) who bears close watching. It worries me that our leadership is placed in the hands of the person least able to understand what it is that we protect.

 

Shilo. I am not sure what to think of the crazy lady with the blue hair. I sense that she is troubled somewhere deep inside. She presents a bullet proof, nearly masculine facade to the world and while I am not some enlightened elder, it is my experience that such an act hides one who is fragile under it. She also strikes me as a little paranoid, maybe it is a result of her powers of the mind? The captain said that she was a precongitive but I haven't really seen anything that would indicate what she really does? I trust in the judgment of my superiors but Shilo reminds me of a wolf - never really domesticated. At her heart, I suspect there is something primal and dangerous.

 

Rhonin is another misfit. His aura reeks of the supernatural though he shows no self discipline nor knowledge of the arcane. There is also a palpable reek of sulfurous taint to him. I have puzzled over this during the first day, often forgetting myself and staring. He even asked me what I was looking at one point. I was honest and told him I didn't know. He scares me the way a toddler playing with a loaded gun scares his parents. Everyone is in danger.

 

Rachael is the final piece in our little menagerie and oddly the only one who appears to have worked her way to this position - funny considering she channels magic over which she has very little control. Rachael is a warrior-priest beholden to the angels and the divine. I am at once attracted and repulsed by her. On a physical level she gorgeous, her classic Irish looks and funny accent turn many heads - not just mine. She also has a beautiful soul devoted to her faith. Her utter faith that her way and her god are the only right path are what mar an otherwise perfect match. She is a zealot - oh, a kind and attractive one but no less certain that her actions mirror the will of the divine god and thus can be nothing less than ordained.

 

Well, we all met in the briefing room at the 13th Squadron (I was relieved to find that APD does not fall into superstitious patterns so common these days). None of us really talked. I expected our leader to come by and huddle the team together like you might see in a police drama but he moved to the back of the room crossing his arms as if daring us to intrude on him. Instead, I found my center and relaxed. I let the self fall away so that I was distanced from the awkwardness of the exchange - or lack of exchange.

 

The briefing illustrates what I find least appealing about XSWAT. We were being sent on a mission as a favor to a wealthy financier. The 9th Squadron - the one before us who all died - were lost in a similar mission and with the goal of obtaining funding. I came to XSWAT because I have a gift that needs to be used for the defense and betterment of mankind, not to serve as a magical errand boy for the elite within this city. A painting has gone missing, the Animus Mortis, and its previous owner suspected it of being a source of arcane maleficence. The story follows your typical "haunted house" tale with the original dive team who recovered it all dying under mysterious circumstance save for one man who is now institutionalized. A wealthy art collector finds it only to suffer the loss of those closest to him, etc...

 

There is something that rings true about the whole story. Something that echoes with a feral power to my spirit. I had hoped to have some time after the academy to more fully master my arcane abilities but a sense of growing dread tells me that such hope is futile. The Animus Mortis is beyond my knowledge as a wizard, I can only prey that raw power might overcome the shortfalls of my training as a wizard.

 

We are arriving at the Patton estate now. I'll have to come back to the log when we are finished here.

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Re: [shadow Angelus III] Mirko's Journal

 

March 18th, Part II

Just a quick journal entry. We have just returned from the Patton estate and the proximity to where the Animus Mortis once rested felt dirty to my spirit. I needed to find focus after being so close to such arcane corruption. I bathed and mediated, which allowed me to discern one of my own short comings.

 

My previous entry was in error. During mediation I reflected on the events of the day and kept coming back to my entry on Shilo. The words seemed wrong. Maybe Shilo scares me? I label her with words like "crazy" to blunt her sexuality which is a field in which I have no experience. I wonder if Sifu Gyatsu has any wisdom when it comes to sex? Spending my teen years in a monastery filled with old men blunted the normal exploration of that field with my peers. Now I have fallen so far behind that I have no rational method of dealing with it. I think Shilo can sense this (smell it?) and finds it fun to exploit.

 

I just can't figure out why she appears in my idle mind when I am otherwise at peace.

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March 19th (early morning),

 

I finally got the chance to sit down and write about yesterday. Last night after yet another shower and a long walk around the 13th Precinct I finally collapsed in a bunk at XSWAT. I don't have a place to stay yet but dad hasn't minded me sleeping on the couch. This is a nice neighborhood. I'm not sure if I can afford to live here. Money is still a bit tricky for me. Maybe the APD offers a course on money management and finances. They didn't teach that course at the monastery. We just ate and lived. Money never entered into the picture. I miss the simple life that I feel was taken from me. That isn't very monk-like. I should not hold on to things, even if that thing is a lifestyle.

 

At the Patton Estate the rest of the team went to work being cops. I am not so good at that and I can never seem to find the time to study the books XSWAT gave me. I went to the classes and passed the test but I was at the bottom of the class. I sat on the grass. Yes, I said grass. The Patton Estate is on a small grounds that includes a real yard like those dirt side. The grass was delicious. At once itchy and soothing to the skin. It was all I could do not to strip down and feel its embrace over my whole body. I am sure that would have drawn some funny looks from my new teammates. It was hard to center myself while sitting on the grass. I kept losing focus and coming back to the pleasure of it.

 

Eventually, I did stand up and oriented my sight to the arcane energies surrounding the estate. Amazingly, there were none despite Mr. Patton's protestations that the break in had to involve magic to bypass his security system. When you have excluded the extra-ordinary all that remains is the ordinary. I said as much to Mr Patton. I am sure more money than I will ever see in my lifetime will shortly exchange hands when he upgrades the household security.

 

Inside it was a different matter. Although the break in was not arcane, the Animus Mortis left its mark even after two years of absence. I could sense everywhere its foul presence had touched. The mantle where the bottle with holy water sat holding the ashes. The fire place where he had burned it in rage and grief. The wall where it had hung. All radiated a corruption. I nearly lost myself in the examination of such evil. A pre-cataclysm scholar once said, "be wary of staring into the abyss, for when you do the abyss stares back into you." How apt.

 

I wandered while the others gathered evidence. I let my instincts take command over logic and my paltry skills concerning the habits of criminals. I was led to the east side of the building where a garage might have provided access. Nearby, Rhonin found fibers and a security box that had been disturbed.

 

I explained my hunch to the rest of the team and Mr Patton. The thief entered through the garage when someone opened it. Once inside he was able to bypass security and gain access to the bottle holding the ashes of the Animus Mortis. A quick check of the estate logs showed a delivery to that area shortly before the robbery.

 

Why do I get the feeling that the person seen taking the bottle on the security film is now dead?

 

After the Patton Estate we traveled back to the 13th where I bathed and mediated. We met to decide our next move. There were several possible. I felt that visiting with the insane diver who survived was the best possible choice. We had a missing mercenary company and an art expert who also might offer up some lead that we could follow.

 

We took a spinner (what a wondrous machine) to the asylum. Even before we arrived it was obvious that this mission would go sour. I could feel a foreboding, a sense of the terrible and profane. The asylum was darkened when we arrived with smoke roiling from the windows. An inhuman scream (bellow? Challenge?) echoed from the garage. Something knew we were coming and it was not afraid.

 

JT elected to slam the spinner into the doors of the massive loading bay. Some wished to fire with the weapons on the vehicle but I argued that there could be innocent men and women in there.

 

The vehicle crashed through the doors and we found ourselves face to face with a creature so unnatural that I cannot begin to describe it. Rachel was affected the worst, the mere presence of the creature causing her nose to bleed profusely. It bellowed and attacked while we stood still. Our eyes and minds unable to assimilate what we were seeing and make that fit with the reality we know. Hell had come to earth and it was looking at us as the first delight.

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March 19th (early morning part II),

 

We faced a Class II Entity. That is about the best word that one can use to describe such unnatural horrors because nothing else makes sense. What else but simplicity can evoke the mind rending, obscene undulation of an ichor dripping creature whose image is known only in the darkest terrors of children's nightmares? It was that thing which you feared was under the bed. It was the dread of shadows moving in the closet. It was every horror that we can imagine, only made flesh and ooze.

 

Bullets and blasts marred its... its flesh (I don't have any other words but it wasn't flesh). The spinner rocked under an attack that nearly buckled the armor plating. A twisted little part of me wondered if the cyborg would survive a hit? I wondered if I would survive a hit. I know without doubt that the Shelter of Mars would shatter and break under such power. It seemed that the creature was injured by my arcane fires. If I should encounter one again I will need to see about using a Hod's Severance to see if it is magic or fire that brought it low. Micheal's Sword wasn't focused enough to kill the... the thing but it did drive its spirit from the form, leaving it helpless.

 

My team members assaulted the beast with everything but the parachute from the spinner - eventually it dissolved into ichorious chunks before liquefying. In that brief moment there was an explosion that lifted the roof off the garage and blew out many of the fires.

 

JT wanted to call HQ and work on securing the area but I could not bear the thought that someone might remain alive within the institution. I simply stated my intentions so that he would know I must go in and render aid if it was even possible. I am fairly certain that it did not endear him to me, although he played it off. Once the little spark of humanity within him was reminded that others might need aid, he seemed willing to go along with the rescue. We faced a few lesser entities within the building but they posed little threat. It was the contents of the building that worried me the most.

 

Many of the staff had taken their own lives with whatever instrumentation was at hand. Others had been mauled beyond any recognition. The carnage was unlike anything a sane person should ever have to witness.

 

We found one survivor whose mind was spared thanks to being rendered senseless at the outset of the entities emergence. Before remanding him into XSWAT and medical care we discovered that the entity emerged from Ed Bently's cell (Ed was the only survivor from the salvage operation that recovered the Animus Mortis). Although the man knew little of Ed Bently, he indicated that Dr. Spenser had worked closely with Ed for 2 years.

 

The files and audio tapes kept by Dr. Spenser were disturbing. Ed was connected to the Animus Mortis in some fashion beyond what could be understood in the realm of geometry and physics. In fact, I believe the Type II Entity that we destroyed was what little remained of Ed Bently. What a sad and tortured life he must have had locked here in the asylum.

 

The Animus Mortis must be stopped. I am convinced that it is an object intimately related to the Entities and that it has with in its power the ability to create lesser entities (greater?). There are around three dozen missing inmates from the asylum - three dozen weak souls that must be as clay in the hands of whatever force lies behind the painting. Three dozen entities lose in the streets of Angelus, where children play and mothers expect safety. I fear that my next entries will be harried and written in the fog that comes with lack of rest - both physical and mental.

 

So far the team has performed well but I fear that such excessive pressure might begin to crack the facades of Shilo and Rhonin. It might also reveal just how inhuman JT is.

 

I have spent the morning searching for an inner stillness. Seeking serenity before the coming storm but it has been elusive. I am apprehensive. Maybe I should call Grandma Lily to seek her advice? I hate to appear weak, she already thinks so little of my mystical ability, but I will not let my own pride lead to suffering by others. I will try my kata's to see if dynamic meditation will help me relax.

 

Today's Tasks:

Find Marcus Bently - Ed's Brother

Visit Alec Lefette - Mr Patton's Art expert.

Find Hanson's Howlers - mercenaries who disappeared after being hired by Mr Patton.

Call Grandma Lily.

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Re: [shadow Angelus III] Mirko's Journal

 

March 19th

 

Looking at my list from this morning, it would seem that I accomplished everything I wanted to do. Yet, a nagging feeling warns me that we have uncovered but the barest glimpse of what we truly face.

 

My "teammates" met back up at the 13th Precinct for a briefing as our morning norm. Rachael was late and missed most of the talk about staffing - she said she was attending a church function. Shilo babbled on about a vision she had during the night. She dreamed of two knights in white tabards with a red cross on them. The knights stopped her caravan and shouted "Go No Further."

 

After that we got to meet our other team mates.

 

During the hustle and bustle of the day I never got to sit and talk with them, sadly I can't even remember their names. I don't know if that says something about them or me?

 

The plan of the previous day to visit with Mr Lefette was scrapped in the jostling of the new team members. It was decided that we would instead visit the office building rented by Hanson's Howlers. I waited outside in the morning rain while the others did their police thing. It was quite intimidating the way several of the guys jostled for dominance and spouted technical jabber about computers, sensors, and some kind of tracking beacon. Luckily I nearly failed out of basic investigation and suspect that I might have if I'd been graded fairly. I had no illusion where I fell on the macho tech-talk scale.

 

I really need to call Grandma Lily and it didn't seem like I would be needed so I sat at a small cafe to drink a musky oolong tea while I chatted on the phone. Grandma was her usual self this time of the morning. By grace alone, it seems that she had already had her morning coffee. I wonder what got her up so early? Grandma doesn't buy in to the waking up with the dawn stuff. She sleeps late and eats like a teenager.

 

We had a lengthy discussion about the Animus Mortis and about some of my suspicions. She consistently reminded me that I was an unschooled toddler playing with matches when it came to magic but I was able to use that to get her talking about some of the local spirits. If I am lucky I may be able to find a tutor.

 

Magic probably isn't what you think. I mean, it isn't like some superhero just summons an endless supply of energy from some dimension to fuel the crimson bolts of his arcanomatic bazooka. Magic is more like summoning my will and the joy for life within me and then releasing it into the world with all the focus you can muster in one small focal point. It almost feels like you are giving up something precious to make magic. It feels wrong to squander it, to trivialize it. Each will-working is a wondrous event for me but it is the least of my wizardly arsenal. It is the vulgar stuff slapped together like a potato gun, which is impressive until you remember that it is still a potato gun.

 

Most magic follows formula - traditions used to summon and bind spirits to your will. The power actually comes from the spirit rather than from within me. My part in the whole affair is to push fourth just enough of my essence to bind the spirit but not overwhelm it. It's tricky stuff. Summon the wrong spirit or fail to understand what aspect they represent and the whole thing can backfire or worse. Don't ask me what "or worse means," I just repeat what I've heard. I've never actually had one go really wrong except... well, I've never had one go horribly wrong and let's leave it at that.

 

Anyway, the talk with Grandma Lily helped but she never did answer my questions about the Animus Mortis. It is always this way with her - I go expecting an answer to one question only to discover that there was another far more important question that was unasked. She answers the ones I didn't know I had and tells me that if I know the question then a "smart boy like you should be able to figure it out."

 

When they were done I was summoned back to the Howler's Office with an angry sounding squawk of my phone. I rode in the spinner with with the new tech guy and JT. They both had strong words for me about "abandoning my post" or some such. Apparently, I should have known that I should have been on watch while they worked with the machines. I let them rant. J.T. is a machine trying to be a man and Tiberius is a man trying to be a machine. Both seeking to impose their own order on world that they do not understand. I am not sure they can understand.

 

They soon forgot about me in the hub-bub of the Darwin Museum. Again, the whole team started with the bickering and shoving, like a bunch of adolescents just learning to work together. After the battles and horror of yesterday it was too much for me so I went to look at some of the art within the atrium. I noticed the Feng Shui and the arcane energies inherent to the greatest art works immediately - the whole place seemed alive with the energy of creation. A small fountain soothed me for several minutes until my badge once again squawked with the angry voices of our machine leaders.

 

I need to come back to the museum to study the magic. Art is beautiful in a way that is hard to express to someone who doesn't see the patterns of the artists soul swirling within the oil and on the canvas.

 

The meeting was quickly over. Mr Lefette provided us with little to advance our goal. He knew a little about the creator of the Animus Mortis but little else. He offered to help but was quickly rebuffed by several of the officers. I think such a move was with limited foresight. Mr Lefette could prove to be a valuable consultant for much more than just this case. I made a mental note to return to visit him with the particulars of this case when my fellow officers were not puffing their macho chests and aping around like school yard bullies.

 

Next, we went to lunch of all things.

 

There was another war of wills as differing parties sought to impose themselves. I remained quiet and contemplated Mr Lefette. The food; however, was good. Shilo and J.T. kept questioning me about the magic of the museum during the meal. I don't think they understand magic very well and I know they weren't talking about that spark of the arcane left in each masterpiece by the painter. I don't think I know what they were talking about. We will have to sort it out later.

 

We had one more stop before the day was done (thankfully!). Some warehouse in the gamma district. I gather that the long delay at Hanson's Howlers was related to finding this warehouse. Outside we had another round of the bickering that seems to be ubiquitous to several members. I gave up on the analysis and walked into a side door. Rhonin was a step behind me.

 

The place was a charnel house. Bits of bodies and armor were strewn about the open area. The spent remains of weapons fire littered the floor, scorch marks on the roof, and splintered wood were the evidence that these men did not die without a fight but they died none-the-less. There wasn't much for me to do within such a disturbing place so I made to leave but J.T. and Tiberius were having none of it. They demanded that I stay.

 

The conversation grew heated for a moment when I refused to obey such short sighted commands. Finally, I tried to explain what cannot be explained to a machine - that my magic thrived only because my soul and spirit were healthy. To remain in such a place for too long would destroy what little magic I have and leave me vulnerable to other magics that linger about such places. Malevolent spirits are attracted to such places and while they would have no hold over one such as J.T., they could certainly take advantage of me were my spirits weakened.

 

They dropped the matter for now but I fear that this was not the last I will hear from them. I knew it was a mistake to let a machine lead us. How could Director Cadbury have failed to find a leader for our field team who was human. I'd settle for one who simply had a soul!

 

Outside, I sat quietly trying to shove the gore from my fore-brain and find a place of stillness. It was difficult. I was distracted by too many events, distracted by the ichor, distracted by the squabbling of my teammates, distracted by the otherwordly warping that I felt within the warehouse. A gate? Such a thing made finding stillness nearly impossible for me but I was able to relax a little and pledge that before bed I would find time to perform a fire meditation.

 

Eventually the team emerged from the building and we loaded back into the spinners to head for the 13th. I needed some rest and distance from the discordant personalities. The monks were never like this? There was a quiet debate on the need to visit Markus Bently that night, apparently he was in league with whatever creature consumed his brother. I imagine that he was corrupted shortly after the dive when Ed Bently had the Animus Mortis before selling it to Jay Patton?

 

I was all for calling it a night until I heard the address. Markus Bently lived a few doors down from Uncle Auggie (Agustus). Even if the team laid off for tonight I knew that I'd have to go spend some time on Auggie's couch. His two daughters would love the chance to keep me up all night.

 

[i need Chris's Name...]

 

UP NEXT: Fighting the Animus Mortis or "I block Godzilla with the Painting."

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Re: [shadow Angelus III] Mirko's Journal

 

March 19th, The Battle with the Rogue Mutant Pygmy Elephant

 

One immediately wonders what has gone wrong with the world when a title like that graces my journal. Honest, I am not the brilliant strategist who came up with such an absurd cover story. Embarrassingly, I could come up with nothing that would relieve us of this fairy tale.

 

The pilots brought the spinners in low, low enough for me to see Ghiselle and Konrad (my cousins) in the front. I lept out before the spinner had even touched down and told them to go find their father. Uncle Auggie has little talent but he would recognize magic when he saw it and would know to get everyone out. Auggie is one of those fellows who find things for people. Things! His talent only extends to sentimental objects that others have lost but you'd be surprised at what a comfortable living he makes digging up other peoples stuff.

 

I waited by the door while Tiberius yelled at Markus Bently. Markus was leaving the house dressed in some sort of uniform. He did the standard bad guy thing and dove back into his house. The second spinner (piloted by JT) swung over the house and set down taking the crew from my field of vision.

 

Tiberius advanced on the door. He was all police business. It was amazing to watch. He'd advance and cover, advance and cover. Classic two man advance but there was only him. He'd be in trouble at the door.

 

Dave, the other new guy, flew across the street. Flew. I didn't know people could actually do that? It wasn't the most pleasant experience. Dust, gravel, and debris whirled along his flight path.

 

Rachael murmured something about the spirit of the lord and there was a fuzzy dissonance that sprang from her. As usual, Rachael's powers were vague and slightly disturbing. As was her penchant for kneeling in a fire fight.

 

I could only assume that whatever did Hanson's Howlers in was waiting for us in that house. Once I saw Auggie coming down the stairs I told him to get out and then went to cover Tiberius.

 

I focused my will into a white hot light and lept across the distance to land near Tiberius as he entered the building. While I was leaping, I found the resonance of my ring and poured power into it. When I landed, I was ready for whatever Markus had to throw at us.

 

Yeah, that statement ranks right up there with stupid moves of the year. I'm just grateful that I am alive to be embarrassed about it.

 

Markus channeled some form of energy at my new teammate. I have no idea what it was but Tiberius was blown across the street and through the wall of the building next door. I thought about summoning an ambulance immediately but realized that I might need to call two if I took my mind off the battle.

 

There was a reality warping moment as Markus Bently was consumed by the painting and a massive creature of teneberous rage burst fourth into our reality. I felt something given in my eyes at that point and assumed I was crying but the tears streaking my face were bloody. My body was breaking down simply from exposure to the thing.

 

I danced around the beast looking for a shot at the painting. I believed, incorrectly I might note, that the painting was the source of the beasts power and if it was destroyed we would be free of the creature. It was slow and ponderous despite its awesome power. I had no fear of its reality rending claws touching me. Sadly, the same cannot be said for team 2 who had advanced through the building. They were savaged while I darted among coils of roiling madness.

 

I took my shot. I pulled everything and threw it at the painting. Tipereths Blade could have stopped a tank. I could have bored a hole through a building but it was simply swallowed by the painting. Nothing. Nadda. For a moment I felt a profound fear settle around my shoulders like an old blanket.

 

Mazers and all manner of assaults were launched against the horror. It seemed that we were taking a toll on it but would it be enough to stop it before someone died? What about those living in the buildings close by - surely their myopic little lives divided between factories and media were less resilient than my own. How many of them would die if we were to fail here?

 

I felt the energies building within me. Fueled by my impotence and the need to protect others. Fueled by the fear that my own kin could be among those listed as casualties on the news. With a thought and an act of pure will I unleashed an inferno on the creature. It fell in a sudden rush of other worldly distortion, exploding outwards and causing the roof to sag dangerously.

 

The others sat about taking an inventory while I attended to the Animus Mortis. I could feel the corrupt energies building within.

 

I am not the most experienced mage but it was real obvious that I needed to contain the magic of the painting. I pulled a tube of salt from my pocket and while I worked out a ritual binding. I added the smallest drop of blood to power the circle and felt it close inside my mind. Water and a sacred invocation to the archangels finished out the spell but I would need focus until we could get that painting somewhere else. Somewhere safe. Only I don't know of any place safe for transdimensional gates to a plane of existence that is an anathema to all that we hold sacred.

 

While I sat, lotus style, in a war of wills with the painting the others came up with a story to feed to the news crews already arriving. A rogue, mutant, pygmy elephant had been illegally harbored within the house.

 

May my ancestors forgive me.

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Re: [shadow Angelus III] Mirko's Journal

 

Mirko's Tutor, Liannan Shee

Undefined Date:

 

I looked across the desk toward Jan. She was mousy in that librarian way. It didn’t help that she worked her way around several computer terminals and com-stations with an odd mechanical grace that is earned by only the most nerdy of techs. I had the oddest feeling that we knew each other?

 

She had stopped talking and looked over my shoulder towards the door.

 

The new woman walked strait from the set of one of those films that I had heard about but never seen. I am sure of it.

 

She was tall, as tall as most men even though she wore flat sandals that showed of the silver rings on her toes. Her dark hair sucked in the light until it nearly turned blue. The whole mane was held at bay with a silver clip but threatened to spill out in ways that made me blush. I’d like to say that her eyes were dark or light or something but I didn’t see them so much as feel them measuring me. Her gaze felt like a pair of hands, or maybe lips, languidly exploring me. Her clothes were casual, promising a hidden world of pleasure but revealing only glimpses.

 

If an APD sketch artist asked me to describe her I think I would be laughed off the force. She was predatory. She radiated grace and hunger. For the second time since joining XSWAT I found myself consumed with thoughts that were unworthy. I tried to analyze where they could be coming from but the need was too great to push aside. It was feral. My mind played with images that made my body burn and replaced deliberate thought with an uncomfortable tension that threatened to become something that I’m sure would land me in jail.

 

Something was out of place. Somewhere deep inside the lust, a rationale part of me fought against my need, but logic and thought had been crushed..

 

A voice behind me spoke far more powerfully than needed. “Hello, Welcome to XSWAT. Can I help you,” said Jan in a voice laced with anger. The fairer half of our species has instincts that far surpass ours when it comes to sensing predators.

 

“I am here to meet with Officer Mirko.”

 

I swallowed. My mouth was dry, leaving me with the vague sense that the sound echoed in the small room. My mind vapor locked as it scrambled for something to say that wouldn’t sound like it came from a virginal monk. Obviously, I couldn’t come up with anything. Jan saved me further humiliation.

 

“This is officer Mirko but he is rather busy. Do you have an appointment?”

 

The raven haired women leaned forward, directing her invisible will toward Jan. Their eyes locked for longer than was polite. It didn’t seem possible but I felt even more uncomfortable watching the smoky gaze between the two women.

 

“Grandma Lily sent me to see him,” she said. Her eyes slid my direction.

 

I groaned inside and felt the threat of yesterdays lunch rising in me. Grandma had said that she was going to send me a tutor but that I’d have to prove myself first. It was her normal cryptic half answer.

 

“Hi,” I said with a dumb smile. I tried to say more but I couldn’t find the words.

 

She was talking to me but her hands were on my shoulder and then on my hip. I didn’t hear what she said, I only knew that I wanted her to continue. I wanted to shove her to Jen’s desk and…

 

What in thousands hells?

 

Jan interrupted once more. Part of me loved her for the diversion while another part whimpered that she was still here.

 

“Grandma Lily?”

 

I locked eyes with Jan, reluctantly pulling them from… from somewhere where they should not be staring so intently. “Grandma Lily is my father’s mother. We just met about three months ago. She sometimes helps me with arcane matters. I suspect that.. I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name?”

 

I forced my eyes to take in Jan. Jan was safe. She wasn't going to suck me into a crazed teenaged hormone storm. I locked them into the study of the shape of her ears, the moist curve of her mouth, and the gentle rise of her chest. She was shapely for a librarian type.

 

The voice purred in my ear, “Liannan, you can call me Liannan.”

 

I felt her hand on the small of my back. It sent shivers so strong that I had no doubt she could feel me shaking. “Lily told me you have much to learn. I have no doubt you’ll enjoy my lessons.”

 

I tried to clear my mind but her hand shattered all focus. I never even noticed Jan walk out of the room. It was a struggle to breathe.

 

Liannan’s hair brushed along my scalp and I felt her breath on my neck. My hand moved to the buttons of my uniform without being told.

 

“I can teach you things, young mortal. Pleasures undreamed.”

 

Liannan pulled me to her. Her hands overpowering what little resistance I might have mustered. I think I said stop but I don’t know if the words ever reached my lips.

 

When did Jan leave?

 

It was so hard to think.

 

Liannan pushed me to the floor. She gave up the struggle with my buttons and tore my shirt from me.

 

I pulled the rest of the shirt off and tossed it behind the desk. There was a boot on the floor.

 

My boots were still on?

 

“STOP!”

 

Liannan’s breath brought shivers to my chest. She lingered in places, leaving me with the feeling that I was about to faint.

 

“STOP. I am not your play thing spirit,” I growled.

 

I fumbled for my ring, touching the script on the surface and forcing a little of the heat from my body into it.

 

The thing on top of me screamed, it wasn’t a human scream something more basic yet infinitely more complex.

 

I took the seconds respite to look toward the boot. Jan was on the ground. She wasn’t moving but I think I could see her chest rising.

 

I fed my anger into the ring. I used it as a shield against the lust she was evoking in me.

 

“If you’ve hurt her, I swear I’ll bind you to a rock in the deepest part of the ocean for a thousand years.”

 

I scrambled out from under Liannan and checked on Jan.

 

When I looked back Liannan was different. Her beauty remained but there was a coldness to it that transcended humanity. It was a predatory elegance like a sharks majesty, it's awe inspiring even when you are the meal.

 

I had no idea how I could deal with such a creature. My knowledge of spirits was profoundly lacking. Well, that is not exactly true. I know more than most mortals but less than your average ten year old wizard-to-be. Liannan wasn’t exactly a push over either. She was far stronger than me and I’d seen her move faster than I could imagine anyone made of flesh and blood could. Yeah, I had the sinking feeling that I was about to be fairy juice. If I was lucky I might be able to draw her away from Jan but that was about the best I could hope from this encounter.

 

Liannan stood waiting for me to rise. I tried to cover myself but it wasn’t happening in these clothes.

 

She flowed across the floor moving in all the right spots. I expected an attack or another lusty mojo spell but she walked right up and melded her body to mine like a cat. She caressed my chest, “I can show you things Mirko. Let me teach you about pleasure.”

 

I took her hand off me. “No.”

 

“No. You can’t. You can enspell me and force my servitude but I won’t give it.”

 

Liannan held out her hand, “Mirko, take my hand.”

 

I remained where I was focusing every bit of my will towards remembering how Jan's body was only a few feet behind me.

 

Silvery tears leaked from Liannan’s eyes. “I can love you. I can teach you things no mortal has known in a thousand years.”

 

My jaw hurt. My head felt like a battalion of stiletto heeled cabaret dancers were getting violent somewhere above my right eye.

 

“You can teach me nothing spirit.”

 

We locked eyes in a gaze that stretched all the way to the upper kingdoms and back again. Warring to see who was the stronger. It wasn’t a battle fought with bullets or fists but it was a raging riot all the same. She pushed on me with a will thousands of years old and not used to defiance but it didn’t matter. Liannan had hurt Jan. It didn’t matter who old or powerful she was I don’t deal kindly with those who harm my friends.

 

There was a wrenching feeling and I stumbled forward a step.

 

Liannan was on her knees.

 

“It is over mortal. Lily was right. I will teach you the ways of spirits and powers.”

 

I called Grandma Lily from Jan’s phone. It isn’t in your best interest to go toe to toe with Lily but I wasn’t feeling real smart at the time. I was feeling angry and wanting a fight. Grandma Lily listened for a few minutes before she cut me off.

 

“You listen here boy. You are a wizard now and nothing worth having comes free or cheap. Get used to it if you are going to be dealing with spirits. Liannan will be a good tutor and I hoped that she couldn’t get to you. Be glad I didn’t send something worse to become your tutor, you might not have survived.”

 

She sucked in a little air and kept on going. Never lose your temper with a powerful witch.

 

WIKIPEDIA

In Celtic folklore, the Irish leanan sídhe is a beautiful woman of the Aos Sí (or fairy folk) who takes a human lover. Lovers of the leanan sídhe are said to live brief, though highly inspired, lives.

 

The leanan sídhe is generally depicted as a beautiful muse, who offers inspiration to an artist in exchange for fame and glory; however, this exchange frequently results in madness for the artist, and often premature death. W. B. Yeats popularized a slightly different perspective on these spirits with emphasis on their vampiric tendencies, a feature also shared by the Manx analogue the Lhiannan Shee.

 

They seek the love of mortals. If they refuse, she must be their slave; if they consent, they are hers, and can only escape by finding another to take their place. The fairy lives on their life, and they waste away. Death is no escape from her.

 

The name comes from the Gaelic word "leannan", a sweetheart, concubine, or favourite. Also, Sídhe, "of the fairy mounds".

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Re: [shadow Angelus III] Mirko's Journal

 

March 24th

 

I should have plenty of time to catch up with my writing and studies, they don't let you do much else in the hospital. I've tried to get out and walk some but the robe they make you wear is awful.

 

The nurses are amazing. I've had a steady line of bubblegum smacking female nurses coming in since I got here to check my wounds, even though they are not that extensive.

 

Doctor Mardi, a plodding man of Mediterranean descent, just left. He thinks I'll be fine, just some cracked ribs and an unidentified inflammatory response. He really had no idea how to quantify the Entity Sickness. I can leave in the morning but he told Kelly, my nurse, that I could stay an extra night if the nurses thought it would be good for morale.

 

Anyway, it has taken me a few days to get around to updating the journal.

 

We got the Animus Mortis back to XSWAT headquarters without too many problems. There was an incident involving some Christian knights in powered armor but I was too busy containing the Animus Mortis to pay much attention. Rachael went out and spoke with them and before long our caravan was on the move again.

 

I don't remember falling asleep that night.

 

******

 

The next two days were a blur of activity. Tiberius called me every ten minutes to ask bizarre questions. People think magic is strange, wait 'til they get a hold of some of this guys theories. Science is his magic and he is a master at the craft. He is frighteningly smart. I've never thought of myself as slow but it isn't hard to make that assumption when one stands next to titans.

 

I sat with the sutras for several hours. It seems so difficult to liberate myself from worldly concerns these days and I am not sure if it is right to do so? Do I believe that we face creatures from some extra dimensional space - a non-euclidean hell or are these asura, fallen spirits from my faith? How do I maintain a posture of non-violence against writhing horrors from another reality?

 

One would think that magic would answer more questions about religion and the afterlife than it raised, but such is not the case. Magic proves that there is more than a mind-body duality. There is a middle road. A left handed path. There is a soul, but is it an accident of nature or our true shining self seeking perfection? Is it the by-product of dimensional engineering or the true heart of all realities? Science, Magic, Religion... definitely not chocolate and peanut butter.

 

Such thoughts are unworthy and do not lead to enlightenment. I have acknowledged them but I will not give them power over me. I will not wander down paths that lead me further astray.

 

After deciding to reject the arguments of logic, I felt better and in need of activity to purify my body with sweat. This seemed as good an opportunity to visit Rhonin's Dojo as any. We spent the evening mixed with students at various levels learning throws and flying kicks. For many hours I simply was. The worries of Mirko were washed away in the moment to moment drills.

 

I slept in the dojo with the Sensi's blessing.

 

*****

 

Ti called before dawn. His voice was thick with caffeine and lack of sleep. He was talking about phase particles and something called the doorway dimension. Lunatic or genius? It is such a fine line and I felt that we were about to find out, if we survived.

 

We met in the afternoon. Ti had been to Angelus University where he had discussed his theories with several scholars (who studies dimensional engineering?). They were confidant that the device he had built would shift us out of phase with our reality and into phase with the Animus Mortis where we could destroy it.

 

I am too honest to pretend that I even understood a third of what he said but it sounded exceedingly dangerous. If he was wrong in the slightest, whoever went might be stranded in some nether realm. I felt it most prudent that I go alone since I would have the best chance at survival and perhaps even the chance to return home.

 

While I had been meditating and practicing martial arts, the science team and Tiberius had theorized that the Animus Mortis was like a tube connecting two separate realities. Those realities don't physically touch so they were connected through a third reality. The middle dimension - so to speak. Ti felt we could get behind the Animus Mortis and from there it would be vulnerable to our attacks. It could be destroyed forever.

 

It was worth any risk. That's important because we really had no idea what the risk was.

 

We rested for the evening and prepared to leave (would we really leave? What do you call it?)

 

*****

Deep in XSWAT HQ several ready teams stood by in Blue Steel Power Armor. Other experts were on standby.

 

Alice Cadbury came by and spoke to me for a minute. She provokes something in me that is hard to quantify. She makes it easier.

 

Rachael says she thinks Alice is an angel from the Christian God; however, Rachael thinks everything is from the Christian God. The beliefs of a zealot require scrutiny before acceptance. Still, she may be closer to right than usual.

 

Tiberius had his device. I wondered, in a morbid fashion just before he flipped the switch if this was how the Omega Sector was created? Surely, someone back then sought something much as we seek now. Did Van Goren know what he was risking? Did he factor in the death of thousands as acceptable?

 

Tiberius activated the device.

 

The lurching stillness of the non-movement forced me to retch. We were standing on an infinite gray plane. The Animus Mortis was before us. All we had to do was kill the enormous tentacled thing between us and the picture and survive the attacks of a dozen other horrid creatures.

 

Next Up: Battling the Queen and her Minions

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Re: [shadow Angelus III] Mirko's Journal

 

The Queen

 

Once I regained control over my urge to vomit there wasn't much time to take anything in. I could sense a powerful source of arcane energy in this place between places. It called to me.

 

The monks did not raise a fool. Such easy paths lead to places best left unexamined. I'd need to be mindful of where I drew my magic from.

 

JT recovered quickly, unsurprising since he is mostly machinery. His Mazer cannon shook the ether but dissipated and warped before actually striking the Entity. These amorphous creatures have no gender that we can tell (not that anyone digs too deeply there) but the way she hovered above the Animus Mortis protecting it was almost motherly so I'll refer to this powerful Entity as the Queen.

 

The Queen had no such problems with her etheric blast. I'd seen what happened to Ti when he received one of those things and had no doubt that it would hurt JT. I hurriedly gathered my will into focus and pushed the resonance for the Reflections of Ragnar into this reality. The blast shot harmlessly off my shielding.

 

The speed of the battle was blinding. My companions were falling - well, flying - with alarming regularity. Shilo, Rachael, and Rhonin were down before I could even move to an offensive posture. JT, Ti, and Myself focused on destroying the portal.

 

Rhonin scrambled for his life on the ground, using that otherworldly sword of his to save his skin time after time. Shilo and Rachael were being carried off by lesser Entities - being swallowed in the grayness of eternity.

 

I hesitated for a moment, unsure of my actions. Go after my team mates and save them from unspeakable horrors or attempt once more to destroy the portal. My moment of hesitation distracted me from the claws of the Queen. The mage shield buckled at her slightest touch. She slammed into with more force than I could have ever imaged was possible - a collision with the business parts of a particle canon might have hurt less. I rolled with the attack, maybe it is more accurate to say the blow hurtled me through the air for considerable distance. I remember thinking that I needed to break my fall. The only problem was that my body was no longer listening to my commands.

 

I woke up on the cold steel floor of XSWAT HQ. My left shoulder was out of socket and I was banged up pretty good. The medic teams strapped me to a rigid board. Eventually I ended up here in room 1212 of Saint Francis Hospital. Shilo is in the room next door. She has had several conversations with the nurses and they are now on a crusade to have me walk more. I just wish I had some regular clothes instead of this open robe. I have no doubt that I'll be indecently exposed.

 

Dad came by earlier. It is so alien to think of having a father besides Gyatsu. It felt good. The more I discover my family and my powers, the less of me I become.

 

I sense the day is coming when I will have to choose between my life and my faith. Desire leads to Suffering. I know this but I cannot reject the desire to belong with my family or to continue with this job that places such a strain on me physically, mentally, and spiritually? I should reject this magic and this life. It is the right thing to do for my spirit. But is doing so not placing my needs above the needs of so many others? Would the rejection of my path be submission to the ultimate desire and also a rejection of my faith?

 

There are no answers within this bed. There are only questions that I am not wise enough to answer.

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