Friday, April 25, 2014

The Hornes Foundation

"For The Children..." Public Motto of the Hornes Foundation

The Hornes Foundation is the modern incarnation of a series of international Hunting and Philanthropic Clubs, commonly known as the Hornes Club.  The Hornes Club in turn was first founded in New England in the early 19th Century to preserve particular hunting traditions.  These traditions are even older, tied into Herne and Wild Hunt cults that go back to Roman Times.

Its also a public face to a organization that is known for its ties to the entity known as Molech- sometimes called Herne, other times the Horned God.  His most frightening titles are Saturn and Child-Eater.

The Wild Hunts

Knowledge in regards to the Wild Hunt varies based on the sources cited.  Stories tied to the Horned God, are gruesome.  Children were used as live prey for elaborate hunts.  Because most members of the Wild Hunts were also landed gentry, efforts were made to silence anyone who shared about it.  The Huntmaster of a hunt would wear a helm decorated with antlers or bull's horns, his role seen as priest and altar for the Horned God.

Prey that was brought down would be devoured by all the members of the Wild Hunt.  Ecstatic magick of the Horned God's Rite would taint the blood as well- each drop brings Molech closer to walking in this world.  The Hornes Foundation continues that dark tradition, to a degree.

Notes on The Horned God

To confuse matters further, the Horned God is a varied figure.  He appears throughout a variety of mythologies, not always in the same dark sinister use that Molech adopts it for.  There are multiple entities that use the title, many of them are benign or harmless.  Like a great many things, one bad apple has poisoned the bunch.

"For The Children..."

In the modern era, Molech's Cult has manifested as the Hornes Foundation, a international charity that ties Children and conservation.  Philanthropic wealthy men and women throughout the world raise funds and setup events intended to help organizations that connect children with the outdoors.  Of course, the Wild Hunt still goes on, on private islands and estates throughout the world, isolated from authorities that might interfere.

They find children, the right kind of children.  Those descended from the correct ancient bloodlines.  Those who were born at the right ley lines.

All initiates to the inner cults of the Hornes Foundation engage in the Wild Hunt.  Some hesitate, but the offer of raw power keeps them there.  Its a powerful social network that many CEOs, politicians and a variety of celebrities can't refuse.  The more ambition they have, the harder it is to say no.

Then there is the offer of Power.  Magickal power that only the highest ranked members of the Foundation can call upon.  Such powers like curing certain diseases, transformations or even claims of creating raw fortune only their own members can obtain.

Philosophy and Goals

The central goal of the Hornes Foundation is the revival and return of Molech himself.  They believe only the rule of a being like Molech can save humanity from itself.  They envision Molech as the father of the human race, who cannot help the world in his current state.  They believe Molech can help them to repair the environmental harm of the industrial revolution and technology that has tainted humanity.

For the Hornes Foundation, Molech's past presence on Earth had been an Golden Era.  He'd protected his faithful.  Any perceived harms caused by Molech, a living god to them, are outweighed by the benefits of Molech's divine rule.

Friday, April 18, 2014

Portland In Black Afterword

Having finished off Portland In Black, I feel a need to put down my thoughts on the story.   It took me the better part of two months to get it finished.  Noir has reached a changing point in his life, and I feel like I learned a lot from writing it.

Noir Badarte is purposefully intended to be nice guy with some dead raising powers.  At the end Pottland in Black, he's acquired a partner of sorts.  He has met and learned some of the secrets of the world.  

Noir meeting the Wolf was the main reason I wrote the story.  The Wolf is part of very old pet project of mine.  He and his fellows are central to another very epic story.  The Wolf influences the shape and  form of the world Noir lives in.

I think my dialogue has tightened up a bit in this story.  I have to go back and start revising things- there are plenty of errors, that I'm certain of- but part of the reason I've been writing do much has been to improve things like that.

I'm going to try to revise the story, but I'm also gonna try to get illustrations of the story made too.  My artistic side has visions of each moment in my head, I feel like I have to try express them.  

More will come, but that's it for now.

Thursday, April 17, 2014

B&B musing 1


The soul is bound.  The beast is bound to your soul.  Its a symbiotic connection of sorts.  The beast bound is the foundation of all magickal talent.  The Beasts cannot think or possess their own thoughts, outside of the primal rage that dominates their kind, without Binder to be binded to.

At least, thats what all the Academies have taught since binding began.

Binding's first law: All Beasts Want to be Bound.

But then, there is the second law, all Binders learn.  The one that is implied: All Binders Can't Have Magic with Binding Something.

The energies of the bound beast flow into the Binder, a symbiotic feedback loop of arcane energy the Binder can manipulate.  These manipulations allow the Binder to create magical effects, but only as long as they have been binded with a Beast.  And that the Beast can obey them.

A dying or unconscious beast cannot obey its binder.  Some beasts are strong-willed, being hander for their Binders to control.  Worse, some beasts can only be bound by, well, feeding off the energies of their binder.  There are rumors of some beasts that can possess their binder, controlling them instead of the other way around.


Skilled Binders can have two or maybe three beasts bound to them.  Some legendary Binders possess the ability to bind up to five beasts to them.  Binding beasts is tied to a complex ritual- it often takes 4 or 5 days to complete.  Sometimes the Beast finds the master, other times the master has to find the beast and cow it to their will.

The goal of the Ritual is always to obtain the Beast's True Name.  This isn't a entirely conscious thought the Binder has.  Learning the True Name of a Beast marks the Binder's skin with it, often in arcane glyphs.  The binder has no control over where this appears.

Oddly, the Beast also gains a sigil when Bound.  The Beast also learns the name of its Binder and the ability to speak that name aloud.  They gain a rudimentary form of intelligence when this word is uttered, the first step the Beast takes toward becoming a sapient being.  This progression continues over time.  Beasts bound for the longest times acquire the greatest personas and minds of their kind, albeit still bound to their forms.

Sunday, April 13, 2014

Portland In Black 30: The End Part 3

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"I- Jeez, I know what I did before was-  jeez.  She shouldn't have done that to me."  Noir shook his head.  "She knew didn't she?"

"About Black Anna setting this whole thing up?"  The Wolf took a sip of his coffee.  "Yeah.  The USMS knew all about that.  They are good at knowing about things like that."


The Wolf smiled.  "The USMS is a survey.  They aren't as ignorant as others.  The veil is weaker for them.  But they still miss some things."

"Like you."

"Yeah.  But it also means they can't do anything about dangerous things.  And they are underfunded, so they get conjoled into having to aid people they either don't know are bad or they'd rather avoid having any contact with."  The Wolf explained.

"Black Anna couldn't have that much pull to get a federal agency to trick me."  Noir tried run through it in his head.  He thought he had a answer.  "Which Power wanted me to be working for Black Anna?"

"Ah."  The Wolf's eye twinkled.  He smiled, nodding that Noir had the right answer.  "You know about the Powers.  Good.  That'll make it easier to explain I think.  Have you heard of the Hornes Foundation?"

Noir shook his head.  "I thought powers were more occultish, not organized or what not."

"Depends on how you define Power.  Sometimes that means something mysterious, or small I expect.  Powers for others, like myself, are blocks of influence.  They try to affect change.  They have goals, their own games they play."

"And the Hornes Foundation wanted what here?  Why?"

The Wolf shrugged.  "No clue.  Political machinations and all that."

The Wolf put a folder on the table.  He nodded at Noir.  "Here is a gift for you."

Noir looked at the folder.  "I don't get this.  Why have such a interest me?  I'm just a guy, really.  What do you want from me?"

"You've been working for the wrong guys, not the Hornes Foundation- they don't like me.  They'd like to see me dead and replaced with their own ancient thrice-damned gods.  Others, like your Dark Man, well, they are competitors of sort too."

"That still isn't a answer."  Noir told the Wolf.

The Wolf got up from the table.  He dropped a crumpled twenty dollar bill on the table.

"You don't need an answer, Noir.  You need Elle.  Think about her, and I'm sure you might consider joining my side the next time your Dark Man calls."

Noir grabbed the folder.  He flipped the folder open quickly, almost tearing the papers inside.  Details, photos, information were inside.  All about Elle.

"How?"  Noir asked.  He looked up, expecting to see the Wolf.  But there was no sign of him.  Noir looked down at the folder.

Noir gripped the folder tight.  This was more than the Dark Man had ever given him.  He could find her.  He could use it, he didn't know how yet, but...

"What now?"  A tired familiar voice knocked Noir out if his revelry.

Jesha looked down at him, leaning more on one leg than the other.  Noir hugged her.

They embraced tightly.  In that moment Noir wanted to share his elation with her.  A tiny part deep in his heart, one he thought belonged only to Elle also yearned to be with Jesha now, after all they had been through.

He wished he knew what to do about it.

"We hunt, I think."

Saturday, April 12, 2014

Portland In Black 29: The End Part 2

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"Oh."  Noir glanced down at his coffee.  He felt like having a joint, but part of him didn't know quite what the right etiquette for this conversation should be.  "You weren't the killer then.  Anna had it out for you.  Framing all that to pin it on you, you know."

The Wolf nodded.  "Yeah.  I... she knew me before I understood my current state.  I think she thought she had an advantage over me.  She used it against me in Phoenix."

"How so?"  Noir asked.

"An agent of hers stuck me in a freezer."  The Wolf shrugged.  "Can't blame them.  Effective way to try and contain my abilities."

"So you did the whole lightshow back there then."  Noir shook his head.  "I couldn't see your spells.  Your magick... it was invisible."

The Wolf poured sugar into his coffee.  It dissolved, then the Wolf glanced up, gesturing at the sugar.  "You only see part of the spectrum the All-and-Nothing is.  It is all energy, at all times.  And it never any energy.  And it is all energy that will never will be."

"I don't understand."

The Wolf winked.  "That is the first step to enlightenment, recognizing what one doesn't understand or know.  Your magick and mine are the same, Noir.  Just different specializations.  Think it over.

"Speaking of thinking things over..."

Noir followed the Wolf's gaze.  Noir frowned.  He didn't expect to see her that soon.

"Blackthunder?!"  Noir's voice almost squeaked as he spoke.  "You... Do you know what the hell you put me through?"

Ada Blackthunder paused and blinked at Noir.  Then she stared at the man sitting across the table from him.  "Oh.  Necromancer.  You're still alive then?"

Noir furrowed his brow.  Noir connected the dots in his head.  "Wait a second.  Did you know what they were going to do to me?"

It made sense.  Of course the USMS had used him, helping to push Noir into doing what Black Anna had wanted.  Either they were unwitting pawns too stupid to see it, or they were complicent.  Ada Blackthunder had known what would've happened to him.

"Well, you aren't dead."  Blackthunder crossed her arms over her belly.  "Better than what some people, if you remember."

Noir shook his head.  "I can't- you honestly think you can just write that off?"

The Wolf waved a hand.  "Excuse him.  He's- well, still recovering, Agent Blackthunder."

Blackthunder paused, not recognizing the Wolf.  She squinted her eyes for a moment.  Instead, she shook her head and instead just walked away.

Friday, April 11, 2014

Flash Fiction: Grandmother's Imp

The tiny thing hissed at me.

I dropped the milk bucket, the thing startled me so.

It was tiny, shaped like a crimson mockery of a man.  A pair of goat's horns dripped oil from its brows.  Its eyes reminded me of a locust, but its tail looked more like a rat's tail.  The scarier part of it was its mouth.  I could see a thousand fine teeth, row after row.

"Oh!"  I grasped my crucifix tight to my chest, I did not know what next to do or expect.

"Milk!  Milk!"  It leaped at the puddle of milk.  It lapped at it, giggling as it licked up each white slurp.

"Girl?"  I heard Grandmother's voice calling to me.

Grandmother walked in, her many skirts rattling.  She smiled at me, then frowned at the spilt bucket and the thing lapping from it.  "You!"

The demonic thing paused, then looked up at Grandmother.  I didn't know what to expect next, but it hissed.

"Grandmother, no!"  I cried, reaching to keep her from being exposed to the thing.  It might use some magick or something-

"Dago!  You wait your turn!"  Grandmother swatted at the tiny thing.  It bent over, looking guilty.  "Don't scare my little grand daughter!"

"Hungry!" The little horror hissed.

Grandmother shooed the tiny thing.

"Don't mind Dago, he just gets too excited and thinks he can steal things instead of asking."

Thursday, April 10, 2014

Flash Fiction: Verdant Maws

Plants wrapped themselves tight around his wrists and ankles.  Something gagged him.

The woman stood over him.  Her eyes narrowed as the plants drug him deeper down.  "This is the price you pay."

He struggled, trying to escape.  He didn't deserve this.  Why?  Why was she killing him?

Her eyes glowed with a verdant light.  "I'm not killing you.  These are plants you would let suffer for your greed.  Your service to Mammon blinded you to their plight.  You made them into monsters."

His mind reeled, thinking about all the chemicals he'd dumped in this part of the jungle over the years.  Something started to burn his legs.

"They are hungry.  All I did was help them.  Perhaps you'll be better as mulch..."

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

Portland In Black 28: The End Part 1

Noir Badarte is a necromancer with a heart of gold- and he finds himself in Portland Oregon, to find a new serial killer called the Wolf- but Portland's own insane undead have plans of their own for him.

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Noir waved at his coffee.

"Yeah."  The man who was called Wolf responded.  Without his mask, the man wore glasses.  He had stubble on his face, his hair long.  He had a sketchpad in his hands, drawing with chalk and pencil.  "Best coffee in Portland, I told you."

Noir shrugged.  Coffee... wasn't the only thing he noticed people partook at this establishment.  More than a few people smoked joints.  Hippies, yuppies and a variety of weird looking portlanders sipped their drinks, reading and surfing the web.

"I guess."  Noir said uncertainly.  "I wish Jesha had come along or something... I don't know what to talk with you about, really."

The Wolf looked up at him.  "Biggest bookstore in the world, fresh coffee and books in front and behind you.  And you have no questions at all?"

"Jesha is the one who worships you."  Noir answered.  "I'm just a guy with a trick or two."

"Necrokinetics always fascinate me."  The Wolf responded.  He poured more sugar into his coffee.  "Still, she needs her rest.  That monster did some serious harm to her internal shapeshifting.  It'll take her longer than you or others to recover, really.  That, and I wanted to talk with you honestly."

"You don't want to deal with a fangirl in other words."

"You could say that."

Noir looked up from his coffee.  "Necrokinetic, eh?"

"Good word.  You coined a more useful term than Necromancy.  Good to have the right kind of word.  In this language, anyway."

Noir took that in for a moment.  A question hit him.  He decided to go with it.  Why not?

"What happened to her?  Black Anna, I mean."  Noir asked.

The Wolf shrugged.  "I didn't kill her, like you asked.  I... placed her somewhere where she might learn from her actions."

"But not somewhere I can go."

"More or less."  The Wolf said.

"Why did you not kill her?  I thought you had said she broke your law or something..."

"You remember a lot, for someone who's been in a hospital bed for two or three weeks."  The Wolf paused.  "It seemed more prudent to listen rather than enforce that rule mercilessly.  Its a important rule.  It is something I don't ignore on light terms, but at the same time, I can't just kill everything people would call monsters."

"People get scared."  Noir agreed.  "Its a scary world out there.  You can't just obey what the crowd wants, even if it seems like a good idea I guess."

"Well, correction."  The Wolf interjected.  "The world gets better every day.  You and yours get better at taking care of yourselves, and give me less and less reason to have to interfere.  You make the world a better place, you all seem to forget how bad things were."

"So... you don't trust people then?"  Noir asked.

The Wolf nodded.  "And I listen to individuals.  I like to invest in whose potential might later make everything better."

Noir took that in.

“You have a great heart, Noir.”  The Wolf said.  “And its easy to take power and creativity and energy and use it to burn the world down.  Destruction is so very easy; the unmaking of a thing can be so very enticing.  Its harder to make a thing.  To Create.  To build a better world.

“Long ago, a woman wearing my Mask made that decision.  She decided to build a new world, to try and stop a cycle of violence, hate and destruction.”

“What happened to that woman?”  Noir asked.

“What happens to everyone?”  The Wolf replied.  "She died fighting."

Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Portland In Black 27

Noir Badarte is a necromancer with a heart of gold- and he finds himself in Portland Oregon, to find a new serial killer called the Wolf- but Portland's own insane undead have plans of their own for him.

< Previous Part | Start of the Story | Next Part > | More Noir Badarte Stories

Black Anna stumbled backwards, grabbing Noir as she did.  She looked panicked, surprised by how badly her plan failed.  Noir felt more like a rag doll, too numb to sense any of the physicality Anna thrusted on him.

The Wolf stepped forward.  The sword he held glowed with a burning blue light.  "Really?  I thought you had this all figured out, Monster."

Black Anna's minions leapt at the Wolf.  They try to swarm him like they had Jesha before.

Noir felt Black Anna pick up speed.  He guessed that she might have some sort escape planned.  She hissed as she moved, her black ichor spraying.  Shadows obeyed her spellcraft, flying to cover her escape.

Noir glanced back.

The Wolf had become surrounded by the undead.  They tried to entangle him like they had Jesha, except this time they all look frightened of the sword he wielded.  Noir wondered when this had become more dream than reality.  Swords?  Spells?

The Necromancer finally decided he was in over his head on this one.

Black Anna screeched.  Something hit her.  It hit her hard.  Noir felt Black Anna letting go of him.  He tumbled onto the ground, rolling until he landed on his side.

Shadows parted from his vision, as a number of things all happened at once.

Darkness faded into light, revealing who had struck Black Anna.  Jesha stood there, naked, bloody and limping.  Her blow hadn't completely stopped the undead monster, but it caused Black Anna to drop him.  Jesha panted, her mouth curved up into a smile.  Purple bruising obscured part of her face.

All the undead trying to swarm over the Wolf collapsed into a pile of bodies.  Purple electricity crackled from their bodies.  Noir saw, at least from the corner of his eye, the Wolf tear apart the spells animating them all into undead.  The Wolf just took that energy away from them.

"Think you can run monster?"  The Wolf called.  He leapt up into the air.  He sailed overhead, landing in front of Black Anna.  He landed perfectly on his feet.  Energy cackled from him, tossing Black Anna onto the ground.

"Argh!"  Black Anna curled into a ball, her tattered black prom dress ripping a bit more.  She shook with fear.

Black Anna stumbled backwards, grabbing Noir as she did.  She looked panicked, surprised by how badly her plan failed.  Noir felt more like a rag doll, too numb to sense any of the physicality Anna thrusted on him.

The Wolf stepped forward.  The sword he held glowed with a burning blue light.  "Really?  I thought you had this all figured out, Monster."

Black Anna's minions leapt at the Wolf.  They try to swarm him like they had Jesha before.

Noir felt Black Anna pick up speed.  He guessed that she might have some sort escape planned.

 "Please... " Black Anna sobbed.

The Wolf stood over her.  Sword in hand.  Noir could feel a presence radiating off him.  It tasted like power and knowledge.  "You never showed mercy.  Why should I, monster?"

The Wolf sliced a neat line through Black Anna's left leg.  She tried to crawl away, but Jesha kicked at the undead girl.  Black Anna instead looked at Noir.

"And you pay your price for your crimes monster!"  The Wolf declared, his sword raised high above Black Anna.

Noir stared deep into Black Anna's eyes.  For a moment he saw past the pain.  He looked beyond the madness.  He didn't see a monster anymore.

A frightened young girl stared back at Noir.  Tears streaked down her face.  Noir tried to look away, but he couldn't.  He remembered Elle.  His Elle.  Anna had been a human being once.  So had Elle.  What would he do if Anna was his Elle?

Noir raised his arms to stop the Wolf’s swing.

He didn't know why he did it.  Noir knew it was a bad idea.  That Black Anna would just create more trouble.  She would just do the same thing again.  And again.  She was a mad dog, a monster.

"Please."  Noir stopped the Wolf's sword.  "Spare her.  Please..."

Noir started to cough.  His body shook from the effort he expended.

"Noir?  What are you doing?"  He heard Jesha ask, her tone muffled by the bruises and puffiness in her face.

"She's a Monster, Necromancer.  Don't be tricked by an illusion."  The Wolf’s tone sounded gruff and unyielding.

"Necrokinetic."  Noir corrected.

"What?"  The Wolf asked.

"I prefer... Necrokin... Tic..."  After that, Noir fell over.  Before blackness embraced him, Noir could hear the Wolf chuckle.

Monday, April 7, 2014

Portland In Black 26

Noir Badarte is a necromancer with a heart of gold- and he finds himself in Portland Oregon, to find a new serial killer called the Wolf- but Portland's own insane undead have plans of their own for him.

< Previous Part | Start of the Story | Next Part > | More Noir Badarte Stories

Black Anna shook head.  She giggled, then spat more black ichor on the ground.  It wasn't a spell this time, or at least, Noir couldn't sense a spell from it.

"Cute trick."  Some venom crept into her compliment.

"You know who I am."  The way the man in the wolf mask spoke, it wasn't a question.  He stated it flatly.  "At least I hope you do.  You've been using my name."

"You don't like my little offering to you?"  Black Anna's fangs dripped ichor as she smirked.  "Doesn't the Wolf God like a few dead girls to eat?"

Noir looked at the man in the wolf mask.  He recognized the mask now.  It looked identical to the necklace Jesha had worn.

"He's the one... you were..."  It Noir some effort to finish saying the words. "...trying to get here."

Black Anna shrugged.  "A bit of this, a bit of that.  Really little necromancer, I do intend to keep you."

"Right, that's part of the reason why I'm here."  The wolf interrupted.  "You've been leaving bodies in my name up and down the west coast.  Phoenix, Salt Lake City, Las Vegas-"

"Your little escape in Phoenix made me more interested in keeping you busy."  Black Anna said.  She sat down on the stage that served as her dais.  Undead crawled a bit out of the shadows.  Glistening fangs bared.  "The Wolf."

"Canis of House Lupis.  I serve the Darkness."  The Wolf looked down at his chest.  A pair of red laser dots were glowing on it.  He kept his hand on the sword's hilt.  "But Wolf works well enough for you and your ilk."

"Keep your blade sheathed, oh mighty Doggy."  Black Anna purred.  She jumped down from the stage.  "You've been gone for too long, Wolf-who-would-be-king.  This is my city.  My City.  My necromancer."

"Your bullets too?"  The Wolf pointed at the dots.  "I'm wearing kevlar, by the way, in case you want to plan it better, they should be pointing at my head."

"Muh."  Black Anna waved a hand.  "Still will hurt you long enough to break your concentration.  Then my people will take that moment to break your hands, your feet, your shins.   Make you hurt."

"Oh."  The Wolf glanced around him.  "Spells do require some thinking don't they?"

Black Anna continued, ignoring him.  "Some of them also have a variety of different drugs on them.  I'll inject you full of a dozen kinds of painkillers and depressants.  Make you unable to think straight."

"Then a bit of magic black blood on your part, and I'm gone."  The Wolf's shoulders slumped.  "You offering an alternative then?"

Black Anna laughed.  An undead chorus of hideous giggles joined her.

"I win, Doggy.  You lose."  She paused, walking up to the Wolf.  Her face only went up to his chest.  The undead monster with the body of a sixteen year old girl still looked confident against this man that towered before her.  "What do you think you can offer me?  I get the Necromancer, I get your dead body and I get the praise of every monster and organization on this planet that wants you dead, doggy.  What's better than that?"

Slighk!  Grk!  Two bodies hit the floor in the darkness.  Guns clattered to the ground.  The red laser dots on the Wolf had disappeared.

"Look."  The wolf said, pointing at his chest.  "Change of plans."

Black Anna backed away slowly from the Wolf.

"This world hasn't needed me or my kind for a long time, Monster."  He began, popping his neck.  "It has done so much to better itself without my interference.  But you overstepped a line.  You dare to think me so stupid to walk into this, your place of power unprepared?

"I am the Wolf.  I come to enforce my First Law.  Suffer No Monster to Live."  The wolf slide the sword out of its scabbard.  "And I name you Monster."

Saturday, April 5, 2014

Portland In Black 25

Noir Badarte is a necromancer with a heart of gold- and he finds himself in Portland Oregon, to find a new serial killer called the Wolf- but Portland's own insane undead have plans of their own for him. 

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There were footsteps. "Fancy trick." Black Anna complained. "Darkness. Cute." The darkness then was pierced by a pair of glowing red eyes. The eyes moved closer to them, each footstep deliberate as it moved. A guttural voice then broke the silence. Noir almost felt like he could hear a depth of age to its tone. Like a old man and a angry young man rolled into one. Darkness faded away from a figure standing along, illuminated by his own aura of light. The man wore an old tattered dark trench coat, over a kevlar vest that looked like it been used before. Both his hands were covered in black driver's gloves, bloodstained. He held a sword in a mahogany scabbard. The scabbard was covered in faintly sky blue-glowing runes, most of which Noir didn't immediately recognize. The man was of a average height, his hair brown and what skin he could see was white and pale. But Noir couldn't see his face. It was covered with a mask. The mask looked totemic to Noir. It had the outline of a wolf's head, with two points extending from the top and bottom of it. A crescent moon had been carved into the forehead of the mask. Lines were carved into the mask, but rather than reinforce the image of a wolf, it instead the lines were expressive. Symbols like the one on the scabbard covered it as well. It reminded Noir of a hybrid of totemic mask and surrealistic modern art. The mask felt like it was trying to project some sort of emotional response. Some sort of blend of fear and awe, which Noir felt grip him a bit. "When I first heard about you, I have expected a scene out of Sixteen Candles or something. But you've outdone yourself, Anna. Of course didn't anyone tell you vampires aren't real, no matter how much Ann Rice you get around to reading? I mean, gothic writing can be okay..." He gestured with his left hand unsurely, in Black Anna's direction. "Kind of Emo, if you get my meaning. What, did you first show him your bedroom and diary first? Cut your wrists and all that?" "Well, she kinda..." Noir automatically filled in. He stopped when Black Anna kicked him. That sent a burst of new pain into the myriad storms of hurts and injuries he'd been dealing with. The necromancer grunted and rolled into a ball to try and protect himself. "I do what I want." Black Anna flicked her wrists. An huge undead man in a tuxedo approached the man in the Wolf Mask. "I am Black Anna and you've made a poor choice coming here." The huge undead roared and leaped at the man in the wolf mask. "No, I didn't." The man in the wolf mask retorted. "Unbind Thy Chains." His words thrummed with power. They shattered the spells keeping the huge undead in the tuxedo from being a corpse. Noir watched as all the tiny binding spells Black Anna had on the huge undead just fell apart, melting in reaction to the man's tone. Black Anna had noticed as well. Her nose had flared. This wasn't going as she had expected, Noir guessed.

Thursday, April 3, 2014

Portland In Black 24

Noir Badarte is a necromancer with a heart of gold- and he finds himself in Portland Oregon, to find a new serial killer called the Wolf- but Portland's own insane undead have plans of their own for him.

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Lights rattled and rocked as Jesha's massive wolf form barreled into Black Anna's court.    Dust clouded around her as she landed on her feet.  Sunlight broke through the hole in the ceiling.

Black Anna brought him closer to her.  "Oh, look.  A nice doggy.  That's a nice trick.  Is she house broken?"

Jesha took a step closer.  Noir could sense her irritation at Black Anna's comment.

"Bitch!"  Jesha barked, snapping her jaws.  "I said return the Necromancer!  Don't make me rip your damn face off!"

Noir also could see Jesha's limp.  One of her hind limbs shook, its foot in the air.  Undead eyes locked onto it, too.

"Jesha..." Noir felt himself panting.  "Get..."

Before he could manage the words, Black Anna grabbed his face.  The undead girl pressed her lips to his.  Then she turned toward Jesha.

"No, I don't think so."  Black Anna said quietly.

Then the undead surged at Jesha.

Noir cringed.  The party of undead moved more like a swarm of ants.  Jesha took one, then two, then three out with her jaws.  But they poured on more numbers.  Twenty undead barreled onto of her.

Jesha slide onto her back, trying to snap and claw her way toward Noir's position.  She screamed.

Her fur grew dark.  Blood, mud and undead bile covered it.  She hissed, throwing undead across the room.  They ripped and tore at her, tearing out chunks of flesh.  Chunks of her dreadlocks.  Chunks of fun.

"Moron."  Black Anna whispered in his ear.  "Cheap trick, turning into something you aren't.  Watch her die, Necromancer.  Watch your last hope die."


"Watch..."  Black Anna threw black ichor onto the ground.  It slid and wormed toward Jesha's writing, struggling fight.  The spell struck at Jesha's body.

Noir shuddered.  He could sense the spell attack Jesha's form.  It devoured it, breaking apart each component of the spell that held Jesha's body in giant wolf form.  The extra matter she'd created dissipated, negated as the spell fell apart.

Jesha shrank back down into a smaller form.  The undead converged around her.  Noir saw her naked body, bloody and torn.  She screamed as undead ripped into her.  It wasn't a scream of surrender, it sounded to Noir like a challenge.

Noir cringed as the undead started slaying the Jesha.  He knew they'd be slow.  They'd be cruel.  Mad.

"Anna please... Don't kill her."  Noir pleaded.

Black Anna tilted her head.  She looked curious.  But before she could answer, the sunlight being cast through the ceiling dimmed.  It looked like a cloud had passed overhead.  The sunlight kept growing darker and darker.

Then shadows grew from the ceiling.  Day shifted into night.  Lights winked out.  Jesha faded out of view.  Shadows covered the undead around her.  The undead paused, unsure of what to make of the darkness growing around them.

"Night?"  Noir heard the undead mutter to one another.  "Why can't we see?"

Black Anna let Noir go, letting him tumble onto the ground.  She glared at the shadows approaching her.  She hissed.  Her undead followed suit, crawling to be closer to her.  "Night with no light at all."

"Darkness?"  Noir tried to look into the darkness, but even his magical senses couldn't see any spell within that darkness.  Even his senses seemed to be drained by it.  Something or someone had changed things.  Noir could only think of magick being the cause.  But whatever it was, he couldn't sense it.

That was when the darkness fell over all of them.  Noir watched the shadows wrap around Black Anna, taking her out of his view.  He could still hear the old woman in her cage, crying.

But then a howl drowned out all other sounds.

Portland In Black 23

Noir Badarte is a necromancer with a heart of gold- and he finds himself in Portland Oregon, to find a new serial killer called the Wolf- but Portland's own insane undead have plans of their own for him.

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"Kill..."  Noir shook his head.  "I don't... understand..."

"Of course you don't."  Black Anna sighed.  "You have so much potential but seem to know so little about the magick you take a name for.  Necromancer, you nothing about necromancy, just the part involving bodies I think.  Oh well.  Let's dance!"

Drums and guitars came to life.  Music filled the air.  Black Anna's undead prom moved vigorous to the fast jazz beat of the music.

Pairs of undead hands opened the cage.  Noir felt rotten fingers grab and pull him out.  Noir felt Black Anna's chains around him, making his body try to obey.  Of course, his body was too tired and damaged to obey.  Naked, undead held him aloft.

"Argh."  Noir felt pain rush up and down his arm.  The purple mass that had replaced his thumb throbbed, burning hot at the grasp of all the undead men and women forcing him to stand.

Black Anna grabbed him.  She forced one of his hands onto her shoulder.  "C'mon.  Show a girl a good time."

Noir gritted his teeth.  Her hands felt like vises, they were gripping him so tightly.  "Urgh."

Black Anna licked Noir's cheek, leaving black ichor in her wake.  Noir felt magick burrow through his skin.  "Hmm."

Noir looked around.  He could see the dark chains of the spells gathering around him now.  More and more of the chain links grew around him.  Invisible to the naked eye, Noir's magical senses could feel and see them.

"You've turned my spell... argh... that hurts..."

Black Anna smiled.  "You are getting it, aren't you?  Don't you just want to... let go?"

Noir closed his eyes, trying to concentrate.  A inner part of him wanted to do as she said.  Give up.  To let the spells he felt crawling over him take the last step.  He could cast one last spell, he knew, necromancy that could drive out the last vestiges of life in his body and end it all.

It would be easy.  The pain would end too.  It'd be over.

"I..."  Noir's head was swimming.  "Ending the pain..."

Black Anna nodded.  "All the pain would go away.  You have to do it yourself, Noir.  Just let the last bit die.  The rest of you has already agreed."

Noir paused.

"I..."  Noir gave in.  Anything to end this.  "I... will... let me try to cast it..."

Black Anna giggled.  She kissed him.  "Ohohoh!"

Then the ceiling above them exploded.  Howls and teeth smashed their way through.  A canine snout broke through, then a wolf the size of a SUV hit the ground.  Red, blue and black dreadlocks hung from behind her ears.

Jesha.  Her huge wolf form snarled at Black Anna.  Words growled out, loud enough to make the floor tremble a bit at her rage.

"Dead bitch!  I'm here for the Necromancer!"

Noir felt relief wash over him.  Then he saw Black Anna smile.  She petted his head, unconcerned.  Noir's heart sank.  Black Anna had been expecting this too.

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

Portland In Black 22

Noir Badarte is a necromancer with a heart of gold- and he finds himself in Portland Oregon, to find a new serial killer called the Wolf- but Portland's own insane undead have plans of their own for him. 

< Previous Part | Start of the Story | Next Part > | More Noir Badarte Stories

"Oh poor, poor boy."  Black Anna chuckled.  

Noir realized that the buzzing he heard was just in his head.  He felt sort of betrayed.  A part of his core nature wanted to obey every thought Black Anna pushed out.  He could feel the cold chains of her spells wrapping around him.

The dream had ended.  But he still felt Black Anna in his mind.  Noir felt the darker part of his nature hold the door open for her, letting the dark black ichor of Anna's spells into him.

But he still had some control left.

"Please.  Stop..."  Noir's body wouldn't move.  That wasn't the result of magic.  Just the raw, brutal pain he'd endured.  Injuries had piled on top of sleep deprivation.  His mouth was beyond parched.   Worse of all, Noir had lost track of the days.

He gazed up at the cage on the dais.  The ancient body of Ellie laid sideways like he had, her blank stare in his direction.  Noir wondered if that elderly victimized body was capable of thinking even empathically about another anymore.

"Please..."  Noir wanted to shift his gaze onto Black Anna.  But he couldn't move.

The young-looking, blood-splattered undead stood just outside his vision.  She crouched to look at him, her face smiling with sharp teeth.  But she kept just enough out of his sight to make him feel both irritated and concerned.  Irritation that he knew she did it on purpose. Concern that he didn't know what she planned next.

"Oh yes, I can fix this at anytime, you know."  Black Anna told him, much like  one might inform a beloved pet about to pay a visit to the vet clinic.  "Oh!  Your dreams were so pretty!  Your hatred for your father... so very... Freudian of you."

Nearby undead giggled in delight at her words, even though most of them hadn't seen a damn thing.  Or at least, Noir was certain they hadn't.

"I don't..."  Noir had trouble saying the rest of the words.  Instead, he coughed.  His lungs stung from it.

"Poor death caller."  Black Anna knelt down, putting her face next to his in the kennel's wire frame.  He felt the cold, wet blood that clung to her face.  Her smell reminded him of the sheep his father raised.  The smell of dead sheep his father would butcher, the stench of meat and guts.  Fresh death.

"All children want to kill their parents, you know."  Black Anna continued.  "I help children do that, you know.  But... well, I sometimes forget which children are which.  My new children?  Or the tiny screaming ones I take at night?  Or the old ones that cry in their sleep?"

Noir shook his head.  "No... please... mad..."

Black Anna nodded.  She kept her face close.  "Yes.  Mad.  Quite."

Noir felt tears come down his face.  "Let me.  Help.  I know... how..."

Black Anna tilted her head.  Her face grew dour.  She frowned.  The undead monster scooted back, and sat down, legs crossed under body.  "Maybe this is a lucid moment, but you can help.  I think..."

Black Anna waved a hand, spraying black ichor on the floor tiles.  The ichor erupted into shapes and forms, creating a small black diorama that Noir's eyes watched, twitching as Black Anna forced him to see.

"I was born out of pain, embarrassment and torture, you see."  Black Anna explained.  A tiny ebony, liquid version of herself was held down by others.  Bottles were being forced down her throat.  She gagged, choking each gulp down.  "But unlike you, I loved my father.  He didn't like what they did."

The miniature of Black Anna vomited.  Noir felt color streamed in his vision, sharing things into a scene from a 1920s dance.  Anna's vomit wasn't vomit, instead, the young girl had puked blood.  A vicious, drunken teen party turned from debauchery to murder as teenagers laughed and pointed at her.

Noir watched, his gaze widening.

A older man fought his way into the scene, throwing the young men off her.  Even with no sound, Noir could interpret the words he was yelling at her.  The older man was yelling her name.  He grabbed her, trying to get her to breathe.  To live again.

"You know, I saw dead people all my life.  My father supported me.  He said it was talent.  He always wanted the best for me."  Black Anna put a hand over the miniature version of the older man, her father, trying to save her dying miniature form.  "But alas, even him being in charge of our school didn't make things easier.  He coddled me too much.  Protected me too much.  Let me get away with too much."

Black Anna's hand slammed down on the miniature version of her father.  She smashed him like one might smash a bug.  "See, death caller?  He was there when I awoke.  I had to kill him.  Its how you learn to grow up."

Noir shuddered.  "No... Don't..."

"You can help me."  Black Anna gazed into Noir's eyes.  A young woman's voice, not the monster's this time came out.  "Please.  The madness... Please Noir.  Join me, complete me.  Save me from myself."

Noir stared at her.  Every part of himself felt the urge to break free.  To muster the last precious bit of strength he had.  To surrender to her.  To give in.  To let his mind cure her of the thing she'd become.  Noir reached down for the right, last spell, something or someone to help free him from the pain and the misery.  To help him make things right.

But the necromancer couldn't.  He looked back at Black Anna.  And in defiance he tried to summon a geist to help him.  A monster of his own to strike back at her.

"No."  Noir said, infusing the word with as much power left as he could.  Purple fire leapt out of his eyes, flying up and away from him.

Black Anna shook her head.  She grabbed at the air around his mouth.  She snatched up the spell he'd cast.  Purple fire struggled to escape her grasp.

"Oh, poor boy."  Black Anna snuffed out his spell.  Noir felt the spell and its energy move.

"How..."  Noir felt confused.  He didn't understand, how could she have taken the spell?  How could she just take and steal its energy like that?

"Death magick is more than just a fickle tool for the dead, death caller." Black Anna sighed.  "You still refuse to just kill yourself.  Oh well.  I guess I have to try a bit harder now..."