The Duskshire Incident Read online

  On the road from the river landing, we came upon a man. He was a tall, thin man with long black hair, and he wore the clothes of a foreigner. He tried to tempt us with magical amulets and elixers. "They'll keep the nightmares at bay," he said. Obviously, we ignored him, but at the entrance of the town there was an old woman selling the same type of junk. It's up to the local constables to handle these charlatans, though. We are here to catch a madman.

  The local station had been turned into a fortress. The already sturdy looking stone building had its lower windows boarded up, and two constables stood guard outside the door. I met with a Reginald Penn. He is the only inspector at this small office, and had been in charge of investigating Vossen up to this point. Instead of the sense of relief that the arrival of my team usually brings, he was initially angry.

  "I've been asking for reinforcements for days, but the rest of the country just watched while our town was overrun. Now, they finally send someone, and the first thing you do is take the investigation out of my hands. An investigation you know nothing about," he said.

  "I have a warrant to apprehend a madman," I said brandishing the paper to remind him, "and that's what I aim to do."

  "Chasing Vossen isn't the only concern. We have to protect the city. You have know idea what the forest has become."

  I raised an eyebrow and replied, "Yes, I've heard..."

  "You doubt me?" Penn exclaimed rising from his chair.

  Before I could respond, he continued, "Fine. Go get your soldiers killed. Then we'll talk."

  I bade him good day and strode out of the room. I was hoping to find a useful ally in the local constables, but now I see that my team be working alone.

  The Diary of Samuel Hennings

  Dec 29, 18__

  A very lonely holiday season has passed. Caspar was to get two weeks off and come home for the holidays. Instead, I spent the time drinking and weeping. He will have the last say, though. I am using his very own methods to track that monster down. I took over Ms. B's dining table and laid upon it a giant map of the area. I then used poker chips, which I bought at a local shop, to mark the place of every bizarre or violent incident over the past few months. Ms. B herself has put in considerable hours on this project, consolidating all of the stories and rumors she's heard in town.

  When we were done, the poker chips made a sort of fan shape, or a segment of a circle radiating out from a central point. The area in the center, the origin of the circle in other words, was clear of any incidents. I conclude that this is the area where Vossen hides. He has spread his evil out from this point, yet didn't do anything too close to home. The area is deep in the forest: a forest now filled with Dire Wolves and Giant Spiders. Ms. B's revolver will not be enough to get me there, as much of a sturdy and useful companion it has been to me.

  Later

  I have summoned everyone of interest to the house. Inspector Penn, Doctor Penn, Mary Harris, Ms. B, and myself were standing around the map. I also tried to invite Sampson Galway, a soldier dispatched by the Royal Army to garrison the city.

  "No one knows where he is," the inspector said with an exasperated sigh.

  "What do you mean?" Ms. B exclaimed. "He's supposed to be here protecting us."

  "His entire squad went out early this morning. I had to get that from one of the constables; he didn't say a word to me."

  "That just confirms what we knew all along," I said. "We have to do this ourselves. No outsider is going to believe what's going on here."

  "I'll go," Doctor Penn said. "I can't sit in the hospital watching the casualties roll in anymore. I have to do something."

  Inspector Penn looked at Const. Harris. She simply nodded, and he said, "We're in. We'll provide the arms. Everyone meet at the station at sunrise."

  With that, we split up to prepare ourselves for the morning.

  Dec 30, 18__

  We have stopped for a short rest, so I am taking the time to update my diary with what has happened so far. The inspector supplied us each with a shotgun, a revolver, and plenty of ammunition. A couple of Penn's men were insisting on coming along. The inspector ordered them to stay behind and protect the station which they had converted into a fortress.

  Within minutes of setting foot in the forest, we were set upon. This time by a feral dog. It's muzzle was stained with a black liquid, Vossen's trademark. Mad with rage, it leapt at us. Mary blasted it with her shotgun, blowing it into a bush. It has been Mary that has been quickest on the trigger. I will admit, even after all she's done for me, I still had reservations about bringing a woman into this horror. Now, I wouldn't trade her for Simon Gallway's entire squad of absentee soldiers. We have blasted our way through these woods, leaving a trail of empty cartriges. We are close to our destination; close to ending this nightmare.

  Later

  After another twenty minutes, we found what we were looking for. Deep in the woods, we came across a quarry. Towering granite walls were hewn into the side of a hill. It had been abandoned some time ago. Rotting wooden machanisms held together by rusty bolts lay discarded and broken by the forest's edge. A passage was carved into quarry wall. The entrance was nothing but a black sploth. There were also several buildings; some built in the forest and some on the red, granite floor. The oldest buildings, the ones closest to us, were little more than piles of moss-covered wood.

  Slowly but steadily, we made our way toward the quarry wall. As we went, the buildings we passed were newer and more intact. We started looking into them. Most were empty or filled with debris.

  We proceeded seeing no one and hearing nothing but the cold wind and the creaking of a distant tree. I put my shotgun over my shoulder and pulled out my revolver. The hammer clicked as I cocked it in anticipation. As we grew closer, I could see that the tunnel entrance was irregular, rounded, and wet. It was actually the entrance to a natural cave unearthed by the quarry workers. Quietly we stepped into a wide, round chamber with a floor that sank toward the center. My eyes took some time to adjust to the darkness, and part of me wished that they never had. As soon as the bright winter sun left my eyes, I could see five men hovering in the air above me. Meet hooks, thick with blood and gore, portruded from their chests and they hung like beef in a butcher's shop.

  We four stared up at them, mouths gapeing. The sudden appearence of this horrific sight had cast a numb shock over all of us. But the horror was not over, for lying on the ground in a ring around the center of the room were eight young men: all pale, all wan and ghastly looking. The doctor stepped forward, as if compelled to do something, but, after another look at long dead men, he shrunk back.

  Footsteps started echoing from a passageway that led deeper underground. We raised and leveled our pistols. Vossen, now wearing a silken, purple robe with gold trim, emerged. He was alone: his servants all spent.

  In the blink of an eye, he was across the room making a mad dash for the doctor. All four of us fired, but only the doctor scored a hit. The bullet passed through Vossen as though he was made of paper. He continued his dash and thrust his palm into the doctor's chest. The doctor let out a horrible wheeze and collapsed onto the cavern floor.

  He was on Mary next. With a swipe of his hand, he knocked her gun across the room. As we ran around her to get a clear shot, she whipped out her club. She parryed his clawing hands with deft prescision. A sickening thud sounded as the club landing squarly on his head. It was fatal blow to any normal man, but Vossen was not perturbed in the slightest. He grabbed the club with one hand, and with the other punched Mary square in the jaw. A stream of spit flew from her mouth and she went down.

  Vossen wasted no time. He threw the club which bounced off of the inspector's head. He cursed and staggered. Not knowing what else to do – not knowing if it would do any good – I started unloaded my revolver. I caught the monster in the chest three times before he lifted me over his head and hurled me across the cavern. I landed on one of his ghastly servents, and felt the man's delicate rib
s crush under my weight. I cried out in disgust and scrambled to my feet. I pulled the shotgun from my shoulder and readied myself to fire, only to find that Vossen was right in front of me. I pulled the trigger.

  Vossen's head exploded. Gore sprayed the room; not the pink and red offal of a normal man, but the black and gray matter of whatever perverted form of life Vossen had turned himself into. Stunned by what I had done, I stood staring at the corpse. It's head and neck were completely gone. Then silently we left.

  I kept thinking of something that we should say or do, but what is there to say or do after turning a man's head into pulp?

  Jan 10, 18__

  Casper's grave was placed next to our grandparent's double gravemarker. I have gone back to my kitchen preparing food for the well-to-do of Northton. Penn and I had lunch yesterday. I'm not entirely sure why. What kind of social obligations to you have toward the people who helped you avenge your brother's death and kill a madman? It's cathartic, though. Not that we ever talk about it. It is just comforting to spend time with someone else who left a part of himself behind in Duskshire.