Leather Bound Notebook

[Matthias Blackroot (DELETED 3999)]

30/2/2012

I was told to keep a record so that is what this is. It feels strange to do this though. Who am I writing to? This notebook? My future self? The stranger who may one day find my bloodless body in the gutter? No thinking like that. Let's just move one.

I should start at the beginning. Actually, no, let's start with an introduction. I am Matthias Blackroot. I am a priest in a small church in Harper Rock which is of a minor denomination most have never heard of. It is difficult to describe us as either Protestant or Catholic but we do not concern ourselves with this. Our duty is to God, not with the labels we are given.

During last week's service, I noticed a stranger in the crowd. He stood out obviously due to his massive frame and shorn hair, but we did our best to make him feel welcome but he remained aloof. I do not remember the words I used that day, but the central verses were Ephesians 6:11 and Genesis 27:3, paired together to impart the idea of utilizing the skills that we have been given to go out in to the world and make a difference.

As I shared my message, I could see him nodding as if agreeing with me. Once we dismissed, I did my best to find the gentleman, but he was gone. It was not until I was counting the offering plate that the next bit of queerness occurred. A business card was left there. This in and of itself was not so strange, many new parishioners leave cards so that we might contact them later, but this one was different in that it had no contact information. On one side, were directions and on the other was an imprint of the Genesis verse my message had been over, but with the last few words left off so that it read simply " Now then, take your weapons, your quiver and your bow, and go out to the field and hunt". Written under that in pencil were the directions, "Look under my pew."

With all of the gang activity, I began to worry that this was, at best, some sort of prank, or at worst, a message to be sent to the entire community, but with a silent prayer, I got down on my hands and knees near where he sat and found a rusty blade with another note attached. This one was a series of directions from my church, through the sewers, and to an unknown location where I was directed to "Learn to hunt what might bring harm to you and yours."

Momentarily, I considered calling the authorities but I knew that that would do me no good. They seemed to do little more than stand in the streets these days and were more likely to shoot me than to assist me. I can also admit that I had more than a passing curiosity in what might be hunting us. I had heard the reports just like everyone else and it was clear something strange was going on.

I once had a thick woolen great coat to get me through the cold Canadaian nights, but I had long ago traded it for the much thinner duster I possessed now. A homeless man had asked me for change when I had none so did my best to provide for him by trading my coat for his. It kept the wind off of me but little else, but I at least had a warm place to return to. A benefit of the coat was that it had many internal pockets, and I slipped the blade in to one of them so that I would not look so strange walking around town.

My trip through the sewers was...uneventful. A few rats and a few people that looked like they had lived most of their lives there, but I had expected worse. None bothered me. None seemed to even know I was there. I eventually found the ladder described in the note and climbed up it. Half way up, I paused and considered pulling the knife I now possessed, but it seemed silly to me. More than likely, this was all an elaborate hoax put on by one of the fraternities.

Finishing my climb, I stamped what I hoped the mud off of my boots and looked around. The place looked horrible and I thought I had been dropped in to a warzone. There was no unbroken glass and very little unsplintered wood. I occasionally heard gunfire followed by either a groan or a scream but was unable to determine the direction.

Guessing, I approached what looked like an old movie theater and a waifish figure loped towards me. She looked like the drug addicts I've ministered to, naught but bones and skin, but the fire in her eyes was unearthly it was...hellish. I brought my hands up to show her I meant her no harm but there was no hesitation on her part before she bit deep in to my forearm. Instinct kicked in, and I punched her hard in the stomach and I felt my closed fist pass completely through her and erupt out the other side.

I had no time to question this as her bite got deeper and her long nails began raking at my coat. The leather was old but it had been good quality and kept me reasonably well protected. I managed to get my free hand between us and fish out the blade and just began to stab until she finally fell at my feet. Blood and gore covered both her and myself and I couldn't keep myself from falling to my knees and vomiting.

While I was hunched over praying that I wouldn't die, I saw more figures heading towards me, most likely drawn by the noise. Some were mostly decayed but there were others among them that were fresh and whole and were cutting them down. They moved so fast. Too fast. Looking back, I know what they were but I was less concerned with them at the moment and more concerned with getting to safety.

I sprinted towards the theater, thinking that maybe since it's occupant had left, it would be safer. I was wrong. My shoulder hit the swinging door and bounced off of what would have been a still figure if I hadn't ruined its nap. Turning towards me with a roar, it tackled me and bit down on my shoulder. I screamed and kicked and stabbed and screamed some more until it was off of me but that just brought more of them.

Blood loss and adrenaline make the next few hours hazy but I imagine they were similar to those first few moments. The next thing I remember is half falling back in to the sewer and being half supported and half drug to their hideout their headquarters. It wasn't the man from the church that was with me through all of this. It was an angel.

She was taller than me and graceful and strong. Her body was fit and I could see all of it for she wore no clothes and I noted that she was heavily tattooed. Detailed wings covered her back and whorls and swirls and runes and crosses and weapons were everywhere on her. There was a beauty to them I had never seen in any tattoos before.

She laid me down and kissed my forehead and told me that I was worthy. Tenderly, she cleaned my wounds and allowed me to sleep. I awoke a few hours later, completely healed. Sitting up, her soft hand rested on my chest and I realized that I was as naked as she was. I started to beg for my clothes, but she silenced me and began to tell me her story and why I had been brought there.

She was part of a religious order sent to protect this city from an otherworldly threat. I questioned if it was the beings I saw in the deserted city and she told me on, that they were a symptom not the disease. Demons had filled the city in the form of men humans and were bringing more of their kind. The threat was proving to be too strong and they needed new blood to fill their ranks to help them. I was one chosen. I had proven myself worthy, now I had to choose. No binding would be on me to follow their ways, I could act in the way God led me, but there might come a time when my assistance would be asked for.

I refused at first. I was a man of God, not a warrior. She told me that I could be a warrior for God. I would be stronger better in every way and be able to better serve my city. I thought of all the evil I had seen over the past few years and knew in my heart what I had to do. Silently, I nodded and laid back down while she explained what would happen. I would be tattooed and, much like Samson's hair, the tattoos would be the source of my strength. I nodded again and she began.

It was...painful. More painful than the wounds the hell monsters inflicted on me were. I am still discovering what I was marked with but the woman seemed to know me better than I know myself. I know that I have a crucifix on my back and a rosary on my front and that everywhere possible, verses and words close to my heart are inscribed in the original Latin, Greek, and Hebrew.

When she was done, I shakily stood and she kissed me again on the forehead while she dressed me. I wanted to thank her. To ask her what else I needed to do, but there was a sacredness to the moment and I could not break it. She led me away, walking with me as far as the ladder I had climbed down when the journey began. She said it was to keep me safe for I wasn't yet strong enough.

I turned to thank her but she was already walking away. I started to climb away, but gunfire erupted behind me. She was crouched, holding her stomach, while a man I thought I had seen numerous times in the church emptied clip after clip of a machine gun in to her. She tackled him and began to punch him until he went still. Looking up at me, she said, "This is our enemy, he will be back. They could be anywhere." With no more words, she left and so did I.

I have tried to find her again. I've slowly grown stronger but I know I'm not strong enough yet. I returned to the sewers and followed the same twists and turns and found myself against a wall. I hope that that's a good sign.

I found this journal in my coat today and it's imprinted with wings on the front and a note telling me to record everything. So this is the start of it, for whoever reads this, learn from this and whatever else may eventually fill these pages.

[Matthias Blackroot (DELETED 3999)]

16/4/2012

It seems the Lord is smiling on my approach to the assignment given us by Ezequiel. Ripper has proven to be potentially quite helpful in discovering more about the source of the problems in the city. Most interesting though, is the name he most recently suggested.

Enver Marshall II.

A name and a face I only loosely recognized once he was identified as the proprietor of the local movie theater, one of the few pleasures I have always allowed myself, so I knew of the man while not knowing him directly. More importantly though, he was a man I saw pick someone off the street and feast on their blood.

While this development is unexpected, I feel that it proves the favor that God has for my desire to find common ground with these men and women and work towards a solution that will not require an eternal damnation for them all. For now, Enver's identity will be mine alone. I shall take measure of him and, hopefully, I shall find an ally.