The chain of the Small

[Elijah Sight]

As I explained in my post on the Roll-Call thread, I am not the heroic type. I prefer to mastermind the operation, to provide information, and to hire help when needed. My good friend and colleague Dr. Alastor Purple generally handles the daring-do portion of supernatural regulation.

That said, I have found it occasionally necessary to engage phenomena myself. While I prefer the role of planner, schemer, and mastermind, I am by no means a weakling or coward. I can and will dispatch any threat requiring my attention.

This is the story of one of the rare times when I have found it necessary to assemble a coalition, myself included, to eliminate one of the most vile phenomena I have ever encountered.

August the First, 1993. I had learned of a certain house in West Cornwall, where several children and small animals had vanished. There was little doubt in my mind as to the cause. My dear friend Dr. Purple had sensed something which he described as "A taste like bitter ashes" around the place. Dr. Purple is highly synaesthetic. My research indicated a humanoid creature, commonly referred to as a Boogieman. I dispatched a team consisting of two Heavy Weaponry experts, suitably armed, four local hunters, who had had some experience with back-country monsters, a psychic by the name of Willhein Greene, who had the singular ability to predict the future, two hours in advance, and my colleague Dr. Purple himself.

Only Dr. Purple returned alive.

According to Alastor, "We entered the house near midnight. Immediately, Willhein began to sense something. He began to scream. His eyes began to bleed, and he collapsed on the floor. Within five minutes, he was dead. We were petrified with fear. Willhein was a powerful and experienced psychic, and he had been destroyed instantly. We scanned the entry hall nervously… but to no avail. Whatever killed Willhein was nowhere to be found. We turned to leave, but it seemed that the door had vanished! Behind us was nothing but a blank wall! A hideous screaming began to fill the air. Out of the ceiling, grotesque faces began to appear, stretching toward us on elongated necks. A groaning began to accompany the screaming. There was a blur of motion, and our two weapons experts were lying dead on the floor, in pools of blood. In another minute, the four local hunters were disemboweled, dismembered, and crushed under some hideous, invisible weight. I drew my magnum, and began to fire wildly. The gun was jerked from my hands. I tasted a smell like blood red roses in the air, filled with a rotting, disembodied smell. (Here I interrupt my dear friend’s account, for I fear some explanation is necessary. Dr. Purple is synaesthetic, which means that he blurs the senses, while experiencing them in a heightened aura. Simply put, he can describe what he sees in terms of smell, taste, and sound, and vice versa. He will look at an apparition and smell blood, or ashes. He will hear a voice, and see the color of the person’s aura. It is as much of a hindrance as it is a tool.) I began to beat upon the wall with my bare hands, until, quite by chance, I struck a small nail. I cut my hand, and as my blood touched the wall… I found myself sitting on the grass outside the house. I regained what little composure I could muster, and made haste to contact Lord Elijah Sight.”

I will soon be posting the second half of this remarkable saga.

[Elijah Sight]

Upon learning of Alastor’s encounter, and the loss of Willhein Greene, I decided to take matters into my own hands. Dr. Purple and myself would return to the house, and dispatch the threat. Dr. Purple carried his customary magnums, while I relied upon more… subtle methods.

We approached the house on August the Third. Alastor began his usual round of invocations, while I slipped around to the rear of the house. I began to scale the drainpipes along the rear wall. At the third floor, I passed a window, and peered in.

I very nearly fell from the wall as I witnessed the horrors inside. A tall man with a whip was standing in the center of the room, screaming something I couldn’t make out. In the far corner, cowering from the man, was a hideous thing. It was vaguely humanoid, slimy, green. It was covered in moss. It was covered in tumors and growths, an unclean, pestilential, vile creature. It was crying.

I took a chance and pressed my ear to the window. It seemed that the tall man was berating the thing in the corner. It was blubbering apologies. The man said that it was the creature’s fault that all the friends it brought went away. That it would have to do much better in the future if it wanted to ever have a friend again. It was then that I glanced to the floor of the room. Scattered about were the corpses of small children and animals. All bore a red burn on their necks… as if chocked with a cord… or a whip…

I was filled with revulsion. I continued my climb, until I reached the roof. Looking down, I signaled Alastor to enter. He did so, as I scrambled down into the house by means of a broken skylight. I found myself in the attics. I slowly moved down flights of stairs, until I reached a small trapdoor set into a hallway. Opening it, I saw that I was looking down on the tall man and the creature. As I quietly watched, the door of the room swung open, and Alastor stepped in. the Man didn’t notice. I quietly dropped to the floor, and we crept up behind the man with the whip. As I prepared to leap upon the man, the creature let out a squeal. The word was barely comprehensible. That word was Daddy. It knocked me to the floor, as Alastor began to pump rounds into it. I managed to choke out, “Alastor! The whip!”

The chain of the Small-Part 2

Alastor leapt upon the man, and wrested the whip from his grasp. He punched the man in the throat, he fell to the ground gasping. Dr. Purple then began to snap the whip menacingly at the monstrosity. It leapt off me, and cowered in a corner. Alastor kept it subdued with the whip, and the man under gunpoint, while I proceeded with a thorough search of the house. What I found will haunt me forever. A chamber of Jade, stained with the blood of innocents. An Alter of Sin. Magical tomes, of the darkest forms of Necromancy. The man had summoned forth a succubus to share his bed. That vile, shuddering monster… was his son.

Alastor took the poor creature, and I arranged for him to be taken care of. An innocent, no matter how monstrous, is sacred. The tall man with the whip had violated that sanctity… all those children… I nearly wept. I entered the trapdoor room, where the man lay, still gasping.

I will not relate what action I took. Let it simply be said that the innocents who lay dead around us did not go un-avenged.

[Elijah Sight]

UPDATE:
I Urgently require Society aid. Am pinned down in same house mentioned, 8646 West Winsdor Avenue, West Cornwall, England. Internet connection is sporadic at best. Require immediate backup. Any available agents, please respond ASAP. AM posting alternate thread in Classifieds. Any available agents, please respond. Arm copiously. Expect High Necromancer or similar. Foe is using previous souls of scrificed children to create army of half-souled creatures. I was trapped while preforming follow-up investigation of site.

Urgent aid required!