Local trouble...

[Nicky]

so you're tech savvy enough to post on a forum for the internet to read about what's going on, but too stupid to work a new burner phone and let me know? thanks a lot, you dumb ape. When I catch up to you, and you know I will, we're going to have a chat about your manners.

[Frost]

OH... hey there kiddo...
um... been a lil distracted as of late. It seems that, well trouble found me once again (you know, because i NEVER go looking for it). I was meaning to call, really... i just... well... forgot.

No need to fill you in, as I'm sure you have read the posts i have put up thus far. But just to be sure... Story in local paper attracted me to a construction site with monsters, something happened, i got hurt... i seemed to have stolen something from an evil spell caster, situation got out of hand... you know, an average weekday.

So, hows Nicky?

[Nicky]

you opened it, didn't you? of course you did. why do I even bother asking? please tell me you cleaned up after yourself, at least. you did, right? because it would be stupid to leave something of yours behind, you know, when you're running from an evil spell caster...

[Eilonwy Solstice]

you opened it, didn't you? of course you did. why do I even bother asking? please tell me you cleaned up after yourself, at least. you did, right? because it would be stupid to leave something of yours behind, you know, when you're running from an evil spell caster...

Yes, Nicky, we’ve been cleaning up as best we can; Frost has been treating me very well, too.

Before I forget my own, welcome too, Nicky. Frost called you the first chance he got.


After I’d cleaned Frost’s wounds, suitably patched him up, and then taken a day to let him heal and rest and me to sleep off the weariness that had been hounding me ever since leaving New York, Frost and I decided to tackle the problem of the box he had found. With his eyes and my abilities, we figured we could solve the dilemma presented by the mysterious object that, to me, exuded a feeling of caution and mistrust as sharp as any foul scent.

We sat at his dining room table, setting the box between us. I took in a row of deep breaths, calming my nerves, preparing myself to use abilities that had been trapped inside me for the better part of a year; shackled and immobilized. Right before I was to Open myself, Frost excused himself from the table, saying he needed to make a call. While it sounded like he remained in the room, I tried to tune out his side of the conversation; it was rude to listen in and I had no desire to guess at details that might have been private, anyway. A blind girl has enough guessing to do in her life, there wasn’t really a point to add more to it.

Instead, my attention turned to the box that still sat before me; I cautiously reached out as I had done countless times before and since; it was tiny, it five inches at its longest, three inches wide and a little less than two inches thick. Smooth metal, it also rattled whenever Frost shook it, though I had never been brave enough to try that.

Finishing his call, Frost swiftly moved into another room once his call was ended; pantry doors collided, followed by the sound of heavy objects being shuffled around. Miniscule clattering caused me to tense, housed with more ominous sounds. There was more shuffling of heavy weight and the pantry doors clapped shut; the solid, rhythmic pounding of steel-rimmed boots announced his return, cemented as the rickety chair accepted his powerful mass with a hearty groan. My intake of breath was lost in the louder report of the consecutive, double crack as he cocked his weapon of choice.

“Ready when you are, ma’am—uh, Wie.”

His uncompromising declaration brought a much needed smile to my lips; it had taken days for him to accept my desire to drop the appellation “ma’am” entirely. Frost had been raised with a propriety that would have had my Grandmother Farrendine bristle with pride.

Taking my deepest breath yet, I exhaled slowly through my nose, unclasped my hands, and extended them to encompass the small box between my palms. Then I dropped my head, Opened myself, and gently asserted my psyche against the box.

Before I was smitten with a deluge of misery, hatred, and woe.

[Frost]

I'm sorry... I forget sometimes, that a lot has happened... I have been so caught up in the "NOW" that I didn't fill you all in on the rest of the week... I think of it as focus, and dedication to the hunt... others call it obsessive. whatever you call it... it's all part of the job.

Wie had been in a trance... her hands wrapped around the small metal box. her expression declared a strong will and deep focus. Blood began to trickle from her eyes... not aware of what to do (never having been whiteness to this before ) I grabbed a wash cloth and ran it under a warm tap.

I hurried back to the table... and waited... after a moment, she snapped from her trance... blood running down her face, and full of information. It took her a few to regain her composure, and to clean the blood from her face. once she was ready... we both took part in opening the box.

I used a blessed dagger to scrape the wax seal off the box, and placed in front of her. As i opened the clasp... a slight pop of energy flashed through the room, making the hair on my arms (and all over) stand on end. Opening the lid, i could smell something sweet, that I couldn't identify.

The box was lined with a lightly colored cloth embroidered with strange symbols. Inside was a ring, and a bundle of objects wrapped in hand woven linen, and lightly tied. After we unwrapped the bundle, and saw its contents... I KNEW WHAT THIS WAS! I don't wish to explain why... or how I know, let's just say... its ancient history. it's a hexbox or cursebox.

And once Wie told me of the visions she had... I KNEW I was in trouble...

[Eilonwy Solstice]

The images gush into my mind with a hose’s intensity; this hose feels attached to a septic tank. The first images I see are of a man stuck in middle age. His garb is a disheveled dress suit that had once been nice . . . but now no longer fits, hanging on a frame that had once been stout. The suit, like him, is wrinkled, and his tie undone. It’s as if he no longer cares about his appearance; eating, personal hygiene, or anything for that matter. He sits in what might be an office. He continually wipes gray, thin hair from his eyes, cries while he looks at a picture frame. I try to shift my angle to few the picture that apparently upsets him so, but the hopelessness he feels chains me as surely as it compels him to his next actions. He sits back in his chair, places a gun under his chin and . . . .

For my own sake, I’m glad the vision ended there.

The second vision is more of an impression. It tells me the box’s last owner is selfish, spiteful, and alive. The box, my senses tell me, is used as a magical focus and is meant to protect the items within from being located through mystical means.

It was a dark impression, but a reprieve for the squalid mess of decay that passed as a third.

A frantic, thin man mutters hateful things and places objects I can’t see into the box I dimly recall is between my hands. He is quite scruffy, his features blurred but his intent as clear as anything . . . to harm an old friend.

The fourth and final vision, when seen consecutively with the others, concerned us most.

The second man I’d seen curses and continues his search in a new landscape; a dark tunnel spaced disproportionate with slimy brick and a river of water between. Suddenly, he stops his search, tilts his head, and looks down into the mucky water at his feet. He bends over, picks up a spent shotgun shell . . . and snaps his gaze in a direction, I am certain, leads to Frost.

With the intent to murder in his pale, watery eyes.

I woke and inhaled, seizing a lungful of air, gasping it inside, and privately wondered if I’d held my breath the entire time. And whether the danger I felt was intensified because of the visions’ implications or a sincere warning of approaching peril at getting involved.

[Frost]

As soon as Wie informed me of what she saw. I started packing our gear and getting the bike prepped to leave. It took some arranging, but I managed to fit everything into my hard-bags and the Large alice-pack I have strapped to the rear of the bike. She and I had some business to tend to.

I called around, and as luck would have it... I found a dirty cop that had connections to the Bail office. He gave me the address to Fowlers last known residence, a place still locked up and empty even after nearly 4 years. The cop wasn't cheap, but the intel was solid. Wie and I knew we had to move fast, this could be our only hope of getting any real information on fowler.

I ditched my old burner phone, and picked up a new one... can't afford a paper trail or any numbers for someone to track. I stopped off at small shop called "Best Way Pawn and gun", sources say I can get specialized rounds here... and they were right.

Mini shells for my 12 gauge, Frangible rounds for my .500 S&W, bonded core hollow-points for the .454 Cassul... it's like gun bunny heaven. Also... silver, iron and salt rounds (sold as gag ammo, yeah my entire a## it is). and oddly, the guy behind the counter just smiled and said... "good hunting pal" I love this place.

So, after loading up on some good old fashioned BANG, I rolled into an alley, where I topped all my party favors with ammo. Magic, curses, enchants, scrolls and voodoo... I say let him try and cast a spell or hex when his mouth is filled with my Mossberg's barrel. I was as ready as I could ever be. So, Wie and I headed to the address... headed to the unknown.

[Nicky]

You forgot a shell? Isn't that one of the first things you taught ME? Keep your sh*t together so the monsters don't eat you? Christ, you're getting old. Ok, so I hit town about 30min ago, you talking about Walker's cabin? Haven't been to the this area in a while, but I remember the place.

By the way, you're not a subtle man, so I'm sure I'll see you in just a bit. Follow the carnage.

[Frost]

Sorry kiddo, but, I am getting old... And I left more then "a" shell, I left several shells, Blood, part of a leg, chunks of clothes and a little pride. I was near blind, gushing blood and packing a stolen mystical box... Last thing I worried about was grabbing my spent shells.

And, DAMN its good to hear from you kid. Glad to know my old tricks stuck with you. So, Wie is at walkers old cabin, I think she's safe for now... That place is a mini fortress. That and she has my lucky mossberg keeping her company.

I'm on the reservation now, waiting to meet "chief billy". If all goes well ill have 2 mojo bags and maybe some medicine pouches by nights end. Hope to see you in the flesh soon little one, but if not... Be safe, and keep an eye on Wie if something happens to me.

[Frost]

This weekend was very unusual to say the least. I'll fill you all in on the details later, but for now... I wanted to inform you of a few things. 1) I don't believe Fowler is working alone, or he is far more powerful than I had originally thought. 2) the shaman (Chief Billy) was actually extremely helpful, I got the mojo bags done as well as 2 medicine pouches. 3) this has taken FAR too long, and I haven't been able to get a hold of Wie out at the cabin.

I had to travel a tad farther than I had thought to get to where Billy was on the reservation, and even further still once he and his nephew took me to the sacred grounds for cleansing. between the travel, and the rituals Billy insisted on doing, I have been gone an uncomfortably long time. My CB is fully charged now, and I'm well within range, but I haven't received a word from Wie all weekend. Im getting concerned.

I'm heading out now, if I blow the speed limit and take the most direct route, I should be to the cabin in under 2 hours (give or take). I'll keep you all in the loop, once I find out what's going on.