Hunters Hunted

On Flaming Wings
"Terror and Darkness"

Radio and the internet…. powered by the gods?

Lara was the goddess of communication, also called the Babbler until her tongue was cut out by Jupiter.  It didn't work.  Instead, this act gave us the Etruscan goddess Mania, and the Lares.

The Lares lost their tongues and were said to cast their voices in the wind, and were responsible for keeping secrets.  Venerated as protection gods for the home, there were at least a couple of statues in every Etruscan home.

At least one of these statues would hold a tray that would contain offerings or gifts.

Is it a tulpa?
(It's never a tulpa...)

A tulpa becomes the doom of its host, not necessarily even to kill them—just to see them suffer and absorb it. People fear the end of the world universally.

The Maelstrom is buzzing: the next prediction is a massive earthquake on the west coast; and Demons can't cash in on the dead.

"Oh, honey, they're here!"
Thoth and Friends

Image result for thoth

Blip on the Radar

The next weird thing is in another state, in another city, and it's time to drive.

No one has seen or heard from anyone in weeks, and the coterie has to find their way to the next New Mexico.  Driving across the mountain is out of the question in the present climate, but it will take days to drive straight through the Redwood Forest and down through San Francisco.

Problematic werewolf.  Problematic children.  Mages.  Vampires….

….sure, this will go great.

It will still take two days to get to the other end of the radio.


Radio Silence

Strange radio transmissions appear and disappear, and have since the 1950's, since radio became widely and publicly available.  Now hunters are dying, and these radio waves seem to be the reason. 

In the wilds of Oregon, a coterie has arrived to an off-the-grid ghost town where a retired hunter is spending his last days in fear, communicating with his old team by ham radio, until one by one they begin to fall off the air.

The chilling realization is that the radio frequencies of the hunters have been taken over by a voice in the darkness, that each of them heard before… but can't quite place.




The coterie were sitting around the fire in Michigan City, trying to find a next step.  They had uncovered the origin of the strange demonic happenings there.  It wasn't the thing they had been tracking for a year—just a necromancer using people to get what he wanted, and it wasn't even interesting… just a skirt chasing creep.

In the end, the mages that arrived seemingly chasing the same creep made an offer.  They were connected.  They had guns.  They had a seeming knowledge of the party already, but they agreed this wasn't the time to talk it out.

Now, here they were, trying to decide what to do next.

…that's when Denver just sort of… was there.  Sitting around the fire with them as if he had always been there, and who knows for how long?  After a series of "what's and what-the's" everyone eventually calmed down and realized he was really back.

Then it was time to catch up…


Beginnings are just ends with a pen name.
Triste's Log, 10

Jim and I have been talking, and the truth is, Remy's on borrowed time. The truth is though, the more we talk about it, the more likely it is that he'll know. We might have years, or it might be next week, but it's the beginning of the end for him. 

We have a plan to talk to Remy's mom, she can take care of his family so they don't starve. Maybe she can get the them hell out of Detroit before it goes to hell. It's safer than some friends showing up and trying to convince her that we were close with Rem. We knew him, we know him, but we weren't close. 

Maybe we should be closer. It might help for a little while. We should have a talk with him about the mages. Tell him we plan to use them and find out who got him. He deserves to have justice before the end. 

I would help him, but the likelihood that he has a body is slim to none… which means this is what is. 

We are being watched by other Hunters now, which means our reputation is proceeding us and we need to be more quiet about who and how we work. It's the only way that we will be able to keep this up. My connections are being questioned too, which means I am being watched by more than just hunters.

People keep suggesting that we are running too far too fast… that we need a base camp, and we'd have one but then people would be more likely to find it or trash it. The idea of having a home again though is appealing. Maybe it is just the fact that I'm consistently with people again and feeling… maybe this is pass when more of them succumb. 

I try not to bring it up, but I'm fairly sure Jim sees it when I look at them. We've talked about it, that I know this isn't going to last. I'm going to keep going forever… and he has this stupid romantic notion that he'll just keep coming back and come find me, but I know something he doesn't and that isn't what is going to happen.

Pain is feeling too right? Reminds us we are alive. 

Ghosts of Night and Morning

The girl at the hospital had been beaten down, gone to the hospital to recover, and had been attacked a second time on her way out of the hospital by a man who apparently suffered a heart attack and died.

She was admitted to the hospital with a bruised spleen and multiple deep bruises.

While she was being interviewed by "the Fed," the woman in the next bed suddenly went into cardiac arrest.  She was worked.  She was called.  Everyone left… and then she got up.

The attack was brutal and fast, and amidst fire alarms and a variety of other distractions, Sherry Ives was hurled from a hospital third floor window to the parking lot—but she did not die.  She was safely in the arms of a ghoul.

Van rides are quiet when you have too much to say.

The convention center was bustling.  A fake bom threat.  A vacant building.  Fifteen casualties, some thrown through windows.  More zombies.

On the roof, they finally caught up with the demon possessing a poor, sad little necromancer who managed in his loneliness to conjure something truly dangerous, and the demon exorcised was forced away.

The authorities were none the wiser, and the casualties would be attributed to the same crises already gripping most of the globe.

It's sad that Hunters can abide in daylight what none should see in shadow.


How will he take all of this?

So Remy had a mom, who was apparently a great big southern hoodoo girl.

He also had a wife and child living somewhere near the border of the D.  Go figure.  Since he's accused of running guns and drugs from the Detroit Arsenal and evidence lockers at City, they're going to have a hard way to go, but the coterie is trying to remember their fleeting humanity.

They're also hiding it from Remy, which is a recipe for disaster.

A wraith can only exist for so long.  It begins to sense that it doesn't belong.  It realizes it's not finding revenge, absolution, justice… or whatever else it needed when it died.  Eventually the clock runs out, and it becomes a whirling dervish of destructive energy, lashing out at whatever it recognizes in the guise of its former life and objective.

All wraiths fall.  It's a race to fulfill their goal, before Oblivion.



Week Off for Good Behavior

The party made their way to Michigan City in search of their old friend Tommy, but their worst fears were realized.  Remy was dead, Elle was dead, and Brutus was on his way from Gladwin, presumably to rebuild the team…

And here was the group of former hunters with a monster of every kind in its coterie.  Almost by the numbers, this looked like a shit idea.



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