The Black Bayou Chapters 3 & 4

Chapter 3: Colonial Discharge

It was quiet in the boarding house where Tilly lived, but that's how she wanted it. After all, she had a ritual to perform. With a stick of chalk, she drew a circle of brute arcane force that would beckon a creature of otherworldly origin into her being. She would hallucinate much like her tribal ancestors did when they needed guidance. But her ways, in these modern times, were very different. Shamans/Mambos were incredibly common in New Orleans, why you could almost trip over one in any direction on your way to a coffee shop. Still and calm, she mouthed a chant repeatedly, thinking of wild horses roaming the untamed plains of the old west and a torrent of ocean waves crashing over her like the flood that changed them all.

She opened her eyes and she was in a void of black light falling helplessly down a shaft of intense air. She saw images of her people slaughtered, indoctrinating the children into their ways so that they could become who they were meant to, their wild cries as people proud and free, unaware of their bleak future. The future was not kind of the chosen people of the earth.

Faster and faster downwards she fell, still propelled by that same intense force of air until she landed at the bottom, in some sort of bog rife with creatures both old and strange to propagate it. She had come, willingly or otherwise, to the fabric of reality that permeates the brainspace with wondrous and beautiful thoughts (and sometimes the inverse) called The Dream Web.

Where it came from no one was certain, but it was surmised that it had always been there driving people in the subtlest of ways towards their dreams, their innermost passions. In the bog, amongst the trees and ruins of palaces and ships, she saw her lover. She ran to him and embraced him, covering herself in his muck of algae and roots. His being poured into hers.

In another life, his name was Clive Manis, a popular writer of horror. One day, in the dead of night, while penning another terrifying piece of poignant prose, his inner demons (not just the ones on the page) took hold of him and turned him into one of them. His body died, but his soul and mind were transported to the Dream Web and woven anew by the mysterious Cult of the Shroud who worshiped dreams and forged new ones daily. "It as good as always to see you Summer's Willow," spake one of the cult. He lifted his hood and showed an aged Roman face that seemed to be chiseled out of marble," I see that you have already said your 'hellos' to Mr. Manis or what remains of him." Tilly squeezed Clive's muck infested fingers a little tighter, "It's good to see you too Apollo." "What brings you before us this eve?"

Tilly described her vision to Apollo that she had had a few nights ago that had haunted her sleepless nights and waking hours. It was of her, James, and Harris helplessly watching a gigantic and sinister creature wreck havoc on the Bayou and cause another flood.

Apollo pondered the dream, his feet damp from the bog water, "This creature, does it have a name?" Tilly nodded and mouthed the words,"Boaz Of Nautilus". Apollo's normally still face was suddenly awash with a fervent fear. With a loud stomp of his staff into the swamp, Apollo created a portal to the true domain of the Shroud where the Dream Web lay in earnest, a paradise not unlike that of heaven itself. Clive and Tilly followed closely behind, still hand in hand, Clive's thoughts seeping into her own as he could no longer speak since his rebirth.

Moving through the lush grass, Apollo sat down on a large rock and beckoned the two to join him. "There are tales of a special blade that was sunk into the earth's crust after a great and terrible war among the stars. Where it is, no one knows and lesser men have sacrificed their lives in vain in order to find it. It is called the Hellsbane. It is a dangerous weapon, and will render it's owner's very soul unto the blackest pits of the netherworld. If your dream is true as you say Summer's Willow, then we are in mortal peril. For that means that it's true suitor had finally rejoined the living. You worry for another flood? Think of it three or even four times over. Absolute chaos not seen since the days of Pompeii, I know, I was there..."

"Is there anything we can do to stop it Apollo?" Apollo nodded, clutching his staff," Yes, our savior comes not from the northern star, but will have a branding of the cosmos on his or her wrist. He or she has the power to wield the Stargale, a powerful blade of absolute purity and light. Find them and your world may yet be saved Summer's Willow. I must go now, to tend to my flock of would be dreamers. But I leave you knowing that you have great potential to nurture this planet and save us."

"Then we need to find them. Shouldn't be that hard to do right? Tune into some great shifting of the cosmos or something?" Tilly said, Clive's thoughts pouring into her mind like a cold pitcher of water. "I think I can try if you want,"Clive said,"somebody that pure should be easy to track, I wouldn't be surprised if our enemies were doing that already." Tilly, tired from worry, laid her head on Clive's soggy shoulder, and closed her eyes. Slowly, she felt herself being pulled back into our reality but with Clive joining her. With a loud gasp, she was back but she felt different. With every breath she took, a large stream of gas emerged. Was she full of dreams or was she chaos incarnate?

She looked down and saw that most of her body had been wrapped in some sort of moss, alluding to the fact that Clive was a part of her as a Loa, a shadow spirit. Her first job was to create some kind of tuning fork that would be able to track and find this supposed chosen one. She thought about making one for the wielder of the Hellsbane too, so that she could end their life as quickly as it started. But then she thought, that wouldn't solve anything and they would just reincarnate yet again, maybe 10 or 20 years down the road and the whole mess would just reiterate upon itself.

She took a mound of clay and shaped it into a ball, chiseled some glyphs into it and then she let it harden in the oven. After it baked, it lacked any significant kind of potency, so she breathed the strange gas that lurked inside her onto it. It turned a soft white color and started to glow. She got dressed proper and left the boarding house. It was now night time, approximately 9:30 to be exact. Since letting Clive inside her, Tilly had become drastically more aware of, well, everything. It was strange but also incredibly elating. She could feel the air swirling around her, her body acting as kind of a nexus point for the elements. She felt like they were guiding her, protecting her. Not that she already didn't feel safe enough with Clive as her Loa. She took the clay orb out of her jacket pocket, which still felt warm, and let it guide her.

She walked through the calm streets with light traffic and few passersby. Most of them were headed down town to frolic in the clubs and curio shops, so Tilly wasn't worried so much about her aura. She traveled further down towards the pier and it was pointing in the direction James' houseboat,"Great," Tilly muttered," as if he needed more of an ego boost." She trudged down the dock and boarded, lightly tapping on the door. "It's open," James called out and he was very much surprised to see Tilly, "Well hi lady, what do I owe the pleasure." "You got time for a long ass story?" She replied, James nodded. She then proceeded to relay the events of the previous few hours. James never questioned, just listened. "What, so you think I'm the wielder of this cosmic sword that'll vanquish evil?" "More or less, Apollo told me that the wielder should have the branding of the cosmos or so approximation there of on their wrist." James shook his head, "it ain't me Tilly." "Well the orb I forged pointed here, so it has to be you. Didn't you say that you had a weird rash on your hand as a kid?" "Well," he coughed,"I'm not the only one in here.." "Who else is...?" Before she could finish her sentence, Johnny Wuu emerged from the toilet,"Damn James, you got any air freshener? Really blew up your toilet man, sorry," Johnny noticed Tilly,"Oh, hello. James, who's the skirt?" James facepalmed, "Tilly St. Claire meet Johnny Wuu, henceforth destroyer of toilets and savior of the universe..."

Chapter 4: Afterhours

"Alright Mr. Tyler, turn your head and cough for me...," Mr. Tyler complied, "Alright good. Aside from a faint heart murmur, you seem in reasonably good health. Have a nice evening." "Thank you Harris," Mr. Tyler said, grabbing his hat from the rack," you're a good man for doing this for our community." Harris laughed and shrugged,"I do what I can. Tell Mr. Tyler that her pie was delicious." Mr Tyler nodded and left through one of the many doors that lay in the mysterious and beautiful House Of Usher.

It was a piece of property that, much like the Dream Web, had existed since time and memoriam. But it had always served a good purpose and was mainly home to a well to do family in the Black Bayou community, Valquish and Mortiem. Dr. Johnathan Herbert Valquish was an aspiring detective and philanthropist of great repute born in the late 19th century. One day, while experimenting with a piece of brimstone, his body became awash in primordial flame. Through trial and error, he eventually forged a suit that would allow him to not cause everything around him to burst into raw, unending fire. His bride, Patricia Mortiem, was just as much as curiosity as he was. She was a Scottish druid, worshiped at Stonehenge, and was continually pursued by those that did not understand her pagan ways (nor did they wish to). She eventually found a lover who shared her unique perspectives and they went on many walks and sleepless nights in the field. Her lover, a woman, would fight for a cause that she cared for passionately and would be heralded as a saint by her people. Only to be burned at the stake as a blasphemer. Her name, unsurprisingly, was Joan D'Arc.

Needless to say, Patricia was a wreck and after Joan's death, she committed her body to Gaia and became one with the Earth. Only to be resurrected centuries later by a group of younger people who saw her also as a saint.

Currently Valquish was engaged in a bit of swordplay with his eldest son Killian as the others watched. This menagerie of bodies included their children too numerous to count (reincarnated demons all, which were huddled around their mother Patricia), Morgan Chadwick Kilroy (a weapons expert, very close friend of the family, and monster hunter extraordinaire), and Kilroy's seven foot tall squire Hutch.

Harris, who was done for the day, watched from the rafters. Their pacing, fingers tightly wrapped around the hilts, was studious and thoughtful, almost like a game of chess. Valquish, being over two hundred years old, obviously had more experience, but Killian was no slouch either. He had studied with Kilroy every summer practically since he could walk. He was not Valquish's equal, but a few more summers practice, and who knows? He might even surpass him.

After twenty minutes, it was an obvious stalemate and the swords were put back on the weapons rack. Harris loudly applauded and the two men took a bow. Valquish, his metal chassis clanging gently, took his seat in his large, black leather armchair and Killian sat beside him on a blue stool. "Harris, please," Patricia called as he descended down the winding stairs, "won't you join us?" Harris gladly took a seat beside the band of jovial misfits. Valquish tended to the fire that smoldered in the corner, picking at the ashen piles of wood, "So, Harris, how goes the occupation of clan physician?" Harris shrugged," Alright I suppose Doctor Valquish, the pay is, well, it is what it is. But I'm not in it for the money."

"A man after my own heart! I always felt like the raw thrill of a physician's work was enough. But then again, I'm a man which age and years are an illusion and I have amassed enough wealth to support my interests in anything I desire for as long as I care to go on." Valquish paused and took out a cuban cigar from a small wooden box, lifting his visor, he tossed it inside his primordial flame, "But confidentially Harris, if you are interested in making a bit of extra 'scratch' as it were, perhaps you'd be interested in going on a small expedition with us this evening." "Sure doc, where to?" "Why the seedy streets of N'Orleans itself my dear boy. Unfortunately, I cannot join you this evening, as I am obligated by vow of marriage to tend to my children. But dear Patricia, Morgan, Hutch, and Killian will be going with you as guides." Harris agreed and he five of them said their respective goodbyes to the children and Valquish, took what they needed, and left. Now, left alone, the little scamps ran to their father and began using him as a makeshift jungle gym. "Alright you little rascals," Valquish playfully growled, "who's ready for a couple of rounds of Mancala?"

In the light of the setting sun, cicadas howling in the distance, Particia, Morgan, Hutch, Killian, and Harris exited the House Of Usher and made their way down the street; loud thumping techno blaring from passing cars as they walked further and further inwards into the very heart of the city. For some, it was a descent into madness itself with debauchery around every corner, but those who lived and had been there, there was nothing else quite like it. Harris' dreams, the ones he did have anyway, were of the neon lights that adorned the city so well and towering buildings filled with jazz solos.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, what exactly are we doing here?" "We're hunting game lad," Kilroy said, loading his rifle,"the worst kind imaginable." "They're these big furry black things," Killian spoke up," huge ones with fangs and glowing red eyes." "They've been appearing all over town," Patricia muttered, playing with balls of flame that were appearing out of her slender porcelain fingers,"but here in the heart of the city, they're the most common. Killian, sweetheart, you know what to do." Killian nodded and began violently sniffing the air around them, the feral werewolf blood inside him coming out to play. He began walking slowly, the others following closely behind. Eventually Killian's keen instincts led them to an old ice house deep in the French Quarter, "Somehow," Killian panted, "I don't think Dr. Morgus is up there." Kilroy patted him on the shoulder, "Good work lad, now let's feast on the bounty." Kilroy nodded at Hutch and the slender, yet frighteningly tall pale man crept forwards and about damn near tore the doors clean off.

The whole ice house was covered in man sized spider webs with some torn cocoons present that were of equal height. At some point, somebody noticed the floor was covered in some sort of arcane glyphs, but were they to summon the creatures or repel them? None could be sure. "Well, looks like a bust." Harris said, looking the webs and cocoons for the seventh or eighth time. "Don't be so sure Harris," Patricia chimed in, taking hunks of the cocoons and webbing,"I'll take these back for study. The glyphs seem to be old, older than these creatures could be. I think it might have been a short hand incantation to keep the ice house cold in the summer or some such thing." But then, out of the corner of his eye, Harris saw it. One of the creatures, but where did it come from? It was born of the shadows and ran off. The others tried to chase after it, but it had the speed of a wild animal. It did leave behind something of interest, a bundle of fresh plumage. It felt utterly strange to the touch. Patricia took it and put it in a mason jar. They then heard a scream off in the distance and ran towards it as fast as they could. It was Mr. Tyler and he was not looking well. "Harris," Mr. Tyler askes as Harris propped him up," is that you?" "Yes, Mr. Tyler it is. Can you tell me what happened?" "Well, after I left you, I came home, ate dinner with Martha, and then went on a quick walk like I usually do. Then, out of no where, this big black furry thing crept up and bit me." "Mr. Tyler," Patricia asked,"where's Martha right now?" "Why, back in the house." Mr. Tyler pointed to a picturesque townhouse that didn't look particularly out of the ordinary except that the windows were shattered, the lights were flickering, and the door was wide open. Nope, nothing suspicious about that at all.

"Patricia, see if you can take care of Mr. Tyler's injuries," Harris said, cracking his knuckles and neck,"if you don't mind, me and the boys are going to check out the house." Patricia merely grinned sadistically, "Try not to have too much fun without me." The group made their way inside the house and something immediately felt off, just the aura of the place alone made Harris' hair stand on end. From what little of the flickering light could illuminate, Harris and the others saw splatters of blood and yet even more glyphs. Even more odd, the house seemed to be undulating, almost as if it was alive. He could also hear faint whispers chanting something. In the kitchen, he could see those same red eyes, same as the monsters, peering into his soul. Not to mention that it had tendrils that seemed to descend from every crevice of the house. It snarled and showed enough teeth to make a shark look like an innocent plaything. "Who dares enter the domain of Kazhar Thumak, ruler of men? More tasty morsels to satiate my appetite?" With a crack, sinister tendrils appeared and wrapped itself around Harris and the others. It held Harris aloft upside down. Kazhar gazed upon him with his many eyes and cautiously sniffed him. "An exquisite bouquet of the

modern era," he snarled deeply, "I will peel the flesh from your bones and eat out your heart mortal while your compatriots watch helplessly." A nauseated Harris tapped into whatever strength he had and punched Kazhar right in the eye. Kazhar screamed and let him loose. On the floor, Harris found a knife and he plunged it deep into the heart (if he had one) of Kazhar Thumak. It was stuck in hide, which was as strong and as tough as any turtle or dragon's. Kazhar laughed deeply, "Nothing can save you mortal, why you attempted something so foolish is beyond me. But I do ever so enjoy playing with my food. It helps with the digestion." With another thrusting tentacle, he grabbed Harris by the ankle and dangled him above his gapping maw.

An onslaught of fireballs flung themselves from the distance and pelted Kazhar Thumak to the point where his grip was unintentionally loosened, it was Patricia. "You picked a hell of a time to make an appearance love," Kilroy panted. "And what were you doing?," she scowled,"a bunch of blithering idiots, the lot of you." "To be fair madam," Hutch replied,"the beast's tentacles did have some sort of debilitating effect on all of us, save for young master Morris." "Oh, all right, fair enough," Patricia mumbled, "let's finish off this oaf once and for all." The first order of business was taking care of Kazar Thumak's attachment to the house. Luckily inside Hutch's coat, which was something akin to a dimensional cupboard, there was quite a bit of mutions. Kilroy, Killian, and Harris took as much plastic explosive as they could and placed it around the house. "Won't Mr. Tyler be kind of upset that we blew up his house?" Killian asked "Aye lad, that thought did cross my mind, but yer old man has enough money tucked away to build a new football stadium."

Hutch hit the switch and the house exploded with enough force to level several acres. But Kazar Thumak's body absorbed most of it. Back inside, the place was a mess of organs, tissue, and blood. Kazar Thumak was still alive but not entirely. Much like a tree, Kazar was rooted to the house and his lifelines had been properly severed, leaving him incredibly vulnerable. Patricia was chanting and weaving pagan magic older than time itself with her hands. She watched as what was left of Kazar Thumak shrank and collected him in yet another mason jar for study.

"How's Mr. Tyler?" Harris asked. "Oh! To be honest, I almost forgot about him. He seemed fine, though his bruises were pretty bad. I propped him up on a bench. I think we should take him home with us, it's the least we can do after bombing his house." And they did just that. By the time they got back it was extremely late, the children were all asleep and Valquish was waiting for them, engrossed in a Clive Manis novel. "Well," he asked, putting the book aside,"how did it go?" Patricia said nothing and gave him a kiss, hot steam pouring from his chassis, and the mason jars. "You fools," Kazar Thumak screamed,"once I escape from here, you shall all meet your doom!"

"Friendly little fella isn't he?" Valquish said, marveling at the eldritch critter,"so we have webbing, cocoons, furry bits from the monsters and this charming fellow. What do you make of it Harris?" "Honestly not too terribly sure doctor. Maybe the beasts were eating them or saving them for later?" "A possibility to be sure, but if you'll glance at Mr. Tyler, I'm afraid you'll come to a much graver conclusion." Harris looked at Mr. Tyler, resting on the large black leather sofa, he looked as though he was in great pain. "Hypothesis: The beasts are something akin to werewolves that are slowly turning our own kind into feral monsters. I shudder to think what would happen to humans if they should also encounter them." "But how did it start doctor and how can we stop them?"

"Aye lad," Kilroy muttered, taking a long sip from his flask,"that's the million dollar question right there." "Harris,” Vanquish pondered,” let me tell you a story. A story about the stars themselves and a great war that happened eons ago before the big bang, a story of a peculiar fellow by the name of Boaz of Nautilus..."