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"The Final Tournament of Wu Lung"

9/1987

I.

On a windy hill overlooking Kowloon, two rival schools sat facing each other across a fifty-foot-wide flat area covered with hard mats. Two dozen students of Winter Snow in their white canvas gis knelt in a row along one side, glaring murderously at their enemies. Sitting crosslegged across from them were an equal number of Black Mantis students in their loose black silk uniforms. None had moved in the slightest since taking their places. These schools had hated their rivals for generations. This was a bitter feud where grandsons of original students now hated grandsons of the other school's founding students.

Seated side by side in matching gilt chairs were the elderly masters of their schools, Sifu and Sensei, both attentive as they watched their best fighters step onto the mats. On poles behind the teachers, their respective white and black pennants snapped in the breeze. It was cool, almost chilly this high above the water.

Both fighters were young Asian men in their twenties, both fit and hard-muscled, wearing the uniforms of their schools. In the white gi of Winter Snow, Shimura Ikio stood only an inch over six feet in height, with thick brawny arms and heavily callused hands. His hair was cropped so short it might as well have been shaved. The broad face was kept deadpan, nearly without expression.

Facing him was Chen Wong-Lai. Son of the Dragon of Midnight, Chen had removed his shirt and wore only the loose baggy trousers and slippers. A few inches shorter than his opponent, ten pounds lighter, Chen's torso showed wiry sleek muscles with sharp definition. He seemed to have zero body fat. His coarse black hair was shaggy, even untidy, over a narrow face that was set in stern resolute lines.

Meeting in the center of the mats, the fighters turned and bowed, not to their own schools but to their opponents. Then they stood side by side and bowed more deeply to the Sensei and Sifu, who inclined their heads respectfully. Finally, Chen and Shimura moved back and bowed to each other as minimally as possible, then dropped into ready stances.

Winter Snow was a hard style. Shimura came in fast and direct with a front snap kick to the lower stomach but Chen swept it to the inner side with the heel of his palm, swinging Shimura half around. The Winter Snow fighter was now awkardly standing with his right side to his opponent. In the instant before Shimura regained his footing, Chen lunged in quick as any fencer and exploded a short straight jab that caught the Winter Snow fighter directly in the center of the face with a sharp cracking noise. Shimura fell hard onto his back, rolled and hopped back up onto his feet ten feet away.

Too well disciplined to cheer or even show the faintest smile, the Black Mantis warriors could not entirely keep approval from their eyes.

Instead of becoming more cautious, the Winter Snow karateka charged forward more aggressively, turning on his left heel to whip out a high side kick to the chest. He was just outmatched. Moving much quicker and with greater assurance, Chen Wong-Lai swiveled his body like a matador and crashed his elbow deep into Shimura's side just below the armpit level. That blow hurt and disoriented. Shimura's defenses went down completely.

Planting his feet, torquing up power from his hips and core, Chen looped a wide haymaker that connected perfectly to the side of Shimura's jaw with a crunching sound. The Japanese fighter sagged to his knees and then over on to his side. Chen stepped back discreetly.

From his gilt throne, the Sensei clapped his hands sharply and two of the Winter Snow students leaped up to carry Shimura away where a healer waited. The two leaders of the rival shools nodded to each other without discussion, and the Winter Snow master reached over to tug on the cord which lowered his white and red pennant to half mast. Remaining atop in triumph, the sinister flag of the Black Mantis snapped and unfurled in the wind.

The students of the two schools remained silent as they walked off in different slopes down the hill. The winter Snow fighters made their way down the winding tree-lined path to the road where their chartered bus awaited them. The battered Shimura was walking with some assistance, indicating some hope he would be okay.

In contrast, once the Black Mantis students were out of sight from the arena, they began to buzz with low enthusiastic discussion. Cantonese was officially the language used in their school but there were still many comments in English and Mandarin. They vanished with triumph into the dorm building.

Chen Wong-Lai remained behind, quietly picking up his black tunic and tugging it on as his Sifu watched. The stocky old man with a wispy white beard and sideburns rose and came over to watch him thoughtfully.

"The Winter Snow will not be eager to challenge our House again soon," said the old man.

"I am honored to represent Black Mantis," Chen answered with a proper bow.

"Your skills are all that can be asked, young Chen. And yet, in today's fight as several other times recently, I saw you draw on other resources beside what Black Mantis provides. We do not throw wild roundhouse punches like John Wayne, nor do we use the footwork of a fencer wielding an epee. I have hinted before that this mimgling is not your best interests."

"Your words are true, esteemed one," Chen replied with as much meekness as he could pretend. "When the opponent provides an opening, my body takes adavantage of it. This is my shortcoming and I do not know how to overcome it."

The Sifu raised a single reproving finger. "Let that pass for the moment. I am informed a visitor has come here to see you."

"I expect no such visitor, Teacher."

"Go to the gazebo at the front gates, young Chen. There you will find a man named Mikage Tatsuo awaiting...the Iron Ronin."

the rest of the story )
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"Stumble Into Darkness"

9/3/2019

I.

Trudging up to the third floor landing with a paper bag of groceries in each hand, Foster Whitcomb felt hot and sweaty and grimy. It was after eleven at night, but the air was still so humid it felt like moving underwater. A cold shower and a glass of white wine might help. Timothy was supposed to call around midnight about coming up from Manhattan the next day, that was all which kept Foster from giving in to a severe grumpy attack.

Here on the top floor of the ancient brick building were two doors marked 3A and 3B. Living in 3A was an elderly woman who as far as he could tell never stepped outside her apartment. Not a day went by without some deliveryman knocking on her door or a home health care nurse stopping in to help out. You couldn't ask for a quieter neighbor and Foster had long ago decided he would run any errand that the old lady asked if she ever stuck her head out the door. He knew he was a friendly-looking big teddy bear of a man and that she would be comfortable talking to him.

Putting down the grocery bags on either side, Foster dug in his jeans pocket for his keys, then hesitated. That was odd. Was the door open just a crack? He knew he had locked it that morning, he was meticulous about details like that. Oh. Tim must have come up from the city early to surprise him. Great, they had been talking about going to see that movie THUNDERSTORM IN YOUR EYES and now they could catch the seven o'clock showing!

"Hey, you!" he called out, stepping into the cool dark apartment and then freezing where he was as if suddenly paralyzed. At his feet, next to an overturned chair, Timothy Limbo was stretched out face up and covered in bright crimson blood. Foster's heart missed a few beats, then he dropped to his knees and touched his partner's face gingerly. "Tim... Tim?"

The familiar dark blue eyes flickered open but seemed out of focus. Foster could see three deep parallel gouges going down the left cheek and that side of the neck was chewed up. Tim's leather motorcycle jacket was open. The plain white T-shirt was in red-soaked tatters.

"Oh God, Oh God," Foster breathed. He dug in his hip pocket for his phone and fumbled it out. "Hang on, bubba, hang on, I'll call 911...!" He tapped in the four-digit security code to unlock his screen.

But, surprisingly, Tim's hand shot up and closed around the phone to stop him. Foster tried to tug it free but couldn't. He had known almost from their first meeting that Timothy Limbo was much stronger than he would seem to be, but this grip was like an iron clamp.

From the swollen lips came a whisper. "Wait. Hold on, Foster..."

"I HAVE to call an ambulance, Tim! Look at you! You look like you were ripped up by a bear."

"Heh. Close enough," Timothy managed, not letting go a bit. "Give me a second. Here. Look at my chest..."

Foster did bend closer. "I can see white, is that a rib?"

In a stronger voice, Tim said, "Watch. Just watch."

After a few seconds, Foster caught his breath. He brought his face down until it was almost touching the raw wounds. "This is crazy. It's impossible."

"The edges are closing up, right?"

"I can SEE it. I can see the wound sealing, and it's sealing faster. Tim, what's going on?"

In a voice that sounded almost normal, Timothy said, "I'm going to be all right. Trust me, Foster. Put away your phone and close the door before anybody sees what a mess I am right now."

Bringing the groceries in and slamming the door shut, Foster dropped down again to his knees. "I never heard of such a thing. Tim, these gouges on your face look much better than they did a few minutes ago."

"Foster, I should have explained a lot of things before. I'm still bleeding? Yeah, I can see it seeping through what's left of my shirt. Listen. I told you I work for the Kenneth Dred Foundation, right? We're a non-profit research organization that investigates the paranormal."

"Yeah, that's how I met you. I came to your group about that ghost girl I was seeing. But, Tim, what's that got to do with anything? Oh, your poor face, did you get clawed by a lion or what?"

Grunting, Timothy Limbo tried to get up on one elbow but sank back down again. "Need a little bit longer. Foster, you've met a few of my teammates. Sable. Josef. Jocelyn. We all have enhanced healing. We never get sick, we can't be poisoned, we can walk naked through a blizzard and be fine. You see for yourself. My injuries are closing up faster than medical science could explain."

"I'm going to get some wet cloths and clean you up." Foster hurried over to the sink in one corner of the three-room apartment, ran some warm water and came back with wet washclothes that he dabbed gently at his partner's face and chest. "This is unbelievable. What causes this healing? How does it work?"

"I can't.. I can't tell you, Foster. It's like classified information. If I could share it with you, believe me I would." Trying again, Timothy propped himself up against the couch behind him. "I just thought of something. Did you see any blood on the stairs outside?"

"What? No. I didn't notice any."

"This is life and death important, go look. If you see any blood at all, you have to scrub it off. Hurry. Please!"

"All right. I don't...." Not finishing the thought, he stepped out of the apartment and started slowly down the stairs. Nothing. On the way back up, two small splotches caught his eye on one step and he rubbed vigorously with the wet dishcloth until they were gone. His mind was racing so much it was hard to concentrate. It reminded him of how he had reacted after being in a car crash as a teen. The same sense of time slowing down, of the scene feeling unreal, of being numb rather than upset. Back in their apartment, he found Timothy had managed to get up on the couch. "I still want to get you to the ER," he said. "You look so much better but come on! What about infection? What about blood loss?"

"We try not to go to regular doctors," Timothy said easily enough, trying to tear the tatters of his shirt off. "They would want to run tests and do experiments and we'd be locked up like white rats."

"'We?' Who do you mean by we?"

Timothy finally got the shreds of blood-soaked white cloth off him and wadded them up. "I knew I would have to tell you sometime. You know about Tel Shai. I've heard you mention it on your podcast. The ancient Order of mystic knowledge that has trained Midnight War heroes for thousands of years."

"That's just a legend!"

"No, Foster. Tel Shai is real. The KDF members are knights of Tel Shai and I'm one of them."

Not knowing how to react to that, Foster finally said, "Tim, your color is so much better. When I saw you on the floor, your face was white."

Getting shakily to his feet, Timothy Limbo dropped back down again. "Ugh. Not yet. I need a little more time to heal. Foster, do me a favor. Get me another shirt and my pair of black jeans, okay?"

"If you insist." Remembering the groceries, he picked up both bags and put them on the counter by the sink. Their apartment didn't have a gas stove or oven, they made do with a microwave, hot plate and an electric rice cooker for the moment. Foster went into their bedroom and came out in a minute with a dark red T-shirt and some jeans.

"Thanks. Ow. Everything hurts." Timothy started changing clothes, checking his leather jacket and finding the blood had only gotten on one cuff. As he scrubbed it off, he said, "I'm going to have to ask you for a big favor."

"Like there is anything I wouldn't do for you."

"You're going to have to drive me to the city. To KDF base in Manhattan. I can't use my motorcycle, I'd be too exposed, so we have to take your car. Okay?"

"Not a problem, buddy. You still haven't told me what attacked you. I'm guessing a black bear, the way you were torn up."

Getting to his feet, seeming steady at last, Timothy Limbo zipped up his jacket half way. "I wish they were only bears."

The )
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"Bloodless Thing of Evil"

10/16-10/17/2011

I.

"Finally, some buildings!" yelled Archie as low structures appeared dimly in the distance. "We've been driving for five hours and seen nothing but flat road ahead and flat dirt on either side."

In the front passenger seat of her cherry red Jeep Cherokee, Megan lifted her mirrored sunglasses. "Yes. The Great Plains are not known as scenic attractions."

"Your gift for understatement still slays me," Archie said. "Honestly, I thought there was some kind of optical illusion where the horizon kept moving away no matter how far I drove. It was getting on my nerves."

Sitting up straighter, Megan Salenger unclipped a rectagular metal device from her belt and examined its screen. The Link was no thicker than three playing cards stacked on each other. The Trom Girl's face, with its pointed nose and thoughtful dark eyes, was normally serious and now she seemed downright somber. "We are approaching the town of Sillsbury. A farming community now in decline, it has one gas station and convenient mart, a combination bar and restaurant, and an outlet store for hardware and tools. The nearest school is fifteen miles further down this road in Linton, which also has a post office."

Behind the wheel, Archie loomed up head and shoulders taller than the petite Megan and was easily a hundred pounds heavier. He was wearing walking boots, jeans and a heavy flannel shirt. Archie looked imposing and even intimidating at first, but the gentle blue eyes gave away his true nature.

"This has been a fun three weeks, honey. A field expedition funded by your KDF, going from a lake monster sighting to a reported Skinwalker infestation to an interview with a retired Alchemist who turned out to be an imposter. Quite an itenerary."

"Archie, do you regret coming with me on this trip?"

Catching the faintest twinge in her voice, the big mechanic reached over and squeezed her hand. "I couldn't ask for better company, honey. We've done some camping under the stars along the way, found a few decent roadside bistros and we've got you listening to new varieties of music."

"I think I appreciate jazz the most," she said. Megan swung her sunglasses up into her tousled black hair to rest atop her head. "There is a mathematical structure under it that appeals to me."

"Those Trom that raised you may have made you into a certified genius in a dozen fields but, man! They never taught you how to live life. No music. No games. No smooching in the moonlight."

Megan leaned over and bumped her shoulder up against him mischievously. "But I met someone who is educating me in all those matters." She could not repress a chuckle. "And more!"

They rolled past the first of several small farmhouses set well back from the highway. This one was fenced in to contain two dozen cows who watched the Jeep go by with an air of boredom. Before they reached the town itself, Megan and Archie slowed to get a good look at a long one-story building with its own gravel parking lot. A neon sign on the roof proclaimed THE HITCHIN' POST and in smaller letters promised GOOD FOOD COLD BEER. Next to the sign was a wooden placard BEAUTIFUL DANCERS THURS FRI SAT. There were no cars in the parking lot, but then it was only four in the afternoon and the place didn't open until six.

"Combination bar and strip club," Archie grumbled, speeding up again. "Wanna bet there's a few fights there late at night?"

Megan turned her head to gaze back at the joint as they sped away. "I still do not fully understand much of Human behavior. Perhaps I never will."

"It's not you, honey. People themselves don't understand why we act the way we do. I don't think we're meant to be figured out."

"There's the gas station," Megan pointed out.

"Not a minute too soon." Archie wheeled into the four pump next to the tiny convenient mart called PIT STOP. "We'd be tapping those five gallon cans of gas in the back of your Jeep pretty soon."

"I will be right back." Megan hopped lightly out of her door and trotted into the mart. Slightly built in her snug khaki pants and black windbreaker, she moved with the ease of both youth and being in excellent condition. Archie filled the gas tank using the KDF Platinum card Megan had explained would cover their expenses. He got back in and pulled over to the row of air pumps and vaccuum hoses.

As he was checking the tires, the Trom Girl returned at a noticeably more sedate pace. She popped the hood to check the oil and the battery terminals. They had independently acquired these habits before meeting each other, because both were used to long trips where service stations might be widely spaced.

"Satisfied?" Archie asked, replacing the air hose.

"Yes. I am surprised you do not need to urinate."

"Oh, I'm ready. I just got a bigger bladder than you do. Let's grab some supplies while we're here." He led her back into the mart and disappeared through a door in the back. Megan selected a cold bottle of plain water for herself, as well as a bag of unsalted cashews and a bag of raisins. When Archie emerged with a relieved expression, he grabbed a bottle of beer for himself and a big bag of cheese puffs.
"I'M not on a scientifically planned diet."

"I said nothing," Megan protested.

"You had that look as if I'm picking up roadkill to cook." He placed his choices on the counter next to hers and paid with the KDF card. The elderly man at the register smiled benevolently at their conversation, rang them up and wished them a happy day as they left. "Thank you," Megan called back over her shoulder.

Propping himself against the side of the Jeep, Archie popped open his beer. "Let me finish this here, that way we won't have any open containers in the car."

Megan leaned up against him and sighed. "This is the last assignment on this field excursion, Archie. On our way home, we can stop in Omaha for a quality restaurant and a night in a well-reviewed hotel. We have earned some comfort time, don't you think?"

"Sounds great to me. This last assignment, though, it sounds like a nasty one. We're looking into a cult or something called the Harvesters?"

"Yes. In the last eight months, eleven people have disappeared in the immediate area and no traces have been found. The FBI's Department 21 Black has unofficially requested the KDF look into the situation. Four of the missing persons' cars were found in nearby towns and the only oddity was that each had one or two flat tires and that pieces of straw were found in the interiors."

"You'd think the local police would be all over something as blatant as that..." Archie began but his words were cut off by a raspy shout from across the road.

"Megan! Archie! Boy, am I glad to see YOU!"

the rest of the story )
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"Gorilla Crime Wave"

7/29/2002

I.

Down from a starless overcast night sky came two young women to land lightly on their feet in a county jail parking lot. As far as they knew, no civilians had spotted them. Both were in their early twenties, both an inch or two over five feet in height, both slim and in fine athletic shape. Ashley Whitaker had platinum blond hair and wore an all white field suit where Megan Salenger had short black hair and was in a black field suit with its boots, snug pants and waist-length jacket.

Disengaging from Megan's arm around her waist, Ashley undid the Scunci holding her gleaming silver hair together and brushed it out. "Not exactly comfortable, Megs. If we have to fly a couple hundred miles again, maybe we can rig up a sling or something to hold me."

"I kept at an altitude and speed where you would not suffer from cold or lack of oxygen," Megan replied evenly. "We could not use the CORBY because there is no place to land secretly in this area, and you said driving down here in a KDF car would take too long."

"Yeah, yeah, it's what I get for complaining, I know." The Unicorn shifted her talisman across her back to make it more comfortable. In its white leather sheath, the ancient horn of a genuine Unicorn was a three foot long ivory cylinder, one end tapering to a sharp needle point and the other end flat to be capped with an ensalir band. "It'd be easier if we could operate in plain view. You know, like comic book super-heroes. Having to be all secret and sneaky bugs me."

The Trom Girl sounded distracted. She was taking readings on the Link, an electronic device no thicker than three playing cards stacked on top of each other. "Being a celebrity would quickly weary you, Ashley. You enjoy a modicum of privacy."

"True, true. Okay, Science Nerd, what do your sensors tell you?"

"No gralic force detected in immediate area, which is helpful for our purposes. I'm looking at infra-red sources and there are no other Humans outside at the moment. Visual scan with anomaly recognition says no windows are open and none of the parked cars have anyone sitting in them. Odds of an ambush are minimal."

"Hah!" Unicorn snorted. "Any ambushers would have their hands full with us."

Both women pivoted as the door at the rear of the jail opened and then closed with the click of lock being set. Moving toward them was a mild-looking man about thirty with receding brown hair and a thin droopy mustache evidently meant as a counter to an unfortunately bulbous nose. He was not in uniform, wearing unremarkable jeans, polo shirt and denim jacket.

To Unicorn, Megan whispered, "His readings match. This is Deputy Sheriff Peter Joseph Watzka."

A second later, the deputy said in a low voice, "Glad you two could make it. I only got a minute. If'n I'm not home right away, I'll have to account to my wife for what deviltry I got up to. So let me get right to the chase."

"We're listening," Megan said.

"I unnerstand New York City has an arrangement with you KDF guys where you're sorta unofficial vigilantes and you get called in on cases. None of that down here. Our District Attorney is as strict as an old maid at a school dance, so this meeting will be denied. I will swear in court I never saw you gals."

"Understood," Megan replied.

"It started on February 23rd," Watzka said. He rattled off details of four burglaries in the area, including the latest one in which someone sleeping in the house been brutally murdered. There were no suspects. As best as the police could reconstruct, the burglar had shown physical strength several times greater than even a circus strongman could match. The murder victim had died from having one arm torn completely off and half his face bitten away.

"Wellll, time to head back to New York," interjected Unicorn, to be shushed by Megan.

"I gave you the dates and addresses and names. The brass tells me that's enough. Miss Salenger, you're supposed to have a photographic memory. I got to go. If you KDF people are gonna investigate this, all I can say is good luck!"

Watching Watzka march over to his personal dark red Ford pickup and drive out of the parking lot, Unicorn let out a low whistle. "Hey, Science Nerd, you've been trained in Kumundu body reading as much as I have. Micro-expressions, subvocal tremors, stance shifts... Did he seemed scared enough to wet himself to you?"

"Absolutely," the Trom Girl agreed. "I had my Link scanning him without his knowledge. His heartbeat was one hundred and twenty, and traces of adrenaline in his perspiration were at near maximum. There is much he has not told us."

"A burglar that yanks your arm off is something new," Unicorn admitted. "I've got my anesthetic dart gun but I'm a little dubious about relying on it against a bozo who beats you with your own arm. Luckily, you've got your beam projector, you can turn him into stray little atoms drifting away on the breeze if you have to."

Megan Salenger started to walk toward the far end of the parking lot, where a sidewalk met Caldwell Street. "Ashley, I want you to take out your Link and activate its screen."

"To hear is to obey," the little blonde replied. "Hey, you're sending me a street map of this town."

"Yes. The red blips are where these crimes took place."

"Let's see, one is uptown, but the other three are closer together. Looks like they're on streets close to the Chipewya Creek. What're the dates?"

Megan made an adjustment. "The brightness reflects the order in which the crimes were committed."

"Okey dokey, sure looks like our strongman hit first way uptown and is now concentrating on the Creek neighborhood. That seems to be, lemme calculate, three miles from here. Are we going to walk there?"

"I do not wish to use a cab or Uber right away," Megan said. "The less of a trail we leave, the better."

"Gotcha. Right heel in front of left toe, left heel in front of right toe, pick 'em up and put 'em down."

Striding alongside her teammate, Megan said, "It's possible some motorist may offer us a ride."

"Hah! Are you kidding? Two pretty girls in skintight commando suits? We'll have rides lined up." And as she finished that sentence, a yellow Volkswagen driven by an older woman slowed.

"What ARE you two doing walking down the road in the middle of the night? Get in fer Godsakes!"

the rest of the story )
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"Gravity Gets Me Down"

5/11-5/13/2023

I.

At two-thirty in the morning, a gleaming black Hyundai Tucson pulled into the parking lot of a 24-hour laundromat on the outskirts of Jericho, New Jersey. There were only two other vehicles in sight, both near the propped-open doors from which a fan of yellow light streamed. The SUV parked well off to one side, from which it could not easily be seen from inside of the laundromat. Squeezing out of the driver's side door, a huge beefy man in rough work clothing rose up and stood motionless, listening and almost sniffing the air for signs of danger. He kept one hand on the butt of the Glock 19 sticking up out of his belt on the right side.

Finally, the gunman said in a low raspy voice, "I know you gotta be out there, Bane. Come on. Let's get this over with."

In complete silence, a lean dark form dropped down off the roof of the laundromat, landing on fingers and toes and immediately straightening up. In his black clothing, the Dire Wolf was hard to spot at night. "This shouldn't take long, Fischetti, let's get it over with."

"You made me jump outta my skin, hopping down outta nowhere like that. Where's your car, anyway?"

"Never mind that. I've got the payment, you've got the prisoner, let's trade and be on our ways." Seen close up, Jeremy Bane was revealed to be exactly six feet tall, lean to the point of seeing gaunt as greyhound. Under the short black hair, two pale grey eyes moved constantly to watch for trouble. The Dire Wolf tapped one hand up against the front of his sport jacket.

"Yeah, sure. I'm not thrilled at lugging this monster all over the state anyway." Opening up the rear door, Fischetti reached in with both hands and helped the man in the back out to stand up. Since he had his hands cuffed behind him and his ankles shackled with enough slack to let him hobble, the prisoner would have had trouble getting out by himself. He was about the same size and build as Bane, also dressed in black clothing but white duct tape obscured the lower part of his face.

"Here he is, Bane. Chung Lam-Ying, and a good fight he put up before I got him in bracelets. I don't think he's too happy with either one of us."

Moving closer, the Dire Wolf inspected the glaring man. "That's Chung, all right. He's got that mole at the corner of his right eyebrow. And I know you don't pull switches or cons, Fischetti."

"You got to be honest when you live outside the law. Being an unlicensed bounty hunter means you need a good reputation."

Bane drew out a thick business envelope and handed it over.

"You understand, I haveta at least look at it," Fischetti said. "I'm not going to count it."

"That doesn't hurt my feelings," Bane said. "Count it if you like." He had moved over next to Chung and placed a hand on the bound Chinese man's shoulder.

"Looks good, looks good. Pleasure doing business with you, Mr Dire Wolf." Fischetti turned to open the driver's door again. "So, going after the Spinner of Webs, huh?"

Bane did not answer the question, but placed a stern hand high up on his prisoner's back to start steering him. As the SUV started up, he said, "Stay safe, Tom."

"What, in my line of work?" laughed the tracker, backing up and pulling out onto the deserted side street.

Getting Chung over by the back wall of the laundromat so any passing motorist wouldn't spot them, the Dire Wolf took a second to make sure his prisoner's nose was unobstructed and he could breathe freely. Chung had started making agitated noises through the duct tape over his mouth.

"Save it," Bane snapped. "Once you're secured in headquarters, you'll get a chance to talk plenty." His peripheral vision caught something moving overhead, unlikely as that might seem and he dropped into a crouch with his left hand blurring up from behind his back. The long-barrelled Smith & Wesson revolver pointed up. Open to dealing with any sort of attack, even Bane was taken by surprise. Somehow, with nothing visible causing it, he was yanked violently down to the asphalt so his face smacked its rough surface. That impact would have dazed or possibly killed a normal person.

He couldn't get up. Why? What was going on? Bane never felt fear or panic, only a cold determination to fight back. His entire body, his arms and legs and head, were being pressed down flat. No. That wasn't it, he was actually being pulled down because he could feel the force more strongly on his front. This made no sense. The gun was crushing his left hand but he couldn't do anything about it. What was holding him? How could he escape this irresistable grasp?

Nearby, Chung was evidently trying to yell. It sounded like his head was still five feet off the ground, so he wasn't being affected by whatever the effect was. Then Bane heard a very soft tap on the ground. From right next to him, a man made a tsk-tsk sound.

"Drat, of all the people I DIDN'T want to run into, you've got to be number one. Hang on, Chung, I'll get to you in a second. Listen. You're Bane, right? The Dire Wolf? I don't want bad blood between us. I'm getting paid to return this guy to his employer, that's all. As crooks go, I'm just a working stiff. I don't kill, I don't run dope, I don't hurt innocent people. I just transport and maybe steal a few valuable items."

Managing to draw in a full breath, Bane said in a deadly calm voice, "Let me up."

"Yeah, I don't think so. I heard all about you. Anyway, I've got to get going now. You've got bigger game to bag, Mr Bane. Let's pretend this never happened."

There was a whoosh and a faint breeze went by. Still trying furiously to rise, Banr abruptly felt himself released and actually threw himself over onto his back with a second bruising thump. He vaulted up onto his feet, revolver swinging as he whirled around. No one was in sight. No car lights speeding away, no sound of footsteps on the streets. Even if that mysterious speaker had brought a helper, two men couldn't have carried off Chung so quickly. But he stood alone in the night.

Read more... )
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"Forever Sundered"

7/7/2021

I.

On its paper plate sitting on a redwood picnic table, it was a perfectly good cheeseburger. The bun was lightly toasted, the yellow cheese had melted down over the crisp juicy meat with two pickle chips showing. Next to it stood a red Solo cup filled with bubbling root beer, beads of condensation on the cup in the muggy July heat. A few years ago, this would have been a treat for Carlo Ventura. He would have asked for nothing more.

But he had been sitting on the bench in front of the soda and cheeseburger for ten minutes without touching them. Around him, dozens of New Yorkers chatted happily at the street fair while a local band was playing decent versions of old 1990s rock music. So many pretty young women in minimal clothing strolled past that it felt like a parade. The hazy July sunlight gave everything a vague softness.

This is ridiculous, Carlo thought. He was a thin young man in a bright canary yellow T-shirt and white jeans, with a gym bag slung on its strap over one shoulder. The curly black hair and gaunt face with a sharp nose gave him a striking appearance. He looked like an intense, too-serious poet. Picking up the hamburger, he made himself take a good-sized bite and began chewing. It tasted even better than it had before he had entered the Midnight War because his senses were sharper. He could distinguish the tang of the pickle chips from the sesame seeds on the bun even as he chewed. As he swallowed, Carlo picked up the plastic cup and swigged a gulp of the chilled root beer. So familiar, and yet now unappealing. The sugar and the caffeine were not welcomed by his system.

The food and drink were the same. He had changed.

As if completing a tedious chore, Carlo ate some more of the burger. He had also bought a small cardboard tray of French fries and he popped a few of them in his mouth. Not so long ago, he would have wolfed everything down in a hurry. In the gym bag by his side, he felt the warm tingling presence of the Eyeless Helmet. That was another thing that troubled him. It had reached a point where he was no longer willing to leave Sagehelm behind when he left the KDF headquarters building.

Well before Jocelyn came into sight, Carlo detected her presence. He could not explain his enhanced perception and had given up on trying. In another minute, his teammate strode briskly up and dropped down on the bench opposite him, clapping one small hand on the redwood table. In her late thirties, Jocelyn Garimara drew some curious stares in Manhatan. Her naturally straight, thick black hair and smooth dark brown skin were not those of an American black woman. The distinctive facial features were those of her Aboriginal people in Northwest Australia and were exotic enough to fascinate strangers.

In her free hand, she held a piece of hot fried dough sprinkled with powdered sugar. "Hey, Carlo, something's eatin' you, what's the problem?"

The mystic did not immediately answer, watching her enthusiastically bite off a too-large chunk of fried dough. Where had his zest gone? "I don't know. I guess I've been through more changes than I expected."

"Mmmm. Yeah, I've seen it happen to you. It's that helmet. I've been reading about it in our files. Sagehelm wasn't really meant for a Human to wear. It was crafted by the Eldanarin, and we don't have their immortality or their group mind. You know, Jeremy says that Garrison Nebel got more philosophical and poetic the longer he kept Sagehelm."

Carlo managed to finish the hamburger. "The Teachers at Tel Shai aren't really much help either. I get the feeling they're waiting for me to figure things out on my own. It's getting me down, Joss."

"It may sound funny because I've got my Red Spectre living inside me," she said, "But I'm not psychic at all. I'm not even particularly spiritual. You hear all about Abos being connected to Nature and the Dreamtime and all that, but that's not me. I'm just here and now, feet on the ground. So I wouldn't be the best one to talk to about this, Carlo."

He shrugged and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table, hands clasped. "Oh well, life goes on and things change. Anyway. You didn't come down here from 38th Street and find me by coincidence, Joss. What's up?"

"Sable sent me. We don't really have a mission as such, it's just a few hints and clues that have her worried. She wants the two of us to poke around."

Picking up his paper plate and empty cup, Carlo leaned way over and tossed them into an open-frame metal waste basket nearby. "What can you tell me?"

"There are three missing girls from the past month and one of them was found dead deep in the woods outside Hendrick, Pennsylvania. The other two had last been seen in Connecticut at a concert in New Haven. The police have been doing the usual investigation without results."

"Ah. Was there a concert near Hendrick featuring the same band or singer as the other two disappearances?"

Jocelyn stood up and pulled down her denim jacket, which she wore despite the heat. In its inner pockets were a dozen tiny gadgets and hidden at the small of her back was one of the KDF dart guns. "You're on the right track, Carlo. Yep. A sort of progressive rock group from a few years ago, Crescent Moon. Why are you smiling?"

"When I was fifteen, I had a major crush on the lead singer, like a million other boys. Her name was Despair Alvarado. So pretty and shy, hardly looking up when she sang. I hadn't thought about her in years."

"You may get a chance to meet her," Jocelyn said, starting to move over toward Avenue A. "And you can ask her why teenage girls are disappearing after going to one of her shows."

the rest of the story )
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"To Dust We Return"

6/14/2023

I.

Jeremy Bane was in a restless, troubled mood. The hyper metabolism which gave him his enhanced speed and reflexes also charged him with excess energy that had to constantly be burned off. Already that morning, he had gone through his DohRa form, showered and changed into what was practically his uniform of black slacks, turtleneck and sports jacket. And now he was at a loss what to do for the rest of the day. There were no threats in the air as far as he could see. The Midnight War had certainly quieted down since the hectic days when he had led the KDF against the likes of Karl Eldritch, the Preincarnators or Wu Lung.

Pacing around a living room so free from clutter that it seemed no one lived there, the Dire Wolf tried without success to calm down. At sixty-five, he still showed few signs of age other than a scattering of white in the short black hair and lines at the outer corners of those pale grey eyes. He was still lean to the point of seeming gaunt and he circled the room with the easy stride of a much younger man.

The day before, he had called Sable to see if the newest KDF team had anything on hand and had been regretfully told no. He had phoned Sheng at the Fist For Hire agency and gotten the same wry answer. It had been weeks since any sightings of paranormal activity, crypto-beasts or new criminal masterminds. Maybe it was time to return to Tel Shai for a week. He would spend some welcome time with Cindy, get more intense training from Teacher Chael, maybe add annotations to the Great Archives. Yes. That was a good idea.

Bane paused in front of the picture window which looked out on Pierpont Street. A dark blue Subaru Outback was coming to a stop against the curb. That was Police Detective Chatcuff's car and there was the short stocky form of Harvey Chatcuff himself getting out to walk up the short flagstone path across Bane's tiny front yard. The Dire Wolf felt his spirits lift as if hearing a bugle calling charge. Something was up!

As he waited by the door, Bane thought again about how Megan Salenger had repeatedly tried to install Trom scanners on the steps outside to check for ID matches in NYPD or Mandate files, as well as sensors to read off a visitor's height and weight, blood pressure, heartbeat and whether or not large bits of metal were on his person. Bane had refused. He had thought at the time he was actually retiring from the Midnight War. Now, when he remembered Megan, he wished he had humored her. It would have made her happy.

As the doorbell rang, the Dire Wolf took a deep breath. He was counting on his Kunmundu training to be sure that this was Harvey Chatcuff and that the
body language indicated no intention to attack. Opening the door, he swung sideways and gestured for the man to enter. "Detective Chatcuff! I know there's trouble when you drive all the way out here to Forest Hills."

"Hiya, Bane," came the strongly New Yawk accented voice. "Nobody else here?"

"No. Sit down and tell me what disaster you want me to stop."

Lowering himself to a chair facing the leather-covered couch, Chatfuff unbottoned his suit jacket to let his paunch breathe a little. "I have to give the usual speech first. This is unoffical, off the record, unauthorized and all that. The Department does not use you as a freelance vigilante. In fact, I didn't even come here today."

Bane dropped down on the couch, clasping his hands together as he felt alive for the first time in a week. "Understood."

"I don't even have any photos or reports or anything to show you. But I know your memory is good. First victim was Howard John Nivens, 48, lived on Sycamore Avenue in Glenville, Long Island. He was found Monday morning between two residential houses. Both lungs were crammed full of dry dirt."

The Dire Wolf's pale eyes lit up. "That's something new."

"I sure never heard of such a thing. And the ME is so stumped he yells at anyone who asks him how it was done. Then, last night at two-thirty in the morning, a man's body was found behind a Chinese restaurant on Broadway in Carlinton, Long Island. Name was Stan Woodrow. Age 41. His chest was crushed flat, sternum cracked and every rib broken. And like Nivens, it's a mystery how he was killed."

"Yeah? Why is that?" It never occurred to Bane to offer coffee or tea to his visitor. His manners would never be polished.

"Well, the captain has an idea that someone put a flat piece of wood or metal on his body and then drove over it with a car. Sounds plausible. But Woodrow was found sprawled up against the wall of the Chinese restaurant and the forensic guys found fibers from his coat pressed into the bricks. Some blood as well."

Despite himself, the Dire Wolf got up on his feet and began pacing. He couldn't help it, being restless under the best of conditions. "Oh, this is interesting. Let me think about it. I suppose it could still be done. Two guys hold the victim up against the restaurant wall with a board across his chest. Then a third man drives a car or truck forward slowly to press against the board. The victim falls, they grab the board and ride away."

"Could be. But there's one more interesting detail. Bane, dirt was found pressed into the fabric of the front of Woodrow's coat and shirt. Lab says it's identical to the soil that killed Nivens."

the rest of the story )
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"Squid Attack Squad"

4/6-4/7/2023

I.

Few helicopters would have been cleared to fly during such a storm. Even the US Coast Guard would have weighed the risk to a crew against any rescue mission. And for a flight intended for only research purposes, no copter would have launched into the heavy rain and gale force winds over Long Island Sound that night.

But the CORBY was like no craft available to any Human nation or organization. Sleek and sharklike in its contours, the black stealthcraft tore through the downpour as steadily as if it was flying on a calm summer afternoon. No visible lights showed. With its radar alignment systems working, the CORBY was as good as invisible in the darkness as it sped over the northern coastline.

At the combined cyclic/collective stick, the Trom who called himself Frank Mills kept his eyes moving constantly. From the row of small monitors screens showing views from all sides of the CORBY to the luminous windscreen which worked with both light enhancement and ultra-violet projectors to the sonar pulses lancing down into the black waters a thousand feet below, he saw everything he wanted to.

In the co-pilot seat, Demrak Jin shifted her weight irritably. Patience had never been one of her strong points. At first, she seemed to be only a rather short, thin woman with a wide flat face and sullen dark blue eyes. But further scrutiny of the stiff bristly white hair and odd facial bone structure would prove unsettling. In bright sunlight, a close examination would reveal three barely visible lines in a row on either side of her throat. These were gill slits. Demrak Jin was a Geldydra from the realm of Ulgor, a Cousin Race who were amphibious.

"I should be down there!" she abruptly cried, breaking the long silence. "That is MY element. Any monsters of the deep are my natural prey."

Mills responded with his usual bland mildness. "The sensors are probing for miles in every direction and down to a depth of three thousand feet. If any anomalies are detected, that would be the appropriate time for you to take action."

"You just don't have feelings," Jin continued. "A father and his child have been missing for the past few days. Before that, three teenage girls in their sailboat disappeared. This area is notorious for missing people. Only bits of wreckage have been recovered and you don't care."

The Trom turned his head to regard her without visible reaction to her tirade. Mills was a tall athletic man in one of the KDF black field suits. His short black hair and regular unremarkable features were offset by a pair of dark eyes that showed deep awareness and intelligence but no emotion. "I am what I was meant to be, Jin. Nothing will be gained by trying to provoke me."

"Arrrhh! I feel love! Anger! Sorrow! I have a heart. And you... you are like the cold machines you prize so highly!" she shouted right in his face.

"We are both true to our natures," Frank Mills responded in the same even tones he always used. "So far, sensors have detected nothing out of the ordinary. I intend to move closer to the shore and descend to three hundred feet. Under these conditions, we are not likely to be observed."

Folding her arms across her narrow chest, Jin scowled at the banks of pastel green and blue lights which filled the cockpit. Any one of those indicators turning red would have instantly gotten their full attention. After a long heavy silence, she grudgingly said, "You Trom say you value Human life."

"Yes," Mills answered. "We work behind the scenes in secrecy, but our goal is to improve conditions for Humans. We guide researchers to useful new discoveries and we release information conducive to reducing wars and violent crimes."

"You're not doing a very good job at that..." she grumbled.

"Events would have proceeded much more harmfully without our restrained interventions," Mills said. "As bad as history seems, it would have been much worse without the Trom pulling strings behind the scenes."

"So you say. Never mind. I am not like you, Trom. Sitting in a hard seat for six hours and circling the ocean is not what I was meant to be doing. I am a daughter of a warrior Race. Each Gelydra is born at the same time a shark hatches and the spirit of the shark lives in us!"

Instead of commenting, Mills pulled back on the stick and brought the CORBY to a hover. The pounding of the rain on the stealthcopter seemed louder because the engines were nearly silent. "Do you see that yacht tied to the dock directly below us?"

"What? Yes, of course. There is a small speedboat moored next to it."

"Watch as I enhance the sonar image."

After a few seconds, Jin hissed with an intake of breath. "Interesting. Very interesting." She unbuckled her restraint straps. "I will take a look."

"Let me extend the pontoons and land first," Mills said but he was speaking to an open hatch as Demrak Jin dove out into the darkness. Straight down three hundred feet she plunged, to punch down through the surface with hardly a splash. A normal Human would have been killed hitting water from that height, but the Gelydran womam took such a feat for granted.

Without showing any exasperation at his partner's impatience, Mills pressed a few buttons that extended the pontoons he had attached that afternoon and descended to a textbook perfect landing on the uneven surface of choppy waters. The advanced Trom impulse engines were still on, keeping the craft from capsizing or drifting. From behind his seat, he unhooked a helmet and fastened its lower seals to the high collar of his field suit. He had earlier fastened a short metal cylinder across his shoulder blades above the round disc of the gravity shield. When he lowered the helmet's visor, a fifteen minute oxygen supply would kick in.

His final action before exiting was to switch on the three running lights on the CORBY's lower hull where they could be seen from beneath the surface. Then, as smoothly as if he had practicing this all his life, Frank Mills dove out into the darkness of Long Island sound. The hatch slid shut behind him.

the rest of the story )
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"VULCAN: The Human Flame-Thrower"

12/6/1944

I.

"Give us a break, Red!" begged old Tim Gilmore. He was so upset that his chewed-up cigar stub fell from his mouth and he had to pick it up. "What crazy game are you playing THIS time?"

From other desks in the day room, seven reporters for the NEW YORK MESSENGER chimed in. For once, the clatter of keys being pounded on broken-down Underwoods fell still. None of the phones rang. Overhead, the slow turning fan tried to at least move some of the smoke around without noticeable effect.

And at her desk, Kelly O'Connor leaned back in her chair with her hands folded in her lap and gave everyone her most angelic smile. At twenty-four, she was the youngest person in that room by at least a decade and the only woman. That day, she was wearing a black skirt and matching blazer, with a white silk blouse that had a high collar to make her look even more demure. But the sassy expression in her green eyes and the smile at the corners of her mouth gave her away. She could not repress a chuckle any longer.

"Lay off, fellas," she said. "Let a gal keep some secrets."

Gilmore tapped the cloth-wrapped bundle that was leaning up against the redhead's desk. It was roughly circular, three feet across, and had been puzzling everyone for the past week that she had been bringing it in. Next to it was a canvas satchel about eighteen inches high, with its flap tied shut. "Have a heart, Kelly. We've always played square with you, haven't we?"

"Nope. Remember when I first started and you palookas sent me to the Battery to cover the submarine races? The cops sure got a good laugh when I asked them about that!"

"Well... okay, that was a hazing. All cub reporters get that. They get sent out to interview Washington Irving or to get some pictures of the El trains getting turned upside down for cleaning. We all been through that."

"Yeah," added Connelly the sports rewrite man. "I was told to find the Central Park guard who brings in the pigeons at night."

Kelly could not help grinning. In a little more than two years, she had won over all these crusty cranky old journalists. Most of them thought of her protectively as a pesky little sister. "Here, look at today's morning edition. Page three, with my byline!"

"Yeah, yeah," said Gilmore. "Another bit about that Vulcan fruitcake. The Human Flame-Thrower! I give up on these mystery men in their Halloween costumes. The Sceptre. The Sting. Jupiter Man. Buncha lunatics, you ask me."

Kelly almost added to not forget the Green Devil but caught herself. She already thought too many people suspected the truth about her double life and these were reporters, after all. They loved sniffing at clues and untangling mysteries.

"The difference is that Vulcan isn't a crimefighter like the other mystery men. And women," she said. "He's an arsonist and a thief, he's burned down at least six houses after looting them. It's just a miracle no one has been killed yet, but that sculptor Martin Hatton was burned bad enough."

Getting up from his desk and walking over, Lou Katz gave Kelly a mournful tsk noise. "I been reading your pieces, kid. I can see what you're doing. You're rattling the bars of a tiger's cage. You're poking the tiger with a stick and he's gonna bite yer little Irish nose off."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Lou."

"Oh please! Do you really think it's a smart idea to rile up a firebug?" Katz persisted. "I swear, you got a double serving on sheer nerve but missed out when they were passing out common sense."

Kelly examined her nails with intense interest. "The boys in blue are spinning their wheels and getting nowhere with Vulcan. Time to draw him out. Maybe I'll get an interview with the Human Flame-Thrower, maybe with pictures of him shooting fire out of his mitts."

"I heard about that," one of the reporters grunted. "Two different witnesses swear they saw him do it. I don't buy it. It's some trick."

"Sure," Katz added. "When he gets nabbed, we'll find he has a tank of kerosene on his back and tubes going down his arms. He's got a racket going to scare people."

Kelly bit her tongue again. At close range less than a month ago, she had seen Vulcan in action. It was no gimmick. The man had some weird power and it had terrified her so much she had run for her life and laid low for a few days before her nerves had settled down. But Kelly was not one to be intimidated for long and she had determined to meet this Human Flame-Thrower again and teach him what it meant to tangle with the Green Devil.

As she opened her mouth to throw a wisecrack, screams from the hall outside made everyone give a start and rush to the door.

II.

Immediately, all the reporters stumbled back into the day room, tripping over each other in panic. A tongue of white-hot flame flicked out, barely missing the shouting men before it faded away. Looming up in the doorway was a bizarre figure with a fiery nimbus glowing around each upraised hand. A tall athletic man wearing the short skirt, molded leather breastplate and white linen cloak of a Roman legionary. His head was completely concealed by a crested bronze helmet with only a T-shaped slit through which not even his eyes could be glimpsed.

Scrambling up to their feet, holding seared arms and faces, the MESSENGER reporters were gasping in pain and fear. One grizzled veteran turned and yelled, "Run, Kelly! Jump out the window if you have to!"

"Kelly...?" hissed Vulcan. "You! You are the one threatening me in this newspaper."

Standing by her desk, Kelly O'Connor had slung the canvas satchel across her back, holding a nozzle attached to a thick black rubber hose reaching back into the top flap. Strapped to her left arm was a convex disc three feet across, covered by a sturdy white material. She showed no fear, only disdain. "And how did you get in the building in your Trick Or Treat gt-up? Don't tell me... you changed in the men's room. You did, didn't you?"

The helmeted voice rang out with a hollow, eerie echo. "Let those words be your last!" Vulan thrust his open right hand forward and a rapid burst of flame shot from it quick as lightning toward the waiting redhead. Kelly was already holding her shield in front of her. The fiery blast struck it directly and rebounded straight back at Vulcan. With a scream of unexpected pain, the big man slapped at himself but he was not on fire, only pained by his own power.

Kelly O'Connor laughed with glee and rushed toward him. From the nozzle she pointed, a pressurized stream of liquid rushed over Vulcan to cover him in a stinging coat. The costumed man began coughing and gagging at the acrid fumes from that liquid.

As Vulcan doubled up, the reporters grabbed him and dragged him down to the floor. All of them were over fifty and in poor shape. They would have been 4F if they had been eligible to stand before a draft board and they could not be sure the Human Flame-Thrower's powers were really ineffective. But they brought him down anyway.
Tim Gilmore hobbled over to the nearest desk and grabbed the phone to call the police.

Still holding the nozzle ready, Kelly announced, "There's plenty more juice in here if he sparks up again. I paid a bundle for the newest Pyrene extinguisher."

Still on the phone, Gilmore yelled, "Can someone open a few windows in here. I'm choking. That's some foul stuff, it's like the mustard gas from the Great War."

"Best carbon tetrachloride money can buy," Kelly grumbled as she hurried to comply. In fact, it was getting hard to breathe in the dayroom. As fresh air began to circulate from the windows, she went back and dropped into a chair. Although she wouldn't have admitted it, her knees felt weak. Seeing a jet of white flame coming at her had been terrifying, asbestos-coated trash can lid or not. "Whew," she breathed.

At the bottom of the confused jumble of bodies, Vulan was not resisting because his prolonged coughing fit left him helpless. The reporters had yanked off his helmet to reveal a broad, olive-skinned face with black curly hair and a classic Roman nose.

"Anyone recognize this bird?" demanded Gilmore, putting down the phone but he got only negative answers. The veteran got up, stuck a cigar in his mouth and bit off the end. "Goddammit, Irish! You put us all at risk. You were provoking this madman to come here after you. He coulda burned the whole building down with everyone in it."

"You don't sound like the tough newshawk I used to know," Kelly shrugged. "Think of the circulation numbers tomorrow. We scooped every rag in town. Or rather, I did."

6/16/2023
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"When the Trumpets Go Silent"

5/12-5/23/1876

I.

A half dozen buzzards circled high in the white-hot sky. Eli Marcus brought his painted pony to a halt on the ridge and gazed down with a sinking heart at a dismal scene. The canvas-covered wagon lay on its side, one wheel bent half off. Harness and straps stretched out in the hard dirt, but there was no sign of the horses that had been pulling that wagon. The body of a near-giant stretched out nearby. Even from one hundred yards away, Marcus held no hope that life remained in him.

At forty, Marcus appeared older not so much from long exposure to the elements but from the grief and heavy cares which had worn him down. He was a lean, wiry man of average height in his buckskin trousers and red flannel shirt. Beneath the flat-brimmed hat, coarse black hair was plaited into a rope which hung down his back. The dark coppery skin was weathered, making the hawklike nose and deepset eyes stand out vividly. He rode on two blankets without a saddle, a simple pair of saddlebags slung over his pony behind him holding his few possessions. Holstered at his right hip was a single-action Navy revolver he seldom drew.

Tied by a rawhide cord to hang across his back, Eli Marcus carried a ceremonial coup stick carved with esoteric symbols few could read. At its thicker end were the seven eagle feathers he had hard earned and a thin band of silver capped the other end. Reaching up behind him, he tapped the stick with his fingertips and said out loud, "You have brought me where I need to be," then urged his mount down the steep incline toward the tragedy.

Dismounting lightly, Marcus went to check the body for life, even though he had no hope of finding any. A chill ran down his spine and a cold jolt touched his heart, Marcus turned toward the man and he froze where he was as an Eagle Star premonition shot through his body like liquid fire. Destiny was at hand, he could feel it, but how?

The dead man was lying on his back with his left arm up by his head and his right across his waist. The shaft of a long thing arrow was sticking up from the left side of his chest. The pale blue eyes had remained open, staring up straight at the noonday sun. His face was clean-shaven and the brown hair was cropped short. The man had been a near-giant in life, perhaps six inches over six feet in height and built as strongly like a village blacksmith. Ten feet away from his grasp lay a Winchester repeating rifle.

Turning slowly, studying the hoofprints and wagon treads, Marcus began to reconstruct events in his mind. At least six riders on horses not shod with iron. The panicked horses pulling the wagon had bolted but he could see the rut in the hard dirt that that caused the wagon to flip over. The man had leaped free of the crashing wagon but had taken an arrow to the heart. Marcus lifted the Winchester and sniffed its barrel. It had been fired more than once. He hoped the man had made at least one of the raiders pay dearly for this attack.

Strangely, the wagon had been not plundered for valuables. The rifle and a box of ammunition remained, as did all the bedding, clothing and personal items. Taking the shovel, whispering a respectful chant under his breath, Eli Marcus spent the day in labor making a grave. Six feet deep in the hard earth he dug. The sun was setting before he had finished and his shirt was sodden with sweat. Marcus paused to tend to his pony again, giving the beast water and some oats from his pouch. Satisfied that his animal was comfortable, he ate some dried meat himself and sipped sparingly from his canteen.

Then he turned to the body of the man, and Marcus hesitated.

From where he was kneeling, mountains to the West reached up directly in line with the corpse's head. Rising clear and sharp in the twilight was a single blue point of light. Marcus knew it well. The Eagle Star had appeared when he himself had been born and the wise men had said it was an omen of great import... that he himself had been chosen the Unseen World to strive for honor and righteousness in a brutal world. He had become known to many as the living Eagle Star, a burden and an honor.

The blue star flared up bright as a stroke of lightning. Marcus remained on one knee facing the body, knowing something momentous was about to happen but not knowing what. He braced the sacred coup stick on the ground, holding his breath.

And the dead man gasped, sat up and glared around wildly.

II.

Lurching up onto his feet, the big man swayed and immediately fell right down again. Marcus bent over to take his pulse and found it to be as strong and regular as a clock. He could see that barrel chest rise and fall smoothly. Despite the arrow directly in his heart! It was something that could not be explained. Despite everything he had experienced of the Unseen World infringing on normal life, Eagle Star shivered with uneasiness.

The man tried to sit up again, and Marcus held him down gently by the soldiers. "Lie still, my friend. I am going to have to cause you pain." The Eagle Star gripped the shaft and tugged the arrow free with one quick jerk. Although the big man inhaled sharply, the removal did not seem to cause him any harm. No blood oozed from the wound.

"I am Eli Marcus, called by some the Eagle Star," the old man said.

The man stared with horrified fascination at the arrow. "John. John Bascomb. I must say my head seems muddled. Did you... did I just see you pull that thing outta my chest?"

"You did."

"Why ain't I dead then? It don't seem natural. I can see blood all over my shirt but nothing hurts. What happened? Tell me what happened!"

"I have something terrible to tell you," Marcus said. "Steel yourself. This will be hard to bear."

Bascomb looked around in sudden alarm. "Is that my wagon? Where is my family? Where is my wife?! My son?"

"I have seen no sign of a woman or a child," Marcus replied quietly. He propped the man up to look around. As the meaning of the scene sank in, John Bascomb groaned in utter dispair from the depths of his being. He buried his face in his hands for long moments. When he finally lifted his eyes to regard Marcus numbly, he said, "I must search for them. I will begin now."

"Rest for the moment. Gather your strength."

"And... that empty grave?"

"That was for you. Hear me. You had no heartbeat, you did not draw breath. Your eyes had been open and unseeing for hours," Eagle Star said. "When I was ready to place your in your resting place, you sat up."

"Yes. I remember." Bascomb was steadier, he pushed himself up to a seated position next to the Indian. "I remember a vast gulf of bitter cold and unbearable darkness, then light and warmth returned again. Eli Marcus, you said your name was? Do you understand what has happened? It is a miracle unasked for. I have been sent back and it must be for vengeance!"

"That is not for me to say," Marcus muttered.

With a sudden surge of vitality, Bascomb leaped to his feet and raised a clenched fist toward the sky. "I will avenge the taking of my wife and son... and my own death! I swear it by everything holy. We were attacked by savages but they were not like any I have ever seen. I know there are small bands of Comanche in this territory but these were not Comanche."

Standing next to the furious man, Marcus placed a gentle hand on the mighty shoulder. "What did they wear? How was their hair arrayed?"

"Wear? They were nearly naked! I only had a few seconds to get a look at them, but they were scrawny wiry devils, only a small apron or twisted cloth around their private parts. Their bodies and faces were covered with mud. Their hair was slicked back with dried mud. I saw no ornaments of any kind. My God, their eyes seemed so dark and bloodthirsty behind the dry brown mud on their faces."

"I have never heard of such a people," Marcus admitted. "But this desert valley is not my home. My tribe came from far in the north, where there are lakes and the land is green. Look at this," he handed Bascomb the arrow that had been embedded in his chest.

"Huh. Strange. The point is of bone, not stone or iron. And the worksmanship seems crude and primitive to me. No feathers for fletching, only these strips of hide. What tribe makes arrows like these?"

"None that I know. This is a mystery."

"I have been brought back to life for a reason," Bascomb told the Indian. "Whatever these brutes are, I will track them down and kill them all. Nothing will stop me. Marcus, I thank you for your kindness. Is there a town nearby or even a single homestead?"

"Not for a day's ride. We are on the edge of No-Return Valley, dry rock and sand where nothing grows and not even a tiny lizard lives."

"It doesn't matter. Wherever those hoofprints lead, I will follow! First, I will scavenge what supplies are left in my wagon, then I will track those savages down and rescue my family. Perhaps we will meet again."

The Eagle Star had unslung his coup stick and was regarding it somberly. "There is no choice to be made. I am going with you."

The near-giant hesitated, then clapped a huge hand on the Indian's shoulder. "And glad I am to have you beside me. You're a good man."
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"The Barrow On Lonesome Peak"
4/24/2022

I.

"This is the Barrow we have come to investigate," Frank Mills said, laying one hand lightly on the grass-covered earth which composed the strangely symmetrical mound. A cool, detached scrutiny in his dark eyes came to rest on the great pile of massive weather-worn dirt. Grass grew on it but sparsely.

"Talk about a desolate place!" Unicorn said. "Who would have thought to find such a spot in this vicinity? Except for the smoke from that chimney over the hill, you'd never suspect there's a good-sized city right nearby! Looks like the Olivera family owns more land than I thought."

"Even before the Oliveras closed the area to the public, the locals have shunned this Barrow for centuries," the Trom replied.

"Yeah? Why is that?"

"Folklore and local legends warn them," Mills said in his even tones as he walked around the pile. "Nothing more substantial than that."

"We've found local legends sometimes are worth listening to!" Unicorn muttered uneasily. "Folklore handed down gets distorted but it can be based on real menaces." Ashley regarded her new partner without warmth. Just over five feet tall and barely one hundred pounds, the platinum blonde was still gorgeous at forty and the snug black field suit flattered her but her sour expression made her feelings clear.

She still found it unsettling how exactly Frank Mills resembled founding KDF member Leonard Slade. Six feet one, around two hundred pounds and in great athletic shape as shown in his own field suit, the Trom had the same regular bland features, clear olive skin and short black hair she had seen in many photos of Slade. If she had been shown the photos without knowing how old they were, she would have had no hesitation in saying they were of this man. But Slade had died thirty years ago.

Did the Trom clone themselves? Did they breed different occupations the way dogs were bred? Ashley Whitaker was becoming increasingly uneasy as she realized how little she knew about this strange Race.

"Historical records indicate that the Olivera family claimed this property in 1733," Mills announced. "They were not farmers themselves but leased out land to tenants and became wealthy. I can not find more than one mention of this Barrow, and that is a brief reference in a June 1853 letter to 'the cursed mound on Lonesome Peak.' There have not been any magazine or newspaper articles on this Barrow, to my knowledge."

Deciding she had to try to be civil because she was going to be working with this guy on the team, Ashley said, "Kenneth Dred left so many thousands of books. He collected forbidden knowledge for fifty years. We've managed to catalogue the titles and authors but honestly I doubt if anyone has even skimmed through most of them, let alone read them."

"Our captain has not agreed yet to allow a team of Trom researchers to begin scanning all the texts systematically. This would provide an invaluable amount of information about the history of the Midnight War but Sable declines to allow it."

"Well, that's her decision," Ashley replied, managing not to snap at him. "So. As I understand it, this thing is basically a tomb? It's a big pile of dirt over an ancient grave of some king or aristocrat?"

"Yes. They were more common in Northwestern Europe, but the practice has been found wherever Humans occupied land. My sensors are not functioning properly and I am not sure why. Readings are taking much longer than usual to collect."

Ashley began pacing around the mound, checking it out from different angles. "I bet that's gralic energy. It interferes with your tech. Megan had the darndest time dealing with gralic manifestations."

"I agree. One reason why my people have wanted an agreement with the KDF is to be able to study gralir. We have not been able to quantify it. Gralic force seems to connect conscious thought with known effects such as electromagnetism, gravity and kinetic energy."

The little blonde could not hide a gleeful smile. "That must drive you guys nuts, something you can't explain even in theory."

"We are motivated to seek knowledge," Mills replied evenly. "But we accept that many phenomena may remain beyond the scope of understanding."

Ashley sighed. You couldn't tease Frank Mills or bait him into getting annoyed. She knew, of course, that the Trom were not normal people repressing emotions... they were the result of thousands of years of breeding out emotions. Even their hormones were detached from their behavior. It was like having to interact with the fantasy of a perfect serene Zen master in a way. She hated it.

"Anyway," she said, "You're going to be busy trying to scan this heap?"

"Yes. There is no way to tell how long it will take to obtain useful results." The thin flat device in his hand chirped as if to comment.

"It's getting dark. I'm not gonna be of any use right now, to be honest. I think I'll get a few hours sleep while I can. The way the Midnight War goes, once things start to happen, we might be on the go for a couple days non-stop."

Frank Mills seemed not to have heard her at first, but finally he said, "You might sleep inside the CORBY. That would provide security."

"Nah, it's a beautiful night. Warm and dry and breezy. I think I'll sack down a little distance away, over by those trees there. Beep me if you need me."

"Understood." Studying the screen on his Link, the Trom apparently had already dismissed her from his mind.

Trudging through the high grass, Ashley had enough self-awareness to realize she resented this new member because she felt he was trying to take Megan Salenger's place. In a literal sense, he was. Frank Mills had been sent by the Trom to apply for membership in the Kenneth Dred Foundation and to be sponsored at Tel Shai, filling the vacant slot in the team left by Megan's death. That was reasonable enough, and the team would benefit from his joining. From a practical view, it made perfect sense.

But emotionally...! Megan had been Ashley's closest friend, not only in the Midnight War but since her childhood. They had spent many of their free days traveling and socializing happily. Even Megan's romance with Archie had left space for Ashley. And Megan's sudden violent death only two months earlier had stricken Ashley to the heart. She was still healing from her divorce as well, which didn't help. But even though the Unicorn understood her loss and grief had nothing to do with Frank Mills, she couldn't help disliking the man. Or the Trom.

In a round clearing near the edge of Lonesome Peak, the CORBY sat, landing gear held by chocks. The all-black stealthcopter had no markings on it, and its sleek sharklike shape gave it a decidedly sinister appearance. Ashley unbolted a hatch into the rear storage compartment and tugged out her knapsack with its sleeping bag fastened around its upper edge. From a cooler, she extracted a chilled water bottle, a ham and cheese sandwich in cling wrap and a bag of corn chips which she tucked away in her pack as well.

Staring up at the brilliant late Spring night sky with its crescent moon, Ashley relaxed enough that she realized how tense she had been. Even a few hours sleep would clear her mind. Ashley was picking a likely spot to stretch out when she sensed movement near her.

the rest of the story )
dochermes: (Default)
"Squid Vicious"

3/11-3/12/2022

I.

Early on a frosty March morning, passers-by in Times Square found a badly injured Timothy Limbo lying in the alley between two buildings. Someone called for an ambulance but the EMTs were not hopeful about his chances. Timothy had four broken ribs, severe bruising, concussion, and was bleeding from nose and mouth. Strapping him to the gurney and securing him in the rear, they took his vitals. One drove while the other gave him nasal oxygen clips and tried to stanch the bleeding. Within a few blocks, though they could not know it, his enhanced healing kicked in. At a red light, Timothy unexpectedly broke free, unstrapped himself and jumped out the rear of the ambulance, brushing the confused paramedic aside. He was way down a side street and out of sightbefore the EMTs could react.

Recovering quickly, Timothy managed to get into the bathroom of a McDonalds without being stopped. He cleaned himself up as best he can, then started limping toward 38th Street. Despite his appearance, he was walking steadily and confidently enough that no one approached him.

Finally, after what seemed like the longest trudge of his life, Timothy tapped his ID code into the pad by the front door and entered the small foyer. For twenty seconds, clicks and buzzes sounded as he was scanned, identified and cleared. He did not try to locate his captain Sable, but stubbornly made it up the stairs to his rooms on the third floor. The air was cool and dry and immensely comforting. Sitting on the edge of his double bed, Timothy managed to tug off his heavy biker boots, torn jeans and leather jacket as if wrestling with stubborn living things. He stretched out on top of the covers and fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

Waking easily, he blinked at the round clock hanging on the opposite wall. Two-twenty, and the yellow sunlight slanting in through his window told him it was afternoon. He felt much better, almost normal except for some stiffness. Timothy yawned and rolled over to get some high protein energy bars from his nightstand and wolf them down. He always kept a sixteen ounce of water within reach too, and sipping most of that helped his healing factor finish repairing all the damages done to his body.

The intercom panel by his headboard buzzed, he tapped the button and said, "Hi," rather uncertainly. "Sable?"

"How are you feeling?" came the voice of his captain.

"I'm okay. Give me a few minutes to clean up and I'll report."

"Take your time, I'm in the office." With a click, she broke the connection.

After a quick steaming shower, wearing fresh pants, T-shirt and sneakers, Timothy went down the staircase and turned right into the office. Sable greeted him with a mug of the Tagra tea. As he sipped it gratefully and felt the final twinges of pain ease away, Tim took a chair in front of the desk as Sable seated herself behind it facing him.

Lauren Sable Reilly's gift was enhanced perception. Gralic force augmented all her senses beyond what Human science could explain. Timothy was used to her abilities and knew she was examining him right then and there with a single glance. "I don't sense any internal damage left," she said after a few seconds. "No blood clots, no infection. Your ribs have already sealed up. Do you feel any dizziness or nausea?"

"No, captain. I'm ready for duty. Thanks for the Tagra." He put the mug down by his feet.

Sable leaned back in her swivel office chair and smiled reassuringly. She was an attractive woman in her early forties, with long straight black hair brushed back off a high forehead. A pug nose and slight overbite added to the huge dark eyes to give her a distinctive face most people liked on sight. "I have to say, I was worried when you came in this morning. Your injuries were serious enough that the Trom sensors alerted me. I stood outside your door and heard your breathing and heartbeat were fine, so I didn't bother you. Sleep seemed to be what you needed most."

"Thanks again," Timothy said. "Man! Without the Tagra healing, we'd all be in wheelchairs by now."

"We do take some punishment," Sable agreed. "So. I'm recording, starting now. I'll type it up in a few minutes and we can both add and correct the report before it goes into the files. Last night, you went out at eleven-thirty. Your aim was to check our observers and see what what you could learn about some of these senseless atrocities in the lower Manhattan area. All we had to go on was a name, 'Squid Vicious.'"

"That name cracked me up at first but now I don't find it funny. Okay. I went out on foot and walked down to the Korean neighborhood by the Empire State Building. A lot of our observers are active at night, of course. I made the rounds. Spanish Eddie, Nurse Robin, Old Lady Choi, Herman the German, the usual street folks we keep on retainer. They're all agitated. For a month now, there's been a wave of pointless violence going on. Fires started, windows smashed and cars vandalized. Some beatings and sexual assaults. Not many witnesses to any of these. Security cameras are no help. For some reason, video gets hazy and vague during the crimes."

"That's interesting," Sable interrupted. "That's what happens when we're around. Between our own gralic powers and the Eldanaran sigil we wear, recording equipment degrades in our presence. We fog film and distort videos."

"Yeah. That's true. So I thought, hey... these aren't just destructive punks. There's something Midnight War going on here. I kept going the route for a few hours, visiting the crime scenes, asking our people. At three, I got a grilled cheese and fries at an all-night corner shop and thought things over. When I left, I turned at the corner of Mulaney Street and First Avenue and got sucker punched from behind."

"Not too many people could catch you unaware like that, Tim."

"It's hard to explain. I mean, I'm not a top Kumundu master but I do have eight years training. There was a man ten feet behind me. His footsteps were even and balanced. I didn't hear the movement of a weapon being drawn. But something sure impacted the back of my head like a hammer."

"And then?"

"It's all a confused blur. I was yanked up off the ground, my arms held out to the sides, but I don't remember being aware of men holding me. I got smacked around severely enough that I was dazed, and they shook me during the beating. Then I was thrown against the side of a building and dropped. A voice said, 'Stop asking questions.' After a awhile, I was regaining my senses when some Good Samaritan saw me and called 911."

Timothy went on to relate how he escaped from the ambulance and made his way back to the base. "So here I am. There's one funny detail, though. The marks have faded but I had four or five of these on my body." He tugged back his shirt sleeve. On his inner forearm was a still visible round bruise two inches across, darker in the center. "The skin was broken but it's healed up now. I apologize for not taking a few pictures when I first saw them, but honestly I was exhausted."

"I understand," Sable said, peering with eyes that saw at the microscopic level. "Tim, this is Midnight War all right. Those marks were made by suckers such as are found on tentacles. Cephalopods."

There was an undertone of uneasiness in his comment, "SQUID Vicious."

II.


Sable called a full meeting for eight o'clock. On the second floor, most of the conference room was taken up by a long oak table at which five generations of heroes had met. Only four of the twelve chairs were occupied in person at the moment. Each member present had a tablet or laptop propped up in front of them, on the screens two additional KDF members could be seen and heard.

At the head of the table, she sat with Timothy Limbo on her right hand and Demrak Jin to her left. Ashley Whitaker, the Unicorn, was next to Tim and opposite her sat Carlo Ventura. Attending onscreen were Jocelyn Garimara, who was in Los Angeles, and Galvan, who was at home, holding the son he had with Demrak Jin.

Seated at the opposite end of the table was a newcomer. This man was tall and wide-shouldered in an immaculate black business suit with a dress white shirt and narrow tie. He had short black hair over an olive-skinned face with presentable but unremarkable features; the deepset dark eyes were notably alert and reserved. His face gave away nothing of what he was thinking. It did not look blank but simply thoughtful.

No one there remarked on his appearance, but this newcomer appeared to be a near-identical twin of KDF founding member Leonard Slade, who had died in action in 1990. None of the current members had met Slade, most had been children or unborn at the time of his death, but the resemblance still was on their minds.

After roll call, Sable opened the meeting. "Our first item of business is the admission of a new member. You have all met Frank here over the past few days.
Following the recent death of our Megan Salenger, the Trom have sent a replacement liaison. Frank Mills is a Monitor, same as founding member Leonard Slade. Unfortunately, we have just found out he has been rejected by as a student by Tel Shai."

Unicorn interrupted without preliminaries. The little platinum blonde had never hesitated to speak her mind. "And why is that? I think it's in our interests to know."

"Fair enough," Sable agreed. "Several of the Teachers are telepathic, of course. They state that Frank has, quote, 'a hidden agenda' which he declines to reveal."

"Well, THAT's ominous," grumbled Unicorn.

"Be that as it may," Sable continued, "This presents a real problem for us. Our agreement since 1979 was that the Trom provided some of their advanced tech in exchange for a Trom having access to Tel Shai secret lore. Now that deal seems in danger of failing. Without Trom devices like the Links and the CORBY stealthcopters, we risk losing much of the edge we enjoy in the Midnight War.

Unicorn blew up and raised an impeccable finger in protest. "Hey, we can function just fine on our own. No CORBYs? We have Eldanar travel crystals, and we can use regular cell phones instead of the Links. The armor is good for a lifetime if not longer. Anyway, half our team doesn't even use Trom tech. Galvan and Jin and Carlo don't need it and the rest of us will get along fine with our own abilities."

"Thank you, Ashley," Sable said calmly. "You're right. But it would be foolish to give up Trom tech if there's any way to retain it. Besides, a Trom Monitor as a member would be invaluable. His intelligence, skills and abilities would place himm among our most powerful members. So, we need to find some solution."

On their screens, the image of Jocelyn Garimara scoffed. "No sense in petitioning the Teachers of Tel Shai to change their minds. They're all over a hundred years old and completely sure of themselves. It'd be like telling a grove of oak trees to get up and move around."

"I think I have an idea," Timothy offered. "We Tel Shai knights can't directly teach Kumundu or Mind Arts or provide access to the Great Archives. But this headquarters building holds tens of thousands of rare books on the arcane and the occult. These belonged to Kenneth Dred and are the property of the KDF to use as they wish. We can provide Frank with access to them."

"Sounds like it's worth pursuing," Sable agreed. "Frank, what do you think?"

Like Slade before him, the new Trom put enough inflection into his voice that his speech sounded natural. The Trom were as close to being completely unemotional as flesh and blood sentients could be. Between the minimizing of hormones which affect behavior and a culture which had stressed logic and discipline for thousands of years, they struck Humans as both cold-blooded and rigidly formal. But Frank managed to sound normal enough.

"The proposal has merit," he said. "As I understand your rules, a Full Member must be a Tel Shai knight but the status of Associate Member is also available."

"Yes!" interrupted Demrak Jin. The Gelydran woman was wearing her snug outfit of grey sharkhide with the rough denticles on the outside, as if ready for instant action. Strapped across her back was the carved ivory sheath holding her bone-bladed knife. "I myself am an Associate Member. Those fools at Tel Shai turned me down as well..." her voice trailed down slightly, "For a bad temper which I admittedly have."

Frank Mills continued, "Of course, I will need to discuss this with the Trom Council in charge of this project. I project a high degree of probability they will approave. I would join the KDF as an Associate Member in exchange for being able to scan the rare books and send the images to the Trom Council. My full abilities would be at the team's service. We will establish a new arrangement between the Trom and the KDF, lesser in scope and productivity than the original but still very useful for both sides."

"Sounds workable to me. Okay, team, any objections?" Sable waited a minute, then went on. "Right now, I want to move on to our current mission. You've read Tim's report. I've been receiving tips and pointers from our army of observers and I think there are two likely areas where this Squid Vicious is likely to be found. One is in Tribeca. Unicorn and Carlo, that's your assignment. Take the Mustang and dig around. The other is further downtown, almost by the Battery. Timothy and Jin, that's for you. Considering the damages Tim took, I don't have to remind everyone to be even more alert than usual."

Demrak Jin made a rumbling noise deep in her narrow chest and reached back to tap the knife hilt up by her left shoulder. She came from a warrior Race in Ulgor and her thin-lipped smile was unnerving.

At the other end of the table, Frank Mills said, "I offer my services for this case, in an unofficial capacity if needed. The more I observe and interact with the team, the more competent I will be as a member."

"True." Sable nodded and looked out over the cool, unwelcoming faces of her teammates. "We'd be foolish to turn down having a Trom Monitor on hand."

"He can't replace Megan!" snapped Unicorn. "Nobody can."

Sable said, "Ashley, I know you believe in the work we do. As knights of Tel Shai and members of the Kenneth Dred Foundation, we are all that stand between innocent unknowing Humans and creatures of the night that are eager to prey on them. I am positive this is your life's work and you would not give it up for anything."

"Well, sure. Sorry if I sound... it's just that Megan's only been gone a month and already we're filling her chair, it seems disrepectful."

The bland face of Frank Mills regarded the little blonde without taking offense. "Would Megan Salenger have wanted you to turn down an arrangement which will make you and your friends safer?"

A long tense moment broke as Ashley huffed. "Yeah. I get it. Look, I'm not blaming you for Megan's death and I should give you a fair shot. That's not asking too much." She rose to her full five feet one inch and clapped both palms down on the meeting table. "Let's roll."


III.

Timothy was not surprised Demrak Jin does not recognize the pun in the name 'Squid Vicious' and he suggested the Gelydra to listen to music once in a while.. any kind of music. She had been living in the surface world for years and had not taken advantage of any of its various arts.

Close to midnight found the team of Timothy, Frank and Jin approaching an auto body shop in one of the worst part of lower Manhattan. Right next to an embankment edging the East River was a block long lot with a wire fence around it and a plain wooden sign FRANK'S. This was mostly a junk yard filled with cast iron bathtubs and sinks, broken furniture, unidentifiable machine parts and random scraps of metal. The pothole-riddled ground was a maze of jagged masonry and ankle deep rain puddles. It also boasted a small brick garage with a sign advertising body work and salvage. Eight bikers were there with their Harleys, working on a stolen BMW which was being painted for resale on the black market.

Facing the KDF team as he entered was a wide short man with a tan raincoat tossed over his shoulders. He was markedly bizarre in appearance, with a bald pointed head, and smooth unhealty-looking grey skin. Even this late at night, he was wearing round oversized sunglasses with nearly opaque lenses. "Our hours of business are clearly posted," he announced in a deep mournful voice. "So you are trespassing. My Squidlings and I must conclude you are burglars and home invaders, and so we are forced to defend ourselves."

Suddenly, Tim remembered everything. Frank Pugliese had been a bodyguard for a Red Sect warlock whom he tried to rob and been cursed by a Darthan spell as punishment.

Demrak Jin whipped her bone-bladed long knife from its sheath across her back and charged. From Squid's ribs at each side sprouted two thick, rubbery tentacles stretching eight feet in length, lined with hooked suckers. These were extremely tough and strong. These had taken Timothy off-guard the night before, but Demrak Jin was ready for them. She stamped down hard on one tentacle, pinning it to the cold concrete floor. Even as another of the limbs whipped around her torso, Jin sliced entirely through it with her bone-bladed knife. The severed limb whipped about wildly. Jin sprang in close and drove her knife to the hilt into Squid's chest, then kicked the wounded man back away from her.

As Squid sagged to the ground and the tentacles spasmed and twitched, she whirled around to confront the gang. Timothy had dropped several of them with his anesthetic dart gun, but more ran into the garage began shooting at the KDF members. Several of the gang are using AR-15s and the barrage was heavy enough that Timothy shielded Jin with his body, since he was wearing the Trom armor.

The merciless drumming of hundred of bullets across his back forced Timothy down on to his knees, still bent protectively over Jin. Her sharkhide suit would have shredded away within seconds and her body perforated beyond recognition. Even the flexible Trom armor was tested to its limits. Its film structure worked by dispersing impact over its entire surface, which worked fine against a single shot by even a high-powered rifle, but this barrage was too much.

Within a second of the onslaught, Frank Mills unclipped a small flat device from his belt and swung it back and forth as if waving a flashlight. The Squidlings dropped straight down where they stood. The hot rifles fell from limp hands and the shooters made no effort to even catch themselves. Their nervous system restarted normal functions after that disruption but it would be quite a while before any of them would even attempt to move around.

Even as the final gang member hit the ground, Mills replaced the beam projector to his belt and swung around to his new teammates. "How much damage have you sustained?"

Demrak Jin wriggled out from under Tim and immediately began supporting him instead. "I am unharmed. My comrade took the attack meant for me."

"Ow ow ow," Tim mumbled, stretched out face down in the cold gravel. "I was just getting over being beat half to death last night. My luck is all bad."

"Scanning now. No significant internal damage shows. The bruising is extensive and severe." Mills examined his Link's screen. "Even with your advanced healing, Timothy, I suggest you do not try to walk for the immediate future."

"Yeah, I'm not enthusiastic about trying out for the Marathon!" Tim groaned. Very little remained of the back of his jacket or pants and, as Jin carefully turned him over, the detached front of his field suit dropped off to the ground.

Without a word, Frank Mills silently launched straight up into the dark sky. Timothy and Jin were taken aback. They had become used to seeing Megan use her gravity shield but for some reason, neither had considered that Mills would have the same equipment.

"Where do you suppose he's gone off to?" asked Tim.

"I neither know nor care," the Gelydra said. "Can you sit up? Timothy, I do not know how many times we have saved each others' lives. But I think I am in your debt."

Starting to feel better, Timothy exhaled more easily than before. "Ahh, who can keep track? The important thing is we know we have each other's back."

"Maybe I am the first of my Race to understand teamwork. We are stubborn and solitary by nature. But then," she added with uncharacteristic wistfulness, "I am the Gelydra who fell in love with a Melgar! There is something wrong with me."

Daring to touch her, Tim reached over and patted her shoulder. "Not as far as I can see, Jin."

Silently, without any flash or roar from his device, Frank Mills descended and landed perfectly on both feet next to them. "I must report that the enemy has escaped. I scanned the surrounding area for a distance greater than he could have run."

"Wait, you don't think... Did he jump in the East River?"

"There is a high degree of probability he did so. My sensors do not penetrate water effectively. It seems likely that the 'Squid Vicious' has been altered more than he first seemed to be. In addition to the extensible tentacles, he was not seriously harmed by his wounds and he has remained under water for at least nineteen minutes."

"More of a Squid than we thought," Timothy added in a low voice.

Demrak Jin took a few determined steps toward the embankment before Tim called, "Hey wait! Don't go after him."

"Why not? If anyone can slay a Human squid, it is a daughter of Ulgor. I will bring you back his head as a trophy."

"He is several miles away by now."

"I can track him by his ammonia scent. He will not escape me, I promise you that."

"Please, Jin," Tim said. "We need you to come back to base. In a few minutes, the NYPD will be arriving in full battalion force. I'm sure there's enough evidence in plain sight to arrest all these Squidlings. An obvious chop shop with a stolen car half taken apart, dozens of firearm violations, probably a lot of illegal drugs and paranaphenalia. But the last thing we need is to get caught up in the investigation because we were waiting here for you to come out of the river with someone's cut off head."

Even Demrak Jin had to see the bizarre humor in that last sentence. "Bah. So be it. There will be another time." As she helped Tim maneuver himself into the rear seat of the KDF's car, Frank Mills got behind the wheel and started it up. As it happened, he was just turning right at the next intersection when flashing blue and red lights could be seen arriving at the Squidlings' shop.

5/19/2023

Glossary S

May. 13th, 2023 03:49 pm
dochermes: (Default)
>S
-SABLE See REILLY, LAUREN
-SAGEHELM The Eyeless Helmet, weilded by GARRISON NEBEL since 1982. Crafted from white gold infused with many flecks of ENSALIR and ensorcelled by the ELDAR mystic IMTHRIL in the DARTHAN AGE, the helmet revealed Truth, undid harmful spells and restored damaged objects or beings to their natural state.
Sagehelm could shine by channeling the sacred light of the ADALARIN which falls upon ELVEDAL. This light confuses and blinds the Children of the Night.
In a remarkable act of trust, the Eldarin gifted Sagehelm to a HUMAN, GARRISON NEBEL. Blind and possessed of mystic perception of his own, NEBEL brought out all the inherent functions of the helmet. When he at last retired from the Midnight War, he kept the Eyeless Helmet for its next destined wielder. In 2020, he passed Sagehelm to CARLO VENTURA with some guidance on its use.
-SALENGER, MEGAN 'TROM GIRL.' b.1979-d.2022. 5'3" 105 lbs Hr:Black Ey:Brown. Human orphan raised by the TROM Council in New Mexico to be a liaison between the two Races. TEL SHAI KNIGHT and member of KDF SECOND TEAM 2000-2009. Long-term romantic relationship with ARCHIE MCALLISTER. In late 2008, Megan stepped down to Reserve Duty status with the KDF so that she and Archie could buy a house in Queens together and spend more personal time in 'real life.' She died in February 2022 in the TIGER NATION mission.
-SALERNO, LAURA 'THE SCEPTRE' [BMIC, 1940; TSS, 1941] b.1911-d.1956? 5'6" 110lbs Hr:Dark Brown Ey:Brown. Vigilante adventurer during WW II. She was the widow of RAY SALERNO, creator of the SCEPTRE and she called herself that as she used the unique talisman in her exploits. Laura was one of the last of the earlier wave of 'mystery-men' in 1940 who wore increasingly flamboyant outfits as they fought criminals and Axis agents.
Her own disguise consisted of a long straight black wig over her shorter curly hair, a padded bra and bright red lipstick which changed the contours of her mouth. She usually wore a canary-yellow longsleeved jersey to further distract people.
Laura dropped out of sight in 1956. Historians of the Midnight War speculate that she died from effects of having been exposed to the radiation of the OMEGA BLAST four years earlier. The Sceptre was not reported again until it turned up in Evaho in 2000.
-SALERNO, RAYMOND b.1901-d.1939 5'10" 190lbs Hr:Black Ey:Brown. Creator of the SCEPTRE. An explorer, soldier of fortune, and tomb robber in the early 1930s, Salerno accepted commissions from KENNETH DRED to locate MIDNIGHT WAR talismans. On one such assigment,m he returned with a Darthan blasting wand and an Eldar focus gem; not knowing better, he joined the two objects and their incompatible energies exploded to nearly kill him. The resulting device was the SCEPTRE, only one of its kind, able to channel gralic energy into light, heat or concussive force. Following Ray's death in 1939, his widow LAURA SALERNO used the Sceptre in her crusade as a vigilante crime-fighter and named herself after it.
-SALZMANN, GERALD [PRE, 3/1993] Research geneticist who worked on PROJECT REGULUS under the leadership of KARL ELDRITCH. He escaped the destruction of the Project and contacted the three clones who had been set up by JEREMY BANE with new secure lives.
-SAMHAIN [TSM, 1934; LOTPM, 1944; TAM, 10/1992; TOP, 4/1993; MTDIYD, 3/1994; TPFM, 10/2004] b.1911-d.2004 6'1" 185 lbs Hr:Black Ey:Blue. Real name never revealed. A murderous genius with extended longevity and a regenerative healing factor that enabled him to survive many seeming deaths by violence. MARK DRUM fought Samhain in 1951; ANDREW STEEL fought him in 1972. JEREMY BANE fought Samhain more than a half dozen times, usually seeming to destroy the killer (he shoved the killer in front of a Seventh Avenue subway train after the Compass Murders) but Samhain always escaped and regenerated to come back.

Samhain was not a true serial killer by clinical definition. No sex was involved in his crimes, he did not take trophies from the scenes and he was not compelled to repeat his actions. He claimed to be motivated by a philosophy that murder was 'the highest art.' Samhain's killing sprees always involved a theme. The Compass Murders in 1988 involved victims named West, South and North; the White House Killings in 1989 had victims with the same names as lesser-known Presidents like Polk, Buchanan and Tyler; the Astronomy Murders in 1992 chose victims killed by methods related to the various planets. Samhain was finally destroyed by ASHLEY WHITAKER during the PUMPKIN FACE MURDERS in October 2004.

Samhain met Kenneth Dred and Dr Vitarius in 1934 during the SLAVE MAKERS incident. It has never been confirmed but many researchers believe it was Samhain who posed as the patriotic hero VICTORY EAGLE during WW II.
-SAM RYE See HOBWELL FLETCHER
-SANDERS, VICTORIA [SOSR, 1896] Known as 'Queen of the Outlaws.' b.1863-d. 5'7" 125lbs Hr:Dark Blond Ey:Blue. Married to George Elliott but in retirement living under the name Elizabeth Dowling to remain incognito. In 1886, Sanders killed a railroad executive to avenge the murder of her father; she gathered a ragtag band of misfits to help her while she was on the run. They became wanted for train robbery, flight to avoid prosecution and other offenses, and it was during this period that she met JOHNNY PACKARD, the BRIMSTONE KID. Sanders managed to remain at large and settled with Elliot in Cabot City, Colorado to lead a peaceful life.
-SANGUINARIANS [TS, 2/1961] Four occultists who restored youth and vitality by drinking a VELKANDU potion containing Human blood. All were killed in 1961 by DR KOBAL.
-SAN MIGUEL, CARLOS [TOP, 4/2003] Known as CHARLIE PANTERA b.1974-d.2005 5'7" 130 lbs Hr:Black Ey:Dark Brown. Mexican-American serial killer from Texas. His only real murder spree was when he took part in the unofficial TOURNAMENT OF PYSCHOS in the Spring of 1993. Captured by JEREMY BANE and convicted on multiple homicides. Executed by the State after many appeals, 2005.
-SARAH BELLUM [PTBBWYFI, 2018;ONATHNH] True name never revealed. HUMAN brain kept alive and thriving through technology devised by JOHN GRIM, Sarah Bellum became a criminal mastermind aided by LORENZO. ("On a waist-high electronic console sat a rectangular glass tank ten feet high and six feet wide. Aeration bubbles entered the thick greenish liquid in which sat what had once been a human brain. The monstrous organ was larger than a prize-winning pumpkin, and instead of the classic walnut-halves structure, the brain had a half dozen irregular lobes growing out of it. The horrifying object rested in a shallow depression atop what looked like a platform holding diagnostic equipment. Five thin cords ran from that platform to leads which were glued to the brain's surface.") Sarah Bellum perished when her apparatus was accidentally shattered by gunfire from Lorenzo.
-SARIAMENTO [NECTN, 2018] Leader of the HELODERMA, Sariamento was intelligent enough to speak understandable English and to attempt a disguise.
-SCHLEGEL, WILBUR [GWTTE, 1999] b.1940-d. 5'9" 165lbs Hr:Brown Ey:Light Brown. One of JEREMY BANE's network of observers, a skilled researcher and an invaluable source of leads. His daughter had been kidnapped by GOLGORA and when JEREMY BANE brought the girl back unharmed, Schlegel dedicated himself to helping the DIRE WOLF as much as he could.
-SCEPTRE [BMINC; SC, 8/2000, others] Potent talisman made of a foot-long rod of GREMTHOM capped by a blue focus gem from ELVEDAL. The two items were joined together by RAY SALERNO in the 1930s, resulting in an explosion which nearly killed him but which created a powerful talisman. The combination of Darthan and Eldar magick was unprecedented and has not been duplicated since, attempts to do so resulted in tragedy. The SCEPTRE could channel gralic energy into heat, light, concussive force or a combination of those effects. Laura later discovered the Sceptre could affect local gravity as well, giving her the power of flight and to lift objects as heavy as cars.
LAURA SALERNO added a rawhide strap to its flat end to serve as a loop around her wrist, as well as an ivory strip with five round buttons down one side. The buttons did not actually do anything, since the Sceptre worked by will power, but they served to mislead any enemies who might get hold of the device. Laura was not heard from after 1955 and the Sceptre itself seemed lost until it turned up in Evaho in 2000. JEREMY BANE claimed it and the talisman has remained secure in the KDF Vault ever since.
An attempt at crafting a new Sceptre in December 1977 [MBO, 1977] resulted in the death of the person fixing the stone to a blasting wand; a young JEREMY BANE confiscated the lesser talisman and gave it to KENNETH DRED for savekeeping.
-SCROLL OF ULTIMATE TRUTH [TSOUT, 6/1984] Darthan artifact written by TOLLINOR KJE himself, it was a tattered tube of yellowed papyrus three feet long. Each end was capped with a globe of GREMTHOM. Although written in esoteric symbols, the Scroll could easily be read by anyone. Its text used sardonic phrases which invariably predicted the imminent death of the person reading it. Knowing its curse, JEREMY BANE burned the Scroll without opening it in June 1984.
-SEEKING NOOSE Darthan talisman, the Noose was a thirty-two foot length of GREMTHOM wire running through a rope of rough hemp. It responded to the will of its owner, strangling or binding or lashing like a whip. During WW II, the Noose was wielded by HITLER'S HANGMAN.
-SEGAL, HENRY [CTI, 1984] Husband of JESSICA SEGAL, killed by ETHAN PETROV in 1984.
-SEGAL, JESSICA Known as 'JESSICA FROST' [CTI, 1984; ROW, 1986; TCW, 1996] b.1961-d. 5'6" 115lbs Hr:Light Brown (white when using powers) Ey:Brown (light blue when using powers) TEL SHAI KNIGHT and KDF ASSOCIATE MEMBER 1986-1988. A former student at Columbia University, she was married for two years to Henry Segal, an insurance office manager. Tortured and infused with gralic force by the Russian warlock VALENTIN RODCHENKO, witnessing her husband brutally murdered in front of her, she underwent a strange transformation. Jessica gained the gralic ability to siphon away heat from any area within her line of sight, effectively producing sub-zero cold. The metamorphosis muted her feelings to leave her unempathic and remote. She fixated on Bane, who was helping her in her last moments of being fully Human, so felt loyalty only to him. This led her to join both Tel Shai and the KDF in order to repay him.
Frost could numb and disorient an opponent without causing permanent harm by instantly chilling the air around him. She could make metal brittle enough to break by hand, touching it did not harm her. When she used her power at full focus, a thin layer of ice crystals formed over her body.
Frost developed only basic skills at KUMUNDU, seldom fighting hand to hand. She did become a fine CORBY pilot.
When her cold-producing powers abruptly faded in late 1989, she had to resign her membership. Her original appearance and emotional range returned. Moving to Clermont, Vermont, she became half-owner of an antiques and collectibles store called YESTERDAY'S TREASURES.
In 1996, Jessica found her cryonic abilities had returned after an encounter with AVATHOR but she was not inclined to return to the MIDNIGHT WAR and chose a normal anonymous life.
-SENECA [RNABL, 10/1989] True name never revealed b.1958-d.1989 6'3 280 lbs Hr:Brown Ey:Brown. Cursed killer who drew gralir from the lifeforce of his victims for extra strength and longevity. Seneca roamed the Adirondacks wilderness for decades, apparently only venturing into populated areas to kill when his vitality was running low. Decapitated by JEREMY BANE at Bass Lake, NY.
Seneca wore a plain white cotton hood pulled down to cover his entire head. Two thin slits, barely enough to allow vision, had been cut where his eyes were and for some reason he had painted an upward-pointing crescent shaped line over over the bottom half of the mask. It made the hood look grotesquely like a smiley button.
-SEPULCHER [GHF, 8/2002; DIBAD, 10/2011, EFO, 2020] b.1979-d. 6' 155 lbs Hr:Brown Ey:Hazel. True name Henry Lee Howitt. Severely deranged criminal who carried out crime waves and senseless murders for years, Sepulcher was an innocent man wrongly convicted of rape and murder in Texas in February 2001. Something went wrong with the lethal injection at his execution, and although he was declared dead by the doctor, he revived eight minutes later on the autopsy table. After he recovered, proof of his innocence turned up and his conviction was overturned. Although he was released with financial compensation, the man who now called himself Sepulcher was embittered and filled with hatred toward society in general.

After-effects of the botched execution left Sepulchre with the muscles of his face permanent frozen in a mocking grin. He also lost all pain responses and had heightened muscular strength. Sepulcher claimed he had been literally dead but had refused to accept it. He was known to carry five or six handcrafted derringers on his person, guns no larger than a pencil which fired .18 bullets.

Surprisingly, although Sepulcher clashed inconclusively with the KDF SECOND TEAM in August 2002, JEREMY BANE himself did not cross paths with Sepulcher directly until October 2011. In 2020, Sepulcher's face was restored to normalcy by SAGEHELM and he meekly allowed himself to be taken in custody.
-SERAPH See DOMINCETTI, FULVIO.
-SERPENT-HEAD SWORD [TSHS, 1213 DR] Cursed DARTHAN weapon of the DARTHAN AGE. The Serpent-Head Sword was made of GREMTHOM. The basket hilt which completely enclosed the man's forearm was shaped like a wide head of a serpent and the flat double-edged protruded from that snake-shaped hilt like a long vicious tongue. The eyes on the snake head were two glittering red gems. ("The strange weapon swung from side to side as if alive and dragging the man's arm behind it. Even the gems set in the eyesockets appeared to focus on the Mongrel with eagerness. The effect that the Serpent-Head Sword was alive and malicious seemed inescapable.")
-SEVEN RACES First mentioned in the DARTHAN AGE, the Seven Races were a traditional grouping based on numbers and influence, rather any biological classification. The Seven were HUMANS (Danarin), SNAKE MEN (Gamadim), ELDARIN, DARTHIM, TROLLS, TROM and GELYDRIM. Less numerous or active sub-species such as the MELGARIN or NEKROSIM were often called COUSINS OF MEN.
-SHAI TAZAM Known as 'Brightbolt' [BB, 12/1986] One of the most potent talismans in the Midnight War, Shai Tazam was a spear crafted and ensorcelled by the MELGARIN mystic MALBERON in the DARTHAN AGE. A six foot oak shaft, flat on one end and capped with a sharp barbed blade of steel edged with ENSALIR on the other, its gralic charge made it nearly indestructible. The blade was wide as a spread hand, and engraved with the outline of a rearing horse. The Ensalir on the edges of the blade shone in the presence of danger, disrupted malevolent spells and was effective against creatures of the night, even slaying ANGRDROS himself.
When thrown, the spear accelerated by itself in flight, could swerve on its own if its target tried to dodge away, and returned to its wielder's hand. The far end and half way up the shaft were wrapped in leather strips to provide a better grip.
Following the INVASION OF MAROCH, Shai Tazam was confiscated by BASILOR of the DAWN FOLK, but in 1986, it was reclaimed by PRINCESS VALERA, who has used it ever since.
-SHAMBASI, NJIMI [TMHA, 8/1988] Member of the MONGOOSE CULT, 1983-1992. Wrestler from DANARAK.
-SHAR, CIR'WILLA. Known as VENOM [TMHA, TVOKE, 3/1980, TFTOWL] b.1907-d. 6' 180lbs Hr:Black Ey:Dark Brown. Top AMRATH assassin and soldier for the SNAKE EMPIRE, Venom had lifelong martial arts training in addition to his inborn speed and venomous fangs. He was a peer in unarmed combat to both JEREMY BANE and SHIRO MITSURU.
Venom was a member of AREM KAMENDE's short-lived group DARK CLOUD.
-SHENG, MO-YUAN Known as ARGENT. b 1980-d. 5'5" 155 lbs Hr:Black Ey:Dark Brown. Double eyelid fold. Native of CHUJIR, he became a TEL SHAI KNIGHT and member of the KDF SECOND TEAM 2000-2010, then stepped down to Reserve status to open his FIST FOR HIRE Agency. His office was on the third floor of the Hartwicke Building on Lower Canal Street. The building had two gift shops with Asian and pseudo-Asian merchandise on the ground floor, as well as the manager's office. The top two floors were rented out as apartments for senior citizens. The second floor had an insurance company and the SUNNY DAY massage spa. Most nights, UNCLE PAO could be found helping out at Sheng's office.
Sheng drove a bright-red Ferrari 458 Italia which he kept at the IMPERIAL GARAGE at 40th Street and Third Avenue (the same garage where JEREMY BANE and MEGAN SALENGER housed their vehicles).
Sheng's unique ability was to channel gralic force into his body. He could become stronger, faster or more resistant to harm as long as he concentrated, but he could only create one effect at a time. At his most durable, Sheng was bulletproof and resistant to flame but he was not completely indestructible and sufficient trauma such as explosions could still harm him; he also still needed to breathe and could be affected by toxic or anesthetic fumes. Despite his best efforts, he was never able to use gralic force to enhance his senses as SABLE did.
Sheng had taken the war name Argent, because his family name meant "silver" in Chujiran and was pronounced "arjin" in the old school, and he had found the coincidence interesting.
-SHENG, PAO-WANG 'UNCLE PAO' [DDMC, 8/20210; following] b.1938-d. 5'3" 110lbs Hr:White Ey:Dark Brown. Glasses with heavy prescription. Chinese man living in New York City on a pension, Uncle Pao became an aide to SHENG MO-YUAN, nagging as much as helping. He had no fighting abilities nor clerical skill, but Pao did possess a keen understanding of human nature and a sharp sense of when clients were lying. Watching the office, taking messages, cooking meals were ways in which Uncle Pao made himself useful.
Pao met Sheng Mo-Yuan by chance in early 2010, then became caught up in an investigation and immediately insisted that they were related. Sheng did not reveal that, since he had come from the ADJACENT REALM CHUJIR, he could not have any living relatives in the world. Instead, Sheng quickly accepted Uncle Pao, allowed the old man to start helping out at the FIST FOR HIRE offices and treated Pao as a genuine uncle. Maybe it only meant that Sheng missed having a family, since his teammates at the KDF were so unlike him culturally. In many ways, Uncle Pao resembled members of Sheng's real clan back in Chujir, both in appearance and in mannerisms. And he had learned enough Cantonese over the years to be able to converse easily with Pao. They were two lonely men who welcomed each other's company.
Only once did Uncle Pao hint that he realized he and Sheng were not related by blood, when he confided to MEGAN SALENGER: ("Sheng lost his parents in a flood in Chujir when he was a toddler, I was separated from my father and mother when the Communists took power and I was smuggled into Kowloon without so much as a spare shirt. I never found out what happened to them, I became a live-in servant for a wealthy magazine publisher. When... when Sheng and I met, it was not only that we shared the same name that connected us.")
-SHERWOOD, FONDA [DOQ, 4/1988] Known as PERIL. b.1962-d. 5'7" 130lbs Hr:Black Ey:Green. Originally a college student named Kristin Tierney, she was the only survivor of the PERIL PROJECT performed by ADVANCED SECURITY RESEARCH. After the extensive plastic surgery, mental deconstruction and rebuilding, she regretted that there was "not much of Kristin left anymore." The agency even killed her immediate family and arranged it to seem like a traffic accident so that she would not have any ties to her previous life. Now code named 'Peril,' she was infused with synthetic enzyme that ramped up her healing factor to TEL SHAI range. She was to be the first of a squad of canalized agents with no distractions and with complete loyalty.
As part of her transformation, Peril was extensively trained by many experts in combat both armed and unarmed. In combat situations, Peril dressed in a tight black jumpsuit with calf-high boots. A belt hanging low on one hip supported a holster and a pair of nunchaku was strapped diagonally across her back; her forearms had wide cuffs with metal strips running from wrist to elbow. These pointed strips could be slid out and thrown as blades. The nunchaku were gimmicked to extend a blade ten inches long from the lower end.
Peril's sidearm was a handcrafted semi-automatic pistol with silencer and flash suppressor of advanced design. It fired what were actually subminiature bombs-- cartridges filled with thiny shell shot in liquid suspension. When the shell pierced a victim, it exploded and dozens of the pellets ricocheted around inside the body. Adding to the lethality, the liquid inside the cartridges was a snake venom distillate.
At some point, Peril's essential humanity surfaced and she rebelled. Fleeing the agency, she went on the run and killed any ASR agents sent to retrieve her. With the help of CHEVAL, BAKWANGA KWALI and CHEN WONG-LAI, she escaped entirely. JEREMY BANE established her in a new identity with a good-paying but quiet job somewhere in the United States. Over time, her abilities faded and her new life became her final real one.
-SHIP OF SKULLS [TSOS, 5/1987] A flying ship that glided over land as well as sea, with a crew of two hundred pirates and renegades of many Races. Ninety feet from keel to prow, made of some black wood with iron strips reinforcing it, the hurtling vessel had no sails or oars. Along its sides and fastened to a central pillar where its mast should be weree hundreds of skulls. Skulls of mortal Men, Trolls, Eldarin, Dwarves, even beasts such as the Speaking Apes of Okali.
The Ship's flying function and haze of harmful gralic force came from the OBANCHU imprisoned within it. KHANG slew this monster at the end of the battle.
-SHOGRENS [TSEC, 2/1943] Inexplicable Norwegian family apparently of recent Asian ancestry. A number of the women accompanied EGIL SHOGREN to New York in 1943 as part of his borderland research
-SHOGREN, EGIL Known as 'Baron Shogren' [TSEC, 2/1943] b.1869-d.2022. 5'1" 105lbs Hr:Black Ey:Brown. Rogue scientific genius who in 1943 opened his spurious SHOGREN EXHILIRATION CLINIC. His research enabled him to partially power up a rare ZHUNE artifact, the DIVULGER. Shogren was forced to flee and his clinic burned down by the GREEN DEVIL.
His last project was the TIGER NATION, infusing tiger DNA into Human volunteers, who then became vicious obligate carnivores who could extend claws and fangs at will. All but one of the Tiger Nation were destroyed by the KDF in February 2022, when Shogren was also killed by DEMRAK JIN. ("The man stood only an inch over feet tall, well-dressed in a tan suit with a matching vest although his tie was loosened and the top button of his shirt undone. Thick bristly white hair and a white brush mustache would have demanded more attention, but this man wore a pair of rubber goggles which thick lenses through which his eyes could not be seen and those goggles distracted from everything else.")
-SICKLE HARBOR [HOTS:GI, 2002] Home of JACK THE PEG, CANOLA SUE and CADGER. Protruding from the Northern California coast was a strip of land that curved into a semi-circular shape irresistably reminiscent of a sickle complete with handle. For more than a hundred years, boats had docked here and a small town had grown up, just under the size where it would get its own post office.
-SIGNARM. ADJACENT REALM of HUMANS. Signarm was best known as the home of the SILVER SKULL. It was a roughly rectangular area spanning 180 miles from East to West at the widest point and 220 miles North to South. In recent times, population has averaged 700,000 citizens. A few thousand Mountain Trolls are estimated to live in the Mountains where Cyr is located. Most land is given over to intensive farming. Signarm exports wheat, tobacco and corn (maize) to other realms including ANDROVAL, EVAHO, ELVEDAL and CHYL. More than thirty Barons rule in their territories; the King has limited powers in practice and largely concerns himself with pitting the Barons against each other in constant skirmishes and border conflics.
-SILK TIGERS [TST, 7/2014] Three professional top-level thieves who operated in Europe and the United States. Clashed with and killed AVATHOR. In 2014, their members were Hideko Suragiri, Sylvia Giacomo and Borjona Poznan.
-SHU SHEN Known as the SCHOLAR [BNOS, 3/2013]. d.2013 Chinese ALCHEMIST who tried to use SABLE to obtain and use the BRONZE NEEDLES OF SUFFERING.
-SHY ANNE [FLKNB, 2014] b.1978-d. 5'8" 110lbs Hr:Black Ey:Dark Brown. Wife and accomplice to retired warlock ANTON BELARIC, mother of BENNY and OCTOBER.
-SIERRA [WANLHM, 2012] b.1983-d. 5'8" 122lbs Hr:Blonde Ey:Blue. Stripper and escort who manipulated the doting HOLDEN MAGROIN to get a life of luxury. When he found the truth about her, Holden was crushed emotionaklly bjut counselled to accept his gift by JEREMY BANE. Sierra was not punished and went about life in her usual grifting way.
-S-I-G. [JAC]The STRATEGIC INTERVENTION GROUP, led by HAROLD CROFT. He framed JEREMY BANE for murder.
-SILVER HAMMER OF MALBERON [AG 1/1997] Talisman forged and ensorcelled by MALBERON during the ancient DARTHAN AGE. It seemed to have a sentient urge to kill and twisted away from a weilder's grip to strike. Confiscated by JEREMY BANE January 1997.
-SILVER SKULL. Heroic role begun in the DARTHAN AGE and still active today. The Skull wore a black leather uniform including boots and gloves; also a breastplate, round buckler, helmet and a twenty-six inch long straight sword made of steel by HUMANS of SIGNARM but incorporating slivers of ENSALIR enchanted by the ELDARIN. The sword was called CHALCEMAR and was ensorcelled to push harmlessly through a victim's body to shock them into unconsciousness without causing permanent harm in most cases. Against hopeless sociopaths or Snake men, the blade became a deadly weapon. This was known as the Judgement of the Sword. The helmet protected against mind control and allowed the bearer to receive advice and knowledge from previous Skulls in the form of telepathic whispers. All the accoutrements could be summoned to instantly appear on the Skull's body at will, no matter how far away they were. The best known Silver Skull was DR LAWRENCE TAPER, a founding KDF member and TEL SHAI knight.
-SIMEK, SAM. [TAM, 10/1992] Private Investigator who ran an agency with his cousin ARTIE ROSEN. Both men were reliable, experienced detectives and JEREMY BANE hired them many times to help on his cases. BANE first met them when they were working for his KDF teammate MICHAEL HAWK. In fact, Simek and Rosen had helped train the young Dire Wolf and had helped him get his own PI license.
-SIMMONS, SARAH [RF, 8/2008] 5'3" 125 lbs Hr:Light Brown Ey:Brown Sarah was a fourteen-year-old girl who developed an unreasonable infatuation with JEREMY BANE after being rescued by him as a child. Sarah became a runaway to trail around stalking the infuriated Bane, getting involved with the RATFACE incident and being fortunate to escape alive with only a facial scar.
-SINCLAIR, HERBERT LEWIS 'COGITUS'. [TMOTJM, 1943; TSBS, 20126] b.1867-d. 5'4" 115 lbs Hr:Brown Ey:Brown. Enlarged cranium from his own serum ("a forehead twice the normal height and the frontal lobes bulged outward in an expanse of bare skin under a hairline that had been left behind") Criminal mastermind and Midnight War threat for over a hundred years. A record level genius with PhDs in a half dozen fields... applied biochemistry, mechanical engineering, linguistics, quantum physics and xenobiology, Sinclair's academic career was stalled by the way he argued and feuded with every scientist he met. He was also accused of swiping research.
In 1943, Cogitus was taken prisoner by GALVAN and the GREEN DEVIl to be handed over as a prisoner to DR VITARIUS. By 2014, he was not more than five feet high, slightly built to the point of seeming fragile, Sinclair wore a breastplate, gauntlets and greaves of dark green plastic which were part of a sophisticated exoskeleton that allowed him movement. He bore a synthetic heart of his own design. His nervous system was enhanced by experimental proteins he himself developed. It was while experimenting with SUB-SPACE that he unleashed the INSECTOIDS; in a confrontation with the KDF team, Sinclair was himself thrown into SUB-SPACE.
-SIRION. Greatest MELGAR Champion.
-SIRIUS ONE [PRI:TPB, 11/1988; PRIV:TCONL, 12/1991] Sole survivor of the dozens of Sirius clones, he escaped the destruction of PROJECT REGULUS to live on the run with his fellows DENEB, ARCTURUS, RIGEL and ANTARES. Like the other Sirius clones, Sirius One was small and frail, not much over five feet tall, with narrow shoulders and delicate bone structure. His most startling feature was the size of their heads. Above a wizened elderly face, his forehead rose twice as high as normal, with only a fringe of feathery white hair around the ears and nape. Sirius One had intelligence in the genius level regarding technology and biochemistry.
-SISTERHOOD OF THE ALL-SEEING EYE [SOTASE, 6/2009] A MYRRWHAN cult led by DUVINA. The Sisterhood used gralic means to physically steal an eyeball out of a victim's head and transplant it into the palm of a cult member, where it survived. Within a day or so, the victim came under the mental dominance of the Sisterhood member who had stolen the eye. The cult came to the world in 2009 and was broken up by KARINA and JEREMY BANE.
-SITHGAR [tco, 1212 DR] Venomous constrictors found in the jungles of southern KHEBIR during the DARTHAN AGE. They grew up to seven feet long.
-SKANDOR. ADJACENT REALM of HUMANS in the DARTHAN AGE still existing today. Pop:80,600 (most recent).
-SKORG [BTCOM, 11/2002] TROLL with unusual characteristics. He became a Fighting Troll but stopped within Human dimensions, only slightly over six feet tall and under three hundred pounds. This made him quick and agile as well as strong. With his mentor GREM, he came to the world for Human victims but was beaten by JEREMY BANE and VALERA.
-SKULL BENEATH THE SKIN. Book of poems written by decadent artist BOUCHARD. First edition, Rue Blanc Press, 1922.
-SKULL-FACE See MARGIL
-SKULLHUNTERS [TBOS, 2000] HUMAN tribes inhabiting OKALI, in conflict with the MOUNTAIN MEN and the SPEAKING APES.
-SKULL MUG OF TI-YUAN [TSMOTY, 9/1989] A lacquered Human skull belonging to a warlock named Ti-Yuan, hollowed out with the top open to use as a drinking vessel. It was ensorcelled so that anyone who drank from it experienced visions of the near future but, according to legend, they always regretted doing so. The lower jaw was wired on. In the empty eye sockets could sometimes be seen a faint flicker of red light that was inexplicable.
-SLADE, LEONARD [AOTBC, 1957, following] b.1901-d.1990 6"1" 190 lbs Hr:Black Ey:Brown. A TROM MONITOR, TEL SHAI KNIGHT and member of the KDF FIRST TEAM. From 1956 until his death, he served as Director of Special Projects at the HUMAN CAPABILITY ENHANCEMENT Project. In 1964, he helped the newly idependent ANDREW STEEL begin his mission. In 1968, he aided KENNETH DRED in the hunt for CHRISTOPHER LINCOLN. Slade's main duties were as liaison between the Trom and Humans. He arranged for the KDF to have limited access to Trom technology in exchange for his being accepted as a TEL SHAI student. Slade died in the FINAL HALLOWEEN, 1990.

As a Monitor, Slade had been modified from the norm. He could trigger preconditioned combat reflexes, his system could discharge stimulants into his circulatory system. In moments of danger, tough transparent lids covered his eyeballs. At all times, he worked at fifty per cent above Human speed and seventy per cent above Human strength. If exposed to poison gas or excessive smoke, he could close his lungs and draw on a reserve air bladder good for several minutes. Although he was reportedly almost ninety at the time of his death, Slade still appeared to be in his early thirties most of his life. It was not revealed how long his lifespan would be, nor if other Trom shared this longevity.
-SLAUGHTERMAN See RICHARD MOORE DORSETT
-SLEET See ROBBINS, SHANNON
SLOOP, WESTON 'SPACEY' [ROPS, 2008] 5'10" 155lbs Hr:Black Ey:Light Brown. Student of PROFESSOR SLACK and friend of DEVIL PIE.
-SMALL RIDER See EMIL JORIK
-SNAKE MEN. Known as 'Gamadim.' One of the SEVEN RACES, known as GAMADIM. Advanced reptiles mimicking mammals in many ways, Snake men would be exposed by X-Rays or blood work; if taken to hospital, care is taken to change the results and if necessary to kill any Human doctors stumbling upon the secret. They had retractable envenomed canines which ended in sharp points. Most Snake men wore detachable enamel caps to give their fangs a normal appearance. Their jaws were hinged to gape open wider than a true Human's could.
The spines of Snake men contained some cartilage instead of bone and could bend further than usual. The eyes could be covered with a transparent protective scale if exposed to hazards. Snake men are less adaptive to temperature extremes than Humans are; they become sluggish and dim-thinking if exposed to heat or cold too far from temperate conditions.
Snake men were faster than normal Humans and could endure severe punishment. AMRATHS were a specialized variety of Snake men has been bred for ages to have increased toxicity and greater fighting capabilities. The most active AMRATH in the MIDNIGHT WAR was CIR'WILLA SHAR, known as VENOM.
Following the break-up of the SNAKE EMPIRE, individuals remained as dangerous adversaries but the Race was not longer the insidious threat they once were.
-SNAKE EMPIRE For millenia since the DARTHAN AGE, SNAKE MEN ran a worldwide organization more influential and more insidious than any cabal run by true Humans. Wars without obvious purpose, massive upheavals and economic depressions, feuds and vendettas that served no one... all were strategies that benefitted the Snake Empire. They were the most evil cabal in history, source of many seemingly far-fetched conspiracy theories. In 1983, JEREMY BANE led the KDF and all their available allies in a campaign to break the Snake organization. Hundreds of key Snake men leaders were killed at their headquarters outside Rome. Isolated packets of Snake men remain scattered around the world, still working for the Mafia or the Triads or the White Web, but with their organization was broken up, they were not the worldwide threat they once were.
-SNAKE WAR Events of 1983, when JEREMY BANE led the KDF and all their available allies in an all-out assault on the SNAKE EMPIRE. Hundreds of key Snake leaders were killed at their headquarters outside Rome, breaking the vast worldwide influence of the SNAKE EMPIRE. During the battle, several heroes lost their lives, including MICHAEL HAWK and GITANO.
-SNARKS [ROPS, 2006] Gralic manifestations which become semi-aware physical beings. ("three spirals of dark red smoke swirkling in front of the guru. They were only four feet high, growing more solid and taking clearer form. Features emerged quickly, every detail became clear and three of the Snarks materialized to stand there as vividly as if they had been flesh and blood beings born in the normal manner. The strange little men were all wrapped in beige raincoats that reached their feet. They had full heads of spiky black hair that stood straight up, they had long tubular noses and wide toothy grins.") Snarks often contented themselves with teasing and tormenting people but were known to attack kneecaps with ballpeen hammers.
-SOLAR KNIGHTS [SOTM, 3/1982] Project involving powered armor suits with flight capability and heavy weaponry, devised by JOHN GRIM. Despite Grim's claims to have developed the suits by himself, they incorporated advanced technology created by the TROM. Solar Knights were used heavily in Grim's war with the empire of WU LUNG.
SONG SOO LIN b.1926-d.1953. Former assassin of the WHITE WEB, married to MITSURU TAMAKYO. After they robbed the Shanghai treasury of their organization, they went on the run for fourteen years. Their son SHIRO grew up as a fugitive learning as many martial arts as possible.
-SPACEY SLOOP Disciple of PROFESSOR SLACK
-SPHINX [ANATM, 1993; IM, 1999; TWBTW:A, 2/2006] b.1931-d.2006 5'11" 250lbs Hr:Black (head shaven) Ey:Dark Brown. Flat leonine nose. Minor mystic and international criminal, former disciple of MENEKARTES. Born in Khebir, the Sphinx posed as a modern Egyptian. His true name seems to have been Bilal Hajjir but he often used the alias Nefu-Sobek. He did not have gralic energy powers but was known to use various Alchemical poisons; his favorite was Imnefer, 'the Mummy Dust of Death.' The Sphinx acquired mystic talismans when he could but his criminal activity was usually of a mundane nature like drug smuggling, human trafficking and extortion. He committed many murders and assaults. One of his last misdeeds was forcibly claiming the homeless fugitive JOCELYN GARIMIRA to use her as a sex toy and her RED SPECTRE as a weapon. The Sphinx was killed by JEREMY BANE in the struggle over the THREE SLEEPERS in February 2006.
-SPIEGEL, ERIC [AWOM, 2012] b.1977-d. 6' 185lbs Hr:Black. Ey:Blue. Field agent for the MANDATE with outstanding record despite his frequent womanizing and heavy drinking. ("A tall man with crisp black hair sat up... There was no mistaking that good-looking face with its long nose and thin-lipped cruel mouth. Even the faint scar on the right side of the forehead.")
-SPINNER OF WEBS Title used by ALCHEMIST SHIHZU WANG, and then by his daughter OLIVIA after his death.
-STARVE GOAT ISLAND [7/2011] Barren piece of rock one mile across in the Atlantic Ocean where a secret GHOUL cult led by Captain JACK MODEST sometimes met to devour their victims. It had a firepit and evidence of earlier feasts. The cult was wiped out by JEREMY BANE working together with ESPERANZA RIVAS and her partner TROY.
-STEEL, ANDREW [CNP, 1985] b.1964-d.1989 6'1" 340lbs Hr:White Ey:Grey. Unique advanced cyborg-robot created by the TROM, Steel unexpectedly developed self-awareness and self-determination. The Trom were unable to duplicate Steel and could not explain his independent mind. A layer of living Human skin and hair covered Steel's surface, kept healthy by nutrients circulated within minute tubes, allowing him to pass as Human even on close examination. Steel altered his appearance to the grey motif and began a decades long career of crimefighting, advocating social change helping TEL SHAI knights in the MIDNIGHT WAR.

Steel employed several personal aides including SUN CHONG-KYU (1971 to 1982) and SHIRO MITSURU (1982 to 1989), FRED HOGARTY and JENNIFER ROSS.
On missions, Steel wore a field suit of boots, slacks and a waist-length high-collar jacket with a front flap open on both sides. In pockets on the inside of that flap were kept various tools and weapons. Steel frequently sprayed from within his cuff a spray of the anesthetic used by the KDF in their dart guns. He was never known to use a firearm.
The public never learned what had happened to Andrew Steel. The man in grey had evidently just dropped out of sight and his partner Shiro Mitsuru had simply released a statement that Steel had fallen in action and would not be seen again. Only a few knew what had happened. In 1989, John Grim had captured Steel, disassembled him and learned the secrets of his construction. Although researchers working under John Grim did develop MEGAVAC, that was another one-time occurrence which could not be duplicated.
-STIGMA [TMFIA, 8/2006] Established circa 1972. Loose alliance of various independent criminal organizations. Each had its own little empire, whether involved in espionage or gambling or drugrunning. STIGMA was set up to eliminate friction when the member's affairs intersect and to pool their resources as needed. Affiliated with STIGMA were the organizations of CHIANG SURIGATA, JOHN GRIM, WU LUNG, COBALT JACK.
-STING See HAWK, ROBERT
-STIVALETTO, ERNESTO and THERESA. [TBP, 2010) A married couple in their late 80s, the Stivalletos had been members of THOSE WHO REMEMBER. In 2010, they used a DARTHAN spell to siphon calcium from their victims into their own bodies, attempting to rebuild their bones. This was the infamous BONELESS PLAGUE. Despite their commanding a TARGHUL, the Stivalletos were destroyed by JEREMY BANE and COUGAR JONES.
-STOCKBRIDGE, MICHAEL. 'COMMIE BUSTER.' b.1920-d.2013. 6'2" 220 lbs Hr:Black Ey:Blue. During WW II, Stockbridge had served in the Marines in the Pacific and had gone into intelligence work after the war ended. When the CIA had been founded, Stockbridge had established himself as a dedicated agent who was at his best in the field. After a spectacular gunfight with a KGB man near the Pentagon, Stockbridge picked up the nickname "Commie Buster" which he loved.
Working with a team of four support agents, Stockbridge fought KGB spies for ten years. His most persistent adversary was NATALIA KOTYCHENCKO, the RED WIDOW. Both were placed in stasis by the MANDATE in 1954, to only be revived in 2013 to conclude their feud. Stockbridge was tortured to death and Kotychenko's own men were tricked into shooting her by JEREMY BANE.
-STONE MAN See COHEN, SIMON
-STORMGREN FAMILY. Criminal gang belonging to STIGMA. ("The clan of Alfhild Stormgren. They styled themselves the descendants of Vikings and berserkers. They operated entirely in Northern Europe, stealing industrial secrets and sabotaging law-enforcement efforts to break up sex trafficking or drug smuggling. Nothing subtle about the Stormgrens.")
-STRATEGIC INTERVENTION GROUP [JAC, 1993] Covert unit of the MANDATE, working without records or official authorization. Headed by HAROLD CRAFT in 1993. The SIG did not normally commit assassinarions, its duties including disgracing people, adbucting wanted criminals from countries without extradition and infiltrating terrorist cells.
-STRICKLER, GARY [TTM, 4/2008] Private Investigator and Notary Public working in Forlorn Corners, Minnesota. He helped JEREMY BANE solve the TRICERATOPS MURDERS.
SUDLOW, DREW Known as 'THE HAUNT' [ROTRE, 1982] b.1954-d.1980 6'2" 190lbs Hr:Black Ey:Blue
In 1980, while trying to apprehend WESLEY GORSLINE the RESURRECTOR, Sudlow was shot three times in the chest and lay steeping overnight in a vat of the Alchemical formula. He revived as a higher grade Zombie to begin his HAUNT career. ("I found out I didn't have much of a pulse and I only breathed when I made an effort to do so. I wasn't hungry at all. I had no sense of smell or taste. Eventually it sank in what I was. I had been floating in Gorsline's reanimation serum all night and it had soaked into my body. I was one of the Undead... I don't feel pain at all. Wounds just sort of close up and vanish in a day or so. I guess I absorbed so much of the reanimation fluid that it keeps resurrecting me.")
-SULAK b.1909-d. 6'3" 250 lbs Hr:Black Ey:Blue. MELGAR Champion and Heir to the LEGACY OF MALBERON. As Champion beginning in 1926, he was a ward of KING HOLMIR and was given rank and privileges of Prince although he was not eligible for succession to the throne. Sulak led the MELGAR invasion of ULGOR in 1929, then partnered with ROBERT HAWK and CHEN LEE SUN during WW II. He was a TEL SHAI KNIGHT and KDF Associate member beginning 1986.
Upon reaching adulthood, the permanent gralic charge settling in Sulak's body gave him superhuman strength. He was never tested for maximum lifting ability, as this was considered distasteful. Sulak was documented ripping oaks four feet across out by the roots, punching through stone walls and throwing cars across a city street.
Aside from his strength and durability, Sulak was highly skilled in MELGAR Boxing, which includes use of elbows. In light contact bouts, he consistently won against top opponents.
Sulak's charge of gralic force gave him a high degree of resistance to injury from bladed weapons or blunt force. He routinely shrugged off gunfire or sword attacks, survived landslides and being hit by a train. Temperature extremes did not harm him, he could stand in open flame without discomfort. He was not literally invulnerable, though. Gralic blasts from a master like WU LUNG or a DARTHAN KJE could harm or kill him. He could be wounded or slain by major talismans like HELLSPAWN or SHAI TAZAM< Although he was barely affected by poisons, he did need to breathe, and to eat and drink.
As Champion, when on official missions including TEL SHAI actions, he was supposed to wear his arena suit. This consisted of a tight long-sleeved tunic and pants of Royal blue cotton, with white leather boots and gloves, and a white sash around his waist into which he tucked personal items. For formal ceremonies, a silk version of this uniform was substituted. A white mantle reached from shoulder to shoulder, marked by vertical red bars in front to denote rank. In Sulak's case, this was a single bar.
-SULEIMAN [NP, 1995] b.1951-d. 6'4" 270lbs Hr:Black Ey:Dark Brown. Vigilante who traveled with and helped HENRY PAIGE as THE JUDGEMENT. Suleiman served both as a valet and as a warrior. ("Suleiman was dark-skinned, with straight glossy black hair, a bristly beard and a prominent beaklike nose with two fierce dark eyes on either side... He claimed he was an Afghan from a tribe that had been wiped out by the Russians, but he sure didn't look like an Afghan. He looked like someone from northern India... a Sikh, perhaps. But he never wore a turban or mentioned his religion. Suleiman was both fast and merciless with the long knives he carried strapped to his back with their hilts up for easy access.")
-SULLA CHUN According to TEL SHAI lore, the Sulla Chun were incarnate gralic spirits, the result of concerted will by the ADALARIN and ADALARIM. The Sulla Chun revealed THIRTEEN FORBIDDEN ARTS to mortal mystics on ULGOR at the CORRUPTION, beginning the DARTHAN AGE. In the cataclysm which sank ULGOR, one of the Sulla Chun was injured and taken prisoner to ULGOR by TOLLINOR KJE; this was the CAPTIVE, whose energy powered Darthan spells ever since. The other Sulla Chun were imprisoned by JORDYN in 'the space between spaces.'
-SUN, CHONG KYU [TKITC, 3/1973; GS, 8/1986] Known as GOLDEN SUN. b.1941-d. 5'6" 165 lbs Hr:Black Ey:Dark Brown. Korean-born TIGER FURY master of KUMUNDU and TEL SHAI KNIGHT, beginning in 1964. Partnered with ANDREW STEEL 1971 to 1982 before joining the Chujiran resistance movement against invaders from CHYL. ("Not more than five feet six inches tall and stocky, he had a wide face and a nose that had been broken at some point. The man was in his late forties and weathered, his head was almost shaven with just a black bristle covering it. Sun wore boots and leggings of soft leather, but his loosely-sashed tunic was of a beautiful gold silk that glimmered in the late afternoon sunlight. In black on the back of his tunic were those Chujiran ideograms for 'gold' and 'sun.'")
-SUNG, KIM CHU [TMHA, 8/1988] Member of the MONGOOSE CULT 1980-1987. Tournament champion in Hapkido and skilled in Tae Kwon Do.
-SURIGATA, CHIANG. [TMFIA, 8/2006] b.1945-d.2006 6'1" 165 lbs Hr:Black Ey:Green Head of Asian-American crime ring affiliated with STIGMA. Used Burmese dacoits and strange experimental animals such as flying jellyfish. Decapitated with his own sword by CRICKET HARKINS.
SU TZE-KYU [TOFOFB 6/1998, TWW 10/2006] b.1923-d.2006 5'1" 100 lbs Hr:Grey Ey:Dark brown Last known teacher of the FURIOUS BUDDHA style, killed by his own student STANLEY PODIOLKA.
-SWAPAL [SC, 8/2000] Leader of the COJOBE resistance against the LEAGUE OF PREDATORS.
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"The Crimson Pearl"

11/11/2003


I.


"This is not a partnership. I'm in charge. You're going to go through with it or else!" Alvarado smirked cruelly as he delivered his ultimatum. Across the table from him Ruffian clenched her white hands in barely repressed rage. Alejandro Alvarado was tall and darkly handsome in a ruthless way. Many women looked on that hawklike face with its thin mustache with appreciation. Ruffian hated him, with as good reason as she feared him.

But she had been an independent adventuress since her teen years, and could not repress a flare of rebellion. "I've decided against the impersonation! It's too risky!"

"Not half as risky as defying me!" he reminded her. "Your safety is hanging by a thread, Ruffian. How would you like to have me tell the police why you left that apartment complex in such a hurry? Or tell them my version of what happened that night in Duffault's apartment—"

"Hush!" she begged. She was trembling more from repressed anger than fear as she glanced uneasily about the little curtained alcove in which they sat. It was well off the main floor of the Bordeaux Cabaret. Even the music from the orchestra came only faintly to their ears. They were alone, but the words he had just spoken were dynamite, not even safe for empty walls to hear.

"You know I didn't kill him," she snapped.

"So you say. But with your reputation, who'd believe you if I swore I saw you do it?"

She bent her head in defeat. This was the price she must pay for a single moment of bad judgement. In Marseille she had been indiscreet enough to visit the apartments of a certain important Ministry official. It had been only the harmless escapade of a thrill-hunting girl who loved building connections with people who might be able to help her larcenous career.

She had found more thrills than she wanted when the official had been murdered, right before her eyes, by his servant who she was sure was a Russian spy. The murderer had fled, and so had she, but not before she had been seen leaving the house by this Alvarado, a henchman of the slain official. He had kept silent for the moment. But the murderer had taken important documents with him in his flight, and there was hell to pay in diplomatic circles.

It had been an international episode, that almost set government upheaval roaring in troubled Europe. The murder and theft remained an unsolved mystery to the world at large, a wound that still rankled in the capitals of the Continent.

Ruffian had fled the city in a panic, realizing she could never prove her innocence if connected with the affair. Alvarado had followed her to this town of Benoit and laid his cards on the table. If she did not comply with his wishes, he'd go to the police and swear he saw her murder the minister. With sinking certainty, she knew his testimony would send her to a firing squad, for a various government was eager for a scape-goat with which to conciliate the wrathful French public.

Seeing no choice, Ruffian submitted to the blackmail. And now Alvarado had told her the price of his silence. It was not what she had expected, though, from the look in his eyes as he devoured her trim figure from glossy black hair to delicate feet in high heels, she felt it would come to that eventually. But here in the Bordeaux Cafe, a shabby rendezvous in the shadowy borderland between the respectable and the shady, he had reminded her of a project she had abandoned as too risky.

He had commanded her to steal the infamous Crimson Pearl, a rare gem belonging to the vile Alchemist named Courbet. That pearl had amsassed a long list of victims who had died violently trying to possess it.

"So many men have tried," she argued. "How can I hope to succeed? I'll be found floating in the river with my throat cut, just as they were."

"Your chances are good," he retorted. "They tried simple direct force. We'll use a woman's subtle strategy. I've learned where he keeps it. Informatiom from former employees can be bought. and he learned that much. He keeps it in a wall safe that looks like a dragon's head, in the inner chamber of his antique shop, where he keeps his rarest goods, and where he never admits anybody but wealthy women collectors. He entertains them there alone, which makes it easy."

"But how am I going to steal it, with him in there with me?"

"Easy!" he snapped. "He always serves his guests tea. You watch your chance and drop this knock-out pill in his tea." He pressed a tiny, translucent sphere into her hand.

"He'll pass out like a candle getting snuffed. Then you open the safe, take the pearl and skip. One reason you're perfect for this job is you have a natural gift for unraveling trick box puzzles. The safe doesn't have a dial. You press the dragon's teeth in some sequence. That's for you to find out."

"But how am I going to get into the inner chamber?" she demanded.

"That's the essence of the scheme," he assured her. "Did you ever hear of Lady Simone Beaufort? Well, every antique dealer in the Europe knows her by reputation. She's never been here to Benoit, though, and I don't believe Courbet ever saw her. That'll make it easy to fool him. She's a young Frenchwoman with esoteric tastes and she spends her time wandering around the world collecting rare Midnight War treasures. She's worth millions, and she's a free spender.

"Well, you look enough like her in a general way to fit in with any description Courbet's likely to have heard. You're about the same height, same color of hair and eyes, same kind of figure... And you can act, too. You can put on a posh accent that would fool genuine nobilty, and seem the high-born lady to a queen's taste.

"I've seen Lady Simone's cards, and before I left Paris I had one made to match. You see I had this in mind, even then." He passed her a curious slip of paper-thin pasteboard, embossed with elegant characters.

"Her name, of course. She spends a small fortune on cards like that alone. Now go back to your apartment and change into the clothes I know you had made up...scarlet silk dress, dark red hat, slippers with ivory heels, and a jade brooch. That's the way Lady Simone usually dresses Go to Courbet's shop and tell him you want to see the ivory Laughing Mask. He keeps it in the inner chamber. When you get in therem go into your act, but be careful! They say Courbet worships that Crimson Pearl in a literal religious way, and burns incense to it. But you'll pull the wool over his eyes, all right, if anyone can."

Ruffian made no comment.

"Go out by the back way. When you get the pearl, meet me at room Number 7, in the Rue Bon Fortune. You know the place. This town is already too hot for you, and we'll have to get you out into the countryside in a hurry. And remember, sweetheart," his voice grew hard as his predatory eyes, and his arm about her waist was more a threat than a caress, "if you double-cross me, or if you flop on this job, I'll see you stand before a French firing squad if it's the last thing I do. I won't accept any excuses, either. Get me?"

His fingers brushed her chin, trailed over the soft curve of her throat, to her shoulder, and as he voiced his threat, he dug them in like talons, emphasizing his command with a brutality that made Ruffian bite her lip to keep from crying out with pain.

"Yes, you've made yourself very clear."

"All right. Get going." He roughly pushed her toward a door opposite the curtained entrance beyond which the jazz music blared.

the rest of the story )
dochermes: (Default)
"Babe Lincoln"

6/2-6/3/2012

I.

"The super-hero poses are very dramatic, Hales, but they don't get the job done."

Pouting at the snark from her best friend forever, Windcatcher lowered her fists from her hips and threw the heavy blue cloak back over her shoulders. At seventeen, slender and long-legged in snug blue shorts and a long-sleeved white pullover, Haley Lawson had the confidence of youth that nothing really bad could happen to her. No matter how much she asked for it.

Her rich auburn hair blazed in the early September sunlight, and under heavy bangs a pair of lime green eyes winked at Gina and Bentley. "Okay, I'm gonna try it. Not sure how well this will work out."

"That's why we're sitting way over here," called Gina from forty feet away.

"Oh ye of little faith..." Haley grumbled, moving up to a waist high boulder that was standing by an outcropping at the edge of the meadow. "See, I got this idea because of something my mom did when she was in high school. One winter, the driver's door of her car was covered with ice. No way to open. She thought it would be a good idea to bring up a soup pan of boiling water from the house and pour it all over."

Bentley laughed out loud at the thought and Gina smirked in her own subdued way.

"Yeah! She got the door open and drove to school BUT the window on the driver's door was shattered into a million little bits. So, let me take what Mom learned the hard way and put it to good use." She touched the soft choker under her shirt collar to contact the unimaginably ancient Air Gem and concentrated. Over an active volcano on the Big Island of Hawaii, air at a temperature just under two thousand degrees was mystically siphoned the great distance to flow over that rock. The surface turned bright cherry red instantly, and the shape of the rock visibly sagged.

"That's part one," Haley announced and then launched a blast of wind from an Antarctic storm. Eighty degrees below zero, that air struck the superheated rock which exploded like a grenade and sent shards whizzing off in all directions. Haley yelped and jumped back too late to have done any good.

"Haley, come on!" screamed Gina. "Are you TRYING to kill us?!"

"Sorry, sorry, you guys aren't hurt?"

"No. I'm okay. Bentley, did you get hit by any of that?"

The gawky eighteen year old was patting his arms and legs tentatively, looking for blood. "I'm good. But man, that was close. I heard a piece of rock buzz by me and it sounded like a bee."

Haley Lawson herself noticed a gash in the fabric of her blue cloak, down by the lower hem. As sublimely confident as she was, the thought did pass through her head that a sharp fragment of rock could have taken out someone's eye or sliced across an artery. But it hadn't. And as quickly as that, she moved on.

"Okay, okay, I guess my next experiments will be conducted a wee leetle bit more carefully. I think I can manipulate hot and cold air masses enough to cause lightning strikes..."

"Time for us to go!" yelled Gina, hopping to her feet. She was a petite curvy Junior at Haley's high school, with the full wavy hair that came from being full Italian generations back. She was yanking on her boyfriend's arm as if she had spotted a brown bear emerging from the woods.

The Windcatcher trotted over to her friends, waving her hands. "Not today, not today, I swear. That's enough for right now. What we need to experiment on is pizza. How does that sound?"

Both Gina and Bentley came to a halt. "It's always a good time for pizza," the boy agreed. We skipped lunch to come out here and it must be four o'clock by now."


"Out of deference to our jangled nerves, I will not fly us down to the Village Pizza joint but we will walk with our feet solid on the ground. Sound like a plan?"

Gina began tugging Bentley in the opposite direction, toward the long sloping h
ill which led down to Glenville. He didn't mind. He had gotten used to her pulling on his arm to make he was going along with her impulses. "Say, Haley," Gina said, "I was wondering. If you got to be really good with your Air Gem, I mean like perfectly in control, couldn't you make the weather better? Couldn't you stop droughts and break up hurricanes and stuff?"

Unsnapping her cloak and rolling it up to carry under one arm, Windcatcher sighed. "You'd think so, ya know? But Mom said that she tried it when she had the Gem, and things went wrong every time. If she tried to stop a hurricane, she could split it up but it would surge back stronger than before. Redirecting floods caused just as much damage somewhere else. One time she tried to divert a Northeaster, big winter storm ya know? and it split into TWO Northeasters and got much worse."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Bentley offered. "I know you've got a good heart, Haley. You want to help people."

"Thanks. But it seems like weather is just too big and too complicated to mess with. Maybe someday, I'll try starting small and see what I can do. But for now, I think the Air Gem has to be used carefully. With great power...."

"Yeah, we know the quote," Gina laughed. "I still think you need to start reading some real books for a change."

Heading down the hill toward Church Road, Haley said, "Have you guys seen on the local news about this burglar called Babe Lincoln...?"

the )
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"Watercolors In the Rain"

3/27/1985

I.

Standing in the doorway to the KDF rec room, Jeremy Bane said, "I have no idea what you're doing."

Cindy Brunner twisted her head around to give him a chagrined smile that had melted many hearts. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of two VCRs that had dubbing cables running between them and then from each of them up to the big wall-mounted TV. Three separate remote controls, a stack of six VHS tapes and a manual added to the confusing sight. "Drat, neither do I."

"It looks as if you're trying to make copies of movies," ventured the Dire Wolf. As always, he was wearing what amounted to his uniform of all black slacks, turtleneck and sport jacket which made him look even taller and leaner than he was.

The telepath jumped up to her feet with the ease of both youth and perfect physical conditioning. At twenty-six, an inch over five feet tall and maybe a hundred pounds even, she had never looked better. The long straight blonde hair was glossy and the dark blue eyes bright. Both the Tagra tea diet and her Kumundu training had gotten her blazing with life. "Yeah. Well, it's taking a while. Somehow I keep recording what's on TV instead of from the store tape to the blank. I think I should unhook everything and start over again slowly."

For once, Bane's pale grey eyes were not cold but relaxed, even mellow. She was one of a small handful of people who ever saw him that way. "Good luck. Anyway, I came to tell you we're going to have a visitor in a few minutes."

Cindy glanced past him. "Um. He's at the door now, actually."

A second after she spoke, the buzzer sounded out in the hall. Bane wheeled and strode out of the rec room at a walk faster than most people could run. He went past the row of bookshelves which lined the front hall, past the wide staircase leading up, past the office where he met visitors to the Kenneth Dred Foundation.
Stopping by the solid oak front door, he slid open a panel set at eye level to reveal a bank of controls. He pressed the speaker button.

"Good morning, please come in. We'll be with you in a moment," the Dire Wolf said. He hit a second switch which unlocked the outer street door, allowing the visitor to enter the foyer. Bane activated the advanced Trom sensors and watched as the monitor screen lit up.

Cindy had come up behind him, tugging down her loose grey swearshirt that read SCARABS WORLD TOUR 1983 across its front and back. "His mind is calm but worried. I'm picking up he has long-term stress from responsibility. Not anger, not tenseness from impending action. He's not here to attack us."

"Thanks, Cin." Bane was studying the image on the monitor screen of a sturdy man in middle-age, well-dressed in a light brown suit and tie. A neatly kept goatee and mustache, plus touches of grey in the dark hair, added to the professional impression. Along one side of the screen, pale green letters rolled off details about the man.. exact height and weight, heartbeat and blood pressure, EKG results, levels of adrenalin in trace perspiration. All these factors had been scanned within a second.

Most importantly, the sensors showed no weapons. Nothing of metal other than some keys, no chemical signatures of possible poisons or explosions. The Trom security system had cleared their visitor. Bane swung the inner door open and said, "Come right in, Dr Fairchild."

Cindy caught Bane's eye for a second and she nodded approval. Her telepathy was skimming over the surface of Fairchild's mind, too lightly for him to be aware of it but she had found nothing to alarm her.

Stepping into the hall, Dr Benjamin Fairchild extended a hand which Bane shook. The man did appeared worried, with dark circles under his deepset eyes and a general worn down expression. "I'm glad you agreed to see me right away. I came at once."

"Let's see if we can help. Dr Fairchild, this is Cynthia Brunner, my partner at the Kenneth Dred Foundation. Come on, let's get started." He gestured for the man to enter the open office to their right, where Cindy touched the back of a chair for the man.

Bane himself circled around behind a massive desk and took his own seat under a gorgeous hand-painted map of the world as it had been in 1937. As Dr Fairchild got himself settled in the plain wooden chair facing the desk, Cindy remained standing. She folded her arms over her bust and gave the visitor a reassuring half-smile.

"First, let me mention that I've been doing research into the effects of sleep deprivation on dreams," Fairchild began. "I'm attached to the Osborne Medical Institute in Jersey City. So I have all the proper credentials. The staff and the scientific community see me as a solid, responsible professional."

Bane said nothing, merely raising a feral eyebrow to indicate the doctor should go on.

"But, and there's always a 'but,'" continued Fairchild, "Despite all my atheism and materialism and skepticism, I have increasingly encountered phenomena which I simply can not explain and can not ignore. I have heard of your Kenneth Dred Foundation and the work you do. In fact, I have learned quite a bit about the Midnight War."

"That's not something the general public ever hears about," Bane said. "It's probably better that way."

"Yes. The world is scary enough without adding awareness of the Midnight War to it. Be that as it may, right now we have a patient at the Institute. She volunteered for some deprivation experiments but something went wrong. Mr Bane, Miss Brunner, it's quite inexplicable but Joan Brunswick has been asleep for forty-eight hours as of this morning. Physicians have been tentatively trying to wake her with medications but with no results. And according to her EEGs, she has been having strong dreams the whole time."

Leaning a narrow hip against the desk, Cindy interrupted. "There's something more than natural causes for this, then. That's why you came to us?"

"Yes. I hesitate to say this, it sounds ridiculous, and yet... I have been gathering folklore data on something or someone called Meremoth. A living, intelligent presence that preys on sleeping victims."

Something changed in that office. Bane was already sitting up straight, his face alert and interested but suddenly those pale eyes lit with intensity. "Preys on them how?"

"In their dreams," replied Dr Fairchild. "Meremoth is a dream parasite."

the rest of the story )
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"The Mountain of Iron"

7/4-7/5/1977

I.

Shiro Mitsuru was, if anything, even more ready for trouble than usual. Xiao-sing's narrow waterfront streets were still and shadowy in that hour before dawn when he left the docks. The widely spaced street lamps gave insufficient light. There was a clatter of feet on the cobblestones down an alley to his right. Then came the sounds of a heavy fall, scuffling, a choked-off scream for help.

Clearly, no one with any prudence would have not hurried away. But Shiro quickened his pace and raced around the corner to nearly fall over a writhing, struggling mass on the cobblestones. The dim light of a street lamp showed what was going on. Two men fought there in grim silence. One was a slim young Chinese in European clothes, pinned down on his back in the wet muck. Kneeling on his chest was an assailant in tradional knee-length robe over loose trousers. He was much bigger than his victim, with a grinning face like a demonic mask. One talon-like hand clutched the throat of the smaller man and a wavy-bladed knife flashed in his other hand.

Shiro had seen his type hundreds of times before. Since birth, he had been the target for assassins of the White Web. This was one of the bloody hatchet-men the Tongs and secret societies use for their deadly work. Without hesitation, the Tiger Fury plunged closer and knocked the man senseless with a front snap kick under the chin. The hatchet-man remained stretched out without a twitch and the young Chinese sprang up, gasping and wild eyed.

"Thank you, my friend," he gurgled in English. "I owe his life to you. Here, take this..." And he tried to stuff a wad of green banknotes into Shiro's hand.

"You owe me nothing," Shiro scoffed, stepping back. "I'm glad to fight scum like that."

"Then at least please accept my humble and sincere thanks," the victim persisted, seizing his hand to shake it. "I know you, do I not? You're the new Tiger Fury?"

"Not yet," Shiro answered. "I've just begun studying Kumundu. If Teacher Chael does give me that title, it's at least a year away." Despite his pretense of humility, Shiro had complete confidence he would succeed and he had already begun to think of himself as a Tiger Fury.

"I will not forget," he said. "I will repay you some day. My name is Fong Yung-Tao, of the prosperous family Fong. Be wary, the society will not forget you either. But now I must not linger. This is my one chance of escape. If I can get aboard the British ship that is anchored in the bay,I will be safe. But I must go before this animal revives. Better that you go too. May good fortune reward you. But now beware of STIGMA."

The next instant he was racing down the street at full speed. Watching in amazement, Shiro saw him sprint onto the docks and dive off, without the slightest pause. Surprised, the Tiger Fury heard the splash as the man hit the water and a little later he saw, in the brightening pale dawn, a widening ripple aiming toward the British S.S. RESOLUTE, which lay out in the bay. Shiro was wondering what it all meant, when the hatchet-man moaned scrambled uncertainly to his feet.

"Ashamed of yourself, aren't you?" demanded the Tiger Fury. "Any good assassin would have finished a mere office worker off before I showed up."

The only answer was a glare of such venomous hatred that even Shiro felt alarmed. The killer limped painfully away into the shadows. Watching him hobble out of sight, Shiro was tempted to grab the man and administer a thorough beating to make him harmless for a few weeks. But really, the whole business was not his concern. Shiro dismissed the affair from his mind and continued down the street.

He was so innured to danger that he took it for granted.

His father and mother had stolen a fortune from the treasury of the White Web, an act of either incredible daring or utter foolishness. That centuries-old network of assassins had immediately launched a hunt for the couple that lasted fourteen years. Their newborn son grew up hiding in motel rooms, rented apartments and in cars on the road, never knowing a real home. As soon as he could walk, the parents had spent their wealth on having Shiro train under every available martial arts master in every style possible. He never knew if this had been their goal for him all along or if they just thought it was the only way he could survive the unending attacks from everything from ninja to brumal to Dacoits to snipers.

Just before his fifteenth birthday, Shiro returned to a secluded cottage in the New Territories of Hong Kong to find the White Web had caught up with his parents at last. He had only been able to mourn them briefly because he still had to stay on the move. Then he had met an elderly sifu who had sponsored him to apply at the Order of Tel Shai. Shiro had been accepted as a student by the legendary Teacher Chael and broke all odds by successfully qualifying as the new Tiger Fury.

For the moment, he decided he would get a little sleep in preparation for the day. He had come to like the turmoil of this disputed island, and felt determined to explore it. He entered into a seedy boarding house kept by a Portuguese man named Pasqual, went into his rented room and flung himself down on the ancient single bed for a few hours slumber.

He was awakened by the faintest whisper of sound. Instantly ready for an attack, he glared at the locked door and saw something protruding under it. A piece of stiff paper the size of a playing card. Shiro used a washcloth to pick it up, not touching it with his bare skin. No message was written on it, either English or Chinese, just an inked drawing of a bright yellow human skull with an X through it. That was all.

Irritated at not getting a full sleep, Shiro rose, still dressed, and shouted for Pasqual. When the manager hurried up, the Tiger Fury said, "Look, Pasqual. Someone stuck this under the door. Do you know what the meaning of it is?"

He took a single look. Then he leaped back with a gasped, "It means Death. it's the murder notice of STIGMA."

"What do you mean?" Shiro demanded. "Who is this STiGMA?"

"A new secret society," gasped Pasqual, shaking visibly. "International criminals, murderers. They are tied to Winter Snow and the Black Mantis. Once I saw a men receive the sign of the yellow skull. He was dead before the sun rose again. Get aboard any ship you can, Mr Mitsuru. Hide aboard it, stay out of sight until she sails. Maybe you can escape."

"Slink away and hide myself like a kicked dog?" Shiro growled. "You still don't know me at all. I'm feared myself wherever fighting arts are practiced. I've never run from any man yet. Tell me where I can find STIGMA and I'll smash it flat."

But Pasqual was obviously gripped by intense fear. "I'll tell you no such thing," he gasped. "I'm risking my life talking to you at all. Get out, quick. You mustn't stay here. I can't have another murder in this house. Go, please, sir."

"All right," the Tiger Fury snapped. "Don't give yourself a heart attack, Pasqual. I'm going."

Shiro traveled light, with only a canvas knapsack holding some clothes and toilet items. Sewn into his loose trousers were various bank cards and bundles of money. He normally carried no weapons at all. Annoyed at the situation, Shiro stalked stiffly out into crowded streets to get some food. While he ate roasted meat on skewers from a street vendor, the Tiger Fury reviewed the situation and realized that he had somehow blundered into the sights of still another mysterious gang of shadowy cut-throats. As if being marked for death by both the White Web and Winter Snow wasn't bad enough!

Grabbing two oranges and an unbroken bottle of water, Shiro strolled out into the streets again, with their filth and glamor, sordidness and allure going hand in hand; throngs of people buying and selling, bargaining in a half-dozen languages, sailors and merchants and outcasts of all nations rolling through the crowds...

He began to have a familiar sensation that he was being followed. Again and again Shiro wheeled quickly and scanned the crowd, but in that boiling swarm, it was impossible to tell whether anyone was trailing him or not. Yet the sensation persisted. A life spent on the run had taught Shiro to trust his instincts. Where any normal civilian would have been frightened or at least uneasy, he was used to the sensation of being followed. Let killers do their worst, he thought. They would meet more than their match.

the rest of the story )
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"VULCAN: Futrelle's Dog With a Smile

11/22-11/3/1944

I.

Kelly hated this assignment. Going out to Queens to interview some rich coot about a painting he had purchased from a French merchant. She should be covering the Vulcan arson case! Three houses had burned down in six weeks, and the last time, arrivals on the scene had glimpsed a big man in a Roman legionary costume fleeing the scene. Mocking letters to the police and newspapers had been signed 'Vulcan, the Human Flame-Thrower' and had vaguely hinted at some crusade against corruption in high places. There had been injuries but no deaths. So far.

The only good news was that her editor at THE MESSENGER had allowed her to use his car. The cranky old Chief seldom drove anywhere except from his apartment to the office and back, and he had gasoline to spare. His B sticker entitled him to eight gallons a week. This was consolation. Waiting for Cordwaite to show up, she gazed around the huge gallery that was well lit by high windows almost taking the entire west wall. A narrow skylight let in further illumination. She had never learned much appreciation for fine art. Solid comfortable chairs and a side table displaying an assortment of liquor bottles completed the decor. These were pleasant looking oil paintings to her untrained eye but nothing special. Sailing ships in storms, rearing horses, rather chubby women who wore only wispy bits of cloth around their hips, nothing to hold her interest.

At twenty-four, Kelly O'Connor was tall and slender rather than voluptuous. She was wearing her favorite dark green skirt and jacket, with a white silk blouse and a single strand of pearls. The green compliment her flaming red hair and matched her eyes. Her hat was a mere cloche perched precariously on the side of her head. Hanging on a brass chain from her left shoulder was a soft leather handbag. She looked great but took it for granted and wore minimal make-up even when, as now, she had to make a good impression.

Before leaving the office, she had dug through some of the reference books which lined the walls of the day room. It hadn't helped. She didn't recognize any of these paintings and the signatures seemed mere scribbles to her. Kelly took out her notebook and pencil and began to write a description of the gallery in her modified shorthand. But even as she wrote, her thoughts strayed to wondering about this Vulcan firebug.

"Ah, this charming young lady must be Kelly O'Connor!" sang out a high tenor voice. Harvey Cordwaite was the same height as Kelly's five feet seven, but so dumpy and round-bellied that he seemed shorter. He was wearing a flamboyant deep maroon dressing gown over a white shirt and black trousers, with a loosely knotted red polka dot bow tie. A red beret and a cigarette in a long ivory holder added to the colorful first impression. Kelly disliked him on sight.

"That's me," she answered with her most disarming smile. "Humble reporter for New York's newest paper, THE MESSENGER. The door was wide open, so I came in. I didn't see any butler."

"Oh, I keep no servants on the grounds," Cordwaite said. "I'm self-made. I can cook my own meals and drive by myself. I do have a housekeeper and groundsman who come in twice a week but that's all." He added with a bit too much glee, "We're QUITE alone, Kelly."

"Really. Heh. Well, the art world has completely lost its marbles over your purchase of a painting by Jean-Claude Futrelle, let's see, 'Chien Souriant.'"

"In English, 'the Smiling Dog.' Have a good look, my dear." Cordwaite took her arm and gently guided her to where an oil painting three feet to each side hung at eye level.

Kelly made herself show some patience and studied the piece of art. It showed a man and a woman sitting next to each other on a wooden bench under a tree. They were wearing Medieval clothing, the man in hose and a doublet and the woman in a long white gown and a conical hat with a ribbon dangling from its point. They were holding hands and staring into each others' eyes with a warmth that reminded her of a few of her own dates.

But it was the dog that amused her. In the foreground, sitting with its head turned toward the viewer, it looked like a wiry-haired terrier to her. A faint but unmistakable smile lifted the corners of its mouth in a very human expression.
"Oh, that IS clever," she said finally. "Pooch there is glad they're going to smooch."

"The first kiss is always so exciting, don't you think?"

Kelly shifted slightly away and held up her notebook to make it clear she was all business. "I didn't know these high class painters had a sense of humor."

"Futrelle was quite young when he did this," Cordwaite explained. "It's one of his earliest pieces. In fact, until a few years ago it had been thought to have been lost."

"Hmmm. Mr Cordwaite, critics have been losing their minds over this painting, from what I can gather. And there's quite a scandal how cheaply you bought this for. Twenty thousand doesn't sound like chicken feed to me, but I guess something from Futrelle would normally go for three times as much."

"Ah," said the little man, clapping his hands in glee. "That was my stroke of luck. The owner is just starting out as a broker. He was eager to make a sale and didn't have the patience to hold out for more. My good fortune, of course."

Kelly tapped her pencil's eraser end against flawless white teeth. "I can see a Sunday feature page about your collection. How would you feel about a photographer coming out here and doing some shots?"

"Would you be returning as well, my dear?"

Kelly repressed a sigh. She didn't want to lead the millionaire on, but at the same time, getting her name on a full-page Sunday story would mean a juicy bonus. "Of course," she said but stressed, "MR Cordwaite. I'd like you to approve the text before we leave, to make sure I got all the names and descriptions right."

"Fine, fine." He was heading for the side table. "I have some excellent Scotch here, my dear. Twelve years old, from before the war. Perhaps a toast to good old Futrelle and his charming dog?"

"No thanks, I'm just a working girl and I have to get back to the office before five. Thanks for your courtesy. I'll ask my editor to set up a photography session." Kelly tucked her notebook and pencil away and saw how crestfallen the old man was. She added, "Perhaps some other time."

"Ah, such is life." Cordwaite had prepared a generous tumbler for himself. "I'll see you to the door."

"You know, there IS something else," Kelly said. "That house that burned down in the next city over, it belonged to an art dealer named Langston. Do you know him?"

"Oh yes, not a bad fellow at all. Most of his collection was lost, sad to say. Only a few bits of the frames were recovered. Quite irreplaceable."

Kelly let the art lover escort her down a hall to where the front door was still open. On a paved turnaround, a gleaming new Nash stood next to her Chief's old Ford. "It's supposed to have been one of the Vulcan arson jobs. What do you think that's all about?"

"Bah. Some lunatic with a peculiar quirk in his mental make-up," Cordwaite dismissed the thought. "These arsonists love fire for its own sake. I wouldn't look for any deeper meaning."

Turning to shake his hand as warmly as she could, Kelly added, "Still, it wouldn't hurt to be careful, sir. Whoever he is, Vulcan is at large."

Cordwaite laughed and released her hand with a gentle squeeze. "Thank you for your concern. I assure you that I will be sleeping in the gallery tonight like a watchdog."

the rest of the story )

Glossary H

Apr. 20th, 2023 01:44 pm
dochermes: (Default)
>H
-HAGEN [SS, 1940] MELGAR, leader of the SEVEN SWORDS
-HAGS Three ancient witches, sisters some say, who have been feuding for centuries. One of the Sea, one of the Mountain, one of the Desert.
-HALARIN,see ADALARIN
-HALESTRA [TCS, 2001] b.-d. 5'8" 140lbs Hr:Blonde Ey:Amber. One of the KRASTIDIANS, a family of ELDARIN mutated by exposure to a SULLA CHUN event. It was mentioned that her gralic ability involved wisdom in some way but she did not get to demonstrate it before she and her clan were taken prisoner by the KDF SECOND TEAM and taken to ANDROVAL for their offenses.
-HALWICK, THOMAS EDWIN. Known as 'The Deacon.' b.1926-d.1979 5'9" 1250lbs Hr:Black Ey:Brown. Adventurer and vigilante in the Midnight War from the mid-1950s until 1975.
Although never brought to trial, Halwick was known as an expert thief who chose to rob the extremely wealthy. He also stole loot from criminal rings without being caught. This gave 'the Deacon' a shady reputation. After he became more interested in the Midnight War, Halwick seldom committed his heists again.
Halwick was a chain smoker and drank to a noticeable extent, although neither vice hindered his athletic ability. He was a fine shot with the Beretta .25 he carried, and was good with his fists or a combat knife he wore strapped to his right shin under his clothes, although he was by no means a top combtant. ("Well under average height but fit-looking, the notorious Deacon was well-dressed to the point of excess. He was wearing a light tan suit with a yellow shirt and brown tie, as well as a vest. His fedora was being twirled around a finger. Halwick had a prominent nose and sharp dark eyes, with black hair combed straight back. More than once, people had said he had a ferret-like quality.")
In 1979, after it became known he was preparing to self-publish a book exposing the SNAKE MEN, he was killed by them.
-HARKINS, CHRISTINE 'CRICKET' [TMFIA, 8/2006] b.1987-d 5'10 120 lbs Hr:Blonde Ey:Blue Daughter of research chemist Colin Harkins. When her father was abducted by CHIANG SURIGATA, she became involved in the rescue operation by INTERCEPT agent NICHOLAS PRYSHEPA and JEREMY BANE. Unexpectedly, Cricket beheaded Surigata with a sword as a crucial moment.
-HALBRECHT, FREDERIC W [WLTPO, 2013] b.1942-d.2013 5'8" 160lbs Hr:Grey Ey:BRown. HUMAN shape-shifter who could assume the form of a Pterosaur (which everyone except MEGAN SALENGER insisted on calling a Pterodactyl). After several murderous attacks on people, the monster was driven into the freezing East River and presumed killed. ("The creature's torso was bigger than a normal Human, with a wingspan of twelve feet. Its dark blue hide was like leather, lighter in color across the belly. In his winged form, Halbrecht stood on two stumpy legs which ended in taloned four-toed feet. A thick tail which ended in a flat barb whipped angrily from side to side, and the head had a crest extending backward to balance the long vicious beak. In that instant, even as startled as she was, Haley Lawson noticed the sharp peglike teeth set in the beak, the way the wings were not floppy thin skin but were reinforced with stiff fibers and that the bright red eyes focused on her like a predator on its prey.")

-HARAK, JANOS [HODN, 1/1990] Known as Harak the Damned. b.1816-d.1990. 5’11” 225 lbs Hr:Blonde, head shaved Ey:Blue. Mercenary and hired killer given extended longevity by his possession of Darthan artifacts. Harak owned a hatchet with a curved two-foot long handle, a breastplate and helmet all of GREMTHOM infused with gralic force by the DARTHIM ages earlier. Some of the life force of his victims was siphoned into him through the hatchet, enhancing his vitality. He was a member of AREM KAMENDE's group DARK CLOUD. Harak was killed by TANG MING in January 1990; his weapon and armor was confiscated and sealed away in the Vault at KDF headquarters.
-HARAK THE DAMNED See JANOS HARAK.
-HARMON, ADRIAN [TMTC, 1963; ROTGM, 5/1982] Known as GITANO. b.1943-d.1982 5'10" 175lbs Hr:Black Ey:Brown. Troubled wanderer on the outer fringes of the Midnight War, Gitano had been left partially amnesiac after a clash with the GROUP MIND. It was the same incident that gave him his unusual abilities. He could cause healing and pleasure with his left hand, destruction and pain with his right. Gitano had several exploits of his own, including the encounter with the MORBID TABERNACLE CHOIR and the AMETHYST SLUG. He never did find resolution or peace of mind, and died helping out in the final battle of the SNAKE WAR.
-HAUNT See SUDLOW, DREW `
-HAWK, ARTHUR [Arthur Hawk born in 1891, marries Laurel Taylor, is 29 when son Michael is born in 1919. Arthur and Laurel are killed in a plane crash off Nova Scotia in 1921 and Robert takes custody of the boy.
-HAWK, CLAY [AKFITD, 1890] b.1849-d.1922 6' 180lbs Hr:Black Ey:Dark Brown. Original name 'Little Clay Hawk.' A full blooded Navajo educated by a Lutheran family which took him in, former gambler and scout, Clay Hawk became a Federal Marshal Agent in 1881. He was documented to have killed six men in gunfights, although he greatly preferred to arrange matters so that the suspects had no choice but to surrender. Even a master like the Brimstone Kid was wary of any possible confrontation with Clay Hawk. After his marriage in 1890, Hawk moved to a desk job.
He had two sons, ARTHUR (father of MICHAEL) and ROBERT (known as the STING). Clay Hawk thus began a tradition of three generations of crime-fighters.
("Dressed in formal townsfolk clothing, black trousers and a white shirt with a floral-pattern vest and a string tie, Little Clay Hawk wore a flat-brimmed low-crowned hat. His Indian blood showed clearly in the glossy black hair, the strong eagle-beak nose and the deepset eyes.")
-HAWK ISLAND [ROW, 3/1983] Ten miles off the coast of northern Maine, Hawk Island had been the property of MICHAEL HAWK, who left it to the KDF in his will. JEREMY BANE expanded and upgraded the facility to use as a second base for his team. The main building was one story high, made of stone blocks painted white, with a wing on each end. The wing on the left held five rooms for personal quarters. These rooms were small, not much more than a bed, bathroom and work station. They did not belong to anyone in particular but were used by KDF members in turn as needed. The main building held Bane's own office, a command center, a medical ward and a recreation room. The wing opposite the private rooms held training facilities... basically a gym and obstacle course. This area also had two detention cells for temporary holding captured enemies. The hangar was large enough to accomodate two CORBYs at ok same time with all the tools and support equipment necessary. Two miles from the main building was the boathouse which stored two speedboats for ferrying members to Southport in case something went wrong with the CORBY.
-HAWK, MICHAEL Known as MANHUNTER b.1919-d.1983 6'1" 190 lbs TEL SHAI KNIGHT and founding member of the KDF FIRST TEAM 1979-1983 When Hawk's father died young, his uncle Robert (who had been a crimefighter known as THE STING) took over. He spent his fortune having young Michael taught everything useful for a criminologist. Michael was home-schooled but also traveled the world being instructed by experts. Michael served in the OSS from 1942 to 1945, and only learned about Robert's career as the Sting after the war. Hawk died waging war on the Snake Empire.
-HAWK, ROBERT b.1895-d.1966 5'9" 180lbs Hr:Black Ey:Brown. Known as the STING, Hawk was a crime fighter and spy smasher during the 1930s and 1940s with his partner CHEN WONG-LAI, the DRAGON OF MIDNIGHT. Robert Hawk became a tutor to his nephew MICHAEL, raising him to be a superlative criminologist and manhunter.
As the Sting, Robert Hawk wore an elaborate suit of padded clothing, built-up shoes and a full-face black cloth mask under a wide-brimmed fedora. This made him appear to be a much larger man physically than he was.
Relying on trickery and cunning, Hawk used information from underworld informers to manipulate gangsters into turning on each other or to give themselves away while under investigation by the police. Any fighting which could not be avoided was left to his partner CHEN LEE SUN, a master of Gung Fu. Hawk also used nearly harmless anesthetic darts on his enemies, never revealing where he obtained the formula for such a sophisticated drug. These were the same darts later used by his nephew MICHAEL HAWK and later shared with the KDF members.
After his legs were ruined by bullets, Hawk became much more a deductive mastermind, sending Chen out to act. As Chen became more independent (and secretly used the Dragon Pendant), Hawk spent more of his time and energy supervising the raising of his young nephew Michael to be a foremost adventurer and criminologist.
-HEARTLESS MEN. [THM, 1/2002] Group of Humans enslaved by Darthan , using a spell to replace their natural hearts which small black ensorcelled stones. This left them both merciless and under her control. They also did not need air, food or water after the spell. All known Heartless Men were destroyed in their encounter with JEREMY BANE.
-HEIRS OF BULIWYF [HOB, 2/1988] Four Humans who claimed talismans made by MALBERON for legendary warrior BULIWYF long ago. CHARLES LAWSON received the Earth Hammer, his wife CATHY the Water Horn. Their daughter LISA received the AIR GEM and son JIMMY LAWSON the Flame Boots. In 2016, Lisa's daughter HALEY LAWSON took the AIR GEM for herself and became known as WINDCATCHER.
-HELLFACE See MORGAN LEE ELLIOT
-HELLSPAWN 'THE BLADE WHICH DRINKS LIFE' [TBWDL, 1880] Known as 'MALEGIM.' Cursed weapon crafted and ensorcelled by TOLLINOR KJE in the DARTHAN AGE. Hellspawn was made of the copper-colored metal Gremthom, shimmering hotly as if freshly pulled from a fire. It had a blade six feet long and four inches across, straight for its length until the sudden sharp point. Etched into the blade were esoteric symbols of a sorcerous language only the Darthan Kjes could read. Within the metal itself resided a cruel bloodthirsty spirit whose origin no one knew.
In combat, the sword moved of its own volition, tugging its wielder's arms despite any resistance. Hellspawn howled and screeched as it fought. When the blade entered a body, it siphoned lifeforce into itself and into its wielder, leaving the victim withered and dessicated. Even minor cuts inflicted by Hellspawn never healed.
Hellspawn was finally destroyed in 1980, when on MAROCH itself, KHANG broke it underfoot. Several fragments were later found being used as weapons in themselves, but they possessed only a tiny amount of the original curse.
-HELODERMIM [NECTN, 2018] Race of intelligent bipedal Gila Monsters standing between six and seven feet high. Their intelligence varied from minimal to Human-level speaking English. Led by SARIAMENTO. JEREMY BANE and THE TRAVELER had a non-violent encounter with the creatures. ("Still basically a Gila Monster who happened to stand six feet tall, not counting the thick tail which dragged on the ground behind him, the creature had modified hips and spine so it could walk upright. The huge flat head seemed to have a permanent fanged grin that was not reassuring. Decorated with alternating wide horizontal bands of red and black, the pebbly hide looked thick enough to be extremely difficult to pierce.")
-HERE COMES TROUBLE [LAG,HCT 2001] All-girl band popular from 1999 to 2001. The members wrote their songs and played their own instruments. They were talented but the gimmick where the band members slowly stripped down to lingerie during concerts certainly got them publicity. Drummer Little Angel, rhythm guitarist Kitten, lead guitarist PRINCESS and vocalist SCAMP were the members. Secretly, Scamp's voice was augmented by gralic magic from sorcerer KOVACEVIC. After ASHLEY WHITAKER and MEGAN SALENGER removed his powers, Here Comes Trouble's quality declined sharply and the band sank into obscurity.
-HIGH ONE. [WACUTM, 7/1969] The Thirteenth Man, leader of a coven of GRIMUA, modern followers of pre-Celtic cult which included Moon worship in its beliefs. His attempt at assassinating the Apollo astronauts was foiled by MAEVE KEHOE. ("the thirteenth man. His robe differed from his followers in that gold threads ran in esoteric patterns over its surface. The cowl was thrown back. He was a man in his prime, wide-shouldered and deep-chested. The High One's face was impressive enough with its lantern jaw and deepset eyes, only the receding line of thinning hair gave away that he was reaching middle age. Across his lap, the cult leader rested a shepherd's crook carved of ash, with a green gem inlaid at its upper bend.")
-HIGH SCHOOL FRANKENSTEIN [HSF, 6/1965] ("One arm was visibly longer than the other, his barrel chest stuck out further than any normal man's should, his hands were rough and gnarled. But his head, with the square boxlike cranium under lank black hair, was the worst. The deathly white skin hung in strips ready to fall off. The mouth twisted up on one side to reveal his teeth. His right eye was twice normal size, bulging and bloodshot, and from each temple protruding a short round bolt.")
HITLER'S HANGMAN Wielder of the SEEKING NOOSE, 1940-1945.
-HODGENS, SAM Known as the PUDGE [TROTP, 7/1992] b.-d.1992. 6’1” 438 lbs. Hr:Light Brown Ey:Hazel. Human criminal given powers of immense density and strength by RED SECT. He used massacres and brute force to create new mukri-racial gangs in his attempt to dominate the New York City underworld. Despite the fact that he thoroughly thrashed JEREMY BANE in their first meeting, the Pudge was lured into a trap by Bane and suffocated. ("It appeared as if the Pudge were almost as solid as a baked potato, with his internal organs squeezed into a compact mass deep inside the torso. He did not have true blood... chemical analysis showed he circulated a thick plasma instead. Weight was four hundred and thirty-eight pounds. Blood pressure was 160 over 110.")
-HOESS, NORBERT THOMAS [MTIYP, 12/2011] b.1983-d. 6'2" 170lbs Hr:Light Brown Ey:Brown.
-HOGARTY, FRED [TKITC, 3/1973; CNP:TKM, 6/1985] b.1943-d. 5’10” 200KBS He:Dark Brown Ey:Blue. Explorer, scout and guide for scientific expeditions. For more than fifteen years, Hogarty was one of ANDREW STEEL’s closest aides.
-HOLY KAO. Real name Kao Cho Park [ROPS, 2008] Korean thug working for HUMBLE MODEST, always carried a roll of quarters in a sock for blackjacking people.
-HONJABI [TNGOD, 1986] Large town in DANARAK known as the edge of the interface between the real nation and the ADJACENT REALM of the same name. Honjabi was frequented by mystics, adventurers and merchants of every type. The interesting architecture featured low stone buildings with arched doorways and shuttered windows. Many of the outer walls were painted in startling combinations of yellow and green. Bazaars and trade fairs were frequent.
-HOPE'S END, MAINE. [INYHG, 2005] Nearly abandoned town inhabited by a few remaining HUMAN-GELYDRA hybrids.
-HOPEWELL, CHARLES LEE [TWBTW:A, 2/2006] Known as CHAR. b.1965-d. 5'11" 176llbs Hr:Black Ey:Amber. Char had the power to project gralic force from his eyes which manifested as red beams of heat. He could regulate the beams from a mild warmth to an intensity that would melt steel or cut through granite. After he worked with JEREMY BANE cleaning up a warren of GHOULS near Tampa, Char was offered a chance to apply for Tel Shai study and KDF membership. He declined both. Raised in Florida and later moving to North Carolina, Char was happy as an unashamed redneck who smoked Lucky Strikes, drank Budweiser and earned a living as a garage mechanic. He did step up to help Bane during the struggle over THE THREE SLEEPERS.
-HOST See JONATHAN TODD
-HOYT, BARBARA Host for KARINA
-HUANG, WILLIAM LI [RF, 8/2008] Known as RATFACE. Huang was a third-generation Chinese-American with the ability to transform into a humanoid-rat form and back at will. He had many of the usual traits of shape-shifters when changed, including immunity to regular bullets and extreme speed and strength. Huang was Sifu of a modified Hung Gar style, owned a restaurant and really made his fortune with a network of illegal gambling dens for Chinese immigrants. In 2008, he began assembling a gang of over one dozen thugs for extortion and robbery. Ratface was killed when he confronted JEREMY BANE. ("At first, he seemed to be literally a five foot tall brown rat standing upright. But the shoulders were wider and the belly less prominent than they would have been on a real rat. The hind legs were longer and set in the pelvis differently. The long naked pink tail whipped about excitedly, and the ratlike head grinned to reveal rows of sharp yellow fangs.")
-HUMAN CAPABILITY ENHANCEMENT Project. The HCE was established in 1956 by the TROM to facilitate their interaction in the MIDNIGHT WAR. A civilian enterprise with both military contracts and government connections, the Project was on the surface dedicated to advanced medical research but it also served as the facility where both LEONARD SLADE and STEPHEN WEAVER were based. This was where ANDREW STEEL was created. The Human orphan MEGAN SALENGER was raised primarily at the HCE Project.

Ninety miles from the nearest town, the facility was a complex of interconnected buildings with a hangar which held both the CORBY and a regulation Bell helicopter for transportation.("Reaching the high metal mesh fence, he had gotten out to identify himself to a voice from a speaker next to a camera before the gates had unlocked and swung themselves open to admit him. The hot blacktop of the parking lot was surprisingly vacant for a facility that showed six large one-story buildings.. only ten cars were in sight.

The main building had its sign on a post, green letters against a white background, HCE HUMAN CAPABILITY ENHANCEMENT, and a listing of what was to be found in each of the six buildings. The largest structure was marked ADMINISTRATION. The lobby was cool and dry, the lighting subdued and restful. Uncomfortable-looking aluminum tube chairs, a low table and a magazine rack on the wall by the door, a large clock on one wall.")
-HUMBLE MODEST First name HERMAN [ROPS, 2008] 6' 160lbs Hr:Brown, head shaven Ey:Brown. Con artist operating the CLEAR LIGHT INSTITUTE to fleece gullible seekers of enlightening. Partner with Korean thug HOLY KAO. Crossed paths with JEREMY BANE and PROFESSOR SLACK.
-HUNCHBACK. There were two men in the Midnight War who were capable of transforming from a normal appearance into a deformed hunchback state with great strength and resistance to harm. In the 1940s, this was BETRAND MOILLET. In the 1990s, it was film director xx,
-HUNG, HARRY [THHMC, 2012] b. 1963- d. 5'8" 180bs Hr:Black Ey:Brown. World-famous Chinese-American private detective, born in Hawaii but living in San Francisco most of his life. Father of TOY HUNG.
-HUNG, TOY [THHMC, 2012] b. 1991- d. 5'1" 135 lbs Hr:Black Ey:Brown. Daughter of famous detective HARRY HUNG, she wanted to follow in his trade but he discouraged her.
-HUNGRY TREES [BGOTJ, 1998] Carnivorous plants found only in VEGANORA, bred to be large enough to devour people. ("The Blind Archer stepped back against a tree trunk and found it had been partially hollowed out. Long vines hanging down like a curtain provided good cover. Feeling he was well concealed, Josef pressed back and found to his distaste that the inside of the trunk was sticky and smelled vaguely rancid. A dozen curved branches snapped shut around his body like a living bear trap. His arms were pinned. Sharp thorns pierced through his clothing and stung with some sort of paralyzing toxin.")
-HUNTING PARTY [WW, 2001] Group organized by EDWIN WEST to try to exterminate werewolves.
-HUROMI. [EITE, 2009] A forgotten civilization apparently existing between the fall of ZHUNE and the rise of early cities in the Middle East. The Belgian mastermind ENRIQUE PASCAL was the only living person to discover hidden subterranean cities in a dozen sites around the world in Yemen, Laos and Chile. The first one he found was beneath the Alps, and he discovered it quite by accident. It was Pascal who called them the Huromi, the 'forgotten ones,' sorcerers and Alchemists of great ability. Of the vast empire they established thousands of years ago, all that is left are their buildings deep beneath the surface. One located in the Montana region was the newest he uncovered and it was here he clashed with TEL SHAI KNIGHTS JEREMY BANE, MEGAN SALENGER and JOHNNY PACKARD. Surviving in the Huromi cities were thousands of semi-alive MOLE-MEN, who obeyed Pascal without question.
-HUTCHINS, LEE [CDW, 3/1981; SAS, 1/1982] b.1943-d.1982 5'7" 180lbs Hr:Brown Ey:Brown. An exceptionally skilled ALCHEMIST, Hutchins in his career crafted two STONES OF TRANSITION, many OTHER-MEN inhabited by homunculi and most of the VELKANDU substances. He was also skilled in the FANG SHIH art.
In 1981, Hutchins began a partnership with the GELYDRA warlock LI TUNG, growing OTHER-MEN in exchange for items impossible to get on the surface, including coral growths with rare compounds inside them, and a Fungus that only grows in undersea caverns. Taken captive by the captive, Hutchins had a psychological block placed in his mind by CINDY BRUNNER that prevented him from active participation in the Midnight War. He was set free and allowed to continue research and writing about the subject, though.
Poor judgement and weak resolve led him into one disaster after another, including his defeat by the KDF and his murder at the hands of SIMON COHEN, whom he inadvertently transformed into the STONE MAN.
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>E

-EAGLE STAR. Unidentified stellar object visibly blue to the naked eye, the Eagle Star was seen by the Plains Indians as a symbol of moral righteousness. It was known to flare up brighter at the birth of a Human destined to serve that purpose throughout life. In the second half of the 19th Century into the 1920s, that role was carried out by ELI MARCUS, who was also partnered with the SPIRIT WALKER.
-EARLIER ONES [TEO, 2/1872] Pre-Human Race of intelligent anthropoid beings who were displaced in North America by the early proto-Indians. A small number survived in the Northwest until late in the 19th Century, ("The Earlier Ones. Not many remain. Before the red man, these mountains were theirs. The tales say that the Earlier Ones had cities of their own in the days after the first sunrise, but over time they have forgotten how to make fire or speak. A tall man's head does not reach the shoulder of an Earlier One. They do not wear clothing but have long black hair over their bodies. Among the Crow, it is said that Earlier Ones scavenge and eat carrion. ..."Up over the top of the dying man's head, a bestial face with a protruding brow ledge and a flat nose over a long upper lip could be briefly glimpsed. Then the hairy form vanished back into the gloom with its prey.")
-ECHO STONES. Among the rarer talismans in the Midnight War, Echo Stones were blue gems similar in appearance to TRAVEL CRYSTALS. Crafted and ensorcelled by the immortal EldanarIN, they were used for communication between adjacent realms. Persons holding an Echo Stone could hear and be heard by another also holding a stone, even in distant realms. CINDY BRUNNER joking called them "magical walkie-talkies," an accurate enough description.
-EFRIKO [L, SOD, 11/1977] One of the lesser spirits under the ADALARIN. When called upon by Invocation, Efriko could provide the ability of enhanced perception which seemed to manifest as astral projection.
-EISENBACH, MARY [TAFH, 7/2005] b.1961-d.2005 5'8" 135lbs Hr:Light Brown Ey:Brown. Entomologist who began delving in ALCHEMY. Her partnership with GUSTAVO ended abruptly when he stabbed her to death to keep her silent.
-ELANTIA [TCO, 1212 DR] 5'8" 115 lbs Hr:Auburn Ey:Green MYRRWHAN slave in the 'Cursed Oasis city THUTHMEK during the Darthan Age. While attempting escape with ROMAL, she was killed by one of the giant venomous constrictors.
-ELDANARIN One of the SEVEN RACES, created by JORDYN. Modified from HUMANS, the typical Eldanar was short, slim and thin-boned, invariably with bright golden hair, amber eyes and tawny skin. The ears rose to distinct points. Eldanarin resembled each other closely enough that other Races had difficulty distinguishing them apart. Adult males averaged five feet fibe inches tall and weighed one hundred and fifteen pounds; females averaged five feet even and weighed ninety pounds. Eldanarin showed neotenous traits of a large head relative to the torso, large eyes and small chins.
Not entirely immortal, Eldanarin aged at an exceedingly slow pace after reaching maturity and a lifespan of many thousands of years was normal. Few diseases could afflict them, although they could still die by violence or mishap.
Eldanarin shared a low-level group consciousness while remaining individuals. The Firstmade of their Race, ELUZALNG and LINLORA, reigned as King and Queen with their immediate children as Princes and Princesses; but their authority was in practice minimal and guided by group will. The Eldanarin regarded themselves as belonging to a single extended family with intricate cross-relationships such as "eighteenth cousin." Their exceedingly long lifespans and slowed aging encouraged incest without shame or harmful effects.
The average Eldanar was capable of channeling gralic energy into light for self-protection; Eldanar craftsmen infused benevolent gralic force into their talismans such as SAGEHELM, the travel crystals. When Eldanarin ensorcelled silver, it became ENSALIR with great potency against malevolent spells or unnatural creatures. The matched Ensalir daggers used by KENNETH DRED and then JEREMY BANE were Eldanar weapons. They also are expert at weaving, woodworking and ceramics. Eldanarin themselves so seldom fought with weapons that it was long remembered as a shocking event.
Eldanarin resided in the ajacent realm of ELVEDAL and few ever went to the world or to other realms. At intervals, a small group were sent to an outpost to catch up on world news and developments, which they reported to their people. They had a hedonistic culture, with sexual customs which most Humans would find alarming. Eldanarin memorized incredibly lengthy poems and songs to entertain each other, and they had a vast number of dances for different moods or occasions. Older Eldanarin mastered out of body experiences.
Eldanarin can cross-breed with Humans, producing the MELGARIN. There are no instances of Elderin interbreeding with other Races and Eldanar/Melgar matings produce more Melgarin.
Noted inviduals: PERENDIR of the SEVEN SWORDS, PRINCE DURAN of OKALI.
-ELDRITCH, KARL [TKITC, 1973; LSOFTA, 4/1978; TVOKE, 8/1980, more] b.1918-d.1989 6'7" 340lbs. Hr:Brown (head shaved) Ey:Hazel. German warlock who studied under a DARTHAN KJE and then a NEKROSAN sorcerer, slaying both treacherously to claim their artifacts. Eldritch became obsessed with the lore of ancient Zhune in 1966. By 1973, he had learned the ultimate secret of the universe, converting energy into matter and matter in energy, becoming virtually immortal and indestructible.
Covert ruler behind the scenes of BRUENIG from 1980 to 1985, Eldritch used that realm as a base to gather a small army of Midnight War fighters and creatures. In September 1985, the KDF and its allies wiped out his forces in a full-scale melee and Eldritch was forced to flee. The warlock was finally destroyed by KHANG, who utterly obliterated him in 1989 so that nothing remained to regenerate.
-ELLIOT, MORGAN LEE 'HELLFACE' [WAAE, 4/2012] b.1975- 6' 180lbs Hr:Brown Ey:Light Brown Convicted felon who served ten years in Napanoch for manslaughter. Elliot was known as 'Hellface' because the number 666 tattooed on his forehead and his pointed goatee. While in prison, Elliot developed an unhealthy infatuation with pop single KYLE MCKYLE and decided to assassinate the boy after being released. Along with his two younger cousins Shane and Annie Lou as accomplices, Elliot was captured by JEREMY BANE before he could carry out his plan.
-ELVEDAL. Realm of the EldanarIN. Population: 1, 400, 900.
-ELZULANG. First of the EldanarIN and their king since before the DARTHAN AGE.
-EMBAR [TBWDL, 1880] b.ER-d.1880 4'11" 90lbs Hr:Golden Blonde Ey:Light Blue. Ears pointed. Eldanar woman who journed from ELVEDAL to the American West in search of her brother ALMEK, who had become a slave to the cursed sword HELLSPAWN. They both died violently before the sword was confiscated and buried by JOHNNY PACKARD.
-EMISH TOR [TWQ, 3/2000] b.1915-d.2000. 5'6' 310lbs Hr:White Ey:Blue One of the THREE WITCH QUEENS,
Emish Tor was a sorceress from ULGOR who worshipped GRELOK but served DRALDROS. In March 2000, she joined with three other mystics to cast a murderous spell which was halted by the KDF SECOND TEAM. Tor died in the struggle.
-EMPIRES IN THE EARTH [EITE, 2/2009] Seven underground cities left by the forgotten HUROMI civilization following the end of the DARTHAN AGE. ENRIQUE PASCAL discovered them and took command over the MOLE-MEN living there. Cities mentioned were under Montana, Chile, Yemen and the Alps.
-ENSALIR. Silver which has been infused with gralic force by the EldanarIN. Harder and lighter in weight than normal silver, Ensalir had great potency to disrupt malevolent spells, repel and slay creatures of the night and to warn of danger by shining with a lambent white light. Ensalir was only obtained as a gift from the Eldanarin and so was extremely rare.
The best known Ensalir objects were the matched throwing daggers which had been given to KENNETH DRED, who then passed them on to JEREMY BANE. The helmet, shield and sword CHALCEMAR of the SILVER SKULL were made by HUMANS but incorporated numberous flecks of Ensalir in their substance. The Eyeless Helmet SAGEHELM was crafted of white gold containing Ensalir flecks, and the long cloak worn by GARRISON NEBEL was of heavy cloth interwoven with Ensalir threads.
-ENUKIM. Known as Gargoyles, Enukim were a variety of KULAN. Wingless and without talons, smaller than most Kulan, the Enukim seldom left FANEDRAL. They served as laborers and craftsmen, leading miserable lives of ill-treatment by the other inhabitants of Fanedral.
-ERULIM. [AQATM, 1993] Little-known beings from an unspecified ADJACENT REALM, the Erulim posed as and appeared completely HUMAN but often with odd facial features. They were tricksters and thieves; some of them had the ability to summon nearby objects without noise or flash, stealing items from people's pockets or from within locked boxes without being detected. Three of them seemed to be in service to THE SPHINX for a period in 1993. They went by the names Pietro, Ginger and Polkinghorn. JEREMY BANE only encountered them once and was not eager to ever meet Erulim again.
-ERYASHA. One of the ADALARIN, associated with the Earth in a physical and spiritual sense. Eryasha was regarded as female by her followers. Sorcerers using INVOCATION called upon her for healing, guidance, solace when grieved.
-ESTROFF, ANDREA [MN, 4/2013] b.1976-d.2013 5'8" 170lbs Hr:Brown Ey:Brown. Adept at spirit projection, she created and sent the construct known as MR NEVER on missions of theft and murder. Although she had the gralic ability, it was her father DR ESTROFF who planned their campaign. Killed by her father's gangsters.
-ESTROFF, TIMOTHY [MN, 4/2013] b.1942-d. 5'9" 190lbs Hr:Brown Ey:Brown. Authority on spirit projection, he exploited the ability of his daughter ANDREA ESTROFF to create the murderous construct MR NEVER, who could not be harmed physically and who disappeared at will.
-EVAHO [TPOS,; TSOS, 5/1987] Adjacent realm long inhabited by the COJOBES, a hunter-gatherer culture. Legend has it that the land was largely ruined and lifeless for centuries after a SULLA CHUN manifestation. ("They say this land was barren dirt for an age because an Old One stuck his head through a hole in the sky. It took forever for plants and birds and beasts to return and they were sickly for generations.")
In the late 19th Century, while ANDROVAL was in an imperialistic stage which also saw it invade ULGOR with dismal results, MELGARIN entered Evaho in numbers to establish towns and villages despite resistance resistance by the natives. In 1987, Evaho was attacked by the SHIP OF SKULLS, which was destroyed by KDF members. In 2000, the LEAGUE OF PREDATORS under AREM KAMENDE marauded Evaho seeking the long-lost SCEPTRE and again the KDF intervened.
-EVANDER [FFAFP, 1/1992] b.1954-d.1992 Full name never revealed 6' 200 lbs Hr:Brown Ey:Brown. Henchman and assistant to MELCHIUS, Evander had been deformed by Alchemical means into being a powerful hunchback with long arms and bowed legs, as well as distorted mismatched facial features. Since only Melchius could restore him to normalcy, Evander was forced to serve indefinitely. He was killed by JEREMY BANE to escape the fire which destroyed the Palatino Funeral Home.
-EVISCERATION EFFECT [TEE, 10/2011] Gruesome weapon developed by researchers working from JOHN GRIM notes, the device used microwaves to heat and liquefy the victim so that the internal organs and body fluids poured out of every orifice to cause an excrutiating death. SHENG MO-YUAN claimed the only working prototype, which was then sealed away in the KDF Vault. ("As far as Sheng could see, the rib cage still retained its shape but the abdomen below it had flattened out to show the spine clearly connecting to the pelvis. The upper chest had also collapsed. That stinking goo had erupted under pressure from the anus, the mouth and nose. In the chilly night air, vapor from the fluid rose as streamers. It seemed impossible, but all the man's internal organs had left his torso in seconds.")

>F
-FANEDRAL Hellish adjacent realm ruled by DRALDROS.
-FANG LUNG Martial arts style devised by CHEN LEE-SUN in the 1940s. Based on his Wing Chun origins, Chen developed an emphasis on misdirection, quickness and timing for strikes because he found himself fighting Western opponents who were much larger and stronger. When he obtained the DRAGON PENDANT which enabled him to become unsolid for a few seconds at a time, Chen incorporated this ability into his moves.
Most of the style remained only in Chen's notes. These notes were studied by SHIRO MITSURU and CHEN WONG-LAI, who reconstructed the style as best they could. Chen passed that knowledge in turn to his lover and heir to the pendant, TANG MING.
-FENNEMAN'S MUSEUM OF ORIENTAL ANTIQUITIES [TSOA,; TMOC, 5/2008] Located near Washington Square, the Museum was a two-story white stone building with a wrought iron railing across its front. A simple brass plaque on a post read "Fenneman's Museum of Oriental Antiquities, by Appointment Only." Down low by the sidewalk, a concrete stone set in the wall said "Est. 1879." The caretaker Carmine Altieri was murdered by SAM RYE during the theft of a MIRROR OF CHIJ, 2008.
-FERAL BOYS [WDOTFB, 12/2005; TKOGJ, 3/2011] Also known as the UNSEEN NATION. Reportedly, the Feral Boy tribes were descended from Indian refugees driven south from Georgia in the early 1800s. They did not join up with the formation of the Seminoles but scattered throughout the Everglades in small clans. Many lived in cities and towns, blending in, posing as regular people. A lot of Feral Boys were so mixed they didn't look like Indians at all but they remained loyal to their hidden nation. The Feral Boys spoke their own dialect, not known to any outsiders. They boasted of being devil worshippers who sacrific captives even today to the Old Ones, the SULLA CHUN.The Feral Boys knew a few VELKANDU potions, notably the one which created GATOR JOE. Among themselves, Feral Boys had the practice of calling themselves by two first names, such as Joseph Daniel, Stephen James, Amos Andrew.
-FERGUS. DUNLOP, FERGUS. Also known as the GALLOWGLASS [EGWTBF, 2017] b.1968-d. 6'3" 245lbs Hr:Black, long beard Ey:Brown. Highland adventurer and wanderer among the ADJACENT REALMS, best known for his prowess with a two-handed claymore. He was a friend and ally of JEREMY BANE, and the two of them tried to moderate a MANIKIN uprising in GULBADAR.
-FERRARO, CESARE. Known as 'the REAPER' [HTH, 5/83] b.1953-d. 5'11" 190lbs Hr:Black Ey:Brown. Son of outstanding 1960s BLUE GUIDE, GINA FERRARO. A former TEL SHAI student who learned most of the Kerwandu BLUE GUIDE techniques but who was rejected by the TEACHERS and returned to the world in 1979. Jealous and resentful of a promising new Kerwandu student, Cesare attacked TED WRIGHT one day, yelling hurtful things as he tried to hit the newcomer with gralic bolts. Wright somehow managed to divert his attack and dropped him by lowering his lifeforce. Kerlaw expelled Cesare on the spot and sent him back to the world in disgrace. Because his mother died in a crossfire between warring Mafia gunmen, Ferraro later used his abilities in a vendetta against New York City Mafioso. Cesare was defeated by TED WRIGHT and taken to the TEACHERS for judgement, but his final fate remains obscure.
-FERRARO, GINA b.1929-d.1978. 5'4" 140lbs Hr:Black Ey:Brown. BLUE GUIDE from 1962 to 1975 when she was killed in an encounter with New York City Mafia gunmen. Her son CESARE FERRARO was accepted at TEL SHAI as a student but was expelled after harassing TED WRIGHT.
-FIGMENT [HBYM, 9/2017] Name unrevealed. The Figment was a HUMAN criminal with the ability to erase from others any memory of his presence. Captured by JEREMY BANE and TED WRIGHT, he was taken to TEL SHAI to have his powers suppressed.
-FIST FOR HIRE [DDMC, 8/2010; FFH, 2010; TKOGJ, 3/2011] Detective agency established and staffed by SHENG MO-YUAN beginning in early August 2010. He was its only employee. 'Fist For Hire' was represented on the office door and stationery by Chinese symbols Chuan Lo Sing, which could also be read as 'Hard-Working Fist.' The registered name of the agency was 'Argent Investigations' after Sheng's Midnight War code name. Sheng kept THE unusual office hours of 12 Midnight to 9 AM because he had found that many of his clients were desperately looking for help between those hours anyway.
Sheng's office was on the third floor of the Hartwicke Building on lower Canal Street. He often stayed there during the day, sleeping on the couch, but his legal residence was the KDF building at 28 East 38th Street. The office was protected by Trom security systems which Megan Salenger had installed as a favor. There was a bathroom door in one corner and a large closet, but most of the office was taken up by a substantial desk with a swivel chair behind it, a couch along one wall and four straightback wooden chairs with red leather seats. There were two hanging plants behind the desk and a big calendar on the wall with photos of sunsets.
Sheng's 'UNCLE PAO' helped out at the office for a modest salary, often cooking and sleeping there as well although he shared a nearby apartment with another elderly Chinese man. A smaller desk had been set up for Uncle Pao to one side and slightly behind where clients sat. This was actually a useful arrangement. The old man could distract clients at appropriate times with a comment that made them turn their heads toward him, giving Sheng a moment to think or hide something or to go for a weapon.
-FIVE DEAD RIDERS [FDR, 2014] Unliving avenging creatures sent after specific targets by RED SECT. They manifested as either animate skeletons on motorcycles or grotesque horses. The Riders could be damaged or destroyed by sufficient physical force. ("Three ragged men on starving horses rode hard across the back yard toward the house. The horses stumbled and struggled through the hard snow, steam puffing from their nostrils. These Riders were skeletal as the one back in Manhattan had been, just bare white bone held together by gralic sorcery. Two wore long dusters and floppy hats, but the third had ranch clothes including a cowhide vest and a Stetson. All their clothing was decayed and barely hanging together. It was a surreal sight when seen in the clear detail of a bright winter afternoon.")
-FLAHERTY, DONALD 'STRETCH' [PFLP, 1/1995] b.1951-d.1995 6'2" 175 lbs Hr:Black Ey:Brown One of a pair of pals who were unknowingly made into vampires by QUILT using a RED SECT spell. Stretch and Tubs helped Bane survive and chased Quilt away, but they were then peacefully destroyed sitting outside as the sun rose.
-FLAT-TOP See NGOSU SUKILI
-FLETCHER, HOBWELL [TMOC, 5/2008] Known as SAM RYE. b.1949-d. Career criminal born in Northern England, around Manchester. 'Sam Rye' was active for twenty years stealing arcane artifacts, valuable paintings and statuary, rare coins and stamps. His theft of the MIRRORS OF CHIJ led to his death, May 20008.
FORBIDDEN KNOWLEDGE. Handwritten book compiled by KENNETH DRED over decades, detailing creatures, people and events in the Midnight War. Much of its information was not found anywhere else. When he stepped down as captain of the KDF, JEREMY BANE photocopied the pages of the book and kept them locked in his DIRE WOLF AGENCY office.
-FONTANA, RODOLPHO [TCCFSD, 2009] Sleep researcher who, under the name Caligari, used the somnabulist CESARE FRATICELLI as an unknown thief and assassin until stopped by MEGAN SALENGER and ARCHIE MCALLISTER. ("He was a short squat man in an old-fashioned dark tweed suit with a string tie, and his toadlike face was sullen. Round-rimmed glasses with thick lenses had slipped far down on his bulbous nose and he pushed them back up with a finger.)
-FORBIDDEN KNOWLEDGE. Compendium by KENNETH DRED of everything he had learned about the Midnight War. A huge tome with black leather covers and locked with an iron clasp, the book could be unbound so pages might be entered or rearranged. Many of its secrets were not recorded anywhere else. After inheriting FORBIDDEN KNOWLEDGE, JEREMY BANE scanned its pages and entered them into the KDF data banks. CINDY BRUNNER and later SABLE spent considerable time transcribing the handwritten information.
-FORBIDDEN KNOWLEDGE COSMETICS. No direct connection to KENNETH DRED's book, although DR VITARIUS may have been thinking of it. This was a line of cosmetics, salves and health supplements sold only by mail from Vitarius himself. He had gone demented by this time and was planning a country-wide epidemic of deaths as the ALCHEMICAL ingredients in the products built up within users' bodies. Vitarius was killed by his assistant DEMRAK JIN. The supply of Forbidden Knowledge Cosmetics was destroyed by JEREMY BANE and no further sales made.
-FOREHEAD MURDERS [FCWOVD, 1978] Series of killings committed in Summer 1978 in New York City by jazz musician CHET WILKINS, who had fallen under the malignant influence of the DEATH DRUM from DANARAK. He used an ebony walking stick with a brass cap and pointed end, from which a deadly pointed spike shot out propelled by a spring.
-FRATICELLI, CESARE [TCCFSD, 2009] b.1988-d. 6' 160lbs Hr:Black, curly Ey:Brown. SOMNABULIST found as an abandoned infant at a church, Fraticelli spent his life in a deep sleep. What made it remarkable is that he was not in a true coma by clinical definition. EKG showed strong brain activity and he had normal REM phases. He was dreaming but no one could imagine what his dreams might be about.
-FRICKE, SUE-LOUISE [POTFB, 5/2020] b.2007-d. 4' 75lbs Hr:Dark Blonde Ey:Blue 'Princess' of the FERAL BOYS. ("Sue-Louise was of the Feral Boys, that strange race of outcast tribes who had not been accepted into the Seminoles but who had thrived and spread over the South in secrecy. Bane knew that the child was eleven but she looked younger because of poor nutrition. Stringy dark blonde hair hung in tangles to her shoulders. The girl wore a white cotton dress, short sleeved and reaching to her knees, with two deep pockets on its front.")
-FROST, JESSICA See JESSICA SEGAL
-FUNG, TAIJI [HODN, 1/1990] b.-d.1990. 5’5” 130 lbs Hr:Black Ey: Brown. Chujiran informant and thief who tried to sell CHEN WONG-LAI and TANG MING information about a kidnapped prince. He was caught and killed by HARAK THE DAMNED.
-FURIOUS BUDDHA (TOFOFB, 1998; TWW, 10/2006] House of assassins greatly feared around the world, a Furious Buddha Master is called Wai-Y'ien, the 'Weapon That Walks' and is on a par with a Kumundu Master of Tel Shai. Lore says that long ago, a student of Tel Shai was expelled for lack of character but took some knowledge of Kumundu with him. Over the centuries, the House he founded has expanded on that knowledge. They also are reported to use the Alchemical drug Velocitin.

The Furious Buddha school basically brainwashes its assassins by kidnapping a young man or woman and using an Alchemical serum that makes them appear dead. They remain in this state for a few days ('the Death In Life') until their memories fade and their minds change drastically. When they are revived, the victims are mentally almost blank slates which the teacher can begin to train.
The last known teacher of Furious Buddha was SU TZE-KYU, killed by his only student STANLEY PODIOLKA in October 2006. This should have been the end of that House but Su's last words hinted that there was another student or teacher remaining.

>G
-JULIAN GABLE Known as LORD JULIAN. [FHMF, 9/1979] b.1742-v.1755. Long-reigning VAMPIRE LORD who operated throughout Europe, Canada and the United States. Gable was a vampire so long he hardly looked Human any more. His skin was white and bloodless, the black hair lank and limp. The nose was an upturned stump over a wide mouth in which two razor canines pointed down, and those red eyes under a brow ledge flashed with a lambent gleam. His ears were pointed and had moved up toward the top of his head. Gable was destroyed by LARRY TAPER wielding the ensorcelled sword CHALCEMAR in September 1979.
-GALLIANO, PETER 'PETE AND REPEAT' [FOTUCYES, 2012; IFHRF, 9/2015] b.1971-d. 5'10" 180lbs Hr:Brown Ey:Light Brown. Independent criminal and grifter specializing in theft of jewels, drugs, contraband; also known for clever con schemes. Although successful for years and never arrested, Galliano was widely regarded as being completely insane. This was because he had a habit of addressing his left shoulder as if it were a seperate person and answering himself in a high squeaky voice. He was evidently cured of this delusion by an Eldanar in 2015, not ending his criminal career but removing his eccentric traits.
-GALLOWGLASS See FERGUS
-GALVAN [MOTJM, 1943; WYSTRB, 2015, further] b.1874-d. 6'6" 289 lbs. Hr:Dark Brown Ey:Brown. MELGAR and bearer of the LEGACY OF MALBERON. Former Arena Champion of Androval until ordered by the King to step down for SULAK. Associate member of KDF. Romantic relationship with DEMRAK JIN, 2015-. In May 2019, Jin gave birth to a boy DEMRAK POL who was biologically a GELYDRA.
Galvan possessed superhuman strength and near-invulnerability on a par with SULAK and VALERA. During WW II, Galvan assumed the masked identity of JUPITER MAN, wearing a flamboyant costume and relating an unlikely origin as he helped fight Axis saboteurs and regular criminals. He dropped this masquerade following V-J Day and went back to his hedonistic wandering.
Galvan's charge of gralic force gave him a degree of resistance to injury from bladed weapons or blunt force. He routinely shrugged off gunfire or sword attacks, survived landslides and being hit by a train. Temperature extremes did not harm him, he could stand in open flame without discomfort. He was not literally invulnerable, though. Gralic blasts from a master like WU LUNG or a DARTHAN KJE could harm or kill him. Galvan could be wounded or slain by major talismans like HELLSPAWN or SHAI TAZAM< Although he was barely affected by poisons, he did need to breathe, and to eat and drink.
-GAMULKOR. [DOW, 11/2000] Realm of the DWARVES. Invaded and leveled by YFEL in November 2000, nearly all of its inhabitants killed.
-GARIMARA, JOCELYN [TWBTW:A, 2/2006, further] b.1986-d., 5'1" 100 lbs. Hr:Black Ey:Brown. Member of the KDF THIRD TEAM 2012- and TEL SHAI KNIGHT. Current host of RED SPECTRE. Jocelyn was an Australian Aborigine from a tribe which has less than a hundred individuals remaining. After the Red Spectre manifested in her, she became a hated outcast. THE SPHINX took her under his custody and coerced her into using her Spectre as a weapon for him. After the death of the Sphinx, Jocelyn accepted JEREMY BANE's offer to stay with the KDF until she decided what to do. She eventually applied to become a Tel Shai student and joined the KDF Third Team.
-GARMIRI [TSOS, 5/1987] The most manlike of the DRAGON breeds. A typical specimen stood not taller than a Human, and did not have wings or the flame breath. They resembled a wide alligator standing on humanoid legs, with arms that ended in three-fingered paws. The long narrow jaws showed rows of sharp teeth and there was only minor intelligence in the black eyes, less than that of a dog or horse. Garmiri could be tamed and trained to some extent by patient warlocks.
-GATOR JOE [TKOGJ, 2011] A HUMAN transformed to have reptilian characteristics such as tough armored hide and a crocodilian head with long fanged jaws, Gator Joes were created by FERAL BOYS using a VELKANDU serum they had somehow obtained. To defend territory claimed by the Feral Boys, Gator Joes led raids of a dozen alligators to kill or scare off intruders. Not only could Gator Joe mentally command alligators within eyeshot, he also could see and hear what any reptiles in his area saw. He used snakes and turtles as spies, since they could creep up unnoticed on Human enemies.
In 2011, the most recent Gator Joe was PAUL CORSONES, who entertained dreams of founding an empire in the Dismal Swamp of Virginia under his command. Corsones was killed by SHENG MO-YUAN teaming up with the Feral Boys. ("A strange figure, slightly over six feet high and wider than the average person. He was wearing only a rough kilt of ragged dirty cloth around his middle and his entire body was covered with hard scaly hide. The long snout opened wide and clashed shut. That alligator head was no mask. Although he did not move his jaws, the creature could speak in an odd hollow voice.")
-GELINGIM [TWBTW:U; 1/2006] Cult of assassins brought to the world by TEMUR KASTEN.
-GELYDRIM One of the SEVEN RACES. Amphibious inhabitants of the realm ULGOR, modified from Humans by the DARTHIM at the start of their AGE. They are warm-blooded mammals, with some cartilage substitute where bone would be in a Human. Gelydrim have functional lungs as well as gill slits on the sides of the throat, and can switch back and forth as needed. Most can function well in open air for a few days before weakening and getting ill. Normal vital signs are 129 heartbeats per minute, blood pressure 160 over 123, temperature inside mouth 83 degrees. Notable individuals included ATRON KE, LI TUNG, EMISH TOR and DEMRAK JIN.
Gelydrim believe that when they are born, a shark hatches at the same time, so they have the spirit of the shark within them,
-GHOULS Known as CHILDREN OF DAMOZAR and EATERS OF THE DEAD. Creatures transformed from normal Humans by more than a decade of eating Human flesh. As they change, Ghouls get dead-white leprous skin on hairless bodies, protruding muzzles full of wide teeth, long rubbery arms, spatulate fingers with hard yellow nails. Ghouls gather in subterranean warrens in most areas of the world.

-GIDEON, EZRA [NG, 10/2008] b.-d.2008 Warlock of RED SECT who transformed his willing neice NANCY -GIDEON into a rare Living Vammpire. She became known as NANCY SINISTER and claimed her uncle as her first victim.
-GIDEON, NANCY See NANCY SINISTER
-GILLED ONES. [TO'C, 1954] Humanoid creatures created by the DARTHIM to retrieve and recover items from sunken ULGOR, Gilled Ones had near HUMAN intelligence but could not use spoken or written language, nor were they able to use tools. They were found in greatest numbers in Ulgor, but several of them have been reported in the warm waters off Florida, extending out into the southern Atlantic. ("One had been captured in South America, in a lagoon far up the Amazon, but it had escaped. There were also rumours that a colony of the beasts had been discovered in the waters off New England, but they had been wiped out by the military.")
Some Gilled Ones began life as Human shape-shifters who found it more different to return to normal over time and eventually became stuck in their water-breathing form. In this state, they were feral predators and extremely dangerous to encounter.
("Seven feet tall but no wider than an average man, the dark-green creature was covered with short hard armor plates. A dorsal fin ran down its back to split at the buttocks and extend down each calf. The huge feet had flippers which ended in claws like those on the webbed hands. On the Gilled One's rounded head were no visible ears or nose, only two staring goggled eyes and a wide mouth filled with short triangular teeth. It was struggling for breath, the mouth opening and closing with obvious effort.")
-GIMTAKA [SOTHG, 1214 dr] 5'9" 170 lbs Hr:Black Ey:Brown. Hero of VEGANORA during the DARTHAN AGE, Gimtaka was the youngest son of Mantaku, the Shambo Clan chief. He had the ability to communicate with animals and birds, although he never explained how he could do this.
-GIRAURD, AUGUSTE. Known as the REVENANT [R, 6/2000]
-GITANO See HARMON, ADRIAN
-GOBLINS [DR] Sub-species of TROLLS, the Goblins were created by SINJIR, THE TALON. More than eight feet tall and heavier than TAWNNY TROLLS, Goblins were better adapted to daytime activities. Never numerous, those Goblins which survived the FINAL WARS were taken to FANEDRAL to serve DRALDROS.
-GOLD, ELIPHAS [GG, 1978] b.1936-d.1978 5'10" 190lbs Hr:Black Ey:Brown. A disgraced rabbi and authority on Cabalistic magick, Gold succeeded in creating a series of GOLEMS, clay forms animated by gralic force under his mental control. These were a form of TARGHUL.
In 1978, Gold used a Golem to murder his romantic rival, Philip Gresham, despite the efforts of an inexperienced JEREMY BANE. The young DIRE WOLF managed to deactivate the Golem, trapping Gold's projected spirit inside. No way was known to reverse the process. Within a few days, Gold's physical body died and his spirit dissipated from the Golem.
-GOLDEN JAGUAR [COTGJ, 2002] MIDNIGHT WAR sect based mostly in Colombia but operated worldwide as needed. The cult possessed an artifact patterned after WAKIMBE'S CLAW but ensorcelled by a HUMAN shaman and of correspondingly lesser potency. The talisman enabled its wearer to assume at will the form of a golden jaguar. In 2002, the claw was used by MARISOL BENITEZ.
-GOLDEN SOURCE OF WISDOM. Book
-GOLDEN SUN See CHONG KYU SUN
-GOLDEN WOLF See GINA MCDANIEL
-GOLEMS. A form of TARGHUL. (Kenneth Dred: "A Golem is a statue of hard clay which can be brought to life by an adept. The higher kind has a consciousness of its own. Most merely act as a puppet, carrying out the orders of their creators. Golems are actually from a tradition outside our Midnight War. They are part of cabalistic magic, an effect brought about by calling on the Holy Name of God. The most famous Golem protected the Jews in the ghetto of Prague in Medieval times, but there have been a number of lesser ones created since. That Holy Name is always somewhere on the Golem, inscribed on its body or written on a strip of parchment. Removing it is the best way to destroy the creature... often, the only way.")
-GOLGORA [AFLD, 8/1979; TWTD, 12/1981; DTAP, 5/1984; TEWCL, 2/1985; G, 1/1986] b.1959-d.1986 6' 1" 165lbs Hr:None Ey:Dark Brown. The greatest spy, assassin and agitator the NEKROSIM ever had. Golgora launched numerous criminal campaigns in the United States, including establishing a ring of agents loyal to him because he addicted them to the Yellow Lotus. He also spread an epidemic of induced suicide through the drug THANATOLIN. Most of his activities involving killing Humans who had learned too much about the NEKROSIM, obtaining rare artifacts or tomes, or taking selected slaves and arranging ritual sacrifices. Several times, Golgora organized gangs of HUMAN mercenaries to serve his cause. Skilled with a variety of weapons, he was a hardened commando trained in obscure Nekrosan martial arts to the extent he could give JEREMY BANE or SHIRO MITSURU a good fight.
On missions, Golgora wore a loose dark one-piece jumpsuit, with the leg cuffs tucked into ankle-length boots. His gunbelt holstered a 1911 broomhandle Mauser on the right side and a seven-inch commando knife on the left. On the chest of the jumpsuit was sewn in white an esoteric emblem that resembled an inverted Y in a rectangle... the Nekrosan symbol for 'danger.'
Bane captured Golgora in May 1984 but the Nekrosan was freed from custody by KARL ELDRITCH. During 1985, Golgora served Eldritch to pay his debt as that warlock led the BATTLE OF BRUENIG. JEREMY BANE finally killed Golgora in a knife duel in January 1986. In September 2000, Golgora was very briefly Preincarnated by WARREN VIDIMAR but immediately reverted to the modern host.
By 2002, Golgora's daughter LUCIVERO was able to continue her father's activities, beginning with the WINSOMEBERRY epidemic.
-GOOMBAHS [HOTS:GI, 2002] Little-known creatures serving the HAG OF THE SEAS. Most authorities on the MIDNIGHT WAR suspected that the Hag herself modified normal HUMANS into her Goombah slaves. ("The Goombahs were long, lanky beings with barrel chests and unusually long arms. Except for fur pieces wrapped around their middle, they were naked and their unhealthy pale skin glistened moistly under the moon. Hairless heads with big jug-ears standing out from the skull, sad brooding eyes and protuding pickle-shaped noses added to the weird effect.")
-GOONS [FLKNB, 2014] HUMANS modified by sorcerer ANTON BELARIC to act as guards, Goons escaped several times to run amok in nearby towns. They rough up passersby and caused property damage but committed no killings. ("They all seemed identical, with hairless cone-shaped skulls. A little under six feet tall, maybe two hundred and forty pounds, with those long arms and short legs that gave them simian proportions. They were wearing simple flannel trousers and white T-shirts, and were barefoot. Bane saw with interest that their big toes stuck out at an angle that suggested they were prehensile.")
-GORNAK [TWR, 11/1986] b.1965-d. 7'1" 455lbs Hr:None Ey:Lambent yellow. A winged KULAN demon from FANEDRAL, TEL SHAI KNIGHT and KDF member 1986-1989. Gornak stepped down to Reserve status because active duty made it too difficult for him to preserve his oath against killing. As a former member of the elite Red Slashers, his hide had been turned bright scarlet. It was never explained what made Gornak so different from his fellows that he dared escape from Fanedral and ally himself with Tel Shai. For the decades following his stepping down from active duty, Gornak lived in a cabin near the border with Canada and sometimes was called upon for special emergencies.
As a squad leader of the Red Slashers, Gornak had been imbued with the ability to summon demon-flame. A pale yellow fire which created no heat but caused unbearable agony within the nervous system. The demon-flame was a gralic effect which made its victims suffer terribly but left no mark. It was a tool granted by Draldros to the Red Slashers for use on enemies or to discipline insubordinate demons of lesser rank. Gornak had retained this power even far from Fanedral.
To be able to move undetected among Humans, Gornak had been given the guise of 'Christopher Pagan' by the TEACHERS of TEL SHAI. ("A tall blond man with a sardonic face stood there in a black business suit with a white shirt and knitted silk tie... or seemed to. This was an illusion granted to Gornak when he had first fled to the world. The guise was intended to allow the Kulan to move around in public without causing panicked stampedes from people. He did not physically change, the Human form existed only in the minds of those who saw him. 'Christopher Pagan,' with his forged IDs and fictitous backstory, was a convenience that Gornak only used when he had to.")
-GORSLINE, WESLEY. 'THE RESURRECTOR' [RE, 2015] b.1891-d.2015 5'5" 125lbs Hr:Light Blond Ey:Pale Blue. Son of a wealthy Massachusets family, Wesley Gorsline was a medical student who did research in how to extend the period a brain can go without oxygen before there is permanent damage. He studied under DR MERCADO VITARIUS and used ALCHEMY rather than traditional methods.The reagent which the student developed seems to have not been a product of mundane chemistry so much as an Alchemical serum. For almost twenty years, Gorsline experimented with reviving the recently deceased. As time went on, his results became more successful. Before his disappearance in 1931, he had unleashed any number of homicidal zombies which had escaped his custody. But he also was said to have been able to restore people so they could talk and function normally if he treated them immediately after death. They were servile directly to him as an effect of the process but sometimes went feral.
When a dozen of his Zombies attacked him, he barely had enough time to inject himself with the Alchemical reagent... while he was still alive, before the zombies beat him to death. He rose again only a few minutes after they wandered off. It was the only time a living Human was infused with the resurrection serum. This was why he was still active and intelligent and ambitious more than a century later.
In 1980, Gorsline was caught stealing bodies from morgues and funeral homes by detective DREW SUDLOW. Sudlow was shot three times in the chest and lay steeping in Gorsline's Alchemical fluid overnight. This was what revived him as the HAUNT.
By 2015, he had established a half dozen criminal enterprises which used Zombies as underworld enforcers, fast house prostitutes or sentries in hostile environments. His RESURRECTION EMPIRE was destroyed by the KDF and Gorsline himself finally put to rest.
-GOWAIN [TVOKE, 1980] 6' 210lbs Hr:Brown Ey:Brown. King of Bruenig, 1974-1998. Son of Ulmic the Bold. Gowain made the mistake of allowing KARL ELDRITCH to become an advisor, only to having the warlock usurp most authority and bring in his own followers.
-GRAVITY SHIELD Device used by LEONARD SLADE and MEGAN SALENGER to fly. A grey oval disc four inches across, flat on its lower side, the Gravity Shield was worn strapped high on the user's back. It was controlled by panels built into the field suit's cuff as well as back-up panels on the collar. The device surrounded the user with an invisible lifting field extending less than an inch away from the body. Top speed and altitude were never revealed, and the principles by which the device functioned remained unexplained.
-THE GREAT CHANGE. Events which took place when JORDYN relocated the Races and beings of the DARTHAN AGE to the ADJACENT REALMS he had prepared for them. JORDYN then reshaped the world down to its smallest components to begin the history researched by archaeologists and paleontologists. Numerous artifacts or remnants of the DARTHAN AGE slipped past the GREAT CHANGE, causing much uncertainty in experts.

-GREEN MIST [TGM, 12/1983] A cloud of GRENDAVIL potion used by HAROLD WEISHAUPT in his many crimes.
-GREEN MIST See HAROLD WEISHAUPT
-GRELOK. One of the ADALARIM, transcendental Spirits serving under ENAS-GOTH. Seen as female, Grelok was associated by her followers with water and secrecy. Most GELYDRIM revered Grelok.
-GREM [BTCOM, 11/2007] TROLL with unusually high intelligence and knowledge of gralic sorcery. He had the ability to open tunnels in the earth and tunnels between the realms. With his partner SKORG and a company of twenty Fighting Trolls and as many Diggers, he came to the world to feast on Human captives. Defeated by JEREMY BANE and VALERA, GREM and SKORG fled before being captured.
-GREMTHOM "Red Iron" A metal used for talismans and sigils with harmful focus, Gremthom is iron infused with gralic force. Mortal sorcerers can create a lesser variety but the most potent artifacts such as Hellspawn are created using gralir drawn from the CAPTIVE SULLA CHUN on MAROCH. Darthan Gremthom is equal to ENSALIR in power.
A dark red in color, often showing a warm sheen when new and most potent, Gremthom can retain its charge for ages. It is not the same as a coppery-colored metal used by the wise men of ZHUNE, which is morally neutral.
-GRENDAVIL [TGM, 12/1983; M, 1998] A VELKANDU serum, variations on Grendavil were used by HAROLD WEISHAUPT, the criminal who called himself the GREEN MIST, and by MEGISTUS. Its effects were an induced stupor and at lower dosages, increased susceptibility to hypnotic commands and a loss of will power.
-GREY APES [VPAHKA, 2003] A species never revealed to the world at large, they had been brought from Okali in the late 18th Century and bred by Russian sorcerers. Closely related to Chimpanzees, adult males stood five feet six inches and had short fur of a distinctive light grey color. Their leg and hip structure enabled to stand upright and walk comfortably without using their arms for support. Cognitive tests indicated creative thinking at Human levels. VERONIKA PETROV had three with her as both test subjects and pets when she discovered the lost city of ZHUNE in northern Nebraska in 2003.
-GRIFFIN [CAI, 1984; AWOM, 2012] b.1954-d. 6' 190lbs Hr:Brown going grey Ey:Brown. Canadian-born espionage agent who acted as liaison between the CIA and MI6 to ensure no complications arose when the two organizations had overlapping activities.
In 1984, Griffin and his partner INCA were present when JEREMY BANE captured SETH PETROV and JESSICA FROST received her powers. In 2012, Griffin was kept as a prisoner at the PLACID FALLS base.
-GRIFFINS [KOMB, 2014] Unnatural beasts created by DARTHAN sorcery. Lion-bodied with the wings, front legs and head of golden eagles, Griffins were capable of flight and more than a match for any other animal in OKALI. One Griffin named LITTLE FRIEND was the pet and partner of DURAN.
-GRIM, ALEXANDER. b.1969-d. Son of JOHN GRIM, mother unrevealed but thought to be CAITLIN. Not the equal of his father as an inventor or schemer, Alexander Grim also lacked the minor telepathic trait that made the father so formidable. His leadership of the John Grim Empire was steady but unremarkable.
-GRIM, JOHN [SOTM, 3/1982; DLITS, 9/1994] b.1948-d.1995 6'1" 190lbs Hr:Blond Ey: Dark Blue. Major crimelord of the MIDNIGHT WAR, Grim was a certified genius in electronic design but he also had a minor telepathic ability which enabled him to steal secrets from rivals and researchers to use for himself. He may not have himself realized this and thought he had created innovations himself. Several times, he obtained bits of TROM technology this way, including gravity shield design. Grim's vast research and manufacturing empire was a front for international criminal activity.
A narcissist, Grim never showed any signs of friendship or romance toward others, although he did hire women for sex on a non-disclosure basis.
In 1984, he was tricked by the KDF into a war with the rival empire of Wu Lung, which ended in disaster for both crimelords. Wu Lung lost vast amounts of men and materils, and was forced to flee as a fugitive for several years. Subjected to a brain blast from Cindy Brunner after the deaths of her parents, Grim was reduced to a vegetative state for years; even after his recovery, he was never quite the same again. He suffered insomnia, nightmares and showed signs of thyroid malfunction.
In 1988, Grim's legal team managed to get him transferred to a private facility, and during this procedure, the ambulance was hijacked, the EMTs shot dead and Grim taken away by his lieutenants. His next project was the capture and dismantling of Andrew Steel. Doing this revealed huge many Trom secrets and the Grim organization soon after developed Megavac, another one-time Artificial Intelligence Project.
When Bane and Cindy met the crimelord again in 1994, John Grim had deteriorated. ("When they had last clashed, John Grim had been a handsome, tall blond man with almost movie star good looks. Now he looked withered and thirty years older. His cheeks had sunken and his hair was thin and lank. The deepset eyes bulged unhealthily, bloodshot and staring.") By the end of the next year, Grim had died of multiple organ failure including both kidneys, Following Grim's death in 1995, his only son Alexander took over both business organization and crime ring but at a reduced level of innovation, which he maintained for fifteen years.
-GRIMUA [WACUTM, 7/1969] Modern revival of an ancient pre-Celtic cult. Moon worship is implied in their beliefs. (""We.. we are not Druids. We are Grimua, older by ages, heirs to a deeper wisdom from the First Days. The damned Druids derived many of their customs from us.")
-GROUP MIND [ROTGM, 1984] Collective consciousness existing in a number of subjugated HUMAN brains simultaneously. The servants of the Group Mind communicated telepathically with each other and were capable of exerting mind control on people who were caught unaware or who did not have sufficiently strong enough will power to resist.
GULBADAR [EGWTBF, 2017] ADJACENT REALM ruled by the hopelessly obese BARONS and BARONESSES who are dependent on their Golem (MANIKIN) slaves for survival. FERGUS and JEREMY BANE tried to moderate a Golem uprising led by BLACK X. ("There are maybe seventy Barons and Baronesses, each living alone on an estate miles from any neighbors. They never visit each other. These estates are crawling with hundreds and hundreds of Manikins, waitin' on their masters hand and foot. It was Manikins who work the fields and tend the livestock, Manikins who do the carpentry and weave the cloth and cook the food. Manikins feed and bathe and pamper their masters to an unholy extent. The Barons and Baronesses are near death. Too fat to walk, too sloggy with feasting to think clearly, too lazy to even realize how helpless they've made themselves!")
GUSTAVO [TAFH, 7/2005] b.1943-d.2005 5'11" 265lbs Hr: Brown, head shaven Ey:Brown. ALCHEMIST who mastered several demanding disciplines. He learned how to use pheromones to control hordes of common ants, making them attack targets on command or swarm over a specific spot. He also found how to enlarge ants to the size of cats or even horses, using Alchemical serums to enable the creatures to breathe and support their own weight. Gustavo placed JEREMY BANE's consciousness into the tiny body of a FALSE-FLESH golem and had that construct fight aggressive red ants. He was killed when BANE splashed the man with his own Alchemical solutions and the giant ants ripped him apart.

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