Dresden Files – Faithslinger Chronicles

Notice: This is my first attempt at Dresden Files fan fiction. The story takes place after Changes, but is based on the Dresden Files RPG game we ran about a year ago. If you choose to chime in your thoughts, please be kind.

The friends that I hang out and game regularly with are avid readers and are up to date with all of the best published novels out there. Unfortunately, I have lost my passion for reading, making me one of the general public and many of the references they make are somewhat lost to me. I remember complaining about how I lost my love of reading and that I was trying to get it back, when my friends Michael Stevens, Sarah Despars, and Justin Doty recommended that I read the Dresden Files since it delves into the urban fantasy genre. It was new to me, so I decided to give it a chance…Doty was kind enough to lend me with an audiobook of Stormfront and I started listening. I was hooked from the moment Harry locked eyes with Marcone.

About a year later, Evil Hat Productions published the Dresden Files RPG and Sarah offered to run the game for us. I loved the game she ran and have become a loyal fan of the Dresden Files ever since.

Special Thanks to Michael Stevens, Justin Doty, and Sarah Despars for introducing the Dresdenverse to me, to Jim Butcher for writing and publishing his work, and Evil Hat Productions for publishing the Dresden Files RPG. Also, thanks to Dave and Patty of the Game Depot for letting we use them in our game.

Detective Earp was typing away at an old typewriter in efforts of finishing his last report of the day. He looked down at his desk calendar and his pocket watch next to it, May 28th 9pm. 'I hate this time of year' the thirty something muttered to himself.

A few years ago, someone figured out that Phoenix AZ was a roach motel for the supernatural world and brought it to the attention of the politicians. Apparently, they figured out that the denizens of the other world that happen to pass by or close to Phoenix end of moving in for some reason. One would think that there would be an overpopulation of fae, shifters, fangers, and who knows what else in a city of 1.3 million and growing, but about the time that Phoenix Comicon ends 90% of them are gone. Either way, they are still people which mean that they meant something to someone, so it gets dumped into the lap of the SAU.

The SAU stands for the Supernatural Activities Unit, a rag tag group of officers in Phoenix PD assembled by good old Sherriff Joe to deal with the cases that go way out of bounds for ordinary cops. Since some of the cops in the department are also members of supernatural world, he figured that we'd be able to relate better with them being from the same side of the tracks.

Carter stretched his arms up over his head, fingers intertwined. 'I wonder if Chicago has to deal with this shit.' Earp glared at Carter for a moment, 'Language Carter. Swearing ain't the Christian way.' Warner, Carter's partner, snickered under his breath,' or you'll take him out by the woodshed?' Earp's glare shifted from Carter to Warner. 'We know we know…You're still an Earp", chimed Carter and Warner together. Earp shook his head and smiled briefly. Having the power of true faith is one thing, but carrying the Earp reputation on his shoulders doesn't make things any easier. Maybe if the OK Corral went better for his ancestors, things would be different today. Either way, whoever created the Paranet is in line for an ass kicking.

The phone rang on Earp's desk a couple of time. Earp looked at the phone with displeasure. A day of accounting that got purged this year, writing up reports on the missing, and notifying their next of kin was a taxing task. Earp sighed and picked up the receiver, "SAU, Det. Earp speaking"

A woman's voice came over the receiver, "James? It's Patty. I could use your help. Can you come down to the Graffiti Bar tonight?" 'Sure Patty. I'm leaving work now', replied Earp. "Will be there in 20 minutes. Can you put me down for one of Dave's BBQ Sandwich and a Coke?" Patty smiled over the phone, just one of those things you can just sense when talking to her. 'No problem.'

The Graffiti Bar down on Mill Ave one of the local hangouts for the supernatural world. Nestled behind some street side businesses, it provides the kind of quiet that one can wet their whistle out of sight of the moral world. Dave and Patty, the owners of the establishment, is a great couple that everyone just can't help to love.

Earp walked into the establishment and is warmly greeted by Patty, the same way she greets all of the patrons. Dave already had the meal waiting for him at the counter and had moved on to the next order. Earp picked up his meal as Patty was wrapping up a conversation with another patron and scanned the room: a couple of young changelings cozying up in the corner, a group of shifters prepping for their LARP Game on the ASU Campus… and Marc Tremere.

Of all the White Council Wizards in Phoenix, Marc Tremere is the most infamous. He the self-proclaimed son of a dark god, but he doesn't say much about which one, incredibly wealthy and popular in many social circles in Phoenix. His idea of fun is contracting his assistance to the Phoenix PD for fun and collecting taxpayer dollars for his assistance. Marc spotted Earp and raised his class in salutation.

Earp walked over to Marc's table, sat down across from Marc, stared him down, and started eating the sandwich. Patty walked up to the table soon after.

'What did he do?' Earp said in an accusatory tone.

Marc smiled at that. 'Why does it have to be my fault?'

'It saves time', Earp said coldly.

'Are we going to dance this dance again?' asked Tremere.

'Until you decide to side with the angels', replied Earp.

'Or you could join the dark side, we have cookies', Tremere retorted with a smile.

Patty chimed in, 'This isn't about Marc. He didn't do anything.'

'Yet', interjected Tremere. Earp glowered at that for a moment and then turned to Patty.

'I needed to talk to you about Aksel. You may have heard that the IKEA by the I-10 is refurbishing its food court. The owner is expanding the area and opted to name it Heorot. The news says that it is the biggest food court in a single IKEA. I heard that the grendelkin aren't taking kindly to the reference and may do something about it. One of the grendelkin, one called Aksel, may come into town and cause trouble.'

Earp looked blankly at Patty.

'Grendelkin. As in Grendel. Like in Beowulf." Earp continued to look blankly at Patty.

Marc chimed in," Sorry Patty. If it isn't in the Bible, Earp probably doesn't know it." Earp once again turned to Tremere, sighed and said,' Tell me what I need to know.'

Marc smiled and leaned forward. 'Grendel is supposed to be a troll, a member of the winter court…at least that is what the rumor says. He supposedly lived in Denmark hundreds of years ago and frequently attacked the kingdom of King Hrothgar. The mead hall that King Hrothgar built, Heorot, was assaulted by Grendel frequently until he was vanquished by the Dane hero Beowulf was called Heorot. The grendelkin are supposed to be of the original Grendel's bloodline, and since they are fae they are susceptible to cold iron."

Earp repeated," Grendelkin are fae, thus are weak against cold iron. Got it."

Patty chimed in, "However there is no evidence that grendelkin are members of the winter court, so they act just like everyone else and are not bound to the rules of the court."

Earp repeated," Treat them like any other perp. Got it. Now I just have to find this Aksel and talk some sense into him."

Tremere asked," Are you sure you don't know anything about Grendel and Beowulf? There are movies about this."

Earp shot him a look as he finished up the Coke when his phone rang. Earp answered it, but the feedback made it difficult to hear. 'Hold on', said Earp, setting down cash on the table and headed out the door. 'This is Det. Earp.'

Warner's voice came over the phone. 'There is a 211 at the IKEA, intersection of I10 and Ray Rd. Officers are on the scene, but the perp is unnaturally big and strong. They requested SAU on the scene.'

'So you were going to call me at home to deal with this problem because I live right down the street?' Earp asked rhetorically. 'Never mind, I'll check it out.'

The green Chevy Suburban with flashing blue and red lights pulled up to the IKEA and Earp and Tremere got out of the van.

'I don't need your help', muttered Earp.

'I know', said Tremere whimsically.

'And I ain't paying you just because you are here either.'

'I know', replied Tremere once again.

'You're here just to watch me fail so you can say I told you so', snapped Earp in an accusatory tone.

'Absolutely not!' replied Tremere defensively. 'It's just that Total Wines & More happens to be in the same parking lot and I have company coming over tonight', replied Tremere as he pointed the store out on the other side of the parking lot.

Earp stared at him for a moment. 'Company or companionship', asked Earp.

'Does it matter...you know, she has a friend', said Tremere.

'Aaargh! Damn it Tremere! Just go...go do your shopping. I got work to do." And with that response, Marc Tremere turned and started walking away from the scene. 'If you need me…' he uttered as he walked away.

Det. Earp walked to the police cars parked outside the front doors of the store and approached the officers. The officers reviewed the situation as told by the onlookers. "The perp entered the store, aggressively pushing shoppers and employees out of his way. He made his way up to the second floor and started trashing the cafeteria. Security attempted to approach him, but he started throwing furniture at them. A couple of injuries, nothing serious yet."

'So where is…" asked Earp when the sound of a window shattering interrupted him midsentence. A long table fell from the sky, over the officer's heads, and on to the hood of the Suburban flipping forward to the roof. Earp surveyed his vehicle, hood and roof dented with cracks in the windshield, and then quietly walked to the back of the vehicle. He unlocked the trunk, opened the compartment under, and drew out his equipment: his bullet proof vest, his grandpa Virgil's tin star, and a pair of 1887 Colt Peacemakers. After equipping himself, Det. Earp started walking into IKEA.

The cops on the scene took one look and knew what was about to happen. Two of them took positions behind their cruisers; a third started radioing in for backup. Det. Earp didn't look at the officers, just walked in the front door of IKEA.

Earp looked around inside the store, but the lower level was barren as far as he could see. He heard the heavy footsteps above and walked up the escalator to the second floor. Turning to face the Heorot Café to find the place in disarray. The tables, chairs, and various cafeteria equipment were tossed in various directions, but left a clear path towards the back of the room where the kitchen was located.

'AKSEL! Where are you?' screamed Earp. A loud, guttural roar came back in response. Earp started walking towards the kitchen, but the loud stomps coming towards him slowed his pace. The double doors opened and a large humanoid creature stepped out of the kitchen, half body at a time. Aksel stood around eight feet tall, but the tile roof in the room was already knocked out of place so he didn't have to duck. His long matted hair draped over his head and shoulders and ran down his back, hiding most of his frame. His build however was covered in muscles from head to toe with a professional body builder's physique. In his right hand he dragged a large club, possibly an oak tree stripped of its branches, but wide enough to be a telephone pole.

'So', snarled the grendelkin,' Come to play hero mortal? Planning to thwart Aksel and reap the rewards like the hero Beowulf before you?'

'My name is Det. James Earp, and for all intents and purposes I am the Knight of the Mortal Court. I understand that naming this place Heorot has opened up some old wounds for you, but I have been asked to give you the opportunity to leave in peace. But if you refuse, I swear I will stop a mud hole in your ass and walk it dry before I'm through with you!"

The grendelkin tightened his grip around the club. In kind, Earp moved his hands to his revolvers.

Marc Tremere came walking back to the IKEA parking log, bag of wine bottles in hand. By now, the police barricade was up and the ambulance was in place to assist any injured officers. Marc walked up to the damaged Suburban and open back door. He briefly glanced at the empty compartment in the back and shook his head. He then calmly walked over to the paramedics by the ambulance. A guttural cry rang out from the second floor and more furniture started hitting the windows, some of which flew down to the parking lot. Tremere raised a shield to protect him from the flying debris and briefly heard a muffled scream from behind. He looked back at the female paramedic and smiled.

'He's still an Earp', he muttered under his breath. Tremere looked back at the female paramedic as shots rang out from above and droplets of sickly green flame spurted out and hit the fractured windows only to burn out into nothing almost immediately after. Marc handed the paramedic his card and said,' When you're done with him, call me. We should do dinner sometime.'

The scene got quiet for a moment, followed by a deep strained scream of pain. The screaming continued for a minute, followed by a yell of surrender. The cops began to enter IKEA and a few minutes later Det. Earp walked out from the store, bruised and bloodied from small cuts of glass on his arms, legs and face. His right foot quite noticeably glowed intermittently with a sickly green flame and a brownish grey muck.

Marc walked up to James, shifting his gaze from the battered cop to his right foot and back again to the cop. 'Did you really have to do that?'

'How do you know what happened?'

'You yelled it out the window. Everyone heard it. So what happened to Aksel', Marc said with a grin on his face.

Det. Earp continued to walk to the paramedics, stripping off the vest. 'I shot him a couple of times, in the foot and knees. Caught him in the arm and shoulder too. Sent him packing back home, the cuffs were not big enough for him.'

"Last time I checked, 'Stomping a mud hole in someone's ass' was not the Christian thing to do.", said Tremere.

'Shut up.'