Chapter 3
The hike to the church is more disquieting then dangerous. Even so he has not relaxed the grip he has on the fire axe in his left hand. The area between his shoulder blades continues to burn as though the boy – Toby – as he had decided to call him were still behind him watching with those big sad eyes. Except that isn't possible because the fog is thicker now like smoke, roiling and ebbing like the breath of something alive and vicious. Pausing the short man realizes that the sound he has been tracking for the last block or so is getting progressive louder as though getting closer or perhaps being multiplied.
Suddenly he is assaulted with the stench of charred meat as the sound of something being dragged along the ground grows closer still. Dodging to the right gets him out of the way of the skin dripping horror that now lies lowing on the ground beside him it's parboiled eyes locked with his. Unfortunately the axe he still clenches in one hand has laid open a six-inch gash in his leg. With a gurgle the thing before him reaches one steaming hand toward him an action that causes a stream of liquified fat to run down it's chest taking with it the rest of it- her breast.
She gives a sob nearly distracting him from the sound of something shambling up the road behind him. This one is a human-shaped inferno, it's skeletal face strangely calm as it staggers along with pieces big and small falling off to crumble into piles of charcoal on the ground. As Lupin staggers to his feet, hissing with pain as he puts pressure on his wounded leg, the inferno pauses as though studying him before giving a warbling howl and rushing at him with impressive speed. The burned one on the ground has him by the leg before he is able to move leaving him open to present immolation. Just a few yards away the Inferno's legs give way causing the flames to extinguish as the cooked flesh is knocked off it on impact. However, Remus' sigh of relief is cut short as out of the cloud of debris a spider-like creature formed out of the Inferno's bones clicks briskly toward him spinal cord whipping merrily behind it.
Meanwhile the Burned One continues to hold him and where her hands clench at him the cloth smolders as though catching fire. Finally remembering the axe in his hand Lupin takes a two-handed stance and begins a desperate attack on her arms and head. It is a messy endeavor because quite frankly he's a bit frantic between the creature bearing down on him and the fact that what was once smoldering is now actively ablaze the Burned One holding on despite missing a significant part of her skull. Hacking through one bloody, flesh denuded length of arm Lupin is able to sort of hop aside just as the grinning Skelider takes a leap and is shot down by a panting man in priestly grab.
Quickly the pale, slender man brings down the butt of his rifle on the remaining portion of skull sending baked shards of bone and brain stewed into soft mush everywhere. Even as he turns green Lupin is hacking through the stubborn limb still holding him while ripping the flaming cloth off his leg. There is a hand-shaped burn just above his ankle the edges of it white where skin continues to die; already the wound oozes a yellowish liquid that smells of infection and rot. There is a bone deep ache there that is rapidly worsening into an eye-watering agony that will surely take him off his feet if it doesn't simply end him. The rest however isn't too bad – the skin is badly reddened but otherwise it should heal on its own by tomorrow at the latest.
"Quickly, there are more in this godforsaken mist! There are supplies in the church and thankfully none of these many damned are capable of crossing the consecrated ground never mind tearing down the door." Nodding Lupin has very little choice but to follow the brunette while biting into his cheek to keep himself focused. They move as fast as they dare falling into a kind of loping motion that has them at the church in no time as they skip about the remains of many creatures big and small.
The things lying on the grounds are little more than stinking relics of bone and desiccated flesh at best and sun-bleached shards at worst. None of the malformed bodies bear a match to the things he has so recently encountered and the thought that there could possibly be such a myriad collection of d-dae… monsters leaves him drained of the small measure of energy he had. All at once it seems beyond pointless to continue as he has, because if Dora lies here in hell with him then she has sinned beyond her ability to retain God's favor. In other words she deserves it… and that is true isn't it? For having lain with a beast and bore it's seed which is an abomination.
The priest holds the heavy gilded door open for him with a quizzical look on his long face. The heavy five o'clock shadow he idly scratches at belies the smile he is trying to muster for Remus. "Come inside brother and rest. The twilight will leave us soon at which point the greater evils will stir to try their hands at taking this place." Feeling the grimace twisting his face Lupin grimly makes his way up the concrete stairs into the dim inner sanctum.
From what he can see there have been many efforts to make this place seem less abandoned, but if once the Spirit dwelled here it has long since departed. Larger than any cathedral the werewolf has ever been it echoes with the sounds of its own disrepair. The vaulted ceiling periodically rains down debris and showers of dust even as the floor whines in distress. The adornments typical of such a place are missing, broken, or draped over as though in shame. The gold and purple have faded even as the whitewash has turned dingy with the whole of the mess covered by a blanket of dust. It should be by all rights like stepping back into the Black house.
It should be, but by some reason or other there is a sense of safety here as though some lingering protection still lay embedded here. As he takes in the sights the priest – Father Roland - briskly walks about securing various makeshift defenses over the windows and doors before attending to the many candles scattered about. Methodically he tends to each cluster of candles gradually exposing the entirety of a once grand old lady. Mad, if some of the murals are to be taken into account, but grand. The mural in front of him shows an unclothed child smiling gently as she is run through with spears by a multitude of men – aroused men – in little more than their skins and various masks of unnatural realism.
Turning away from the painting he can almost see it changing from the corner of his eyes. When he looks back the child is a young man bowed before a large half-dressed man wielding a large axe. The boy's hair is like spilt ink and his skin like buttermilk, but it is the sight of his leg that has Lupin jump back with a gasp before checking his own leg. A leg that is now whole without a single mark. Looking back at the picture he is greeted with a blank wall. "Don't look so surprised this place is not what it would seem. No more so or less than the mirages of a desert or the monsters of the sea." Father Roland stands behind him holding a knapsack and a change of clothing. "Go on take it, and once you've change we'll have a chat alright?"
Nodding the short man wanders off to the few shadows left and changes into the gently used clothing he's been handed. It is with a brief moment of hesitation that he tosses the pants of his old outfit before stuffing the rest into his knapsack. Feeling slightly better the wizard wanders over to his current host who sits on one of the many pews a book of worship in his hands. Father Roland gives the sense of being old although he is clearly only Lupin's age if not younger. The hands that hold the book are strong if scarred while his short muggle-styled hair is thick and almost aggressively black. The lines on his face are those of worry rather than age and he possesses that vicious aura of strength peculiar to every dark-haired young man Lupin has ever known.
"If you're done with your pondering I need to get you settled out now." Feeling himself blush Lupin seats himself beside the priest one hand nervously rubbing the silk covered cushion beneath him. With a sigh Roland closes his eyes and leans back bringing the book he holds to his chest. "The place you have found yourself is a township just outside the bounds of a place known as Silent Hill. The way across is limited to passage by ship over the damned waters of the lake that lies between it and here. I do not advise that crossing for what you have experienced here is little more than a night terror. To enter Silent Hill is to enter the very gates of hell, and there unlike here you will meet few points of safe harbor. So think well, before you continue onward."
There is silence but for the sound of burning wicks and the slow death of the cathedral around them. Calmly Lupin waits knowing there is no other path before him then the one that runs to Silent Hill. "Fine then. There was a girl here two days prior calling herself Tonks. She was looking for her lover, Lupin. I'll assume that's you since you fit the description. I sent her to Oletta at the Library downtown because she had questions I could not answer. Before she left I gave her a choice of provisions though all she took were a few healing items, a gun, and as much ammo as she could carry. Impulsive brat."
Though he had whispered that last it was obvious that Roland's opinion of Tonks was less than wholesome all things considered. "She can be a handful, but she isn't all bad." Not that he had much knowledge of her overall. Theirs had been a relationship less of discovery and more of conviences - of ease. Easier for him to give in and for her to pretend. Even now he couldn't tell you what her favorite music was or her favorite color. He knew she loved raspberries in cream for treats and that she hated for anyone to touch her with their feet. And she… what did she really know about him? Did she know he liked to box in his spare time? Or that the one thing he really loved about her was how she sang when she thought no one was around? Still. "So she is probably in Silent Hill?"
For a moment it seems that Roland is a sleep, but then – "Yes, she is surely in Silent Hill. I check the dock every morning and one of the older boats was missing. Further there has been more activity across the lake and I think she has much to do with it." Abruptly sitting up the Father scrubs his face with one rather dirty hand. " Do you know how long I've been in this godforsaken place? 326 years give or take a decade thanks to that ever-present fog. Yet I've not aged a day - no - not even an hour since I've come. This isn't Kansas kid. You don't know what you're in for and like Tonks you aren't trying to figure it out. That will get you killed here boy and if you die in this place may God have mercy on your soul because there are no second chances and you never stop hurting. Those monsters outside… every last one of them is an object lesson on the price of failure." With that rejoinder the immortal man stands and wonders off toward the shadows. " The bedrooms are upstairs and the storerooms are in the basement. There is a map by the backdoor which will be unbarred between the hours of 8 and 6. I wish you luck, but I have little faith it'll protect you."